It started to snow.
I know! That’s what I thought! But I swear, it started to snow. The air was full of a fine white powder, drifting gently across the Hall to fall silently on every horizontal surface. I peered upwards into the gloom. I could see dark figures up high, leaning precariously over what was left of the gallery, shaking white dust over everything.
And while I was getting my head around that, something sailed out of the dark, fell at my feet and burst. And another one over there. And there. I looked up. Above our heads, Mrs Mack was hurling scores of fat condoms down into the Hall, and, believe me, that is not a phrase anyone should ever expect to use. Intimate rubber items plopped around us, splitting on impact, and diffusing even more clouds of white dust.
Colonel Albay and I, united for once, stared at them in disbelief. I looked down at myself, lightly dusted with flour.
Flour? Were we going to bake them to death?
Then my mind flew back to the day I sat in Mrs Mack’s office, watching the cat, Vortigern slumbering heavily on a hairy copy of The Flour Handling Regulations and I knew what was going to happen next. Flour dust is one of the most explosive substances around. More explosive even than coal dust.
Guthrie had led the conventional defence. When that was finished, the professor had done what he knew best and improvised. And when he was done, the civilian staff had stepped up. Surreptitiously, I looked around for somewhere safe to hide.
Around me, The Forces of Darkness had stopped rounding up personnel and were looking around in puzzlement. I saw one raise a com device. ‘I think it’s flour. No, no idea, sir. Yes, copy that.’ He motioned his men forward. There were a good number of them in the Hall now. They were all looking around, watching the flour fall.
I edged slowly backwards.
Because Mrs Partridge stood motionless at the top of the stairs. She was dirty and smoke-streaked. Her arms were bloody to the elbows and her hair was falling down. I thought suddenly of The Furies, those remorseless, merciless goddesses of retribution, who pursue their victims to the grave and beyond. She stood under the glass lantern, holding something cylindrical. Not a scroll, this time. She was holding a fizzer.
Around the Hall, everything stopped. Half a hundred Time Police stared in disbelief and then the penny dropped for everyone.
Beside me, Colonel Albay raised his gun. I grabbed for his arm, pulled it down with all my might, and shouted at her. ‘Do it. Do it now.’
She pulled the tag.
Time does slow down when you’re about to die. I saw the flash as it ignited. I watched her draw back her arm and hurl it high into the air. It rose in a graceful arc, turning end over end and then, at the height of its trajectory, exploding into a brilliant red ball of flame, just as it was designed to do.
I pushed the colonel away and dropped. Around me, those of St Mary’s who weren’t already on the ground were hurling themselves there and covering their heads. I ignored my complaining ribs and curled into a tight ball that I hoped would expose as little of me as possible and waited for flour power.
Nothing happened for long enough for me to worry it hadn’t worked.
A long second passed. The building seemed to inhale and then exhale.
And then it was the end of the world.
I thought I’d gone blind. My eyes hurt. Even to blink was painful. And I couldn’t see. Just an after-image of dirty swirls. No – I could see. I wasn’t blind after all. The dirty swirls were thick clouds of heavy dust hanging around. Through them, high above my head, I could see a tiny patch of beautiful blue sky. Clever Mrs Partridge. The Hall, with its thick walls and glass lantern, was built like a fireworks factory and the main force of the blast had obviously gone straight up, taking the lantern with it. I could see the remains of the metal framework silhouetted against the sky.
Lifting my head one painful inch, I found I was covered in dust, dirt, and shards of broken glass. Lumps of rubble and debris were still settling around me. Everything smelled of toast. And singed hair. Mine.
Everyone was down – Time Police, St Mary’s, everyone. Bodies were scattered everywhere. The only thing still moving was the dirty smoke rising lazily out through the hole in the roof.
I don’t know for how long I lay there. Time ceased to have any meaning. I would have been quite happy to stay there for ever, but a little voice at the back of my mind was screaming at me to get up. Because the first people on their feet would have won and it had to be St Mary’s. Mrs Partridge had bought us another chance, but at what cost to herself? If I could just get up…
It wasn’t going to happen.
All right, if I could just move an arm … Start with that and work up …
No. Still not going to happen.