Doctor Who BBCN10 - The Nightmare of Black Island (14 page)

Ali crouched down behind the chest, making herself as small as possible. She screwed her eyes up, listening as the footsteps came closer and closer. With a sigh of relief she heard them carryon past her, clunking down the stairs and echoing across the empty hallway.

She peered out from behind the chest. The hallway seemed deserted. Rain was streaming down the panes of a tall window at the end of the landing, sending flickering, writhing patterns over the walls and floor. Ali scampered across to the room where they had put Rose, keeping as close to the wall as possible. The big heavy key was still in the lock.

Ali reached out and turned it. The lock opened with a loud clunk.

Terrified of being locked in once she was inside, she pulled the key out of the keyhole and slipped it into the pocket of her jeans. Checking that no one was coming down the corridor behind her, she then turned 98

the big brass knob and heaved against the door.

It creaked alarmingly. Ali opened it just enough for her to slip through, then carefully closed it again. The room was dark and smelt musty. Heavy curtains covered the windows and huge ancient-looking wardrobes loomed over her. On the far side of the room she could see a bed with an unconscious figure draped across it awkwardly. It looked as though the nurses had just dumped Rose and left her. Ali scurried over to her side.

Rose looked dreadful. Her skin was pale and waxy and her hair tangled and matted. Her eyes were flickering left and right under her lids.

Ali grasped hold of her arm and shook it gently. ‘Rose!’ she hissed.

‘Wake up!’

Rose’s eyes cracked open, rolling unpleasantly as she made a great effort to focus. She tried to speak, but managed only a croaking gasp.

Ali glanced around the room. There was a sink against one wall, one of those tiny old-fashioned types like her gran used to have in her upstairs bedroom. Ali crossed to it. A cracked glass sat on a little shelf below a grimy mirror. She stretched up and lifted it down, then grimaced. It was a bit grubby, full of dust and a dead spider. She reached in her pocket for a tissue. That was a bit grubby too, but it was all she had.

She shook the spider from the glass, wiped off as much of the dust as she could and turned on the cold tap. Pipes squealed and banged in protest at years of disuse, sounding impossibly loud in the dark room.

Ali jumped. Then, with a coughing splutter, a trickle of cold water splashed into the basin. She rinsed the glass, filled it to the brim and soaked the tissue, then hurried back to Rose.

Hauling her upright, Ali pressed the cold tissue to Rose’s forehead, brushing her hair back and wiping some of the sweat away.

‘Here, I brought you some water.’

With unsteady hands, Rose took the glass and began swallowing down greedy gulps. Water splashed over her chin and on to the bed and she started to cough.

Ali snatched the glass from her. ‘Slowly, or you’re going to choke, 99

stupid!’

Rose nodded weakly. ‘Thanks,’ she croaked. ‘Great bedside manner.’

Ali gave her the glass back and Rose sipped at it more slowly.

‘What are you doing here, Ali? I thought I told you to wait for me.’

‘I was scared.’ Ali looked at her feet guiltily. ‘It started to get dark and they come out when it gets dark. The monsters.’

‘So you followed me in here?’

Ali nodded. ‘But the monsters are in here too. I saw them, when they took their faces off.’ Ali could feel tears starting to well in her eyes, but she brushed them away angrily. ‘Why are they here? Why did the monsters have to pick on our village?’

‘Hey, it’s OK.’ Rose caught her by the hand, sitting her down on the edge of the bed and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.

‘You remember that friend of mine, the Doctor?’

Ali nodded.

‘Well, he’s an expert on monsters. Sorts ’em out all the time.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. He gives
them
nightmares.’

Ali managed a weak smile at the idea.

Rose eased herself cautiously to her feet, steadying herself on Ali’s shoulder. Colour was slowly starting to come back to her face. She looked round the darkened room.

‘Where are we?’

‘They locked you in one of the bedrooms.’ Ali held the key out proudly. ‘But I got the key!’ She looked at Rose quizzically. ‘What were they doing to you? I saw them attach those wires and things to your head, but then they shut the door and I couldn’t see any more.’

‘I’m not sure. At first I thought they just wanted to find out who I was, but now I think maybe they were looking for something.’

‘In your head?’ Ali’s eyes were wide. ‘What did they want from inside your head?’

‘I don’t know.’ Rose shook her head. ‘I just don’t know.’

Morton watched impatiently as Peyne flitted from console to console in the ward, adjusting controls, studying read-outs, making notes on 100

a clipboard. ‘Well? Is she any use to us or not?’

Peyne glowered at him, teeth bared from beneath her thin lips. ‘No, Morton. As I thought, she is too old to be of use as an imager. Like most on this miserable planet, her mind is too tainted by the trivia of the real world, her thoughts too consumed with the confusion of life.’

‘But the creatures.’ Morton pointed at the screen. ‘You saw them.

Magnificent creations! Those things were not the product of an imagination obsessed with trivia!’

‘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?’

101

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.’