Part 13 (1/2)

'What an exciting life you must lead.'

'Not really,' said Domnic with a sigh, 'because it never changes. Whatever I dream, whatever I write down, it's always a lie.'

'That's what happens,' said the Doctor, 'when you just wait for change instead of making it happen. What you're about to see, by the way it's real.'

There was something in front of them. A new shade among the jungle colours; hard, straight lines that belonged to the city, the domain of humans.

A chunky, fat cabinet, nestled between the trees. A rich, dark blue. Some sort of a store shed? But why all the way out here? And why did it display, in bright, backlit letters, the legend 'POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX'?

Domnic's mind raced, trying to find the logic in the blue box's presence because, without that logic, he was afraid he would wake up again.

'Go to it,' said the Doctor, beaming like a proud uncle. 'Touch it.'

Domnic ran his hands over the cabinet's surface, concentrating on the feel of the wood on his skin. It was rough, solid, real. And there was more.

Something behind the wood. Something that Domnic couldn't quite feel with his fingers, couldn't describe, but it was there. Something powerful, straining to get out. It was intangible, unknowable, and yet he was sure that it was real too.

'And while you're there,' said the Doctor, 'have a good walk round, get used to the size of it. It'll save you some time later on.'

It was a dream after all.

There was no other explanation, no way that the doors of the blue cabinet could really have opened into the room that Domnic was now seeing.

His first impression was that the huge, round chamber was alive as alive as the jungle outside. Coral clung to its walls, support beams twisted and branched like trees, cables hung like creepers and trailed like roots along the floor. But there were ceramic handrails and metal grille flooring beneath Domnic's feet, and a mushroomshaped control bank that looked as if it had been gutted and rebuilt out of spare parts.

Had it not been for his disappointment that none of this was real, he could have been proud of himself. It looked as if his mind had spewed up images from throughout his life, from everything he had ever seen on the TV, and crammed them together at random and yet somehow, impossibly, made the whole thing work.

When he woke up, he was going to write a great story about this.

For now, he let the Doctor a ma.s.s of energy and authority who still seemed obdurately, impossibly real lead him past the console, past an incongruous chair and through a doorway. Expecting to emerge from the back of the cabinet, Domnic laughed to himself and shook his head to find three corridors stretching away from him, more corridors crisscrossing them. The walls had the same organic, encrusted look as the ones behind him.

They took one turning after another, their route twisting and looping back on itself until Domnic had lost all sense of direction. The Doctor was thoughtful, as if he couldn't quite remember where he had left something. Then he braked sharply outside a door, pushed it open and announced, 'This'll do!'

This room was round too, but mercifully small, cluttered with an a.s.sortment of junk as eclectic as the lashups in the main chamber. Much of it appeared to be medical in nature and most had been patched up in some way or another. An ECG monitor had been left to rot on a trolley, wires hanging out of its back, while a bench was festooned with bottles and syringes, and a stethoscope lay draped over a battered refrigeration unit.

The Doctor swept a boxshaped machine from a dentist's chair, not seeming to care that it hit the floor with a crash and a tinkle of broken gla.s.s. He gestured to his guest to take a seat, but Domnic balked at the prospect.

'Hang on what are you planning to do to me?'

The Doctor shrugged. 'Quick examination. Nothing to get your knickers in a knot about. I just want to see why your brain doesn't work the same as other humans'.' He grinned disarmingly and bounced on his toes but his hands were behind his back and Domnic didn't know what he had just picked up.

'You're a doctor, aren't you!'

'The Doctor. Not the same thing.' Doctor. Not the same thing.'

'And this... this... whatever it is... this police box. Police box! I should have seen... I was right last night,when I first... You're working with them, aren't you!'

'Er... no.'

'You want to open up my head and... and zap out bits of my brain.'

'There's no need to exaggerate.'

'You even sound sound like the police! I... I don't care if this is a dream, I won't let you...' like the police! I... I don't care if this is a dream, I won't let you...'

Domnic backed away, but in his panic he found the wall instead of the door. And the Doctor was upon him, taking him by the shoulder, guiding him firmly into the chair and before Domnic could recover his wits, could do anything more than just dig his fingernails into his palms and hope to wake up wake up, the Doctor had kicked a lever at the base of the chair so that it collapsed into a horizontal position. And then he was holding a bulky bra.s.s contraption, like a diver's helmet studded with control k.n.o.bs, and Domnic was still flailing, trying to straighten himself as the helmet came down over his head and he felt its weight on his shoulders, the chill of its metal against the exposed parts of his neck.

'Best think of something nice,' cautioned the Doctor. 'This might hurt a bit.'

The jungle looked different, though Domnic didn't know why.

He felt felt different lightheaded, as if some great pressure had been taken off his mind. different lightheaded, as if some great pressure had been taken off his mind.

The Doctor had busied himself about the helmet contraption, adjusting controls, clicking his tongue and occasionally asking Domnic if he could feel anything. Most of the time, there had just been a lowlevel buzz in his head though there had been one worrying moment when a circuit or something had blown out and the Doctor had attacked the helmet enthusiastically with a strange sort of soldering iron that gave off blue light.

Then, with no warning at all, something had sparked and sent an electrical pain through Domnic's head, causing him to cry out. The current had seemed to shudder through his entire skeleton, making his body tighten.

'Still think you're dreaming?' the Doctor asked now. He had been walking six steps ahead of Domnic, but he'd suddenly turned to face him.

'No... Yeah... I don't know.'

'Imagine something for me.'

'What? Like what?'

'Something in the jungle. A monster.'

'I don't want to.'

'Aw, come on, Derek.'

'Domnic.'

'You're supposed to be a writer, aren't you? Give me a story. Vast jungle like this, there's bound to be something in here, don't you think?' The Doctor was right in Domnic's face, smiling, but there was a malicious gleam in his eyes. 'Cos I'm sure I heard something a few metres back, you know. Sort of footsteps, padding after us. Could be zombies.'

Domnic swallowed nervously. 'I didn't hear anything.'

'Yeah, you did, you just don't want to admit it in case I think you're fantasy crazy. But that's not very bright, is it, Daniel? Not bright at all, because what if the monsters are real? And they could be, you know.'

'Stop it!' cried Domnic.

'Creeping up on us right now, and what good are you gonna be when they pounce? Standing there with your fingers in your ears and your eyes closed.'

'No! I... I... You're right, I can hear them! I can see them! I...'