by Cavan Scott
‘You would give me a sun?’
The Doctor started looking through his pockets, as if he expected to find a spare star in his loose change. ‘Maybe not, but I could give you something better.’
‘What’s better than sunlight?’ the tree snapped.
The Doctor grinned like the wolf that had got the cream. ‘You’re interested then?’
‘I’m always interested, if the price is right. Tit for tat.’
‘I like that,’ the Doctor said. ‘And you’ll like what I have in my pocket. You give me my friend, and I’ll give you a companion of your own.’
‘Show me.’
‘Do we have a deal?’
‘Show. Me.’
‘You strike a hard bargain. Very well.’
With a flourish, the Doctor produced something from his pocket, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger. Schofield couldn’t see what it was. Neither could the tree.
Its hand shot out again, but this time the Doctor didn’t even try to evade capture. The idiot let himself be lifted up to look her captor in its distorted eye.
‘What is it, then?’ the tree asked, peering at the tiny object in the Doctor’s hand.
‘An acorn?!’ Schofield exclaimed. That was it? That was the Doctor’s bargaining chip?
‘It is an acorn,’ the Doctor confirmed. ‘Plucked from Noah Holland’s hair by my own fair hand.’
‘What do I want with an acorn?’ the tree sneered.
‘But this isn’t any old acorn,’ the Doctor insisted. ‘It’s from the Visible, the other world. It’s unlike any tree in this forest, and it could be yours. You could plant it, nurture it, grow it into a mighty tree, right here, your roots intertwined. Imagine it. Someone to talk to, to watch the birds nesting in your boughs. Not like the other trees, the ones who have ignored you for so long. So, what do you say?’
Schofield hung on to the tree’s craggy digits as its cavernous eyes narrowed on the seed. The Boggarts were so close she could almost smell them. This wasn’t going to work. She was going to die here, in a world she’d never believed existed, crushed by a lonely tree and all because of the Doctor. She’d never see her husband and daughter again, and it was all his fault.
Without warning, the tree let them go. Schofield dropped with a cry, remembering her training and throwing herself into a roll as she hit the forest floor to stop her ankles from shattering.
The Doctor landed beside her, somehow managing to stay on his feet. Show-off. He held up the acorn like a trophy, the tree grinning from limb to limb as it reached down to tenderly accept the seed with knotty fingers. ‘Pleasure doing business with you,’ he called up, grabbing Schofield’s shoulders as soon as she was back on her feet and steering her away. ‘I hope you will be very happy together.’
But the tree wasn’t listening. It was already waxing lyrical about its prize, trying to make its neighbours green with envy.
‘Can we run yet?’ Schofield whispered, recovering her shoe from the ground.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ said the Doctor and broke into a sprint. He was patting down his pockets as he ran, becoming increasingly agitated.
‘What you looking for this time?’ she asked. ‘A prizewinning conker?’
‘The TARDIS key,’ he admitted. ‘I must have dropped it back there.’
‘Back there?’ she spluttered. ‘Didn’t you realise?’
‘I was a tad preoccupied!’
‘But the key was telling us which way to go.’
‘I know!’
‘And it was going to get us home!’
‘In theory, yes.’
‘What do you mean in theory?’
‘It was never a certainty. The TARDIS has a mind of her own.’
Now he told her! ‘So, now what are we going to do?’ she asked, looking back to see if the Boggarts were still on their trail.
‘First we try not to get eaten.’
That sound like a good start. ‘And then?’
‘One step at a time,’ he snapped. ‘I’m still trying to work that bit out. But don’t worry, I always win.’
Something in his tone didn’t exactly inspire confidence. ‘Who are you trying to convince?’ she asked him. ‘Me or you?’
For once, the Doctor didn’t have an answer, and that scared her more than any Boggart.
Chapter 26
The First of the Three
The Boggarts tore through the forest, the stink of the woman and the man from beyond hanging thick in the air.
That had been clever, putting the water between them. They thought they had got away, but there was no escape. They would wish they had never stumbled upon the Invisible. They would wish they had stayed at home, with their engines and their machine and their dirty, dirty technology.
Oh, the Boggarts knew about technology. They had glimpsed it through the veil, saw how proud the humans were of their accomplishments, how confident they had become.
And yet they still died. They still wasted away. They were still weak.
That was not all the Boggarts knew. They knew the man did not belong, neither in the Invisible nor the other world. They could smell the wandering on him. He had travelled far, seen much. That would make it all the sweeter, the moment when he realised that his fate was sealed, that he would never run again. The man who followed his dreams, trapped in a nightmare.
How they would make him dance. Until both his feet and his sanity were reduced to bloody stumps. They would feast on his despair, revel in his decay. They would destroy him only when they saw fit, as it had always been.
As it should be.
He would be theirs, to do with as they pleased.
The First of the Three dropped down on all fours to cover more ground. This was a fine hunt. The stuff of songs and sagas.
There were others in the court who had forgotten about songs. They cared only about the Lost, and beat their chest in lamentation. They were full of sorrow and regret, remorse and requiem.
Not the Three. The Lost was of no concern to them. Not when the prey was running. Not when there was sport to be had.
A hand closed around the First, plucking him from the ground.
‘Let me go,’ he railed as he was lifted high into the air. This could not be. He was the First of the Three. Master of the Hunt. To be ensnared by an Woodling of all the creatures in the Forest? He would have his revenge. He would burn the hateful thing to the ground, rip the heartwood from its trunk with his own hands.
The tree did not tremble at the thought of what the First would do to it; it did not quake. Instead, it sprouted new limbs that swiped at the floor, catching his brothers as easily as wisps were caught in a jar. They clawed at its bark, drawing sap from its limbs, but still it held them tight. It held something else, something small: a seed that was a tiny as it was vast.
‘Look at my prize,’ the tree crowed. ‘It will grow into a fine companion, don’t you think? A fine companion indeed.’
Even as the First of the Three tried to splinter the Woodling ancient fingers, he realised that he had lost the scent. Their quarry was gone.
But they would not get far.
No one ever did.
They would kill this stupid tree and resume the hunt.
And then the dance would begin anew.
Chapter 27
Home
Noah was yelling even before they reached the front door. ‘Nan? Nan!’
Masie pressed her thumb against the doorbell, keeping it down until the kitchen window blinds moved, Hilary Walsh peering through the slats to see what the commotion was about. She took one look at Sammy hanging from Bill’s shoulders and the slats snapped shut. They heard their nan run up the hall, and the door flew open.
Hilary stood on the threshold, momently stunned, not able to process what she was seeing.
‘A little help would be good?’ Bill prompted. The walk from the woods had been murder. Sammy had been a dead weight in her arms, barely able to put one foot in front of the
other. The fact that the woman was babbling nonsense and wouldn’t open her eyes again didn’t help.
‘Something’s wrong with her,’ Masie told her Nan as Hilary regained her senses and helped guide Sammy into the house. ‘Really wrong.’
‘Oh my poor darling,’ Hilary fussed as they made it into the hall. ‘Look at the state of you. Where have you been?’
Sammy stumbled, her foot catching on the step and she tumbled forward.
‘Look out,’ said Bill, only just stopping Hilary from falling with her.
‘Where was she?’ Hilary asked, her knees cracking as she knelt next to her daughter.
‘In the woods,’ Bill said. ‘Hiding beneath a tree.’
‘Beneath a what?’
Masie dodged around her nan, grabbing the phone from where it sat on the bookshelf. ‘We need to call an ambulance.’
‘Good idea, love,’ said Hilary, trying to turn Sammy onto her back. ‘Can you do that?’
Masie was already keying in the number. ‘Course I can.’ ‘I’m not sure if they’re going to be able to help her,’ Bill said, pulling Noah into a hug in a vain attempt to comfort the frightened boy.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
As if to answer her mum, Sammy rolled over and opened her eyes. Hilary screamed in terror as light streamed from Sammy’s face, blinding her.
The sound sent Sammy into a frenzy. She clamped her hands tight over her ears and scrambled across the floor, ramming into Masie’s legs. The girl yelped, dropping the phone which fell onto her mum’s head. Sammy cried out, more in fear than in pain, and scurried into the lounge like a demented spider. She crawled behind a large leather armchair, rolling herself into a ball, her back against the wall. Her head was down against her knees, but this time her eyes were open, blazing like floodlights in the corner of the room.
‘Sammy love,’ Hilary said, rushing into the room, and going to pull the chair out of the way. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. What’s happened to you?’
‘No, stop,’ Bill said, charging after her and putting a restraining hand on the chair. ‘That’ll just make it worse.’
‘I need to get to her.’ Hilary’s voice was bordering on the hysterical.
‘She feels safe back there,’ Bill argued.
‘She’s my daughter!’
‘No, I don’t think she is, not now. She’s more like a frightened animal.’
Bill bent down so Sammy could see her, keeping a little distance so the women didn’t feel hemmed in. ‘Sammy? Sammy, can you talk to me? We got you home. You’re safe.’
‘No,’ Sammy grunted, keeping her gaze down. ‘Not safe. Trapped. Still trapped.’
‘You’re not. I promise you. We’re all here for you.’
‘Alone!’ Sammy wailed, looking up and blinding Bill with the glare from her eyes. ‘Alone for so long.’
Behind them, Noah pleaded with his sister. ‘Call the ambulance!’
‘I’m trying,’ Masie replied, dialling 999. She held the phone up to her ear and then pulled it away to look at the handset’s LCD display. ‘It’s not working!’
‘Of course it is,’ Hilary snapped, snatching the phone from Masie’s hand. The woman listened to the handset and then tried again, three electronic beeps accompanying the sharp jabs of her thumb. The phone went back to her ear, and she frowned. ‘Something’s wrong with the line.
It’s just crackling.’ She glanced around the room. ‘Where did I put my mobile?’
Here,’ said Bill, slipping her own phone out of her pocket. She thumbed in her passcode and passed it to Hilary without getting up. ‘Use mine.’
Hilary took it without saying thanks and dialled the number. Again, she was disappointed. ‘I can’t get a signal.’
Bill scrambled up, taking the mobile back. She looked at the screen. It wasn’t the signal. It was the entire phone, the power stuttering on and off.
The lights in the room started flashing too, the television suddenly bursting on, digital static on the screen and white noise blaring from the speakers.
‘What’s happening?’ cried Noah, grabbing his sister who hugged him back.
Bill dropped back down to her knees. ‘It’s Sammy,’ she said, looking at the terrified woman. ‘She’s doing it.’
The bulb in the light fitting exploded, tiny fragments of glass raining down.
And still Sammy muttered under her breath. ‘So alone. Trapped. Trapped beneath. Want to be free. He needs to be free.’
‘He?’ Hilary asked. ‘Who’s she talking about?’
‘The Shining Man,’ Bill realised. ‘Noah, it dragged your mum into the ground, right? When you saw them in your bedroom?’
Noah nodded. ‘Yeah, into a hole.’
Bill got hold of Sammy’s head, so she couldn’t pull away. She stared into her luminous eyes, her own eyes watering against the assault of bright light. ‘Sammy, is the Shining Man trapped? Can’t he get away?’
‘Alone,’ Sammy wailed.
‘Can you show us?’
‘What?’ Hilary snapped. ‘She’s not going anywhere! She’s only just come home.’
Sammy lurched to her feet, grabbing Bill’s wrist. ‘Take you there! Now!’
Chapter 28
An Old Friend
‘Please,’ Schofield gasped. ‘I’m going have to stop. Just for a minute.’
She leant on a tree, snatching her hand away as she felt the bark contract beneath her fingers. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered, no longer feeling self-conscious about talking to a tree. It was amazing how quickly you adapted to a world where all bets were off.
If only she could get used to the heat. It wasn’t like a summer’s day at home, or even the dry heat of holidays abroad. She couldn’t describe it. The temperature seemed to radiate from the ground itself. She had loosened her collar and rolled up her sleeves, but her blouse was drenched, her mouth so dry that her tongue felt twice its normal size.
Even the Doctor had stopped running, stripping off his coat, which was now hung casually over his shoulder. He still looked like he was on a Sunday stroll, though, his brow annoyingly free of sweat.
‘They can’t be far behind,’ he reminded her as she leant forward, rasping for breath.
‘And you still have no idea how we’re going to get home?’
‘Of course I have,’ he said, sounding genuinely aggrieved. ‘I’m taking us back to the building site, or at least this realm’s corresponding location. If a gateway to the Visible has been opened there once, we might be able to open it again.’
‘Might?’ she said, looking up at him through strands of wet hair.
‘Why are people so down on might?’ he retorted. ‘Might is good. Might is only one step away from can. Would you rather I gave up?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t lie to me.’
That stopped him. ‘What?’
She stood up, her chest still tight. She jabbed her finger towards a large purple tree, its thick trunk splitting into a fork. ‘We passed that half an hour ago. Twice, in fact. You haven’t a clue where we’re going, because we’re going around in circles.’
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘That’s impossible.’ He turned to view the tree, only able to admit the truth when he wasn’t looking in her direction. ‘Of course, my unerring sense of direction may have deserted me.’
‘No one’s blaming you.’
He turned back to her. ‘It sounds like you are.’
‘Doctor, we were attacked by a tree back there. Who’s to say the rest of the forest isn’t moving, the paths shifting with every step we take?’
His expression clouded at the thought. ‘It’s a possibility, I suppose.’
He suddenly looked so unsure of himself. Schofield had the feeling that while the sensation wasn’t completely unknown to him, the Doctor still didn’t know how to process it. He was obviously a man who was used to winning.
‘So,’ she said, deciding that allowing him to wallow would more than likely end with them being ca
ptured and killed, ‘what are we going to do?’
He was about to answer when he stopped, frowning. He turned, looking away from her, and, holding his head back, inhaled noisily.
‘What are you doing?’
He sniffed again, looking puzzled. ‘Something’s not right.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Just the one thing?’
He faced her, his eyes narrowed ‘Can’t you smell it?’
‘Doctor, I can barely smell anything. The entire place stinks of rotting sugar.’
‘This way,’ he said, setting off to the left.
He jumped over a small flowered shrub, disturbing the blooms which took to the air as one, scattering like butterflies. Schofield cried out, raising her hand to stop the tiny flapping petals from swarming into her face, but by the time that the strange flock had flown into the sky, the Doctor was long gone.
‘Wait,’ she cried out, heading in the direction she thought he’d disappeared, although her tired legs meant that she had to squeeze past the now flowerless bush rather than leap it in a single bound. Her trousers snagged on the shrub’s thorny branches but she pulled them free, hearing the tell-tale rip of fabric. What was one more tear among friends. Thanks to their new colour scheme, they were hardly regulation anyway.
It didn’t take long to catch up with the Doctor, who was still following his nose.
‘If this works, we should employ you as a bloodhound,’ she muttered, feeling slightly ridiculous for pinning her hopes on one man’s olfactory passages.
‘Through here,’ he said, changing direction without warning and pushing his way through a cluster of tightly packed trees to the right. ‘Excuse me, ladies.’
She did the same, grazing her cheek on the bark. Why would trees grow so closely anyway? Perhaps they were huddled together for a gossip, a thought that would have seemed crazy any other day.
Rubbing her sore face, she found the Doctor standing gazing at the very last thing she expected to see.
A camper van was parked in the middle of the clearing, and, if its state was anything to go by, had been for quite some time. The bodywork was badly eaten up by rust, the last vestiges of yellow paint peeling away. Grass grew long around the base, bindweed wrapped around the wheel arches and tarnished bumpers.
