Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [13]
The Doctor lowered his voice. ‘Like I told Fess there, I am a bit cash-poor at the moment.’
Teague’s fingers curled around the sonic screwdriver. ‘Reckon this’ll serve just fine as your grubstake.’
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‘That has. . . sentimental value,’ he replied. ‘I’d rather not part with it.’
But Teague was already walking away. ‘Guess you better have an affinity for the cards then, Doc.’ Loomis took an empty seat and, as one, all the other players gave the Doctor the same predatory look.
Teague pushed a chair out with his boot. ‘Plant your backside, Coney.
We’ll go easy on ya.’
The gamblers all smirked with harsh humour as the Doctor joined them. ‘This is great,’ he enthused. ‘I was hoping to find someone to have a chat with, and here we are, with you nice fellows inviting me over to your table.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Excellent stuff!’ There were a pile of careworn playing cards lying in front of him, and the Doctor gathered them up. ‘Um, sorry?’ he asked. ‘Before we get started. . .
What are we playing? Happy Families? Snap?’ He peered at the cards and a grin burst out on his face. ‘Oh, wait, I know this game. It’s Top Trumps, isn’t it?’
Joe’s description was dead on; the pattern of the glass fragments showed how the window had been forced open. Martha didn’t wait for Jenny or the stableman to go first. She saw a spatter of bright blood on the wooden lintel and took the initiative, stepping through into the darkened schoolhouse.
Martha didn’t allow herself to worry that there might be something dangerous in there; bloodstains meant that someone had been hurt, and injured people were her priority. She went in boldly. ‘Hello?
Who’s there?’
The blinds had been drawn, making the room shadowy.
She
stepped around the pieces of broken glass and saw a shape huddled in the far corner, between a desk and the blackboard. Behind her, Jenny and Joe were following.
‘I’m Martha,’ she said, keeping her voice clear and even. ‘Have you hurt yourself? I can help you.’ She spotted dots of blood leading toward the slumped figure. ‘Hello?’
She moved carefully around the desks and saw the shape was a teenage boy. He was panting and shaking, his brown hair plastered 33
to his pale, sweaty face. He was clutching his right hand with his left.
Martha recognised the symptoms of a panic attack immediately.
‘Nathan?’ The youth looked up as Jenny spoke his name. ‘This is one of my former pupils. He helps me with the younger children and such,’ she explained. ‘Nathan, what happened here?’
The boy got shakily to his feet. ‘I. . . I cut myself. I’m real sorry. . . ’
Martha saw the laceration across the teenager’s palm. ‘Let me see that,’ She took his wrist, and with a handkerchief from her pocket she set to work cleaning up the cut. ‘This looks a lot worse than it is.’
‘Were you here stealing?’ demanded Joe. ‘When your daddy hears about this –’
Jenny held up her hand. ‘There’s no need for that. I’m certain Nathan has an explanation.’
The boy looked up at Martha and she saw fear in his eyes. ‘I came looking for the teacher. . . Needed to find somewhere safe.’
‘Safe from what?’ Martha asked gently, tearing the handkerchief into a makeshift bandage.
Nathan tapped at his temple. ‘I can’t close my eyes, miss. Each time I’m abed, I see ’em.’
Joe shifted uncomfortably. ‘The kid’s addleheaded over somethin’.
I’d reckon he’s up to some dare with those other young reprobates, that’s all.’
But Martha knew real terror when she saw it. The boy was deathly afraid of something. ‘What do you see, Nathan?’
He shuddered and Jenny answered for him. ‘It’s the night terrors.’
‘No such thing!’ snapped Joe, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.
Martha shot him a look. ‘Sounds to me like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.’ She guided Nathan to a chair. ‘You’re having bad dreams, is that it?’ She chewed her lip; she wasn’t trained in psychology, but she’d try her best.
‘He’s not the only one,’ said the teacher darkly.
The boy blinked. She could see grey rings under his eyes from where he