Chaos Manor
Suzanne

Doctor - 8th
Companions -
Charlotte (Charley) Pollard, Brigadier
Rating - PG
Genre - Adventure
Status - Complete
 

Charley and the Doctor are called to investigate some suspicious deaths at an amusement park on the side of a cliff. Did the victims die of fright?

Set between Minuet in Hell and Invaders from Mars, following The Fog

Part I

“I thought we were going to Florana,” Charley said as her foot slipped on the cliff path yet again.

The Doctor caught her in time to prevent a nasty fall. “I’ve brought you to the seaside, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but this is work – you promised me a holiday!”

“There wasn’t much I could do once the recall device was activated – we were already on our way here,” he said, holding onto her while she regained her balance. He gave her feet a sceptical glance. “You should have put some sturdier shoes on.”

“Maybe I would have done if I’d known we were going to be climbing down cliffs,” Charley retorted, “I’m not a mountain goat, you know.”

“I had noticed. Anyway, I don’t get involved in UNIT affairs much these days. The least I can do is answer the phone when they call.”

Charley shuffled her escaping sandal back onto her foot and followed carefully as he led the way down the rough path. If she were being honest, she would have liked to return to the TARDIS for a pair of hiking boots, but neither the prospect of a steep climb or her own pride would allow her to admit she needed help. “Was it the Brigadier who called?” she asked.

“I left it with him, but it’s probably been gathering dust in a drawer somewhere since I left UNIT. It’s only ever been used once, and that was years ago.”

Charley foot skidded again, but she caught herself just in time. They were heading for a small house clinging to the side of the cliff, amongst numerous trees – more than once she’d been pulled up short by a branch caught in her hair, or stumbled over a protruding root. The Doctor had informed her that the tiny Gothic mansion was part of Bateman Butkus and Burke’s Gardens of Magic and Wonder, something he described as ‘an Edwardian amusement park going to seed’. Charley wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but, having seen the assortment of rides at the entrance, concluded that it was some kind of funfair.

There was, naturally, an easier and far safer route for reaching the house, but all of the paths had been closed to the public by the organisation the Doctor referred to as UNIT. When they’d arrived – right at the top of the cliff, as the TARDIS was being her usual temperamental self – a soldier in fatigues and a blue beret had directed them down here, saying it was the quickest way down. Charley couldn’t help agreeing – pitching head first over the side would definitely be a quick way to reach the bottom.

Eventually, the path levelled off, meeting tarmac. The Doctor lifted Charley down the last couple of feet, groaning theatrically with the effort.

“Very funny,” she said as he set her down on terra firma.

They had come down the cliff behind the house – the Doctor strode off round the side, calling out, “Hello? Anyone in?”

Charley followed him, seeing that the place had been cordoned off with orange tape. The trees they had threaded their way through on the way down sheltered the house, casting it in gloomy shadow that was in sharp contrast to the bright sunshine of the rest of the park.

The Doctor was heading for a stone bridge at the end of the path that led away from the house. Trotting along in his wake, Charley suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. She turned, and was startled to see dozens of ugly, grinning little face peeping out from bushes and trees and over walls. It took her a moment to realise that they were carvings – several clustered around a signpost, proclaiming that the house behind her was called CHAOS MANOR. She thought this a rather odd name for a house until she noticed the letters carved into the archway that spanned the bridge: NOW LEAVING FANTASYLAND.

“The house is one of the park’s main attractions,” the Doctor said over his shoulder, with his usual flair for casually reading her mind. He caught sight of someone on the other side of the bridge and waved.

Charley would have recognised the tall, elderly gentleman with the military bearing and widening girth anywhere – the clipped, greying beard and twinkling eyes could only belong to Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart (Rtd). The man at his side was a stranger to her, however – as he neared, she decided that she didn’t much like the look of him. Shorter than the Brigadier, he had a thin, supercilious face, a long nose and pale green eyes under closely cropped sandy hair. His uniform was immaculate, the beret neatly folded and threaded through one of the epaulettes on his jacket.

“Ah, Doctor,” the Brigadier said as he neared them, “Miss Pollard, glad you could join us.”

“Joined at the hip,” said the Doctor, shaking the proffered hand warmly. “We had the operation last week.” He grinned – the Brigadier and Charley both laughed at the joke, but the soldier’s face remained blank. “Good to see you, Alistair. I guessed the recall device’s activation was down to you.”

“No one else had any idea what it was, much less how to use it,” the old soldier replied. The man at his side coughed meaningfully. “Ah, introductions – Doctor, Charley, this is Major Duncan Halliwell, Bambera’s second in command. He’s in charge of the investigation. Halliwell, this is the Doctor, and his companion, Miss Pollard.”

“You should get that cough looked at,” said the Doctor, extending a hand to the major. It was shaken with the minimum of enthusiasm.

“I don’t believe you two have met before,” said the Brigadier.

“I’ve heard of the Doctor,” Halliwell said. His expression didn’t change.

“My reputation can’t be doing me any favours,” the Doctor remarked, withdrawing his hand.

“You aren’t quite what I was expecting. I hadn’t looked for someone so young.”

“What a shame. I used to be older, you know, but everyone needs a change from time to time.” The Doctor’s tome remained pleasant, his smile fixed in place, but his eyes hardened slightly. Charley glanced at him and wondered exactly what Halliwell had been expecting. Apart from the fact that he’d left his coat and cravat in the TARDIS in deference to the heat, and rolled up his sleeves, the Doctor looked the same as always. The dark curls of his hair, slightly shorter than usual, but still in need of cutting, waved in the breeze that was blowing in from the sea.

“Perhaps we should take a look at the house,” the Brigadier suggested, breaking the tense silence that his grown up. “Would you lead the way, Halliwell?”

“Sir.” The major turned towards the house.

The Doctor watched him go, and leaned towards the Brigadier. “Is he an Auton?” he asked in a stage whisper.

The old soldier chuckled. “Not that I’ve noticed. Maybe we should watch his hands for concealed weapons.”

“What’s an Auton?” Charley asked.

“Blank-faced mannequin animated by the Nestene Consciousness,” said the Doctor. “They’re usually made of plastic.”

Charley didn’t really understand that. “He certainly doesn’t seem to have a sense of humour.”

“Maybe it’s just very deeply buried,” the Doctor suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“How deeply?”

“Looking at him, probably somewhere in Australia.”

“Doctor, if you could be serious for a moment,” the Brigadier cut in, “We have a serious situation here.”

“Oh, yes, of course. So – what’s happened?”

“Deaths. Three of them.”

“All here?”

“In the house. It’s a tourist attraction, full of animatronic goblins and ghouls. Nothing too frightening, just a few mild scares for the children,” the Brigadier explained as they followed Halliwell up to the front door, “Originally, the police were involved, but UNIT were called in when the pathologist couldn’t identify a plausible cause of death.”

“Why?” Charley couldn’t help asking.

“UNIT specialise in explaining the unexplained, Miss Pollard. According to the reports, the victims’ hearts had simply stopped. There was no medical reason for it.”

“Did the pathologist draw any conclusions?” the Doctor asked.


“It was his opinion, unofficially, that they died of fright. I saw the bodies myself – the expressions on their faces were most unpleasant.”



“And you have the pathologist’s report - ?”



“It’s at HQ.”



The Doctor smiled. “Where have you set up shop – in the pirate ship?”



“No – the cowboy town.” The Brigadier’s moustache twitched. “We’ve taken over the park office.”



Halliwell was waiting for them in front of a massive oak door. The house itself was covered with a thick creeper, probably ivy, Charley thought – it blocked out the light from almost all the windows, those that remained were blacked out. It looked as though the building had been invaded by foliage.



“Looks like it’s been eaten by a Krynoid,” remarked the Doctor incomprehensibly.



As they approached, the door swung open with a loud creak. A voice boomed out:



‘Welcome, travellers, and if you dare,

Enter the ghouls and the goblins’ lair,

It’s frights ahead, and horrid games,

Within the house where Chaos reigns!’



“Hardly Shakespeare, is it?” said Halliwell expressionlessly.



Charley had jumped at the voice, which had seemed to come from nowhere. “What was that?”



“It’s just a recording – the switch is jammed, we can’t turn it off.”



“I wonder if that’s significant,” mused the Doctor, strolling past them all to enter the house. “Come one, let’s take a look inside.”



They traipsed after him – the door banged shut behind them, cutting off the sunlight. Charley turned, startled. “Are we trapped in here?”



“There’s a fire exit,” Halliwell told her, evidently unmoved by the sudden darkness. “The bodies were found down here.”



He moved forwards, and a light abruptly came on ahead of them. Charley could see something moving behind a pane of glass – as she followed the Doctor, who had gone to take a look, the voice she’d heard outside came again.



‘Within these wall, chaos calls,’ it said, accompanied by some maniacal cackling.



She peered over the Doctor’s shoulder, and saw that he was looking at a squat, green gargoyle, which was shaking with laughter. It was one of the ugliest things she’d ever seen. The eyes rolled, and it winked at her. Charley took an involuntary step back.



“What on Earth is that?”



“It’s a puppet,” said the Doctor. He glanced at her. “Relax, Charley, none of this is real.”



“Maybe not, but it’s giving me the creeps.”



“That’s the idea, Miss Pollard,” said the Brigadier. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen the attraction myself.”



“I thought you said it was for children?” Charley asked. “I wouldn’t bring a child in here!”



“Children are used to things like this in this era, Charley,” the Doctor told her.


“People have funny ideas about entertainment in this century. I bet they wouldn’t like to see real demons – that’s not an experience I’d like to repeat, thank you.”


As they waked on, Charley realised that the house was absolutely full of horrible creatures. Glass cases like the one at the entrance illuminated themselves as they passed, revealing all manner of nasty things with horns, deformed faces or two heads, sometimes all at once. Music was playing in the background, a creepy tune that sent a shiver straight down her spine.



“How many visitors come through here on an average day?” the Doctor asked Halliwell.


“About three to five hundred. The park’s in something of a decline now, running out of money.”


“And yet they can afford to run something like this? The electricity bill alone must be astronomical. So…five hundred people, but only three deaths. Interesting.”


“That’s three too many.”


“Oh, quite, but that’s not my point. I was just wondering why, out of five hundred people to pass through this house, only three died.”


“The doors open and close on a timer, only allowing a small number of visitors in at once,” said the Brigadier, “Something to do with preserving the atmosphere. The deaths occurred late in the evening, when the park was quiet. The place is open until eleven o’clock at this time of year – they have it all floodlit.”


“Hmm,” said the Doctor thoughtfully.


“This is where the bodies were found,” Halliwell announced as the corridor widened into a largish room. There were three chalk outlines on the floor, but that didn’t attract Charley’s attention as much as the fact that the walls seemed to be giving birth to some of the most revolting things she’d yet seen. Their twisted faces leered out over the room, clawed hands reaching as if to grab some unsuspecting visitor. Stubby horns protruded from low jutting foreheads, the eyes beneath almost seeming to glow in the dim light. She shuddered, though she wasn’t quite sure why – really, horrible as they were, they were no more repulsive than Marchosias, the psionivore they had encountered in America. So why was her skin suddenly crawling?


“I’m not surprised they were frightened,” she remarked.


Halliwell gave the figures a cursory glance. “The attraction opened last year – there’s never been a problem until now.”


The Doctor arched an eyebrow. “No complaints? Tales of terrified children?”

“None. It’s tame by today’s standards.”


“ Certainly wouldn’t bring Gordy in here,” said the Brigadier, “This would be the cause of nightmares for weeks."


The Doctor turned to him. “Alistair, can you tell me about the people who died? Were they healthy?”


“As far as we can tell, yes. All aged between twenty and forty, no history of heart problems.”

“Not of an age to be terrified by a few imaginative monsters, then.” The Doctor fell silent, pacing around the room, looking into every nook and cranny. They watched him for some minutes until finally the Brigadier said,

“Have you drawn any conclusions, Doctor?”

“One or two,” came the reply. The Doctor stopped in the middle of the room, and pulled out his pocket watch, flipping it open with one hand. “I’d like to see what those pathologist’s reports have to say.”

“And then?


“And then I’m going to come back down here and wait.” He checked the time and closed the watch with a snap. There was a determined look in his eye, one that Charley recognised – it meant he was onto something


“What for?” she asked, thinking that she’d like to get as far away from the house as possible.

The Doctor smiled, a crooked twist at one corner of his mouth, and held up his watch. “The witching hour is almost upon us.”

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The next few hours were passed in the park office, now turned into a temporary headquarters by Major Halliwell. Some of the staff were rather disgruntled by this, one man even voicing doubts about Halliwell’s authority. The major had told him, in that monotone which seemed to be his normal speaking voice, to complain to Geneva if he didn’t like it. The man, unable to think of a suitable reply, had slunk off to mutter to some colleagues about taking liberties and ‘no jurisdiction within Britain’s borders’.



Charley sighed, and turned back to the souvenir guidebook she’d been trying to read. She couldn’t get the sight of those demonic faces out of her head – every time she closed her eyes they loomed out of the darkness at her.



Beside her sat the Doctor, leaning back in one of the office chairs, his feet on the desk, engrossed in the pathology reports. At his elbow was a mug, the canteen having been prevailed upon by the Brigadier to provide a bottomless pot of tea, with GREETINGS FROM THE ISLE OF – printed on the side. Charley squinted, but couldn’t make out the last word from where she was sitting.



“Well,” the Doctor announced eventually to the room at large, “there’s nothing in these reports at all. Utterly inconclusive. Each one of the victims had no long-term health problems, wasn’t on any medication and was reasonably fit. There was absolutely no reason for any of their hearts to stop.”



“But the fact remains that they did stop,” said Halliwell.



“Exactly. Tell me something, major – say for some reason your brain was attacked, and the signals from it to your heart were blocked. Your heart would stop, yes?”



“I thought you were a doctor. Don’t you know that?”



The Doctor’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Humour me.”



“Well, I suppose so, but such a thing is patently impossible.”



“I take it you’ve never read any Sherlock Holmes: ‘Once you have eliminated the possible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’. Of course, I’m paraphrasing, but you get the idea.”



“Is that what you think happened, then, Doctor?” the Brigadier asked. He was ensconced in the only comfortable chair in the room – Charley thought he’d fallen asleep. “Some kind of telepathic attack?”



“Alistair, I’m impressed – that phrase just tripped off your tongue. You’re becoming blasé in your old age.” Said the Doctor with a smile.



“I should hope so, after that kerfuffle in America. Somehow, it always comes down to mind games.”



“It certainly seems to,” agreed Charley, remembering her recent encounter with the Rani.



The Doctor swung his feet down from the desk. “I think,” he said, “that something caused some kind of blockage between brain and heart, causing the heart to stop functioning. The question is – what?”



“As I said, impossible,” said Halliwell. “What could cause such a thing?”



“Major, how long have you been with UNIT?” asked the Brigadier.



“Eighteen months, sir.”



“You’ll soon learn that so-called impossible things happen all the time. Now then, Doctor – what do you intend to do?”



“Bravo, Alistair,” the Doctor muttered. Raising his voice, he said, “Exactly as I said before – the deaths occurred at around 10 p.m. on the evening in question, so I intend to return to the house before ten o’clock and see what happens.”



“Surely you’re not going to sit there with all those horrible things staring at you!” exclaimed Charley.



He looked at her, concern in his eyes. “That place really got to you, didn’t it?”



She nodded. “It’s stupid, I know, but I really didn’t like it in there. There was a feeling…” She huffed, frustrated. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it made my skin crawl.”



“You don’t have to come – stay here, you’ll be quite safe.”



“No! I’m not scared, Doctor – I’ll come with you.”



The Doctor caught hold of her hand and squeezed it. “That’s my Charley.”



“I’ll come, too,” said the Brigadier, “Can’t have the two of you down there on your own – anything could happen.”



“Thank you, Alistair, but I wouldn’t want to put you in danger. If the same thing happens again - ”



“The old ticker’s in perfect working order, Doctor, don’t worry. Can’t say the same for everything these days, but I’ve no complaints there.”



“I hope it stays that way. OK, if you insist, I’m glad to have your company.” The Doctor turned to the rest of the room. “Anyone else fancy a trip to Goblinland?”



“As officer in charge, I will naturally be accompanying you,” said Halliwell with all the emotion of a Cyberman.



“Thank you, major. The more the merrier.” Charley didn’t miss the tiny hint of sarcasm in the Doctor’s voice.



She turned back to her book to find that it had gone – a woman with short greying hair and small round glasses had picked it up and was leafing through it. Charley recognised her as one of the attendants – she wore a red T-shirt with BATEMAN, BUTKUS AND BURKE’S emblazoned on it.



“I can’t believe this has happened,” she said, “I was here when it was put in – state of the art animatronics, cost a fortune. It was perfect – a few scares for the little uns, nothing to give them nightmares. How could someone have a heart attack in there? It isn’t frightening!”



Charley tried to reconcile this with the interior of the house she had seen a few hours ago. The woman had put the brochure down on the desk – it was open at the central spread depicting Chaos Manor. Charley frowned at the photographs, and turned back to the attendant.



“Is the house regularly cleaned?” she asked. “Do the staff go in and out when the park’s closed?”



The woman shook her head. “No – it maintains itself, that’s the beauty of it, why it cost so much. We just have to switch it on in the morning and off at night.”



“It can be switched off, then?”



“Of course – there’s a switchboard round the back of the house.”



“Tell me,” Charley said, looking again at the photographs, “Have you ever actually seen inside?”





***



“Doctor,” Charley said a little while later, tapping him on the shoulder.



“Hmm?” He turned from the computer screen on which he’d been studying the layout of the park. “What’s the matter?”



“I think there’s something very odd going on here.”



“So do I. I’d like to know, for starters, why Bambera saw fit to put in charge a man with all the charm and charisma of a speak-your-weight machine.”



“That’s not what I mean. I’ve been talking to the staff. Doctor – none of them have ever been inside that house. They think it’s just a few little monsters, designed to make small children jump,” said Charley.



“How very odd. Well done, Charley.”



“The Brigadier’s right, isn’t he? This is all down to mind games again.”



“Could be, could be. Take a look at this.”



“That’s a map of the park, isn’t it?”



“Correct. I’ve just been trying to puzzle out why Chaos Manor is built precisely on that spot, right on the side of the cliff. It’s a very expensive attraction, and yet, if the cliff were to erode, which it has done frequently in the past, it would be the first thing to end up in the sea. Seems like a huge gamble to take with something worth so much money, especially when the park’s going broke,” said the Doctor, drumming his fingers on the desk.



Charley slapped the back of his hand. “Stop it – you know how annoying that is.”



He drummed them some more, just to irritate her, and abruptly pushed his chair back, swinging round to face the rest of the room. “Does anyone know whether there are any tunnels into the cliff?” he asked.



“Of course there are,” said one of the attendants, a portly man with a beard, “Smugglers’ tunnels. That’s what Smugglers’ Creek is all about.”



The Doctor nodded, and pulled out his watch. “Quarter to ten,” he said, leaping to his feet. “Come on – we don’t have much time.”







***





With dusk approaching, the park was steadily becoming illuminated as they hurried down the main path to Chaos Manor. Dinosaurs and jungle animals suddenly appeared in the twilight, Sleeping Beauty’s castle shimmering on its man-made hill.



The manor was also floodlit, the goblins hanging from the guttering and in the trees thrown into sharp relief against the sandstone walls.



The door creaked open: ‘Welcome, travellers…’



“Is there no way of turning that off?” asked the Brigadier. “It’s enough to make my hair stand on end, what’s left of it.”



“There’s a switchboard round the back,” said Charley, “One of the attendants told me.”



“Hold on.” The Doctor ducked round the side of the house, sonic screwdriver in hand. A moment later, they heard a shrill whine, followed by a crack and a loud bang.



“Doctor?” Charley called, “Are you all right?”



“Fine.” He reappeared, none the worse. “I can’t override the controls – it’s stuck permanently to the ‘on’ position.”



“ I could have told you that,” said Halliwell, “We tried to turn it off when we arrived. The switch has been jammed in some way.”



“Oh, I don’t think so,” said the Doctor. He produced a metal box from behind his back and showed it to them. “This is the switchboard – as you can see, it’s hollow. No wiring. It’s a fake.”



“Why on Earth would anyone do that?” wondered the Brigadier.



“I have a feeling it’s because this house doesn’t need electricity,” the Doctor said. “Anything that seems to be manually controlled is just window dressing.” He threw the empty box into the shrubbery, and gestured to the now-open doorway. “Shall we?”

 

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It was dark, and cold after the humidity of the summer evening outside. Charley decided that this was the reason a shiver trickled down her spine, nothing to do with the atmosphere in the house. She could feel the hairs prickling on the back of her neck.


“It feels like there’s something here,” she said.



“You have a point,” the Brigadier agreed, “I can feel something, too.”



“I can’t feel anything,” said Halliwell, predictably.



“That’s not a surprise,” the Doctor told him, “your senses haven’t become attuned to the alien yet.” He led them down the gloomy corridor towards the final chamber. Charley stared straight ahead, doing her best not to look at the creatures emerging from the walls.



“Are you going to share your thoughts with us, Doctor?” the Brigadier asked.



“In a moment, Alistair,” the Doctor replied. He was looking around the room, twirling the sonic screwdriver between his fingers. “Charley, you’ve been reading the guidebook – did you find out anything about Smugglers’ Creek?”



She frowned. “Only that the cove down below was frequently used to land contraband in the eighteenth century. The smugglers transported the kegs through the tunnels in the cliff to escape the revenue men.”



“But they stopped, didn’t they?”



“Did you read the book yourself? The tunnels haven’t been used since the early nineteenth century,” Charley continued when she didn’t get a reply, “They developed a reputation for being haunted.”



“So we’re dealing with ghosts?” said Halliwell. “More impossibilities.”



“I don’t believe in ghosts,” said the Doctor firmly. He was crouched in the corner of the room, looking at something by the light of the torch concealed in the sonic screwdriver’s handle.



Charley crossed the room to join him, curious. “What’ve you found?”



There was a brief whine from the screwdriver, and a moment later the Doctor was lifting one of the stone slabs that made up the floor.



“A trap door!” said the Brigadier. “How on Earth did you find that?”



“I looked for it,” the Doctor said.



“I suppose it leads down to the tunnels,” said Charley.



He grinned at her. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”



“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” she said, pleased. “I assume our murderer lives in the tunnels.”



“In a manner of speaking.”



“Aliens?” asked the Brigadier.



“Klendrians, to be exact,” said the Doctor. “I guessed it was them when I read about the hauntings in the guidebook.”



“So you did read it!” Charley exclaimed. “Why did you ask me about it if you knew all the time?”



“Sometimes it helps to reiterate information. Anyway, Klendrians are mind parasites – they lurk on populated planets, feeding on fear. They’re responsible for half the ghost stories in the galaxy. They root through your mind, searching for your greatest fear, and magnify it. People coming into this house wouldn’t expect to be scared witless, making them more vulnerable.” The Doctor was checking his watch again.



“So they’ve been feeding on the fear generated by the visitors?” asked Halliwell.



“Precisely. Ah – ten o’clock. Bang on time.”



A man was climbing out of the tunnel, Charley realised, a man in a suit and, strangely given the dim light, dark glasses. He recoiled at the beam from the Doctor’s torch. “What’re you doing here?” he demanded, his voice high and nervous, “This attraction is closed to the public.”



Halliwell flipped open his identification. “United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. This place has been closed to all park personnel. Would you kindly explain who you are and what you’re doing here, sir?”



“I’m Alan Burke,” the man said, “I own the park. You shouldn’t be in here – you’d do well to get out right now.”



“Why –are your little friends coming out to play?” inquired the Doctor casually.



Burke stiffened. “What do you know about them?”



The Time Lord stepped forwards. “They must be giving you an awful headache, Mr Burke. How long have they been hiding in there?”



“They’re not – ” A choking sound erupted from Burke’s throat. When he next spoke, his voice was different: lower, rasping, distorted. “Who are you?” it growled.



“I wondered when I’d get to speak to the organ grinder. I take it I am addressing the leader of the Klendrian swarm?”



“Correct. Identify yourself.”



“Oh, I’m the Doctor. This is Charley, and Alistair - ”



“Their names are not important. They will be absorbed.”



“Is that what you did to those other poor people? Did you get greedy? Hmm? Feeding on their fear of this place wasn’t enough, was it?” asked the Doctor. “You had to magnify their fear to such an extent that it killed them.”



“Those creatures are in that poor man’s head?” asked Charley, horrified.



“They can do that, set up shop in some poor unsuspecting soul’s mind. The Klendrians possess enormous mental power, capable of changing the fabric of reality – under their influence, Mr Burke must have remoulded the interior of the house, making it more useful to them.” The Doctor’s expression was angry now. “That wasn’t enough for them, though – they used their power directly on those poor people, who just happened to be the last visitors of the day, and sucked every last drop out of them. Of course, with the house closed since then, they’ve been going hungry.”



“We will feed,” rasped Burke.



“I don’t think so. You’ll find we’re not such easy meat.” The Doctor took another step forwards. “How about letting Mr Burke go, and we’ll talk.”



“Impossible. The host is required.”



“He’s done nothing – you are destroying him! What will you take from him next?” The Doctor reached out and pulled away Burke’s sunglasses. Charley gasped – beneath them, the man was blind. In place of his eyes were two glowing crystals – they appeared to be growing out of hi skull. She felt sick. There was a sharp intake of breath behind her – turning, she saw that Halliwell was staring at Burke, his face twisted in revulsion.



The Doctor’s touch seemed to somehow reach Burke – his arms shot forwards, hands grabbing the Doctor’s waistcoat. Both Charley and the Brigadier started towards him, but the Doctor held up a hand.



“No – stay there. Mr Burke? Mr Burke, this is the Doctor. Let me help you.”



Burke’s fingers convulsed, crushing the fabric between them. His mouth opened, and his natural voice emerged, shaking, in a gasp: “…no one can help me…get…get away…save yourselves…”



The choking sound ripped from his throat again, and the Klendrians were back. “You are not human,” the creature within Burke declared.



“No, I’m not,” said the Doctor. “Let this man go, and I might consider giving you all a lift to an unpopulated planet somewhere. You can stop preying on people.”



The creature ignored him. “You will give us food, give us a feast…we have waited for so long without…sustenance…”



“Doctor,” said Charley, shivers creping down her spine once more, “What do they mean?”



“Charley, get out of here now,” said the Doctor, “Take Alistair and Halliwell with you.”



“No! I won’t leave you - ”



“Don’t argue with me, Charley – just do it!”



There was the sudden sound of keys turning in locks, of bolts being drawn across, doors slamming. “They will not leave. They will be absorbed…when we have taken our fill of you…Doctor…” cackled the Klendrian.



“Looks like the kibosh has been put on that idea,” said the Brigadier. “Sorry, Doctor.”



“Not your fault, Alistair,” the Time Lord replied.



It had grown darker – Charley couldn’t see the passage behind them any more. The Klendrians had cut off any means of escape. She wanted to go to the Doctor, be by his side, but the thing that had once been Alan Burke was still gripping him by the waistcoat.



Something suddenly caught her eye – she glanced round to see that Halliwell was moving, but it was too dark to make out exactly what he was up to.



Her attention was draw back to Burke at that moment – the crystals that had once been his eyes were glowing, casting an unearthly light over him and the Doctor. A diabolical smile had twisted Burke’s mild face, an expression which reminded Charley forcibly of the creatures in the walls, creatures which, mercifully, it was too dark to see.



“We will take our time with you…Doctor,” the Klendrian whispered, its voice rasping like a saw on metal, “You will die…slowly…”



“I don’t intend to die at all - ” The Doctor’s defiance ended abruptly as the next moment the light washed over him and he was screaming.



Charley tried to run to his side, but the Brigadier held her back. “I have to help him!” she cried.



“No, Charley – you’d be sucked in too!”



“It’s going to kill him!”



“He knows what he’s doing,” the Brigadier said, but she didn’t miss the anxiety in his face.



The light was growing steadily brighter. Charley found herself wondering if this was what had happened to the people who had died, whether the creatures had turned their attention to them one at a time, forced them to watch while their friends were killed…it was horrible. She tried to look away, but couldn’t.



The Doctor’s cries had escalated, caught up in the rushing wind that was suddenly all around in the confined space, coalescing into a tornado around him and the thing that was no longer Alan Burke. If the Klendrians could magnify your greatest fear, what on Earth could the Doctor be seeing to make him scream like that, in terror and in pain?



Charley could see things in the light now, swirling around the Doctor, things she couldn’t make out. Twisted faces and sharp claws…



“We have to do something!” she cried desperately.



The Brigadier reached into his pocket. To her surprise, he withdrew a gun. “Always pays to be prepared,” he said, and levelled the weapon, trying to get an aim on Burke.



“You can’t – you’ll hit the Doctor!”



The old soldier swore. “Can’t get a clear line of sight. Always the same – bullets never work on monsters.”



The Klendrians were laughing, their rasping gurgle magnified a hundredfold, as if the creatures in the walls were joining in.



Charley stared at the Doctor – his head was thrown back, his face contorted in agony. She could see something, something flickering around him. His face was blurring, rippling, like water. Beneath it she could make out someone else’s face, the face of a man she’d never seen before, a man with a long thin nose and bony features, his hair cropped close to his scalp.



“What’s happening?” she shouted, alarmed.



“Good God.” said the Brigadier. “Not again.”



The Doctor and the stranger gave a high, keening wail, two voices mingling into one.



Two shot rang out, loud in the enclosed space.



The light dimmed a little. Charley glanced at the Brigadier, but his gun was slack in his hand. He was staring across the room.



At Halliwell.



The major had crept round behind the Burke-creature without anyone noticing. As they watched, unable to do anything, he pumped three more bullets into the thing’s back.



Burke cried out, an oddly human sound, stark after the voice of the Klendrians, and crumpled, dropping the Doctor. They both tumbled to the ground.



Charley and the Brigadier rushed to the Doctor’s side. He was groaning, trying to get up, but still thankfully himself. The other man had disappeared. Beside him, Burke’s body was smoking, its sightless eyes staring at the ceiling.



“Doctor?” Charley asked, helping him to sit up. “Are you all right?”



“What…what happened?” Before anyone could explain, the Doctor’s sharp eyes found Halliwell, and the gun in his hand. “You!” he exclaimed, suddenly on his feet. “Have you any idea what you’ve done?”



“I saved your life!” Halliwell spat, his emotionless front gone, “You ungrateful - ” He found himself grabbed by the jacket and thrown against the wall.



“How dare you?” demanded the Doctor. “That man had done nothing wrong!”



“He would have killed you! He was hosting a malevolent alien entity, he was a threat!” shouted Halliwell, evidently more than a little startled by the unnatural strength of a man smaller and slighter than himself. The Doctor had lifted him off the floor. “I did my job!”



“You may have killed us all.” Charley recognised that tone in the Doctor’s voice – very, very quiet, almost a whisper. It meant he was really, really angry. “We have to get out of here. Now.”



“Why?” Charley asked.



“Because the Klendrians have lost the link to their host, and I don’t think they can cope with the energy they took from me without one.” There was a sound now, just within human hearing, a high-pitched screeching that was steadily becoming louder. It set Charley’s teeth on edge. The Doctor looked around worriedly. “They’ve gorged themselves.”



“You mean they have indigestion?” asked the Brigadier.



“Something like that.” The Doctor shook Halliwell. “Come on – you said there was a fire exit!”



“There is,” said the major, glaring at him with the most emotion Charley had seen in his face – sheer loathing. “You’ve been bashing me up against it.”



The Time Lord let him go. “Thank you. Right – everyone out, now!” He flung open the door.



They didn’t need telling twice. The screeching was reaching a crescendo – Charley stuck her fingers in her ears and plunged through the open door into the sticky night air. The others were behind her – she didn’t stop running until she reached the top of the cliff, her legs somehow carrying her up the slope.



She stopped and turned back, just in time to see Chaos Manor explode.
***


The Doctor threw her to the ground, sheltering her with his body as chunks of masonry pounded into the tarmac around them.



When he finally let her go, there was nothing left of the house, or the stretch of cliff on which it stood.



“It’s over,” the Doctor said, and promptly collapsed.

 

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The sun was going down.



Orange light scattered over the water, millions of tiny fragments dancing on the waves as they crashed to the shore.



Charley and the Doctor sat on a bench in NurseryLand, high above the scene of devastation where Chaos Manor used to be. The resultant crater was still swarming with UNIT troops. The explosion had taken a large chunk of the cliff away, consigning half of FantasyLand, several dinosaurs and much of the jungle to the deep. A fibreglass lion’s head had landed in the bushes in front of the Three Little Pigs’ cottage and was staring at them with a rather bemused expression.



All the power was off – the park was bathed in the light from the setting sun instead of its usual electric beams. Humpty Dumpty was stuck permanently half off his wall, the music of the elf orchestra in the hollow tree currently silenced.



The explosion had revealed the smugglers’ tunnels. Halliwell and the Brigadier went down to investigate, and discovered the remains of an organic spaceship. The major was avoiding the Doctor. He had been badly shaken by his first encounter was aliens, and blamed the Time Lord.



“What will happen now?” Charley asked, stretching. She’d finally shed her uncomfortable sandals – her feet were resting in the Doctor’s lap.



“Oh, I expect they’ll put it down to cliff erosion, start again. The park’s constantly falling into the sea. At least the Klendrians won’t be back.”



“But people must have seen, and heard, the explosion – it’ll be all over the newspapers!”



The Doctor chuckled. “I don’t think so. Halliwell’s already been in there waving the Official Secrets Act. UNIT’s good at keeping things under wraps – they’ve been doing it for decades.”



“But that’s not fair! People surely have a right to know.”



“The general public couldn’t cope with the things UNIT have to deal with – Alistair will tell you that. If they knew they were being menaced every other week by big green things with tentacles, all hell would break loose.”



“I suppose so,” Charley conceded.



They both looked out over the water for a while, sitting in companionable silence. The Doctor idly tickled Charley’s toes. She watched him, thinking that he was looking better after a few hours’ sleep and several cups of very sweet tea. After his collapse, he had been unconscious for some time – she and the Brigadier had watched him anxiously, but the man from the house hadn’t returned.



“Not this time,” said the Brigadier, evidently relieved. When Charley had looked blank, he explained about regeneration. Charley finally understood all of the Doctor’s cryptic comments about having changed his appearance. “Let’s not tell him, though,” Alistair said, “I’ve hardly got to know this one, but I like him – let’s not worry him with the future.”



Charley looked at the Doctor now, at the clear cut lines of his profile, the dark curls falling over his forehead, and wondered at the incredibility of him becoming someone else, of having been someone else. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like.



“Did they find Mr Burke’s body?” she asked finally.



The Doctor shook his head. “There was nothing left.”



“Poor man.”



“Hmm. The Klendrians must have been controlling him for some time. He was very good at covering his tracks. When the visitors left Chaos Manor, they wouldn’t remember what had happened, hence no complaints. A steady source of food.”



“Until they got greedy.”



“Yes. They stimulated the fear centres of the brain – humans can only take so much. The signals from the brain became scrambled.”



“So their hearts stopped.”



“Mm-hmm. Nasty way to die.” He was massaging her sore foot now, intent on his task. “Fortunately, Time Lord brains are wired differently. I could withstand the attack.”



Only just, thought Charley. The Doctor had been furious with Halliwell for shooting Alan Burke, but the major had saved his life. A few minutes more, and she would have been sitting here talking to a stranger. She didn’t tell him this, though.



“So the Klendrians were responsible for all the ghostly legends in the tunnels,” she remarked.



“Trouble was, they ended up frightening off their only source of food. They must have been dormant down there for decades until the park was built. Apparently, there used to be an old haunted house attraction on the site of Chaos Manor.”



“Doctor,” said Charley, looking out over the bay, “Can we have a real holiday now? Somewhere away from monsters and people dying?”



He leaned over and gave her a hug. “Where would you like to go?”



“Somewhere you won’t get into any trouble.”



A shadow fell over them. “Ah, there you are,” said the Brigadier. “Thought I might find you up here.”



“We decided to keep out of the way,” said the Doctor. “Have you finished directing operations?”



“Oh, I’m merely an adviser, Doctor. I leave all that to Halliwell – he seems to enjoy it.”



They shuffled over to make room for the Brigadier on the bench. The Doctor kept his arm around Charley – she snuggled into his shoulder.



“I couldn’t help overhearing,” the Brigadier said after a moment’s thought, “You know, if it’s a break you want, you’re quite welcome to come and stay with Doris and I for a few days.”



The Doctor blinked in surprise. “Alistair, we wouldn’t want to impose - ”



“Nonsense. I’m sure Doris would love to see you, and I know she wants to meet Charley.”



“I don’t know - ”



“We’d love to,” said Charley, interrupting. “Thank you, Brigadier, it’s a lovely idea.”



“Good.” The old soldier looked pleased. “That’s settled then.”



There was an amused smile on the Doctor’s face. “Alistair, I haven’t seen Doris since 1995 – have you ever mentioned the fact that I’ve…er, changed a little since then?”



“Good Lord, no. Oh dear.”



Charley recognised the evil glint in the Doctor’s eye. “She’s in for a shock.”



Shaking her head and smiling, Charley said, “I think this is going to be an interesting few days…”




FIN


Author’s note:

Bateman, Butkus and Burke’s Gardens of Magic and Wonder are in fact based on a real place – Blackgang Chine on the Isle of Wight, just off the south coast of England. Though never “an Edwardian amusement park gone to seed”, it is constantly falling into the sea due to erosion. It’s one of my favourite places, all except Rumpus Mansion, the model for Chaos Manor – despite the lack of alien mind parasites, it still gives me the creeps.
 

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