Gwen patted him on the shoulder. ‘It’s a sacrifice worth making. I’ll give you a bunk up.’ And so, in the rain and the music, Gwen found herself hoisting Ianto’s ankles onto a rusty ladder.
CAPTAIN JACK IS BARGAINING
‘What is this?’ Jack asked Brendan.
Brendan, pottering past with a piece of toast, paused and ruffled his hair. ‘It’s got many names. Call it our Belief System. It’s a way of bonding all our true believers together, giving us the power we need to do all our good deeds.’
‘It’s obscene,’ growled Jack.
Brendan offered him a bite of toast. Jack shook his head. ‘You’re only saying that cos you’re on the inside looking out. I think it’s all rather beautiful. It’s kind of like the tar baby. And it’s only a temporary solution until we can find that machine.’
‘It’s not working. Let me out of this – I can help you,’ said Jack.
‘Pleading?’ Brendan squatted down, meeting Jack’s eyes. ‘It’s rather beneath you, Captain.’
‘Not if it saves lives,’ said Jack.
Brendan rolled his eyes. ‘You are so noble, I could eat you up. Sure you don’t want some toast?’
‘What would be the point?’ sighed Jack. ‘How long are you going to keep me here?’
Brendan shrugged. ‘Dunno. In a few hours we might let you all out for a bit and play with you. Depends how up for it Jon is. Then we’ll pop you all back in. Cos I’ve got yoga, and I can’t leave you all alone with Jon. He might go mad.’
‘You know that’s not what I meant.’
‘Truthfully, until we get the device back. The problem is, our need for power’s growing at a rate… oh, I dunno. It’s a bit worrying. Frankly, I think we’ll be running out of boys soon. Which isn’t a great state of affairs really, is it? We might have to reach out wider and wider. You know, Aberdare.’
‘Can’t you see how stupid this is?’ gasped Jack.
‘Totally,’ admitted Brendan. ‘But it’s what we’ve got to do to stay alive, to carry on searching, to find that bloody thing. Trust me, Jack, I’m a god. It’s what we’ve got to do to stay alive. When we get our power back, we’ll make everything right again.’
Jon walked into the room, towelling himself after a shower. ‘You all right babe?’ he asked Brendan.
‘Yeah,’ said Brendan.
Jon flicked Jack playfully with the towel. ‘Are you talking to the furniture again?’
‘Stop this!’ said Jack.
Jon arched an eyebrow. ‘You don’t look happy Jacky,’ he said, squeezing Jack’s cheek. Jack growled at him. Jon laughed and dropped the towel over Jack’s head, leaving him fuming.
‘Come on Bren, let’s get some clothes on and go and see how things are downstairs.’ They walked away, laughing, and all Jack could see was cotton.
RUDYARD IS SADLY ALL MOUTH
Gwen slid the window up, and the two of them slipped into a dark, quiet corridor.
‘It’s bloody great to be out of that rain,’ shivered Ianto. ‘I really miss jeans.’
‘Well,’ hissed Gwen, ‘why don’t you wear some?’
‘Oh, it just hasn’t felt right, really,’ said Ianto. ‘You know, I just don’t think I’ve got the figure for them. I worry they’ll make my bum look fat and squidgy.’
‘Oh, bollocks,’ hissed Gwen. ‘You’ve got a lovely pair of child-bearing hips on you.’
‘Have I?’ Ianto looked genuinely pleased. ‘Oh, that’s nice.’
‘Now, shut up, princess, and let’s get on with it.’
The two of them started down the corridor, the flashlight gently glinting around them.
It all looked very dark, and the
‘Considering everything I’ve heard about gay grooming, it really reeks of BO in here,’ said Ianto.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Gwen. ‘Smells like a teenager’s bedroom.’
Ianto pulled the pheromone sniffer out of his pocket and waved it around. ‘Well, bloody hell,’ he breathed. ‘Jack’s off the scale.’
Gwen cast her torch around the corridor. ‘I’m not sure I like this,’ she said.
They both heard the voice calling for help. It was a quiet voice, almost a whisper. Both jumped.
‘Jeez!’ wailed Gwen. ‘I’m switching on the bloody light.’ She fumbled her hand along the wall. ‘Blimey, they’ve papered it with that velvet stuff they use at Indian restaurants,’ she said, her hands brushing along the warm, slightly damp surface. ‘It’s like moss.’ Her fingertips brushed up against what felt like a socket, and she reached out for the switch, but instead she felt something move and her hand went into the wall, into something warm and wet and- it licked her.
She screamed and screamed and screamed, feeling it bite down.
Ianto ran up to her, his flashlight showing her hand embedded in a mouth in the wall.
Both shrieked.
‘Do something!’ wailed Gwen, helplessly.
‘I don’t want to touch it!’ yelled Ianto.
‘You’re bloody squeamish when it suits you! It’s biting me!’ shouted Gwen.
‘But it’s a … mouth… in a wall! It’s wrong!’
‘I don’t care, it bloody hurts!’ Gwen was starting to cry. Ianto tried pulling her by the arm, but Gwen just shrieked more. Ianto let go and stood back, hands on hips, trying to work out what to do, trying to block Gwen’s shouts.
He noticed something – something oddly wrong. And then he saw the light switch, and flicked it.
Pause.
Gwen and Ianto were in a corridor of flesh – the walls were a kind of thick, coarse meat, breathing and rippling. Lumps and occasional limbs protruded at various points, fleshy trails hanging down from the ceiling, twitching slightly. Apart from the mouth that was eating Gwen’s hand, there was the back of a head further down the corridor, and an ear.
‘Can you switch the light back off?’ hissed Gwen.
‘No,’ replied Ianto. ‘This is just so horrible.’
‘It’s still eating my sodding hand!’ wailed Gwen.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Ianto. He grabbed a biro from his handbag and jabbed it into the mouth. ‘Gag reflex,’ he explained as Gwen pulled her hand out, gasping with the pain. ‘I don’t suppose you brought some Dettol?’ she asked.
Ianto was just staring at the mouth, which was mouthing ‘Help me’ over and over again.
Gwen shook him. ‘Come on.’
She dragged him down the corridor, both of them recoiling from the carpet, which appeared to be made up of matted human hair, streaking in colours and patterns and whorls and lumps through to a door.
The door, embedded as it was in meat, appeared to be a normal little Victorian-effect door, with a shiny gold handle. She pushed it open and, without thinking, flicked a switch on the right.
This room was worse. She stepped into it.
Ianto followed her, and breathed out raggedly. ‘A Living Room. Oh my god.’
It had once been a quite nicely decorated, minimalist room – all white paint and polished floorboards. But it was now covered with lumpen flesh, twisting and veined across the walls, occasionally bursting out in cancerous bulges, or half-recognisable shapes. The whole room flowed across and hung away from a big bed, the covers
