Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues Part 15

The men who appeared from the pines were wearing coats of rough woven material that looked like blankets. The bold patterns on the coats, thick red and black lines, emphasised the resemblance. Two of the men wore hats; one a baseball cap and the other what Ace thought of as a regular cowboy hat the first she'd seen since her arrival here in what she still regarded as the Wild West. The third man had no hat, and his long, lank, black hair hung down to his shoulders. He was the oldest of the three, with a seamed, haggard face, and dark glittering eyes set deep in nests of wrinkles. The man in the cowboy hat looked like he was in his forties. His face was marked with a 94purple scar that ran down his right cheek and curled onto his neck. The one in the baseball cap was little more than a kid, just out of his teens. They both shared the old man's dark skin, black hair and dark eyes.

The guns they were carrying were rifles. The weapons looked battered and well worn. The kid's had a stock that had split and been repaired with black tape. But they all seemed more than serviceable and the three men standing there, brandis.h.i.+ng them in the last rays of sunset, looked formidable, not to mention menacing.

The Doctor smiled and, before Ace could stop him, he set off up the slope towards them, straight into the barrels of their guns. 'h.e.l.lo, Black Eyes,' he said.

The old man smiled, the wrinkles on his face multiplying, and lowered his gun. 'I thought it was you, Doctor. Your body's different but your soul is still the same.' As he lowered his weapon the others followed suit and Ace started breathing again.

Standing behind her, Ray whispered, 'Who are these cats?'

Ace just shrugged and gestured for him to shut up.

But the Doctor had caught the whisper. He finished shaking hands with the old man and turned back to Ace and Ray. 'Allow me to introduce Black Eyes, Scar and. . . ' he paused, squinting at the young Indian, 'and this must be Black Eyes' grandson and Scar's nephew, Sun Runner.' The boy looked up at him with surprise and appreciation. 'How is your mother?' said the Doctor.

'Do remember me to her.'

'OK,' said the boy shyly. The old man, Black Eyes, set off abruptly down the hillside without a word, and the other two Indians followed him. Ace looked at the Doctor, who nodded, and they set off after the Indians. Ray waited for a moment, then followed the others.

'I repeat,' he said in a low voice, 'who are these cats? I mean, I dig their colourful ethnic names, but who are they are they?'

'They're my friends,' said the Doctor simply.

'But where are they from?' Ray sounded anxious to get his bearings in this new situation and Ace sympathised; she knew that feeling. She was glad that somebody else was asking the questions for once.

'Where are they from?' said the Doctor. 'Well, once they moved freely throughout this land, spending their winters south on the Rio Grande, following the buffalo across the plains in the summer. Now they are restricted to the Mescalero Apache reservation here in central southern New Mexico.'

'Apaches?' said Ray. He was impressed. So was Ace.

'Yes. The word Apache comes from a Yuma word meaning "warrior". The Mescalero designation refers to the fact that they were originally a hunter-gatherer people who harvested and ate the heads of the wild mescal plants.95.

The same mescal which is used to make a certain alcoholic beverage which is popular in these parts.'

'I've drunk mescal,' said Ace. 'It's got a worm in the bottom of the bottle. If you finish the bottle you're supposed to eat the worm.'

'Did you?' said Ray. He picked his way down the hill with a fat man's caution, stepping delicately among the rocks. They were following the three Apaches, who had almost reached the bottom of the slope, where it met the rising ground of the hill flank opposite.

'I never finished the bottle, fortunately,' said Ace.

'Hey, wait a minute man,' said Ray. 'Isn't that mescal a kind of cactus-type thing?' Ace sighed, sensing what was coming. 'Do you suppose these cats have got any cactus needles?' said Ray.

'The cactus that chiefly preoccupies them,' said the Doctor, 'is Lophophora Lophophora williamsii williamsii the hallucinogenic peyote cactus.' They had now reached the foot of the opposite slope and were starting up it, after Black Eyes, Scar and Sun Runner, none of whom seemed particularly inclined to wait for the laggards falling behind them. 'I'm not sure its needles would be suitable for your purpose, although you might find that its buds, or b.u.t.tons as they are called, have a profound effect on the music you hear.' the hallucinogenic peyote cactus.' They had now reached the foot of the opposite slope and were starting up it, after Black Eyes, Scar and Sun Runner, none of whom seemed particularly inclined to wait for the laggards falling behind them. 'I'm not sure its needles would be suitable for your purpose, although you might find that its buds, or b.u.t.tons as they are called, have a profound effect on the music you hear.'

'I'll bet, man, I'll bet,' chuckled Ray. The sun had now faded to a last red glare banked against the deep blue of the sky in the west. The air was fragrant and chilly in the slanting shadows of the pines. Ace was watching the three Apache men move through the shadows when suddenly they disappeared. For a moment she felt a thrill of fear, then she remembered what the Doctor had said about caves. They'd simply stepped into a cave mouth. The truth of this supposition was confirmed a moment later when the young man came out of the shadows back into view and began gathering fallen tree branches from the ground.

'Isn't that considerate?' said the Doctor. 'Sun Runner is preparing a fire for us.'

Major Butcher steered his jeep through the desert darkness towards the distant light. He had turned off his headlights as soon as he glimpsed it, not wanting anyone to see him coming. The going was rough, driving through almost total blackness, bouncing across rutted ground, and finally he had to slow down to a crawl. If he busted an axle out here it would mean a long walk back to the Hill and, worse, missing out on any chance of catching up with the Doctor and his cronies and discovering what they were up to.

The engine throbbed turbulently and the jeep lurched. Remembering the two changes of fan belt that afternoon, Butcher slowed down even more.

The terrain under the tyres was sloping steadily upwards and soon he found 96himself on the rim of a hill, driving around in a big circle. There didn't seem to be any way up onto the hill, at least no route big enough for the jeep, so he killed the engine and sat there, listening to the ticking and smelling the cooling of hot metal, pondering what to do next. There was a certain amount of moonlight now so Butcher got out of the jeep and walked carefully around, trying to get a mental picture of where he was in relation to the surrounding terrain. He was going to have to leave his vehicle behind, and he wanted to be able to find it again and possibly get out of here in a hurry. Securing a line of retreat was something he'd learned in the Pinkertons long before he'd joined the army. He considered leaving his flashlight on the hood of the jeep, switched on, as a beacon to guide him. But the batteries would burn out in a few hours and he might not be back by then. Then there was the fact that he might need the flashlight and, more importantly, it might reveal the position of his jeep to the others.

He set off somewhat reluctantly up the hill into the darkness, feeling cut loose in the night, adrift, as the shadows absorbed the jeep behind him.

Butcher found the going fairly easy on foot, only occasionally bruising his s.h.i.+n on some rock or tree stump invisible in the intermittent moonlight. Now and then he turned on his flashlight, but sparingly, less to conserve the batteries than to conceal his position. The light at the top of the hill came and went according to the angle of his approach and the intervening terrain, but it always appeared again, a beacon.

Soon the flickering yellow light was close enough to be identified as the flames of a campfire high on the opposite hill. Butcher was staring at it with such fixity that he walked straight into something at waist level, something hard and unyielding, and was flung flat across it. He grunted with the impact and fumbled with his free hand, feeling dusty metal that still had some residual trace of warmth. It was the hood of a jeep. The Doctor's jeep. Butcher smiled with satisfaction. Even if he couldn't get down the hill and find his own vehicle, he had this one to use. a.s.suming he could drive it back down the hill without breaking his neck.

What's more, he now knew the Doctor and his party were close at hand.

He wondered what they were up to with their campfire. Roasting weenies and marshmallows? He'd find out soon enough. Moving away from the jeep he found the ground grading downwards again and he walked carefully. He didn't dare switch on his flashlight, and a broken leg would be a h.e.l.l of a lot more serious than a broken axle. Eventually the downward slope corrected itself, rising upwards again towards the shadows of a patch of pines, which seemed to throb and s.h.i.+ft with the yellow light of the fire at their centre. Butcher moved up the slope through the cl.u.s.ter of trees, moving with exquisite care so as not to snap a twig, his mouth open wide so even his 97breathing was silent. He made only the faintest stirring whisper in the bed of pine needles that clothed the slope.

Butcher saw that the fire had been built inside a cave on the brow of the hillside. He'd been lucky. If the angle had been slightly different the mouth of the cave would have screened the fire and he would never have spotted it.

He was only thirty or forty feet away now, moving slowly upwards through the dark trees. He could see the Doctor and Ace sitting beside the fire. Where the h.e.l.l was Ray Morita? Inside the cave on a radio talking to Tokyo, quite possibly.

He moved stealthily closer, more cautious about sound than ever, and he had just taken out his pistol and was wondering how he should finally announce his presence, when he felt a hard, cold ring of metal delicately touch the back of his neck. Butcher knew immediately what the ring of metal was and he cursed himself savagely, wis.h.i.+ng he could somehow turn back the clock and do everything differently.

From the trees in front of him, two men stepped out carrying rifles. They didn't point them at Butcher. They didn't need to. Their friend already had one pressed to the back of his neck. They took his pistol from him and then the men turned casually away and started up the slope towards the fire. Butcher didn't need to be told to follow them. He started walking and the pressure of the gun barrel on his neck ceased, although he knew it was still there, hovering a few inches behind him. He felt a strange throbbing pressure on the flesh of his neck, which couldn't be explained by any momentary contact with metal. It was the spot where he imagined that the bullet would hit him if he tried anything clever.

Butcher didn't try anything clever. He walked up to the campfire, feeling its heat on his face and smelling the resinous smoke boiling off the burning pine branches. The face of the girl watched him as he came, looking serious and troubled in the fire light. The Doctor, however, was grinning. 'h.e.l.lo Major Butcher. I thought you might wish to join us.'

'That's why you had them build the fire. Right here where I could see it from miles away.' Butcher was furious with himself. He'd walked into a trap.

Been lured into it.

'That's right. We couldn't have you blundering around in these hills all night with nothing to go on. Why don't you sit down?' The Doctor patted a pile of blankets set on the ground near the fire. Butcher had nothing to lose, so he sat. As he did so he got a look at the man who'd had the gun on him. Like the two others he was an Indian, though this one was older and didn't wear a hat.

'Please meet Sun Runner, Scar and Black Eyes,' said the Doctor, as if he was presiding at a tea party. 'Sun Runner is the young fellow and Black Eyes is the gentleman who had the deer rifle at the back of your head. Scar's name is 98self-explanatory.'

'Where's Morita?' said Butcher. His mouth was dry and his voice sounded strained. He didn't want to clear his throat because then they'd know he was scared.

'Cosmic Ray?' said the Doctor. 'He's in the cave, having a lie-down.

'Having a what?' Butcher's voice came out like a snarl. But at least it wasn't trembling.

'He's crashed out,' explained Ace. 'Too much mescal.' She lifted a bottle.

The bottle had no label. It was half full of clear liquid, which glinted amber in the fire light.

'Why don't you have a drink?' suggested the Doctor.

'I don't think so,' said Butcher.

'Go on,' said the Doctor. He pa.s.sed the bottle to the young Indian, who shoved it into Butcher's hands. All three Indians raised their rifles. Butcher realised it wasn't a suggestion.

'Don't worry,' said Ace. 'There isn't a worm in the bottom.'

Butcher raised the neck of the bottle to his mouth and tried to fake a swallow, but the young Indian stepped forward and tilted it steeply in Butcher's hands. Warm, harsh liquid flooded from the bottle into Butcher's throat.

Butcher choked, the spirit burning in his nose and eyes and mouth. He coughed and spat and fought the bottle away from his face. The young Indian took it back and sat down on the other side of the fire. He was smiling faintly. His two elders were entirely expressionless. Butcher felt the liquor flood through his system with its mendacious warmth and comfort.

The Doctor leaned over and picked up a wicker basket. He set it on his knees, opened it and took out a sandwich. 'You mustn't drink on an empty stomach, Major.'

'I'm not hungry.'

'I'm afraid I must insist.' The Doctor handed the sandwich to the scar-faced Indian, who set his rifle aside and carried it around the fire to Butcher.

Butcher accepted the sandwich and started eating it. He knew he didn't have any choice. He chewed and swallowed, hardly registering the taste of the bitter vegetable stuff between the two slices of bread. Butcher ate every sc.r.a.p of it.

When he was finished the Doctor said, 'Would you like another drink?'

'No thank you,' said Butcher.

'As you wish.' This time the Doctor didn't get the Indians to force him. The bottle stayed on the ground, glinting in the flames. They all sat there for what seemed a long time. None of the Indians seemed to feel the need to say anything, the Doctor was entirely comfortable in the silence, occasionally smiling at Butcher across the fire. The girl's eyes drifted shut and she began 99to sleep, snoring gently. The fire crackled and spat and the shadows danced.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour had pa.s.sed, Butcher felt he had to say something. 'What are we waiting for?'

'The peyote,' said the Doctor. At the sound of his voice Ace woke up and blinked blearily.

'The what?' said Butcher. His voice was a harsh croak.

'The peyote. It's a naturally occurring hallucinogen found where is it found Ace?'

'In the buds of a cactus called William something,' she said sleepily, half awake now.

'Close enough,' said the Doctor. 'It's a powerful intoxicant that causes visions and your sandwich was full of it. We are waiting for it to take effect.'

The Doctor glanced at his pocket watch. 'Which should be happening any time now.'

'What the h.e.l.l have you done to me?' said Butcher.

The Doctor smiled at him. His eyes looked uncanny in the light of the fire, a restless liquid gleam in them. 'Peyote is a sacrament to the Mescalero Apaches. The white man has tried to stamp out its use, but he has been far from successful. It is still deployed, sparingly because of its immense power, by certain shaman. Shaman such as Black Eyes here.' Butcher looked at the old Indian, who stared back at him as if he wasn't there.

The Doctor said, 'The Mescalero Apaches see the world as being an intricate web of forces. These natural forces act on human beings through the agency of the weather, the sun, the moon, animals or plants.' The Doctor's dark eyes seemed to be staring into the depths of Butcher's soul. 'Peyote is unique among these plants in being considered to be utterly evil. The only corresponding evil to be found among the animals spirits is the owl.' The Doctor fell silent and at that instant an owl called in the branches above them. It was an unearthly sound and Butcher felt a cold vibration s.h.i.+ver up his spine like electric current.

'Right on cue,' said Ace. She sounded impressed, suddenly wide awake again.

The Doctor smiled, but there was little warmth in the smile. 'Like the owl, peyote has power. The power to bring visions. Such visions are often accom-panied by an ordeal.'

Butcher realised that the others, Ace and the Indians, were all staring up into the night sky. He looked up and saw, hanging there above the canopy of pines, a strange cl.u.s.ter of glowing lights. The lights moved around in a co-ordinated fas.h.i.+on, as though they were attached to some kind of aircraft.

But there was no sound of engines and the slow floating motion of the lights didn't belong to any craft Butcher had ever seen or heard of.

The Doctor stood up. 'Are you ready for your ordeal, Major?'100.

Chapter Eight.

On Board the Craft 'Wicked,' said Ace.

'It is rather impressive, isn't it?' said the Doctor.

'What the h.e.l.l is it?' said Butcher. He stared up into the night, his voice cracked and desperate.

'It's a craft from another world, of course,' said the Doctor. 'And you are going to have the extraordinary privilege of being taken on board.'

'Are they going to probe him?' said Ace eagerly.

'Please, Ace. I'm sure the Major is frightened enough as it is without you planting unpleasant suggestions like that in his mind.'

'But it's the done thing, isn't it, with UFOs?'

'I a.s.sure you,' said the Doctor, 'there is nothing unidentified about this flying object. As a matter of fact, its pilot is an old friend of mine.'

Ace peered happily up into the night. 'So do we get to meet this friend?'

'Of course. We're not going to let Major Butcher go all by himself. We will be taken on board with him.'

'So how do we get taken on board?'

'We merely ask.' The Doctor took off his hat and waved it at the shape in the sky. Ace studied the glowing lights. They pulsed and changed colour in a way that made her think of something organic, a life form. She remembered pictures she'd seen of jellyfish that swam in the deepest part of the ocean, pulsing with colour. The slowly changing iridescence of the lights reminded her of these. And so did the slowly unfolding tentacle, transparent but streaming with rainbow colours, that descended from the craft and flowed around the Doctor, engulfing him. Ace saw the Doctor being sucked up through the swaying polychromatic length of the hollow tentacle. Then she saw another tentacle descending from the craft, towards her.

A third tentacle came swaying down towards Butcher and she heard him scream as it touched him. The scream was cut off as Ace was sealed in her own tentacle. It was soft and jelly-like, yet warm and dry. There was a flow of warm air coming from the top of the tentacle and it had a salty, spicy tang to it. She could see through the tentacle and outside, by the campfire, she saw the Apaches watching impa.s.sively as the third tentacle swallowed the 101struggling and frantic Major Butcher. Then Ace felt a rush of air and she was suddenly moving upwards inside her own tentacle, its jelly-like circ.u.mference closing around her feet and gently but swiftly forcing her upwards in a peri-staltic motion. As the length of the tentacle clenched shut behind her she was squeezed along it, propelled inexorably towards the glowing lights above.

Outside she could see Butcher being shot upwards in his own tentacle. She couldn't hear his screams, but she could see his frantic struggles, wild, flailing limbs convulsing in an almost hysterical panic. Ace couldn't work out what all the fuss was about.

After all, it was only a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p.

The interior of the s.h.i.+p seemed to be made of the same stuff as the tentacles, though somewhat more rigid to the touch. From what Ace could see, the craft consisted of a series of chambers that were spherical or oval in section. The walls were transparent, but seethed with colours that pa.s.sed through them.

The colours changed and pulsed like living light. The overlapping layers of the walls and the s.h.i.+fting waves of chromatic change meant that, for all their transparency, the walls became effectively opaque beyond a certain distance; Ace couldn't see much beyond the chambers immediately surrounding her, except for some vague shapes in a nacreous fog.

The Doctor was standing waiting for her when she arrived, delivered by the gentle clenching pressure of the tentacle through an opening in the floor of the s.h.i.+p. The hole closed under her, sealing itself so that she was standing on a solid surface. The Doctor smiled at her. 'Impressive, eh?'

'Beats the h.e.l.l out of an escalator,' said Ace. They both stood and waited for Major Butcher to turn up. There was a hole in the floor that evidently corresponded to the entry point for his tentacle, but no sign of the Major himself. 'What's keeping him?'

'Poor Major Butcher. I imagine he's experiencing a certain measure of. . .

culture shock, shall we say?'

'Yes, I think we shall say.'

'Instead of relaxing and allowing the delivery mechanism to do its job, he is no doubt resisting with every ounce of his considerable strength. And since the mechanism is designed first and foremost to bring living creatures on board unharmed, it is taking its time.'