Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias - Mark Michalowski [79]
Eddie turned his head sharply as he heard the heavy sound of snapping branches, figures crashing through the wood. In moments he’d worked out where they were - moving at a tangent to his position. He stayed still, hugged up into a ball in the hollow at the base of a tree, and listened. There were two pursuers and one – maybe two – prey. They moved awkwardly, their steps irregular. Then they paused, and within seconds there was the whine of a weapon and a splintering sound. He sat up, curiosity overcoming his caution. For a moment, he found himself strangely excited at the prospect of a hunt. But then he remembered his dreams and sunk back into the loamy darkness, ashamed.
The crashing resumed, slowly fading as they moved on through the forest. The thought occurred to him that they were looking for him: but why the shots? Maybe someone else had escaped from Graystairs, someone else whose mind had been soiled and corrupted by the same filth that they’d pumped into him. He heaved himself to his feet: my enemy’s enemy is my friend.
As quietly as he could, Eddie set off in the direction of the receding sounds. without thinking, his hand went to his side, searching for a weapon. what had they done to him?
Ace and Michael ran as fast as they could, dragging the limp form of the Doctor. She’d never realized that such a small, slight man could weigh so much. Did he have transcendental pockets?
A small planet or two in each one? Michael seemed to be managing OK. Neither of them looked at the other as they fled
– which was fine by Ace, since she really couldn’t think of anything to say to him. The pain in her knee had faded, but she was sure that was less to do with its healing than with the adrenalin rushing through her bloodstream.
She’d been surprised to see Michael – although judging from the expression on his face, not half as surprised as he’d been.
He’d stood there, just staring at them, until Ace had broken his trance and told him to help her get the Doctor out. Even then he’d hesitated before sighing heavily and slinging the Doctor’s arm over his shoulder. And Sooal had seen them. She smiled to herself, imagining his confusion and anger that Megan hadn’t managed to finish her off. If only he knew...
As they reached the road through the woods, they paused to rest. Ace looked back, relieved to see no one following them, although she doubted that pursuers would be far behind: as she, Michael and the Doctor had left Graystairs, she’d glanced back to see Sooal vanishing upstairs – fetching reinforcements, no doubt. She slumped against a damp tree-stump, slimy with lichen, and grimaced at the stains on her jacket. The Doctor was mumbling to himself. She peered into his wandering, unfocussed eyes.
‘Doctor? Doctor? Can you hear me? It’s Ace.’
‘Yes,’ he slurred, staring past her into the woods.’Yes, it probably is. I’m the Doctor. Pleased to meet you.. ’ He waveringly stuck out his hand. Ace took it and gave it a squeeze.
‘Come on – we need to get you somewhere warm, let you have a proper rest.’
‘He needs more than that,’ Michael said – the first thing he’d said since they’d left Graystairs.
‘And what would you know?’ Ace said. She heard him let out a slow, controlled breath.
‘Fine!’ he said. ‘You obviously know better? I’ll just leave the two of you here, shall I? See how far you get!’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m helping the Doctor. If it is the Doctor.’
She’d briefly told Michael about regeneration, about how the tall, dandified Doctor that Michael had seen just a month or two ago could have been transformed into the innocuous little bundle they were dragging through the woods – but he was still having a hard time believing it. Ace gritted her teeth, on the point of starting an argument. She was feeling ratty with Michael’s secretiveness, worried about the Doctor and in pain from her knee. Starting an argument was actually just what she needed at the moment. But she knew that without Michael’s help, she’d struggle