The Doctor lay on his back in the dark underneath one of the church pews, listening as the spider shifted around in the rafters above him. With his eyes closed and his hands clasping his sonic screwdriver to his chest, he looked for all the world like one of the stone knights that adorned the ancient sarcophagi ranged around the church interior.
From outside there had been disturbing sounds. High-pitched, almost inhuman screeches, the fluttering of wings, and all-too human screams of fear and pain. Whatever was happening to this village, it had entered the next phase.
Charlie Bevan lay under a pew a few feet away, dabbing at his face with his increasingly grubby-looking handkerchief. He had been desperate to get out of the church, but the Doctor was certain that if they tried to make a run for it they wouldn’t get more than a few hundred metres, if that. Bizarre as it might seem with the spider hanging above them, as long as they remained undetected, this was probably the safest place in the village at present.
There was a sudden rustling noise from high above them, and the Doctor’s eyes snapped open. The spider was moving, the harsh bristles that covered its legs and body scraping against the ancient timbers of the church roof as it squeezed its way back outside.
As soon as the Doctor was certain that the creature had gone, he and Charlie clambered out from underneath the pews.
‘Thank God.’ Charlie Bevan rubbed at his aching back. ‘My stomach was starting to rumble and I was certain that monster was going to hear it.’
Motioning to the policeman to stay quiet, the Doctor crept over to the church door, carefully turning the huge iron handle and allowing the door to open a little.
The village was totally still – no voices, no traffic. Even the birds had fallen silent. The Doctor was about to slip outside when movement at the far side of the churchyard caught his eye. Several of the villagers were making their way across the green. The Doctor frowned. There was something wrong about the way they were moving. They were sluggish, their arms hanging heavy at their sides. As they shambled past the entrance to the churchyard the Doctor caught a glimpse of their faces. Every one of them was blank and staring, their skin grey, their eyes dull.
‘What’s going on out there?’ whispered Charlie from inside the church.
The Doctor waved angrily at him to be quiet.
Suddenly there was a commotion from the far side of the green. There was the roar of an engine and a car sped from one of the lanes that crisscrossed the village.
As one, the zombie-like villagers turned and started to run towards the noise. The driver didn’t have a chance. Every way that he turned, more of the villagers closed in on him. Eventually he tried to turn a little too fast, and there was the squeal of rubber on tarmac as he lost control of the car and went crashing into one of the dry-stone walls.
At once the assembled villages let out a ghastly howl of triumph, and there was the low thrumming of wings as six huge mosquitoes swept into the village square.
Struggling to untangle himself from the seatbelt and airbag, the driver had no chance to fend them off. As the Doctor watched, the villagers pulled open the door and hauled the helpless man from the vehicle, forcing him to his knees and exposing the nape of his neck.
At once one of the insects dived forward and there was a cry of pain as it delivered its sting. Almost immediately, the driver stopped thrashing and, as the group stepped away from him, he clambered stiffly to his feet.
At once the group started to disperse, the driver now part of the shambling horde making its way out of the village green.
The Doctor closed the church door. Things were starting to move too fast even for him. As he tried to make sense of this latest development, he mulled over everything that had happened over the last few hours; the signal detected by the TARDIS, the appearance of the giant insects, the sealing off of the village, the markings on the stones. Then there was the bombing raid that had occurred during the Second World War. There were so many disparate pieces of the puzzle, but as yet he could find nothing common to connect them.
Charlie Bevan was looking at him with concern. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it? There’s something really bad going on out there.’
Lost in his own thoughts, the Doctor just nodded.
Charlie wiped the perspiration from his face. ‘I’ll tell you this, Doctor. No one is ever going to make fun of old Robin Sanford and his war stories again.’
The Doctor turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. ‘War stories?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Robin was a private in the Home Guard back in the 1940s. He lives on a farm on the far side of the village. Been living there since he was a child. Used to come out on a Saturday night, have a pint or two too many, and start going on about how his platoon fought off giant bugs from outer space during the war. Became quite a laughing stock around the village. Tends to keep himself to himself these days.’ Charlie tailed off. ‘Never even considered that he might be telling the truth …’
‘Thank you, Charlie Bevan!’ The Doctor’s eyes were blazing. That was the last bit of the puzzle he needed. Giant bugs from space. That just couldn’t be a coincidence. ‘This farm, how far is it?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘A ten, fifteen-minute walk.’
The Doctor muttered an ancient Gallifreyan curse under his breath. Avoiding the insects was tricky enough as it was, but insects assisted by their human allies …
‘You’re not thinking of going out there …?’
‘Do you want all this to stop?’ The Doctor’s voice was sharp. ‘Because if you do then I need to find out exactly what is going on. Robin Sanford has information, and I need to talk to him as quickly as possible.’
‘But we’re never going to get through the village without being spotted!’
‘I can show you a way.’
A nervous voice echoed around the deserted church. Charlie Bevan nearly jumped out of his skin. The Doctor spun around trying to locate where the voice had come from. The pale, frightened face of a young boy was peering out at them from underneath the heavy velvet drape that hung over the communion table.
‘And how exactly are you going to manage that?’ asked the Doctor, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
‘There’s a secret passage,’ said the boy matter-of-factly.
‘Of course there is.’ The Doctor’s face broke into a broad grin.
The Land Rover sped past mile after mile of stationary traffic, the frustrated drivers venting their anger by sounding their horns angrily and demanding to be told what was going on. Colonel Dickinson just ignored them. In the sky ahead he could see the column of black smoke that marked their destination.
At the head of the queue was a roadblock with two soldiers diverting the traffic along alternative routes. As the Land Rover approached, the soldiers sprang to attention, one directing them to park on a lay-by just outside the village perimeter. As the Land Rover crunched to a halt on the gravel, an officer hurried to meet them.
‘Good morning, Colonel.’ The officer saluted sharply.
‘Captain Wilson.’ Dickinson returned the salute. ‘What’s the situation here?’
‘We’ve set up a forward command post, sir, and we have squads stationed at several points all around the village. Can’t get in, though. See here.’ The captain led them through the bustle of soldiers and equipment to where a sheath of web hung between two large elm trees, totally blocking the road in front of them.
The colonel reached out to touch it, but Captain Wilson caught his arm. ‘I wouldn’t do that, sir. Couple of the men tried to climb it when we arrived; we’re still trying to cut the stuff off them. All roads into the village appear to have been sealed off the same way, the railway line too. Plus there’s some kind of communication blackout. Landlines and mobile signals are both down. We’ve managed to boost RT signals, but it’s very glitchy.’
‘Any word from inside the village?’
‘Not a peep, sir. We’ve had spotters checking from all around the perimeter. Definitely movement in there, but no communication in or out.’
The colonel nodded then glanced back at the queue of traffic. ‘What are we telling the locals?’
‘Simply that there was an accident during manoeuvres. For the moment that seems to be doing the job, but the longer the communication blackout goes on the more unlikely it is that our cover story is going to hold water.’
‘And what about that?’ The colonel gestured towards the column of smoke. ‘Any chance of recovering survivors?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir.’ Captain Wilson shook his head. ‘We tried to send a rescue team in, but …’ He broke off. ‘It’s easier if you just see for yourself.’
He handed the colonel a set of binoculars and the two men climbed up onto the back of one of the Spartan armoured personnel carriers that sat grumbling in the roadway.
The colonel raised the binoculars and Captain Wilson pointed towards the church. ‘In the shadows near the tree line.’
The colonel focused the binoculars, and then took a sharp intake of breath.
‘Good God.’
The beetle lurking under the trees was huge. The size of a car. The colonel gave an involuntary laugh. ‘A ruddy Volkswagen Beetle …’
‘Yes. Bit of a monster isn’t it, sir?’
‘Have you tried to engage it at all, Captain?’
‘Had one of the snipers take a couple of pot shots at it, but even with armour piercing rounds we’re not making much of impression against it. Didn’t want to open up with anything large calibre until we know a bit more about the whereabouts of the civilians.’
Colonel Dickinson studied the damage on the beetle’s carapace. ‘Looks like the Lynx might have had a bit of a go at it before it crashed, though. At least that means that these things are vulnerable. Have we identified the species?’
‘Yes, sir. Dobby Palmer is a bit of a bug expert. Says it’s a Bombardier Beetle.’
The colonel nodded. Corporal Nigel Palmer was one of their medics. Prominent ears and a distinctive nose meant that he had more than a passing resemblance to Dobby the house elf from the Harry Potter films, so the nickname had been inevitable.
‘So, did Dobby tell us anything useful about this Bombardier Beetle?’
‘Quite a lot, sir. Apparently this thing can squirt out boiling acid from its rear end. From what we can make out, it’s probably what brought down the chopper. There is more, sir. Over here.’
The colonel climbed down from the Spartan and followed Captain Wilson to a tent that had been erected at the far end of the lay-by. Two soldiers lay on makeshift beds, their legs swathed in bloody bandages. Both men tried to rise as the officers entered the tent but Dickinson motioned to them to stay put.
‘At ease.’ His jaw tightened at the sight of the injuries. He had already lost the helicopter crew; he was in no mood to lose any more men. ‘What happened here, Captain?’
‘The web only seems to be blocking the main roads and footpaths into the village.’ Wilson explained. ‘The rest of the village perimeter is made up of open fields and hedgerow. Private Arnopp here volunteered to lead a party to try and recover the bodies from the helicopter. The squad didn’t make it more than ten metres inside the perimeter.’
‘More beetles?’
‘No, sir, these.’ Wilson indicated a table against one wall of the tent. Laid out in plastic containers were the remains of several large, shiny black objects. It took the colonel a few seconds to make sense of what he was looking at, then the various disparate parts suddenly became familiar.
‘Ants?!’
‘Yes, sir. They were burrowed in under the field. Took our men completely by surprise.’ Captain Wilson picked up a tray with a section of abdomen in it. ‘Vicious little beggars they are too. And tough. Private Arnopp emptied an entire clip into one of them before it went down. Even if you hack them up they keep on twitching. Had to use grenades in the end.’
The colonel took the tray from him, examining the body part. ‘Do we have any indication yet of what might have caused these things to grow to such size?’
‘Not a clue, sir. Lot of talk amongst the men about it being radiation, but that sounded a bit too much like the plot of a 1950s B-movie for my liking. Ran the Geiger counters over everything anyway, just in case, but readings are all normal. I’ve had one of the dead beasties biked over to the entomology department at Bristol University to see if they can come up with anything.’
The colonel nodded, placing the plastic tray back on the table. As he did so there were shouts from outside, and a low, thrumming noise, like an aircraft engine. The two officers glanced at each other in alarm.
‘What now?’
They pushed out through the flap of the tent in time to see several large objects flitting at speed above the hedgerows. Squaddies scattered as one of the creatures swooped low over them, buzzing angrily.
As the creatures vanished over the trees, Colonel Dickinson turned to Wilson with a worried frown. ‘Beetles as armoured divisions, spiders as sappers, ants as combat troops and now airborne support. These things seem to have a very good grasp of military tactics, don’t you think, Captain?’
‘Sir?’
‘So far these things have only attacked if we venture inside their perimeter.’ Colonel Dickinson stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘They’re protecting something.’
He straightened.
‘Captain, I want to know about everyone and everything inside that village. Who has gone in, who has come out, who lives there, who is on holiday there, who works there. Individuals, companies, everything.’
As Captain Wilson hurried off, Colonel Dickinson watched the flying insects as they circled lazily above the distant church tower. Protecting something.
Or someone.