Dead of Winter - James Goss [32]
Rory’s face twisted, his voice buckling. ‘He’s right, Amy. I don’t know what’s happening, but it really hurts. Please. Keep back. I love you… Whizz.’
And Rory fell over, his legs twitching.
I ran.
Sorry. I left them. I didn’t know what else to do.
I ran, ran as fast as I could towards the TARDIS. Maybe there’d be something in there that could help me. All around me was a fog, a fog that danced with strange lights and pushed at my head. The TARDIS wasn’t much further. I kept running. I could see the door up ahead. Just keep running, Amy, just keep them out of your head, get inside, work out what to do. Save Rory. Save the Doctor.
The TARDIS door slammed shut, trapping me outside. In the dark on the beach, the only light was that strange glowing mist all around me, pressing in.
I heard a voice in my head. A voice that could only be the Doctor’s. ‘Sorry, Amy,’ it whispered, and I felt my knees give way.
I lay there for a bit. One of three bodies lying on a beach as the mist rolled around us.
Then my brain switched off.
What Amy Remembered
My brain switched back on.
‘Watch,’ whispered the Doctor’s voice in my ear.
Figures came from the sea. From the mist. I couldn’t quite see how – but it’s not like they bobbed up from underwater. They just coalesced, striding forward, becoming more and more solid. Just a shadow, then a silhouette, then as it reached the shore, a fully formed person, clothes and all. Some of the figures were old, some young, there were children and, in one case, a dog. They stepped out of the sea utterly dry and they walked up to the patients. The mist fell away from them as they stepped across the sand, leaving no footprints at first, and then gradually they settled into the ground, solid and real.
The poor patients, each one still and almost lifeless, each one suddenly faced by a figure, looming over them. The strange singing note drifted out from the water, keeping time with the waves. An old man looked up from his chair as a tiny fat lady danced up to him, taking his hand in hers. She smiled at him, and he smiled back at her then stood up. They started, ever so gently, to dance.
A tired-looking woman with grey hair laughed as her hands were seized by two children, two silently laughing children who dragged her into the dance.
There was fat Mr Nevil, slumped snoring under a rug. Even comatose he looked sour. Until a big dog with a shiny wet nose laid its muzzle in his lap and tapped him with a paw, looking up at him with big beggy eyes. And then Mr Nevil stood up, beaming like it was Christmas, and he started to dance with the dog. It was a little awkward, but they were doing it.
‘Fascinating,’ breathed the figure of the Doctor in my ear. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. ‘Shall we dance?’ he muttered.
‘Must we?’ I asked him. But I gave him my hand and we danced on the beach, stiff and awkward. I noticed my legs were working again. I wondered if that was his doing.
‘Are you real?’ I whispered.
‘Are you?’ he countered.
Then he trod on my foot and I knew he was real.
‘Sorry.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘Always getting born with two left feet.’
I sighed. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Well, first I convince you that I’m real, then I win your confidence, and finally the mind parasite out there devours your brain.’
‘Oh great.’ I smiled. ‘Thanks for being honest.’
‘Not a problem.’ He winked. ‘Don’t worry, I’m shielding you. When we crashed here and it first attacked me, I was caught with my mental trousers down. Not any more. Psychic force field’s intact. Belt and braces. Braces, by the way, are very cool.’ He tapped his head. ‘I’ve put a brick wall round your brain, Pond. Nothing can get through.’
‘Won’t whatever it is out there be suspicious?’
‘Well, in a bit, maybe. But I’ve put you in a trance for hours, and while you were asleep I’ve scattered some false little Amy Pond brainwaves all around the barrier. Lots of lovely memories of holidays bird-watching on the Isle of Man.’
‘I’ve never been to