Doctor Who_ Combat Rock - Mick Lewis [2]
The arms, thin as rope, hung down on either side of the stool.
The mouth hung open in a deathless scream, a tunnel without teeth. The eye sockets were dry and huge. The net hat looked bizarre on the corpse, as did the penis gourd rearing up from the bundle of smoked skin and bones.
‘Mumi...’ the guide said proudly.
The cameras clicked and whirred.
The plump woman reached out an inquisitive finger to touch the desiccated mummy, gingerly though, as if fearing it might reach out an inquisitive finger to touch her too.
‘Mumi...’ the guide said again.
The woman turned round to grin at her husband. Behind her, a twitch. A twitch of one leathery hand. Then stillness again. Somewhere a bird shrieked with jungle alacrity.
The cameras.
Klick. Whirr.
Red sand, and purple sea. On the beach a box. Tall, odd, battered and blue. A light on the roof winked and faded. It should not have been there, this time and space-weathered thing, but it was, and no doubt had been in more incongruous locations than this crimson shore. The door was opening, and a young man emerging. The young man was stocky and healthy-looking, with a slight stoop and a rather incurious expression beneath the long, slightly unkempt hair. His initial suspicious look evaporated when he saw the sea, the sand and the cluster of palms nodding in a slight warm breeze just behind the box.
He was wearing a tartan kilt and a slightly frilly shirt and gave off a general impression of being ready for just about anything. He turned and called to someone inside the box.
‘Victoria! Come an’ have a wee paddle.’
Another face appeared around the door, but not the one the young man had expected. This face was lined and contoured by a life beyond strange, a facial map bursting with character and mystery. The eyes were dark, benevolent, childlike and slightly scary all at once. They were the most remarkable eyes that Jamie had ever seen, although it was not something the young Scot thought about too often, his attention span not being overly long, or his observations overly detailed. The ruffled black hair that topped the face lifted slightly in the sea breeze and the short, comical-looking man stepped out, exuberant in frock coat and baggy checked trousers, his shoes crunching joyfully in the sand.
‘Well, I must say, this makes a most welcome change.
Wouldn’t you say so, Jamie?’ The Doctor looked around him with obvious satisfaction, as if the choice of location were entirely down to him.
‘Where are we?’ This was a new voice, and a new face, peering around the door of the TARDIS, like the Doctor’s a moment before. This was a pretty face, although maybe not beautiful. Long, full hair framed intelligent features and bright, inquisitive, although slightly wary eyes. She followed the other two out onto the scarlet beach, dainty in thin silken skirt and top. Jamie grinned as the breeze lifted the skirt to show her shapely thighs.
The Doctor smiled expansively and managed to look almost stupid as he struggled to come up with an answer.
‘Well, it seems almost to be... er, it could be –’
‘Och, he doesnae know,’ Jamie finished for him helpfully.
‘Well, let’s find out, shall we?’ the Doctor said, undeterred by this lack of faith. He gazed up the beach past the palms towards a line of buildings in the near distance. The others stared in the same direction. The buildings looked inviting, even from this far away. Gaily coloured awnings flapped in the breeze, terraces were bursting with plant life of striking hues. They could see figures moving to and fro before open-fronted establishments.
The Doctor was already marching briskly over the sand towards the signs of life. Jamie shrugged at Victoria, glanced back once at the wine-coloured sea, endlessly shushing the beach, and followed.
Klick. Whirrrrr.
The plump woman barged past the two satellite photographers and posed in front of the mummy. ‘Hank! Take a shot of me in front of