The Thirteenth Doctor: Wired Hearts Chapter 3 By Thomas Beech

After following Amara down the winding paths of the slums, the trio approach a moderately sized ‘home’. As Amara unlocked her door, The Doctor couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as eyes penetrated her in the form of villagers looking out of their windows and doorways at the ‘stranger’. Graham felt a similar presence… It bore into him as the last turns of the lock are heard. A ticking clock…

“The killings started weeks ago. Far more than your ‘news’ reports on.” Amara scoffed, offering the Doctor and Graham bottled water as they sat themselves down in her dwellings. Her home was small, with sheet metal covering the cracks and eroded brick work, blocking the assaulting sand outside.

“Is there anything significant with the causes of death? Anything that could lead to a main suspect?” The Doctor queried, stroking her chin.

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve only seen one body myself...” Amara pauses, “that was last night.” Amara’s eyes portrayed a wave of sadness.

“Okay then!” The Doctor said, wiping the subject, “you mentioned a ‘charity’ are they supporting the village?”

“Wired Hearts...” Amara said the words like venom, cutting through Graham as his hand trembled with his cup.

“Supporting... It’s a strong, stupid word Doctor.” Amara sneers, spilling a drop of water down the Doctor’s bottle. “You see that water droplet?”

The Doctor nods, looking intently at the trickling drop of liquid.

“Your cup represents the majority. Wired Hearts help the larger settlements, the ones they can show on a screen and ‘market’. The droplet is me and my village.We are left to fester as our populous turn up at dawn, on the floor, torn to pieces. Yet, Wired Hearts has no care for us.” Amara lifts her head to the ceiling.

“Oh!” Graham remarks, placing the cup down. “What’s with them… Metal men? I saw them on an advert before coming here.” Graham smiles, “Surely they’re doing some good here?”

The Doctor scowls before Amara interjects.

“They are a scourge. We don’t know where they came from. Who they are. What they are really doing here. They arrive every morning, all in formation and round up civilians. They answer no questions, speak only in commandments.”

“The bodies, Are they what come back?” The Doctor asks, clasping her hands together.

“Yes. At first it was people I wasn’t familiar with, some folk from the other side of the village. Friends of friends…”

“Family?” Graham asks, cautiously looking around the room and afraid of the answer.

“No, just me.” Amara answered sharply, her body tensed in her chair.

“I assume they got evacuated?” The Doctor said. “What are Wired Hearts doing about the disappearances? The deaths?

“No.” Amara snapped. “They sit in that ivory eyesore, looming over us while they claim there is nothing to fear.”

“God.” Graham mumbles, sipping on his water. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t need your apologies. We want answers. We want justice. Someone, possibly Wired Hearts themselves have been doing this to us and we demand they be stopped.” Amara responds passionately.

The Doctor stands, “My sentiments exactly Amara!” The Doctor exclaims, placing a hand on Amara’s shoulder. “Can you take us to a crime scene? I can make a proper examination. If the killer has left evidence, we’ll catch them.”

***

The alleyway felt claustrophobic as rusted roofs cast an enclosing shadow over the trio. Making tentative steps, the Doctor drags her hands across the sand, feeling the particles drag and tickle across her sensitive fingertips. Lowering her hand deeper, pressing a palm against the ground, her breathing is caught out. She feels a vibration under the sand. It’s a similar Rhythm to a heartbeat, a constant thrumming heartbeat. The Doctor makes a mental note, placing a question mark by it, hoping it’s just oil drilling far away.

“Wired Hearts have cleared away the body and scoured the site for any evidence already.” Amara stated bluntly. “The only evidence you could get here is forensic at best.” She shrugs, looking towards the Doctor and Graham.

“That’s a solid idea Amara.” The Doctor retorts, unsheathing her sonic screwdriver from her coat, pressing the apparatus to make it buzz and glow an ambient yellow. After a few flicks, she faces the crystallised core to her eye, looking curiously at its readings. “Hmm. That can’t be right.” The Doctor mutters.

“What is it Doc?” Graham asks, looking over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing in my readings.” Said the Doctor , leaving Graham bewildered. “I need a something substantial to determine their deaths. This area has been sterilised, completely wiped clean.”

“It’s not like another killing is gonna happen on cue Doc.” Graham says haphazardly, soon shutting up as a flurry of screams echo in the distance...

“You’ve gotta be...”

“Graham, Amara! Come on!” The Doctor sprints off, Amara trails behind as they turn a corner, dust swirling behind them. Graham stands however, his feet are frozen to the core... His eyes are unblinking.

“Graham... I need your help...” The Child whispered hoarsely behind him, taking his hand to lead him away to the outskirts of the village...

***

“Let us through! Let us through!” Cried the Doctor as she brushed through crowds of people. Amara followed in line, her head shaking as she feared for what she was about to see. Breaking through the dense crowd, the Doctor gasped at the sight of a dumped body. It was an adult male, thankfully dressed with torn, sand blasted clothing. The body had rolled on the ground when dumped sometime ago as sand clung to the dead skin.

“Okay people, can ya move back please?” The Doctor said, brandishing the psychic paper to the onlookers. “World Health Organisation. Scientific Advisor. Please move along... Cheers!” The Doctor smiles warmly as the crowd slowly dispersed, still glancing at the sight ahead of them.

Spinning on a heel, the Doctor kneels over the body, her eyes flicker over the body, making quick snapshots of the corpse. A glint of silver catches her gaze. Her finger delicately taps at a silver bolt embedded into its neck…

“I don’t think that belongs there...” Muttered the Doctor. Her tapping causes the silver piece to flake off into her palm, it tingles warmly against her skin. Stuffing it into her coat, she turns slowly to Amara. “Did you now this man?” The Doctor asked cautiously.

“No, not personally, I keep myself to myself. We have to here. I knew he was among the missing. What did this?” Amara said, looking away as the crowds finally dispersed.

“No idea. Nothing seems right here.” The Doctor places a palm on the man’s chest. She recoils in shock. “Ah! Cold… Steel...” The Doctor said with a hushed interest.

“But the heat? The corpse would be warm?” Amara says, kneeling by the Doctor.

“Unless it was kept in a cool environment before being dumped? Was it preserved?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Amara.” The Doctor responds, “questions... Why persevere the body and how did they die? There’s no indication of stabbing, no signs of struggle even. Second, what has the facility to refrigerate a body like this to keep it cold for so long?”

“I think the answer is about to become clear.” Amara stares at the approaching pair of Cybermen stomp across the sand. Their armour was scratched and rough as the sand swirled and blasted it.

“You Must Come With Uzz” They spoke in unison.

The doctor looks across at Amara and grins…

***

The sand ravaged the landscape... Whispering pure unspeakable terrors into Graham’s ears as he walked. His obscured vision shows him swaying figures of crystallised sand; their touch is harsh, scratching against his skin. Graham feels a friendly hand grip his and feels a phantom of comfort in return.

“You must walk on. To see the Truth, you must walk on.” A voice carried on the wind. Was it the Child? Was it some higher power? Graham has no idea, it wasn’t his business before and now it was. The swirling sands slowed to a crawl around his feet. Graham found that his shoes sunk deeper into the sand before, was it trying to stop him going further?

The Child had let his grip go, leaving Graham to stand in the swirling sands.

“Where’d you go?!” Graham cried, “what Truth mate?” Graham said lowly, squinting his eyes to clear the picture. The ground smoothed below Graham’s feet, revealing strange shapes breaking from below.

“What the eck?” Graham kneels down, inspecting a rusted, buried sculpture of a hand. “Why was this buried?” Graham mutters, gripping the hand to look closer...

Suddenly! The hand snaps shut on his wrist, holding it in a scalding vice. Graham screams and struggles against it as the ground rumbles below, a rusted, silver figure clings to the ground ripping themselves free. Still holding Graham hostage, it rises to tower over Graham.

Sand cascades from it’s rusted form. Pouring out from empty eye-sockets. They stare emotionless into the pale, screaming face of Graham. “What the Hell are you?!” Graham wails pushing desperately away!

Then... It spoke...

“tHeRe Is NoThInG tO fEaR...”

it’s voice froze Graham to the spot. It sounded broken, tortured even. It’s ‘mouth’ lit up dimly as it’s corroded grip raised Graham from the ground, looking ‘eye-to-eye’ with its prey...