Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [45]
‘Mrs Toovey! Run! Get help!’
She felt a cold hand slap over her mouth and tried to scream again. Her hot breath streamed around her assailant’s fingers and she hurled herself to the carpet in an effort to extricate herself.
The figure came at her again, arms spread wide. Jo rolled over on the carpet and grabbed for the banisters. She pulled herself forward and took the stairs two at a time. The figure was right behind her.
Suddenly Jo pitched forward and felt herself falling. She threw out her arms and felt the stair carpet burn her as she crashed down towards the hall. Reaching the bottom, she flopped on to the bare boards, the wind knocked from her and a sharp pain shooting through her side.
Ribs aching, she lifted her head from the floor and tried desperately to breathe.
She could hear her assailant moving swiftly down the stairs towards her. There was no one to save her. She’d screamed at Mrs Toovey to flee and now she couldn’t even cry for help. If only she could get her breath back...
The figure was standing over her now, bathed in moonlight. She could make out details of a black uniform and a chiselled, pale-skinned face. He reached out a hand towards her.
A harsh bell shattered the muggy silence. Jo blinked rapidly. Her assailant’s hand hesitated. The bell rang again and again. It was the telephone.
Jo took advantage of the distraction and rolled on to her stomach, breath flooding back into her lungs. As she did so, a thin beam of light split the darkness illuminating the figure, which was now clearly revealed as Captain McGarrigle.
He reacted to the light as if physically struck, hissing like a vampire caught in sunshine and shielding his wide, dark eyes.
He stepped back and knocked the telephone from its little table. It crashed to the floor and the receiver was dislodged. A tiny, tinny voice called ‘Hello?’
The torchlight bobbed closer and the Captain ran for the door, barging into the person who was holding the torch. The light swung crazily about over the ceiling and Jo heard booted feet clattering over the floor and out into the night.
She sat up and shielded her eyes as the light from the torch bore down on her. Another hand, warm this time, reached out and gripped her shoulder. Jo gave a little yelp.
‘It’s all right, Jo,’ said the Doctor soothingly. ‘It’s only me.’
Jo let out a huge sigh of relief. ‘Oh, Doctor. Thank goodness.’
‘What have you been up to?’ he asked.
The small voice from the telephone sounded again. The Doctor set the torch down and squatted on his haunches. He reached out for the telephone and picked up the receiver, cradling it under his chin and giving Jo a cheerful smile.
‘Hello? Who? No, no. She’s not here, I’m afraid.’ He covered the mouthpiece for a moment. ‘Mrs Toovey’s not here is she Jo?’
Jo shook her head.
‘No,’ continued the Doctor. ‘She’s... er.... she’s just stepped out. Can I help?’
His face looked grave in the beam of light that shone upwards from the torch. ‘I see. Very well. Where are you? The post office. All right.’
He put down the phone with a soft click.
‘Come on. Stir your stumps, Jo. We’ve got work to do.’
Jo struggled to her feet. She glanced down and noticed that the Doctor was missing a shoe.
‘What happened to you?’ she giggled.
The Doctor didn’t look happy. ‘It’s a long story.’
He glanced up the stairs. ‘I wonder if the Wing Commander has any spare boots?’
Chapter Seventeen
Sleeping With the Enemy
And now the thing outside the steel palace raises its balled claw and hammers against the glass. There isn’t much time left. It must survive. It must...
The Apothecary glides forward, its legs skittering over the marble-tiled floor. It regards the thing outside with cool, detached eyes and then inclines its great head to one side. Two others like it emerge from the blue shadows, carrying long, tubular weapons in their spiky claws. They peel off from the Apothecary’s side and, moments later, an airlock opens