Doctor Who: Combat Rock (22 page)

Agus barked an order and his squad levelled their pulse rifles at the shape dimly seen in the undergrowth. The parrot-like bird flapped away noisily into the interior. In the flash of flame that lit up the jungle, Victoria saw the figure belonged to a grotesquely thin black man, standing stiffly in the bushes as if propped there like a scarecrow, arms outstretched and withered by age, eyes – no, not eyes, but holes in dead flesh, and a mouth like a tunnel. Then the creature became a roman candle ignited by weapon blasts and the soldiers ceased fire.

A groan from a man next to her. The soldier twisted, fumbling for something at the back of his neck, something that had arced through the air from the opposite side of the trail to the first assault. He stared into Victoria’s eyes as he died, as if seeking assurance from one so pure, so beautiful, so
white
...

Then he was twitching on the ground, and Victoria could see where this attack had come from: a second withered figure, squatting in the fork of a tree, long, muscle-less arms drooping down like black vines, knees tucked under the smoked jaw, net hat secured to the skull. The eye sockets gaped at her, as did the mouth.

‘Mumi! Mumi!’ a soldier shrieked, letting go to delicious, liberating panic.

Agus snatched his Luger from its holster and joined in the chorus of pulse fire that greeted this new attack. The Mumi was ripped apart, the head tumbling down the chute of melded roots like a coconut shaken out of a palm by hungry natives.

It landed in front of Victoria. A black seared thing, smoked first by preserving care, and second by furious Indoni blasters. Agus placed his right boot on top of the hair net and sent a bolt from his Luger to turn it into fragments of dried skin and old bone that scattered into the bushes.

The rest of the squad were searching for more attack possibilities, weapons scanning the green pressing around them. When no further assault became apparent, Agus holstered his Luger and ordered them to continue.

‘Now you see,’ Agus said grimly. ‘This is an example of the black arts practised by the rebels and their tribal supporters. Or maybe that’s what they’d like us to think.’

Victoria looked down at the stiffening corpses that had once been soldiers. Every portion of exposed skin had become the colour of leaves, the colour of the jungle itself, almost as if... but, no, that was silly...

Almost as if the jungle had touched them and made them
its own.

‘But don’t the Papul tribespeople believe the gods are on their side?’ she said, choking down the fancy ‘That’s what Kepennis said. The Mumis are their ancestors, speaking for their jungle gods.’

Agus shook his head sadly. ‘Please don’t be contaminated by their superstitious rubbish.’

‘But you saw! Those things killed three of your men.’

‘I saw a trap planted for us. Now we must find those who prepared it.’

‘Then you don’t believe the Mumis are alive?’ She could see by the fearful expressions on the soldiers behind her that they obviously didn’t all share their commander’s view.

‘If the gods
are
on their side,’ he said confidently, ‘then we’ll just have to hunt them down and kill
them
too.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Won’t we?’

One minute the river was placid, a brown, slowly moving expanse, bordered by mossy trees and palms.

The next: scream from Santi. Guttural shouts from the men in her canoe. A spume of water as something emerged, and the Doctor whirled to look behind, and he could see the armoured purple snout, almost metallic in its hardness, breaking the surface and lunging. Massive jaws opening, teeth sharp as steel spikes, locking onto the guerrilla sitting in front of Santi.

Blood geysered over the Indoni girl. Jamie stood up in the canoe, hands outstretched as if he could ward off the massive beast, the body of which crashed down onto the canoe, twisting and threshing viciously. A purple, plated beast, with a tail as long again as the four-metre body, and as thick as a man’s. The guerrilla clamped between the jaws attempted to batter feebly at the pointed head of the beast, but there were no soft points on this colossus, no eyes at all, just nostrils that spat sprinkles of water as it chomped. With a shrug of its head, it squeezed the guerrilla’s body like a tube of toothpaste and soon everyone in the canoe was red. Then the world was spinning 180 for Jamie, Santi, Drew, Ussman and the remaining guerrillas as the canoe revolved in the water and the beast was gone, dragging its prize with it under the surface. A widening stain of crimson, and the frantic former passengers bobbing in it.

A convulsion beneath them and then the empty canoe was bucking into the air, slapped by the emerging tail like a cricket bat hitting a ball for six.

‘Go back! Go back!’ screamed the Doctor, tugging at Tigus’s shoulders, ‘we must rescue them!’

Another guerrilla, thrashing in the water, his brown face an oval of horror inside his black fur balaclava, threw up his hands and then was gone, snatched below before Tigus even had a chance to answer.

Now he did, and it was not what the Doctor wanted to hear. ‘They dead. We go!’ He urged his oarsmen to work harder, standing up and aiming his rifle back the way they had come, as if its feeble pellets might be able to deter the beast.

‘No!’ cried the Doctor, scrabbling for a rope or something that would enable him to aid Jamie and the others. He could see the Scot bobbing in the water next to Ussman. Drew was making for the Doctor’s canoe with hard strokes, and Santi was just behind him.

The Doctor reached out, seized Drew’s hand. Santi was within feet of reaching the canoe, extending her arm to clutch the edge. Drew was panicking, his feet kicking out as the Doctor pulled him up and half over the side of the canoe. One of his feet clipped Santi sharply on the jaw and she sank beneath the water.

The Doctor paused in his rescue attempt, and leaned over the edge of the canoe frantically searching for the Indoni girl.

‘Hey!’ squawked Drew. ‘Help me! Help
me
!’

The canoe was already pulling away from the spot where Santi had disappeared. Wina joined the Doctor in peering over, and there was a look of anguish on her pretty face.

Jamie was making fast strokes towards the same spot when Santi’s bug-eyed face broke the surface again, gasping and spitting out muddy water.

‘Go back!’ the Doctor beseeched Tigus, ‘they’ll die if we don’t!’

Tigus wasn’t listening. He could see the wake left by the beast where the top of its flat head broached the surface, moving fast. It was Jamie and Santi bound, and there was no way he was going to risk his canoe for the sake of two hostages. He still had two left, not counting the useless Papul guides. And the Doctor seemed to be the most important of all.

‘Jamie!’ the Doctor bellowed. ‘Look out!’

Horror rooted him. There was absolutely nothing he could do. His dearest friend was thrashing in the water, an arm around Santi’s neck, struggling to make it towards the river bank. And the flat purple head was arrowing towards them.

The Doctor clasped his head in total dismay.

The river bank was ten yards away from Jamie.

The beast was seven.

The beast was six.

Five yards and closing...

Jamie did not look behind him as he continued to swim.

Maybe he wasn’t even aware it was so near.

The reptilian beast’s eyeless head rose slightly to allow its jaws to dear the water, and they were opening...

What happened next, happened swiftly.

A huge plume of water rose between Jamie and Santi and the pursuing beast.

A head three times larger than that of the reptile rose into view. It was covered in green slime, and there were no features discernible apart from a toothless maw, like a mossy cave. The armoured beast had no time to alter direction. A long tendril snaked out of the water, roped around its midriff to help it on its way. The reptile disappeared into the maw, which oozed shut so that only the tail remained visible, whipping madly. The slimy head lowered beneath the water.

Jamie and Santi had turned as the geyser of water splattered them, and were just in time to see the surreal episode. After the head had disappeared, three long green fingers groped up from the surface, searching for more prey.

They wasted no more time swimming towards the river bank. As if detecting their frantic movements, the fingers changed course to follow them.

Ussman lay panting on the bank. He had been oblivious to everything that had happened after the canoe capsized, beyond the obvious survival drive of making it ashore. That he had done, without being swallowed or molested in any way. Only now, after ten minutes of lying on his back pumping air into his water-logged lungs, could he begin to think about the preceding events.

He wobbled to his feet. The river was placid once more, only the floating upside-down canoe was present to mark the disturbance. There were no bodies in the water. He shaded his eyes with one hand and peered down-river. The other canoe was distant now. He was alone on the river bank. He was alone full stop. He was no longer a hostage, but that prospect didn’t fill him with much hope for his future well-being in this crazy jungle.

He thought of Jamie and Santi and a wash of sorrow struck him. He had liked them both. He thought of Budi, and was soon on the verge of tears. Only the good die young, someone had once told him. He couldn’t remember who now, but it seemed they had been right. He had nagged Budi into coming on this trip. The fisherman’s son had been pretty happy with his simple life until Ussman shattered it, and filled his head full of dreams of money. Now he was dead, because of him.

How would he ever be able to face Budi’s parents? And Santi

– while not exactly a saint, was not a bad girl as such. Ussman had detected a warmth of personality behind the bickering front she put up for Wma’s sake, and a wealth of good humour. Now she was gone too. Then there was Jamie: well, there was no mistaking the young man’s courage, and generosity of spirit.

What was he doing, standing here performing a wake for his friends and feeling sorry for himself?

He was alone; he’d better start trying to do something about surviving. Maybe then he could make it up to Budi’s parents in some way.

He had a purpose then. He was free, and he would survive.

The Doctor’s canoe was too far away now for him to be able to distinguish events clearly, but he had not missed the Goliath head that had intervened in the imminent slaughter of his comrade.

‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’ he moaned helplessly, unable to see whether this new monster had claimed Jamie instead of the reptile.

‘Snatcher,’ Tigus said respectfully.

‘Can’t we go back? They may have reached the river bank alive.’

‘They dead! Snatcher will have them now.’

‘Ohhh,’ the Doctor slumped despondently down onto the bed of the canoe. Wina put a hand on his shoulder, and he patted it distractedly.

‘I sorry for your friend,’ she said genuinely. ‘And I sorry for Santi too.’

The Doctor looked up. Her eyes were moist.

‘Yes, I can see that, my dear,’ he said, attempting to forget his own grief for her sake. ‘But you are still very much alive, and still have friends to care for you.’ As he spoke Wemus clasped her other hand warmly. She fell into the guide’s arms as the canoe rocked dangerously.

‘Row!’ Tigus yelled at Wemus.

Wemus ignored him, too busy consoling Wina, his hand caressing her hair as she sobbed openly now.

‘I said row, traitor, or you join friends in river.’

Wemus locked eyes with him for a moment, then shrugged and turned to face forwards again, reaching for his oar.

‘You’re a stupid man, Wemus,’ Kepennis said with a wry grin. ‘But not
too
stupid, I hope. Forget the Indoni whore and concentrate on staying alive.’

Wemus glared at him without smiling and Kepennis frowned at the unaccustomed anger he could see in his friend’s face.

‘Because you’re my friend, Kepennis, I will let that go.

But Wina is not a whore, and the next time you call her one, I will no longer
be
your friend.’

The Doctor, picking up his own oar again, cleared his throat demonstratively. ‘Let’s concentrate on staying alive, and not fighting amongst ourselves, shall we?’

‘He speak good words, you listen to him,’ Tigus said, rolling a cigarette and scanning the river ahead worriedly.

Snatchers always made him nervous.

The Doctor detected his anxiety. ‘Tell me about these Snatchers. Do they only live in the rivers?’

‘Snatchers more happy in water. But they move in jungle too. Never know where you see one. Cannot fight. If they want you, they get.’

‘I see. Then life on Papul must be very difficult.’

‘They only come out one month in dry season, like now.

Rest of time mating. This not good time to journey.’

‘Then I admire your determination and fortitude,’ the Doctor said rather icily. Tigus ignored him and continued scanning both the water and the river banks to either side. The Doctor followed his gaze. There was no telling where trouble might burst from next on this godforsaken island.

For Jamie and Santi, trouble came in the form of a Kassowark.

They had made the river bank in one piece, miraculously.

The pursuing fingers had dipped patiently beneath the surface again as if the monster could bide its time. Jamie had helped the spluttering Indoni girl ashore, only to see the Doctor’s canoe vanishing rapidly downstream. They’d been abandoned, then.

The Scot felt completely helpless for a minute. It was the feeling he hated most in the world. He was always a man of resources, of instant action. He left all the thinking to the Doctor while he himself took care of the practicalities. But right now, there didn’t seem to be an awful lot he could do. He plucked a transparent leech-thing from Santi’s muddy arm –

he could see her blood filling the thin tube that was its body –

and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

Her gasping became a series of exasperated oaths. He held out his hand to pull her to her feet but she slapped it away, standing up without assistance. Her legs were sleeved in the mud from the river bank, right up to her shapely calves. It looked like she was wearing thick, brown stockings. Jamie refrained from pointing this out to her, however, and concentrated on wringing out his shirt and kilt.