Doctor Who BBCN10 - The Nightmare of Black Island Page 10
He started to shrug off his coat when there was a terrifying screech from behind him and the flap of leathery wings. Something sharp hit him in the small of the back, sending him sprawling, his sonic screwdriver clattering into a corner. He scrabbled across the floor to get it, but a huge talon slashed at his feet, sending him tumbling to the floor again.
Looming outside the lamp room was a huge pterodactyl-like creature, wings beating furiously as it scrabbled to gain a purchase on the wet steel of the lighthouse. The Doctor could see his face reflected in its beady black eyes. The creature threw its head back and screamed, before lunging at him with its razor-sharp beak.
Rose tried hard not to panic as the masked warders strapped her down to the metal-framed bed. Around her in the converted dining room the six sleeping figures lay still, their breathing slow and steady, the noise of the machines soft and rhythmic. Other warders sat at a bank of consoles along one wall, their hands moving in complex patterns over flickering controls, their eyes fixed on dozens of tiny read-outs.
Morton wheeled himself to Rose’s side.
‘You’ll find it less unpleasant if you don’t try to resist the machinery.’
Peyne crossed to his side, a complex arrangement of metal straps and coloured wires in her hands. It was some kind of helmet, a thick bundle of cables coiling across the floor to where two of the warders were setting up a console with a large screen attached to it.
Peyne lifted Rose’s head from the pillow, jamming on the helmet.
Rose winced as it tugged at her hair.
‘Careful, Miss Peyne.’ Morton’s voice was mocking. ‘We don’t want to damage that pretty head. Not before it’s told us what we want to know.’
‘And then what?’ Rose strained to pull against the straps. ‘Another accident on the beach with one of your monsters?’
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you have a mind that is useful to our plans or not.’
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Morton glanced up at Peyne, who was adjusting controls on the console now.
‘How long?’
‘We have to calibrate the machine. A few minutes.’ Morton patted Rose’s arm. ‘We won’t keep you waiting long.’
The Doctor tore himself free from the grasping claws of the flying monster, scrambling around to the other side of the lamp room as the creature’s beak slammed into the floor. Hissing in anger, it thrust its long scrawny neck in further through the window, claws scrabbling.
Snatching his coat up from the floor, the Doctor used it to beat at the head of the monster, sending it flapping off into the night screaming.
He watched as it wheeled against the boiling clouds before turning and sweeping back down again, slamming into the lighthouse and renewing its attack with fury. The Doctor dodged to one side as the beak snapped next to his head with a loud kklak! He darted around the machine once more, trying to keep it between him and the screeching thing. The creature had positioned itself in the window directly above the stairwell, so there was no way he could get there without coming in range of that wickedly sharp beak.
The Doctor craned his neck over the edge, desperately looking for a way to escape. The shrieking cries were starting to attract the other creatures and slowly, one by one, they were all converging on the lighthouse.
‘Doctor?’ Bronwyn’s voice was terrified. ‘Doctor? What’s happening? What’s that noise?’
The pterodactyl thing cocked its head to one side, its cold eyes fixed on the top of the stairs.
Before the Doctor could shout any warning, Bronwyn’s head appeared again, peering cautiously into the lamp room. The creature pulled its own head back to strike, screaming in triumph.
‘No!’
The Doctor hurled himself forward, fists clenched, determined that these things would not claim another victim.
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His fists met only open air. Bronwyn took a step back in shock, almost tripping and tumbling down the spiralling stairs.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she screamed.
The Doctor looked around in amazement. The pterodactyl thing had gone. The glow from the alien machine had faded too, the controls on its surface now silent and dark. Cautiously, the Doctor peered out of the shattered window. Far below, the island was quiet and empty, the only sound that of surf crashing against the rocks and the soft hiss of rain.
The Doctor turned to the bewildered Bronwyn. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said. ‘They’ve all gone!’
Morton and Peyne were hunched over the control console, peering intently at the small display screen. Behind them Rose was writhing on the bed, straining against the straps, her eyes closed, a frown of pain flickering across her brow.
‘The machine is recalibrated for her gender and age,’ Peyne said, adjusting a control. ‘We can begin.’ Her finger hovered over a pulsing button.
Morton nodded and Peyne stabbed her finger down.
Rose knew that she was dreaming again. It was like before, a sense of hovering over her shoulder, of being able to observe herself. But this time her dreams were not hers; this time she knew that others were manipulating her thoughts, driving her dreams in a direction they had determined. She desperately wanted to force herself to wake up, but the drugs wouldn’t let her.
She could feel fingers in her mind, rummaging through her thoughts and memories. Slowly, things that she would rather have kept buried were being dredged to the surface.
‘Fascinating!’ Morton cried, leaning forward eagerly as shapes started to form on the small screen in front of him. ‘Go deeper, Peyne. There is obviously far more to Miss Tyler and her mysterious friend than we at first thought.’
∗ ∗ ∗
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The Doctor stepped out of the lighthouse door and looked around cautiously. Satisfied that there was no danger, he beckoned to Bronwyn to come and join him.
She scurried timidly to his side. ‘Where did they all go?’
‘I don’t know, and at this particular moment in time I really don’t care! That was one creepy-crawly too many for me and I think it’s high time our little day trip came to an end, don’t you?’
Bronwyn nodded vigorously.
‘Right. Well, let’s get back to your boat while we’ve got a chance.’
‘You don’t think they’re going to come back?’
The Doctor looked up at the lamp room, which was now dark and dead. The monsters were linked to the machine and someone had turned that machine off. Whether by accident or design, it gave them an opportunity to get back to the mainland. He had no way of knowing how long it would be before the machine started working again and dismantling it at night would be virtually impossible. He needed to come back during the day, when his tinkering would have less chance of damaging side effects, he could actually see what he was doing and he had a better chance of not being eaten.
He patted Bronwyn on the shoulder. ‘I think we should make the best of opportunities when they present themselves.’
The two of them started to make their way down the sloping rocks to where the boat was moored, the Doctor trying to manoeuvre Bronwyn away from the dozens of seal carcasses that lay like broken toys all around.
They reached the cove and Bronwyn hurried down to catch hold of the prow of the little motorboat. Fortunately, the monsters had ignored it – the seals had been a far more appetising target. The Doctor crossed to where the rope was tied. It was heavy with sea water and he struggled to undo the damp knot. It was nearly loose when there was a little cry of fear from the shoreline.
The Doctor looked up sharply. Bronwyn was holding a hand to her mouth in horror, staring into a rock pool. A dull orange glow illuminated her terrified face.
The Doctor bounded to her side. Bronwyn pointed in disbelief at a 93
rock pool at the water’s edge. The water had turned thick and treacly, glowing from within like lava. It then boiled and writhed like a living thing as a crude face formed on the surface.
The Doctor stared incredulously at it. ‘Impossible.’
‘Doctor, look!’
Bronwyn tugged at his sleeve. Silhouetted against the sky, two large figures lumbered into view, pot-bellied and thick-legged, their huge clawed arms steadying them on the uneven surface. Jet-black eyes fixed on the Doctor and Bronwyn, and the things giggled horribly, like huge babies.
From somewhere in the dark there was a harsh grating cry: ‘Seek!
Locate! Exterminate!’
The Doctor turned and bundled Bronwyn towards the boat.
‘Get it started! Now!’
Flustered, Bronwyn scrambled across the weed-slick rocks, hauling herself into the boat and fumbling with the starter cord of the engine.
The Doctor unwound the rope from where it was tied, tossing it to Bronwyn and then hopping onboard himself.
The engine coughed and spluttered. For a moment the Doctor thought it was going to die, but then with a roar it caught, billowing bluish smoke around them. Bronwyn swung the handle of the outboard hard about and the motorboat swung in a tight circle. The prow lined up with the entrance to the cove and the boat surged forward, waves splashing across its prow.
The Doctor looked back at the island, eyes flicking from rock to rock desperately, hoping that they’d not left their escape too late. His eyes narrowed. A small figure stood on a craggy promontory watching them. Not a monster, but a small child. A boy clutching a ragged cloth toy.
As he watched, the child gave them a wave, then turned and vanished from view.
The Doctor’s mind raced. Up to now the creatures that had stalked the woods and the island had been impossible imaginary creatures, their shapes and sizes drawn directly from the over-active imagina-94
tions of frightened children. The last few apparitions they had seen, however, had been quite different. The Nestene Consciousness, the Slitheen and the Daleks were all creatures that no earthbound child could possibly know about. They were creatures with their basis in fact, and here and now there was only one common denominator other than himself.
Rose.
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Ali watched from her hiding place in a cupboard under the stairs as Rose was half-led, half-carried from the ward by two nurses. She ducked back out of sight, closing the cupboard door to a crack as they manoeuvred Rose across the hall and dragged her up the stairs. Their heavy footsteps sent trickles of dust down on where Ali had tucked herself between old Hoovers and boxes full of empty wine bottles.
She covered her nose, determined not to sneeze.
Following Rose and her captors through the dark of the old rectory had been the most terrifying thing that Ali had ever done in her life.
Every corner she rounded was a step into the unknown, every shadow was thick with menace. She had hurried up the stairs from the cellar, desperate not to lose sight of Rose, padding along darkened corridors, following the sound of footsteps echoing through the dusty old house.
She had nearly been caught as she made her way into the wide hallway. A door had opened behind her and she had run forward blindly, expecting to be seen at any moment. But she had been lucky
– the nurses in the hallway had their backs to her. She had spotted a cupboard under the stairs and dived into it, holding her breath as two more nurses rounded the corner, making their way across the hall and 97
vanishing through two big double doors.
Ali had waited in the cool dark of the cupboard, watching as Rose was marched across the hall and pushed through those double doors by the woman with the gun. That had been ages ago. Ali had been wondering how long she would have to wait before trying to make her escape from the house when the doors had opened again and Rose had been dragged out.
Ali waited as short a time as she dared, then eased the cupboard door open again. The hallway was empty, all the doors closed. She could hear muffled voices from inside the old dining room.
Keeping one eye on the doors, she made her way carefully up the stairs, making as little sound as possible on the polished wood. She crept to the first landing, peering through the banisters to see where the nurses were taking Rose.
At the end of the corridor she could see one of them fumbling with a key in the lock of a big wooden door; the other one had Rose in his arms, keeping her upright. Ali scampered up the last few stairs, tucking herself behind a large wooden chest that stood on the landing.
The nurse swung the door open and helped his colleague carry Rose inside, then they both emerged, locking the door and heading back towards the stairs.
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!’