Doctor Who: In the Blood

by Jenny T. Colgan

  Wilf sighed once more and got up. ‘Leave the little boy alone,’ he said. ‘Put that off and sit down.’

  The chief boy stood up, sniggering at his fellows. He was enormous, Wilf thought. Huge and beefy and far too fat for a boy still wearing school uniform. He should be running about a field with his friends, Wilf thought belatedly. Or even marching up and down a parade ground. The boy had a blond quiff and some angry red spots around his Adam’s apple. His skin was red and puffy, like a rotting fruit about to burst and he smelled overwhelmingly of cheap aftershave, as if he’d emptied a bottle on top of himself. He clutched his large electronic device close to him, waving it menacingly. The tinny gangster music resounded from the speakers.

  ‘Are you going to make me?’

  Wilf looked up and down the bus. The young mother was desperately hanging her head as the baby continued to scream, obviously wishing herself anywhere else. There were two old ladies also sitting on the bus, but both of them instantly fixed their eyes looking outside the window as if absolutely nothing was happening and they could comfortably ignore it. And the bus driver drove on.

  ‘I guess I’ll have to,’ said Wilf, making a swipe for it.

  More by chance than skill he reached out to take it from him, caught it on the side, then fumbled and lost it again; in the process he sent it whizzing against the side of the bus’s metal pole. The screen cracked audibly and the music stopped. There was a terrible silence in the bus. The boy’s face, once it took in what had actually happened, turned puce.

  Suddenly he was terrifying. He loomed over Wilf, his beefy bulk overshadowing the older man completely. He lifted up a hand.

  ‘I’m going to do you for that,’ he said. ‘Come on, boys.’

  His buddies moved forward, gleeful at the battle on their hands; an excuse to vent their anger.

  ‘Now lads,’ said Wilf, his voice quavering, annoyingly. ‘You know that was an accident.’

  ‘Ain’t no accidents,’ said the chief boy in a menacing voice. ‘We all saw what you done. We know our rights. That was my property, mate. And you’re going to pay.’

  The woman with the children stifled a sob. The boy raised his arm. His face changed briefly – as if a stab of something had gone through him. He grimaced. And then he brought down his fist.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Nine

  ‘I’m so hungry.’

  They’d been marching for what felt like hours, and they were still, it seemed, no closer to the pluming smoke in the forest in front of them. The shadowy bits of the rainforest were steamy and ridiculously hot, and Donna’s pyjamas were wringing wet. She’d ceased caring.

  Fief was wearing the same blue shirt and dark trousers he’d been wearing when she’d met him for the first time at the internet troll’s house. She realised belatedly that they probably were the same: he probably didn’t sweat the same way humans did. What a funny species he was.

  ‘Is there nothing to eat? Can’t you catch a fish?’

  Fief regarded her again with that level yellow-eyed gaze. ‘But you said not to harm anything.’

  Donna sighed. ‘OK, except for fish. I probably didn’t mean fish.’

  ‘And crocodiles.’

  ‘You must be so much fun at parties. Do Cadmians have parties?’

  ‘We celebrate our unity and oneness,’ said Fief.

  ‘Is it fun?’

  Fief was completely puzzled by the question.

  ‘I don’t think being a Cadmian is remotely fun,’ said Donna.

  ‘Yes, your species seems much happier,’ returned Fief serenely. ‘Now. Fish.’

  ‘Actually, I think I just saw some bananas,’ said Donna.

  In fact they were plantain, and they cooked beautifully over a small fire Fief built. Then they headed on.

  As long as Donna didn’t have to think of anything but putting one foot in front of the other, and feel like she was moving forwards, then it wasn’t too bad. She was doing something. She was going to find the Doctor. It was fine.

  As soon as she thought about whether or not he’d survived the fall, or what was going on out in the world where the Rempaths were running rampant, her brain clouded over. So she stopped concentrating on anything like that. She had always had the knack for not thinking about things that made her feel uncomfortable, and she used it now.

  She kept her eye open for snakes and scorpions, and tried not to think about how many bites she was getting on her ankles. Eventually however, when they sat down for a brief rest (she needed them: Fief didn’t appear to), it was too much for her, and she scratched her delicate skin hard.

  ‘Rrrraaaaah,’ she said.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Scratching an itch. It’s so infuriating but so satisfying at the same time.’

  ‘An itch?’

  ‘Don’t tell me. Cadmians don’t itch.’

  ‘Is it irritating?’

  ‘Yes. What do you do when things are irritating?’

  In response Fief pulled up his trouser leg. His sallow skin was completely covered all over with the tiny angry little bites. ‘We endure.’

  Donna stared at him. ‘Seriously. They don’t itch?’

  ‘How could it upset me? They simply are.’

  He cast around, and found an aloe plant, which he squeezed into another leaf with his bare hands.

  ‘Here,’ he said, dabbing it gently on Donna’s bites with his huge hand. It stung at first, then a strange and delicious coolness started to settle on her skin.

  ‘Oh, that is so much better,’ said Donna, closing her eyes.

  ‘I believe this is supposed to ameliorate the sting of Earth insects.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Our training is quite thorough.’ He threw the rest of the leaf away.

  Donna looked at him, astonished. ‘But what about you?’ she said. ‘Don’t you want some?’

  ‘It is not necessary,’ said Fief.

  Donna found herself smiling. ‘You are so strange.’

  *

  The evening scents were beginning to settle towards the end of the day; thick heavy bougainvillea growing wild, its heavy trails everywhere; deep red flowers beginning to curl up for the night; a heavy scent of orchids on the air – when Fief halted her, and she stood stock still.

  ‘Hush,’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’ whispered Donna, looking carefully up into the trees. The twilight was settling, and her eyes persisted in seeing every vine a snake, every log a crocodile, every ant something poisonous, every glint in the woods behind them sharp teeth watching. Waiting.

  ‘I hear something.’

  Donna couldn’t hear anything at first. Just the usual cawing of the birds exchanging their farewells; a far-distant – thankfully – honking which might have been wild pig or rhinoceros. A flock of brightly coloured cockatoos took off from a distant tree, disappearing into the bright purple evening like a picture from a child’s story book.

  ‘It is so beautiful here,’ said Donna.

  ‘It is?’ said Fief, unconcerned. ‘Ssh.’

  Sure enough, now Donna too could hear a rustle. Just the gentlest of noises, out of place. Donna thought of stories she had heard: of jungle gorillas who would cart you away; of insects so venomous they would give you a tropical disease that would last for the rest of your life; of bugs that laid eggs inside the skin, that would grow and hatch into worms inside you. It was beautiful, but so, so deadly too.

  The rustle grew closer. Oh Lord, that was all she needed. Snake, she thought. Anaconda. Huge, huge snake that would engulf them entirely in their jaws, digest them, burn their bodies down through acid then chew on the remains.

  She started to tremble a little bit. What was the best thing to do? Run? But they were fast, weren’t they? Fast and vast and on their home territory. Could Fief hit things with a rock this time?

  ‘Whatever it is,’ she whispered. ‘Forget what I said about not hurting the animals. We might . . . I mean, it’s self-defence. I think we’ll have to.’

 
Fief nodded severely. ‘Perhaps it will slip past,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t move. It’s vibrations that attract them.’

  That didn’t help Donna, who was trembling enough to cause an earthquake. Also, she thought sadly of her soaked pyjamas. Any creature that could smell would find its way to her pretty sharpish. Could snakes smell?

  And darkness was falling minute by minute.

  She saw it, quick as lightning, darting out of the trees. A huge green snake, the largest thing she’d ever seen, thrusting itself towards her.

  She forgot the admonitions to keep calm; how proud she was of being brave; how determined she was to keep on. She forgot everything but the very base of her lizard brain, which, for some evolutionary throwback reason of its own, made her scream and scream like she had never screamed before.

  She screamed like a child at their own birthday party who’d just lost pass the parcel; she screamed like a silent film star who’d just been given their shot at talkies, tied to a railway track. She screamed so loudly the cockatoos flew on and never came back to that part of the jungle, which had been their home for several generations. A previously undiscovered local tribe, who had also seen the terrible train accident, turned her into a myth; a ghost who came the same day as the smoke; with hair burnt red in the fire; who could kill you by the mere power of her terrifying shrieking voice. It’s in the anthropological literature; you can look it up.

  The great beast twisted its coils around her and threw her into the air, up, up, and beyond the treeline, catapulting her into the clear blue sky, then swinging back again, brushing the leaves, startling the remaining birds, and still Donna screamed on.

  ‘Please,’ came a familiar voice at her ear. ‘Seriously, any time you feel like stopping that is absolutely fine. I’m not saying I have unusually sensitive hearing, but I think I’m bleeding . . .’

  The vine – which was what it was – kept on swinging through the trees back and forth, gradually slowing. The Doctor put Donna’s hands on it, to stop her trying to claw off his face.

  ‘Hold on to that, please.’

  ‘You’re . . . you’re a snake!’ said Donna hoarsely as they swung onwards.

  ‘I’m on the thin side,’ allowed the Doctor.

  ‘No, no, I mean I thought you were an actual snake!’ She hurled her arms around him in delight. ‘You’re alive! And not a snake!’

  ‘I know! Brilliant!’

  They swung happily in the air together as the vine slowed down.

  ‘How did you get off the train? Was it a parachute? Did you use my parachute idea?’

  ‘Might have.’

  ‘Aha!’

  The Doctor glanced down as the vine came to land in a different clearing, some way from where he’d grabbed her. ‘Right, let’s get you away from that man. He’s far more dangerous than a snake, I promise.’ He stepped off the vine lightly. ‘Oh, I do like doing that,’ he said, grinning. Then he turned to Donna. ‘Why are you all wet?’

  ‘Because we’re in the middle of a steamy jungle. Why aren’t you all wet? You’re wearing a suit.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said the Doctor, looking around. ‘Come on. There’s no time to waste.’ He pulled the little origami map from his pocket.

  ‘Wait,’ said Donna. ‘Fief. Are we just leaving him?’

  ‘I think he can look after himself, don’t you?’

  Donna thought about it. ‘It’s weird: he doesn’t seem evil,’ she said.

  ‘He isn’t,’ said the Doctor. ‘He’s purely rational. Which makes him far, far more dangerous. Baddies . . . they’re swayed by things. Emotions. Anger, craziness: stuff which makes them careless. Panic, which makes them make mistakes. But Cadmians: they just do stuff. They don’t let much get in their way.’

  ‘How? I mean are they born like that?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘Did you see his earpiece?’

  ‘Yeah. I thought it might be connecting him to his boss.’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No. Cadmians are partly made of sound. They’re raised in sound fields.’

  ‘They’re made of music?’

  ‘It’s not music, no. Music’s all about emotion. Quite the opposite. But it is a binding force. They’re all tuned in to the same frequency all the time. Promotes suggestibility. Keeps the peace.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Donna. ‘No wonder their parties are terrible.’

  ‘Quite.’ The Doctor licked his finger and stuck it in the air. ‘Right, come on, Miss Noble, it’s not that far for us. A few days’ hard hiking in that direction.’

  A faint smile played on his lips. Donna looked at the Doctor and he looked straight back at her with an innocent expression.

  ‘Don’t say it again,’ said Donna in a warning voice.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything!’ His grin was breaking through.

  ‘You’re thinking it though.’

  He grinned again. ‘Maybe I think a lot of things.’

  ‘You’re thinking I would have liked the TARDIS here,’ said Donna.

  ‘That might be one of the things.’

  ‘You’re thinking, I will never ever listen to Donna’s advice ever again.’

  ‘You know, you may want to conserve your energies. It’s a really bracing hike.’ He sauntered on, casually, taking long strides.

  Donna shouted after him. ‘You know, Fief saved me from a crocodile. Could you have saved me from a crocodile?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I’d have talked him out of it. Just a dialect of parseltongue really. Less sibilant, obviously.’

  He marched confidently on into the jungle.

  Chapter

  Thirty

  Donna was dropping on her feet by the time it got too dark to really see their way any further.

  There was the occasional rustle in the foliage behind them. She wondered if it were a beast, or Fief, calmly following them. She thought again of him squeezing the aloe plant onto her bites, which not only still didn’t itch, but seemed to have kept the other insects away from her.

  She was very grateful for the sun going down and the heat going out of the day, but the air was still warm and wet. She wanted nothing more than a shower. And a bed. A warm, cosy bed with clean white sheets and a soft white duvet, and tight hospital corners, somewhere she could snuggle into, all clean, in fresh pyjamas . . . Then she opened her eyes again and realised she was stumbling through a jungle a million miles from everything she held dear; from every sign of civilisation. She realised as she exhaustedly put one foot after another that after several long-haul flights, an almost sleepless night, an accident and a long hike, she was beyond tired; that she was falling asleep on her feet. She knew if she sat down, even for a moment, she would simply curl up on the damp ground.

  She pulled out her phone from her pyjama pocket. It was miraculously unharmed so far.

  ‘Seriously?’ said the Doctor. ‘Are you checking your “likes” for your pyjamas? Are you going to take a picture of some breadfruit and upload it with the hashtag #nomnomnom?’

  Donna frowned at him. ‘Actually,’ she said. ‘My grandfather is in a country where people are unaccountably going mad with fury then dying as a result of a horrible disease. I want to check he’s OK. Is that not all right with you?’

  ‘Well you know, if we had the—’

  ‘Don’t!’ she said.

  There were a couple of bars of charge on the phone . . . but curiously, something else. As she turned to her right, facing north, away from the railway line, there was a tiny beep.

  It was a Wi-Fi connection.

  ‘Huh,’ said Donna, showing it to the Doctor.

  He frowned. ‘That must be a settlement. There must be something around here. I didn’t think there was much. Or that we’d stumble on it. I was just following my nose . . .’

  He pulled out the screwdriver and aimed it around. Sure enough it too buzzed in the same direction as Donna’s phone.

  ‘Oh, well done,’ said
Donna. ‘It’s almost as good as my phone.’

  The Doctor looked at her. ‘You don’t just want to keep on walking? We’ll get there faster. Unless we take the vines again.’

  ‘No,’ said Donna. ‘I don’t. It’s not that . . . Doctor, I can’t. I need to rest. I know you don’t. But I do. Not for long, I promise.’

  They moved towards the beeping, eventually cresting a ridge. There was, Donna thought, something about knowing that somewhere comfortable might be up ahead – that she was dreaming now of the reality of soft white beds and clean clothes – that made going on far more difficult, strangely, than it had been before.

  It was growing properly cold now. The wind dried her damp clothes against her and it was a profoundly unpleasant sensation. The Doctor had given her his jacket, but it wasn’t really helping. She could feel her teeth starting to chatter. Normally when people said that Britain had a temperate climate she snorted at them. For the first time, she thought, she truly knew what they meant.

  She looked up. ‘Sorry,’ she said.

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘No. Of course we’ll stop,’ he said.

  And just as he did so, there was a tiny line of electric bulbs on the horizon, and Donna wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anything so lovely; like little stars. Her face lit up.

  The approach was longer than it seemed when you saw the lights. With every dip and gully now in near total darkness, there was no path to discover. It simply went on and on burning her thighs, scratching her ankles, every bit of exertion feeling too much.

  But Donna had the end in sight, and tried her very hardest, and the Doctor helped, until finally they scrambled up the last hill to the settlement – to find a walled abbey. It looked European in origin, and completely incongruous in the middle of the thick rainforest. On the other side there was a muddy trail road leading in the opposite direction from the one they’d come. Apart from that, it was completely isolated; a church out of time, golden walls, extensive grounds behind; a bell tower above.