To Die in South Dakota
By Gerry Hill
fox42@ix.netcom.com
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on the characters and
situations created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and
Ten Thirteen Productions. As such, the characters named
are the property of those entities and are used without
permission, although no copyright infringements are
intended. The following work is for the distribution and
entertainment of fanfic readers only. Any further
distribution of this work without the author's consent is in
violation of federal law.
SPOILER WARNING: Fight the Future. Also, this story
takes place long before Requiem.
RATING: R (Violence and some nudity)
CLASSIFICATION: XA
KEYWORDS: M/S UST
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere is fine.
THANKS: Ten, Macspooky, Jo-Ann, Nikki, and Helen
wrestled this story from rudimentary bits to a semi-
complete draft stage. It must have felt like pulling teeth to
them, at times. :-) I'm extremely grateful to them all. But
then I let my fic languish for years, having lost creative
inspiration. But Tamra Walthall (http://X-
Files.bytewright.com/) talked me into asking Mimic, one of
the best XF fanfic writers, to beta the story, in hopes I'd
finally finish and post it. Well, it worked. Mimic
immediately saw what was needed to get me jump-started.
With her suggestions, I was finally able to re-tackle and
complete the thing. (I may have left behind a stray cobweb
or two - please try to ignore it). You are all sweethearts for
the patience and time you spent with this project. Thank
you.
SUMMARY: Mulder to the rescue.
WARNING: (Inspired by Mimic). Extremely graphic
and/or disturbing content. Definitely not for the squeamish.
Don't come crying to me if you still read it and it makes
you sick. It also puts children in an abusive setting. Did I
ever claim to be nice? :-)
***************************
TO DIE IN SOUTH DAKOTA
by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com)
Travelers' Rest
A motel near Barnard, South Dakota
April 26, 2001
8:49 PM
Special Agent Fox Mulder entered his motel room, not
taking any notice of its dark, stale environment. Dana
Scully apparently didn't feel the same way. Following
behind him, she immediately flicked the light switch on the
wall and opened the window a few inches.
Scully had wearily agreed to meet with her partner,
although her heart wasn't in any more case discussion that
night. She wanted to head for her own room and have a
good soak in the tub to soothe away the tiredness of the
long day. Besides, Mulder had developed a dislike for their
motel, and she couldn't see the problem.
He shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it in the
direction of a chair, managing to hit his target for a change.
He turned to her as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.
"There's something wrong here, Scully. I don't care how
sweet those little kids are, or how high the 'Barnyard
Express' brochure rated the motel's restaurant..."
"It's 'Barnard.' Not 'Barnyard.' And you picked this
motel; I didn't."
"Whatever. I'm telling you, Scully, people who run a place
like this, who smile *all* the time, are not normal. And
their kids creep me out big time. The boy is always
peeking around corners and scaring the hell out of me, and
the girl was sitting in the dark in my room, for God's sake,
when we got back from the sheriff's meeting."
Scully put her hands on her hips as she watched him flop
onto his back on the bed. "I'm hearing this from someone
who has fearlessly faced all kinds of horrible monsters and
mutants in his career?"
He made a 'what can I say' gesture with his hands and then
tucked them behind his head.
"They're only little kids, Mulder. The girl is about four and
she was just playing. She didn't touch your suitcase or
other belongings, did she?
"Well...not that I could tell, no." He wiggled his hips
experimentally to see if the lump in the mattress that poked
his spine would go away. It didn't.
"Okay, then. You see things that aren't there sometimes."
He sat up. "Are you calling me paranoid?"
Scully's eyebrow arched upward. "If the shoe fits..."
"Humpf. It's going to be a cold day in hell before I'll buy
you a meal again."
Incredulously, she said, "A hamburger. A cold, greasy
hamburger from the hole-in-the-wall caf‚ next door to the
sheriff's office. I hardly call that buying me a meal. Which
reminds me, I expect to eat in the motel's dining room
tomorrow night. The food really has been getting rave
reviews since it opened under new management four
months ago, according to the sheriff."
Looking unimpressed, he swung his legs over the edge of
the bed and muttered, "Fine. It'll be on you, though, since
per diem won't cover it."
"What? Okay, that's it. You're obviously being contrary
for the hell of it, so I'm going to do some work on my
laptop and then take a bath and get to bed early. Enjoy your
own company."
The connecting door closed firmly as Scully left. Mulder
soon decided that pouting had no effect on the empty room,
so he sighed, got to his feet, and began shedding clothes on
his way to the shower.
1:21 AM
Thud. Thunk. Scrape.
The noise penetrated his brain like a pesky mosquito.
Mulder had fallen into a light doze as he watched some
boring travelogue about Bali. He thought there'd be half-
naked women running around, but from the looks of the
show, you'd think Bali had been towed to Finland.
Everyone wore clothes that covered them from their ankles
to their earlobes, and some even had hats shading their
faces.
He listened carefully to see if the sounds would repeat, but
it was dead silent once the television had been muted. He
figured he had been dreaming, or maybe the Balinese were
noisily building a condo. Just in case, however, he went
over to the connecting door and tapped softly, whispering,
"Scully."
No answer.
Well, she had probably been asleep for hours now. He'd
lose his head for sure if he woke her up for no reason. He
tried the doorknob and it turned easily. Pushing the door
open a crack, he peeked inside, but it was so dark he
couldn't see anything.
Growing bolder, he let the door swing open a little more.
Using the shaft of light from his own room, he could see
that there was a Scully-sized lump in the bed, apparently
deep in sleep, since the lump didn't budge.
Not daring to go any further for fear she'd waken, he closed
the door again and went back to his own bed to try and get
some sleep. He left the television on to keep him company.
******************
7:20 AM
"Scully! If you want breakfast before leaving, you'd better
shake a leg!"
She hadn't responded to his earlier tap at her door, and now
he was definitely worried. She was always up in time when
they were working in the field on a case. Was she sick?
He called out, "I'm coming in," and did just that.
The same lump was in the bed, but in the full light of day
he could see that it wasn't Scully. The pillows and blankets
had been pushed into a mound, whether by accident or
design, he couldn't say. His expression didn't change, but
it felt like a fist was squeezing his chest.
Mulder quickly checked the bathroom and closet. Empty.
Not only was there no Scully, but all her belongings were
gone, as well. What the hell? A quick glance out the
window told him that the rental car was still where he had
parked it the evening before. He stood in the center of the
room, mentally scratching his head. He couldn't wrap his
mind around this situation. He was fast approaching the
frantic stage. He didn't want to believe she'd walk out on
him without saying a word, especially in the middle of a
case, but the alternative was even worse.
Desperate for clues, he gave the bedding a closer look and
found a dried smear of blood on the edge, next to the
pillow. His legs felt wobbly and he had to sit down in the
nearby chair.
Wasting no more time, he pulled his cell phone from his
pocket and made a call.
"Sheriff Gaines."
"Sheriff? This is Agent Mulder. My partner has been
kidnapped. I need a forensics unit over here at the motel,
room 44. I'll be waiting."
He hung up, ignoring a barrage of questions, since there
was no way he could have answered any of them.
What if her cancer had come back and the blood was from a
nosebleed? But why would she pack up and leave, if that
was the case? No, some third party had been the cause of
her disappearance.
The realization hit him that his partner may have been
attacked, hurt, and unwillingly dragged from her room early
that morning while he had been lying a few feet away. He
suddenly found it hard to breathe.
Needing to move, he got to his feet and hurried outside into
the bright sunshine. The sheriff would help canvas the area
when he arrived, but meanwhile, maybe Mulder could find
someone who had seen Scully before the trail grew too
cold.
He decided to check with the people who had the room on
the other side of his partner's first, but repeated knocking
failed to raise anyone. If the room had been rented out the
night before, then the occupants had either gone somewhere
or they had already checked out.
As he approached the office, he could see one of the owners
through the plate glass window. Her ash-blond hair hung
over her face while she wrote something in what looked
like a ledger that lay open on the counter. She looked up
with that maddeningly ever-present smile on her face and
chirpily said, "Good morning!" as Mulder walked in.
Not in the mood for pleasantries, he simply asked, "Have
you seen my partner since last night? Agent Dana Scully,
red hair, early thirties, petite?"
"Why, no," she happily replied. "I'll be glad to tell her that
you're looking for her if she should come by."
"What about your husband? Can we ask him if he saw
her?" Mulder looked toward the closed door that led to the
interior of the building where the owners lived.
"Oh, he drove down to his brother's place in Mina
yesterday afternoon and won't be back until lunchtime."
Mulder nodded, looking absently out the window, mind
churning over the fact that violence was a part of his and
Scully's jobs, and if he considered the law of
averages...What if their luck had finally run out?
He instantly rejected that thought. It simply wasn't a
possibility. He'd find her and she'd be alive. She had to
be.
Sounding outwardly calm, Mulder told the woman, "The
sheriff will be here in a minute. Agent Scully appears to be
missing and we'll need to have a list of all the rooms which
were rented out last night, along with any information you
have on the occupants."
Damned if she didn't keep smiling, even at that newsflash.
"Of course. It shouldn't take very long. I'll print out a
copy for you and one for Sheriff Gaines."
In his experience, most motel managers weren't that
accommodating, but he wasn't about to complain.
Flashing lights caught the corner of his eye and when he
turned, he could see two patrol cars and a van, all with
Sheriff Department markings, pulling up in the parking lot.
Thank God they didn't use their sirens, too. He'd like to
keep this as low-key as possible, for as long as possible.
He was walking out the door to intercept them when he
heard a cheerful "Have a good day" called in farewell from
the owner. He gave her an incredulous glance before the
door shut behind him. It was probably just a reflex for her
to repeat that to all departing customers, but, Christ!
Sheriff Gaines had already spotted the federal agent and
was quickly moving toward Mulder. For some reason, he
had a guilty expression on his face. Mulder had expected
concern, but guilt?
"Sorry to hear that your partner is missing, Agent Mulder.
We'll do all we can to get her back, safe and sound." He
paused, then asked, "Do you think this might be related to
the Salzman escape?"
Mulder felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.
The sheriff, seeing the agent's expression, said, "Didn't my
deputy contact you? Salzman escaped last night from the
officers who were moving him out of lockup. They were
taking him over to our new facilities in Aberdeen where the
cells are more secure."
His voice strained, Mulder asked, "What time did he
escape?"
"Around 10:00 PM. He knifed one of the officers, took his
weapon, knocked the other officer unconscious with it, and
took off. We were so busy trying to chase him down that I
just asked one of my deputies to let you know. I figured we
could fill you in this morning when we met downtown."
Robert Joel Salzman. His wife, a daughter and two sons
had disappeared and the husband kept insisting that they
had been abducted by aliens. Since Mulder was in
Bismarck with Scully finishing up another case, they had
dropped by Barnard to check out the man's story. Sheriff
Gaines was ready to arrest Salzman, figuring he had killed
his family and was lying about it, but there was no
evidence. When Mulder wanted to look into the abduction
story, the sheriff thought the agent was just as crazy as
Salzman, but at least he was polite about it.
Mulder went to investigate while Scully checked them into
the motel. By the time she caught up with him at the
Salzman house, Mulder had already determined that there
was no evidence to support an abduction theory. When
Scully walked into the living room and Robert Salzman
saw her for the first time, he began screaming about how
she 'was already dead'. Apparently she looked amazingly
like Anita Salzman, his wife. After that, it hadn't taken
long to get the true story out of the man. Between
profanities screamed at Scully and violent weeping, he'd
revealed that the bodies of his family were at the bottom of
a water-filled rock quarry in the next county.
Mulder hadn't seen any reason to stick around after the
victims were found later that evening, but Scully had
wanted to perform the autopsies herself the next morning.
Mulder shuddered at the thought that she would be doing
an autopsy on a woman who looked much like herself, but
made no comment. Now he wished they had made tracks
out of town last night on the puddle-jumper to Milwaukee.
The next thought ripped through his fog-filled mind, with a
vengeance: Salzman had come after Scully, who looked so
much like the man's wife. Oh, dear God.
He hurried toward their rental car, calling back to the
sheriff, "I'm going out to the quarry. See if you can get
those divers back, and meet me there. I think Salzman may
have taken Scully."
He opened the door and paused to add, "And you had better
begin interviewing motel tenants before they check out and
scatter all over the map."
Once on his way, memories of the previous night kept
replaying in his mind, only with Salzman added to the
picture. Murderously delusional about Scully, attacking her
as she lay in bed, dragging her body and belongings out to a
watery grave...Something that sounded like a sob escaped
Mulder's throat. He pressed his foot down harder on the
gas pedal.
*****************
Abandoned Rock Quarry
9:48 AM
Staring into the opaque green water that lay ten feet below
his perch on the rock, Mulder tried not to imagine what the
divers might discover in those depths. Two men were
down there, searching the uneven bed of the long-
abandoned watery pit for the second time in twenty-four
hours. Yesterday they'd had to haul out that poor woman
and those little kids, and now...
He was shivering despite the warm spring sunshine. When
he'd arrived at the quarry he had scrambled over the slabs
of rock around the water's edge, searching for any
indication that someone other than the retrieval team and
local authorities from the day before had been there. He
found drag marks over one of the slabs of rock on the
opposite side from where they recovered the missing
family.
Wasting no time, he stripped to his boxer shorts and
entered the cold water. If she was in the quarry, she might
still be alive. He began making systematic dives, searching
primarily by sense of touch in the murky depths.
When the divers had shown up, they persuaded the
shivering man to wait in the sun while they took over the
search. With their gear, they would be protected from the
cold somewhat, and could see slightly better.
He didn't mention that some of his shaking wasn't from the
cold. He was realizing that, if Scully was in that water, it
was too late.
***************
Unknown location
Scully had never been so exhausted, although she hadn't
budged from her prone position on the floor for hours. The
thick, foam-like wrapping that enclosed all but her head
kept her immobile, despite every effort she made to move
around. Struggling was useless, she finally admitted to
herself.
The wrapping did nothing to protect her from the cold that
had built up around her body. The room was as icy as a
refrigerator. She also had a monster of a headache. In fact,
her whole body hurt and she badly needed a drink of water.
Underlying all of this, however, was a deep dread of what
might happen next. She prayed that Mulder was all right,
since she didn't know whether he had also been abducted or
harmed.
At the moment, however, the foul-tasting piece of rubber in
her mouth was her biggest concern. A strap of some sort
held it in place and encircled her head, so she had no way to
dislodge the thing. The taste kept triggering her gag reflex,
and it took an enormous effort of will to keep from
throwing up, which would have been a catastrophe.
Scully lay still, not only because she was exhausted, but
also to avoid having to look at the horrors the room held.
On the edges of her vision there were two other "cocoons"
hanging from the ceiling on hooks, and there was a body on
the floor against the wall. But the worst was the body she
had seen lying on a table over to her left.
She desperately wanted to believe that it wasn't her partner
whose body had been desecrated so horribly. From her
obstructed line of vision on the floor, she had seen enough
to know that the body was male and had dark hair. From
all appearances, he had been butchered. Parts were hacked
off, to put it bluntly, and if she thought about it too much,
she'd go mad. Mulder had to be safe and looking for her,
please God.
She held her breath for a moment, thinking she had heard a
sound. When she realized that someone was opening a
door and entering the room, her eyes widened, knowing
from the plodding footsteps that it wasn't her partner.
A jeans-clad leg and a large hand clutching what looked
like a machete came into view, pausing by her upper body.
She couldn't tear her eyes away from that gleaming blade,
which idly swung through the air near her face.
*******************
The quarry
Mulder watched the divers haul a familiar suitcase out of
the water. It was Scully's. His heart felt as though it had
plummeted off a cliff.
Grim-faced, he made his way over the rocks to where the
divers had deposited the soggy leather case in front of
Sheriff Gaines and a deputy. He had to be positive.
He stood looking down at the soaked bag, noting the
missing buckle on the side and the small gold square with
the letter "S" reflecting the sun's rays.
He managed to say, "It's hers," before he startled the
nearest diver by grabbing the man's mask and pulling it off.
"Hey!" The guy made a reflexive grab for his equipment.
Mulder met his gaze with eyes that were wounded and
dangerous.
"I need to find her."
The diver, Dave Edwards, said sympathetically, "I know.
We'll go back down. I promise you; if she's there, we'll
bring her up. We know every inch of this quarry and it can
be hazardous in among the boulders and debris down there.
We can do this faster if you stay out of the way, okay?"
Mulder mutely handed the mask back to Edwards and then
seemed to crumple as he sat down next to the recovered
bag.
The sheriff had silently stood by during the discussion with
the diver, but now pulled a pair of latex gloves from his
pocket and squatted down by Mulder.
"Here. You should check the suitcase out before we send it
back to the lab."
The agent looked down at the offered gloves. A shudder
shook his frame before he reached out and accepted them.
He appreciated Gaines' sensitivity in not poking through
Scully's belongings, instead leaving the search to her
partner. He also noted, however, that the hawk eyes of the
sheriff were watching his every move.
Upon opening the case, it was instantly obvious to Mulder
that Scully hadn't done the packing. Clothes and toiletry
items were crammed together with no regard for
organization or wrinkles. Underwear, shirts, a hairbrush
and makeup bag were indiscriminately wadded in a sodden
heap.
Gently pushing aside a pajama top, he found an unopened
bag of sunflower seeds. As shitty as he had been to her
yesterday, she must have bought the seeds for him,
knowing that his supply was low.
A slight groan escaped his lips before he could stop it. He
looked up at the sheriff and mutely shook his head,
indicating there was nothing beyond the obvious about the
case they needed to note.
Sheriff Gaines nodded, and then wisely left the suffering
man alone as he supervised the removal of the case for
further analysis. Then he leaned against a patrol car to wait
for the divers to pull Agent Scully out of her watery grave.
*******************
Unknown location
After a pause that seemed to last hours, the man with the
machete moved away from Scully. He clomped in his
heavy work boots toward the grisly table and then stood
there a moment as though trying to decide something. She
jerked in surprise when the machete suddenly slammed
down onto the table with a thick, meaty sound. She saw
that he was cutting into the body as his arm rose and fell
repeatedly. A mantra of 'that is *not* Mulder, that is *not*
Mulder' ran frantically through her mind.
Finally satisfied, the man lay the machete to the side,
picked up some butcher's paper from an overhead shelf,
and made several neatly-wrapped packages out of what lay
on the table. Holding them in one hand against his chest,
he picked up the machete with the other hand and turned
around to stare thoughtfully at the agent on the floor.
Scully's eyes widened in recognition. A sick, helpless
feeling washed over her she stared right back into that dark
gaze. The suffocating prison that so thoroughly encased
her body left her completely at the mercy of this monster.
Then he grinned at her. Transfixed, she stared at the wolf-
like, hungry expression on his face. The bared teeth and
flecks of drool at the corners of his mouth nearly brought
up the vomit she had been choking back. He slowly and
deliberately licked his lips, gave a final grin, and left her
shaking at the display of pure evil she had just witnessed.
*********************
The quarry
11:00 AM
Sometime during the past hour Mulder had put his clothes
back on, hardly aware of the routine process. He had a
vague thought that he needed to ready himself for whatever
might happen. But in his heart he knew he'd never be
ready for this.
He had resumed his vigilant position, perched on the slab of
rock. He was aware that the original two-man diving team
had been joined by three others, and that two more deputies
and three Aberdeen police officers had shown up, but no
one had bothered him yet. Good. He couldn't deal with
formalities and bureaucratic bullshit at the moment.
The divers were coming up, one by one. As each surfaced,
Mulder's world stopped until he could see they were
empty-handed. Dave Edwards, who seemed to be the
senior man in the group, approached Mulder and stood tired
and dripping while the agent got to his feet.
"She's not in there."
"What?" He had prepared himself so thoroughly for bad
news, what the man was saying didn't connect at first.
"I'm telling you, she's not down there. We're certain of it.
There was some unrelated junk that's been on the bottom
for ages, but there's no body down there."
Mulder was aware that the law enforcement group had
gathered at his elbow, absorbing Edward's news. He
turned to Sheriff Gaines and urgently said, "Salzman must
still have her. We have to find them." He pointed at one of
the sheriff's deputies, startling the man, and said, "I want
an officer or two staked out here in case Salzman comes
back."
The sheriff nodded in agreement and replied, "Makes
sense." He gave some quick orders to his deputies and
rejoined Mulder as they walked toward the cars.
Gaines said, "We have the basis for a task force here. I've
already talked with some agents I know in the FBI offices
in Milwaukee and they're on their way, too. Why don't we
all go over to my office and set up some search
procedures?"
Resisting the urge to go running aimlessly around the
county on his own, Mulder impatiently followed the
assortment of vehicles after calling Skinner's office and
breaking the bad news. He needed a place to start.
*******************
Sheriff's Office
11:30 AM
Sheriff Gaines explained to Mulder that suitcases and other
belongings of missing travelers had been found in the
quarry over the past six months, but never bodies. At least,
not until the recent Salzman family deaths.
"I hadn't heard of a series of missing persons in this area."
Mulder's voice was even despite the obvious tension in his
body. He was furious that the sheriff hadn't deemed it
important enough to mention this before.
"We've been passing all the information on the three cases
we've had so far to the FBI."
Mulder insisted on seeing those files, even though the
Sheriff thought it was a waste of time, when it was obvious
to him that Salzman had taken the agent's partner.
While Mulder sat at the conference table and looked
through the files, sandwiches and coffee were passed
around the room. The agent ignored the food, intent on the
papers in front of him.
It didn't take him long to go through all three cases, since
none of the files held much material. Douglas Ansaller was
a sales rep for a restaurant supply company. His itinerary
had placed him in the general area of Barnard/Aberdeen
just before Christmas when he went missing.
The next case involved a married couple. Tracy and Mark
O'Neill were cruising around in their 1969 vintage
Cadillac, seeing the country over an extended vacation, and
had last talked with their daughter from Aberdeen two
months ago.
The third case consisted of two brothers and a sister, the
Devons, who had been heading to Mt. Rushmore to meet
other family members for a camping and sightseeing trip.
Mulder impatiently tossed the papers to one side just as
Sheriff Gaines and two other men sat down across from
him. The newcomers were dressed in dark business suits
that screamed 'feds'. He recognized the tall black agent as
Ray Renaldi, an intelligent man who possessed the
diplomacy and level-headedness that Mulder had lacked in
his profiling years. Okay, he admitted to himself: that he
still lacked.
The other man was a clone of Brad Pitt, only better-
looking.
Sheriff Gaines turned to the two agents and made
introductions. The handsome guy was named Charlie
Hilman, and his accent told Mulder he was probably from
Texas or the southwest somewhere.
After the introductions, they took a few minutes to see if
the rest of the team had turned up any leads, but no one had
picked up Salzman's or Scully's trail yet. In addition to
interviewing and tracking down motel guests, a house-to-
house canvass was being conducted in the murderer's
neighborhood, relatives were being contacted, and a three-
state manhunt had been instigated. Forensics hadn't turned
up anything useful at Scully's motel room.
Sitting back down at the conference table, Mulder poked at
the files in frustration, saying, "The only thing in common
with all three disappearances was that their luggage and
some other belongings were found in the same rock quarry.
The same quarry, I may add, where Agent Scully's suitcase
was recovered."
There were nods all around, but then the sheriff said,
"Robert Salzman and his family just moved here a month
ago from Medford, Oregon, so he couldn't have been
responsible for those earlier disappearances."
"So Scully's luggage being dropped there is...what? A
coincidence?" Mulder said as he abruptly shoved his chair
back and stood up.
Sheriff Gaines shrugged and Renaldi said, "We know that
Salzman disposed of his family in that quarry, so it's not a
stretch for him to think of it as a place to dump Agent
Scully's belongings."
Hilman stated, "Okay, we have two possibilities here.
Either your partner was snatched by Salzman, or our
mysterious disappearance cases have now increased to a
total of four. Using the same location - the quarry - by both
perps *is* just a coincidence."
Renaldi nodded and added, "We need to split the
investigation into two, so we can cover both possibilities.
Time is running out, I'm afraid."
"And so is my patience," Mulder added, as he headed for
the door. "I'm going to re-check the motel owners' list and
try to contact guests. Call me with the results of your
survey of tenants to date, as well. Someone might have
seen something that'll give us a direction."
Renaldi shook his head at the sheriff and his partner before
they could speak, and he merely said, "I'll stay with him
while you get moving on splitting the investigation."
He hurried after Mulder and managed to catch up with him
as the agent slammed the door of his rental. Renaldi
quickly opened the passenger door and fell into the seat as
Mulder gunned the engine and drove out of the parking lot.
There was a pause while Mulder maneuvered through town
back to the highway, and then he tersely said, "What did
Skinner tell you?"
Startled, Renaldi looked at the agent and noticed his white-
knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "He asked me to back
you up and give you some help in finding Agent Scully.
Apparently your short conversation with Walt left him
worried as much about you as about your partner."
"Walt?" Mulder cast a quizzical glance at his passenger.
"I've known him a long time. So sue me."
Mulder shrugged, his mind obviously not on his companion
anymore. The rest of the drive was made in silence.
At the motel, list from the owner in hand, Mulder set out to
interview all travelers who had occupied a room at the
Travelers' Rest the night before. Most of the tenants
weren't in their rooms, and he tried to track those down.
He also planned to re-interview those people already
questioned by local law enforcement. They had found
nothing, but he had to make sure. He asked Renaldi to see
if he could help the team make more progress in following
the trails of the ones who had already checked out.
******************
4:18 PM
Motel
Of the travelers that Mulder and Renaldi had successfully
contacted, no one could say they had seen or heard anything
unusual the previous night, nor had anyone seen Scully.
Some of the people they questioned weren't happy about
being bothered again, since the sheriff's deputies had
already grilled them once that day. Having gotten nowhere
with the motel's list, Renaldi left with the sheriff to check
out a lead. They were getting together later to eat at the
motel's restaurant, but Mulder wasn't planning on joining
them.
The increasingly desperate agent had another contact to
make. He was most interested in talking with the people
who had stayed in the room next to Scully's. Their license
plate had been issued in Kalamazoo, Michigan. The sheriff
called in an APB on the car, but Mulder couldn't wait
around for results. He contacted the few Dracovs listed in
the Kalamazoo phone book and finally reached the man's
parents. From them, he obtained a cell phone number and
at last reached the Dracovs.
It seemed the couple was house-hunting in the area prior to
the husband's job transfer. They promised to return
immediately to the motel to talk with Mulder.
Tess and Alan Dracov drove into the motel parking lot and
had no trouble spotting the impatient-looking FBI agent.
He was pacing back and forth in front of the door to their
room.
They seemed a little nervous, but Mulder was used to that.
Most people live their whole lives without ever laying eyes
on an FBI agent, so being interrogated by one could be an
unsettling experience.
The couple sat next to each other at the end of the bed,
facing Mulder, who kept up his pacing. He knew it
probably made them more nervous, but he was incapable of
sitting still.
"Can you tell me what you know about the occupant of the
room next to yours?" He gestured in the direction of
Scully's room.
They looked at each other and then Mrs. Dracov, a
matronly middle-aged woman, volunteered, "She's
attractive, not very tall, has red hair, and she entertains men
in her room at night."
That last bit stopped Mulder in his tracks. He stared at her
for a beat, and asked in a strained voice, "Why would you
say that, Mrs. Dracov?"
Another look passed between the couple, and finally she
admitted to being awake between one and two o'clock that
morning.
"The bed in her room apparently is against the same wall as
ours. There was...activity going on."
Carefully, he asked, "Could the sounds you heard have
been those of an attack rather than what you assumed was
happening?"
She thought for a minute. Her husband, a thin, balding guy,
shrugged at Mulder when he met his gaze. "I slept through
all of it. Sorry."
Sounding doubtful, Mrs. Dracov finally said, " Well, it
*could* have been an attack, I suppose. But with the
headboard bumping the wall that way and the sort of moan
I heard, I just assumed..."
Mulder nodded like he was still with her, but his mind was
reeling with two other possibilities. Could it have been a
rape? There had been no evidence in her room, but that
didn't mean it couldn't have happened. Or maybe Scully
had a boyfriend, someone he didn't know about, and she
decided to run off with him. In the middle of the night.
Without a word. No, that couldn't have happened, for more
reasons than just the fact that her suitcase had been found
dumped in the quarry. But he had to consider all
possibilities if he expected to solve this.
After a few more questions, it was obvious that the Dracovs
had no further information, so he thanked them and walked
over to his own room. He could use the facilities and make
some more phone calls before touching base with Renaldi.
He knew that if he let himself stop for even a minute, he'd
be adding a straitjacket to his wardrobe selection.
His room was dim and murky with the curtains closed, so it
wasn't until he was coming out of the bathroom, distracted
with his thoughts, that he saw the silent figure sitting in the
chair near the television. For a fraction of a second his
heart leaped at the thought that it could be Scully, but just
as quickly he knew it wasn't.
"Oh, crap," he muttered, as his hand reflexively moved to
draw his weapon. The reaction was abruptly halted,
though, when it registered on him that the figure was too
small to be an adult.
Mulder was pissed off. He walked back to the door and
flicked the light switch, then returned to stand in front of
the chair that contained the eight-year old son of the
manager.
Words of irritation died in his throat as his gaze met the
wide brown eyes of the child, and he found himself asking,
"What's your name?"
The kid quietly replied, "Nicodemus."
Ooookay.
"How about I call you 'Nick'?"
The boy gave a barely perceptible nod.
"And your sister? What's her name?" Might as well get a
list of the cast of characters who had the free run of his
room.
"Doris."
Doris and Nicodemus?! How...odd. He'd never met
anyone named Doris, except for one of his mother's aunts.
It was very old-fashioned, he thought. And
Nicodemus...He mentally ran through the meaning of
names he had read once in the back of a dictionary as a
child. Nicodemus meant 'conqueror of the people', while
Doris was... 'a shining knife'. He doubted that the parents
were even aware of the names' meanings, though; most
people weren't.
"Want to tell me why you and Doris keep visiting my room,
Nick?"
"Mom and Dad told us to keep an eye on you. FBI means
trouble."
What the hell? He supposed the kids had taken something
one of the parents had said literally. Although why the
motel managers would be wary of the FBI was anyone's
guess. They could be doing anything from running a
sleazy, hourly-room-rate type of operation to drug
trafficking.
"Well, how about coming to an agreement that you keep an
eye on me from *outside* my room from now on?"
The boy thought about that for a moment, then nodded, and
slid from the chair. Mulder backed up to let him pass, and
breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed and he was
alone once more.
His cell phone startled him by ringing, seeming louder than
normal in the quiet room. It was Renaldi, sounding urgent
and distracted at the same time.
"We have Salzman."
"I'll be right there," Mulder said, as he grabbed for his car
keys from the top of the television. "Give me directions,
and then keep him healthy so we can ask him about
Scully."
"Well, that'll be a problem."
Mulder halted his motions, already knowing what Renaldi
was going to say.
"It looks as though he shot himself, probably not long after
he escaped. He's been dead for quite awhile. Some kids
found him in a culvert behind the bowling alley and called
us."
Mulder had hardly heard Renaldi after he said that their
main suspect was dead. If Salzman abducted Scully, his
death may have spelled his partner's death, as well.
"Agent Mulder?"
"Uh...yeah.".
"We need to talk about other possibilities for Agent
Scully's disappearance. I don't see any evidence that
Salzman was involved." Renaldi hesitated, knowing how
close some law enforcement partners could become. Then
he plowed ahead with what had to be explored.
"What if her boyfriend came by and convinced her to run
off with him? I mean, it's possible, and it happens. After
all, her belongings are gone as though she packed up and
left. There may not be a crime here at all. She could have
thrown the luggage in the quarry herself to make us think
she was abducted or murdered." His last statement
sounded defensive to Mulder, as though he was preparing
himself for a violent reaction.
Mulder's response was immediate and surprisingly
reasonable, considering what Renaldi had implied. "I've
already considered that, and it just doesn't make sense. She
wasn't seeing anyone nor would she have had any reason to
disappear." Except to escape the tragedies that working
with me has caused, he guiltily thought. "Another thing:
Scully is neat and orderly to a fault, but we found that all
her belongings had been literally crammed into the suitcase.
Even when in a rush, I've never seen her do that. This case
has something to do with those other disappearances, I'm
sure of it."
"Agent Mulder...Why don't I turn this Salzman mess over
to the locals and meet you at the motel restaurant where
you're staying? It's about 5:15 now. How about in half an
hour? We can go over the case better in person. I need to
hook up with Agent Hilman and get him up to speed, so I'll
bring him along and we can hash it all out together. "
"I'll see you there."
The phone felt as though it weighed a ton as he
disconnected and let it drop to the bed.
**********************
6:05 PM
Motel Restaurant
Mulder walked through the front door of the restaurant,
eyes scanning the room, finally spotting the sheriff and the
two agents at a table toward the back. He waved off the
hostess and made his way through the crowded dining
room, absently noting how full the place was for a
weeknight. He thought it might have something to do with
the large sign out front, proclaiming, 'Special of the Day:
Tender Pork Medallions with Burgundy-Cherry Sauce.
$8.95'. Even Scully had been planning on eating there
before returning to D.C.....
The men spotted the agent and the Sheriff leaned over to
pull a chair out from the table in invitation.
"Take a seat, Agent Mulder. Have something to eat with us
before we get started."
Mulder was in no mood for pleasantries and wanted to get
busy, but since he was running late, the others had already
ordered and received their meals. Although he hadn't eaten
at all that day, seeing the juicy pork that the sheriff and
Hilman were cutting into didn't give him an appetite. Quite
the opposite, in fact. He noticed that Renaldi had a pasta
dish of some sort, but the man seemed troubled and was
merely pushing the food around rather than eating.
Sheriff Gaines was waving his fork and making a point,
Mulder realized, annoyed with himself for zoning out when
he could be missing something important. Better focus, he
thought.
"...and that makes one more disappearance in the area."
That got his attention.
"What?"
It was evident to the sheriff that Mulder hadn't been
listening, so he patiently repeated, "There was apparently
another person who disappeared in these parts about two
months ago. Since she was single and had no relatives or
close ties, no one reported it. A lawyer contacted my office
today about this Sherrie Hawkliss, saying they were trying
to settle some lawsuit and weren't able to locate her. She
was last traced to this area."
With a pained expression, Renaldi nodded at his partner,
who chimed in, "We found something else, as well. I went
through the logs for missing persons cases and found that a
local family reported their 20-year-old son missing last
month. The investigation was dropped when no evidence
of foul play was discovered. It was thought that he
just...left."
Little odd-shaped pieces began falling into little odd-shaped
slots in Mulder's mind, supplying the missing bits to what
seemed to be happening right under their noses. And then
it all made sense. He turned pale so quickly that Renaldi
put his hand on the agent's arm in concern.
Mulder stared in absolute horror at the pink and juicy
pieces of meat that lay on Sheriff Gaines' and Agent
Hilman's plates. His stomach churned and he felt as
though he would faint.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
He tried to stand but found that his legs refused to hold
him. His knees hit the floor just as the sheriff and Renaldi
were getting to their feet in alarm. Hilman was still sitting
there, his eyes huge, staring at the stricken agent.
It was all coming together in Mulder's mind at blinding
speed. The motel owners' desire to steer clear of the FBI.
All the disappearances that had happened in the area. Doris
and Nick's names. The popularity of the restaurant that
coincided with the first of the disappearances. His mind
tried to reject the conclusions it was rapidly making, to no
avail. Anyone else, including his partner, would tell him
that his suspicions were ridiculous. With all his heart, he
wished that were so.
Renaldi's hand was under Mulder's right elbow, supporting
and maneuvering him back into his chair. "What is it?
What's wrong?"
Mulder was trying to hold himself together, since he felt as
though he would begin fragmenting in every direction with
no effort at all.
His eye caught some rapid movement near the door to the
kitchen at the rear of the room. Turning his head, he was in
time to see a woman with blond hair disappear, the door
swinging shut behind her. "Mrs. Warren. She knows I've
figured it out."
He got to his feet and pointed toward the door as he began
to move that way, but Renaldi blocked his path.
Frustrated, Mulder grabbed Renaldi by his coat lapels and
snarled, "Scully might still be alive. The motel managers
are killing people and serving the butchered bodies in this
restaurant. Tell everyone to stop eating the evidence. Get
some more agents in here - I'm going after the Warrens."
Stunned by Mulder's revelation, Renaldi offered no
resistance when shoved to the side. Hilman, however,
looked ready to take issue with the startling announcement,
and Gaines was shaking his head from side to side as
though he pitied the clearly addled agent.
Fighting to settle his stomach, Renaldi told them, "As crazy
as that seemed, I'd be inclined to listen to the man. He has
a reputation in the Bureau of being right, especially when
it's something weird like this case."
The sheriff's gaze dropped to his plate for a moment, and
then he leaned down to vomit underneath the table. Hilman
moved his feet out of the sheriff's range and, with a sick
fascination, poked his fork at the partially-eaten meat on his
plate.
*****************
When Mulder hit the swinging doors and entered the
kitchen, there were three people with their backs to him,
staring toward the outer exit door.
The woman who evidently had been preparing a sauce and
some kind of vegetable was just saying to her fellow cooks,
"I wonder why the Warrens ran out of here like that?"
Then she saw Mulder and asked, "Who the hell are you?"
Suddenly she gave a shriek and dropped the saucepan with
a clang onto the stove top. Her gaze was riveted on the
agent's hands, which gripped his gun. The two young men
preparing salads and desserts backed away from the
dangerous-looking man.
All Mulder took time to say was "FBI" as he ran to the door
that opened onto the exterior of the building. Seeing no
one in the wide-open, weedy, graveled area that formed the
rear of the restaurant, he gambled that the Warrens would
have headed for their living quarters to retrieve the kids
before clearing out.
Rounding the side corner of the building, he happened to
glance out across the acres of fields that stretched behind
the motel, and saw someone moving quickly on a path over
a nearby grassy expanse.
Just as Mulder was wishing he could go in two directions at
once, Renaldi came running around the corner, nearly
colliding with him.
"You take the office; I'll go after the husband," Mulder
said. He was halfway to the open gate in the fence before
he finished his sentence. He raced up the path with an
overwhelming sense that time was quickly running out.
When he neared the top of a rise, a large dilapidated barn
was visible, about forty yards away. There was a good-
sized generator by the wall that faced him, and an unusual
number of electrical wires and cables that ran into the
structure. He put on a final burst of speed when he saw that
the side door was just closing.
The door was completely shut by the time he reached the
barn. It wasn't locked, so he cautiously pulled it open and
checked each direction before stepping into the dim
interior. That nagging sense of time running out was
getting worse.
What looked like a large industrial refrigerator or freezer,
measuring at least fifteen feet both in width and length,
stood over to his right. He felt a chill when he realized for
what purpose the room had probably been built.
He gripped his weapon tightly as he reached out with his
left hand to try the latch. Locked. From the looks of the
heavy door, there was no way he could gain entry without
some heavy-duty tools.
Frantic, he turned to see what he might use, and froze in
surprise at finding someone quietly standing several feet
behind him.
"Nick."
The boy, whose clothes were soaked and dripping, mutely
moved forward and extended his open hand toward the
agent. Mulder saw a key nestled in the small open palm.
Nick had tears brimming in his eyes, but with his wet hair
dripping water down his cheeks, it was difficult to tell
which were tears and which were not.
The desperate agent gratefully snatched the prize from the
boy's hand and quickly fitted it into the lock on the door. A
twist and a push, and he was inside.
The sights and smells instantly told him he was in a
slaughterhouse. He had seen murder sites throughout his
career in law enforcement, but had never become hardened
to their horror and the sense of evil that enveloped them
like a smog. Then he was completely focused on the scene
taking place not ten feet away. It took only a second for it
to be burned into his brain.
Scully was nude, hanging by her ankles from a wood-and-
metal fastener in the ceiling. She was soaking wet, water
dripping from her fingertips and hair onto the floor below,
where it then trickled down a drain. Some spray equipment
attached to a hose lay nearby. Her skin had a bluish-gray
tinge, and she wasn't moving at all. More importantly, a
man was pressing a large knife against her pale throat,
promising to send more than just water down that drain.
Mulder distractedly registered that the man was, indeed,
Mrs. Warren's husband
Warren began drawing the knife across Scully's throat.
Blood immediately welled up. Mulder didn't hesitate, not
even to shout a warning. The first bullet punched into the
man's chest, the second hit his right upper arm, and the
third took out half his throat. He was dead before he hit the
floor.
Mulder quickly holstered his gun and was ripping his coat
off when he reached Scully, desperate to know that she was
alive and would need the warmth that his jacket could
provide. He held on to the fact that she wouldn't have bled
when the knife bit into her throat had she been dead
already, and he didn't think the cut was fatal. His fears that
Warren might jerk the knife deeper when the bullets hit him
had not happened, thank God.
His fingers detected a slow pulse in her neck. He let out a
sob of relief before looking up to see how to release her
ankles.
"I'll do it," came a small voice behind him.
Nick operated a switch on the nearby wall and the
contraption that held Scully's ankles slowly began
descending on a chain. Mulder roughly pulled the dead
man out of the way and then guided her upper body gently
to the floor, covering her torso with the coat. He didn't see
anything to press against her neck wound, so he pulled his
shirt off, buttons flying, and held it against the oozing blood
while Nick released her ankles from their restraint.
It was extremely cold in the room. Mulder was beginning
to feel it now that just an undershirt covered his upper
body. He had to move Scully to where it was warmer.
Feeling the uncomfortable similarity to their situation in
Antarctica, Mulder's tremor wasn't totally related to the
current chilly conditions.
Tenderly gathering her slight form against his chest, he
carried her out into the barn. He was aware that Nick had
seemed disturbingly unemotional about the death of his
father, but couldn't spare time for the kid at the moment.
The glazed look in the child's eyes haunted him, but he was
still terribly afraid for Scully and shoved it out of his mind.
******************
Renaldi had managed to corral the little girl, Doris, in the
motel office. He turned her over for safekeeping to one of
the sheriff's deputies. Once the child was out of the way,
he grabbed a pale and sweating sheriff to back him up as he
entered and searched the Warrens' private quarters.
Nothing. There was an open window in back, and it looked
as though Mrs. Warren had taken off.
Cursing under his breath, Renaldi, with a panting sheriff in
tow, ran out to the parking lot. Police and sheriff
department vehicles were descending on the place, but
there was no sign of the woman.
He turned to the sheriff and said, "I'm going after Agent
Mulder. You might want to get an APB and a search party
out to find the Warrens. I could use a few officers as
backup. And an ambulance could come in handy, too."
With Mulder's track record, an ambulance will probably be
essential, he thought to himself.
Then he was off and running again, disappearing around the
corner of the building. He heard orders being shouted
behind him, hopefully carrying out his 'suggestions'. The
sun was going down and it would be dark soon, making any
search more difficult.
He followed the direction in which Mulder had been
headed, and soon came upon the barn. The side door
opened easily, but once he was inside the murky
atmosphere of the structure he nearly dropped his weapon
at hearing a woman's ungodly, ear-splitting shriek.
His attention was immediately caught by movement to his
right. A female, blond hair flying around her face as she
screamed in rage, was attacking a man crouched on the
floor. Eyes finally adjusted to the dimness, he could see
that it was Mulder she was going after, and he was
protecting someone who lay partially under him. The
attacker was stabbing him with a large knife. Renaldi was
sickened to see it sink into Mulder's upraised arm and then
again into his shoulder before he could take any action.
The blood was a bright crimson smear against the white of
the agent's undershirt.
Renaldi wasted no more time and shot her as she was
poised to use the knife again.
**********************
Mulder's first instinct when Mrs. Warren came running at
him with the knife was to reach for his weapon. But with
Scully in his arms, his hands weren't free, and he wasn't
about to drop her. He quickly lowered his precious burden
and tried to deflect the knife's thrusts with his own body
until he could draw his gun.
The first stroke of the blade entered his upper left arm and
when it hit the bone, it released a searing wave of raw
agony. He hunched over Scully's body even farther as he
fumbled with his other hand for the holster at his waist.
But then the blade ripped into his shoulder and he struggled
to draw a breath from the shock of it. The initial blow
wasn't literally painful, but agony exploded as the knife
was drawn back out. His world was rapidly narrowing to
the need to keep the knife from Scully until he could reach
his gun.
At last he drew his weapon, but realized in the same instant
that he wouldn't be needing it. A loud gunshot rang in his
ears and Mrs. Warren fell next to him, not moving.
A big hand came into view and checked the woman's pulse
at her throat. Renaldi's voice rumbled, "Let me check
Agent Scully, then I'll try to stop your bleeding."
Mulder realized that he was fading in and out, probably
from shock, and tried harder to focus. Moving left him
breathless with pain, but he managed to shift back just
enough for the agent to see how Scully was doing.
He was elated to see her eyes open when Renaldi adjusted
the shirt-bandage at her throat.
"M...Mulder?" she said, her voice a little quavery. He
noticed the bruising around her mouth and cheeks and
figured that a gag of some sort had been used to keep her
quiet. A deep anger burned within him at how she had
been treated.
He managed a smile for her sake and she took a little
hitching breath to say, "I thought you were...dead." Her
eyes glistened with tears as they conveyed her fears to him.
"I think I was slated to be the corned beef hash, but they
only got around to tenderizing me," he joked, trying to
ignore the fiery pain that had settled into his shoulder.
"You're bleeding...on me." Echoes of 'I had you, big time'
bounced around his brain when he saw the corners of her
mouth turn up slightly. However, he could see in her eyes
her concern at the seriousness of his wounds.
Sure enough, his damaged arm and shoulder were
industriously dripping blood all over the jacket with which
he'd covered her.
"I'm okay, Scully. It's you we're worried about."
"C...cold."
Mulder pulled her into his lap, providing his body heat,
such as it was. He had forgotten about Renaldi, but there
was suddenly another jacket to add to Mulder's, giving
Scully some additional warmth. A fierce stab of agony
went through his arm and shoulder, but it settled to a dull
throb, and the room slowly came back into focus.
"My partner told me that an ambulance will be here any
minute," Renaldi was saying. The agent looked at the
abundance of crimson soaking the formerly white
undershirt Mulder was wearing and added, "But you're
still bleeding. I need to see if I can slow it down a little."
He disappeared and then returned to squat down next to the
two, wrapping a cloth from God-knew-where around
Mulder's upper arm wound. It hurt like hell. The
movement and pressure caused a moan that was quickly
bitten-off.
Since the bleeding arm was around Scully, it wasn't easy
for Renaldi to minister to the wounded man, but the agent
could see that getting Mulder to give up his position was
not an option. At last the cloth was in place. Another wad
of material was pressed against Mulder's shoulder, causing
a much more pronounced reaction.
"Aaaahh! Shit! A little warning might help," he gritted
through clenched teeth.
A grunt was the only reply as strips of cloth were torn and
tied, binding the makeshift bandage against the wound.
Agent Hilman entered the barn and moved into Mulder's
blurry view at that moment. He was waving his cell phone
in the air and announcing that there had been a major traffic
accident on the interstate.
"What is this, the six o'clock news report?" Renaldi
growled.
"Both local ambulances were right behind the four-car
pileup, so they're staying at the scene. I'm working on
getting us a LifeFlight helicopter from Aberdeen now." He
put the phone back to his ear and disappeared from
Mulder's view once more.
The feeling that the world was fading in and out had
worsened, but Mulder was stubbornly staying conscious
until help for his partner arrived. Scully, however, had
become concerned about Nick.
"The boy. He...his father beat him. Made him...wash me.
Where..."
"He's all right," Mulder lied, glancing over to where Nick
was kneeling by his mother's prone body. There was still
no expression on the boy's face, and the agent wondered if
there ever would be again.
Renaldi surprised him by going over to the boy and gently
urging him away from the dead woman. He spoke quietly
and whatever he said seemed to work. They both moved to
the door and then out into the yard where crickets were
chirping, greeting the day's end.
With the door open Mulder could hear the crickets, and the
hypnotic sound was lulling him into a semi-conscious state.
He roused a little, becoming aware that the crickets had
fallen silent with the advent of a louder, more mechanical
noise. It was a helicopter, he realized, and it seemed to be
approaching fast. Mulder wanted to tell Scully that they'd
be fine soon, but everything was becoming indistinct, and
he found it hard to see. From a distance he could hear
Renaldi saying something, and then Scully was being lifted
from his arms. He tried to hold on to her, but he had no
strength left in his body. It was all he could do to call her
name, and then the world shut down.
*********************
Two months later
In a government vehicle
Scully sat against the passenger door, her head leaning
against the tilted-back seat, eyes closed, the sunshine from
the late afternoon bathing her in light. Mulder wanted
to...yes...*gaze* at her, but had to keep more or less
watching the road. If he pulled over to indulge his
voyeuristic tendencies, she'd undoubtedly wake up and
there'd be hell to pay. She wanted to make it home in time
to get some laundry done before facing another work day at
the office tomorrow.
She had been troubled by the case in South Dakota to the
point where, after recovering from the hypothermia and
various cuts and bruises, she had kept numerous
appointments with the Bureau psychiatrist. Karen was
good, but Mulder wished that *he* could be the one she
confided in. Stupid notion, but that's how he felt.
He snorted as he realized how he could *really* screw up
her recovery without even trying.
His eyes again wandered into her direction and over the
graceful curve of her neck to where it met her jaw. A faint
line from the aborted attempt to slash her throat was still
visible across that pale neck and he shivered. How could
she seem so vulnerable and strong at the same time?
His thoughts turned to that hellish barn and the rush to get
them to the hospital. His only memory of the helicopter
flight and the next 18 hours or so was hearing Renaldi say,
"Walt is going to *kill* me!" Mulder guessed that Skinner
had told Renaldi to watch his agents' backs. Well, he'd
tried.
Once his own wounds had been cleaned and stitched and
lost blood replenished, it was a matter of regaining
consciousness. Upon opening his eyes, he had immediately
begun raising hell until he got what he wanted -- to be
given a run-down of Scully's condition and to be at her
side. Even Renaldi was impressed.
Thinking of the other agent, Mulder still marveled at
Renaldi's commitment to the orphaned Warren kids. He
had made sure they were placed with a loving foster family
after they began extensive psychiatric treatment. The little
girl was already doing well, and there was hope that Nick
would eventually overcome the awful traumas he had
endured.
And Scully...she had been her typical, stoical self in the
hospital, refusing to tell him all the details of her captivity.
That, of course, had made him imagine all kinds of horrors
she might have endured, including rape. But by going
behind her back and using his Bureau credentials, he had
been able to determine that she hadn't been sexually
molested in any way. Only her exquisite mind had suffered
a kind of rape, having to endure what that monster put her
through.
He realized that he had a white-knuckled hold on the
steering wheel, and forced his hands to relax before Scully
woke up and noticed.
A passing sign warned him of merging traffic, so his
attention reluctantly shifted back to the freeway. As they
neared D.C., it would only get worse.
Maybe they should stop for food, since there was still an
hour's drive ahead of them. But the thought of burgers
made his stomach churn. He hadn't had much of an
appetite over the previous couple of months...
Suddenly a small, warm hand covered his knee and he
smiled. She was awake. He wasn't alone with his thoughts
anymore; always a dangerous proposition. The realization
hit him that maybe he *was* helping her, after all, just by
being there for her.
He turned his head toward the light. Toward Scully.
THE END