Doctor Who_ Empire of Death - BBC Worldwide [83]
Vollmer had been pleased when Johnson joined him during the night, unable to sleep. A solo patrol gave you far too much time to think and the young private made for good company. The two men helped keep each other awake, contemplating events of the past few days. Neither of them mentioned it, but the sergeant felt sure Johnson was just as nervous as him about what they might face in the darkness.
Their task was made no easier by a low mist that descended on the hillside, cutting visibility among the bare tree trunks.
It was just as the sun was beginning to bruise the gloaming that Vollmer heard the footsteps. Johnson was wondering out loud if he might be chosen for the diving bell when the sergeant hushed him into silence. 'Listen!' Vollmer hissed. 'Can you hear something?'
The private did as he was bid. 'No,' he whispered. 'What am I -' The sound of fleet footfalls below the encampment cut short Johnson's words. Ì hear it! Coming from near the pontoon!'
Vollmer nodded and held a forefinger up to his lips, motioning the private to silence. They began creeping down the hillside in a slow arc, the sergeant venturing slightly upstream, while Johnson went in the other direction. By now the mist was hanging just above the Clyde, shrouding the water's edge as the two soldiers converged on the pontoon from opposite sides. Vollmer could hear something heavy moving across the wooden beams of the platform. He crept forward, the butt of his rifle pressed in hard against his collarbone, finger resting on the trigger ready to fire. Through the mist the sergeant could discern someone crouching by the far edge of the pontoon, bent over a fallen figure. Had the killer claimed another victim?
Ìdentify yourself or we shoot!' the sergeant shouted, but his demand went unanswered. By now Vollmer had reached the point where the pontoon touched the hillside, Johnson joining him. Still they received no reply. The sergeant gave the intruder three seconds to surrender. Òne!' The figure glared at the two soldiers, snarling with anger. `Two!' Vollmer watched in horror as the intruder pushed its victim over the edge of the platform. 'Three!' The figure stood up and launched itself at the two soldiers. Both men fired, more in surprise than anger.
The intruder cried out, one hand clutching its chest, before collapsing face first in front of Vollmer and Johnson. The sergeant crouched beside the fallen figure. It was male, dressed in a ragged suit, the hair a mess of knots and tangles.
Vollmer reached out to roll the intruder over. `Sergeant, be careful!' Johnson urged. 'He might not be dead yet!'
Vollmer pushed the unidentified man's shoulder, gently turning over the body. But it wasn't a man they had shot. It was a boy of no more than fifteen summers, his face young and unlined, a few wisps of downy hair visible on the chin and above the upper lip. 'My god, he's just a boy,' the sergeant realised. He checked the body for signs of life. A steady trickle of blood leaking out from underneath told Vollmer all he needed to know.
'He's dying. Quick, fetch the Doctor.'
Johnson staggered backwards a few steps, looking down at the weapon in his shaking hands, smoke still curling from the end of the barrel. 'I didn't mean to kill him...'
`Nicholas! Fetch the Doctor - now!'
The private stumbled away up the hillside, still clutching his rifle.
Ànd tell General Doulton what's happened!' Vollmer called after him.
Nyssa shook her head, slowly retreating from the woman who had just entered the grove. `No, you can't be my mother.
She died -'
`Giving birth to you,' Lucina replied. 'That was a lifetime ago for you but it seems like yesterday to me. I already knew something was awry, the midwife had told