10 years ago
It was a stormy day, possibly the stormiest she had seen in a long time. Rain battered onto the ground mercilessly, drenching those who were astray and flooded the streets. She wished it could drown away the sins — specifically hers.
Another crash of thunder.
It was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was alone now and she needed to know that her little one wouldn’t end up like her father. She needed to know that the baby wouldn’t end up looking like him. The pain was fresh, and she would do anything to avoid it for the rest of her life.
A flash of lightning.
The figure stood before her. There wasn’t a spectacular reveal or a dramatic montage, it just appeared out of thin air. The silver sheen glinted in the blue light, and the bandoleer strapped around its waist was visible. She took a steadying breath, and took a step closer.
“Are you the Dealer?”
She felt a little ridiculous having to utter the words aloud, like an immature teenager buying restricted products from a sleazy hoodlum, but desperation often overrode coherent thought.
“I’m here to make a deal.”
The creature tilted its head, as if it was regarding her, before pushing out a grey spherical orb from its bandoleer. The hatch at the top opened, and a blue interface materialised in the air. A stream of numerical data hovered in the air in front of her.
“Name,” the creature hissed with a click of its tongue. It was a grating noise, like a nail on a chalkboard.
“Aurea —”
“The child’s name,” the creature interrupted her.
Aurea regarded him with suspicion. “Why?”
“For the database,” the Dealer insisted. “Name of the child.”
Aurea gulped and uttered, “Jada. Her name is Jada.”
“How will you pay tonight?”
She produced a stick of credits from her pocket, holding it in her shaky, outstretched palm. “With —” she coughed to hide the tremor in her voice, and tried again, “with this.”
A few minutes later, after the transaction had been complete, the creature handed her the orb. Aurea noticed the talons embedded in its skin. It nodded at her and turned away. “You have a deal,” it whispered, before disappearing in a flash of blue light.
Aurea stood in the alleyway for several seconds, staring at the orb blankly. Eventually, she pushed it into her back pocket, raised her hood and left the area, trying all the while to squash the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. It was not a mistake, what she did was right. Her child would have the best life she could ever possibly hope for.
***
Present Day
There were very few things in the world that excited Jada terribly. In fact, she could count them all on one hand, and she only needed to use two fingers. She loved the bedtime stories her mother would tell her while she was tucked up in bed, in that instance of time between feeling so alive and awake and fast asleep the next, and she loved her birthday. Unlike everybody else, who loved the opportunity to go up top and mingle with the posh birds, Jada just loved to wake up to the smell of freshly made apple and orange crumble-tart, and freshly squeezed chocolate juice. Rations were few and far between in these harsh times, but her mother always saved up money in a little jar for this occasion. It made Jada happy. It made her feel loved.
But she didn’t wake up to a retro fire in the hearth, or the smell of apple and orange crumble. In fact, the house didn’t feel like a home at all. It was cold. So cold that she could feel the chill through the warm covers and the hairs on the back of her neck. Slowly, the little girl slid out of bed, and looked around. Everything looked normal. Her disgustingly garish honey-yellow walls were intact, and her cot was still in the corner of the room. Padding towards the sealed door, she ran her hand along the interface on the side and tentatively poked her head out when it slid open.
“Hello? Mummy?”
No response, The bare room was devoid of life. Even the bright blue wallpaper looked dull and fragile. Her mum wasn’t in sight. Moving further into the room, she looked into the kitchen bar. To her disappointment, there were no ingredients and supplies for her favourite birthday breakfast. She peeked at the holo-jar, expecting to see the coins still inside, but it was empty.
She furrowed her brow, confused and slid her hand against the monitor. The shutter blocking the view outside the window was lifted, and the little girl peered out. The streets were empty as well. Not even a spin-droid in sight. Her street was often quiet, but this felt...different...disconcerting. There was usually a little crash as the metal mice prowled for food, or a drunk would collapse in the abandoned shelter further down the street. Little noises ‒ just to remind Jada that she was still alive, but now there was nothing.
The first few ripples of fear washed over Jada. Questions left her puzzled, and her mind whirred trying to solve them. Where was her mother? Why was it so cold for a summer morning? Where was everybody? A beep startled her out of her ruminations, and the now ten-year-old girl spun around to see a holographic data board materialise on the holo-caster, which was essentially a television screen floating in the air. A red sign flashed intermittently beside it, just a little to the left ‒ a telltale sign a message was left for her.
Jada walked towards the screen, then she hesitated, then she moved back to her room, and then she turned back to the screen. She continued this motion of hesitation almost comically, deciding whether or not the message was worth it. She could wrap up warm and go look for her mother outside, or she could stay and listen to the message. She didn’t know who it was by. Anybody who had access to their specific holo-frequency could leave a message. Eventually, the little girl decided she was being ridiculous and approached the holo-screen. She slid her hand across the button and waited for the message to boot up. Her mother had told her the tales about the internet speed on her home planet, and how awful it was, but she was positively sceptical. Adults had the annoying habit of being more technologically inept than they wished to let on. That’s what her friends always said.
The message finally stopped buffering, and an image of a woman appeared in front of her. It wasn’t artificial, there was no clear distinction to prove that she was a hologram. The colour in her skin, the little hand motions, the lack of grain and the texture definition almost fooled Jada into thinking her mother was actually in the room with her.
Almost.
“Dear Jada,” the hologram-mother said, before she stopped and curled her nose. “Oh, that sounds so formal! I’ve no idea why people were always so fond of that phrase. Anyways, hello, sweetheart! I’ll be gone by the time you get this message, won’t I? No worries, I’ll just put something together for you to eat.”
Jada’s shoulders sagged as she allowed herself to relax. She hadn’t realised she had been so tense. She laughed at herself for being so silly. Of course everything was fun. She was just paranoid because her mum was running a little later than usual. That was it.
Jada padded over to the sofa, picked up her favourite teddy bear, and waited.
One hour later, her mother hadn’t come home. She must have got stuck in shopping, or traffic. Jada wrung her hands tighter and waited.
Two hours later, there was a knock on the door. It was at this exact moment Jada realised that there wasn’t any food for her, like her mother had said there would be. There was another bout of door-knocking, and Jada suddenly felt very anxious. Her mum wouldn’t knock on the door, she would just register her palm-print.
Warily, she edged closer towards the door. This was a very, very silly idea. She had seen the classic horror movies, even though they were not suitable for children her age, and she knew all the signs. But there was a curiosity gnawing at her gut, a tugging that she couldn’t resist. She reached the window-port, and twisted the dial. The black cover slowly lifted to reveal transparent glass, and beyond it was a woman dressed all in blue, with a blue cap resting on her head. There was an insignia stitched onto the fabric covering her right breast ‒ the universal emblem of the police force.
The woman looked at her through the glass. Her eyebrows were knitted together and a frown was visible on her lips.
“This is Detective Montoya,” the woman addressed Jada sternly. She had an air of authority about her, like a schoolteacher, not that they had schoolteachers anymore. “May I come in? I have news about your mother.”
It was a stormy day, possibly the stormiest she had seen in a long time. Rain battered onto the ground mercilessly, drenching those who were astray and flooded the streets. She wished it could drown away the sins — specifically hers.
Another crash of thunder.
It was a bad idea. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was alone now and she needed to know that her little one wouldn’t end up like her father. She needed to know that the baby wouldn’t end up looking like him. The pain was fresh, and she would do anything to avoid it for the rest of her life.
A flash of lightning.
The figure stood before her. There wasn’t a spectacular reveal or a dramatic montage, it just appeared out of thin air. The silver sheen glinted in the blue light, and the bandoleer strapped around its waist was visible. She took a steadying breath, and took a step closer.
“Are you the Dealer?”
She felt a little ridiculous having to utter the words aloud, like an immature teenager buying restricted products from a sleazy hoodlum, but desperation often overrode coherent thought.
“I’m here to make a deal.”
The creature tilted its head, as if it was regarding her, before pushing out a grey spherical orb from its bandoleer. The hatch at the top opened, and a blue interface materialised in the air. A stream of numerical data hovered in the air in front of her.
“Name,” the creature hissed with a click of its tongue. It was a grating noise, like a nail on a chalkboard.
“Aurea —”
“The child’s name,” the creature interrupted her.
Aurea regarded him with suspicion. “Why?”
“For the database,” the Dealer insisted. “Name of the child.”
Aurea gulped and uttered, “Jada. Her name is Jada.”
“How will you pay tonight?”
She produced a stick of credits from her pocket, holding it in her shaky, outstretched palm. “With —” she coughed to hide the tremor in her voice, and tried again, “with this.”
A few minutes later, after the transaction had been complete, the creature handed her the orb. Aurea noticed the talons embedded in its skin. It nodded at her and turned away. “You have a deal,” it whispered, before disappearing in a flash of blue light.
Aurea stood in the alleyway for several seconds, staring at the orb blankly. Eventually, she pushed it into her back pocket, raised her hood and left the area, trying all the while to squash the feeling that she had made a terrible mistake. It was not a mistake, what she did was right. Her child would have the best life she could ever possibly hope for.
***
Present Day
There were very few things in the world that excited Jada terribly. In fact, she could count them all on one hand, and she only needed to use two fingers. She loved the bedtime stories her mother would tell her while she was tucked up in bed, in that instance of time between feeling so alive and awake and fast asleep the next, and she loved her birthday. Unlike everybody else, who loved the opportunity to go up top and mingle with the posh birds, Jada just loved to wake up to the smell of freshly made apple and orange crumble-tart, and freshly squeezed chocolate juice. Rations were few and far between in these harsh times, but her mother always saved up money in a little jar for this occasion. It made Jada happy. It made her feel loved.
But she didn’t wake up to a retro fire in the hearth, or the smell of apple and orange crumble. In fact, the house didn’t feel like a home at all. It was cold. So cold that she could feel the chill through the warm covers and the hairs on the back of her neck. Slowly, the little girl slid out of bed, and looked around. Everything looked normal. Her disgustingly garish honey-yellow walls were intact, and her cot was still in the corner of the room. Padding towards the sealed door, she ran her hand along the interface on the side and tentatively poked her head out when it slid open.
“Hello? Mummy?”
No response, The bare room was devoid of life. Even the bright blue wallpaper looked dull and fragile. Her mum wasn’t in sight. Moving further into the room, she looked into the kitchen bar. To her disappointment, there were no ingredients and supplies for her favourite birthday breakfast. She peeked at the holo-jar, expecting to see the coins still inside, but it was empty.
She furrowed her brow, confused and slid her hand against the monitor. The shutter blocking the view outside the window was lifted, and the little girl peered out. The streets were empty as well. Not even a spin-droid in sight. Her street was often quiet, but this felt...different...disconcerting. There was usually a little crash as the metal mice prowled for food, or a drunk would collapse in the abandoned shelter further down the street. Little noises ‒ just to remind Jada that she was still alive, but now there was nothing.
The first few ripples of fear washed over Jada. Questions left her puzzled, and her mind whirred trying to solve them. Where was her mother? Why was it so cold for a summer morning? Where was everybody? A beep startled her out of her ruminations, and the now ten-year-old girl spun around to see a holographic data board materialise on the holo-caster, which was essentially a television screen floating in the air. A red sign flashed intermittently beside it, just a little to the left ‒ a telltale sign a message was left for her.
Jada walked towards the screen, then she hesitated, then she moved back to her room, and then she turned back to the screen. She continued this motion of hesitation almost comically, deciding whether or not the message was worth it. She could wrap up warm and go look for her mother outside, or she could stay and listen to the message. She didn’t know who it was by. Anybody who had access to their specific holo-frequency could leave a message. Eventually, the little girl decided she was being ridiculous and approached the holo-screen. She slid her hand across the button and waited for the message to boot up. Her mother had told her the tales about the internet speed on her home planet, and how awful it was, but she was positively sceptical. Adults had the annoying habit of being more technologically inept than they wished to let on. That’s what her friends always said.
The message finally stopped buffering, and an image of a woman appeared in front of her. It wasn’t artificial, there was no clear distinction to prove that she was a hologram. The colour in her skin, the little hand motions, the lack of grain and the texture definition almost fooled Jada into thinking her mother was actually in the room with her.
Almost.
“Dear Jada,” the hologram-mother said, before she stopped and curled her nose. “Oh, that sounds so formal! I’ve no idea why people were always so fond of that phrase. Anyways, hello, sweetheart! I’ll be gone by the time you get this message, won’t I? No worries, I’ll just put something together for you to eat.”
Jada’s shoulders sagged as she allowed herself to relax. She hadn’t realised she had been so tense. She laughed at herself for being so silly. Of course everything was fun. She was just paranoid because her mum was running a little later than usual. That was it.
Jada padded over to the sofa, picked up her favourite teddy bear, and waited.
One hour later, her mother hadn’t come home. She must have got stuck in shopping, or traffic. Jada wrung her hands tighter and waited.
Two hours later, there was a knock on the door. It was at this exact moment Jada realised that there wasn’t any food for her, like her mother had said there would be. There was another bout of door-knocking, and Jada suddenly felt very anxious. Her mum wouldn’t knock on the door, she would just register her palm-print.
Warily, she edged closer towards the door. This was a very, very silly idea. She had seen the classic horror movies, even though they were not suitable for children her age, and she knew all the signs. But there was a curiosity gnawing at her gut, a tugging that she couldn’t resist. She reached the window-port, and twisted the dial. The black cover slowly lifted to reveal transparent glass, and beyond it was a woman dressed all in blue, with a blue cap resting on her head. There was an insignia stitched onto the fabric covering her right breast ‒ the universal emblem of the police force.
The woman looked at her through the glass. Her eyebrows were knitted together and a frown was visible on her lips.
“This is Detective Montoya,” the woman addressed Jada sternly. She had an air of authority about her, like a schoolteacher, not that they had schoolteachers anymore. “May I come in? I have news about your mother.”
PROLOGUE
THE EIGHTH DOCTOR ADVENTURES
SERIES 5 - EPISODE 3
FALSE HOPE
WRITTEN BY ZOE LANCE
“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go, “ the Doctor hummed to himself as he set about pulling levers and pushing buttons in the TARDIS control room. The standard bright white luminescent glow had been dimmed, and the only source of light was from the stars above the hexagonal skylight. They were an odd assortment; glittering white stars, technicolour nebulae and booming red giants all crammed together in their own special gravitational pull, their own little secret.
“It’s a long way to Tipperary to the sweetest girl I know...”
The TARDIS herself was also remarkably quiet. She had been for a while now, and he couldn’t really blame her. They hadn’t been alone for a while now. But even so, as he hummed melodiously and danced gracefully around the console, she provided him with her own special tune in the form of gentle thrums and whirs. He patted her rotor happily. It was just the two of them.
“Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square...It’s a long, long way to Tipperary…”
He paused, and looked around the room in confusion. He wasn’t alone anymore, he had to remember that. His eyes searched for the petite brunette woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. His frown deepened, and he pushed his hands off the console.
“Lizzie?” he called out, expecting an immediate response followed by some cluttering and murmured curses, but his only greeting was the cold silence. He looked at the TARDIS rotor thoughtfully. “Have you seen her, old girl?”
His response was a garbled whirr and a compressed hiss.
“Oh, don’t make me go looking,” he whined. “They always come when I call, that’s the rule.”
The TARDIS stood her ground.
“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled, spinning around and walking towards the door, managing about five big steps, before turning back around again. “But I’m putting this down as harassment!”
The TARDIS hissed at him so quietly he almost missed it.
“I heard that.” He glared, turned back around and resumed walking. The corridor was an ever-changing structure, never sticking to one form for a day or so. Today, it was a narrow corridor with doors dotted along the side at equal distances, but there were so few that they were stretched at wide lengths to maintain a vast illusion. The doors themselves varied in shapes and sizes. Some were stone archways, some were generic gun-grey hatches and others were simple wooden doors.
The Doctor veered towards one of the wooden doors, twisted the knob and stepped through.
On the other side was a seemingly endless room with a vast row of bookshelves, stacked to the rim with books of every kind, structured like a labyrinthine maze that was easy to get lost in if you weren’t careful. There was a unique smell about the room, the musky smell of old books intermingled with the sleek metallic taste of the ship; It was a combination that surprisingly worked, in this instance. On the far end of the room was a balcony overlooking the stars and planets below. It was a peaceful place, he didn’t appreciate it enough.
“Oh.” Lizzie was perched atop one of the cozy seats besides the fireplace, a cup of tea on the armrest and a book resting comfortably in her hands. It was a ratty old book, the spine was aged and the Doctor could spot a few smudges and stains on the pages, but there was an air of familiarity in the way she held it. Right now, she was looking up at him in surprise. “Hiya. How’d you find me?”
“I just have a thing.”
“A...thing?” Lizzie pursed her lips in confusion. “What do you mean?”
The Doctor waved an arm theatrically. “I felt as if I needed to look in here. I have a sixth sense.”
Lizzie looked impressed. “Really?”
“No. The TARDIS guided me here.”
“Oh.” Her mouth curled into a frown, and she looked down at her book, before remembering that she was supposed to maintain conversation and looked back up again. “Sorry. Do you need me for something?”
“No, no.” The Doctor looked around. “Just wondering where you were. I see you’ve found the library.”
“Yeah. I mean, I like reading. And this is a library, so,” she said, smiling at the thought. “Do you like books?”
“Yes,” the Doctor nodded. “Books are good.”
“Yeah.” They both lapsed into an awkward silence, neither of them used to the awareness required to carry a conversation, for very different reasons. The Doctor shuffled awkwardly, wondering where all his extravagance and charisma had gone, and Lizzie thumbed the spine of her book, wondering how exactly people were supposed to progress with small talk in general.
“What’s it called? The book, I mean.”
Lizzie looked down at the book, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was a secret smile, the Doctor thought, one that was reserved for herself and her unique history only. She opened her mouth to reveal the answer, but the TARDIS shuddered so violently at that precise moment that the Doctor was thrown off his feet and onto the floor below. He didn’t sustain any injuries, as a hideous tartan rug cushioned his fall.
“What was that?” Lizzie, who was still perched on the side of her chair, asked curiously. The Doctor didn’t answer right away ‒ he was trying to figure out who would leave such an abomination in his library ‒ so she continued. “Have we landed?”
“Shouldn’t think so.” The Doctor pushed himself to his feet. “I didn’t set any coordinates.”
“Crashed into something, then?” she guessed. “Is that a thing that happens?”
“Far too often,” the Doctor chuckled. He gestured towards the door. “Come on, we better go see what that was about.”
They both left the library behind them and walked into the console room.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 1
“Is this thing on? Erm...hello. The lady said that this would help me. So...day one: mummy hasn’t come home yet. I know she will. Maybe she’s in the up-state or something. The police lady stayed with me all night and gave me food, but she kept hugging me. I don’t want hugs. Only mummy gives me hugs. I know she’s coming back. She’s just late.”
***
“Right, let’s have a look.”
The Doctor dove straight for the monitor as soon as they had entered the room and fiddled with various dials and contraptions Lizzie didn’t fully understand. She looked down at her hands, realised that her book was still in her hands, and gently put it down on the chair.
“Hmm,” the Doctor ruminated quietly. Lizzie turned to him and noticed his troubled expression. She was by his side in an instant, and peered over his shoulder to see what had caught his attention. The screen was flickering sporadically, like an old TV with a misplaced aerial.
“I’m guessing that’s not good.”
“Your guess is correct,” the Doctor murmured. “Something out there is blocking the TARDIS scan.”
“Can that happen?” Lizzie asked. Her question was drowned out by a deep, metallic rumble. The Doctor looked up at the rotor.
“What’s wrong, old girl?” he chirruped nurturingly, pressing a hand against the console. “Not feeling well?”
He received a faint groan in response, which did nothing to alleviate his concerns.
“No, no,” he cooed. “You rest up. I’ll do the work for both of us. Besides, I’m not sure Cioné would forgive me if I overworked you.”
“We’ve definitely landed then,” Lizzie noted. “And the TARDIS isn’t feeling well. What does this mean?”
“It means…” the Doctor looked at her gravely. Lizzie tensed instantly at the look. “...we’re going to have to look outside for ourselves.”
She deflated instantly. Thank God it wasn’t something catastrophic. Her relief was quickly replaced by incredulity. “Seriously?”
“Well, I’m an aging man. I don’t always want the surprise and suspense for every destination,” he rambled as they left the console and walked towards the doors. Lizzie simply nodded, mainly because she was worried that if she opened her mouth, she would accuse him of lying (which he clearly was) in a spectacularly awkward manner. The Doctor opened the door, poked his head out, and looked at her. “Have you got a coat?”
Lizzie sighed. “Rain or chill?”
“Rain.” He looked impressed. “You didn’t ask the obvious question.”
“The obvious question being ‘why’?” Lizzie guessed. She smiled slightly when the Doctor nodded. “Growing up in a care home, you sort of have to develop this sort of acute sixth-sense for questions to like, not be patronised.” She repeated the sentence in her head and cringed. “I mean ‒”
“No, it’s okay, I understood you,” the Doctor assured her.
“Right, yeah,” Lizzie trailed off. “I didn’t bring one. Coat, I mean. It was all a sort of rush. Do you have a wardrobe? And comfortable clothes? I mean, no offense but I don’t really want to walk around looking like Byron, haha.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Don’t worry, the TARDIS wardrobe has a variety of clothing. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left.”
She stared at him blankly. “Could you repeat that?”
***
Holo-Diary Entry 2
“This holo-caster ball is weird.. I didn’t really look at it before because...you know, but it’s so round. Like, perfectly round, and it’s so smooth. It almost slips out of my fingers. You don’t get stuff like this anymore. Everything’s all manu‒ manu...made in big posh factories. They’re always boring colours, but this isn’t. It’s all bright and colourful and shines when we have sunlight. I wonder where Mummy got it. I want to ask, but mummy’s gone now.”
***
The rain had mostly stopped by the time the Doctor and Lizzie had stepped outside. To Lizzie’s disappointment, they had merely landed in a narrow alleyway. Dirt and grime clung to the worn out brick walls and a light splatter of rain drizzled off the rooftops aboves, flowed onto the muddy ground and into poorly maintained sewage grates. The Doctor stepped out into the alleyway, waited for Lizzie to follow suit, shut the door behind him, and grimaced when his boot made contact with a thick brown sludge. He frowned at the stench and sight of rotting, decomposing food.
“It’s very smelly,” he exclaimed suddenly. Lizzie hummed in agreement, checking to make sure her converses weren’t stained. They were her favourite pair, and she’d hate to part with them. The Doctor fished out his sonic screwdriver, and started a scan. He slowly whirled on the spot, like a tourist getting their bearings, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.
“Will she be alright?” Lizzie asked, looking up at the TARDIS in concern. “She wasn’t like this last time.”
“Hmm?” the Doctor tilted his head slightly in her direction, but his eyes were rooted on the screwdriver. “Oh, she’ll be fine. Just needs a bit of a rest. Do you like rests, Lizzie?”
“No.” Lizzie kicked an empty can across the alleyway. “Well, I dunno. I don’t get enough of it to really judge, you know?” Lizzie couldn’t decipher if the Doctor’s responding hum was one of acknowledgment or validation of one of his harebrained theories. The low-pitched warble of the screwdriver rose an octave as he strode through the alleyway.
“Come have a look at this.”
He didn’t listen then, she thought glumly. “What is it?”
“Not sure yet, but it’s definitely a point of interest.” He smiled at her. “Not as interesting as pre-history, but it’ll do.”
“It wasn’t prehistory, it was the past,” Lizzie corrected as she hurried to catch up to him, making sure to avoid contact with any of the sewage.
“It’s all pre-history to me,” he shrugged nonchalantly. Lizzie found that rather callous. She was about to point that out, but the Doctor cut her off with a, “oh, listen to that.” the screwdriver was practically wailing now, the tip glowing a fervent crimson colour. “Definitely a point of interest somewhere...out here.”
They had reached the end of the alleyway, and were greeted by an empty street, illuminated by dimly lit lamps. The light drizzle of rain persisted, and it was starting to soak into the fabric of Lizzie’s coat. The Doctor surveyed the street with pursed lips.
“Strange.” He looked down at the beeping screwdriver in bemusement. “There’s nothing of importance that I can see.”
“Could be faulty,” Lizzie suggested.
“Hmm. No. No, it never gets faulty.” the Doctor murmured, looking across the street. “There’s something I’m missing. We should ‒”
“Don’t say split up,” Lizzie interrupted suddenly. The Doctor’s mouth hung open like a fish and he turned to look at her in surprise. “Sorry, that was really random. But still, splitting up is a bad idea. I mean, we could...get ambushed. Or something.” She coughed awkwardly.
The Doctor stared at her. “Oh...right. No, you’re right.”
“It’s just ‒ I watch crime dramas a lot. At night.” Lizzie continued, in a stilted manner that made her scream inside. “It was ‒ it was just a thought.”
“No, no. You’re right. Splitting up is a bad idea,” the Doctor interjected. “And I’m sure your knowledge in the criminal genre will prove to be useful one day.”
“Yeah, probably...maybe. I just sort of blurted that out because we’re in a street, and there’s nobody around. That’s classic ambush material.”
The Doctor’s eye widened as the truth dawned on him. He spun on the spot and surveyed his surroundings. “You’re right.”
“We’re going to get ambushed?” Lizzie knew that probably wasn’t what he meant, but it never hurt to have a little clarification.
“No, no, no. There’s nobody around.” He spun to face her again. “Elizabeth Darwin, you are shaping up to be quite the genius!”
Lizzie blinked. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Even so, you’re still correct! The street is empty. And do you know what this was registering?” He held up the sonic screwdriver for Lizzie to see.
She looked at him in puzzlement. “What?”
“Life signs!” he exclaimed jovially. He was probably enjoying himself a bit too much. “Come on, we’ll start ‒”
“Joseph!”
The voice caught them both off guard. Spinning on his heels, the Doctor noticed an elderly lady with a shock of grey hair and large, cat-like eyes hobbling in their direction.
“Joseph!” She repeated. The Doctor turned around in search for this mysterious ‘Joseph’, half-expecting to see a man with a very expressive face. He was quite surprised when the woman grabbed him by the arm and let out a contented sigh. “There you are, my dear! Didn’t you hear me call?”
The Doctor blinked. “Sorry?”
“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know your grandmother isn’t built for all this running.”
“Ah,” the Doctor looked around nervously. “Ah. There must be some misunderstanding. You see, I’m not ‒”
“Oh, whatever it is, it can wait! Come,” she tugged on his sleeve, and the Doctor was surprised when she managed to drag him across the street. “Your tea’s getting cold! Oh, I made you a new sweater and everything, you’ll have to try it on.”
“...right,” he mumbled as he stumbled after her, looking back at Lizzie with a dazed expression. Lizzie stared back, deeply confused by the sudden turn of events, and offered the Doctor a small smile, hoping it looked consoling, but knowing that it probably came across as terrifying. She hurried after them after they turned a corner, but stopped when she heard a crash behind her.
The lamps flickered ominously, casting deep shadows across the street walls. Lizzie wasn’t tremendously scared of shadows — one of her favourite hobbies as a child was to make elaborate shadow puppets — but there was something unnerving about a desolate street in the middle of nowhere. Anything could happen, and nobody would ever know. She shivered at the thought, before jumping at the sound of another crash. It startled her to realise the crash was coming from above. She looked up when a flash of bright blue light invaded her vision, the light spittle of rain morphed into a fat torrential army that soaked right through her already wet clothes, and left her drenched.
Another flash of thunder highlighted a passing blur. She didn’t have a great deal of time to identify any distinctive features, but Lizzie noted the slender shape. She wasn’t alone. She took a step back, considered calling out for the Doctor, but reasoned that the old lady would have dragged him out of earshot by now.
A crackling boom masked the heavy footfalls as the figure advanced on her, and another bout of thunder was the last thing she heard before everything went black.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 3
“Day 3. I’m making these daily, because the police lady said that it would help. They’ve sent out papers to the local care homes to see if I can live with them in their acc ‒ acco…their house. She said it could take a long time for the papers to come back, so I have to stay home by myself until then. I don’t mind it, but I wish mum would come home. I have to call her mum now because I’m a big girl and I can’t cry, that’s what they said. But…I’m lonely. I want my mummy. I want her to come home.”
***
“Oh!” the old woman giggled when another crash of thunder echoed above their heads. “Horrible weather, isn’t it? I should have brought my shawl!”
“Oh, you can wear my coat,” the Doctor suggested, already tugging the sleeve off before the lady waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, no, don’t you worry, my dear Joseph. We’re almost there anyway, look!” she pointed at a derelict little cottage on the side of the road in the distance. It looked out of place on what, the Doctor surmised from visual clues, was an abandoned council estate. The rain had picked up at a fervent pace, prompting them to walk faster to avoid catching colds — a difficult feat to achieve for a Time Lord. The Doctor tuned back into the conversation when he realised the lady was still rambling. “…and there’s plenty of room for you, and your — oh. Now where has she got to?”
“Eh?” The Doctor craned his head backwards, expecting to find Lizzie looking back at him with an awkward wave on standby, but she was absent. He slowed his pace and surveyed the nearby area, concluding that she was just walking at a leisurely pace and would soon be within sight. A few seconds passed before he realised that she had truly disappeared. “Lizzie?”
A flash of blue light.
“Lizzie?” he called out, a frown marring his expression. He skidded to a halt, and the woman stopped a second later.
A loud clap of thunder.
“Lizzie?” he tried again, more desperately. “Lizzie!”
“Oh, do stop shouting,” the woman tutted, grabbing him by the arm again. “She’s obviously not here, and we’re going to catch our deaths waiting. Come, we need to get warm.”
“But —”
“Oh, do stop arguing, Joseph.” The woman tugged him further down the road. “Listen to your grandma for once, won’t you?”
“But I’m not —”
“Ah, ah! I will hear no more arguing. We rest up, and then we look for her, understood?”
The Doctor sighed begrudgingly. “Fine.”
The woman looked satisfied with his answer, but she didn’t release his arm. With pursed lips, the produced his sonic screwdriver, and scanned the area as they walked. The steady buzz provided him a little comfort from his erratic thoughts. His brain was unhelpfully devising every possible scenario that could go wrong. It was a surprisingly common occurrence recently. If anything happened to Lizzie, it would be his fault for not being as attentive as he should have been.
The scan finished with a beep. There were no Artron-infused life signs registered, which meant that Lizzie was somewhere else. He scratched at the scalp of his head, wondering where to start, when they reached the cottage. The woman hurriedly pressed her palm against a metal panel on the left side of the door. There was a flash of green light and the door swung open soundlessly. They entered the house just as another crash of thunder boomed loudly, sending shock-waves up the Doctor’s arm. There was something different about this particular thunderstorm, but he couldn’t place his finger on why.
The clink of a cup jolted him out of his musings, and the Doctor realised that he had been left alone; he used the opportunity to examine his surroundings. The cottage was small, barely a little more than a hut. It had that cramped, homey feel in holiday brochure and had the musky smell of coffee and burning wood. The room he was in consisted of a makeshift study and living room simultaneously. A small, round table was situated in the corner of the room, to the right of the door, and a few pictures of quaint holiday destinations were secure in a plethora of picture frames — some were small and round, some were large and rectangular, and some were the most basic frames. Further into the room was a fireplace with a roaring fire and a small rocking chair beside it. On the armrest lay a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn was bunched up into a circle on the seat itself. Beyond that were two doors, one open and one closed. The Doctor guessed that they made up the bedroom and kitchen respectively. He briefly wondered where her bathroom was, before his thoughts returned to Lizzie.
The Doctor approached the table, and tentatively brushed his fingers over the faded out newspapers stacked high onto the table. The headline on the first paper caught the Doctor’s attention — ‘Freak Storms linked to Mysterious Disappearances?’ .
His eyes drifted to the name and picture on the byline, Meera Amin, a professional-looking Indian woman in a blazer and skirt. Her eyes seemed to glint mischievously in the firelight, like a woman on a mission. Pictures of reporters on bylines, that was new. The Doctor twisted his wrist to flip the paper over and skimmed the back. Nothing to note. He returned his attention to the main headline.
“I’ve made us some tea,” the woman said kindly as she hobbled back into the living room carrying a tray supporting two cups of tea and biscuits. She smiled graciously when the Doctor helpfully took the tray out of her hand, and took a seat in the armchair. “Should warm us right up.”
“That’s very kind,” the Doctor said as he set the tray down, hooked an arm over a chair, dragged it towards him loudly, and slouched into it.
The woman grimaced at his lazy posture. “What bad manners have you picked up?” she tutted, taking a cup of tea from the tray and taking a tentative sip, her disapproving eyes trained on the Doctor at all times. “I hope it wasn’t from that girl. Oh, the thought of it! I’ve told you over and over, Joseph. Don’t loiter with ruffians! They’ll only bring you down.”
The Doctor blinked. “Eh? Lizzie isn’t a ruffian. And might I clarify, I am not —”
“Eh’?” the woman looked startled. “Joseph, where have you picked up these awful mannerisms?”
The Doctor sighed. This had gone far enough.
“Well?” she looked aggravated now.
“Look, Mrs…?” he trailed off, and waved his hand to prompt her.
“Baggot!” she exclaimed indignantly. “Aldora Baggot!”
“Oh, really?” he wrinkled his nose. “Suppose that would make me Joseph Baggot, then.”
“Why, you insolent boy —”
“No, wait!” the Doctor talked over her. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away there. What I mean to say is, Mrs Baggot, I’m not your Joseph. That is to say, I’m not your grandson.”
Aldora glowered at him. “This is a cruel game, Joseph.”
“Listen to me, please,” he implored. He was starting to get a little impatient. “I am not trying to be cruel or nasty whatsoever. I am merely stating the truth. My name is not Joseph Baggot, I am not your grandson, Mrs Baggot, and please do not take offence when I say that I have never met you before in my entire life.”
Aldora’s stern stare did not waver. If anything, it bore into the Doctor more intensely until it was almost piercing.
He moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder after some hesitation. “I am sorry.”
With that, followed by an undecipherable glint in her eyes, Aldora’s defences crumbled.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” she whispered mournfully. Her stiff posture relaxed and she brought a hand to her mouth.”Oh, heavens. Don’t mind me, dear. I’m just…feeling a little emotional.” She sighed. “Oh, look at you. I dragged you here for no reason, haven’t I? Such a blunder. I’m terribly sorry, my dear. What did you say your name was?”
“That’s quite alright,” the Doctor assured her. “And my name’s the Doctor.”
“Doctor Who?”
“Just the Doctor.”
Aldora frowned again. “Are you sure? It’s terribly formal. How about Doctor Joseph — no, I must stop doing that. You’re not him, after all. What about…Scott? Dean? Miranda?”
“The Doctor’s just fine,” he asserted. “Why did you think I was Joseph?”
“Oh, you look so much like him,” she croaked. “I know there’s all that malarkey of identical twins across the world and all that rubbish, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you!”
“I see. And where —”
“I had just knitted him a new scarf, you see,” she continued. “And I was just so eager because I hadn’t seen you…him, for days now.”
“Right, but where did you last see him?”
“Oh, can’t help you there, mate,” she chuckled. “My memory’s going. Old age, you see. Do you know, I once saw a holo-documentary about this dreadful memory-loss incident that plagued a colony in Meta Sigma Folio.”
“Yes, yes, but do you think he’s disappeared?”
“Of course he’s disappeared, you silly man! He’s not bloody here, is he?”
“Does he usually disappear?”
“Of course not, you fool! Why do you think I was out looking for him? He’s all I’ve got left, my dear Joseph —”
“Do you think his disappearance could be linked to the other ones?” The Doctor snapped. His patience was starting to wear thin.
“You what?”
Aldora furrowed her brow. “Well, it might. He went out during a terrible storm.”
“Like the one outside?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Right.” He shook his head suddenly, “No.”
“What?”
The Doctor raised a finger to his lip and hushed her. Aldora glared at him but relented, and listened. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion, trying to locate the source of his actions, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was located in their respective areas, the tea was still on the tray, and the fire was still crackling in the hearth.
“Notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“No,” she admitted. “Everything is quite normal.”
“Exactly. The storm’s stopped,” he pointed out. “It stopped the moment we entered the cottage.”
“Had it?” she tilted her head in confusion. “I didn’t realise.”
“Must have some sort of suggestion built in,” the Doctor mused. “Only superior beings would have been able to pick it up. No offence.”
“Yeah, offence taken, if that’s alright with you,” she said crossly. “Just because I’m old doesn’t make me inferior, thank you very much.”
The Doctor had the decency to look chastised. “Yes, quite,” he said sheepishly as he heaved himself off the chair. “Right, enough of that. My friend’s still out there somewhere and, if she’s been kidnapped like I think she has been, I have to go look for her.”
“What, on your own?”
“Yup, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I usually do this all the time.”
“I’m sure you do, and that’s all very good, but I’m coming with you.”
“What? No!” he exclaimed, but Aldora was already out of her seat and hurrying into the closed door before he even finished. She emerged a second later, with a coat and crimson shawl in hand. “Put that down!”
“Why?”
“Well, this could be dangerous, and I don’t want to put your life at risk.”
“You’re not. I’m putting my own life at risk.” She spoke as if she wasn’t taking his claims seriously, so he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him.
“I’m serious,” he stressed. “This could be dangerous. I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Do you know what I am, Doctor?” Aldora asked him, but she clearly wasn’t waiting for an answer, “A nanny, to all the little tots in the neighbourhood. Once you deal with those rascals, everything you could possibly experience in later life is watered down. And don’t you worry about me slowing you down. I have the feet and stamina of an athlete.
The Doctor searched her eyes, a cryptic expression on his face. Finally, he released her with a frown. “Alright, if you’re sure. Let’s get going then.”
“Wait!” she gasped. “I’ve just forgotten something important!”
“What is it? New information that could help us find Lizzie and Joseph?”
“No! My knitting needles!” she spun around and swiped the objects off the armrest. The Doctor rolled his eyes but hurriedly plastered a smile on his face once she turned back around. “All ready now!”
“I could have left you behind in that time, you know,” the Doctor warned as they left the cottage. Aldora pressed her hand to the monitor again, and the green glow was replaced by a red one. She closed the hatch and turned back to him.
“I doubt it, dear, that door’s keyed to my palm print. You’d never have gotten out,” she responded confidently, and looped her arm with his. “Honestly, Doctor, you talk as if you’ve never been to New New Earth before.”
“New New Earth?” the Doctor mulled on the designation while they walked, but eventually shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I haven’t.”
“Oh, are you a tourist then? I knew there was a reason I didn’t recognise you.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he responded, but his eyes were fixed on the horizon, a new determination ignited in his being. He narrowed his eyes in thought and muttered quietly, “Where are you, Lizzie?”
***
Holo-Diary Entry 4
“Me again. I know I said that I would make these daily, but everything’s been a rush and it’s already been a week! They rejected my form thingy for the home — said they can’t…’afford’ me? To have me? I dunno — so I have to stay home! I’m ten now, so I’m allowed to live by myself for 19 hours a day, but the police lady has to be with me for the rest. She usually comes in the morning to make me home-made breakfast and make sure everything’s okay. I like her but she’s SO ANNOYING sometimes! It’s always ‘Brush your teeth, Jada, that’s what they did back in the Stone Age!’ or ‘Did you do your homework, Jada?’. Bla, bla, bla! I hate it! Mum never used to be like this! I still miss her, but I know she’s not coming back now, just like Dad.
So, yeah. That was a lot, I think. Bye for now, diary!”
***
Lizzie had never been knocked out in her life — not to her knowledge, at least. She had kept her head down in school, avoided anything illicit and generally went about with her life, which was why the pain when she woke up was such a shock. Her eyelids stung, as if she had looked at the sun for too long, and her vision blurred. Her stomach twisted into knots and she felt a dizzying rush of nausea envelop her. Beats of sweat trailed down her face and her hair clung to her clammy forehead. Her breathing was laboured and it hurt her chest to try. Rolling to the side, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fight off the nausea. What had happened? It hurt too much to think.
Water. She focused on water. She needed it. Her throat was as dry as sandpaper, and it hurt to swallow her own saliva. Lizzie shuffled forward weakly, desperate for a cool drink. Her heart was hammering erratically in her chest. She needed to calm down, but she couldn’t. In that moment, she was scared that she would die from a panic attack, alone on an unknown planet without the company of Maggie or Pat or anyone else she was comfortable enough to call her family.
“It’s okay,” a female voice quietly whispered. Lizzie zoned in on the voice, and rolled over once again. A pretty Chinese woman around her age was huddled in the corner. Her pale complexion was sullied by dirt and her light-ish brown hair was frazzled and clumped in bunches, as if she had pulled at it in frustration. Whoever she was, she was studying her intently. “It’s the transmat, leaves you feeling a bit crap for a while. Okay, more than a bit crap. Messes with your head, heightens your emotions even more for fun. You need to calm down.”
If Lizzie had the energy, she would muster up a sassy retort before letting it die down in her throat. She did not need a stranger to dictate how she felt. Her head was pounding, something she hadn’t realised before, and she looked at the only company in the room with wide eyes.
The woman shuffled closer and pressed a hand against hers. She didn’t look particularly comfortable doing it, and maintained her distance, so Lizzie guessed that she was the type of person who avoided physical contact like the plague. That was okay, she was the same. If a fear of physical contact was an allergy, Lizzie would have been diagnosed within the first minute. The closer proximity allowed her to identify the Chinese woman’s clothing. She wasn’t dressed in anything too extravagant, just a simple, modest-sized white floral print dress and flat shoes.
“It’s okay,” she repeated in a soft voice. “You’re safe. You’re with me. My name is Meera. Trust me, you’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”
Lizzie’s eyes started to droop. God, she was so tired. Maybe the woman, Meera, was right. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes drifted shut.
***
“Cold day, isn’t it?” Aldora said aloud. The Doctor inwardly cringed at her attempt to make conversation. Small talk, one of humanity’s greatest abominations. He decided to ignore her in favour of jumping over a large puddle, digging out his sonic screwdriver and scanning the area.
“There’s something that’s been eating away at me, Aldora,” the Doctor confessed. He turned to her. “Where is everybody? Why is everything so barren?”
“It’s always been barren, love,” Aldora shrugged. “ Ever since that contagion. As for the people, well…it’s better if I just show you. See that woman over there?”
She gestured towards a woman dressed in black hurrying across the road ahead towards a building ahead of them. She briefly glanced at them and looked away again.
“Watch this,” Aldora planted a smile on her face and chased after the woman with a cheery wave. “Hullo! Cold day today, isn’t it? I was just outside on a little stroll —”
“Please, I have no money,” the woman said quickly. The Doctor noticed her wide eyes and stiff posture. She was terrified of a little old lady. “Just, leave me alone.” With that, she turned and ran into a decrepit building, slamming the door behind her.
“Charming,” Aldora huffed. “She thought I was a beggar! The cheek!”
“Earth still has beggars then,” the Doctor murmured. He had hoped that something so cruel and unjust would have been sorted out at such an advanced stage, but maybe he was too optimistic. Or perhaps he was getting critical in his old age. The screwdriver beeped again and produced a complete scan. “Hello…”
The scans were registering a peculiar amount of life signatures in a single building a little further down the road. Not only that, the scans also registered an unidentified property near the bodies. He followed the trail, intrigued, with Ms Baggot close by.
“What is it?”
“Life signs. Something else, too.”
“What’s that, then?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.
The rain had stopped altogether, leaving behind water puddles of varying sizes. Despite leaving the alleyway behind in his wake, litter and abandoned knick-knacks plagued the street, and the Doctor could’ve sworn a rat scuttling along the worn concrete floor. As they continued their journey, he became aware of the attention he was receiving. People — mainly young women dressed in strange black outfits — stared at them as they passed, their looks a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
Aldora glared at them, and they all hurriedly looked away.
“Nosy buggers,” she grumbled. “This is what those ruddy bleedin’ hearts are teaching them. None of the discipline of my time.”
The Doctor made a noise of acknowledgement, mainly to avoid putting his foot in his mouth and earning a lecture from the old lady who, he supposed, would have voted Leave if she had lived in another time. They turned a corner, and found themselves standing outside the home of the disturbance. A rundown, derelict building with sealed windows and chipped paintwork. The standard palm print scan was fully functioning, so the Doctor disabled it with the sonic screwdriver.
He pressed a hand to the door before turning to his elderly companion. “We don’t know what we’ll find in here. Are you ready?”
“Oh, just get on with it!” Aldora huffed.
“Alright, alright.” He took a moment to prepare himself for the worst, and then he pushed the door open.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 5
“Dear Diary, I’m being all posh now, can you tell? I’m scared. I’m being followed. I don’t know who by or for how long, but…it’s scary. There’s always a knock on the door. A monster’s out there and it’s going to hurt me. I want my mummy. It always knocks on the door loudly at night time when I’m sleeping. I want my mum. I want my mummy. Why did she have to leave?
I saw it once, outside my window. It was dark but it was a person. I couldn’t see anything else, like their face. I think…I think it’s because it didn’t have a face. It’s a monster and it’s going to eat me.”
***
The door swung open quietly, allowing the Doctor and Aldora to slip in quietly. They kept their backs to the wall and shuffled further into the building. They were in a corridor of some sort, a dull, monotonous set of walls that blended into the cover of night seamlessly. They entered a large hallway that split off into three separate sections: an archway in the middle of the hallway, a dusty spiral staircase to their left, and a closed door to their right.
“Doctor…” Aldora whispered.
“I know.”
In the centre of the room was a congregation of small children, possibly no older than ten or eleven. They stood in rows of five, with a total of twenty-five children. The Doctor circled around them slowly, leaning in to examine them further. The children remained unnervingly rigid and unresponsive.
“Interesting,” he murmured. He suddenly shouted loudly into a child’s face, but they remained silent. “Total shutdown.”
“But why are they like that?” Aldora asked. “Is my Jacob here? I have to give him the mittens I knitted, the poor dear must be freezing.”
“No, I don’t think so. Lizzie isn’t here either. I think I’ve been led astray.” He looked at her. “Have you noticed it, Aldora?”
“Noticed what?”
“Their faces. Go on, take a closer look.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know..”
“They won’t harm you.”
“Oh…” she stared at him in apprehension for several more seconds, before caving in. “Oh, alright then.”
At his behest, she waddled closer and peered nervously at a small girl.
“Her face is…blurry. Indistinct,” she said slowly. “I can’t quite make it out.”
“It’s a perception filter at work,” the Doctor explained, running his sonic over the girl’s face. “Low-level, I’d say. But I can’t seem to find the right frequency to disrupt it.” He looked down at the screwdriver with a frown. “Hmm, funny that. Notice anything else?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Look at them,” he urged, bending down until he was eye-level with the girl to prove his point. “Their faces — they’re perfectly symmetrical. Everything’s all neat and straight and in-line. It’s perfect. Human beings are not perfect. They have funny teeth or outrageous hair. This is like a child’s doll. Someone’s been tampering with these children.”
“There have been rumours. Children and adults disappearing off the streets.” Aldora chewed on her bottom lip. “Is there something you can do?”
“Possibly,” the Doctor responded, and slowly rose from his crouch. It pained him, to see a child that was experimented on to look pristine. Humanity’s perfect image. He stared darkly at his elderly companion. “Lizzie’s out there.”
“Yes, she is. We’d best find her.”
“Yes, but before that,” the Doctor stopped her before she could hurry away, and stared her down. “I think it’s time you told me the truth, Aldora Baggot.”
***
“Oh my god.”
“Please, you need to do something, please – please.”
Lizzie jolted awake with a start. Her heart hammered thunderously in her ribcage, and she was worried it would jump out of her throat. It took her a few seconds to calm herself down enough to function without looking completely shattered. She released a long, resigned sigh.
“Just a dream,” she muttered in a foolhardy attempt to relax. She swiped at a trail of sweat and repeated, with more conviction, “just a dream.”
“Sounded more like a nightmare to me.”
Lizzie looked to her left. The girl, Meera, was sat in the corner watching her curiously. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and she was curled up in a little ball. The thought of her listening to Lizzie’s nightmare-induced ramblings mortified her.
“Oh, hi,” she attempted to be nonchalant, and probably failed. “Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear that.”
“It’s okay, you can’t exactly control what you say in your sleep,” Meera assured her.
“Probably why I don’t get enough of it,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.” She smiled and looked around. “Just glad to have some company. Where are we?”
“Dunno. A warehouse, maybe?”
Her suggestion seemed to match their surroundings. There was a stale, industrial air about the place, boxes were scattered everywhere, windows were sealed off, and there were bare shelves spanning the entire width of the room. Using the dim lighting, Lizzie pulled the flap of a brown box open. It was completely empty. She sighed and closed it. How had she even managed to get into this mess? She wracked her brain, trying to remember, but all she could remember was a thunderstorm.
“Feeling better?” Meera asked her, pulling Lizzie out of her thoughts.
“Actually, yeah. I feel much better thanks.” She frowned. “How does that work?”
“Their transport rings could heighten emotional and physical states…” Meera looked distractedly to the side. “Or something. I dunno.”
“Transport rings?”
“What’s your name?”
Her mind took a second to process the abrupt change in conversation. “Lizzie. You’re…Meera, right?”
“Yup,” the woman smiled. “Meera…Amin. It’s nice to meet you. Only wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s great to finally have some company.”
“How long have you been down here, Meera?”
“Hard to say. Those windows are sealed and block out any sunlight. The only light source is that flickering bulb up there.”
Lizzie looked up. The only distinctive feature of the colourless ceiling was the single light fixture in the centre. It was like the bulbs from her time — if they operated under the pretence that she was in fact in the future, which was likely if she accounted for the talks of transport rings.
“How do we breathe?” she asked.
“Tiny grate over here,” Meera shifted and showed her a small ventilation shaft. “Big enough to let air in, small enough to prevent escape. And the air travels in from outside so we’re likely in a secluded area — why are you looking at me like that?”
“Hm? Oh, no reason. Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you or anything,” Lizzie hastily replied, but she couldn’t help but notice that, even though she had been kidnapped and locked in a possible warehouse, Meera didn’t look very afraid.
***
“The truth? What do you mean?” Aldora laughed derisively. “This is absurd.”
“Is it?” the Doctor challenged. Aldora stopped laughing, her mouth curled into a scowl, she straightened her posture and glared at him accusingly.
“How long have you known?” she asked in a cool, clipped tone.
“About your deception? The whole time,” the Doctor revealed. “I mean, you conveniently happen to have a grandson who looks exactly like me? And you chalk it up to secret twins? That's one the most ridiculous excuses I've ever heard.”
“That’s all it took?”
“No,” the Doctor bit. “Because even if I wasn’t accounting for Spacial Genetic Multiplicity, I'd have enough to go on from the discrepancies.”
“What discrepancies?” she placed emphasis on the word and sneered, as if she thought the Doctor was bluffing.
“Do you love your grandson very much, Aldora?”
“I do,” Aldora responded proudly, with a jut of her chin.
“What’s his name?”
“Jack.”
“Hmm.” The Doctor circled past her almost predatorily. “Is it? Because I was under the impression that it was Jacob. Or Joseph. Or Jonathan.”
“Well, I —”
“Oh, just shut up,” the Doctor growled. “Not only that, you say you’re the local nanny. This seems like a very small town from what I’ve seen, and yet that lady didn’t recognise you.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have kids.”
“She would still recognise you as the only nanny in the neighbourhood!” he retorted incredulously, glaring at her in revulsion. It disgusted him how she could just stand there and continue to lie. “She lives down the road from you! And not only that, you can’t keep your story straight! I could go on, but I want to know what your role in all this is.”
They glared at each other, both too stubborn to move first. They stood like that for a while, surrounded in a room by children, before there was a flash of lightning that illuminated the children’s ‘blank’ faces, and a loud boom of thunder.
Aldora moved first. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling with a cheery smile and fiddled with her knitting needles. “Awfully stormy outside all of a sudden, isn’t it?”
The Doctor’s patience finally snapped, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, gripping her tightly. “What do you know?!”
“I know that you know too much.”
“Do I? I’d say I know too little —” he gasped when Aldora rammed a needle straight through his stomach. The blade glinted in the dim lighting as she pulled it out. There was surprisingly no blood. The Doctor clutched at his abdomen in shock, as his vision swam.
“You know too much, dear,” Aldora repeated with a mocking grin. “Yes, you were right. I am a part of all this, and I won’t let you stop me.”
The Doctor grunted as he collapsed on the floor. He glared at the old woman as his vision blurred. “I will…stop…” he groaned and rolled to the side.
Aldora shifted so that she was in his line of sight again, the grin still intact on her face. She tutted and pouted maliciously. “Are you hurt, my dear? Don’t worry, granny will take good care of you now.”
***
“Can I ask you something?”
It was abrupt. She knew it was abrupt, but she had to ask anyway. It was one of those moments where she felt that pull, that burning desire to have a question answered. She was starting to get those more often. Meera looked up at her, her curious eyes encouraging, so Lizzie took a steadying breath and spewed her question out before she could think of a thousand different ways of why this was a stupid idea and would explode in her face.
“Who are you?”
Meera appeared to be taken aback by her question. “You what?”
God, this was a bad idea. “Not literally, obviously. I know your name but like, who are you? Why aren’t you scared?”
There was a challenging glint in Meera’s eyes. “Why aren’t you?”
“Oh, I am,” she admitted. There was a sudden crackle of thunder, and she almost leapt out of her skin at the sound. “See? I’m terrified, but I’d die if people were able to see me as this transparent person, you know? But you, you’re not even phased. Random thunderstorm, and you’re still sitting there.”
“Maybe I am.”
“See, I don’t think you are.” She stood up and ran a hand along a shelf’s metal bar. “You’re not putting on a brave face or anything to cover up anything you find scary, I think. And usually I’d be scared that I’m wrong cos I don’t want to look all high-and-mighty, but there’s just…this energy about you, and I just know that you’re not all you seem to be.”
Meera looked down and traced her finger on the floor. “You’re right, I’m not.”
In all honesty, Lizzie would have collapsed from relief that she managed to avoid an awkward situation then and there, but Meera didn’t seem like that extroverted type, so she waited patiently for her to continue.
“I was, once. Probably. Maybe. Not anymore, though. I can’t tell you anything, so don’t ask, but I need you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not alone anymore.”
There was another flash of blue electricity, and Lizzie caught a glimpse of a shadow looming in the corner of her eye. She turned, and a figure was towering over her, shrouded in darkness. It was tall and gangly, but somehow intimidating. Lizzie took a step back, and the creature took a step forward. Meera pushed herself to her feet, and crossed her arms.
The creature simply regarded her with a stare — Lizzie knew this by the tilt of its neck — and it simply tossed a newspaper beside their feet. After realising its intent, Lizzie picked it up, and skimmed through it. Her eyes snagged on the image of the pretty Indian girl in the byline image, but her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the name: Meera Amin.
She looked at the other woman in the room, a Chinese woman.
“You lied,” the creature hissed, voicing her internal thoughts.
“Yeah, I did,” The strange woman replied simply. She was eerily calm.
Lizzie’s wrung her hands awkwardly as she felt her confidence slip away. She wasn’t as good at reading people as she thought. She had completely read the signals wrong, the lapse when the woman introduced herself, the distracted eye flickers. She had known about the creature. That was why she wasn’t afraid. This woman had asked Lizzie to trust her, and yet she had lied about her own identity.
What had she gotten herself into?
“It’s a long way to Tipperary to the sweetest girl I know...”
The TARDIS herself was also remarkably quiet. She had been for a while now, and he couldn’t really blame her. They hadn’t been alone for a while now. But even so, as he hummed melodiously and danced gracefully around the console, she provided him with her own special tune in the form of gentle thrums and whirs. He patted her rotor happily. It was just the two of them.
“Goodbye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square...It’s a long, long way to Tipperary…”
He paused, and looked around the room in confusion. He wasn’t alone anymore, he had to remember that. His eyes searched for the petite brunette woman, but she was nowhere to be seen. His frown deepened, and he pushed his hands off the console.
“Lizzie?” he called out, expecting an immediate response followed by some cluttering and murmured curses, but his only greeting was the cold silence. He looked at the TARDIS rotor thoughtfully. “Have you seen her, old girl?”
His response was a garbled whirr and a compressed hiss.
“Oh, don’t make me go looking,” he whined. “They always come when I call, that’s the rule.”
The TARDIS stood her ground.
“Fine,” the Doctor grumbled, spinning around and walking towards the door, managing about five big steps, before turning back around again. “But I’m putting this down as harassment!”
The TARDIS hissed at him so quietly he almost missed it.
“I heard that.” He glared, turned back around and resumed walking. The corridor was an ever-changing structure, never sticking to one form for a day or so. Today, it was a narrow corridor with doors dotted along the side at equal distances, but there were so few that they were stretched at wide lengths to maintain a vast illusion. The doors themselves varied in shapes and sizes. Some were stone archways, some were generic gun-grey hatches and others were simple wooden doors.
The Doctor veered towards one of the wooden doors, twisted the knob and stepped through.
On the other side was a seemingly endless room with a vast row of bookshelves, stacked to the rim with books of every kind, structured like a labyrinthine maze that was easy to get lost in if you weren’t careful. There was a unique smell about the room, the musky smell of old books intermingled with the sleek metallic taste of the ship; It was a combination that surprisingly worked, in this instance. On the far end of the room was a balcony overlooking the stars and planets below. It was a peaceful place, he didn’t appreciate it enough.
“Oh.” Lizzie was perched atop one of the cozy seats besides the fireplace, a cup of tea on the armrest and a book resting comfortably in her hands. It was a ratty old book, the spine was aged and the Doctor could spot a few smudges and stains on the pages, but there was an air of familiarity in the way she held it. Right now, she was looking up at him in surprise. “Hiya. How’d you find me?”
“I just have a thing.”
“A...thing?” Lizzie pursed her lips in confusion. “What do you mean?”
The Doctor waved an arm theatrically. “I felt as if I needed to look in here. I have a sixth sense.”
Lizzie looked impressed. “Really?”
“No. The TARDIS guided me here.”
“Oh.” Her mouth curled into a frown, and she looked down at her book, before remembering that she was supposed to maintain conversation and looked back up again. “Sorry. Do you need me for something?”
“No, no.” The Doctor looked around. “Just wondering where you were. I see you’ve found the library.”
“Yeah. I mean, I like reading. And this is a library, so,” she said, smiling at the thought. “Do you like books?”
“Yes,” the Doctor nodded. “Books are good.”
“Yeah.” They both lapsed into an awkward silence, neither of them used to the awareness required to carry a conversation, for very different reasons. The Doctor shuffled awkwardly, wondering where all his extravagance and charisma had gone, and Lizzie thumbed the spine of her book, wondering how exactly people were supposed to progress with small talk in general.
“What’s it called? The book, I mean.”
Lizzie looked down at the book, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. It was a secret smile, the Doctor thought, one that was reserved for herself and her unique history only. She opened her mouth to reveal the answer, but the TARDIS shuddered so violently at that precise moment that the Doctor was thrown off his feet and onto the floor below. He didn’t sustain any injuries, as a hideous tartan rug cushioned his fall.
“What was that?” Lizzie, who was still perched on the side of her chair, asked curiously. The Doctor didn’t answer right away ‒ he was trying to figure out who would leave such an abomination in his library ‒ so she continued. “Have we landed?”
“Shouldn’t think so.” The Doctor pushed himself to his feet. “I didn’t set any coordinates.”
“Crashed into something, then?” she guessed. “Is that a thing that happens?”
“Far too often,” the Doctor chuckled. He gestured towards the door. “Come on, we better go see what that was about.”
They both left the library behind them and walked into the console room.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 1
“Is this thing on? Erm...hello. The lady said that this would help me. So...day one: mummy hasn’t come home yet. I know she will. Maybe she’s in the up-state or something. The police lady stayed with me all night and gave me food, but she kept hugging me. I don’t want hugs. Only mummy gives me hugs. I know she’s coming back. She’s just late.”
***
“Right, let’s have a look.”
The Doctor dove straight for the monitor as soon as they had entered the room and fiddled with various dials and contraptions Lizzie didn’t fully understand. She looked down at her hands, realised that her book was still in her hands, and gently put it down on the chair.
“Hmm,” the Doctor ruminated quietly. Lizzie turned to him and noticed his troubled expression. She was by his side in an instant, and peered over his shoulder to see what had caught his attention. The screen was flickering sporadically, like an old TV with a misplaced aerial.
“I’m guessing that’s not good.”
“Your guess is correct,” the Doctor murmured. “Something out there is blocking the TARDIS scan.”
“Can that happen?” Lizzie asked. Her question was drowned out by a deep, metallic rumble. The Doctor looked up at the rotor.
“What’s wrong, old girl?” he chirruped nurturingly, pressing a hand against the console. “Not feeling well?”
He received a faint groan in response, which did nothing to alleviate his concerns.
“No, no,” he cooed. “You rest up. I’ll do the work for both of us. Besides, I’m not sure Cioné would forgive me if I overworked you.”
“We’ve definitely landed then,” Lizzie noted. “And the TARDIS isn’t feeling well. What does this mean?”
“It means…” the Doctor looked at her gravely. Lizzie tensed instantly at the look. “...we’re going to have to look outside for ourselves.”
She deflated instantly. Thank God it wasn’t something catastrophic. Her relief was quickly replaced by incredulity. “Seriously?”
“Well, I’m an aging man. I don’t always want the surprise and suspense for every destination,” he rambled as they left the console and walked towards the doors. Lizzie simply nodded, mainly because she was worried that if she opened her mouth, she would accuse him of lying (which he clearly was) in a spectacularly awkward manner. The Doctor opened the door, poked his head out, and looked at her. “Have you got a coat?”
Lizzie sighed. “Rain or chill?”
“Rain.” He looked impressed. “You didn’t ask the obvious question.”
“The obvious question being ‘why’?” Lizzie guessed. She smiled slightly when the Doctor nodded. “Growing up in a care home, you sort of have to develop this sort of acute sixth-sense for questions to like, not be patronised.” She repeated the sentence in her head and cringed. “I mean ‒”
“No, it’s okay, I understood you,” the Doctor assured her.
“Right, yeah,” Lizzie trailed off. “I didn’t bring one. Coat, I mean. It was all a sort of rush. Do you have a wardrobe? And comfortable clothes? I mean, no offense but I don’t really want to walk around looking like Byron, haha.”
The Doctor chuckled. “Don’t worry, the TARDIS wardrobe has a variety of clothing. First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on your left.”
She stared at him blankly. “Could you repeat that?”
***
Holo-Diary Entry 2
“This holo-caster ball is weird.. I didn’t really look at it before because...you know, but it’s so round. Like, perfectly round, and it’s so smooth. It almost slips out of my fingers. You don’t get stuff like this anymore. Everything’s all manu‒ manu...made in big posh factories. They’re always boring colours, but this isn’t. It’s all bright and colourful and shines when we have sunlight. I wonder where Mummy got it. I want to ask, but mummy’s gone now.”
***
The rain had mostly stopped by the time the Doctor and Lizzie had stepped outside. To Lizzie’s disappointment, they had merely landed in a narrow alleyway. Dirt and grime clung to the worn out brick walls and a light splatter of rain drizzled off the rooftops aboves, flowed onto the muddy ground and into poorly maintained sewage grates. The Doctor stepped out into the alleyway, waited for Lizzie to follow suit, shut the door behind him, and grimaced when his boot made contact with a thick brown sludge. He frowned at the stench and sight of rotting, decomposing food.
“It’s very smelly,” he exclaimed suddenly. Lizzie hummed in agreement, checking to make sure her converses weren’t stained. They were her favourite pair, and she’d hate to part with them. The Doctor fished out his sonic screwdriver, and started a scan. He slowly whirled on the spot, like a tourist getting their bearings, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.
“Will she be alright?” Lizzie asked, looking up at the TARDIS in concern. “She wasn’t like this last time.”
“Hmm?” the Doctor tilted his head slightly in her direction, but his eyes were rooted on the screwdriver. “Oh, she’ll be fine. Just needs a bit of a rest. Do you like rests, Lizzie?”
“No.” Lizzie kicked an empty can across the alleyway. “Well, I dunno. I don’t get enough of it to really judge, you know?” Lizzie couldn’t decipher if the Doctor’s responding hum was one of acknowledgment or validation of one of his harebrained theories. The low-pitched warble of the screwdriver rose an octave as he strode through the alleyway.
“Come have a look at this.”
He didn’t listen then, she thought glumly. “What is it?”
“Not sure yet, but it’s definitely a point of interest.” He smiled at her. “Not as interesting as pre-history, but it’ll do.”
“It wasn’t prehistory, it was the past,” Lizzie corrected as she hurried to catch up to him, making sure to avoid contact with any of the sewage.
“It’s all pre-history to me,” he shrugged nonchalantly. Lizzie found that rather callous. She was about to point that out, but the Doctor cut her off with a, “oh, listen to that.” the screwdriver was practically wailing now, the tip glowing a fervent crimson colour. “Definitely a point of interest somewhere...out here.”
They had reached the end of the alleyway, and were greeted by an empty street, illuminated by dimly lit lamps. The light drizzle of rain persisted, and it was starting to soak into the fabric of Lizzie’s coat. The Doctor surveyed the street with pursed lips.
“Strange.” He looked down at the beeping screwdriver in bemusement. “There’s nothing of importance that I can see.”
“Could be faulty,” Lizzie suggested.
“Hmm. No. No, it never gets faulty.” the Doctor murmured, looking across the street. “There’s something I’m missing. We should ‒”
“Don’t say split up,” Lizzie interrupted suddenly. The Doctor’s mouth hung open like a fish and he turned to look at her in surprise. “Sorry, that was really random. But still, splitting up is a bad idea. I mean, we could...get ambushed. Or something.” She coughed awkwardly.
The Doctor stared at her. “Oh...right. No, you’re right.”
“It’s just ‒ I watch crime dramas a lot. At night.” Lizzie continued, in a stilted manner that made her scream inside. “It was ‒ it was just a thought.”
“No, no. You’re right. Splitting up is a bad idea,” the Doctor interjected. “And I’m sure your knowledge in the criminal genre will prove to be useful one day.”
“Yeah, probably...maybe. I just sort of blurted that out because we’re in a street, and there’s nobody around. That’s classic ambush material.”
The Doctor’s eye widened as the truth dawned on him. He spun on the spot and surveyed his surroundings. “You’re right.”
“We’re going to get ambushed?” Lizzie knew that probably wasn’t what he meant, but it never hurt to have a little clarification.
“No, no, no. There’s nobody around.” He spun to face her again. “Elizabeth Darwin, you are shaping up to be quite the genius!”
Lizzie blinked. “Thanks, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Even so, you’re still correct! The street is empty. And do you know what this was registering?” He held up the sonic screwdriver for Lizzie to see.
She looked at him in puzzlement. “What?”
“Life signs!” he exclaimed jovially. He was probably enjoying himself a bit too much. “Come on, we’ll start ‒”
“Joseph!”
The voice caught them both off guard. Spinning on his heels, the Doctor noticed an elderly lady with a shock of grey hair and large, cat-like eyes hobbling in their direction.
“Joseph!” She repeated. The Doctor turned around in search for this mysterious ‘Joseph’, half-expecting to see a man with a very expressive face. He was quite surprised when the woman grabbed him by the arm and let out a contented sigh. “There you are, my dear! Didn’t you hear me call?”
The Doctor blinked. “Sorry?”
“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart. You know your grandmother isn’t built for all this running.”
“Ah,” the Doctor looked around nervously. “Ah. There must be some misunderstanding. You see, I’m not ‒”
“Oh, whatever it is, it can wait! Come,” she tugged on his sleeve, and the Doctor was surprised when she managed to drag him across the street. “Your tea’s getting cold! Oh, I made you a new sweater and everything, you’ll have to try it on.”
“...right,” he mumbled as he stumbled after her, looking back at Lizzie with a dazed expression. Lizzie stared back, deeply confused by the sudden turn of events, and offered the Doctor a small smile, hoping it looked consoling, but knowing that it probably came across as terrifying. She hurried after them after they turned a corner, but stopped when she heard a crash behind her.
The lamps flickered ominously, casting deep shadows across the street walls. Lizzie wasn’t tremendously scared of shadows — one of her favourite hobbies as a child was to make elaborate shadow puppets — but there was something unnerving about a desolate street in the middle of nowhere. Anything could happen, and nobody would ever know. She shivered at the thought, before jumping at the sound of another crash. It startled her to realise the crash was coming from above. She looked up when a flash of bright blue light invaded her vision, the light spittle of rain morphed into a fat torrential army that soaked right through her already wet clothes, and left her drenched.
Another flash of thunder highlighted a passing blur. She didn’t have a great deal of time to identify any distinctive features, but Lizzie noted the slender shape. She wasn’t alone. She took a step back, considered calling out for the Doctor, but reasoned that the old lady would have dragged him out of earshot by now.
A crackling boom masked the heavy footfalls as the figure advanced on her, and another bout of thunder was the last thing she heard before everything went black.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 3
“Day 3. I’m making these daily, because the police lady said that it would help. They’ve sent out papers to the local care homes to see if I can live with them in their acc ‒ acco…their house. She said it could take a long time for the papers to come back, so I have to stay home by myself until then. I don’t mind it, but I wish mum would come home. I have to call her mum now because I’m a big girl and I can’t cry, that’s what they said. But…I’m lonely. I want my mummy. I want her to come home.”
***
“Oh!” the old woman giggled when another crash of thunder echoed above their heads. “Horrible weather, isn’t it? I should have brought my shawl!”
“Oh, you can wear my coat,” the Doctor suggested, already tugging the sleeve off before the lady waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, no, don’t you worry, my dear Joseph. We’re almost there anyway, look!” she pointed at a derelict little cottage on the side of the road in the distance. It looked out of place on what, the Doctor surmised from visual clues, was an abandoned council estate. The rain had picked up at a fervent pace, prompting them to walk faster to avoid catching colds — a difficult feat to achieve for a Time Lord. The Doctor tuned back into the conversation when he realised the lady was still rambling. “…and there’s plenty of room for you, and your — oh. Now where has she got to?”
“Eh?” The Doctor craned his head backwards, expecting to find Lizzie looking back at him with an awkward wave on standby, but she was absent. He slowed his pace and surveyed the nearby area, concluding that she was just walking at a leisurely pace and would soon be within sight. A few seconds passed before he realised that she had truly disappeared. “Lizzie?”
A flash of blue light.
“Lizzie?” he called out, a frown marring his expression. He skidded to a halt, and the woman stopped a second later.
A loud clap of thunder.
“Lizzie?” he tried again, more desperately. “Lizzie!”
“Oh, do stop shouting,” the woman tutted, grabbing him by the arm again. “She’s obviously not here, and we’re going to catch our deaths waiting. Come, we need to get warm.”
“But —”
“Oh, do stop arguing, Joseph.” The woman tugged him further down the road. “Listen to your grandma for once, won’t you?”
“But I’m not —”
“Ah, ah! I will hear no more arguing. We rest up, and then we look for her, understood?”
The Doctor sighed begrudgingly. “Fine.”
The woman looked satisfied with his answer, but she didn’t release his arm. With pursed lips, the produced his sonic screwdriver, and scanned the area as they walked. The steady buzz provided him a little comfort from his erratic thoughts. His brain was unhelpfully devising every possible scenario that could go wrong. It was a surprisingly common occurrence recently. If anything happened to Lizzie, it would be his fault for not being as attentive as he should have been.
The scan finished with a beep. There were no Artron-infused life signs registered, which meant that Lizzie was somewhere else. He scratched at the scalp of his head, wondering where to start, when they reached the cottage. The woman hurriedly pressed her palm against a metal panel on the left side of the door. There was a flash of green light and the door swung open soundlessly. They entered the house just as another crash of thunder boomed loudly, sending shock-waves up the Doctor’s arm. There was something different about this particular thunderstorm, but he couldn’t place his finger on why.
The clink of a cup jolted him out of his musings, and the Doctor realised that he had been left alone; he used the opportunity to examine his surroundings. The cottage was small, barely a little more than a hut. It had that cramped, homey feel in holiday brochure and had the musky smell of coffee and burning wood. The room he was in consisted of a makeshift study and living room simultaneously. A small, round table was situated in the corner of the room, to the right of the door, and a few pictures of quaint holiday destinations were secure in a plethora of picture frames — some were small and round, some were large and rectangular, and some were the most basic frames. Further into the room was a fireplace with a roaring fire and a small rocking chair beside it. On the armrest lay a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn was bunched up into a circle on the seat itself. Beyond that were two doors, one open and one closed. The Doctor guessed that they made up the bedroom and kitchen respectively. He briefly wondered where her bathroom was, before his thoughts returned to Lizzie.
The Doctor approached the table, and tentatively brushed his fingers over the faded out newspapers stacked high onto the table. The headline on the first paper caught the Doctor’s attention — ‘Freak Storms linked to Mysterious Disappearances?’ .
His eyes drifted to the name and picture on the byline, Meera Amin, a professional-looking Indian woman in a blazer and skirt. Her eyes seemed to glint mischievously in the firelight, like a woman on a mission. Pictures of reporters on bylines, that was new. The Doctor twisted his wrist to flip the paper over and skimmed the back. Nothing to note. He returned his attention to the main headline.
“I’ve made us some tea,” the woman said kindly as she hobbled back into the living room carrying a tray supporting two cups of tea and biscuits. She smiled graciously when the Doctor helpfully took the tray out of her hand, and took a seat in the armchair. “Should warm us right up.”
“That’s very kind,” the Doctor said as he set the tray down, hooked an arm over a chair, dragged it towards him loudly, and slouched into it.
The woman grimaced at his lazy posture. “What bad manners have you picked up?” she tutted, taking a cup of tea from the tray and taking a tentative sip, her disapproving eyes trained on the Doctor at all times. “I hope it wasn’t from that girl. Oh, the thought of it! I’ve told you over and over, Joseph. Don’t loiter with ruffians! They’ll only bring you down.”
The Doctor blinked. “Eh? Lizzie isn’t a ruffian. And might I clarify, I am not —”
“Eh’?” the woman looked startled. “Joseph, where have you picked up these awful mannerisms?”
The Doctor sighed. This had gone far enough.
“Well?” she looked aggravated now.
“Look, Mrs…?” he trailed off, and waved his hand to prompt her.
“Baggot!” she exclaimed indignantly. “Aldora Baggot!”
“Oh, really?” he wrinkled his nose. “Suppose that would make me Joseph Baggot, then.”
“Why, you insolent boy —”
“No, wait!” the Doctor talked over her. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away there. What I mean to say is, Mrs Baggot, I’m not your Joseph. That is to say, I’m not your grandson.”
Aldora glowered at him. “This is a cruel game, Joseph.”
“Listen to me, please,” he implored. He was starting to get a little impatient. “I am not trying to be cruel or nasty whatsoever. I am merely stating the truth. My name is not Joseph Baggot, I am not your grandson, Mrs Baggot, and please do not take offence when I say that I have never met you before in my entire life.”
Aldora’s stern stare did not waver. If anything, it bore into the Doctor more intensely until it was almost piercing.
He moved closer and placed a hand on her shoulder after some hesitation. “I am sorry.”
With that, followed by an undecipherable glint in her eyes, Aldora’s defences crumbled.
“I knew it was too good to be true,” she whispered mournfully. Her stiff posture relaxed and she brought a hand to her mouth.”Oh, heavens. Don’t mind me, dear. I’m just…feeling a little emotional.” She sighed. “Oh, look at you. I dragged you here for no reason, haven’t I? Such a blunder. I’m terribly sorry, my dear. What did you say your name was?”
“That’s quite alright,” the Doctor assured her. “And my name’s the Doctor.”
“Doctor Who?”
“Just the Doctor.”
Aldora frowned again. “Are you sure? It’s terribly formal. How about Doctor Joseph — no, I must stop doing that. You’re not him, after all. What about…Scott? Dean? Miranda?”
“The Doctor’s just fine,” he asserted. “Why did you think I was Joseph?”
“Oh, you look so much like him,” she croaked. “I know there’s all that malarkey of identical twins across the world and all that rubbish, but I didn’t believe it until I saw you!”
“I see. And where —”
“I had just knitted him a new scarf, you see,” she continued. “And I was just so eager because I hadn’t seen you…him, for days now.”
“Right, but where did you last see him?”
“Oh, can’t help you there, mate,” she chuckled. “My memory’s going. Old age, you see. Do you know, I once saw a holo-documentary about this dreadful memory-loss incident that plagued a colony in Meta Sigma Folio.”
“Yes, yes, but do you think he’s disappeared?”
“Of course he’s disappeared, you silly man! He’s not bloody here, is he?”
“Does he usually disappear?”
“Of course not, you fool! Why do you think I was out looking for him? He’s all I’ve got left, my dear Joseph —”
“Do you think his disappearance could be linked to the other ones?” The Doctor snapped. His patience was starting to wear thin.
“You what?”
Aldora furrowed her brow. “Well, it might. He went out during a terrible storm.”
“Like the one outside?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Right.” He shook his head suddenly, “No.”
“What?”
The Doctor raised a finger to his lip and hushed her. Aldora glared at him but relented, and listened. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion, trying to locate the source of his actions, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was located in their respective areas, the tea was still on the tray, and the fire was still crackling in the hearth.
“Notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“No,” she admitted. “Everything is quite normal.”
“Exactly. The storm’s stopped,” he pointed out. “It stopped the moment we entered the cottage.”
“Had it?” she tilted her head in confusion. “I didn’t realise.”
“Must have some sort of suggestion built in,” the Doctor mused. “Only superior beings would have been able to pick it up. No offence.”
“Yeah, offence taken, if that’s alright with you,” she said crossly. “Just because I’m old doesn’t make me inferior, thank you very much.”
The Doctor had the decency to look chastised. “Yes, quite,” he said sheepishly as he heaved himself off the chair. “Right, enough of that. My friend’s still out there somewhere and, if she’s been kidnapped like I think she has been, I have to go look for her.”
“What, on your own?”
“Yup, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I usually do this all the time.”
“I’m sure you do, and that’s all very good, but I’m coming with you.”
“What? No!” he exclaimed, but Aldora was already out of her seat and hurrying into the closed door before he even finished. She emerged a second later, with a coat and crimson shawl in hand. “Put that down!”
“Why?”
“Well, this could be dangerous, and I don’t want to put your life at risk.”
“You’re not. I’m putting my own life at risk.” She spoke as if she wasn’t taking his claims seriously, so he grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him.
“I’m serious,” he stressed. “This could be dangerous. I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Do you know what I am, Doctor?” Aldora asked him, but she clearly wasn’t waiting for an answer, “A nanny, to all the little tots in the neighbourhood. Once you deal with those rascals, everything you could possibly experience in later life is watered down. And don’t you worry about me slowing you down. I have the feet and stamina of an athlete.
The Doctor searched her eyes, a cryptic expression on his face. Finally, he released her with a frown. “Alright, if you’re sure. Let’s get going then.”
“Wait!” she gasped. “I’ve just forgotten something important!”
“What is it? New information that could help us find Lizzie and Joseph?”
“No! My knitting needles!” she spun around and swiped the objects off the armrest. The Doctor rolled his eyes but hurriedly plastered a smile on his face once she turned back around. “All ready now!”
“I could have left you behind in that time, you know,” the Doctor warned as they left the cottage. Aldora pressed her hand to the monitor again, and the green glow was replaced by a red one. She closed the hatch and turned back to him.
“I doubt it, dear, that door’s keyed to my palm print. You’d never have gotten out,” she responded confidently, and looped her arm with his. “Honestly, Doctor, you talk as if you’ve never been to New New Earth before.”
“New New Earth?” the Doctor mulled on the designation while they walked, but eventually shrugged sheepishly. “Well, I haven’t.”
“Oh, are you a tourist then? I knew there was a reason I didn’t recognise you.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” he responded, but his eyes were fixed on the horizon, a new determination ignited in his being. He narrowed his eyes in thought and muttered quietly, “Where are you, Lizzie?”
***
Holo-Diary Entry 4
“Me again. I know I said that I would make these daily, but everything’s been a rush and it’s already been a week! They rejected my form thingy for the home — said they can’t…’afford’ me? To have me? I dunno — so I have to stay home! I’m ten now, so I’m allowed to live by myself for 19 hours a day, but the police lady has to be with me for the rest. She usually comes in the morning to make me home-made breakfast and make sure everything’s okay. I like her but she’s SO ANNOYING sometimes! It’s always ‘Brush your teeth, Jada, that’s what they did back in the Stone Age!’ or ‘Did you do your homework, Jada?’. Bla, bla, bla! I hate it! Mum never used to be like this! I still miss her, but I know she’s not coming back now, just like Dad.
So, yeah. That was a lot, I think. Bye for now, diary!”
***
Lizzie had never been knocked out in her life — not to her knowledge, at least. She had kept her head down in school, avoided anything illicit and generally went about with her life, which was why the pain when she woke up was such a shock. Her eyelids stung, as if she had looked at the sun for too long, and her vision blurred. Her stomach twisted into knots and she felt a dizzying rush of nausea envelop her. Beats of sweat trailed down her face and her hair clung to her clammy forehead. Her breathing was laboured and it hurt her chest to try. Rolling to the side, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fight off the nausea. What had happened? It hurt too much to think.
Water. She focused on water. She needed it. Her throat was as dry as sandpaper, and it hurt to swallow her own saliva. Lizzie shuffled forward weakly, desperate for a cool drink. Her heart was hammering erratically in her chest. She needed to calm down, but she couldn’t. In that moment, she was scared that she would die from a panic attack, alone on an unknown planet without the company of Maggie or Pat or anyone else she was comfortable enough to call her family.
“It’s okay,” a female voice quietly whispered. Lizzie zoned in on the voice, and rolled over once again. A pretty Chinese woman around her age was huddled in the corner. Her pale complexion was sullied by dirt and her light-ish brown hair was frazzled and clumped in bunches, as if she had pulled at it in frustration. Whoever she was, she was studying her intently. “It’s the transmat, leaves you feeling a bit crap for a while. Okay, more than a bit crap. Messes with your head, heightens your emotions even more for fun. You need to calm down.”
If Lizzie had the energy, she would muster up a sassy retort before letting it die down in her throat. She did not need a stranger to dictate how she felt. Her head was pounding, something she hadn’t realised before, and she looked at the only company in the room with wide eyes.
The woman shuffled closer and pressed a hand against hers. She didn’t look particularly comfortable doing it, and maintained her distance, so Lizzie guessed that she was the type of person who avoided physical contact like the plague. That was okay, she was the same. If a fear of physical contact was an allergy, Lizzie would have been diagnosed within the first minute. The closer proximity allowed her to identify the Chinese woman’s clothing. She wasn’t dressed in anything too extravagant, just a simple, modest-sized white floral print dress and flat shoes.
“It’s okay,” she repeated in a soft voice. “You’re safe. You’re with me. My name is Meera. Trust me, you’ll feel better after you’ve had some rest.”
Lizzie’s eyes started to droop. God, she was so tired. Maybe the woman, Meera, was right. Her head lolled to the side, and her eyes drifted shut.
***
“Cold day, isn’t it?” Aldora said aloud. The Doctor inwardly cringed at her attempt to make conversation. Small talk, one of humanity’s greatest abominations. He decided to ignore her in favour of jumping over a large puddle, digging out his sonic screwdriver and scanning the area.
“There’s something that’s been eating away at me, Aldora,” the Doctor confessed. He turned to her. “Where is everybody? Why is everything so barren?”
“It’s always been barren, love,” Aldora shrugged. “ Ever since that contagion. As for the people, well…it’s better if I just show you. See that woman over there?”
She gestured towards a woman dressed in black hurrying across the road ahead towards a building ahead of them. She briefly glanced at them and looked away again.
“Watch this,” Aldora planted a smile on her face and chased after the woman with a cheery wave. “Hullo! Cold day today, isn’t it? I was just outside on a little stroll —”
“Please, I have no money,” the woman said quickly. The Doctor noticed her wide eyes and stiff posture. She was terrified of a little old lady. “Just, leave me alone.” With that, she turned and ran into a decrepit building, slamming the door behind her.
“Charming,” Aldora huffed. “She thought I was a beggar! The cheek!”
“Earth still has beggars then,” the Doctor murmured. He had hoped that something so cruel and unjust would have been sorted out at such an advanced stage, but maybe he was too optimistic. Or perhaps he was getting critical in his old age. The screwdriver beeped again and produced a complete scan. “Hello…”
The scans were registering a peculiar amount of life signatures in a single building a little further down the road. Not only that, the scans also registered an unidentified property near the bodies. He followed the trail, intrigued, with Ms Baggot close by.
“What is it?”
“Life signs. Something else, too.”
“What’s that, then?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.
The rain had stopped altogether, leaving behind water puddles of varying sizes. Despite leaving the alleyway behind in his wake, litter and abandoned knick-knacks plagued the street, and the Doctor could’ve sworn a rat scuttling along the worn concrete floor. As they continued their journey, he became aware of the attention he was receiving. People — mainly young women dressed in strange black outfits — stared at them as they passed, their looks a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
Aldora glared at them, and they all hurriedly looked away.
“Nosy buggers,” she grumbled. “This is what those ruddy bleedin’ hearts are teaching them. None of the discipline of my time.”
The Doctor made a noise of acknowledgement, mainly to avoid putting his foot in his mouth and earning a lecture from the old lady who, he supposed, would have voted Leave if she had lived in another time. They turned a corner, and found themselves standing outside the home of the disturbance. A rundown, derelict building with sealed windows and chipped paintwork. The standard palm print scan was fully functioning, so the Doctor disabled it with the sonic screwdriver.
He pressed a hand to the door before turning to his elderly companion. “We don’t know what we’ll find in here. Are you ready?”
“Oh, just get on with it!” Aldora huffed.
“Alright, alright.” He took a moment to prepare himself for the worst, and then he pushed the door open.
***
Holo-Diary Entry 5
“Dear Diary, I’m being all posh now, can you tell? I’m scared. I’m being followed. I don’t know who by or for how long, but…it’s scary. There’s always a knock on the door. A monster’s out there and it’s going to hurt me. I want my mummy. It always knocks on the door loudly at night time when I’m sleeping. I want my mum. I want my mummy. Why did she have to leave?
I saw it once, outside my window. It was dark but it was a person. I couldn’t see anything else, like their face. I think…I think it’s because it didn’t have a face. It’s a monster and it’s going to eat me.”
***
The door swung open quietly, allowing the Doctor and Aldora to slip in quietly. They kept their backs to the wall and shuffled further into the building. They were in a corridor of some sort, a dull, monotonous set of walls that blended into the cover of night seamlessly. They entered a large hallway that split off into three separate sections: an archway in the middle of the hallway, a dusty spiral staircase to their left, and a closed door to their right.
“Doctor…” Aldora whispered.
“I know.”
In the centre of the room was a congregation of small children, possibly no older than ten or eleven. They stood in rows of five, with a total of twenty-five children. The Doctor circled around them slowly, leaning in to examine them further. The children remained unnervingly rigid and unresponsive.
“Interesting,” he murmured. He suddenly shouted loudly into a child’s face, but they remained silent. “Total shutdown.”
“But why are they like that?” Aldora asked. “Is my Jacob here? I have to give him the mittens I knitted, the poor dear must be freezing.”
“No, I don’t think so. Lizzie isn’t here either. I think I’ve been led astray.” He looked at her. “Have you noticed it, Aldora?”
“Noticed what?”
“Their faces. Go on, take a closer look.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t know..”
“They won’t harm you.”
“Oh…” she stared at him in apprehension for several more seconds, before caving in. “Oh, alright then.”
At his behest, she waddled closer and peered nervously at a small girl.
“Her face is…blurry. Indistinct,” she said slowly. “I can’t quite make it out.”
“It’s a perception filter at work,” the Doctor explained, running his sonic over the girl’s face. “Low-level, I’d say. But I can’t seem to find the right frequency to disrupt it.” He looked down at the screwdriver with a frown. “Hmm, funny that. Notice anything else?”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Look at them,” he urged, bending down until he was eye-level with the girl to prove his point. “Their faces — they’re perfectly symmetrical. Everything’s all neat and straight and in-line. It’s perfect. Human beings are not perfect. They have funny teeth or outrageous hair. This is like a child’s doll. Someone’s been tampering with these children.”
“There have been rumours. Children and adults disappearing off the streets.” Aldora chewed on her bottom lip. “Is there something you can do?”
“Possibly,” the Doctor responded, and slowly rose from his crouch. It pained him, to see a child that was experimented on to look pristine. Humanity’s perfect image. He stared darkly at his elderly companion. “Lizzie’s out there.”
“Yes, she is. We’d best find her.”
“Yes, but before that,” the Doctor stopped her before she could hurry away, and stared her down. “I think it’s time you told me the truth, Aldora Baggot.”
***
“Oh my god.”
“Please, you need to do something, please – please.”
Lizzie jolted awake with a start. Her heart hammered thunderously in her ribcage, and she was worried it would jump out of her throat. It took her a few seconds to calm herself down enough to function without looking completely shattered. She released a long, resigned sigh.
“Just a dream,” she muttered in a foolhardy attempt to relax. She swiped at a trail of sweat and repeated, with more conviction, “just a dream.”
“Sounded more like a nightmare to me.”
Lizzie looked to her left. The girl, Meera, was sat in the corner watching her curiously. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and she was curled up in a little ball. The thought of her listening to Lizzie’s nightmare-induced ramblings mortified her.
“Oh, hi,” she attempted to be nonchalant, and probably failed. “Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear that.”
“It’s okay, you can’t exactly control what you say in your sleep,” Meera assured her.
“Probably why I don’t get enough of it,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing.” She smiled and looked around. “Just glad to have some company. Where are we?”
“Dunno. A warehouse, maybe?”
Her suggestion seemed to match their surroundings. There was a stale, industrial air about the place, boxes were scattered everywhere, windows were sealed off, and there were bare shelves spanning the entire width of the room. Using the dim lighting, Lizzie pulled the flap of a brown box open. It was completely empty. She sighed and closed it. How had she even managed to get into this mess? She wracked her brain, trying to remember, but all she could remember was a thunderstorm.
“Feeling better?” Meera asked her, pulling Lizzie out of her thoughts.
“Actually, yeah. I feel much better thanks.” She frowned. “How does that work?”
“Their transport rings could heighten emotional and physical states…” Meera looked distractedly to the side. “Or something. I dunno.”
“Transport rings?”
“What’s your name?”
Her mind took a second to process the abrupt change in conversation. “Lizzie. You’re…Meera, right?”
“Yup,” the woman smiled. “Meera…Amin. It’s nice to meet you. Only wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s great to finally have some company.”
“How long have you been down here, Meera?”
“Hard to say. Those windows are sealed and block out any sunlight. The only light source is that flickering bulb up there.”
Lizzie looked up. The only distinctive feature of the colourless ceiling was the single light fixture in the centre. It was like the bulbs from her time — if they operated under the pretence that she was in fact in the future, which was likely if she accounted for the talks of transport rings.
“How do we breathe?” she asked.
“Tiny grate over here,” Meera shifted and showed her a small ventilation shaft. “Big enough to let air in, small enough to prevent escape. And the air travels in from outside so we’re likely in a secluded area — why are you looking at me like that?”
“Hm? Oh, no reason. Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you or anything,” Lizzie hastily replied, but she couldn’t help but notice that, even though she had been kidnapped and locked in a possible warehouse, Meera didn’t look very afraid.
***
“The truth? What do you mean?” Aldora laughed derisively. “This is absurd.”
“Is it?” the Doctor challenged. Aldora stopped laughing, her mouth curled into a scowl, she straightened her posture and glared at him accusingly.
“How long have you known?” she asked in a cool, clipped tone.
“About your deception? The whole time,” the Doctor revealed. “I mean, you conveniently happen to have a grandson who looks exactly like me? And you chalk it up to secret twins? That's one the most ridiculous excuses I've ever heard.”
“That’s all it took?”
“No,” the Doctor bit. “Because even if I wasn’t accounting for Spacial Genetic Multiplicity, I'd have enough to go on from the discrepancies.”
“What discrepancies?” she placed emphasis on the word and sneered, as if she thought the Doctor was bluffing.
“Do you love your grandson very much, Aldora?”
“I do,” Aldora responded proudly, with a jut of her chin.
“What’s his name?”
“Jack.”
“Hmm.” The Doctor circled past her almost predatorily. “Is it? Because I was under the impression that it was Jacob. Or Joseph. Or Jonathan.”
“Well, I —”
“Oh, just shut up,” the Doctor growled. “Not only that, you say you’re the local nanny. This seems like a very small town from what I’ve seen, and yet that lady didn’t recognise you.”
“Maybe she doesn’t have kids.”
“She would still recognise you as the only nanny in the neighbourhood!” he retorted incredulously, glaring at her in revulsion. It disgusted him how she could just stand there and continue to lie. “She lives down the road from you! And not only that, you can’t keep your story straight! I could go on, but I want to know what your role in all this is.”
They glared at each other, both too stubborn to move first. They stood like that for a while, surrounded in a room by children, before there was a flash of lightning that illuminated the children’s ‘blank’ faces, and a loud boom of thunder.
Aldora moved first. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling with a cheery smile and fiddled with her knitting needles. “Awfully stormy outside all of a sudden, isn’t it?”
The Doctor’s patience finally snapped, and he grabbed her by the shoulders, gripping her tightly. “What do you know?!”
“I know that you know too much.”
“Do I? I’d say I know too little —” he gasped when Aldora rammed a needle straight through his stomach. The blade glinted in the dim lighting as she pulled it out. There was surprisingly no blood. The Doctor clutched at his abdomen in shock, as his vision swam.
“You know too much, dear,” Aldora repeated with a mocking grin. “Yes, you were right. I am a part of all this, and I won’t let you stop me.”
The Doctor grunted as he collapsed on the floor. He glared at the old woman as his vision blurred. “I will…stop…” he groaned and rolled to the side.
Aldora shifted so that she was in his line of sight again, the grin still intact on her face. She tutted and pouted maliciously. “Are you hurt, my dear? Don’t worry, granny will take good care of you now.”
***
“Can I ask you something?”
It was abrupt. She knew it was abrupt, but she had to ask anyway. It was one of those moments where she felt that pull, that burning desire to have a question answered. She was starting to get those more often. Meera looked up at her, her curious eyes encouraging, so Lizzie took a steadying breath and spewed her question out before she could think of a thousand different ways of why this was a stupid idea and would explode in her face.
“Who are you?”
Meera appeared to be taken aback by her question. “You what?”
God, this was a bad idea. “Not literally, obviously. I know your name but like, who are you? Why aren’t you scared?”
There was a challenging glint in Meera’s eyes. “Why aren’t you?”
“Oh, I am,” she admitted. There was a sudden crackle of thunder, and she almost leapt out of her skin at the sound. “See? I’m terrified, but I’d die if people were able to see me as this transparent person, you know? But you, you’re not even phased. Random thunderstorm, and you’re still sitting there.”
“Maybe I am.”
“See, I don’t think you are.” She stood up and ran a hand along a shelf’s metal bar. “You’re not putting on a brave face or anything to cover up anything you find scary, I think. And usually I’d be scared that I’m wrong cos I don’t want to look all high-and-mighty, but there’s just…this energy about you, and I just know that you’re not all you seem to be.”
Meera looked down and traced her finger on the floor. “You’re right, I’m not.”
In all honesty, Lizzie would have collapsed from relief that she managed to avoid an awkward situation then and there, but Meera didn’t seem like that extroverted type, so she waited patiently for her to continue.
“I was, once. Probably. Maybe. Not anymore, though. I can’t tell you anything, so don’t ask, but I need you to trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not alone anymore.”
There was another flash of blue electricity, and Lizzie caught a glimpse of a shadow looming in the corner of her eye. She turned, and a figure was towering over her, shrouded in darkness. It was tall and gangly, but somehow intimidating. Lizzie took a step back, and the creature took a step forward. Meera pushed herself to her feet, and crossed her arms.
The creature simply regarded her with a stare — Lizzie knew this by the tilt of its neck — and it simply tossed a newspaper beside their feet. After realising its intent, Lizzie picked it up, and skimmed through it. Her eyes snagged on the image of the pretty Indian girl in the byline image, but her breath caught in her throat when she noticed the name: Meera Amin.
She looked at the other woman in the room, a Chinese woman.
“You lied,” the creature hissed, voicing her internal thoughts.
“Yeah, I did,” The strange woman replied simply. She was eerily calm.
Lizzie’s wrung her hands awkwardly as she felt her confidence slip away. She wasn’t as good at reading people as she thought. She had completely read the signals wrong, the lapse when the woman introduced herself, the distracted eye flickers. She had known about the creature. That was why she wasn’t afraid. This woman had asked Lizzie to trust her, and yet she had lied about her own identity.
What had she gotten herself into?
to be continued
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next time - forevermoreNew Earth’s children have been taken. Desperately trying to fix the mistakes of a corrupt society, the Doctor finds himself at loggerheads with the elusive ‘Meera’ and her organisation on how to eliminate the threat presented by Aldora Baggot and her henchmen.
Lizzie, on the other hand, finds herself at odds with a threat just as deadly, but far more personal. Their efforts, their struggles all boil down to the same question: What is the true definition of evolution? |