ENEMY WITHIN
Chapter 3 "What's he doing here?" Sylvia asked her daughter. She'd come through the hospital curtains surrounding Wilf's bed, carrying a bag of grapes and and some astronomy magazines. "You and that Doctor of yours." she said, as if the Doctor wasn't standing right in front of her. The Doctor shifted his feet uncomfortably and suddenly looked as if he'd wished he'd stayed in the TARDIS. "Just have to tote him along, wherever you go." she demanded. "What are you? Joined at the hip like Siamese twins?" "Mum, don't." Donna said, "Not here. I asked him to come. The Doctor's very fond of gramps." she told her mother. "Aren't you?" She asked him. The Doctor flashed a warm smile at Wilf, and nodded his head. Wilf grinned, and as soon as Sylvia cast her eyes elsewhere, he slipped the Doctor a conspiratorial wink. Slipping on his eyeglasses, the Doctor got out his stethoscope. Warming it between his hands, he lifted Wilf's pyjama top and listened to his chest. Pocketing the instrument, he then walked down to the end of the bed, and picked up the patient medical chart which was clipped there. Reading the chart, the Doctor frowned. Biting his lip thoughtfully he looked up at Wilf. "When did you first notice that you became ill?" The Doctor asked. "Oh, don't listen to him, Dad. What does he know? Like he's a real Doctor." Sylvia nagged. "I'll tell you what, mum. That man there," Donna said defensively, pointing at the Doctor's back, "he probably knows more about human medicine than any doctor here on Earth. If anyone can help us, he can." "I first noticed a bit of a sore throat two days ago. Oh, and a burning sensation in my chest. When I was walking back home from the petrol station up the road." Wilf replied, then he turned away, and gave in to a bout of coughing. Donna poured him a cup of water from a pitcher on his bedside table. "He was after those pork pies again. That's what he was doing. Always said those things would make you sick one of these days, dad." Sylvia interjected. "Thank you sweetheart." He said to Donna, before addressing the Doctor again. "Then, a few hours later, I had a bit of a funny turn." Wilf continued when he'd caught his breath, choosing to ignore Sylvia's remarks. "Next thing you know, I'm flat on me back, being rushed to A & E in an ambulance. My memory's all kinda' fuzzy 'round about that time, Doctor. I'm not really sure what happened, 'till I woke up in this here bed." "Wait a minute." Donna said. "If this thing is as contagious as they say, why aren't we being issued with hospital gowns and face masks? Why isn't this some kind of isolation ward?" "Good question." The Doctor said, nodding. "I like good questions. Bad questions are a waste of time. Like, when people stand right in front of a pub's menu board and then ask what they're serving for lunch." Turning to look at Sylvia, the Doctor asked, "I'm guessing there must be reports of this on the news. Has anyone said what they think may have originated? What the cause is?" "You mean, like chickens in Mexico with that bird flu epidemic?" Donna suggested. "No." Sylvia shrugged. "Nothing like that. Only thing is, people say it first appeared here in London. That's why they're calling it the London flu. There's rumours, of course. People saying it may have been brought in by some passenger at Heathrow. Others think it may have come into the country on a ship, or on the tube. No one seems to know anything for certain. I even saw one of those tabloid headlines at the news agent's the other day, suggesting that it's germ warfare by some terrorist organization!" "Oh come on, mum! As if!" Donna snorted. "It's probably merely some airborne illness that we've lost our immunity to. You know, all those antibiotics and cold medications we take." "I bet it's them aliens again!" Wilf exclaimed, starting to shake his fist, before he remembered that the back of his hand was attached to an IV needle and intravenous tube.. Putting down his arm, he immediately shot the Doctor a sheepish look of apology. The Doctor smiled to signal that he didn't take offense. Putting his glasses back in his suit pocket, the Doctor crouched down by Wilf's bedside. "Don't worry, Wilf. Donna and I will get this sorted.. Trust me." The Doctor told him, compassion filling his voice. Then the Doctor froze. His brow knitted together, as if he was puzzled about something. His eyes suddenly lit up, and the Doctor stood suddenly, nearly knocking over the water pitcher on the bedside table. Both Donna and her mother had to step back quickly, to avoid having their toes being trampled on.." "Whatever is he on about?" An alarmed Sylvia asked Donna. "Is he having some sort of fit or something?" "He's fine, mum." Donna reassured her. "He's thinking. That's what the Doctor's best at. 'Cos when he finds the answer, he's almost always right." "Think, think, think, Doctor" he muttered, pacing back and forth, as much as he could in the confined space. The Doctor's hands tore at his hair, as his mind worked furiously. "Sudden, unexplained illness, probably airborne." He stopped and looked at Donna's granddad, staring intently at his face. "Wilf. Before you went to the petrol station that day. How did you feel?" He asked. "Nothing out of the ordinary. I felt the same as I always did." Wilf answered. "So, until you walked home, you had no symptoms whatsoever?" The Doctor asked. "Yeah, fine, like I said." Wilf confirmed. "Tell me," The Doctor inquired, "Did you notice anything unusual? Any odd smells, freak weather, strange clouds, low flying planes, someone looking or behaving differently? Anything at all, no matter how insignificant you think it may be?" "What is it, Doctor?" Donna asked him. "You think someone may be deliberately spreading this illness? "That's just silly. Who would do something like that?" Sylvia told her dismissively. "Sorry, Doctor. I don't remember anything out of the ordinary..." Wilf said. Donna noticed that he looked tired. She was about to suggest they go, when he touched the Doctor's sleeve, "Hang on. It's probably nothing. But, there was this jet, see? One of them little private one's. Like those rock 'n roll stars and big executives use. It was flying overhead, much lower than they normally do. Didn't think much of it, until now." He paused, sighed. "Meh. "Never mind me. I'm probably wasting your time." "Yeah..." The Doctor said, scratching his jaw. A sharp nudge by Donna's elbow told him his manners were off again. "I mean, thanks, Wilf. You've been very helpful." He motioned to Donna, and gave her granddad an encouraging grin. "I think we'll be getting along now. Let you get some rest. Don't worry. You'll be star-gazing on your hill again, before you know it." Donna paused by Wilf's bedside, taking his hand in hers. She smiled down at him, and her granddad saw the tiny bit of fear in her eyes. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one. He didn't want her to even think about that sort of thing. "It'll be alright, sweetheart." He told her, squeezing her hand. "You go with the Doctor. We both know that if anyone can sort this, he can. Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine. Your mum will see to that." "Yes. I will. I mean, someone has to stay here and look after him. Heaven knows when the NHS will get 'round to putting on extra staff here, and start taking this flu thing more seriously." Sylvia said, casting a genuinely worried look in Wilf's direction. "These doctor's today, Donna. What do they know? You can count yourself lucky if you can even find one when you need him. More worried about their golf scores than their patients. Stockbrokers with stethoscopes, that's all they are...and don't get me started on the nurses..." The Doctor was already out the door of the ward, and Donna wasn't far behind him, still hearing her mum's complaints, apparently directed at Wilf's nurse, now. As they left the hospital, the Doctor and Donna turned the corner and walked towards the corner of a car park, where he'd left the TARDIS. The late afternoon sun shone bright and clear. The Doctor told her he was going to cobble together some equipment, so he could run a few air quality tests. Donna shook her head when he suggested she go for a nosh somewhere, rather than hang about watching him work. She shook her head and told him she wasn't feeling very hungry. Donna decided to go for a walk. Standing in the doorway, the Doctor watched her back as she slowly walked away. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he let out a big sigh of resignation. He didn't want his friend to be on her own when she was feeling so upset. Deciding the tests could wait for a bit, the Doctor trotted to catch up to her. "Do you mind if I join you, Ms. Noble?" He asked, strolling alongside her. The Doctor had long since learned never to call her 'Miss'. Offering her his hand, he said, "Lovely day for a walk in the park, don't you think?" "I thought you were going to work in the TARDIS?" she asked him. "Think better in the open air, me." He shrugged. "You just don't want me to be on my own." Donna said. "Actually," The Doctor pondered, "I think it's the other way around. I also think better with a friend along. Two heads are better than one, and all that. Well, unless you've already have two heads. Then that saying would probably be redundant." "Do you always tell these little fibs to your friends?" Donna chided him good naturedly. "Nah. Only to my best best friends." The Doctor said, grinning. "I hate hospitals. I felt so helpless, seeing him lying there." Donna admitted. "I know, Donna. And I promise. I'm going to do everything I can to help." He said. But deep inside, the Doctor wasn't as positive as he sounded. Human ailments could be so complicated. And, he had also to cope with, was the temptation of going into the future and bringing back a cure for Wilf. What the Doctor was grateful for, was the fact that Donna knew this, and yet didn't ask him to do it. That made her very special in his eyes. The pair of them walked along in companionable silence for a few minutes, each occupied with their own thoughts. Without warning, a pack of screaming boys on bicycles came tearing by, almost running them over. Donna added a few yells of her own at the kids, regarding their fate if she ever got hold of their mums. Then, a few moments later, a shabbily dressed intoxicated couple came walking past, having a loud argument about who picked the wrong dog in some race. As she and the Doctor walked past a park bench, a man in a business suit was shouting into his mobile, apparently upset about some dodgy stocks he'd been sold. As they passed the angry investor, Donna looked up as a jet roared overhead, winging its way to parts unknown. "So much for a quiet stroll in the park." She joked, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, well. Can't have everything your way. Think about how spoiled you'd get. You'd never be truly happy." The Doctor smiled. He too, had glanced up at the jet, which was now only a dull roar in the distance, leaving behind nothing but a twin pair of billowing white contrails against the blue sky. The Doctor stopped abruptly. "Contrails!" He shouted, making an elderly woman walking a dog, stop and stare at him with a cautious eye. "What about them?" Donna asked. "We've got to go back. I need to speak to Wilf again." The Doctor said, not answering the question. Turning on his heel, he jogged back towards the hospital. Donna raised an eyebrow, shook her head, and followed him. "One thing, traveling with you." She said, catching up to him. "I don't need to pay for any health club memberships. I get all my exercise for free." Outside a secure government office, Mr. Huxley was greeted by a prim, efficient looking executive secretary. She escorted him to a door, and announcing Huxley to the Deputy Prime Minister. "I was rather under the impression that I was to meet with the Prime Minister today." Huxley said, shaking the man's hand. "The Prime Minister has been called away on urgent business." the man told him coldly, after asking Huxley to take a seat. "I'm afraid you'll have to deal with me, in regards to the matter of whether or not our government is willing to approve this untested vaccine." "Ah yes. The London flu, I believe they're calling it. I rather like that. Sounds much more personal than the L-378 virus." He paused, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs comfortably. "Tell me, has the Prime Minister died yet?" Huxley asked casually. "What! That's...that remark was totally inappropriate, Mr. Huxley!" The man said, with a shocked expression. "The Prime Minister contracted the flu yesterday, and is now listed in serious condition at an undisclosed private hospital. He's dying, Deputy Prime Minister. And I alone can keep him alive. Yet, I can do more than that." Huxley said with a knowing, sly voice. He leaned forward. "What if I guaranteed that all of you here in Downing Street, and whomever other people your government chooses-up to a point of course, would live? What if I could promise that they and their families would be completely safe from this flu epidemic?" "Even if, hypothetically speaking, what you suggest about the Prime Minister were true, how could you possibly promise us something like that?" The Deputy Prime Minister asked, suddenly nervous. Either the man sitting in front of him was completely mad, or this was beginning to sound like a particularly nasty terrorist threat. "Because, my dear fellow," Huxley said, reaching across the desk and picking up a few chocolate Smarties from out of a cut crystal dish, "while my...associates developed the sickness, I was busy creating the cure. Win-win situation, as far as we're concerned. And without my vaccine to cure them and to give them immunity, everyone in Great Britain will die within the next sixty days. Including every member of your precious government. Even Her Majesty. And her little dogs, too." Huxley gave a satisfied chuckle before popping the candy in his mouth. "We've got an animal virus waiting in the wings, as well."
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