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Chapter Three The Doctor patted his pockets and let out a load huff of annoyance. No sonic screwdriver, no sonic hairdryer. Nothing! He walked across his cell and thumped his large fists on the wooden door. ‘I demand to see whoever is in charge!’ He waited for a response. At first none was forthcoming, then someone on the other side banged the wooden door. ‘Stand back!’ The Doctor smiled with satisfaction. ’About time, too. I’ve been kept waiting long enough in here.’ He stepped back, as the door slowly opened. ’Do you treat all visitors in the same manner?’ There was no verbal answer. Instead a heavy object wrapped in cloth was thrown at the Doctor. He toppled back, carried down by his own weight and that of the object, and hit the ground with an undignified bump. The wooden door was slammed shut. The Doctor pushed aside the heavy object and got to his feet. ‘I want to see your leader. Now!’ He whacked the door one last time. ‘Damn them.’ There was a muffled sound from behind him. He turned around to see the bundle of cloth moving on the floor. It rose from the ground, and with a smile the Doctor realised it was a person. ‘Well, at least I have company now.’ He advanced on the person wrapped in the cloth. ‘Hello, I am the Doctor and these are...’ He looked around, sighed, and cleared his throat. ‘Yes, well, I am the Doctor at any rate.’ The bundle of cloth fell from the person, leaving a naked boy standing there. The Doctor pulled back in shock. Not at the nakedness, as a Time Lord the Doctor was above such things, but at the sheer state of the boy’s body. The boy could have been no older than sixteen. Bruises covered his body, with dark bloody scars on his neck. The boy was looking around the cell, his eyes wide, glaring vacantly. The Doctor stepped closer. ‘What has happened to you?’ The boy shrank back in fear. The Doctor stopped his advance and held out the palm of his hand. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re quite safe with me, I assure you.’ The boy shook his head. ‘There is no safe in Larkhowl,’ he whispered, ‘not any more.’ *** As she came to, Alf found that her vision was blurred. She tried to look around but all she could see was distorted shapes and colours. Her attempts to move were equally unsuccessful. She closed her eyes for a few moments, then reopened them. Upon doing so things became clear. Literally and figuratively. She was still in the factory. She looked down as far as she could, getting a glimpse of the rusty metal chair upon which she sat. Her legs were open, ankles tied with thin wire to the rusty chair legs. Considering how thin the wire was, Alf was very thankful for the knee length boots that she wore. Her wrists were bound together behind her, also tied to the chair. She could not see what bound her wrists, but by moving them slightly she knew it was not wire. Another thing to be thankful for, she noted, since the wire would easily being able to cut into the arteries in her wrists. She glanced around the factory and noticed her leather coat laying in a heap on the dusty floor, beside her knapsack which was now open. Alf thought back to what had led her to be in this predicament. She seemed to recall something about Nick twisting her arm, and some bizarre story about him being a vampire. Alf laughed. What a stupid idea. ‘Interesting time to laugh,’ said a familiar voice. Alf turned her head slightly. It was Nick. ‘What’s going on?’ Nick walked towards her. Unlike before there was nothing casual about the way he walked. Gone was his usual bouncing step, replaced by a controlled and determined stride, full of strength. He wiped at his lips. Alf narrowed her eyes, quite sure that what he had wiped away was blood. ‘Fun, games,’ he replied, ‘things like that.’ ***
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