Universal.
DEDICATED TO MY LATE BEST FRIEND LEAH CARRICK, WHO DIED AT THE AGE OF SIX. SHE NEVER KNEW DOCTOR WHO, BUT I BET SHE'D LOVE IT.
ONE."A quiet night in but we won't even know you're here; no phones, no interruptions, maybe now's my chance to tell her how I feel?"
The tuneful and brilliant sounds of Chameleon Circuit blasted through the headset of Leah Craig's iPod. Her black hair swished around her heart-shaped face as she bobbed her head to the music, her voice somewhat matching the tune as she sang along.
Another night alone in this dump, she thought, I can't bloody wait to get my own place; no more having to hide out here.
Hopping up from her spot on the cold church hall floor, where she had been living for a considerable number of months (in hiding, of course, for she was not 'living there' under any person's permission or supervision), and walked to the small kitchenette which was used, on the days the congregation gathered in the church itself, to make tea and serve biscuits and buns to those who stayed after.
The kettle boiled noisily, filling the large round room with sound.
There was a sitting room – sort of – which consisted of white, square tables and red-cushioned chairs with gold-painted frames that sat on a plush, white carpet.
After that there were tables; long wooden tables, stretched out along the side lines of the circular room, topped with informational leaflets and pamphlets on Drug Addiction, Alcohol Addiction, Self-Harm, and various ones to do with the church and God.
Around the rooms there were several doors. One lead to a hallway that brought you to the church building itself, another lead you to the prayer room, one to the room where the choir practised, another to a hallway which lead to the crèche and numerous rooms with bright coloured carpets and an assembly hall where Sunday school was taught, and then the last door which opened to Leah's hiding space – a small closet with one plug and a tiny light. This was where Leah would hide when there were meetings were held in the building.
The kettle had stopped boiling, and taking a mug from the cupboard, Leah looked around. There was a strange noise coming from somewhere, and it was freaking her out.
It was a distant, raspy, moaning, wheezing sound. If Leah had been anywhere else she would have thought calmly and logically, but she wasn't. She was in a church hall. Near a graveyard.
Oh, God! She thought, It's the zombies! THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING FOR ME!
The noise grew louder and closer, glass smashed in the sort of sitting room and Leah screamed. It was as if someone had thrown an invisible car through the window-wall. Leah was ducked behind the kitchen counter clutching her empty mug. It was then she'd noticed the wheezing noise had stopped.
She set the cup on top of the counter, quietly, and stood slowly up. There was nothing there. At all. Well, nothing except a broken window-wall and a scattered mess of glass.
Still freaked, Leah ran for the door –
And straight into what seemed like a wall.
She opened her eyes and blinked numerous times. Her vision was fuzzy, but cleared soon enough, and that was when the pain had hit her.
Leah felt like she'd been hit in the face with an iron baseball bat ten times over. When she realised she wasn't on the floor anymore, she sat up a little too quickly for her liking.
'Woah, take it easy! Not so fast! You're awake. Good.' A funny voice told her. When she found its owner, she stared with a suspicious eye.
The man standing in front of her was very peculiar indeed. Tall, lanky, skinny, handsome but awkward. Clad in a tweed jacket, a white shirt, a red bow-tie, black straight down trousers and military styled boots. His brown hair was styled in a funny old quiff. He looked so familiar. Then she remembered. 'Oh, this is a good dream. I haven't had a dream like this in ages! Right, Doctor, let's get this over with.'
Leah launched herself at the gangly man in front of her and pressed her mouth to his.
Only, the man wasn't co-operating. He pushed Leah back with a startled 'Aahh!'.