Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [49]
After all, this evening she had already seen her mother killed by the slavering monster that her father had become; that alone would have been enough to send anyone into the deepest shock. True, for the moment she was still responding, still functioning, but aside from the odd flutter of curiosity she was doing so mechanically, without any real emotion. Sam only hoped that she wasn't going to suddenly freak out at some stage and put them all in jeopardy.
Putting aside her worries for the moment, Sam turned back to Litefoot.
'See?' she said. 'So come on, Professor, tell us what this smell reminds you of.'
Litefoot flashed a pleading glance at the Doctor, who shrugged. 'You'd better tell her, Professor. She won't leave you alone until you do.'
'Very well,' Litefoot sighed, and pursed his lips. He thought for a moment and then finally he said, 'As you know, my dear, my work as police pathologist brings me into contact with a wide variety of... urn... how shall I put it?'
'Stiffs?' Sam suggested.
Litefoot looked startled. 'If I take you to mean cadavers, Miss Samantha, then yes, quite so. 'Pon my soul, what a colourful turn of phrase you have.'
'I just say it like it is,' said Sam. 'So that's what this smell's like then, is it?
Dead people?'
'Well, I was thinking more specifically of their stomach contents, after several days of... um' - he leaned towards her and lowered his voice -
'putrefaction.' He straightened up and sniffed once again. 'Yes, I must say that the air here is most redolent of that singular odour.'
Sam tried not to pull a face.'Right,' she said.'Nice one .'Turning to the Doctor, she asked,'Doctor, you don't think we're making a big mistake here, do you? I mean... you don't think we're anything's lunch?'
'Only one way to find out,' said the Doctor maddeningly.'Come on.'
He turned and began to head downwards again. Sam glared at his back for a moment, then - because there was really no other alternative - whispered an oath and followed. At the moment they were on a kind of plateau, able to walk in single file, but it was not long before the chute began to slope downwards again, whereupon they had to negotiate it as before, on their backsides, using their hands, elbows and feet for purchase.
It was a long and exhausting journey, with no change in their surroundings.
Sometimes the gradient was steep, sometimes gentle, and sometimes it levelled out altogether. However, the trend was always downwards, and after a while Sam began to wonder whether the chute was in fact burrowing deep into the earth. If it was, it made no discernible difference to the supply of light and air.True, the inside of the chute was uncomfortably warm, but then it had been so from the outset. It was true also that after a while Sam began to feel sick and a little dizzy, but that, she assured herself, was because of the constant unpleasant smell and not because she was suffocating.
At last she saw the Doctor, some eight or ten feet in front of her, dig in his heels to make himself stop, and raise a warning hand. She slid a little closer to him, then stopped herself. Palming sweat from her brow, she asked, 'What is it?'
'Shh,' said the Doctor, the raised hand curling into a fist aside from an extended forefinger which jabbed the air in emphasis. 'I think we're there.'
'Where?'
'Where we're going.'
Sam huffed in exasperation.'Yeah, but where's that?'
The Doctor glanced at her, then silently pointed in front of him. Sam scrambled up behind him and peered over his shoulder. Some twenty or thirty feet below them the glowing, pulsing walls of the chute ended in a dark circle. Sam screwed up her eyes, but the glare from the walls around her prevented her from seeing anything except vague, lumpy shadows.
'I wish we knew what was down there,' she said, and then, as the Doctor opened his mouth to reply, 'Yeah, I know -