I do NOT own Doctor Who. BBC does. Just throwin' it out there.
"How many more meters do we have left?" Jake asked, his glasses catching a reflection of the green and black screen. Joel shrugged, his sleeves slipping to his forearms. Various numbers were visible on one of his arms.
"Just a couple more," Brooke said from behind them, "And we'll be off."
"Hopefully 'cause I'm tired of waitin'." Monte said. Joel turned to face him and softly shushed him. "Really, Joel?"
Patience, Joel mouthed. Monte sighed, "How many meters, Jake?"
"One more," Jake said, "And Joel's right. You've gotta wait."
Monte rolled his eyes. He tapped his lap with a rhythmatic beat as he kicked his feet in his chair. He waited five years to go underground since he volunteered. There's nothing to fear, anyway, for the Silurians were extinct. He looked over at Brooke, who stood behind Jake to observe the screen. She never looked so attractive.
Brooke eyed Monte fidgetting in his seat and smiled. He looked like a young child waiting for his birthday present.
"Zero meters!" Jake said, surprising the crew, "We're good to go!"
"Yes!" Monte said with a wide grin as he jumped up from his seat.
"Monte, get your harness," Brooke said, "We can't risk using the hover disks. They were fried for ages."
"Do we really have a rope that long?" Jake asked as Monte raced off.
"We'll find one. We can't break his impatient heart."
XXXXX
"Let us know when you reach the ground, alright?" Brooke said. She, Joel, and Jake circled the hole with a tranciever in Brooke's hand.
"Roger that." Monte said through the tranciever.
The rope swayed back and forth as he climbed down. The faint glow from the flashlight faded.
"If it gets too hot, come back up so we can give you the thermal injection," Brooke said.
"I already took the shot," he said.
Joel mouthed something to Brooke as she spoke into the tranciever. "Joel says to be careful."
"Careful's my middle name," Monte said, "Nothin' is gonna happ-whoa!"
The rope broke where the crane held it, leaving smaller strands of the rope and a falling Monte.
"Oh no!" Jake yelled. Joel covered his mouth in fear and worry.
The screaming stopped just seconds later with a click of the tranciever. "I'm fine, guys! I'm fine! Just kinda, you know, stuck with my back and feet against the sides."
"Phew, that's good," Jake said with a hand on his chest, "Just don't move your legs and you won't fall! I'll go find some more rope. Be right back!" He hurried to the hall to find the supply room.
"How far down did you get?" Brooke asked.
"No idea," Monte replied, "I don't think I can see the ground from here."
"That's what the flashlight's for, goober."
"Right. . .Oh-ho my god!"
"What?" Brooke said, holding her tranciever tightly, "What is it?"
"There's a whole bunch of plants down here!" he said in a surprised tone, "A bit burnt, though. No sign of any other life, either!"
A red glow seeped through the windows leading outside. Joel looked over at it in fear.
"Moon's red again," she sighed, "If it wasn't for our stupid pollution. . ."
"B-Brooke. . ." Monte's weak and strained voice came through the tranciever, ". . .c-come in. . .Brooke. . ."
What's wrong? Joel mouthed, but Brooke didn't even glance at him.
". . .help. . ."
Joel's eyes widened. Brooke appeared unfazed, as if she was used to it. Was he about to fall? DId the injection wear off?
"With what?" she asked.
No response.
"Monte? Monte, come in. Hello?"
Nothing but a barely audiable chuckle.
Joel had a concerned look on his face, but Brooke remained in her same emotionless expression. "Monte?" she asked as Jake came in with a bundle of rope in his hands.
"I don't need your help." Monte said in a rather sinister tone.
"Okay, so you fixed your problem, then?" Brooke asked.
"No no no. Don't you see, Brooke? It's over! It's all over for all of you!" Maniacal laughter erupted from the tranciever.
"What's wrong with Monte?" Jake said, dropping the rope and hurrying towards the hole. Joel shrugged with a worried look.
"Monte. Monte, you don't have to do this." Brooke said.
"Of course I do!" Monte said through his laughs, "No one can save anyone! Everything ends at some point! Everything dies!"
"Monte!" Jake yelled.
The three people flinched as they heard a thud and cricks of bones through the still functioning tranciever. Brooke dropped it in shock.
"Monte!" Jake yelled.
XXXXX
With the familiar vroom of the console, the TARDIS landed at the location of the distress call. Neither Amy nor Rory knew exactly what the location is because the Doctor never told them. He simply got an SOS, plugged in the coordinates and went off. Amy, seated in the white chair with her arms folded and legs crossed, asked, "Now are you gonna tell us, Doctor?"
"Should might as well," the Doctor said with a smile as he quickly spun around to face her. He clapped his hands together and said, "We're in Area 9 in the year 2666, which, by the way, is in America."
"Area 9?" Rory said from beside him, "What happened to New York or Utah?"
"All gone. Blown to smitherines."
"How?"
"Well, in 2600," the Doctor explained as he flailed his hands about, "There was a chemical war that destroyed everything. After the war, the states became Areas and were assigned numbers."
"Like Area 9."
"Exactly."
"It's not gonna be a wasteland, right?" Amy said as she stood, "I don't feel like getting dust in my eyes. Or my hair."
"You'll be fine!" the Doctor said as he walked to the door, "It's just a few factories and dumps. We might end up getting asthma from the smoke, but we'll be dust free. Nothing to worry about!"
The Doctor opened the double doors and the group observed the surroundings. The sky wasn't at all the light blue they were used to, just a dark gray. It was quite dark for half-past four, with shadows in every corner. The spots where the houses and banks used to be were on the ground as piles of bricks and stones. Not a single shred of grass was in sight. The trees looked naked without a leaf on their branches. A cold silver fog was up to the group's ankles.
"Looks like something from a post-apocalyptic movie-" Amy said, interrupted by a coughing fit, for the scent of death invaded her nose.
"You alright?" Rory asked as he patted her back, slowly stopping the fit, before entering his own. Amy spat onto the dry dirt. Can't even talk without tasting smoke, she thought. The Doctor pulled out his Sonic Screwdriver from his tweed pocket and pointed it around him, the tip a light green and scanning the area. He flicked the device, the top of it extending.
Putting the Screwdriver away, he put an index finger over his mouth, then did a cutting motion beside his throat with his hand. Not safe to talk was what he was trying to communicate. He then pointed ahead, signalling to go. The couple walked on, with the Doctor following close behind after locking the TARDIS. They had to find the factory, for it was where the distress call came from.
Which one, though? There must be at least twenty in the area.
The trio stopped, startled, after a loud noise sounded. Must have been an airhorn. They looked around in all directions to find the source.
They saw a large building with a sign that read "Area 9 Diggers." The Doctor mentally slapped himself. It wasn't a factory at all. It was a dig site. A brown haired woman, possibly in her forties, stood in front of the building and put her horn away.
The three hurried into the building, relieved that they found the distress call. The woman gestured for them to get inside, which they accepted without hesitation. They couldn't bear the death in the air. As they entered, the woman closed the steel doors. The Doctor gave a thumbs-up, signalling that the air was fresh and it was safe to talk. The room looked large, but only two people were there; the woman and a man against the wall. He seemed traumatized, evident to his quivering.
"Where's everyone else?" Amy asked, "It feels too empty."
"We have one more investigating the hole we dug." the woman replied, "Everyone else is dead."
"Was it the war?" The Doctor asked.
"Apparently, they had extreme mood swings that caused them to kill others or themselves. I'm not sure what's causing it, though. It only happens when the moon turns red."
"What?" the Doctor asked, a thin eyebrow raised, "How can the moon turn red?"
"Haven't you known already?"
"No, we. . ." he paused, trying to think of a proper response, "We were out."
The woman rolled her eyes. "Alright, then," she said, "Because of the twenty-year long chemical war, most of the toxic chemicals reached the sky, causing the moon to turn red at least once every night."
"Got an idea why?"
Brooke shook her head. "No. I'm still concerned about the workers, anyway."
"Can't you take a sample of a body?" Rory suggested, "You can see what's wrong that way."
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Rory, you genius!" he said as he gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. Rory wiped it off without a second thought. "Great idea! We should try that. Oh, wait. Where are my manners? I'm the Doctor and this is Amy and Rory."
"Doctor who?" Brooke asked with a hint of curiosity in her voice.
"Just the Doctor." he said with a smile, "Got a name?"
"Captain Church," she said, "But you can call me Brooke." She pointed at the quaking man sitting against the wall. "He's Joel. He doesn't talk much. Or at all, really. Shock induced mutism."
"How?" Amy asked, "Was it because of the psycho thing?"
"No. It's something entirely different. He's a survivor of the second holocaust."
Eyes widened, Amy rushed towards Joel and kneeled. "Is it true?"
Joel pulled a sleeve down to his elbow, revealing a line of tattooed numbers. She gaped as she looked at his eyes. They looked tortured, but had a glimmer of hope. She placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his shivering. "Are you okay?" He nodded and smiled, bringing joy to her heart.
His smile quickly faded. Don't trust Brooke, he mouthed.
"Don't trust her?" she whispered, "Why?"
You'll be safer.
Amy looked over at Brooke as she said, "There's a body inside the infirmary. It's only a couple days old."
"That'll work," the Doctor said as the group headed off, "Come along, Pond!"
Hesitating, she stood and followed the group, beginning to question her trust with Brooke.