Attack of the Killer Plant

Amy

"Whose idea was this, again, exactly?" Amy grunted.

"Hers," said Donna coldly.

"I'm helping, aren't I?" Earhart argued, "Come on. Ahoy, avast, whatever pirates say."

Donna and Amy both groaned in annoyance at her chipper attitude. Something about having a plan and having company had put a spring back in Earhart's optimistic step – even stuck on a desert island and destined to rest as an eternal enigma in history books and wikipedia articles, her mood endured. She was a fast learner, too, and had put Donna's powers to work as soon as she realised what they were (a lot quicker than Amy had done, and Amy lived with her). Didn't take much to drag a big barrel of salted, preserved meat forward in time. It also didn't take much to cover another barrel, a barrel full to the brim with gunpowder, with the meat. Just like making pigs in blankets for Christmas dinner- that was, if the pigs in blankets were disgusting and exploded.

Now they were rolling their creation through the widest gaps in the trees possible, saying loudly at every opportunity how they were bringing a gift for their divine overlord, repeating the haunting journal entries of Captain Cameron Stanwick, an offering of a great amount of meat. Very stinky, slimy meat which was getting its grease all over their hands as they forced it with an enormous amount of difficulty through the jungle. At least the plant was making things easier for them, given the fact they were walking right into its arms. Or vines. Just like the pirates who had come before them; it probably thought every member of the human race was a moron.

"Are you sure you don't want to go-" Amy grunted mid-sentence while forcing the barrel over a nasty tree root, "-grab Rose? She could just pick this thing up and throw it like a rugby ball."

"Not sure that throwing our makeshift… gift," Donna corrected herself, "Is really the best course of action."

"I'd even take Martha's help at this point."

"Martha?" Donna exclaimed, staring at her as they pushed the barrel, "You want a girl keeps accidentally blowing things up with her mind to help us do this?" By which she meant, push a fully-loaded gunpowder key through a rainforest.

"We can have a barbecue."

"Cocktails, a barbecue-"

"I can't believe there wasn't any rum on that entire shipwreck."

"You've got your head in the clouds."

"Maybe Oswin will help us."

"Yeah, the limping girl who blew herself up. What a good plan," Donna grumbled. "Just focus. Keep pushing."

"…Thought anymore about your best man speech?" Amy asked after another minute of silence and nothing but heaving and pushing.

"No," said Donna angrily, "Funnily enough, I've been a bit preoccupied! At this rate I'm going to have to make good on my promise for there to be absolutely no Abba at this wedding, because you've been useless. 'Cure my writer's block' – is this what you usually do? Come out and spend the day almost getting killed and then go back and write a story?"

"You know what they say. Write what you know." Donna glared at her.

"How often do you get into capers like this, then?" Earhart inquired. She was taking most of the weight of the barrel, in her defence, though Amy would like if she took all the weight of the barrel. Or if Donna went and got Rose. Although, she could always just tell them both to push it, and she could relax a bit and have a leisurely stroll. But she wasn't that kind of person, which was probably one of the reasons she never used her horridly manipulative power. Why couldn't she be the one able to blow things up with her mind?

"It's something of a habit," Amy said.

"Gosh, I'd love to have a life like that. So much adventure – yet you seem obsessed with going after relaxation."

"It's times like this that make me think relaxation is highly underrated."

"Considering you lured me out here on a promise of relaxation…" Donna grumbled.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know this would happen."

"And yet you can see into the future."

"I promise I'll help you with the speech until it's done," Amy said, giving the barrel another big push. "Properly help you. Just after, you know, we deal with this. These things have to take priority. Besides, if we die, you won't have to make a speech, will you?"

"Oh, brilliant. I'll just die then, shall I? That's your plan? That's your stroke of genius?"

"I'm just saying that every cloud has a silver lining."

"I really don't understand why anybody listens to you sometimes."

"Probably the accent," Earhart said.

"I often have very good ideas," Amy argued.

"Like trying to sleep with the Doctor the night before your wedding to Rory?"

"Somebody's in a bad mood…" Amy muttered.

"Oh, really? Do you think? Out of curiosity, do you have absolutely any idea why I might be in a bad mood?" Donna questioned her. She finally got the hint and decided to shut up, lest she get even more on Donna Noble's nerves than she already was. Besides, she meant it about the speech, she would help, once this was all over.

"Where else do you go on your travels?" Earhart asked.

"All over, into space, see the stars, different planets, different species like us," Amy said, "Backwards in time, forwards in time, meet tons of famous people such as yourself. Such as van Gogh. Such as, uh… who've you met?" she asked Donna.

"Agatha Christie."

"Oh, really? Her mysteries are swell," said Earhart.

"Went to Pompeii, saw Vesuvius erupt," Donna said.

"And I was on a real pirate ship before, with a siren, luring sailors to their deaths and cursing them."

"And how does all this come about?"

"There's a man," said Amy.

"Called the Doctor," continued Donna.

"If you're lucky, you stumble across him, and he'll change your whole life."

"Or, you know, you stumble across people who know him, who may have very recently come into some superpowers and are therefore just as good as he is," Donna said.

"Though, despite his preoccupation with women at the moment, he's still the best man I've ever known. Well, second best, after my husband, who's rescued me from some sticky situations himself."

"It sounds incredible," said Earhart, "We're here."

"We're – what?" The barrel gave way underneath their hands. They had been approaching a steep drop, which was almost impossible to see through the solid green barricade of plants blocking their view, but they had just come up on the very edge of a crater at the centre of the island. The barrel rolled down and hit another tree at the bottom.

But it wasn't a tree, Amy soon realised when she had to squint through her sunglasses. It had looked like one because the visibility was so poor and the sun was setting high above them, making the sky burn red against the vivid greens of the forest, but it was in fact a vine. An enormous vine, glistening and rising at least three feet off ground. And it was not the only one, they were everywhere, she realised, all leading down a steep decline and towards one central point they could not quite see from their position. This must be where the meteor the pirates saw, the shooting star, originally crashed, and where the plant was spreading from, infecting the island.

"Do you really think I might come with you?" Earhart asked before they began to descend.

"Of course," said Amy.

"The Doctor will love you."

"I feel like I've met someone with that name before… I think he stole my old flight jacket."

"Sounds like him," Donna confirmed, "You can probably get it back."

"Nicked my bloody glasses…" Amy complained, for the second time that day. Who could blame her? Glasses were expensive. Earhart led the way down the side of the crater, Amy having to watch her feet very carefully so that she didn't trip. Unfortunately, it didn't work and she did trip, but she grabbed hold of a tree trunk and managed to stay steady enough that the other two – who were also focused on where they were walking – did not notice. "Didn't he offer you a place on the ship before?"

"Not if it's a fixed point in time that she has to go missing," Donna said before Earhart could speak.

"He didn't offer me anything. Just took my jacket," Earhart said.

"Fixed point, told you," said Donna, "You'll be free to come with us now, though. As long as you keep a low profile."

"And we're great at keeping low profiles," said Amy, having absolutely no idea when she said it if she was being sarcastic or not. Earhart smiled and went about trying to push the barrel out of the way of the root-like vine it was wedged against, having to stand it on its end and then push it back over, which was not the easier thing to do.

They continued to roll it down the slope, but very quickly the jungle scene gave way to a swamp, a marshy lagoon flooded with saltwater and mud. The water itched Amy's bare legs and she grew worried that she was going to end up with a rash – which, to be honest, would be exactly what she deserved after forcing Donna out that morning and away from her speech; she was more than a little remorseful.

The water got deeper and deeper until eventually it was higher than Amy's knees, but the good thing about it was the barrel began to float in front of them. Earhart kept a long coil made of cannon fuses tied together elevated above the water, the fuses wrapped down her arm which she held aloft. If the fuses got damp, they wouldn't light properly, and if they didn't light properly, the barrel of gunpowder wouldn't explode, and they'd be at serious risk of being devoured. Instinctively they grew quiet, Earhart glancing around nervously, causing Amy and Donna to be put on edge, too. Who was to say it wouldn't just grab them, like it had grabbed Amy earlier? Who was to say they had any chance to light their fuse? Their only source of flame was a lighter belonging to Earhart, but Amy didn't like the idea of all their faith being in a lighter. If only Martha was there, Martha would be able to blow up the plant without going anywhere near it. She would at least feel better with some kind of remote detonator rather than this risky business – they may as well be hiding being a bush with a bright red TNT plunger like they were in a Loony Tunes cartoon.

It was when the barrel floated between some anomalous, plant-ish structures which could be part of the island or part of the monster, it was impossible to tell, that they finally saw it – and 'monster' was definitely the right word. It was a great big green-coloured head, which towered above them taller than the roof of a double decker bus, with a horizontal gash across its middle filled to the brim with rows of yellow and pink, shark-like teeth, leering at them from an otherwise featureless 'face.' It was almost grinning, surrounded by a thin, greenish fog swirling above the surface of the dirty water. Petals blossomed around the head like a mane, shockingly beautiful to say that floating in the water around them were an array of bones, including one very obviously human skull. It bobbed along the surface in front of them, and Amy felt things slither around her legs in the murky water. Earhart kept the fuses hidden behind her back.

"Blimey," Donna stared at it.

"Do you think Ten and Rose might like a flower like that for their wedding?" Amy asked, gawking at the monster. She sensed Donna glaring at her – but at least it would definitely make the wedding memorable. "How long until it starts singing?"

"Singing?"

"It looks like Audrey II." Donna was not amused. "Maybe it knows a sea shanty."

Then Donna hissed at her, "I'm going to kill you if we survive this." Amy believed her and was now thinking maybe she'd better take her chances with the planet and all its many, many teeth. In response to this, the plant proved its intelligence. It lifted its enormous head out of the water, dripping at the bottom with filth dredged up from the bottom of the lagoon, and opened its mouth.

"'Oh, we'd be alright if the wind was in our sails, we'd be alright if the wind was in our sails, we'd be alright was in our sails, and we'll all hang on behind… We'll roll the old chariot along, we'll roll the old chariot along, we'll roll the old chariot along, and we'll all hang on behind'," it bellowed. A sea shanty if Amy had ever heard one. "…Well?" it asked them, "Do I not deserve any appreciation?" Amy began to clap, and the other two uneasily followed suit.

"Bravo," she said, "Good song."

"Thank you," its thick, yellow 'lips' curled in a sneer, showing off its fangs. A smell of rotting meat and bad breath drifted out of its mouth whenever it spoke, or even, sang.

"That's Fred's jacket," Earhart whispered next to them, looking at something floating in the water nearby, caught on a branch. She made to wade towards it, before realising she could not stray too far from their meat-covered keg because of the fuse behind her.

"Chewy," said the plant. Earhart's face contorted with anger at that, as if she hadn't already been angry enough at Fred Noonan's premature death.

"We've brought you a present," Donna said, "Lots of meat."

"I can smell it. It's not fresh. I would rather it be fresh."

"And I'd rather be drinking mimosas, but we don't always get what we want, do we?" Amy quipped, "We just thought, in exchange for us coming all the way here with an offering – since you're, you know, a divine entity – you might let us fix up the plane and fly away."

"Promise not to tell anyone you're here. Well, except for anyone who wants to know where the Garden of Eden is," Donna added, "And all about your divine properties."

"Think of it like we're… missionaries," Amy continued, "We'll leave and spread the word of god – your word – and in exchange you'll get lots of… snacks."

"I smell a few unsuspecting snacks already." The plant was obviously talking about them. "I've got a better idea."

"Is your idea to sing some more shanties?" Amy suggested.

"We love a good shanty," Donna confirmed. Earhart was seething over Fred Noonan and the very visible reminder that he was dead and gone, devoured by this 'Green Beast', and didn't join in with any of their joking. Which was really just to try and alleviate some of the sheer terror they were both experiencing.

"Charming idea. But I have one of my own, and I don't trust humans. They're meal worms."

"Meal worms in a good way, though?" Donna asked. But nobody had ever been called a 'meal worm' in a good way.

Amy had been snared around her ankle and suspended upside-down once already that day, and she wasn't inclined for it to happen again; but life didn't work like that, and when you did insist on chasing after a carnivorous alien plant monster, you were going to get snared. She, along with both Earhart and Donna this time, was hoisted by the exact same leg into the air, by three thick, snake-like vines crawling up to her knee. It made her head swim and her sunglasses slipped down the sweat covering her face and landed in the water, where they almost instantly disappeared from sight.

"No!" she protested, catching a glimpse of Earhart's sword also falling from where it was slung around her body and vanishing into the lagoon.

"You can get new sunglasses!" Donna shouted at her.

"They were prescription! They're expensive!"

"Then I'll buy you some more!" Donna offered very angrily. It was really more than Amy thought she deserved, though.

Earhart, meanwhile, was struggling to hold onto the fuse and keep it where it would stay dry. She flailed in the air just like the other two, but it was no use, the plant laughed at them. Their only hope now rested with the gunpowder keg, or if maybe Rose would get an inkling through the time vortex that they were literally about to be devoured and showed up to punch the plant to death. Somehow, Amy doubted that. Perhaps they were all supposed to perish on the island, eternally forgotten…

"I'll eat your gift, then I'll eat the small one second. Insolent child has caused me enough trouble with that sword." The sword which was now gone for good, sunken along with bones and corpses in the silt, "I'll save the juiciest for last." The vine lifted Donna higher when it said that.

"You bloody what!? JUCIEST!?" Donna yelled, making Amy wince. She could practically see the sonic-soundwaves coming from Donna's mouth, which had enough force only to take the plant by surprise. Undoubtedly, Donna could not scream it to death, though she certainly had a good chance of rupturing everybody else's eardrums. Couldn't she make a bomb fall out of the sky with her portals, or something? Conjure a Second World War Navy Destroyer to attack the island?

The plant coiled another vine around the gunpowder barrel, gripping it and its slimy, salty meat-covering tightly, Earhart carefully unravelling the fuse as it did so that when the plant ate the barrel she wouldn't get tugged along with it.

"I'll show you who's juiciest in a minute, you bloody weed!" Donna continued to shout at it, writhing around. It lifted the barrel up higher and then angled it overs its gaping jaws, the stench making Amy want to be sick – how long did it take the thing to digest its food? Considering it had been alive without feeding for more than two-hundred years, probably much longer than first thought, despite its enormous appetite.

And it dropped the barrel. But they had made a major error in thinking about how quickly it would eat it. They thought it would at least try to chew a bit, but no, it had gone straight down its gullet, which appeared to be much deeper than just to the base of its head – who knew how far underground its root network and digestive system went? Not them, clearly, because the fuse vanished like a string of spaghetti being sucked up, and within a second, they could only see a tiny sliver of it hanging out of the plant's mouth, much too far away for Earhart to grab it and light it.

"Shit," said Amy, "What do we do now?"

"Uh…"

"Donna?"

"Well…"

"Please say you have an idea."

"I mean…"

"You're half the Doctor!" Donna continued to struggle with the vines holding her still, while Amy strained to try and see into the future and work out if they were going to die or not. It didn't work, so she resorted to even more desperate measures – her persuasion power, which she had not yet gotten to work on anyone who wasn't a human. "Why don't you just put us down?" she ordered the plant, "Drop us back into the swamp and let us leave." This didn't work either, and the plant was in the process of lifting Amelia Earhart over to its jaws just like it had done the gunpowder barrel.

"Don't fret!" Earhart called, and Amy saw she had retrieved her lighter and had it in her hand, flipped open, ready to light, hand outstretched to grab the fuse at the corner of the plant's jaws. "Everything's jake!"

"What the hell does that mean!?" Amy shouted at her.

"It's all dandy!" She tried to swing the vine to get to the fuse before she was dropped into the mouth of the killer plant.

What happened next felt like bullet time to Amy; a moment where everything slowed down yet she remained incapable of doing anything whatsoever to avert an unpleasant fate – this time, Amelia Earhart's unpleasant fate. Remarkably, she was successful in her attempt to grab the fuse, and held it in the palm of her hand as she was suspended over the plant's gaping, toothy jaws. She struggled with the lighter for a second but then Amy saw sparks, the fuse had lit. The issue was it was no short fuse, and Amy doubted that the inside of the plant's mouth was all that dry. Surely cannon fuses must work with some moisture, though? They were designed to go on boats, after all…

The plant only then seemed to realise it had been duped, and made a furious, roar-like noise, waving Earhart around by her ankle in its fury. The fuse burned down far enough that it was hidden from their view, disappeared into the mouth itself, and the plant began trying to retch, going as far as to try and fish the barrel out of its own mouth with more stringy, green 'arms.' Hopefully it didn't work, if it threw the barrel back at them they would be in grave danger. Not that they weren't already in grave danger, but it was certainly an incredible amount of gunpowder.

"That's for Fred, you green bastard!" Earhart yelled at the plant. "How's a box full of gunpowder for 'chewy'!?" The plant roared again, heightened its efforts to retrieve the barrel. And then it seemed to give up and decide that if it was going to die, it was going to do its damnedest to make sure Amelia Earhart didn't escape the island either, forgetting all about Amy and Donna where they were still strung up by their feet.

Earhart was dangled yet again over its mouth. The vine unravelled around her legs. She was dropped, her limbs flailed.

A cacophonous explosion tore through the forest. The immediate effect was that Amy and Donna were both dropped into the bog, the air filling with stinking, black smoke, and they splashed down into the foul water with the sound of the almighty bang ringing in their ears, unaware of the fate of their comrade…