Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [90]
‘Do you know how to follow my radio signal? I’ll transmit continuously.’
‘Is that Roz?’ said the stewardess, rising sleepily from her seat and coming forward.
‘Who’s that?’ said Roz sharply. ‘Did I hear someone with you?’
Creed shrugged and passed the microphone to the stewardess. ‘Roz, it’s me, Jessica,’ she said.
There was a moment’s shocked silence and then Roz said, ‘Jessica?’
‘Yes. It’s me. I’m still alive, thanks to your friend.’
There was another pause and then Roz’s voice came back, business-like again. ‘Well, then you can show Creed where to go Jessica. We’re upstairs in your house. Can you do that?’
‘Sure.’
Creed was already in the driver’s seat, starting the big vehicle. The engines came to life with a grumbling roar that rattled the armour around them.
‘Come on up and sit beside me, honey,’ he called, looking back at the stewardess, grinning.
‘I’ll drive you home.’
Roz kept thinking she could hear rain. But the constant hissing sound outside came from dried autumn leaves blowing around the empty concrete roadways of the housing estate, circulating in a steady night breeze.
Redmond was staring out of the bedroom window, holding his gun. ‘They haven’t moved,’ he said. Roz came and looked; down below the ruined garden was still thick with dogs. They lay among the rubble, indistinct shapes in the darkness, silent and patient.
‘What about the White King?’ said Norman Peverell. He was pacing back and forth in the narrow confines of the room, occasionally sitting down on the bed that they’d jammed against the door, then after a moment rising and continuing his pacing.
He was driving Roz crazy with his constant movement.
‘Are you all right, Norman?’ she said, perhaps with rather more edge to her voice than she’d intended.
‘Yes, perfectly all right,’ said the civil servant without even attempting to sound sincere.
‘Of course he’s not,’ said Redmond, still peering out of the window. ‘He’s dying to go to the loo.’
‘He’s what?’ said Roz.
‘Look at him,’ Redmond nodded. ‘He’s dying for a slash.
It’s perfectly all right, Norman. It’s perfectly normal.’
Roz turned to look at Norman Peverell and by the exquisitely embarrassed expression on his face she knew that Redmond was right.
‘Especially in a combat situation like this,’ Redmond was saying. ‘Everybody’s bladder goes funny. And this is your first time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’d say you’ve done very well so far. Wouldn’t you say that, Roz?’
Roz just grinned. The thing she liked about Redmond was that you could count on him when things got rough; but when the pressure was off he could relax. And somehow he managed to make you relax, too. The end result was that when the fighting started again you were better able to cope with it. Constant stress was a killer, and Redmond prevented it setting in.
Now he stepped away from the window. ‘You could go out there, if you like,’ he said. ‘Do it out there, I mean.
Through there.’ He jerked his thumb towards the window.
Norman Peverell was sitting down on the bed again, nervously tapping his feet on the floor, looking like a man who wished he was anywhere else in the world but here.
‘I’m fine. I just wish you’d stop talking about it,’ he said.
‘We won’t look, you know. I promise. And I’ll make sure that Roz won’t look. God knows what kind of loose morals that girl possesses.’
‘I know you’re trying to help,’ said Norman Peverell.
Roz grinned at him. ‘He’s right, I won’t look.’
‘I know you’re both trying to help, to cheer me up, but I wish you’d just drop the subject.’
‘It’s not going to go away,’ said Redmond. ‘Well, maybe it will go away for a little while but it’s going to be worse when it comes back.’
‘Go on,’ urged Roz. ‘He’s right.’
‘Look,’ exploded Norman Peverell, ‘I am not going to...
do anything out of the window. All right?’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Redmond, ‘but the only other option is to go out there.’ He pointed