Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [96]
„Sorry?‟
Joanna looked up. „How about cracking open a bottle of plonk? I‟d prefer to face death drunk.‟
Steven shook his head, a movement redundant in the gloom. „Don‟t give up.‟ He hugged her tightly. „How did you know that wasn‟t really Baber at the door?‟
„Baber‟s an old stickler.‟ She paused, an eternity in the unquiet darkness. „Or was, rather. Apparently it‟s incorrect to call someone the Reverend Something. He called it a “vulgar Americanism” once. He was either Mr Baber, or the Reverend Thomas Baber. Never just Reverend Baber.‟ She laughed, a fragile, liquid sound. „That creature gave itself away. Or maybe it was what was left of Baber.‟ Steven was about to speak when Joanna‟s voice cut through him like a knife.
„Christ, Steven, do you think we‟ll end up like that?‟
As she pulled herself through the window and started shinning down the drainpipe at the rear of the restaurant, Ace suddenly remembered a holiday to an Outdoor Pursuits centre in Dawlish. She had been thirteen, and was grateful to be away from school. Each night the girls would climb down from their first-floor dormitory, after lights-out, and go into town. There was one particular pub where the barman clearly didn‟t give a stuff about serving underage hooligans. Most of the other girls chickened out after the first night, but for Ace, and Gillian Sweeney and Julie Smart, it was a regular dare.
Ace dropped the last six feet to the ground, grateful to be away from the Baber creature, and turned to find herself facing three statuesque scarecrows.
„Oh great,‟ she muttered, flattening herself against the restaurant wall.
Ace looked left and right. The scarecrows stood between her and the road. „Great,‟ she repeated, taking a step towards the nearest manikin and holding the kitchen carving knife in front of her. „Come on, then,‟ she shouted. „I haven‟t done in anyone‟s knees for months.‟
The nearest scarecrow inclined its head slightly to one side.
Then a straw hand shot out, and grabbed Ace by the neck.
Its two companions moved closer.
Suddenly Rebecca Baber and a man Ace did not recognise ran from the trees behind the restaurant, waving their arms and brandishing home-made torches. As the pressure on Ace‟s throat decreased she could see the reflection of the flames in the eyes of the scarecrow. And something else.
Terror.
„Get them,‟ Ace managed to croak as the man closed in on the scarecrow holding her. He thrust the torch forward and, as the creature tried to back away, it released its grip. As she fell, Ace grabbed on to the scarecrow‟s stick legs, pulling with as much strength as she could.
The scarecrow crashed down on top of Ace, winding her.
„Get clear!‟ Rebecca shouted.
Ace rolled away, kicking at the scarecrow despite the pain and the shock. She glanced back and saw a torch being applied to the creature as it made a desperate attempt to stand. The fire bit into it immediately, and it collapsed backward, burning like a tinderbox. As the flames spiralled upward Ace looked for its two comrades, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Ace went to stand, wobbled, fell, then tried again. „What kept you?‟ she asked no one in particular, then pointed a finger towards Rebecca. „Whose side are you on?‟ she said menacingly.
„Not those things,‟ replied Rebecca, giving the still-burning scarecrow corpse a disgusted glance.
„Fine,‟ said Ace, her hands on her knees as she remained bent double, trying to forget the sickly pain at the pit of her stomach. „Who‟s your friend?‟
„This is Trevor,‟ said Rebecca.
The man was walking towards the hedgerow, torch held high above his head. „Nothing here,‟ he called. „I‟ll see if I can give Denman a hand out front. You sure you‟ll be OK?‟
„I‟ll be fine,‟ said Rebecca. She gestured towards the restaurant. „Who‟s in there?‟
„The Chens and Joanna Matson,‟ replied Ace. „They‟re in the cellar.‟
„Then let‟s go and see if they need rescuing.‟
The Doctor watched as the landscape around him blurred in a rush of images. He saw children at Hexen Bridge school, being taught harsh lessons in the way of life