Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [21]
Extending a sore hand, the Doctor had tested the strength of the cage. It was fashioned from saplings but seemed more than up to the job of keeping him imprisoned.
He had tried to sit up straight but the cage was too small.
On the point of muttering a particularly colourful Gallifreyan oath, the Doctor had suddenly stiffened at the sound of approaching footsteps.
He had peered through the gloom as the cell’s spyhole opened and a large reptilian eye looked in on him. The eye disappeared after a while and there was a series of clanking noises as the heavy iron door was unbolted.
Framed in the doorway was a tall, slender figure, his crested head silhouetted against the weak, greenish light from the corridor.
For a moment, the Doctor took him for the one‐eyed reptile he had seen next to the TARDIS, but when this one spoke his voice was almost gentle.
‘Well, well. What a funny little thing you are,’ said Grek. ‘Where the devil did you spring from?’
‘If you’d get me a glass of water,’ said the Doctor, brushing himself down, ‘I’d be delighted to tell you.’
Grek’s leathery jaw dropped open.
* * *
Imalgahite had seemed such a decent sort, thought Bernice. But now, as she tramped through the ugly wet jungle, giant leathery leaves slapping at her legs, she was beginning to think otherwise.
After considering a number of more likely stories, she had finally decided to tell the absolute and undivided truth.
Being wholly honest did not come naturally to Bernice and she was annoyed that the Cutch leader failed to respond to her gesture with appropriate gravity.
He had, in fact, sighed in exasperation and given a whispered command for her to be taken out into the jungle and shot. Perhaps the idea of travelling through time and space inside a blue box with a double‐hearted Doctor did sound a little fanciful but he could at least have given her the benefit of the doubt.
Utreh, the guard who thought Bernice no more than a clever primate, poked her in the back with the barrel of his rifle.
‘Come on. Keep moving.’
Bernice’s mind began to race. There had to be a way out of this. Something she could do. But if she ran off into the jungle they could pick her off with ease, even though it was getting quite dark.
She was only alive now because Imalgahite wanted the body of an Ismetch spy to be found in enemy territory. The armistice might be in preparation but he could still show them how the Cutch dealt with ‘filthy mammal trash’.
The increasingly petrified filthy mammal trash called Bernice Summerfield tried slowing down her steps, anything to buy her time. But Utreh noticed and pushed her in the small of the back with his claws. His two Cutch companions were glancing about nervously, seeing enemy bogymen in every inch of the shadowy jungle.
Inevitably, it began to rain and Bernice heaved a tremendous shuddering sigh, all kinds of thoughts flitting through her mind.
It couldn’t end like this. Surely.
‘All right,’ barked Utreh. ‘This’ll do.’
His words went through Bernice like cold steel. She dug her fingernails into her palms and shivered.
‘Turn around.’
Bernice spun on her heel, her mind literally reeling in shock and terror. She glanced about desperately into the dark jungle for any sign of rescue.
She would run for it, she decided, and at least go down fighting.
Utreh and the other Cutch raised their rifles in silence.
* * *
Grek marched the Doctor through a network of tunnels towards the conference room.
Soldiers stared in blank astonishment at the funny little creature in the filthy white clothes but the Doctor did his best to ignore them, inwardly relieved that Grek didn’t have him on a lead.
The Ismetch leader’s long legs made swift progress along the gloomy passageways and the Doctor struggled to keep up, the ripped turn‐ups of his linen trousers catching on his shoes.
‘Commander Grek,’ he called breathlessly. ‘Where are we going?’
‘You’ve got some explaining to do, beast,’ said Grek