Part 16 (2/2)

'Sorry, sir.' Benton looked as if he was concentrating hard.

'The local police have just rung in. They say there's a large, insect-like creature running amok on Tayborough Sands beach. Quite a few fatalities already it seems, sir.'

'Right, Benton,' said the Brigadier, not quite with relish, but certainly galvanised - however temporarily - by the prospect of action. 'Get the men ready to move out in force.

And try to get hold of the Doctor, let him know what's going on.'

'He probably knows already, sir. His hotel is right on the seafront.'

'Is it, by George?' said the Brigadier, wondering whether he already knew this. 'Well, try and get hold of him anyway. Tell him not to go near this dratted creature until we get there.'

'I'll tell tell him, sir...' Benton said, clearly implying that if the Doctor was set on a separate course of action, then nothing Benton could do or say would make a blind bit of difference. him, sir...' Benton said, clearly implying that if the Doctor was set on a separate course of action, then nothing Benton could do or say would make a blind bit of difference.

The Brigadier flapped a hand, acknowledging the fact that the Doctor was a law unto himself. 'Just do your best, Benton. I'll put a call through to Captain Yates, get him to meet us down there.' The Brigadier again reached for his RT and glanced up at Benton, who was hovering by the desk, as if waiting to be dismissed. 'Well, jump to it, man. Chop chop.'

White bonnets and yellow faces. Flowers. Daisies. She was surrounded by daisies. Lovely. But there was something wrong with them. They were all identical. And they were in rows. Regiments. Hovering in mid-air. And mid-air was pale green.

Charlotte's eyes focused on the curtain. It was attached to a rail, which, if she wished, she could pull all the way round her bed to conceal herself from the outside world. What that consisted of was a bit of a mystery. Noise, certainly. There were people talking. Footsteps moving rapidly to and fro.

Things clanking.

'Charlotte,' said a voice.

Her eyes flickered in the direction of the voice and she saw a man with a look of concern on his thin face, sitting at the side of her bed. Remembering that his name was Mike Yates brought all her memories rus.h.i.+ng back. Like a wave, they filled her mouth and throat like sludgy water, and she found herself gasping for breath, struggling to sit up. A band of pain clamped across her stomach and she fell back, head pounding.

'Hey,' said Mike gently, 'take it easy. You're safe now.' He covered her hot hand with his cool one.

The suffocating effect of the memories subsided, but the pain of them did not diminish. 'My dad,' she whispered. 'He's dead. You killed him.'

It was not an accusation, merely a statement of fact. Mike nodded. 'I had to. If I hadn't killed him, he would have killed you.'

She remembered the spines on her father's body, his black, bulging eyes. She shuddered. 'What's happening?' she pleaded, her voice cracking, tears not far away. 'Mike, what's happening?'

'There's some sort of... contamination,' he said carefully.

'It's affecting people. Making them change.'

'Contamination? What do you mean?'

He raised his hands, looked apologetic. 'We don't know yet.

That's what we're trying to find out.'

Charlotte's head was buzzing. Her thoughts hurt. There was a dislocated, unreal feeling to all of this. She s.h.i.+fted position in bed slightly, and was once again aware of the pain in her stomach, like a big bruise. Fearful, she said, 'My baby.

Is my baby...?'

'It's fine.' Mike smiled back, squeezing her hand to rea.s.sure her. 'The doctors say your baby's going to be fine. You just need to rest. You went into shock after the attack.'

Momentary relief washed over her, but then she thought of Chris and her dad again. 'Does Mum know?' she asked.

'About the baby, I mean. I hadn't told her, you see.'

'Not yet. She's under sedation in another ward. Do you want me to tell the doctors not to tell her?'

Charlotte nodded weakly. 'I want to tell her myself.'

'Of course you do,' Mike said.

There was a sudden crackle of static from his jacket pocket and a tinny voice said, 'Greyhound One to Greyhound Three.

Are you there, Greyhound Three? Over.'

Everyone in the ward turned their heads to look at Mike.

He raised his eyebrows in selfconscious apology and took the RT from his pocket.

'This is Greyhound Three. Would you mind hanging on a minute, sir? I need to find somewhere a little more discreet.'

He put the RT back in his pocket and flashed Charlotte another quick smile. 'Won't be a minute,' he told her, then stood up and walked briskly out of the ward.

A few minutes later he was back, his face grim. 'I'm going to have to go,' he said. 'There have been one or two developments.'

Charlotte reached out and grasped his hand. 'You will come back and see me, won't you?'

'Of course I will. Just as soon as I can.' He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. 'Now you get some rest, and I'll be back before you know it.'

The seafront was in chaos, police and holidaymakers milling around in confusion. A crowd was standing in the road like sheep, immobilised by shock. Several times the Brigadier had to lean on his horn to encourage the crowd to part enough to allow the UNIT convoy to edge through. On the promenade a dozen or more empty emergency vehicles were parked haphazardly, lights flas.h.i.+ng.

The whole situation had a feeling of aftermath to it, which the Brigadier recognised only too well. He knew that the emergency vehicles were empty because their crews were tending to the wounded. This, coupled with the fact that there was no panic among the crowds, merely a sense of stunned incomprehension, was evidence enough that the creature was no longer running loose nearby, but had moved on to pastures new. UNIT'S job was to track it and, if possible, contain it. Seeing the Lombard Hotel looming large on his right, he reached for the RT on the pa.s.senger seat. job was to track it and, if possible, contain it. Seeing the Lombard Hotel looming large on his right, he reached for the RT on the pa.s.senger seat.

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