Clara watched with concern as Angela was led away by two of Clearfield’s white-coated ‘colleagues’.
The young vet gave a despairing look over her shoulder as she was pushed through a doorway in the corner of the warehouse, leaving Clara and Jason Clearfield alone.
Clearfield followed Clara’s gaze. ‘Please don’t worry about her, Clara. I may call you Clara? I’ve no intention of hurting your friend. I just want to ensure that I have your co-operation.’
‘I suppose that you didn’t intend to hurt those poor people in the village either?’
‘They are drugged. Nothing more. I would have preferred to have had the entire village evacuated before this evening’s solstice, but …’ He shrugged. ‘My resources to achieve that are somewhat limited. Trust me, I intend to hurt nobody.’
‘Tell that to Alan Travers,’ said Clara angrily. ‘Or Bert Mitchell. Or the crew of that helicopter. Those monsters that you’ve created are killing people!’
Clearfield turning away, his face flushing. ‘That’s not my fault. There have been problems, the creatures are not always easy to control!’
‘And that makes it all right?’ asked Clara incredulously.
‘You don’t understand the difficulties that I have faced—’
‘Enough!’
The vile gurgling voice boomed through the warehouse one more.
‘Why do you waste time on this endless bickering?’
‘It is important that she understands!’
‘Do you presume to argue with me?’
‘No. No, I’m sorry, but please … If I can just explain to her what we are trying to do …’ Clearfield turned to Clara, indicating one of the chairs next to a control console with the pistol. ‘Sit down, please.’
Clara looked pointedly at the pistol.
With an apologetic smile Clearfield slipped it back into a holster beneath his jacket.
‘Thank you.’ Clara perched on the edge of the seat. ‘I’m all ears.’
‘An experiment took place here during the Second World War. A British experiment that was intended to put us in touch with creatures from another planet …’
The Doctor clung to the sidecar for dear life as Constable Charlie Bevan drove the vintage motorcycle at breakneck speed through the narrow country lanes. Behind them he could hear the spider as it crashed through the undergrowth, but its speed was no match for the Norton and soon they had left it far behind.
With the noise that the old bike was making, however, they were likely to attract the attention of everything else in the village, human or otherwise. The Doctor fumbled in his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, activating the sonic shield. That should keep them safe from the mosquitoes at any rate.
Charlie leaned over and shouted above the roar of the engine. ‘Where are we headed?’
‘The big meadow just beyond the stone circle,’ the Doctor yelled back. ‘When you get there, just head for the police box!’
‘The what?’
‘Just drive!’
Charlie twisted the throttle and the Norton hurtled forwards. Before long they were back at the village green and Charlie brought the bike coasting to a halt in the lane alongside the Post Office.
‘What have you stopped for?’ asked the Doctor in irritation.
‘Look,’ whispered Charlie, pointing to the far side of the green.
A huge crowd of people – men, women, children – was standing motionless in the centre of the village. Several of the huge mosquitoes were perched on the top of the war memorial, basking in the sunlight, or clinging to the stone sides, their wings occasionally filling the air with a low drone.
‘It looks like the entire village …’ breathed Charlie in amazement.
The Doctor tapped his teeth with his sonic screwdriver. ‘Is there another way to get to the meadow?’
‘We could take the ring road, but there’s no telling whether it’s going to be passable.’
‘Then we’re just going to have to go through them.’
Charlie looked at him in horror. ‘You’re not suggesting that I run them down?’
‘Of course not!’ snapped the Doctor. ‘Just concentrate on keeping this thing on three wheels, and let me worry about clearing the way.’
He twisted the barrel of his sonic screwdriver, making careful adjustments to the settings, altering the sonic shield that he had been using to protect them from the mosquitoes to operate on a much wider scale. He needed to be careful. These people were unwitting participants in the events that were unfolding. He wanted something that was painful, but not damaging. He also had to focus the beam so that he and Charlie weren’t affected.
Satisfied that the settings he had would give the desired effect, he turned to Charlie Bevan. ‘Right. Let’s see what this can do.’
Directing the screwdriver towards the waiting crowd, he pressed the activation stud. The effects were instantaneous. The crowd of villagers reeled, clutching at their ears.
‘Go!’ yelled the Doctor.
Charlie threw the Norton into gear, sending it roaring across the village green. A few at the edge of the crowd made half-hearted attempts to reach for them as they swept past, but Charlie proved to be an experienced bike rider, and managed to manoeuvre the big Norton so that they were always just out of reach.
As they cleared the edge of the crowd, Charlie gave an unexpected whoop of delight. ‘We made it!’ His exultation was short lived as he took a quick glance in his wing mirrors. They might have eluded the crowd, but the insects were another matter.
The mosquitoes launched themselves from the war memorial and set off in pursuit. Gunning the engine, Charlie sent the motorbike and sidecar racing towards the footpath out of the village. As they passed through the narrow gap in the wall, there was the grinding shriek of metal against stone and the mudguard tore off the sidecar.
The Doctor gave him a reproachful look. ‘Somehow I doubt that Robin Sanford is going to let you borrow his bike again.’
Twisting around in the sidecar, he pointed his sonic screwdriver towards the swarm of giant insects following them. Buzzing angrily, they swooped away, unable to stay in close proximity to the sonic wave that the Doctor was generating.
The bike swept past the circle of standing stones, bouncing along the footbath before finally emerging into the meadow where the TARDIS had landed.
‘What on earth?’ spluttered Charlie as he caught sight of the incongruous blue box. ‘That’s never been there before!’
‘Just keep going!’ yelled the Doctor, dropping back down into his seat, adjusting the controls on his sonic screwdriver yet again and pointing it at the TARDIS. ‘Drive straight at the doors!’
The Norton shot across the field, sending up clouds of white seeds as the tyres tore up the dandelions that carpeted the grass. The warble of the sonic screwdriver was joined by the high-pitched scream of Charlie Bevan as the bike hurtled towards the waiting police box.
At the very last moment, the doors slammed open and the Norton screeched to a halt in the control room beyond, dandelion seeds slowly settling around it as Charlie cut the engine.
The Doctor was out of the sidecar in a flash, closing the doors and hurrying over to the control console. ‘Clara does that with a lot more style and a great deal less noise.’
Charlie dismounted from the bike, staring around the interior of the TARDIS in awe. ‘It’s—’
‘Bigger on the inside, smaller on the outside, defies all the laws of physics, totally impossible, blah, blah, blah …’
‘It’s a time machine, isn’t it?’
The Doctor looked up from the controls in surprise.
Charlie gave him an exhausted smile. ‘That’s why you were so keen for Robin to tell you the exact date, wasn’t it? You want to go back and see what happened?’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor, regarding Charlie Bevan with a new respect. ‘That’s exactly what we are going to do.’ He pulled down hard on the dematerialisation switch and the huge rotors above the console started to turn. ‘Welcome aboard!