Doctor Who: Festival of Death: 50th Anniversary Edition (17 page)

Nevertheless, the Doctor master had instructed him to locate Paddox. An alternative route risked losing the trail altogether, so K-9 resolved to continue down the corridor. He coughed bravely and extended his nose blaster in readiness. ‘Maintaining pursuit of human Paddox,’ he announced, and motored forward.

‘So this was the largest ever Beautiful Death?’

Evadne nodded. ‘218 subjects. Apparently it was Paddox’s idea. The numbers have been going up every night.’

‘218. Why so many?’ asked Romana.

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Evadne. ‘I just sell the tickets and stuff.’

‘Well, I think you’ve been made redundant now.’

‘No great loss,’ said Evadne. ‘I’ve had all I can stick of this place. If I didn’t need the credits, I’d have packed it in months ago. I’m sick of it, the imbecile tourists, the imbecile questions, the imbecile they’ve put in charge…’

Romana seemed to remember something. She crushed her coffee cup, deposited it in a nearby waste-disposal unit, and stood up. ‘Metcalf. Perhaps we should pay him a visit.’

‘You think so?’ Evadne followed her across the lounge. ‘Hang on, what did you mean when you said I’m redundant?’

Romana paused to pull her cuffs into place. ‘Somehow I don’t think there’ll be any more Beautiful Deaths after what has just happened in the Great Hall.’

‘Eh? What has –’ Evadne began.

There was a crash, followed by dozens of terrified screams as the living dead burst in. They lingered at the entrance, their flamboyant clothes hanging off them like dried skins, their eyes fierce points of darkness. Their lips drew back to reveal glistening, black teeth. The zombies jerked forward, arms outstretched, surging into the lounge in an unrelenting tide of horror.

Many of the tourists were too startled to move, and their screams turned to gurgles as the hands of the undead squeezed their throats. Others moved too slowly, and fell under the onslaught. The zombies attacked indiscriminately. A skullguard’s mask was torn off as a zombie throttled him, only relinquishing its grip when he was slumped, lifeless, on the floor.

‘Come on!’ Romana grabbed Evadne’s arm, and guided her towards the lounge’s other exit. Evadne couldn’t take her eyes off the undead as they shuffled nearer.

Romana bundled her through the door, and dragged her to one side as more panicked tourists charged past. Evadne leaned on the wall, and took some deep breaths. She felt sick.

As the last tourist escaped into the corridor, Romana punched the door control and it slid shut. She wrenched the locking unit open and rewired it. It exploded in a flurry of sparks. ‘That should stop them for a while.’

‘What were they?’

‘They were the tourists who took part in the Beautiful Death,’ said Romana.

‘But that’s impossible! They’re dead, and yet they’re walking around killing people!’

‘In an infinite universe, even the impossible happens sometimes,’ said Romana enigmatically. ‘The Beautiful Death has turned them into zombies.’

‘But how?’

‘I wish I knew.’ Romana glanced down the corridor. It was clear of people – all the tourists had fled. ‘Are you ready to move?’

Evadne nodded.

‘Right. So what’s the best way to Metcalf’s office?’

The Doctor watched the zombies outside the control room. Whatever was controlling them had realised that the door was secure, and they were now standing motionless. Waiting.

The technicians stood against one wall, sweating nervously. Liesa rested against the control desk. No one had spoken for over a quarter of an hour.

‘“The dread of something after death”,’ soliloquised the Doctor, ‘“puzzles the will.”’

Liesa stretched her limbs. ‘What?’

‘The afterlife,’ said the Doctor. ‘Paddox never stopped to think what he was doing.’

‘Go on.’

‘The necroport treats death as a revolving door. So by creating a way into the afterlife, Paddox was also giving occupants of the hereafter a route into the world of the living.’ The Doctor paused darkly. ‘And something has come back through that revolving door.’

‘And that’s what you think we’re dealing with here? A visitation from beyond the grave?’

The Doctor pulled a search-me face. ‘It’s only a theory.’

There was a sudden crashing from the left interior door.

> Warning. Resurrected tourists now approaching Necroport control room
.

Liesa turned to the Doctor. ‘Doctor –’

The Doctor shushed her, and strode across to the door.

A familiar voice was screaming. ‘You’ve got to let me in! They’re after me!’

Bracing himself, the Doctor slid the door open. Blubbering with relief, Harken Batt catapulted across the room and into the opposite wall. He doubled up, his chest heaving, and slid unceremoniously to the floor. A holocamera slipped from one hand.

Liesa screamed. Outside, in the corridor, zombies were stalking towards them.

The Doctor punched the ‘close’ button seconds before the undead could enter. The door shoomed shut, trapping the arm of one of the zombies. The arm clawed at the air, reaching for the Doctor who gripped the wrist and twisted it. The arm withdrew and the door closed completely. Immediately the zombies began hammering on the door, and the metal started to buckle.

‘ERIC,’ said the Doctor, as the hammering died down. ‘Why didn’t you tell us Harken was out there?’

> Your instructions were to inform you about approaching zombies only
.

‘Computers,’ muttered the Doctor. He looked down at Harken. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Harken gibbered. ‘You saved my life. Again.’

‘Again?’

‘That’s twice you’ve rescued me from the zombies. I can’t thank you enough. I thought I was done and dusted, I don’t mind telling you, but you plucked me from the grim jaws of death just as they were closing in on me like some, er, jaws.’ Harken blew his nose, stood up and tidied his coat. Liesa and the technicians were staring at him. ‘How did you manage to get up here so quickly, by the way?’

The Doctor pointed at himself. ‘Me?’

‘You were in the necroport, with Romana, just a few minutes ago.’ Harken crossed to the heavily barricaded door. ‘And you can’t have come through this way, and you didn’t pass me in the corridor. So how did you do it?’

‘Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘sometimes I amaze even myself.’

Romana waited for Evadne to catch up. The corridor was littered with fresh corpses, their eyes wide in horror. Their faces were half-hidden in shadows as the emergency lights flashed on and off. Posters were torn, and windows smashed, and people’s belongings lay discarded by their bodies.

The air was clouded with smoke. In the distance, alarms sounded and explosions rumbled as sections of the G-Lock caught fire. There was a background clatter of people running and shouting.

‘It’s not far now,’ said Evadne. ‘Metcalf’s office is at the end of this passage.’ As she spoke her voice suddenly became low and masculine. The distant screams also dropped in pitch and paused. Seconds later, time rewound and played back at normal speed ‘… at the end of this passage’.

‘The time distortion is increasing,’ Romana thought aloud. ‘If it continues at this rate, well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘Time distortion? I didn’t feel anything.’

‘That is because you were part of it. My race is sensitive to fluctuations in the time stream.’

‘Your race? Well, that’s made everything a lot clearer. For a moment there, I thought you weren’t making sense.’

‘Don’t worry, the concept is beyond the capacity of human intelligence.’

‘Oh yeah. Now I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.’

‘Flattered, of course.’ They arrived at a door marked Executive Metcalf. As Evadne pulled it open Romana glanced down the corridor.

At the far end, three undead were heading towards them.

Romana suddenly felt detached from reality. The corridor around her, the bodies, the wreckage, all seemed like a faded backdrop. Only her clothing seemed vivid and real.

Evadne was talking, but she made no sound. Instead, there was a wooshing, a repetitive sucking –

Time slipped.

The corpses littering the corridor disappeared. A plush carpet replaced the functional, white floor. The wooden walls were fitted with shiny, gold rails. Art Deco lamps hued the scene with brilliant light.

The figures were in the precise spot where the three zombies had been. The three of them – two women and a man – were emaciated and clothed in rags, each with a haunted, ravaged appearance. Like the woman who had disappeared from the medical bay. As they saw Romana, they smiled as though they were blessed.

After an instant, time rolled back and the corpses reappeared. The corridor returned to its dark, devastated state. And the zombies replaced the three starved figures.

‘I said, “Are you coming in” or what?’ said Evadne.

‘Sorry. I was years away.’ Romana took a final look down the passageway. The three undead approached, black drool treacling down their chins.

Unflustered, Romana ducked into Metcalf’s office. Evadne tapped the door control and it slid to. Together, they turned to view the office.

It seemed undamaged. The artworks lined the walls, the desk was tidy and the hyperspace void whirled placidly through the windows.

As Romana approached the desk she heard a whimpering. She peered under it, and there was Metcalf. He was hunched up, hands over his ears, his cheeks soaked. ‘Don’t let them get me,’ he cried. ‘Please!’

‘Ah, there you are,’ said Romana.

Skidding around a corner, K-9 found himself facing two undead Gonzies. The short, orange creatures staggered towards him with a roar.

K-9 span his wheels into reverse, and energised his blaster, firing it at the nearest Gonzie. It scorched through the garments and outer layers of flesh, the skin crisping under the heat. The Gonzie looked down at its own exposed innards in bemusement, and then
staggered
forward with renewed anger.

Backing down the corridor K-9 maximised the power of his beam, but to no effect. Despite the red haze surrounding them, the Gonzies’ advance was relentless. ‘As expected, defensive systems ineffective,’ said K-9. ‘This unit is now in great danger. Assistance required!’

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

HARKEN ADJUSTED THE
settings on his holocamera. The Doctor towered over him, chatting to Liesa. She was attractive, slim, with an air of cool efficiency. If only I was ten years younger, thought Harken. And not surrounded by homicidal zombies.

The Doctor had not explained how he had managed to reach the control room so rapidly, but Harken decided not to press the issue. It was enough that the Doctor was there, with his uncanny ability to appear like a toothy guardian angel.

‘Time,’ mulled the Doctor. ‘The necroport is at the apex of the time distortion. Whatever is controlling the zombies is also affecting time itself. Now, what does that say to you?’

‘You think the two things are connected?’ asked Liesa.

‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. Harken levelled him into the holocamera viewfinder and hit ‘record’. This would make a fabulous documentary. ‘The necroport is generating vast amounts of power. Enough power to send shockwaves unfurling backwards and forwards through time. This causes temporal stress, until eventually time itself weakens, and ruptures.’

‘And then?’ said Harken.

The Doctor stared down his nose into the camera. ‘Time is normally a very orderly thing. One o’clock, then two o’clock, and so on. As regular as clockwork, you might say. But if you get a rupture in time… well, then you might get one o’clock and two o’clock happening at the same time.’

Harken panned across to Liesa’s incredulous expression.

‘Two time zones coexisting simultaneously. Meaning you can hop from one to the other.’ The Doctor mimed the hopping action
with
his hands.

‘From one o’clock to two o’clock?’ said Liesa.

‘Exactly.’

‘And that’s bad is it?’ said Harken.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh. You said something was controlling the necroport and the zombies? What sort of grim adversary are we dealing with here, exactly?’

The Doctor’s face zoomed to fill the screen. ‘An entity from beyond death, Harken. “A life in death who thicks man’s blood with cold.”’ His eyes grew as large as saucers. ‘Stick that in your film.’

‘The tourists turned into mindless zombies. Not a vast difference, I grant you, but then they proceeded to make not inconsiderable efforts to kill me. And so, I decided to relocate to a place of safety.’ Metcalf ran a trembling hand over his scalp.

‘And you’ve been hiding under your desk ever since?’ Romana raised a disdainful eyebrow.

‘What was I supposed to do?’ pleaded Metcalf. ‘There are hundreds of them out there! The situation is hopeless!’

‘Rubbish,’ said Evadne angrily. ‘You could have put out an evacuation notice – normally you’re only too happy to announce your imbecile instructions every ten minutes. “Hello, G-Lock, Executive Metcalf here, just thought I’d tell you all I had a satisfactory bowel movement.” You could have called in the galactic authorities. But instead, oh no, you just cower in your office and let everyone die!’

Metcalf was stunned by the ferocity of Evadne’s attack. His hands slithered over themselves. ‘Well, I admit those courses of action do have some merits. In some small measure. ERIC?’

> Metcalf? Bad mode. Do you wish to torment me in my despair?

‘ERIC, send out a galactic distress signal. Tell them we have a catastrophe on our hands, and need security forces, medics. And a couple of Investigators.’

> But you told me not to tell anyone
.

‘Yes, well, priorities have rearranged themselves –’

> You said ‘Don’t you dare radio out you accursed machine, if this gets out I’ll be ruined, and if anyone asks where I am, I am not, repeat not, hiding under this desk in my office.’ Block?

‘Just send out the signal, ERIC.’

> I shall do so. It’s your funeral. Though I wish it was mine
.

‘Right.’ Metcalf puffed himself up, trying to salvage some dignity. ‘Now would you two mind telling me who you are and on what authority you trespass into my office?’