"Two people have died."
"Two? When did the second person die?" I asked.
"Less than five minutes ago. So we'd better hurry," the Doctor said before starting off down the hallway again, my hand still clutched tightly in his.
"But I don't understand!" I exclaimed.
"That's okay!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I don't quite understand everything yet either, but I'm sure I'll sort it all out soon!"
The Doctor ended up dragging me halfway across the train in search of the captain. When we finally did find the captain, he was walking down a corridor with two other guards walking along in front of him. Still pulling me along behind him, the Doctor spoke up. "I think we need to talk," he said.
The captain stopped mid stride and turned around to look at us. "This matter does not concern the passengers," he said in as polite a voice as he could manage.
"We're not passengers." The Doctor pulled out his psychic paper with his free hand and passed it to Captain Quell. "We're your worst nightmare."
The captain sighed heavily as he read over the psychic paper. "A mystery shopper?" he groaned. "Oh great."
The Doctor furrowed his brows in confusion. "Really? That's your worst-?" One look from me stopped the Time Lord before he could finish his sentence. "Okay, I'm a mystery shopper. My wife could do with a few extra pillows and I'm very disappointed with your breakfast bar. And all of the dying."
The Doctor somehow managed to convince Captain Quell to open up to us about the last death, which had been one of the staff members who worked as a cook. Captain Quell invited me to sit at one of the two chairs in front of his desk. The Doctor remained standing and walked around the captain's office, looking at some of the plaques and certificates that were hanging on the walls.
"This is not exactly within your job description," Captain Quell said as he reached for a bottle of whiskey on his desk.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Come on, Captain. Where would we all be if we all followed our job descriptions, hm? Good question. Glad you asked. In your case, you'd be doing something instead of climbing inside a bottle," he snapped while the captain poured out a drink for each of us.
I immediately turned around in my seat to glare up at the Doctor. "Hey," I scolded, "don't be rude."
"I have followed the procedure for accidental death to the letter," the captain said defensively.
"Yes, I'm sure you have," the Doctor countered. "And I'm sure you do just enough of your job to avoid complaints."
Captain Quell shook his head. "You don't know anything about me."
Gesturing to the plaques and certificates on the wall, the Doctor smiled knowingly. "Wounded in battle, honorable discharge. And this is just a guess, but I think you've had the fight knocked out of you. You expected this to be a cushy desk job where you could put your head down until retirement. Well, I'm sorry. As of today, that dream is over."
I stood up and faced the Doctor head on, my hands placed firmly on my hips. "I said, don't be rude."
"What, and just let him get away with doing nothing?" he asked me.
"You're offending him. Just because he's not running around being an arrogant ass doesn't mean he's not trying to help. He was a soldier, the least you could do is show him some respect," I snapped.
The Doctor seemed to back down slightly as soon as I said that, but he still gave Captain Quell an angry glance. The captain took a sip from his glass and sat down at his desk. "Look, Doctor, there is no evidence of any attack or other parties-"
"Yes, let's just sit around and wait for the evidence while the bodies pile up!" the Doctor exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air out of frustration. "Or here's a crazy thought: we could do something to stop it." Looking hopefully at the captain, the Doctor waited for a moment before his face fell and he shook his head. "Why am I even talking to you?" he asked before turning and storming out of the room.
I turned back around and shook my head. "Captain, I am so sorry," I apologized. "I didn't think he would be so rude." Glancing back at the door, I grimaced slightly. "Look, I have to go. I'm sorry, but please just ignore him. He doesn't know what he's talking about. He had no right to say those things to you."
I hurried out of the room and into the adjoining corridor, running right into another person. It was a man about the same height as the Doctor, middle aged, and wearing an outfit that resembled an old train engineer's. I bumped right into his chest, causing three large rolls of paper to fall out of his arms and making me drop my phone.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry!"
"It's perfectly alright, miss," the man said, flashing me a smile.
"I'm sorry," I said again. "Here, let me get those for you."
I quickly knelt down and scooped up the papers, as well as my phone, then handed them to the man with an awkward smile. He took the papers out of my hands and smiled kindly at me. "Thank you, miss."
The Doctor, who I hadn't noticed at first, was standing off to the side a little and watching the exchange in silence. I glanced curiously at him, wondering why he was just watching and not saying or doing anything.
"What?" I asked after a few seconds.
"Nothing," he sighed with a shake of his head. He looked to the man and nodded. "Perkins, what do you have?"
Perkins glanced hesitantly at me. "What about the young lady?" he wondered.
"She's my wife. Now go ahead."
He extended the papers to the Doctor. "Passenger manifest, plan of the train, and a list of stops for the past six months," he said proudly.
The Doctor nodded. "Quick work, Perkins." He paused. "Maybe too quick."
Perkins' eyes widened and he smirked. "Yes, sir," he gasped. "I'm obviously the mummy. Or perhaps I was already looking into this."
Realizing that Perkins was being sarcastic, the Doctor rolled his eyes. Waving at the both of us, the Doctor started down the corridor with the rolls of paper in hand. Perkins gestured for me to walk in front of him, but didn't say anything. I wanted to ask where we were going, but didn't want to talk to the Doctor after what he had just said to the captain and didn't know Perkins well enough to comfortably talk to him. So I stayed silent instead, hoping that I'd be able to figure it out on my own.
The Doctor led Perkins and I through the corridor to a large, mostly empty room. The only objects in there were a long desk cluttered with papers, a few security screens above it, and some other things on the floor covered up by gray sheets. The Doctor immediately began spreading out the various papers he had been given, intently looking over them all. Hardly a minute later, he looked to Perkins and gestured to the screens over the desk.
"I need to see the security video footage each death so far. Right now. Go!" he exclaimed.
Perkins nodded and began typing frantically on a keyboard placed on the desk. The Doctor suddenly bolted out of the room without a single word. Perkins and I glanced at each other in confusion and Perkins shrugged his shoulders as he continued working at the keyboard. A few minutes later, one of the screens flickered to life and showed footage of Miss Pitts and an older woman sitting at a table. The Doctor suddenly reappeared at the doorway with Professor Moorhouse standing just behind him.
The Doctor brushed past me and looked up at the screen, hurriedly reaching a hand into his trouser pocket to pull out a silver stopwatch. He nodded at Perkins and the video began playing. The lights in the video footage flickered and the Doctor started the watch, his gaze fixed solely on the screen. The older woman, who could only have been Miss Pitt's grandmother, was at first just annoyed by the appearance of what she guessed was someone dressed up as a "monster", although none of us watching the footage could see anything. Then she began panicking and screaming, flailing her arms and sinking low in her seat as she cried out. Finally, she fell silent and fell back in her seat.
The Doctor stopped the watch. "Sixty six seconds," he noted. "It fits the myth." He looked to Professor Moorhouse, who had moved dos and beside me. "Did you see the lights flicker?"
The professor nodded. "Yes," he said slowly.
"The lights went in the kitchen as well just before the chef saw it," Perkins added.
Professor Moorhouse thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "In all of the accounts, conventional weapons have no effect on the Foretold. It's immortal, unstoppable, unkillable."
Perkins and the Doctor shared a look and Perkins said, "Er, can we get a new expert?"
I was awakened suddenly by Perkins shaking my shoulder. Jerking up with a gasp, I looked around in confusion. Perkins grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet, shouting, "Come on! The Doctor's been arrested!"
"What?" I exclaimed as I stumbled along after Perkins. "What happened? Did I fall asleep?"
Perkins nodded as he dragged me out of the room and down the corridor. "Yes. We all did. And while we were all sleeping, the Doctor went and got himself arrested."
Perkins and I stumbled into another train car, the same one where the Doctor and I had first met Professor Moorhouse. We made it just in time to see a young man in a guard's uniform scream in terror and then slump over a chair, unconscious. The passengers in the car were all cowering behind furniture and I could just make out the scent of gunpowder in the air. The Doctor, Captain Quell, and two other guards were huddled together on one side of the car, watching in shocked silence as a man in a white coat hurried over to the unconscious man and looked for a pulse. A few moments later, the man looked at the captain and shook his head.
"It turns out it's three," the captain suddenly said as he turned to the Doctor. "The amount of people that had to die before I stopped looking the other way."
One of the guards stepped forward and unlocked a pair of handcuffs that had previously been locked around the Doctor's wrists. "Thank you," the Doctor said as he rubbed his wrists.
Perkins walked towards the Doctor and put a hand on his elbow, drawing the Time Lord's attention. The Doctor looked at him, then glanced at me as I stepped up beside Perkins. "Same as the others?" Perkins asked.
Three guards came up behind us and carried the body away, much to my relief. The Doctor suddenly stepped forward into the small opening that was left behind after the body had been removed.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the Time lord began, "could I have a moment of your time, please?" Perkins and I looked curiously at each other, neither of us seeming to know what the Doctor was doing. "There's a monster on this train that can only be seen by those about to die. If you do see it, you will have exactly sixty six seconds left in which to live. But that isn't even the strangest thing. Do you know what is? You," he said, gesturing to the other people standing around us. "The passengers. Experts in alien biology, mythology, physics. If I was putting together a team to analyze this thing, I'd pick you. And I think somebody has. Someone of immense power and influence has orchestrated this whole trip. Someone who I have no doubt is listening to us right now." The Doctor looked up at the ceiling, then started to turn around as he looked all around the car. "So, are you going to step out from behind the curtain and give us our orders?"
Perkins suddenly spoke up then. "The engines. They've stopped," he said lowly.
The lights flickering briefly as the doors on either end of the car suddenly closed and locked. The furnishings and decorations in the car suddenly disappeared and the car transformed from a lounge into a mini laboratory, complete with computer screens and equipment that I had never seen before.
The Doctor smiled. "And the facade drops away because what use are a bunch of scientists without a lab?"
With sudden pop, half of the passengers in the car disappeared into thin air. Perkins looked to the Doctor in confusion. "Teleporter?" he asked.
The Doctor thought for a moment. "No. Hard light holograms. They were never really here. Fake passengers to make up the numbers."
"That was my best guard!" Captain Quell exclaimed, pointing to an empty space where a guard had once stood.
"Good morning, everyone!" announced the same overhead voice from earlier. "Around the room you will find a variety of scientific equipment. Your goal is to ascertain the Foretold's true nature, probe for weaknesses with a view to capture, after which we will reverse engineer its abilities. Isn't this exciting?"
I looked to the Doctor, startled. "Doctor, what is that?" I asked.
"Computer," he said. Looking up at the ceiling again, the Doctor raised his eyebrows at the unseen voice. "You said capture, implying that you can't control this thing. And yet somehow you got it on board. How?"
"There is an artifact, an ancient scroll. I have highlighted it for your convenience." Across the room where the bar once stood, a spotlight shone on an ancient Egyptian scroll that had been pinned against the wall. "For reasons currently unknown, the Foretold appears in the vicinity of this artifact."
"And kills at regular intervals," the Doctor finished for the computer.
Captain Quell reached for the gun in his hip holster. "Then just maybe we should throw this thing out in the airlock," he suggested as he marched across the car to rip the scroll off of the wall.
"No, no, no!" the Doctor exclaimed.
The captain receive an electric shock to the hand the moment he touched the scroll, making him cry out and jump away from the wall.
"Looks like they've thought of that," Perkins noted, his hands in his trouser pockets.
"What if we say no?" Professor Moorhouse asked. "Down tools. Refuse to work."
"That is your choice, of course," the computer replied. "But it would be very upsetting were you all to die at the hands of the Foretold."
Perkins smiled bitterly. "So hurry up, before it kills you."
"But even if they agree to this, how are they supposed to study a creature that they can't even see?" the Doctor asked. "We don't even know what the species is." He had barely finished his sentence when the lights overhead flickered the same way they had in the security video. The Doctor turned to Perkins and gestured hurriedly to him. "Perkins, start the clock!"
In a shaky voice, Professor Moorhouse said, "Approximately one point eight meters tall." Everyone looked at him in shock as we realized that he was the next victim of the creature. "Actually, seeing it in the flesh isn't nearly as rewarding as I thought it might be."
The Doctor's face fell. "Oh, dear," he mumbled. But he quickly recovered from the realization and gestured for the professor to continue. "What can you see? Details."
"Oh, yes. Yes, of course, of course," the professor stammered as he reached into his coat pocket for his glasses. "Well, it just looks like… a man in bandages."
"What kind of bandages?" the Doctor asked. "Old? New?"
"Old."
"Whole? Ragged?"
"Ragged! Falling off in places- I don't know what you want me to tell you!" Professor Moorhouse exclaimed.
"Listen to me! You can see this thing. We can't. Tell us what you can see. Even the smallest detail might help save the next one," the Doctor said.
The professor was about to continue his explanation when the Doctor's words finally registered. "The next one?" he echoed. "You mean you can't save me?"
"Well, that is implied, isn't it?" the Doctor countered flippantly. "Yes, this is probably the end for you. But make it count! Details, please."
Professor Moorhouse looked back at what I assumed was the mummy, although I couldn't see anything. "Flesh," he said quickly. "Some of it is visible-"
"Thirty seconds," Perkins interjected.
"Er, leathery. Ancient looking. Peat bog preserved."
"Keep talking," the Doctor urged. "Don't waste this chance!"
The professor suddenly took his glasses off. "I want to bargain for my life," he said.
The Doctor stammered in confusion. "W-What?"
"It says, some of the myths say if you- if you find the right word, if you make the right offer, then it lets you go."
"This is not a myth! This is real. Forget your superstitions!" the Doctor shouted. "Tell us what you can see!"
Professor Moorhouse shook his head. "This is my life, my death! I'm going to fight for it how I want!" He looked directly in front of himself, where I assumed the mummy was, and began frantically offering things. "Er, I-I give you-"
"Ten seconds," Perkins interjected.
"My soul. I confess all sins. I give you all my worldly goods! Only pleasepleaseplease- No!" Professor moorhouse cried before falling to the floor.
"Zero," Perkins said softly.
I stared in shock at the professor's body, not even daring to move. The computer began speaking again, but I only heard half of what it said. All I could think about was the man who lay dead in front of me.
"We apologize for any distress you may have just experienced," the computer said. "Grief counseling is available on request. On the bright side, I'm sure you've all collected a lot of data. Well done, everyone!"
"It's recording every death," Perkins said.
The Doctor shook his head in frustration. "Of course it is. That's why we're here. To study our own demise." He turned around to face the other passengers and clapped his hands together. "So let's get to work. Come on. Chop, chop."
I was still frozen, staring at Professor Moorhouse's body in shock. The Doctor was suddenly standing in front of me, blocking my view of the body as he gently grasped my elbow. His other hand rested on my cheek and guided my face so I was looking up at him.
"Diana?" He gazed worriedly at me. "Are you okay?"
"I-I… I don't know."
"Diana, listen to me," he said seriously. "Everything is going to be okay. I promise. You, me, and Clara are going to be fine. I don't want you to be scared."
"But… we don't even know what it is," I whispered, "or how it chooses. What if I'm next? Or you? Or Clara? We don't even know how to stop it."
"Yet. We don't know how to stop it yet." I started to look away from the Doctor and at the professor's body, but the Doctor quickly cupped my chin in his hand and forced me to look only at him. "No. You'll only upset yourself."
"But-"
"You couldn't have stopped this. There is nothing that you could have done, so don't be angry with yourself. Don't dwell on it." The Doctor suddenly grabbed my hand, dropping his other hand from my face as he pulled me along after him. He guided me over to one of the computers that was placed on a desk that was attached to the car wall. "Focus on helping me," he said.
I looked straight at the computer screen, my hands automatically moving to rest on top of the keyboard. "What do you need me to do?" I asked.
The Doctor thought for a moment, his brows furrowed as he chewed absently on his bottom lip. "What do all the victims have in common?" he asked. "Age, ethnicity, planet of origin, social status, relationship status, medical history. Anything, everything that could possibly connect them. Can you do that?"
I glanced at the Time Lord and nodded. "Yes."
The Doctor smiled. "Good," he said, his fingers brushing lightly against the top of my hand. He lightly squeezed my hand before stepping past me to speak in hushed tones with Perkins.
I started working immediately, throwing myself into researching the victims and making sure I didn't focus on Professor Moorhouse's death. The computer already had a list of all four victims with folders attached to their names. Each folder contained all the information the Doctor had asked for and after opening the folder for the very first victim, I began reading through it and taking notes on my phone. The Doctor was talking to the other passengers, looking over the data they had gathered after the professor's death and comparing it to the smaller amount of data that they had on the other deaths.
I had just started reading through the third victim's folder when the sound of a phone ringing began echoing through the train car. The Doctor pulled my cell phone out of his coat pocket and answered it. "Clara Oswald," he said, smiling as he walked over to me.
"Hey, that's my phone!" I exclaimed.
"I borrowed it when you fell asleep," the Time Lord replied with a grin.
I couldn't hear what Clara was saying on the other end of the call and instead had to guess what was happening by what the Doctor responded with.
"Yes. It's where they want us to put the Foretold if we capture it," he said.
"Where who wants us to put what?" I asked in confusion.
"Hush," he instructed before listening to Clara again. "Sorry. Teeny bit busy round here. What else?"
"Please terminate your call and return to work," the computer suddenly requested.
The Doctor rolled his eyes at the ceiling and continued listening to Clara. "So, we're not the first," he said after a few seconds.
"Please terminate your call and return to work," the computer asked again. The Doctor continued to ignore the computer and listen solely to Clara. "Please terminate the call and return to work."
Captain Quell walked over to the window and gasped when he looked outside. "I think you should do as it says," he said to the Doctor.
The Doctor looked over at the window and froze when he saw what the rest of the passengers had already seen. I left my place by the computer and walked over to the window, only to gasp in shock when I saw a bunch of kitchen utensils and three men in chef uniforms floating past the window outside.
I stumbled back in shock with my hands clamped tightly over my mouth. The Doctor came up behind me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, then pulled me against his chest. I turned away from the window and buried my face in his coat.
"Clara, I have to go," he said before finally ending his call. He pocketed the phone and gently placed a hand on the back of my head. "It's okay," he whispered.
The computer began speaking again. "I'm sorry. I know that must have been distressing for you. But if you are disobedient again, I will decompress another area containing less valuable passengers."
The Doctor's hand slipped to my shoulder as he looked up at the ceiling, addressing the computer. "Less valuable passengers?" he questioned. Glancing down at me, he gently cupped my cheek in his hand. "Are you okay?"
I nodded and pulled away slightly. "Yeah."
Pressing a kiss to the crown of my head, the Doctor released his hold on me and stepped back to give me some space. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How does it choose?" he wondered.
Perkins shrugged. "Well, I'm assuming qualifications-"
The Doctor shook his head. "No, no, no. Not the computer, the Foretold. How does it choose who to kill? We've assumed it's random. What if it's not?" The Doctor looked at me and snapped his fingers as if something had just occurred to him. "Diana! You were reading about the victims. Were there any similarities? Anything to connect them?"
Everybody's attention was suddenly focused on me and I immediately looked down at the floor to avoid their pointed stares. "I only got through the first three victims," I said, "but so far there's nothing. They don't have anything in common with each other socially, personally, or medically other than the fact that the all came from Earth. Only Mrs. Pitt and the cook were white, so it can't be anything to do with ethnicity."
"What about medically?" the Doctor asked. "What were their medical histories like?"
"Um, the first victim, Mrs. Pitt, was old and was only being kept alive by a life support machine. The second and third victims were young and in shape. There wasn't anything wrong with them. Well," I added after I thought for a moment, "the cook, the second victim? He was sick, but it wasn't anything contagious. It was some kind of blood disease."
"It wasn't a disease, it was a rare blood disorder," the captain said from his spot across the car. "He wouldn't have infected anyone, but we kept it quiet because he happened to work with food."
The Doctor looked back at me. "And the third? The guard?"
"There wasn't any kind of illness or disorder that I saw in his medical records."
Captain Quell shook his head. "He wasn't ill as such, but he did have synthetic lungs implanted last year."
Perkins, who had been reading over the professor's folder on my computer screen, suddenly spoke up. "It says here that Professor Moorhouse suffering from regular panic attacks after a car crash last year."
"It's picking off the weakest first," the Doctor said. "Sensing the illness somehow. The fake organs, even psychological issues. But this is good news, because it means we can work out who is next." He suddenly turned to face the other passengers. "I want the medical records of everybody alive who is still on board. If anyone's had as much as a cold, I want to know about it."
The Doctor started walking across the car and Captain Quell hurried after him, hooking a hand around his elbow and pulling the Time Lord back. He stepped closer to the Doctor as he whispered, "You really think it can sense psychological issues?"
"It seems so. Why?"
The captain sighed and released his grip on the Doctor's elbow as I came walking up to stand beside the pair. "When you said I'd lost the stomach for a fight, I wasn't wounded in battle as such, but…" He paused for a moment. "My unit was bombed. I was the sole survivor. Not a scratch on me. Post-traumatic stress. Nightmares. Still can't sleep without pills."
"Which means that you are probably next," the Doctor said softly. Upon seeing the captain's distressed expression, he hastily added, "Which is good to know."
Captain Quell scoffed. "Well, not for me!"
"Well, of course not for you, because you're going to die. But I mean for us, from a research point of view-"
"You know for a doctor, your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired!" the captain exclaimed as the Doctor began to walk away.
I marched after him and snag the corner of his coat. "Doctor, isn't there something we can do?" I asked.
The Doctor stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, glanced briefly at Captain Quell before answering, "I'm afraid not. We still don't know enough about it to-" The overhead lights began flickering again and the Doctor looked back at Captain Quell, who was staring in horror at a spot across the car. "Well, there's goes our head start. Perkins, start the clock!"
The Doctor then hurried over to the captain. "What can you see?" he asked.
The captain shook his head. "Almost feels out of focus… Gives me a headache just looking at it." He suddenly reached for the gun holstered at his hip and aimed it at the empty space he had been staring at.
"No, no, no, no!" the Doctor exclaimed. "That didn't work before!"
"What kind of soldier would I be, dying with bullets in my gun?" Captain Quell asked before firing his gun.
I recoiled into the Doctor's chest with a partial scream and he put his arms around me, turning me away from the gunfire and out of harm's way. Two bullets whizzed past us and shattered a pair of glass beakers on a countertop across the car.
"Fifty seconds," Perkins said.
"Someone shut that man up!" the captain shouted. He composed himself and then looked at the Doctor. "For the record, it didn't even flinch."
"Where is it now?" the Time Lord asked.
"Approximately twenty feet in front of me and closing."
Perkins raised his voice again. "Forty seconds."
The Doctor pushed away from me and ran to the center of the car, looking straight at Captain Quell. "Am I close?"
The captain's eyes widened. "It's passing right through you," he muttered. "Like a ghost."
Perkins, who I just noticed was holding some kind of scanner in his hand, shook his head in confusion as he looked at some kind of tablet held in his other hand. "It's not a hologram."
"If you move, will it follow?" the Doctor questioned.
The captain laughed humorlessly. "Do you want me to move? Because I can certainly do that."
"Keep looking at it, but back off quick as you like!"
Captain Quell shuffled back in a hurry and then stopped. "It's teleported away." He spun around, trying to find the creature. "Now it's behind me."
"Twenty seconds," Perkins said.
"I think this is it," the captain said as he stood frozen in place. "Still, suppose it's not a bad way to go. Blood pumping, enemy at the gates and all that." He turned his head so he could see the Doctor and I. "And thank you, Doctor, Miss, for waking me up." Looking forward again, he took a deep and shaky breath. "It's reaching for me. Hands on my head-"
"Zero."
Captain Quell cried out in pain before falling over, dead. Two of the other passengers brushed past the Doctor and I and began inspecting the body. I turned away so I didn't have to see the captain that I had already started to grow fond of lying dead in front of me. The Doctor, however, was already back to work.
"Teleporter," he mumbled. "That means tech. Then sixty six seconds to do what? Sixty six seconds. That seems very, very specific. Too specific for organic," he ranted. "So what, more tech? What? More? A countdown clock? Something charging?"
"A man just died in front of us!" Perkins exclaimed. "Can we not just have a moment?"
The Doctor shook his head. "No. No, no, no. We can't do that. We can't mourn," he replied. "People with guns to their heads, they cannot mourn. We do not have time to mourn. Everybody, what takes sixty six seconds to charge up or to change state? Anyone? Am I surrounded by idiots?" He sighed in exasperation. "If only I could see this thing."
"Doctor!" I snapped.
Perkins stepped forward with a finger pointed at the Time Lord. "Don't even joke about that."
"I'm not joking about it. One minute with me and this thing, it would be over!"
"Doctor," I repeated, "shut up."
He looked to me in surprise. "Diana, I thought you at least would understand."
"Of course I do. You're right, we can't mourn," I said. "But don't ever say that. Please."
"You know, Doctor," Perkins interjected, "I can't tell if you're a genius or just incredibly arrogant."
The Doctor shrugged. "Well, on a good day I'm both-." He stopped mid sentence and slowly looked back at Perkins with a look of understanding. "Ancient tech. This thing has been around for centuries," he realized. "How? Tech that keeps it alive. Tech that drains energy from the living." He snapped his fingers at Perkins. "Scanner."
Perkins handed him the scanner and we all stepped back as the Doctor used it to scan Captain Quell's body. As soon as he finished scanning the body, the Doctor tossed the scanner back to Perkins.
"Deep tissue scan," he explained. "He's been leached of almost all energy on a cellular level. The heart attack is just a- is just a side effect."
Perkins looked over the readings on the scanner and nodded. "Oh, it's not just a mummy, it's a vampire. Metaphorically speaking," he added quickly.
"But why take sixty six seconds to drain us?" the Doctor asked, half to himself and half to the rest of us. "Why not just pounce?"
Perkins thought for a moment. "Phase," he whispered. "Moving energy out of phase. That takes about a minute, doesn't it?"
The Doctor smiled and nodded. "That's why only the victims can see it. It takes them out of phase so it can drain their energy. You, sir, are a genius! This explains everything!" His smiled dropped. "Apart from what it is and how it's doing it. Sorry, I jumped the gun there with the 'you're a genius, that explains everything' remark."
One of the other passengers, an attractive dark skinned woman with a tablet in hand, stepped forward and showed her tablet to Perkins. His eyes widened and he brought the tablet over to the Doctor. "Doctor," he said seriously, "I think we know the next victim."
The Doctor looked down at the tablet and nodded. "Ah, of course. That makes perfect sense."
The Doctor used my phone to call Clara, explaining the situation as quickly as he could. "It's likely, very likely, that your friend is the mummy's next victim." There was a pause before he responded, "Clara, it doesn't care. Her bad day, her bereavement, her little breakdown puts her squarely in its cross hairs. She's next."
I could barely hear Clara's muffled reply and shuffled closer to the Doctor in an attempt to hear her better. The Doctor shook his head as he answered, "This thing can teleport. We need her here. Even the computer agrees."
Another pause. "Of course not," the Doctor scoffed. "Why would you think that? This is another chance to observe it in action." His face had turned surprisingly cold and hard. "Of course, as it kills her. If it happens in there, it'll be a waste. So bring her to us."
"Doctor!" I scolded. "What are you doing?"
He shushed me and then said to Clara, "Well, I don't know. Lie to her. Tell her I can save her. Whatever it takes to get her here." He ended the call and then shoved my phone back into his trouser pocket. He turned on me and his serious, almost angry face loomed over me. "I'm doing what I have to, Diana. You don't have to like it."
I stared incredulously at the Time Lord. "What happened?" I asked. "You were fine two minutes ago and now you're angry and you suddenly don't care-"
"I'm doing what has to be done. If Miss Pitts dies in there, then she won't be of any use to us. I need her here to analyze the results and try to save the next person and the next and the next."
"But you used to care about saving people."
The Doctor sighed. "There's only so much that I can do."
"But you just said- You told Clara to lie about being able to save her. Are you not even going to try?"
"What do you think I'm trying to do, Diana?" he asked. "I'm doing the best that I can."
I shook my head in frustration. "But… You're making Clara lie. You're giving Miss Pitts hope that she's going to live when she's really just going to die scared and alone and surrounded by strangers."
The Doctor pursed his lips. "What, like my metacrisis self?" he snapped.
"Now that you mention it, yeah." All the thoughts of the metacrisis Doctor, Donna, and Bad Wolf Bay that I had pushed away when people started dying suddenly came rushing to the front of mind. Every bitter thought and feeling was swelling in my chest. "I guess you really have a thing for lying to the people you care about. I'm just glad I'm not the next one on the list because I don't need you lying to me again about something important to me."
"For Rassilon's sake, Diana, I'm not going to lie to you if you're about to die!"
"How the hell do I know that? You think it's okay to lie to me about the man I love, so why not lie about the fact that I'm gonna die?"
"It's not even the same thing!" the Doctor shouted.
"Well you lie to everyone else you meet, I guess lying to me isn't that much of a stretch," I countered.
The Doctor groaned in frustration and shook his head. "Why can't you just understand what I did and not be angry at me for it?" he asked. "You knew it was going to happen! You shouldn't be this upset about something you knew was going to happen!"
"Just because I knew it was going to happen doesn't mean I'm not allowed to feel angry about it! Just because I know my daughter is going to die, it doesn't stop me from wanting to burst into tears every time I see her! Just because I knew that Amy and Rory were going to be taken by angels, it didn't stop me from doing whatever I could to stop it despite the fact that it was a fixed point!" I shook my head as I looked incredulously at the Time Lord. "I know what happens to almost every single one of your companions, but knowing what happens doesn't make it hurt any less. Knowing doesn't make it any easier. So of course I'm still gonna be angry about it because even back home, I hated what you did. I thought it was selfish and wrong and you should have let her die as herself instead of taking away the parts of her that mattered. And I'm never going to change my mind about that."
Before either of us could say anything more, the door across the car suddenly opened with a hiss of air and Clara and Miss Pitts walked through the open doorway. Miss Pitts was wearing a pair of pale yellow pajamas embroidered with tiny blue and red flowers along the hem.
"Hello again," the woman said as she stepped forward to shake the Doctor's hand, smiling kindly at him. "I'm Maisie."
The Doctor smiled forcibly. "Good for you," he said as he escorted Maisie back across the car to where Perkins and I stood waiting.
Clara followed behind them. "We passed the TARDIS on the way here," she told him. "Thought about getting inside, hiding, pulling the levers and hoping for the best. But we couldn't even get in. There was a forcefield around it."
The Doctor grabbed the scanner from Perkins and began walking around Maisie, the scanner aimed at her head. "It's probably the computer trying to block our escape route," he answered.
"But how does he even know what it is?" Clara asked. " 'Cause if he knows what it is, then he knows what you are."
The Doctor stopped scanning Maisie and stepped past her towards the wall where the scroll was placed. "Well," he began slowly as he fiddled with the scanner, "he has tried to entice me here before. Free tickets, mysterious summons, he even phoned the TARDIS once. Do you know how difficult a number-"
"You knew," Clara hissed, advancing on the Time Lord with her eyes burning angrily. "You knew this was no relaxing break. You knew this was dangerous."
"I didn't know. I certainly hoped," the Doctor replied.
Clara shook her head. "Okay, this. You see? This. This is why I'm leaving you. This. Because you lied. You lied to me again," she snapped, momentarily making me wonder what the Doctor had lied to her about previously. "And now you've made me lie. You've made me your… accomplice."
Maisie walked over to Clara like a lost puppy dog, her eyes wide and worried. "What? Sorry? When did you lie?" she asked. "Clara?"
Clara glared silently at the Doctor for a few seconds before slowly turning towards the other woman. She smiled apologetically. "Maisie, I am- I am so sorry."
The lights overhead suddenly flickered and I looked at Maisie, praying that the Doctor would save her somehow. But she didn't react, didn't point or gasp or scream at any approaching mummy. Confused, I looked around at the other passengers as I tried to figure out which one of them would be seeing the monster if it wasn't Miss Pitts.
"Do we start the clock?" Perkins asked.
"Not yet." The Doctor stood in front of Maisie and looked curiously at her. "Where is it?"
"Where's what?" she questioned.
My gaze flew across the room, brushing over a shadowed figure in the open doorway across the car from me. I stopped and looked at the figure again, and felt my breath catch in my throat when I realized what it was. "Oh my god," I breathed.
"I don't understand," the Doctor said. "She's not reacting."
I screamed. "Doctor!" I pointed at the slowly advancing mummy, my eyes already welling with tears. "It's the mummy!"
The Doctor suddenly gripped my arm and spun me around so I was facing him. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Oh god. Oh my god, I'm gonna die." I looked over my shoulder at the monster and screamed, yanking my arm out of the Doctor's grip and stumbling past him in terror as I tried to run away from the mummy. "Doctor, do something!"
The Doctor reached out and grabbed my arm again, pushing the scanner into my line of vision. "Diana, Diana, focus. Focus on this," he instructed. I tore my eyes away from the mummy and stared into the flashing screen of the scanner. "All of your anger, all of your resentment, all of your grief. Every loss, every lie, every moment of pain and trauma. Susan's death, losing my other self, losing your family, abandoning Sarah, every moment the Master spent torturing you, focus it all on this!" The screen stopped flashing and the Doctor moved the scanner so it was pressed against his temple. He pressed a button on the scanner and golden light rippled across his skin. "And now it's mine."
The mummy vanished into thin air and my already wobbling legs gave out underneath me. I let out a sob as I fell to the ground, Clara kneeling beside me and gently grasping my shoulders to steady me. I looked frantically around the room, trying to find the mummy.
I let out another sob. "It's gone."
"No. No, it's not." The Doctor threw the scanner onto the nearest computer table. "Not for me. 'Cause now it thinks I'm you."
What?
The Doctor looked at Perkins and nodded. "Start the clock." He rushed down the car towards the door and smiled at empty air. "Hello. I'm so pleased to finally see you. I'm the Doctor and I will be your victim this evening. Are you my mummy?"
"What's he doing?" Maisie asked.
Clara helped me to my feet and I leaned heavily on her, my legs still feeling mostly like jello. "He made the mummy think he's Diana," Clara said. "And now it's going after him."
"But you can't hurt me until my time is up," the Doctor continued as he walked backwards, still talking to empty air. "I think. So are there magic words? Is there a way to stop you in your tracks?" The Doctor suddenly turned around and looked at me, his eyes turning sad for a moment. "I'm starting to realize that maybe I did deserve that punch in the face."
I stared at the Time Lord in surprise. "What?"
The Doctor was already looking back at the invisible mummy. "There's something visible under the bandages- By the way, you do realize you were checking Clara out earlier, right?"
"No I wasn't!" I retorted before I could stop myself.
He pointed at the mummy as he continued walking backwards. "Markings like the ones on the scroll. Oh, and I'm sorry about what happened on Gallifrey."
Clara looked at me. "What's he talking about?" she wondered.
The Doctor started talking again, cutting me off before I had even started my sentence. "A tattered piece of cloth attached to a length of wood that you will kill for."
"Thirty seconds," Perkins said.
"That doesn't sound like a scroll. That sounds like a flag!" He pointed to the scroll pinned to the wall behind him. "And if that sounds like a flag- if this is a flag, that means that you are a soldier! Wounded in a forgotten war thousands of years ago. But they've worked on you, haven't they, son? They've filled you full of kit. State of the art phase camouflage, personal teleporter."
"Ten seconds," Perkins said.
"Doctor!" I exclaimed worriedly.
The Doctor had backed up so much that he was pressed almost completely against the wall, the scroll just beside his head. I clutched nervously at Clara's arm as I stared hopefully at the Doctor, praying that he would figure everything out in time.
"And all that tech inside you, it just won't let you die, will it?" the Doctor asked the mummy. "It won't let the war end. It just won't let you stop until the war is over. We surrender!"
Perkins stopped the clock. "Zero."
The mummy suddenly reappeared and I gasped, immediately recoiling into Clara as I tried to scramble away from the monster. "I can see it!" I cried.
Clara wrapped an arm around my shoulder again, trying to comfort me. "It's okay," she said. "I think we all can."
"Do I start the clock?" Perkins questioned.
The Doctor shook his head. "No." The mummy, who had stepped back a few feet, raised an arm and saluted the Doctor. The Doctor nodded at the mummy and smiled sadly at it. "The clock has stopped. You're relieved, soldier."
The mummy lowered its arm as it disintegrated into a pile of dust and bandages. Perkins let out a heavy sigh and leaned against the wall. "He's not the only one," he breathed.
The Doctor knelt and reached a hand into the mummy's remains, pulling out a small black colored device that looked remarkably similar to a human heart.
"We were fighting that?" Clara asked.
"So was he," the Time Lord replied.
With an arm still around my shoulders, Clara looked shyly at the Doctor. "Listen, Doctor, what I said-"
"Save it. We're not out of the woods yet," he said, brushing her words aside with a wave of his hand. He walked past us and stopped at a small desk pushed up against the wall, tossing the device onto the desk as he sat down to inspect it. To the computer, he said, "Well, Gus, I think we solved your little puzzle. Ancient soldier being driven by malfunctioning tech."
"Thank you so much for your efforts. They are greatly appreciated," the computer replied cheerily. "Unfortunately, survivors of this exercise are not required."
The Doctor smiled bitterly. "Ah, well, there's a shocker," he replied flippantly, sonicing the device on the table.
The computer carried on with the same cheery voice. "Air will now be removed from the entire train. We hope you have enjoyed your journey on the Orient Express."
The rest of the passengers began clutching at their throats as they slowly suffocated. I felt my lungs constrict tightly as I tried to take a deep breath, only to find that there was already barely any air left in the car. I stumbled forward as Clara's arms fell from around my shoulders, still gasping desperately.
"I take it you know a way out?" Clara said between shallow breaths.
"My enemy's enemy is my friend. Especially when he has a built in teleporter," the Doctor replied as he began pulling the device apart.
"Great! So use it!" Clara exclaimed, using as much force as she could as she began to loose consciousness.
"A little more work," the Doctor said casually, as if we weren't all slowly dying.
"Doctor!" Clara cried before thudding to the floor at my feet.
Perkins and Maisie, as well as the rest of the passengers had already passed out and were strewn across the car floor. I fell onto my side, my vision blurring as I tried to take another breath and found that there wasn't any air left.
"Couple of minutes, max," the Doctor said to the spot where Clara had once stood. "I'll give you a shout."
Those were the last words I heard before everything went black.
A/N: Please don't forget to review, everyone!