Doctor Who: Drift (31 page)

She didn’t seem to be having any trouble training her eyes exclusively ahead. How she could focus in this was anybody’s guess.

Well, Ray knew why she was more quiet than usual. Same reason as him: they’d all loved to rib Lieutenant Wildcat, their very own Pasamaquoddy witch doctoress. Now she was gone. Ray was wondering if he and Marotta had loved to rib her because they loved her.

Damn, was he going soft or what?

‘Atencion!’
Zabala slapped his upper arm. ‘You want to kill us all?’

Ray blinked. The white out front had solidified. A giant white arm thrust out across the road. Zabala’s sharp eyes had given them a fair slice of breathing space. He hit the brakes and eased up on the gas. swearing to thank her later.

‘Uh, Doc, the road to town is blocked. And then some.’

‘Take a detour along the shore.’ The Doc sounded like he didn’t want to be bothered with such petty stuff. ‘The edges of the lake should hold.’

Ray didn’t like that word: should.

The arms of a bear hauled Amber back from the edge and locked her in a powerful embrace.

‘I’m right here. Right here. Now you stay back, you stay right there, d’you hear?’

Amber heard. She nodded and closed her eyes tight, afraid she was going to just cry and cry if she let herself see Makenzie’s face right then. She heard his bulk drop onto the ice and there were loud splashes. The sound of her Mom’s coughs opened Amber’s eyes.

In time to see Makenzie lock his great arms around her and lift her bodily out of the water.

Makenzie: stronger than the lake. even.

Makenzie had seen the beams of the 4x4
,
hazy but still bright, arcing suddenly upwards like searchlights. He’d driven down through the trees and parked close to the shore, running the rest of the way, navigating through the snowstorm by the sound of Amber’s screeches. Now he stomped back to the truck, the weight of Martha Mailloux a welcome burden in his arms.

Amber, bless her young heart, raced ahead and opened the door of his police truck.

‘Fetch a blanket out of the trunk, there’s a good girl.’

Makenzie glanced at the snowflakes flitting across the beams of his headlights. Looked to be just common flakes, along with all those plastering themselves to his truck.

He hurried to stow Martha’s shivering form safely inside.

‘Stop!’

The Doctor was far from the only one to have seen the snow-blurred silhouette, sweeping the puny beam of a flashlight back and forth across their path. Landers was guiding them in for a gentle stop as the figure came trotting up, the silhouette magnifying enormously like a projected shadow.

The Doctor knew that something was amiss.

Up ahead, the bulky police truck, with its crest of lights, waited on the incline under the trees, identifying the figure before he showed his face at the driver’s window. Landers helpfully rolled down the window and shrugged. ‘I was only doing thirty, officer.’

The Doctor could see the Police Chief wasn’t in the mood.

‘What is it, Makenzie?’ The Doctor opened his door and hopped out, brushing his mop of hair back before jamming his hat down firmly. ‘What can we help you with?’

‘Doc, I need you to come take a look at Amber. Thank God you came when you did.’

‘Well, you can thank Mr Landers for that.’ The Doctor weighed his choices in a moment and stalked forward to the driver’s door. He rapped on the vehicle’s flank. Make sure you deliver my patients safely, Mr Landers. And when you transfer them into the hotel, move them
very very
gently. And

don’t
touch the ice.’

The Doctor was satisfied with Landers’ nod, and he grinned to soften the threat considerably. He ushered Makenzie Shaw back a step to allow the departure of the improvised ambulance, and then marched ahead to the police truck.

Makenzie shone the flashlight in past him, showing Martha Mailloux laid out, wrapped in a blanket and in a fevered kind of sleep. Amber sat quietly alongside her mother, apparently in shock and very clearly dead to the world.

‘Your mother did a very brave thing trying to protect you. But it was you who worked out it was afraid of the water. What made you think of that, hmm?’

As rich as the voice sounded, it didn’t really reach through to Amber. How could it, when her thoughts were such a personal blizzard? Swirling and dancing like the snowflakes over the lake as Makenzie drove them carefully along the shore, back into town.

Doesn’t matter which way we go. Amber was thinking.

Doesn’t make any difference.

She looked up. The Doctor leaned over the back of his seat, holding her hand.

‘That’s a nasty cut,’ tutted the Doctor, his sympathy not grating like some, but somehow forced nevertheless. Amber glanced down at her palm, and watched him prod at the tiny crystals with a tweezers. ‘If you like, we can do something - to stop any infection.’

‘It’s nothing.’ she said, and realised how much she meant and felt it. Her voice still sounded dead, the way it had as she had answered the man’s questions, relating the story of all that had happened out on the lake. ‘It’s tiny, nothing. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t want to hurt any of us. That’s just it -

that’s how I knew. I know how it feels.’

Makenzie’s eyes glanced at her out of the mirror. She looked away, but that left her looking down at her Mom, sleeping fitfully beside her. She didn’t know where to look and felt her face burning under the attention.

‘I feel what it feels. I do. I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. I’m not lying. I’m not!’

‘I believe you, Amber,’ said the Doctor. And she found that steady, infinite gaze waiting for her when she looked up.

‘Sure,’ Makenzie weighed in, ‘we believe you, Amber. We do.’

It was awkward and fumbling, unlike the Doctor’s assurance. But there was something in it that cooled Amber’s resentment, if only by a degree or two.

‘What does it want, Amber? Can you tell me that?’

‘No, I only know how it feels. It just wants - a home, can’t you see that? It wants its life back. It wants - Something new came to her out of the blizzard in her head. She stared into the Doctor’s eyes, as deep as she could go. it wants you.’

The Doctor stared back at her, far from flattered.

She had effectively silenced him for the rest of the journey, and she felt satisfied with herself but wounded and sorry at the same time. But that was only to be expected.

That was what it felt like when you were the centre of a storm.

The Doctor hopped out as soon as they’d parked up. and Makenzie hurried to join him outside. Across the street, stretcher parties were gathering to convey the patients from the other vehicle into the hotel. The Doc was searching the snows as though the flakes were his thoughts and he might pluck the right one out of the air at any moment.

‘I don’t think there’s any cause for concern in Amber’s case.’ the Doc assured him.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ Makenzie kept a check on his anger, for the moment.

‘Quite the opposite,’ the Doc turned to face him. ‘Those crystals barely penetrated her skin. They were so utterly inert, in fact, I went so far as to scrape the wound clean of them. No, I think we can assume your child has remained unharmed.’ He arched his brow darkly. ‘Why. That’s the question we should concern ourselves with.’

‘Doc,’ Makenzie still wasn’t happy. He could see Amber’s face at the window of his truck, and he was thinking of Martha lying in there beside her. He, Makenzie. was the only one looking out for that kid right now. ‘You have to understand, she’s not my child, and-’

‘Yes, tell me about that.’ The Doc was very interested, all of a sudden. ‘What goes on inside that child’s head, hmm?

What makes her tick, would you say?’

Makenzie was stumped. Then he figured, well, the Doc wouldn’t ask without good reason. It was just a shame he couldn’t tell the guy much. ‘What can I tell you. Doc. She’s a mixed-up ten-year-old kid. Runs away a lot. but she learnt that from her Mom. She’s been dragged here and there across the country, every time Martha felt the need to run -

like she did tonight. Well.’ he gave it some long thought. ‘I guess she’s seen enough to make her feel all grown up, like she wants to take control of her own life before it’s time.’

‘Hey there. Doc! You’re wanted!

The technical guy, Pydych, was trotting across the road.

‘Our Agency buddies want you in the lab,’ he yelled. ‘They got some kind of major breakthrough they need to discuss.’

The Doc glanced at Makenzie. ‘Hm, it’s only a shame we can’t say the same. But you know, I think we might be on the brink of something. Either that, or a precipice.’

At that, he hared off past Pydych to the hotel, abandoning Makenzie to the blizzard.

Parker stood poised behind the laboratory door, rehearsing the ambush in his mind. The door swung open and caught him off-guard.

‘Relax,’ said Melody, rolling her eyes. ‘They’re bringing in Lieutenant Hmieleski and the Doctor’s friend right now. He’ll be in here any minute.’

Parker nodded, casual and content. ‘Well good, he’s kept us waiting long enough.’

‘Parker, are you sure there isn’t some more subtle method we could try first?’

Parker shook his head and sighed. He felt like cupping Melody’s face in his hands. ‘Your touching naivety is one of your attractions, hon, but trust me. On this, Parker knows best.’

‘Whatever.’ Melody sauntered over to her microscope, and leaned against the bench.

They only had a short wait.

The Doctor entered with his usual stoop, and glanced around. Parker was already rushing up behind him and swinging the tall guy’s arm up for a half-nelson. Nicely does it.

He grasped for the other arm, but suddenly it wasn’t where he expected to find it. The Doctor spun and ducked under Parker to fling him over his back. Parker landed on his feet, just about but went staggering backwards to bang the base of his spine against the bench. By which time the Doctor was assuming a defensive stance and Parker was thinking, the

hell
with this.

He brought up his .357 Desert Eagle and aimed it at the Doctor’s fish-bowl eyes.

‘All right, that was fun. Doc. Now if you’d kindly roll up your sleeve, perhaps we can persuade you to donate some blood. We’d prefer it fresh, and personally speaking I’d rather collect it with a needle than a mop, if you
really
don’t mind.

So how about it?’

Morgan Shaw felt something like a dog playing fetch, but if anyone was throwing sticks he couldn’t afford not to go pick them up. Pydych had reported a research breakthrough and he collared the engineer in the lobby. ‘Pydych, with me. You can interpret the science for me.’

‘Sir-’ Morgan shut him up with a wave then shoved the lab door open. It took one long breath to register the scene that confronted him.

‘Can I take It,’ he spat, ‘you guys haven’t quite hammered out your theories?’ He reserved a special glare for Parker.

‘And you, put that piece away, because I have a suhmachinegun and I am borderline psychotic right now.

One of you had better have a real good explanation.’

Theroux tucked the sidearm away, ‘It’s kind of difficult,’ he shrugged.

The woman stepped forward, too keen a volunteer for Morgan’s liking. ‘Actually, it’s really quite simple. We’ve iden-tified that the Doctor has a special blood type; one which might help recrystallise the iceform and subvert its currently hostile structure. Render it inert, perhaps.’

Morgan followed the signal glance she sent at the Doc.

The Doc, give him credit, played it smooth. Advancing on Quartararo with a grin, he pumped her hand energetically and guided her into the sort of huddle a happy coach would give his favourite team member. ‘Yes, that was exceedingly clever of you. Did I mention how clever that was, hmm?

Where did you study? Somewhere very prestigious, I imagine.’

The Doctor discarded her, adopting a lop-sided and rather theatrical pose for Morgan’s benefit. ‘Of course. I told her it couldn’t possibly work on the scale we would need, but it would almost certainly be a splendid way of cleansing and repairing the nervous systems of those already affected.’ He pounced on Theroux with a hearty pat on the back. ‘That was when Parker here came over all noble and insisted we use his blood instead.’

‘You’re telling me he has this same rare blood type?’

‘Ah, well, that’s just what I asked him. But he really was insistent on being noble.’ The Doctor snatched up a syringe from the bench and seized hold of Theroux’s wrist. The needle was plunged instantly into a vein on the guy’s hand and drawing off a tube of dark red.

‘Ow!’ Theroux yanked his arm free before the syringe was full. He shot a shrug of appeal at Morgan. ‘You’re going to stand there and let him attack a government agent?’

Morgan wasn’t ready to upset this piece of theatre. ‘If you want to be noble, sure.’

The Doctor held the syringe up to the light and studied the dark red liquid the way a wine taster studies a fine claret. He stopped short of swigging it back. ‘Hm. just as I thought.’ He quietly pocketed the syringe. ‘Completely the wrong type.’