Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [104]
* * *
Anji watched in frozen horror as the wiry girl opposite her, who had shared weary smiles with her for the last few hours, was dragged out with the command that she was going to see Burton. Amaya, who was maybe seventeen and had been unfazed by any of the barked commands or sudden changes in routine, fell to her knees. Screaming and pleading not to go. One of the guards stepped into the cell, grabbed the back of the girl’s shirt and hauled her out, still on her knees.
There was silence. No one dared to make eye contact with Anji. She let her eyes fall and restarted chewing on her nails, nibbling around the edge and trying to make every bite last. She was almost down to the quick and then this distraction technique would be lost to her. She had lost all track of the time now. Shouldn’t the Doctor have got her out? Weren’t there meant to be daring rescues or a mass-breakout or something? These women: she’d seen some of them about the streets, swaggering along in trousers or jumpsuits, ancient rifles slung over their shoulders. They had been proud, confident, free. Mind and body. Yet now they sat cowed and waiting, giving up the fight. Amaya had tried to rouse them, making a long speech about liberty and freedom, about how they were not beaten by the fascists and the reds wouldn’t beat them either. But the others had just sat there, avoiding her glares, and she had slumped down opposite Anji.
The door reopened and a guard reappeared in it.
‘You. Anji Kapoor. Out. Now. You’re going to see Burton.’
Anji sat for a moment, then realised she’d be dragged if she didn’t move. She stood slowly, deliberately. She would not go screaming and crying, dragged by her collar. She ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing it, then gave her hair a flicking smooth as well. She tilted her head high and walked over to the door confidently.
As the cell door slammed behind her, one of the guards smashed his rifle butt into her ribs.
* * *
The Doctor ran. The odd scream behind him suggested the creature was keeping pace. One of the earliest entries in Anji’s now destroyed list was the death of someone at the Sagrada Família. Eleana had even written down some notes about it, told them what she had seen at the site. Eleana... The Doctor paused and turned.
‘Eleana Serrano Domínguez. Did the Absolute have her? Is she part of you?’
‘She was. The connection was severed and she is complete again. We think she’s leaving town.’
‘Good.’
They loped on then, finally clearing the buildings. The Sagrada Família lay in front of them, like a huge upturned palm. The north and west sides were open, unbuilt. The Doctor scaled the unguarded fence quickly, landing on his feet on the inside of the site. The creature slid through the bars, slowly pouring through and then rebinding on the other side.
They moved up the slight incline to the centre of the church, standing on the bare ground that would one day be the apex of the nave and transepts. The place was silent, not even guarded at night any more. The rubble made shapes which the Doctor’s eyes couldn’t help but make into threatening new monsters. There was no sign of movement though.
The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, let them fall on whatever items they would. In the right, Anji’s stone paperweight. In the left, Fitz’s paperback book. Taken from the TARDIS library so many weeks ago. Or so few, from Fitz’s point of view. The Doctor pulled it out and glanced again at the cover; the fuzzy, powerful reproduction that carried all the emotional punch the real one currently didn’t.
‘Enrique?’ he shouted. His voice echoed back from the blackened traceries and statues. Whispering and fading and falling away until it seemed the building itself was calling for him.
‘Where will you run next, Enrique?’
Again the name swirled and coiled, falling to an echo of a whisper, barely perceptible.
‘How long can you run? How long can you stand it?’
There was a ghost of a movement up in the cloistered façade. A flickering, blinking ghost of a figure.
‘I’m everywhere, Enrique. I