Something in the Water (Torchwood #4)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Dr. Bob Strong's GP surgery has being seeing a lot of coughs and colds recently - far more than is normal for the time of year. Bob contacts Owen Harper, an old student friend, who reluctantly agrees to look into it. Meanwhile, Toshiko and Gwen are investigating ghostly apparitions in the marshy areas of South Wales. It's been a dull month and they're just about to pack up when they discover a dead body. The Team find that there's been a massive spike in respiratory infections right across the UK. Captain Jack agrees that it's worth investigating, but at the moment his priority is Tosh and Gwen's work: they've brought the corpse back for examination. It's old, in an advanced state of decay...and still able to talk!
features, and Toshiko noticed when she looked up. ‘It’s kind of familiar,’ he said quietly, in response to her quizzical look. ‘The smell?’ ‘No. The look of it. Reminds me of something …’ Jack still seemed to be turning it over in his mind, as if he was sorting through a hundred thousand different experiences, searching for a tiny scrap of useful information. He approached the examination tray and reached out towards the remains, but he made sure he didn’t touch it. His lips parted slightly,
can’t die, you don’t get bothered much by the common cold.’ ‘This isn’t the common cold,’ Gwen said. ‘I don’t get sick,’ Jack repeated. ‘Usually.’ There was a long pause. ‘Usually?’ Owen prompted. Jack pulled a face and rubbed his neck. ‘I’ve kinda got a sore throat coming on now.’ TWENTY Owen’s mobile rang and he flipped it open. ‘Owen Harper.’ He listened for a moment and then redialled. ‘Voicemail,’ he explained, pulling a ‘don’t know what this is about’ face. He waited for the
left while Jack headed right. Owen took the metal steps three at a time, thighs straining, but he had to make the effort. They had been chasing this particular Weevil for long enough. It was big, tough and bastard cunning. Finally, they had it trapped. Owen reached the landing and dropped to a crouch, arms extended, gun in both hands, trying not to breathe too hard. He didn’t want to compromise his aim, for one thing, and then there was the smell. ‘This place is bloody rank,’ Owen said. ‘What
the water hags materialising in the stream. ‘What are they coming through here for? What do they want?’ ‘Control of the Rift?’ suggested Toshiko. ‘Perhaps they know about the Rift Manipulator. The reproduction by contagion is a bit hit-and-miss for invasion purposes. Control of the Rift could help.’ ‘What if it’s control of us they want?’ suggested Gwen. ‘Control of Torchwood? They know we’re the only people that can stop them.’ ‘Were the only people,’ Owen corrected. ‘Past tense.’ ‘Jack
up, use it to tear the world apart so they can rebuild it for themselves.’ ‘Get the guns,’ said Owen, heading for the armoury. ‘It’s no use,’ Ianto roared. ‘It won’t stop them, not for long enough.’ A large pustule of mud and seething matter bulged from the centre of the tower and suddenly unfolded long, angular legs like a giant insect emerging from its chrysalis. The limbs were a gnarled, twisted coagulate of mucus and soil, skinned by the moss and lichen which had covered the base of the