by Doctor Who
The Doctor coughed. ‘Er, can we focus?’
‘OK,’ said Jack.
He checked the device he always kept strapped to his wrist. Rose wasn’t entirely sure what it could and couldn’t do, but it was a useful bit of tech. She watched as he fiddled with the controls and peered at its tiny readout screen.
‘I’m picking up vague traces of local distortion,’ he said. ‘No definite fix. But it happened very recently and very close.’
The Doctor produced the sonic screwdriver from one of the pockets of his jacket. ‘We can use this to narrow the trace down. . . ’ He activated it and the tip glowed blue as he swept the screwdriver around.
‘Wouldn’t someone have noticed?’ asked Rose.
‘We’re time travellers, no one’s noticed us,’ the Doctor said reasonably.
The captain winked and waved at a couple of girls across the street.
‘Speak for yourself.’
The Doctor coughed again. ‘Can I have some focus? Even you can’t flirt simultaneously with the entire population of a town.’ He ran the whirring screwdriver around Jack’s wrist device. ‘I’ll just fine-tune the 9
locator matrix of this thing. . . ’ There was a buzzing sound and the Doctor frowned. ‘Getting a bit of interference. A lot of people round here have got Sky+.’
Rose was still looking round at the crowd. ‘This rip engine going off. . . Someone must have seen something.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Doubt it. This is your species we’re talking about. You didn’t notice your planet was spherical for about four million years and when people did you stuck ’em on a bonfire.’
Rose looked across the street and, when she saw a particular shop, a thought occurred to her. ‘Are you two gonna be here for a bit fiddling with that?’
‘Yeah,’ said the Doctor, making another adjustment.
‘Right, back in half an hour,’ said Rose, and walked off.
Five minutes later she was sitting opposite a formidable-looking woman, her hand stretched over the counter between them, finding things out. Her mum always picked up any vital and not so vital gossip from places like this, and her simple question, ‘What was all that business last night?’, had already brought results. There’d been a bigger than normal fight in a local nightclub. Rose had written that off as being the last thing the Doctor would be interested in, but then the woman said something very significant as she tended Rose’s nails.
‘Looked like a caveman. And of course he only got in cos it was fancy dress. He was like some kind of savage. Homeless, hairy and stank like a dog’s blanket. Probably on drugs.’
‘You were there?’ asked Rose.
The woman finished shaping Rose’s nails, ignoring her question.
‘Right, I’m just going to give you the basic topcoat. Pearl pink OK?’
She started to apply polish.
Rose needed more details. ‘So how did the fight start?’
‘He just set on the lad.’ She nodded over the nail bar at a colleague.
‘According to Karen, he virtually trashed the place. They don’t know their own strength on drugs. Probably don’t even know their own names.’ There was a pause as she searched for one of her stock customer conversation pieces. ‘Going on holiday soon?’
10
Rose was thinking about what she’d heard and replied vaguely,
‘Well, I was, but something cropped up at work.’
‘Sad. Where were you going, then?’
Rose found she couldn’t make up anything in time – she’d never been a good liar. ‘Kegron Pluva,’ she muttered.
‘Oh, I think Pauline from Gregg’s went there last October,’ said the woman blithely. ‘Got a last-minute deal. Thought it was nice but the hotel was a long way from the beach.’
‘So what happened to the caveman?’ pressed Rose.
‘According to Karen, it took three bouncers to knock him out. Police turned up but he was still out cold, so they called an ambulance.’
Rose considered. ‘So they took him to hospital? Which hospital?’
For the first time the woman looked up at Rose, noticing something a little odd about her questions. ‘Well, it would have been Southam, I suppose,’ she said.
‘Right,’ said Rose, trying her best to look normal.
There was a pause before the woman asked curiously, ‘What do you do for a living, then?’
Rose smiled. ‘I used to work in a shop. Then I got something better.’
The Doctor and Captain Jack were still bent over the captain’s wrist device when Rose returned. ‘There’s a trace about six or seven miles north,’ the captain was saying. ‘Must be the rip engine operator. But that’s a pretty wide spread, so it’s gonna be tough finding this guy.’
‘There’s a caveman in Southam Hospital,’ said Rose proudly. ‘A real caveman by the sound of it.’ The Doctor and the captain stared blankly at her. She waved a freshly painted hand at them. ‘I asked over in the nail bar.’
The Doctor looked across at the sign, which read GET NAILED. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
The captain sighed and covered the wrist device with the cuff of his sailor’s shirt. ‘Back to the TARDIS, then.’
‘We could just get the bus,’ Rose pointed out as they retraced their steps to the library gardens.
11
‘I don’t do buses,’ said the Doctor. Suddenly he stopped and looked at Rose. ‘Hang on – caveman?’
12
Weronika pulled back the curtain around the bed, plumped the pil-lows under the hairy head of its occupant and gave a kindly but professional tut. ‘I know you’re awake,’ she called lightly.
The boy in the bed was pretty ugly even for an Englishman.
Weronika had a low opinion of young Englishmen. She reminded herself that this was probably because she spent a lot of her time with the ones who needed patching up after the traditional national pas-time of Friday-night pints and fights. The staff at the hospital came from an incredible variety of places – on this ward alone there were Indian, Ukrainian, Polish and Vietnamese nurses – and although English was their common tongue, they shared an unspoken ennui about their charges, the people who had spread it round the world.
‘It’s time for a bath,’ she told the boy, a little louder.
She could see his eyes moving under the heavy lids. His brow was unusually prominent and his lips were thick, dry and cracked. His hair and straggly beard were wild and he smelled. . . odd. Weronika couldn’t place it. Most of the casualty cases reeked of tobacco or drink or stale urine. This one was equally pungent but there was a strange kind of freshness, of outdoorsness, about him.
13
‘Time for a bath,’ she repeated, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
His eyes flicked open, but they didn’t contain the usual look of pub-brawl aftermath – amusement or regret. Weronika took a step back.
The boy’s eyes were a vivid sea green, with unusually large and dark pupils. And they were filled with sheer, animal terror.
‘You’re going to be fine,’ she told him. ‘All you need is to freshen up and you’ll be home by lunchtime.’ She realised he wasn’t getting a word. He wasn’t English. ‘What is your name?’ she asked slowly and clearly.
He didn’t answer. She realised his entire body was clenched tight.
She smiled broadly and gave him a reassuring stroke. To her relief, he slowly raised his hand from beneath the bedclothes and gently took hers. He’d been dressed in a gown the night before and the dazzling white crispness of the garment made an unusual contrast with his hairy forearm. Weronika stared at his arm. It wasn’t just hairy; it was bordering on furry.
Gently she guided him to sit up, then led him by the hand down the ward to the bathroom. He walked slowly and hesitantly, never taking his eyes off her. With a sudden stab of pity, Weronika wondered if the blow to his head had been more severe than A&E had thought last night, or if there’d been something wrong before. There’d been no i
dentification on him and no friends or family had come looking for him. She’d need to speak to Sister, right after the bath.
They entered the bathroom and Weronika let go of his hand and twisted the taps. The boy stared at them, mesmerised, as if he’d never seen running water before. Weronika gestured to him to remove his gown. He stared back at her blankly. Still smiling, she reached behind him and undid the ties. He seemed glad to get out of the gown, lifting his heavy arms for her to pull it off.
The first thing Weronika noticed about his naked body was that it was covered in coarse, thick hair. The second thing she noticed was that his body went straight from stomach to groin.
He bent over the bath and eagerly scooped up handfuls of water, drinking it down with enormous gulps.
That was when Weronika decided she’d better talk to Sister straight 14
away. She’d seen plenty of English people naked before and they’d all had waists.
‘With any luck they’ll not have noticed anything weird yet,’ the Doctor told Jack, tapping his fingers on the edge of the TARDIS console as it flew through the vortex to the hospital. One eye was on the coordinate settings, one was on a copy of the A–Z of London in his other hand.
This materialisation had to be a particularly precise one. ‘But we’ve still gotta move on this rescue quick, in case there’s anything to notice, and in case they notice it.’
‘Then find out what a “caveman” is doing with a rip engine,’ said Jack. ‘Those things were big in the forty-sixth century. No cavemen then.’
‘Yeah, I know that,’ said the Doctor patiently. ‘You don’t have to spell it out for me. I’ve got a list of questions for him as long as your arm.’
Rose emerged from the inner depths of the TARDIS, prepared to take her part in the Doctor’s hastily conceived rescue operation. After a bit of searching she’d found the nurse’s outfit on one of the rails at the very back of the TARDIS’s enormous wardrobe, between a 1980s ra-ra skirt and an enormous 1780s Venetian ball gown. She walked right up to Captain Jack and pulled a challenging face, daring him to make one of his jokes.
Jack pulled an innocent face and held up his hands, though he couldn’t help looking Rose’s nurse’s outfit over from top to toe. ‘I’m not saying anything,’ he said. ‘Look at me not saying anything.’
Rose moved to the Doctor’s side. ‘If he is some sort of caveman, a savage or whatever, perhaps he hasn’t brought the engine with him.
He just got beamed back in time or something. In which case, no big danger.’
The Doctor adjusted some of the controls, bringing the TARDIS in to land. ‘He sets on someone with his bare hands. Sounds like he’s terrified and alone. That’s a good enough reason to help someone.’ He squinted at the A–Z and spun a lever, and the engines groaned. The floor shuddered under Rose and she felt the particular lurch in the 15
stomach that meant the TARDIS was about to land. ‘But the hospital, they’ll just think he’s a drunk,’ the Doctor went on. ‘All we need to do is get in, get him and get out. Should be a doddle.’
The TARDIS settled with a satisfying thump.
The Doctor checked the scanner, grinned, gave himself a thumbs-up and dropped the A–Z on the console. Then he strode confidently down the ramp and through the police box doors of the TARDIS, with Rose and the captain following.
The Doctor’s precision-navigation had been brilliant, Rose had to admit. He’d materialised the TARDIS over the street, right opposite the hospital. Unfortunately the hospital was surrounded by a line of army vans. Some of the armed soldiers were taking up positions at the doors of the various departments. A steady stream of staff and patients was emerging from the main reception area, being hustled along by officers to join the crowds sealed off behind yellow lines of incident tape at either end of the street. There was a steady crackle of radio communications. A black helicopter buzzed overhead.
Rose turned to the Doctor, who was trying his best not to lose his confident smile.
‘Or it could be really, really difficult,’ he said, only slightly less confidently.
Jack frowned. ‘Why all this? Sure, he’s maybe covered in fleas, but he’s just another human.’
‘Unless he isn’t,’ said Rose.
‘Slight change of plan,’ said the Doctor. He turned to Jack. ‘Rose and I are gonna need a distraction. Got one?’
Jack thought for a second and nodded. ‘Oh yeah, I’ve got a distraction. Never fails. One of the biggest distractions you’ll ever see.’
‘Great,’ said the Doctor. He then turned to Rose and she followed him as he crossed the road to the hospital. He shouted back over his shoulder to Jack, ‘Give us five minutes – and distract!’
A few moments later, the Doctor and Rose had pushed through the confused crowd at the main doors and were walking through reception. The scene was one of utter confusion, as patients and staff were 16
being bundled from descending lifts by soldiers with rifles slung across their shoulders.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Doctor told Rose breezily as they walked towards the large flight of stairs at the far end of the reception area. ‘Just do that thing like you own the place.’
‘I do own it, it’s the NHS,’ observed Rose.
People were hurrying by without giving her a second glance.
‘See,’ said the Doctor. ‘You stick on the right gear, they think you belong here.’
Rose smiled, looking up and down at his leather jacket and jeans.
‘How do you get away with it, then?’
‘I belong everywhere,’ said the Doctor. And as if to prove his point he collared a woman in a cleaner’s uniform, who was half walking, half running in the opposite direction. ‘Hello, what’s all this about, then?’
Rose wasn’t surprised when the woman immediately stopped and smiled back at the Doctor. How did he do that?
‘They’re isolating the place,’ the woman said, eyes alight with the guilty thrill of breaking bad news. ‘Brought in this feller last night, turns out he’s got the Ebola virus!’ She started moving again, brushing by them. ‘We’ve all gotta clear out!’
‘Well, that’s what they’re telling her,’ the Doctor said.
‘What if it’s true? It would explain all the panic,’ Rose pointed out.
The Doctor shook his head. ‘Nah, impossible. It’s the first rubbish panicky lie they’d think of. If there’s any risk of infection they’d be keeping people in, not sending ’em out. Plus, Ebola jumps to humans in 1976, gets cured in 2076. No time-travel tech in that century.’
Rose smiled again. ‘Don’t you ever get tired, knowing everything?’
she asked teasingly.
By now they’d reached the staircase. Just as they were about to start up it, a soldier blocked their path, pointing to the main doors.
‘You have to move out! Please!’ he shouted.
The Doctor and Rose turned on their heels and started back the other way. Rose flicked a glance at her watch. ‘Where’s that distraction?’
17
Suddenly there was a commotion up ahead at the main doors.
There were shrieks and, strangely, a few howls of what sounded to Rose like embarrassed laughter. For a moment she couldn’t see what was going on. Then Captain Jack burst through the crowd, whooping wildly, totally naked.
Rose turned her head away automatically, before risking a peek back. Jack was now sprinting for one of the lifts, just as the door was closing. The soldier on duty at the staircase ran to stop him, joining the general scramble through the stunned crowd.
Rose looked at the floor. ‘For shame,’ she muttered, though she couldn’t help smiling at the captain’s nerve.
The Doctor gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Nah, that’s not the biggest distraction I’ve ever seen.’ Then he grabbed Rose’s arm, shouting,
‘Come on! Run!’
They raced up the now unguarded stairs three at a time.
It was surprisingly easy to find what they were
looking for. The corridors of the hospital were all but abandoned and the Doctor soon found a wall map of the building that marked the isolation rooms on the seventh floor.
They reached the seventh floor – Rose gasping a bit from the exertion of pelting up fourteen flights of stairs, the Doctor not even slightly out of breath – and made their way down a long, echoing corridor.
Voices were coming from the far end. They crept along and came to a room with a large window onto the corridor. Carefully they knelt down and popped their heads over the sill.
Rose saw a small group of white-coated doctors standing round a patient. There was also a kind-looking young female nurse standing at one side, observing the scene with concern, and a puzzled-looking army officer. Rose stared more closely at the white-gowned patient.
He was short, and her first thought was that he was a child, or perhaps in his early teens. Then one of the doctors moved to one side and she saw his face. His features were heavy: he had an enormous nose, seemingly flattened out at the edges, a huge lumpy brow and thick bushy eyebrows. Somehow, although everything was there, his 18
features didn’t add up to the totally human package.
‘Not a human, then?’ she whispered.
The Doctor grunted. ‘Depends on your definition. Definitely not an alien.’
Memories of half-forgotten science lessons and half watched BBC2
documentaries filtered through Rose’s mind. She found the word she was looking for. ‘He’s a Neanderthal. They died out millions of years ago.’
‘About 28,000 years ago,’ the Doctor corrected casually. ‘In evolutionary terms, last Tuesday.’
Rose frowned. ‘And they had rip engines, time travel?’ She doubted that but was quite prepared for the Doctor to prove her wrong.
He shook his head. ‘Nah. They were clever all right, but not that clever.’ He pulled a puzzled face, then shrugged and smiled. ‘We’ll work that out later.’
‘Suppose you know loads of Neanderthals,’ teased Rose.
‘Met a couple, yeah.’ He looked right at her, his face clouding over with a hint of disquiet. ‘And it wasn’t so much they died out as they were weakened. The climate changed and they couldn’t compete.’
