Doctor Who_ Empire of Death - BBC Worldwide [54]
Fallen trees or rocks might be lurking down here, waiting to trip him up. If he should become entangled in the branches of some dead oak, those above would not be able to pull him out, nor could they send anyone else down to rescue him.
The lieutenant proceeded with caution.
Eventually he found the side,' one hand brushed against a rock protruding into the river at head height. A trickle of sweat ran down his nose and his breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps. More air, he needed more air. The lieutenant gave the guide rope another sharp tug. As he did so the protruding rock shifted in his grasp, then came away from the side of the bank.
A glowing white light burst outwards from where the rock had been, enveloping Kempshall. Even with his eyes closed he could see the light, such was its intensity. He reached into the light and clawed at its edges. More rocks fell away, creating a wider opening. As the gap increased, the glare softened and became less harsh. The lieutenant eased one eye open a fraction, then slowly opened the other. He felt the light reach out to greet him, like the warmth of a mother's embrace...
Johnson and Hawthorne spent a wasted morning in Lanark trying to persuade someone to collect Lieutenant Ashe's body. The local undertaker steadfastly refused to countenance a trip to Corra Linn. He eventually agreed to supply them with a plain pine box with rope handles hanging out of its sides. 'Bring it back here and I'll do what's right. But I won't set foot within a mile of that place.' So the two soldiers marched back into camp carrying the simplest of coffins. The pair picked up the corpse in its canvas hag and were lifting it into the rectangular box when Johnson jerked his hands away. His end of the body fell to the ground, Ashe's head striking the pine box with a wet smack. Hawthorne, still holding on to the dead man's feet, glared at the younger soldier.
`What the hell are you doing, Nicholas?'
'It moved.' Johnson said under his breath.
`What moved?'
`The corpse, Thorny - the bloody corpse moved!'
`Don't be ridiculous. The lieutenant here is stiff as a board.'
Ì'm telling you, that thing moved.' Johnson insisted. `Turn it in, Nicholas, we ain't got all day. Just pick up his head and we'll stick him in the box. He can dance about all he wants once we've got the lid on.'
Ì can't...'
`Can't or won't? Just pick him up!'
Johnson was reluctantly bending down to grab the canvas bag when it twitched. 'Don't tell me you didn't see that, Thorny! Don't tell me you didn't see that!'
Hawthorne nodded slowly. 'I saw it, but I don't believe it.'
He looked down at his own hands, still holding the canvas-bound feet of the late Lieutenant Ashe. The legs suddenly started kicking, as if trying to get free of their shroud.
Hawthorne dropped them to the ground and stepped backwards, almost staggering as he did. 'This can't be happening. People don't come back from the dead...'
`How long has he been down there?' Lance Corporal Clark asked. He was standing on the edge of the pontoon with the sergeant, peering down into the water. A few bubbles broke the surface, but there had been no other sign of life from below for what seemed an age. Vollmer consulted the fob watch his father had given him after enrolling with the army.
The position of its hands seemed to suggest Kempshall had only been underwater a few minutes, but several pairs of men had already exhausted themselves keeping the flywheels of the bellows box turning. The sergeant examined his watch more carefully and noticed the minute hand was creeping backwards, moving around the face anti-clockwise.
`Typical of this to go