I have increased the rating of this story to K+. Although the details are not graphic the idea behind this chapter is quite horrible.

Chapter Ten – Monsters

This time my dream has placed me in a hotel, standing by the exit, pondering on the current situation. The doors are locked, barred from the outside and armed men guard the exit.

I turn to the person next to me, and he looks sadly at me. "We could be here for ages. Until they find the source of the plague at least. Until they find what's infecting the customers."

I turn away from him and look back at the doors, understanding now, but sick with fear. I hope it doesn't get me.

I'm walking back towards reception and contemplate asking for a room, when a stout man in half mooned spectacles calls to me. "Alice, have you put the towels out in room three?"

I look at him, confused and process what he has just asked me. Then I look down and notice my uniform, black skirt that falls to the floor, a button up black blouse and white apron tied at the waist. My flat shoes are practical and it seems I actually work here.

"Well don't stand there looking gormless, go and sort it out."

"Yes sir," I answer and bound up the stairs.

I know where the towels are, which is strange as I've never been here before, and I know where room three is, so I set about my task. I pass guests on the stairs and in the corridors, the ladies in chiffon and satin, and the men in waistcoats or blazers. I realise that I am further back in history, than the 21st century.

I walk into room three and another maid is already there, laying clean sheets on the bed. She turns to me and then goes over to the door shutting it behind me.

"Alice, there you are. I thought you'd forgotten. How are you?"

"I'm fine," I say, laying the towels next to the jug and pitcher.

"And the rash has it gone?"

Jenny, that's it, I remembered her name. I'd told her that morning about the rash across my stomach because I was scared and I needed to confide in someone.

"It's still there," I said. I remember now, the little spots I'd found that morning, that made me late for my duties in the kitchen.

"That's not good," she says. "You should tell someone. That bloke in charge, you should tell him, the Doctor."

"Tell the Doctor what?" A voice asks from behind me.

I spin round and there he is standing in the doorway. He still looks quite normal, a brown suit this time, and long brown overcoat. His hair is brown and messy and he sports a fine pair of sideburns.

"Nothing," I say, feeling quite defensive and frowning across at Jenny.

"She's got a rash," she pipes up. "She's not ill like those plague people, do you think it could be serious?"

I look across at her again furious, is she glorifying in the situation? Then I turn back to the Doctor who is still slouched against the door, hands in his pockets. He makes a move towards me once he catches my eye, so I turn away, intent on my task.

"It's nothing," I say. "Just a couple of little spots. Don't get all fussy on me." I try to laugh it off and continue smoothing the towels to complete perfection.

"Alice," he says. "Look at me."

I ignore him.

"Alice, look at me."

Reluctantly I turn round, and I'm trapped like a fly in the amber of his eyes.

"Tell me the truth."

"It's a small rash, I found it this morning. It's nothing, honestly." I promise him.

"Let me see," he says, holding out his arm and directing me to the bed.

I consider refusing but eventually with leaden feet I walk to the bed and sink down shakily.

"Show me," he asks me gently.

"Give me your apron," Jenny says and I stand up again to shakily take off the white starched material.

"Loosen your skirt," she says quietly, and she takes over loosening my skirt and undoing the lower buttons of my blouse revealing my undergarments.

I have a long petticoat underneath, and bloomers and a corset to boot. Taking an overzealous interest, she loosens these too until my belly is exposed naked for anyone to see.

I feel extremely self-conscious and acutely embarrassed as the Doctor tells me to lie back on the bed. I steel a quick look at him. He has glasses on now and comes over to examine me.

"That's not a few spots Alice," he tells me off.

I look down and see huge wheals on my skin, red and ugly, stretching from one side over to the other, from my belly button down to my pelvic bone. I am surprised to see them there. He puts his hand out and touches me, very gently but I can't help but flinch under his touch, he pulls his hand away immediately.

He pulls a strange metal implement from his pocket and it emits a soft buzz as he switches it on. The blue light at the tip glows as he moves it backwards and forwards over my body.

"That's not good," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not good at all."

I'm trying not to listen, staring at the ceiling, concentrating on a little spider that has scurried from a corner and has abruptly stopped. Unsure if he is safe, so exposed where he is.

And then his hand is back again, only firmer this time, pressing down into my flesh and I try to muffle a cry at the pain.

"Try to relax," he says. "I need to feel how big it has grown."

I latch onto those words, something is growing? And then I shriek out again, as his hand probes, first high up near my naval then down further near my groin, right side, left side. "Stop it," I beg, "please stop."

"Sssh, shhh," he tries to hush me as I writhe and squirm trying to get away. I grab hold of his hand, but he is insistant and will not stop what he is doing.

Finally, he looks at the tears streaming down my face, and removes his hand. I see the pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry Alice," he says.

"Is she gonna be all right?" Jenny asks. "What's wrong with her?"

"It's a Rippa," he says. "I've got to get it out."

My fear is mounting at his words. I want to know what a Rippa is, but I daren't ask.

"I'm sorry Alice," he says. "I'm so, so sorry."

And then with both hands on my stomach his pushes down until my belly bulges and I give John Hurt a damn good run for his money.

#

I wake up screaming, loud piercing screams and look under the covers to reassure myself that I am still intact. Then I leap from the bed and race to the bathroom. I need a shower. To let clean, pure water, wash over me. I feel dirty and disgusting and I can't get the thoughts of what just happened out of my head.