Part Deux
CLANG.
Galen felt a grin of satisfaction spread across his face as he hit something - it went wider when it occurred to him that he’d shut his eyes as he swung, what the hell - , and immediately felt a thud through the floorboards, near his feet. The scream of electricity had died down almost completely, strange silence broken by the occasional fizzle of a spark. He cracked an eye open in time to see the Doctor buzz by, pushing past the music-stand-turned-weapon.
“You’ve practically killed it!”
Galen’s eyes shot open all the way, just then, and he took a few steps towards the spot where the Doctor was now crouching, still gripping his makeshift weapon, just in case. The Doctor’s tone dropped a fair amount of guilt onto his shoulders, until he realized that he had no idea exactly what he’d practically killed.
“You told me to knock it, I fucking knocked it,” Galen said, not intending to sound so much like a defensive teenager. He leaned forward to see over the Doctor’s shoulder. “What is it, anyway?”
“Lost, first and foremost,” the Doctor said idly, and when he sat back, Galen saw - and not without questioning his sanity - a small creature about the size of his hand, sprawled on the floor in front of him. It looked kind of like a tiny version of one of the Labyrinth goblins. Whatever it was, Galen had knocked it right into next week. Oops.
“They don’t quite have proper names, these little guys; they’ve been called so many things throughout time and space that whatever they were called has been lost almost completely,” the Doctor continued. Galen shifted to the left, set the teetering old music stand on its feet, crouched down so he could get a better look. It was jarring that the thing actually did look like a living thing, and not a muppet. The Doctor broke him out of his thoughts: ”You know the urban myth about gremlins?”
Galen pursed his lips skeptically, letting all the talk about time and space slide for now. “I’m guessing you don’t mean the kind you never ever buy in Chinatown,” he said. The Doctor looked completely nonplussed. “Uh, never mind. Yeah, I do. Screwing with electronics and stuff, right?”
“Yes, well, that was their source of energy on their home world, before it was lost. They drift, finding planets that use electricity for power, and presto, energy smörgåsbord!”
“Back the fuck up,” Galen interrupted, and immediately decided to cut the swearing when the Doctor met his eyes, because shit, that look was worse than dad’s. That look was like, everybody’s dad. At once. “I mean — wait. These things are on earth, eating our electricity? Like, actually? Are we in danger?”
“Oh, no,” the Doctor said dismissively. “Well, yes, but not because of these creatures. There are remarkably few of them, and the most they can manage is a relatively small amount of wattage at one time — nothing to worry about, aside from - oh, well, an amplifier exploding, but look, crisis averted! I was wandering by, noticed the energy spike, thought I’d have a look.”
The gremlin-thing twitched.
The Doctor and Galen’s eyes were drawn back to the thing, and Galen watched as Doctor Bowtie pulled a crinkling, metallic-y drawstring bag from his coat pocket. You know, as you do. Carefully, he picked up the creature and tucked it into the bag.
“I’d best be going, get this little guy somewhere he can munch on all the wattage he wants without crashing any more concerts.” The Doctor stood, and Galen followed suit; no way was dude leaving without answering a few more questions. Galen had —
Shit. Dude was leaving without answering a few more questions.
Galen followed after him, through the backstage door, through one of the empty, black, backstage hallways - everyone was probably on fucking lunch, or something - and through another door that was nearly invisible, in this low light —
Okay, that — Galen wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole. The blue, phone booth-like thing was tucked into what must have been a storage closet, or something, giving off an eerie blueish glow, and a hum that seemed to match said glow. There was something creepily alive about it.
Police Public Call Box, the sign on the door said. PULL TO OPEN.
One of the doors suddenly creaked open to reveal the Doctor’s head, and Galen jolted in surprise. The man smiled. Galen stared.
“Thanks for the help, Galen,” the Doctor said with a friendly nod, edging out the doors a little. “Like I said, best be going, but good luck with the concert! — Oh, no, no, that’s bad luck, isn’t it? I mean break an arm! — No, leg. Sorry. Old man, me, getting my centuries confused; the switch isn’t for a while now, I do believe.”
Galen wouldn’t have known what to say if he tried, so he defaulted to: “Uh, thanks… dude?”
“Rock on. Dude.” The Doctor grinned again, winked, and disappeared back into the box, closing the door behind him. The door opened again only a second later. “You might want to take a step back, but watch — you’ll like this bit.” Smiling like a small child on Christmas morning, the Doctor vanished again, and the door clicked shut.
Galen did as he was told, lest some other crazy unknown alien thing jump out of the darkness, and watched — all of a sudden he heard a metallic scraping noise, which gradually began to pulse, like the dead motor of a lawnmower… it took him a second to realize that the police box in front of him was fading in time with the metallic pulses, growing fainter each time. Soon enough, it was gone, and Galen wasn’t sure if the noise was echoing, or if he was just imagining it.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the pitch-black closet, staring at the wall, working through whatever the hell had just happened, when he heard Brad’s distant voice:
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS BEAUTIFUL HAPPENED TO MY AMP?!”