The Apocalypse Stops For No Time Lord [Part Four]
Part Four
As it happened, Cardiff was well prepared for a virus outbreak and, Bela figured, that was close enough to ‘Croatoan Zombie Apocalypse’. All she needed was a password and Toshi sent alerts to a pre-determined list of significant parties. In 15 minutes Cardiff was, for all intents and purposes, a no-go zone. At the same time, a pre-recorded ‘public safety’ message was broadcast across every channel, interrupting a particularly suspenseful episode of ‘The Walking Dead’.
“Won’t this cause a panic?” Bela had asked when Jack had first explained the system to her. “Or they’ll just ignore it.”
“You’re forgetting about all the rift activity,” Jack replied with a small smile. “Public safety messages happen once a fortnight in Cardiff. I send them out every time there’s a particularly nasty alien loose. People have learned to listen by now.”
Once the broadcasts were on their way to the media outlets, Bela turned to Toshi’s tracking programs. It took a good ten minutes but she managed to calibrate the program so it would pick up on any large zombie populations near its radar. The radar itself was, rather fortunately, as portable as radars could come.
“It’s a zombie detector,” Bela said with a touch of pride in her voice as she showed Jack the program on her tablet. “It’ll be able to tell us if there are any zombies nearby.”
“I knew I brought you on for a reason other than your good looks,” Jack said with a cheeky smile.
“I’m good in apocalypses,” she replied with a wink.
Whilst the thief had been re-programming Toshi, the joker had been preparing what could only be described as their arsenal. Each of them had their own hand gun, a semi-automatic and enough ammo to take down an army - although Bela was hoping they wouldn’t have to. New rules had been decided by Jack that they weren’t allowed to kill zombies, just wound them, and even then only if it was absolutely necessary. Bela had glared sullenly at him but eventually agreed.
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Half an hour after their conversation, the phone rang again. Jack gave Bela a doubtful look, as she tried to look as innocent as possible. He picked up the phone and carefully avoided the ‘speaker’ button.
“Hello?”
There was a short pause of ‘s’s
“What have you got?”
Longer pause. ‘s’s.
“O-okay. Hang on, I’m putting you on speaker.” Jack’s face was grim as he put the phone back in its cradle and flipped the speaker on. “Can you say that again, John?”
“All the victims were members of the Church of Satan.” The army doctor’s voice came over the line crackly, a car engine rumbling in the background. “It’s the lesser known Cardiff branch so the police probably won’t know it but it’s the only connection we can find.”
“How do you know?” Bela’s voice came out hoarse and unsteady, her throat tightening as something strangely akin to fear crept into her thoughts. “How can you be sure? Where’s your proof?”
“Our proof-” John’s voice was cut off by static and the sound of a scuffle. “You can just ask - keep your eyes on the road! Damn it Sherlock!”
“Oh be quiet, John.” The static sound of distant wind cut behind the detective’s voice. “Miss Talbot; all the victims were younger than 30, single and none of them had jobs that paid more than £9.00 an hour. 13 of them had been arrested for petty crimes and the other 11 had been involved in investigations.
“Their houses are all within a five mile radius of a known satanic coven and all of them took holidays coinciding with a festival for Satan. 52% of them had some kind of satanic paraphernalia on them at the time of their death although the police were too stupid to make the connection. They were all Satanists, Miss Talbot.”
Bela’s thoughts refused to stand still, whipping a tornado in her mind as she connected the dots. Vaguely she thought the ground might be falling out from under her.
“Bela?” It wasn’t until Jack’s hands covered her that she realised how tightly she was gripping her gun and instantly let go. There was nothing to shoot, not here. “What is it?”
“24 of the father’s soldiers and one of his sons,” she whispered, fingers twisting in with his as they fled from her cold metal lifeline. “Split the world to bring the Hellfire ones.”
“Poetry won’t help us -”
“It’s a ritual,” Bela hissed at Sherlock, her eyes not leaving Jack’s “Do as it says and you can call back the four horsemen. Without Lucifer to control them, they’ll rip the world apart before the zombies can. They’re just the pawns doing the work.”
“How do you know this?” Sherlock sounded like he didn’t believe her but he probably didn’t believe anyone who knew something he didn’t.
“Sunday school in Hell,” Bela replied, gripping Jack’s hands tighter. “The followers are already dead. All they need is Satan’s son.”
“Who’s that?” The military man asked. “Last time I checked, the devil didn’t have a son.”
“The King of Hell,” she gasped, only just realising it herself. “Like father, like son.”
“Crowley.” Jack’s face darkened. “They need to kill Crowley and then...”
“Split the Earth.”
“Well, surely that can’t be too easy,” John’s voice came over the phone. Bela hesitated for a moment, letting faces flash through her head like the line-up of Heaven’s most wanted.
“No one I can think of has the juice,” she admitted. “They don’t have to split the Earth, just make a big enough hole, but Lucifer’s the only one with that sort of power.”
It seemed all of them relaxed then, exhaling breath that had long gone stay. Momentary relief cooled the fever of fear. The clench of her fingers eased and she felt cold air slink into the gap. Then Jack’s fingers tightened on hers.
“The rift,” he whispered with a horrified expression on his face. “They didn’t choose Cardiff for the church of Satan. They’re going to-”
“Use the rift as a weak point,” Bela finished and everything clicked into place. “But that’s going to-”
“Split the fabric of time,” Sherlock broke in, earning the phone a surprised look. “The horsemen won’t end the world. It will be-”
“Time ripping apart,” the trio chorused and somewhere in the back of her mind, Bela thought the doctor would be proud.
“Right,” John said into the ensuing silence. “How do we stop it?”
“As much as I hate to say it,” Jack sighed. “We’re going to have to talk to Crowley.”
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Torchwood was almost as prepared for a demon-summoning as it was for a zombie apocalypse. Bela found herself vaguely disturbed at how many of the gruesome ingredients Jack seemed to have hidden in the head-quarters’ many dark storage rooms. The military man just winked at her surprise and elected not to give an explanation.
Anything else they couldn’t find was available at the dairy - the entire purchase carried out through a post-box size slot - or the butchers - the owner was not pleased to be torn away from his dinner. Everywhere Cardiff was shut down, stores either closed or conducting business through slits like the dairy. Even the restaurants and bars were closed although it was a Saturday night.
Once they had everything it was only a matter of saying the words and mixing everything in the right order. With a slight pop, Crowley’s new body appeared in the pentagram Jack had drawn under Bela’s careful instruction. In his hand was a rather large knife and on his feet were a pair of rather fluffy bunny-rabbit slippers. As soon as the demon saw the two Torchwood agents he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.
“That was impeccably bad timing,” Crowley drawled, twirling the knife between his fingers idly. “I was just in the middle of something important.”
“Apparently,” Bela said coolly. “Nice slippers.”
“Belonged to a-”
“I don’t want to know,” Jack interrupted quickly.
“Another time then.” Crowley glanced down at the pentagram, eyebrows raised. “Is that really necessary?”
“Better safe than screwed,” Bela smirked. “What do you know about the Croatoan virus?”
“So you’ve picked up on that?” The knife stopped twirling. “A little fun never hurt a demon.”
“But it is hurting humans.” Jack tilted his head back slightly, hands slipping easily into his trouser pockets. “The virus is being used to cover-up a number of deaths; 24 members of the church of Satan.”
“I’ll shed a tear for them later. What’s your the point?”
“Someone is trying to summon the horsemen,” Bela stepped in. “The zombies took out the followers already so you’re next on the menu, being as you’re closest to our father who art in Hell.”
Crowley’s sharp eyes flicked back and forth between them, looking for a lie. Carefully he tucked the knife into one of his blazer pockets and clasped his hands.
“So who’s trying to kill me then?” Bela exchanged a glance with Jack.
“We don’t know yet,” she confessed. “We just thought you might want to know you’ve got a target on your back.”
“Yes, well, thank you.” He gestured to the pentagram. “If you wouldn’t mind?” Jack looked over to Bela and she shrugged.
“He can look after himself.”
“You remember?” Jack winced and hurriedly scratched out a corner of the pentagram with his own knife. Crowley stretched his head sharply to the side with a loud pop before stepping forward. “Thank you, Captain Jack Harkness.” He turned to Bela, a disturbing smile on his pale face. “Always a pleasure. Don’t forget my offer.”
He turned as if to leave by the door, paused and spun back to the other demon. “By the way, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your belt is beeping. ‘Bye.” The last word was drawn out, light and chillingly cheerful. Then the king of Hell was gone.
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| Part Five |