Read Online Doctor Who: Rags by Mick Lewis - Free Book Online

his dubious state of drunkenness.
    Jimmy had promptly come straight back in, through the feature window, a spectacular entry riding a cloudburst of shattered glass. He’d cut his fingers on his way in, and the blood had somehow found its way on to the cap. The bouncers had chased him back out of the pub again, aided by some locals enraged at having their peaceful evening so violently shattered along with the picture window.
    Blood.Dried blood. Nick hoped it wasn’t a sign.
    ‘One, two,’ barked the head roadie into the microphone. ‘One, one...’ He coughed into the metallic throat and then shuffled away from the natural stage towards the cattle truck parked further down the incline.
     
    Edward reined in his horse as they came over the rise. ‘What the bloody hell...?’
    They hadn’t expected this: people crowded around the usually quiet pub - and he used the word ‘people’ rather loosely. Oiks from hell, more like. He didn’t like the look of them at all.
    Mutants.
     
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    Those disgusting punk types, and worse, much much worse.
    Lord, it was a veritable freak show.
    ‘I think we should ride on by, Edward,’ Henry piped up from behind. Edward could hear the fear in his companion’s weak voice.
    ‘What, and let the oiks scare us away from a good whisky? I think not.’ He straightened demonstratively in his saddle and kicked off towards the pub, leaving his two anxious companions to trail behind.
    The closer he got, the less sure of his convictions he became.
    This really was a scary-looking bunch. He pulled up just short of the dirty crowd that spilled out like a stain over the moor around the pub, conscious of the jeering looks he was attracting. His horse skittered nervously. He was aware of Penelope and Henry directly behind him, and really didn’t want to look indecisive now.
    ‘Edward, I don’t like this...’ Penelope trilled. Just then one of the oiks slung a bottle in their direction. It struck Olivier, Penelope’s stallion, and the horse reared, flinging its owner from the saddle. She landed on the hard turf with a whump! and Edward flinched at the sound. He dismounted rapidly and moved to her aid.
    She was nursing her back. Bloody woman. Why hadn’t he brought Edith along instead; she was better in the saddle in both respects.
    ‘Are you all right, darling?’ he forced himself to ask. A loud cheer had erupted from the crowd at her fall, and he felt anger blending with his frustration.
    He made a brusque examination of his fiancee while Henry sat rather helplessly on his horse. ‘You’ll live,’ Edward told her shortly, and helped her to her feet. ‘It looks like you’ve stunned your spine, that’s all.’ Anger blared through him. ‘Dammit woman, can’t you be more careful?’
    He sensed her imminent tears and cursed even more, this time silently. ‘Come on, we’ll have to get you inside and telephone an ambulance.’
     
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    Henry stared at Edward as if his friend had lost leave of his senses. ‘In there?’
    Penelope began to cry then, just as Edward had known she would. Bloody, bloody woman! Instead of answering Henry, he threw Olivier’s reins to his friend, and began leading his own horse towards the pub. What a nightmare the day had turned into.
    He tied the horse to a wooden rail that ran around the side of the pub, where the crowd was thinnest. He was only too aware of the hostility he was evoking from the undesirables surrounding them.
     
    ‘You wait here with the horses, Henry,’ he ordered, and helped the hobbling Penelope towards the door.
    A man in a long green mac with a head bald as a mushroom blocked their way. Here we go, thought Edward, and he felt Penelope tense beside him.
    Just then the band began to play.
     
    They ambled slowly across the grass from the cattle truck. Jo had seen them leap down from the back doors and had felt a sudden lurch of excitement. The crowd whistled and cheered. Dusk fell, the horizon purple above dark moor. She could