Dead of Winter - James Goss [52]
‘What is happening?’ I wailed, but for once, my marvellous wife had no answer.
‘It’s terrible, terrible,’ she cried, clinging to me, smelling like rose petals. ‘It’s like something is pressing into my brain.’
She kissed me. ‘Oh, Johann, I’m so scared.’
Someone will try to kill your wife. I banished the thought, hurriedly. I gestured back to the lounge, my lounge, lit up like burning phosphor. ‘What is going on? The patients, oh the patients…’
Perdita grabbed her head, shaking her ringlets free until they hung loose around her face. I’d never seen her hair like that. It looked… magnificent.
‘Something has gone terribly wrong,’ she whispered. ‘I can feel it. Somehow… my head… The Sea… it is not happy. Someone has woken up and is taking hold…’
I held her close to me. What were we going to do?
What Amy Remembered
There was uproar in the lounge as we ran out. Absolute uproar. Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening, etc. I’ve never liked storms or thunder but there was something worse about this. It seemed like the storm was in the room.
The Doctor caught up with me, hands pressed to his head. ‘Well,’ he groaned. ‘That hurt.’
As we ran, he rattled on. ‘Something is controlling that entity in the sea. Something very bad. It needs to be stopped. Right now we’re in ALL SORTS of trouble. Say something encouraging, Amy.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, struggling to keep up with him. ‘But what’s it using to make the storm?’
The Doctor stopped running. He looked at me. His face was really very pale indeed.
‘Amy,’ he said. ‘You remember I told you that Rory was in no danger whatsoever and we weren’t to worry about him?’
I hate him when he says stuff like this. It’s almost like he’s the anti-Santa. It’s that dreadful, immediately sick in the stomach, utterly sad and miserable feeling. The utter, certain, kickingly dreadful knowledge that Things Are Not Going To Get Better.
The problem is that I know exactly what to do in this situation. You see, there’s a drill:
I’ll say, ‘Right, then, let’s go and rescue him.’
The Doctor will say, ‘Ah yes, but…’
And then he’ll list the fourteen things we have to do before we rescue Rory
And why they’re all more important than rescuing Rory
The list normally includes wounded puppies
An exploding bus full of grannies
You know what I mean
So we’ll go and do those instead
Cos they’re all so important
And Rory has to come last.
I can already see the Doctor opening his mouth to explain.
‘Oh, skip the lecture,’ I growled and, before he had a chance, I ran off down to the beach. I was going to rescue Rory.
A Letter from Maria
St Christophe
7th December 1783
Dear Mother,
I got scared. For a while I was on my own in the clinic. And it was all quiet. I went back to my room and wrote letters and read a book. I kept out of trouble.
I looked down at the beach, but I could not see anything – just a lot of mist.
Eventually I left a letter for you in the post tray.
I heard footsteps behind me.
It was the Elquitine sisters. Standing there. Blocking me off. There was something NOT RIGHT about them. They were not smiling, just standing there, blankly.
I talked to them, but they did not answer.
Their heads swung from side to side, like the puppies when they’re looking for something to hunt. Yes, that’s it. The sisters were hunting.
Mother, I was frightened.
But I did not want to go outside. And I did not want to go towards them. I had to, but I did not want to.
I edged closer and closer, pressed up against the wall.
Their heads swung towards me, following my every footstep. They smiled, a cruel empty smile.
I edged past them and away. I did not look back. I knew they were watching me.
But THEY DIDN’T WANT ME. So that meant that I could run and run and run and I would be fine.
Wherever I went, there were other patients. In the corridors. Searching. Steadily