Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [2]
The side of the mountain opposite had been shaved clean of trees and growth. A smear of raw brown earth stretched for kilometres, centred on the deep excavation hole. A single thin line of trees ran across the brow of the scalped ground, a large house above them, all glass and redwood. There were solar panels and satellite dishes on the mountainside near the excavation, and tall skeletal metal towers reflecting the pink of the evening sky. Yellow earth‐moving vehicles grumbled near the tunnel mouth.
‘What are those big towers?’ said Brodie.
‘They’re for communications,’ said the Doctor. ‘You use them to relay to satellites.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve had rather a close look,’ said the Doctor.
‘That’s the big cave beside them,’ said Brodie. ‘Do you think they’re mining for gold?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ said the Doctor.
‘That’s Patrick’s house up there. We used to play in the woods.’
‘Not any more?’
‘His father won’t let him.’
Smaller machinery operated among the earth‐movers, running in and out of the mouth of the tunnel. Brodie shielded his eyes the way the Doctor was doing. He spotted some bulldozers and wondered if they had come up on the truck he’d watched earlier. You couldn’t see the bee‐and‐eye emblem painted on their sides, but Brodie knew it was there. ‘It just keeps getting bigger,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said the Doctor. He walked back across the road and stood looking down at the tyre from the old wreck. ‘Excellent,’ he said. Brodie took a last look across the valley and turned back to the Doctor. He had freed the inner tube from the tyre and he was working on the softer rubber, cutting it with his knife, the same knife he’d used for carving the slingshot handle. The blade of the knife was made of some odd, dull metal and it cut the rubber with surprising ease. The Doctor made a last neat trim, then took the slingshot handle from Brodie. ‘Find some stones,’ he said, fixing the rubber to the handle. ‘For practice.’
* * *
The big fourteen‐wheeler was making good speed coming back down the mountain road, the trailer freed of its load. The driver slowed as she passed the observation camera and waved. As the truck accelerated and rolled past, Brodie and the Doctor moved to a tree beside the road ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ said the Doctor. Brodie started forward, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder.
‘Why aren’t you trying to stop me?’ said the boy.
‘Sometimes it’s necessary to fight back.’
‘You aren’t like other grown‐ups, are you?’
‘No.’
Brodie stepped out into the road. He didn’t hurry. There was no need to hurry now. He stepped carefully over the ruts on the mud road, almost invisible in the failing light. The setting sun was a fat red disc behind the high black camera pole. Brodie took out the slingshot, settled a heavy round rock into the rubber strap and drew it tight. He held his breath as he took aim, the way the Doctor had showed him. He was squinting directly into the sun. He closed one eye and squeezed the other eye half shut, his eyelashes shattering the light into rainbow distortion curves. He released the rubber strap and the rock shot upwards into the blaze of the evening sun, rising towards the thin black pole.
The camera snapped to one side under the impact. It buzzed and twitched, trying to force itself back into the correct alignment, and that was when the entire lens housing came free, spilling open the body of the camera. Fragments of metal and glass rained musically down from the tall pole.
Brodie remained standing where he was.
They couldn’t see him any more. Now he could cross the road and go into the woods on the far side. He could play there. He could play anywhere he wanted – tomorrow.
Right now it was time to go home for supper.
Brodie could hear a jeep high up the mountain, starting down from the construction site. He went back