Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [116]
Jack looked up at them from the tail-gate of the hearse.
His facial muscles were under some kind of control now, only occasionally subsiding into spastic convulsions. ‘I was trying to reach you,’ he said in that deep, rough voice. It sounded like a rusty mechanism grinding back into action after years left idle.
He gulped and gagged painfully. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It hurts to talk.’
Redmond wasn’t sympathetic. He was shaking with rage.
I can’t say that’s much of an excuse for your behaviour. What do you mean you were trying to reach me?’
‘Not you,’ said Jack. ‘The Doctor.’
Jack closed his eyes and lowered his head, as though the effort of talking had exhausted him. If not for his flushed pink colour he would have looked like the motionless figure in the glass tube again. The Doctor looked concerned. He eased the man back on to the floor of the hearse.
‘Don’t try to talk, Jack. Benny and Roz, take Creed inside the house. Someone find Jack some warm clothing and someone fix him some hot food. Nothing too hard to chew.’
As always, the Doctor took command effortlessly and no one thought of questioning his instructions. He looked up at Redmond after the others had left and said, ‘I’ll try and explain. Jack’s behaviour with the dog packs was a cry for help. An attempt to attract my attention.’ His face became grim. ‘And I imagine that he also went a little mad after all those years trapped in a body that wasn’t his own.’
‘Why did he have to attract your attention?’
‘Because I’m the only one who could help him.’ The Doctor glanced down at Jack. The man was shaking himself awake again. He cleared his throat and after a momentary effort, he spoke again.
‘I heard what you said, Doctor.’ He smiled his horrible, face-writhing grin. ‘I’m not mad.’
‘I’m sorry I said that, Jack. I only meant that you’d undergone a shattering ordeal.’
‘Not mad. Not me,’ said Jack.
‘Of course not. Try and relax. We’ll carry you inside in a minute.’
But Jack kept doggedly talking, visibly fighting off sleep.
‘It’s not me.’
‘Of course not,’ said the Doctor.
He and Redmond looked up at the sudden crunch of gravel and saw Creed approaching with an armful of clothes.
‘I think I’ve got every woollen garment in the house,’ he said.
‘The women folk are in the kitchen arguing about who’s the expert at making toast. How’s our friend?’
‘He’ll be all right. Help me get some of this clothing on to him before his core temperature begins to drop. Here, you take his arm Creed.’
On the tail-gate of the hearse Jack’s eyes snapped open.
‘Creed,’ he said.
‘That’s me, tiger. Now try to put this sweater on.’
‘Creed, you have to watch out.’
‘I always do, friend.’
‘You have to watch out. You’re in terrible danger. I’m not mad.’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’m not the one who’s mad.’
‘That’s it. Now see if you can stand up. Good. One step at a time.’
‘It’s not me. It’s him. He’s mad. Very mad.’
‘Who’s that, sport?’ said Creed.
‘Vincent.’
Chapter 34
‘Vincent?’
There was no response. So she tried again. A little louder this time.
‘Vincent. Hey Vincent.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ Amy kept her eyes on the traffic and concentrated on driving. She smiled blandly, concealing the sharp jolt of triumph she felt.
The man who called himself Retour was looking across at her from the passenger seat of her yellow Fiat. ‘Oh, very cute,’ he said after a moment. ‘Very clever.’
‘I thought so,’ said Amy smugly.
‘And you tested your theory.’
‘Right.’
‘You said the name Vincent to see if I’d respond to it.’
‘Right.’
‘And I did.’
‘Right.’
‘Look Amy-’
‘Ms Cowan to you.’
‘Look, Ms Cowan. I’m suitably-’
Amy interrupted him. ‘Full name: Vincent Wheaton.
Correct?’
‘Correct.’
‘Vincent Wheaton. So why are you calling yourself Retour?’
‘Look. I’m suitably impressed with your computer snooping skills. You must be very clever at hacking into forbidden files if you’ve dug out my real name. But frankly, Ms Cowan, it doesn’t change the bottom line.’ He looked at her, his face tight with anger.