End of the Road 2/4
Title:End of the Road 2/4
Authors: glory-jean & achuislemochroi from a concept by 2cbetter2
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S3, Gridlock Remixed with Rose Tyler
Summary When the Doctor decides to take Rose on a trip down memory lane trouble follows.
Betas: milieva & ladymalchav
Notes: Yes, it takes a village to write a fic. A huge thank you to Alizarin_Skies for the beautiful banner and icon and to Mrs_Roy for roping us into writing this. ;) Gridlock dialog referenced from Doctor who transcripts 2005+
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned by the BBC, used unofficially and not for profit.
Part 1
Rose finds herself pulled through a dimly-lit corridor.
She blinks, then, surprised to see light as her captors - the man clinging tightly to her arm, the woman still pointing the gun at her - pull her from the corridor to what at first glance appears to be a sort of emergency exit. At last, she finds her voice.
“You need to stop this. You don’t seem like bad people. Whatever is wrong, the Doctor and I can help. It’s what we do."
Her captors exchange a look but say nothing as they push her toward a black flying aircar. Rose thinks fast trying to find a way to keep them there until the Doctor can catch up.
“Give her some Sleep,” the man then says.
“Stop, please. Just talk to me.”
“It's just Sleep Fourteen,” the woman says, as if that means something, and before Rose can say anything more she feels one of the discs she’d seen on the vendors’ carts being pressed to her neck.
Struggling against them even as she feels her limbs growing heavy and her vision fading, Rose’s mind fights on even as her body succumbs; she calls out fruitlessly for the Doctor to stop this. A gentle jostling as she is moved elsewhere is the last thing she feels before blacking out.
@}-,-‘-
A combination of brute force and sonic screwdriver (see, Rose; told you I could resonate concrete) finally allows the Doctor through the door and he races after Rose and her kidnappers. He runs as fast as he’s capable, but even as he hurtles through the space he knows he is too slow. This trip was supposed to be safe and distracting. They both needed distance from their last misadventure. He shudders at the thought; if he never saw her possessed with vortex-energy again, it would be too soon. He firmly refuses to listen to his conscience, the tiny voice of conscience telling him he was just avoiding talking about his home planet with Rose, because it was silly. He isn’t avoiding anything.
He came to the end of the corridor just in time to see an aircar roaring to life and lifting off from its platform. Damn, too late.
“Rose!” he bellowed uselessly at the departing vehicle.
-‘-,-{@
“Thought you'd come back! Do you want some happy, Happy?” a pharmacist chirps as the Doctor returns to the carts.
The Doctor scowls darkly at him. “Those people - who were they? Where did they take her?”
His tone doesn't invite confidences. One of the vendors eventually pipes up. “They've taken her to the motorway. Looked like carjackers to me.”
“I’d give up now, darling. You won’t see her again.”
The Doctor turns a look of thunder at the source of this unwelcome information, but the voice continues. “Used to be thriving in this place. You couldn't move. But they all go to the motorway in the end.”
His teeth gritted as he fights for control of himself, anger barely suppressed, the Doctor spins from one seller to another.
“He kept on saying three; ”we need three”. What did he mean, three?”
“It's the car-sharing policy, to save fuel. You get special access if you're carrying three adults.”
“This motorway,” he demands. “How do I get there?”
“Straight down the alley, keep going to the end. You can't miss it.”
He moves to head in that direction, when one of the vendors makes the mistake of trying one last to time to sell him something. He strides back, fury unleashed at last.
“Word of advice, all of you,” he says tightly, voice almost a shout. “Cash up. Close down. And pack your bags. Because as soon as I've found her, alive and well - and I will find her, alive and well - then I'm coming back. And this street is closing. Tonight!”
@}-,-‘-
Rose blinks her eyes open slowly, both mind and body feeling oddly sluggish thanks to the remnants of the drug in her system. She finds herself in a bunk at the rear of a cramped space; silhouetted against a window are two figures. It looks like they are in some kind of vehicle. Rose reaches sleepily for the plastic circle still stuck to her neck; finding it, she pulls it off, frowning as she does. She throws it away from her, all the time wondering what her next move should be. Perhaps, she thought, she should try the Doctor’s tactic: playing along until she finds out what’s going on.
A man’s voice says, “The houses are made of wood. There are jobs going in the foundries. Everyone says so!”
A woman adds, “The sky … They say the air smells like apple grass. Can you imagine?”
Rose thinks for a minute then sits up.
“It does.”
The two figures jump at her voice.
“What?” The woman asks carefully.
“The air - it does smell of apple grass. It’s lovely. And the city is beautiful.”
The couple exchange a glance.
“You’ve been there?”
“Yup!” Rose says brightly, only just refraining from popping the “p.”
The woman recovers first, smiling hesitantly. “What's your name?”
“Rose.” She stands up cautiously and makes her way to the front of the vehicle.
“Well, I'm Cheen, and this is Milo. And I swear we're sorry. We're really, really sorry. We just needed access to the fast line, but I promise, as soon as we arrive, we'll drop you off and you can go back and find your friend.”
Rose just looks at her. “Really?”
“I swear! Look -, “Cheen pushes aside her hair and tapped the disk on her neck. “Honesty 36” is imprinted on it. “Honesty patch.”
Even she isn’t stupid enough to question why somebody might need an Honesty patch. She certainly isn’t ready, though, to take their word as gospel quite yet.
“If you needed help, couldn’t you have just asked for it? That what’s the Doctor and I do.”
She pauses a moment, frowning at the dark swirling haze outside the car. “That’s some strange looking fog. Where are we anyway?”
“We're on the motorway,” Cheen answers. “And that not fog. That's the exhaust fumes.”
“We're going out to Brooklyn,” Milo adds. “Everyone says the air's so much cleaner, and we couldn't stay in Pharmacy Town, 'cause …” He trailed off grinning at Cheen and reaching over to rub her knee.
Cheen grins up at Rose. “Well, 'cause of me. I'm pregnant. We only discovered it last week. Scan says it's going to be a boy.”
Rose smiles slightly at their enthusiasm. “I’m happy for you but it doesn’t make kidnapping me right.”
“This'll be as fast as we can,” Milo assures her. “We'll take the motorway to the Brooklyn flyover, and then after that it's gonna take awhile, 'cause then there's no fast lane, just ordinary roads, but at least it's direct.”
“It's only ten miles,” Cheen adds. “We’ll be just in time for him to start school.”
Rose gives them a puzzled look.
“Well it will still take about six years.”
“What?” Rose thunders. “Six years? How could it possibly take six years to go ten miles?”
-‘-,-{@
Striding through the shabby corridors, the Doctor keeps moving until he reaches one marked “Motorway Access.” He uses his sonic on the door and the lock releases with a satisfying clank. He steps through and on to a platform and as his eyes adjust to the darkness he notices that, hovering both above and below the platform are row on row of cars. The air is choked with a thick hazy smoke and the Doctor begins to cough. He looks around stunned, brain already trying to figure out a plan for how he will find Rose in this endless sea of vehicles. A car hovers directly in front of the platform. The Doctor ignores it until the door opens and a figure beckons him inside.
“Hey! You daft little street strut!” He calls. “What are you doing, standing there? Either get out or get in! Come on!”
As a fit of coughing seizes him, the Doctor walks into the car.
“Did you ever see the like?” his rescuer asks someone inside.
A dark-haired woman rushes to the Doctor, nods, and helps place an oxygen mask on him. He breathes in deeply, watching the two of them.
“Just standing there, breathing it in!” His rescuer continues. He removes the scarf and goggles that had concealed his face and the Doctor releases he is a cat just like the nuns he had met all those years (well, relatively speaking) before.
The man tosses the gear aside and sits down in the driver’s seat. “There's this story says back in the old days, on Junction Forty-Seven, this woman stood in the exhaust fumes for a solid twenty minutes. By the time they found her, her head had swollen to fifty feet!”
“Oh, you're making it up,” the woman declares.
“A fifty-foot head!” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken. “Just think of it. Imagine picking that nose.”
“Stop it. That's disgusting,” she complains.
“What? Did you never pick your nose?”
Instead of responding to that she taps him on the arm and says urgently, “Bran, we're moving!”
“Right. I'm there. I'm on it.” With some quick moments of the levers, the car lurches forward a bit and then stops again. “Twenty yards! We're having a good day.”
The Doctor puts aside the oxygen mask as they finally turn to address him.
“And who might you be, sir?” The cat asks him. “Very well-dressed for a hitchhiker.”
“Thanks. Sorry, I'm the Doctor.”
“Medical man! Ha-ha! My name's Thomas Kincade Brannigan, and this is the bane of my life, the lovely Valerie.”
Valerie smiles. “Nice to meet you.”
“And that's the rest of the family behind you.” Brannigan gestures to the curtain behind them.
The Doctor pushes the curtain aside to find a basket of tiny mewling kittens.
“Aw, that's nice. Hello.” He lifts a tiny black cat into his arms. “How old are they?”
“Just two months,” Valerie responded.
The kitten fusses a bit in the Doctor’s hands and he automatically shifts his hold and rubbed her head until she calmed.
“You do that well,” Valerie comments. “You have any children?”
The Doctor dropped his eyes and murmured a soft no.
Perhaps sensing that this was not something his guest wanted to discuss, Brannigan quickly changes the subject. “These poor little souls have never known the ground beneath their paws.”
The Doctor raises his head and looks at him, confused.
“Children of the motorway. We couldn't stop. We heard there were jobs going, out in the laundries on Fire Island. Thought we'd take a chance.”
The Doctor stares. “What, they were born in here? You've been driving for two months?”
Brannigan scoffs. “Do I look like a teenager? We've been driving for twelve years now.”
Stunned, the Doctor looks from one of them to the other. “I'm sorry?”
“Yeah! Started out as newlyweds! Feels like yesterday.”
“Feels like twelve years to me,” Valerie says, with a tired sigh.
“Ah, sweetheart, but you're still lovely.”
“Twelve years?” the Doctor exclaims. “How far did you come? Where did you start?”
“Battery Park. It's five miles back.”
“You travelled five miles in twelve years?” the Doctor demands incredulously.
“I think he's a bit slow,” Brannigan murmurs to his wife.
The Doctor turns and places the kitten back with the others and moves back toward the door.
“Where are you from?” Valerie asks.
“Never mind that,” he responds impatiently, “I've got to get out. My friend's in one of these cars. She was taken hostage. I should get back to the TARDIS.” He yanked open the door but the walkway he came in on was nowhere in sight. He squinted into the smoke with a sinking feeling.
“You're too late for that,” Brannigan comments. “We've passed the lay-by.”
Coughing once more from the exhaust fumes, the Doctor pulls the door closed.
“You're a passenger now, Sonny Jim!”
“When's the next lay-by?” the Doctor asks quickly.
“Oh … six months?”
@}-,-‘-
Rose stares sulkily at the rows and rows of identical angular vehicles hang in the air in front of them. Their headlights highlighting the billowing exhaust in the darkness, the blaring of their horns and engine hum filling her ears. She knows she’s acting a little childishly at the moment, but she is beyond frustrated. No matter how she challenges them they assure her there is no way to let her out of the car, seemingly completely baffled by her insistence that a trip that short should not take months.
Rose squints at the scene outside. The cars seemed to go on forever.
“How many cars are out there? “she questions, finally breaking her stony silence.
“I don't think anyone knows,” Cheen murmurs.
“And where is this fast lane?”
“Oh, it's right at the bottom,” Milo responds, “underneath the traffic jam. But not many people can afford three passengers, so it's empty down there. Rumour has it you can reach up to thirty miles per hour.”
“Right, lovely,” Rose mutters flatly. “Sounds like my idea of a party, stuck in a box for months on end.”
“It’s not that bad,” Cheen tries to reassure her. “We’re all we stocked up. Got self-replicating fuel, muscle stimulants for exercise, and there's a chemical toilet at the back. And all waste products are recycled as food.”
Rose makes a face but doesn’t comment.
Milo hoots as a space opens up in front of them and the car moves another few feet. Rose is sure she will go stir crazy after another five minutes of this, let alone the time frame they are discussing. The Doctor is evidently rubbing off on her. She can see him trying to bounce around impatiently in the narrow space if he had been the one kidnapped instead.
A computerized voice speaks suddenly from the console. “Car sign in.”
“Car Four Six Five Diamond Six, on descent to fast lane, thank you very much.” Milo says into the mic.
“Please drive safely,” the computer purrs.
-‘-,-{@
The vehicle’s screen displays insignia of the New New York Police Department, but the system stubbornly refuses to connect the call. The Doctor buzzes his sonic at the screen and tries one more time.
“I need to talk to the police,” he says into the transmitter.
The unhelpful computer voice responds.,
“Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold.”
As if he needed the extra confirmation, the same words scroll onto the screen.
“But you're the police!” he protests pointlessly as the voice repeats the message.
“Is there anyone else?” The Doctor questions his hosts not even trying to mask his frustration. “I once met the Duke of Manhattan; is there any way of getting through to him?”
“Oh, now,” Brannigan says a little mockingly, “ain't you lordly?”
“I've got to find Rose!”
“You can't make outside calls,” Valerie tells him sadly. “The motorway's completely enclosed.”
“What about the other cars?”
“Oh, we've got contact with them, yeah. Well, some of them, anyway. They've got to be on your friends list. Now, let's see - who's nearby? Ah! The Cassinis!” Brannigan reaches for the transmitter and connects a call. “Still your hearts, my handsome girls. It's Brannigan here.”
An irritated female voice comes over the speaker, “Get off the line, Brannigan. You're a pest and a menace.”
“Oh, come on, now,” Brannigan cajoles, “is that any way to talk to an old friend? I've got a hitchhiker here, calls himself the Doctor.”
The Doctor impatiently grabs for the transmitter as Brannigan hands it over.
“Hello. Sorry. I'm looking for someone called Rose Tyler. She's been carjacked. She's inside one of these vehicles, but I don't know which one.”
Another woman comes on the line. “Could I ask, what entrance did they use?”
At the Doctor’s frustrated expression Brannigan calls into the transmitter, “Pharmacy Town.”
“About twenty minutes ago,” the Doctor adds, casting a grateful glance at Brannigan.
After a moment the women comes back on the line. “In the last half hour, fifty-three new cars joined from the Pharmacy Town junction.”
Fifty-three? A shiver goes down the Doctor’s spine; this is not good news. “Anything more specific?”
“All in good time. Was she car-jacked by two people?”
“Yes, she was, yeah.” The Doctor bristles with impatience, feeling as though Rose is moving farther away every second. He knows that the amount of traffic makes this unlikely, but he can’t stop anxiety from creeping in.
“There we are. Just one of those cars was destined for the fast lane. That means they had three on board. And car number is four six five diamond six.”
He wishes he could hug the owner of the voice. “That's it! So how do we find them?”
“Ah,” she responds regretfully. “Now, there I'm afraid I can't help.”
The Doctor quickly turns to Brannigan. “Then we call them on this thing,” he waves the transmitter. “We've got their number. Diamond six.”
He feels Valerie’s hand on his arm.
“We can’t,” she says gently. “They are designated fast lane. It's a different class.”
He meets her eyes and almost can’t take the look of pitying sympathy he sees there.
@}-,-‘-
Rose watches silently as they drop through row after row of cars on their way to the “fast lane.” She allows herself a moment to picture stepping out this car six years from now and beginning an imaginary journey to locate the Doctor. Where would she start? She’d seen precious little of New New York last time, but she knew it was big.
A sudden low, rumbling sound disturbs her rather morbid thoughts. Reminiscent, she thinks, of aged metal machinery groaning in disrepair. Or else something large ... growling.
“Do you hear that?” Rose asks as the sound comes again.
“It does have noise, doesn't it?” Cheen says to herself more than Rose. “It's like Kate said. The stories are true.”
Rose’s eyes widen. Oh, this is trouble. “Stories?”
Milo cuts in brusquely before Cheen can answer. “It's the sound of the air vents. That's all. The exhaust fumes travel down, so at the base of the tunnel they've got air vents.”
Cheen twists her body to face Rose. “No, the stories are much better,” she says with a hint of excitement.
“Go on then,” Rose encourages.
Nearby Milo sniggers a little.
“They say people go missing on the motorway. Some cars just vanish, never to be seen again. 'Cause there's something living down there, in the smoke. Something huge. And hungry. And if you get lost on the road … it's waiting for you.”
The noise continues to grow in volume as the car descends. They cast nervous looks at each other and Rose feels a shiver of fear run down her spine.
“Like I said. Air vents,” Milo says defensively.
“Air vents,” Rose muses. “And air vents do what? Let in the air? Clear the exhaust?”
Milo frowns at her.
“Doesn’t look like a lot of air venting happening out there,” Rose finishes, undaunted.
Cheen swallows hard. “No, it doesn’t.”
They all listen to sounds for a moment.
“So what is that, then?” Rose asks.
Milo swallows and shakes his head. “Nah. Kid stuff.” He speaks into the transmitter, “Car Four Six Five Diamond Six, on descent.”
@}-,-‘-
“We've got to go to the fast lane,” the Doctor breathes. “Take me down.”
“Not a million years!”
“You've got three passengers!”
“I'm still not going.”
“You have to. Rose is alone, and she's lost.” Both men choose not to acknowledge the way his voice cracks on Rose’s name. “She doesn't belong on this planet, she belongs with me. I'm asking you, Brannigan," and a pleading note enters his voice “- take me down.”
“That's a no,” Valerie says firmly. “And that's final. I'm not risking the children down there.”
“Risk?” Despite himself, despite his growing fear for Rose, the Doctor finds his interest piqued. “What risk? What happens down there?” he demands.
But Valerie is unmoved. “We're not discussing it! The conversation is closed!”
“So, what, we keep on driving?” He’s having a hard time reining in his frustration, and some of it leaks into his voice. “For how long?”
“'Til the journey's end,” Brannigan murmurs.
The Doctor, angry, snatches up the transmitter.
“Mrs. Cassini, this is the Doctor. Tell me, how long have you been driving on the motorway?”
“Oh, we were amongst the first,” comes the response. “It's been twenty-three years now.”
“And in all that time, have you ever seen a police car?”
There is an uncomfortable pause.
“I'm not sure.”
“Look at your notes,” the Doctor presses, unable and unwilling to keep frustration, or a rapidly developing anger, out of his voice any longer. “Any police? Or an ambulance? Rescue service? Anything official? Ever?”
“Not as such.” The admission’s a reluctant one, and almost apologetic. “I can't keep a note of everything.”
The Doctor feels a cold triumph and he moves in, making his point for them all. “What if there's no one out there?”
Brannigan takes the transmitter from the Doctor’s hand.
“Stop it." There's anger in his voice, but there's uncertainty beneath the anger. "The Cassinis were doing you a favour.”
“Someone's got to ask,” the Doctor continues, unrepentant. “‘Cause you might not talk about it, but it's there. In your eyes. What if the traffic jam never stops?”
“There's a whole city above us,” Brannigan counters. “The mighty city-state of New New York. They wouldn't just leave us.”
“In that case, where are they, hmm?” he questions, pushing the issue. "What if there's no help coming, not ever? What if there's nothing? Just the motorway, with the cars going round and round and round, never stopping? For ever?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Valerie’s shout sounds uncomfortably close to hysteria.
Suddenly the car’s console screen flickers and the image of Sally Calypso fills the screen.
“This is Sally Calypso, and it's that time again. The sun is blazing high in the sky over the New Atlantic, the perfect setting for the daily contemplation.”
“You think you know us so well, Doctor,” Brannigan says, scorn in his voice, "but we're not abandoned. Not while we have each other.”
He and the Doctor stare at each other and the Doctor is distantly aware of Sally Calypso’s next words.
“This is for all of you out there on the roads. We're so sorry. Drive safe.”
Music begins to filter into the car and Brannigan turns in his seat, looking towards his wife as they both begin to sing. The Doctor can only watch in amazement as the people of the motorway join in song.
-‘-,-{@
Rose sits in silence as Milo and Cheen sing along to an old hymn she remembered vaguely from school.
On a hill, far away
Stood an old, rugged cross
The emblem of suffering and shame
And I love that old cross
Where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain
Over the car’s radio, she can hear the combined voices of the drivers, rising into unison. Feeling for a moment part of the largest congregation imaginable, Rose finds herself drawn in by the vaguely familiar tune, simultaneously soothed and awed by the quiet passion in the mass of voices.
So I'll cherish the old, rugged cross, rugged cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down, I lay down
I will cling to the old, rugged cross, rugged cross
And exchange it someday for a crown.
As the hymn ends, the computer voice smashes the mood. “Fast lane access, please drive safely.”
“We made it,” Milo breathes. ”The fast lane.”
@}-,-‘-
The Doctor feels a rush of determination fill him as the song ends. He decides to act.
“If you won't take me, I'll go down on my own.”
He moves to the centre of the car, seeing what he needs there.
“What do you think you're doing?” Brannigan demands.
“Finding my own way. I usually do.”
He aims his sonic at the access hatch in the floor and the latch pops open. Pulling up the hatch, he stares down at the seemingly unending layers of aircars below.
“Here we go,” he murmurs as a car moves forward. As it stills, suspended directly beneath them, he fixes his gaze on it. He pulls off his coat and throws it to Valerie. “Look after this.” He casts a longing glance at his coat. “I love that coat. Janis Joplin gave me that coat.”
“But you can't jump!” Valerie protests.
“If it's any consolation, Valerie, right now, I'm having kittens.”
“This Rose - she must mean an awful lot to you,” Brannigan says, awed.
The Doctor meets his eyes for a moment and an understanding passes between them.
“She’s everything.”
A beat of silence; then he flashes a manic grin at Brannigan.
And he jumps.
Authors: glory-jean & achuislemochroi from a concept by 2cbetter2
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: S3, Gridlock Remixed with Rose Tyler
Summary When the Doctor decides to take Rose on a trip down memory lane trouble follows.
Betas: milieva & ladymalchav
Notes: Yes, it takes a village to write a fic. A huge thank you to Alizarin_Skies for the beautiful banner and icon and to Mrs_Roy for roping us into writing this. ;) Gridlock dialog referenced from Doctor who transcripts 2005+
Disclaimer: Based on characters owned by the BBC, used unofficially and not for profit.
Part 1
Rose finds herself pulled through a dimly-lit corridor.
She blinks, then, surprised to see light as her captors - the man clinging tightly to her arm, the woman still pointing the gun at her - pull her from the corridor to what at first glance appears to be a sort of emergency exit. At last, she finds her voice.
“You need to stop this. You don’t seem like bad people. Whatever is wrong, the Doctor and I can help. It’s what we do."
Her captors exchange a look but say nothing as they push her toward a black flying aircar. Rose thinks fast trying to find a way to keep them there until the Doctor can catch up.
“Give her some Sleep,” the man then says.
“Stop, please. Just talk to me.”
“It's just Sleep Fourteen,” the woman says, as if that means something, and before Rose can say anything more she feels one of the discs she’d seen on the vendors’ carts being pressed to her neck.
Struggling against them even as she feels her limbs growing heavy and her vision fading, Rose’s mind fights on even as her body succumbs; she calls out fruitlessly for the Doctor to stop this. A gentle jostling as she is moved elsewhere is the last thing she feels before blacking out.
@}-,-‘-
A combination of brute force and sonic screwdriver (see, Rose; told you I could resonate concrete) finally allows the Doctor through the door and he races after Rose and her kidnappers. He runs as fast as he’s capable, but even as he hurtles through the space he knows he is too slow. This trip was supposed to be safe and distracting. They both needed distance from their last misadventure. He shudders at the thought; if he never saw her possessed with vortex-energy again, it would be too soon. He firmly refuses to listen to his conscience, the tiny voice of conscience telling him he was just avoiding talking about his home planet with Rose, because it was silly. He isn’t avoiding anything.
He came to the end of the corridor just in time to see an aircar roaring to life and lifting off from its platform. Damn, too late.
“Rose!” he bellowed uselessly at the departing vehicle.
-‘-,-{@
“Thought you'd come back! Do you want some happy, Happy?” a pharmacist chirps as the Doctor returns to the carts.
The Doctor scowls darkly at him. “Those people - who were they? Where did they take her?”
His tone doesn't invite confidences. One of the vendors eventually pipes up. “They've taken her to the motorway. Looked like carjackers to me.”
“I’d give up now, darling. You won’t see her again.”
The Doctor turns a look of thunder at the source of this unwelcome information, but the voice continues. “Used to be thriving in this place. You couldn't move. But they all go to the motorway in the end.”
His teeth gritted as he fights for control of himself, anger barely suppressed, the Doctor spins from one seller to another.
“He kept on saying three; ”we need three”. What did he mean, three?”
“It's the car-sharing policy, to save fuel. You get special access if you're carrying three adults.”
“This motorway,” he demands. “How do I get there?”
“Straight down the alley, keep going to the end. You can't miss it.”
He moves to head in that direction, when one of the vendors makes the mistake of trying one last to time to sell him something. He strides back, fury unleashed at last.
“Word of advice, all of you,” he says tightly, voice almost a shout. “Cash up. Close down. And pack your bags. Because as soon as I've found her, alive and well - and I will find her, alive and well - then I'm coming back. And this street is closing. Tonight!”
@}-,-‘-
Rose blinks her eyes open slowly, both mind and body feeling oddly sluggish thanks to the remnants of the drug in her system. She finds herself in a bunk at the rear of a cramped space; silhouetted against a window are two figures. It looks like they are in some kind of vehicle. Rose reaches sleepily for the plastic circle still stuck to her neck; finding it, she pulls it off, frowning as she does. She throws it away from her, all the time wondering what her next move should be. Perhaps, she thought, she should try the Doctor’s tactic: playing along until she finds out what’s going on.
A man’s voice says, “The houses are made of wood. There are jobs going in the foundries. Everyone says so!”
A woman adds, “The sky … They say the air smells like apple grass. Can you imagine?”
Rose thinks for a minute then sits up.
“It does.”
The two figures jump at her voice.
“What?” The woman asks carefully.
“The air - it does smell of apple grass. It’s lovely. And the city is beautiful.”
The couple exchange a glance.
“You’ve been there?”
“Yup!” Rose says brightly, only just refraining from popping the “p.”
The woman recovers first, smiling hesitantly. “What's your name?”
“Rose.” She stands up cautiously and makes her way to the front of the vehicle.
“Well, I'm Cheen, and this is Milo. And I swear we're sorry. We're really, really sorry. We just needed access to the fast line, but I promise, as soon as we arrive, we'll drop you off and you can go back and find your friend.”
Rose just looks at her. “Really?”
“I swear! Look -, “Cheen pushes aside her hair and tapped the disk on her neck. “Honesty 36” is imprinted on it. “Honesty patch.”
Even she isn’t stupid enough to question why somebody might need an Honesty patch. She certainly isn’t ready, though, to take their word as gospel quite yet.
“If you needed help, couldn’t you have just asked for it? That what’s the Doctor and I do.”
She pauses a moment, frowning at the dark swirling haze outside the car. “That’s some strange looking fog. Where are we anyway?”
“We're on the motorway,” Cheen answers. “And that not fog. That's the exhaust fumes.”
“We're going out to Brooklyn,” Milo adds. “Everyone says the air's so much cleaner, and we couldn't stay in Pharmacy Town, 'cause …” He trailed off grinning at Cheen and reaching over to rub her knee.
Cheen grins up at Rose. “Well, 'cause of me. I'm pregnant. We only discovered it last week. Scan says it's going to be a boy.”
Rose smiles slightly at their enthusiasm. “I’m happy for you but it doesn’t make kidnapping me right.”
“This'll be as fast as we can,” Milo assures her. “We'll take the motorway to the Brooklyn flyover, and then after that it's gonna take awhile, 'cause then there's no fast lane, just ordinary roads, but at least it's direct.”
“It's only ten miles,” Cheen adds. “We’ll be just in time for him to start school.”
Rose gives them a puzzled look.
“Well it will still take about six years.”
“What?” Rose thunders. “Six years? How could it possibly take six years to go ten miles?”
-‘-,-{@
Striding through the shabby corridors, the Doctor keeps moving until he reaches one marked “Motorway Access.” He uses his sonic on the door and the lock releases with a satisfying clank. He steps through and on to a platform and as his eyes adjust to the darkness he notices that, hovering both above and below the platform are row on row of cars. The air is choked with a thick hazy smoke and the Doctor begins to cough. He looks around stunned, brain already trying to figure out a plan for how he will find Rose in this endless sea of vehicles. A car hovers directly in front of the platform. The Doctor ignores it until the door opens and a figure beckons him inside.
“Hey! You daft little street strut!” He calls. “What are you doing, standing there? Either get out or get in! Come on!”
As a fit of coughing seizes him, the Doctor walks into the car.
“Did you ever see the like?” his rescuer asks someone inside.
A dark-haired woman rushes to the Doctor, nods, and helps place an oxygen mask on him. He breathes in deeply, watching the two of them.
“Just standing there, breathing it in!” His rescuer continues. He removes the scarf and goggles that had concealed his face and the Doctor releases he is a cat just like the nuns he had met all those years (well, relatively speaking) before.
The man tosses the gear aside and sits down in the driver’s seat. “There's this story says back in the old days, on Junction Forty-Seven, this woman stood in the exhaust fumes for a solid twenty minutes. By the time they found her, her head had swollen to fifty feet!”
“Oh, you're making it up,” the woman declares.
“A fifty-foot head!” he continues as if she hadn’t spoken. “Just think of it. Imagine picking that nose.”
“Stop it. That's disgusting,” she complains.
“What? Did you never pick your nose?”
Instead of responding to that she taps him on the arm and says urgently, “Bran, we're moving!”
“Right. I'm there. I'm on it.” With some quick moments of the levers, the car lurches forward a bit and then stops again. “Twenty yards! We're having a good day.”
The Doctor puts aside the oxygen mask as they finally turn to address him.
“And who might you be, sir?” The cat asks him. “Very well-dressed for a hitchhiker.”
“Thanks. Sorry, I'm the Doctor.”
“Medical man! Ha-ha! My name's Thomas Kincade Brannigan, and this is the bane of my life, the lovely Valerie.”
Valerie smiles. “Nice to meet you.”
“And that's the rest of the family behind you.” Brannigan gestures to the curtain behind them.
The Doctor pushes the curtain aside to find a basket of tiny mewling kittens.
“Aw, that's nice. Hello.” He lifts a tiny black cat into his arms. “How old are they?”
“Just two months,” Valerie responded.
The kitten fusses a bit in the Doctor’s hands and he automatically shifts his hold and rubbed her head until she calmed.
“You do that well,” Valerie comments. “You have any children?”
The Doctor dropped his eyes and murmured a soft no.
Perhaps sensing that this was not something his guest wanted to discuss, Brannigan quickly changes the subject. “These poor little souls have never known the ground beneath their paws.”
The Doctor raises his head and looks at him, confused.
“Children of the motorway. We couldn't stop. We heard there were jobs going, out in the laundries on Fire Island. Thought we'd take a chance.”
The Doctor stares. “What, they were born in here? You've been driving for two months?”
Brannigan scoffs. “Do I look like a teenager? We've been driving for twelve years now.”
Stunned, the Doctor looks from one of them to the other. “I'm sorry?”
“Yeah! Started out as newlyweds! Feels like yesterday.”
“Feels like twelve years to me,” Valerie says, with a tired sigh.
“Ah, sweetheart, but you're still lovely.”
“Twelve years?” the Doctor exclaims. “How far did you come? Where did you start?”
“Battery Park. It's five miles back.”
“You travelled five miles in twelve years?” the Doctor demands incredulously.
“I think he's a bit slow,” Brannigan murmurs to his wife.
The Doctor turns and places the kitten back with the others and moves back toward the door.
“Where are you from?” Valerie asks.
“Never mind that,” he responds impatiently, “I've got to get out. My friend's in one of these cars. She was taken hostage. I should get back to the TARDIS.” He yanked open the door but the walkway he came in on was nowhere in sight. He squinted into the smoke with a sinking feeling.
“You're too late for that,” Brannigan comments. “We've passed the lay-by.”
Coughing once more from the exhaust fumes, the Doctor pulls the door closed.
“You're a passenger now, Sonny Jim!”
“When's the next lay-by?” the Doctor asks quickly.
“Oh … six months?”
@}-,-‘-
Rose stares sulkily at the rows and rows of identical angular vehicles hang in the air in front of them. Their headlights highlighting the billowing exhaust in the darkness, the blaring of their horns and engine hum filling her ears. She knows she’s acting a little childishly at the moment, but she is beyond frustrated. No matter how she challenges them they assure her there is no way to let her out of the car, seemingly completely baffled by her insistence that a trip that short should not take months.
Rose squints at the scene outside. The cars seemed to go on forever.
“How many cars are out there? “she questions, finally breaking her stony silence.
“I don't think anyone knows,” Cheen murmurs.
“And where is this fast lane?”
“Oh, it's right at the bottom,” Milo responds, “underneath the traffic jam. But not many people can afford three passengers, so it's empty down there. Rumour has it you can reach up to thirty miles per hour.”
“Right, lovely,” Rose mutters flatly. “Sounds like my idea of a party, stuck in a box for months on end.”
“It’s not that bad,” Cheen tries to reassure her. “We’re all we stocked up. Got self-replicating fuel, muscle stimulants for exercise, and there's a chemical toilet at the back. And all waste products are recycled as food.”
Rose makes a face but doesn’t comment.
Milo hoots as a space opens up in front of them and the car moves another few feet. Rose is sure she will go stir crazy after another five minutes of this, let alone the time frame they are discussing. The Doctor is evidently rubbing off on her. She can see him trying to bounce around impatiently in the narrow space if he had been the one kidnapped instead.
A computerized voice speaks suddenly from the console. “Car sign in.”
“Car Four Six Five Diamond Six, on descent to fast lane, thank you very much.” Milo says into the mic.
“Please drive safely,” the computer purrs.
-‘-,-{@
The vehicle’s screen displays insignia of the New New York Police Department, but the system stubbornly refuses to connect the call. The Doctor buzzes his sonic at the screen and tries one more time.
“I need to talk to the police,” he says into the transmitter.
The unhelpful computer voice responds.,
“Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold.”
As if he needed the extra confirmation, the same words scroll onto the screen.
“But you're the police!” he protests pointlessly as the voice repeats the message.
“Is there anyone else?” The Doctor questions his hosts not even trying to mask his frustration. “I once met the Duke of Manhattan; is there any way of getting through to him?”
“Oh, now,” Brannigan says a little mockingly, “ain't you lordly?”
“I've got to find Rose!”
“You can't make outside calls,” Valerie tells him sadly. “The motorway's completely enclosed.”
“What about the other cars?”
“Oh, we've got contact with them, yeah. Well, some of them, anyway. They've got to be on your friends list. Now, let's see - who's nearby? Ah! The Cassinis!” Brannigan reaches for the transmitter and connects a call. “Still your hearts, my handsome girls. It's Brannigan here.”
An irritated female voice comes over the speaker, “Get off the line, Brannigan. You're a pest and a menace.”
“Oh, come on, now,” Brannigan cajoles, “is that any way to talk to an old friend? I've got a hitchhiker here, calls himself the Doctor.”
The Doctor impatiently grabs for the transmitter as Brannigan hands it over.
“Hello. Sorry. I'm looking for someone called Rose Tyler. She's been carjacked. She's inside one of these vehicles, but I don't know which one.”
Another woman comes on the line. “Could I ask, what entrance did they use?”
At the Doctor’s frustrated expression Brannigan calls into the transmitter, “Pharmacy Town.”
“About twenty minutes ago,” the Doctor adds, casting a grateful glance at Brannigan.
After a moment the women comes back on the line. “In the last half hour, fifty-three new cars joined from the Pharmacy Town junction.”
Fifty-three? A shiver goes down the Doctor’s spine; this is not good news. “Anything more specific?”
“All in good time. Was she car-jacked by two people?”
“Yes, she was, yeah.” The Doctor bristles with impatience, feeling as though Rose is moving farther away every second. He knows that the amount of traffic makes this unlikely, but he can’t stop anxiety from creeping in.
“There we are. Just one of those cars was destined for the fast lane. That means they had three on board. And car number is four six five diamond six.”
He wishes he could hug the owner of the voice. “That's it! So how do we find them?”
“Ah,” she responds regretfully. “Now, there I'm afraid I can't help.”
The Doctor quickly turns to Brannigan. “Then we call them on this thing,” he waves the transmitter. “We've got their number. Diamond six.”
He feels Valerie’s hand on his arm.
“We can’t,” she says gently. “They are designated fast lane. It's a different class.”
He meets her eyes and almost can’t take the look of pitying sympathy he sees there.
@}-,-‘-
Rose watches silently as they drop through row after row of cars on their way to the “fast lane.” She allows herself a moment to picture stepping out this car six years from now and beginning an imaginary journey to locate the Doctor. Where would she start? She’d seen precious little of New New York last time, but she knew it was big.
A sudden low, rumbling sound disturbs her rather morbid thoughts. Reminiscent, she thinks, of aged metal machinery groaning in disrepair. Or else something large ... growling.
“Do you hear that?” Rose asks as the sound comes again.
“It does have noise, doesn't it?” Cheen says to herself more than Rose. “It's like Kate said. The stories are true.”
Rose’s eyes widen. Oh, this is trouble. “Stories?”
Milo cuts in brusquely before Cheen can answer. “It's the sound of the air vents. That's all. The exhaust fumes travel down, so at the base of the tunnel they've got air vents.”
Cheen twists her body to face Rose. “No, the stories are much better,” she says with a hint of excitement.
“Go on then,” Rose encourages.
Nearby Milo sniggers a little.
“They say people go missing on the motorway. Some cars just vanish, never to be seen again. 'Cause there's something living down there, in the smoke. Something huge. And hungry. And if you get lost on the road … it's waiting for you.”
The noise continues to grow in volume as the car descends. They cast nervous looks at each other and Rose feels a shiver of fear run down her spine.
“Like I said. Air vents,” Milo says defensively.
“Air vents,” Rose muses. “And air vents do what? Let in the air? Clear the exhaust?”
Milo frowns at her.
“Doesn’t look like a lot of air venting happening out there,” Rose finishes, undaunted.
Cheen swallows hard. “No, it doesn’t.”
They all listen to sounds for a moment.
“So what is that, then?” Rose asks.
Milo swallows and shakes his head. “Nah. Kid stuff.” He speaks into the transmitter, “Car Four Six Five Diamond Six, on descent.”
@}-,-‘-
“We've got to go to the fast lane,” the Doctor breathes. “Take me down.”
“Not a million years!”
“You've got three passengers!”
“I'm still not going.”
“You have to. Rose is alone, and she's lost.” Both men choose not to acknowledge the way his voice cracks on Rose’s name. “She doesn't belong on this planet, she belongs with me. I'm asking you, Brannigan," and a pleading note enters his voice “- take me down.”
“That's a no,” Valerie says firmly. “And that's final. I'm not risking the children down there.”
“Risk?” Despite himself, despite his growing fear for Rose, the Doctor finds his interest piqued. “What risk? What happens down there?” he demands.
But Valerie is unmoved. “We're not discussing it! The conversation is closed!”
“So, what, we keep on driving?” He’s having a hard time reining in his frustration, and some of it leaks into his voice. “For how long?”
“'Til the journey's end,” Brannigan murmurs.
The Doctor, angry, snatches up the transmitter.
“Mrs. Cassini, this is the Doctor. Tell me, how long have you been driving on the motorway?”
“Oh, we were amongst the first,” comes the response. “It's been twenty-three years now.”
“And in all that time, have you ever seen a police car?”
There is an uncomfortable pause.
“I'm not sure.”
“Look at your notes,” the Doctor presses, unable and unwilling to keep frustration, or a rapidly developing anger, out of his voice any longer. “Any police? Or an ambulance? Rescue service? Anything official? Ever?”
“Not as such.” The admission’s a reluctant one, and almost apologetic. “I can't keep a note of everything.”
The Doctor feels a cold triumph and he moves in, making his point for them all. “What if there's no one out there?”
Brannigan takes the transmitter from the Doctor’s hand.
“Stop it." There's anger in his voice, but there's uncertainty beneath the anger. "The Cassinis were doing you a favour.”
“Someone's got to ask,” the Doctor continues, unrepentant. “‘Cause you might not talk about it, but it's there. In your eyes. What if the traffic jam never stops?”
“There's a whole city above us,” Brannigan counters. “The mighty city-state of New New York. They wouldn't just leave us.”
“In that case, where are they, hmm?” he questions, pushing the issue. "What if there's no help coming, not ever? What if there's nothing? Just the motorway, with the cars going round and round and round, never stopping? For ever?”
“Shut up! Just shut up!” Valerie’s shout sounds uncomfortably close to hysteria.
Suddenly the car’s console screen flickers and the image of Sally Calypso fills the screen.
“This is Sally Calypso, and it's that time again. The sun is blazing high in the sky over the New Atlantic, the perfect setting for the daily contemplation.”
“You think you know us so well, Doctor,” Brannigan says, scorn in his voice, "but we're not abandoned. Not while we have each other.”
He and the Doctor stare at each other and the Doctor is distantly aware of Sally Calypso’s next words.
“This is for all of you out there on the roads. We're so sorry. Drive safe.”
Music begins to filter into the car and Brannigan turns in his seat, looking towards his wife as they both begin to sing. The Doctor can only watch in amazement as the people of the motorway join in song.
-‘-,-{@
Rose sits in silence as Milo and Cheen sing along to an old hymn she remembered vaguely from school.
On a hill, far away
Stood an old, rugged cross
The emblem of suffering and shame
And I love that old cross
Where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain
Over the car’s radio, she can hear the combined voices of the drivers, rising into unison. Feeling for a moment part of the largest congregation imaginable, Rose finds herself drawn in by the vaguely familiar tune, simultaneously soothed and awed by the quiet passion in the mass of voices.
So I'll cherish the old, rugged cross, rugged cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down, I lay down
I will cling to the old, rugged cross, rugged cross
And exchange it someday for a crown.
As the hymn ends, the computer voice smashes the mood. “Fast lane access, please drive safely.”
“We made it,” Milo breathes. ”The fast lane.”
@}-,-‘-
The Doctor feels a rush of determination fill him as the song ends. He decides to act.
“If you won't take me, I'll go down on my own.”
He moves to the centre of the car, seeing what he needs there.
“What do you think you're doing?” Brannigan demands.
“Finding my own way. I usually do.”
He aims his sonic at the access hatch in the floor and the latch pops open. Pulling up the hatch, he stares down at the seemingly unending layers of aircars below.
“Here we go,” he murmurs as a car moves forward. As it stills, suspended directly beneath them, he fixes his gaze on it. He pulls off his coat and throws it to Valerie. “Look after this.” He casts a longing glance at his coat. “I love that coat. Janis Joplin gave me that coat.”
“But you can't jump!” Valerie protests.
“If it's any consolation, Valerie, right now, I'm having kittens.”
“This Rose - she must mean an awful lot to you,” Brannigan says, awed.
The Doctor meets his eyes for a moment and an understanding passes between them.
“She’s everything.”
A beat of silence; then he flashes a manic grin at Brannigan.
And he jumps.