Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [69]
In answer she hauled the case into view, opened it and took out the clunky great Polaroid. Oh, for her faithful old miniature!
„Get a shot of the street,‟ he went on.
What? Well, if that‟s what he wanted. Easier said than done, with that flipping guard keeping such a sharp eye on everything.
Moving very slowly, she pushed the camera out to the full extent of her arms, and lined it up as best she could without looking through the viewfinder.
As soon as he‟d heard the click of the shutter, the Doctor backed silently into the shadow of the undergrowth behind them, indicating with a flick of his head that she should follow. Once they were safely out of sight, she sat up to find out what sort of shot she‟d managed to take.
What was he on about?
As she tucked the pack under her arm to speed up the developing, she started to ask him in a whisper, but again he put his finger to his lips.
Oh well. All would become clear. Perhaps.
It was quite safe. Those men were much too far away to hear them. He really could be the most infuriating...
Hang on, she thought as she peeled away the top layer of the print and watched the image as it darkened. She must have put in a used cassette.
This wasn‟t the shot she‟d just taken, the street of cottages, golden in the morning sun, with its double row of palm trees.
She was looking at a street of buildings, yes, but they were nasty little huts, seemingly cobbled together out of old driftwood, patchy brown and sickly green with lichen and moss; and the road was a track of rutted mud and broken rocks, bordered with a few spiky bushes and the odd moth-eaten old palm.
She‟d never seen this place in her life, so how could it have been in her camera? She looked up, and saw that the Doctor, with a very serious face, was holding out his hand for the print.
When he‟d taken a look, he gave a nod, as if the image was no surprise to him; and then, seeing her puzzlement, he showed it to her again, and silently pointed to a figure standing in the middle of the rutted track.
It couldn‟t be!
But it was. It was quite plainly the second guard in his white robe. With a shock that seemed to blank out every other thought, she realised that there could be only one explanation.
It was nonsense to say that the camera never lied, but on this occasion it was telling her the simple honest truth. She was looking at a picture of the real Stella Island. The romantic view they‟d seen only minutes before, the island paradise of yesterday, was nothing but an illusion, a hallucination, manufactured by her drug-fuelled brain.
„No, I‟m not sure. It was only a glimpse,‟ said Dafydd.
Maybe Brother Will would mistake the shakiness of his voice for the anxiety he would naturally feel if the sailors were really gathering for an attack. As Dafydd had expected, Will was already out of bed and having his breakfast. He was dressed in his best white robe, ready for this important day.
As the right hand of Mother Hilda, he would be largely responsible for the organisation of the ceremony.
What were you doing out there anyway? Will asked.
„Oh... I was out for a walk. And then I saw them. I can‟t be sure. But they certainly looked like the men from the ship.‟
„Mm... I find it difficult to believe, Brother. Their brains must still be enfolded.‟
Will was right, the whole ship‟s company would be under the influence of the juice for hours to come. This wasn‟t going to work! Alex had persuaded Dafydd against his will, and now he was going to be in trouble, real trouble.
„Yes, that‟s why I was so surprised,‟ he said. „But I thought I‟d better let you know.‟
Will sighed and got up from the table. „I suppose I‟ll have to come and have a look. Show me where you saw them. Are you suggesting that they might climb the cliff face?‟
A reprieve!
„It seems unlikely, I know,‟ said Dafydd, as he led Will out of the door. „But it wouldn‟t be the first time. Remember General Wolfe and the Heights of Abraham.‟
That‟s what Alex had said.
Will, who was taking out his walkie-talkie, gave him an exasperated look. „What the