Doctor Who_ Daemons - Barry Letts [16]
The Squire awkwardly patted Jo on the shoulder. 'Stiff upper lip, my dear. Where there's life, there's hope.'
As Jo gave him watery smile, Bert arrived with a bundle of blankets and two or three hot water bottles.
'Good, good. More if you can spare them.'
'I'll have a look round,' and Bert turned to go.
'I say,' said Jo, stopping him, 'is there a 'phone I could use?'
'In the corner, Miss. Help yourself.'
'Oh yes. Thanks.'
Jo picked her way slowly through the B.B.C. team. She could see Alastair in the middle. Already the terror of his experience was fading and it was becoming just another tale for the club at lunchtime. Alastair Fergus was too tough a nut to crack easily.
Jo was quickly through to UNIT and had soon put Mike Yates in the picture.
'But is the Doctor all right now?' he asked.
'It's touch and go, I think,' replied Jo. 'Mike, can you get down here?'
'Yes, of course We'll come down in the chopper.'
'Well, get a move on, won't you. I can't take much more of this.' Mike could hear the quaver in her voice.
'I've never been so scared in my life,' she went on 'there's something awful going on here. The whole place has a feeling about it, as if...' Abruptly her voice stopped, to be replaced by the dialling tone. At once, Mike rang the number of the pub, which Jo had given him.
'What's up, sir?' said Benton .
'Number unobtainable...'
'So what do we do?'
'Go down there, Sergeant. Both of us.'
'But... what about the Brigadier?'
'The Brigadier can...' Mike stopped himself just in time. Even though UNIT was somewhat informal, military etiquette must be preserved. 'He can follow us down later. Go and change into civvies, Sergeant, and get the Brig's helicopter fuelled up and ready for us to take off at first light...'
Harry leaned out of the window of his car. 'Well, that's the last of us,' he said thankfully to Police Constable Groom. 'You've been a great help!'
'Happy to oblige.'
'Can't wait to get away myself. I don't envy you, stuck up here.'
P.C. Groom grinned. 'Can't leave it all open, like. Just another night duty. I enjoy a bit of peace and quiet.'
'You're welcome to it, mate,' said Harry and drove away with a cheerful wave of his hand.
Thank the Lord, thought the Constable. Friendly lot, but still, look at all the trouble they'd caused.
He walked over to the enhance to the tunnel, now firmly sealed off with planks. He shone his torch on the large 'Danger' notice outside and grunted with satisfaction. Then, carefully spreading his waterproof cape on the turf he sat down, and opened a packet of sandwiches—apricot jam, his favourite—and a flask of tea.
His supper finished and tidied up, P.C. Groom settled down, his back against the warning notice, to wait for dawn. Already he could see the sky brightening in the east... within minutes he was asleep. It had been a long and busy day.
But the Constable's sleep was not a restful sleep. Almost at once he plunged deep into a dream; a dream with no story; a dream which was nothing but a jumble of disconcerting images. He saw the face of the new Vicar, Mr. Magister, apparently mouthing some strange incantation, while swirls of coloured smoke almost hid him from view. He saw the notorious gargoyle from the Cavern, Bok, the tourists' favourite, stretching his stone wings and hopping from his pedestal. He saw a pair of red eyes watching him steadily from the darkness of the tunnel in the barrow. And as he stirred uneasily in his sleep, he saw alien creatures, giant creatures with cruel faces, flying through space past uncountable suns. He could feel his heart thudding as he fell down, down, down, into the heart of the brightest sun of all...
Abruptly he awoke. The brightness was the brightness of the dawn. The thudding of his heart was the tread of heavy footsteps shaking the earth beneath him. He struggled to rise, but in vain. And as P.C. Groom drew his last breath, he recognised one of the giant beings from his dream as it indifferently