The man cut him off. 'I'm Devlin, I am foreman. I would know.'
'Communications breakdown?' the Doctor hazarded. But Dobbs could tell from his tone that he knew the game was up.
'Why are you here?' Devlin asked again. Behind him the other miners were fanning out, blocking any hope of getting into the tunnel.
The Doctor sighed. The sound of the machine behind seemed to have faded into the background as he spoke, addressing all the men and not just Devlin. 'I am here because I believe you are in great danger.'
The miners exchanged glances. They looked to Devlin.
'I don't know what danger exactly,' the Doctor admitted. 'But there is something terribly wrong here. Surely you see that?'
'See what?' shouted one of the miners. He was a shorter man, but almost as broad as Devlin. 'What are you talking about? We got our jobs back, our livelihood.'
'But at what cost? And for how long?'
'What do you mean?'
'This machinery' The Doctor waved a hand at the engine behind him. 'All the other machinery Nepath and Lord Urton have brought in. And there will be more and more, until you until people are no longer needed. Don't you see that? Whatever he is after down there, whatever it is, people are not a part of his equation. As soon as he can, he'll be rid of you. If I'm right, he'll be rid of us all.'
There was a hubbub of general muttering amongst the men as the Doctor spoke.
'Most of the work's being done by machine now,' the short man conceded. 'But he still needs us. Machines can't do it all. And he needs people to work the machines.'
The Doctor was almost hopping from one foot to the other. Devlin stood impassive and silent between him and the miners. 'But don't you see, Nepath shouldn't be mining at all. There's nothing here, nothing good!'
'Not mining at all?' the man asked incredulously. 'Not mining at all?!' The miners looked at each other again.
'He wants to stop the mining,' one of them blurted out angrily. 'Lock us out.'
'Well,' the Doctor admitted, 'yes, but '
'But nothing,' Devlin interrupted sharply. 'You have no business here. You want to take away these men's jobs, their lives when they have only just got them back.' He leaned forwards, his voice loud and angry. 'You are not welcome here.'
As he leaned forwards, Devlin's face fell into shadow. And as it did, Dobbs could see the faint flicker of firelight dancing within his eyes, floating behind the irises. Devlin let the shovel drop to the ground, and pulled the glove from his right hand. That too fell to the ground, and he reached out towards the Doctor. Dobbs could hear the hiss of cold air seared by the heat from the hand, could see the hazy hot air swirling round it.
The Doctor leaned back, arcing his body away from the hand as it neared him. As he moved close to Dobbs, he suddenly reached out and grabbed the Professor, pushing him behind as together they circled away from Devlin. Before long, Devlin had his back to the steam pump and was facing the tunnel. Only the ring of miners now stood between the Doctor and Dobbs and the mine itself. They watched intrigued as Devlin took a step towards the Doctor. They evidently did not realise the danger, had no inkling of the power that Devlin could unleash from his hand.
And they were not expecting the Doctor's sudden shout any more than Dobbs was. It took a hefty push as well as the cry of 'Run!' for him to realise what the Doctor intended. Then they were both running, pushing through the surprised ring of men, plunging headlong into the murky tunnel and still running.
'No!' Devlin's order was like a pistol shot behind them. 'Leave them to me.'
Dobbs kept running, his breath ragged and scraping as he followed the Doctor. They passed several side passages, knocked aside a couple of surprised miners who made half*hearted attempts to stop them. They kept running.
'Where are we going?' Dobbs managed to call out. Behind him he could hear the heavy slap of Devlin's feet as he ran after them.
'Deeper,' the Doctor called back. He seemed scarcely out of breath. 'Whatever it is must be deep in the ground for them to need the air pump.'
'To... breathe?' Dobbs assumed, catching at his own breaths.
'To fan the fire,' the Doctor's reply echoed back.
The race into the depths was a blur. There were men who tried to hold them, machines jammed into the narrow passages and tunnels that they negotiated, and always the heavy sound of Devlin's pursuit. The one time Dobbs risked slowing enough to look behind, he could see the man's eyes blazing after them in the near darkness.
At last, after what seemed forever, the Doctor pulled up, catching Dobbs as he stumbled into him. They stood for several moments, the Doctor alert and listening, Dobbs hunched over, gasping for air.
'I think we lost him,' the Doctor said. 'We're quite deep now.' He nodded at the wall of the tunnel. 'This is new work. They haven't even bothered to shore it up you see. Solid rock which is why they needed mechanical help. It would take an age to dig this manually.'
'So have they already excavated what they were after, do you think?' Dobbs asked as soon as he had enough breath.
'I don't think so,' the Doctor said. 'They're still working, after all. Uncovering another section further round, perhaps.'
'Another section of what?'
The Doctor was examining the wall. 'Of whatever it is,' he said helpfully. He ran his hand over the ragged wall. 'Feel that.' He stood aside, looking round as Dobbs stepped up to the wall.
The Professor reached out a tentative hand and placed it flat against the rock, wondering what the Doctor expected him to deduce. He knew at once. 'It's warm,' he said in amazement. 'It should be damp and cold, surely, at this depth?'
'Indeed it should.' The Doctor peered at him through the gloom, his eyes wide. He knelt down and patted the ground. 'The floor is warm too,' he said quietly. 'And what's more, it should be dark.'
'Good Lord, so it should.' Dobbs looked all round. 'So where is the light coming from. There is no sign of phosphorescence...'
When he turned back, the Doctor was gone.
'Doctor?' Dobbs could feel his stomach churning, his face flushed with sudden fear. 'Doctor?!'
'Through here.' The Doctor's voice was calm, echoing slightly as it emerged from a crack in the rock wall.
Dobbs scrambled through the rock with some difficulty. He could see at once that this was where the light was coming from. A glow, an orange glow that suffused the air with a smoky texture. There was a smell too, he realised as he emerged into the cavern beyond sulphurous and heady. Hot.
The cavern was vast, a huge open area within the mine. The ceiling was perhaps twenty feet high, vaulted over them. Dobbs could barely see the far wall as he stepped cautiously after the Doctor.
The light came from everywhere. Everything seemed to glow with inner heat. The floor was a pale orange while stalactites and stalagmites were a dull yellow. The walls smoked and shimmered, their fiery innards crusted over here and there with carbon*black shadows.
'Is this what we were looking for?' Dobbs asked, his voice an awed whisper. 'What Nepath and Lord Urton are looking for?'
The Doctor had stopped about ten feet in front on him and was crouching down beside a pool of molten fire. It bubbled viscously, occasional bursts sending fiery trails through the smoky air. 'This is it,' the Doctor agreed. 'Or rather, a very small part of it.'
'Small?' Dobbs turned completely round as he reached the Doctor, peering into the far extremities of the cavern.
'Very small,' the Doctor said.
'And what is this... stuff?' Dobbs indicated the bubbling mass before them. Across the cavern he could see many pools of the liquid. Hundreds perhaps, all presumably fed by the same reservoir of material below the floor. He had a sudden frightening realisation that at any moment the floor might crack open and allow them to fall screaming into the boiling mass below.
'The fissure...' he realised.
The Doctor stood up, expression grave as he continued to stare down at the pool. 'Yes, the fissure. And Nepath's material.'
'This?'
'This,' the Doctor confirmed. 'Once cooled. If indeed it is ever cool.' He looked up at Dobbs. 'I think, Professor, that with your help I now understand the "what". The question now is: "Why?"'
As he finished speaking, the Doctor's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He was looking past Dobbs, over his shoulder. And the expression on the Doctor's face, Dobbs realised with a sudden chill, was one of absolute horror.
Dobbs turned, to see what the Doctor was looking at. He wished he had not.
The whole of the wall behind them was bulging outwards. The dark crust that skimmed the surface peeled away as Dobbs watched and slid to the ground, shattering into charred fragments. All around the cavern the same was happening. Shapes were forming out of the walls, pushing their way through and into the space beyond. The air was heavy and hot, smoke billowed from the ruptures that split down the cavern's sides. With a lurch of horror, Dobbs realised that the shapes that were extruding from the walls were figures.
'Oh my God,' he breathed into the smoke*wreathed air.
Beside him the Doctor too surveyed the cavern. He turned slowly to check each wall. But all around them, Dobbs knew, the grotesque misshapen forms were stretching out of the glutinous material that formed the walls. Each figure was a swollen, viscous approximation of the human form, each was pulling itself bodily from the surrounding material, strings of it following in each of the creatures' wakes. Each was glowing red hot, smoke pouring from the ground as they took their first hesitant steps and the very rock beneath their feet melted and bubbled away.
'When I say "run,"' the Doctor murmured close in Dobbs's ear, 'then run.'
Dobbs nodded dumbly. But he could see nowhere to run to. The figures that ranged themselves between them and the opening to the cavern were a wall of fire. Flames jumped from one to the next as they advanced into the hissing smoke. A hand grabbed Dobbs's shoulder and he spun round with a cry.
It was the Doctor. He was pointing down at the boiling pool behind them, his face drawn and ashen through the smoky orange glow of the cavern.
The liquid in the pool was bubbling upwards, pushing, forcing its way out of the pool. As Dobbs watched in horrified fascination, the top of the shape that bulged upwards at them unfolded, into a head. There were no features, no eyes, but he knew it could see could sense him. Arms reached out, detaching themselves with a 'glop' from the sides of the nascent form which continued to rise upwards, pulling itself out of the pool, making way for the figure that was already forming behind it.
Dobbs stepped away from the figure, retching and coughing in the sulphur*laden atmosphere. The air was thickening, yellowing, hazy with the heat. Soon he would not be able to see at all. He blinked into the steamy mist between himself and the cavern's entrance, his eyes stinging with the heat and the fumes, his stomach heavy with fear.
'Run!' The Doctor's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere like a knife, and Dobbs ran. He had no idea where he was heading, which way he was facing, but he plunged forwards into a shuffling, stumbling run.
The Doctor's voice was distant through the haze, muffled. 'Over here! Professor, this way!' And he realised he was heading away from the voice. He staggered to a halt, tried to get his bearings, tottered on the brink of a lava pool as another of the creatures reared up in front of him, flames leaping from its outstretched hands as it lunged forwards.
He tumbled sideways, rolled on the hot ground, felt his coat ignite as one of the figures clutched at it. He was running again, he didn't care which way. Only the Doctor's voice mattered, only the reassuring sound, his bearings. But as he twisted and turned and ran at random to try to escape the fire that clutched at him from every side, the voice seemed to move too, seemed to spin round and back with no logic. In his mind's eye he saw the needle of his compass spinning erratically; he saw Alistair's body charred and broken on the moor; he saw the coffin disappearing into the cremation flames.
And he saw, through the closing ring of rising fire, the shadow of the back of the Doctor's jacket as it vanished through the dark crack at the edge of the cavern.
'Doctor!' he screamed after the disappearing figure. 'Doctor, come back!' Even to himself it sounded desperate, pathetic. 'Don't leave me.' A sob.
His coat was still burning. The flames stabbed at him from all around. The ground at his feet bubbled and burst, showering his legs with the white heat of molten rock. He could feel the flesh on his face blistering, his eyes bulging in the heat as his vision misted and ran. In front of him was another of the figures, lurching towards him, the flames running over and round its form, mirroring the fire that swirled round his own body.
'Don't leave me.' Even he could barely make out the words parched from his throat.
His legs gave way, buckled beneath his flaming weight, and he pitched forwards.
'Please...
Into the fire.
Doctor...'
Into the burning.
Chapter Fourteen.
Fire Pattern It was a long time before the Doctor said anything. He sat in front of the fire, shivering. Betty Stobbold had made tea, and the Doctor's hands were clasped round a steaming cup. His eyes were unblinking on the fire.
Stobbold sat with him. The clergyman asked nothing, said nothing. He was used to sitting with those who were not yet ready to speak.
When the teapot was long cold and the fire was dying, Betty removed the tray. She hesitated in front of the Doctor, but he showed no sign of having seen her. He continued to hold the bone china cup of tepid tea. She returned a few minutes later and stoked the fire, throwing on more coal. As she turned away, she seemed to throw something else into the rekindled flames. Just a gesture, Stobbold decided as she smiled at him.
'I think I'll go to my room,' she said. 'It's been a long day.'
'It has indeed.' He took her hand in his. It was hard and cold. He held it to his cheek a moment. 'Get some rest. I don't think either of us is in the mood for supper.'
She turned and they both looked at the Doctor. His expression was set, his eyes cold blue flints. Then as they watched, he blinked. Twice, rapidly.
'Has there been any reply to my telegram?' he asked. His voice sounded hoarse and dry.
'No,' Betty said at once. 'None. Not yet.'
He nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of tea. His frown changed to a grimace and he looked in disgust at the cup for a moment before holding it out to Betty. 'Thank you,' he said. 'It's... lovely.' His voice tailed off and his frown returned. He turned back towards the reinvigorated fire in the grate.
'Good night, my child,' Stobbold said quietly.
Betty nodded, half*smiling. He watched her cross the room and close the door behind her. He listened for the sound of her tread on the stairs, but the fire was cracking and popping and he heard nothing.
After what seemed a suitable interval, Stobbold said: 'I assume that Professor Dobbs will not be joining us for the moment?'
The Doctor nodded. 'Things are worse than I'd anticipated,' he said. Still he did not meet Stobbold's gaze. 'Much worse.'
'And the Professor...?'
'He's dead.' It was a whisper, barely audible above the sound of the fire.
Stobbold was no stranger to death, or to the idea of death. But it never failed to shock him, even knowing that Dobbs was now free of the trials and tribulations of this earthly life. 'Dead? Are you sure?'
The Doctor's look gave him his answer.
Stobbold sighed deeply. 'There will be arrangements to make,' he said. 'Next of kin. The funeral.'
'All that can wait.' The Doctor's voice was as hard as his expression. 'We have more important things to talk about.'
'More important...?' Stobbold could scarce believe his ears. 'Doctor, a man has died.'
'I know,' the Doctor snapped back. His voice was loud, his tone angry. 'I know!' He took a deep breath, and seemed to bring his anger back under control. 'But we must prevent the thousands, perhaps even millions of deaths that may follow.' He leaned forward, the firelight flickering across one half of his face, the other in shadow. 'There is nothing we can do for the Professor now.'
'Really, Doctor ' Stobbold began.
'Really.' He made it sound like an emphatic agreement. 'I'm surprised there's no reply yet,' he said as if continuing the same thought. 'But we must proceed as best we can without it. Now,' he said and his eyes locked for the first time with Stobbold's, a piercing blue 'tell me what you know about fire.'