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You weren’t supposed to miss your mom when you were twelve. Definitely not supposed to lay awake in your bunk bed six days in thinking about your room and your dog and actual food for human beings and your one friend who would have to spend her days hanging out at the mall alone and maybe kind of missed you and you almost hoped she did even if it was mean.
Little kids felt homesick. Twelve-year-olds had grown so far past that it wasn’t even funny.
Danielle missed home so much she felt like she had an alien in her chest. A big, slimy, prickly alien burrowing around in there. Such a dumb mistake to give in and go to camp. She should have stood her ground. Mom would have seen how important it was to her, but she didn’t even make the case, she just obeyed like a dog. And now she was stuck here for, deep breath, three more weeks. Three stupid, miserable weeks, because she chickened out when it mattered.
She closed her eyes. The other girls snored lightly around her, seemingly happy with their dreams. Lucky them. Danielle pretended she was in bed back home. In her mind’s eye, she reconstructed every detail of her room, down to the pencils on her desk. Maybe, when she opened her eyes, maybe…
On the minus side, Danielle still lay in her bunk bed in the summer camp cabin with five random girls she’d barely spoken to.
On the plus side, that was when she saw the star.
Just a golden buzzing at the edges of her vision at first, a suggestion of light and movement that tickled the deep parts of her brain, hard-wired to spot approaching lions on the ancient savanna. Enough to get her to sit up and glance at the window.
Danielle’s mouth fell open. A flare of hope, burning against the night sky. She should have been terrified, but her soul could only say ‘guardian angel’. The glow took her back to Fourth of July fireworks, the smell of meat sizzling on the barbecue, Dad’s hand on her shoulder. Unlike fireworks, though, this was a quiet explosion. Streams of liquid gold spread from a core that made her think of a miniature sun, sinking to Earth.
Because yes, the star was headed for the ground in a slow descent. Danielle got out of bed and grimaced as her bare feet hit the cold floorboards. She rummaged around for her sweatpants, shoes, hoodie. The star hung above the little ridge on the other side of the lake, overlooking the water. She’d make it, if she ran.
Sweet night air embraced her outside, laced with the smell of grass and sleeping flowers. Danielle shut the door to the cabin behind her ever so slowly. Good thing the hinges didn’t creak.
Her eyes adjusted quickly. At this time of year, the light never really died. It hung on to the underbelly of the sky as a sort of ghost, making everything it touched a little bit ghostly too.
The star was closer now. Maybe not a star at all. More like a person wrapped in a blizzard of tiny stars, arms thrown out at their sides. Danielle didn’t believe in angels, and she thought the crazy abomination angels with five heads and thousands of eyes were much cooler than the winged people version anyway. Still, she couldn’t help thinking of angels when she saw the figure. Soon she’d see for herself.
The path flew past under her feet. Most days she spent a lot of time up there, watching the lake mirror the sky while the other kids played and ran and shouted. Her feet knew the way and remembered the stones and roots to avoid, even in the dusky half-light.
Danielle ran flat-out through the trees. The woods weren’t as inviting at night, when the conifers turned into a dark army where anything could shelter in their ranks. Just then she didn’t care. Panting, she threw herself up the final slope. Strands of light touched her, leaking through the branches. A cloud of golden dust billowed into the air when the star hit the ground.
Nothing moved on the ridge. Deep silence ruled the night. Heartbeats hammered in Danielle’s ears: her own. She sucked down air in hard gulps. Maybe mom had a point when she said the camp would be a chance to get in better shape.
Overflowing with excitement, she tip-toed forwards. Something had flattened the grass. Dots of light swirled above it, like a swarm of extra-strength fireflies.
A young boy in a torn dress lay on his back, looking up at the night sky and at her. He was maybe ten, with shoulder-length brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose. The garment was way too big for him, trailing fabric into the undergrowth.
Their eyes stayed locked to each other, before a shaky grin broke out on the boy’s face.
“Um...hey?” Danielle said.
“Hiya.” The boy sat up. “Ooh, supple. Supple is good.” He wiggled his hands around, drew his legs towards him. “Oxygen saturation could be better, but I love the flexibility.” He held his hands up to Danielle and spread his fingers. “Sorry, could you tell me if this is the right number? I think it is, but I could do with a second opinion.”
Danielle tried not to giggle. “What are you doing?”
“I wanna say they call it a sanity check. I’ve got ten, don’t I?”
“Yeah, but--”
“Okay, so we’re just gonna assume there’s ten down there too.” He gestured at his feet, hidden underneath the indigo dress.
This time Danielle did giggle. “You’re funny.”
“Really?” His eyes glittered in the moonlight, and a rush of radiant, childlike excitement opened his face. “Awesome.”
What was that accent? Foreign, but completely fluent. It finally clicked. “Are you English?” Danielle asked.
“Nah.” The boy took a breath, closed his eyes, then pushed himself into a standing position. “I’m an anglophile. Sort of.” He took an unsteady step towards Danielle.
“You’re glowing,” she said, backing away.
A sheepish smile put all the boy’s teeth on display. “Thank you.”
“No, I mean, like, you’re literally glowing.”
Not nearly as much as before, but gusts of honey-colored lights still drifted around his hands.
“Oh.” He looked down at his hands, shy. Then he turned to Danielle again. “Don’t worry, it’s just a thing. A thing I do. It’s fine.”
Even now, she couldn’t find her fear. She should be terrified. Sure, he looked like a cute ten-year-old, but Danielle had seen enough movies about little kids who turned out to be evil monsters from the dawn of time. Still, something about the golden light soothed her nerves. He wouldn’t harm her. She’d bet her life on that.
Meanwhile, the boy paced around, taking in the woods and the lake. His tongue flicked at the air. “Yep. Clearly Earth. Let’s see, about 365 parts per million carbon dioxide...” He stopped and touched his ear. “So many frequencies. Amazing. Has there always been so many frequencies?
“...probably?”
He grinned at Danielle. “Anyway, putting it all together, I’d guess we’re in...2002. How’d I do?”
“So you ‘guessed’ the current year. Great job,” she said, making air quotes around the word ‘guessed’.
“Sarcasm’s a bad habit. Just saying.”
“Don’t you lecture me,” Danielle said, but she laughed.
“Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m the Doctor.”
“Is that a superhero thing?”
“On my good days, maybe.”
“So, are you into comic books or something?”
“Not really. There’s so much continuity, it makes my head spin. And for real, how many times can you blow up the Earth and hit the reset button? Like, come on.”
“I don’t know, I don’t read comics. Anyway, I’m Danielle. What’s your name?”
“The Doctor. Told you.”
Stuff like this was why Danielle refused to take babysitting gigs. Little kids could be so stubborn. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. Let’s just go with your nickname then.”
“It’s not my nickname.”
Danielle rolled her eyes. “Whatever, kid.”
The Doctor crossed his arms. “I’m not a kid.”
“Sure you are. You’re like ten.”
“More like eleven, actually. Eleven hundred.” His stone-cold serious delivery made Danielle giggle.
His face looked even smoother with the shadows playing over it, but Danielle had trouble buying eleven either way. “Okay, that’s kinda cute,” she said. “But there’s no way you’re just a year younger than me.”
“I’m not cute either.”
“You know you’re even more cute when you try to deny it, right?”
“No, but that’s useful info, thanks.” He looked away, and his voice turned thoughtful. “I’m so new at this. I’m still learning. Lifelong learning, that’s me in a--”
Danielle took a step closer. “Are you okay?” Judging by the way he wobbled on his feet, she had her doubts.
“Totally and completely fine, don’t worry--” His eyes slid shut, and then he fell into her arms. Danielle caught him easily. So much dress and so little boy. Felt like he weighed next to nothing.
“Hey. Wake up. Please.”
A pair of young blue eyes peered up at her. “Sorry. Sorry, just getting my bearings. Takes a little while to stabilize.” He staggered back to his feet. “See? Fine.”
“If you say so. What’re you doing out here, anyway? I haven’t seen you around at camp.” Not a guarantee he hadn’t been there all along. Danielle kept to herself, and she didn’t pay much attention to the younger kids. Didn’t explain the glow, though.
“A real American summer camp? That’s brilliant, I’ve always wanted to go to one of those. Do all the stuff, like set off fireworks while we swim in the lake and then we can roast marshmallows on sticks and, and, I don’t know, watch TV or something?”
“Something like that. I’m not an expert on the whole camp experience either. I didn’t want to go in the first place.”
“Why wouldn’t you wanna go? It’s an. Actual. American. Summer. Camp.” His smile grew with every word. “I can’t believe it.”
“You can have my place if you want it so much.”
A sudden hush in the forest set Danielle’s nerves on edge. Even the insects fell silent. No more night birds. “We shouldn’t be out here.”
“’Cos wildlife? No problem. I speak grizzly.”
“We’re in Wisconsin, you doof. No grizzlies here.”
Was that a rustling sound, out there among the trees? Danielle backed away from the woods, towards the edge of the overlook.
“That’s a shame,” the Doctor said. “I wanted to see one. Maybe have a little symposium.”
“A what?”
“Ursus arctos horibilis are some of the most renowned philosophers in the galaxy. Just don’t ask what they do when someone loses a debate.” His voice dropped to a stage whisper. “It’s not pretty.”
“Shh,” Danielle said. “Look.”
A figure down by the lakeshore stared at them.
“I think that’s Francisca,” Danielle said. “One of the councilors. But she went home last week.”
Then the figure took a step into the air. Danielle gaped. The person wearing Francisca’s jacket walked towards them with slow, purposeful steps, treading on nothing, gaining altitude all the while.
“I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. His face hardened. “But I don’t think that’s Francisca.”
Danielle was starting to think the same. Fear glued her to the spot. “Hello?” she called into the night, voice shaking. She tried very hard not to recall the stories, the ones the other kids whispered in the darkness of the cabin before they drifted off to sleep.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” the Doctor said.
They both backed away as the figure climbed onto the ridge.
“Francisca? It’s not funny. Stop it.”
The person who wasn’t Francisca pulled down her hood. A blank face stared back at them, smooth and terrible in the dim light.
Danielle screamed.
“That’s not very helpful, is it?” A small hand grabbed hers. Small, but very warm. A touch like the taste of apple pie. “Come on. Leg it!”
Trees flashed past in a greenish blur. Her feet pounded the forest path. “What is that thing?” Danielle asked between breaths.
“How should I know?”
A glance over her shoulder told her the figure lingered near the overlook, but it kept its terrible mockery of a face trained on them.
“It’s not far back to camp,” she said.
Adrenaline carried her along. Nevermind camp, if mom wanted her to get in better shape, being scared half to death was the way to go. Only when she saw the electrical light on the pole at the heart of the camp did Danielle let herself collapse into helpless panting.
“You got a knife on you?” the Doctor said. He didn’t seem the least bit tired.
“Nope.”
“What kind of self-respecting camper doesn’t carry a knife?”
“My mom said I’d only hurt myself. She’s probably right. What did you want it for?”
“It’s really inconvenient to run with this thing.” He gestured at the ruined dress. “Thought I’d cut off a bit.”
“Why’re you wearing that anyway?” She felt the heat in her cheeks when she realized her mistake. “Um, I mean, it’s totally fine if you want to wear a dress even if you’re a boy, seriously, I don’t care. It’s just, it’s kind of big on you? And, uh, torn up?”
“I wasn’t a boy this morning. Well, technically speaking that morning won’t happen for a few hundred thousand years, but you get what I’m--”
Danielle caught him just before he fell to the ground. “Are you okay?”
“Tired,” he said without opening his eyes. “That’s all. Long day. Very long.”
“You sure I shouldn’t call an ambulance or something?”
His eyes opened again. “No ambulances. Didn’t work out so well last time. No, just find me a bunk bed and I’ll be good. They have bunk beds here, right? Please tell me they do.”
“They sure do,” Danielle said, voice dry. “Boys’ cabins are over there.” She pointed across the grounds. “But how’re you gonna convince them to let you stay?”
The Doctor got to his feet and winked at her. “I have my ways. See you tomorrow, Danielle.”
“See you…?”
With that, he sauntered off, and Danielle had no choice but to go back to bed.
#
The Doctor hadn’t been frog-marched in quite a while. He liked the word better than the experience. The two counselors manhandling him were barely out of their teens. They looked at each other over the top of his head.
“I still don’t get it,” one of them said. “Where the heck did you come from?”
“What if I just wanted to go to an American summer camp?”
“Then you can get your parents to enroll you, the usual way.” The young man shook his head. “I was watching that door all night. There’s no way you should have gotten in.”
“There’s a lot of things that happen, even if they shouldn’t,” the Doctor said. “Your basic fact of the universe for the day. Ow, stop that!”
He’d slowed to watch the campers emerging into the morning sunshine, but a forceful yank on his arm drew him forwards.
Soon one of his captors pounded on the door to a one-story house at the edges of the main campground. A woman in her fifties opened and gave the three of them a skeptical look.
“Sorry, I know it’s early, Mrs. Jameson,” one of the counselors said. “But, uh, we found this kid, and--”
“Hold on. He’s not a camper?”
The Doctor smiled at her. “What if I really wanna be?”
“No, he was sleeping in 4A. I swear, I was there the whole night, I have no idea how he got in.”
Mrs. Jameson waved them off. “Okay, thank you. I’ll deal with it. Go have breakfast.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The breeze played with Mrs. Jameson’s curls. Her hair was turning autumnal, on a slow trip from honey to lead.
Shouts and laughter drifted over to them. The Doctor kept his face blank, but the sound touched something inside him. What a sound. The best in all of time and space: children being children. Would it be his turn now, even just for a day? He hoped so.
The moment stretched out. Mrs. Jameson’s frown deepened, while the Doctor kept looking at her, head askance. She broke the silence first.
“What in God’s name are you wearing, kid?”
“Ah. Sorry.” He touched the fabric of his dress. “It all got a bit hectic at the end there. Didn’t have time to change. Works surprisingly well as a blanket, though.”
“More to the point, who are you and what are you doing here?”
“I’m the Doctor, and I’m here to help with your alien problem.”
“What alien problem?”
“I dunno yet, but I’m sure you’ve got one.” His face melted into a grin. “Can I go do summer camp stuff now? Please? Where do you keep the marshmallows?” He raised his hands in front of him. “Okay, big frown. I get it. Too early in the day for marshmallows?”
“You need to tell me who you are right now, or I’ll call the police and CPS.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Adults. You’re so boring. Fine. Here.” With a flourish, he showed her a blank piece of paper in a leather holder. “Does that clear things up?”
“Absolutely.” Mrs Jameson’s voice shook. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Though I have to say it’s just like Mr. Carrick to do something like that. Undercover children at his own camps, that’s clever.”
“Yeah. It’s like a spy movie, just wholesome. Well, not so wholesome if I decide your camp’s not up to scratch.” He held out his hand, palm upwards. “So?”
“What?”
“Master keys.”
“That won’t be necessary. The counselors will let you in if there’s anywhere you need to inspect.”
“Yes, it is. Or I’ll make a note of you being totally uncooperative in my report.”
“I’ve worked here for twenty years. With all due respect, I’m not handing over my keys to a ten-year-old.”
“Never asked you to. Now gimme.”
Mrs. Jameson just kept looking at him.
The Doctor let his arm fall. “Okay, okay. I guess I’ll settle for marshmallows then.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mrs. Jameson said.
#
By the time she walked into the dining hall, Danielle had almost talked herself into believing last night hadn’t happened. Kids didn’t fall from the sky. Grizzly bears couldn’t talk. Or debate. And the less said about the woman without a face, the better. Danielle shivered in spite of the overflowing sunlight.
The hall buzzed with campers laughing and chattering between the log-cabin walls. Danielle braced herself. This part really sucked. Either she’d sit all on her own, so conspicuous as the lone queen of a whole table kingdom, or she’d slink in on the outskirts of some group and pretend she didn’t care that they got to be human and have fun while she shoveled food into her mouth in silence. At first she’d hoped there was an outcasts’ table, like in dumb teen movies, but apparently every single damn kid here was cool and outgoing and had a million friends already.
“Heey, Danielle! There you are. Over here!”
A familiar boy waved at her from across the room, surrounded by a little circle of kids at a table, beaming. He was sporting an official camp t-shirt about two sizes too big for him and red shorts.
“Morning,” he said when she came over. “Had to do a stint in the kitchen. Food was terrible.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” said a Black girl sitting next to him.
The Doctor spread his hands, framing the plate in front of him. “Full English breakfast. Isn’t it gorgeous? Well, just missing the blood sausage. Normally I’d have popped over to England to get some, but I’m stuck here for the time being, so we’ll just have to make do.”
“I don’t really like beans,” Danielle said.
One of said legumes found itself speared on the Doctor’s fork. He gave it a searching look, then put it into his mouth. He made a face. “You know what? Me neither. Probably should have checked that first. It’s a bit of a lottery.”
“What is?” Danielle asked.
Another grin split his face. “Me.”
“Your toast’s getting cold,” the Doctor told Danielle. “Go on. We’ve got strawberry jam and everything.”
Okay, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Danielle grabbed a slice, slathered it in jam and began munching. “What’re you doing with these guys, anyway?” she asked.
“They’re my new team of crack extraterrestrial fact-finding specialists. Meet Natasha, Kevin and Mike.”
Two boys smiled at her across the table. One of them was scrawny and wore glasses and braces and was honestly kind of cute, while the other one was generic-handsome, so much he crossed the line into boring. The three of them looked at each other awkwardly and chanted ‘hi’ on top of each other, while Natasha kept her eyes on her food.
“Why do you need...fact-finding specialists?” Danielle said.
“We’re looking for alien life,” Kevin—the one with the braces—said.
“In theory,” Natasha said. “But we haven’t actually done any looking yet.”
“And you expect to find aliens at a summer camp in Wisconsin?” Danielle couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Of course not,” the Doctor said. “I expect to find them in the woods around the summer camp.”
“Like…” Maybe not a great idea to talk about this in public, but Danielle made herself finish. “...like that lady we saw last night?”
“With no face?” Mike said. Excitement shone in his eyes. “You’ve seen them too?”
Danielle nodded.
“Guys, it’s someone playing a prank,” Natasha said. “Like, Jesus. I’ve been coming here for four years now. That’s the oldest story in camp lore.”
“Yeah, for a reason,” Kevin said.
“What about the hanging boy?” the Doctor said. “Was that a prank too? The upside-down face outside the window of your cabin two years ago?”
Natasha frowned. “Did I tell you about that?”
“You might have?”
“I don’t think I did.”
Elbows on the table, the Doctor leaned towards her. “Either way, you know what you saw.”
“What makes you so sure it’s aliens and not ghosts?” Mike said.
“Because, my young friend, ghosts aren’t real. Duh, as you cool American kids would say.” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.
Danielle had some thoughts about other things that weren’t supposed to be real either, but she suspected she wouldn’t get very far by voicing them. “So what’re we going to do about it?” she asked instead.
“We’ll meet at the trailhead behind the camp half an hour after sundown,” the Doctor said. “Whatever’s out there only shows up at night, like any good wannabe-ghost.”
“And in the meantime?” Mike said.
“You’re children at a summer camp. I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourselves,” the Doctor said. “On my part, I’ve got some really tricky and dangerous scouting to get on with. And on a totally unrelated note, where are the trampolines?”
#
While Natasha and the boys melted into the crowd of chattering kids sloshing out of the dining hall, Danielle stayed put at the table.
“Can I go with you?” she asked.
“What, d’you think I was exaggerating about the danger?”
“Yeah. Probably?”
A sheepish smile blossomed on the Doctor’s face. “It’s possible.”
“I’m in. Anything’s better than sports. Let’s go.”
Maybe he should have pushed her to spend her last precious drops of childhood on making memories and friends, human friends who could stay long after he’d gone. On the other hand, it was her choice, and he worked better with someone to bounce ideas off of. Everything else in his life changed, but why break a winning formula?
“Alright,” he said. “First order of business: I need to put together some kit.”
The full weight of Earth’s sun fell on them when they stepped outside. He’d missed that star, after spending so many centuries in another corner of the universe.
“Like what?” Danielle said as they walked. “Food supplies? Camping gear? Weapons?”
“More like a tool. A suite of tools, actually, but the form factor is...you’ll see. Speaking of which, where’s the caretaker’s place? Or whatever they call it around here.”
“This way,” Danielle said.
None of the kids paid them any attention as they traversed the campgrounds. Those two gorillas who’d found him in the cabin scowled at him when he gave them a cheery wave and a smile.
Danielle led him to a shed halfway down towards the lake. After a final check to see if anyone was around, they opened the thankfully unlocked door and stepped inside.
“This brings back memories,” the Doctor said. He inhaled the smell of dust, stale chainsaw oil and paint. “I used to be a caretaker once. Know my way around the business.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re just a kid.”
“I told you I’m older than I look. Anyway, time for a treasure hunt. I hope you like cobwebs.”
“I freakin’ hate them,” Danielle said.
Some humans apparently did, even if the Doctor could never see why. Giant spiders, sure, those could be problematic. The webs themselves, though, those were works of art. Ingenious and cruel traps, but aesthetically on the mark.
Excitement sparked inside him when he found a toolbox at the bottom of a shelf behind some crates. He fumbled around with the contents, still not used to these small hands. There. His prize called out to him. Splotchy with rust, and the red plastic handle had taken a beating, but it’d do. It’d do very well.
“Yes!” he said, holding out his find to Danielle. “What d’you think?”
She frowned. “It’s a beat-up old screwdriver.”
“Exactly!”
“Why would you want that?”
The Doctor grabbed a pencil from one of the shelves. Paper. Where could he find paper? He tore label off a paint can and started scribbling lines of code on the back. Yes, that should work. Probably. If he had…
He spun around to face the girl. “Danielle. You’re a gamer, right?”
“Kind of?”
“Tell me you brought a handheld with you?”
“Yeah, but it’s in my cabin. Why?”
“Um, I might kind of need to cannibalize it, just a little. For a really good cause, though.”
“Let me guess,” Danielle said, laced with sarcasm. “Saving the world?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Not yet, anyway.”
She looked far from convinced, but she jogged after him when he set off for the girls’ cabins.
Dust swirled in the light streaming in from the windows. Most of the girls who slept here hadn’t made their beds properly, and clothes, toys and other belongings lay strewn on the mattresses.
The floorboards creaked under their steps. Old pine, aged to a lovely patina and worn smooth by generations of feet. While Danielle rummaged around her backpack, the Doctor took hold of a crude mirror hanging off-kilter from a nail and righted it. “Is that what I look like now? What’re those things on my nose?” His fingers flew to his face. “New DNA, could be a mutation? Discoloration induced by regenerative stress...hmm…”
“What?” Danielle looked up from her things. “No, they’re freckles, doofus.”
“Are they dangerous? Contagious?”
She smirked. “Nope. Just adorable.”
“Hey. Find that game system of yours.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
The Doctor put his hand on his hip and looked some more. “It’s not terrible, but it’s missing something.” He grabbed a plastic bottle from one of the nightstands. Hair color. “Now that gives me an idea.” Soon he’d drawn a generous blue strip from his scalp to the tips of his hair on the left side. He beamed at Danielle. “What d’you think?”
“Kinda weird. I guess that suits you.”
With a laugh, he whirled on the spot, then held out the plastic bottle against the mirror, like he was on stage performing Hamlet with a skull. “ Hate is always foolish, ” he proclaimed, forcing his voice as deep as it would go, which wasn’t very deep. “ And love...is always wise. ”
“What are you doing?” Danielle said, laughing.
He broke down into giggles himself. “It’s really not the same. Not much of a thespian voice this time around.”
“What’s a thespian?”
“Nevermind that.” They were burning time. He held out his hand. “Give me that thing.”
Over her protests, he set to work disassembling the purple Game Boy Advance. The screws were tiny, but he’d brought a tool from the shed for that eventuality.
“You’re breaking it,” Danielle said. “I just got it for my birthday.”
“And I’ll give you one from fifteen years in the future, as soon as I get my ride back. It even has 3D built-in, you’ll love it. Envy of your class. Now let me work.”
A few minutes later, he’d assembled a serviceable micro-computer and embedded it in the screwdriver’s handle. Took some finagling to make his code run on the primitive Nintendo hardware, but nothing he couldn’t swing. A makeshift sonic resonator completed the device.
“Now we’re in business,” he said. Without checking to see if Danielle followed, he stepped out of the cabin, held the makeshift screwdriver into the air and shoved one of his nails into the circuitry. No time for niceties like proper trigger buttons.
A blue light flickered at the tip of the tool. “Yes,” the Doctor said under his breath. “Come on. Lots of beautiful data.” The mind-link interface gave him the results of the scan. Crude resolution, but enough to catch a very clear signal in the vicinity.
Danielle stared at him, eyes wide.
Explanations were way too much fun. He couldn’t afford a distraction right now. “Sorry, got some alien tech to track down. Probably safer for you to stay here.” They never did, but worth a try.
“Where are you going?” Danielle came running after him, panting.
“The signal’s broadcasting from Mrs. Jameson’s house. Or maybe from under it.”
“Are you saying Mrs. Jameson is an alien?”
The Doctor laughed. “You’ve been reading too much Roald Dahl. Well, maybe she is. Wouldn’t rule it out.”
Better to avoid the front door. A backdoor leading to the basement looked promising, though.
“Oh, great,” Danielle said. “That’s a fat padlock. How are we getting past that?”
“I’ll let you do the honors.” The Doctor bowed deeply, then held out the screwdriver with both hands, like it was a Japanese business card.
With slow fingers, Danielle grasped the tool. “This thing isn’t gonna, like, melt my fingers off or something?”
“Please. My engineering’s better than that. Just point and click. Go on.”
Sonic resonance, meet lock. What a sound. What a sight. Gave him a little frisson of delight every time, even after all these centuries.
Danielle’s hand fell to her side. “Wow.”
The Doctor clapped his hands together and giggled. “I know, right?”
They scurried down the stairs, into the cool, damp basement. The Doctor wanted to stop and scan the walls for strains of mold and fungi. Fascinating how such a small change in microclimate could open so many new avenues for weird and wonderful kinds of life.
“Wait, what the hell is that?”
Danielle stood rigid next to him. On his part, the Doctor only felt a bubbling, creeping sense of elation. He loved having to think on his feet.
“It’s a gravity inhibitor grafted onto a cheap turret.” He turned to meet her eyes. “Danielle, I need you to do two things for me. It’s rather important.”
“What?” Her breaths came fast and jagged.
“Don’t scream, and get down. Now.”
They threw themselves to the concrete floor just as the first laser beam sizzled through the air.
#
Bits of wall exploded behind her, and Danielle felt a rain of dust settle on her hair and clothes. The cylindrical gray metal object at the other end of the basement swiveled towards them, and little red lights flashed across its body.
She’d never been shot at before. Danielle fought to keep her panic in check. Could they run? No, the turret would get them before they could reach the stairs.
“Here,” the Doctor said. “Quickly.”
They ducked behind one of the wooden shelves. Another burst of laser fire chewed up the floor where they’d just been.
“What do we do?” she asked. “Can you, like, turn it off?”
“Normally, sure, no problem.” He held up the screwdriver. “Not with this improvised gizmo, though. Someone’s gonna have to open the back panel on the turret and set it to safe mode so I can override the controls.”
Danielle wanted to laugh, but her nerves wouldn’t quite let her. “Think I can guess who that ‘someone’ is.”
Another barrage vaporized part of the shelf. They sidestepped just in time, to hide behind the shelves on the other side of the narrow room.
“Got it in one,” the Doctor said. He motioned forwards. “Go, go. I’ll distract it.”
“Isn’t that super dangerous?”
He flashed her a wild grin. “Of course. Now go.”
The lights on the turret flashed faster. Danielle took a few tentative steps forward.
“Here’s your bulls-eye, right here!” the Doctor shouted. Standing right in the line of fire, he lit up the screwdriver, casting waves of blue light across the walls and ceiling.
After that, Danielle only heard the shots. They kept coming thicker and faster, but she refused to look back. Wood splintered, cardboard ripped, cans and containers clattered to the floor. For one absurd second she wondered what they’d do if Mrs. Jameson came down the stairs to investigate. Then she dismissed the thought and ran.
It figured her life would depend on running. If she made it out of this, she’d start making an effort in gym class. A token effort, anyway.
She ran out of shelf. The turret glared at her with all its glowing, evil eyes, powering up, ready to fire. Could she scream now? She sure wanted to.
“Doctor!” she cried. “It’s gonna shoot! Do something!”
A tin of dog food flew through the air, carried on a wave of sonic motion. It struck the chassis of the turret with a comically understated thnk and rolled off. In the next second, it was instantly vaporized.
Danielle didn’t need more than a second. She sprinted up to the turret and stuck her fingers in under the obvious panel on its backside.
“You should be fine now,” the Doctor yelled across the room. “It can’t shoot directly behind itself.”
“How about you?”
“Not so fine, so get a move on.”
She pulled and grunted until her fingers hurt. The panel finally snapped off, giving her a view of a row of buttons.
“Which ones do I press?”
“All of them at once. Ten seconds.”
When she did, the red lights on the casing turned yellow. The laser gun kept spitting beams, though.
“Yes! That should do it.”
A slow, mechanical whirr sounded inside the turret. The lights dimmed. Danielle allowed herself to breathe again, big, hungry gulps.
The Doctor jogged across the room, hand raised. He gave her a high five. “We did it! Awesome work, Danielle.”
“Thanks. Uh, you too.”
“’Course. You should’ve seen me. Shame you had your back turned.”
The screwdriver made its strange humming noise while he ran it over the deactivated turret. Danielle couldn’t decide if she wanted to look at it or not.
“What’s it doing here?” she asked.
“Probably military surplus. Really old model. Whoever’s behind this works on a shoestring budget.”
“What military? You’re not talking about NASA, are you?”
“Not sure. There’s way too many of them out there, militaries.” His voice had taken on a hard edge, and just then his eyes didn’t seem so childlike anymore.
“Okay. But why would some alien military put a gun in Mrs. Jameson’s basement?”
“That’s a question I’d very much like an answer to,” Mrs. Jameson said behind them.
Danielle turned slowly to face her. She felt very much like a naughty schoolgirl, but the Doctor didn’t seem phased.
“Oh, hiya, Mrs. Jameson,” he said. “Told you you had an alien problem.”
“Is she a robot clone or something?” Danielle asked in a small voice.
“What are you talking about, young lady?”
The Doctor scoffed. “Come on. Who does that?”
Mrs. Jameson tapped the turret with her fingernail. “Are you filming a movie down here? Looks like a bomb went off. What on Earth are you doing? Also, I’ve spoken to Mr. Carrick’s office, and there’s no camp inspector program.”
The one good thing about this was that Danielle would be kicked out of camp now. She could go home weeks ahead of time, which almost made the humiliation worth it.
The Doctor crossed his arms. “Short version: I’m saving the whole camp from aliens. I think. You know, those aliens I keep trying to tell you you’ve got a problem with. Let’s go, Danielle.”
When he tried to move, Mrs. Jameson blocked their way. “You will tell me your name right now. And your parents’ contact information.”
“Sure thing. Here.” He took a black leather holder with a blank piece of paper in it from his shorts pocket and held it out to her.
“Please. I’m not falling for that ag--” Then she crumpled to the floor.
“Psychic paper,” the Doctor said, grinning. “Not what it’s meant to be used for, but that’s a known side effect if the target suffers from an especially extreme lack of imagination.”
“I believe you,” Danielle said.
They beat a hasty retreat. The sunshine felt wonderful, soaking into her shoulders and thawing out her anxiety. “You said something about a gravity thing,” Danielle said, mostly to take her mind of what had happened down there.
“Yeah.” The Doctor paced back and forth on the lawn. “Generates a localized gravity inhibition field, which explains the floating people in all those camp tales.”
“Like that kid Natasha saw? And Francesca, or whoever she was?”
“Exactly. Basic off-the-shelf model. We’re looking for murderous aliens who’re either poor or stingy.”
“Why are they messing around with gravity and stuff when they can just shoot people?”
“Now there’s the question, isn’t it?”
Danielle smirked at him. “Would it kill you to just say ‘I have no idea’?”
“Oh, but I do. The generator is remotely activated. With the data I scraped off it, we might be able to track the signal back to the source.”
“And then we’ll meet the murderous aliens?”
“Yep.” He took her hands and laughed. “Isn’t it grand?” His face fell when she wouldn’t share his enthusiasm. “Anything wrong?”
“No, just...I need to ask you one thing. Okay?”
Nod.
“So if all this is real, if aliens and gravity fields are real, and if laser guns that can freakin’ kill you are extra real, I guess that means...like, that means you’re an alien too, right?”
For once he stood still, no manic energy, looking at her seriously. Just a kid, a totally normal and skinny kid with freckles, so why did she feel like cowering?
“I’m not a native of Earth, no.”
“Are you human? Like, from the future or something?”
“No. Humans look like us, not the other way around. That’s the theory, anyway.”
A fit of nervous giggled claimed her. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The universe rarely does. That’s what makes it brilliant.”
“Are you like the real life ET? Looking for your parents?”
“I’m not sure I ever had parents. It’s hard to tell, with this many pasts to choose from.”
“Okay. If you’re an alien, please tell me you’re not one of the murderous ones at least?” She tried a smile, but it felt shaky.
“Depends on who you ask. But you don’t need to be afraid of me, Danielle. I can promise you that.”
“Good enough for me.” On instinct, she wrapped him up in a big hug. His skin had a quiet warmth to it, and the only way she could describe his smell was that it made her think of dawn, of the sun slanting in through her bedroom windows on long Saturday afternoons. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“My pleasure,” he said. He reached into his pocket. “Marshmallow?”
“Uh, you’re supposed to roast them first.”
“I knew I was forgetting something.” Even so, he bit off half the thing. “Not bad raw, though. What d’you think? Marshmallow sushi? Could be a hit?”
“No way,” Danielle said, laughing.
The Doctor shrugged. “Your loss. Now let’s go find our intrepid scouts.”
Danielle knew better than to ask how he’d track them down in the bustle of camp. They turned their backs on Mrs. Jameson’s house and wandered off in the summer sun.
#
Four flashlight beams sliced through the darkness between the trees, lances of light sweeping back and forth.
“I still don’t get why we have to do this at night,” Mike said.
“Why would ghosts come out during the day?” Kevin said.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Danielle said.
The Doctor gave her arm a light shove. “You don’t sound entirely convinced.”
“That gravity field thing doesn’t solve the faceless people,” Natasha said. “Or all the other weird stuff.”
“Camp tales,” the Doctor said. “And-or more alien tech. Take your pick.”
The woods breathed life. Even if the heat had gone, a certain sweetness still clung to the air, along with the smell of trees and grass. He’d always had a soft spot for Earth’s ecosystems during the exuberant madhouse of the Cambrian, but these patchy remnants of Holocene woodlands still had their charm.
“Aww,” Kevin said. “I wish ghosts were real. That’d be more fun.”
“Come to think of it, why are people so scared of them anyway?” Natasha said. “It’s not like they ever harm you. They just kind of stare at you.”
“That turret was real enough,” Danielle said. “Do you think there’s more?”
“Doubtful. They needed one to power and guard the gravity inhibitor, but whoever we’re dealing with wouldn’t have the budget to put them all over the forest.”
Wielding the flashlight in one hand and the screwdriver in the other, the Doctor slashed at the air, then broke into giggles.
“Dude’s having way too much fun,” Mike said, on the verge of a laugh himself.
True. Not that fun needed a justification, but it also helped distract the children from their fear of the gloomy woods.
The screwdriver pulsed with its pleasant chirps. Good thing whoever was behind that turret didn’t have the money to spring for encryption.
A rustle of leaves made everyone stop in their tracks.
“What was that?” Danielle said.
“The Flesh-eating Deer,” Natasha said. “You all know that story, right? When they came back the next summer and found all those half-eaten bodies in the cab--”
“Not helping,” Kevin said.
The Doctor swept the screwdriver in front of him. “I did a thermal scan, looking for heat signatures. Just an ordinary deer.” Better not tell them this makeshift device didn’t have that function. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.”
They passed an abandoned car, rusting away into the kingdom of the plants. Beautiful in its own way. The Doctor let Kevin check the glove compartment, but he found nothing but dust inside.
A few minutes later, an overgrown cabin greeted them in a clearing. The heaps of trash and old beer cans wasn’t unexpected. The giant ballroom staircase next to it was.
“I like the carpeting,” the Doctor said.
“But why hasn’t it rotted away?” Natasha asked.
“Good quest--”
Snapping twigs made them all turn their heads.
“Guys.” Natasha’s eyes went wide when her flashlight beam landed on a figure across the path. A faceless figure, wearing stained overalls. “Oh, crap. That’s Mr. Miller, the old camp janitor. He went missing years ago.”
“And there’s not-Francisca.” Danielle’s voice shook.
Mike’s legs shook. “That’s a lot of deer.”
“Look at their teeth,” Kevin said. “They’re as long as my arm!”
“Hang on,” the Doctor said. “This could all be clever special effects. Holograms, maybe. Let’s see if I can scramble the frequency.” A pulse of sonic energy bounced off the horde of advancing monstrosities.
“Still there,” Danielle said.
The Doctor looked from one frightened face to the other. “Okay, team meeting. We need to formulate a strategy, and fortunately I’ve got just the thing. I think you’ll find this plan is brilliant in its lean, elegant simplicity.”
Hooves and feet advanced on them, step by slow step through the undergrowth.
“Here it is,” the Doctor said. “Run!”
“Where?” Danielle asked.
“I don’t know. I’m strategizing, not micro-managing. Just run!”
Snapping off branches with the screwdriver didn’t do much to slow down their pursuers. Danielle stayed by his side, while the other flashlights floated off in other directions.
“We have to turn around,” Danielle said. “Look. They’ve cornered Kevin.”
Why did humans always have to be so slow? The Doctor refused to acknowledge his shaky conscience. Still plenty of time to save the hapless kid. As long as he didn’t…
“No!” the Doctor called. “Kevin! Don’t do that! Don’t go up there!”
Too late. Out of any better options, Kevin ran towards the staircase. A circle of deer gathered at the bottom, and without pausing, he flew up the steps and disappeared in a flash of light.
“Kevin!” Danielle screamed.
“It’s just a teleport,” the Doctor said.
“Can you get him back?”
“Maybe. But why, when we can come to him?” Not the brightest idea, but he had a responsibility. And in keeping with the low-budget theme, that flash came from a short-range teleporter well past its prime.
The faceless Mr. Miller made a grab for him, but the Doctor swerved to the side. He threw himself to the ground and rolled between the man’s legs. Being so small now had its pluses. The short legs and diminutive lungs, on the other hand, counted as a major negative for someone who ran as much as he did.
“You can still get away,” he said to Danielle.
“No way. I’m coming too.”
He threw her a grin. “Good. I’d expect nothing less. Here we go!”
The world constricted and shook as the teleporter threw him upwards. Nausea’s fingers scraped his insides. Not quite as nasty as travel by vortex manipulator, but a close second.
He came to in a metal room. The dizziness took a second to subside.
“Doctor!” Kevin said. “You’re not gonna believe this. Look, look! We’re in space!”
Kevin took him by the arm and almost dragged him to the little viewport in the wall. Sure enough, the blue atmosphere of Earth glowed beneath them, beautiful against the void.
“Thanks, but I’ve already seen it once today,” the Doctor said.
“Ugh,” Danielle said. “My head. What happened?”
“A teleport?” Kevin said. “Duh?”
“Off-brand teleporter disguised as furniture,” the Doctor said.
“But why a staircase?” Danielle asked.
“The onboard AI tries to pick a camouflage that makes sense, but I’d guess this one was made for another species, another time period and runs on outdated firmware, so it kind of chose at random.”
“Hey, is there any way I can get an off-brand teleporter for my birthday?” Kevin asked, eyes shining in the dim light from the overhead lamps.
“Nope.”
“Aww.”
“Forget about that,” Danielle said. “Did you try the door?”
“Yeah. I’m not an idiot.”
Meanwhile, the Doctor inspected the lock on the only exit. “Just like I thought. Cheap model, no security.” With a flick of his wrist, he made the screwdriver flip around, then caught it and undid the lock. “Now let’s see who we’re dealing with.”
#
Two thoughts fought for supremacy over Danielle’s mind: oh my God, she was on an actual, real spaceship in space, versus the danger of more turrets. Or robots, or lizard aliens, or anything else with a bad temper and laser guns. She walked through the metal corridor, taking the middle position with the Doctor in front of her and Kevin behind her.
“It’s kind of boring,” Kevin said as he swept his flashlight beam across the walls. “Other than being a spaceship. There’s not much in here.”
“Cheapskates,” the Doctor said. “Plus, it’s an old beater. Almost a miracle it’s still spaceworthy.”
“I think we found them,” Danielle said in a small voice.
A round thing in the middle of the floor projected a pillar of white light to the ceiling. Teal-colored metal orbs hovered around it, more than a dozen at a quick count, each of them about the size of Danielle’s fist.
“Are those robots?” Kevin asked, sounding hopeful.
“Nah,” the Doctor said. “Think of it like a cross between a spacesuit and clothes. They’re Losk.”
All the orbs turned in unison towards them. Danielle felt another wave of fear when she saw the rainbow of eyes glaring at her.
“Yeah, they’re basically eyeballs with interlinked brains,” the Doctor said. “Very efficient. Augmented evolution starting from an adaptation to an extremely narrow niche.”
“That’s nice and all,” Danielle said. “But more importantly, are they gonna kill us?”
The Doctor smiled. “We could ask? Well? Are you?”
Arcs of electricity sparked between the eyes.
“Each individual consists of four linked eyes,” the Doctor said.
“Yes, but are they gonna kill us?”
“They’re thinking about it.”
“What?”
Two of the eye clusters gathered around her.
“They might spare us if we get down on all fours and act like...hang on, you don’t have those on Earth, do you?”
Another Losk encircled Kevin. Danielle envied him his calm. He seemed more fascinated by them than afraid.
“We’re gonna die here, aren’t we?” Danielle said. She tried not to think about Mom. Or maybe she should. Maybe that was the right thing to do at the end.
“Of course not,” the Doctor said. He crossed his arms. “You’re gonna let us go, right now,” he told the eyeballs.
More electric pulses surged between them.
“No? And swearing in front of kids isn’t very polite.” He took another step towards the free-floating clusters. “Kill the male first? Why?”
That got Kevin’s attention. “Doctor, you’ve gotta stop them! Please. Even if I guess it’s cool to be killed by aliens if I have to be killed, but--”
The Doctor shook his head and sighed. “Okay, that’s enough now. You think you’re so tough, don’t you?”
The remaining eyeballs swirled around him, but the Doctor’s stony expression didn’t change. “You think this is fun? Makes you look big and cool in front of your mates? You think you can bully us, just ‘cos we’re little? But the thing is, I’m bigger on the inside. Bigger than you can imagine. So I suggest you let me and my friends go, and tell me where you’ve put my ship while you’re at it. ”
Danielle held still. She couldn’t tell if the evil eyes were distracted, and they’d probably shoot her or something if she tried to slip away.
“How am I going to make you?” the Doctor said. “I’m not. I don’t need to. They are.”
Light flooded the room, so bright Danielle had to shield her eyes, flooding in through the narrow windows. Another spaceship hovered outside, equipped with enormous lanterns.
“That’s right,” the Doctor said. His wide grin made a triumphant return. “I called your parents.”
Things happened pretty quickly after that. More eyeballs boarded the ship, but the parents and the kids looked all the same to Danielle. After some back and forth with the Doctor, a slightly less uncomfortable teleport beam from the parents’ ship returned them to Earth. Reunited with Mike and Natasha, the five of them stood in front of the lake.
“So they were basically just a bunch of teenagers?” Natasha said.
“You could put it that way,” the Doctor said. “Cruising the local systems, playing pranks, showing off. Picking on smaller kids for fun.”
“Guess that explains why they didn’t have money for anything,” Mike said.
“What was that about your ship?” Danielle asked.
“Ah, we’re just getting to that. Watch.”
The parents’ ship still hung in the upper atmosphere, concealed by some technological trick. It projected another glowing beam, and soon a blue boxy thing rose from the bottom of the lake.
“Wait, that’s your ship?” Danielle said.
“Yeah. We’ve been through a lot.”
“It’s not very impressive,” Kevin said. He squinted at the exterior. “What does it say? Something something police? Wait, are you like an intergalactic cop?”
“The galaxy’s least intimidating cop,” Danielle said, laughing.
“No, I’m not a cop. The universe has more than enough enforcers already.”
The box touched down on the shore, still dripping water. The Doctor held up his weird screwdriver thing and pulsed at the sky.
“Okay, that’s it,” he said. “I told them we’re done, so they’re taking off. Don’t worry, those bullies will be grounded for the rest of your lifetimes.”
“That’s harsh,” Danielle said.
“The rest of your lifetimes put together.”
“Ouch,” Natasha said.
“Ouch indeed,” the Doctor said. He clapped his hands together. “Well, I think it’s about time for you kids to head off to bed before they notice you’re missing.”
“No way,” Kevin said. “How am I supposed to sleep after all that?”
“Can we look inside your spaceship?” Mike asked. “Please?”
“Nah. It’s reconfiguring. Probably won’t be done until tomorrow. Or maybe next year.”
On her part, Danielle didn’t mind heading for bed. Now that it was over, the events of the day felt like a crushing weight, lead weights on her eyelids. She was so tired she didn’t have room for homesickness. For the first time she could remember, she even skipped brushing her teeth. Sorry, Mom.
Young hands shook her awake the next morning, in the gray-gold of dawn. A freckled face leaned in with a finger across its lips.
“Quiet,” the Doctor whispered. “Get dressed and come outside. I’ve got something to show you.”
She obeyed, still woozy with half-shed sleep. The rising sun barely kissed the tops of the pines, and the air felt lovely and fresh, full of summer promise.
The blue box from yesterday stood on the other side of the cabin. Leaning on it with one hand, the Doctor grinned at her. “About time you were up.”
He’d changed his clothes since yesterday too. Now he wore a dark blazer over a red t-shirt and corduroy pants. The blue stripe still ran down his hair on the left side.
“What do you think?” he said. “Was a bit of a pain to find one in the right size without a school emblem, but I got there in the end.”
“You went shopping for clothes in the middle of the night?”
“Sort of. Oh, and that’s right.” He fished out something white and shiny from his blazer pocket. “Here.”
Danielle accepted the little plastic thing. It opened like a clamshell, with two screens and a bunch of buttons inside.
“Nintendo 3DS,” the Doctor said. “I basically put a complete game library on the hard drive too. Just, um, don’t use the online multiplayer, or you might cause a temporal paradox.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you.”
“No,” he said with a big smile. “Thank you, Danielle. For everything. And of course I’ve saved the best for last.” The Doctor snapped his small fingers, and the doors to the box slid open.
“This is insane,” Danielle said.
His smile grew. “Yeah, I thought you’d like it.”
“Go on. Come inside, it’s perfectly safe.”
Danielle walked through the door and stepped into a forest. She followed a walkway made of wood and found herself in a giant treehouse, built around an enormous trunk. Ladders and stairways winded their way between platforms on different levels. She glimpsed the canopy below through the glass-less windows, a sea of green crowns receding into the horizon, where it was swallowed by a gentle white glow. The sweet smell of leaves and flowers soothed the dizziness threatening to overwhelm her.
“Our little field trip gave me some inspiration,” the Doctor said. “There’s nothing quite like the summer woods.”
A circular wooden shelf ran around the central trunk, studded with buttons, levers and switches. The Doctor flicked some of them, and small, glowing nodes in the bark lit up, a galaxy of brilliant colors. “This thing goes anywhere,” he said. “All of time and space. You’ve more than earned a trip. Take your pick, Danielle.”
That was easy. Danielle knew exactly where.
#
With some clever manipulation of the size envelope, the TARDIS fit just fine into a suburban bedroom. After saying his goodbyes to Danielle, the Doctor pondered the room. What would it be like to have this kind of life? A nest, a street, a school, a mom who took care of you and loved you. When was the last time someone had taken care of him? Usually ended up the other way around. He rummaged through the detritus on the desk. Homework, CDs. A shelf full of books. How could they stand a life with such clear walls, such sharp limits? Cozy if you squinted, sure, but he’d go mad. Wouldn’t he?
Voices reached him from the sun-drenched back garden below. The Doctor peeked out of the window and saw Danielle in front of an older woman. Probably older. He’d always been rubbish at guessing human life stages.
“Hey, Mom,” Danielle said. “I, uh, I’m...I’m home early.”
She caught his gaze over her mother’s back. The Doctor nodded and winked at her before he got in the TARDIS and piloted it to the Wisconsin backwoods again.
“Okay, you guys were right,” the Doctor said. “These things do taste better when you roast them.”
“No kidding,” Mike said.
They sat in a semi-circle around a crackling fire, the four of them, watching the sun dye the sky above the lake with brilliant orange as it sunk. The Doctor had spent the day with the kids, running and swimming. He was no stranger to the first one, but running for fun rather than his life made for a pleasant change of pace. And even if he had a swimming pool, it couldn’t match a lake in high summer. Especially not when he had a team for water wars.
The Doctor stretched out and yawned. He’d miss this. The fresh air, the dance of the flames, even the absurd sweet on a stick. “It’s been fun, but I have to get going now,” he said.
“Oh. I hoped you were staying,” Kevin said. “There’s three more weeks of camp.”
He stood up and retrieved his blazer, draped over a rock. “For you lot, yes. Enjoy them for me.”
“We will,” Kevin said.
“And one more thing,” the Doctor said, fishing around in his pockets. “Here. You hold on to this.” He handed Natasha the improvised screwdriver.
“Uh, sure? But don’t you need it?”
“Nah. I have my real one back now. You’re coming back to camp next year, right?”
“I guess. Probably my last one.”
“Great. Then your job is to hide this well. Make it a real treasure hunt, so a worthy kid can find it when it’s time.”
Three pairs of eyes gave him quizzical looks.
“Come on. Every camp needs a legendary treasure. You’re children, you get this stuff.”
Natasha laughed. “You’re really taking this seriously.”
“Of course. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Then my job here is done. Bye!”
After one last look at the lake, he headed for the TARDIS.