Chapter 8

Moving On

Julia had walked with John past the village green, where he then headed north towards Hickham Lane and the Abbey ruins. She had carried straight on until she came to a wooden, straight rail gate, mounted between two stone columns with two lions sitting on top. She pulled the large latch, and passing through the gate, walking up one of the car tyre ruts in the gravel drive towards the Manor.

She stepped into the small, brick porch and wiped her boots on the coconut bristle mat which had "Welcome" woven into it. The main door was old, weathered oak, with black studs and hinges, and a small diamond shaped, leaded window. She saw an old fashioned bell pull hanging against the wall . . . so she pulled it. There was a gentle jangling of bells from inside.

After what seemed a long time, she saw the shape of a tall, man approaching through the distorted glass in the door. The door opened, and a man with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, looked as though he had just got out of bed. He appeared to be in his fifties, with disheveled white hair, an aquiline nose, and eyes that looked weary, but still sparkled with intelligence.

'Hello?' the man said with a frown.

'Mister Zellaby?' Julia enquired.

'Er, yes. And I'm guessing by the paramilitary uniform that you may be able to tell me what has happened to us,' Zellaby said.

Julia showed him her identification. 'My name is Julia De Graff. I'm a Special Operations Field Agent for the Torchwood Institute. It's not just you Mister Zellaby . . . it's the whole village, and we need your help.'

'Who is it Gordon?' a woman asked from inside.

'You'd better come in,' Zellaby said. 'It's a young lady from an institute. She says the whole village has been affected.'

Zellaby led her to the kitchen, where she found two women sitting on wooden chairs. One was middle aged, and the other appeared to be in her twenties. They were both huddled around an Arger. A kettle on top of it started whistling.

'This is my wife, Angela, and my daughter Ferrelyn,' said Zellaby.

'Hi,' Ferrelyn said with a feeble wave.

'Cup of tea my dear,' Angela asked Julia.

'Thank you, but maybe another time. Right now, there are a number of vulnerable people in the village who are going to need our assistance.'

'Yes, of course,' Gordon said with a nod. 'Whatever we can do to help. But it might help if we knew what has happened. One moment it was nighttime, and then we woke up freezing cold on the floor in daytime.'

'Well, we don't know all the facts yet. We've only just been able to get into the village. For the last 36 hours, anyone who got within a mile of the centre of Dunwich would fall into a coma.'

'36 hours!' Angela exclaimed. 'I thought it was just last night. 36 hours? But who would do such a thing?'

'WHY anyone would do such a thing is what I want to know,' added Gordon.

'That we don't know yet. But I do know that after 36 hours, anyone without central heating is going to be extremely cold. Richard Haywood on the edge of the village told me that you Gordon, might know who we need to get to first. The elderly and the infirm.'

'Er, yes, yes. Of course,' Gordon said as he swept his hair back over his head. 'There's Miss Ogle at the Post Office for a start.'

'Miss Latterly and Miss Lamb,' Angela added.

'Right. Hold on,' Julia said and activated her ear comms. 'Agent De Graff to Agent Simmonds. Jake do you copy? Over.'

Jake was in the small kitchen of the Village Hall, where he'd filled the tea urn and switched it on. He took packets of biscuits out of a cupboard and put them on plates. The Reverend Hubert Leebody and his wife Dora, had turned the wall heaters on full to try and get some warmth back into their bones. Camera Director, David Rea was filming the villagers as they rallied together to support each other.Richard Haywood, his family and their friends came into the hall, guiding villagers to the chairs and tables that had been arranged by the heaters. Hubert and Dora started distributing the tea and biscuits. It all felt very "Jam and Jerusalem" of the Women's Institute.

['Agent De Graff to Agent Simmonds. Jake do you copy? Over,'] Jake heard in his ear comms.

'Yeah. I copy Julia. How's it going? Over.'

['I'm with the Zellaby family, and they've got a list of people we need to get to. Have the emergency services arrived yet? Over.']

'Hang on. I'll go and check. Over,' Jake replied as he headed for the door. He stepped outside and was greeted by the site of ambulances, fire engines, and police cars littering the roads around the village green. 'Yep. They're here. Over.'

['Copy that. Go over to the paramedics and when you're there, I'll give you the names and addresses. Over.']

'Copy that. Standby.' Jake jogged over to the ambulances, showed them his identification and started to give them the names of the villagers who were most at risk, and where to find them. He watched as the paramedics jogged away in different directions.

John returned to the Village Hall in the centre of the village, riding on top of the robot which he had collected from the Abbey grounds. He'd also remembered to pick up the "Spy-Fly" which he had parked on one of the stone walls. He'd contacted Amy on Despatch and asked her to organise a truck to come and collect the seven ton artefact, and instructed Professor Crimm to leave it alone until they did. He noticed that the MIV had been brought into the village and parked in front of the Inn.

The hall was buzzing with activity as younger members of the community distributed cups of tea and plates of biscuits, all organised by Gordon and Angela Zellaby. John detected a subdued atmosphere pervading the gathering. He spotted Julia and Jake at the back of the hall and made his way over to them.

'Hi Doc,' Jake called out to him. 'Did you find anything at the Abbey?'

'Nah. Whoever it was, they'd flown the coop by the time I got there. I did find a nice artefact at The Grange though. There's a truck coming to confiscate it and take it back to Torchwood for safe keeping.' He looked around the hall. 'Is everyone all right? There seems to be a bit of an atmosphere in here.'

Julia looked up at him with a sad expression. 'We've just had the death toll from the emergency services. Eleven people didn't make it. Friends and relatives of these people.'

'Eleven? Damn it! And not a trace of who killed them,' John said in a mix of frustration and anger.

'I believe the deaths were unintentional,' said Gordon behind them. 'Whatever those original intentions were.'

John turned to face him. 'I agree. Someone or something came here with a purpose . . . and a callous disregard for the life of any creature which had the misfortune to be involved in that purpose.'

Gordon held out his hand. 'Gordon Zellaby.'

'John Smith,' John said as he shook his hand, trying to remember where he'd heard the name. 'Zellaby? Zellaby? Oh, Kyle Manor. You're the local squire.'

'Hardly,' Gordon replied modestly. 'Just because I live in the manor house doesn't make me lord of it.'

'No. But your bearing and your authority here . . . People respect you. Zellaby's an uncommon name. I've heard it before somewhere,' John said with a frown. 'Hang on . . . Gordon Zellaby, Justice of the Peace. Author of "While We Last"? Are you that Gordon Zellaby?' John asked.

'Guilty as charged,' Gordon confessed.

'Interesting take on asceticism and overindulgence. Arguing that they both could be evidence of maladjustment,' John said in a review of Zellaby's book.

'All seems a bit trivial now,' Gordon said sadly, looking around the hall. 'With what has happened here.'

'Did you know any of the people who died,' Julia asked him.

'Yes. All of them to some degree,' Gordon said. 'The most tragic was William Trunk, a farm-hand, his wife, and their small son. They perished when their cottage burnt down. An elderly couple called Stagfield were lost in the other house that caught fire. Harry Crankhart, who I believe you recovered from the steps of The Scythe and Stone. Another farm-hand, Herbert Flagg died of exposure. The other four were all elderly persons who succumbed to various illnesses. Diabetes, asthma and the like.'

'We're sorry for your loss. I think we should probably go now and leave you in peace,' John said in a flash back to the old days in the old universe, where he would just disappear without any fuss. Sometimes Rose would give his "old self" a look which would melt steel when she thought he was being particularly rude and insensitive.

'Well, not quite yet Doc,' Jake said. 'Our staff from Forensics are on their way to take blood samples, specimens of urine, mouth swabs and hair samples for analysis.'

'Ah, yes. Right. Sorry about that,' John apologised as he scratched the back of his neck.

Julia saw the concerned look on Zellaby's face. 'But also, our counsellors will be here shortly to help you with your grieving. They'll be able to give you advice on how to come to terms with what's happened,' Jake told him.

'The trouble is, we don't know what's happened,' Gordon told them.

'Not yet,' John said. 'But I will do everything I can to try and find out. Particularly for the Trunk family. I have a family of my own.'

'Then I wish you luck in your endeavour,' Gordon said and returned to tend to the villagers.

'Come on then. I'll drive the robot into the MIV and we can be off,' John said.

In the MIV, Jake made his way forward to the driver's seat as Julia, John and David followed him up the ramp. John turned and drove the robot up the ramp and parked it so that the door could rise up behind it.

'Why don't you go and sit up front with Jake,' John suggested. 'I can sit back here and type up the report while we travel.'

'Yeah. Okay, if you're sure.' She sat in the passenger seat, and Jake pulled away from the pub and headed for Oppley Road.

'Y'know, it just doesn't seem real,' Julia said with a melancholy air.

'Eh?' Jake asked.

'All this. This idyllic English village. It's so . . . normal. The kind of place you'd retire to for a quiet life,' Julia said, trying to express how she felt.

Jake smiled at her. 'Yeah. And something abnormal happens to ruin it all, turning their lives upside down.'

'And ending some of those lives,' John added from the back. 'I bet they didn't see this one coming.'

'No,' Julia agreed. 'Do you think we'll ever know what it was all about?'

'I doubt it,' John told her. 'Without any physical evidence, there's no way of tracing those responsible.'

'Couldn't you use the TARDIS to go back and catch them?' Jake asked.

'And cross into an established event?' John queried. 'I quite like this world as it is. It would be a shame to have it disappear in a causal nexus flux.'

'Oh . . . Right,' Jake said with raised eyebrows.

'That told you,' Julia said with a laugh.

As Julia and Jake, walked into Special Operations, they finger slapped, gripped and fist bumped the members of the Watch who were there. John was greeted with a cup of tea and a kiss from his wife as she was aware of his arrival in her head.

'Ooh. Thanks Love. You're a lifesaver,' he said with a smile.

'You all right?' Rose asked him with a concerned look. 'I can feel somethin' botherin' you. Is there somethin' wrong with the villagers?'

'Eh? Oh, no. They'll be fine after a bit of counselling. It's just not being able to get them any justice,' he told her.

He sat on one of the comfy sofas with the rest of the Watch, and Rose leaned on the back of the sofa behind him as they chatted about the mission. A while later, Jack Harkness, the Director of Torchwood, entered the Standby Room.

'I'd heard you were back,' He said to John, Julia and Jake. 'Nice work at Dunwich.'

'Well, I'm not sure we did anything to be honest,' John said. 'And I'm still peeved that the perpetrators got away. I was this close to catching them,' John said, pinching his fingers together.

'Well, we've requested a criminal investigation with the Shadow Proclamation and sent them all the data you compiled,' Jack told him. 'You never know, they may have reports on file of this happening before.'

'Yeah, I suppose so,' John said, unconvinced. 'But all those people who died. They've got no justice, and the villagers have no closure.'

Rose rubbed his shoulders from behind. 'No. But you did save that police officer.'

'And don't forget you rescued me before my air ran out,' Amy called to him from the Despatch Office doorway with a cheery wave.

Rose smiled and started to sing. 'So just remember, you've got to ac-cen-tuate the positive . . .'

Julia and Gwen clicked their fingers and rocked from side to side as they joined in. 'El-im-inate the negative.'

'Hey Doc,' Jake called to John. 'I think something's messed with that causal nexus thingy. We've ended up in "Torchwood The Musical"!'

John laughed as Jack sang the third verse. 'And latch - on - to the affirmative.'

'All together now,' Craig "Ace" Rimmer suggested, and they all joined in.

'Don't mess with Mister In-Between.'

Amy called from the Despatch Office doorway. 'Rose . . . We've just had a call from "The Wow-Factor" judges. They recommend you don't give up the day jobs,' she said, referring to the popular talent show on TV.

'Cheeky bugger,' Jake said, picking up a scatter cushion and throwing it in her direction. Amy giggled and ducked back into the office before the soft projectile reached her.

Camera Directors Will Hustler, and David Rea had been filming the impromptu cabaret and Amy's comment from different angles and were loving it. It showed how the Watch let off steam, raised spirits and supported each other after a difficult assignment.

Laughing with the group, Jack started back to his office on the top floor. He got to the door of the Unit, when he remembered a message he'd received for John.

'Oh, John. Malcolm Taylor phoned to apologise on behalf of the UNIT Research Division. He says he hadn't been made aware they were messing with alien artefacts at The Grange.'

'That figures,' John said. 'He knows that we're the best place to examine alien artefacts. Thanks Jack.'

'And I nearly forgot. Enjoy your annual leave you two. If it was anyone else, I'd have said it was a trip of a lifetime. But for you two, it's probably just another trip around the block,' Jack said.

'Oh I don't know,' Rose said. 'It's quite excitin' to be on an inaugural flight to the moon. We're gonna be the Earth's first space tourists.'

And so a line was drawn under the Dunwich incident, and the report filed as unsolved . . . at least for now.