The Severed Man - George Mann by Doctor Who

Author:Doctor Who [Who, Doctor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: time, adventure, action, hunter, bomb, war, Sci-fi, Doctor Who, SCIENCE FICTION, telos
ISBN: 9781845838041
Publisher: Telos
Published: 2011-04-28T04:00:00+00:00

Honoré woke in a cold sweat.

He sat bolt upright on the bed, looking around in the dark. Emily was still asleep on the other side of the room, curled up on her tiny bunk. The room stank of stale sweat and urine.

He rubbed his face with his hands. He had to do something about these dreams; they were starting to affect his ability to keep his mind on the job. Not only that, but he was sure they were starting to impact upon his relationship with Emily. Something was going on behind the scenes, and he was sure it had a lot to do with the images that kept cropping up in his nightmares.

But there was more than that, too. Now he was beginning to doubt the veracity of his own memory. What was real and what was not? He remembered clearly the moment in Normandy when he had seen all those walking, spectral figures, and at the time had put it down to sheer fatigue and a deep-seated weariness with the War. Later, after discovering his bizarre sensitivity to time, he had looked back on a number of oddities from his past in a new light, and had seen them in the context of his new life. The ‘ghosts’ had probably been figures from different time zones, all interweaving with one another, crossing each other’s paths, centuries apart. It had simply been his unfiltered mind that had allowed him to see it all at once, provided him with a rare ‘overview’ of time; and it had nearly driven him insane in the process.

He had learned to live with these surrealistic visions by simply blanking them out, shutting out the strange real-world he could see and forcing himself to lead what he figured was a ‘normal’ life. After a while it had become a reflex, a lowering of the shades to keep out the nightmares on the other side of the window. Until he had gone and gotten himself mixed up in the ‘Emily Blandish’ affair, that is...

He tried to cast his mind back to that time on the embankment in Normandy. Now, in the cold light of day, he couldn’t recall seeing the Emily/Devil figure amongst the others in the field, nor remember actually shooting at any of the people in the strange, ethereal crowd. Was that a figment of his dream, or was there something far more sinister going on, something that was starting to draw elements from his past further and further into the present day? Had all this been working away in the background for years, toiling like some devilish mechanism that was drawing, patiently, towards some terrible and unexpected endgame? If so, it looked like things were going to come to a head soon enough. Honoré could feel the tension like a palpable, electric field in the air, and it was starting to get to him, to wear him down.

He felt lost, isolated, and aware that the one person he could talk to about all this was the one person he needed to talk about.

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