Doctor Who: The Hollow Men by Keith Topping & Martin Day

Author:Keith Topping & Martin Day
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781446417867
Publisher: BBC Books

CHAPTER 8

THE SOUND OF SOMEONE YOU LOVE WHO’S GOING AWAY AND IT DOESN’T MATTER

THE SCARECROW’S HAND pushed through the fractured hole. The fingers were formed from intertwined flesh and stick; the tattered arm of the shirt revealed stalks of corn, arranged as veins. Tiny rust-coloured leaves fell like blood when the hand snagged on sharp splinters of wood.

Steven Chen backed away from the doorway. ‘What is that thing?’

Ace swung round, inadvertently blinding her companion with the torch. ‘You’ve seen Night of the Living Dead, right?’ She glanced around the dark church. Ill-defined shapes pressed against the windows along one wall. Twigs scratched against the stained glass. Ace ran into the small northern aisle, seeking weapons or an escape route. ‘They don’t seem to have got around here yet,’ she said, pointing to the windowed arches that ran along the wall. She jumped on to a pew, peering through the glass at the churchyard beyond.

‘Of course!’ exclaimed Steven. ‘That part of the graveyard is completely enclosed. The wall must be holding them back.’

‘Give me a hand with this, then,’ said Ace. At the far end of the aisle was a brass lectern in the shape of an enormous eagle with wings spread aloft. Ace glanced at the ornate Bible, open at Isaiah. Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles.

Ace threw the book on to the floor. With Steven’s help, she hefted the lectern into the air, and manoeuvred it towards the nearest window. With some difficulty they hurled it through.

The window exploded, raining coloured glass and lead on to the ground outside. Ace kicked at the hole with her boots. ‘Come on!’ she said impatiently, pushing Steven forward.

The side door of the church burst open.

‘How is he?’ asked the Doctor as his cell door opened slowly.

Hill stood, silhouetted in the light of the corridor. ‘About as well as can be expected for a man who’ll have to bury his only child.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘At home. Half the middle management in the region is with him. It’s sickening.’

The Doctor nodded, encouraging Hill to go on.

‘He’s asked for you,’ said the policeman. ‘He wants to talk.’

The Doctor got to his feet. ‘Responsibility for one’s actions,’ he said, marching towards the door, ‘comes from the absolute belief in the validity of what one does. Do you understand?’

Hill stared back at him blankly. ‘I don’t think I understand anything any more.’

Hill drove the Doctor in silence through the leafy suburbs of Liverpool as the dawn skies grew brighter around them. Denman’s house was a mock-Tudor-fronted building set within two acres of rich, rolling lawns. The Doctor strode up the gravel drive towards the front door and tipped his hat to a young-looking WPC. She instinctively moved to bar his entry, but then saw Hill behind, and the look of tired wisdom in the Doctor’s eyes, and stepped aside.

The Doctor walked towards the living room, and found it full of men with glasses in their hands, standing around looking bewildered and anxious.

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