Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [58]
‘Why?’ Sam repeated. ‘Why’s it horrible?’
‘I don’t know. It just… is. That’s all. It’s the idea.’
‘The idea…?’
Of course. Of course. Sarah had assumed that Sam had come from this time zone, that she’d been a native of 1996, the same way Sarah had stuck around her own time when she’d been with the Doctor in the UNIT days. But Sam came from the future. Maybe not far in the future, maybe only a couple of years, but nonetheless…
The UN must have looked into Sam’s background. They must have realised the same thing, and left this house alone. They must have figured out that, in this era, the girl hadn’t even met the Doctor yet.
From downstairs, there was a crashing, splintering sound. The girls in the attic fell silent. Sarah lost her grip on the ladder, and tumbled the short distance to the floor.
‘What in the name of God –’ someone shouted, from the kitchen.
Sarah jumped to her feet. Above her head, the hatch shifted. The girls were opening the attic entrance.
No. Sam couldn’t see her. Not here. Not now. She launched herself at the stairs, hearing the hatch squeak open behind her. She didn’t turn round. She vaulted down the steps, two at a time, finally reaching the downstairs hallway. The door at the far end was open, TV light spilling across the floral‐patterned carpet.
Another crashing sound. Wood breaking. Smashing crockery.
Sarah stepped through the doorway to the kitchen.
The kitchen was a mess. The back door of the house was missing, having been pummelled off its hinges, the glass panel lying in thousands of tiny pieces across the floor. The table had suffered the same kind of fate. It was as if something horribly powerful had smashed its fist down on the surface, snapping one of the legs.
As if, thought Sarah. As if something horribly powerful had smashed its fist down on the surface. In fact, the thing in question was still standing there, swinging its head backward and forward to keep the whole room covered. The Ogron had lost its dark glasses, although it hadn’t changed out of its suit.
And there was someone else, between Sarah and the Ogron. A man, probably in his early fifties, dressed in a rumpled shirt and rumpled trousers, as though he’d come home from work some time ago but hadn’t bothered changing out of his business clothes yet. He turned as Sarah walked in. His face was framed with grey, a full moustache‐and‐beard set bristling around his mouth, wispy hair retreating across his big pink forehead. His spectacles were perfectly round, and made his eyes look tiny.
‘Sam –’ the man began. His voice was high‐pitched and wobbly. Then his little eyes focused on Sarah’s face, and, if anything, he looked even more scared.
Sam’s father. He couldn’t have been anyone else. He must have come home early from wherever he worked, been in the house even before Sarah had arrived. The girls in the attic probably didn’t even know he was here.
The Ogron stopped moving, finally registering Sarah’s presence. The creature raised one huge, heavy arm, and extended a blunt grey finger.
‘Woman,’ the Ogron bellowed. ‘Want woman. Now.’
* * *
8
Another Day in the Life
(19 August, somewhere a long way from London)
Try not to be here. That’s the best idea. Try concentrating on something else, somewhere else. Someone else.
Sam?
‘There was once a man who dreamed he was a frog,’ said the Doctor. ‘When he woke up, he couldn’t remember whether be was a man who’d dreamed he was a frog or a frog dreaming he was a man.’
‘I thought it was a butterfly,’ said Sam.
‘What?’
‘It’s an old Buddhist thing, right? I thought he dreamed he was a butterfly. Not a frog.’
The Doctor finished scuttling around the TARDIS console, and came to a halt in front of the dematerialisation switch. At least it was a switch this week. It had been a lever until a few days ago. ‘Well, I’m sure he told everyone it was a butterfly,’ he flustered. ‘He probably thought it sounded better. But I was there when it happened and it was definitely a frog. The important thing is…’
He tailed off, having forgotten what the important thing