Lifeboat

30. The Doctor

The clinical stain of chemicals hung in the air. I shivered.

Poll number two must have noticed as she turned her head back to give me a quick wink.

"Let's get through here right away."

The urgency of my words had the desired effect and my companion hustled us through the room. This time the other exit stood open. I regularly checked over my shoulder to see if anyone was on our trail, but thankfully so far we were alone.

Poll number two halted inside the void of the doorway. She lowered her head, her full and supple curls caught the reflection of the unnatural lights.

"We should split up."

Her voice sounded sharp, erased of humanity. I edged in closer behind her, gently placing my fingertips on her back. She was cold to the touch.

"Why?"

"You are going to take the corridor to the left, am I correct?"

How did she know?

"Yes. Is there something wrong about that?"

She gave me nothing. I couldn't define any response from her body language, or her tone. She responded automatically, robotic.
"No. Nothing important. Follow the map in your head, Poll. I will meet you again."

She sprinted away so fast that I had no chance of stopping her.

Can I move that way too? No. Focus.

Retracing the route in my mind, I ended up faced with a tall etched door panel in the left wall of the corridor. The razor thin line of light from the other side glistened, creating a frame of silvery white.

I set off on my way to reach the door panel, imprinted clear as day in my thoughts. The corridor became darker as I strode on to find a branch of directions. One, brightly lit path led off to the left. The other, dim and tinged with a line of maroon LEDs along the walkway, headed to the right. This was the option I had to choose.

The echo of my feet slapped around me, bouncing back off the rounded ceiling. The passageway grew progressively more narrow, the coloured lights a deeper shade of red. Almost the tinge of stale blood. With a shift in pressure on the cartilage within my kneecaps, my body recognised an angle of descent. The etched door should be coming up on my left soon.

As expected. There it was.

I tentatively applied pressure to the edges of the door panel. A grind of mechanisms forced the opening to reveal.

The scene appeared like a stage show. A white, square table set in the middle of the room. An orange bulb dangled loosely over it. The empty chair under the oscillating light kept tales of forlorn bedtime stories. The pristine white floors, walls and ceiling told me nothing. A midnight-blue blanketed bed on the left lay disturbed and disordered.

She sat on the floor.

On the cold, white stone floor. Behind the table.

I slid into the room, bringing the panel to a close behind me. She never stirred. Stepping past the table, I brought myself down to her level by crouching on my haunches a few inches away.

For some reason this woman, cowering in front of me, had an important role to play in my plan.

Is it my plan? What is the plan exactly?

Brushing this aside, I took in the situation. She looked beaten. Not physically, but spiritually broken. Her light brown hair spread lusciously over her shoulders. The white overalls she wore set off the flecks of golden highlights in her thick hair beautifully. Her build, from what I could tell, held more bulk than mine. More muscle density and fat content. Her bare, red painted toes flicked upwards then down again in a rapid pattern of distress.

I reached out and prodded her arm. Her head shook for a second before she raised her gaze to look at me. Pale green eyes met mine. Moisture gathered along the rim of her bottom eyelashes. Sore, red speckled areas under her tired eyes displayed an unspoken anguish. She licked her dry lips before speaking in a hoarse voice.
"Is he alive?"

Who, is who alive?

"Is the Professor safe? You are allowed to tell me that much at least, right?"

Relieving the strain in my thigh muscles, I stood straight and gazed down upon her. I attempted to make the connections to her questions. Without being fully aware of the answers. One thing I did know for sure though.

"You mean Alessandro Dante."

She held my gaze for a moment, the green of her eyes fighting the liquid.
"Yes, Poll. Dante."

For some reason I knew this woman and she knew me. Her voice stirred memories of long forgotten events. Captured images fluttered through my mind, butterflies of seconds in time. It threw me off balance and I responded to the Doctor in an off-handed manner.
"That would be him. Mr know-it-all."

The woman's attractive face crumpled and I found it hard to tell if she was upset or amused. I continued, making an effort to tone down my sarcasm. I didn't want to make her unhappy.

Why should I care?

"I saw him. He is alive." This much at least I could offer her.

An expression of relief passed like a wave across her face.
"Oh, thank the stars!" The lightness of her voice struck me. All at once she had lost ten years in her tone. "Poll, you must get him out of here. You're the only one who can find him. The Resistance is on the way. I got a message out to them. Erica will respond, or her father, either way, you've got to save him."

Her words registered in my brain. I understood completely. Dante had known about Erica. Who was her father though? Did Alessandro know about him? Placing my hand on the Doctor's shoulder, I looked at her squarely and watched for any sign of deceit from her as I asked a question.
"How do you know my name? Do you know who I am?"

She smiled, a kind, honest smile. Her gaze unfaltered.

"Yes, Poll Tander. You are in all respects but one, my daughter. I gave you life. Your body is the image of someone's lost child, but your mind and thoughts are my doing."

I hadn't noticed that my hand had taken a stronger hold of her shoulder. I could feel the pulse of her veins as her life raced through her. She continued to speak, her measured, calming voice lulled me out of my state of alarm. It left me unprepared for her next words.

"That's how I know you will find him. Your mission is always to find Dante, even if they believe they have overridden that directive. It is your purpose, Poll. Find my husband and take him to safety. He must be allowed to impart his findings to the Central Committee. They have the ear of the Resistance."

I released my grip on her shoulder, my body rocked backwards. Her pleading face followed me.

"Go now, Erica is out there. She will help you to find him. Go."