by Doctor Who
‘Frankly, those creatures were not the product of imagination at all, Morton,’ Peyne snapped. ‘They were real-life experiences. Memories, not fantasy.’
‘What?’ Morton was shocked. ‘How is that possible?’
Peyne smiled at him unpleasantly, greatly enjoying her moment of superiority. ‘The girl is an inter-dimensional traveller. Her body is soaked with energy from the time winds. She appears to have a telepathic link with a machine called the TARDIS, one of the legendary time capsules of the Time Lords.’
‘The Doctor. . . ’
‘Would appear to be one of those Time Lords.’
Peyne adjusted a control, bringing a flickering image of the Doctor to life on one of the dozens of screens.
‘It’s interesting. They are meant to be extinct, casualties of the war they started.’ She ran a hand across the screen. ‘I wonder where this one has been hiding.’
‘Damn.’ Morton wheeled himself angrily across the room. ‘I’m not interested in your extinct Time Lords! Switch the machines back on!
We’ve wasted enough time!’
‘As I recall, it was your decision to turn them off in the first place.’
‘All right, Peyne! It was my fault. I’m sure you will make sure that the Synod knows that you had nothing to do with it!’
Peyne nodded. ‘My report will have to be submitted.’ She crossed to the bank of machines again, flicking at switches. ‘But before you dismiss the Doctor completely, consider this. The Time Lords are recorded as having the gift of complete bodily renewal. A useful at-tribute, don’t you think?’
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Morton stared at her silently and, with a smile, Peyne resumed her work at the controls.
Bronwyn’s motorboat bumped hard against the harbour wall, engine roaring as she swung it hard into the side. The Doctor bounded out and swiftly climbed the rusty ladder that clung to the wall. Bronwyn clambered up clumsily after him, skirts held in one hand and the rope coiled untidily over her shoulder.
The Doctor helped her up on to the quay, watching impatiently as she carefully tied the boat to one of the bollards that studded the wall’s edge. The harbour was deserted, the harbour master’s office with its picture-postcard displays shuttered and dark. The place was like a ghost town again, the wind sending abandoned newspaper pages fluttering down the street like mad origami seagulls.
The windows of the pub were ablaze with light. The locals were no doubt all gathered inside once more, awaiting their nightly siege. Out in the bay, the green light was already starting to glow at the top of the lighthouse again.
The Doctor started off along the quay.
‘Come on, Bronwyn! No dawdling! We’ve got to try and get up to the rectory before the woods start crawling with nasty things again.
Chop-chop!’
The old lady shook her head. ‘Goin’ home.’
‘What?’ The Doctor hurried back to her. ‘We’ve got to get up to Morton’s place. Rose is in trouble.’
Bronwyn shook her head again and there was real fear in her eyes.
The Doctor put an arm around her shoulder.
‘I can’t leave you out here alone. It’s not safe.’
Bronwyn shook herself free angrily.
‘It should be safe! A woman shouldn’t feel frightened in the place she grew up in. We shouldn’t have to hide.’
Torn, the Doctor watched her hobble her way along the harbour wall. Every second he delayed gave him less chance of reaching the rectory and helping Rose out of whatever it was she’d got herself into, but he couldn’t leave Bronwyn out in the dark on her own. He called 102
after her, but she didn’t look back. So, with a sigh, he turned and hurried after her.
She was heading for the strip of beach and her ramshackle house.
‘Told him not to come back.’ She waved an angry finger at the Doctor.
‘Told him that no good would ever come of it and now look where he’s led us!’
Bronwyn’s voice was getting louder and louder the angrier she got.
She was going to wake up all the children if she carried on like this!
The Doctor was about to say something but suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.
‘Of course!’ He ran a hand through his tousled hair. ‘That’s it!’
He dashed forward, catching Bronwyn by the arm and spinning her around. ‘Bronwyn Ceredig, you are a genius. A grade-A certified genius!’ He planted a kiss on her forehead.
‘What has got into you?’ She slapped him away. ‘Are you mad?’
‘Completely! Totally! Mad as a hatter! Come on.’ He caught her hand, steering her back towards the pub. ‘I’m going to buy you a crème de menthe!’
Beth Hardy wiped tears from her eyes and glanced over at the door for what seemed like the millionth time. The mood in the pub was sombre and oppressive. On the other side of the bar Margo Evans was trying to comfort her two girls, while Jeff Palmer stood with his arm protectively around his son, Billy. Mervyn stood in the window with a face like thunder; he and Jeff had nearly come to blows.
It had been nearly two hours since Billy and the two girls had slunk nervously into the kitchen of the pub. They had been wet and splat-tered with mud, but there was nothing unusual in that. Beth had tutted at them sternly and berated them for trailing muck across her nice clean floor, waiting for Ali’s mischievous face to poke around the edge of the doorframe at any moment.
Then Sian Evans had started to cry, and with a sudden cold chill Beth had realised that something was wrong.
They had managed to coax the story out of the three kids – Baz Morgan was already safely at home with his parents. Billy had told 103
them about their meeting with Rose in the woods, about how they had shown her the tunnel that led under the wall of the rectory and how Ali had been the one who had set off after her.
They had waited as long as they dared, hoping that Ali or Rose would reappear, but as the last remnants of day started to fade and the dark of the woods started to close around them, the children had finally lost their nerve and run.
Mervyn had flown off the handle at Billy. He was the eldest. How dare he just run off and leave a ten-year-old girl out there on her own? Beth had thought he was going to hit Billy, and that’s when Jeff had waded into the argument to protect his son, and it had taken Bob Perry and several others in the pub to separate the two men.
Mervyn had shaken himself free and pulled on his jacket, prepared to head out into the night and confront Nathaniel Morton then and there. He had barely made it 100 metres across the dark car park at the back of the pub before the first of the night’s creatures had driven him back.
That had been two hours ago and Mervyn had stood in the window, staring into the night, ever since. Beth had never seen him angrier or more despairing. She had tried to talk to him but the anguish on his face had frightened her more than she dared show. Now she tried to convince herself that Ali was a sensible girl. That she knew the dangers of the night and would find herself somewhere safe to hide until it was dawn.
Beth looked over at the clock that hung above the bar, watching the second hand making its way inexorably around the face. Dawn was such a long, long way away.
The door of the pub crashed open and Beth swung round in fearful anticipation. The Doctor breezed through with Bronwyn in his wake.
He crossed to the bar, flashing a brilliant smile at Beth.
‘I know!’
The assembled villagers watched him in open-mouthed amazement.
‘I know how to deal with this. At least I know how to start to deal with this. Bronwyn’s idea. Brilliant. But I need your help.’
Mervyn charged across the pub, catching the Doctor by the lapels 104
of his coat and slamming him back against the wall.
‘No, Mervyn!’ screamed Beth. ‘Don’t.’
Jeff Palmer stepped forward. ‘Don’t be foolish, Mervyn.’
‘The only foolish thing we’ve done has been to
let this man and his friend anywhere near our daughter.’ Mervyn Hardy’s voice was shaking with rage.
The Doctor shook himself free from the big man’s grip, looking round at the hostile faces in the pub.
‘I haven’t got time for this. Rose is in trouble and I need your help to rescue her.’
‘Oh, so now you need our help,’ Mervyn sneered contemptuously.
‘You sent your friend up to the Morton place, and now she’s trapped there, and our daughter with her!’
‘You mean to say that Ali. . . ’ The Doctor looked from Mervyn to Beth in alarm.
Beth came out from behind the bar, her face pleading. ‘You said you were going to help us. And now Ali is out there, like Mervyn said.
With those things. . . ’
Unable to hold it in any more, the tears started to flood from her eyes. She buried her face in her husband’s chest.
‘Now listen to me.’ The Doctor’s voice rang strongly across the pub, confident and controlling. ‘I said I would help and I meant it.’
‘Help?
Poking around on Black Island with that mad old bat.’
Mervyn nodded at Bronwyn.
‘Yes, poking around on Black Island. Very interesting poking. Interesting and informative poking that might just hold the key to what is going on here. We found machinery in the lighthouse –’
‘That lighthouse hasn’t been used for years,’ Mervyn interrupted.
‘Well, it’s being used now! Perhaps if you’d done some poking of your own, you might have found that out for yourselves!’
‘What sort of machinery?’ asked Bob Perry.
‘Alien machinery.’ The Doctor kept his voice level. ‘Alien machinery that affects the minds of your children, that keeps you docile and afraid and stops you thinking straight. Alien machinery that has paral-ysed you into inactivity.’
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A low muttering went around the pub.
‘Alien?’ Bob snorted. ‘What? You think you and your girlfriend are like those two from The X-Files or something?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re having a laugh.’
‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’
‘Now look, it’s our daughter out there.’ Mervyn’s voice was low and dangerous. ‘And she’s –’
‘Completely safe if we wake everyone up!’ shouted the Doctor.
The pub went silent.
‘The creatures are created by the children. That’s one reason why you didn’t want to call anyone for help, isn’t it, Mrs Hardy? You worked it out. You knew that the creatures only appeared when your children fell asleep, and you were afraid. Afraid that if anyone found out your children would be taken away.’
The Doctor looked at the expectant faces surrounding him. ‘Whatever is going on at the rectory relies on the dreams of the children.
Not any adult dreams, not the dreams of babies, but the dreams of children. Young, imaginative children.’
The Doctor beamed at Billy Palmer. ‘But what happens if we stop them going to sleep? No nightmares, no monsters.’
Mervyn snorted. ‘Don’t be daft, man. We can’t stop them sleeping indefinitely!’
‘Not indefinitely.’ The Doctor rounded on him, looking him full in the face. ‘Tonight. Just keep them awake for tonight and I will finish this once and for all. Keep them awake long enough to clear the woods of monsters, long enough for me to get to the rectory. Then I will rescue my friend and your daughter.’
Beth Hardy clutched at her husband’s arm. ‘Mervyn. . . ’
Mervyn looked down at the frightened face of his wife for a long while, then nodded. ‘Promise me this will work, Doctor.’
‘It will,’ said the Doctor. ‘I promise.’
‘What do you want us to do?’
The Doctor turned to the crowded pub. ‘Go home, all of you. Go home and wake your kids up. Tell your neighbours to do the same.
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Get hold of anyone who has children and let them know. Get the kids out of bed. Let them watch television, drag out all their toys, play tiddlywinks with them, make them dance, make them sing.’
The Doctor bounded over to the jukebox, hauling a handful of coins from his pocket and pushing them into the machine. He punched at various buttons and ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees started to blare from the speakers.
‘Play them records, give them chocolate, fizzy drinks, enough Tar-trazene to have ’em bouncing off the walls! Anything! Just don’t let them sleep. Starve Morton of what it is he needs!’
The Doctor crouched down next to Billy Palmer. ‘This tunnel of yours, how do I get there?’
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Roseeasedthedooropenandpeekedoutintothecorridor,checking to see if the coast was clear. Motioning to Ali to stay put, she stepped on to the landing, padding cautiously over to the banisters.
The old house was dark and quiet, the only sound the muffled beep of the medical equipment from the dining room.
Rose peered down into the hallway, clutching at the banister rail for support. Her head was still spinning, the drugs that Peyne had pumped into her making her dizzy and nauseous. All she wanted to do was lie down and go to sleep, but she had to take the chance that Ali had given them. They weren’t going to get a second go at this.
She had splashed handfuls of water on to her face from the little sink, desperately trying to shake the lethargy from her limbs. She had hoped that they might be able to escape through a window, shinning down a drainpipe or something into the garden, but the windows were shut tight, glued into their frames with year upon year of paint.
Even if they had been able to open a window, it was a long way down and Rose wasn’t sure that she’d make it in her current condition. It was more likely that she’d end up flat on her back with a broken leg or something.
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No, they had to take the chance of getting out the same way they’d come in: down to the cellar and back out through the tunnel. Then she had to find the Doctor and let him know what she had found out. Which wasn’t much. Other than discovering the truth about the masked nurses, she was no closer to finding out what Morton was actually up to.
She suddenly felt a surge of anger. Where the hell was the Doctor?
Surely he had finished looking over the lighthouse by now? Surely he had noticed that she’d been gone hours?
‘Rose?’
Ali was peeking through the crack in the door. As Rose turned to tell her to shut up, her foot caught on something and she nearly fell. She looked down to see what she had tripped over. Cables snaked up the side of the staircase, cutting across the polished wooden floor of the landing and vanishing down the corridor. Rose knelt down, puzzled.
The cables wound across the hallway and vanished with a tangle of others through the wall into the dining room. She frowned. Most of that wiring made its way down to the cellar, so where did this one go?
As Rose started to follow the winding cables, there was a squeak from Ali.
‘Where are you going?’
Rose hurried back to her. ‘I’ve found something. I just want to check it out.’
‘You’re not gonna leave me here, though!’
‘I’ll be two minutes.’
Ali caught her arm. ‘Please!’
Rose sighed. Ali was right. She couldn’t just leave her here. ‘You still got that key?’
Ali pulled the heavy brass key from her pocket and held it out to Rose.
‘Right. Let’s try and delay them finding out we’ve gone for a while.’
Rose locked the door, then slipped the key into her back pocket.
Hopefully when the nurses next came to collect her they would for-get that they’d left the key in the lock and spend precious moments 110
searching for it. That might give her and Ali some extra time to work out where the cables went and get out of the house.
‘Right,’ said Rose. ‘Now, follow me, but quiet.’
The two of them crept along the corridor, wincing at e
very creak of the ancient floorboards. If anything the upper part of the house had seen less maintenance than the lower level. Wallpaper bulged alarmingly in several areas and huge brown patches on the once white ceiling showed that water was getting in from somewhere.
The floor was thick with dust and footprints were clearly visible down the length of the corridor, following the trail of cable and wiring.
Rose strained to hear any sign of life, but her head was still muzzy, her ears ringing.
They rounded a corner. The corridor in front of them ended at a tall, elegant door, its once pristine varnish now scuffed and faded. A ragged hole had been torn through the wall next to the frame and the cables wound their way through the broken plaster.
Rose chewed her lip nervously. The corridor was a dead end. If someone came up behind them now, they would be trapped, but she was damned if she was going to leave without finding out what was on the other side of that door.
A sudden thought struck her. When she had been at the back of the house she’d noticed a fire escape. If she had the layout of the house right. . . She crossed to a window and peered out into the wet night.
The fire escape was right there! Rose gave a smile of satisfaction.
They wouldn’t have to go out through the cellar after all. If only the window would open.
She pulled at the catch. It was stiff but it moved.
Ali gave her a curious look.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting us a way out, I hope,’ said Rose. ‘Let’s see if our luck is holding, shall we?’
She gripped the bottom of the old sash window and heaved. With a terrible rattle, it slid upwards. Cold air and rain swirled in.
Rose could have cried with relief. She stuck her head out of the window. The courtyard below was dark and empty. A badly fixed 111
security light banged back and forth in the wind, sending fingers of light dancing across the wet flagstones.
Rose ducked back inside, crouching down and gripping Ali by the shoulders.
‘Right. There’s a ladder out there. A fire escape. I want you to climb down, get over to the tunnel and go!’
