Torchwood Long Time Dead (6 page)

feel any different. If the thing inside her was doing

anything, she didn't know about it.

'Please help me...' Tears filled the doctor's eyes.

Please... I've got a family...'

'Children?' Suzie asked. She couldn't keep the

disdain from her voice. Even if the device extended

the power of the gauntlet, she would kill this man

again. He disgusted her. She might be a murderer,

but she wasn't a monster like he was.

As it was, she didn't have to. His minute and a

half of extra time played out and his eyes shut. He

was gone. She'd hoped for longer.

'Shit. 'She took the glove off and then washed the

knife. That was disappointing. She peered down

at the bandaging over her slim stomach. As plans

went, she hadn't entirely thought that one through.

And she was normally so bloody organised. In her

haste to see if the device could somehow enhance

the energy of the glove, she'd not thought beyond

getting it inside her and then testing it on the

doctor. She hadn't considered how she was going

to get it out again.

She sighed, and gathered her things together.

Oh well, she thought. It could stay there for now.

It wasn't as if it was doing her any harm. It would

take a building falling down around her to get

it to start working if Toshiko's experiments were

anything to go by. She didn't think that would be

happening any time soon.

The only time that Rebecca Devlin ever really
longed for the old single days - or even the days
before the kids came along - was first thing in the
morning. She wasn't designed for all the rushing
around. She was a cup of tea in bed and wake up
slowly to the news kind of girl.

She caught sight of her reflection in the oven
glass. She wasn't much of a 'girl' any more, not
wrapped as she was in her fluffy dressing gown
over her tatty pyjamas, and with her hair yanked
back in a scrunchie that was clearly too young for
her 39 going on 50 tired skin. It wasn't the sexiest
of looks, but who the hell had time to be sexy with
three kids and a husband? Sex was a luxury, and
luxuries were for when half-terms rolled around,
or she and Gary managed to sneak a few days
away to themselves. The rest of the time - as it
had been for the past month or so - sex was just
one more thing on a very long 'to do' list. Long
gone were the days of ripping each other's clothes
off on the stairs or the sofa, or in fact, she thought
as she put the cereal boxes down, right here on
this table.

With a pan on to boil - her life would be so
much easier if her mother hadn't instilled the
virtues of a proper breakfast into her - she took
the eggs from the fridge and popped them in the
water, before putting the carton in the bin. Or at
least trying to.

'Bloody hell, Gary,' she muttered. The bin was
pretty much overflowing. He'd said he'd change it
before he went to bed after the game had finished.

He'd
promised
her. She could hear herself nagging
at him as she'd gone up the stairs, dog-tired at
about half-nine. She knew he hated changing the
bins (although maybe if just once he did it before
it was overflowing and likely to spill all over the
kitchen floor then it would be a less unpleasant
job), but she hated changing the bed sheets, and
she still did it. She didn't ask him to do much, and
he still didn't do it. Just once she'd like to change
places. She'd go off and sit behind a desk all day
and he could manage the house and kids.

A black and white cat wound itself around her
legs as she carefully pulled the black sack free and
tied it closed. It sat by an empty bowl decorated
with fish, and then meowed.

'In a minute, Sailor.' She grabbed the bag and
headed for the front door, trying to fight her rising
irritation. It was a two-minute job and it really
didn't matter, but somehow it did, because it
was
his
job and by not doing it, he made her feel
like
she
didn't matter. She also knew that if she
said anything, it would just sound like nagging,
and sometimes she didn't like how she sounded
exactly like her mother when she heard herself.

Still, she thought, as she reflected on her parents
and how much her mother had done around the
house compared to her father, maybe her mother
had had a point.

'Breakfast in ten!' she called upstairs. Not that
anyone would hear with all the radios and music
coming from each bedroom.

It was still early and the street outside was
relatively quiet as she added the black sack to the
main bin and wheeled it to the pavement to join
the others waiting for collection. Heels clicked on
the pavement ahead and she looked up to see a
striking-looking woman walking past. There was
a cat-like elegance in her long slim limbs and clear
features, and she walked with confidence.

She's about my age, Rebecca thought in dismay,
as she caught the woman's brown eyes and smiled
awkwardly. The same age and yet so different.

Once again, her dowdiness overwhelmed her. She
needed to take it in hand, she decided, looking at
the other woman's sleek black trousers and patent
boots. She wasn't old. She needed to stop acting
it.

The woman gave her a brief smile in return and
then passed by. Rebecca watched her go. The early
morning sunshine was bright and the woman cast
a long shadow behind her. Rebecca frowned. Too
long. She tilted her head slightly. It was too long
and too dark, and looked as if it was stretching
backwards trying to reach her. With the curiosity
of a child, Rebecca stuck her foot out, letting her
slipper catch the edge of it. She smiled slightly.

It was just a shadow. The woman's heels faded
and eventually the strip of darkness moved from
Rebecca Devlin's front door. She watched it go.

Back in the kitchen she checked the water was
starting to bubble and then took a fresh bin bag
from under the sink. She stared out of the window,
caught for a moment in the glare of light. Her head
ached. The bubbling and the music from upstairs
faded and her heart thumped. What was wrong?

What was wrong with her? She looked down at
the bag in her hands and shook it out, desperately
trying to shake away the sudden fear in the pit of
her stomach.

The bag opened up and all she could see was
darkness. She thought of the heels tapping along
the pavement. She thought of the strange shadow.

Images flashed behind her eyes. She gasped.

Red shoes. Running. Heels. Hers. She hasn't

worn shoes like that in a long time, and wishing

that she hadn't tonight. She thinks maybe she

should kick them off and go barefoot, but the street

is filthy and she's scared that the seconds it takes

will be enough for her to lose this race. She's losing

it anyway, she knows that. It's right behind her.

She keeps running, heels or no heels, putting her

faith in the red patent Kurt Geigers that she loves

to not let her break her ankle. These were her

favourite shoes, her date shoes from years gone by,

and as she's running in them she's wondering how

such a good night could be turning out so badly.

She wants to laugh. She wants to cry. She really,

really doesn't want to die.

Her hair flies out behind her, and she can barely

breathe. She hasn't run like this since school and

that was too many years ago now. Why did she go

out with the girls? Why did she listen to Gary that

it was a good idea for her to let her hair down? It

wasn't seeming like such a good bloody idea now.

The thing growls and she can almost feel its hot

breath. It had been her taxi driver. Her stupid taxi

driver. She'd got in, still laughing, waved goodbye

to Gillian and Kate, and given him her address.

Her feet had ached then. If she got out of this alive

then they were going to need a good long soak. She

giggled again.

Thank God she'd got out when he changed.

When he turned round and she saw his awful

burning face and he'd reached for her. Please God,

she thought, as she pushed herself to get around

the corner up ahead, please God let me get out of

this alive. Please God, I don't want to die, please

God, and what the hell is it anyway -

She rounds the corner and collides with

someone's chest.

'Getoutofmyway! Getoutofmyway!' she screams

as panic takes over. It's coming, it's coming and if

she doesn't keep running...

'It's OK.' Arms wrap round her. 'Owen, what

are you doing?'

*Sorry. My eye's not in on this thing yet. 'A sound

rushes past her. Air. Movement. Then a howl of

rage.

'That's better. Got him now.'

A female laugh. If your aim is that bad no

wonder the toilet in the Hub is always such a

mess.'

'Save the jokes, Tosh. They don't suit you.' A

pause. What the hell is it anyway? Not seen one

like that before.'

Her heart thumps as the voices, and two sets

of footsteps, move past. She keeps her head buried

in the chest of the man whose arms have stayed

wrapped around her.

'Just get it contained and in the SUV. 'His chest

vibrates when he speaks and she finds it comforting.

She's going to live. She's alive. She starts to cry all

over again.

'Yes, boss.'

When he finally pulls back, he's smiling. Blue

eyes, dark hair and a grin that could set Hollywood

alight. You're safe now,'he says.

'Who are you?' she mumbles, aware that her

mascara has no doubt run down her face and that

she's soaked in sweat. Not a good look for a woman

past 30. She wonders why how she looks suddenly

matters when barely five minutes ago she was just

desperate to stay alive.

I'm Captain Jack Harkness,' the man says,

and she loves the American lilt in his voice. 'That's

Owen Harper, and the lovely lady carrying the box

is Toshiko Sato.' Rebecca watches as the man and

woman nod and smile at her as they head to the

rear of their large black car.

'But who are you?' she asks again, as her

heartbeat slows to somewhere near normal. 'And

what was that... thing?'

'Us? We're Torchwood. 'He grins. 'Now come and

tell me exactly what happened. Then we'll make

you a nice cup of tea and get you home.'

Torchwood. She stared into the black bag. A
void of emptiness. The tea. They'd made her tea,
and it made her forget everything. Been chased by
muggers, that's what she told Gary when she got
home. She'd laughed it off. It had all been vague.

Muggers. She was sure. She'd been chased by
something anyway. Gary had been surprised at
how quickly she'd got over the ordeal. So had she,
but it had simply slipped from her memory over a
few days. Become like a dream.

Torchwood.

She thought of the woman outside. The shadow
in her wake. Her heart thumped. The shadow was
Torchwood business. Where were they? Gone.

She knew it. Who would save them all when the
shadows grew longer? When
that place
came?

She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she
caught a glimpse of what would come to pass. She
thought of the American in the greatcoat. Captain
Jack.
You're safe now.
That's what he had said.