|Doctor Who Companion Internet Adventure #05 - "Point of Destruction"
by Chris Nelson
Begin extract from Points of Deconstruction by Ramon Burns:
The hotel clerk was about five feet tall and painfully thin. His hair was combed over his head, almost hiding his balding patch. His crooked mouth twitched as I reached out to shake his hand. "Hello there!" I said. "I'm..." but I was cut off by the man.
"Yes, we know--Ramon Burns. We've been expecting you." Again, the little man stretched his mouth into a smile. It seemed to take an awful lot of effort--perhaps he was out of practice.
With a struggle, I maintained my poise. As usual, I was travelling incognito, using my real name rather than my pen name to avoid the hordes of fans who tend to flock around me. In this case, I had made doubly sure to refer to myself (in person and in correspondence) only as Thomas Thierry, personal assistant to Ramon Burns. I had heard too many disturbing rumours about the town of Agletone to risk such a high profile.
"I'm sorry, you've misunderstood," I said briefly. "Ramon was unable to make it this week. I'm Tommy Thierry, Ramon's assistant."
The clerk flashed his weak smile for a third time. "Of course, sir." As he reached out for my bags, I thought I saw him lick his lips. "I hope you're looking forward to the festival?"
I followed him up a flight of steps. "Oh yes, Ramon has given me strict instructions to participate as closely as you'll allow me to. He wants to get a real *feel* for the town."
"Oh, I think we can arrange that," murmured the man. He opened the door to my room and handed me a key.
I fished in my pockets for a couple of bucks and sent the man on his way. As the door was swinging shut, I heard him say quietly, "Thank you, Mr. Burns."
* * *
Meanwhile, the rest of our strange cast of characters was continuing the intricate dance that the townspeople had set out for them. Although they haven't yet interacted with me in the narrative, I hope you'll continue to indulge me as I relate their experiences to you. Their stories are a part of my story; if I don't tell them together, it will be impossible for you to understand.
* * *
The 'alien' loomed over Kip, clutching his hand in a warm grip. "Kneel." Lawrence released him as his knees buckled under. He chuckled warmly. "Now it beginth..."
Lawrence looked down at the drugged body of the English tourist. Just another fly in the trap, another eager young disciple, another pair of ready hands to do his bidding.
Once, Lawrence had been a promising scientist, studying in the far East. Everyone said he had such potential, that he was such a nice young man. But that was before he'd begun to make his discoveries. That was before he learned how very important he was. That was before he had mastered the usage of ancient Oriental herbs and the science of mind control.
The people in town were already susceptible to outrageous claims, with their ludicrous history of alien invasions and pod people. It was simplicity itself to gently convince the townspeople that he was one of their precious aliens. Once he had them believing that, and once he had gained access to the town's water supply, he had a ready legion of workers.
Today Agletone; tomorrow the world! And there wasn't anyone alive who could stop him!
Lawrence yanked the Englishman to his feet. "It'th time we got thith thow on the road..."
* * *
But there were several newcomers besides myself to the town that the crazed madman hadn't yet encountered. Who among them might threaten his plans? Perhaps two true Believers...?
Rogue was tall, blond, voluptuous. Her tight t-shirt accentuated her already prominent bosom. Firedemon held her in his strong arms, kissing her until their mouths ached. He released her and then ran masculine fingers through his mane of fiery locks.
"Let's go meet some aliens, partner," he said with a growl. Rogue caught her breath and then nodded eagerly. "You always know what I want," she said breathily.
Firedemon looked at her for a long time and then seized her in his arms again. Hell, there'd be time for aliens soon enough...
* * *
Betsy was holding her breath. During her brief stint as a secretary for the British Secret Service, she had learned a few things about remaining calm while under extreme stress. She let the breath out slowly and then reached down to squeeze her companion's hand.
Alice was looking panic-stricken, her eyes scanning the church, desperately searching for a way out.
They had been brought inside the church at the edge of town. Outside, Betsy could hear the wind howling through the woods which crept up right to the darkened stain glass. The crowd of townspeople had directed them to the front pew and had then settled down all around them. She could hear them breathing in unison behind her and she felt the heavy weight of the sheriff to her right. She wasn't accustomed to being so physically close to a man, and forced down a brief twinge of desire. This was not the time to sleep with the enemy.
They'd been crouched here for about twenty minutes, but none of the townspeople had so much as twitched during that time. It was as if they were waiting for a sound or a sign.
Alice began to whimper again. "We have to get out of this church, out of this town! Kip is out there somewhere. God knows what they've done with him."
Betsy let out another deep breath of air and began to think aloud. "Remember what the sheriff said to us, though: 'You are not required or invited.' It sounds like they want your Kip for some reason."
"So do you think he's alive?"
Betsy couldn't quite bring herself to answer. Instead, she just listened to their voices echoing throughout the tiny church, seeming to fill every corner. The silent parishioners continued to stare straight ahead.
"What are they doing?" Alice asked frantically.
Betsy shook her head. "I don't know. But they don't seem like they care about us at all anymore. I'm going to try something."
As she spoke, the Englishwoman slowly rose to her feet. She kept her eyes riveted to the people seated around her. They remained perfect still.
"They're not moving," breathed Alice. She gathered up her courage and stood as well. The two women slowly stepped away from the pew and began to edge toward the door. And then they froze in terror as every head in the church turned to look at them.
* * *
I was ready now. I'd worked out in the gym for half an hour or so, showered, and sampled the contents of my room's mini-fridge.
What secrets would this town hold for me? Why did they want me here so badly? Why was I so very important to this town? I'm just Tommy Thierry, no different than any other proud American. I was ready to learn the answers.
I left my hotel room around midnight. I was looking for answers... Little did I know the horrors that would await me...
End extract. Any similarity between people or places in this work of fiction to actual people or places is strictly coincidental. Film rights reserved, Burning Productions, 1981.
To be continued...
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