He ran, pausing only to slam the door to his ship behind him, then carried on, leaping up to the central console. He lay hands upon the ledge, mindful of the controls, bent his head and breathed heavily. His hearts were racing.
"What?" He looked up, apparently addressing the tall column extending from the middle of the console before him. "Nonsense! I just need to catch my breath."
He pulled himself up straight, his breathing now returned to normal. His impressive eyebrows lowered over dark eyes as a thought came to him. He began patting at his black jacket pockets, his pants, then plunged hands in, his black jacket flapping about, red lining flashing as he searched top and bottom and came up empty. He must have dropped it.
He sighed, wincing, looked to the floor for a second, then set his face in grim determination and turned his attention once more to the door. And then he ran, pausing as he flung the door open.
"I'll just be a minute."
He closed the little blue door and ran into the darkness.
...
The light was dim, the room quiet but for the muffled sound of shuffling feet. Marion felt herself drawn forward by something. There was a door ahead and before her a line of people, scared and confused, edging their way into the dark. Around them she was aware of a presence, as though something were moving she couldn't quite see, almost like shadows or blurry, far-off images in an out-of-focus photograph. Glimpsed out of the corner of her eye, she couldn't seem to keep them in view. She got the impression of size and power, and yet they were ill-defined, she couldn't say what shape they took.
They were standing, Marion and these people, in a big room. Reaching out one hand she felt the smooth surface of a painted wall. Beneath her feet she guessed at tiles, little dips suggesting joins between the pieces.
There was a loud rumbling sound that she could feel through the soles of her boots, and around her the shadows fell still, as though waiting. Then came clanking and more rumbling, and then the room was quiet once more.
Even as these details fell into place in her mind, it occurred to her that she had no idea where she was and she could not remember how she'd come to be here. It had been late and she had been standing at an intersection awaiting the little green man to signal safe crossing. It had been cold, and she recalled wishing she'd worn a scarf against the sharp Autumnal wind. The street light had been out and it was dark, no-one else around, and then suddenly she was here, standing in line, shuffling forward with the others.
She felt something then, a little hand reaching for hers, and looking down she saw a boy, maybe 8 or 9 and dressed in a sports uniform of some kind, bright green shirt and shorts, white sneakers and long socks with a navy blue jacket over the top and green cap on his head. He did not look up at her, his attention focused on those same shadows, but he clung to her hand so tightly that she knew there was no point trying to loose herself.
Ahead, a sudden outburst punctured the quiet; someone was crying. A sob at first and then rising in volume and insistence. The squirming shadows stopped once more and Marion perceived a shift in their attention to the source of this disturbance. There came, also, a loud, low humming noise, as though the sound itself aggrieved them. Ahead, someone hushed the offender, but as the creatures moved in - there might have been one or many, there was no way to count - the humming grew louder, filling the room and vibrating through Marion's body. The boy gripped her hand even tighter.
Recognising this distraction and looking about her, Marion saw that the door at her back was ajar and there was nothing barring the way. She pulled at her little companion, not allowing a second's thought for delay, and dragged him toward this exit. He came quite willingly and as they stepped out into the next room they found another darkened space, but this one empty.
Bending down quickly, she raised a finger to her lips. He must be quiet. She pointed across the room to another door. They must move.
The boy nodded his understanding and they ran.
They found their way in the dim light that came from some source Marion couldn't make out. There was not much to see in any case. Each room they came to, each hallway, was empty. They ran down the first flight of stairs they came to, Marion guessing that their best bet of escape would be the ground floor and she had some sense that they were higher than this, though for all she knew they might have already been below ground.
It seemed like a house, large and airy and completely uninhabited except for those shadowy creatures that set her hairs on end, and the people lined up in that room, moving toward that door. There was no furniture, no pictures or ornaments. Inside one room they came to there was a fire place, completely clean and dust free. There was a window, at which Marion pulled herself up onto her tip toes to try and see out, but it was boarded up and no matter how she strained or which angle she tried to look from, she could see nothing.
Tugging at her hand to get her attention, the boy motioned for her to try and pull the boarding away. Marion nodded, clutching at one edge of a board with her fingers and pulling as hard as she could. She put one boot-clad foot to the wall to gain greater traction, hiking up her skirt a little over her tights as she did, but it still wouldn't budge.
She stopped herself mid-sigh, mindful of the noise, and put her fingers to the board once more. She tugged, and this time there was some give, but also sound, far too loud in this quiet space. She pulled back quickly, looking to the boy who clutched at her hand once more.
As if in answer to this noise a loud humming began from somewhere in the building, rising in volume, coming closer. Eyes wide with fear, the boy was already moving, urging her to follow him out of the room and so they went, pausing in the doorway and then running on when they saw the way was clear.
They came to an intersection. Ahead they saw another staircase heading down and the boy began to walk, pulling at Marion's hand. At once, she yanked him back, swinging him in behind her, conveying her admonishment with her eyes. She raised a finger: wait.
He nodded, hanging back as she peered carefully round the corner. Here was another hallway and there, at the end, she made out movement. Something dark, wavering at the edge of her vision. She pulled her body back around the corner, breathing slowly and waiting. There was no humming.
Carefully, she looked again. The interruption to the darkness, the extra black of this strange figure, was still there, but apparently unmoving. She wondered: If they were quiet, maybe they could get past.
She crouched before the boy, hands on his shoulders.
We, she signalled by pointing, will go there, she pointed to the stairs behind her, quickly, she made two legs with her fingers, moving them rapidly before her. The boy nodded.
They had only to get across the hallway without being seen. Holding tight to the boy's hand, Marion took a deep breath and did not move. The urge to run could not quite overcome her fear, her heart rate climbing all the while, and it left her immobile, unable to move at all. She could get them both killed. She didn't know what these creatures were or what they intended for them, but Marion couldn't imagine it was anything pleasant.
The boy nudged her. Looking down she met his eyes. He smiled at her, inclining his head toward the stairs. Let's go, he seemed to say.
She breathed again, now resolved, and then they went.
She kept her eyes on her objective, resisting the urge to turn and look, knowing that it would only fuel her panic. They moved quickly, feet stepping with exaggerated care over the worn floor boards, the sound of every footfall amplified in Marion's mind. It was too loud, they'd be discovered!
They paused at the top of the stairs, once more the only way was down, and she looked back along the hallway. From this angle she could not see the end or the darkness that suggested at one of these strange creatures and she supposed that it probably waited there still. The boy urged her on and they descended.
At this new level they walked down another hallway. Most of the doors here were closed and Marion did not want to risk making noise by opening them. She pulled at the boy's hand when he paused, but then he freed himself, slipping away from her. She turned, alarmed at what she might find; all was still and quiet, they were alone, but the boy had moved away from her and was bending over.
She watched, anxiously checking over her shoulder, as he stood again and returned to her, something in his hand. He held it up before him, smiling brightly, then offered it to her, indicating with a shrug of his shoulders and lifting of his eyebrows that he didn't know what it was.
She took it and brought it close to her eyes to examine. It was long and thin, round and metal, some sort of tool, she imagined, but like nothing she'd ever seen before. It fit neatly into her hand and though it had some weight to it, more than she might have expected on first sight, it was not heavy.
She couldn't say why, but she slipped it into her jacket pocket, smiling at the boy and leading him on again.
...
The room was empty. And then there was a man. A tall man, apparently of middling years, broad-shouldered and very confused, but not for long; Captain Jack Harkness would settle for nothing but mastery of any situation. For now, his mouth was open, caught mid-sentence in some speech, and he snapped it shut again, frowning as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He lifted his arms before him as though casually preparing to defend himself from attack and then spun around on the spot, the solid, black boots sticking slightly on the floor as he did, his long coat flaring out around him.
"What the hell?" He shook his head, turning again more slowly this time, walking the room and peering about carefully. It was just a room, small and pokey with no identifying features, no window, no furniture, no decoration of any kind. There was a door, wooden with a brass knob and firmly shut.
He sighed, hands on hips and thought to himself for a few seconds. Then, remembering something, he pulled a folded up piece of paper from his pants' pocket.
"OK, let's see if this tells me something useful." He spoke to himself, unmindful of the noise.
The crinkling sound of unfolding paper seemed unnaturally loud in the room and he paused, looking about. "Weird." Smoothing out the paper he found writing and began to read aloud.
"Be quiet. Don't make a sound." He looked up from the sheet, rolling his eyes, then went on. "Seriously, don't read this aloud. They will hear you."
He stopped as a rumbling and clanking noise started up. He looked around nervously, then read on silently.
And if they hear you they will come for you. Keep moving. There are people relying on you. The doors are noisy, the floor boards creak - pick the right time to move. But you must move. Quickly. But quietly.
He shook his head, face screwed up in irritation. What had he done to deserve this? He looked over the note again, turning the paper in his hands to see if there was more. He set his eyes on the door and folded the paper up again, wincing at the too-loud sound of it.
He walked to the door and put a hand to the door knob. It creaked as he began to turn it and so he stopped, pulling his hand away quickly and waiting anxiously for some response. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck a little from side to side, stretching. He didn't like to wait.
He tried the door again, this time turning it ever so slowly, a look of intent concentration on his face. The noise seemed louder still.
Gah! He exclaimed silently but kept his hand on the doorknob.
He dropped his head and looked at his feet, nodding rhythmically as though keeping time with an unheard beat. Then, finally, the rumbling and clanking came again. He looked up, grinning, and pulled the door open in one fluid movement. He didn't wait, but stepped boldly out into a hallway, which was narrow and dark and empty.
He looked both ways, swivelling where he stood, then picked a direction at random. They both seemed an equal choice.
