Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [23]
'They've gone now,' said Sam.
'How can you know that?'
Sam didn't know. It must’ve been a tricky question because her brain abruptly switched off before she could really begin to consider the answer.
***
Fitz lunged for Sam as she apparently fainted dead away, but he wasn't quite strong enough to stop her body falling to the concrete again. He looked around, uncertain what to do, then noticed Chubby. 'Come on, you old lush, give me a hand with her. I said -'
Fitz grabbed the man's collar and jumped back as Chubby's head fell back lifelessly as if his neck was weak elastic. He felt for a pulse in the pulverised flesh, found none, felt sick, froze. 'Oh God,' he croaked. 'Jesus, sweet Jesus... That could've been me!'
What could he – what should he do now? Go back to Molly's? No, she wouldn't want to know. What could she do? Give him a drink? Stiff gins for a stiff. Jesus, talk about bad for business. Tell the police? No, how could he? No witnesses. What if they thought he'd done it? He could be stitched up a treat... What if Sam couldn't vouch for him? She could be brain-damaged, she could be dead. What if they blamed him for that too? Come on, think, no one's about now but it won't stay that way, think...
He looked round desperately at Sam's prone body and wished he could join it - if not in bed, then in oblivion.
3.3
Lucy watched as Watson's dark shape padded across the landing towards her. She jumped lightly off the wide windowsill and gently held his twitching arm.
'You've not been waiting long?' Watson asked, softly. Lucy shook her head.
There was a creaking noise, a floorboard nearby complaining at the pressure being placed upon it. Watson looked over, only half surprised as Russell Waller appeared in the ghostly light in his dressing gown, fingering the thick lock of hair on his forehead. Behind him came Peter Taylor, his large frame clad in a long striped nightshirt, which did nothing to make him seem less threatening.
'How come we're all here?' Russell stared at the others, confused.
'Well, we fancied an evening constitutional,' said Watson, looking at Lucy.
'Didn't we?'
'You lot keeping tabs on me or something?' Taylor asked, gruffly.
Lucy was quite surprised when Russell rounded on the ogre of a man. 'It's just coincidence,' he said, fiercely.
No one spoke, until Russell broke the silence once more. "They're treating Mrs K again,' he muttered, looking at Lucy. 'Aren't they?'
Lucy nodded. 'I think so.'
***
Cynthia liked this Doctor. He was warm and friendly, treated her with a bit of respect, not like old Nurse Bullface. He was a bit of a dish, too.
'How long does it take to travel back from the West End?' the Doctor asked, bouncing lightly on the bed, testing the springs.
'About forty minutes, this time of night,' she mused, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece in the guest room - it was 11.30 p.m., and the realisation made her yawn. Then she shrugged. 'Something like that. Been a while since I was out on the tiles.' She wondered if she was being too familiar, but he just smiled at her.
'Sam phoned an hour and a half ago,' he said.
'She's probably having a good time, lucky thing.'
'Lucky?' The Doctor sighed. 'If only. I'm rather afraid she's been through a bit of a rough patch lately. Wouldn't surprise me if...' He trailed off, then rubbed his hands together. 'I think I'll look in on Mrs Kreiner, get her son's address from her. Which room is she in?'
'Last one down the corridor, that way,' said Cynthia. 'It's a bit late, though, isn't it?'
'Is it?'The Doctor looked concerned. 'She mentioned earlier she'd be getting a late night...'
Suddenly he was past her and through the door.
Cynthia called after him. 'If she is, that's because Nurse Bulwell is -'
Well. He'd find out.
***
As the Doctor approached Mrs Kreiner's room, he felt his ears begin to throb. Low tones and vibrations, repetitive, spiralling sounds cascading over them, were coming from behind the