Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [29]
down at the shore. She leaned her weight against the window frame, seeing if it would move. The catch inside flexed slightly but the frame held. She wasn’t going to get in here.
She started to work her way along the wall of the house, pulling and pushing at each of the narrow windows in turn, oblivious now to the rain that had started to pour from the leaden sky. There! One of the catches was loose, the screws pulling from the rotten wood. She needed something to lever with.
Keeping low, she ducked over to the pile of furniture. Leaning against the back of one of the chairs was a roll of stair carpet. The house was quite old-fashioned. If she was lucky. . . She pulled the chair to one side and allowed herself a smile of satisfaction. There. Stair rods. Perfect. Hefting one of them in her hands, she crossed back to the window. Slipping the stair rod through the narrow gap, she levered it back against the brickwork. The rod bent slightly, but she could feel the rotten woodwork starting to give. . . She readjusted her position, getting a better angle to push against the catch, and leaned all her weight on the stair rod. There was a splintering crack and the window popped open, the catch pinging off. Rose stumbled forward, just catching the window before it swung closed again, wincing at the noise of the catch as it clattered on the flags toned floor of the cellar. She shot a wary glance at the back door. Nothing.
Carefully she placed the stair rod on the floor and swung her leg through the open window, feeling with her toes for a firm foothold. With a quick glance back at the waiting Ali, who was watching her open-mouthed, she slipped through the gap and into the house. The old iron padlock on the lighthouse door disintegrated into a thousand tiny fragments, literally shaken apart by the high-frequency sound waves from the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver. The door itself was vibrating violently, rust and paint peeling off and whipping away in the wind.
Bronwyn had her hands clamped over her ears, trying to shut out the whine of the screwdriver and the deep throbbing hum that came 70
from the door. The Doctor seemed oblivious to the noise, holding the little sonic device straight out in front of him, clearing years of corrosion in a matter of seconds.
With a flourish he finally turned it off and pushed at the door, which swung inwards, creaking alarmingly. He gave a satisfied smile and ducked through. A spiral metal staircase faced him, leading up the inside of the tower. He bounded up it, taking two steps at a time. Bronwyn followed him uncertainly, steadying herself on the less than secure handrail. Round the walls wound the same thick black cable that they had seen in the cave, snaking up through a neat hole drilled in the concrete of the floor, the alien technology harsh and new against the rusted metal of the old lighthouse. Bronwyn eyed it warily, as if it might uncoil from the wall and attack her at any moment.
The steps were slick with water and it took her several minutes to make her way up to the top of the tower, testing each step gingerly, pausing now and then to catch her breath. Rain lashed in through the broken windows and the wind swirled around her, flapping her oilskin.
She struggled on, emerging into the room where the lamp had once been housed. The machine that now sat there was certainly no light to warn off ships. It was a squat, black cylinder, its surface ridged and vented, dozens of tiny lights flickering across complex clusters of controls. The thick cable that snaked up the tower wound in and out of exposed sections of the machine like a worm through an apple core. The entire thing throbbed with malevolent power. The Doctor was scurrying around it, prodding at sections with his sonic screwdriver, peering through vents, examining it from all angles. There was a look of satisfaction on his face and he flashed Bronwyn a dazzling smile.
‘Knew that it had something to do with the lighthouse, just knew it!
Isn’t it gorgeous?’
‘What is it?’ Bronwyn didn