He lands awkwardly on a steep metal chute, possibly injuring his ankle, and practically flies down it.
"Wheee!" he calls out into nothingness.
He hadn't expected the fall to be so steep. After a few seconds, the slide evens out until it's nearly horizontal and then he flies off the end, landing hard on cold stone. He gets up, ignoring the throbbing of his ankle and shoulder, and looks around. He can see nothing.
"Rose?" he calls into the dark.
A small single note whimper responds.
"That you?" he asks softly.
Finally a quiet, "Yeah," reaches him.
"Keep talking, are you hurt?"
She starts mumbling. "I think so. I mean, I didn't expect it," she pauses. "Slid down head first. I'm really dizzy, I think I hit my head."
The Doctor locates the source of the sound and kneels down. She seems to be leaning against a wall in the corner.
He reaches out and comes in contact with her arm. It's sticky.
She sharply inhales and he swiftly withdrawals his hand.
This time she reaches out, he feels the tips of her fingers against his chest and he scoots forward. Eventually he winds up sitting next to her.
"Can you walk?" he asks gently.
"I don't know."
He considers this. "We'll sit here for a while then."
"Yeah," she says. A pause follows, then she lays her head on his shoulder. "Did you get hurt falling?"
"No," he lies, ignoring the throbbing of his ankle. It may be sprained.
"You sure?"
He smiles somewhat. "It was a bit of a rough landing, but you worry about you." He feels her nod.
Normally he wouldn't care for anyone. He lost faith in humanity a long time ago, when he lost everything. Something about her though made him toss aside everything he recently stood for and jump in to help her. Sure, he did it in his normal reckless way, but he did it all the same.
He wonders about something. "Why are you called Bad Wolf?"
She stiffens imperceptibly. The truth is her father runs a top secret organization and that's her code name. "A co-worker gave me that nick-name," she says. This too is mostly true, it was suggested by her good friend Mickey Smith, but it was first turned down by command. Later she insisted because she really liked it, so it stuck. What she doesn't understand is how whoever trapped her there knows her code name. She prays to everything that it isn't Torchwood that's done this. One thing she can't do is give away the fact that she's received serious military grade training, despite her mother's protests of course.
"Interesting."
"Why the Caretaker?" she asks.
"Wouldn't be mysterious if I explained everything."
She nods slowly, a curious smile on her face.
"You can call me Theta if you like."
"Sounds just as mysterious as 'the Caretaker'," she says, voice low, "But possibly less silly."
He smiles. "Little easier to say too, apparently."
"Just a bit."
He shifts slightly, dropping the smile from his face. His eyes have adjusted somewhat and he thinks he sees a door. "Think you can walk now?"
She gives herself a mental check over. Most of the pain has subsided. "Yeah."
He gets up and helps her stand. Wrapping his left arm protectively around her waist, he slowly guides her towards the outline of the hopefully-a-door, hiding his limp very well. He stumbles over something and hisses sharply in pain. He looks down and sees a copy of... He squints. IOliver Twist/I. He tripped over some Charles Dickens.
"You are hurt!" she scolds.
"Just surprised is all," he lies again, "Tripped over the book you dropped."
She scowls, unbeknownst to him.
Reaching out, he grasps a metal ring hanging where the doorknob should have been and yanks the door open. It opens only partway before the rotted wood disintegrates. Dim light is now spilling into the room and Rose leans on the wall while he forces the door open. Mostly it falls apart in his hands. Finally it's able to be passed and he helps her out of the room.
-(BREAK)-
The group stares at the wall which they disappeared into. The house suddenly shifts, wood creaking and the sound of stone grinding on stone meets their ears. The space behind the panels is filled, and the noise stops. John steps forward and knocks on the wood. It no longer sounds hollow.
"Solid," he says dejectedly.
"Is the house alive?" Amy asks no one in particular.
Rory shakes his head. "Ummm, how can a house be alive?"
"There's got to be a logical explanation. Maybe the person who put us here can shift parts of the building around us. Something mechanical, yeah?" Martha puts her idea out there, but it does little to comfort anyone.
James spins around. "That seems highly likely, just things being remotely controlled."
John taps his foot in frustration. "What about Rose?" he demands, his petulant northern accent standing out.
Donna looks to River. "Didn't you go down into that basement?"
She nods slowly.
"Is there a way down to wherever they fell?" she asks.
"How should I know?"
This response starts a scowl fest between several people. After about a minute of this, Clara breaks the silence.
"What are we going to do?"
River snorts in a very un-lady like way. "If the people who control this place are trying to kill us, it's best to assume they just died. My advice? Keep going," she pauses while everyone stares at her angrily. "And watch your back." She stalks off.
"Weeell," Amy says, "Drama queen much?"
She hadn't noticed that Rory was slowly scooting closer to her.
John, however, notices this and smirks. Then he moves off after River towards the basement.
Clara shakes her head to clear it. "I'm going upstairs to lie down," she announces, and proceeds to do so.
"Same," says Amy, following Clara.
Martha follows quickly after, but Rory just stands there awkwardly, feeling the need to help Rose. Eventually, he goes after John to the basement.
Donna looks over to James. "Just leaves me and you Spaceman."
He closes his eyes, slightly frustrated about his newly appointed nickname. "Yeah."
She grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him along.
"Oi!" he yelps, "What are you doing?"
"Found something upstairs that was interesting earlier."
He shakes her off his sleeve and follows her up the to the second floor.
-(BREAK)-
"Are you following me?" asks River, turning around to see John stomping around grumpily.
"No, we just happen to be walking in the same direction."
She looks him up and down. "Well, I don't mind if you follow me."
His scowl deepens and he storms past her just as loudly as he was doing before. He gives the basement door a tug. It doesn't budge. He tries pushing it and it gives way and he tramps down into the darkness. River moves after him, not bothering to close the door.
"Find your machete down here?" he asks.
"Yes."
He looks over the shelves, slowing down as he passes by.
"Heard some wind blowing through here earlier. Felt it a bit too, I'm thinking there must be a cellar chute somewhere that will lead outside," she tells him.
"Fantastic, go find it," he says patronisingly.
She shrugs and moves past him, soon lost in the gloom. He looks around. Torches line the walls. For all their fancy electrical lighting, they have torches and carriage lanterns down here. He takes one off the wall and holds it out before him, proceeding slowly.
Suddenly, the flame "leans" to the side somewhat, as if being blown, but there's no breeze. He notices a crack in the wall where the small amount of smoke is being sucked through. There's something behind here! Carefully he places the torch on the ground away from it and examines the stone. His fingers follow the thin crack all the way to the floor, where cold air seeps out. That's why it drew the flame, it's sucking in warmer air.
It seems like something out of a movie, but he searches for a switch or a stone to press which might open it. All he gets for his trouble is a cut palm when he scraps it against a particularly sharp part. He brings it up to his face. It's not too bad he reckons, and leans down to pick up the torch, bracing his hand against it. Suddenly, he hears a sharp crack and the rock shifts. Quickly he withdrawals his hand and backs up.
A crack forms from where his bloodied hand touched. Great, this really is a movie. He was never a fan of Harry Potter anyways. The stone splits apart and swings inward with a great sucking sound as warm air is pulled into the corridor. He bends down and picks up the torch this time. Bracing for the chill that is already nipping at his face, he forges onward, not even sure why he's doing it to begin with.
-(BREAK)-
Moving out into the hall, Theta sees that the source of the light is around the corner at the end of the hall on their right side. "Wait here."
"No, no, no, no, not doing this."
He sighs in an exaggerated manner. "Can you walk by yourself?"
She pushes his arm supporting her a bit and he removes it from her waist, but keeps it held out in case she needs it for balance. She holds it for just a moment while steadying herself, then strides forward, albeit slowly. He moves ahead of her then keeps pace so she won't fall behind.
The source of light, it seems, is a large patch of glowing mushrooms. There's a place in the hall where stone has crumbled in and that poured in with it now supports a host of plant life mostly in the form of these odd mushroom and some moss. Some very purple moss.
"What are these then?" she asks.
He frowns. "Possibly a hoax of some sort." He moves forward and examines each kind of growing thing. "They're actually real living things," he affirms, "Most likely genetically altered."
She looks past the slant of rubble that fills half the tunnel. "There's stairs!" she tells him in excitement.
He gets up and gazes past too. "So there are," he agrees. They appear to lead upwards and curve right. "Spiral case."
"Can we get to them?"
"Can you climb past this?"
She furrows her brows ever so slightly in determination. "Let's find out."
-(BREAK)-
Pat- pat- pat- pat
Their feet make the lightest of sounds as they all slowly climb the stairs, following Clara because she knows the way. They shortly arrive on the third floor and turn left when the hallway splits.
"Bunks beds," Amy deadpans.
Clara sighs and moves forward to claim a lower bunk. The rest follow, frowning all the more at this ridiculous and humiliating situation.
"Do you really think they're dead?" Martha asks, voice wavering nearly imperceptibly.
There's a long pause.
"I don't know," replies Amy finally, "Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, but it'll do no good to sit around thinking about it."
There are murmurs of agreement.
"Let's rest then, just for a while," says Clara.
This time the agreement is silent, but they all settle in. They don't all rest easy though.
Across the hall, an abandoned wardrobe creaks open slowly, and a small creature crawls from out of the shadows.
-(BREAK)-
Here we are!
River finds an old wooden hatch that would lead outside. She gives it a shove and chains rattle. Lovely, locked from the outside. She walks back amongst the shelves to find some tools she saw earlier. Grabbing a crowbar and a large hammer, she returns to it.
The wood is old and she manages to shove the crowbar between two planks. Using the hammer, she beats on the hooked end, pushing them apart. Then she yanks it side to side, splintering the wood around the chains, repeating the process all around the center of the hatch. Finally, pounding it into submission with the hammer, the doors give way and she pushes them open. The whole process must've taken half an hour, and she's a bit worn out.
She climbs out, careful of the old steps, and breathes in night air. Particularly unpleasant night air. She holds up a lantern she had acquired. Dead trees surround her, their skeletal branches seeking out the dull moon. They fail to find it however, as it is hidden behind thick clouds. A thick mist hangs about the ground, slithering between withered trucks and short pillars of stone. Gravestones.
River sighs internally, but takes a look at them nonetheless.
Here lies Daniel Carpenter
His profession did little for
him in the Halls of the Dead
Half expecting them to be fake, plastic things, she's surprised to feel real, damp stone under her fingers. Withered remains of what were most likely flowers are beneath the marker and something was scratched onto it, but was very shallow and has worn away into unintelligible scrabbles. She touches the lump of brown, almost black, matted plant matter and it disintegrates instantly.
She moves onto another, but in a row in front of it.
Here sits what is left of Jebidiah Mallard
The Beast found him, no more to be said
Someone had scratched lines all over the stone, making it hard to read. She skips to another row, now realising that all the rows have nine in each.
There is nothing here but a stone
Jessica Davish crying and alone
Since that day she did condone
The terrible pain it sent home
River shakes her head. That doesn't make any sense. She scoffs, it's definitely like that just to rhyme. This whole graveyard is a sham.
She looks about. Seven rows. But... She moves to the end of the yard, where nine very recent looking stones are placed. They are all blank with deep holes in front of them. She furrows her brows, then shakes her head, but that be small part of her brain that likes being silly and superstitious whispers to her. These are meant for nine of us. She tells it to sod off.
Suddenly, a howl tears through the air. It's joined by another, and then another. She counts about ten different voices.
She makes for the nearest three, climbs it, and draws the machete. The sound of snarls fill the air as claws click on bare rock.
-(BREAK)-
She furrows her brows ever so slightly in determination. "Let's find out."
Theta gives her a sidelong glance, impressed by her strong will and, frankly, her stubbornness, despite the fact that it's somewhat infuriating.
He helps her up onto the pile of of dirt and rubble and she wiggles through. Dirt shifts and little grains fall from the ceiling, making Theta back up to avoid getting it in his eyes. She lands really ridiculously on the other side, but manages to not fall on her face. She's still really dizzy, and accidentally knocks into a very large stone. Rock cracks, more dirt falls, and the whole mound shifts.
Theta stays standing back as the remainder of the tunnel fills in, leaving him stranded on the opposite side. A small rock rolls right into his foot and bounces back softly.
"Dammit!" he yells and he kicks it back towards the dust and debris now blocking his path.
"Theta!" cries Rose from the other side.
"I'm alright Rose, just go and find a way out, alright? I'll see if there's a way out from this side."
"I don't want to leave you down here," she says plaintively.
He bows his head for a moment. Then raises it again. "But you have to, we can't shift this without bringing more down. Just go, I'll be fine."
"But-"
"Just go!" he practically yells in frustration. Why does she have to be so stubborn?
There's a long silence.
"Fine," she says finally, and he hears her moving away.
He turns his back on the blockage and faces the dark. The gentle light of the mushrooms is completely buried on this side and everything has been plunged into darkness.
His ankle decides to remind him that it's injured. He slaps his upper leg and tells it to shut up. Unfortunately, something in the dark also decides to announce its presence by growling. The sound seems to have come from around the nearby corner. His eyes have adjusted to the dark. Whatever it is roars like a lion, and he takes off like a cheetah.
-(BREAK)-
"What is it Donna?" James demands impatiently.
Donna grabs a book off the shelf. Or she tries to. "This book is completely stuck. Can't pull it or push it. It doesn't wiggle at all!" she complains to him.
"Hhmmm," he hums, slipping a pair of thick framed glasses out of his pocket and promptly attaching them to his face. He tries jiggling the book to no avail. Then he moves the ones next to it. There's nothing behind them. He pats the wall behind the stuck book. Nothing. He's about to place them back when an idea strikes him.
"How about-" he says to himself, quickly trailing off as he tosses the books in his hands off to the side. Reaching around the book, he feels where the pages should be. There are none, only a little switch. He flicks it down and the case shudders. Quickly withdrawing his arm, he and Donna watch as it swings slowly open.
"Is this like a haunted house or what?" asks Donna, voice painted over with sarcasm. She's getting tired of the cheesy mystery stuff.
"Well," begins James, "Shall we go down into the staircase that leads into mysterious darkness?"
"No way!"
The sound of heavy footsteps echoing reaches their ears and they turn their attentions to the dark.
Donna remembers what the voice had said about monsters.
"Is there an evil creature coming up the stairs?" James asks no one in particular, his eyes glittering with odd excitement.
Donna slaps his arm.
"Ow!" he exclaims rubbing it.
"Close the darn thing before it gets here!"
Suddenly a roar echoes from the dark and they both freeze as the footsteps increase their pace.
"Uh-oh," he whispers.