Risk Assessment by James Goss

thing flinging steel racks around like paper darts. The noise was terrific, not helped by the way the walls of the building were making a remarkable noise. It was, she figured, the sound of concrete being squeezed.
    Occasionally, she’d see two figures darting between aisles, somehow keeping on fighting – both the creature and each other. It was so oddly, reassuringly human that she felt, against all the odds, a little bit of hope.
    There we go, Nina Rogers, she thought. You’re probably going to be eaten by a giant alien blob, but you’re still feeling all upbeat. That’s nice.
    ‘Goodness,’ said Gran, sitting up. ‘Are those two having any luck out there?’
    ‘No,’ sighed Janice. She was watching as a whole set of swings and trampolines flew past.
    ‘Do we know anything about them, dear? I just think it’s important to know what organisation they represent, don’t you?’
    There was a muttering of agreement.
    Irritated, Gran pressed on. ‘But does anyone know who those people are? What authority they have?’
    Everyone shook their heads.
    ‘We don’t know who they are, Nan,’ said Anita, dolefully.
    ‘They’re superheroes,’ put in young Scott, hopefully.
    ‘Oh, I see,’ said Gran quietly. ‘That’s nice.’
    ‘I’m going to take a sample,’ said Jack, grinning. ‘Cover me.’
    Agnes ducked as a volley of mountain bikes flew over their heads and clattered into the walls.
    ‘At least if we can learn something from all this. . .’
    Agnes opened her mouth to protest, but then nodded. ‘It’s the first sensible thing you’ve said today. You have fifteen seconds.’ She raised her rocket launcher and, instead of directing it at the creature, fired it at a row of computers. The resulting explosion scattered clouds of razor shrapnel towards the creature.
    Jack threw an arm across his face and vanished into the maelstrom.
    ‘I don’t believe it,’ groaned Janice. ‘They’re firing at the stock.’
    ‘Yes, dear,’ tutted Gran sympathetically. ‘But who would normally be called at such an emergency?’
    Dad looked up. ‘My brother’s a fireman,’ he said. ‘He’s seen a fair few remarkable things these last couple of years. But I don’t think. . .’
    ‘The army,’ said Anita suddenly, certainly. ‘Soldiers would be good at this.’
    Scott nodded, excited. ‘With their tanks and their nuclear weapons and their harrier jump jets.’
    ‘That’s the air force!’ cried out Anita, happy and excited.
    ‘I see,’ said Gran, shifting slightly on the sofa. ‘But what if they weren’t enough? What then? Who would help us then?’
    Jack was pressed underneath a checkout counter. Flapping around him was the burning hail of what had once been a bouncy Princess castle. He watched as the plastic fragments slapped into the alien creature and were instantly absorbed.
    The mass pressed up against the formica and steel of the checkout, and Jack knew he only had seconds left. Hurriedly, he grabbed a carrier bag from the counter and reached out to scoop a sample, like a dog owner picking up a turd. And then he remembered that the alien ate plastic and dropped the bag hurriedly. He looked around again, patting his pockets without luck. He knew that Torchwood had bonded polycarbide bags that could hold almost anything. Failing that were portable force-field containers. But he didn’t have any on him. Instead he made do with a steel cash box, hoping that the steel would hold it. He reached out and snapped the box shut, and then, as the checkout splintered around him, he ran, ducking slightly as a rocket soared over his head and thudded wetly into the shivering black blob.
    The Vam had sensed the little man. It knew he wanted a sample. And the Vam felt generous. Let these humans find out what they were up against. After all, it was doing exactly the same.
    ‘I wonder what they’re doing,’ said Gran.
    Anita, perched on a desk, beckoned her over. ‘Come and have a look.’
    Gran shook her head.