Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [123]
‘Kill her baby,’ said Paulie Keaton. ‘Then put her to work in the heavy S&M section.’
* * *
Chapter 29
‘I don’t like this,’ said Sean.
‘It would be pretty surprising if you did.’ Maxine finished changing the catheter on the inert body of the tattooed girl and went over to join Sean at the sink.
‘No, I don’t mean that.’ Sean handed the soap to Maxine and dried his hands on a paper towel. ‘Changing the drips and the catheters and that. What I don’t like is them. The way they are.’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Maxine. As she washed her hands she found herself half turned, awkwardly angling her face so she could keep an eye on Ace and Shell and Jack.
The three bodies sat slackly in the chairs. They were utterly motionless but Maxine didn’t like having her back to them. Rationally, she knew there was no chance of any of them moving a finger, let alone standing up. But on a more primitive level she didn’t want to let them out of her sight. The thought of having them behind her, unwatched, caused the hairs on the back of her head to stir.
‘It’s like going into a department store.’ she said. ‘And out of the corner of your eye you see someone standing there. But you know there’s something a bit weird about this person. And then you turn and look at them and you realize it isn’t a person at all. It’s a clothes dummy.’
‘That’s it,’ said Sean. ‘That’s it exactly.’ He had wandered back over to the chairs and stood studying the motionless bodies.
‘Do you think it was a good idea taking the straps off them?’
‘Dieter insisted. He’s keen on the idea of selling them for biostock. Doesn’t want bedsores to damage the goods. We’re going to have to roll them over tomorrow.’
‘Maybe they’ll wake up again,’ said Maxine.
‘I doubt it.’
‘How do we know?’
‘Dieter seems pretty sure.’
‘Well, I’m not so sure about Dieter any more,’ said Maxine.
‘Our fearless leader,’ snorted Sean. ‘Yeah. He’s starting to lose it a bit. Is he still upset about his clothes?’
‘Upset is putting it mildly. When I left him in the games room he’d given up on the wine and started knocking back brandies.’
‘And what about Pam? Is she really up and about?’
‘Up and about and busy.’
‘Busy, eh?’ Sean grinned crookedly. ‘I’m glad I’m not an animal in the lab tonight.’
* * *
The smell of coffee. Chick’s earliest memory was of the smell of coffee. He was born in the kitchen of the house on Allen Road with Ace and the Doctor in attendance and someone had put on the coffee as they stayed up with his mother on their late‐night vigil. So coffee was the first smell to hit the keen nose of the newborn kitten.
Chick’s next memory was ingrained deep in his muscles. A memory of washing. The ritual of cleansing himself was programmed deep in his cat psyche. It was a habit interwoven with all the other behaviour of his life. His other early amorphous memories were of his mother gently washing him with her rough, thorough tongue. And then, through play and example, gradually learning to wash himself.
Chick hated being dirty. Washing was a duty and a joy and a ritual which gave meaning to his life. In recent months he had taken to joining Ace when she went to have her bath. The small ginger cat would prowl the rim of the big white tub, occasionally reaching a tentative paw out to test the trembling surface of the water that boiled into the bath and rose around Ace’s knees.
The occasional plunging accident had taught him that the surface of the water wouldn’t support even a small cat, no matter how carefully he settled his paws onto it or how quickly he tried to sprint across it.
This was a nuisance because Chick wanted very much to join Ace as she sat there so smug and content in the warmth of the tub.
So he prowled the smooth white enamel ledge of the bath, yowling as he circled Ace and water thundered from the taps. Eventually the water would stop – its cessation somehow mysteriously linked to Ace twisting the taps – and he’d settle down to sit beside the shampoo bottles and keep an eye on