Doctor Who: The Crawling Terror (12th Doctor novel) (Dr Who)

by Mike Tucker

  The two huge monsters circled each other warily for a moment, then, in a blur of movement, the spider struck. Wilson scrambled to get clear as the two insects smashed together, their screams echoing around the English countryside. Already weakened by the damage caused by the armour-piercing bullets, the beetle crashed to the ground, and the spider lunged forward to sink its fangs into the flesh of its head.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, Wilson hauled himself to his feet and ran. In the distance he could see Arnopp and Palmer kneeling by the wreckage of the bike and his eyes widened as he caught sight of a familiar shape being hoisted onto Arnopp’s shoulder. Moments later there was the dull ‘crump’ of a portable anti-tank missile being fired.

  Wilson threw himself forward into the grass, hands covering his head as the missile struck its target and the beetle exploded in a cloud of shell and guts. As the volatile chemicals in its abdomen mixed there was yet another explosion, and boiling acid burst out with devastating effect.

  Hit by the full force of the caustic spray, the spider reeled backwards, legs flailing wildly. Within seconds it was nothing but a misshapen lump of steaming flesh hissing quietly in the long grass.

  Wilson hauled himself to his feet as Arnopp and Palmer hurried over to him. Arnopp’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he peered at the shattered remains of the two huge insects.

  ‘I never did like bugs.’

  ‘Private Hawkins, Miss Drabble, you’d better come and see this.’

  Robin Sanford was peering worriedly through the curtains of his front room into the rapidly darkening afternoon light.

  The others joined him, and Angela gave a gasp as she caught sight of what was approaching.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ murmured Hawkins.

  It looked as though the entire village was walking towards them; men, women, children, all marching in unison down the narrow road, their faces drawn and heavy, their arms hanging limply by their sides.

  Snatching up his rifle, Hawkins ran from the room. ‘Stay here!’

  Angela raced after him. ‘Private Hawkins, wait!’

  She caught up with the private outside the house. He had his rifle to his shoulder, covering the zombie-like villagers as they filed silently into the yard. Angela could see faces she recognised: Simon George, Emily Nichols, even Gabby, still clutching her son to her chest.

  ‘You can’t just open fire on these people! You can’t!’

  ‘Yeah, well you and I know that, but maybe they don’t.’

  He lifted the barrel of the assault rifle and Angela covered her ears as he fired a quick burst over the heads of the oncoming crowd.

  ‘I want everyone to stop where they are! Right now!’

  To Angela’s relief the crowd shambled to a halt.

  ‘All right.’ Hawkins was breathing hard. ‘That’s good. Now, which one of you is going to tell me what the hell this is all about?’

  ‘Private…’ Robin’s trembling voice rang out from the doorway. ‘I think that you might be looking in the wrong direction for that.’

  Hawkins and Angela spun. Robin was standing in the doorway, but it was Clara that captured their attention. Eyes wild with an animal intensity, she was gripping Kevin Alperton by the nape of the neck, practically lifting the boy off his feet.

  ‘Clara?’ Angela started to move towards her. ‘What on earth…?’

  ‘Stand still!’ Clara spat the words. ‘Take another step and the human child will die.’

  ‘The human child?’ Hawkins swung his rifle around, uncertain whether to keep it trained on the eerily silent crowd or the situation unfolding behind him. ‘What the hell does she mean?’

  Angela stared at her sadly, suddenly knowing what had happened to her friend in the circle. ‘But you’re not Clara, are you? Not on the inside. You’re one of them.’

  ‘Exactly!’ She squeezed Kevin’s neck, making him cry out in pain. ‘Now put the weapon down!’

  With no other option open to him, Private Hawkins did as he was told. Immediately the crowd surged forward, grasping him and Angela by the arms.

  ‘Who are you?’ asked Angela, struggling to break free from the grip of people that she had once called her friends. ‘What is it that you want?’

  ‘I am Gebbron, Chief Scientist of the Wyrrester Scientific Corps.’ The thing controlling Clara’s body gave a horrible smile. ‘And you will soon learn to love me as your leader.’

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  With his leg strapped up, and a shot of painkillers from Corporal Palmer’s medical pouch, Captain Wilson managed to struggle back onto his feet. The Norton was a write-off, and Palmer’s sniper rifle was bent and twisted beyond repair, but they still had one of the NLAWs left, and more than enough grenades to make quite a mess of the Bell when they found it.

  That was assuming there were no more giant insects lying in wait for them en route…

  He glanced at his army-issue Cabot watch. The two hours that they had been given were almost up. He just hoped that Hawkins had been able to convince the Colonel to give them more time.

  They were about to set off towards the industrial estate when Private Arnopp suddenly paused. ‘Listen,’ he hissed.

  From somewhere ahead of them came the sound of a large crowd of people moving along one of the lanes. Wilson motioned to the two soldiers to move forward and the three men made their way quickly to the hedgerow at the edge of the field and peered cautiously into the road.

  ‘Looks like a goddamn town meeting,’ breathed Palmer.

  Wilson recognised the quote from Aliens but ignored it. Palmer was right. If the research that they had about the population of Ringstone was correct then it was pretty much all of them, and they seemed to be carrying something.

  He twisted to get a better view; it seemed to be a large, heavy stone of some kind. Then he caught sight of something that made him curse under his breath. At the front of the crowd, being marched along with his own rifle pointed at his back, was Private Hawkins. Robin Sanford, the constable, and the other civilians walked alongside him.

  Wilson quickly considered his options. They still had to get to the Bell, but he couldn’t just abandon one of his men. Besides, they needed Hawkins to get back in touch with the Colonel if they were going to cancel that airstrike.

  ‘Dobby, follow them. If you get a chance to get Hawkins and the others free, take it. Arnopp, you’re with me.’

  Both men nodded and Palmer started to make his way along the hedgerow.

  ‘Palmer.’

  The corporal turned to look at his commanding officer. ‘Yes, Captain?’

  ‘Remember that these are civilians, Palmer. We don’t want a bloodbath here.’

  Palmer nodded and hurried away.

  Private Arnopp gave Wilson a worried look. ‘And then there were two…’

  Shirtsleeves rolled up, the Doctor was arm-deep inside the Bell, helping to repair the mounting point for the Xerum 525 vial when one of the villagers entered the warehouse and shambled towards Clearfield.

  ‘Gebbron wishes you to join him at the circle.’

  ‘I’m busy,’ snapped the professor concentrating on the console in front of him.

  ‘He says that that it is important. That I am to use force if you will not come.’

  ‘Better do as he says,’ said the Doctor in a cautioning tone. ‘I don’t know about Gebbron, but Clara can be quite forceful when she wants to be. A real bossy-boots.’

  Throwing his clipboard down in disgust, Clearfield glared at him, then turned and hurried out through the doors.

  As soon as Clearfield was out of sight, the Doctor clambered to his feet, rolling down his sleeves and shrugging back into his jacket. He needed to work fast.

  ‘Right, you lot.’ He clicked his fingers at the other technicians. ‘I imagine that there’s enough Scopolamine in your systems to make this relatively simple.’ He pressed his fingers this temples, his brow furrowing with concentration. ‘You will carry on with your
allotted tasks, you will ignore me and anything I do. Indicate your understanding.’

  As one, the shambling technicians nodded.

  The Doctor allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. ‘It’s all a matter of willpower…’

  He crossed to the far side of the warehouse, searching through the piles of electrical components until he found a coil of thick, insulated cable.

  ‘That should do the job,’ he muttered to himself.

  Dragging the heavy cable across the floor, he started to uncoil it. Leaving one end next to the Bell he pushed open one of the fire escape doors and hauled the other end of the cable across to where the TARDIS stood outside.

  Opening the door, he vanished inside, hauling the cable over to the console and connecting it as best he could. When it was done, he stood back and grimaced. It was a bit of a lash-up, but he needed access to both the dematerialisation and telepathic circuits if this was going to work properly.

  He hurried back into the warehouse, busying himself with the connections at the other end. He was making the last connection to the Bell when there was the sharp click of a safety catch being unlocked and the cold barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his neck.

  ‘OK, hands where I can see them. Quickly.’

  The Doctor pressed his hands onto the surface of the Bell. Rough hands quickly patted him down and he was spun around. Two bruised and bloodied British soldiers faced him, guns raised.

  The Doctor gave a gasp of exasperation. ‘Why is it I can always rely on the armed forces to arrive at precisely the wrong moment?’

  The first soldier grinned, but didn’t take his finger from the trigger. ‘And there I was thinking that we were like the American Cavalry, arriving to save the day just in the nick of time.’

  The Doctor glanced at the rank on his sleeve. ‘Captain, if you are interested in saving the day, then you really need to let me finish what I am doing, I have a very complex set of calculations to make and very little time in which to do it.’

  The soldier hesitated for a moment, then lowered the rifle. ‘The Doctor, right?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘I’m Captain Wilson, this is Private Arnopp…’

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. Introductions later, Captain.’ The Doctor turned back to his work. ‘Clearfield could be back any moment.’

  ‘Clearfield?’ Wilson frowned, remembering the classified documents that Colonel Dickinson had shown him. ‘There was a Professor Clearfield in charge of the experiments during the war.’

  ‘Yes.’ The Doctor didn’t turn around. ‘And he’s very close to successfully starting up them up again. Now, if you don’t mind…’

  Wilson walked slowly around the huge grey shape that dominated the warehouse. ‘So this is the Bell…’

  ‘If you want to be completely accurate, this is Die Glocke,’ said the Doctor without looking up. ‘German engineering. Always a pleasure to work with.’

  Wilson glanced at Arnopp. ‘What do you think, Private?’

  Arnopp made a swift assessment of the machine. ‘Outside looks ceramic. Steel core. Shouldn’t be a problem, Captain. We should have enough grenades to turn it into scrap.’

  The Doctor raised his head, his brow furrowed. ‘Now you just listen here, Captain. If you think for one moment—’

  ‘No, you listen to me, Doctor. I have strict instructions to disable or destroy this machine in any way possible. Now unless you can give me a damn good reason—’

  ‘Clara Oswald.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You asked me for a good reason. She’s it. Clara Oswald.’

  Wilson frowned. ‘The girl we left back at the farm?’

  The Doctor shook his head. ‘Whatever it is that you have met, it is not Clara, just a thing inhabiting her body.’ The Doctor leaned close to the captain, his voice low. ‘Do you have family, Captain Wilson, someone close to you? Well, imagine if one of them was trapped, trapped somewhere terrible, and frightening, and more alien than you could possibly imagine. Wouldn’t you do anything to help them? Wouldn’t you take whatever risks you could in order to bring them back safely? Well, that is what I am asking. Clara is trapped, in a strange body, on a strange world. This machine can bring her back. Give me the chance to save her.’

  Wilson was silent for a moment. ‘I have a niece,’ he said finally. ‘My sister’s kid. Diagnosed with leukaemia last year. If I could do anything that could help her…’ He looked at the Doctor sadly. ‘But I can’t. And neither can you. If this machine activates, then my commanding officer has orders to bring in an airstrike that will leave this entire village as nothing more than a smoky hole in the ground.’

  The Doctor stared at him in horror. ‘Then stop it.’

  ‘Not my decision.’

  ‘Captain!’ The Doctor’s voice was like a thunderclap. ‘I need this machine to operate for a fraction of a second in order to get Clara back. After that, I will happily turn it into so much molten slag. But I will have that fraction of a second!’

  The two men faced each other for what seemed like an age, then Wilson nodded. ‘All right, Doctor. But as soon as your friend is safe, we destroy this machine.’

  ‘My word,’ said the Doctor solemnly. ‘Now, the two of you need to get out of here before Clearfield comes back.’

  Wilson checked his watch. ‘I’m assuming all this is going to kick off in about fifteen minutes. At the equinox?’

  The Doctor looked at him with surprise and nodded. ‘You’ve done your research, Captain.’

  The sound of booted feet approaching made the Captain look up sharply, hand reaching for his weapon. A third soldier hurried into the warehouse.

  Wilson relaxed his grip. ‘You’re going to be the death of me, Corporal Palmer. Sneaking in like that.’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ Palmer grinned.

  ‘So, what’s the news?’

  ‘Private Hawkins and the others are being held on the edge of a field on the other side of the railway. Couple of the zombies have got Hawkins’ rifle and Mr Sanford’s shotgun. The villagers are still doing their Wicker Man bit. That young bird? She got them putting a stone into the circle.’

  ‘A stone?’ The Doctor was on his feet in a flash. ‘What stone? Corporal, I need you to tell me exactly what is going on out there, and quickly!’

  Clearfield stepped into the stone circle, staring with incredulity at the stone that the villagers were placing into position.

  ‘I don’t believe it…’ he said weakly, running his hand over the ancient rock. ‘It was here… All this time…’

  ‘You are an idiot, Clearfield!’ Clara, or rather Gebbron, was almost purple with anger. ‘Years wasted! Endless pointless experiments!’

  ‘But, where…?’

  ‘Right under your nose! In the house of this man.’

  Gebbron pointed at where Robin Sanford was held alongside Angela and the others.

  Almost in a daze, Clearfield walked towards him. ‘You took this? You kept this hidden. Why?’ His voice hardened with anger. ‘Why?’

  Robin stared at him defiantly. ‘Because I knew that if I didn’t then one day someone would come back. To reopen the gateway. To bring back the monsters.’ He shook his head. ‘I’d seen it happen once. I wasn’t going to let it happen again. Figured that even if you could build another one of those damn machines you wouldn’t be able to just replace one of the stones.’

  Clearfield leaned close, recognition dawning on him. ‘You were there, weren’t you? One of the soldiers…’ He studied him carefully. ‘Age has not been kind to you.’

  Robin sniffed. ‘Still got all my face, though, haven’t I?’

  Clearfield’s rage and frustration boiled up. He was about to strike the old man when Clara’s voice barked out across the circle.

  ‘We’ve no time for this, Clearfield!’

  He took a deep, shuddering breath and turned away from Robin Sanford. ‘No, Gebbron.’

  He hurried over to where she was examining the stone. ‘Is it damaged in
any way?’ he asked, peering at the swirling patterns.

  ‘No. It has been well treated.’ Gebbron flashed an unpleasant smile at Robin. ‘You should have destroyed it when you had the chance.’ He turned back to Clearfield. ‘Contact Maagla. Tell him that our plans have changed. He is to get my physical form ready for immediate transfer to this planet.’ Gebbron looked down at his human form. ‘I loathe this abomination of a body. You will operate the Bell so that my consciousness is reunified the instant that it materialises. And tell General Legriss to prepare his guards.’

  Clearfield just nodded, aware that all his plans all his preparations had been for nothing. ‘What about the girl? You wish her reunified as well?’

  Gebbron said nothing.

  ‘Gebbron, if we do not transfer her mind at the same moment then it will have nowhere to go! It will just dissipate.’

  ‘Then so be it.’

  The Doctor had only just finished connecting the Bell to his TARDIS when Clearfield re-entered the laboratory.

  ‘Something wrong?’

  Clearfield looked at him blankly. The scientist looked older, frailer, suddenly. ‘We must reset the machine to the 1944 calibrations. All this –’ he waved a hand at the circle of black monoliths – ‘wasted.’

  The Doctor watched the man carefully as he stepped forward to one of the control consoles and started readjusting controls to their new settings. He was on the edge of a breakdown, of total collapse. If ever there was a chance to break through the Wyrrester conditioning…

  ‘Clearfield. If you do this, if you open that gateway, then there will be no stopping them.’

  Clearfield looked at him blankly. ‘What?’

  ‘If you give the Wyrresters asylum here on Earth then they will destroy this world, as they have destroyed every other world they have landed on.’

  ‘No.’ Clearfield shook his head. ‘No, you’re wrong. They will lead us to glory.’

  ‘Listen to me—’

  ‘It’s too late, Doctor.’ Clearfield snatched the gun from his jacket. ‘Now continue setting the calibrations. I must contact Maagla.’