REVELATIONS
FOURTEEN
The Doctor regained consciousness slowly, but he was coherent enough to keep his eyes tightly shut and his breathing shallow.
'Is this really happening?' he asked himself. It seemed that it was. The condition of his body – wrapped in a foul-smelling, scratchy blanket and lying prone on a hard, cold floor – was enough to confirm his suspicion that he'd not been hallucinating.
His next question was harder to answer. 'What am I going to do?' His options were few. He could continue to pretend he was unconscious, but how long could he maintain that charade? Or, he could try to communicate with his captor. The latter option frightened the hell out of him, but he could see no other choice. He wasn't sure how long he'd been held, but he was starting to wonder if the fragile rescue plan he'd put into place had failed. And if so… perhaps Rose hadn't escaped; was in danger?
He opened his eyes, pulled the blanket around him as best as he could, shakily rose to his feet and looked at the door. Briefly he yearned for his clothes, his coat, his shoes, and wondered what had been done with them… He felt his mind wavering and refocused on the door.
The wait was interminable; he was weak and desperately wanted to lean against the wall. Countering that urge was his desire to face his captors as deserving of their respect. Since they had taken everything from him, all he had to use was his body. So he continued to stand, difficult as it was, as he willed and dared his jailor to return.
The familiar sound of the lock gave him precious seconds to prepare. He pressed his nails through the fabric of the blanket into his palms and took a deep breath as the door opened.
For the briefest moment he fantasized it was someone else… but then he saw the creature. It scuttled in and he was immediately overwhelmed by the sight, sound and smell of it. He felt his eyes rolling up into his head while the breath and strength left him. "Oh no," he moaned, and he screamed as his uncontrollable body hit the floor.
Somewhere he heard a child cry out in fear or in pain; he realized it was his own cry he heard.
Fleetingly, it occurred to him that he was convulsing. He felt the familiar prick of the needle in his neck and once again descended into oblivion.