Doctor Who BBCN19 - Wishing Well (20 page)

The big car had already slewed to a halt and the driver’s door was flung open. Nigel Carson staggered out, illuminated by the Land-Rover’s headlights.

And beyond him, lit by the same lamps, was Duncan. The abom-inable figure was little more than a mass of tangled white weed and flailing antennae now. The long, trailing roots formed a bridal train behind it, crawling and writhing over the grass. But Nigel was hurrying after it like a groom jilted at the altar, waving his arms and shouting. ‘Wait! Stop! It’s me – Nigel! Stop!’

The creature that had once been his friend turned and regarded him coldly. His blood-red eyes stared at Nigel as he approached.

‘Nigel! Don’t go near it!’ shouted the Doctor as he jumped out of the Land-Rover. ‘That’s no longer Duncan Goode. He won’t recognise you.’

Nigel didn’t even glance at the Doctor. ‘I’m not talking to Duncan,’

he said.

The creature still held the stone in one claw. It was glowing green now, emitting sharp crackles of energy as it neared the well.

The Doctor grabbed hold of Nigel. ‘It doesn’t need you any more!

Forget it!’

‘No!’ Nigel shook him off and stepped towards the monster. ‘No, I won’t believe that. . . ’

152

Martha caught up with the Doctor. ‘What’s happening?’

‘The brain has to be united with the Vurosis in order to start the rising,’ said the Doctor, eyes wide with fear. ‘Nigel thinks it’s still interested in him. He couldn’t be more wrong.’

‘Nigel!’ Martha shouted. ‘Keep back!’

But Nigel paid no attention. He walked determinedly towards the shambling creature, apparently unafraid.

By now, the people who had been in the pub had heard the commotion and were coming out to investigate. Soon there was a small crowd milling about outside, some of them still holding pint glasses.

A few wandered across the village green, alarmed by the fact that a Daimler and a Land-Rover had skidded to a halt by the old wishing well.

‘Wretched joy riders,’ called one of the people crossly.

‘Come in from the town, they have.’

‘No, that’s Henry Gaskin’s Daimler.’

‘And Angela Hook’s Land-Rover! What’s going on?’ The people stopped in their tracks when they saw Nigel Carson and the weed creature in the Land-Rover headlights. Someone screamed.

Gaskin stalked forward and someone else shouted ‘Blimey, he’s got a gun!’

‘Let me through,’ said Gaskin, pushing past the Doctor and Martha.

Angela hurried after him.

‘No,’ said the Doctor, grabbing Gaskin by the arm. ‘I won’t let you shoot it!’

He pulled away. ‘I’m not letting that damned monster go loose, Doctor!’

Nigel Carson had nearly reached it. The creature towered over him, tendrils of milky-white weeds dangling from its hands and shoulders.

As Nigel drew closer, the thing’s jaws unfolded and it hissed at him.

Brown saliva sprayed through the air but Nigel barely flinched. He held out his hand towards the creature. ‘Please. . . let me have it. . . ’

The creature hissed again, its tongues twisting in its mouth as it backed away towards the well.

The Doctor started forwards. ‘Oh no. . . ’

153

‘Give it to me!’ bellowed Nigel, and the creature retaliated by lashing out with its free arm. The claw caught Nigel on the side of the head and hurled him to the ground where he lay stunned.

‘Shoot the ruddy thing!’ cried someone from the pub.

Gaskin raised the shotgun to his cheek and took aim. He had the monster square in his sights and at such close range he couldn’t possibly miss. But as he squeezed the trigger, the Doctor pushed the barrel skywards. The gun went off harmlessly into the night and the crowd gasped as the sound of the shot echoed around the village.

‘What are you doing?’ Gaskin snarled at the Doctor.

‘Too many people have died because of this already,’ the Doctor replied angrily. ‘There’s no need for any more.’

‘But look at that thing!’

‘Somewhere inside that thing is Duncan Goode,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘He didn’t choose to be here doing this.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ Gaskin argued. ‘But doing it he is. Look.’

The creature was leaning over the well. It held the brain aloft for a moment, as if savouring the moment. The well was filled with a bright green light, shining up expectantly, hungrily, from the depths.

‘If what you have told us is true, that thing’s about to deliver the creature’s brain,’ Gaskin said. ‘According to you, that could ultimately mean the death of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people. . . ’

‘Millions, in the end,’ agreed the Doctor. He watched helplessly as sparks of green energy reached up out of the well, snatching impatiently at the brain.

‘Then surely one life is worth all those?’ Gaskin asked, raising his shotgun again. ‘It may save countless people in the long run.’

‘Sorry,’ said the Doctor, pushing the gun barrel down, towards the ground this time. He held it fast in a surprisingly strong grip. ‘I don’t work like that. No sacrifices. Not if I can help it.’

‘And can you?’

The Doctor looked up at the creature as it let out a horrific cry of triumph and let go of the brain. It dropped straight down into the well amid a fierce crackle of green energy.

‘Oh, not good,’ said the Doctor. ‘Not good at all.’

154

Martha and Angela joined them as the green light seemed to fade from the well until there was nothing visible except the dark hole.

The creature sank to its knees with a strange groan, as if all the fury contained within was simply draining away. The white weeds coiled madly, out of control, as if they were trying to escape.

‘What’s happening to it?’ asked Angela.

The Doctor started forward. ‘The Vurosis has got what it wants – so now it’s finished with Duncan. It’s letting him go. . . ’

The creature collapsed onto the grass with an inarticulate cry. It was all the more pathetic a sight because the cry was that of a man in great pain and despair. The weeds writhed and shrank as the Doctor approached. He knelt by the creature as the weeds were sucked back into the man’s body, withdrawing beneath the rippling flesh. Wounds closed over them and for a second the weeds remained visible as a web of veins pulsing beneath the skin. Then they sank away, leaving the human being behind.

Martha joined the Doctor and watched with him as Duncan’s face popped and cracked back into its normal shape, the bones reforming and the skin returning to its natural hue. Dressed in the rags of his own clothes, Duncan lay shivering on the grass. His eyes were rolled up into his head and his blond hair was stuck to his head with sweat, but otherwise he appeared unharmed.

‘I can’t believe it,’ Martha whispered. ‘Will he be all right?’ I mean really all right?’

‘I don’t know.’

The Doctor helped Duncan sit up. His eyes fluttered open and a weak smile appeared when he saw Martha. ‘I told you. . .

not to

judge. . . the banana by its skin. . . ’

‘He’s delirious,’ said the Doctor. ‘There could be brain damage.’

‘No,’ said Martha with a laugh. ‘No, he’s not delirious. He’s asking me for a date, that’s all.’

The Doctor frowned, then looked back at Duncan. ‘Crikey, you don’t waste any time, do you?’

By this point quite a crowd had gathered around the well. Gaskin and Angela were the closest, but behind them were all the people 155

from the pub, now considering it safe to approach, and a number of people from the nearest houses. The commotion grew.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Someone call the police.’

‘Has someone died?’

‘Is it a murder?’

‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Wait, I’ll get my camcorder.’

‘Let me through, I’m a doc. . . oh. Well. Perhaps not. . . ’

Gaskin turned and addressed them. ‘All right, everybody, there’s nothing to see here. . . ’

‘You’re the one with the shotgun, mate!’

Quite a lot of people had their mobile phones out and were taking pictures. Angela had fetched a blanket from the Land-Rover and put it around Duncan’s shoulders. With help from Martha, he was just about able to stand. ‘How did I get here?’ he asked weakly. ‘I don’t remember anything after the skeleton. . . ’

‘It’s all right,’ she told him gently. ‘It’s over. We’ll look after you now.’

But the Doctor was shaking his head. ‘No. No, no, no. It’s not over.’

There was a sudden tremor beneath their feet. Everyone felt it, including those still lurking outside the pub to watch. A buzz of consternation passed through the crowd, and many of them looked down at their feet.

Angela was the first one to notice the change. ‘Look at the grass!’

she said.

Even in the light of the Land-Rover’s headlamps they could see that something was wrong. The grass was no longer green. Every blade had darkened to an oily black colour, as if suddenly poisoned by something beneath the soil.

‘Eew,’ someone said. ‘Look. Worms.’

Everyone looked down at their feet, where the ground was beginning to squirm. Hundreds of worms were crawling out of the earth, oozing from the soil in a sudden, horrifying exodus. A lot of the women – and some of the men – screamed and ran as the worms 156

continued to emerge, until the entire village green was alive with a glistening, rippling carpet.

‘What’s happening?’ Martha said, revolted and fascinated at the same time. She helped Duncan into Angela’s Land-Rover and climbed up onto the footplate to avoid the crawling mass at her feet.

‘They’re trying to escape,’ said the Doctor.

‘Escape what?’

‘That,’ he replied, pointing at the well.

The green glow had returned, but this time it was much brighter. It shone fiercely up into the night like a search beam, casting a strange alien pallor across the clouds above. The light seemed to pulse in time to a desperate, awful heart beat unlike anything Martha had ever heard before.

And then, inside the green glow, something moved. Thin white fingers crept over the edge of the parapet, hundreds of them, creeping over the wall and down the outside of it like something boiling over in a pan.

And then, in the midst of the groping weeds, the Vurosis started to emerge from the well.

157

Thegreenglowflickeredasthecreaturecrawleduptheshaft,filling the head of the well with a profusion of brown, segmented tentacles. They rose from the shaft like a cluster of snakes searching for prey, probing at the wall, the stanchions, the broken windlass. They wrapped around the spindle like thick ropes, and then with a grinding, crunching roar, the wooden beam broke in two.

‘It’s. . .

enormous,’ Martha breathed, reaching out automatically and grasping the Doctor by the hand. She felt the reassuring pressure of his grip, and when she looked at him she could see his expression of awe as the monster continued to spew out of the earth.

A crusty, carbuncled head emerged from the shaft, the tentacles rooted inside it like those of a squid. Beneath the gnarled carapace was a moist, puckered mouth. It opened and closed spasmodically, revealed rings of tiny, spine-like teeth strung with mucus. At once the orifice dilated and emitted a loud, piercing hiss. Slime sprayed through the air on a gust of fetid breath.

‘It’s been growing down there for years, remember,’ the Doctor said as they began to back away. ‘It’s spread out beneath the well, beneath the whole village probably.’

159

Martha could feel the rising panic thudding in her chest as the Vurosis oozed further out of the well like toothpaste from a tube. Around the glistening body, sharp spines were emerging like barbs, extending and then waving like antennae. The mouth was still sucking in air, hyperventilating as if the creature was building up to something.

‘What’s it going to do?’ she asked the Doctor.

‘I don’t know.’

‘How can we stop it?’

‘I don’t know.’

Martha looked at him again. His long, angular face was taut with fear, his eyes wide and anxious. The Vurosis was still climbing, a long, segmented body rising from the well-shaft trailing long, prehensile white roots. The roots began to creep down the wall and onto the grass.

By now many people were screaming and running. Angela was in the driver’s seat of the Land-Rover, struggling to get it started.

Gaskin joined the Doctor and Martha and raised his shotgun. ‘Don’t try to stop me this time, Doctor,’ he growled.

‘Feel free,’ the Doctor told him. ‘Won’t do any good.’

Gaskin put the gun to his shoulder, aimed at the monstrous thing crawling out of the well, and pulled the triggers. Both barrels discharged with a deafening crack, and a cloud of shot tore into the creature’s dirt-streaked hide.

The Vurosis let out a gasping snarl, and a brown tentacle snapped down and wrenched the shotgun out of Gaskin’s hands.

‘Told you,’ said the Doctor.

Gaskin looked at his empty hands in disbelief. ‘What now?’

‘Retaliation, I imagine.’

The ground trembled and, all over the village green, thin white roots emerged from the grass, forced up out of the earth like needles.

They extended, stretching, wavering, and all of them seemed to be concentrated in clusters where people were still standing.