Part 20 (2/2)

They were back within seconds, the Brigadier staggering between them, the hybrids making a show of surging forward then falling back as the soldiers swung their rifles this way and that.

'Sir,' Yates said again, 'are you OK?'

'Fine, Captain Yates,' said the Brigadier heartily. 'I see our little problem has increased somewhat.'

'Yes, sir,' said Yates. 'As you can see, we're in a bit of a spot. This lot are hanging back for the moment, but they've got us surrounded. Thing is, I don't want to give the order to fire if I can help it, because... well, because whatever they look like, they're still people, sir. To be honest, I'm d.a.m.ned if I know what to do next. I keep hoping the Doctor'll wake up and come up with something.'

A cry came from behind them, raucous and vehement.

'Don't trust him!'

It was the Australian girl, standing up in the back of the truck, pointing a rigid finger at the Brigadier.

'Miss Jovanka -' he began, speaking her name before he was even aware he'd remembered it.

'He's changing into one of those things,' Tegan shouted. 'He might not look like it yet, but he is.'

'As are we all, Miss Jovanka,' replied the Brigadier, then turned to Yates with a cold smile. 'Except for you, Captain, of course.'

Suddenly he pressed his gun barrel against Mike Yates's temple. 'I suggest the best thing would be to hand the Doctor over to us,' he hissed.

For a moment Yates looked almost comically incredulous.

Then an expression of sad resignation appeared on his face and he said, 'You know I can't do that, sir.'

'You have no choice, Captain Yates,' the Brigadier said briskly. 'You can't fight us. You are the only true human left here. We are all Xaranti.'

At that moment something slammed into the Brigadier's back, expelling the air from his lungs and knocking him to the ground with such force that he cracked his forehead on the concrete. A weight landed on his back and a voice muttered, 'Not yet we're not.'

The Brigadier didn't realise he was still holding his gun until it was twisted from his grip. The voice, which the Brigadier quickly recognised as belonging to Sergeant Benton, said, 'Sorry about this, sir, but it's for your own good. We can't let them take the Doctor.' Pinning the Brigadier's arms and legs to the floor, Benton lifted his head and spoke to Yates. 'Get in the truck and go, sir. Take the Doctor with you. Take him somewhere safe.'

Yates's voice: 'I can't just leave you all.'

'Yes you can, sir. The Brigadier's right. Soon we'll all be changing into these b.l.o.o.d.y things. And then it'll be too late.

Just go, sir. Go now.'

A pause, then Yates said, 'We'll never get through.'

'Yes you will, sir.' Benton raised his voice. 'listen to me, men. Captain Yates is our last chance. If he doesn't get out of here with the Doctor, we're finished. Do you get me? We'll all end up like these poor sods, and eventually like that... that thing in there. So if anyone or anything tries to stop the Captain from getting through, I want you to shoot them. You hear me? If you don't we'll all be dead anyway.'

There was a rumble of a.s.sent from the men, the Xaranti aggression within them lending the sound an eagerness, an excitement at the prospect of killing. But as the Brigadier, still pinned face-down on the ground, heard the truck's engine start up, he knew that the Xaranti would not attack.

The Doctor might be escaping now, but already Xaranti energy from the sting was surging through his body, attacking his cells. Soon the Doctor would succ.u.mb, and the meagre threat that he posed would be at an end. There was no escape for any of them.

It was evident that the Xaranti felt their influence was now well-established enough for them to have no further need for secrecy. In the half-hour or so since the Brigadier had picked up the Doctor, Tegan and Turlough in his car, Tayborough Sands had dissolved into chaos. The seafront streets may have been cleared in the wake of the Xaranti attack on the beach, but there had still been a great many infected, transforming humans holed up in hotel rooms, boarding-houses and B&Bs. As if responding to some internal signal, these hybrids had now emerged and were roaming the streets in groups of anything from three to thirty, hunting down, infecting or killing the minority of unaffected humans who had been foolish enough to venture back out into the open.

Turlough's hope that his nightmare had ended with his escape from the fun-fair was short-lived. As he drove back to the hotel, unable to think of anywhere else to go, the delayed shock of his narrow escape from the fairground was further intensified by the sights around him. There were bodies lying in pools of blood, crashed cars, and even makes.h.i.+ft roadblocks, constructed of anything that the hybrids had been able to get their hands on - furniture, chunks of timber, electrical equipment. Though there was barely any traffic on the roads, discouraged by the diversions presumably set up by the army or the police to prevent people heading into town, several vehicles had still come to grief at these obstructions, including a police car and an ambulance which had been pushed over on to its side.

It was like driving through a war-zone where the indigenous population was hostile and savage but thankfully unarmed. Several times hybrids had run at the jeep; some even throwing themselves at it, their fledgling Xaranti legs sc.r.a.ping the paintwork as they scrabbled for purchase.

Spurred by terror and desperation, Turlough had driven round them, or through them, or slewed from side to side to shake them off. Eventually, after smas.h.i.+ng through a roadblock and taking a circuitous route through a number of quiet backstreets to avoid two more, Turlough drew up in front of the hotel. Thankfully there were no hybrids in sight and he sat for a moment trying to regain at least a modic.u.m of composure, his hands aching from gripping the steering wheel so hard, his breathing rapid and ragged.

For a moment he honestly didn't think he would be able to make himself get out of the jeep. Though vulnerable, the driver's cab seemed like sanctuary. He wished the Doctor had entrusted him with a TARDIS key. If he got ripped to pieces between here and his hotel room, it would be all the Doctor's fault.

Even when he did did finally gather the resolve to make a move, Turlough looked up and down the road a dozen times first to ensure it was still deserted. Rea.s.sured, he opened the driver's door, and winced at the meaty 'chunk' it made, half-expecting a screeching horde of Xaranti to emerge from all sides like the Zulu warriors in that ridiculous film he had watched with Hippo one wet Sunday afternoon. Though he had hated his time at Brendon, he wished he could be there now. finally gather the resolve to make a move, Turlough looked up and down the road a dozen times first to ensure it was still deserted. Rea.s.sured, he opened the driver's door, and winced at the meaty 'chunk' it made, half-expecting a screeching horde of Xaranti to emerge from all sides like the Zulu warriors in that ridiculous film he had watched with Hippo one wet Sunday afternoon. Though he had hated his time at Brendon, he wished he could be there now.

To his surprise, the ratcheting din of the opening door went uninvestigated, and so he slid out of the jeep and on to the pavement. It was only three paces to the bottom of the stone steps, and another eight up into the hotel, but Turlough felt exposed for an appallingly long time as he dashed across and up, stooped over like an old man.

The foyer sucked him into its coolness, eliciting a gasp from him as if he had just emerged from deep water. Relief mingled with apprehension. Though buildings seemed seemed safer than the streets outside, there was no reason why they should be. Indeed, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw the bodies. He flinched from the startling redness of blood and its profusion, but he had seen enough to know that the victims, two women and a man, had not died painlessly. safer than the streets outside, there was no reason why they should be. Indeed, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light he saw the bodies. He flinched from the startling redness of blood and its profusion, but he had seen enough to know that the victims, two women and a man, had not died painlessly.

He scurried across to the lifts, hoping that his trembling body and crumbling nerves would survive long enough for him to reach his room. He jabbed at the lift b.u.t.ton, then decided he didn't like the idea of standing around, waiting, and turned towards the stairs. The staircase was wide and carpeted. Turlough had ascended no more than half a dozen steps when the lift announced its arrival with a 'ping'.

His foot hovered above the next step as he dithered over whether or not to run back for it. Then he heard something catapult out of the lift and into the foyer. He turned and saw what had once been a tall, balding man wearing a grey suit.

Now, though, the back of the suit had burst open to accommodate a wavering, clicking ma.s.s of Xaranti legs.

Turlough neither moved nor made a sound, but the hybrid seemed to sense his presence. It spun round, hands outstretched and fingers arched like claws. Its bulging eyes gleamed like tar, and spines sprouting from its sallow face sc.r.a.ped together like bone as it opened its mouth in a snarling hiss. With terrifying agility it sprang towards the stairs, its obvious intention propelling Turlough up them.

His back felt wide and vulnerable, and though he was leaping three steps at a time, his breath ragged with panic, he felt he was wading through water. On the first landing the red cylinder of a fire extinguisher stood stoutly in the corner, Turlough lunged towards it, almost sprawling headlong, but managing with a pinwheeling of his arms to remain upright.

He grabbed the extinguisher and spun round.

The hybrid was only four steps below him. One good leap and it would bring him down. Turlough had been planning to use the fire extinguisher as a weapon, but he was so shocked by the creature's proximity that he actually threw threw the heavy red cylinder at it. the heavy red cylinder at it.

It was a lucky shot. The extinguisher struck the creature full in the face and caught it off balance. The hybrid fell backwards, arms spread out like a high diver. It looked almost graceful until it hit the steps about half way down, and then it became a spinning ma.s.s of arms and legs and thras.h.i.+ng Xaranti limbs. Its head met the floor at the bottom of the staircase with a sickening thump and a halo of brown fluid began to form around it. Turlough didn't hang around.

He turned and lurched up the rest of the stairs.

He reached the fifth floor without further incident and hurried along the landing to his room. He fumbled the keys out of his pocket and pushed the largest into the lock. It wasn't until he was in his room with the door locked behind him that he began to shake with reaction. Trying to ignore it, he shoved his bed against the door, then piled every item of furniture in the room on top of it. At last, for want of a better weapon, he grabbed a coat hanger from the wardrobe and sat in the corner of the room, facing the barricaded door.

Wis.h.i.+ng desperately that he could make himself invisible, he pressed himself as far back into the corner as he could and drew his knees up under his chin.

'You see now?' the Brigadier said.

Benton nodded. 'Yes.'

<script>