TIME LORDS DON'T CRY

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Doctor pushed Marie away from him and into the brush at the edge of the little glade.

“Quietly!” he hissed.

“How do I run quietly?” He heard her whisper.

“Don’t get cheeky, just….run on your tip-toes, how should I know’?” He answered in a low, exasperated tone.

As his keen hearing followed Marie’s soft, careful moments through the tangle of briars and bushes, the Doctor grimly eyed the trio slowly walking towards him. When they turned in the direction of Marie, the Doctor’s face assumed a jovial expression.

“Ah! I see you’re interested in the local flora.” He chortled. Moving to block their way, he pretended to be fascinated by the bushes. “That’s diervilla lonicera–common honeysuckle, to most of you. Very pretty when in bloom.”

Cautiously, the Doctor eyed the three walking corpses.

“Don’t ask me how I know that–because I haven’t the slightest clue. Amnesia makes me a bit loopy–well, loopier than usual, well…” the Doctor scrunched up his face, “…is loopier even a word?” He shrugged, “Still, being that you all live–or should I say, had lived, around here, I suppose you’d know all about these things.” He paused, cocking his head. “Or would you?”

The Doctor found himself being backed into the brush. He jumped when something scratched his bottom.

“Ow!” he yelped, rubbing himself. “That smarts!” The Doctor jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “And those”, he pointed to the tangle of tough thorny brush behind him, “are blackberries. Taste good with milk, but the branches are nasty things, full of thorns, you know–as my bottom can well attest to.”

His words had no affect. The corpses–or whatever they were, continued purposefully walking towards the Doctor, arms outstretched.

The Doctor was quite worried. How do you defeat someone who, for all intents and purposes, is already dead?

“And that other bush there, those are blueberries, nom-nom!” he made a show of smacking his lips, and addressed the young hunter, who was nearest him,

You remember blueberries, don’t you big fella? Sure you do! I’ll just bet you love ‘em on your panackes in the morniin’, big strapping young feller like you.”

His senses told him that Marie was well away, and the Doctor decided that now would be a good time to make his own exit. He turned on his heels to flee, and crashed right into the arms of yet another of the zombie people.

This one was dressed like a logger and had the physique to match. He held the Doctor in a vise-like grip. The Doctor struggled, but to no avail. Slowly, inexorably, he felt both his strength and his breath being squeezed from him.

The trio that had followed him from the barn turned into the brush, apparently intent on finding Marie.

“No!” the Doctor cried out. “Leave her alone! She–she can’t….”

Those were the last words he gasped, as his vision slowly faded and his hearts slowed their beating.

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