The Doctor had picked up the gun, was aiming it at the door, grimacing. Fitz was painfully aware that he was in the way; if the Doctor pulled the trigger...

Bjorn was still sitting, hands clasped around the whisky bottle. 'Bjorn get over here!' The old farmer stood up and came over, walking as though he were in a dream. 'Help me hold this door!'

Bjorn shook his head, blinking, as if to bring himself round. 'Better if we shove this in front of it,' he said, slapping the side of the large refrigerator next to the door.

'Brilliant!' cried Fitz, amazed and surprised. 'Doctor, quick, lend a hand!'

To Fitz's relief, the Doctor leaned the shotgun against the sink. He helped Bjorn manhandle the heavy refrigerator in front of the door, bottles and jars clanking inside. Fitz stepped adroitly back as it slid into place. It covered all of the door except for a six-inch strip down one side. As they watched the wood splintered and a green-scaled claw shot through, pawing the air.

The three of them retreated to the middle of the room. Fitz picked up the shotgun. It was heavier than it looked. The Doctor's face was pale. 'I'm sorry, Fitz.' Fitz suddenly felt more scared than ever. The Doctor was apologising to him him?

Bjorn was cowering back against the sink, eyes fixed on the claw, which was busy widening its horizontal gap.

Fitz thought of Kerstin, hiding upstairs, and swore silently. If the things could get in through the living room, they could run up the stairs, make short work of the door, and The window behind Bjorn burst open and one of the creatures fell through. Bjorn stepped to one side and it skittered on to the floor. Fitz got a rushed impression of powerful hind legs, toadlike green flesh covered in black spines, and a gaping round maw lined with teeth. Yelling, he swung the shotgun round and blasted the creature at point-blank range.

The noise was deafening, setting Fitz's ears ringing. The blast filled the kitchen with acrid smoke which made them all cough violently. Through smoky tears, Fitz could see more of the things, piling through the window.

'The back door!' yelled the Doctor.

They ran to the back door, which led on to a concrete porch.

It was crawling with the creatures. There was no way past them. Though they had no eyes, the things seemed to notice them and prepared to leap, their circular fanged mouths gaping.

They all piled back into the smoke-filled kitchen, slamming the door behind them.

Fitz whirled round, covering the creatures in the kitchen with the shotgun. One of them had injured itself on the broken gla.s.s, leaking green blood from a gash on its flank. The others were tearing and slashing at the stricken beast with their hind claws. The injured creature was making a horrendous wailing noise, like a baby.

They skirted round the fighting creatures.

The one in the hallway had destroyed the strip of door, and was trying to shove its blunt head through, snarling in frustration.

The only way out of the kitchen was past the creature.

Fitz lifted the shotgun and aimed the barrel right down the creature's throat, feeling sick.

He pulled the trigger and there was an almighty bang, another cloud of acrid smoke and the creature was gone, blasted into fragments in the hall.

'Upstairs, it's our only chance,' said Fitz, his voice sounding dull in his ringing ears.

They hauled the refrigerator its side blackened out of the way, piled into the hall and dashed up the stairs, Fitz first, followed by the Doctor.

They dodged into the nearest room and slammed the door behind them. Fitz glanced around the room; double bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers, no sign of Kerstin. She must be in the room opposite, on the other side of the landing. Fitz hoped she was all right.

'Where's Bjorn?' gasped the Doctor.

Kerstin huddled in the corner of the spare room, closing her eyes and floating back to the last moment of sanity in her life, the last time she remembered feeling safe. Swimming in the lake, just last night, not even twenty-four hours ago. The sound of a gunshot from downstairs made her heart leap in her chest, and brought her back to her senses.

She listened, desperately wishing she knew what was going on. Were the others still alive? Had the creatures got them?

Another gunshot rang through the house. She heard footsteps on the stairs, clambering quickly, and then Bjorn's bedroom door slam closed. Then a scrabbling on the stairs.

She backed away from the door, and found herself beside the window. She peered out. The things were hopping about outside, leaping over fences, converging on the house, making an unearthly hissing, rattling noise. Kerstin stumbled back from the window in a daze, b.u.mping against the bed and sitting down hard.

Then she became aware of another noise, a low rumbling which reverberated inside her skull. The noise of engines. She got up and went to the window again.

Driving at speed along the road from the forest were three large white trucks. They weren't like any vehicles she had ever seen: low and windowless, with big chunky wheels, and a cab that looked like something from a s.p.a.ce shuttle. They pa.s.sed out of her field of vision, following the road that led to the barns and the timber store. What were they? Were they here to rescue them? Or had they set the things loose?

Bjorn felt himself being dragged backwards down the stairs. He could feel their teeth in his legs, sharp hooks digging in. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, they climbed up his body and started ripping at his chest and throat. He screamed, his vision blurring, misting red, and he tried to shove the creatures away but it was no use and numbness began to envelop him, a delicious numbness and all he had to do was give in. His last thought was that the Doctor had said he would live a long while yet. He was wrong. Wrong.

One last shudder of pain, then numbness, then nothing.

Fitz heard Bjorn's screams, and felt even more sick. Sick and scared that it was going to happen to him. Ripped apart by alien creatures, Sam still missing. Everything had gone wrong. For the first time, he wished he'd never seen the TARDIS or the Doctor.

The Doctor's face was pale, as pale as Johan's had been, and he was shaking his head. 'He wasn't meant to die like that.'

Fitz frowned. 'What do you mean? How was he meant to die?'

The Doctor's eyes were wide with fright. 'Peacefully, in ten years' time after drinking too much whisky.'

'How the h.e.l.l do you know that?'

'I get flashes of people's futures. Sometimes. But in this case I was wrong.' The Doctor's face twisted in anguish. 'It's the TARDIS, Fitz. I didn't realise how much I needed her. Without her I'm... incomplete.'

Then the window shattered and one of the creatures shot through, its circular mouth drooling and gaping.

They piled out of the room, and hammered on the door opposite. To Fitz's relief, Kerstin opened the door and they went inside. The Doctor shut the door and leaned against it, panting.

From the other side came the sound of sharp claws scrabbling against wood.

Kerstin's face was pale and drawn. 'Where's Bjorn? I I heard a scream.'

'He's dead,' said Fitz.

Kerstin sat down on the edge of the bed.

They needed help. The police. Nordenstam. Fitz took the mobile phone from his pocket. He stabbed at the b.u.t.tons. The words lo batt appeared on the screen. What did that that mean? He put it to his ear. No sound. He tossed it to the floor. mean? He put it to his ear. No sound. He tossed it to the floor.

Outside, Fitz caught a glimpse of shambling white figures. They were carrying long, strange-looking guns. As Fitz watched, one of the men brought his weapon to bear on a crowd of creatures. A jet of flame billowed out from the end, setting them alight. There was a terrible screeching, black figures twisting and hopping as they burned.

'It's the ones I told you about,' he said. 'The State Biohazard Protection Unit.' He was trying to open the window quite a drop, but what choice did they have? but the b.l.o.o.d.y thing was stuck. He managed to heave it open when a gout of flame blasted up the side of the farmhouse. Fitz ducked, feeling a wave of heat wash over him. He leaned out of the window, just as one of the suited figures lined up to fire at the farmhouse again. 'Stop that for G.o.d's sake!' he yelled as loud as he could. 'There are people in here.'

The flamethrower was lowered he'd been heard.

'Have you noticed something?' said the Doctor.

'Yes, several things,' said Fitz hotly.

'No no no,' said the Doctor. 'Listen!'

Fitz listened. He could hear the dry belch of the flamethrowers, the sound of engines, excited metallic shouts from outside. And from beyond the door to the room nothing. The creatures had stopped scrabbling at the door.

'Are they gone?' asked Kerstin.

'I don't know,' said the Doctor, walking over to the door. 'Shall we see?'

'Doctor, no!' shouted Fitz but it was too late. The Doctor had opened the door.

Fitz braced himself, shielding Kerstin with his body.

But nothing leapt through the doorway and, lying on the landing, Fitz could see one of the creatures, lying on its side, its hind legs moving weakly.

They peered down the stairs.

The creatures were strewn on the staircase, their legs moving feebly, their round maws slack and dribbling.

'They're dying,' said the Doctor. 'Now I wonder why.'

'Who cares?' said Fitz.

They walked down the stairs, picking their way past the dying beasts.

Bjorn's body was in the hall but Fitz looked quickly away, as it appeared that the beasts had torn him in half.

'Someone will have to answer for this,' muttered the Doctor.

They stepped outside. The creatures were lying around in heaps, dead or dying. The white-suited figures were burning them, making funeral pyres. The roar and hiss and crackle of the flames filled the air. The stench of burning flesh was sickening.

Two of the suited figures noticed them, and motioned them away from the farmhouse. They stood back as the figures squirted something over the side of the house and then applied their flamethrowers.

The side of the building went up in a yellow bloom of flame. Kerstin broke free from the Doctor, screaming, demanding to know what was going on.

'I don't like the look of this,' said the Doctor.

The two white-suited figures approached them slowly.

'They did save our lives,' said Fitz hopefully. Perhaps these were the good guys.

The Doctor was hiding behind him, mouth close to his ear. 'I could recall a well-known saying involving a certain kitchen utensil and a hot orangey thing rather like that one over there but I fear that would be rather otiose,' he babbled.

Fitz stepped back, so that he and the Doctor stood side by side. 'Kerstin, get away from here,' said Fitz.

She moved back, to stand behind them.

'Doctor, talk us out of this,' hissed Fitz. 'Do something!'

The Doctor looked dazed, but he stepped forward, motioning for Fitz to step back. He did so, grabbing Kerstin.

'Good evening!' said the Doctor, spreading his arms out wide in welcome.

The two figures didn't move.

The Doctor seemed to be recovering his old bravado. 'Thank you for rescuing us. I am the Doctor, and you are?'

The figure on the right reached up with a gloved hand and lifted up his triangular faceplate. It took Fitz a second or two to recognise the bland, wide-mouthed face inside, but when he did he shouted in anger.

It was Lindgard.

'Well, this is nice,' said the Doctor.

Kerstin hurled herself at Lindgard. 'What have you done with Johan?' she screamed.

The other suited figure caught her and shoved her back towards Fitz. She collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

'What's all this for, Lindgard?' said the Doctor, walking right up to him.

Lindgard's face was bathed in sweat, and his eyes were wide, gleaming in the flickering firelight. 'You have a knack, Doctor, for turning up at the right place at the wrong time.' He raised a gloved hand. In it was the deadly shape of a pistol.

Fitz's heart gave a jolt.

The Doctor c.o.c.ked his head on one side. 'You've been sent to capture me, haven't you? You won't shoot me.'

Lindgard shrugged. 'Won't I?'

The pistol jerked silently in his hand and the Doctor clutched his chest, a look of surprise on his face. 'Run, Fitz,' he croaked.

But the Doctor was falling backwards, and Fitz stooped to hold him. His body felt slack, heavy. What had they shot him with? Fitz felt totally powerless.

'Run!' said the Doctor. It sounded as if he was putting his last energies into the word.

Fitz felt the world spin away from him for a second, images flashing before his eyes: Bjorn with the whisky, then lying dead; Sam flying away down that impossible whirlpool; Kerstin, screaming in pain as Johan's fingers dug into her arm; the Doctor, sipping tea in Strangnas only that morning and now lying at Fitz's feet.

Fitz stood up, swaying.

Lindgard observed him, an amused look on his face. 'Well, you heard him. Run!' He raised the pistol.

Suddenly Kerstin leapt up, brandishing a log. Fitz had no idea where she'd got it from, but she hurled it right at the two figures. Lindgard stepped back, losing his footing as it connected with his chest.

Fitz grabbed Kerstin's arm and they ran. He dared not look back to see if Lindgard was giving chase.

Kerstin dragged him round the back of the farmhouse, crouching down by the wood bunker. Above them, the building blazed. Fitz could feel the heat on his face, like a blast from some huge oven, hear the crackle and pop and roar of flames.

Lindgard and his mob would find them soon. They couldn't stay here.