The mud was treacherous. I slipped and skidded, falling flat on my face.
I heard Leon shout a warning. Looking back, I could see him struggling with the two Time Police. He was unarmed. We had to get away now. The rest of the squad could turn up at any moment. One of them tore free from Leon and aimed his gun at me.
I tried to wriggle away, lost my footing again, and rolled down the muddy bank to fetch up only feet from the river. I should get up. I must get up.
It wasn’t going to happen. I lay on my back, chest heaving.
They had us.
Or perhaps they hadn’t.
I heard shouting above me, and the next minute, a heaving scrum consisting of Leon and two Time Police tumbled over the bank, and came to rest in a panting, muddy heap next to me.
‘Run,’ shouted Leon again, although where he thought I was going to go was anyone’s guess.
I scrambled to my feet and prepared to break a few land speed records. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of them grope for his weapon and threw myself to the ground.
I don’t know what happened behind me. I only know what happened in front of me.
The Nile boiled.
At least, that’s what it looked like to me. A great expanse of water jumped and bubbled. Trying to disregard the stabbing, disabling pain in my chest, I stared at the bouncing water because that’s not something you see every day. And while I was staring, what looked like every crocodile in Upper Egypt rose slowly to the surface, peered at us over its nostrils, and decided it was lunchtime.
The Nile crocodile. An apex predator. Aggressive. Powerful. Huge. Old males can be anything up to eighteen feet in length. They eat pretty well everything. They’re agile and they can run. Actually, they can lift themselves up and gallop. There’s no point in fleeing because they’ll chase you down. People are terrified of them and rightly so. They spend their days sunning on the mudflats, apparently in some sort of coma, until a person or an animal comes down to drink and then one or more will erupt from the water and drag them under.
In times of stress, male crocodiles can produce infrasonic sounds so powerful that they cause the water to vibrate and that was what I was looking at now. Vibrating water. But on this occasion, it wasn’t the crocodiles. The idiot Time Police had fired their sonic weapons – on wide-beam, judging by the great expanse of dancing water.
God knows what normally goes on inside those great, ugly heads – the crocodiles’ I mean, not the Time Police’s – but now, at this moment, they were definitely not happy. Whether they regarded us as a challenge or lunch, a worryingly large number were starting to converge on our particular muddy bank.
‘Shit,’ said the Time Police. In stereo.
‘Shit,’ said Leon.
I didn’t say anything. I’m a veteran. I was saving my breath for running.
You had to hand it to the Time Police. These people were dedicated. Even when it looked as if we were all the main course on today’s menu, they were still trying to take us in. They both aimed their stupid weapons at us.
I heard Leon say, ‘I really wouldn’t fire those again if I were you. Let’s just call this one a score draw, shall we, and all of us get out of here.’
The first of the crocodiles were lifting themselves out of the water. I stared, fascinated. They were huge and armoured, and, when they’re threatened, they turn their heads and cough. A bit like a St Mary’s medical.
And then we were all running.
My wobbly legs were slipping and skidding all over the place. I was disoriented. My heart pounded and I could barely see straight. I had no idea who or what was behind me. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the rough ground ahead. At any moment, I expected to be seized and dragged down into the muddy water because crocs don’t bite you in half and eat you straight away. They drag you underwater, roll you over and over and over until you drown, or all your bones break and your limbs drop off, and then they wedge you under a rock or log until you’re ripe and ready. Then they eat you.
I pushed my way through coarse, razor-sharp grass that ripped painfully at my arms and legs. Somewhere along the way, we’d shed the Time Police. I’d no idea what they were up to. Running for their lives if they had any sense. There were crocs everywhere, slithering off the mud banks, appearing out of reed beds, hauling themselves out of the water, jaws gaping. What a lot of teeth for just one animal.
Leon caught me up, seized my hand, and then we really ran. We hurdled ditches. We splashed through the mud. Somewhere along the way, I lost my flip-flops and I still feel terrible about that because I just know that, one day, an archaeologist is going to unearth their remains, and I’m going to be in such trouble. Although at the time, I certainly didn’t care enough to go back and look for them.