Something in the Water

TWENTY-SIX

Click.

For a long, long moment, nobody moved. There was complete silence. Gwen was faintly aware of the water in the bay, and then the feel of the wind on her face, and the sad, condescending smile on Saskia’s hideous face.

‘Whoops,’ she said gently. ‘Gun empty. Never mind.’

And, in a flash, the water hag’s long arm shot out, and the hooked talons on the end of her fingers raked the pistol out of Gwen’s hands. The gun spun through the air, away into the darkness, to land with a distant, irrelevant clatter.

Gwen looked with incomprehension at her hands. Saskia’s claws had ripped the underside of her left hand wide open and blood was pouring down her wrists, dripping onto the pavement at her feet in big red blotches.

Then her legs gave way, knees dropping, and she fell with a dry croak to the floor.

Only to be picked up by Saskia again and dangled in the air. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘It’s not time for you to go yet, Gwen. You’re my key to the Rift …’ She raised Gwen a little higher and then dipped her head so that she could lick the blood from her hand with her long, black tongue. ‘Mmm. Yummy humans.’

‘Bitch,’ said Gwen.

‘You know, I have to say I’m a little disappointed. I’d heard it said that Earth was defended.’ Saskia gave a light chuckle. ‘Is this really all you’ve got?’

‘Not quite,’ said a voice from behind her.

Saskia twisted her head at an unnatural angle to see who had spoken. Gwen could just see the figure stepping out of the shadows by the wharf. The lights from the bay cast a soft halo around the outline of a tall man in a long coat.

‘There’s always me,’ said Jack. He raised his arm and aimed his revolver at the water hag. The other aliens turned and hissed like frightened cats, but Saskia seemed unmoved.

‘Captain Harkness,’ she purred. ‘How nice to see you again. And looking so well.’

‘Touch of flu,’ Jack said. ‘Over it now.’

Saskia frowned. ‘No unexpected arrivals? No pitter-patter of tiny feet?’

‘Oh, yeah, there was that.’ Jack pulled a face and then lifted his leg, holding up his foot so that Saskia could see the bottom of his boot. There were lumps of blood and flesh jammed into the rugged treads. ‘Had to put my foot down, though.’

Saskia glared fiercely at the remains but said nothing.

‘I missed you in the park,’ Jack continued, narrowing his eyes as he took careful aim. ‘But I won’t miss now.’

Saskia swung Gwen around until she was dangling in front of her, protecting her. ‘Want to bet?’

‘Human shield, huh?’ Jack tutted. ‘You guys never learn.’

And then he pulled the trigger.

Gwen felt the heat of the bullet as it passed her face. Her skin was scorched, but she only became aware of the pain after she’d heard the heavy thud of the round hitting Saskia. The water hag was knocked backwards, but she kept her grip on Gwen’s throat and brought her down on top of her. Gwen landed awkwardly, unable to break her fall, but satisfied in that all of her weight had come down on the water hag’s chest. There was a gust of cold, fetid air as the breath was knocked out of her. Gwen twisted, struggling, but Saskia maintained her grip, the stick-like fingers closing tighter around her neck, threatening to suffocate her. Gwen’s struggles grew more panicky as she realised that she really couldn’t breathe; and she was more frightened by that than the green ichor spurting all over her from the wound in Saskia’s neck.

Then someone grabbed her by the scruff, wrenched her aside so violently that Saskia almost ripped her head off, and jammed an old service revolver into the water hag’s face.

‘Did I mention what a good shot I am?’ asked Jack. His finger squeezed the trigger, but the shot, at point-blank range, exploded into the ground beneath as Saskia slammed him aside using Gwen as a bludgeon. The two of them sprawled across the concrete, then Saskia leapt to her feet, still holding on to Gwen. Jack turned onto his back, bringing the pistol up, but suddenly the water hag held the high ground.

‘Not good enough,’ Saskia hissed, throwing Gwen down on top of him.

Gwen gasped, choking and retching as she tried to draw breath, aware of the searing pain in her left hand more than anything else. Jack rolled, trying to free himself, but the advantage was lost. The other water hags, at a signal from their leader, were closing in, claws and teeth bared. Jack couldn’t shoot them all, no matter how good a shot he was.

There was a moment of stalemate: Gwen on all fours, barely able to breathe; Jack on one knee beside her, hand on her shoulder, his gun raised, sweeping it back and forth across the approaching aliens.

‘Who’s gonna be first to die?’ he asked savagely.

‘Does it matter?’ Saskia responded. ‘You have four bullets left. There’s eight of us here — and how many more are due to arrive in the next day or so? A hundred? A thousand?’

‘They’ll never make it,’ Jack told her. ‘We’ve got the antidote. There’s a serum which will kill the homunculi in situ. I’ve got my people working on it now, transmitting the formula to the authorities. By morning, they’ll be rolling it out right across the country. Kills ’em dead.’

Saskia bared her black fangs. ‘Is that what you did to yours?’

‘Coughed it right up on the floor and then squashed it under my boot,’ Jack growled.

‘No mercy?’

‘Not when the planet’s at stake. This is Torchwood. We don’t do political correctness.’

‘Then you’ll understand that I can’t show you any mercy in return,’ Saskia smiled. ‘As you say, not when the planet’s at stake. You die and the Earth is ours.’

‘And that’s where we come in,’ said Owen Harper.

He was standing away to one side, with Ianto right beside him. Even in the moonlight, Gwen could see that neither of them looked well — white-faced, haggard, almost at the point of collapse. They were armed with sub-machine guns but, even so, as a rescue attempt she had to admit it didn’t look promising. Owen was leaning against the wall in order to remain upright, lips pressed into a thin line, the Heckler amp; Koch MP5 tucked in against his waist as if it was too heavy to hold properly. Ianto, unbelievably, was in shirtsleeves — bloodstained and open-necked, and, clutching the gun, looking more like an extra from a Die Hard film than an immaculate butler.

‘I think the saying is, “Put your hands up”,’ said Ianto.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Owen cut in. ‘Believe me, I want to shoot.’

Moving as one, the water hags screamed and flew into action. Several dived towards Owen and Ianto, claws slashing, but the response was never in doubt: the MP5s roared and the hags were cut down in mid air, spraying dark blood into the night.

Next, confusion: Gwen crawling out of the way, dimly aware that Jack was moving in the opposite direction. More water hags yelling and hissing, and frequent, controlled bursts of gunfire from the SMGs. Gwen looked back at one point and saw Owen standing over a fallen water hag, MP5 directed at its head, execution-style. One point-blank burst shattered the head like a dropped melon and he moved on, face grim.

Ianto was down on one knee, his own weapon raised to his shoulder so that he could aim more carefully. He, too, was squeezing off short, shattering rounds, picking off the water hags where they stood. The one nearest to Gwen was flung back in a hail of gunfire. Weed and moss slopped onto the pavement as the creature staggered back and fell. It crawled along the pavement trailing weeds and green slime, whining to itself, but still very much alive.

Toshiko’s voice flooded into Gwen’s head: ‘Gwen, can you read me?’

‘Yeah, I’m here.’

‘Thank goodness you’re all right. I’m checking the CCTV — Saskia’s heading for the quay.’

Gwen twisted around, peering past the wounded hag lying on the ground nearby, through the gun smoke drifting across Roald Dahl Plass, and saw Saskia disappearing into the darkness towards the bay — closely followed by a tall, running figure in a greatcoat.

‘Jack’s after her,’ said Gwen.

‘I think she’s heading for the water,’ Toshiko said. ‘Safety, as far as she’s concerned … Cardiff Bay is fresh water, not sea water. Gwen, she mustn’t get there.’

‘I’m on it.’ Gwen heaved herself upright, holding her injured hand under the opposite arm, trying to ignore the sharp waves of pain bursting through the lacerated flesh. She tried to keep low, running in a crouch in the hope of avoiding any stray bullets.

Ianto had taken cover behind a bench, firing at the remaining water hags, trying to hold them off. No matter how many carefully aimed shots he used, they refused to die. ‘Alien anatomy,’ Ianto muttered in disgust as he hurriedly snapped a fresh magazine into the H amp;K. ‘You can never be sure which bit to shoot at, can you?’

Gwen stepped over the bench and dropped down beside him. ‘Jack’s gone after Saskia,’ she said. ‘Can you hold them here?’

Ianto nodded. ‘I can try. No promises, mind.’

Gwen nodded, got up and ran down towards the sea front.

‘Which way did they go?’ she asked Toshiko.

‘Down towards Mermaid Quay, I think. They’re in a CCTV black spot. I’ve lost them both.’

Gwen swore and hurried on. The pain in her hand was terrible now, a momentous throb of agony that kept distracting her. She stopped, hunched over, fighting back the urge to sob and wail, knowing she had to concentrate and do the job. But she could hardly move for the pain; she could hardly think.

She stumbled on a few paces. ‘Jack? Jack, are you here?’

There was no reply except for the sound of the water washing against the quayside. She slumped down against the side of the building, feeling cold and utterly alone. Her hand was burning, but she was starting to shiver as the cold wind came in off the bay and cut right through her denim jacket.

‘Jack?’ she called out again, but her voice sounded very small and the word was carried away into the night by the wind.

Slowly she lifted a hand to her ear. ‘Tosh? Toshiko? Are you there?’

Silence.