Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [45]
‘How can you stop us, Time Lord?’ Kutter’s face showed the ghost of a callous smile. ‘You speak as if you have a choice in the matter.’
Tangleleg was staring at Nathan and the others, studying them one at a time. ‘Wrong. He does have a choice,’ said the longrider, correcting his compatriot. ‘Live or die.’
110
A chill ran up the Doctor’s spine. ‘I told you, I won’t help you find Godlove!’
‘You will,’ said Tangleleg. He aimed his pistol at Martha and fired.
At the Royal Hope Accident and Emergency ward, they used code-names for different kinds of injuries, a sort of shorthand that allowed doctors and nurses to communicate significant information as quickly as possible. When lives depended on being fast, when people were bleeding out, it was vitally important to know the terms and know how to interpret them.
G-S-W. Just three letters, but they hid a harsh, potentially fatal meaning.
Gun Shot Wound.
During her medical training, Martha Jones had seen some horrible injuries, and along with her fellow teachers and students, fought like a lion to keep hurt people alive. But she had never experienced the lethal aftermath of a gunshot herself. Not until now.
A part of her mind detached from the rest. She registered the smell of burnt fabric and skin, the hot ozone stink of the gun’s discharge.
And faintly, like the sound of a thunderstorm raging over a distant hill, Martha sensed the burning knot of agony. Her lips tugged back in a weird kind of smile. It was like it was happening to someone else; yes, Martha Jones (Medical Student) was separated from Martha Jones (Gunshot Victim), looking at the wound, seeing the round hole burnt though her leather jacket and the top underneath. Seeing the blood.
Then the moment of frozen time shattered and the pain hit her like a hammer.
Martha felt the world turn around her and the dirt of the Ironhill street rose up to meet her. The pain was horrific, a million times every broken bone, rotten tooth and gut-sick agony she had ever experienced, all merged into one rushing flood of hurt. She cried out and her vision blurred with tears.
The shot had come from nowhere, just a haze of motion at the corner of her eye and the Doctor’s bellowed cry of alarm. A white 111
flash; a screeching sound; and the pain.
Martha remembered the day before, and poor Jenny there on the floor of the TARDIS. She had survived, but only because of the Doctor’s nanogene medical kit. There was nothing like that here, down in the dirt of a time where if you were hit, you were likely dead.
She clutched at the air, a howl escaping her lips, a single thought hard and cold in her mind.
Am I going to die?
112
The Doctor flew to the girl’s side, grabbing her shoulders, holding her up.
‘Lord no, Martha!’ shouted Nathan, his gut twisting. The teenager felt ill, sickened by the casual brutality of Tangleleg’s attack. The longrider showed nothing, not even the smallest flicker of concern over what he had done. He had shot down an unarmed woman with the same callous intent he had Nathan’s father and, if not for Miss Forrest, the boy as well.
Nathan heard the Doctor speaking to the girl, keeping his voice level and steady even though he had to be as furious and terrified as the boy was. ‘Martha, listen to me,’ said the man. ‘You are not going to die. Do you trust me?’
Martha’s breaths were coming in gasps. ‘I. . .