Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [97]
Even more quickly than he had been expecting, he found himself in water so icy that it almost punched the air from his lungs. He tried to look around, get his bearings, but saw only bubbles and blackness. Hoping he was heading in the right direction, he began to swim away from where he estimated the ship to be. Eventually he drifted upright and looked back.
Sure enough, the ship was there behind him, a vast, dark, crab-like shape, convulsing uncontrollably, its outlines blurred by the water that was swirling and bubbling around it.
All at once the ship glowed a bright cherry-red and then flared white. The shock waves of the explosion billowed out towards him, and suddenly the Doctor found himself tossed about in a churning maelstrom of boiling water.
He tried to curl himself into a ball and ride out the storm, but by the time the shock waves dissipated, he had completely lost his bearings and his tightening lungs were making him feel dizzy. He unfurled himself and clawed towards what he hoped was the surface. However, as the seconds seemed to stretch into minutes his limbs became unbearably heavy.
Eventually, inevitably, unconsciousness began to steal over him. It seemed as black and sticky as the tar he felt he was crawling through.
Chapter 10
End of the World
Twenty minutes after sinking on to the metal bench by the river's edge, Litefoot was still there. It was a chilly morning, but he was so weary that he felt disinclined to move. He looked out over the grey water and shuddered.
It was hard to believe that he had so very nearly lost his life in there. When he thought about the experience now it seemed as vague as a half-remembered dream.
And what of the Doctor and Miss Samantha and those hideous Zygon creatures? Perhaps if he could convince himself that they too were merely part of some elaborate dream he could live the rest of his days in peace. If not, he would be forever tormented by his curiosity, wondering what had become of them. It had been bad enough the first time, when the previous Doctor and Miss Leela had vanished in front of his eyes, but at least there had been an end to that business. At least Magnus Greel and his cohorts had been defeated and destroyed.
He gave a deep sigh, which made his chest and lungs flare with pain.
Perhaps it was time to retire, he thought. Or perhaps he ought simply to join Henry in Brighton and convalesce a little. As water lapped against the stone flood wall below, he shuddered again. The chill was beginning to seep into his bones.
Time to go, he told himself, and reached for his gun propped against the bench to his right. His hands had just closed around the cold metal of the barrel when a faint sound touched his ears.
He turned, his eyes widening. He had heard the sound only once before, some years ago, but it seemed as familiar to him as the chiming of his old grandfather clock. It was an ominous trumpeting sound, muted but growing steadily louder. Oddly it seemed directionless, as if it was not approaching from a distance, but already there, simply waiting for time to catch up with it.
A blue haze suddenly appeared where the Doctor's box had stood. Litefoot blinked, as if the haze was nothing but a speck of matter on his eyeball.
However, when he opened his eyes again, not only was the haze still there, but its colour had deepened.And now a definite outline could be seen, transparent enough to see the stone wall of the towpath through it, but growing more solid all the time.
Even as Litefoot watched the Doctor's peculiar blue box appear out of thin air, his mind tried to deny the