Doctor Who and the Cave-Monsters (9 page)

‘We’d better get her back to base,’ said the Brigadier. ‘We’ve got an ambulance and everything laid on outside.’

‘No, it’s all right,’ said Liz, trying to get up. ‘I’ll be all right in a Jeep.’

‘Hardly comfortable enough for your condition,’ said the Brigadier. He turned to Dr Quinn. ‘Got your car here?’

‘Yes,’ said Dr Quinn, trying to think as quickly as possible. ‘But I was just going into the town to do some shopping.’

‘Really?’ said the Brigadier. ‘It’s half-closing day.’

Dr Quinn again thought as quickly as he could. ‘There’s one little shop that always stays open. But if you want to use my car…’ He trailed off, hoping they wouldn’t want to use his car.

‘This isn’t a matter for discussion,’ said the Doctor. ‘Miss Shaw
thinks
she feels all right, but she needs rest. Dr Quinn, could you ask the ambulance men to come along here with a stretcher?’

‘Really,’ said Liz, protesting, ‘I don’t need
that
!’

But Dr Quinn didn’t wait to hear the rest of the argument. He hurried out as fast as he decently could, told the ambulance men to take a stretcher into the main barn, got into his car and drove away.

Five minutes later Dr Quinn was at least four miles away, his car parked on high ground. In the distance he could see the UNIT helicopter. He took from his pocket the calling device and worked its controls so that it played its fluting tune. Almost at once he saw a movement in the long windswept grass a hundred yards away. Then the drone of the helicopter changed. He turned, and saw that the helicopter was flying towards him. Naturally the pilot was curious to know why a man had parked his car in this remote spot. Dr Quinn waved cheerfully to the helicopter, then held up the calling device to one eye as though it were a camera. He pretended to be taking a panoramic view of the moorlands. The helicopter swept low overhead, and continued on its way. Dr Quinn again worked the calling device to produce its fluting sound, and looked towards where he had seen the tall grass move. Morka rose up from the grass, and raised a hand in greeting. Dr Quinn made the same gesture in return, then quickly opened the capacious boot of his car and gave an indication for Morka to get in. Morka slid into the boot and curled up in the traditional sleeping position. Dr Quinn got behind his driving wheel, started the engine, and slowly drove away. At last he had one of the cave creatures at his mercy.

Major Barker lay back in his bed in the sick-bay, listening to military music specially piped to him through the bedhead earphones. If he closed his eyes he could see soldiers in brilliant red tunics marching about, saluting their commanding-officer as they went by. He was enjoying just such a daydream when there was a tap on the door and Liz Shaw entered. She had a plaster on her forehead.

‘Can I visit?’ she asked.

Major Barker immediately removed his earphones, and sat up to attention in his bed. ‘Delighted,’ he said. ‘Do sit down.’

Liz found the only chair available, and sat. ‘I’m a patient now,’ she said, and told him what had happened. ‘How are you getting on?’

‘Making fine progress,’ he said, although one arm was still in a sling and his head was swathed in bandages. ‘You say a lizard hit you?’

‘I only caught a glimpse of it,’ she said. ‘But yes, it was some kind of lizard.’

Major Barker didn’t want to disillusion the young lady. There had been talk of these lizards before, and clearly the talk had gone to her head. Young women could be like that – very fanciful. ‘I’m sure you
thought
it was a lizard,’ he said. ‘Care for a grape?’ He indicated the huge bowl of grapes by his bed. Liz helped herself to one.

‘What do you really remember of the caves?’ she asked.

‘There must have been two of them,’ he said. ‘The one I shot, and the one that got me. Has that Brigadier mounted a general flush-out of the caves, yet?’

‘Not at the moment,’ Liz said. ‘The last I saw of the Brigadier he was still at the farm.’

‘But in the name of St George,’ said Major Barker, ‘the obvious thing to do is to go into those caves in force and give them hell!’

‘Give whom hell?’ she asked.

‘The spies.’ He paused, and smiled, to make it absolutely clear to Liz that he knew what he was talking about. ‘You see, this research centre can really put Britain on the map again. That’s why they want to destroy it. It’s as plain as a pikestaff.’

‘I think you mentioned that before,’ she said.

‘Because I firmly believe it,’ he said. ‘Have another grape.’

‘They’re yours.’

‘Then be my guest.’ He continued with his argument. ‘That was a man I shot in the caves, and make no mistake about it. I called on him to surrender and he ignored me. Anyway, you say there is no armed force down there to defend us?’

‘Not at the moment,’she said.

‘That seems a jolly strange way to run a war to me,’ he said. ‘Jolly peculiar.’

The door opened and Dr Meredith entered carrying an official-looking envelope. ‘Miss Shaw, I think you ought to be in your own room,’ he said. ‘And you ought be lying down until you really feel better.’

‘But I feel fine,’ she answered.

Dr Meredith smiled, but his voice was firm. ‘That’s an order. Now please, away you go.’

Liz rose. ‘Thanks for the grapes,’ she said. ‘I’ll come and see you again.’ She went away, and Dr Meredith waited until she was out of earshot. Then he turned to Major Barker with the envelope.

‘This just arrived for you, Major. You really shouldn’t be upset by anything, so if you’d rather me keep it until you feel better, I will.’

Major Barker reached out with his good hand. ‘I’m quite capable of handling my own correspondence,’ he said, ‘but thank you for being so thoughtful.’

‘If you need me for any reason,’ said Dr Meredith, ‘just ring.’ Dr Meredith went away, closing the door.

Major Barker looked at the envelope. On the front it
said, ‘If undelivered please return to the Chief Constable of the Derbyshire Constabulary.’
He opened the envelope and read the letter. It said:

Dear Sir
,

The recent death of Mr George Roberts, employed as a technician at the Research Centre, Wenley Moor, has been brought to our attention by your director, Dr Lawrence, in the normal course of events. We understand that he was struck a blow on the back of the head, when suffering from a fit. We understand that you are unwell at the moment. However, when you are fit we should be pleased if you will get in touch with us in order to assist us with our enquiries
.

We are
,

Your Obedient servant
,

Chief Constable
.

Major Barker held the letter first one way then another to try to read the signature. But it was just a set of three squiggles and could have meant anything. Then he put the letter to one side and started to think what it really meant.

Of all ridiculous things, he was going to be blamed for killing that idiot technician, Roberts. After all, the man had clearly gone mad and was attacking Miss Shaw. Instead of clubbing the man, he should have shot him outright. Now there was going to be an enquiry, and he would be blamed for hitting the man too hard.

He sat back in his bed and closed his eyes again. This time instead of seeing soldiers in brilliant red tunics he saw himself, one rainy day in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, leading a group of soldiers who were trying to pin down an IRA sniper. The sniper had already shot two of his men dead, and wounded a third. The Major carefully worked his men into a position so that the sniper was completely surrounded. Then he called upon the sniper to surrender. A rifle was thrown down from a window, and a man appeared with his arms raised. As Major Barker called on his men to break cover and arrest the sniper, shots rang out from a sniper in another building, instantly killing the young soldier next to Major Barker. Without a second’s thought, Barker aimed his revolver at the sniper standing with his hands up in surrender, and shot him dead. For that moment of anger, Major Barker had been asked to resign from the British Army and to find another job.

Now he could see that it was all going to happen again. For doing his job, for protecting Miss Shaw from the lunatic Roberts, he would be dismissed from the research centre, perhaps even sent to prison this time. Meanwhile, the spies were gathering their numbers in the caves, people out to do harm to England.

All at once he pulled away the bandages from his head, ripped off the sling holding his battered arm, and got out of bed. They hadn’t taken his clothes away, thank goodness. He found them in a cupboard, and quickly put them on. In fear they had taken his keys, he felt the right-hand pocket of his jacket. But he was in luck: his precious keys were still there. He quietly slipped out of the room, down the sick-bay corridor into one of the main parts of the research centre. A UNIT soldier passed him, but they both nodded to each other, the soldier not realising that this was Major Barker.

Fortunately, there was no guard on the gun cupboard. Barker undid the lock, opened the cupboard and selected an FN .303 and cartridges to match. Then he went along to the lift. This would be the tricky bit. But again he was in luck. The lift was in the ‘down’ position, its doors wide open. He walked in, pressed the button marked ‘surface’, and within a few seconds stepped out into the clean Derbyshire air above. Here there was a guard, one of the UNIT men. The soldier stepped forward.

‘Beg your pardon, sir,’ the soldier said, ‘but where are you taking that rifle?’

Major Barker didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m chief security officer here,’ he said, telling the absolute truth, then following it with a terrible lie. ‘Your Brigadier has got trouble on his hands at a nearby farmstead. He radio’d in for me to go and help him, and said I should be armed.’

The soldier looked uncertain. ‘Well, sir, he should have let me know. I’m only new here. Have you got an identity card?’

‘Of course I have,’ said Barker, ‘and very correct of you to ask for it. Hold my rifle a moment.’ Barker thrust the rifle into the surprised soldier’s hands, as though he needed both hands free to find his identity card. He patted his pockets, then gave the soldier a big smile. ‘How silly of me. I’ve got it in the pocket of another jacket.’The soldier smiled back, and offered Barker his rifle. Barker seemed about to take it, then quickly hit the soldier on the chin. The soldier fell first to his knees, then collapsed completely. Barker took back his rifle, hurried over to his car, got into it, and drove at break-neck speed down the twisting rough lane to the main road. Once on the main road he swerved off towards the main opening of the cave. He grabbed a torch from the car’s glove pocket, loaded his rifle, and hurried into the cave.

Once inside the cave he started to call his challenge to the enemy. ‘If you are real men, come out shooting!’ He stopped, and listened. The only sound was the persistent drip-drip of water. Barker plunged on further into the caves, flashing his torch, his rifle always at the ready. He stopped again. ‘I know you hate England. But there are some true patriots around, people who love their country. Surrender now and you will all get a just trial!’ He listened. Again nothing but the drip-drip of distant water.

‘I know you’re here!’ he shouted. ‘I got one of you yesterday! He was foolish, didn’t do what I told him. But I’ll give you all a chance if you’ll reveal yourselves!’

Silence.

Major Barker took another step forward. ‘All right, then I shall kill every one of you…’ His words ended in a terrible scream. A metal trellis had sprung up from the soft sand, trapping both his ankles. He looked down almost in tears, afraid that his feet would be cut off. Then he heard them coming to get him. He flashed his torch wildly, and saw lizard-like faces advancing towards him.

‘It’s no good dressing up in those funny clothes,’ he screamed. ‘Fancy-dress isn’t going to save you.’

Fumbling with the bolt of the rifle, he raised it and took aim at a lizard face. The third eye of the lizard face suddenly glowed a brilliant red, and Major Barker felt his rifle knocked from his hands.

‘All right,’ he screamed as they finally closed in on him, ‘kill me now. I die for England and St George!’