The Deviant Strain

by Justin Richards

  Jack and Valeria were struggling along a narrowing ridge. At the sides of the road, the land dropped away into deeper darkness. Jack could only tell because the pale glint of the snow just stopped where the ridge ended. ‘Come on,’ he encouraged Valeria – could she hear him? Probably not. But he said it anyway: ‘Come on. Not far. Almost there. We’ll be all right in a few minutes.’

  Behind them the creatures were edging closer, catching up.

  Ahead of them the night exploded.

  Fire leaping high and wide as the entire ridge burst into flames. The heat of it almost knocked Jack backwards. The whole ridge was burning, the snow retreating from the heat as it melted and evaporated from the roadway. There was no way they could get through to the institute now.

  But perhaps the heat would drive the creatures back. ‘They don’t like fire and heat,’ Jack reassured Valeria. Her expression did not change. He squeezed her unfeeling hand. ‘We’ll be fine now. They’ll turn back. You’ll see. Any moment now.’

  But the creatures kept coming.

  TWELVE

  THE DOCTOR WAS counting on his fingers, peering through the smoke and flames. It made Rose’s eyes sting and she blinked and squinted.

  ‘Thought there’d be more of them,’ the Doctor was saying.

  She couldn’t look. The smoke was everywhere, thick and black from the fuel oil. Rose had to turn away. And as she did so, as she blinked and coughed and the tears ran down her cheeks, she could see the institute framed against the night sky behind them. The firelight was a flickering orange across its blank concrete façade. But it was an orange tinged with blue.

  From either side, across the snow-clad fields and from the cliff top, far in the distance the creatures were coming. She pulled at the Doctor’s sleeve. ‘Look.’

  ‘It’s great, isn’t it?’ He was still staring into the flames. ‘We’ve got ’em licked.’

  ‘We haven’t got ’em licked. Look.’ She pulled harder.

  ‘They’ve come round the sides,’ he said quietly.

  ‘We could set up more fires,’ Lieutenant Krylek suggested.

  ‘Doubt there’s enough time,’ the Doctor told him.

  Levin was nodding in agreement. ‘And we’ve nothing left to burn.’

  ‘So what’s gone wrong?’

  The Doctor took a deep breath. ‘Georgi,’ he said. ‘Either he’s not succeeded. Or . . .’

  ‘Or what?’ Levin demanded.

  ‘Barinska wasn’t working alone.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Phone.’

  Rose handed him her mobile and he punched the buttons. He was already running, back towards the institute. ‘Keep the fire burning,’ he shouted at Levin. ‘Maybe we can still lead them here.’

  They were huddled as close to the flames as Jack could stand. Valeria didn’t object, didn’t seem to feel the heat or appreciate the danger. And still the creatures edged closer. Jack reckoned they had maybe ten minutes. At most. Then he would have to drag Valeria to her feet, maybe carry her, run for it – hope to get through the mass of glowing blue flesh that was rolling up the roadway towards them.

  ‘Fat chance,’ he murmured.

  He held her tight, arm round her shoulder. There was no give at all, no recognition or reaction. It was like holding a corpse.

  The sound of the phone in the quiet of the room startled Minin. It took him a moment to recover, then he snatched at the receiver in sudden excitement.

  ‘Doctor? Has it worked? Have we done it?’

  But he could tell at once from the Doctor’s tone that things were not going well. ‘What’s Georgi doing? Can’t he concentrate? Has he woken from the trance?’

  Minin looked into the glass cage. ‘No. He’s just sitting there. Looks like he might be muttering something. But he’s not moved. Not at all.’

  ‘Then he’s still in contact. Alex – you have to break the contact. He’s bringing the creatures round the side. He’s bypassed the fire. He’s leading them right to us.’

  Minin felt cold. ‘Stop him? How?’

  ‘Any way you can. We’ll be right with you. But – every second counts.’

  The phone went dead. Minin put down the handset slowly, considering.

  He could see them, rolling up the hill and coming along the road. He could feel the heat of the fire, and he wondered how soon the other fires would be lit.

  ‘Don’t bring them all up the road,’ the voice had said. Whispering to him as he concentrated, as he felt the tingle of the creatures in his mind’s eye. ‘Make sure most of them come round the sides, otherwise they will expect a trap. We’ll lay other fires for them, don’t worry. Just concentrate on bringing them to us. Bringing them here.’ It was a soft, kind voice. Assured and confident. ‘Don’t worry about anything else. Just bring them here. To us.’

  The outside world did not exist. Just the creatures – slithering ever closer. If Georgi could hear Minin’s shouts from the other side of the thick glass, if he could hear the hammering on the wall, it meant nothing to him.

  ‘The creatures – bring them here.’

  That was his whole world . . .

  No reaction. The man obviously couldn’t – or wouldn’t – hear him. Minin hammered with his fists on the glass. Then he reached inside his jacket and took out a pistol. He had taken it from his desk drawer when Klebanov sent him to get coffee. In the old days, Minin carried it all the time. He feared for his life all the time. He hadn’t even looked at it for years, hadn’t fired it since . . . He was confident the Doctor knew what he was doing, but even so Minin had decided he wanted the gun. He knew it would have no effect on the creatures, but then it was not them he was intending to use it on if things turned really bad. It was his insurance. His way out. His only way out.

  1917. The outer door clicked open. Minin stepped into the airlock. After a moment, the outer door closed behind him. He reached out for the keypad on the internal door. His hands were sweating. The gun felt slippery. He’d only ever killed a man once before. Surely it wouldn’t come to that. Surely the threat would be enough. An old blind man – shake him by the shoulder, push him off the chair if need be. Just break the link.

  1917. Nothing. Just a bleep of protest.

  The door remained closed. He must have keyed the number in wrong. His eyes were swimming, vision blurred. His finger was slippery with perspiration – might have slid on to the wrong button. He tried again.

  And again.

  The code didn’t work. It had worked only minutes before. Could someone have changed the setting, overridden the code? He hammered on the door with the butt of the pistol. Still no reaction from the old man. With a sigh of frustration, Minin turned round and punched the code into the outer door. He’d have to wait for the Doctor. The Doctor would know what to do.

  1917.

  Bleep.

  The outer door remained closed. Trapping Minin between two sheets of bullet-proof glass. Inside the cage, Georgi continued to mutter, to guide the creatures towards the institute. Oblivious.

  The Doctor took in the situation at a glance. Georgi sat motionless inside the glass cage. Minin hammering on the outer door – trapped in the airlock.

  ‘Get Vahlen,’ he told Rose.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Guy in the digger. He’s an engineer. Tell him to bring his tools.’

  ‘But can’t you –’

  ‘You want a debate, or you want to help?’ he snapped, handing her back her mobile. ‘Get him. I’ll do what I can.’

  She nodded and ran.

  The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and went straight to the keypad by the door. Old technology – antiquated. Could he persuade it to work for him?

  ‘1917.’ Minin’s voice was faint but audible. ‘It works from that side.’

  The Doctor nodded and keyed in the code. A bleep from the system. ‘Not any more.’ He set to work with the screwdriver and a shower of sparks erupted from the keypad. ‘That doesn’t look good,’ he admitted, waving away the curls of smoke. The ke
ypad was a twisted, melted mess. ‘Whoops,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Should we pull back inside the base?’ Krylek asked.

  ‘Safer here by the fire,’ Levin told him. ‘I think.’

  ‘Then should we evacuate the civilians and scientists, bring them here?’

  Levin looked across to where the line of blue was moving ever closer to the institute. ‘I doubt there’s time. Let’s pray the Doctor stops them.’

  He sounded more hopeful than he felt. Rose was running across from the base towards them. She was shouting something – good news? Please let it be good news.

  ‘Where’s the guy on the digger?’ she gasped as she got closer.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Quick – we need him.’

  Levin simply pointed. Close to the raging fire, the shape of the digger was just visible through the billowing smoke.

  ‘Thanks.’ And with no further explanation, Rose set off towards it.

  ‘Why don’t they stop?’ Jack asked out loud. ‘Why doesn’t the heat drive them off?’

  The nearest of the creatures was melting like jelly – rivulets of molten blue running down the glutinous sides. A tentacle whipped out, towards the flames – crashed past Jack’s head. When it withdrew, it was burning. The creature shrieked in pain, the end of the tentacle a mass of flames. But still it kept coming.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ Jack said quietly, close to the girl’s ear.

  She did not reply.

  The burning tentacle lashed out again – right at them.

  The keypad for the internal door detached from the mechanism behind it. Minin had pulled it away and was ripping out wires in response to the Doctor’s shouted instructions. He cried out in alarm and surprise as a jolt of power ran through his fingers.

  ‘That’ll be live, so careful,’ the Doctor called to him.

  ‘Thanks.’ Minin sucked his fingertips. ‘Now I reconnect it to which one?’

  The Doctor told him. ‘Dunno if it’ll work, mind.’

  He twisted the wire together. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Key in 1789 and see what happens.’

  ‘Why 1789?’ he asked as he pressed the buttons, hoping it would work.

  ‘Seemed like an appropriate number.’

  No bleep. Instead the hiss of the door mechanism. It clicked open. Minin sighed with relief. The Doctor was grinning at him through the glass door.

  The inner door opened an inch. Two inches. Three. Painfully slowly. Four inches.

  Then it stopped.

  Minin pushed. No movement. Jammed. He shoved at it. Put his shoulder to the door and heaved.

  Without effect.

  She paused for a moment to catch her breath. Vahlen had caught the urgency of Rose’s instructions from the Doctor and climbed down from the digger. He took a tool box from the back of the vehicle and set off towards the base.

  Rose wanted to tell him to get a move on, but she was so out of breath she could scarcely speak. The smoke clawed at the back of her throat as she drew in great rasping gulps of air. It made her cough.

  Leaning against the digger, she stared into the flames of the huge bonfire. Through the flickering firelight she could see the blue glow of the creatures as they moved slowly but inexorably towards the fire. The Doctor had been right – if only they could direct the rest of the things into the fire they might still have a chance.

  Having caught her breath, Rose turned to follow Vahlen. Then paused. Movement – out of the corner of her eye as she turned she had seen movement. From the other side of the fire. Not the blue glow of the advancing creatures, but a dark silhouette moving quickly to escape a thrashing, burning tentacle. Rose leaned as close as she could to the fire.

  Was there someone there – trapped on the other side? If there was, she could do nothing for them. She peered through the smoke and flames, struggling to make sense of the shapes and movement on the other side . . .

  The phone was ringing again. It had to be Rose. The Doctor snatched it up. ‘Yeah?’

  Minin was struggling with the door. He could just get his hand through the gap, but he couldn’t open it any further.

  Rose was shouting in the Doctor’s ear. Telling him the creatures were almost there. That Jack was on the other side of the fire and they had to help him. That time was running out. What she was going to do.

  The Doctor did not reply. He hung up the phone. ‘See you,’ he said quietly. ‘Good luck.’ Then he was back at the door, shouting to Minin. ‘You’ve got to stop him. Those creatures are nearly here. Get the door open and stop him!’

  But the door wasn’t moving. Minin stared back at the Doctor, face gaunt – haunted, hollow-eyed – as he slipped off his jacket and pushed up his sleeves. He held the gun in his left hand – so he could squeeze it through the gap between the door and the frame, could reach round to aim at Georgi sitting silent and still in the cage.

  On Minin’s forearm was tattooed a snarling wolf. Despite being muffled by the thick glass, the sound of the shot echoed round the room.

  This was it. Jack had wrapped himself round the girl, protecting her as best he could, though he wasn’t sure why he was bothering. At least she would feel nothing as the creatures grabbed her and drew out what was left of her life.

  A tentacle clawed at Jack’s arm, wrapping round, heaving him away from the girl. He hung on, pulling her with him. ‘We’ll go together,’ he said, teeth gritted. He felt woozy, tired, as if he’d not slept for a month . . .

  A triumphant roar – like a massive engine straining in too low a gear. He looked up, expecting to see the creature bearing down on him.

  Instead it was knocked away, the tentacle ripped from Jack’s arm, and suddenly he was awake and alert – and watching the massive digger that smashed into the creature and set it tumbling backwards. The huge wheels were on fire, rubber tyres showering sparks as they turned.

  It reversed, back towards Jack and Valeria. The figure in the cab was waving and shouting. Rose.

  He couldn’t hear her, but he didn’t need to. There was only one thing to do. The creatures were advancing again – gathering themselves as if to leap forwards.

  Jack heaved the girl into his arms and stumbled to the digger. He collapsed with her into the metal scoop at the front. There was a hiss and he could smell his clothes singe. Wisps of grey smoke were curling upwards and the heat was soaking through from the hot metal and into him. He almost cried out with the pain, gritting his teeth. Valeria was a dead weight on top of him. He had to keep her from getting burned – she wouldn’t feel it, wouldn’t know to pull away from the hot surfaces.

  The engine roared again and Jack was being lifted. The scoop was rising slowly up into the air. Flames danced round them, but thin and pale. From the top of the fire as Rose drove back through.

  Then there was a loud explosion and the world lurched to one side. A tyre, he realised – blown out by the heat. The digger lurched forwards. Stopped. Lurched again. Slowly the scoop was lowering and Rose’s smoke-stained face was waiting, looking down at him as Jack rolled out onto the mercifully cold ground. Valeria lay beside him, staring impassively up at the smoky sky.

  ‘Hot date?’ Rose said.

  ‘Too hot,’ he told her. ‘Even for me.’ He pulled himself to his feet and dusted down his ruined coat. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Thanks.’

  Minin could not easily reach round far enough to fire at Georgi. He hoped the shot would wake the man, break his concentration.

  It didn’t.

  He struggled to force more of his arm through, to be able to angle it so he could shoot the man. Shoot him. Had it come to that – shooting an old man? Would just wounding him be enough? Could he do it?

  From the other side of the glass, the Doctor was shouting. But Minin could not make out the words. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. All he could see was Chedakin’s laughing face. He blinked it away, aimed as best he could.

  Fired.

  The shot missed again. Georgi did not mov
e. There was another noise now, not just the rushing of blood – a hissing. Like escaping gas.

  Gas.

  And Minin could see the dark puncture mark in the canister behind Georgi. A thick red mist was seeping out. A cloud of scarlet gathering in the air, rolling lazily across the room.

  Last chance. He shot again, unthinking, unfeeling. The cloud was engulfing Georgi now. The old man slumped forwards. Minin heard the crash of his body hitting the floor. He ripped his arm back through the gap. Punched at the keypad. ‘Close, damn you – close!’

  The door didn’t move.

  The red mist was spreading slowly across the room towards him . . .

  ‘He’s killed Georgi,’ Vahlen said. His voice was flat – shocked out of any inflection.

  ‘He didn’t mean to,’ the Doctor said gently. ‘He was trying to warn him, or just wound him. Now get Minin out of there before he dies too.’

  ‘What is it?’ Vahlen pointed to the red mist.

  ‘Deadly. Can you get the door open? Get him out?’

  Vahlen examined the fused keypad. Minin’s face was close to his, through the glass. Eyes wide with fear.

  ‘Probably.’ But Vahlen made no effort to do it. ‘He betrayed Chedakin,’ he said quietly. ‘Betrayed my friend. He deserves to die.’

  ‘No one deserves to die.’

  ‘What about Georgi?’

  ‘He didn’t deserve it either. But there was no other way.’

  ‘And Chedakin?’

  The Doctor hauled Vahlen to his feet. His dark eyes stared into the man’s very soul. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? You saw the file in his office. You still think that Minin drove your innocent friend to suicide?’

  ‘What else?’

  The red mist was halfway across the room. Minin was hammering on the door.

  ‘There was a party agent working undercover, sending back information. Damning you all.’

  ‘Minin.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then he worked for Minin.’

  ‘You saw the memos. Minin didn’t even know he was here. And when he found out . . .’

  And Vahlen did see it then. ‘Chedakin? But he was my friend.’

  ‘He would have betrayed you all,’ the Doctor said. ‘That’s why Minin shot him. Back of the head. An unlikely suicide. More of an execution.’