Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [25]
„Remarkable,‟ said the Doctor. „When I first met you, you couldn‟t even control your own bladder.‟
Anger flared across Shanks‟s face. „Can you sew?‟ he snarled.
„A little,‟ said the Doctor, surprised by the question. Well, stitch this, then,‟ said Shanks, head-butting him just above the nose.
CHAPTER 3
THE V1LLAGE GREEN PRESERVATION SOCIETY
The door exploded inward, and the masked men rushed into the house. „Bring him out!‟ they shouted. „He belongs to us now!‟
A light came on somewhere, and a prematurely aged couple appeared at the top of the stairs, nervously pulling on thick dressing gowns despite the thunderously oppressive midnight air. „What the hell is going on?‟ shouted the man.
But there was a quaver in his voice, as if a terrifying realisation were washing over him.
„You know why we‟re here,‟ said the leader of the group. His voice was muffled through the rough sackcloth mask that had been pulled over his face, his thin lips just visible behind a ragged slit. Like his companions, he wore a long, dark cloak over black jeans. He held a scythe in his hands, the blade orange with rust.
„You have no right,‟ said the man, coming down the stairs.
His wife seemed rooted to the spot.
„Don‟t be a fool,‟ snapped the leader. Then, in a calmer voice: „We all know how we live, Don. And the punishments that await us if we stray.‟ A weather-beaten hand gestured towards those grouped behind him, and a number of them ran up the stairs two at a time, pushing past the man, who steadied himself uncertainly, his bony hands pale against the mahogany banister. He made his way to the bottom, a tiny figure before the might of the masked intruders.
„Please,‟ said the man. „It‟ll kill „er.‟
„This is the way of things,‟ replied the leader, his dark clothing incongruous against the wallpaper of irises. „Your son has been chosen.‟ He angled his face back towards the stairs.
All the doors on the landing had been thrown open, and a boy, still weak with sleep, was dragged out of one room. The elastic in his pyjamas had gone, a safety pin holding them around his skinny hips. His feet barely touched the ground.
The old woman fell to the floor, her lips moving soundlessly. One of the dark figures bent down to help her to her feet, but was pushed away by the others.
„William Tyley,‟ said the leader in a strong, clear voice. „You have been chosen.‟
Billy Tyley tried to say something, but he was pushed forcefully down the stairs. He stumbled over his feet towards the bottom and landed in a heap on the floor. He was grabbed by the group of black-clad men, who carried him swiftly through the still-open door, and out towards the village green. They lifted him high above their heads, Billy screaming at the stars above him.
The remaining men swept out of the house. Soon only the leader and the old couple remained. It was impossible to tell what thoughts crossed the mind of the cloaked man, but he did not move for some time, seeming to listen intently to the woman‟s sobs.
Then he turned, and ducked out through the doorway.
Out on the green, torches were being lit.
Ace woke to the sound of screaming. She was on her feet before she knew where she was, and was standing at the window by the time she remembered the dull evening spent cadging pints in the village pub. „What...‟ Her words trailed away as she gripped the curtain. She knew the difference between drunken larking about and absolute terror. She shivered, ice-cold needles in her arms and legs.
„Don‟t do it, miss,‟ came a voice from the door. Despite the screams it was like a gunshot in the graveside stillness of the room.
Ace spun round.
Bob Matson was standing in the doorway, framed by the landing light, a bunch of keys in one hand.
„What the -‟
„Don‟t open the curtains,‟ Matson repeated, more insistently than before. Despite her shock, Ace could perceive something different in his voice. Surely it couldn‟t be fear?
„Get out, toerag!‟ shouted Ace, her words still leapfrogging over each other in surprise.
„Shh, keep