Doctor Who_ Earthworld - Jacqueline Rayner [55]
Though if this guy was going to keep on at him like this he wasn’t going to pull 100
EarthWorld
his punches, oh no.
‘If we work together we might be able to think of a way out of this!’ Fitz tried again. Elvis dived at him; Fitz only just ducked out of the way in time. Fitz attempted to appeal to Elvis’s sense of reason. ‘Do you really want to murder someone for the amusement of three batty teenagers?’
‘I got my public to think of! You die – what, you got your momma and poppa grieving? Well, that’s too bad. But me – if I bite the big one I got several thousand suicidal chicks on my conscience.’ He lunged at Fitz, who dodged again.
‘They’re not going to let you go, whatever! If you stop trying to kill me for a second, we might be able to think of a way to get us both out of here. You kill me – you just stay locked up in that cell for a while longer, and wait for the day when they get bored with you again and you’re dead meat. Escape, or stay of execution – which sounds the better deal?’
‘Uh huh?’ Elvis dropped the pointed thing and picked up a long leather whip.
‘So what exactly is your great escape plan, my friend?’
Fitz yelped and dropped his weapon as the whip flicked his hand. ‘I don’t know yet!’ he cried. ‘If you’d just stop trying to kill me for a minute I might be able to concentrate long enough to think of one!’
Elvis took no notice. The whip cracked against Fitz’s thigh and he yelled again, stumbling backwards. Why on Earth would anyone think that something that horribly painful was a turn-on? Stupid, stupid people.
Africa was yelling at Elvis through their side of the barrier. ‘More blood!’ it sounded like. ‘More blood! Use the scourge!’
Fitz didn’t know what a scourge was, but if it was likely to bring about more blood he doubted he’d like it very much. Antarctica was no help, jumping up and down too, calling, ‘Stab him, Fitz Fortune! Stab him!’
Elvis picked up the weapon that Africa passed through the barrier. Fitz’s eyes widened. It was. . . oh Christ, it was worse than he could possibly have imagined – he couldn’t even think of the words. With desperate hope he launched himself at the barrier, just in case they’d happened to switch it off for a moment. Of course, they hadn’t. But luck was on his side – in the manner of a wrestler launching himself off the ropes, Fitz was repelled by the barrier with such force that he smashed into Elvis and the fat bloke dropped the scourge.
Fitz grabbed it and backed away. The scourge was like a short whip with five whippy bits, each with metal barbs tied along its length. That wasn’t a weapon, it was a torture device. No wonder Africa wanted it used. Fitz kept hold of it in his left hand, not because he wanted to use it, but because he damn sure didn’t Elvis Lives!
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want Elvis to get hold of it again. With his right hand he grabbed a five-foot spear. He was keeping the guy at as great a distance as possible. Who’d have thought a self-important old club singer could become so homicidal?
‘Kill him, Fitz Fortune!’ Antarctica was calling.
‘Give me a gun and I will,’ Fitz yelled back. Unfortunately, no gun was forth-coming. ‘Couldn’t we at least have a time out?’ he tried.
‘Asia needs to blow her whistle for that, and she’s gone off,’ Antarctica told him. ‘She was a bit bored.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Fitz, sarcastically. ‘I’ll try to make my final moments more entertaining in future.’
‘How can she be an android? We – she had children!’
‘Not for a long time, though, did she? You were going to put her aside.’
It had taken about two minutes for Hoover to speak after the Doctor’s revela-tion. He had stared at the Doctor, as if willing him to take back his words – then turned and gazed away, a puzzled, hurt look in his eyes. His hands were balled into fists. When he finally opened them, four white crescent moons showed on each palm where his fingernails had dug in.
He turned again to the Doctor, now. He was speaking quietly,