The Purloined Poet
Prologue
"Point Me at the Sky"
~1849~
The man glanced nervously over his shoulder as he settled into a seat on the train. His pursuers were nowhere in sight, and he desperately hoped he had finally lost them. The train slowly chugged out of the station and he tried to relax.
The men in long black coats had been following him since he left Richmond a few days earlier. He thought he had evaded them when he got on the steamer bound for Baltimore; however, they had somehow reached Baltimore before him and were waiting when he arrived. In desperation, he had boarded one train and then another, trying to lose his dark pursuers. He knew they were not what they appeared to be. Beneath their human-like façade were hideous creatures with black pointed beaks and blood-red eyes. They watched him from the shadows. They haunted him in his sleep.
When the "men" had appeared in Richmond, he had made up his mind that he was not going to let them take him away again. He ran. He had always been swift on his feet and his speed served him well. He had managed to dodge them for a while. Now he was headed back to Baltimore, having made a circle in his attempt to lose his pursuers. As the train gathered speed the man looked over his shoulder again. There was still no sign of them.
A rumble in his stomach reminded him that nearly seven hours had passed since his last meal. He left his seat and headed toward the dining car. As he passed through the narrow halls of the train, he heard a sound that made his blood run cold: the croaking chatter of the men who were chasing him. Spotting them down the hall, the man quickly stepped backward into a dark corner, his black clothing helping him blend seamlessly into the shadows. He watched, not daring to breathe, as the men passed. Time seemed to move in slow motion for a moment as they moved down the hall. Their long, black cloaks swirled around them, concealing the truth of what they really were. He knew, but who could he tell? Who would believe him? Surely everyone would think he was mad, or worse, drinking again.
He was on his own. Alone. Trapped on a train with the creatures from his nightmares.
~Present Day~
"There is absolutely nothing on TV," Emma said out loud to herself. She clicked off the television set and flopped back into her chair. She rubbed her left arm, feeling the jagged scar that ran from her shoulder to her thumb. Dampness seemed to cause her arm to ache, and here in London it had been raining for days. She didn't dare take anything for the pain. Not after the struggle she'd had.
Emma took out her big London guide book and flipped through its pages. She had anticipated rain. Before she left the States she had bought a rain slicker and thick rubber boots. Emma looked at a picture in her guide book of a couple huddled under one tiny umbrella. They seemed to be having such a good time that they did not mind the rain. Emma sighed.
"Oh, Michael," she said mournfully as she closed the guide book.
She slumped down in her chair, on the verge of tears. If he were there things would be different. They would be out exploring, even in the rain. Or at least they would be huddled together on the sofa with big steaming cups of tea.
A knock at the door of her flat brought Emma out of her thoughts.
"Who is it?" she called.
"Um…health inspector," a male voice answered.
'Health inspector?' Emma thought to herself.
She wasn't sure why a health inspector would be at her door at eight-thirty at night, but she decided to find out. She walked over to the door and looked through the peep hole. On the other side of the door she saw a tall, nice looking man in a brown pin-striped suit. He didn't look like a health inspector, but Emma decided he didn't look like an axe murderer either, so she opened the door.
The man flashed a big smile and whipped out a small pad of paper.
"Hello! John Smith, public health inspector," he introduced himself. He held up the little pad of paper to her face, but took it away before she could read it.
"Yeah?" said Emma. "What do you need to inspect at this time of night?"
The man poked his head into her flat and looked around.
"I need to inspect your cupboards," he told her.
"My cupboards?" asked Emma.
The man didn't answer, but walked right into her flat and headed toward her kitchen where he began rummaging through her cabinets and drawers. He opened her little pantry cupboard and pulled out a jar of pickles.
"Ah hah!" he shouted. "Just as I suspected. You have a jar of out-of-date gherkins. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate these."
"You're confiscating my pickles?" Emma asked incredulously.
The man looked at the jar of pickles and then back at Emma.
"Yes," he answered, "and thank you for your cooperation, Miss…"
"Miller," Emma told him, "Emma Miller."
"Yes, well thank you Miss Miller," the man said as he headed to her door.
"Wait," Emma called after him, "I really don't think you're a health inspector."
The man put his fingers to his lips and stepped cautiously out into the hall. Emma followed close behind as he crept silently toward an open door down the hall. Crashing sounds of furniture being tossed around were coming from the room. The man pressed himself against the door frame, still clutching the pickle jar.
"Stay here," he told Emma before slipping through the open door.
Curious, Emma could not resist following. The crashing sounds were coming from a back room of the flat. The man weaved his way through the overturned furniture in the front room and Emma shadowed him.
When they reached the door of the back room, the man pushed open the door a little with his foot. The door opened silently, and Emma found herself staring at the back of a large green creature. A scream escaped her lips unbidden and the creature turned. Its enormous black eyes blinked, and it smiled when it saw Emma and the man standing there.
"Ooh!" the creature said, "I don't remember ordering take-away. Oh well, I guess I'll have to eat you anyway." The creature gave a little laugh and stretched out its claw-like fingers toward them.
The man, oddly calm Emma noticed, stepped toward the creature and spoke.
"I think you should leave this planet immediately," he said coolly.
The creature blinked its large black eyes again.
"Now why should I do that?" it asked.
"Because I said so," the man answered. "I'm giving you a chance here. Take it and go."
"No," said the creature, with an evil grin. "I rather like this planet. It has such tasty inhabitants."
The man shrugged as the creature smacked its ugly grin lips.
"Then would you mind holding this for a sec?" he asked the creature. He shoved the jar into its claws and turned to Emma.
"Cover your ears," he told her.
She did as she was told and watched as the man drew a slim metallic object from his jacket breast pocket. The little device glowed blue and pulsed with a high pitched buzz. The creature, still confused, stood holding the jar of pickles, its big black eyes blinking rapidly. The jar of pickles in its grasp began to shake with the pulsing vibrations coming from the metal device the man held. Finally, the jar shattered, sending bits of glass and pickles and brine in all directions. Drenched in pickled juice, the creature looked down at its hands.
"Oh dear," it said just before it exploded in a spray of green goo.
Emma looked up at the man who had bits of alien goo hanging from his wild brown hair.
"No second chances," he said as he re-deposited the device into his breast pocket.
"What was that and who are you?" Emma asked.
"That," said the man, nodding his head toward the green slime splattered on the walls, "was a Slitheen. I am the Doctor."
"I thought you were a health inspector," Emma told him.
"Well, doctors inspect your health…" shrugged the Doctor.
"Was the Slith–"
"Slitheen."
"Yeah. Was that an alien?" asked Emma
"What do you think it was, an escaped zoo animal?" the Doctor asked her.
Emma didn't answer, but stared dazedly at the green alien goo covering the room and the Doctor.
"First time seeing an alien?" questioned the Doctor.
"Yeah," Emma squeaked. "I never believed in them before now."
Emma was silent for a moment while the Doctor picked bits of alien slime from his hair and suit. He looked down and noticed that his sneakers were covered as well.
"Awww! Not the Chucks!" he cried, annoyed.
"How'd you know what to do?" Emma asked the Doctor.
"I told you, I'm the Doctor," he answered.
"Doctor who?" inquired Emma
"I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor replied.
"Oh. Is that all?" said Emma sarcastically. "Just what is a Time Lord?"
"I'm a traveler," the Doctor began. "I travel through space and time."
"No joke?" asked Emma.
"You want me to prove it?" the Doctor asked.
Emma put her hands on her hips.
"I dunno," she said. "You just fought off an alien with a pickle jar. Tonight I'll believe anything."
"I'll tell you what," said the Doctor. "In gratitude for the use of your pickle jar I'll take you on a little trip with me. Just one, but you can go anywhere you like, back, forward, anywhere, any time."
"All right, Mr. Smith," Emma said, smiling. "You're on."
"Good," said the Doctor. "By the way, my name isn't really John Smith."
"No kidding."
"And the pickles didn't stop the Slitheen, it was the vinegar in the brine."
"Whatever."