The Dirt, the Dream and the Doctor

This story occurs between "Journey's End" and "Planet of the Dead"

Chapter 1

And the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His mouth went dry. His heart was beating so fast that he was sure he could hear it as well as feel it pounding away in his chest and up his throat. Tommy was more frightened than he had ever been again.

He stood in the ruins of the old mill. The large courtyard-like room and dusty floor that used to host the thundering textiles machines. The grey sky peered at him through the many cracks in the roof.

Then deathly silence. It was only interrupted by a faint sound outside. Tommy thought it sounded like an explosion. A very quiet one. So quiet that it could have just been a twig breaking off a tree or a pebble falling to the ground. Then came another sound, louder this time. And this time there was no mistaking it. His heart got louder too, his mouth that bit drier. He knew that it was coming for him.

He would have screamed but his voice had gone. He would have run, but his clog-clad feet had become rooted to the floor. In his mind he called out for the mother he never knew.

Another noise. A louder explosion, this time accompanied by tinges of fire in the watchful grey sky. Now Tommy ran. He had to.

Across the factory floor, to the door at the very far end. He could lose it in the nearby woods, whatever it was. The floor seemed to go on forever, the door remaining small at the other end of the room, mocking him. The noises behind him got louder, more frantic, cracking and booming, sending snapping snares sailing through the room.

He reached the door. Archie had always said that the door was made for little people. Some of Tommy's brown hair got stuck in the rotten doorframe, tearing itself out, but he didn't care. He ran along the muddy corridor, the darkness hiding the sight of his own feet from him. It was always worse when you didn't know where you were treading, he thought to himself. The light at the end of the tunnel was just a pinprick in the dark. The crashing got louder, Tommy could almost feel the cold heat on his back. The light still wouldn't get any bigger, so he had to will it to.

He looked behind himself, and he still couldn't see his pursuer. But he knew it would be upon him soon.

His will was with him, it turned out, and he finally arrived at the end of the tunnel. The ground was so muddy, littered with half-sunken iron tools. A copse of sad trees surrounded the small clearing. They hunched over, as if to mourn the boy whose life would soon be extinguished. It was upon him now. There was no escape. The booming filled the tunnel. Louder. Louder. Tommy began to wonder if drowning in all the mud would be worse than the thing chasing him.

Drowning in the mud. His feet started to sink into the dirt on the floor. First the bottoms of his clogs, then his shins. The moment he started to wonder where the rest of the mud was going, he felt something drop from his eye onto his cheek. A tear? He supposed it would be quite normal for him to cry. But that wasn't it. It was mud. First a weep, then a fully fledged bawl, the mud started flowing like a river from his eyes, then out of his mouth. He was now as literally rooted to the spot as he had only felt when all this began.

His time was short. It was all happening again. But then something happened, something that had never happened before. He felt another hand grab his. A warm, strong hand. He looked up, and there stood a man holding it. A man dressed in a long beige coat that went all the way down to his feet. He was young, maybe thirty years old, although his eyes gave the impression of someone far older. The man parted his lips and said one word: "Run!"

Tommy needed little encouragement. His long-coated saviour pulled him out of the mud, stopping the dirt flowing from his eyes and mouth. As they ran, the stranger pulled something from his coat. It was a thin metal cylinder, about six inches long. He pointed it towards the door frame at the end of the tunnel and it made a sound like a kettle boiling. Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy saw the ancient brick collapse, leaving a pile of rubble where only minutes ago his life saving aperture had been. He wondered if the man was a mythical wizard, and if the metal device was his wand.

After weeks (or was it seconds?) the man's step mercifully began to slow down. "We can stop running now", he said.

Tommy looked around. To his astonishment they weren't in the wood anymore. They were at the centre of the village, just outside the baker's shop, around four miles from the mill.

"We were just in the woods", said Tommy, "Johnson's Bakers is miles away!"

"Dreamscape topography", mumbled the stranger, scratching behind his ear and taking a sharp breath through his nose, "very unpredictable. Acts like it's got a mind of its own. In fact it has". As he said this he tapped Tommy on the forehead.

He then began to notice the brown pinstripe suit behind his rescuer's coat, and the strange red and white shoes, now caked in mud.

"I've never seen you before", said Tommy, "but today you've rescued me. Who are you?"

A vague frown creased the man's head. "Oh, sorry, sometimes I do get a bit ahead of myself. I'm the Doctor. And I think I've just rescued you from something very nasty".

"Al-Mon".

"Al-Who?"

"Al-Mon. He comes for me. Hides in the shadows and I never see him, but I know he's there. Always there. Always coming. For me. Al-Mon". Tommy's voice began to quake. He thought his ability to speak may soon leave him again.

But with an almost practised resolve, the Doctor addressed him. "Listen – what's your name? –"

"Tommy".

"Listen, Tommy. It may seem something unbeatable to you, but believe me, I can help you. I have experience fighting against –", he thought for a second "- things".

"Things? What sort of things?"

"Things, well, all sorts of things, well, monsters. Mainly I fight monsters. And giant robots too". He took in another sharp breath through his nose and continued. "Tommy I promise I can get you out of this, but I need your help".

As the Doctor was talking, Tommy almost didn't notice the sky darken around him. Purple, black clouds shrouded the village, and the sound of booming suddenly blasted back to life the baker's shop exploded, followed by the school building down the road.

"He's here!" cried Tommy.

The Doctor grabbed Tommy's pullover as he began to run. "Listen, this may seem hopeless, but let me explain. . ."

But there was no explanation. Without warning, the cobbled street they stood on exploded. Rubble burst out of the floor like high pressure water from a hose, knocking Tommy in one direction and the Doctor in another.

The sound was deafening, and Tommy could only lip-read the Doctor shouting his name when the debris cleared from the air. He felt himself starting to sink, the mud rushing up through his entire body to start spewing from his mouth and eyes, so quickly he knew his tear ducts would soon start to rupture.

Even the Doctor couldn't help him now. It was hopeless. So Tommy did what he always did when it was hopeless.

"Al-Mon, Al-Mon!" shouted Tommy. He had no problems speaking now. He was caked in his own sweat, quaking with fear. All around him he heard groans, the groans of the others, as if they had all been awakened from a good night's sleep.

A light went on. It was Sally, the nurse. "Boys! Boys! Calm down, it's okay. It's okay, Tommy".

It had been hopeless. So Tommy had done what he always did when it was hopeless. He woke up.

Continued in Chapter 2