Doctor Who and the Dinosaur Invasion

by Malcolm Hulke

  ‘Don’t be hasty,’ called the Doctor. But it was already too late. Sarah had gone into the shop. The Doctor followed.

  Sarah was standing in the middle of the shop looking in wonder at the cases of expensive rings, necklaces, and the displays of wrist watches.

  ‘Look at all these lovely things,’ she gasped, ‘and the door wide open.’

  ‘The door has been forced open,’ said the Doctor. ‘Now come on, let’s go.’

  The Doctor turned, and found himself looking into the twin spouts of a sawn-off shotgun. Holding the gun was the driver of the car, a young man with greasy black hair and badly bitten fingernails.

  ‘I got here first,’ said the man. ‘Turn round, put your hands against the wall.’

  Sarah protested, ‘You nearly ran me down!’

  The man waved the gun at her. ‘I said put your hands against the wall!’

  The Doctor turned and spread out his hands on the wall. ‘Do as he says, Sarah.’

  Sarah put her hands against the wall, her back to the man. Looking under her arm, she could see him scooping precious rings and necklaces into a leather bag.

  ‘I appreciate that you’re very busy,’ said the Doctor calmly, ‘but could you tell us what’s going on?’

  ‘You find your own places,’ said the man. ‘There’s plenty to choose from.’

  ‘We don’t want to find any places,’ the Doctor answered. ‘We just want to know why the streets are deserted.’

  ‘Because they are,’ said the man. His bag was now brimming with valuables. ‘If you both stay exactly where you are, I won’t hurt you.’ He laughed. ‘In any case, I’m leaving you plenty of stuff here!’

  He dashed out of the shop. Sarah immediately made for the door. The Doctor checked her.

  ‘No, Sarah! He may shoot you in panic!’

  They listened as the car sped away. Sarah hurried across the ransacked shop to a telephone on a ledge behind the counter. She scooped it up and dialled 999.

  ‘There’s no ringing-tone. Nothing. It’s dead.’

  ‘The sooner we reach the Brigadier, the better,’ the Doctor replied.

  ‘But do you realise we’ve got no idea where we are?’

  ‘That’s easily fixed.’ The Doctor went behind one of the counters and quickly found the shop’s account books and stationery. He read from an invoice, ‘The Little Shop, Acton. So we’re in West London. All we have to do is strike east.’

  ‘It’ll be a long walk.’

  ‘Don’t forget you’re over 700 years younger than me, so you should be able to manage it. Let’s make a start.’

  They came out of the shop. Sarah looked up and down the deserted street. ‘Which way is east?’

  The Doctor produced a small compass from the capacious pockets of his frock coat, and held it steady until the needle stopped rotating. ‘That way.’ He pointed up the high street.

  After a few steps Sarah paused. ‘Doctor, I’m really very hungry.’

  ‘If you’d mentioned that while we were still in the TARDIS, I could have fixed you a meal in no time.’

  ‘Those pills from the machine?’ She pulled a face. ‘I’d like something real to eat.’

  ‘There’s plenty to choose from here.’ He pointed out some of the signs in the street. ‘Chinese Take Away, Wimpy’s, Bert’s Cafe. Take your pick.’

  The door to Bert’s Cafe was standing open. Sarah crossed the empty street, followed by the Doctor.

  The little cafe had plastic-top tables, a counter on one side by the door, and a sign that read ‘Thanks for your custom. Please call again. Bert.’ Sarah saw a large ham on the counter. Her mouth watered and she went straight to the ham—then recoiled when she saw the flies clustered on it. ‘The food’s gone rotten.’

  But the Doctor was concentrating on the partly eaten plates of food on some of the tables. ‘Just like the Marie Celeste,’ he muttered.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘A very famous incident in the last century,’ he explained. ‘A ship called the Marie Celeste was found on the high seas, intact but totally abandoned. The crew and all the passengers had vanished as though they never existed. And, just as here, partly eaten meals were left on plates in the dining-saloon. No one ever discovered what happened to the people on that ship, and they never will.’

  A cold shiver of fear ran down Sarah’s spine. ‘Suddenly I don’t feel hungry,’ she said.

  The Doctor smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Sarah. There must be some logical explanation for all this. Take a couple of bars of chocolate from that shelf. I’m sure you’ll be able to eat them later. And, as you said, we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.’

  Sarah picked up the chocolate, and placed a couple of tenpenny pieces on top of the till. ‘The people eating in here must have all left in a hurry. But why?’

  ‘Why indeed,’ replied the Doctor. ‘Now let’s recommence our long walk.’

  An hour later they had reached Shepherd’s Bush, an older and less suburban area of West London. In all the miles they had walked they hadn’t seen a sign of life anywhere. Sarah stopped.

  ‘I’m whacked.’

  The Doctor looked about the street they were walking down. ‘Let’s try the Times Furnishing Company over there.’ He pointed and grinned. ‘The shop door’s open. Surely we’ll find a seat in there.’

  ‘There’s no need to be funny,’ she said. ‘Come on, we’ll press ahead.’

  As they started off again they both heard the sound of the lorry. Without a word they stopped, listened intently.

  Sarah said, ‘Where is it?’

  The Doctor put his finger to his lips. ‘Shhh!’

  The sound of the lorry altered as its driver changed into reverse gear.

  ‘That street over there,’ said the Doctor, pointing to a side street, ‘and it’s backing up for some reason.’

  They hurriedly crossed the main road to the opening of the side street from where they could hear the lorry. As they entered the side street, the sound of the lorry’s engine stopped.

  ‘We’ve lost it,’ said Sarah.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the Doctor. ‘Look down there.’

  Half way down the street of little houses a large warehouse was set well back from the road. Big double doors stood wide open and the nose of a lorry protruded out on to a tarmac apron. The Doctor and Sarah ran down the street towards the lorry. Sarah had forgotten all about her tiredness. As they approached the open double doors the Doctor started calling.

  ‘Hello? Anyone at home?’

  There was no response. The Doctor put his hand on the bonnet of the lorry. ‘This must be the one we heard,’ he said. ‘It’s warm. The engine has just been running.’

  Cautiously they edged along the side of the lorry into the warehouse. It was filled with racks of expensive fur coats.

  ‘With London deserted, why should anyone want to make a delivery of fur coats?’ Sarah sounded puzzled.

  The Doctor looked at an untidy heap of fur coats in the open back of the lorry. ‘I don’t think they were making a delivery,’ he said, ‘but more a collection. I mean they were stealing these furs.’

  Suddenly two men, one gripping a vicious-looking jemmy, leapt out from behind one of the fur racks. Sarah screamed. The jemmy cracked down on the Doctor’s mop of curly hair. Gripping his head in agony, he fell to the ground. The two men ran down by the side of the lorry and escaped into the street. As Sarah knelt down by the Doctor, he opened his eyes and put his hand to his head.

  ‘That’s going to be a nasty bump,’ he said. With Sarah’s help he struggled to his feet, a little unsteadily. ‘At least they’ve provided us with some transport. Let’s see if they left the ignition key.’

  The Doctor started to edge down the side of the lorry towards the cabin. But Sarah was staring towards a gloomy far corner of the warehouse. Something was moving there.

  ‘Doctor,’ she said, quietly, ‘I think there’s someone over there.’

  The Doctor turned. ‘Hello?�
� he called. ‘If you’re another fur thief, we really don’t mean you any harm. All we want to take is the lorry. The furs you can keep.’

  With a shriek the thing in the far corner floated up into the air. Sarah couldn’t believe what she was now seeing—a pterodactyl, the flesh-eating flying reptile that was once the master species on Earth. Its leathery wings, eight feet wide, flapped and its toothed mouth was wide open as it dived down towards the Doctor and Sarah.

  ‘Get in the cabin,’ shouted the Doctor.

  Sarah struggled into the lorry’s cabin and hastily slammed the door behind her. Outside, the Doctor grabbed one of the furs and flapped it at the attacking pterodactyl. The flying reptile pulled back and hovered for some moments before attacking again. But the pause gave the Doctor the vital seconds he needed to get into the cabin and behind the driving wheel. The ignition key was in the fascia and he turned it. The self-starter worked, but the engine didn’t fire. As the Doctor tried again, the pterodactyl landed on the roof of the cabin and leaned over to look at his prey through the windscreen. On the third try, the engine sprang into life. The Doctor slipped the lorry into gear and roared out of the warehouse into the street. Through the rear mirror he saw the pterodactyl turn and fly off in the opposite direction.

  Sarah, petrified, stared straight ahead. ‘I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it. Those things died out millions of years ago.’

  ‘During the Earth’s Cretaceous period to be correct,’ shouted the Doctor above the noise of the lorry, as he turned it into the main road and again headed east. ‘Next to the tyrannosaurus rex, they must have been the most terrifying creatures this planet has ever produced.’

  ‘Honestly,’ said Sarah, exasperated, ‘that’s just typical! We’re attacked by a monster, and you talk about it like a schoolmaster! That thing could have killed us. And what’s it doing here in London in the Twentieth Century?’

  ‘That,’ said the Doctor, ‘is something we may soon find out. Look what’s ahead.’

  An Army jeep was blocking the road. Two soldiers with guns, and a sergeant with a loudhailer, were standing by it, facing the oncoming lorry. The Doctor drew up close to the jeep, jumped out of the cabin and walked towards the sergeant.

  ‘My dear fellow,’ said the Doctor, smiling, ‘I’m so glad to meet you——’

  The sergeant raised the loudhailer to his lips and spoke into its microphone. His voice was harsh. ‘Stay where you are! If you advance any further you will be shot!’

  The Doctor stopped dead in amazement. ‘But I just wanted to ask you——’

  The voice from the loudhailer drowned the Doctor’s words. ‘The person in the cabin of the lorry is to dismount immediately, or we shall fire!’

  The Doctor turned to Sarah. ‘You’d better do as he says.’

  Nervously, Sarah climbed down from the cabin.

  ‘Neither of you is to budge an inch,’ continued the amplified voice of the sergeant. Dropping the loudhailer, he turned to the two soldiers. ‘Smith, keep them covered—and shoot to maim if they move. Wilkins, hop round the back and see what they’ve got.’

  The soldier called Wilkins ran to the back of the lorry while the Doctor and Sarah waited.

  ‘If you will let me explain,’ said the Doctor, ‘I and my young friend——’

  The loudhailer cut in. ‘Be quiet!’ The sergeant turned to the soldier called Smith. ‘Hold that gun steady.’

  Smith aimed his gun directly at the Doctor’s head, finger on trigger. Wilkins returned from the back of the lorry carrying one of the fur coats.

  ‘They’ve got a load of furs in the back like this one, sarge. There must be thousands of quids’ worth!’

  The sergeant again raised the loudhailer to his lips. Speaking through it gave him great authority. ‘I’m placing both of you under arrest. You know what happens to looters. Now it’s going to happen to you.’

  2

  ‘Shoot to kill!’

  ‘With great respect, sir,’ said Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, ‘I cannot and will not order troops under my command to open fire on civilians!’

  ‘These civilians are looters,’ said General Finch, ‘the lowest form of life known to man. You will tell your troops to shoot to kill!’

  The General and the Brigadier stood facing each other in UNIT’s temporary Headquarters—a school classroom in North London, on the edge of the area that had been evacuated. A huge map of London, with flags to indicate where pterodactyls and dinosaurs had been sighted, had been pinned over the blackboard. A military two-way radio, manned constantly by a UNIT soldier, had been installed in a corner.

  The Brigadier tried to control the emotion in his voice. ‘I cannot, sir, order the murder of people who may be innocent.’

  The General’s face reddened. His closely cropped moustache twitched. ‘Every man, woman and child in the Central London area has been evacuated by order of the Government. It has become a prohibited area. It follows, therefore, that any civilian now found in Central London is up to no good—and that means they are using this opportunity to rob and steal. There is only one thing to do—to shoot on sight!’

  ‘I agree that what is happening is deplorable, sir,’ said the Brigadier, ‘but may I remind you that looters are not our main problem, and shortage of observation patrols is. Can’t more troops be brought to London?’

  ‘Definitely not. They’re needed in the reception areas. You’re forgetting that ten million people have to be fed, sheltered, and cared for. That’s what the Army is doing, Brigadier. Helping all those poor people who have been driven from their city.’

  ‘I realise that,’ continued the Brigadier, ‘but the front-line is here. I think it’s more important that we find the cause of the crisis than try to deal with its effects.’

  The General rocked on his heels, clutching his swagger cane behind his back. ‘On that I agree with you, Brigadier. May I ask what you’re doing about it?’

  The Brigadier explained that his UNIT troops were fully occupied in plotting the sightings of monsters.

  ‘And do you call that doing something?’ smirked the General. ‘Where is this famous scientific adviser of yours?’

  ‘Temporarily on leave, sir.’ It was a white lie. He had no idea where the Doctor was at this moment.

  ‘Really?’ said the General. ‘How inconvenient. Should he decide to return, do you think he may be able to help us with our problem?’

  ‘In all honesty, sir, if anyone can find out why dinosaurs keep appearing and disappearing all over London, it’s the Doctor.’

  ‘Then the sooner you recall him from leave, Brigadier, the better.’ The General turned to go, then paused. ‘I shall let you have some extra men, seconded to UNIT from the British Army. But their orders will be to shoot to kill! I hope you understand that.’

  The General marched out of the classroom. The Brigadier sighed with relief, and slumped into the chair behind his make-shift desk. He turned to Sergeant Benton, who had remained standing to attention throughout the General’s visit.

  ‘Sergeant, you’ve no idea where the Doctor is, have you?’

  ‘He could be anywhere, sir’, said Benton. ‘But I wish he was here to help us.’

  The Doctor and Sarah were standing between armed soldiers in a draughty church hall. Ahead of them another prisoner, a tough-looking young man in a dirty raincoat, was being questioned by an Army sergeant seated at a bench desk.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Lodge.’

  The sergeant wrote down ‘Lodge’ on the top of a blank sheet of typewriting paper. ‘Age?’

  ‘Twenty-two.’

  The sergeant noted the prisoner’s age, then turned to the armed soldier standing beside Lodge. ‘What had he got?’

  The soldier reeled off a list of goods found in the possession of the prisoner. ‘Two tape recorders, one radio, and a colour television set.’

  ‘Right, my lad,’ said the sergeant to Lodge, ‘you know where you’re going. Take him away!’

/>   The soldier yanked on Lodge’s arm and steered him to a far corner of the big hall. The soldiers guarding the Doctor and Sarah pushed them roughly towards the sergeant’s desk. The sergeant placed a fresh sheet of paper before him.

  ‘Names?’ He didn’t look up when he asked the question.

  ‘If I could have a word with someone in authority——’ the Doctor blurted out.

  The soldier standing behind the Doctor shouted in his ear, ‘Quiet! Answer the sergeant’s question!’

  ‘Names?’ The sergeant repeated his question, still not looking up. He had been on duty for many hours without sleep. He was tired. He hated looters.

  Sarah spoke up. ‘Sarah Jane Smith.’ Then she added quickly, ‘But you’ve got to listen to us, please. I’m a journalist. This is all a big mistake!’

  The sergeant wrote down Sarah’s name, and then looked up at the Doctor, ignoring Sarah completely. ‘And your name?’

  ‘Dr John Smith,’ said the Doctor, realising that the sergeant would never believe he hadn’t really got a name. He remembered to add, ‘We’re not related.’

  The sergeant wrote ‘Dr John Smith’. Then he asked, ‘Ages? The girl first.’

  Sarah said, ‘Twenty-three.’

  ‘You’d never believe me if I told you,’ the Doctor replied.

  The sergeant shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Age is no excuse for what you people have done.’ He turned to the soldier standing behind the Doctor. ‘What had they got?’

  ‘The patrol said they’d got furs in the back of a lorry.’

  The sergeant wrote down ‘furs’. Then he looked up. ‘Right. You’ll be held for military trial.’

  ‘Just one question,’ said Sarah. ‘Why are the military running everything? Where are the police?’

  The sergeant pushed his chair back, stretched his arms and yawned. His eyes were bloodshot with tiredness. ‘You were found in the Central Zone, which you know is under martial law. Only the military are allowed in the Central Zone.’

  ‘But why?’ asked the Doctor earnestly. ‘What’s happening?’

  The sergeant looked at the soldiers guarding the two prisoners. ‘You’ve got a right couple of nutters here.’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘Don’t you ever read the newspapers, or listen to the news on the radio?’