The Eleventh Tiger Read Online Free PDF Page A

what’s more, with any luck we are in your 1960s.’
    Ian’s heart caught in his throat, and he could see that Barbara also looked hopeful. Both of them had heard that particular prediction before, however, and had been let down often enough not to let excitement run away with them. ‘Are you sure?’
    The Doctor nodded.
    ‘But how?’ Ian asked.
    ‘Well, I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want to disappoint you if it didn’t work, but as we left Rome I tried to make the shortest increment - that is to say, the shortest journey - that I could. That way, I hoped we should travel in time only, and not space.’ The Doctor gestured around him with a triumphant smile. ‘And, as you can see, it has worked!’
    Ian wanted to believe it had worked perfectly, but simply couldn’t. It just wasn’t in him to do so. ‘You’ll forgive me if I wait to see the morning’s paper. Oh, this is Earth all right, and I’ll take your word for it that we’ve travelled forward in time. But we might just as easily have arrived in 1940, or the twenty-first century.’
    The Doctor was slightly deflated. ‘Well, yes, that is true, unfortunately. There’s no way to tell exactly how far forward we’ve travelled. We will just have to go out and meet someone who can tell us the date, won’t we?’
    ‘And hope it isn’t Hitler, or someone like that.’
    ‘Oh, don’t fuss so,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘Anyway, it’s far too late at night to go round knocking people up. I suggest we get some rest until dawn, and then explore.’
    Vicki looked downcast, but Ian was satisfied with the arrangement. ‘Sounds good to me, Doctor.’ He ushered Vicki back into the TARDIS before she could go off and get herself into trouble. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Barbara. ‘Are you coming?’
    ‘Yes.’ Barbara stretched her arms, taking a deep breath of the wonderful air. ‘At least it’s peaceful here,’ she said.
     
    ‘It does feel that way, doesn’t it?’ Ian admitted. ‘Something in the air perhaps. Or this place.’
    ‘The place, yes. There’s a sort of... I don’t know...
    spirituality about it. You can’t really imagine anything bad happening here.’
    Ian stepped back out of the Ship. He didn’t say anything, not wanting to disappoint Barbara by telling her that there was as likely to be unpleasantness in any one place where there were people as in any other. He took her hand instead, and squeezed it. ‘A peaceful place sounds good to me.’
     

4
    His head felt as if it had burst like a soap bubble, and he was certain that if he could see anything other than blackness it would surely be the shade of blood. The blackness had crushed him and jammed his lungs solid. Every bone in his body burnt inside its sheath of flesh, but his head burnt worst of all.
    The blackness rolled around him, then faded above him.
    Was this death, allowing him to float up to heaven on a breeze? The stars began to wink, each point of light making his head throb. He could hear things over the din in his head: hooves splashing in mud; screams, and the jarring clash of steel on steel; wood snapping and the crackle of burning. His hands flailed out, slapping against the dry darkness that had broken him, as he tried to pull himself along.
    His legs were buried somewhere and he knew he had to exhume them, but whatever grave held him below the waist wasn’t letting go without a fight. A noise was coming from somewhere nearby. ‘Major!’ it called, ‘Sir, where are you?’ He wished the major would hurry up and answer; the repetition was beginning to irritate him. At least there were people around. If he could only breathe, he could shout back to them.
    ‘There he is,’ another voice called, closer. Then there were bodies around him, stamping on the ground. Random words and phrases emanated from them: ‘... didnae see him... at the double, Sergeant... horse... they come back...’
    Then the grave that held him relaxed its grip and he