by Jacqueline Rayner, Mike Tucker, Paul Magrs, et al (retail) (epub)
Mrs Martin was driving very, very slowly. Everyone sat up straight, carefully watching the road ahead. The headlights seemed to be blocked by the ribbons of purple smog that twitched and turned in front of them before dissolving, then forming anew.
Suddenly Mrs Martin stopped the car. ‘There’s something in the road.’
‘I can’t see anything,’ Mr Martin said.
‘There!’ Mrs Martin pointed through the windscreen.
Out of the mist appeared a figure. A solid, stony figure. With two hands covering its face, as if it were crying. Not just crying – weeping.
‘Is it a statue?’ Evan said, leaning forward, trying to get a better look.
‘Why would someone put a statue in the middle of a road?’ Roxy asked.
The car’s headlights were just able to pick out the figure’s key features. It looked like a woman. No, not a woman. An angel. It was definitely made of stone, that was clear, even through the purple mist. It looked ancient and unnatural, like it could have been there since the start of time, but didn’t truly belong anywhere.
Mrs Martin looked at her husband. ‘I’m going out there to see what it is.’
Mr Martin started to argue, but the radio burst into life with a sudden screech. Through the static came a man’s voice.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
The family looked at the radio, confused.
‘Is this a joke?’ Mrs Martin asked. She wasn’t impressed.
‘If this was one of my jokes, you’d all be rolling around on the floor. You’d be laughing so hard that you’d need to sleep for three weeks, and even then you’d wake up with a smile on your face,’ the mysterious voice replied.
‘Is this a radio show?’ Mrs Martin started twiddling the dials.
Nothing happened.
‘Tell her, Mr Martin,’ the voice on the radio commanded.
Mr Martin stared at the radio for another second or two before turning to his wife. ‘The radio’s broken, love,’ he said. ‘Has been for weeks.’
‘Not any more, it isn’t,’ the voice from the radio added. ‘I fixed it, because I’m me, and because you need help!’
The family looked at one another, searching for a sign that this was a prank or that someone else understood what was going on.
‘Let’s just cut out the whole disbelief-and-shock thing and jump straight to the bit where you do exactly what I say to keep you all safe.’ The voice on the radio was friendly but insistent.
Mr Martin and Mrs Martin sat there with their mouths hanging open.
An audible sigh crackled out of the radio. ‘If you want something done, ask the ones with brains – the kids. Evan, isn’t it? The middle child.’
Evan was shocked. ‘Y-y-yes.’
‘Good. Make sure all of the doors are locked.’
Evan took off his seatbelt, then climbed over his family to lock all of the doors.
‘Roxy? The big sister.’
‘Yes?’ Roxy answered.
‘Make sure all of the air-con units and any gaps in the car are shut, turned off, blocked, whatever. I don’t want that mist getting inside the car.’
Roxy too undid her seatbelt and jumped into action, leaning over her parents to turn everything off and close all the air vents.
‘Pip?’ the voice asked. ‘The littlest Martin.’
Pip straightened, ready for orders.
‘Keep being cute.’
‘Easy!’ Pip smiled.
Evan looked around. The mist had grown so thick that he couldn’t see anything at all outside. ‘Who are you?’
‘Good question,’ the voice from the radio boomed. ‘But a better question is: who are they?’
‘They? There’s just that.’ Evan pointed at the strange statue in front of the car. Even lit up by the headlights, he could barely make out its shape now.
‘It’s not a that. It’s a them.’ The voice had lost its playfulness. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Martins, but you’re completely surrounded by Weeping Angels.’
Another figure suddenly appeared close to the window beside Roxy, making her jump in her seat. It had a stony face ripped by a ferocious anger and carved with sharp teeth and cold, dead eyes.
‘OK, now, this is important. Everything I say is important, but this is right up there with the most important of things. They cannot move if you look at them. So keep your eyes on them at all times.’
The family widened their eyes and looked around.
‘You cannot even blink. If you’re going to blink, then touch someone next to you and let them take over. If you’re going to look away, then whistle. I don’t care what your system is, but use your eyes on the Angels and your ears on me.’
‘Tell us who you are,’ Evan said again, knowing that this time he’d get a response.
‘I’m the Doctor. There’s a lot I could tell you about myself, but there’s more you need to know about the Angels right now.’
‘That fog keeps hiding the statue,’ Roxy said, staring at her Angel as purple smoke passed between them.
‘That’s not fog. It’s no accident or natural occurrence. That’s the Mist of Sorrow. It’s artificial and it’s on purpose. It’s a personal black-out. It’s a blindfold for you and your nearest and dearest.’
The lights danced on the radio.
‘The Angels are clever and devious. They love to hunt and they can only do it when they can’t be looked at. This isn’t a mist; this is their portable hunting ground. I’m doing what I can, but you need to stay in your car and you need to keep looking at them. Don’t even blink!’
Mrs Martin glanced at her children in the rear-view mirror. She forced a smile, but as soon as she looked back the Angel that had been in front of the car had moved closer to her window. She gasped in terror. Up close, the Martins could see that this Angel’s pointy teeth were worn and tired, its mouth and eyes hollow and skeletal. Its bony hand was frozen, reaching towards the side window.
Then there was a buzz. The car’s dashboard flickered and the engine and headlights turned off. All of the lights within the car, except for those on the radio, went off too, plunging the family into near-darkness.
‘Do something to help us!’ Mrs Martin yelled. ‘Now!’
‘All right, Mum!’ the Doctor said. ‘I’m working on it, but I’m not in charge of this weather!’
The Martins were all on high alert. Their hearts beat in their chests and they took it in turns to gulp. Mrs Martin and Roxy kept their eyes on the Angels closest to them. Evan, Pip and Mr Martin looked everywhere, not sure what they were really doing besides making sure that anything that moved behind the dancing fog was captured in their eyeline.
Evan leaned over the back of his seat and started reaching into the boxes in the boot. He searched through the camping equipment and pulled out two battery-operated lanterns. He turned them on to full blast with a couple of little clicks.
‘Ahh, I can see some lights,’ the Doctor said. ‘That’s some good thinking, Martins!’
‘Where are you?’ Evan was confused. Was the Doctor out there in the fog?
‘I’m in a blue police box floating above your heads.’
Evan smiled. I knew it! he thought. I knew I wasn’t imagining it. ‘I saw it earlier!’ he said. ‘It looked like it was spinning out of control and about to crash.’
‘Oh no! Not at all. It was all completely under my control,’ the Doctor replied, but Evan wasn’t convinced.
‘Are you a police officer?’ Pip asked.
‘Hmm … a bit like a police officer, but with a bow-tie and a very strong chin.’
‘Do you catch the bad guys?’ Pip asked.
‘Yes! I do. Pretty much most of the time.’
‘What?’ Mrs Martin said. ‘Most of the time?’
‘Some things are as old as forever and they cannot be stopped. You just have to run away or wait for them to disappear. Victory isn’t winning; it’s surviving.’
‘Are you saying you can’t stop them?’
Mr Martin asked, unable to hide the fear that was creeping into his voice.
‘I’m trying to scan the area. I can see you and the Weeping Angels and quite a few … abandoned cars.’
‘What do they do to you?’ Mrs Martin asked nervously. ‘Do they … Will they eat us?’
‘No. Nothing like that … It’s much kinder and crueller than that.’ The Doctor paused. ‘They send you back in time. One touch and you’re zapped somewhere in the past.’
‘That’s impossible!’ Mr Martin stated.
‘Not a word I’m familiar with,’ the Doctor’s voice crackled.
Just then, the car rocked a little, like something powerful had breezed past.
‘It’s what they do. It’s unjust and unfair, but it’s what they do,’ the Doctor continued. ‘They feed off the life you would have lived.’
The car shook hard. It lifted up, then bounced back down on to the gravel track. The family screamed. As well as the purple mist, dark grey dust from the road bloomed around the car. Something was underneath the car, raising it off the ground.
There was a thudding noise. The sound of stone on metal. A crunching noise followed by the rip of tearing metal. A stone hand shot through the floor of the car and tried to grab Pip’s foot. By the time the family had turned to look, the clawed hand had a solid grip round Pip’s shoelaces.
‘Heeellllp!’ Pip screamed in terror.
Evan and Roxy started hitting the stone hand with the lanterns and Mr and Mrs Martin tried to help.
‘No, keep your eyes on the outside!’ the voice on the radio screeched.
It was too late. The side windows were now full of stony shapes. The glass cracked as the Angels were frozen midway through clawing at the car.
The Martins were trapped.
‘Doctor! One’s got hold of Pip!’ Evan whacked at the stone hand.
‘OK, enough is enough!’ The Doctor sounded angry. This might be what he did all the time, battling monsters and creatures, but there was something personal here. The Weeping Angels had done terrible things, but also some terrible things to him or to the people he cared about – Mrs Martin could hear it in his voice. She knew.
‘Keep your eyes open and hold on to something,’ the Doctor warned.
The car suddenly sprang into life and the engine roared. The dashboard lit up. The headlights flared brightly.
‘After three, pull Pip free.’
Everyone in the car shouted, ‘OK!’
‘One …’
Evan and Roxy held Pip’s leg.
‘Two …’
The car revved and the steering wheel twitched without Mrs Martin touching it.
‘THREE!’
The car moved forward in a powerful and steady charge and Pip’s foot slipped out of the shoe as Evan and Roxy pulled it hard.
Mrs Martin held up her hands. The car was rolling forward and the steering wheel was moving by itself.
‘What’s happening?’ Mrs Martin asked.
‘That’s just me! I’m driving. Now, don’t worry. I very much think of you as a remote-controlled car full of little, squashable people who I absolutely do not intend to squash or squish in any way. I’ll take care of this, I promise. You keep watching out for Angels.’
The family kept looking around.
‘How are you doing this?’ Evan marvelled at the car moving, but remained focused on the threat.
‘Not easily, I’ll tell you. That mist, it’s blocking everything. I can hardly see or get a signal through it. But I found enough power in there to help you out. All of those other cars – the Angels took the owners, but they left the cars behind. Well, I can use their power.’
The headlights glowed and flickered, catching the rolling of the mist and snapshots of Weeping Angels in frozen postures. Some were covering their eyes or hiding their faces. Others were locked in the beginning stages of attack. The flashing headlights and the lamps from the Martin family’s car combined with the Martins’ watchful eyes were paralysing the monsters.
Though the car continued to move forward at a gentle pace, the sound of numerous Angels swooshing through the mist outside was anything but gentle. Their swooping was almost deafening, as was the screech of their nails scratching the glass of the windows and pulling at the door handles.
‘They’re angry!’ Evan shouted.
Something heavy and solid hit the side of the car. The family yelled as the vehicle veered left off the road and headed straight down the steep valley.
‘They pushed us off the road!’ Evan cried.
‘I’ve got you.’ The Doctor sounded determined.
Through the purple fog, the family could see trees and rocks hurtling towards them as the car gained speed. The steering wheel turned quickly and violently, narrowly missing each potential collision. The car swerved left, avoiding a cluster of jagged boulders; it swerved right, only just missing a huge ditch full of thorny bushes. Each turn revealed Weeping Angels in the headlights. They hid among the trees or peered out from behind huge rocks. Some stood openly on the hill, with their claws held high above their heads.
The steering wheel turned violently and the car spun round several times, then screeched to a giddy halt in a whirlwind of dust and purple mist. The car was now at the bottom of the valley.
The radio crackled and the Doctor’s broken voice tried to communicate. ‘Martins … OK … tell … speak …’
Mrs Martin turned round and anxiously asked, ‘Is everyone OK?’
Everyone was fine. Scared and shaken up, but unharmed.
Something heavy crashed on top of the car with a massive thud that made the roof buckle. Then came another crunch. The whole car groaned as the roof started to lower under the tremendous weight.
Another crunch.
More and more Angels were landing on the car roof.
‘Can you hear me? Martins?’ the voice on the radio pleaded desperately. ‘The Weeping Angels – they’re above you.’
‘They’re on top of the car!’ Roxy yelled.
‘We’re going to be squashed!’ Mrs Martin cried.
‘You need to get out of there. Now!’ the Doctor said.
‘But you said we had to stay in the car,’ Mr Martin yelled. ‘That’s what you said!’
‘I changed the rules. I tend to do that.’
The car creaked ominously. The Weeping Angels were shifting around.
‘I’ve got a plan,’ the Doctor insisted. ‘But you’re going to have to get out of the car and I won’t be able to talk to you.’
‘How can we get out?’ Mrs Martin asked. ‘They’ll get us.’
‘Do what you do best as a family: stick together.’
The Martins looked at one another. They nodded. They had to trust the Doctor.
‘I need you to head in front of the car and keep walking in a straight line. Eyes open and always watching. Stay back to back.’
A huge dent appeared in the roof of the car as a powerful fist tried to pound through it.
‘Go! Now!’ the Doctor shouted.
‘Dad, give me the mirror.’ Evan reached out his hand.
Mr Martin looked at his son in confusion. But Mrs Martin understood and yanked the rear-view mirror from above the windscreen and handed it back to her son.
Another thud, and this time a clawed hand came through the roof and remained locked in a stony fist.
Evan opened his door. ‘Someone watch behind me.’
He tilted the mirror so he could see the three Angels on the roof of the car. They were locked in poses of furious attack. He stepped out of the car and opened the front passenger door. Mr Martin carefully slid out and he and Evan stood back to back and shuffled round the front of the car. Evan kept his eyes on the Weeping Angels on top of the car, and Mr Martin scanned the rest of the area around them, leaning forward to open the driver’s door and let his wife out.
‘Be careful, Mum,’ Evan warned.
Mrs Martin joined her family, with her back towards them and her eyes forward. She o
pened the back door and Roxy carefully passed Pip out as she kept her vision locked on the Angel’s hand in the car.
‘OK, my turn …’ Roxy said, swallowing hard while finding her bravest face.
‘I can’t see what you’re doing, but I bet you’re doing just great!’ The Doctor’s enthusiasm sounded strained. ‘Good luck, Martins. Get ready for the storm.’
Roxy joined her family outside the car. They formed a circle. With their backs against each other, they slowly walked away from the car, moving dead ahead, as the Doctor had ordered. They watched vigilantly through the dry, static mist, looking out for any movement, moving slowly and carefully. They could hear each other’s nervous breathing. They held each other up as they stumbled over stones and tree roots.
Evan kept his eyes on the car, but a thick plume of mist passed in front of his face and, when he could see again, the Weeping Angels had vanished. He still held the car mirror. He gripped it tighter as they heard movement through the grass nearby, or the sound of stone scraping against stone, or the sound of trees shifting in the artificial wind.
The Weeping Angels were circling them. The whooshing of their movement grew closer and closer.
A quick, solid movement whacked the mirror from Evan’s hand. He heard it hit the grass.
‘Evan!’
‘I’m OK, but they got the mirror.’
The family gripped each other tighter. For warmth, for security, for love. The Weeping Angels inched closer and closer and closer. The family could just see them through the patches of purple smoke.
Some of their fierce faces had become gentle smiles.
Their hands reached outwards, as if to claim the family.
Evan desperately wanted to close his eyes. They all did. The mist made them want to blink; it dried and burned their eyes. But they knew they couldn’t do it. They linked arms. Maybe if they all held on to each other, they would stay together? Together wherever the Angels sent them. It seemed hopeless.
Evan felt something hit his face. A drop of water. Then another. And another. It was raining.
Evan was sure he heard a shout. It sounded like ‘Geronimo!’
‘Typical.’ Mr Martin laughed. ‘It’s raining again!’