by Jacqueline Rayner, Mike Tucker, Paul Magrs, et al (retail) (epub)
‘My duty to queen and country. I’m very sorry, my dear.’
‘But –’
And with that, both Organism 96 and the man whose final mission was to locate her at all costs exploded in a bright blue flash.
For a few seconds their frozen silhouettes hovered in the sunset at the prow of the ship. Then they faded, leaving nothing but a hole in the side of the W. H. Allen.
Klaxons sounded. Garbled instructions blared through every speaker. Footsteps thundered along platforms and decks. Lifeboats were winched into position and passengers wearing lifejackets milled about in confusion.
‘I must go and help,’ Marie told the Doctor. ‘The entertainers have to help in the event of an emergency at sea. I’ve had the training and everything! I must go to the assembly point.’
‘Of course,’ said the Doctor. ‘You’ve got work to do. Best get on with it.’
‘Well, you’ll have to get aboard a life raft, too.’
He smiled, unperturbed by the crush and kerfuffle all around them. ‘I’ve got my own life raft, as it happens.’
‘That unfortunate woman,’ said Marie. ‘Or whatever she was. And that old man! Sacrificing himself to fulfil his duty …’
The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘A little drastic, really. I was hoping to find another way. Perhaps, with help, the creature could have broken the conditioning of its masters. But at the same time it seemed to enjoy the killing and all that business about eating human brains. That’s not a very forgivable trait in nice old ladies.’
‘I guess not,’ said Marie. They were both shouting over the noise of the wailing klaxons and the general panic. ‘Look, I need to help with the life rafts. Are you sure you know where you’re going? Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine!’ The Doctor grinned.
‘Will I see you again?’ Marie asked.
‘Oh, somewhere,’ he said lightly. ‘Some other time, perhaps.’
He started to hurry off and find the TARDIS, then at the last moment he turned back to shout, ‘Well done on the singing, by the way! You’ve got a fantastic talent there! Keep it up!’
Then he was gone.
Marie shook her head, then dashed off, heart racing, to the life rafts.
It was a cold November morning when the carnival came to town. Autumn had descended across the landscape a few weeks before, bringing with it a chill, foreboding air, but still the people went about their business. They had jobs to lead and lives to live, and nothing was going to change that, least of all the weather.
At first the noise sounded like thunder, except the skies were completely clear. The source of the rumbling was a ramshackle convoy of vehicles rattling along the dirt tracks on the horizon. They thundered through the tiny Nebraska town and set up camp in a nearby field, bringing with them a storm of curiosity.
In the wake of the Civil War, people yearned for distraction, and carnivals like this one promised exactly that: a glimpse beyond the ordinary world they thought they knew. People flocked from miles around to take in new and sensational sights, to feel a sense of wonder. Sometimes they just wanted to believe in something more, even if they knew it was a con.
Within a mere hour of the convoy’s arrival, the circus began to sprawl out across the field. The Big Top billowed from a central scaffold, while all manner of strange mechanical structures were erected around it. Exotic beasts and animals slumbered patiently in their cages, seemingly oblivious to the wall of noise around them.
At another time, on another day, an altogether different noise might have been heard, too: the sound of the universe tearing itself in two as the Doctor’s TARDIS wheezed into existence. Today, however, the TARDIS’s arrival was lost beneath the clamour of hammers and wind, mangled in the tuneless dirge of a hurdy-gurdy.
Seconds after its materialisation, the doors to the TARDIS opened, and a tall, broad figure emerged. He sported close-cropped brown hair, a battered old leather jacket, and a stern expression on a face that didn’t seem used to smiling. His eyes darted round and up and down, taking in his new surroundings and trying to process the assault on his senses. Aside from the sounds of labourers, there was the sickly-sweet tang of cotton candy in the air, and almost everything he saw was garishly vibrant.
‘A carnival.’ The Doctor tugged the TARDIS door closed behind him. ‘Fantastic.’
He ventured out into the busy crowd of labourers and performers, striding through them as if he owned the place. In spite of all the life and colour around him, there was something unnerving about the place, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Everywhere he turned, trunks were being unloaded from their wagons, tents were being pitched and posters had gone up promoting all kinds of weird attractions. Many of them were what he might have expected – acrobats and fire-eaters, lion tamers and clowns – but there were also a couple more curious personalities. The Reptile Girl, for instance, seemed remarkably familiar, and there was an apparently ‘notorious’ Tattooed Man, who claimed to ‘see your fortune in the stars!’
The Doctor scoffed, craning his neck towards the crisp autumn sky above him. ‘Not quite how the future works, mate,’ he muttered quietly to himself. ‘Still, keep trying.’
Very soon, an entire community had appeared as if from nowhere, flooding the field with people: managers, performers, stagehands and labourers, men and women old and young, individuals from every possible walk of life imaginable. The Doctor smiled at this. Even after the horrors of the war, the human race thrived. If only he could have said the same of his own kind.
‘You okay there?’ A stranger’s voice interrupted his train of thought.
‘Always,’ replied the Doctor, spinning on his heels.
A young woman was standing behind him, wearing one of the gaudiest outfits he’d ever seen. A surprisingly bushy beard covered her face.
‘You must be the bearded lady.’ The Doctor grinned, extending a hand. ‘I’m the Doctor. What’s your name?’
‘Mona,’ replied the woman, taking the Doctor’s hand and shaking it firmly. ‘Oh, and it’s a fake, just in case you were wondering.’ To prove her point, she snatched at the beard and tugged the whiskers cleanly from her chin, then stashed them into one of her pockets.
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ the Doctor promised.
‘I should hope so!’ she teased. Mona couldn’t quite place the Doctor’s accent, despite having travelled across most of the United States. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. Where do you come from?’
‘Oh, here and there,’ the Doctor answered. ‘You know how it is …’
Mona nodded sadly. She knew exactly how it was. Everyone in the circus had a similar story. Each of them had been forced to flee their homes, and most knew they could never go back. They were outsiders through and through. Now, they looked out for each other and the people like them.
The Doctor was one of those people, Mona thought. Even behind his obvious swagger and bravado, she detected a sense of loss, as though his entire world had fallen away beneath him. She would never know how correct her perception was.
‘Well, whether you plan to stay or you’re passing through, it’s a pleasure to know you,’ she said, dropping her voice down to a whisper.
It was then that the Doctor realised what had been troubling him. ‘No one’s talking,’ he said, a little too loudly. ‘Well, no one except for you.’
For all the noise and music, Mona’s was the only voice he’d heard since he’d arrived. True, the labourers mumbled and grumbled here and there, but never loud enough to be heard above their work. Even the stallholders stood impassively in their stands, hoping to tacitly drum up business with nothing more than smiles and gestures.
‘A silent circus,’ the Doctor mused. ‘Why is that?’
‘You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,’ Mona replied.
‘Believe what?’ the Doctor asked a little impatiently, producing a small brown leather wallet from his pocket. Quickly, he shot M
ona a flash of psychic paper, then thrust it back inside his jacket. ‘I’m the Doctor,’ he repeated, more reassuringly, ‘and I promise you I can help.’
Whatever she had seen in the psychic paper, Mona trusted him.
‘They say people keep going missing, everywhere we go.’ Mona paused for a second, gauging the Doctor’s reaction; he seemed to be taking her seriously. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she continued, ‘people come and go all the time – always do in places like this. But I mean properly disappearing.’
‘What, like kidnapped?’ The Doctor seemed suddenly energised.
Mona shook her head. ‘I don’t know what it is. But you hear stories on the road, you know? People vanish when the circus comes to town.’ She sighed, then looked around at the wagons, checking that no one could overhear them. ‘They say we bring something with us,’ she hissed. ‘Nobody’s quite sure what it is, or where it came from, but that’s what they believe. People claim they’ve seen things. Terrifying things.’
‘What sort of things?’ the Doctor asked. He looked concerned.
‘A figure dressed in white.’ Mona shuddered. ‘Not a person like you or me, but something other – something supernatural. They say it never speaks; it only screams. Not that anyone’s ever tried talking to it, that I know of – if it’s even real, of course.’
The Doctor paused, letting the silence hang between them. On the surface, it sounded just as Mona told him: a ghost story, nothing more. You could find legends such as this one right across the universe, and they were rarely ever grounded in fact. Though ‘rarely’ didn’t mean ‘never’.
‘Has anyone around here seen this figure?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Sure.’ Mona grabbed him by the hand. ‘Let’s go!’
‘Where to?’
‘To the only other person who’ll talk,’ she said. ‘At least to you.’
In the space behind the Big Top, a scruffy young man was lugging trunks from tent to tent. He was dressed in a dusty cream tunic and cut-off trousers. He was well built, slim, with a mop of chestnut hair, and even though it was mid-November he’d broken into a sweat.
‘Jacob!’ Mona said, startling the young man. He wiped a sleeve across his damp forehead, apparently trying to look a lot more collected than he was, but it was clear to the Doctor that he was just as on edge as everyone else.
‘Where’d you find this one then?’ Jacob asked, looking the Doctor up and down, unable to stop a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice.
Mona shot him a reassuring smile. ‘This is the Doctor,’ she said, dropping her voice again. ‘Something to do with the sheriff’s office, only sort of a maverick. He’s here to help, whoever he is. That’s what matters.’
Jacob nodded. ‘God knows we could use a doctor around here, with some of the stuff that goes on. Turns out sword swallowing’s not as easy as it looks.’ He gave a short, grim laugh, and the Doctor couldn’t entirely tell whether or not he was joking.
‘Mona here tells me you might have heard something,’ the Doctor said, ‘about what’s been happening around here?’
Jacob flicked his eyes at Mona, and she nodded back at him. The gesture spoke volumes: Jacob could trust the Doctor.
‘I only know what I’ve seen,’ Jacob said.
‘Which is what, exactly?’
Jacob hesitated, then pulled the Doctor closer to him, either so as not to be heard or for dramatic effect.
‘None of us knows for sure,’ he whispered. ‘It just stands there, in the shadows, all billowing shirts and pantaloons. You know the kind of thing. A Pierrot. But, trust me, this ain’t no clown. There’s nothing funny about it.’
‘Any idea who it could be?’ the Doctor asked.
‘Nope. Never once shown its face. Just wears this sort of mask thing. Not a mask like all the others, mind; this one is different. I mean, I only ever caught a glimpse of it myself – and that was more than enough – but it was wrong somehow …’ Jacob trailed off. ‘I guess Mona’s told you why nobody talks around here?’
‘She hasn’t.’
‘Well, it’s because it’s blind – blind cos it has no eyes. Just this blank, dead stare.’ Jacob felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of it, this inhuman creature stalking the carnival, night after night. ‘It’s funny, I didn’t even notice it at first. It just sort of appeared out of the darkness. Like it was watching me. Never knew how long it had been there.’
‘And where was this?’ demanded the Doctor.
‘In the Big Top, a couple of months back. I’m not the only one who’s seen it, either. Word gets about. Can’t not in a place this small. You know how it is.’
‘Has it ever been seen anywhere other than the Big Top?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Jacob said. ‘People say it lurks there after dark.’
‘And none of you have ever thought to go looking for it?’
A sharp burst of laughter from Jacob told the Doctor all that he needed to know.
‘Thought not,’ the Doctor muttered. ‘Still, thanks for your help, Jacob. Much appreciated.’ He patted the young man warmly on the shoulder, then strode off in the other direction.
For the rest of that afternoon, the Doctor wandered aimlessly around the carnival, taking in all manner of sights and sounds. He tried to make small talk with some of the stallholders and labourers, but they all maintained an unsettling silence.
When dusk began to fall, the Doctor quietly watched as lamps were lit throughout the field and cast a gentle orange glow across the landscape. The coloured canvas of the Big Top seemed to dance in the gaslight, throwing the workers’ shadows on to the walls. It was like a large-scale shadow theatre, only instead of a play the Doctor was watching the silhouettes of labourers packing up tools.
‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’ a familiar voice enquired.
The Doctor looked up. ‘I’m a traveller,’ he replied, making room for Mona to sit down beside him.
‘And how long are you staying?’
‘Usually I stay for as long as I’m needed,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Why, you trying to get rid of me or something?’
‘People say you’ve been asking questions,’ she said.
‘It’s what I do,’ the Doctor huffed.
‘No one is going to talk to you about it.’
‘Can’t hurt to ask. And, anyway, I told you: I’m here to help. I think you are too.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Mona lied.
‘Oh, come on! Don’t give me that. It’s why you’re here right now.’ The Doctor rose to his feet. ‘I saw it on your face the instant Jacob spoke about that Pierrot. You know what I’m talking about – how he said it lurks about the Big Top after dark. You knew I’d still be here and that’s why you came and found me.’
Mona sighed. There was no point pretending the Doctor wasn’t right. ‘You want to go there? You want to find out what’s been doing all this?’
‘Course!’ the Doctor exclaimed. ‘Don’t you?’
Mona simply smiled.
They both knew that question didn’t need an answer.
An hour later, the circus had all but closed. A cold fog had descended, and everyone had retreated either to their tents or to personal wagons. Everyone except for the Doctor and Mona, that is, who used the cover of darkness to sneak inside the Big Top.
To their surprise, the gaslight from outside made little impact other than to accentuate the uneven nature of the dye within the canvas. It was darker inside the tent than either of them could have anticipated. They struggled to make out their own hands in front of their faces, never mind each other.
‘Stay close to me,’ the Doctor whispered gruffly.
Mona had other ideas. ‘How about you stay close to me,’ she countered, stepping in front of him.
The Doctor followed obediently; Mona knew the place better than he did, after all. She traced a route between the walls and the makeshift scaffolding, following the curve of the canvas round, leading them deeper into the stru
cture that hadn’t even been there twelve hours earlier. Occasionally, Mona would twist her body inwards, ducking her head, whispering warnings back to the Doctor.
Eventually they emerged into the open. It was still dark, of course, but already the Doctor’s eyes were becoming accustomed to their surroundings. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver and aimed it into the air. The lanterns round the ring burst into flame.
Mona’s jaw dropped.
‘What have we here, then?’ boomed the Doctor, gesturing around the empty auditorium they found themselves in. There wasn’t a single living soul to greet them; instead, there was just row after endless row of empty seating. It was a far cry from the ring’s daylight alter-ego.
Mona realised she’d never seen the Big Top like this before. Usually, it was a place that brimmed with life, awash with noise and laughter. But now? Now it simply felt hollow and dead, as though they’d stumbled upon a tomb of entertainment. She didn’t care for it.
‘That’s interesting,’ murmured the Doctor.
He shuffled towards a marking in the sand just a few feet ahead of them. It looked like footprints, but made by feet of two different sizes: one footprint was large and elongated, the other much smaller and daintier.
‘What is it?’ Mona asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ replied the Doctor, crouching down for a closer look. ‘That’s what makes it interesting.’
It wasn’t only the difference in size that made the footprints intriguing, but also the fact that they faced away from one another, as if they’d each been going in different directions. To the Doctor’s surprise, this pattern continued as he followed the trail of ill-matched footprints through the sand until eventually they vanished entirely.
The Doctor looked up. He’d reached the edge of the ring. Ahead of him, there was just a shallow wooden barrier, designed to fence off the currently non-existent audience, and a ladder that towered up to a platform above him.
‘Mona, come take a look at this!’ he called, pointing to one of the ladder’s lower rungs.
‘Is that …?’
