Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [98]
Litefoot gaped at it, his mind a stew of emotions. It was a peculiar thing to have one's wish fulfilled - wondrous and yet at the same time intensely alarming.
Much to his relief, the bellow of the engines faded quickly once the object had materialised. Slowly Litefoot rose to his feet, watching it warily all the while. The arrival of the box, momentous though the event had been to Litefoot, appeared to have gone unnoticed by the rest of the world. All around was silence, aside from the incessant lap of water against the wall below.
An age passed before the door opened. It did so slowly, almost ceremoniously. Beyond it, Utefoot could see nothing. It was not so much darkness as an emptiness, an absence, a void waiting to be filled. He picked up his gun and took a step towards the door on trembling legs.
'Doctor?' he called, his voice wavering. He cleared his throat and tried again. 'Doctor, are you there?'
A shape appeared in the doorway.'Gad!' Litefoot gasped, and took a stumbling step back. It was not the Doctor who stood there, but a Zygon. If it had not been for the creature's lobster-coloured flesh and its great domed head, however, Litefoot might not have recognised it. The Zygon's body was horribly misshapen, reduced, liquefying like wax in a furnace. Boils were rising and bursting all over the creature's body, and even as Litefoot watched, gobbets of flesh were sliding from it, forming steaming pools around its feet.
Only its eyes seemed alive, blazing with furious fire. A maw opened in the mass of boils that served as the Zygon's face, and from it came a rattling, gurgling hiss.
'This... is not... Zygor,' the creature rasped. It swayed for a moment, and then seemed to notice Litefoot for the first time. It gave a blood-curdling screech and raised its hands, unsheathing the thorns in its palms. Then, with astonishing speed considering its condition, it rushed at him.
Instinctively, Litefoot raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The blast, at such close range, almost tore the creature apart. Bits of it flew everywhere, its left arm spinning through the air and landing with a splash in the water below. The creature's momentum carried it forward another two steps and then it pitched forward on to its face. It twitched for several seconds and then became still.
Now Litefoot expected people to come running. The echoes of the shotgun blast seemed to thrum and thrum in his ears. He looked down at his handiwork, sickened. The Zygon was crumbling to nothing even as he watched, its rate of decay accelerated even further by its death.
So mesmerised was he by the terrible sight that he didn't notice another figure had emerged from the blue box until it was no more than a few steps away. Sensing movement in his peripheral vision, he jerked the shotgun up, almost jabbing the figure in the chest. The girl looked at him, her face numb with shock and disbelief.
'Miss Samantha!' Litefoot gasped, hastily lowering the gun.
The girl stared at him for a moment, and then slowly shook her head.'No,'she moaned.'No... I am not Samantha.'
'My dear, you're upset.Why don't you -'
'I am Tuval,' the girl announced, pushing her shoulders back, holding her head up proudly.'Last of the Zygons on this planet.'
Litefoot looked at her bemusedly for a moment, and then said, 'That's as may be, my dear, but I really think you should -'
'I wear a human body, but I am a Zygon. Look!'
The girl held up her hands and Litefoot saw the suckers open in her palms, the tips of the thorns emerge. Instantly he jerked the gun up again, staggering back a few paces.
'Just like Miss Emmeline,' he gasped. 'Then where's Miss Samantha? And where's the Doctor?'
'You are... Litefoot,' Tuval said.'The Doctor's friend.'
'That's right. And if anything has happened to