Read Online Doctor Who: The Many Hands by Dale Smith - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dale Smith
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creatures would
pass.
The trees shook, and something slid into view.
'Give me a hand, then,' the prisoner shouted.
He re-emerged, pushing a raft out of the trees and
towards the Loch. McAllister's men didn't even wait
for the order; they were by his side and pushing the
unseaworthy vessel out into the dark waters as one.
There was just enough room for all of them to perch
on it, as long as they didn't move too much, but there
were no paddles to be seen: it was a smugglers' vessel,
hidden there after bringing in untaxed alcohol to wait
for the return journey after the goods had been sold.
Another charge to bring against the prisoner.
'Well come on then,' the man said impatiently.
McAllister stepped onto the raft, and stood proudly
in the centre as his men each knelt at the sides and
began frantically paddling. The raft made good speed,
but McAllister could see the creatures as they reached
the water's edge. They didn't pause, just walked back
into it as easily as they had stepped out from it. They
seemed to move with the same relentless speed.
'We have not escaped yet,' he realised.
One of McAllister's men let out a cry and snatched
his hand out of the water. A pale hand broke the surface,
reaching out to try to grab him. Another appeared on
the port side of the raft, and then another.
'Keep paddling,' the prisoner ordered.
The waters bubbled all around them.
The Doctor knelt at the stern of the raft and alternated
between steering and batting away searching hands
with the only paddle he'd been able to find on the boat.
There were still several creatures under the water, but
they seemed to be having difficulty floating up to reach
the raft – probably understandable considering how
long most of them must have been down there. The
ones who were following them from the other side
also sank quickly below the surface and gave chase at
the same measured pace as they had on land.
Except for the soldier. Their most recent victim.
'What was his name?' the Doctor asked McAllister.
'Who?'
The Doctor pointed behind them. The soldier
seemed to be swimming after them, but a strange
stroke somewhere between floating and walking. In
truth, he was more buoyant than his companions,
and would have found it difficult to walk along the
bottom as they did.
McAllister glanced quickly and turned away again.
'Wright,' he muttered. 'Ernest Wright.'
'I'm sorry,' said the Doctor, though no one alive
could hear.
'There! Look!' came a panicked shout. 'They're
ahead of us.'
The Doctor stood immediately. If the creatures had
reached the other side before the raft, then there was
little hope left. Perhaps he could modify the sonic
screwdriver to ignite the pockets of marsh gas floating
above the water, but that would only give them a few
moments of distraction. He peered across the Loch.
The soldiers had stopped paddling. There was indeed
a dark figure looming on the other shore, and not all
that far away.
'No,' the Doctor announced. 'That's a person.'
There was a moment's silence.
'What are you waiting for?' McAllister barked.
'Keep paddling!'
The raft jolted forward again, but the Doctor
remained where he was. They were only seconds from
the shore now, and there was little need to steer. Behind
them, the water bubbled and churned, marking the
steady submarine progress of the creatures following.
It would be close. The Doctor had lost one man, he
wasn't going to lose any more.
'Quickly,' the figure on the shore called. 'Quickly!'
He was a tall man, with a bald scalp pushing up
through a ring of greying hair and a beard that circled
the bottom of his face as if to compensate. He ran into
the Loch, regardless of the water that rose up to his
knees, and reached out to grab the Doctor's hands,
pulling him and the raft into dock. He needn't have
bothered: as soon as the raft was within wading
distance of the shore, the soldiers started to leap off.
By the time the Doctor jumped onto the damp grass,
the soldiers were already looking
pass.
The trees shook, and something slid into view.
'Give me a hand, then,' the prisoner shouted.
He re-emerged, pushing a raft out of the trees and
towards the Loch. McAllister's men didn't even wait
for the order; they were by his side and pushing the
unseaworthy vessel out into the dark waters as one.
There was just enough room for all of them to perch
on it, as long as they didn't move too much, but there
were no paddles to be seen: it was a smugglers' vessel,
hidden there after bringing in untaxed alcohol to wait
for the return journey after the goods had been sold.
Another charge to bring against the prisoner.
'Well come on then,' the man said impatiently.
McAllister stepped onto the raft, and stood proudly
in the centre as his men each knelt at the sides and
began frantically paddling. The raft made good speed,
but McAllister could see the creatures as they reached
the water's edge. They didn't pause, just walked back
into it as easily as they had stepped out from it. They
seemed to move with the same relentless speed.
'We have not escaped yet,' he realised.
One of McAllister's men let out a cry and snatched
his hand out of the water. A pale hand broke the surface,
reaching out to try to grab him. Another appeared on
the port side of the raft, and then another.
'Keep paddling,' the prisoner ordered.
The waters bubbled all around them.
The Doctor knelt at the stern of the raft and alternated
between steering and batting away searching hands
with the only paddle he'd been able to find on the boat.
There were still several creatures under the water, but
they seemed to be having difficulty floating up to reach
the raft – probably understandable considering how
long most of them must have been down there. The
ones who were following them from the other side
also sank quickly below the surface and gave chase at
the same measured pace as they had on land.
Except for the soldier. Their most recent victim.
'What was his name?' the Doctor asked McAllister.
'Who?'
The Doctor pointed behind them. The soldier
seemed to be swimming after them, but a strange
stroke somewhere between floating and walking. In
truth, he was more buoyant than his companions,
and would have found it difficult to walk along the
bottom as they did.
McAllister glanced quickly and turned away again.
'Wright,' he muttered. 'Ernest Wright.'
'I'm sorry,' said the Doctor, though no one alive
could hear.
'There! Look!' came a panicked shout. 'They're
ahead of us.'
The Doctor stood immediately. If the creatures had
reached the other side before the raft, then there was
little hope left. Perhaps he could modify the sonic
screwdriver to ignite the pockets of marsh gas floating
above the water, but that would only give them a few
moments of distraction. He peered across the Loch.
The soldiers had stopped paddling. There was indeed
a dark figure looming on the other shore, and not all
that far away.
'No,' the Doctor announced. 'That's a person.'
There was a moment's silence.
'What are you waiting for?' McAllister barked.
'Keep paddling!'
The raft jolted forward again, but the Doctor
remained where he was. They were only seconds from
the shore now, and there was little need to steer. Behind
them, the water bubbled and churned, marking the
steady submarine progress of the creatures following.
It would be close. The Doctor had lost one man, he
wasn't going to lose any more.
'Quickly,' the figure on the shore called. 'Quickly!'
He was a tall man, with a bald scalp pushing up
through a ring of greying hair and a beard that circled
the bottom of his face as if to compensate. He ran into
the Loch, regardless of the water that rose up to his
knees, and reached out to grab the Doctor's hands,
pulling him and the raft into dock. He needn't have
bothered: as soon as the raft was within wading
distance of the shore, the soldiers started to leap off.
By the time the Doctor jumped onto the damp grass,
the soldiers were already looking
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