"Oh my gosh, there were aliens in London?" I stared at my best friend. "You've got to be kidding me."

Lanie rolled her eyes. "No, I'm serious." She pressed a button on the TV and it switched to another channel. "It's all over BBC, but it's also on ABC and CBS. Look, really, truly, honest-to-goodness aliens."

For the past several years, aliens off all sorts had been showing up all over the place. Mostly, they were in London, but there was that one Christmas when all the A-positives were almost hypnotized into suicide. And, of course, the Christmas Star that one year. But that was all at least ten years ago. I mean, I was just a kid, then. The term aliens referred to Teletubbies and Barney at the time. Okay, I'm not that young. Still, I didn't really believe in aliens.

At any rate, Lanie and I had been watching old reruns of BBC shows, the Saturday morning stay-in-your-pajamas kind, when a newscast interrupted the regular programming. It was something about aliens in London, and for everyone to stay in their houses.

"I don't get this." Lanie pressed the off button on the remote. "Aliens aren't supposed to exist. Gosh, I don't even really remember the last time we had an alien scare. Wasn't it those things that made everyone want to jump off a building?"

I shrugged. "I've got no earthly idea." I stood, stretched, and glanced around. Piles of trash-mostly empty cheetos bags and hordes of jelly beans-were scattered all around Lanie's living room. "Your apartment is an absolute mess. We'd better clean it up in a minute. Didn't you say you had company coming later?" With a groan, I stretched down and pried a piece of ground-up cheeto off the carpet.

Lanie skipped into the kitchen. "Ah, whatever. It's just Mom and Dad, and maybe my uncle. They're used to seeing the place in an absolute mess."

"Fine then." I properly disposed of the food and peeked into the bedroom. It was in nearly the same state as the rest of the house, but at least it had a clear pathway to the bed, the dresser, and the closet. Barring the mess, it was pretty much plain and empty. "Hey, Lan? I thought Frasco was asleep in here."

"Frasco? Yeah, he should be. But he might be under the bed."

I crouched down. "Nope. Where'd he go? You didn't let him out, did you? The thing's going to poop all over my overnight bag."

"Gosh no! Look harder!" She had to yell over the sound of the faucet in the kitchen.

"Oh, whatever," I muttered. I shut the door.

Without a doubt, that cat was the bane of my existence. He seemed to make it his personal goal to make my life miserable every time I visited Lanie, so finally she'd just started locking him up when I came. If that cat peed on my stuff one more time, I was going to wring his scrawny little neck.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. "I got it!" I shouted, leaping over stacks of books and piles of sweatshirts. But when I opened the door, I didn't quite expect to see a man standing there-a rather handsome man, but a man all the same. He wore a grey-colored suit with a brown trench coat and black converse shoes. His hair was rather spiked and flew all over the place, and his eyes were wide and wild. He looked quite out of place, but yet he fit in all the same-the classic image of a crazy rich uncle. "I suspect you're Lanie's uncle," I said. "Just come on in, and don't mind the mess. Lan said you'd be coming but we haven't gotten around to cleaning up yet.

"But-" he started.

"You're letting a draft in! Come on!" I waved him inside and shut the door.

The man blinked several times, hard. Then he pulled out a leather ID card holder, and glanced at it. His eyes widened. "Blimey! I found it!" He dropped to the floor and sniffed at the base of Lanie's couch.

"Okay, then." I darted into the kitchen and poked Lanie. "Your uncle's here. My gosh, he doesn't look a day over twenty-five! And he's British! Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded. Lanie didn't move. She stood frozen to the spot, with a pink plate in one hand and a sopping dishrag in the other. "Lan? Hello?" I hopped in front of her. "Oh my God… LANIE!"

Her face was contorted, changing, evil. Her eyes were a dark, dark red. "We must stop him," she said. Only, her voice wasn't her voice. It was someone else's merged with hers-a deep, dark, menacing voice. "The end of the world is coming. We must stop him."

"Lanie? You can stop now." I backed away slowly. "It's not funny. I got the joke, okay?" But she didn't hear me. Instead, she glared at nothing and stepped towards me, her hand reaching out.

"Don't touch her!" someone screeched behind me. An arm yanked me backwards, and I saw Lanie's uncle out of the corner of my eye. "Or it, whatever it is. You!" He pulled a little cylinder out of his coat pocket and pointed it at Lanie. "Who are you?"

"That's Lanie, you idiot! You're her uncle, aren't you?"

The man ignored me. "Tell me, who are you?"

An unearthly grin took over Lanie's face. "We must stop him. The end of the world is coming. We must stop him."

"Who is we?" the man asked suspiciously.

"We must stop him." Lanie reached an arm out and stretched toward the man.

The man turned to me. "It would be a really good idea to run about now."

I stared at him. "You're mad! You are completely and totally mad! You and Lanie both!" I felt myself getting close to tears and tried to hide it by crossing my arms and scowling. "Who are you, anyway? What kind of British uncle are you?"

"No, seriously. Run. And, just for the record, I'm not British." The man grabbed my hand and yanked me out of the kitchen. "Come on!"

Panic set in my mind and I froze on the spot. "No! I'm not leaving without Lanie! She's my best friend!" Without even thinking, I broke free of the man's grip and dashed back to the kitchen. But I had hardly gone two steps before he grabbed me around the waist and forced me with him.

"There's nothing you can do," he hissed. "She's gone, at least for now. Something's using her by linking her mind to a telepathic field, which is the base for - Oooh, ah, I think it's time we were running now." He set me down and practically dragged me out the door.

Halfway down the apartment building hall and thirty seconds later, a massive explosion sounded from Lanie's apartment. Fire broke out, debris flew everywhere, and that man threw himself on top of me. "Great. Just what we needed. Another explosion." With that, he leaped to his feet, helped me up, and raced toward the stairs.

Lanie's apartment was on the second floor, so it took only a minute to get outside. Once we were outside, my brain suddenly started working again and I had to stop to breathe. "What-what-what was-what happened to Lanie?" And I couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears flowed out of my eyes and dripped onto my nose and cheeks. "Is Lanie all right? Is she-is she dead?"

The man was busy fiddling with his little cylinder device. "I honestly don't know. I'm so sorry, but I couldn't do anything about it." He cast a piteous look in my direction. "If I hadn't gotten you out in time, you would've been killed for sure." Running a hand through his hair, he flipped the cylinder and shoved it back into his pocket. "Now… We've got to find out exactly what that little bugger was doing inside of there in the first place…"

I held up two fingers. "Hold up, one second." I wiped away a tear. "First off, we are not doing anything! Second, I just lost my best friend and I am in no mood to talk about it. And third-what was that thing you were playing with, and who are you?"

He shrugged. "If you don't want to come along, fine by me. I could use a cup o' tea, though. And-oh, you want to know what this is?" His whole face lit up as he pulled the cylinder back out. "This is a sonic screwdriver."

"I beg your pardon?"

"A sonic-oh, never mind. It's complicated." Back into his pocket went the little screwdriver.

I thought it didn't look like a screwdriver at all, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I repeated the question I'd asked at least twice already. "Who exactly are you, anyway? You never said."

"I'm just a nobody. Just passing through, and it's only by chance that I happened to come in at the right time and save you." He started off down the street with his hands in his pants pockets.

"But don't you have a name?" I sprinted to catch up with him. "I mean, you've got to have a name. Everyone has a name."

His face grew distant. "A name… Yes, a name. Oh! Name! Yes, of course I've got one! I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor what?"

"Just… Just the Doctor."