by Mark Morris
Flanked by the boys, she crossed the square and began walking past the line of shops on her right. There was a dry cleaner’s, a drugstore, an electrical store and an old-fashioned barber’s shop with no customers (Martha could see the portly figure of the barber in the brightly lit interior, sitting in his own barber’s chair, reading a newspaper). Next was a sandwich shop with a ‘Closed’ sign on the door, and next to that was a fancy dress place called Tozier’s Costume Emporium. They were walking past this when Rick stopped so suddenly that Martha almost stumbled into the back of him.
‘Oof,’ she said. ‘What you doing?’
Rick was staring at the window display. Surrounded by pumpkins and plastic skulls and a couple of broomsticks, and framed by a black sheet festooned with rubber masks and plastic spiders and woolly swathes of cobweb, was a six-foot clown. It had big white hands and a multicoloured harlequin costume and a madly grinning face.
‘There’s something weird about the clown,’ he said.
Scott snorted. ‘Come on, man, that dude’s been there all week.’
‘Yeah, I know that,’ Rick said with a scowl, ‘but it’s different to how it was before. More real somehow.’
‘Aw, you’re just—’ Scott began.
But then Thad said, ‘Nah, Rick’s right. Look at its eyes.’
They all craned forward to peer through the mist. Instead of the previously blank eye sockets, the clown had what appeared to be real, gleaming, staring eyes. What was more, the eyes seemed to be glowing with a soft green light. Thad put his hand flat on the window and leaned forward so that his nose was almost touching the glass…
… and that was when the clown opened its grotesquely wide mouth and grinned at him, revealing a set of gleaming silver teeth, pointed like knives.
As Thad reeled back with a shocked cry, the clown raised its huge hands. Before their eyes its fat sausage-like fingers, encased in snowy-white gloves, suddenly extended into long, bear-like claws.
Scott uttered a single girlish scream and ran off in the direction they had come, his bulky frame swallowed by the mist within seconds. A split-second later, Thad spun round and took off too, cutting diagonally across the square, his actions belying his brave words of only minutes before. Rick, however, simply stood there, staring at the clown, apparently too stunned to flee. Shifting the weight of the Necris into the crook of her left arm, Martha reached out and grabbed his hand.
‘Run!’ she said.
They ran up the street, passing a whole bunch of other stores that Martha didn’t even register. Behind them she heard the shattering of glass, and glanced back to see that the clown had simply jumped through the big plate-glass display window. She saw it standing on the pavement, shaking itself like a dog, shedding shards of glass which tinkled onto the ground around it. Then it came loping after them, its big shoes slapping the pavement as it gave chase. Martha heard it giggling maniacally, but there was nothing jolly in the sound. It was purely and simply the gleeful blood-lust of a predator running down its prey.
Across the square they ran, and up several more streets. Soon they were fleeing through the residential area of Blackwood Falls, along tree-lined pavements edged with picket fences, beyond which pretty clapboard houses nestled at the ends of long, well-clipped lawns. The streets were mostly silent and deserted, and the houses themselves swathed in mist, though dotted here and there Martha could see the faint orange glow from the occasional Halloween pumpkin sitting on someone’s front porch.
Despite its vast shoes, and the fact that Martha and Rick were running at full speed, the clown seemed to be keeping pace with them easily. Above their own panting breath, they could hear the rapid slap of its relentless pursuit, each of its footsteps like the crack of a whip. They could also hear its hideous, insane chuckling and the occasional splintering crack of wood as the creature slashed at fences and trees with its curved white claws. Martha tried not to think how much damage those claws would do if the clown got close enough to use them on her, tried instead to concentrate on how they might get out of this without having to give up the Necris, how they could possibly turn the tables or give the creature the slip before they arrived at Rick’s house.
What would the Doctor do? she thought, and almost immediately the answer came to her: he’d make use of the available resources. He’d keep his eyes peeled, his mind alert and his senses tuned to his surroundings, in the hope of spotting something – anything – that would give him an advantage.
She looked around as she ran, her eyes scanning the pavement, the road, the lawns. This little patch of suburban America, however, was annoyingly featureless. Where were the twig-covered pits when you needed them? The giant nets that dropped from trees? The trip-wires?
Just as this last thought flashed into her mind, Martha glanced to her left and saw a selection of toys that a child (a girl, she guessed) had left carelessly strewn on her front lawn. There was a pink bike with a white seat and handlebar-tassels, a plastic ball brightly emblazoned with images from The Little Mermaid, and a red-handled skipping rope.
It was the rope which gave Martha the idea. Judging that the clown was maybe fifteen seconds behind them, she panted, ‘Hang on a sec,’ then vaulted the low fence and snatched the rope up off the ground. Jumping back over the fence, she tossed one end to Rick. ‘Quick,’ she said, ‘get behind that tree there, and hold on tight to the handle. When I shout “Now”, pull as hard as you can. OK?’
Rick looked scared, but he nodded and scampered to conceal himself behind the tree that Martha had indicated. Holding the other end of the rope, she ducked below the low hedge separating the rope-owner’s property from the one next door. As the clown lolloped towards their hiding place, still giggling like a loon, Martha tensed, her stomach roiling, her mouth dry. Every instinct screamed at her to jump to her feet and run like hell, but she resisted, and hoped fervently that Rick would be able to do the same.
Martha’s muscles bunched as the clown came closer. She could hear the scythe-like swoosh as its claws whistled through the air. She glanced across at Rick, but his face was a blur in the mist. All she could see of his expression was the glint of his wide, scared eyes.
As the clown came parallel with their hiding-place, Martha screamed, ‘Now!’ and threw herself backwards as if engaged in a tug of war. For a second she was terrified that she’d yanked the rope right out of Rick’s hands, but then she felt a corresponding tug on the other end. The rope, which had been lying slack on the ground between them, tautened, rising into the air. Martha gritted her teeth and held on for all she was worth as the clown’s giant shoe became tangled in the rope and it pitched forward, like a diver doing a belly-flop into a swimming pool.
The clown landed flat on its great, grinning face, its hands slapping the ground. It might have been her imagination, but Martha was sure she heard a comical honk as the creature’s bulbous nose connected with the pavement. In one slick movement, she let go of the rope, grabbed the Necris, which she had put down on the ground beside her, and rose to her feet. She leaped onto the pavement, swung the Necris and brought it slamming down on top of the clown’s head, just as it was in the process of bracing its clawed hands on the ground to push itself back to its feet.
There was a flash of green fire, which threw Martha backwards. She went clean over the picket fence and landed next to the pink bike on the toy-strewn lawn. For a moment she lay there, dazed, wondering whether she had been struck by lightning. Then she heard a muffled groaning sound and propped herself up on her elbows. The groaning was coming from the clown, which was lying on its back on the ground, holding its head.
From the murky gloom on the other side of the pavement, a dark shape crept forward. It was Rick, a wary expression on his face. He looked down at the clown and then at Martha.
‘I think you broke the spell,’ he said. ‘When you hit him with the book. I think you bust a connection or something.’
‘Careful,’ Martha said as Rick took a step closer.
; ‘I think it’s OK,’ Rick said. ‘I think he’s just a regular guy in a mask now. Look at his hands. They’re back to normal. And his face. It’s just rubber again. It doesn’t look alive any more.’
Martha scrambled to her feet. Still feeling woozy, she shook her head. She handed the Necris to Rick and said, ‘Give him another whack if he makes any sudden moves.’ Then she stepped forward, grabbed a handful of the spiky orange hair and tugged upwards.
The clown mask peeled away to reveal a plump, red-faced man with a bushy white moustache. He blinked confusedly up at her.
‘Mr Tozier!’ cried Rick.
Her heart still thumping with reaction, Martha said, ‘Don’t tell me, let me guess – you would have gotten away with it if it hadn’t been for us meddling kids?’
The plump man seemed to have no idea where he was. ‘Huh?’ he said. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Martha,’ replied Martha, holding out a hand, ‘and despite the lump on your head I reckon I’ve just done you a favour. Welcome back, Mr Tozier.’
The Doctor strolled into the central chamber, his hands in his pockets. ‘Hello there,’ he said. ‘How’s it going?’
The Hervoken drifted towards him, surrounded him. Their leader towered over him, hissing softly.
‘It’s all right,’ the Doctor said, ‘you don’t have to pretend to look surprised to see me. You knew I was coming, and I know that you knew I was coming. I wouldn’t have got this far if you lot hadn’t wanted me to. Which is an encouraging sign. It indicates that you’re willing to talk, or at least that you’re naturally curious about me, which is almost as good. Unless you just want to kill me, of course – which isn’t so good. Well, not for me anyway. But I’m willing to take that risk. I mean you’re an intelligent bunch. You wouldn’t just bump someone off for the hell of it. Er… would you?’
He smiled up into the wide, squashy face of the Hervoken leader. The alien made a number of odd gestures and seemingly arbitrary sounds, which – thanks to the clever old TARDIS – the Doctor understood perfectly.
‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I’m here to talk. I would request parlay in compliance with the Shadow Proclamation… but I doubt whether that would mean much to you lot.’
The Hervoken leader made another series of gestures and sounds, which the Doctor interpreted as a question: What do you want to talk about? He sensed a certain sneery attitude in the way the question was phrased, however, and suspected that a more literal translation would be something like: What could you possibly have to say that would be even remotely interesting to us?
The Doctor dropped the bonhomie and adopted a more business-like approach. ‘I’ve got a proposition for you,’ he said, ‘a once-in-a-lifetime offer. I’ll take you back to your home world in my TARDIS. That way no one gets hurt. That’s it. Simple and straightforward. Take it or leave it.’
The Hervoken looked at each other. The Doctor could almost sense the thoughts zipping between them. Then they did something odd. They began to jerk and shiver. Their long-taloned hands performed erratic little dances in the air. They opened their mouths and ground their jagged teeth together, creating cascading bursts of green sparks, which dissolved like smoke on the air.
The Doctor folded his arms and frowned. ‘I’m not laughing,’ he said.
The Hervoken leader pointed at him. It uttered a series of arcane words, interspersed with grunts and hisses. It twizzled and stabbed at the air with its fingers.
The Doctor’s face grew grim. He recognised a refusal when he saw one. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to stop you. So don’t come crying to me later, saying I didn’t give you a chance.’
He shoved his hands back into his pockets and turned sharply on his heel. He was halfway across the chamber floor when a thick black tendril lashed out from the wall and twined itself round his ankle. It was instantly joined by another, which curled itself like a boa constrictor around his upper body, pinning his arms to his sides. Within seconds the Doctor had been rendered immobile, half a dozen of the black vines having wrapped themselves around him. He was lifted up and turned around to face the hovering Hervoken.
‘Oh, now I’m really peeved,’ he said. ‘Now you’re definitely off my Christmas card list.’
‘RICK!’ EXCLAIMED AMANDA Pirelli, surprised. ‘What are you doing home? I thought you were helping your dad set up the Carnival.’
‘Er… we were, Mom, but something came up.’
She frowned. ‘What sort of something?’
‘It’s complicated,’ he said. ‘I’ve brought someone home with me. Is that OK?’
Her frown deepened. ‘What do you mean, “someone”? What’s going on, Rick?’
‘Maybe it’d be better if she explained,’ Rick said.
‘She? What do you… oh.’
Martha had been hovering outside the kitchen door, but she took Rick’s fumbled introduction as a cue to make her entrance. As soon as she stepped into the room, she saw the expression on Rick’s mom’s face change from bewilderment to alarm, and knew instantly what she was thinking.
‘Hiya, Mrs Pirelli,’ she said. ‘My name’s Martha Jones. There’s nothing to worry about. Rick’s just been helping us out, that’s all.’
‘Us?’ said Amanda, looking from Martha to Rick and then back again. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘Like I said, Mom, it’s complicated,’ said Rick miserably.
‘Are you in trouble?’ she asked.
‘You could say that, yeah.’
Her expression hardened. ‘Well, maybe you’d better tell me about it.’
‘You’d never believe us.’
‘Try me.’
Rick looked desperately at Martha. She said, ‘I think maybe you’d better sit down first, Mrs Pirelli.’
Amanda glared at her. ‘I will not sit down! This is my house! Now will someone please tell me what’s going on, or shall I call the police?’
Martha sighed and held up the Necris. ‘It started when Rick and his friends dug this up,’ she said.
‘Dug it up? What do you mean, dug it up? Dug it up from where?’
‘From under the tree, Mom,’ said Rick. ‘The black tree at the bottom of the garden? Only it’s not really a tree, it’s—’
‘Let’s not jump the gun,’ said Martha hastily. She nodded wearily at the dining table in the centre of the kitchen floor. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’
Amanda pursed her lips, and Martha was sure she was about to say, ‘I’d rather you leave.’ But then she gave a brief nod, and Martha sank gratefully onto a wooden dining chair.
Haltingly, hesitantly, Martha and Rick told Amanda about the book, the tree, the mist, the Hervoken. It was not easy. Although Rick’s mother listened to the story mostly in silence, she did so with an increasingly incredulous expression. When they were done, she blurted, ‘Do you honestly expect me to believe all of this?’
‘But it’s true, Mom,’ said Rick. ‘I swear.’
‘Nonsense,’ snapped Amanda. ‘I don’t know why this… this woman has been filling your head with such garbage, but I don’t—’
And then a quiet voice from the doorway said, ‘It is true, Mom. Every word.’
They all turned. Chris was standing there, hollow-eyed and haunted. He came into the room. ‘I’ve seen one of them,’ he said. ‘One of the aliens.’ He nodded at Martha. ‘I talked to your friend, the Doctor, about it.’
‘You’ve seen…’ Amanda said faintly. She slumped back against the kitchen counter, as if the strength had gone out of her legs. ‘Where was this?’
‘Right out there,’ said Chris, pointing at the kitchen window. ‘Over by the tree.’
Rick looked at his brother with something like awe. ‘What did it look like?’ he asked.
‘Like something out of a nightmare,’ said Chris. ‘Ten feet tall, thin, with a great big head and fingers as long as your arm.’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t ever want to see one again.’
‘Now do you believe
us, Mrs Pirelli?’ asked Martha.
Rick’s mother looked uncertain; her hands were shaking. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I mean… how can I? It’s crazy.’
‘What do you think’s causing this mist?’ said Rick.
‘And that earth tremor earlier?’ said Chris. ‘That was the tree. I know it was.’
Martha was nodding. ‘It was the Doctor. He did that. Gave it a drop of his blood. It couldn’t handle it.’
‘Alien blood,’ said Rick.
‘I need to sit down,’ said Amanda.
Chris fetched his mother a chair and she plumped into it gratefully. ‘So this book?’ she ventured.
‘It’s called the Necris,’ said Martha. ‘It’s vital to them. It’s my job to keep it safe.’
‘Our job,’ Rick corrected her.
‘Safe from what?’ Amanda asked.
‘The Hervoken… well, their agents. The Doctor said they’d send agents to retrieve it.’
‘And these agents would be…?’
‘Anything,’ said Rick. ‘The Hervoken can make things come alive.’
At that precise moment they heard a fluttering sound from the hallway outside the kitchen, and then something thumped against the door. The first thump was followed by several others in quick succession. Whatever the objects were, they were small but compact and they had a bit of weight to them.
Martha’s initial thought was that the door was being pelted with tennis balls – or at least something of a similar size and shape. She looked at Rick. Having barely recovered from their pursuit by the clown, he was now wide-eyed and pale all over again.