Doctor Who_ Delta and the Bannermen - Malcolm Kohll [29]
He might as well have been walking to the corner shop for a newspaper. Mel and Burton followed on behind, fearing that each step would he their last.
Burton held the Doctor in high esteem for his brave stance. He hadn’t quite decided whether it was a sophisticated ploy or a spontaneous act of valour, but whatever the reason his action merited admiration. As he marched along behind the Doctor, Burton could feel the adrenalin pumping through his body. In fact, he was positively enjoying himself – it was almost like the old days in the army. But then, considering how traumatic this must be for his companions, he felt a ringe of guilt and tried to push the thought from his mind. After all, Mel and the Doctor were only civilians and had no military training. What a weekend this was turning out to be!
Burton made a mental note of his feelings and observations. If they managed to get away safely he felt sure that this would prove to be a rich source of material for his work on the human condition.
Mel wished she had never got up this morning. This was the second time in one day that she had been threatened with death. She was becoming quite a veteran.
At least she couldn’t complain that her holiday was dull –
it was more action-packed than most people dare hope for.
It felt like she was participating in a bizarre dream, and without being able to control herself she began to laugh.
‘I can’t see the cause for hilarity, Mel,’ whispered the Doctor. ‘I might even go so far as to say that laughing at Bannermen, under these particular circumstances, might be described as suicidal.’ Hearing the Doctor’s familiar voice brought Mel to her senses.
‘Sorry Doctor. I don’t know what got into me,’ she said guiltily. ‘But I think that it was nerves rather than humour.’
After what seemed an eternity they finally reached the Vincent. The Doctor firmly gripped the throttle on the bike and swung the kickstarter. The bike roared into life and Mel and Burton climbed on. The Doctor engaged first gear and slowly let out the clutch. The anticipated volley of fire never came and the bike moved slowly out of range towards the rim of the valley. Then, in a cloud of dust and with screeching tyres it took off like a bat out of hell.
Gavrok, who had followed their every move through his gunsight, smiled and raised his weapon into the air. He savoured nothing more than the smell of victory, and, carefully choosing his moment, he fired an incandescent flare into the sky. He stood motionless, watching it float earthwards like a small comet.
At the wooded copse the two Bannermen guards, Arrex and Callon, had Hawk and Weismuller sitting back-to-back. Arrex and Callon looked up sharply as the signal flare arced across the heavens. They instantly jumped to obey the command. Arrex headed back towards their fighter, while Callon covered Hawk and Weismuller.
‘What’s happening now, Weismuller?’ asked Hawk.
‘Why ask me? I’m as confused as you are. Anyway, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than sitting around with these two jokers,’ muttered Weismuller, nodding in the direction of Callon.
Arrex emerged from the ship carrying a flat metallic bar about three feet long. At each end was an adjustable metal collar, studded on the inside with cruel spikes. Hawk shot Weismuller a sour glance. ‘I gotta feeling we might be in for a long spell of sitting around,’ Hawk said.
Callon opened one collar while Arrex fiddled with the other one. Finally, they clamped the collars around the necks of the unfortunate Americans, effectively immobilizing them. Arrex locked the collars in plce with a small hexagonal device. They then stood back and studied their victims. Arrex laughed, ‘Come, Callon, they will be here when we get back.’
Then Arrex and Callon headed towards a bend in the road, leaving their prisoners shackled by the neck and unlikely to stray anywhere.
After careful manoeuvring, cursing, cries of pain and many shouted instructions,