The Thirteenth Doctor: Wired Hearts Prologue and Chapter One By Thomas Beech

PROLOGUE

NAMIBIA

Harsh sands swirled peacefully in the early evening. There were very little signs of life on the outskirts of the makeshift village. All except a mother and their child cautiously making their way through the interconnected narrow passageways. For Amara and her son Siel, this was their daily routine. Amara was young but aged by circumstance. Her slim build was just enough to survive on with the minimum of food her and Siel had to live on.

They had traveled mass distances for mere essentials. It was a simple process of travelling on foot then returning in the early evening. Yet on this fateful occasion, things were to change for the both of them forever...

***

Turning through a few more passageways, the pair come across a horrifying sight. A body was laid on the ground before them. Amara moves to cover her son’s eyes, but she realised it was too late. Despite being seven years old, Siel had seen more death and misery than could be imagined.

Amara moved cautiously to the body, telling Siel to stay away. Thankfully, the child listens and keeps his back to a cracked concrete wall. Amara nears the body and feels an overwhelming surge of fear and disgust. This wasn’t a simple killing or a mugging of desperation. This was pure, sadistic mutilation.

Pieces of the body had been chopped and swapped around, the chest seemed to have been surgically ripped open. Its organs were clearly visible after Amara gently moved the corpse’s hands away. Yet, they were distorted. Infused with some rusty metallic components. The heart was the most affected, plates with clipped wires were bolted and screwed in around the blood valves.

Amara dared herself not look on but a morbid curiosity overtook her. Her eyes further scanned the cavity, revealing that whatever was left of this person’s lungs were now replaced with a thin plastic material. Now torn and deflated.

Amara came to a sad conclusion that this person had torn at them with his broken fingernails. Before leaving, Amara wanted to look upon this poor person. Yet, as she caught its gaze, Amara’s eyes saw that the corpse had one eye removed, the other covered and stapled with surgical cloth... Amara struggled to her feet, her lungs felt like they were caught in a vice. Struggling to breathe, she turned to face her child... Amara wailed inconsolably, her child was missing... Vanished into the night with only the light winds of a sandstorm echoing into the silent village...

CHAPTER ONE

SHEFFIELD: THE NEXT MORNING

Graham stumbles down the steps of his modest home. Eventually reaching the bottom step, he reaches down for the assortment of papers that were ‘lovingly’ shoved through his letter box. Amongst the collection or ripped and crumpled papers Graham spotted an intriguing headline in the local paper. CLYFFSIDE CARE UNDER INVESTIGATION. Graham scanned his eyes further. ‘This was the care home that Yaz went to investigate yesterday.’ Graham thought in the manner of Sherlock Holmes, yet unlike Sherlock... He probably didn’t read a tacky local paper... Or get excited about having a new chair in the living room.

Seating himself down on a depressing sofa, Graham lazily flipped the TV on. The news was fairly fluffy, something about the weather, something about some politician thing. Oddly enough, their main headline in the regional news was about Clyffside Care Home. Graham sat the newspaper down to watch intently. An older woman was being interviewed, she seems rather nice and her name was Paula.

“Weird things are going off ere’.” She began and Graham smirked, ‘yep this was the Yorkshire spirit.’

“We had police, firemen... Everything but a Doctor!” Paula carried on, leaving Graham to chuckle. “Knowing Yaz love, the Doc was probably there!” Graham spoke back at the TV. Seeing that nothing else was going to be talked about, Graham’s eyes wandered to the newspaper again. Taking it and unfolding it in front of him his eyes scanned the other stories, looking for strange happenings. the news had gone to an advert break as Graham read the paper. The first ad wasn’t really an advert, it was one of those ‘special charity’ broadcasts. It showed shots of a makeshift village or slums. Sad piano music played over the footage.

As the advert continued to play Graham noticed a peculiar sight. Something akin to giant, metal men were wandering the desolate slums. Holding children by the hands, passing food and water to lines and lines of villagers. Their faces looked vacant, with large, black holes for eyes. They felt... Uncanny, merely looking at them inspired a deep fear. Graham could feel his spine grow cold as he observed their stiff movements.

His fear was soon shifted as the footage cut swiftly to a man sat on on a stool, yet they were a silhouette. As if they wanted to be redacted, to have their impact scrubbed away.

“Unlike other charities, we feel that money and cheap songs aren’t enough. Or having nightly telethons where the ‘guilt-tripped’ public call in and pitch a tenner to stop looking at a starving child on their TV for ten seconds.” The camera tried to focus on this shapeless form, but the Graham didn’t care, the voice alone was captivating, enigmatic even. Most of all… The voice sounded familiar...

“We don’t believe in hastily putting together skit shows in order to raise a ‘laugh’ and our bank accounts.” The voice snapped again.

“Then what do you believe in?” Said another voice, most likely reading from a script right off the page...

“Survival. This planet and its inhabitants are doomed. Across the globe humans are starving, burning, drowning, over eating, raging war with one another. At Wired Hearts. We truly believe that survival comes from unity. There is nothing to fear.”

The footage cut to shots of starving people, children carrying water, though when Graham happened to look up his eyes were transfixed on a curious sight... It took a while to engage his brain, but the logo of the charity organisation had grabbed his attention.

It was a cartoon heart with electrical wires wrapped around it like a bow on a present. Graham rushes to a nearby desk, digging into a junk drawer, Graham’s hands flew out flyers, letters, leaflets. The same pile that he had shown Yaz last night. Until finally, gripped into his hands was a leaflet with the same logo: Wired Hearts.

Looking back at the TV, Graham jumped out of his skin. A special news report had interrupted the dreary advert. It was taking place at a village that was similar to the one on the advert. Except... A dead body had been found, the fifth one reported within a week...

Graham moves closer to the screen, leaflet in hand. There was something in the corner of the frame as the camera swung around to interview the villagers.

Something that made him drop the leaflet with trembling hands... There was a child staring right at HIM. He was sure of it, it had cold, piercing eyes and it’s young face had been infused with some strange metallic plates. Graham felt he was going mad, could no one else see this on their TV?

With every blink from his weary eyes, Graham thought the child was nearing ever closer in the screen until he dived away... Reaching for his house phone to rip it from its dock to call the one person in the universe who can help...

***

The warm orange hues of the TARDIS interior set a welcoming conversation between Yaz and the Doctor. “How are ya feeling Yaz?” The Doctor asked while turning and flipping switches. Yaz stood at the opposite end of the console, awkwardly rubbing the soles of her feet on the floor.

“Yeah, I’m okay Doctor. Just still shaken up from yesterday. Is... Is the Dream Lord gone?”

The Doctor stopped, her hand hovering over a switch.

“Yeah. I think, I hope. Whatever dream he had you in last, he’s trapped there. I’d disposed of that clump of pollen, his psychic energy was wasted on trying to hurt you. He had a chance to change.”

“He said that he was you.” Yaz stated, almost accusingly.

“He might’ve claimed that.” The Doctor began. “But you know that he’s nothing like me.” She began to walk and talk with her hands. “It’s like... A funky funhouse mirror!” The Doctor smiles, “it’s all twisted and distorted but you know deep inside it’s not you. That was what the Dream Lord was. A tacky illusion.”

Yaz nodded, her face loosened up into a warm smile.

“Of course he wanted to change that an’ transfer himself into my body fully. He would’ve caused mass destruction unlike anything in the universe. “ The Doctor looked at the rising and falling Time Rotor. “I know things haven’t been great between us. I made a horrible, stupid mistake. Sometimes I feel that I’m not myself, sometimes I feel that the choices I make aren’t my own. Sometimes, just sometimes I can see what the Dream Lord is getting at.” The Doctor confesses wearily, her eyes burning orange from the rotar’s reflection.

Yaz looks away towards the door.

“But with Ryan, Graham... Me, you don’t have to be like that, Doctor.” Yaz responds, looking back towards her friend.

“I heard what Nani told you, back at home. I can, and will forgive you. Despite everything you came to help me, despite everything you helped save my Nani and the lives of those people in that awful care home. While, I might not be fully ready to travel with you yet. After some time and once I know that Nani is okay. I’ll be ready.” Yaz smiles, lunging in for a hug, which the Doctor reciprocates. They hold for what seems only longer than a minute, then Yaz breaks off and leaves through the wooden doors of the police box. The Doctor stands alone yet again.

She spins around, a glad smile across her face, flicking various dials. Her eyes were intently looking at the water-vapour scanner on the console. It was a scan of her body, of the entire TARDIS. She was looking for something, looking for the Dream Lord, any remnants of him...

Looking deeply at the scanner the Doctor’s coat buzzed violently making her jump away like a frightened cat. Her hands dig into her grey coat reaching a glossy blue Motorola flip phone. She answers it timidly...

“Hello? This is the Doctor speaking! How can I help?!”

“Doc?” Graham’s voice was frightened and almost like a hoarse whisper... “I need your help.”

“Graham?” The Doctor responds, slamming her hand onto the silver handle, “Hold on! I’m making a house call!”

***

The wheezing and groaning of the TARDIS echoed down the hilltop street outside Graham’s home. A vacant car parking space was now filled with a brilliant, blue police box. The Doctor sprung from the wooden double doors and hopped up the stone steps leading the Graham’s house taking them two at a time for efficiency. She moves to knock on the door, but senses something is wrong. She knocks gently instead.

“Graham? It’s the Doctor! I got your phone call. Can I come in?” The Doctor asked concernedly. While waiting for a response, the Doctor looked out towards the Sheffield landscape. The mid morning sun shined a brilliant, golden yellow. It reminded the Doctor sadly, of home, of Galifrey. Her morose reminiscing came to a halt as the clunk of heavy locks opened behind her. Behind the door was a pale-faced Graham.

“Doc, I’m so glad you’re ere’. Come in, there’s something I need to talk about.” Graham uttered as he moved to let the Doctor inside.

Graham seated himself on the sofa, his hands were twitchy and seemed to have a mind of their own. The Doctor stood at the opposite end of the room, looking out the window. “How long has this been happening? The visions?” The Doctor asked, her eyes wandering.

“I dunno Doc. I, I only had them today. It was summat on the news, some terrible stuff in Africa, around Namibia. It remained me of back when I was younger. They kept doing charity stuff in Africa and I remember this one image... A child, about seven years old I think. It just stared at me through the screen. Its eyes went right through me...”

The Doctor turns to look at Graham’s weeping eyes.

“I saw that exact same child again this morning Doc.” Graham choked up, “h, how is that possible?” Graham sniffed, wiping his eyes on a sleeve.

“I have no idea Graham. But having no idea is a great, no, scratch that, a brilliant thing!”

“How’s that then?” Graham asked, smirking at this mad woman in his house.

“It means we can find out! We can ‘get’ an idea yeah? Where is this village?”

Graham stood and handed the Wired Hearts leaflet over. The Doctor studied it carefully, her eyes examining all the detail, the layered lamination, the raised writing, the odd smell of recycled paper. “This is great! Come on Graham. To the TARDIS!”

The Doctor rushes out of the door and towards the oddly slanted police box, a car was angrily waiting to park in its place. To which Graham gave a ‘sorry’ wave and followed the Doctor into the police box.

***

The TARDIS tumbled and rumbled through the hectic vortex. The ship acted like a child dragging its feet against concrete, The TARDIS knew that it was sailing towards danger. This fact did not escape the Doctor as she bounded and ran across the console, flicking and pulling at the dials and switches. At this moment, the Doctor was the very definition of multitasking.

Graham however, was contempt to stand by a crystalline pillar, gripping to it for his life. He felt the TARDIS churn and twist and he swore that it went upside down more than twice. Finally, the Doctor slams a lever to stabilise the tempestuous ship. Causing it to lurch forward and launch Graham ahead.

“As destinations go Graham, you’ve picked an interesting one.” The Doctor finally speaks up, staring deeply at the water-vapour scanner. “It’s a complex, temporal nexus point.”

“English, Doc?” Graham steps up, leaning against the console, his face beams with a grin. The Doctor finally gains some footing, twisting a dial on the console mightily.

Through recovering breaths, the Doctor replies. “Basically... Whatever is happening in this village, it isn’t good. Not one bit, it’s messing with regular space time.”

“So, we need to sort it?” Graham responds, his grin lowered as he stood up to the console. The time rotor slows to a crawl... The TARDIS has landed. The Doctor looks across to the wooden doors.

“Exactly!” The Doctor says, she pats Graham on the shoulder and bounds out of the console room. Graham however, lags behind, there’s something lurking in the darkness of the TARDIS’ horizons. Graham can sense it, he stares back into the darkness and as he peers in, his spine shivers, his heart stops for a fraction of a second. There’s something, a figure... A childlike figure looking right back at him...

“Graham?!” The Doctor’s voice booms back into the vacant TARDIS, snapping Graham back into reality. The figure is gone, just remnants of Graham’s shivering spine...

READ THE SECOND CHAPTER NEXT SUNDAY ON THIS WEBSITE!