Forever Autumn

by Mark Morris

  It was happening all around the showground. Children were actually turning into the creatures they had dressed up as. They had just one common factor: the eyes of each were glowing a vivid, putrescent green.

  The changes took maybe fifteen seconds. Then the lassoes of light round the children’s bodies withdrew, snapping back into the blazing eye of the vortex, like a vast creature retracting its tentacles. Horrified parents backed away from their kids. The monsters began to snarl and roar and hiss as they straightened up. They stretched their transformed muscles and shook their heads, as though throwing off the effects of a deep sleep. Some raised their claws and looked around, taking a renewed and deadly interest in their surroundings.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Martha said, feeling sick, ‘they’re going to get the kids to kill their parents, aren’t they?’

  ‘Their parents and then each other,’ said the Doctor grimly. ‘They need the terror and the blood.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘To the Hervoken, it’s just like pulling in at the petrol station and filling up the tank.’

  ‘How do we stop it?’ Martha asked.

  ‘Stay alive for a start,’ said the Doctor.

  Before she could respond, he grabbed the collar of her jacket and yanked her backwards. The transformed Thad’s claw-like hand swiped through the space where her head had been a split second before. Martha caught a glimpse of Thad’s snarling, green-eyed, utterly inhuman face. Then she and the Doctor were tumbling backwards over the low counter of a home-made jewellery stall, scattering the carefully arranged displays of earrings and brooches and bracelets.

  The owner of the stall, a young woman with henna-red hair and a baggy jumper, had already taken refuge beneath the counter, and screamed as the Doctor and Martha sprawled before her. Like a cat, the Doctor sprang upright in an instant.

  ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘It’s OK. You stay there. You’ll be fine.’

  Crouching low, he peered over the counter and was joined seconds later by Martha. The scene before them was one of sheer pandemonium.

  Adults were running, screaming, from their children, who were pursuing them with murderous intent; a huge spider (probably the girl she had given the orang-utan to, Martha realised with a thrill of horror) was scaling the metal framework of the now-motionless Ferris wheel to reach the terrified adults trapped in the upper cars; over by the main marquee, a group of adults were fending off a ravening horde of monsters with tables and chairs; nearby, Rick was lying on the ground with Thad’s hands round his throat, whilst Chris had his arms wrapped round Thad’s chest and was trying to drag him away.

  Martha scrambled over the counter to give Rick and Chris a hand. Thad was drooling and snapping, his teeth long and yellow. If Chris hadn’t been holding him, Martha had no doubt he would be trying to rip Rick’s throat out. She looked around for something to use and spotted a second-hand bookstall. She crossed to it, grabbed the biggest hardback she could find, then ran back over to the three boys and swung the book at Thad’s head. It connected with a hefty thunk and Thad’s grip loosened on Rick’s throat. She was about to deliver another blow when a voice shouted, ‘Stop!’

  It was the Doctor. ‘Don’t hurt him,’ he said. ‘Whatever they look like, remember they’re still only children.’

  ‘What are we supposed to do?’ gasped Chris, still struggling with the half-dazed Thad. ‘Reason with him?’

  ‘Let me,’ said the Doctor, dropping to his knees beside Rick’s prone body and facing the bandaged ghoul that Thad had become. He reached out with both hands, then quickly snatched one back as Thad twisted and snapped at his fingers like a dog. He blew in Thad’s face to distract him, then tried again, both hands snaking in to grip Thad’s thrashing head. He pressed his thumbs into Thad’s temples, and immediately the ferocious expression slipped from the boy’s face. His eyes closed and he slumped forward in Chris’s arms.

  ‘Lower him to the ground gently,’ said the Doctor, then swiftly examined Rick’s throat. ‘You OK, Ricky boy?’

  Rick swallowed and winced, then nodded groggily. ‘Fine,’ he croaked.

  ‘Good man.’

  Chris was looking at Thad, who was now snoring gently. ‘What was that?’ he marvelled. ‘Vulcan death-grip?’

  ‘Lepscillian massage technique,’ said the Doctor. ‘He’ll feel refreshed and bountiful when he wakes up.’

  ‘Bountiful?’ queried Martha.

  ‘Lepscillians’ favourite word. It’s all bountiful this and bountiful that on Lepscillia. Drives you bonkers after a while.’

  He stood up and looked around, his jaw clenching as he took in the scene around him. Fifty metres away a group of demons, most of them horned and red-skinned, were laying siege to a burger van. The beleaguered members of staff were throwing whatever they could find at the attacking creatures: cutlery, cooking utensils, frozen burgers, even bread rolls. The demons, lithe and agile as apes, were shaking the van, leaping onto the roof, clawing at the staff through the side opening.

  ‘No,’ breathed the Doctor as one of the staff members panicked and made a break for it out of the back doors. He was a skinny guy of around twenty, with curly hair and a scrappy beard. Although fear lent him an impressive turn of speed, he was no match for the trio of demons which broke away from the larger pack to pursue him. They fell on him like a pride of lions upon a gazelle. As the man began to scream, the Doctor looked away, his face furious, and swung his rucksack from his back.

  ‘Chris!’ shouted Martha as a zombie came shambling up behind him, arms outstretched. Chris threw himself forward, rolling over and springing to his feet. The Doctor tore open the rucksack and lifted out the Necris. With one blast of the sonic the iron band securing it broke into two pieces and fell to the ground. The Doctor held the Necris above his head.

  ‘This stops now!’ he yelled, pressing the still-active sonic against the Necris’s cover. The fleshy material began to ripple and shudder as though in pain. ‘Show yourselves, Hervoken, or your precious book gets it.’

  There was a bubbling and a boiling from the centre of the vortex, and suddenly there they were, a dozen or more Hervoken, materialising out of thin air. They hovered ten metres above the ground, in a wide circle around the Doctor, tall and spindly, like great black carrion crows.

  Rick gasped at his first sight of the aliens and dropped to his knees. Chris moaned and cowered in fear. Martha clenched her fists, but stood her ground, shoulder to shoulder with the Doctor.

  Hair still blowing around his head, arms raised aloft, the Doctor shouted, ‘Right, this is the deal. Listen carefully. I’m not open to negotiation. You put an end to this slaughter now or I’ll destroy the Necris. And don’t think I can’t or I won’t, because I can and I will. I’ve broken through every one of its defences, and all I have to do is increase the sonic frequency by another few levels, and your indispensable little starter motor will be dust. And don’t think you can snatch it away with your spells either. The sonic field has been configured to deflect any rescue attempt. You try to transmat this beauty and your energy will bounce right back atcha. As long as my sonic is in contact with your Necris, you can’t do a thing, you can only listen.’

  He paused briefly and looked around the circle of Hervoken, his expression steely. Then he said, ‘OK, what’s going to happen is this. The people of Blackwood Falls want you out of their town and off their planet. So you put an end to this now and I’ll find you another source of fuel – one that doesn’t involve killing people. I can do it, easy. I’m good with engines. Soon as the ship’s ready, we’ll clear the town and you can vamoose. All right, you’ll wreck a few houses, but so what? Houses are just things, aren’t they? They’re not important – like people, like lives. This way you get your Necris back and you get to keep your ship. Course, you’ll have to keep an eye out for the Eternals whilst you’re up there, but that’s your problem. Once you’re off this planet, our association ends.’

  Despite the continuing screams and cries and roars,
not to mention the still-blaring music, the echoes of the Doctor’s voice seemed to ring out around the showground. The Hervoken regarded him impassively, not responding.

  ‘Well, come on,’ the Doctor shouted, ‘I haven’t got all—’

  Something swooped from the sky, seeming to appear from nowhere. Martha ducked, thinking it was a huge bird, an eagle perhaps. The flying creature snatched the book from the Doctor’s hand before he had a chance to alter the frequency of the sonic. Martha saw that it was some kind of sprite or evil fairy – doubtless another of the transformed children. She looked back at the Doctor, still not entirely sure what had happened, and saw an expression of horror on his face.

  ‘No!’ he shouted.

  The Hervoken leader gave a triumphant hiss and performed a magician-like flourish whose meaning was patently obvious: You lose. The Doctor and Martha could do nothing but watch as the sprite delivered the Necris into the Hervoken leader’s hands. The alien opened its mouth wide in what Martha could only think of as a gloating grin and muttered a quick incantation. A fizzing green light enveloped the Necris, and it faded away…

  … to reappear seconds later in the hollow on top of the central dais in the main chamber of the Hervoken ship. Instantly the mass of claw-like roots fringing the hollow clamped into place over the book, like the jaws of a Venus flytrap closing on an unsuspecting insect.

  Martha felt numb. They had lost. The Doctor had made the silliest, most fundamental mistake by not looking behind him, and suddenly it was all over.

  As some of the hideous creatures that had once been children closed in on them, Martha thought of her family: her mum and dad, and her brother Leo and her sister Tish. She thought of her flat and her job back in London, thought of how her life had changed so irrevocably in such a short time, of all the amazing things she’d done. She’d seen Shakespeare’s England and 1930s New York; she’d been on the prison planet Volag-Noc and travelled on real-life spaceships; she’d survived encounters with Plasmavores and Daleks, real-life witches and giant, pollution-guzzling crabs. And now it was all going to end here, ripped apart by a bunch of possessed children. As though he sensed her thoughts, the Doctor took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

  She looked up at him. His face was sombre, almost wistful. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured to the Hervoken. Then he held up his sonic screwdriver.

  The Necris convulsed, sending a shock wave through the Hervoken ship. Then, like a giant sponge, it began to absorb energy, to suck the already thin life-blood from the veins of the vessel at an incredible speed. Ripples of energy flowed from the thrashing vines. The central dais pulsed and shimmered as the ship’s entire stock of reserve power converged on it.

  Like a heart engorged with blood, the Necris began to swell and rupture. As it absorbed more power than it was designed to hold, it started to glow fiercely, like a reactor core reaching critical mass. A high-pitched whine filled the Hervoken ship – a whine that escalated rapidly into what sounded like a scream of unbearable pain…

  The ring of transformed children closing in on the Doctor, Martha, Rick and Chris suddenly stopped. Some of the creatures stood stock-still, like soldiers awaiting orders, whilst others began to sway and stagger about in confusion.

  One child, which had become a hulking Frankenstein’s monster with a scarred, patchwork face and clomping lead boots, raised its hands to its head and dropped to its knees with a groan. As Martha watched, she saw the greenish lustre fade from the children’s eyes, and then a ripple of energy leave each of their bodies and spiral upwards into the vortex of mist. The image made her think of a mass of souls vacating the bodies of the dead. However, these children were not dying; instead, they were being given back their lives.

  The instant the energy left them, each of the kids reverted to how they had been before the Hervoken spell had consumed them. As they became themselves again, they looked around, dazed and shocked, as if waking from a collective nightmare. A few burst into tears; some cried out for their parents. Martha watched the Frankenstein’s monster peel the mask from its face and realised it was Rick’s friend, Scott.

  Meanwhile, something was happening to the Hervoken. They were beginning to thrash about like black sheets in a strong wind, to wail in their thin, childlike voices. The Doctor watched them unblinkingly, his face like thunder, sonic still held out before him, its piercing warble splicing the air.

  The thrashing of the Hervoken became increasingly more frenzied. Martha thought of animals caught in traps, struggling desperately to escape. She saw their huge pale heads beginning to blacken and shrivel, their eyes sinking into their sockets, their many-jointed fingers curling up like burning twigs. Finally, their bodies began to crumble away, like vampires in sunlight, and within seconds they were nothing but ribbons of black ash, streaming into the centre of the vortex.

  With the Hervoken gone, the green mist, which had shrouded Blackwood Falls since the Necris had been unearthed over twenty-four hours earlier, began rapidly to disperse. It too drained into the vortex, the radiance at the centre of which gradually faded and shrank until there was nothing left but darkness.

  Once the mist had cleared, the vortex itself dwindled and died, simply petering out like a spent tornado. Suddenly Martha realised that for the first time since they had arrived she could see stars twinkling in the night sky. She took a deep breath, relishing the cold, clean sharpness of the air.

  She turned to the Doctor and was about to speak when she heard and felt a deep, subterranean rumble. Almost immediately the night sky some distance away was illuminated by a harsh white glow, which surged upwards before disintegrating into a million greenish sparks that winked out as they fell slowly back to earth.

  ‘What was that?’ asked Rick in a small, shocked voice.

  Martha began to shake her head, and then all at once it came to her.

  ‘It was the Hervoken ship, wasn’t it, Doctor? The tree. You did something to the book, didn’t you? Drained off their energy.’

  The Doctor, his face grim, turned off his sonic and pocketed it before giving her a curt nod.

  ‘Never underestimate the power of the printed word,’ he said. ‘End of story.’

  The Doctor and Martha stood with the Pirelli family, staring into the ash-filled crater at the bottom of the garden. There was no trace whatsoever of the black tree. Not a single twig had survived.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Tony Pirelli kept saying, shining his torch down into the hole. ‘I just don’t believe it.’

  The Doctor said nothing.

  His face was expressionless, his hands stuffed in his pockets. It was Martha who had insisted on taking the boys home. The Doctor had wanted to slope off without saying goodbye, leaving the Blackwood Falls townsfolk to pick up the pieces of their lives.

  ‘Believe me,’ he had said to her, ‘it’s easier that way.’

  ‘For who?’ she had demanded, and he had just sighed.

  In the end, he had agreed to stay a bit longer. He might be the one who usually called the shots, but when she dug her heels in, when she made it known that something was important to her, he was usually OK about it.

  People had died tonight. Wherever they went, people always died. And Martha thought part of the reason the Doctor never wanted to stick around afterwards was so that he didn’t have to come to terms with that. Maybe he thought that death followed him around, that when people died it was his fault. He had saved countless lives even in the short time she had been with him, but he never failed to be haunted by the ones he didn’t save.

  Rick looked up at the Doctor now with something like awe. ‘What did you do?’ he asked.

  ‘I subverted the kinetic flow of the energy generated by the Necris,’ the Doctor replied. ‘It caused the ship to implode.’ He sounded almost ashamed.

  ‘Huh?’ said Rick.

  ‘He made their spells run backwards,’ said Martha, knowing she was massively oversimplifying what in reality was no doubt a very
convoluted and technical explanation. ‘He undid everything the Hervoken had done.’ Suddenly a thought struck her. ‘Hey, does this mean Mr Clayton will have got his mouth back?’

  ‘S’pose,’ muttered the Doctor.

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ she said, trying to cheer him up.

  ‘Hmm,’ he replied.

  ‘So this Necris thing?’ said Chris. ‘You changed it with your little torch? When you were hanging out in my room this afternoon?’

  ‘It wasn’t hard,’ said the Doctor almost apologetically. ‘It was just a bit of basic tinkering.’

  ‘The hard bit was convincing the Hervoken they’d beaten you,’ said Martha. ‘You certainly fooled me.’

  The Doctor shrugged. ‘They’d have been suspicious if I’d just given the Necris back to them, even if I’d made it sound like an exchange for the lives of the townspeople. They’d have checked it over and found out what I’d done. I knew our only chance was to make them think they’d outsmarted me. They were hoist with their own petard.’

  ‘But what if they’d agreed to your terms?’ said Martha. ‘Would you have fixed the Necris for them and let them destroy the town?’

  The Doctor frowned. ‘I knew they wouldn’t.’

  ‘But what if they had?’

  He looked at her, and his eyes suddenly seemed as black and depthless as space. ‘I gave them their chance,’ he said evenly. ‘They didn’t take it.’

  Martha saw Tony and Amanda Pirelli looking at the Doctor almost warily, and knew what they were thinking: Is this the kind of person we want our boys hanging around with?

  ‘Excuse me, mister,’ Tony said almost hesitantly, ‘but who exactly are you again?’