TIME LORDS DON'T CRY

CHAPTER FOUR

Suddenly feeling slightly dizzy and disoriented, the Doctor bent over double and held his head in his hands. Something was terribly, horribly amiss, but he couldn’t quite ken exactly what was wrong.

The sensation was quite discomforting. He must do something. Quickly, he came to a decision.

“I’ll bet that girl Marie would know what to do.” He said determinedly.

Taking up his hiking staff once more, The Doctor reversed his steps and started off towards the direction he’s last seen the young girl head off in.

It was growing dark when he came upon the farmyard, the Doctor having gotten lost on several occasions and having to backtrack. Three lean white and brown speckled coonhounds came barking at him. The Doctor stood his ground.

“Sit, boys!” He commanded.

They all three sat on their haunches, tails wagging and long pink tongues lolling, looking up at the Doctor expectantly. Grinning, he patted each one on the head.

“Good dogs, good boys.” He cooed to them.

The Doctor looked around him. In the gathering gloom of the evening, the weathered gray farmhouse seemed abandoned. No lights shone, each window seeming to be a blank eye, staring out at the world like a corpse. He looked down at the dogs.

“Where is everyone, ey, boys? Where’s Marie?”

The dogs merely whined and trotted back to the house. They crawled under the wide front porch and lay there silently, heads resting on their paws as if waiting for someone–or something.

The farmhouse door stood wide open. The Doctor walked cautiously up the steps. He peered into the doorway. A long cavern-like hallway ran to the back of the house, with a set of stairs going upwards to its left, and a door–presumably to the parlor–on its right.

“Hello?” The Doctor called out, “Is anybody there?” His own voice echoed back to him.

The house appeared to be empty of life. Suddenly, with a yowl, a big fluffy gray tabby shot directly between his legs.

The Doctor jumped involuntarily. He shook himself off, and watched the cat run towards barn.

“Cat’s!” he muttered unhappily. “All you need is a nun’s habit, and you’d be down on my list as bad business.”

Scrunching up his face, the Doctor rubbed his jaw, confused.

“Cat’s in nun’s habits?” he shook his head, “why does that seem real to me, somehow? Did I just escaple from a lunatic asylum?”

Looking outdoors, he gazed at the farm yard. The doors of the barn were closed tight and the cat sat before them, pawing at them with his claws and meowing piteously.

The Doctor walked over to the cat. He looked down at it.

“What is it puss, ey? You got a stash of catnip hidden in there?”

Trying the door, he found that it was locked, barred from within. The Doctor frowned.

“Now why would anyone lock a barn door from the inside, hmmm?” He asked the cat.

Thinking that there might be another way in, the Doctor walked to the back of the barn. There was a back door, but it was locked as well. He saw that there was a small window in the back corner. Using his hat to wipe off the grime from the window, he looked in.

The creeping darkness obscured everything in indefinite shadows. The cat had followed him and now sat at his feet, looking at him expectantly. “Rahhwow,” it cried. The Doctor smiled grimly at it.

“Yes, my feline friend, I agree, I think I should.”

With that, the Doctor picked up an old board that lay on the ground. Stepping back a bit, he broke the window glass. Glimpsing an old blue tarp lying crumpled alongside a pile of junk, he stuffed one edge along the bottom of the window frame and crawled inside.

Once inside the ghostly interior, the Doctor fished a torch out of his pocket. Dirty cobwebs hung from the rafters and the smell of manure and hay pervaded the air. Outside of the cat, not a single animal was in sight.

Shining the torch on the floor, the Doctor noted long deep scratches in the wide wooden floor boards. Bending down, he examined them. They appeared to have been recently made.

There was a faint, odd coppery smell in the air. He walked over to the rusting cattle stanchions. They were empty. He was walking past them when his foot slipped in something. He threw back his head in disgust.

“Ugh! I knew it!” He cried out loud.

Taking a breath, he looked at the sole of his shoe, only to stop short. He had stepped in something organic, all right, but it wasn’t manure. It was a large pool of blood.

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