August plucked the dart from his chest. ‘I’m astonished,’ he said. ‘But those darts don’t affect us.’ He snatched his gun from its holster and pointed it at Bernice.

A question mark umbrella handle plucked it from his hand and sent it spinning across the dome.

Hoff grabbed for Joan’s shoulder, but she was already running, Bernice pulling her bodily out into the forest.

August swung a blow at Smith’s head, but the little man ducked, rolled over and popped up again in time to trip Hoff as he dived for the door. He gave a quick bow and hopped over the sprawled alien, dashing off into the trees.

‘No!’ August shouted. He slapped a control on the wall.

Smith, Benny and Joan sprinted through the lightening undergrowth, Joan being virtually carried along between the other two. ‘John!’ she panted. ‘You rescued me!’

‘We’re not out of the woods yet,’ Smith gasped. ‘Still⁠ —’

‘Is it me, or are we slowing down?’ Bernice asked.

They all looked down. Beneath them, the humus was slipping away from their feet.

A great wind rose against them, and suddenly they were pushing to make headway, the air around them as thick as treacle. A buffeting hurricane of leaves and twigs thundered by.

Smith swung his umbrella in a slow arc and the handle caught around a tree branch a few feet ahead. He pulled on the umbrella itself and managed to haul them forward a little way, the wood stretching and creaking with the effort.

Bernice got a hand on the umbrella, too, and helped to pull.

‘They’ve got us again, John.’ Joan’s voice was calm and strong. ‘Promise me one thing. Don’t give them what they want, even if it means my life. They’ve told me what they intend to do with it. Do you understand? Don’t be unfaithful to who you are. Promise me.’

‘They’re not going to⁠ —’

‘Promise me!’

‘Yes, I promise. I love you.’

‘I love you. Thank you for coming back for me.’ The umbrella started to stretch.

Bernice made a mighty effort. She slapped a hand forward, and worked her way up the shaft, hand over hand.

She managed to get hold of the tree itself and hauled herself past it.

She tumbled down a slope on the other side, free of the force. She scrambled quickly back up the bank. Supporting herself against the tree, she poked her head over the ridge.

It was like being hit on the back of the head with a hammer. The force grabbed her skull and tried to haul it off her shoulders. ‘Doctor!’ she called. ‘Get down here!’

She reached out a hand, but Smith and Joan were still clinging on to the umbrella and each other. Joan began to slip from Smith’s arms and his fingers grew white on the umbrella handle.

‘No…’ he said, despairing.

And then he was torn from the umbrella.