Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [89]
Dmitri brought up the rear, alternately mute and muttering, but able at least to walk unaided. He didn’t know where he was, but seemed content enough just to be walking somewhere, to have something to do.
The Doctor was chattering away – to himself, if no one else
– about labyrinths and mazes, and infallible ways of conquering them that involved paint or beads. ‘ ...and if a doorway is without a mark, you may go down that, making two marks on it. And if you proceed through a doorway with but one mark on it... Is it one or two more marks? Two, I think. Yes. Two. I’m certain.
And if you arrive at a junction with no marks at all...’
I ignored him, and concentrated on my dim memories of my time in the catacombs, trying desperately to recognise patterns on the walls, bends in the tunnels, particular configurations of archways or doors.
In actual fact, we came upon the crypt soon enough, though I am sure it was more by accident than by design. It was much as I remembered it – a small structure beneath the great arches of the cathedral catacombs, punctured by a small open door. The Doctor, ever inquisitive, wanted to lead the way, but I overruled him. For all we knew, the skull-faced thing could have returned, and was waiting for us. I remembered my own encounter with the creature, and the way it had remained within the crypt watching me with great malevolence, and I suppressed a shudder.
I stepped into the arch of the doorway, and saw at once two things: the great, ruptured coffin within the centre, and a pale and near-naked body on the far side of the room. I recognised who it was, and darted outside again.
‘Dodo!’ I exclaimed.
‘Steven?’
‘I need your help. Don’t worry, the creature’s not here.’ I turned to the others. ‘I don’t suppose we have a spare cloak?’
They looked at me blankly, but Nahum volunteered the rough cape he had been wearing. I listened, almost amused, to the conversation within the crypt – which had been preceded, no doubt, by some vigorous shaking, for the person was clearly comatose.
‘Wake up!’ I could hear Dodo saying. ‘Come on!’
A muffled moan, a stifled cry of terror, then: ‘Dodo!’
‘Hello, sleepyhead.’
‘Where am I?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘And... And where are my clothes?’
‘I’m not sure you want to know that either. Here, put this on.’
Moments later, Lesia – embarrassed and groggy – stepped through the doorway, pulling the cloak tightly around her with as much dignity as she could muster. Nahum let out a whoop of delight and ran to embrace her.
‘Fascinating!’ said the Doctor. ‘The creature can change its face, but not its clothing.’ He stifled a chuckle.
‘I remember Steven’s account of the discovery of the cook’s body,’ said Isaac. ‘It all fits together.’
‘But unfortunately she was killed,’ said the Doctor, ‘and yet this girl was allowed to live... for which I am, of course, grateful.
But why do you think that is, hmm?’ Without thinking, he had turned to address Dmitri, but the former governor’s face was blank and, whatever he was looking at, it was not at us.
‘My son was not killed when there were opportunities to do so,’ added Isaac. ‘Steven also. There is no consistency in the creature’s actions!’
‘I believe there is!’ said the Doctor. ‘We’re just not seeing it.’
He stepped into the small room and Isaac and I followed him.
He stepped up to the casket.
‘I might not know much, Doctor,’ I observed, ‘but that’s no coffin!’
‘Quite right, my boy. A life-support capsule of some sort, hmm?’ He ran his fingers over the surface. ‘Clearly capable of travelling great distances through space, all the while keeping its occupant in suspended animation.’
There was a sudden cry from outside. ‘Doctor! Steven!’ It was Dodo’s voice.
I was nearest the door, and ducked through.
I saw the creature stepping