She was dead.
That was the only logical conclusion.
It was either that, or she’d cracked up. That would explain the whirlwind inside a building and the voices in her head.
It might even explain the Doctor.
She’d seen it plenty of times. Colleagues broken by the job. Not by dangers on the street, and there were enough of those, even in Huckensall. No, it was the politics of the station that did people in. The need to get ahead. To get promoted.
Schofield had never minded about all that. She was ambitious, of course she was, but getting her sergeant stripes wasn’t the be-all and end-all.
She’d become a copper because she wanted to be like her dad, out in the community, helping people. He hadn’t cared about climbing up the ranks either. She wanted to be like him. That’s all that mattered.
Well, it was what had mattered before she died.
Because she was dead, wasn’t she?
She groaned. She’d made the mistake of moving, every bone in her body regretting the decision.
Was that a good sign, or a bad sign?
Pain meant that she was alive, unless the afterlife was one big joke. That wouldn’t be fair at all.
She coughed. Another mistake. Her lungs felt like they were full of rusty nails. The cough turned into a choke and the choke turned into near respiratory failure.
She opened her eyes, a simple enough act that turned out to be the biggest mistake of all.
It was like being hit in the face with a baseball bat. A baseball bat made of pure light.
Her eyes burned, like they were roasting in their own sockets. She clawed at them, screaming in agony.
No, she wasn’t dead, but she’d definitely lost the plot.
Five minutes ago, she had been on a building site in Huckensall. Yes, it was a building site with its own extreme weather system, but it was largely part of a world she understood.
Now, she was somewhere that made no sense whatsoever.
There was grass beneath her head. The brightest, greenest grass she’d ever seen. She was in a forest, but the kind of forest that couldn’t possibly exist outside of a picture book.
The trees were tall, skyscraper tall, stretching up towards a sky that was filled with too many stars. No. That wasn’t right. She couldn’t see the sky through the thick canopy of leaves.
It was the leaves themselves. They were glittering like stars.
She rolled over onto her back. The bark on the tree trunks was deep dark red. Too deep. Too dark. Each knot in the wood was like a whirlpool, spiralling and yet still at the same time. Fungus crawled all over the trees, literally crawled, moving across the ridiculously red bark like giant ridged caterpillars.
And the flowers. They clustered around the roots of the trees, every colour of the rainbow, and a few she had never seen before. Vivid, stunning colours that made her eyes ache. But that was nothing compared to the smell. She could never understand why people insisted on sniffing flowers. They’d always made her sneeze, full of sweet, saccharine perfume. Here it was worse. It stuck to the back of her throat, thick and cloying. She was going to be sick. She turned over, trying to push herself up on her knees. Her head went into a spin, the sounds of the forest coming from all angles. She could hear everything at once: bugs crawling in the pungent earth beneath her fingers, birds flying through the air, each beat of their wings like thunder, a heart beating like a drum.
No, not one heart. Two. Beating together.
‘Here,’ said a commanding voice. ‘Put these on.’
Something slipped over her eyes. Plastic, cool against her skin. She opened her eyes again, but this time they didn’t burn. The sounds of the forest retreated, becoming muted, easier to stand.
‘Better?’
Schofield looked up to see the Doctor standing over her, his hand reaching down. She took it, and rose unsteadily to her feet. Her ears popped and she went to pull off the sunglasses he’d slipped onto her nose.
‘No, don’t take them off,’ he said quickly, ‘or we’ll be treated to more of the retching and the screaming.’
She’d been screaming?
‘They’re mine, but you can borrow them. You’re very lucky. Not everyone gets to wear the sonic sunglasses. They’re special, just like me.’
‘Special how?’
‘They’re adjusting your vision,’ he told her, ‘dimming things down so the world isn’t so glary. And while they’re at it, they’re also projecting a sonic cone around you, filtering out the noise. You can thank me later.’
‘Sonic sunglasses,’ she repeated, trying to make sense of the words.
‘Oh, I love a bit of sonic,’ he said, grinning. ‘Sonic glasses. Sonic screwdriver.’ He patted his pockets, his smile faltering. ‘Looks like I’ll have to get another one of those. Never mind.’ He looked around himself, bending back at the hips to gaze up at the trees. ‘Even had sonic lipstick once, although it wasn’t really my shade. Gave it to a friend.’
‘You have friends?’
He glanced back at her, the grin wider than ever. ‘Someone’s feeling better.’
‘Where are we?’
The Doctor jabbed a finger at her. ‘And that’s why I like you, PC Schofield. Straight to the point. Just like me.’ He stepped forward, gesticulating as he explained, like a teacher. ‘We’ve jumped a groove. We’re in the Invisible.’
‘And that is?’
‘Fairy land.’
She snorted.
He looked confused. ‘Why are you laughing?’
‘Because that’s impossible.’
‘Not impossible, the Invisible. I told you about it, back in Mr Marter’s house.’
‘I didn’t believe you then, and I don’t believe you now.’
‘Even when you’re standing in the middle of it.’ He made an expansive gesture with his hands. ‘What do you think all this is? Disney World?’
‘I don’t know. But, fairies? Really? The little people?’
The Doctor gave a disapproving look. ‘Don’t say that. Really. For both our sakes.’
‘Why? What’s going to happen?’
‘I get it,’ he said. ‘When you think fairies, you think acorn hats, stardust and little gossamer wings. You can blame the Victorians for all that.’
‘What should I think, then?’
‘Your worst nightmare, wrapped up in insanity with a bow of utter terror.’
This was stupid. ‘I don’t believe in fairies.’
He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter, because fairies believe in you, and we’re in their back garden now, not the other way around.’
Something flapped overhead, a sudden buzz of wings. Schofield jumped, looking up, but there was nothing there.
The truth of the matter was that she didn’t want to believe what the Doctor was telling her, because that would be one step closer to accepting what had happened to her, that she really had slipped into another world.
‘So what about you?’ she asked, turning on the Doctor.
‘What about me?’
She tapped the glasses. ‘How come you don’t need these?’
‘The forest only affects humans that way.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I think you know what I mean.’
‘You’re a troll.’
He looked appalled. ‘I’m a Time Lord.’
‘And that is?’
‘Better than a troll.’ He caught himself, looking embarrassed, before backtracking. ‘Not better, but different.’
‘Definitely different,’ she agreed, crouching down to examine a crop of fluorescent mushrooms that had bloomed near her feet.
‘Don’t touch them,’ the Doctor advised.
‘I’m not going to. I’m not stup—’
She jumped back up as the cap of each mushroom opened to reveal an eye that peered at her.
‘I really don’t like it here,’ she admitted.
‘For good reason,’ the Doctor told her, stepping closer and dropping his voice. ‘Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched.’
‘I know,’ she said, pointing down at the eyes on stalks.
‘Not them,’ he hissed, pointing over her shoulder.
She turned, seeing nothing but trees.
‘I can’t see anything?’
‘That’ll be the sonic sunglasses. Here, allow me.’ He tapped their frame and the world became brighter, not enough to cause her pain, but definitely enough to see the three pairs of eyes that glared balefully from between the tree trunks.
‘Still don’t believe in fairies?’ he asked.
There was a growl, deep and guttural.
She could make out their faces now. Hooked noses, wide mouths, brimming with jagged teeth. Their skin was mottled, the colour of mouldy cheese, their hair hanging in long braids. They were tall, they were rangy, and they looked angry.
‘Why don’t they attack?’ she asked.
‘They’re working out if they want to play with their food first.’
‘That’s comforting.’
‘Wasn’t meant to be. When I say run …’
‘I’ll be right behind you.’
‘One,’ the Doctor said, as the first of the creatures took a step forward, its clawed hand resting on the nearest tree trunk.
‘Two?’ Schofield suggested, as its nostrils flared.
‘Three!’ the Doctor shouted, as the creatures burst forward, ready to tear them limb from limb.