The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(167)
Kicking in midair, I struggled to free myself from the slippery noose but quickly realized that my efforts were in vain. Terrified, I understood I was on the verge of choking to death. But before that could happen, I saw Harold enter my field of vision, brandishing the letter opener that had been lying on the desk. With a well-aimed blow that must have taken all his strength, the coachman plunged the knife into the creature’s tail. The tail released me and thrashed around in the air while I fell to the ground with a thud, faint and gasping for breath, but able to see the tail now coil itself around Harold’s throat with such force that he dropped the letter opener. I tried to pull myself to my feet so that I could grab it and reproduce Harold’s exploit, but I felt too faint. And so, half kneeling on the ground, I could only watch as the creature dragged Harold inside the smoke cloud. There came the sinister crunch of bones, followed by a muffled scream, and all I could do was utter a curse. Harold had sacrificed his life for me, for someone who clearly didn’t deserve it. I looked around for Clayton through the smoke screen he himself had created, but was unable to see where he had fallen when the monster’s tail struck him. And so it was impossible for me to know whether he had been knocked unconscious and we were all still at the mercy of the Martian, or whether, on the contrary, at any moment a flash of light would illuminate the inside of the smoke cloud, revealing that the inspector had executed his plan and that we would all be blown sky high in a matter of seconds. I decided not to stay to find out.
I rose unsteadily to my feet, trying to overcome my dizziness, and stumbled toward the door, the swirling smoke blurring everything around me. Outside, it felt as though I had arrived at the theater after the start of the performance: Captain Shackleton was laying out one of the Martian guards with a fearsome blow. A few yards away, Murray was sitting astride the other, crushing him under his weight. He must have followed Clayton’s advice and jumped on him by surprise, and now both of them were wrestling frantically, and aiming clumsy blows at each other. But just then, before the creature was able to transform itself, Murray seized the Martian’s head and twisted it sharply, producing a snapping sound. Murray stood up, his back to us, gasping and reeling from the exertion. Flattened against one of the walls, Wells and the two women contemplated the scene, terribly pale, shocked by this dreadful display of violence. A quick glance told me there were no other guards, and I could only thank Heaven the priest had thought it enough to leave only two of them at the door.
“Quick!” I cried, running toward them. “We have to get out of here.”
We all fled back down the tunnel that had brought us there, Shackleton once more leading the way, afraid that at any moment we would hear the terrible explosion that would blow us into the air, hurling us against the walls like so many rag dolls. But instead, what we heard was a deafening animal roar filled with savage hate, and alarmingly close. I glanced over my right shoulder and saw the Envoy’s monstrous figure emerging through the doorway. Despite the dim lighting and the haze from the smoke, I was able to confirm the truly terrifying nature of his appearance. The powerful creature pursuing us looked like a dragon from a medieval bestiary: its skin was an iridescent green, it had a ridge of spikes along its back, and its mouth was crammed with huge fangs, from which hung shreds of bloody flesh.
“Run, run!” I cried, panic-stricken, turning again to look straight ahead.
“Run!” Clayton’s voice repeated, to my surprise.
He overtook me on my left. I gasped, running after him, as we followed the others down a fork in the tunnel. “Inspector Clayton! What about your plan to detonate the bomb?”
“I’ve had a much better idea, Mr. Winslow! One that will solve everything! But I need Mr. Wells’s help, and I didn’t think I’d be able to ask him for it if I perished in there!”
Wells and Murray, who were scurrying ahead of us, turned around and looked at Clayton in astonishment.
“My help?” Wells managed to splutter, gasping for breath. “And you think now is the right time to start telling me this?”
“I’m only sorry I didn’t think of it before, Mr. Wells!” replied the inspector, still running along with ease.
“Well, I’m afraid it’ll have to wait, Inspector: we can’t stop now, as I’m sure you can appreciate!” shouted Murray, who was clutching his stomach as he ran. “Hurry! Hurry!” he urged the women, who were a few yards ahead. “Keep running and don’t look back!”
That was enough for me to turn around instinctively, to see the creature thirty yards behind us, advancing with great strides, followed by one of the guards, who had also begun metamorphosing into the same hideous species of dragon. I regretted Shackleton hadn’t been as radical as Murray in dispatching him. It was obvious these creatures would catch up with us in no time. Would we all perish like Harold, ripped to shreds by their teeth and claws? The truth is I couldn’t imagine a more grisly way to die. We turned a bend and came to a place where the tunnel branched into four. We hesitated, out of breath, and looked questioningly at the captain, hoping he would know which way to go, but Shackleton seemed as confused as we.
“Down here!” a voice said suddenly.
Emerging from the darkness of one of the tunnels, we made out the priest beckoning to us. We exchanged glances, unsure whether to trust him or if he was leading us into a trap. But what trap could be worse than the terrible fate that awaited us if the Envoy caught up with us? Then again, there wasn’t much time to debate the matter: the sound of our pursuers leaping through the tunnel grew louder and louder, while their huge, misshapen shadows projected onto the tunnel wall warned us they would soon appear around the bend.