Chapter 16
Andrew's face is distorted in great pain. I've rarely seen anything like it.
"This is so disappoint...", the female officer behind the woman repeats again. They must be translating, because she interrupts them.
"Cut that out - I only have seven minutes", she says, lifting Andrew's shoe.
"Passengers, this is not a shoe", she declares, waving it firmly. "This is disorder. This is size ten chaos. This - see this - this is death".
The speech is already started as the worst metaphore ever. I'm quite sure no one is even paying attention to her. We're all staring at Andrew's agony. Again, I try to move. Curtis never let go of my arm and he's almost squeezing it now. I turn to look at the Doctor.
"In this locomotive we call home, we have but one barrier between our warm hearts and the bitter cold", the woman keeps rambling. "Clothing? Shields? No! Order!"
The Doctor cringes. Donna is looking the other way. Martha looks petrified. I turn again. A man beside me is sketching the scene with charcoal on a handmade sketchbook of paper scraps.
"Order is the barrier that holds back the frozen death. Order. We - all of us Passengers on the Train of Life - must remain in our allotted stations. We must each of us occupy... our par-tic-u-lar, pre-ordained position!" she keeps on, placing the show over Andrew's head. "Would you wear a shoe on your head? Of course you would not wear a shoe on your head".
Edgar is almost chewing his lips in anger.
"A shoe does not belong on your head. A shoe belongs on your foot. A hat belongs on a head". Literally, I only hear words. No one is looking at the woman talking. "I am a hat and you are a shoe. I belong on the head - you belong on the foot. Yes? So it is".
She pauses to checks the ticking clock on Andrew's neck. She's warming to his task - the speech growing more florid. I'm picking words here and there, and if I'm understanding what she means, this is becoming cheesier with each word.
"Why am I a hat, you ask? What prescribes order, you ask?".
Andrew screams.
"In the beginning, order was prescribed by your ticket. First class, Economy, and freeloaders like you. You get my drift. Eternal order is prescribed by the Sacred Engine. All life flows from the Sacred Engine and all things in their place, all Passengers in their Section, all water flowing, all heat rising pays homage to the Sacred Engine... in its own par-ti-cu-lar pre-ordained position". She gestures weirdly, like she's moving imaginary things into order as she says that. "Yes? So it is".
The painter is drawing the woman with a shoe on his head.
She gets louder to cover Andrew's screams of pain.
"Now, as in the beginning, I belong to the front, you belong to the tail. When the foot seeks the place of the head, a sacred line is crossed. Know your place! Keep your place!", she rushes up, then exhales with the end. "Be a shoe!".
She dramatically pauses, expecting an applause that doesn't happen. Guards and officers just nod in embarassment. She awkwardly checks the timer and apparently it took quite less than seven minutes. Which doesn't mean they're going to relieve Andrew from torture any earlier.
"Mmmm... We have some time left. Let us go to a special comment from Mr. Wilford, the Divine Keeper of the Sacred Engine...", she nods encouragingly to the Japanese officer, who turns on a speaker device which fills the car with crackling noise.
This is all looking very antique to me. When are we? What's the deal with this train?
"Sir? Mr. Wilford?", she calls expectantly. Curtis looks at the speaker curiously. Nothing but noise. "He's busy. So it is!"
The clock finally goes ding indicating that these excruciatingly long seven minutes have
passed. The younger Franco unfastens the metal ring and pulls Andrew back into the car. He's screaming with pain, afraid to look at his arm. He looks paralyzed with fear, or insane, like they froze his arm and his brains went out too.
The older Franco taps the frozen, solid arm with a spoon. The clear sound it makes is the same ice does when breaking. The man nods to the woman, who nods.
Andrew's arm is laid on a chair, surgically. A giant hammer is about to take action.
The tail section men in the front row turn to look at Curtis as if waiting for a signal. "Are we just going to watch?", Edgar hisses nervously, opening his hand to show him a sharp blade he's been hiding in his sleeve.
Curtis doesn't even look at him. "Not now", he says, keeping his eyes straight on the woman.
"Not now? Why not now?", Edgar whispers furiously.
I don't get it. These people are armed then. Why not attack?
"Timing is everything", Curtis reply, still not looking at Edgar.
The hammer swooshes through the air and crashes down on Andrew's arm, which breaks apart with a sickening noise of shattered glass. Curtis takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
The officers look away.
"You let this happen...", I whisper.
Edgar gives me a sorry look. Curtis doesn't let go of my arm. He closes his eyes, ignoring me.
Gilliam stands up. He lets go of his rag and I realize now that he only has one arm and one leg each, but he has no trouble balancing himself. A lean, muscular guy gently squeezes a crutch underneath Gilliam's armpit. By the way he looks respectfully at him, I can't understand if he's his caretaker or his boyfriend, or his bodyguard. His face is dark and he looks around for danger.
Gilliam walks out towards Mason. Like the subjects of an elderly king, everyone silently move to open a path for him, followed by his hot bodyguard and other passengers, each of them missing an arm or a leg.
"What are you doing? Sit down!" A soldier tries to stop him, but Gilliam and the crippled gang ignore him. He just, well, keeps walking forward to the first rows.
Hot bodyguard steps in front of him as if to take the bullet in case the soldier fired, but it's the woman who stops the fight.
"Lower that useless gun, stupid", she orders. Then she turns to Gilliam. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Gilliam".
He barely glances at her. "You look healthy", she insists.
Still ignoring her, Gilliam walks to Andrew, who's now almost unconscious, propped up by the Franco Brothers. He touches his face gently.
"Release him", the woman instructs the brothers, defeated.
Gilliam places his rag over Andrew's body as the men let go of him, while the hot bodyguard and the crippled gang help him up to carry him away.
Gilliam finally turns to the woman. "Minister Mason, please deliver a message to Mr. Wilford".
"Of course", she forces a smile, as finally satisfied of getting his attention. "What shall I...?".
"Tell him... he and I need to talk".
She's taken aback, giggling nervously. "Well you can talk to me... Mr. Wilford has no reason visiting... here", she replies finally.
Gilliam is back to ignoring her.
It's Curtis that replies, between himself. I'm pretty sure only Edgar and I can hear him. "Not here... at the front".
Ha! So there is a plan.
"Timing is everything", I repeat as the crowd spreads. "What's your plan? Make your way to the front of the train, and...?".
"Take the engine", Edgar replies. "Every other attempt failed because they didn't take the eng-".
Curtis stops walking and shuts Edgar up with his gaze. They look at each other but keep quiet. Curtis turns to me suspicious, while Edgar frowns symphatetically. I'm about to say something but Gilliam and his people are passing through and I have to step back, and there's so many people that I lose sight of them for a minute.
I make my way to Donna and the Doctor. Martha is a step ahead, keeping sight on Andrew.
"What do you make of it?", I ask the Doctor.
"Doctor", Donna says, worried. "When are we?".
He sighs. "Ugh, early. I reckon... 30th century?". He looks at me. "What do you make of it?".
"That they've been left here" I reply. "If there's space travel, how come no one came for these people? They look like they've been on this train for ages". Without the Tardis working, I'm having trouble with the timelines. And, now we're here, so whatever was supposed to happen, we're already messing with it.
Martha makes her way through the elders. "Excuse me, I'm a doctor", she says to Andrew, who's still looking insane and dizzy.
Gilliam's bodyguard immediately places himself between her and Gilliam. "It's okay, Grey", the old man pats his shoulder, staring at Martha. He nods at her, then his eyes dart to the rest of us.
Grey doesn't like it but moves a step aside. Martha follows the elders as they carry Andrew behind a curtain with a red cross that separates some kind of hospital tent.
Gilliam guides us through the beds until the end of the train, behind another curtain until we're in some sort of shanty office. Grey stands at the entrance.
"So", Gilliam says to the Doctor. "You're not from around here, I gather".
Uhm, no. We're time travelers. The notion sounds so difficult for these people to understand that nor me, nor Donna, nor the Doctor answer.
"Then where are you from?", Curtis asks again, from behind my back. "You said... space travel?".
"They're not from this world, Curtis", Gilliam says, sitting down.
Edgar steps beside him, again checking us out like he's never seen, well, people, before.
Gilliam seems to know a thing or two, luckily.
"The box", he says. "What is it?".
"No", the Doctor answers, smiling sideways. "The Eternal Engine, what is that?".
Gilliam offers the same wary smile. "We'll have to trust each other at some point if you wish to stay alive in here".
Donna mumbles something and I know her mind's going Pompeii again. "Spaceship", she says. I can feel the Doctor eyerolling even if he's not looking at me.
"The box is temporarily useless", I anticipate. I don't want to give these people the slightest chance of thinking we have a way out for them when the Tardis is broken. "We kind of crashed here".
"Gilliam", Curtis says. "Are we just supposed to trust them?".
"But a spaceship…", Edgar starts.
"Look, I know this sounds unbelievable but... maybe we can help", I dare say.
"Zoe". The Doctor is basically, uhm, killing me with his gaze. I look away. Curtis is staring at me again.
"Help, how?", Edgar asks. Gilliam shuts him with a single gaze. I'm getting that this Edgar must have the habit of talking out of place.
The Doctor, Gilliam, they're just studying the room in a staring contest. I'm sensing they'd rather be having this conversation without us around.
"You mentioned going to the front", I say to Curtis.
Gilliam gives him another look. He groans.
"Man, we're fucked". He laughs, bitterly. "We've been waiting for a chance to change things around here and when we're about to do it we get... infiltrates? Are we just supposed to believe help has come, has just showed up from outside, coincidentally the night before we prepare for attack?".
We all stay silent. There's really no answer to that. Trust, but we barely met them. I look at Edgar. He turns away and looks at the wall. There's a map, a lot of drawings, and notes on red paper. I don't understand how Edgar looked more suspicious before and Curtis, who looked so hopeful before, is now questioning everything we say.
Gilliam notices the Doctor looking at the wall as well.
"We just... want to help", Donna says.
Everyone stays silent.
"Why?" Gilliam asks to no one in particular, but I'm pretty sure he expects the Doctor to reply.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and make a decision. I don't know when I became so bold. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if this decision doesn't get us all in trouble, it's going to get me in trouble.
"Because we can", I answer.
I'm overstepping the Doctor.
"Come with me", I instruct Curtis, taking his hand.
Everyone's eyes dart to me but I ignore them. Curtis is so surprised he's just following.
I open the wooden blue doors and push him into the Tardis.
He tries to turn back but his step falters as soon as he sees the console room and he's holding on to the railing.
"But..." he starts. He stands up better, looking around speechless. "It's... bigger on the inside".
"It is". Everything is dark and off so it's underwhelming compared to the usual first impression of the Tardis, but, I mean, they're packed like sardines outside the blue doors. We're suddenly standing in a big hall, so the effect still stands.
"How?". He looks at me with a wary look. Hope, despair, fear and respect are mixing up in his eyes.
"It's called a Tardis. The Tardis, in fact. Only one in the universe now", I tell him quietly. "It trascends time and space".
"Time and space... This is... beyond". His eyes are darting around the details of the console. "This wasn't built by humans".
"It wasn't".
"Who then?".
"Time Lords".
"Time Lords... stuff of legends". He doesn't look at me. "Is that who you are?".
"Yes". The information doesn't make him flinch. I'm totally stealing the Doctor's role here, I know.
"Time", he repeats. "You're not from here, you're not from now".
"No".
"So this thing... is a vehicle", he states, still looking around. "It really is a... spaceship".
"Yes".
"And it's not working". I see the corner of a bitter smile.
"I'm sorry".
Ironic, isn't it. A spaceship suddenly appear to someone who spent ages looking for a way out, and it's not working. I avoid telling him that if only it was working, we could give them all food, showers, clean clothing. Unfortunately, the Tardis off means it's defaulted back to only having the console room. Everything else has been temporarily deleted, including kitchen, wardrobe, swimming pools and storage.
He trails his hands on the console, slowly. He keeps looking around until he's back in front of me.
"I'm afraid you're stuck with us, then".
"Exactly".
"And you're willing to help?", he smiles, unbelieving. "Why?".
"I was like you. Stuck. And angry", I tell him. I don't know why I'm being this honest. "I thought my world was the only world, up until"- yeah, up until when, Zoe? "recently, up until recently, I didn't even know aliens existed. Then I saw the universe. And long story short, I learned who I am".
"So what does that mean now?".
"It means", I smile back. "That we're going to follow your lead, Curtis".
Thanks new followers! I'll try not to let you down. And thanks Tyantha for the review! hope you keep reading. ;)
-a thingy: do you think Zoe should meet Clara and 12 too?