TITLE: The Gift
AUTHOR: MikeJaffa
SYNOPSIS: When the Doctor is reunited with the Weeping Angel who'd sent Amy and Rory back in time, the fate of humanity hangs in the balance.
DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who is owned by the BBC. I am making no money off this fic.
8
8
8
8
Ian Carmichael huddled with the three other teenage boys outside one of the gates to Calvary Cemetery in New York City. It was after 10 PM, with traffic still going above their heads on the Brooklyn Queens Expressway overpass; and the 16-year-old and his three buddies had got a hold of some beer thanks to a fake ID and they had been drinking and smoking pot. He'd had to lie to his dad about where he was; Greg, Doug and Steve were a "bad influence." But Ian hadn't had much of a say in being dragged across the Atlantic so Dad could take that job at the British consulate in New York, so it was only fair that Dad didn't have a say in how he spent his free time or with whom.
Ian was supposed to be keeping watch as Doug picked the lock. But it seemed to be taking longer than expected. Ian fished is phone out of his pocket and inspected it. "Still no signal," he said. His phone had stopped working almost half an hour ago. "I don't even think I'm getting the internet-"
"Quiet!" Doug snapped over his shoulder. "I've almost got it. You're supposed to be watching for cops."
Steve also had his own phone out. "Mine's down too-"
"Hel-loooo," Doug said, "picking the lock here. Want to put the phones down and keep an eye out?"
Ian put his phone away. "How long is this going to take?"
"This lock's funny," Doug groused. "It's like someone is trying to close it. But I've almost got it…aaaaannnnnnndddddddd….." The lock clicked open. Doug pushed on the gate; it creaked open. "We're in!"
The hustled through the gate and closed it behind them. They jogged along the service road for a few yards, then came to the first row of headstones. They put all their backs into the first one and pushed it over. Then they went to the next one to it.
When that one hit the ground, they hear a growl behind them.
"What the-" Doug turned on the flashlight on his phone and turned around. The light hit a statue. It was about their height, looking like a woman in a dress with angel's wings. The statue's face had an angry expression, and it was pointing back towards the gate.
Ian jumped. "Where did that come from?" he stammered, his heart in his throat.
Doug sauntered up to it. "Ya had too many brewskis, you big baby." He looked the statue in the eye. "Hey, baby. Come here often?" He laughed and gave it a shove. It fell against a headstone behind it; th headstone broke, and he statue slid down its extended arm bracing it against the ground.
"Come on." He led them to the next headstone in the row they were one. They pushed it over.
Another growl sounded, more insistent than before. They turned and the statue was standing again, still looking angry, still pointing at the gate.
Doug took a few steps forward, scanning for whomever had righted the statue. "Who's out there?" he challenged. "Don't mess with me, man!"
No one answer.
"Screw you," he said. He led the group back to the next headstone. It seemed smaller and less ornate than the other ones in the row. They put their backs into it and shoved it over.
The growl became a shriek of rage. They turned and saw the statue – only it had moved! It was frozen running after them, its face twisted in an angry, almost bestial grimace.
Ian took off running, the others behind him. He could hear the other boys running…
…but there seemed to be fewer footsteps with each passing moment. He turned, and the statue was behind him, still angry, still frozen in a running pose. He couldn't see the others.
"OH GOD!" He turned and ran faster. But he felt two hands touch his shoulder. Then the ground tilted. He stumbled and lost his balance.
"Ian!" He heard Steve's voice behind him. "Ian, is that you?"
Ian turned. "Steve?" He stopped and turned. It looked like he was still in the cemetery, but they were on the side of a small hill; hadn't it been flat a moment ago? At the bottom of the hill were more graves and three and six story buildings. They looked like college dormitories. The pissed off…whatever it was…was gone.
"You guys ok?" Ian asked. "What was that?"
"Some freak in body paint," Doug said. "Musta been."
Steve was shaking. "I don't want to find out. Let's get out of here."
"Whatever," Doug spat. "Wimps." But he was barely hiding his own nervousness.
They climbed over the fence and scooted past one of the buildings. There was a street on the other side and they followed it in the direction of what they thought was the Brooklyn Queens Expressway and their bus stop. But when they came to the intersection, there was a two lane road with no sign of the overpass. The houses on the tree-lined street all looked like Small Town America.
"What the…" Ian stammered. "Where are we?" He checked his phone. "Still not working." He looked at the Sunoco station on the corner they were next to. "I'm going to ask for directions."
"Ian-" Doug started.
"Just a minute!" Ian said.
Ian entered the convenience store and came to the woman at the counter. "Sorry," he said, "but could you point me to 48th Street?"
"Excuse me?" she said.
"48th Street. My friends and I want to catch the bus. Is it far? How many blocks?"
"Blocks?" she sniffed his breath. "How much have you been drinking? Let me see your ID."
Ian took a step back. "I just want to know how long it will take to get to 48th Street. Which way is Queens Boulevard?"
"Queens!? You driving?"
"No, walking."
"Are you serious?"
"Look, we're in Queens, right?"
"No, Cortland. You've got about two hundred miles to go. What have you been smoking? Do your parents know where you are?"