Doctor Who_ Relative Dementias Part 16

'Them two well, they're probably aliens, aren't they?'

'I hope so,' Ace grinned. 'But Zorg and Zeta Zorg and Zeta? What TV programmes have you been watching? Can you see 'em from here?'

Alexander scuffled across the unkempt garden, snagging his jeans in a tangle of weeds, and poked his head around the side of the building.

'We're fine. They're miles away.'

'Good! Keep watching them just in case.' Ace made her way to the window.

Despite its appearance, the flaking dark green paint and rotting woodwork, the window was securely shut. She stepped back and looked the cottage over: it was a single storey building, so no conveniently open upstairs window. The other one on the ground floor the kitchen from what she could see through the oily, smeared gla.s.s was firm, but Ace noticed that the putty holding the gla.s.s in was crumbling along the bottom edge. She scratched at it with her fingers.

Alexander pressed a chunky penknife into her hand.

'Nice,' Ace said admiringly. Now this was what she called a penknife. As she set to work on the window, she made a mental note of what she wanted for Christmas from the Doctor. No doubt he'd add a few things to it: a laser and an alien lifeform detector would be good. Ten minutes later, she'd cleared enough of the putty away to be able to get her fingernails under the edge of the gla.s.s, and she began alternately pulling and pus.h.i.+ng it, loosening it. Alexander watched, occasionally nipping back to the corner of the cottage to check that the tweedies were still away.

With a gritty crack, the window split in two, one half shattering noisily on the flagstones at their feet. Carefully and, she realised, a bit pointlessly she laid the other piece of the window down on the ground. Alexander gave her a leg up onto the window sill, and from there she squeezed in. Balancing awkwardly on her hands on the stone sink, she wriggled her legs through and caught sight of Alexander's grinning face on the other side of the gla.s.s.

'You'd better get the door open,' he laughed. 'If you think I'm coming through that way, you've got another think coming.'

Ace jumped down onto the floor, wrinkling her nose at the smell like a combination of rotting meat and vegetables mixed with sweat and urine. For a moment, she hesitated, wondering if she really wanted to see what lay in the rest of the cottage.

Cautiously, in case there was some sort of alarm, she stepped over to the living-room door. A manky curtain had been nailed over it. She pulled it aside, felt her stomach heave at the stench, and had to back away. She leaned on the sink, breathing deeply through her mouth. Alexander had gone presumably round to the front door. She needed to get it open in case the tweedies were on their way back and saw him. Taking a deep breath, she held her nose and raced into the lounge.

The room was dark, the air thick with the stink that had crawled into the kitchen. Catching her feet on the furniture, she crossed to the front door. And as she reached for the handle, the door opened inwards, and she stumbled backwards.

'It wasn't even locked,' Alexander said breezily, standing in the doorway.

'Typical.' Ace stuck her head out, sucking in huge lungfuls of fresh air.

'G.o.d!' she heard Alexander exclaim in disgust.'What's that stink? And what's that?'

She looked where he was pointing a wide, coffin-shaped box with rounded edges and corners lay against the wall. It was translucent and pale grey, and in the dim light of the room, Ace could see lights twinkling on its side.

'Is it the transmat?' breathed Alexander softly

'If it is, it's not like the one I used this morning.'

Leaving the door ajar now that her eyes were acclimatizing to the darkness, Ace crossed to the coffin and knelt down next to it, almost too scared to open the lid for fear of what it might contain. The smell was stronger, and she noticed an oily, yellowish residue around the seal where the lid met the main body of it.

'Open it,' hissed Alexander.

'Hang on, hang on. We don't know what it is. It could be a bomb, or have some sort of alarm attached to it.'

'You didn't say that when you were breaking the window.'

Ace gripped the smooth handle, moulded into the front edge of the lid and gave an experimental tug. The lights on the panel changed the pattern of their flas.h.i.+ng and with a sucking, dunking noise, the lid lifted like she was opening a chest freezer down at Iceland or Iceworld, come to that.

'Oh...' she said, backing away and letting the lid fall with a thump. 'That's where the smell...' She pushed Alexander out of the way as she rushed into the front garden and emptied the contents of her stomach all over the weeds.

'Not the transmat, then?' Alexander said as she wiped her mouth on a sc.r.a.ppy bit of tissue paper she found in her jacket pocket.

' Not Not the transmat. I dunno what that thing's for, but it's all caked with slime; and it doesn't half stink!' Breathing deeply, she stood at the door, gazing into the fusty gloom. 'Right, we'd better try the other room.' the transmat. I dunno what that thing's for, but it's all caked with slime; and it doesn't half stink!' Breathing deeply, she stood at the door, gazing into the fusty gloom. 'Right, we'd better try the other room.'

It was just as dark, but smelled a little less, A large, thin mattress lay in one corner. What drew Ace was a table along the adjoining wall, on which lay an a.s.sortment of electronic equipment. She swept the beam of her torch over it, picked up a couple of the smaller pieces and turned them over in her hands: their unfamiliar curves, colours and textures spoke dearly of their alien origin, and Ace felt a sense of satisfaction that her suspicions had been confirmed. It was a shame, she thought, that she didn't have a due what any of the devices did. Oh for a handy Doctor to work out their functions just from the shape of the bobbles on the top.

'Oh-oh!' She heard Alexander's low warning. 'Tweedie alert!'

b.u.g.g.e.r, thought Ace, taking a last look around the room. All this, and no transmat. She wondered, briefly, where the toilet was - and then remembered the coffin in the other room. It didn't bear thinking about.

'Come on!' Alexander hissed. She saw him hovering in the doorway, and he beckoned to her. Sticking her head out into the welcome fresh air, she saw the tiny, distant figures of the tweedies, coming round the headland.

'Crouch down,' she said, 'and get round the back of the cottage. Go on.'

He followed her instructions, and she dosed the door behind her. There was nothing she could do about the broken window; so she hoped that the tweedies either wouldn't notice it, or wouldn't think that she and Alexander were any kind of a threat to them. She had visions of the two old folk hunting them down in the middle of the night and dragging them back to the cottage to lock them in the coffin thing. Where, Ace thought with a growing sick feeling, they'd probably die choking on their own vomit.

Once behind the cottage, they clambered over the wall and sprinted back up the slope. They were still out of line-of-sight of the tweedies, but Ace didn't stop looking back until they were over the ridge and lying, panting, on the gra.s.s, Hansel and Gretel escaping from the witch's cottage.

'You do realise,' Alexander said between gasps, 'that if they realise we've been in there and seen all that stuff, that we're dead.'

'What can two old fogies do to us?'

'Two alien alien old fogies,' Alexander reminded her. 'Two alien old fogies with a dog and ray guns.' old fogies,' Alexander reminded her. 'Two alien old fogies with a dog and ray guns.'

Chapter Ten.

The world was a series of reflections in shattered mirrors.

Fragments, curiously unnamed but still identifiable, surrounded the Doctor as his rescuer pulled him along. His sense of time had been disrupted by whatever had happened to him, he knew that. But although he could remember individual elements of the past few hours (or were they days... or even minutes?) he couldn't put them all together. Like bits of old soap, they'd cling together in his hands for a moment and then fall distressingly apart again. He felt he ought to be much more worried about this fragmentation, but his sense of concern was as disconnected from him as the world seemed. It was as if every aspect of himself now belonged to someone else, and he was viewing them all at a distance, unable to bring them together, unable to reconst.i.tute what, he a.s.sumed, was the real him him.

He heard a sound, knew that it had meaning even though he couldn't work out what it was. It seemed to speak to something inside him, and he let himself be guided by it. They were moving now... that that way. His surroundings were mysterious, dark and full of meaningless shapes and colours, tastes and smells and textures, all mingled up in a whirling, synaesthetic samba; but he trusted the other person to know where they were going. The world rushed past, a shredded tapestry of remembered things, hastily re-patched in his head as he went. Perhaps that was the wrong approach; his conscious mind was clearly not working properly. He should switch off his conscious censor, stop trying to a.n.a.lyse everything, trying to way. His surroundings were mysterious, dark and full of meaningless shapes and colours, tastes and smells and textures, all mingled up in a whirling, synaesthetic samba; but he trusted the other person to know where they were going. The world rushed past, a shredded tapestry of remembered things, hastily re-patched in his head as he went. Perhaps that was the wrong approach; his conscious mind was clearly not working properly. He should switch off his conscious censor, stop trying to a.n.a.lyse everything, trying to actively actively make sense of the world. make sense of the world.

He tried to relax, and let himself be guided by whoever it was at his side.

'Do you do this sort of thing everyday?' panted Alexander as they flopped down outside the tent. He examined the empty whisky bottle disconsolately and remembered that there was another on the boat.

Ace grinned. 'I reckon the tweedies will be back at the cottage and will have discovered the broken window by now, so if they're going to come after us, it probably won't take long.'

'D'you reckon they will? Come after us, I mean?'

'Well, they'll know we've been in the cottage and discovered their dark, stinky secret even if we don't have a clue what that dark, stinky secret means. If you were them, what would you do?'

Alexander considered. The thought of being hunted down by two elderly people in wellingtons with an asthmatic dog seemed vaguely ludicrous. But then he thought about the slimy coffin in the cottage, and suddenly it didn't seem so ludicrous after all.

Ace suddenly sprang to her feet. 'The radio! You said you had another radio in the tent let's see if we can call for help.'

'Like who?'

'I dunno police, coastguard... anyone we can get through to.'

Alexander pulled the tent flap aside, and Ace followed him in. A couple of mattresses with scrunched up sleeping bags lay at one side; at the back was the radio. Ace squatted down beside Alexander whilst he flicked switches and turned dials.

'Come on, come on,' Ace harried him.

Something was wrong. The 'on' light was stubbornly steadfastly refusing to live up to its name. He slid the radio forwards - the back was a tangled bird's nest of torn wires and ripped-out components.

'This is trashed,' he said softly, his voice despondent and dead. 'There's no way we'll get this working in a month of Sundays. With both radios gone, we're cut off.' He looked up at Ace, bleakly 'We're really on our own now.'

Michael hesitated for a moment before ringing the bell. He kicked his feet on the welcome mat as he heard footsteps inside.

Through the frosted gla.s.s of the door panels, he could see someone coming towards him, silhouetted in the light from the other end of the hallway.

'h.e.l.lo, he said, as a cheery, middle-aged woman opened the door, wiping her hands on her blue ap.r.o.n. 'Is Doctor Brunner in?'

'Well, well,' she said, beckoning him in, beaming beatifically.

'Someone is is popular today! Come on in, you're letting all the heat out.' popular today! Come on in, you're letting all the heat out.'

He smiled awkwardly and stepped into the hallway, the smells of cooking and furniture polish wafting over him. In the distance, he could hear the radio.

'Have a seat in there, she said, gesturing towards the lounge.

'I'll see if she's in.'

She vanished up the stairs, humming brightly to herself.

Michael stepped into the lounge, but didn't sit down. A knot of twisting nerves was forming in the pit of his stomach. Overhead, he could hear footsteps, doors opening and closing. And then more footsteps, descending the stairs.

His mother stepped into the room, and for a moment he had the impression of someone scared of what she might find there.

And then suddenly she was wrapping her arms around him, holding onto him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He hugged her back, burying his face in her shoulder, breathing in the familiar, comforting smell of home. After what seemed like ages, she stepped back. She looked tired and drawn. He perched on the edge of an armchair as she sank onto the sofa and reached out and clasped his hand. Tears were struggling to form in the corners of her eyes.

'What are you doing here?' she asked.

'I came to find you. And Gran.'

'There was no need, everything's fine.'

But Michael could see that her smile was forced, her jaw tight.

'Are you on leave, then?' she asked. 'Your father didn't say anything. I sent you a letter. Maybe it missed you.'

He gave a shrug, realising how dry his mouth was, and tried to remember how his speech was supposed to start; but she didn't give him a chance.

'It's lovely to see you, Michael. Gran will be so pleased. She keeps talking about you. I think she feels a bitembarra.s.sed about being here, you know. But Doctor Menzies says she's responding to the treatment, which is good, isn't it? I don't know how long '

'Mum, listen '

' she'll be here, but it probably won't be long. And then I thought she could come and stay with your father and me for a while. Just 'til she gets back on her feet. Maureen's been marvellous about looking after Gran's place she told me she doesn't know why Gran needs a cleaner, the place is so spotless.'

'Mum, I've got something to tell you '

'Let's see if Mrs Christmas will rustle us up a cup of tea. You look like you could do with one. Aren't they feeding you properly? I know what UNIT catering's like, but it's not '

'Mum!' He squeezed her hand tightly too tightly, he realised, as he saw her wince. 'I've got something to tell you.'

'Sorry.' She looked shocked almost offended that he'd interrupted her so forcibly, started a tiny crack in her sh.e.l.l. 'Go on, what is it?'

'I'm not here on leave,' he said slowly. 'I've gone AWOL.'

She frowned as if he were speaking a foreign language. 'I don't understand. What d'you mean?'

'Absent without leave, Mum. I've run away.'

She stared at him blankly, and he felt her hand go very slightly limp in his, felt her withdraw from him. 'But you were really happy there. What's changed?'

He took a deep breath, scrabbling about in his head again for the speech he'd been working on, but his mouth was running ahead of his thoughts. 'Nothing's changed, Mum. It's just not working out.'

'But you were so happy,' she repeated, like a mantra that would make everything true and bright and whole.

'No, Mum. No I wasn't.'

'When did this start? Are you sure about this? You can't just run away they'll court-martial you. Your father. .'

'It's nothing to do with Dad. This is down to me.'

This time she pulled her hand away completely 'But he'll be heartbroken, Michael. You know how much it meant to him that you got into UNIT.'

'I know, Mum. That's what makes it so hard.'

'Have you told your father yet? Does he know about this?'