Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [4]
She stared helplessly across at Jim. The two other crewmen were backing away, desperately searching for something to defend themselves with. One of them passed Jim an axe. The ship rolled again and Holly caught a glimpse of several huge shapes surging up from the water. She turned and fled. She could hear the cries of Jim and the others from behind her, high agonised cries and wet, tearing noises.
She tried to blot them out with her own screams. She scrambled through the control cabin, not daring to look back. She could hear claws dragging on the deck plates, sense things swirling through the water.
There. Ahead of her. The escape bubble. She launched herself at the 7
hatch. Long, painful seconds passed as the hydraulics creaked open.
She could hear something behind her, dragging across the deck. Harsh, laboured breathing.
The hatch opened and she dived through, kicking at the door controls. The hydraulic rams had started sliding the door shut when the arm came through the gap.
Holly pulled the fire axe off the wall and swung it down on the pale, fleshy limb that thrashed and flailed in the confinement of the bubble.
Thick ichor sprayed over the walls. She screamed and swore at the things that had taken Jim, taken her crew and swung the axe again and again. The door mechanism crushed home and the severed arm thumped to the floor. With a lurch the bubble launched from the platform. Holly didn’t notice. She continued to hack at the writhing arm until the floor was littered with flesh and blood.
Only when the last piece stopped moving did she stop and give in to her grief. She collapsed on to the floor with tears streaming from her eyes. She huddled into a corner rocking herself back and forth, the sound of her sobbing echoing around the walls of the escape pod.
Then the claws began to scrape along the hull.
8
Chapter Two
The beach stretched for miles, a huge white curve of sand glaring under the twin suns. White crested waves tumbled on to the shore in a constant hiss and the soft wind carried the distant screech of gulls.
At the edge of the beach tall palms curved elegantly towards the sky, providing some shelter from the burning suns. In the shadow of one of the palms the air began to blur and take on a bluish tint. With a series of rusty arthritic groans the tall shape of the TARDIS struggled to gain solidity. That achieved, with a loud thump it materialised fully and the door creaked open.
The Doctor stepped out on to the beach, took a deep breath, and smiled. His trousers were rolled up to the knees, he had a huge kite under one arm and was clutching a bright red plastic bucket and a spade with a curious question-mark-shaped handle. He propped the kite up against the palm tree and rummaged in his pocket. Pulling out a large paisley handkerchief he began knotting the corners.
‘Come on, Ace! Surf’s up!’
Pulling the handkerchief on to his head, the Doctor hoisted his kite back into his arms and began to amble towards the sea, licking his finger and testing the wind direction.
There was the sound of a scuffle inside the TARDIS and his companion emerged into the sun, adjusting the straps on her swimsuit.
Ace stared at the beach ahead of her and gave a sigh of deep satisfaction. Truth be told, she hadn’t believed that they would ever get here. Too often the Doctor’s promises of a relaxing holiday turned into just another nightmare, and they had been through enough nightmares recently. She had to hand it to him, though – this time it looked like he’d really done it.
Ace hauled