Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [68]
‘Come on then!’ Chris roared, his words lost as the whistle of the train was sounded. ‘Come and get me!’
It ran towards him. Its long, powerful legs hitting the roof with such force that Chris felt the reverberation in his body. Patsy had dragged herself back on to the centre of the roof, for some reason she was looking away, in the direction the train was heading. Still, as long as he took the creature with him when he fell from the train she would be safe.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the creature’s head as it raced towards him. It was perfectly smooth, no blemishes at all. Just smooth blank skin. It reached for him.
Chris put up his fists.
‘Get down,’ Patsy screamed. ‘Hit the deck.’
Distracted, he looked beyond the empty face that was almost upon him, to the mouth of the dark tunnel that had already swallowed half the train.
He threw himself on to his back, just as the creature reached him. For a second, he saw it lean over him, spear raised, snarling in triumph –
– and then the creature and sky disappeared, and there was only the roof of the tunnel – a dark blur, inches above his face. Just that and the deafening sound of the train echoing in the confined space.
114
8
Against Nature
The doors were marked RESEARCH WING: NO ADMITTANCE in large unfriendly letters. The Doctor pushed through them without breaking his stride. A hospital orderly was trying to come through the swing doors from the other side and the Doctor knocked the door back into his face, sending them both sprawling to the ground.
They sat on the floor trying to get their bearings for a moment. The orderly –
a spotty young man with neat side-parting – took one look at the pyjamas the Doctor was wearing and exclaimed, ‘Oi, you’re not supposed to be in here.
How did you get past the no admittance sign?’
The Doctor made a show of looking bemused. ‘I walked straight past it,’ he quipped, as he scrambled to his feet.
‘Hey, come back here,’ the orderly shouted after the Doctor, who was already racing further into the restricted area. The Doctor had skidded around a corner before the orderly had even climbed to his feet.
Come on, Doctor, he told himself as he heard the young man start to give chase. You can’t play hide and seek around the building all day. A plan is required. Something to keep you out of Moriah’s clutches until you can find out more about him. Find out what makes him tick and then fiddle with the mechanism.
And I still have to rescue Jack.
One thing at a time, my dear Doctor, one thing at a time. The Doctor found a flight of stairs and ascended, taking the steps three at a time. He was no longer exactly sure where he was in relation to the ward and the mortuary. He was only certain that he was moving deeper into the heart of the building. The staircase opened out on to a quiet landing which smelt faintly of disinfectant.
A series of doors led off on either side of the corridor.
Someone started up the stairs behind him. The Doctor scurried from door to door with no success. The last door opened when he tried it, and without checking what lay behind it, the Doctor slipped inside.
Darkness. He heard footsteps in the corridor and the sound of locked doors rattling as they were tried. The Doctor held his breath and pressed his ear to the door, listening for any indication that the footsteps were approaching his 115
bolt-hole.
The footsteps came closer, until they sounded as if they were right outside, and then faded away. The Doctor let out the breath, silently.
Feeling the side of the wall until his fingers located a light switch, the Doctor squinted in the sudden brightness provided by a naked bulb. He blinked away the paisley spots in front of his eyes and then gasped out loud as he took in his surroundings.
The room he had secreted himself inside was waist-deep in bodies. The smooth, characterless bodies of the therapeutic mannequins. They were piled carelessly on top of one another. Arms and legs jutted out from the human mountain in such a way that it was almost impossible to distinguish which