Doctor Who BBCN19 - Wishing Well

by Doctor Who

  ‘What about us?’ asked Martha. She and the Doctor were left stranded in the middle of a mud bath heaving with Vurosis weeds.

  But the Doctor was already tearing off in another direction altogether, heading for someone else nearer the well.

  Nigel Carson was crawling along on his hands and knees towards the Vurosis, ignoring the white tendrils that snatched at his ankles and wrists. ‘No! It’s me!’ he cried. ‘It’s Nigel! I’m here!’

  Martha couldn’t believe what she was seeing. ‘What does he think he’s doing?’

  ‘He still thinks the brain is going to talk to him again.’

  ‘He must be crazy.’

  ‘Desperate,’ the Doctor corrected her. ‘But then, so are we.’

  ‘What?’ Martha watched as the Doctor ran after Nigel. She hurried after him, guessing that it was only the fact that they had kept moving that had saved them from the weeds so far.

  Nigel rose up on his knees before the Vurosis, like a supplicant at 161

  prayer. He held his hands aloft and cried out to it once more. ‘Why did you leave me?’ he implored. ‘Why?’

  All at once Martha realised he was addressing a particular part of the creature which now curled out from the well-shaft like an enormous maggot crawling out of the ground. A convoluted series of inter-locking cartilage plates shifted as Nigel spoke, opening like the flowers of a petal to reveal a cluster of blood-red eyes the size of melons. Each eyeball was veined with milky lines and had a central, gleaming black pupil. They all moved independently, revolving in the flesh, some of them bulging out as if seeking a better view of the man kneeling before them.

  ‘Can’t you hear me?’ Nigel wailed. ‘Do you even recognise me?’

  A hole opened up beneath the distending eyes with a horrible sucking noise. A green light shone from inside it, and as the hole widened Martha saw, and recognised, the stone that belonged to Nigel. It was shining with a rich, emerald light.

  –nigel carson–

  Nigel sat bolt upright and sobbed with relief. ‘Yes! Yes! It’s me!’

  –you have been very useful to me–

  Martha looked at the Doctor, a question on her face. He nodded grimly. ‘Yes. I can hear it too.’

  ‘Oh, please, thank you, thank you. . . ’ babbled Nigel. He edged forward on his knees, squelching through the mud. ‘I thought you had forgotten me!’

  –not forgotten–

  ‘Thank goodness!’

  –just ignored–

  ‘What?’ Nigel frowned in disbelief. ‘What do you mean, ignored?’

  –you were useful to me–

  The brain glowed brighter.

  –but not any more–

  A blinding spark licked from the mouth of the Vurosis and connected with Nigel Carson’s head. He was instantly enveloped in a cocoon of shimmering green light. He threw back his head and arms and screamed, long and hard, as his body blackened and cracked and 162

  then crumbled into glowing fragments. The light died as the mouth closed with a rasp, and the human remains were scattered in the mud like dying embers. Within moments they had faded to nothing more than bits of grey clinker and dust.

  There was silence for a few seconds, and then Martha heard a slow, deliberate hand clap.

  ‘Oh, very good,’ said the Doctor. ‘Instant biomutation – every cell in the body changes too fast and overloads. The energy increase has nowhere to go, so phff ! Zap! Gone! Of course, I’ve seen it before.

  Remember Barney Hackett?’

  There was a pause.

  –you address me–

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’ The Doctor stalked forwards, hands in pockets.

  ‘Vurosis, isn’t it? From somewhere near Actron Pleiades?’

  –you understand my origin–

  ‘I understand quite a lot of things, Quantum physics and time travel. Black hole theory and cellular regeneration. I even understand cricket. But what I can’t understand. . . is why you did that to poor Nigel.’

  –he was no longer useful–

  ‘Seems a little harsh.’

  –that is irrelevant–

  ‘Ah. I thought you’d say something like that.’

  –what are you? you are not like these other things–

  ‘I’m the Doctor.’

  –you are not of this world–

  ‘No, I’m just a guest here. A bit like you.’ The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Well, when I say a bit like you, of course I don’t mean anything like you. For one thing I don’t have tentacles. And for another, my brain isn’t detachable. You know, that must be a pretty useful knack to have.’ A frown crossed the Doctor’s face. ‘Then again, I can’t think what for.’

  –i have no interest in you–

  ‘What? No interest at all? Surely you want an autograph.’ The Doctor smiled and winked, ‘They usually do.’

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  Martha moved a step closer to the Doctor. ‘What are you doing?’

  she whispered.

  ‘I’ve no idea. What are you doing?’

  ‘Watching you talk yourself into an early grave. That thing could kill you like that.’ Martha snapped her fingers.

  ‘It could – but it hasn’t. Interesting, isn’t it?’

  The Vurosis may have been listening to this exchange, or it may not. It was impossible to tell. For all Martha knew, it had already lost interest in the Doctor. White roots were still creeping through the mud, probing at their feet and ankles, but apparently willing to leave them alone for now. Whatever that meant Martha could not guess.

  She risked a glance behind her. What she saw was like a vision from another world. The village green had disappeared. In its place was a carpet of white weed, stalks waving out of the mud like the fingers of a hundred corpses searching for a way out of the grave. Here and there were larger clumps of the strange plant-like growth, some a couple of metres high, like small, twisted trees made of bone. They were the remains of the people who had been caught on the green when the Vurosis retaliated.

  Further out, right at the edge of what once had been a perfect lawn, there was movement. Thin, wire-like strands, knotted with what looked like thorns, were rising from the ground. They grew rapidly, extending up and around the area, forming a barrier around the village green like a wall of brambles. Beyond them, Martha could see Angela’s Land-Rover. Soon it had all but disappeared behind a forest of thorns.

  ‘It’s cutting us off,’ said the Doctor surprisingly calmly. ‘An exclusion zone around the well. Why?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Martha could hardly speak. ‘It’s won, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Has it? Why’s it growing a big, thorny wall around us, then?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s protecting itself,’ the Doctor told her quietly. ‘Which means it’s vulnerable.’

  ‘How?’ Martha looked back at the Vurosis. It was still oozing slowly from the well-shaft.

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  ‘I wonder. . . ’ The Doctor stepped closer to the well and then spoke loudly. ‘Must be an awful tight fit in that well. Don’t tell me you’re stuck!’

  The Vurosis leaned down, its brain glowing fiercely in its socket.

  –i will grow–

  ‘And then what?’ The Doctor pursed his lips in thought. ‘No, don’t tell me: you’ll spread out over the whole planet, destroying everything and everyone in your path.’

  –i will grow and thrive–

  The Doctor turned to Martha. ‘There you are, Martha. What did I tell you? The Vurosis is nothing more than a type of weed. Alien, yes.

  Virulent, certainly. But at the end of the day – just a weed. And it’ll do exactly what all weeds do – grow, and spread, and choke the life out of everything else around them.’

  ‘So what we need is some weedkiller?’

  ‘Good try, but wrong. This isn’t really a plant, or even an animal.

  There are no toxins on Earth that could harm it. Left to its own devices, it will extend its roots deeper and deeper
into the ground, extending far beyond Creighton Mere, the surrounding villages, Derbyshire, the north of England. . . it will never stop, and nothing will stop it. As it spreads, it will reproduce more versions of itself, which in turn will spread and reproduce as well. Before long, it’ll cover the whole of England, then Great Britain. . . ’

  Martha shook her head. ‘No, that can’t happen. Somehow they’ll find a way to stop it.’

  The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘“They”?’

  ‘The authorities. The Government – the Army. They’ll blast it or burn it or something.’

  ‘Nah.’ The Doctor put his hands in his pockets. ‘They’ll never get it all. It’ll spread too deep, too far. And if there’s even a bit of it left alive, it’ll find a way to grow. That’s what the Vurosis does – survives, grows, spreads, kills.’ Now the Doctor looked directly at her. ‘If we’re going to stop it, it’s got to be here, now, while it’s still vulnerable.’

  ‘While it’s building its protective barrier?’

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  ‘Yeah.’ The Doctor turned on his heel and looked at the thorny growth. He lowered his voice. ‘But what’s it protecting itself from?’

  ‘And why hasn’t it zapped us into dust?’

  ‘Ooh! Oh! That’s a good question!’ The Doctor’s eyes widened as his brain moved up a gear. ‘I wonder. . . ’ He tailed off and then slapped his forehead. ‘I know!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look all around you! Look at what it’s doing – growing stuff, spreading its roots, manufacturing a nice little nest for itself.’ The thorns had grown much higher now, curving inwards towards the Vurosis as if forming a huge, tangled dome of brambles over the village green. ‘It’s been cooped up down the bottom of that well for so long, this is the first chance it’s ever had to flex its muscles properly.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So what does it need for all that sudden, accelerated growth?’

  ‘Energy.’

  ‘Top of the class, again! Which means there’s no more energy left to transmutate us into oblivion. Simply put – it’s leaving us alone while it concentrates on a more important task!’

  Martha nodded. ‘And I suppose it’s leaving us alone because we don’t pose any kind of threat.’

  ‘Martha Jones!’ The Doctor gave her an admonishing look. ‘Shame on you! Us? Not pose a threat to an alien weed trying to destroy all life on Earth? We can pose a threat to anything if we put our minds to it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We put our minds to it.’ The Doctor tapped the side of his head energetically. ‘That thing can mutate every cell in your body by telekinesis, remember. But it has to keep that mental hold if it wants to maintain the transformation. Duncan changed back to human form as soon as the Vurosis broke the telekinetic link. That’s its weakness!’

  ‘Weakness?’

  The Doctor straightened up, turning to face the Vurosis and squaring his shoulders. ‘Hey, you! Weed! I want a word with you.’

  –do not interrupt the nesting–

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  ‘Sorry, this is important. Small matter of life and death. This planet’s life and your death.’

  –if you persist i will destroy you–

  ‘What? Really?’ The Doctor scoffed. ‘Use your telekinetic power to warp every cell in my body into your shape? I doubt it!’

  –i will destroy you–

  ‘No way! You couldn’t transmutate your way out of a paper bag!’

  ‘Doctor. . . ’ warned Martha.

  But it was too late. With a savage hiss, the Vurosis opened its circular maw and exposed the glowing brain within. Before she could do anything, Martha saw the flash of green light spitting out towards the Doctor. A yell of anguish built inside her throat as the emerald spark connected with the Doctor’s forehead.

  ‘Won’t. . . work on me,’ he gasped. His voice sounded strained and he was already being forced to his knees as the Vurosis energy bore down on him. ‘My mind is stronger. . . than a human’s,’ the Doctor groaned. ‘You. . . can’t. . . bend. . . it. . . so. . . easily. . . ’

  But it could. The Doctor sagged beneath the onslaught of the green ray, his face contorted in agony. Martha knew then without any doubt that the Doctor had seriously underestimated the power of the Vurosis. His head snapped up, twisting around until his eyes stared straight into hers, full of pain and fear.

  And then the change began. As she watched, almost overcome by panic and anger, Martha saw the veins in the Doctor’s head and face bulge and rise up, whitening, about to break out like wires through the skin.

  Martha felt herself paralysed, almost faint with fear.

  The Doctor’s hand stretched up towards her, the fingers already beginning to twist out of shape.

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  Angela sat at the wheel of her Land-Rover and cursed loudly.

  If Gaskin was shocked by such colourful language, he didn’t show it. His attention was focused on the strange wall of brambles that had grown, like something from a fairy tale, right around the village green.

  The stems were wire-thin, barbed with long, vicious thorns, curving up towards the night sky over the well.

  It was a surreal vision. The street lights outside the Drinking Hole cast an unearthly glow over the spiky dome, making it look like a vast, alien pustule on the face of the Earth. The brambles – or whatever they actually were – were still growing as they watched, extruding from the ground beneath their feet, bending and weaving themselves together to form an impenetrable barrier.

  Villagers had gathered around the dome, although almost all of them were keeping their distance. Many were talking on mobile phones or taking pictures. Someone ran out of the pub to say that the police had been called, along with the ambulance service and the fire brigade.

  ‘Might as well call in the Marines as well,’ muttered Gaskin.

  ‘What do you mean?’

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  ‘They won’t get here in time. The Doctor and Martha are inside that thing – trapped. They could be dead already for all we know.’

  Duncan leaned forward between the front seats. His face was pale and haggard, but otherwise back to normal. ‘But we don’t know,’ he said. ‘They could still be alive.’

  ‘What can we do, though?’ Gaskin asked, gesturing impatiently at the forest of thorns. ‘Look at that thing! It’s the perfect barrier.’

  ‘It wants to keep us out, then,’ Duncan said.

  ‘You know,’ said Angela, her eyes narrowing, ‘I really don’t feel like doing anything that thing wants, do you?’

  ‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Gaskin.

  ‘Well, as Duncan says. . . it clearly wants to keep us out. I don’t think we should give it that satisfaction, do you?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s much we can do about it.’

  ‘Really?’

  She straightened her bush hat and then turned the key in the ignition. The Land-Rover rumbled into life.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Gaskin asked.

  ‘I’m going to see why it’s so keen to keep us out.’

  She put the Land-Rover into gear, turned the wheels towards the thorns and then put her foot down.

  Automatically, Martha grasped the Doctor’s outstretched hand.

  His fingers felt hard and bony, but they grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed. It was all she needed. Somewhere inside, the Doctor was reached out to her – not just physically, but mentally. He needed her.

  He needed her to do something.

  She forced herself to look into his eyes. They were bloodshot, wide with pain, but inside them the Doctor’s intelligence still burned fiercely. It wasn’t the insane stare of someone driven beyond their ability to think or act. It was a look that implored her to help.

  And then, in a flash, she saw it.

  The Vurosis was trying to force the Doctor to change, to mutate so fast that his molecular structure ignited and blew itself into dust. Just 170

  like it had with Barney Hacket
t, and Ben Seddon, and Nigel Carson.

  But the Doctor was resisting it.

  His body was palpitating, rippling before her eyes as the cells within twisted and turned, but he was holding the damage at bay.

  But now he was asking her to help. He couldn’t do it alone.

  She held his hand tightly in both of hers, as tightly as she could manage, and nodded. Then she looked up at the Vurosis, and the flickering green diamond of its brain.

  Martha closed her eyes. She let the green glow envelop her, felt the first tendrils of power sneaking into her mind, alien and cold and malignant.

  It was strong. She sensed its power and intention. She sensed the way in which it tried to change her, to dominate her. She even felt it when her body began to change and mutate, causing her to panic and almost let go of the Doctor’s hand. Her veins seemed to fill with something other than her blood, something that was as cold as ice and yet burning in its intensity. It was as if a sudden floodgate had been opened deep inside her, precipitating a massive and comprehensive transformation that she could not control.

  But the Doctor’s hand kept its grip on hers, and his mind was there too, somewhere, because she could sense him as well as the Vurosis.

  ‘Concentrate, Martha! Keep holding it back!’

  –you will not stop me–

  Martha let out an involuntary cry, whether it was pain or fear she wasn’t sure. ‘I can’t. . . It’s too powerful. . . ’

  The Doctor’s voice again, clear in her head: ‘Yes, you can. You can halt the transformation. Reverse it! Sadie’s was halted, remember.

  Duncan’s was reversed. We can do it!’

  The Vurosis renewed its attack and Martha felt the change sweeping through her system, literally sensed the veins beneath her skin beginning to respond to its telekinetic effort.

  –you will not stop me–

  ‘I can’t do it, Doctor! It’s too strong!’

  ‘You must! Together we must!’

  –YOU WILL NOT STOP ME–

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  The searing heat of the transmutation overtook her. Martha felt something burning deep within her, at the very core of her being, transforming everything that was human. Her eyes opened, slowly, agonisingly, and in the milky blur of her vision she saw the Doctor.