The constable's office occupied a tiny space between a bookshop and the local schoolhouse. Its location and size implied a distinct lack of need for the lawman's services. The door was unlocked, so the Doctor gave a perfunctory tap then sauntered inside.
A marginally rotund, gray-haired man sat behind a small desk nursing a mug of tea. His clothing was disheveled, and his eyes had the bruised look of one who has eschewed sleep in favour of other more pressing matters. He glanced up with a tired query of "Yes?"
The Time Lord extended his hand. "Constable? I'm the Doctor, and this is Rose, and we're here to help."
She smiled at his distinct tendency to get right to the heart of the matter.
"Help with what?" asked the constable, standing. His chair scraped dryly across the stone floor.
"With the unexplained deaths, of course," replied the Doctor. "Tell me everything you know."
The constable frowned in confusion. "I'm sorry, but who are you, and why should I tell you anything?"
The Doctor sighed. "I've already told you who we are, but if you need to know more…" He reached into his pocket for the small folio containing the psychic paper then opened it and held it out to the constable.
The lawman squinted a bit as his eyes moved over the paper. "Oh, well that's all right then. Thank you for coming. I'm Constable Greare." He gestured toward a small bench beside the wall.
Rose and the Doctor sat and listened patiently as he provided details about the incidents. Granted, he knew little more than their waiter had, but he shared the information eagerly, obviously glad for whatever help the visitors could provide.
They learned that indeed twenty-six bodies had been discovered, thus far all toward the outer edges of the village. None had been found in exactly the same place, but all were discovered very near the wall at the edge of the cliff. Ages ranged from early twenties to late forties, and the male to female ratio was nearly equal. There was no apparent pattern to the victims and no overt connections between them.
"Were there any injuries or marks on the bodies?" asked the Time Lord.
The constable shook his head. "Nothing. Our doctor looked them over too, of course, and he couldn't find anything—no signs of disease, nothing to explain their deaths."
"Could something have scared them to death?" Rose suggested.
Greare scowled slightly. "No, I'm sure that's not possible"
She knew for a fact, of course, that such things were indeed possible, but she decided it wise not to comment further.
"Have you considered if anyone has a motive for doing this? Are there any feuds or rivalries among your citizens?" asked the Doctor.
The constable shook his head. "Honestly, no. We all get along well." He smiled a bit shyly and added, "We do have a mayoral election coming up, but it seems that I'm the leading candidate since I'm currently running unopposed. Aside from that, I suppose there are occasional arguments and misunderstandings, but until this all began the only crime we ever had here was the occasional robbery, and that was nearly always committed by someone passing through."
The Doctor sprang to his feet. "Show me the bodies," he said without preamble.
Greare's brow creased in confusion. "The bodies? We cremate them Where exactly did you say you're from?"
"I didn't," replied the Doctor. "Are there no remains at all?"
"The last two victims," the constable responded, "are still lying in state. The services for one will be tonight and the other tomorrow."
"The cremation is done at the service?" Rose asked.
"No, of course not—shortly before." The lawman seemed to find his visitors' lack of knowledge about his society's customs rather appalling.
"Take me to them," the Doctor said, already walking to the door.
Greare escorted them a short distance down the street then into a deep alley. The alley led to the base of the plateau, against which a huge rock fitted snugly. The constable enlisted the Doctor's and Rose's assistance in rolling the stone away to reveal a small sort of crypt which had been carved into the rock. In this tiny, dark room lay the two bodies, each resting upon a stone plinth.
Greare lit a lantern, and Rose held it over the pale, still figures. She had seen her share of death in her time with the Doctor—surely more than most young women had ever had to witness—yet still she felt an overwhelming sense of loss as the light bathed the pallid bodies before her. For just an instant her hand shook as she struggled to gain full control of her emotions.
The Doctor glanced up at her. He was frowning, and at first she thought he was displeased with her for failing to hold the lantern steady. But the tightness of his brow and sharp arch of one eyebrow conveyed his own feelings of sorrow to her. He took a sharp breath then looked back down at the still form before him.
He ran the sonic screwdriver over each body with some care and spent a few minutes studying the ashen skin and sightless eyes of each victim. He kept quiet as he worked, and she saw that his mouth remained in a grim, tight line.
"How long are they kept in here prior to cremation?" he finally asked, turning away from the lifeless young man on the slab.
The constable answered, "Normally three days."
"When were these two found?" the Doctor queried.
"Three days ago," the lawman pointed to the young man then indicated the woman, "and four days ago. With so many deaths it's been difficult to arrange the services as quickly as we usually do."
"And they were brought here immediately after they were found?" the Doctor continued.
"Shortly afterwards. They were taken to the doctor's house first, but of course there was nothing he could do."
"The stone keeps it cool in here," the Doctor commented tonelessly, "and that," he gestured toward the massive rock that acted as a door, "seals the chamber, makes it airtight, doesn't it?"
Greare nodded. "It helps preserve the bodies. It's our custom to permit family and friends to view the body just before cremation. With the heat—well, I imagine you know what that can do, how it can speed up decay."
Rose wrinkled her nose but said nothing. Her gaze moved to the Doctor. She could see that he was working to suppress anger and remain externally calm, but she had no idea what could have stoked his ire. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that these two limp shells had once been vibrant human beings. She placed a questioning hand on his arm. His only response was a brief, grim glance at her before he strode from the crypt.
He helped the constable replace the stone seal then leaned back against the wall, studying the lawman intently for several seconds. Rose could tell that he was assessing the man's character and motives, his probing gaze searching for evidence of willful deceit. Finally he exhaled then pushed his body away from the wall.
"I'd like to see where each of them was found," he said.
"Every one?" Greare asked.
"Yes."
The constable sighed, clearly taxed by the unusual difficulties plaguing his town. "All right. I'll take you first thing tomorrow morning."
"I'd like to see the locations tonight," countered the Time Lord.
"It'll be dark soon," Greare replied. "It's not a good idea to be out there at night. All of the bodies were found in the morning—we think the killings happened while it was still dark out."
"Which is exactly why we need to see where they occurred while conditions are similar."
"Doctor," Rose said, "do you have an idea about what's happened?"
He met her gaze. "No, not yet. That's why I need to see where the deaths occurred, under the same conditions."
The constable was shaking his head. "It's not safe, Doctor. I really can't permit you to go—"
"Oh, I think you can, and you're going to take us." His tone left little room for argument.
When he fixed his eyes upon the lawman, any resistance the human had felt was forced away.
"The nearest location," Greare said, swallowing hard. "I'll take you there, and I can point out several others to you, but I have to return here after I've done that."
"The flowers," Rose recalled. "Are they placed where the bodies are found?"
The constable replied, "Yes."
"That'll help us find the spots, then," she said.
The Doctor nodded, apparently satisfied for the moment. "Let's get going then." He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets and brushed past the constable, Rose following in his wake.
Rose and the Doctor trailed the constable through the village, moving in the opposite direction from which they had arrived. She thought that was best; surely the lawman would notice the TARDIS if they neared it, and the harried fellow certainly didn't need anything else to rattle his already tenuous composure.
The activity in the community had moved inward as sunset approached. The streets at the center of the village were even more crowded, and it was only the constable's presence that allowed Rose and the Doctor to pass through with a minimum of shouldering and shoving. She watched the residents' reactions to their local law enforcement. While everyone moved aside for him, the greetings they offered were terse and cursory. Rose had the distinct feeling that he was bearing the blame for the deaths simply because he could not determine who had caused them and had been unable to stop them.
As they reached the farther edges of the village, all signs of human life vanished. The homes here, like those along the other periphery, were deserted. Shadows stretched from the buildings to the wall that hugged the cliff's edge. In the diminishing sunlight, the striking brightness of the village faded, leaving only dull, dim shapes that seemed utterly devoid of life and hope. Even the ripe, pink fruit sprouting from the prickly cactus plants seemed muted and gray in the crepuscular gloom.
Greare stopped abruptly, pointing to a potted plant atop the wall. "Here's where we found the last one."
"The boy?" asked Rose, remembering the gaunt yet youthful face that had lain beneath the lantern light.
The constable nodded. "He was lying just here." He tapped at the base of the wall with his foot.
The Doctor bent immediately to run his fingers along the wall. His eyes moved over the surface quickly, then he donned his glasses and studied the wall with greater care.
"No blood," he said, "or hair, or fabric, or anything that would indicate a struggle." He gestured toward the small clump of cacti growing only a few feet away. "No broken pads or fruit, either," he observed.
"No," Greare responded, "I checked for all of that, too."
"What position was the body in?" inquired the Time Lord.
Greare shrugged. "Just laid out, on his stomach, with his arms at his sides." He moved his own arms slightly to imitate the position.
"So his hands were on the ground. Was his head turned, or was he face down?" asked the Doctor.
"Turned," Greare replied, "I think."
"Show me," the Time Lord said, inclining his chin toward the ground.
The constable shook his head. "Look, Doctor, I've brought you out here and told you what I can. But I'm not getting down there." He pressed a hand over his hip. "My back won't take it. If I get down there, I'll never get back up."
"I'll do it," Rose offered. "Just tell me what to do."
The Doctor gave her a nod of appreciation. She moved to the wall then lay down on her stomach. The ground was cool, and she felt a light breeze brush over her face.
"How do you want my hands?" she asked.
"Palms down, up near your head," Greare instructed.
Rose complied, turning her face to the wall as well. "This it?"
"Yeah, just about," the lawman said. "His fingers were touching the wall, I think."
Rose moved her hand and allowed her fingertips to rest over the whitewashed stone. Cool air caressed her palm. She breathed in the freshness, the lightly floral, almost heady scent that must come from the cactus fruit. She wanted to immerse herself in it, permit the sweet coolness to bathe her, to envelop her… Rose rolled closer to the wall.
"Rose!" The Doctor's voice was sharp, and she felt him abruptly grab her shoulder.
She blinked in the shadowy light. Her body was pressed up against the wall, one hand flat on the warm surface, the other stretched out above her head. Something was prickling her more distant palm, and she moved her eyes to see that her hand lay against the base of the nearest cactus. She quickly jerked it away as the Time Lord pulled her into a sitting position. He crouched down beside her.
"What the hell were you doing?" he asked, confusion and concern only slightly outweighing the remonstration in his tone.
She shook her head. "I dunno. I just—" The prickling sensation in her hand was quickly shifting to a burning itch; she lifted her arm to study her palm for a moment before glancing up at Greare. He was watching her curiously. She added, "I thought he might've moved while he was lying there."
"No," replied the lawman. "The dirt wasn't disturbed at all. I looked like he just fell where he was standing."
"Oh." She frowned at the tiny, fine spines in her palm then scratched at one with a fingernail. "Ow."
The Doctor took her hand and ran his fingertip very lightly over her palm then delicately pulled a spine from her skin. She tried not to wince. He continued removing the little stickers as he spoke, alternating his gaze between her hand and the constable.
"Were the other bodies all in similar positions?" he asked.
Greare nodded. "Pretty much. And there wasn't any evidence of a struggle with any of them."
"Were they all lying right by the wall?" Rose inquired.
"The wall or the edge of the plateau—at the least the ones I saw. The first few were found by their families and brought in before I could have a look. After that I told everyone that they needed to leave the bodies as they were until I could see them."
"Good man," the Doctor complimented simply yet sincerely.
Greare shrugged. "Seemed the right thing to do, but it hasn't really helped, has it?"
"Perhaps not yet, but we still have twenty-five more crime scenes to visit," the Doctor replied. He ran his thumb over Rose's palm then lowered her hand with a quick inquiry of, "All right?"
"Yeah, better," she said. "Thanks."
He stood and extended his hand to help her to her feet. "So where's the next one?" he asked.
Greare's eyes were on the darkening sky; he was frowning worriedly. "Follow the wall about thirty yards. You'll see the flowers." He gestured with his hand to indicate the direction.
"And the next one?" asked the Time Lord.
"Keep going in the same direction. There's another flower pot on the wall maybe fifty yards down, then you'll see the third site at the base of the plateau, only a few more yards away. If you just keep walking and look for the flowers you won't miss the locations."
The Doctor offered his arm to Rose. "Feel like an evening stroll, Miss Tyler?"
She slipped her arm through his with a small smile.
"Doctor," Greare said gravely, "this isn't a joke. Twenty-six people are dead, and we have no idea what killed them. You really shouldn't be out here after dark. Come back with me, and we'll head out at first light—"
"Nope," the Time Lord replied. "I have a feeling that time is of the essence here."
The constable sighed. "That's what worries me. Since everyone's moved to the center of the village we haven't had any further incidents, but if you're out here—Doctor, there were several nights when two people were killed. I'm afraid that whoever's doing this is just waiting until the next victim or victims present themselves. You may be walking right into his arms."
"Well, we've dealt with worse, I'm sure," the Doctor winked at Rose then gave Greare a reassuring grin. "We'll see you in the morning, for breakfast. How's that sound? Bacon, eggs, some nice little muffins with those tiny blueberries and maybe some nuts. Do you have blueberries here? No, probably not. I suppose bananas aren't on the menu either—"
The constable sighed again. "Please, just be careful."
"Oh, we always are." The Doctor gave Rose's hand a small tug then began to walk away, smile yielding quickly to a tight frown as he called over his shoulder, "If you find any more bodies before we return, don't put them in the crypt until I can have a look at them."
"But we have to," Greare began to protest.
"It'll only be until morning," the Doctor said, "and it's important."
The constable gave a reluctant nod then hurried away.
"So what d'you think it is? What's doing this?" Rose asked.
"I don't think it's human," he replied.
"Yeah, that's what I reckoned you were thinking."
"Yes? And why's that?"
She offered him a small grin of her own. "You wouldn't be this interested if it was just some mere human homicidal maniac."
He arched an eyebrow at her as his mouth twitched into a smile. "You know me too well."
"So any idea what it is, aside from not human?"
"No, not yet."
Rose rubbed her palm against her leg. The skin still stung and itched rather fiercely.
"Hand all right?" he asked with a quick glance down.
"Just itches a bit."
The moon had risen, reflecting wan silver light from the raw stone of the plateau. The Doctor stopped to ignite the lantern he carried then held it up as he lifted her hand. In the new illumination, she could see that small red bumps peppered her skin.
"Looks like the spines left a little irritation. You gonna be okay?"
"Yeah, just feels kinda scratchy. I'm sure I'll survive."
"Yes, I think you—" His fingers closed suddenly around her hand. "Unless you don't."
Rose inhaled quickly. "What?"
But the Doctor's expression had become distant, and she knew that his thoughts were racing beyond her capacity to follow. She waited rather anxiously until he returned his gaze to her. He studied her face for several seconds, taking a few moments to lift one eyelid and lean in to peer carefully at it. Then he reached into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver. He switched it on and waved it over her.
"So you were saying about me surviving," she reminded him with forced levity.
"Oh, I don't think you have anything to worry about," he replied, tucking the small instrument away. "I don't see any signs of poisoning."
"Poisoning?"
"I thought it might've been a possibility. Maybe there was something in the cactus spines that killed all those people—although that seems fairly unlikely, given that the fruit is perfectly safe to consume. And really, if the spines did contain a toxin, I'm sure Constable Greare would be aware of it. Unless it was some sort of spontaneous genetic mutation. He shrugged. "It was worth a shot, though."
Rose rubbed at her itching hand again. "I'm glad that one misfired."
He smiled gently. "Me too, Rose." Lifting the lantern again, he said, "Come on, we have places to see, possible deaths to prevent, and miles to go before we sleep."
He led her through the warm night toward the next flowering plant soberly adorning the wall.
The Doctor examined the crime scene carefully, once again running his hands over the wall, studying the soil, and even testing several small pebbles for remnants of blood by flicking his tongue over them. The light from the lantern spread in a pool over the area.
Rose stood beside the crouching Time Lord, absently moving her itchy hand over the slightly rough fabric of her jeans. She wasn't even aware of the tiny scritching noise her movements made until he looked up at her with a slight frown.
"Do you mind, Rose?" he asked with just a touch of irritation. "That's a bit distracting. I'm really trying to concentrate."
She stilled her hand. "Sorry. It's getting even scratchier."
He glanced toward the edge of the plateau and gestured with his hand. "Aloe."
"Yeah, 'ello to you, too, but I'm still right here," she reminded him.
"No, Rose, aloe—the plant. It's got long, pointed leaves, sort of grayish blue in color. I noticed some growing over there. Break off one of the leaves and rub it over your hand. The chemicals in the sap should help with the irritation."
"Oh, right," she nodded.
She began to walk away, but he called her back and insisted that she take the lantern. "Last thing we need is for you to tangle with more cactus spines," he said as he handed her the lamp.
"I'll be right back," she replied.
He was already involved in his next task, which seemed to require that he stretch out upon the ground and run a finger along a small crack at the base of the wall. Rose turned away.
She found the aloe plant easily enough and snapped off a small portion of one of the branches. It contained a sticky-looking, thick liquid. She dabbed it over her palm, feeling relief from the irritation almost immediately. She grinned and called back, "Thanks, Doctor. It's working like a charm!"
In the moonlight, she could see that he still lay beside the wall. She thought he had moved a little closer to it. He did not respond to her comment, however. That was just like him to become so wrapped up in his ruminations that he failed to acknowledge her. So she tried again as she began walking back to him.
"Doctor! The aloe's great. Little sticky, but I can't even feel the itch anymore."
Still he did not reply. Indeed, he lay without moving. Rose stopped walking for an instant, watching him; then her breath hitched and she began to run. She reached the Time Lord quickly and dropped to her knees beside him.
"Doctor!" she cried, shaking his shoulder. "Come on, snap out of it!"
She shoved him onto his back so that she could see his face. It was utterly still and eerily white in the lamplight. His eyes were closed. She patted, then slapped, his cheeks, saying his name over and over.
By the time she placed her palms over his chest, her hands were shaking. She waited to feel the odd double rhythm of his hearts, but his body was cool and motionless beneath her warm hands. She pressed more firmly against his chest, but there was nothing.
"No," she murmured, "you can't do this. Wake up. You have to wake up!" She shook him hard. His head lolled lifelessly from side to side. "Doctor, please," she pleaded, dropping her head to his chest. She held her breath and listened. She heard nothing but the gentle shushing of the light breeze as it brushed through his hair.
Rose's eyes stung with tears as she lifted her head. Placing her hand against his cheek, she said, "You told me Time Lords have a trick to cheat death—I saw you do it—I know you can. It's all right, Doctor. Go ahead, do it. Change again. You need to do it to save your life."
She waited, watching his face for any sign of regeneration. She was not quite sure what to look for; she had a vague memory of blinding light encompassing him when he had done it before. There had been those wisps of iridescent gold, too, that he exhaled while he was recovering. But now he lay without moving, his skin growing colder beneath her palm. There was no glow, not even a flicker of light.
And then the terrible thought struck her. Something had done this to him. Her eyes darted all around, searching for movement. Her scalp began to prickle with suspicion. There was a very real chance that she was not safe out here alone. Yet she deplored the thought of leaving the Doctor. Maybe there was still a chance that he would change, that a new man would emerge from this lifeless body. But if he did and found that she had been killed waiting for him, she knew that he would feel deep and terrible regret.
Rose wiped a hand across her wet cheeks then bent to press a kiss over the Doctor's forehead. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know what else to do."
She forced herself to her feet and, with a single long look back at the Time Lord, stumbled hurriedly away.