Doctor Who_ Wetworld - Mark Michalowski [28]
Carolina glanced at Sam. Martha couldn’t quite work out whether they’d sussed what she was up to or whether they just thought she’d gone mental. Oh well, the Doctor could sort it all out when he got back. All she had to do was to play the dopey patient for a while. For a trainee doctor, how hard could that be?
‘We’ll let you rest,’ Sam said after a few seconds, checking the monitor hanging above her head. ‘By the way. . . ’ He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her. ‘Does this mean anything?’
Martha stared at the paper. It was the sheet that had been on the clipboard earlier, the one with her medical notes. But now, scrawled all over it, was a picture. For a moment it made no sense; but then her mind clicked into place – and it all came flooding back. . .
∗ ∗ ∗ Martha lashed out at Carolina and the doctor with her fists. She screamed a deep, animalistic howl, kicking off the sheets and stagger-ing to her feet. The two of them backed away, terrified at the change that had come over the girl. Her eyes blazing, spittle flying from her lips, Martha raised her hands like claws, and advanced towards them.
‘Well, well, well... what have we here...?’ The Doctor, Ty and Orlo crawled over the peak of the hill and peered down the slope to where the river narrowed. Swarming around the site of the dam that was blocking the flood’s retreat, splashing in and out of the water, were hundreds and hundreds of otters. Ty wondered whether the Doctor’s desire for a new otter was just crazy talk, or whether there was some sort of method in his madness.
‘It’s incredible,’ whispered Ty. In all her months of studying the otters, she’d never seen so many of them in one place. ‘I had no idea they were so social.’ She shook her head, realising that she’d have to ditch half the notes she’d made for her grand textbook on the creatures.
‘Organised, yes,’ muttered the Doctor. ‘Not so sure about social, though.’
‘But look!’
‘I know, I know – but don’t you think there’s something a bit odd about it. A bit manic. A bit forced.’
Ty looked again. She could see what he meant. The frenzy with which the otters were diving in and out of the water, carrying little pats of mud in their paws and slapping them onto the dozens of dark grey piles along the banks, was almost comical.
‘You don’t think this is natural?’
‘Spot on. There’s something very un natural about this whole thing.’
He rolled onto his side and faced Orlo.
‘So you’re up for catching us another of those little fellers?’
Orlo grinned.
‘Good lad. Come on!’
Ty huffed herself to her knees and watched as the Doctor, equipped only with his jacket, and Orlo, carrying a sack, set off cautiously down the slope. She watched as the Doctor and Orlo split up and started a pincer movement on one of the mud piles. From where she squatted, she could see everything, and it was clear that the two men were trying to keep the pile between them and the otters. The Doctor nodded to Orlo as yet another otter splashed up onto the bank and, bouncing along on its hind legs, headed towards the pile with a great big glob of mud in its paws. A steady but growing trickle of water spilled over the top of the dam, back towards the sea.
Orlo might have been a big lad, Ty thought, but he couldn’t half move fast when he had to. Holding the sack out in front of him, he headed down the slope, slipping behind the otter to cut it off from the rest. A couple of the others threw him a glance, and Ty half-expected them to raise the alarm. But surprisingly, they finished slopping their mud onto the ground, dropped to all fours, and simply scampered back down to the water, vanishing into it with