From: RJCHRISTEN@aol.com Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2000 21:20:40 EST Subject: Submission: "Beware the Wookinar" (1/7) Source: direct "BEWARE THE WOOKINAR" by R.J. Christensen Yes, this is yet another un-official "X-Files" story based upon characters created by Chris Carter & 10-13 Productions, and owned in all parts of the known universe by the Fox TV network. The "Special Guest Cameo" is owned by Universal Studios, all other characters are mine. This piece is written strictly for the enjoyment of the reader and the amusement of the writer. No trademark infringement is intended, implied, or attempted, and definitely no money shall be made by this. So read on... Summary: Scully & Mulder investigate a suspected mass murder at a US Army training base. However, the investigation leads to entirely different and horrific circumstances for the agents... Classification: X-File. M/S Jealousy, Scully/Other Romance, Slight Angsty Ending. Crossover with old 70's TV show. Lots of Scullyisms and Mulderisms. They're all I can write anyway. Spoilers: None, This tale has NOTHING to do with the episodes Frank Spotnit-witz forces down our throats. Hey, it's MY story. Rating: PG-13 for Violence, adult situations, and TV standard language. ================================================================= "BEWARE THE WOOKINAR" by R.J. Christensen Part 1/7 Fort Jackson, SC. 5/8 10:52 PM EST The rain fell heavily from pitch-black skies onto the water- logged ground, which was now barely above the inky, surrounding swamp. Fourteen young men stood at anxiety-ridden attention while a much older one paced angrily past them. "Alright, you Motivational Platoon Maggots! You are going to stand at attention until SOMEBODY tells me where the hell Recruits Nathan & Ford went AWOL to while posted on guard duty...And we can stay at attention all damn night if we have to!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME???" The young men's eyes darted at each other while their heads remained stone still, desperately wondering who knew where their two fellow recruits could have gone on their watch. One recruit, with a ever so slight nervous waver in his voice, blurted out a quick response. "Uh, Sergeant... I think I do..." Master Sergeant Royce Kildaire wrinkled his bulldog face and glared eyeball to eyeball with Private Recruit Dwight Peterson and growled, "You Think WHAT, boy?!?!" "Uh, Sergeant! I think they might have gone into town to see some college girls they met last month while sneaking off the base...Sergeant!" The rest of the platoon stood silent as the young man caught his breath. "Oh, Recruit Peterson THINKS they may gone off to screw some sally sorority sisters..." Kildaire bellowed over the low roar of the thunderstorm. "Well, you slackers, we are going to SEARCH for them until we either find them or until the goddamm DAWN, and then we sic the MPs on them and they will spend the next 10 years in Motivational Platoon!" He grabbed his M-16 and attached his flashlight underneath the barrel. "And since we do not have the fancy night vision gear you all saw on the Desert Storm TV show, we will have to do it the old fashioned way! And the first man who can locate their trail will receive a free pass back to Regular Basic! Saddle up!" Moments later, two of the recruits were splashing through ankle deep water, their flashlight beams projecting away from their rifles in all directions as they half-heatedly look for the missing men. "Hey Peterson, you really think Nathan & Ford snuck into Columbia tonight?" "It was the only think I could think of, Clarky...at least it got Killer Kildaire out of making us standing at friggin' attention in the rain..." The pair of recruits slogged through the black water, wondering if their missing cohorts has passed along their assigned path, or what Sgt. Kildaire considered a path. A hundred yards behind them, four sets of hand-held road flares punctured the darkness, looking for anything Peterson & Clark may have missed. "Those freaking clowns had better enjoy themselves, 'cause the sarge'll have them in front of a firing squad if he catches them." Clark stopped to adjust his dangling flashlight while Peterson went on ahead. "After having the Sarge wake me up at midnight, ruining a great dream about me and Jennifer Lopez, I'll gladly volunteer...." Suddenly, Clark heard Peterson swear loudly, followed by a splash. "Peterson! What happened?!" He swung his rifle around wildly, the loose flashlight beam jerkily flying around. "CRUD! I tripped in the freakin' mud!" Peterson yelled. "Tripped on a goddamm...." He voiced wavered for a second. "...what the...? Jesus H. Christ!!" Peterson's demeanor went from violently angry to astonishment in an instant. "What the hell you screaming about, man?" Clark sarcastically asked, amused at his buddy's misfortune. Peterson kicked at a large object in the water & muck. "It's Ford, man! Frickin' idiot's DEAD! Face down in the mud!" "Gawd Almighty!" Clark fell against a tree with total shock at what Peterson had said. "H-h-he's DEAD? We gotta get the Sarge!" His cockiness was instantly gone, replaced by the horror of his fellow recruit's corpse. "I'll get the Sarge, dude! I found him, I get outta this lousy Motivational platoon!" Peterson sprang to his feet and took off towards the main group. "Sorry, Clarky! Finder's Keepers!" Clark was too shaken to reply smartly as he might have done moments ago. As his partner ran off, Clark knelt down to look at the body, his curiosity peaked. Ford's dirty blond hair shone brightly under the beam, now revealing dark crimson streaks throughout. Turning the body over, Clark was instantly sickened as a pool of blood flowed out from underneath the corpse. Ford's face has nearly been ripped off, his left arm already done so. His field jacket looked like it gone through a shredder. Fourteen years of years on the tough streets of Philadelphia did not prepare him for this. "S-S-S-SAAAAARGE!!!" But just as Clark turned to call the rest of the platoon over, he saw a dark, swift shadow swoop down upon the scampering Peterson. A blood-curdling scream of pain was emitted as the shape pulled him into water. A flash of Lightning illuminated the scene, and Clark gasped in shock & horror at what he saw. Hurried cries broke through the night air as the rest of the platoon raced towards where Clark was standing frozen in fear. "What the hell is going on here?" yelled Sgt Kildair. "Just what the fu..." His back-lit figure was pulled away from sight into the black waters of the swamp. Yells turned to panicking screams as Clark watched his comrades twirl and turn in complete disarray. "Summin' got the Sarge!" "He's gone!" "Wha' happened?" Then the Shape leapt out of the water into the trees, taking recruit Williams with him. Shallowford & Hayes opened up with their M-16s, but being raw recruits, they completely missed the fast moving target. Williams screamed pitifully as he was literally torn in half and his body tossed down from the trees. The shadowy entity then began leaping from tree to tree, and then into an arriving group of four other platoon members. Clark watched in horror as the inhuman Shape tore them to pieces, blood and limbs flying in the staccato glare of the now-dropped flares and punctuated by screams and blazing assault rifles. The thing then flew into the forest darkness as the rest of the platoon turned to run in complete panic-inducing terror. Meanwhile, Clark cowered pitifully into a hollowed-out section of the tree, hearing only distant splashes and screams of horror and death amidst the cascading torrents of rain. Soon after six more such screams, there was nothing but the sound of the falling rain cascading into the swamp's black waters. Outside Columbia, SC 5/12 12:05 PM EST Fox Mulder frowned at the overhead road sign proclaiming way to the entrance of Fort Jackson, South Carolina. "Whenever I get mixed up with the military, bad things always happen." His partner, Dana Scully gave him the familiar look of slight annoyance as she turned the rental car down the street to the main gate. "At least this time Mulder, we've been directly invited to assist in an investigation. They know exactly who we are and what we are becoming infamous for." Scully seemed as relaxed as she had been before they were given this assignment. "You're just saying that because you're a Navy brat." Mulder slyly retorted. "Yes, Mulder...but we're on an Army base. The Navy has much better food." Scully retorted back with a roll of her eyes. Mulder smiled at her reply, but then his tone became serious. "Come on Scully, Skinner gives us this vague "multiple missing person" case, bypassing both the Columbia and Atlanta offices and tells us to report to an Army training base with no other details. Plus the fact that most crimes are investigated by the Army itself. Don't you find this all kind of...strange?" "Maybe that's why Skinner gave it to us." Scully answered, a slight smile on her face. Mulder sat back in the seat and shook his head in mock disbelief. "She got me again..." he thought out loud to no one in particular. The Military police at the gate dutifully cleared the agents onto the base, directing them to the base security office. There, they were greeted by yet another MP, a fresh-face kid who looked more like he should have been in Drivers Ed then the army. The MP escorted them to the Chief Investigation Officer's office; the sign outside identifying it as belonging to a "Captain R. Garrison". The young soldier stood at attention as he rapped on the door and yelled rapidly at the top of his lungs. "SIR! Federal Bureau of Investigation Special Agents Mulder and Scully Have been escorted to Your Office as Directed, SIR!" Mulder muttered softly under his breath as not to be heard by anyone but Scully. "Great...Wind-up toys for big boys in brass..." A mild pat on the forearm was the sole reply from Scully. The door opened and a husky male officer with wire frame glasses and short light brown hair stepped partially outside. He saluted and waved the MP off. "Thank you, Kendricks. You may go now." He turned towards his guests. "Good Morning, I'm Captain Roger Garrison, Agents Mulder...." He paused at which one to address. Mulder nonchalantly flipped his badge open. "I'm Agent Mulder. This is Agent Scully..." Scully put out one hand to open her badge, but Garrison mistook it for a handshake, took it and bowed slightly. " It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Scully....Mr Mulder. Come in, may I get you two a cup of famous Fort Jackson coffee?" Mulder was rolling his eyes at the captain's courtesy, but Scully took it as long overdue politeness towards her. He closed the door soundly after they entered. I'll take a cup.." Scully replied. "No sugar, cream if you have it." Mulder nonverbally declined. As the Captain poured the coffee, Mulder sat down in a big overstuffed chair in front of the desk. "Now that we're here, Captain Garrison, could you kindly fill Agent Scully and myself in on why we were so cordially invited to Fort..." Scully interjected. "What Agent Mulder is asking to is the lack of details surrounding this case when we were...asked to assist you. We were just informed that you had asked for the FBI's assistance in a case rather than Army investigators and we are a bit..." She frowned at Mulder, who was fiddling with his badge. "...a bit...curious as to why we are here." Garrison looked over Scully and Mulder's shoulders at the closed door, then over at the window. "Uhm... Now I don't want this to sound like one of those military cover-ups, but..." He looked almost embarrassed to be saying it. Mulder turned to Scully and gave her his patented "I told you so" look. "...but we recently had an incident here on the base involving several trainees and their sergeant..." Garrison finished. Mulder uncrossed his legs and overtly plunked one onto the hardwood floor. "Let me guess. They were abducted by Aliens?" Scully sighed loudly and lowered her head onto her fingers in mild embarrassment. Garrison was completely taken aback, not knowing why Agent Mulder would make such a flippant comment. "Uh... no...that's not the reason at all..." He reached for a folder on his desk and opened it. "They were all...Murdered...." Scully's face lit up in surprised shock as Mulder leaned back up from his chair at the sound of Garrison's comment. "Murdered? Separately or all together?" Scully asked pensively. Mulder stiffened up after his initial embarrassment and interrupted before Scully could be answered. "Captain Garrison, something like this would have been on every news outlet in the country if not the world. Why has it been hushed up?" This time, it was Garrison who seemed a bit embarrassed. "Well, the Army SORT of kept a lid on this, referring to it as a "training accident"...at least until we uncover the facts. Following a mass killing at Fort Bragg a few years ago, the entire Armed Services were inundated by rampant rumors of being overrun with white supremacy groups and urban street gangs. You can be assured that if you can help us uncover what happened, it will be properly noted in the news." Scully seemed a bit less apprehensive then before, not knowing such honesty in a military man since joining the FBI. Mulder, however, kept a good bit of suspicion inside himself. Garrison then opened the file laying on his desk. "Last week, while on a training session in the Field Exercise area near the Catabaw River, eleven recruits of the 2nd Training Regiment's Motivational Platoon were all killed along with their Drill Instructor, Master Sergeant Royce Kildair, to be exact. Twenty-eight years of service including three tours of Vietnam." "Excuse my ignorance of Army terminology..." Scully gently interrupted. "But what is meant by Motivational Platoon?" "It's essentially the last chance for deficient recruits to pass basic training before being unceremoniously discharged. It's also for the occasional troublemaker that their commanding officers feel are still trainable." "You don't suppose anyone not passed might have a grudge against Kildaire?" Mulder asked. "I suspected as much. Kildair was tough, but he had the best record amongst Motivational Platoon Instructors-- 78% go on to pass Basic. But the question is, why take out an entire platoon to do it?" "The Entire platoon was killed?" Scully asked. "Well, only one man survived, and so far he's our chief suspect- but..." Garrison's voice trailed off in self-doubt. "But what? You suspect otherwise?" Mulder's previous disrespect was replaced by his avid curiosity. "Well, it's also the reason we asked you and Agent Scully down here instead of the Judge Advocates' Office. We believe that our suspect, one Private Michael Clark, age 19, may be... psychotic. Since neither the base psychiatrist or chief medical officer couldn't determine his current mental state, we decided to go to the FBI for agents familiar with criminals and odd mental deviations." Scully sighed with resolve. "Well, so much for a X-File, Mulder..." Garrison looked puzzled. "X-File? What's an X-file?" Mulder smiled and turned towards his partner. "You mentioned it Scully, you tell him..." Scully gritted her teeth in admonishment and turned towards the Captain. "It's just a FBI classification of case that we are normally assigned to." "Like the various serial killers I read about in the memo Assistant Director Skinner faxed me? We did specifically ask for agents with serial killer experience." Mulder decided it was time to start acting like a straight psychologist. "Serial Killers do not commit all their crimes at once, Captain. They stalk and kill their intended victims one at a time. But your Private Clark may have top the state record for mass killings in one night." Scully looked relieved at Mulder's awakening. "I assume we may be able to ask Private Clark some questions?" "Certainly, Agent Scully. But I have to tell you; I've never had to deal with the criminally insane, but I do think Clark is a prime candidate." Garrison said. Mulder thought of a wise crack concerning "Criminally insane" and "Army", but didn't utter it. As they got up from their chairs, Scully turned to Mulder and then back to Garrison. "What would make you say that, Captain?" "Well, the last time I tried to interrogate him, he was balled up in corner with the mattress around him in a near catatonic state. Won't even eat." Garrison looked a bit embarrassed as he continued. "And when we brought him in, he kept babbling about 'monsters' doing it..." "Monsters?" Scully asked, with the look of "Here we go again" in her eyes. Mulder just winked at Scully. "Looks like Skinner's not going to like this after all...." he grinned sharply. End Part 1/7 "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 2/7 Ft Jackson Stockade 12:40 EST As the trio walked outside to an awaiting Humvee, Mulder turned towards Garrison. "Captain, I noticed you had a picture of South Dakota Senator Lemont Garrison on your wall. Any political relationship?" Mulder suspected it might have to do the West Point ring on Garrison's hand. As Garrison opened the front door for Scully, he looked directly at Mulder. "Yes, he is. He's my father." He then closed the door as Scully got in and proceeded around the front of the vehicle. Inside, Scully turned back towards Mulder. "How do you know Senator Garrison?" she asked. Mulder winked. "He led the fight to shut down the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence project back in '88, saying it would show a lack of intelligence in Congress if they spent any more money on it. How's that for an oxymoron?" "Just don't take it out on his son, Mulder." Scully said with a hint of compassion in her voice. As Garrison got in the car, Mulder tried making small talk. "So, Captain, I suppose you have plans to PERHAPS follow your father's path into politics one day?" "As a matter of fact, no, Agent Mulder. He wanted me to go to Law school, join his former practice, and get groomed for Law Making. I prefer Law Enforcement instead. He wasn't at all happy with my decision to attend West Point even though I graduated 7th in my class... his opponents keep calling it political favoritism, but I got in on my own account." Scully spoke up. "You know, my father was a Captain in the Navy, and he wasn't too thrilled either with my choice to forego a regular medical practice for the FBI." "I suppose we're just rebels, Agent Scully...." answered a smiling Garrison as he cranked the engine. "...Kindred souls, I guess...." Scully added as they smiled at each other. Mulder sat in the back seat, stone silent. "Great, I'm stuck with Teen Rebels Anonymous..." When they reached the cell, Garrison ordered an MP to open a small window on the door. Scully took a first look, then Mulder. A pitiful looking young black male sat cowering in the corner of the stark white-painted cell, holding the cot's mattress around himself like a security blanket. His teeth were clenched, hands bled ashen with stress as he tightly gripped the mattress. His eyes were blank, reminiscent of the so-called "1000 yard stare" one would find on shell shocked combat veterans of the Somme or Iwo Jima. Scully & Mulder each took turns looking in the reinforced window. "Do you have his medical records, Captain?" Scully asked, her curiosity now fully peaked by the vision of what was in the cell. "Right here, Agent Scully". Garrison said, handing her a slim file. "Passed everything in his qualifying exam at the Philadelphia Processing Center, including the brief psychological tests they administer. Near perfect physical specimen as well." Mulder glanced over Scully's shoulder as she scanned the pages inside the folder. "So what was he doing in this so-called motivational platoon?" Garrison shifted through some other files he was carrying. "Let's see, his previous Training CO stated "Failure to Respect Authority, Insubordination, Gambling, Striking a Fellow Recruit..." Mulder looked back in the window. "He sure doesn't look like the insubordinate type now..." "How was he captured, Captain?" Scully asked. "When the Motivational platoon did not report to it's barracks the following morning, a squad of MPs went looking for them. They found the 11 bodies at their bivouac at 0815 hours with Clark cowering a hundred yards away in a hollowed out tree. Same way you see him now. The MPs were just as spooked by him as they were with the dead bodies." "Any sign of drug use? asked Scully. "First thing we did was give him our standard recruit drug tests; cocaine, marijuana, LSD, amphetamines, even alcohol. He came up clean as the perverbial whistle. Well, for the last 6 months at least." "What about Clark's mental state prior to the incident? Psychiatrist's report?" Mulder asked. "The Army only conducts a very basic psychological test, Agent Mulder. Clark came up `Normal' on our scale. Mulder almost cracked a joke about what the Army would consider normal, but Scully psychically deduced his intent and nonchalantly waved him off. "Maybe we should talk with him now." In the interrogation room, Private Recruit Michael Clark was seated in a metal frame office chair, but had refused to let go of the mattress from his cell. He paid no attention even when Mulder, Scully, Garrison, and two heavily armed guards entered the room. He just stared horror-struck past them as he gripped the mattress as a scared small child would hold onto a beloved teddy bear. Mulder sat down in front of the silently terrified prisoner. "Mike?" Mulder began softly as he placed a tape recorder on the table between them. "My name is Mulder. I'm here to help you." The recruit shifted his body slightly but did not say a word. Scully pulled up a chair as did Garrison; she began taking notes, the Captain sat silent. "Mike... We need to know what happened to you. What happened that night... What happened to you... "W-w-w-on't believe.....me" Clark muttered, his voice dripping with fear. "I will believe you..." Mulder said. The young man tightened his grip on the mattress and shifted further deeper into his chair, his eyes widening. "I-i-i-t wasn't real..I-i-it couldn't have been...i-i-it was terrible...killed 'em all... ever' one..." "Who Killed them, Mike? Why were they killed?" Mulder asked. "I...dunno...it come ahtta the trees, killed Peterson... musta got Nathan an' Ford first... just grabbed him and ripped him in half... then it got the Sarge..." Garrison made a questioning gesture to Scully, who had lowered her glasses as Clark spoke. Mulder raised an eyebrow, but didn't change the calm tone of his voice. "Sergeant Kildaire was killed...what then?" Mulder asked. "It jumped back inna the trees, straight up in the air...fifty feet... started killin' the res' of the platoon... It was awful...just tore 'em all up..." Mike answered. "And you hid in the hollowed tree where the MPs found you, right Mike?" "Dunno...it killed 'em all.... killed 'em all...." "Who killed them, Mike? Who killed them?" "It...it wasn't...human, man....was a monster..." Clark's eye widened to the size of saucer as his voice grew to a low scream. "It was the Wolfman...the WOLFMAN, Mistah!!! It wasn't Real!! It couldn't have been Real, Man!! It hadda be the Wolfman!!" Clark began screaming. Mulder fell back in surprise as the young recruit buried himself with the mattress underneath the table and started screaming for his mother. The guards rushed over and grappled with Clark as two more MPs followed along with a medic. Captain Garrison guided Scully out, with Mulder backing out afterwards. "Take him back to cell! Sedate him, if you have too!" ordered Garrison as the guards struggled with the maniacal young man. "Well, that went swimmingly--as usual." Scully said plainly to Mulder, who was still getting over the shock of Clark's eruption. "At least we went from `Monsters' to a specific kind of monster." Garrison replied. Scully smiled at the Captain's joke. Mulder frowned slightly; this guy was beginning to get on his nerves. Especially when stealing his material. "So, would you guess maybe he's telling some semblance of the truth?" Mulder asked the pair behind him as they strode down the antiseptic halls of the stockade. "You aren't serious, Agent Mulder?" asked Garrison, as if Mulder wasn't joking. "Werewolves? That's Hollywood kid stuff!" Scully stopped and address the question. "Mulder, I hope you aren't going to suggest that this is anyway connected to the Joseph Goodensnake case years ago..." Garrison was taken aback at her question with a look of complete incredulity. "So..." the Captain began, "You think he's making this all up?" Mulder turned and smiled at Scully & the Army officer. "No, the terror that Private Clark is demonstrating is not indicative of any known criminal psychosis." "You're not serious...about what he was babbling about?" Garrison asked with a hint of doubt for calling in the FBI. "No, Captain Garrison, I'm not suggesting Lon Chaney, Jr. killed those men, I'm suggesting that whoever committed the murders did so in such a way as to induce psychosis in Clark, who's subconscious turned the image of the killer or killers into the image of the classic monster movie werewolf, hence Clark calling it a "Wolfman" instead of a `Werewolf'." Scully folded her arms. "My, Mulder..that sounds like something I'd say. Normally by now, you'd be looking for wolfsbane and silver bullets." Mulder looked back in the cell as Clark collapsed into unconsciousness on the remade cot. "Well, At least I hope so...." As Garrison led the two federal agents away, the remaining two guards looked at each other. One shook his head and looked utterly disgusted. "Werewolves? This Clark guy must be flippin' nuts." His partner replied in a local drawl, "In the Catabaw Swamp? Sounds a lot like the Wookinar to me, man..." Post Hospital Morgue 1:10 PM EST Scully glanced over the list of the dead soldiers as she hung the lab apron over her scrubs, a mind-numbingly long job awaited her. The three medics conscripted as her assistants prepped the examining tables, so at least this time she would be doing the work alone. As Mulder and Garrison waited outside the now very cramped morgue, Scully stuck her head out for a moment. "Mulder, it looks as if I'm going to be stuck here for several hours, so you get the field work." Scully called out from the room "Good thing I brought my rubbers..." Mulder said with flippancy. "Mulderrrrrr...." Scully said with a roll of her eyes. Her smiling partner stifled a guffaw as Scully looked shockingly at him. "...because I'd hate to have to ruin my nice shoes out in the mud. My, Scully...and what did you think I meant, hmm?" The boyish charm of Mulder quickly turned into a snicker. Scully just snapped her latex gloves at him as the first body was rolled in. Mulder stepped back, not wanting to ruin his new suit, but still interested in just how the soldiers died. Pulling out her tape recorder, Scully began her report. "Our first victim is Sergeant Royce Kildaire, age 55. Weight is 83.54 kilograms, height is 1.87 meters..." She then opened the dark khaki body bag and gasped with shocked surprise. "Oh my God..." "What is it, Scully?" Mulder curiously asked, stepping towards the examination table. As she pulled back the bag opening, Scully pointed out the cause of her shock. Mulder, not particularly fond of autopsies, stepped back from the both the smell and sight of the mangled corpse. "He's nearly been sliced in half..." Scully answered with a wavering in her voice. "Aside from the 4 in wide laceration across his throat, which looks to be the cause of death, there are two other similar wounds across his chest." "Saves you time doing a Y incision..." Mulder tried joking as he turned away in near repugnance. "Well, this definitely is going take quite a while. I'll try to determine what sort of implement made these wounds." "Well, whatever it was, I'd sure hate to find out just who wielded it." Mulder said as he turned to leave. "I'll be at the crime scene if you come up with anything else." "Oh joy...." Scully sighed and continued with her work. Captain Garrison was waiting outside the morgue, talking into his radio. As Mulder came over, the army officer gave a curt "Out." into the mic. "Ready when you are, Agent Mulder. "Ready right now. At least I'll be out in the fresh air..." Mulder replied. "I can now understand why you called us in on this case..." "Agent Mulder, I've seen action in Kuwait, Somalia, and Bosnia. But I have never seen anything like this." "Well, Scully & I have seen similar murder victims, but never in this quantity. She certainly has her work cut out for her." Mulder added, taking one last look at Scully inside the examination room. Garrison also took in another look at the occupied Scully. "She's a particular talented woman, Mr Mulder. Both a medical Doctor and a FBI agent. Not too many women...or men...could do that in my opinion." "She's pretty good with boats and guns as well. Rewrote Einstein in college. Martha Stewart when it comes to her apartment. A true Renaissance woman." "Sounds like the kind of woman a man could really fall for..." Garrison added with the hint of a sly smile. "Oh Sorry, Captain. I'm afraid that Agent Scully is already...spoken for. Yup. She's taken. Sorry, but no." Garrison tried not looking dejected, but Mulder picked it up immediately. "Oh really? I suppose he's one lucky guy." Mulder nodded. "Yes. Engaged to an old pal of mine, Melvin Frohike. Luckiest guy I know." Near the Catabaw River 1:37 PM EST Mulder, wearing hip-high waders, slogged through the mud and murky water where the recruits of the doomed motivational platoon were slain. Yellow flags and spray indicated where bodies were found, a yellow crime scene tape wrapped around a giant cypress tree where the lone surviving Recruit Clark was found. A half dozen MPs stood vigilantly around the somber site, accompanied by several more soldiers searching the ground. Garrison walked behind Mulder, pointing out the scene. "We tried leaving the crime scene exactly as we had found it...minus the bodies of course. We covered personal equipment and weapons with plastic, since it only stopped raining this morning." Garrison said to Mulder. "A week of rain will make uncovering clues a bit harder, but I'm used to it." Mulder looked around the plus acre-sized area. Clear plastic sheets were scattered everywhere, covering the abandoned gear. Even with the week of rain, blood stained the peaty earth, leaf litter, and even some of the trees. Thousands of spent shell casings glittered in the sunlight, indicating that the doomed recruits did manage to put up some kind of resistance, however futile it had been. Whatever happened, it sure wasn't pretty. Mulder looked down at the first sheet he came across. "You say weapons were carried by the victims?" "Semi-automatic M-16s...post Vietnam era weapons. Not as much firepower as a fully automatic A1 or the newer M-16A2s, but suitable for training purposes. Each man was only issued 2 magazines of live ammo along with 4 dummy grenades and a 20 pound sack of sand to represent the typical weight of ammunition carried in battle." Garrison spilled off the equipment as an expert. "They sure could have used the real stuff..." Mulder quipped, "At least that precludes the notion this may have been the work of drug dealers or anti-government militias." He added, looking down at a rifle underneath the sheet of plastic. It nearly was broken in half. Scarlet-colored mud nearby indicated where it's previous owner fell. "Folks like that would not leave any type of automatic weapons behind...broken or not." "Well, who then?" Garrison asked. "Sure, these were just recruits, but they had all some extent of weapons training, and Kildaire was probably the most combat experienced soldier we had on post. Not to mention the type of wounds inflicted on the victims." "Yeah, those slices rules out a sniper." Mulder mused. "Any non-issued shell casings or spent rounds found on the site?" "None yet, but I have a team of engineers looking with mine- clearing equipment." Garrison answered, pointing over to a group of six other soldiers sweeping the ground with metal detectors. An hour later, as the soldier were wrapping up a unsuccessful search for evidence of different weapons and Garrison was calculating the various firing positions, Mulder was finishing up making plaster casts of the surviving bootprints that ran helter skelter across the crime scene. It was amazing to him that just twelve men could make so many tracks in one small area. But he knew Scully would request all possible tracks to be available for cross-referencing with the boots of the slain soldiers. Even though he was ankle to shin deep in mire, she was up to her elbows in dead young men. And this was something he did not envy. Mulder was about to pour plaster into what seemed the one thousandth boot print when his eye caught something strange. Scrapping aside some leaves, there was an impression of a larger track overlapping the boot print. Mulder poured in some more plaster and suddenly looked wide-eyed as the cast stared resembling a large animal track, over a foot long, about 4-5 inches wide, and including a quartet of claw points with one large claw mark in the middle. Sweeping aside more leaf litter, he saw that the track was just one of several, however a disturbingly long distance apart. "Scully's not going to believe this..." Just then, one of the MPs came over to check up on the federal agent. "Evr'thing Ok, Sir?" he asked in a stereotyped southern drawl. "Well, this footprint seems to be a bit...deformed." The young MP looked awe-struck. "Goll...lee! That thar looks like one of them thar Wookinar tracks!" Mulder did a double take at the soldier. "Wook-en-Nar?" "Well, they's a local legend 'round these here parts. Kinda like that thar Bigfoot feller...'cept smaller and smellier. People always findin' tracks and such fer years, but ain't no one ever seen one up close." "You're not serious, Corporal? A Bigfoot-like creature here in South Carolina?" Mulder's interest, however, was highly stimulated. The corporal seemed a bit embarrassed, but continued on with his story. "Well, like I said, it's kinda local legend. Big ol' hairy critter, considering aint no seen 'em. But they sure do stink a heap! Er...from what I've heard, y'know..." "And how will I spell Wookinar in my FBI report, Corporal?" Mulder asked, pondering the young soldier's tale. Sudden trepidation overtook the poor MP. "Uh, well, sir...it IS justa local egend...sir. I'd take no heed of it...sir.", he nervously answered. Mulder decided he had to calm the young man. "Good idea, Corporal. Wouldn't want any of our superiors to think we're a little...spooky, would we?" Mulder said with a smile. End part 2/7 "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 3/7 Columbia, SC 5/12 3:15pm The FBI fleet car pulled off the interstate that ran through downtown Columbia and onto an off-ramp. Inside, it's two occupants were having different thoughts as to why they were there. "So, Mulder...please tell me again why you dragged me out of the Fort Jackson morgue to go to the Columbia Zoo?" Scully asked Mulder, who was driving. "Riverside Zoo, Scully. And we're checking up on a lead I found at the site." Mulder answered. "Honestly, Mulder...animal attack? You've been watching too much of the Fox network lately." Scully said. "Trust me, Scully. This might be what we're looking for." Mulder answered. "Great. I'm really worried now..." Scully replied as she looked out the window. "At least the zoo might be a happier place then the overcrowded morgue." she thought. After getting directions from the ticket taker, Scully and Mulder found themselves in the office of the Riverside Zoo. An attractive woman about 35 with short hair and glasses greeted them. "Agents Mulder and Scully?" "That's us." Mulder replied as he and Scully held out their badges. "Dr Blackmon, I presume?" "Yes, that is me. Dr Nisa Blackmon, head of Ecological Science for the zoo." She said with a smile. "Now I understand you're looking to identify an animal track involved with a case." "Yes, we found it at a crime scene and since it didn't resemble any localized creature, we were wondering it was an abandoned exotic pet or escaped animal." Mulder replied. "Well, I can assure you that there are no missing animals from the Riverside Zoo, but we're always discovering exotic pets on the loose." Blackmon politely answered and she gestured them to a door. "If people just knew the trouble having a wild animal as a pet is before getting one, there would be a lot less suffering on everybody's part, including the animal." "Well, that's why I have fish..." Mulder quipped as Scully fell in behind. In the Animal Science Lab, Mulder took out the cast and laid it on a workbench. After just a glimpse, Dr Blackmon stifled a giggle. "Uh, anything wrong?", Mulder asked. "I'm sorry Agent Mulder...but that seem to resemble what some people call a Wookinar track." Dr. Blackmon said with a smile. "A what track?" Scully asked with incredible disbelief, both at Dr Blackmon and back at Mulder. "Wookinar." Answered Dr. Blackmon. "It's a variation on the Bigfoot legend here in South Carolina. For 300 years, a few people claim there's a large bipedal ape-like creature roaming the Carolina woods." Scully glared at Mulder, who seemed to be completely taken aback by the sudden revelation. "In other words, somebody's idea of a joke." She added pointedly at her partner. "Well, we get a lot of these reports, usually by overly excited hunters and Boy Scouts. People report hearing strange noises and horrible musk smells, then find larger then normal animal tracks and their imaginations take over." Dr. Blackmon opened a cabinet to reveal several dozen plaster casts. "Well, could you at least just verify that it might be a fake?" Mulder asked as Scully glared at him. "Well, why not? Agent Scully, would you mind helping me?" Dr Blackmon said as she took the cast from Mulder, who looked as if he wanted to go hide in the monkeyhouse. As Scully and Dr. Blackmon reexamined the plaster cast, Mulder's eye was caught by another zoo employee in the room next door. Through an interior window, Mulder was looking at a silver- haired man in a labcoat checking on an injured lemur. Something about him seemed very familiar, but he could not place the face just now. He quietly turned and tapped Dr. Blackmon on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Dr Blackmon? Who's that elderly gentleman over in the next room?" Mulder calmly pointed to the gentleman. "Oh, that's Dr Benson Wilcox. He's a retired Biologist from the University who does volunteer work for the zoo. Would you like to ask him a question?" Dr. Blackmon asked. "No, he just looked familiar, that's all. Mistaken identity, I guess. Sorry I bothered you about it." Mulder said, turning away There was something about Dr Wilcox that sparked thought in Mulder's mind, but he could not place his face or name. Scully just continued on with the examination of the plaster track. Moments later, Scully and Dr Blackmon returned, empty handed. "Sorry, Mulder...it's an obvious fake." Scully said with a just a tingue of annoyance in her voice. "But a very interesting one nonetheless." Dr Blackmon added with a slight smile. "As opposed to the usual enlarged human foot like most hoax tracks, this had elements of human, primate, feline, and even marsupial structures." "A real zoo." Mulder's voice dripped with disappointment and slight embarrassment. "Oh, no problem, Agent Mulder. It at least showed some initiative and creativity on the part of whomever made it. It will make a fine addition to my growing collection." At least the Zoo ecologist was not as annoyed as Scully, who looked like she was ready to add Mulder to Dr Blackmon's collection. After leaving the Zoo office, Mulder dusted his hands off to indicate his feelings about this dead end. "So Scully, I admit defeat this time. So which one of Columbia's fine restaurants do you wish to indulge our appetites at before heading to the Ramada?" he asked, awaited the forthcoming barb from Scully. But instead, Scully seemed a bit embarrassed with her response. "Uh, Mulder? Would you mind if we just head back to the hotel and just get some room service...for yourself?" Scully seemed a little flushed when she said this. "Alone? You're not thinking of ditching me for once, are you Scully?" Mulder asked. "Well, I am quite tired from 6 hours of autopsies which I still have to finish tomorrow." Scully said, not making eye contact with Mulder. Mulder was not content with Scully obvious verbal ploy. He took a stab at what Scully plans might entail. "You want to have dinner with our Captain Garrison, right?" he asked witha slight grin. "Well, Roger, er, Captain Garrison asked if I'd like to have dinner with him..." Scully said. Mulder's mouth dropped comically. "A Date, Scully? He asked you out on a date?" "It's not a Date, Mulder! Just...dinner. Captain Garrison wants to talk about law enforcement. In fact, he wanted to invite you as well, but since you're so, so..." Scully said. "Unable to be taken anyway, right Scully?" Mulder looked a bit sad at his exclusion from dinner, but he felt he'd probably make yet another social blunder concerning the Captain or his father. As he pulled up to the motel parking lot, he smiled at the slightly blushing Scully. "Well, you just be home by 10 o'clock, young lady! And no tattoos this time!" The "California Dreaming" Restaurant Near the University of Columbia "Sorry to hear about Agent Mulder not being able to join us." Roger Garrison said as he and Scully were seated at their table. "I really wanted to learn more about the FBI." Garrison had exchanged his fatigues for a crisp blue oxford shirt and chinos that made him look more like a stockbroker then an Army policeman. Scully smiled, trying hard not look like an awe-struck schoolgirl. "Well, Mulder...he had some leads he wanted to check the FBI computer data base for. Once he's on a case, he's like a kid with a new toy." Scully said with a soft smile. "I'd say new toy is a good term to describe your work with FBI. From what your Assistant Director Skinner sent me, it appears that the two of you don't deal with the same thing twice." Garrison said. "You can say that again! Sometimes it gets so strange, I wish I could have a few more typical cases to work on." Scully added with a smile. "Well, since I've been assigned to Fort Jackson, I'm normally dealing with mundane disciplinary infractions of raw recruits not used to the military lifestyle. Eighteen old kid who's never been away from home, alcoholic-related stupidity, and the occasional trouble maker, but nothing serious. At least not until now...." Garrison then looked like he had said too much for a social meeting, but Scully gave him an assuring look. "I know...it was hard for me at first to deal with senseless violence. One just has to be able to detach work from the personal life." Scully said. Garrison's gruff military exterior he exhibited with his enlistees slowly fell away as he fumbled nervously with his fork. "I've had to already. Mass murder is nothing new to me personally, either. The last time I saw something like this was a mass grave in Bosnia. Old men, women, children...machine gunned in the back and just dumped in a pit. After getting over the anger of such atrocities, you just get numb, wondering what can make human beings do such things." An intense sorrow filled Garrison's soft hazel eyes, which Scully had not really noticed until then. She thought back to personal scenes of hybrid humans being mowed down by secret consortium troops and the systematic death of the women's abductee group in Pennsylvania, then to human monsters like Donnie Pfaster, Virgil Incanto, and others . Why they did what they did was beyond her scientific reasoning, but she did have an appropriate answer. "The frailty of the human soul when it comes to dealing with our darker sides..." She answered as the chipper college age waitress brought their drinks. "Rather poetic, Agent Scully..." Capt. Garrison said with a smile. "Thank you." Scully smiled back. "But you can call me Dana..." The evening improved from there. Meanwhile, with a pizza delivery box in hand, Mulder walked back into his motel room. After putting down the aromatic evening meal and popping an overpriced can of soda, he looked at the room TV's pay per view cable box. "Hmmm... `The House on Horny Hill'...haven't seen this one yet..." Mulder said, flipping on the TV. 2 miles West of Boykin, South Carolina 5/12 2214 PM EST Thirty four white robes shone under the blazing orange fire of a 50 foot cross, torches in the hands of men beneath the robes held high. "Knights of the Invisible Empire of the Confederacy!" bellowed their leader through a megaphone. "We stand gathered here on Hallowed Ground, consecrated by generations of our White Brethren! We stand dedicated to preserving the Culture of the White Christian Race and to taking back this once great land from the evils of the bestial African, the sneaky Asian, the dirty Latino, and the unholy, conniving Jew!" Cheers sprang up from the roughly three dozen attendees. The speaker went on with his diatribe, but far off in the brush were two darkened figures making plans of their own. "It is time, my little friend", the taller figure whispered to the other. "Your second test. Remember, Red-- Commence. When you complete the mission, return to base." The speaker then quietly strode off into the woods. The smaller figure hunched over in the shadows, sniffing the air and gazing intently on the Klan rally 200 yards away. A small device banded on the figure's arm glowed a pale blue in the dense underbrush. Fifteen minutes later, the small blue glow turned red. The Figure leapt from his hiding place into the trees. It swung from branch to branch until it reached the wooded area closest to the crowd of robed men repeatedly chanting "White Power". It then crept out of the forest near the multitude of parked cars, and one by one, slashed the tires with razor sharp claws. After the vehicles had been silently disabled, the skulking figure slowly flowed through the tall grass towards the crowd and with a burst of speed, bore down on the nearest man. The unfortunate target had just raised his fist in the air when the shadowy shape roared past and disemboweled him with one swift stroke of it's clawed hand. Before anyone around could react, two more of the klansmen had been set upon and nearly split open, spewing crimson waves of blood everywhere. A few of the nearby klansmen pulled handguns and began firing wildly but missed the incredibly fast attacker and instead killed a pair of their own. The majority of the crowd bolted for their vehicles in panic, but the deadly figure was quickly there waiting for them and began dispatching each of the fleeing men as they scrambled for car keys and door latches. Those klansmen who did not attempt to flee instead grabbed assault rifles and automatic pistols and formed a defensive perimeter around the flaming cross, firing at the leaping shadow that was butchering their comrades in hate. An enternity-like minute or so ticked by as the klansmen let out burst after burst of weapons fire at the dark shape, darting in and out of the dancing shadows. Suddenly, just as the their leader was yelling about "fascist federal agents", the phantom-like predator leapt high into the air and into the middle of the perimeter. Mass chaos erupted as the creature tore through limbs and flesh, punctuated by deadly, often erroneous gunfire. Finally, ideological discipline broke and the klansmen began running in all directions, screaming in terror. Their leader began bellowing orders to stand their ground, but now survival was the sole motivating factor. But the fury that had attacked them merely sprang after the running figures, cutting most down with near-instantaneous strokes of it's slashing claws. In the flaring glow of the cross, the lone Klan Leader then turned and saw the unnatural attacker on all four legs directly in front of him. The limp body of one of his ex-followers sagging in it's cheetah sized maw. The Klan leader pulled his chrome plated Desert Eagle .45 and thrust it at the oncoming horror, wavering as he gasped for breath. "It...can't...be...Dear God in Heaven....save me..." he gibbered. His finger tightened on the trigger and he let loose a wild volley of lead. But just as suddenly, the monster sprang to it's right, then bounded across the Klansman's path and whipping out it's clawed fist as it flew by. The Grand Dragon's eyes bulged out in silent agony. Then the green satin of his Klan robe quickly turned a sickening dark purple-black as the viscerated body collapsed to the ground in two messy pieces. End Part 3/7 "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 4/7 2 miles West of Boykin, South Carolina 5/14 0926 PM EST When Mulder reached the crime scene, the State Patrol had cordoned off the area and were removing the bodies, although dozens of bloody white robes still littered the field. Smokey Bear hat-topped patrolmen intermingled with EMTs as Mulder flashed his badge to one Sheriff's Deputy. Bu off in the middle of the field stood a man taking pictures who was not in any sort of uniform; a somewhat garish light blue suit and a shabby pork pie hat that looked like it had been stolen from a scarecrow. After getting a few answers from the patrolmen, Mulder decided to check this fellow out. "Quite a scene, eh?" Mulder quipped as he walked past the man and stopped at the ripped corpse of a boy no older then 15. "Oh, sure....right out of some Civil War epic." The man quipped as he pointed his antiquated Kodak 110 camera at a shredded klansman's body. "You not with the cops, are you?" "No, Special Agent Fox Mulder..FBI..." came the response as Mulder lifted his badge from his coat. The man looked startled as he quickly turned around. "Oh, no! No, you don't! You're not confiscating THIS camera! I don't care if it is a matter of national security!" Mulder lowered his badge and began trying to calm the man down. "Hey, whoa...I'm not about to confiscate any camera...and what makes you think this is a matter of national security?" "Listen, I've heard that more often the you've probably had TV dinners, G-Man...." The man said. "You're a reporter, aren't, you?" Mulder asked as he glanced around the field of stiffening corpses. "And no, I prefer Chinese takeout to TV dinners...." The reporter seemed a bit relieved at Mulder's cordiality. "Carl Kolchack...INS", he replied as he took out a press badge. "Uh, that's Independent News Service, Atlanta office.." he added, emphasizing the large letters on the pass. "Well, Mr Kolchack...what's your take on this little Klan rally? Someone got upset about starch in their robes?" Mulder said with sarcasm. "No, I guess it had to do with the debate between that Clemson-South Carolina football game last fall..." Kolchack shot back. "Now, kindly move aside, you're blocking my light..." "Seriously, Mr Kolchack. How did you find out about this? Cops say you were here before first light." "I was doing a piece on college drug use when my police scanner started screaming about massive gunfire out here. People nearly four miles away were calling 911 about World War Three erupting. Couldn't resist getting out here." Kolchack pocketed his camera and started towards the mass of emergency and police vehicles. "And boy, it sure looks like a one-sided war." Suddenly, Mulder looked next to one of the remaining bodies in the field. He was not exactly looking at the horribly mangled victim, but at the unusual track next to him. Noting that Kolchack was facing away, Mulder strode over to the body and looked at the track. It was nearly identical to the one he had found at the Fort Jackson site and shown to Dr Blackmon at the zoo, although eerily much more fresh. Mulder glanced back at Kolchack, who seemed to still be looking the other way. And as most of the local law enforcement seemed just as busy, Mulder then covered the track back up, marking it by embedding a black pen four steps away. Kolchack turned and began heading towards the parking lot, now bustling with with the identification and removal of the rendered bodies. "Hey Agent Mulder. Got any last minute comments for the press? Suspects? Motives? Wild theories?" Kolchack said with excitement in his voice. Mulder wanted to tell Kolchack about the Wookinar story, if not just for a laugh, but thought otherwise. *If Scully read it in the paper, she'd kill me...* he thought. Rubbing his chin, he just shook his head. "Sorry, we'll have to wait on the autopsy reports before we give a statement." Disappointed, Kolchack took one last picture of the grisy scene, then started off towards the road. "Well, I need to go send this story in. Have fun, Agent Mulder." "I'll do that, Mr Kolchack. Good luck on getting that story published." Mulder said, mentally noting that Kolchack was definately his kind of acerbic reporter. As soon as Kolchack was off the field interviewing the local cops in charge, Mulder requisitioned some plaster from one of the EMTs and filled in the track, overlapping the impression to hide it's true nature. Several minutes later, the plaster had hardened enough for Mulder to lift the casting out. After brushing aside accompanying dirt and twigs, Mulder gulped hard. It was nearly identical to the casting he had handed Dr Blackmon the day before. Either this Wookinar critter was real and widely spread over central South Carolina and just happened to walk through the field before or after the massacre...or... Mulder shuddered at the other thought as he bagged the cast and headed for the car. But what Mulder did not notice while examining the track, was that Carl Kolchack of the INS was watching him from the seat of his '65 Mustang through a telephoto lens. "So...you did find a clue, Mr. Spooky Mulder..." Kolchack said aloud. Highway 521, 3 miles North of Boykin, South Carolina 5/14/97 1135 PM EST On the way back to the interstate, Mulder drove up to a small gas station, stereotypical of what one might imagine on a older, rural highway. Mulder decided to try a little interrogative small talk with the folks inside. He filled up the Taurus with $10 of premium and walked in. There was just one person inside, a bedraggled-looking older gentlemen with longish greying hair and a plaid shirt. He looked suspicious at Mulder's suit and tie and drawled, "That be all?" Mulder replied affirmatively and paid for the gas. While eyeing the trophy deer head on the wall, Mulder asked, "So, any good hunting around here?" The proprietor looked taken aback at such a odd question from someone in a suit. "Uh, yessah. Mostly deer and small game birds. Lotsa little critters like coon, squirrel, and possum." "Any bears?" Mulder asked. The man laughed. "No sah, the nearest bears be at the Zoo, the next nearest be up in the Smokies." He then smiled slyly. "Well, there MIGHT be sumpin' that size 'round these here parts." "And what might that be?" Mulder asked. "That be the Wookinar. Yup, even bigger then a bear and a whole lot meaner!" The old man nodded to agree with himself. Mulder seemed intrigued at the prospect of learning more about the legend of this strange creature. "And what's a Wookinar?" he asked, perfectly faking his naivety. "Hell! Scariest damn critter ever to walk the earth! Big hairy Ape-like thang. Stinks to high heaven. Cher'kee Injuns usta claim they's been living here over ten thousand years. Been reports of it being seen by white folk for last three hundred. Well, at least seeing tracks or being smelled, cuz no one yet lived to see it up in person. Can't recall how many folks been out hunting fer it, and' never come back. Yup, ya'll best better beware the Wookinar, mister!" The old man said with a shake of his head. "Oh, so it's just like Bigfoot or the Yeti? Or would it be more like the Savannah River Lizard Man, the Florida Skunk Ape, "Shaggy Harry" of southern Indiana, the Moth Man of West Virginia, the Ohio Frog People, the Wendigo of Northern Canada, or the Deep Ones of Massachusetts?" Mulder smartly replied. "Uh, kinda like those..." the owner said, realizing his joke on the city slicker fell apart. "It's mostly local legend, I never believed a lick of that story anyway..." He quickly gave Mulder back his credit card. "Hey, great story to scare misbehaving kids." Mulder added as he put the charge card in his wallet. "Yeah. My daddy used to use that trick all the time when I was a youngun'." The man said. As Mulder opened the door, he turned and smiled. "Oh, by the way...does the Wookinar leave a 14 inch long, 5 inch wide, clawed bipedal footprint with a 12 foot leaping gait?" Mulder asked smugly as he left the store. The clerk just started blankly ahead. Fort Jackson Hospital 5/14 1235 EST Scully was zipping yet another body bag closed when Mulder walked in. Captain Garrison was with her. Mulder thought for a second he may interrupted something, but he quickly put that thought aside. "Well, Agent Scully..." began Garrison as he collected some papers into his briefcase. "....I thank you for the timely matter you're getting these autopsies completed. I hope we're able to clear up this mystery soon." He turned to see Mulder standing in the doorway. "Oh, good afternoon, Agent Mulder. Find anything to relate our fatalities with those in Boykin?" Mulder shook his head. "Well, seen one rendered dead body, you seen them all." Scully pulled her latex gloves off rather noisily in response to Mulder's remark. "I'll keep you informed of any further result, Captain Garrison." she said. Captain Garrison smiled at her as she flushed slightly and smiled back. Mulder stepped in the room to allow Garrison to leave. "So what did you find out in Boykin? It's all over the local news now." Scully asked, then adding. "And Mulder, I do not appreciate your bethroving me to your scruffy buddy Frohike.." "Sorry, about that Scully...but it was for your own good." Mulder grinned. "Anyway, I found a large muddy field with about a thirty or so dead klansmen. They were all cut-up pretty bad, and the wound patterns are very similar to the few bodies I saw yesterday. The State Police are speculating a reactionary mob of angry black vigilantes are be responsible." Mulder gripped his forehead and began massaging the loose skin. "But I'm not so sure about that..." "What do you mean by that, Mulder?" Scully asked. "Well, aside from the fact that angry black vigilantes don't generally wield samurai swords or go around pulling people's limbs off...." he began, then pausing "Anyway, I was talking with a local cop with a rather interesting tale..." Mulder then pulled out his notepad and flipped a couple of pages. "According to a member of the Kershaw County Sheriff's office, Deputies found three survivors two hours after the incident about five miles away, screaming about...." He stopped and looked at Scully. "Well, screaming about what?" Scully asked impatiently. "Monsters, Scully. Screaming about being attacked by hairy monsters. One babbled about werewolves, another said a giant panther, the other said mentioned our Wookinar friend." Mulder answered. Scully threw up her hands in sheer frustration. "I don't suppose the deputies found them with a stash of local moonshine..." Mulder smiled. "No, Scully...found them cowering in a church. An African Methodist Church. During services. They burst in and began pleading to be hid. Parishners couldn't believe it." "Well, so much for White Supremacy." Scully quipped, beating Mulder to the punch. Mulder smiled at his partner's joke. "Anyway, Scully, they are now resting comfortable at the Mental Hospital at the South Carolina prison facility. And guess what else I found at the scene of the crime?" "A new bedsheet for your couch?" Scully smartly chirped. "Very Good Scully, Very Good..." Mulder chuckled. "...but still incorrect. Just another set of those strange footprints. Exactly like I found at the Fort Jackson site." "So are you suggesting that whatever Recruit Clark saw was responsible for the killings in Boykin?" "Well, it's beginning to look that way..." Mulder answered, awaiting Scully's retort. "Mulder, I am pretty sure there is no large, previously uncataloged creature capable of inflicting such kinds of wounds wandering around the woods of South Carolina." Scully said rather matter-of-factly. "Well, what about these two identical tracks miles apart but at extremely violent crime scenes?" Mulder asked. "So maybe something was introduced into the area? A runaway exotic pet or circus animal that got loose..." "We've checked that angle already, Scully. And any reports of a large, missing predator would have made all the news outlets, especially at the Zoo. Plus, the only animal track I saw out there looked just like our so-called hoax." Mulder said. "So, the killers decided to cover their tracks with fake Wookinar tracks?" Mulder knew he was getting nowhere with Scully at this moment. He needed evidence more substantial then two plaster casts and a local legend. "Well, let me do some more foot work while you finish up here, Scully. I'll be back to pick you up for dinner." He was out the door like a schoolboy going to recess. "Gee, thanks a lot Mulder..." Scully quipped as she put another disposable medical apron. Ramada Inn 1:15 PM After picking up the first track cast from Dr Blackmon, Mulder stopped back at the hotel room to pick up his computer for some data gathering at the State Archives. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed the phone's message light was blinking. Punching in his room number, Mulder soon heard a familiar voice. "Hey Mulder! You got Mail! 4 hours ago! Bye!" The recorded voice of Melvin Frohike said on the phone. Wondering what could so important that would make Frohike use a unsecured public phone line, Mulder turned on his laptop, plugged into the room modem jack, and activated his email program. And there, along with a few official FBI memos, was the email Frohike had mentioned in his brief message. He opened it up and read silently. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ To: FMulder@FBI.gov From: Kungfu97548@hotmail.com Langly and I checked up on your friend at the Zoo. Then we checked your family photos. Recognize anyone? Take necessary precautions against hereditary maladies. F. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mulder then downloaded the attached zip file and after inflating it, activated the deciphering program Langly had written to unscramble the Lone Gunmen's file code. He recalled Langly boasting not even the NSA or CIA could crack it. "It pays to be paranoid..." he murmured. Mulder was quite curious as to what Frohike was alluding to. Family Photos? He didn't mean that... The image Frohike was in fact alluding to popped on the screen up after being unscrambled and Mulder's jaw nearly dropped to the floor. It was a scanned picture of his own Father with the assembly of American and former Nazi scientists he had brought over in Operation Paperclip. And there in the back row, with a computer paint-brushed circle around his head, was a younger version of Dr Benson Wilcox. "No...it can't be..." Mulder exclaimed. After a few moments of disbelief, Mulder remembered there was a text file that was zipped along with the picture. He opened that up as well and got another shock. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Info on your Zoo Doc-- Dr Benjamin William Wilcox, age 79. MA in Biology, Doctor of Medicine from Duke University. PhD in Genetics from Stanford. US Army Air Force attache to Oak Ridge TN, 1943-1946. US Army Weapons Lab at Aberdeen MD, 1946-1977. Specialist in nuclear and biological warfare until 1968, then Nuclear Preventative medicine. Retired in 1977 and took teaching posts at University of Maryland 1977-79, NC State 1980-84, University of South Carolina 1984 to retirement in 1989. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "So much for a kindly old biology professor...." Mulder said aloud. He read on. Wilcox's wife Clarise and daughter Donna had both died in a 1968 car accident, only son Lt. Ben Wilcox Jr., who was later killed in action at Mau Lu, Vietnam in 1970. No other living relatives known. Currently residing at 734 Hebbard St, Columbia SC. Then it got weird. According to a credit report, Wilcox had paid for over $80,000 in laboratory equipment over the past twenty years on various charge cards. Glassware, medical supplies and equipment, organic chemistry supplies, liquid nitrogen; the list went on and on. The best chemistry set a boy could ask for. The Gunmen were obviously as interested in Wilcox as he was, Mulder thought. What was this man with all this knowledge doing as a zoo hospital volunteer? Mulder looked at the evidence so far. Scully herself said the main weapon in the soldiers and the klansmen's death was due to a wide serrated edge, similar to a claw. All the survivors of the two attacks had claimed the assailants were animal-like. The footprints had both primate and human characteristics. Mulder gulped. Wilcox the Biowarfare expert and geneticist; lost his family, surrounded by a menagerie of animal subjects, and having a well equipped home laboratory. There was only one conclusion for Fox Mulder. Back at the Fort Jackson hospital, Scully was not in the mood to listen to Mulder's new theory as she skeptically crossed her arms. "Mulder, I don't see why you think Doctor Wilcox would know anything about these killings! He's just retired biologist and zoological volunteer." "Scully, he's one of those men in that picture with my father! The one with the former Nazi scientists" Mulder said with passion. "You've got to be kidding! A former Nazi scientist is now bandaging monkeys. Do you have a copy of that picture?" Scully asked. "Not with me. But the Lone Gunmen verify it. And no, he's not a Nazi, but he worked in both the Manhattan Project and Army Bio-warfare." "Well, I feel more secure about it now know where the evidence came from..." Scully replied dubiously. "So you are determining that Dr Wilcox is a mad scientist building a monster because you think he looks like someone in a 50 year old photo?" "Scully, it's just too damn coincidental that a man with those skills in genetics and biology would be close to a mysterious animal track." "Mulder, you've stretched before, but this is the farthest." Scully said as calmly as she could. Mulder placed his hand on her shoulder and pleaded with her, "Scully, You've got to believe me on this! Wilcox is part of the genetic tagging program! He's part of the conspiracy that abducted you!" Scully's glare turned ice cold as she shook off her partner's hand. "Mulder...THAT is no damn way to try to convince me! Don't you DARE use what happened to me as an excuse to go after some man you THINK Might be in that picture of your Father!" "Scully, please, you've always said you've trusted me! So, please, come with me and we find out together!" Mulder said with sincere compassion in his voice. "No, Mulder." Scully said plainly, yet dead serious. "I will no longer be a part of these wild allegations of yours. Besides, after nearly nine hours doing autopsies, I am no longer available for the night. I'll talk to you in the morning." Mulder stood humorously shocked at Scully's sudden burst of rebellion. "Well then, Scully. I guess I'm on my own for the night." He turned and began walking for his door when he suddenly spun back around. "Scully...wait. I'm sorry. I promise to drop the case for tonight. We can just sit and talk. I'll even treat you to a dinner or maybe a drink afterwards..." "I'm sorry Mulder...I have plans..." Scully said. "What? With G.I. Joe?" Mulder blurted out, suddenly realizing he made an even serious faux pas. "That's none of your goddamn business, Mulder." She replied even colder as she took the car keys, turned, and headed towards the door. "I'm sorry...Scully..." Mulder said in a small voice. She didn't answer as the door slammed behind her. After the most silent drive they had ever taken together ended with a angry huff when they arrived at the Ramada, a dejected Fox Mulder watched his partner emerge from her room 20some minutes later wearing one of her more fashionable outfits. Getting in the fleet car, she drove off. After a short spasm of thought, he sat down on the bed and dialed a number on the phone. "Hello, Enterprise Rental? Hi, this is Special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI. I need to rent a car..." End part 4/7 "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 5/7 Columbia SC Hebbard Street 5/14, 1012PM Mulder stared at the slightly run down, three story house just west of the University campus. Apparently, Dr Wilcox did not spend much time or money on upkeep of his place. There was no movement from inside the house, only the soft yellow glow of the porch light and a florescent overhead lamp in the back yard. Mulder had been contemplating sneaking over, if not at least knocking at the door. He decided to call Scully to see if she would change her mind about checking out the house the way they used to. He had been a bit rough on her that last two days, and felt quite guilty over leaving her in the morgue and for teasing her about her developing friendship with Garrison. But as her cell phone continued to ring sealed inside her purse, Scully was instead enjoying a slow dance at the Fort Jackson Officer's Club with Roger Garrison. For once in a very long time, Special Agent Dana Scully did not have to worry about aliens, implants, secret government projects, or strange and hideous deaths. Midnight was approaching as Mulder continued staring at the presumed empty Wilcox house with no change. Scully's cell phone went from ringing continuously to being "no longer in service". She really must have been pissed at him. Suddenly, a tapping came at the passenger side window of the car. "So, when are you going in?" A voice came into Mulder's surprised ears as he quickly turned. It was reporter Carl Kolchack, still in the same blue seersucker suit and pork pie hat from that morning. "What are you doing here, Kolchack?" Mulder asked rather bemusedly, yet relived. "Well, looking for the same culprit as you are, what else?" the enthused reporter replied. "Open up, so I talk you better..." Mulder unlocked the door, and Kolchack sat down in the front passenger seat. "So like I was saying, when are you going in?" "Going in where?" Mulder replied innocently. "Well, Agent Mulder... I have two reasons for you to cut the crap. One, I know about you and your work on the so-called X-Files from more then a few 4th Estate associates of mine. Cases that deal with oh, let's say, rather UNUSUAL crimes and occurrences. Plus, that odd nickname of your's." Kolchack said. "Studmuffin?" Mulder smiled wickedly. Kolchack looked bemused. "Yeah right...`Spooky' Mulder." He continued on. "Anyway, reason number two is that I've been following you nearly all day. Now why would an FBI agent who specializes in freakish occurrences make appearances at a mass murder scene, make a plaster casting, drive to the zoo to pick up another plaster cast, then to an Army base, then stake out in front of a house belonging to a retired Biology professor who used to work for the Army?" "And just how did find out about Professor Wilcox?" "Thirty years as a reporter gives me a keen sense of what people do. That, and I asked that Dr Blackmon about the cast, and she told me everything you asked and that including your questions about recognizing Wilcox. Then it was simply a matter of checking my sources." Kolchack answered. Mulder was surprised. "Your sources don't have to be three fun guys named Byers, Langly, or Frohike?" Kolchack looked puzzled at the reference but continued on. "No, but let's just say there's more than three." "You've wasted your time as just a reporter, Kolchack...you're good enough for the FBI." "I don't know if the pay is any better, Agent Mulder." "It's not great, but the medical plan can't be beat." Mulder replied with a grin. Too bad Scully wasn't this enthusiastic. He and Kolchack then looked across the street at the Wilcox residence and then back at each other. "So how do you presume we get in?" Mulder asked. Kolchack responded by going to the trunk of his car and pulling out a crowbar. Sticking it under his coat, he motioned for Mulder to follow. "From the way we're dressed, the neighbors won't take us for burglars or drunken frat boys. Door to door salesmen, maybe. But I don't know which is worse." Kolchack said. Mulder, armed only with his highpower flashlight, led the way across the street with Kolchack shuffling behind, looking out for any would-be witnesses. Making their way to behind the house, Mulder saw the outline of an old coal chute. "You're not going to arrest me if I happen to accidently break that latch with this crowbar, are you?" Kolchack asked Mulder. "I'm not looking...." Mulder answered. A quick pry with the crowbar snapped the rusted latch off of the coal chute door with a slight metallic pop. Glancing over their shoulders to see if any tell-tale light came on next door. "Hey Mulder...question for you." Kolchack asked. "Go ahead." Mulder said. "If this Wilcox guy has anything suspicious in his basement...wouldn't he have an alarm system to protect it?" "Now you ask me." Mulder chimed up. "Well, you hear any sirens going off? The main purposes would be to scare off intruders, not let them hang around long enough until the cops show up." "Sounds good enough for me. You got your Fed badge handy in case you're wrong?" Kolchack asked. "Right here." affirmed Mulder, patting his coat pocket. He knew it wouldn't do any good if the Columbia cops did show up, but if it made Kolchack a little more bold... Mulder's thoughts were dropped dead in their tracks when he began to look around the basement. Shining in the beam of the flashlight was a jungle of glass tubing and containers indicative of a serious chemistry lab. The hum of electric motors and fans was accented by the soft bubbling of fluid inside various flasks and glassware. "Now either Wilcox is a very serious chemist or he's got the damn biggest moonshine still in the state." Kolchack quipped. "Well, judging from the smell of what's cooking...I'll pass on any potables he's serving." Mulder said with a wrinkle of his nose. Kolchack stopped and took a few photos while Mulder investigated the darkened areas of the basement lab. A large, heavy workbench stretched clear across the furthest wall, with a trio of large box-like objects on top. The smell of formaldehyde and dry rot hung heavy in the musty air. He glanced at the smaller objects on the workbench; petri dishes, test tubes, dissected animal fetuses. Then Mulder realized what the three boxes were. Two tabletop incubators and a Prenatal care model incubator. One of the smaller models was still running. Mulder took a peek inside and saw a dozen racks of test tubes similar to ones he had seen in other labs--- Purity Control and even more sinisterly, the Fertility Clinic where he and Scully met Eddie Van Blundht years ago. Then Mulder saw a baby crib in the corner. A very weird feeling overcame Mulder as Kolchack joined him and took another photo. "So what do we have here? The Kitchen?" Kolchack asked. "More like a nursery. Apparently Wilcox was doing a lot more then simple genetic research. He's been creating...life..." There was wonder in Mulder's voice when he answered Kolchack. "Holy Frankenstein..." Kolchack exclaimed after an awed whistle. "I was thinking the same thing, Kolchack..." Mulder said with a shaking waver in his voice. Suddenly all the pieces were falling together and he didn't like the way they were starting to look. Kolchack nervously quipped back "If we find a large table with a shroud-covered body on top, I'm calling in the torch wielding peasants." There was one person Mulder knew he had to call. He pulled out his cell phone and tried to quietly dial Scully's motel number. Impatiently, he waited for a pick up on the other side as he muttered lowly. "Come on Scully, where can you be?" Eight rings of Scully's motel phone echoed in the receiver. "You know, my old editor Tony Vinchenzo was never too happy when he got calls this late." Kolchack added as he took another photograph of the Wilcox basement laboratory. A fatigued answer on the other end of the phone broke the silence in Mulder's ear. "Huh--huh-hello?" "Scully! What took you so long?!" Mulder exclaimed. "I-I-I was...was...uh..just coming back from getting.... a ginger ale from the machine...in the hall. Can't sleep..." Scully sounded exhausted. "Where are YOU, Mulder?" "I'm in Dr Wilcox's basement...as decorated by Boris Karloff. Scully, you've got to get over here, there's scientific equipment and biology samples everywhere, cages, and a couple of empty incubators. I think our genetics expert has either been bringing work home or he's up to something really strange..." Flustered, Scully's voice came back loud over the receiver. "You're where, Mulder? My God, breaking into his house without a warrant? Skinner will have your head for this!" Scully said with growing annoyance. "Scully! Never mind about the legal technicalities, get over here right now! This could be it!" Mulder said. "Alright, I'm be on my way as soon I get dressed again...." Scully sighed dejectedly on the phone. Mulder hung up, humorously annoyed at his partner. He thought she sounded more frustrated then angry, unlike most previous late night phonecalls. "Must have been writing reports to Skinner or deleting her latest e-mail love letters from Frohike or Pendrell...." he said as Kolchack took yet another picture. Hanging the phone up, Scully fell back in bed, the bed sheet covering her naked body. Garrison was lying next to her, bare-chested and leaning on his elbow as he turned to her. "Does Agent Mulder do that often?" Garrison asked. "If you mean calling me late at night with very strange requests for my attention, the answer is sadly...yes." Scully sighed deeply, rubbed Garrison's face as he bent down and kissed her throat. Scully then threw back the sheets as she got back up to reach for her brassiere on the bed post. "Did he uncover something on the case?" Garrison asked, disappointment dripping from his voice. "Otherwise, I may have a couple of MPs roust him out of bed at Four AM for the rest of his stay here in Columbia." Scully continued getting dressed, picking up clothes from the various spots where they were playfully discarded. "Mulder thinks he may have found something, and I'd rather take care of it now then have him show up at the door...in the middle of something..." she half smiled. "We could shoot him in self-defence...." Garrison said with a seductive smile. "Bad idea." Scully responded with a smile. "Too much paperwork to fill out afterwards." She then slipped on her loafers and grabbed the car keys. "I'm sorry, but I have to go..." She kissed Garrison on the forehead. "...but I'll be back soon, hopefully..." With the slam of the door, Garrison looked up at the ceiling, then reached for his boxers. "Well, so much for thirds..." "Well, is your partner coming or what?" Kolchack asked pensively, not knowing if this Agent Scully would be as forgiving of his investigative tactics. "She seemed her usual enthusiastic self, but she'll be here. Trust me." Mulder said. Well, I hope she doesn't raise too much of a ruckus when she arr..." Kolchack said. Kolchack's remark was instantly cut off by the distinctive sound of a pump action shotgun being shucked. A wavering, elderly voice from outside the coal chute then came as well. "Don't Move..." Wilcox Residence 2212 EST Scully pulled down the street Mulder had told her Wilcox lived on and shook her head as she saw the glaring lights of a pair of police cruisers flashing spasmatically through the night. A crowd of residents were gathered in small group on both sides of the street, wondering what was going on. "Great... I hope they didn't take him downtown yet..." Scully said, ready to "rescue Mulder" once again. Parking the fleet car across the street from the police cars, Scully got out, her FBI badge in hand already. She could already see Mulder in the backseat of the car ahead of her, most likely handcuffed. An officer saw her approach and acknowledged her badge. "Can I help you, ma'am?" the officer asked. "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI. I believe you have my partner in custody." Scully said. "He IS a FBI Agent?" The officer said in surprise. "I figured it was just some crazy ruse he and the other feller were using." Wondering for a second who the other man might be, Scully instead concentrated on getting her partner free. "You caught them in the basement of one Professor Benson Wilcox, correct? I can assure you that Agent Mulder did have.." "Oh no! We didn't catch them, the old lady next door cornered them with her late husband's Remington 12 gauge. Darnedest thing I ever saw." The officer said. Scully smiled, imagining the scene of Mulder being arrested by a vigilante granny. "Well, Agent Mulder did contact me about investigating the Wilcox home for a case we're working on for the Army at Fort Jackson." "Well, he sure didn't have a search warrant...and then there's that reporter pal of his..." the officer said. "No need to worry, Officer. The Bureau will take care of Agent Mulder's...improper investigative procedure..." Scully replied with a just a hint of amusement in her aggrevated voice. A very embarrassed Fox mulder was uncuffed under the icy stare of his partner. The look on his face made it clear that the admonishment that as to be forthcoming from Scully made Mulder almost wish it was coming from A.D. Skinner instead. "Scully... I can explain..." Mulder said. "I bet you can, Mulder." She coldly announced. "You sure know how to try my patience..." "I do my best, Scully..." Mulder haphazardly answered, trying to get at least a slight smile out of her, but failing badly. Luckily for Mulder, his partner in crime was brought of the other patrol car and uncuffed as well. After retrieving his camera and tape recorder, Kolchack wandered over to Mulder and Scully. "About time..." Kolchack muttered towards the cop. "I'm just helping out the FBI, and this is the thanks I get...." He looked up and saw the frowning, and arms-crossed redhead in front of Mulder. "You're Agent Scully? Whoa! You're even better looking then the Mulder made you to be!" "Mulder....who is this?" Scully coldly replied as the flattery went nowhere. Scully...this is Carl Kolchack...he's a reporter..." Kolchack fumbled for his ID card. "See, Carl Kolchack..Independent News Service..." Completely ignoring the reporter, Scully was just about to tear into Mulder for destroying her evening with Garrison, when the shotgun-toting senior citizen strode up in her night gown. "Serves you right, you young hooligans! Breaking into kindly Doctor Wilcox's home!" The senior citizen said. The sight of Mulder's captor finally broke down Scully's angry demeanor. It took all of her professionalism not to fall down laughing. "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am for my partner's ill manners, but I can assure you he's going to be disciplined for it." "Well, the first thing he can do is apologize to Dr Wilcox." the elderly woman murmured. "He's just now pulling up..." Scully turned to see a red Chevrolet Blazer SUV come to a stop across the street next to her fleet car. The window rolled down and there was Dr Wilcox, looking very concerned. Scully began moving toward him. "Dr Benson Wilcox? I'm Agent Scully of the FBI and I need to..." Without warning, Wilcox sped off. Something instinctive inside Scully told her something was wrong and she bolted to the Taurus. Mulder and Kolchack took off behind her, leaving the cops and neighbors staring dumbstruck. Scully had just stuck the keys in the ignition, when Mulder threw open the door behind her. "I'll drive! You spot him!!" Again on instinct, Scully threw herself into the passenger seat. "Red Blazer! He just turned right!" Mulder started the sedan up and slammed it into drive. Behind him and Scully, a near panicked yelp indicated Kolchack had barely gotten in the backseat before Mulder took off. Scully shook her head in utter bewilderment as she reached for her cell phone and dialed 911. "This is Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder of the Federal Bureau of Investigation! We are currently pursuing a suspect, who is heading east bound on.... Williams Street, in a red Chevrolet Blazer, Licence plate RC...N...479. We need assistance from all local law enforcement agencies!" Scully yelled into the cell phone. Moments later, a pair of screeching police cars joined in the pursuit of Professor Wilcox, who was now roaring down a lonely backwoods highway. The two police cars sped ahead of the Taurus and were bearing down on the speeding Blazer, when suddenly Wilcox made an agile sharp right turn onto an unseen dirt road. One of the police cruisers sped past and spun out. The other veered off the pavement, but hit a wet patch of grass and barreled into the trees. Mulder, not having to brake as hard as the cops, spun the wheel and headed down the dirt road after Wilcox. "Scully! Can you see him?!?" Mulder screamed as the Taurus's windshield was splattered with kicked up mud and water. "Barely! I think he's turned his headlights off!" Scully answered. "Great! That must mean he knows this road...and we don't!" Mulder yelled, knowing that at anytime they might go from the pursuers to the pursued. He decided that if he could wreak Wilcox's truck before he got further into the unknown woods, they'd at least have a chance. He floored the accelerator as Wilcox's Blazer bounded over the ruts in the dirt road. Scully, who had no idea what to tell any other of the reinforcing police cars, dropped her phone and instead cocked her pistol as Kolchack tried taking a picture out the rear passenger window. "Quick, Scully! Try to shoot his tires before I blow the shocks on this car!" Mulder yelled over the roar of over-extended V-6 engine. "We don't have authority to use deadly force, Mulder!" Scully yelled back, knowing that Professor Wilcox could easily lose them on this back woods road. "I'm only getting ready if he decides to turn on us!" Kolchack just squawked helplessly as he was jostled around in the back, "You have MY permission to shoot...!" The Blazer was quickly edging away as Mulder swerved to avoid a large rut. But as if by divine request, a newly fallen tree was in the road and Wilcox's vehicle literally flipped over twice and crashed into the swampy woods. Mulder slammed on the brakes to avoid following Wilcox off the road. Scully threw open her door and assumed a combat position from behind the door. "Professor Wilcox! FBI!! Come out with your hands up!" she ordered forcefully as Kolchack literally rolled out of his door, camera in hand. Up ahead in the highbeams of the Taurus lay the crippled Chevrolet SUV, nearly toppled onto it's left side. "Kolchack! Get back in the car!" Mulder roared at the report as he, too assumed a secured fire position behind his open door. But just as suddenly as the chase had come to an end, the rear rightside window of the Blazer was shattered as if by an explosion. Scully aimed carefully at the area and yelled again. "Passenger! Do not Attempt Escape! We have you covered!" Then, in a nearly impossibly fast move, the occupant of the rear of the Blazer literally flew out of the vehicle and into the trees. Scully pulled off five successive shots at the dark figure, but missed the incredible agile form as it bounded in all directions, including upwards into the branches of the trees. Kolchak's little camera fired off a round of flashes as well, somewhat illuminating what Scully was firing at. What she thought she saw shook her sanity to the core. Mulder yelled to his partner after she stopped firing. "Scully! Did you hit him?" to which she could gasping in shocked disbelief, "No...? He...it...was..so fast..." "I got it!" yelled Kolchak, joyfully waving his camera. "Not the best shots, but I got it..." Mulder stepped out from his position, and began moving towards the vehicle. "Professor Wilcox...I'm Special Agent Mulder of the FBI...are you alright...?" A slight moan emminated from the driver side door. "H...h...h...help..." Mulder then sped towards the wreak, still keeping his weapon ready while Scully provided covering firing against the escaped passenger return. An approaching police siren assured her that help was on the way. Looking down into the truck, Mulder saw the battered form of Wilcox, glasses broken, his right arm bent into the steering wheel at a painful angle, and a large, bloody gash in his forehead. There was no one else in there with him, so Mulder holstered his pistol, and opened the truck door, which almost fell off in his hands. By now, Kolchack ran up with Mulder and started helping extricate the injured fugitive. "Who got out, Wilcox? Who was with you?" Mulder asked as he strained get the battered old man out without injuring him more. "My gift....to humanity..." croaked the aged biologist, heaving with both horrible pain and adrenaline withdrawal. "Gift? What the hell are you talking about?" the overextended Kolchack grunted back. "My...gift...so little boys...*glurg* don't have to die...in faraway...jungles...." Dr. Wilcox wheezed and then collapsed into unconsciousness. End Part 5/7 From: RJCHRISTEN@aol.com "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 6/7 5/15 Federal Building, Columbia SC 2:05 PM Back at the FBI Office in Columbia, Scully and Mulder stood at the front of the room, while Captain Garrison, members of the South Carolina State Police, and head of the South Carolina FBI office, Assistant Director Mack Fitzgerald. Mulder started off the meeting by laying a photographic overhead of the Army massacre. "Two weeks ago, twelve members of the 1722nd Training Regiment were brutally killed on Fort Jackson property in what was suspected to be the worse single mass murder in State history. But that record was broken two evening ago with the Klan massacre in Boykin." "You suspect these are related, Agent Mulder?" asked Garrison. "Yes. Along with the similar nature of the lethal wounds, we have uncovered some physical evidence." Mulder laid a slide of the strange animal cast on the overhead. A snicker came from a few of the State troopers. "As opposed to the legendary creature called the "Wookinar" by locals, we uncovered the tracks of a previously unknown biped, which actually incorporates several aspects of several different animals...including human elements." A hushed gasp followed Mulder's comment. "Agent Mulder!" One of the troopers spoke up with annoyance in his voice. "People have been uncovering strange-looking tracks like that for decades. They've all proved to be stupid hoaxes." "We also saw the creature..." Scully added, as she laid a slide made from one of Kolchack's photos. It was that of a blurred, but obvious small, hair-covered figure; a pair of sickle-like claws glowing in the glare of the strobe light. "Doctor Wilcox was transporting it last night when we apprehended him. It managed to escape and is now loose in the forests surrounding Fort Jackson." "Are you sure it wasn't his dog or something?" a meek voice asked. "Trace evidence, namely hairs found in the vehicle indicated a primate-like creature." Scully continued. "Along with DNA material gathered at the Wilcox home and his own confession last night, we have determined that a hybrid creature was created by Dr Wilcox." Scully placed more slides showing the gathered evidence, including the seized laboratory photographs of Kolchack's. "You mean he's trained a monkey to replace human soldiers?" a disaffected voice came from the darkness. Scully laid another slide on the projector. "It's not a trained monkey, sir. Over twenty years of secret research on his own, along with genetic material from the Riverside Zoo, has enabled Wilcox to literally grow a new higher mammal with elements of at least a half dozen species ranging from feline to marsupial, to primate...and even human." A mystified murmuring went through the conference room. Mulder knew what they were thinking. Wilcox had circumvented the work of God and created a monster. One of the State Police official raised his hand slowly. "Agents Scully and Mulder...w-w- why on earth would he do such a thing?" Mulder stepped into the glaring light of the projector. "After losing his wife and daughter in a car accident, Dr Wilcox then lost his only son, Lt. Ben Wilcox Jr in Vietnam, back in 1971. Ever since, he's been working on...a replacement for human soldiers. He called it his 'Gift'...for humanity" Garrison's mouth dropped. "You don't mean Wilcox...created a monster to kill soldiers?" The murmuring of those gathered grew even more terrified. "I hate to say it, Captain..." Mulder coldly began. "...but your eleven trainees were just the first live-fire exercise for Wilcox's creature....something he bred and trained to act as the ultimate living weapon, with no need for weapons or direct supervision. A true killing machine answerable to only him." Scully place another slide on the overhead. "Wilcox had trained the creature for nearly a year with military training films and gymnastic exercises. He also developed some sort of command and control system using colored lights and an..." "So why don't we use those lights to catch that thing...?" someone blurted out. Scully continued on. "...and an electronic emitter. Which, I'm afraid to say was not on the creature at the time of it's escape. I'm afraid that's the only way to control it in combat." "What about the Klansman?" asked a local police official. "Combat Exercise number two". Scully added. "Wilcox apparently thought that they being possible domestic terrorists made them expendable. "Expendable?" gasped Garrison. "Dana...er, Agent Scully! What about our trainees?" Mulder took that question. "Like you said, Captain, they were the bad apples. Wilcox thought that if they'd never make it as soldiers, they'd never be decent civilians if discharged." "Where is this criminal Wilcox now?" one of the civilian authorities asked forcifully. "He's in intensive care at Humana Hospital...in a coma. Doctors don't give him much chance of regaining consciousness... Scully answered. Garrison stiffened in his chair. "So now that Dr Wilcox is indisposed, what are we facing? This...warrior creature...how do we fight it?" Mulder shuffled in place, not knowing the answer. "What we have is an incredibly agile, intelligent, and deadly creature. And it's loose without it's master. Luckily, Wilcox gave the creature orders not to harm any non-military personnel. He referred to it in his notes as his "My Lai" directive for his ...warrior. And without closing it down, Fort Jackson provides thousand of potential victims, as well as my personal fears that this monster's training will, so to say, wear off." The representative from the Columbia Mayor's office literally exploded with nervous shaking and began wailing, "This thing has to be caught and killed before it attacks any civilians! Imagine it if sees camoflagued hunters! Or even Boy Scouts! We demand that the Army do something about it before another tragedy happens!" "This thing is off Military property! It's a State issue, now!" barked one of the State Patrol leaders, not realizing what they were truly dealing with. "You think you can handle this killing machine, Officer?" Garrison asked back. "From what I read, those klansmen were pretty well armed..." A deafening silence greeted him until the representative from the Governor's office. "I believe that the Military is the only entity capable of dealing with such a ...thing... The governor is ready to ask for the Army's assistance in....taking care of this matter..." 5/15 Fort Jackson 7:15 PM One hundred Military Policemen stood at attention, armed with grenade launcher tipped M-16s, along with a few M-213 squad automatic weapons. Mulder had never seen a more heavily armed group of men in his life, but was glad they were on his side. Scully shuddered at the sight, recalling that past experience in the West Virginia mountains were secret government troops massacred dozens of genetic test subjects, but having Roger Garrison there with her made the memories less frightening. "Alright, men..." Garrison began. "Thanks to the investigative work of Agents Scully and Mulder of the FBI, we have determined that our quarry is some sort of ape-human hybrid bred specifically for combat duty." "And since we are a training base near a large populated area, it is our mission...no, our DUTY to track this thing down and kill it." Garrison continued. Mulder coughed on purpose, catching the Captain's attention. Garrison didn't seemed too happy with the stipulations put on him, but continued on with his orders. "...Correction, men. Our mission to EITHER capture it or kill it, which ever the situation deems possible. But I want no heroes tonight, we are hunting this monstrosity as a team. Do not split up, do not take unnecessary chances, and if you have to kill it, do so. I expect you all to do your best. I do not want the United States Military to have to rely on the South Carolina State Patrol to conduct this mission. That is all; Sergeants, take command of your men and proceed to move out." Garrison returned to where Mulder and Scully were standing. "I appreciate all the help you have provided, Agents Mulder..." He looked deeply into Scully's eyes and added a pensive, "...and Scully." He went on, "But I think that the situation is too dangerous for either of you..." He glanced at Mulder and then back at Scully. "...Especially you, Dana." he whispered. Scully looked humorously annoyed. "Too dangerous, Roger? I've been in more dangerous situations in the last four years then you've been in all your life. Besides, you might need a doctor". "Yeah, a heart specialist..." Garrison grinned back. Mulder winced. He was tired of all the lovey dovey between the pair since Wilcox's capture. For once, Scully was not the cold professional that he seemed to worked with all the time. Maybe it was jealousy that "his" Scully had found a man more entwined with her personality and ambition, Mulder mentally debated. Even so, it was pretty sickening. But he was much more interested in seeing Dr Wilcox's brilliant genetic creation. At least not, as he hoped, moving. "Sorry, Captain Garrison, but once the FBI begins an investigation, we see it through to the very end." as he tried interrupting the two. "Well, at least stick with me, Dana... the command platoon will hang back from the main search parties until they make contact....and make this thing safe to view up close." Garrison said. "You mean dead, don't you Garrison?" Mulder asked. "Mulder...from what we've seen of the damage this creature can inflict, it's prudent we take no chances.." Scully said. An hour later, the group with Mulder, Scully, Garrison and his command unit were hacking their way through the overgrown tangle of the forest surrounding Fort Jackson. If not for the heavily armed men surrounding them, Mulder thought they resembled some Hollywood version of an African safari, with kevlar helmets replacing the more fashionable pith helmets. A burst of distant automatics weapons fire shocked everyone to full attention. Garrison grabbed for his radio. "All Sections! Report in! Who's Firing? Over!" A flurry of responses came back negatively, until Garrison realized one had not reported back in. The group on the right most flank. "Section J! Report! Section J! Over!" A static silence was the only answer as Scully held her breath. A horse whisper came over the airwaves. "S-s-s-section J...Private Luekan...reporting...s-s-sir." "Luekan! Where's Corporal Rodriguez? Over!" "D-d-d-dead, sir... That thing ambushed us... only four of us left...we're back to back..." A flurry of more fire echoed through the trees from where J Squad was last known to be. "All Sections! Target has been located!" Garrison barked. But before he could continue, a huge torrent of weapons fire broke right behind them. Scully went to the ground as a few round zipped through the leaves above. Screams followed the gunfire. "Jesus Christ! It's gotten behind us!" Garrisons's radio man yelled as the sounds of a wild melee came through the foliage. Garrison ordered his platoon to form a defensive half circle facing the din, himself standing guard over the still prone Scully. "Stay down, Dana..." he said as strongly as he could, secretly knowing he should never had allowed her out here. Mulder drew his pistol, even though it was even less effective then the assault rifles the troops were carrying. "Well, Captain...we have it just where we want it..." Mulder half-humoredly remarked. The only answer Mulder got was the last cry of a mortally wounded soldier being flung though the brush into the protective line of Garrison's platoon, scattering half of them. The horror that had thrown the unfortunate solider then burst through the brush and set upon the first two hapless men on the ground it found. Mulder got a partial view of the thing, it looked like a cross between a cheetah and a large ape, with horrible slashing claws. It bypassed the kevlar body armor and tore huge gashes in the unprotected throats of it's victims, then leapt impossibly fast towards more scrambling men. "Fire!" was the only thing Garrison got out of his mouth before the sea was drenched in ear-shattering gunfire. Mulder, knowing the creature was trained only to attack soldiers, threw off his helmet and ran towards Scully, who was now struggling to get up. "Scully! We have to ditch the military gear! It's our only hope!" Mulder said. Meanwhile, the agile killer bounded in and out the clearing from all directions, each time taking another helpless victim down. Garrison was screaming orders, trying to direct accurate fire, but even with all the high tech night vision gear, their would-be quarry was too quick. All Mulder could think of was that the hunters were now the hunted. One by one, Garrison's command team was being picked apart by the rapid and unpredictable leaps of the creature. Mulder literally fell on top of Scully as they cast aside their borrowed miliary webbing and battle fatigue coats. The body of a fallen solider also fell down on them. Scully immediately applied emergency first aid to the young man, not knowing if it would be the last thing she ever did. But just as suddenly had the demonic entity attacked, it now literally sprang up from the ground and into the trees. Then it began to literally swing from branch to branch away off into the darkened woods. Mulder finally looked up and saw the slaughter that had lasted little more then a minute. Nearly a dozen soldiers laid still and bleeding around them, two gravely wounded men gasping for breath, with only four remained standing, besides himself and Scully. Garrison was holding one of the radio operator in his arms; it was his former aide, Kendricks. His throat was literally ripped open. "Captain....we need to call in reinforcements..." Mulder uttered slowly. Garrison could only croak hoarsely. "That...Thing... it killed all three radio operators first... took out the radio antennas as well...we're cut off." Scully murmured a prayer as Garrison laid the still body of Kendricks on the ground and laid the dead boy's poncho over his face. "That damn...thing...knew what it was doing..." "It distracted the main force with a diversionary attack, and then went for the command structure..." Mulder quietly added. "Standard US Military commando tactic..." "Roger...these two men need medical attention right now. We have to get out of here." Scully softly said, fear quaking in her voice. Garrison stood and looked around. He clinched his fist in both anger and frustration. All his high tech gear, his training, his experience; all made a mockery by a lab-brewed nightmare. He glanced at his remaining troops. "Brenner... Morrison... Jackson... Green...gather up all the unused mags you can...we've got to move out...find the rest of the company... then call in reinforcements from Fort Stewart and Fort Bragg." A quartet of "yes, Sir's" followed as the men began scrounging ammunition from their dead comrades. Mulder stared off into the darkness, hearing more sounds of rapid gun fire and screaming. "Captain Garrison...I'm no military man, but I suggest we motivate in the opposite direction of...that..." Mulder said. The small group of survivors quickly moved through the damp forest, the sounds of distant firefights erupting every few minutes or so. Mulder's mind raced over the thought of how just one creature could inflict so much damage...if it could not be stopped by over a hundred armed soldiers...what if Wilcox had more of these creatures...what if they could breed... "Come on Mulder...you're lagging behind!" Scully gasped as he came to reality. Suddenly, Corporal Green shouted out from behind. "Cap't! I think I just saw something a hundred meters back!" "Our adversary?" Garrison asked as everyone stopped for a breather. Scully knelt down and began checking up on the two wounded men. "What now, Garrison?" Mulder asked. "We can't outrun this thing forever!" "There's an old hunter's cabin a quarter of a mile away. We sometimes use it as a headquarters for training maneuvers. We can hide there!" Garrison said. "Sir, I don't think we can make it!" Pvt. Morrison gasped. One of the wounded men, raised his hand. "S-s-s-sir...leave us behind...get out while...you can..." Scully gave him a sip of water. Garrison looked at the wounded men and then at the others. "Green...Jackson... break off and try laying flanking fire when it follows us. Brenner and I will carry the wounded. The two men bravely responded and took off into the surrounding brush as the now smaller group took off towards the hunter's shack. Several agonizing moments later, the fleeing party heard the distant screams of each of the men left behind them. Everyone silently and painfully realized that they had given their lives so that they could escape. Guilt might have dropped any of them right there, but the only thing in Mulder's mind was survival as he ran through the forest. End Part 6/7 From: RJCHRISTEN@aol.com "Beware the Wookinar" by R.J. Christensen Part 7/7 Mulder was the first to reach the abandoned cabin. A quick shot with the Sig Saur made easy work of the old rusted lock. "They can bill Uncle Sam!" he smirked as Garrison, Private Morrison, and Scully pulled up with the two wounded soldiers. "Find something to bolt the door with, Mulder!" Garrison yelled as he and Morrison laid the two casualties down on the creaky wooden floor and Scully checked them again for any further injuries caused by the flight through the woods. Garrison then ordered Morrison to take up a position on the roof and Brenner standing guard outside. Scully wiped the flow of sweat off her brow. "I can't believe we got away from that thing..." She knelt down to attend the wounded men as Mulder broke off a cabinet door in the back of the cabin. "I sure hope this holds, because it could probably come through the walls as easily as an open door..." Garrison knelt beside Scully and laid his hand on her shoulder. "I knew I shouldn't have let you come on this, Dana. But at least for these boys, I'm glad you're here." She smiled at him and rubbed the side of his now dirty face. Mulder pushed a stack of open crates up against the window. Exasperated at the pair, he muttered sarcastically. "Excuse me, but the time for lovey dovey is over...I could use some help keeping the Killa Gorilla outside..." "Sorry, Mulder..." an embarrassed Garrison replied. He grabbed a second stack of wooden crates and barricaded a small side window. Scully sighed as she continued to help the wounded soldiers. "I've stopped the bleeding as best as I can, but these men need transfusions quickly..." She said, then looked back at Mulder and Garrison. "To believe a genetically manipulated creature could produce claw wounds like these...." She fearfully shuddered at thought of personally receiving them. "Our Professor Wilcox sure can grow 'em..." Mulder added. "Nobel Prize material...." "At least it isn't the Wookinar..." Scully quipped. Garrison looked back in surprise as Scully. "Where'd you hear about the Wookinar? I thought it was just a local legend." "All part of the FBI's complete service..." Mulder answered. "No stone unturned, no rumor left unheard..." The night air was quiet and still, no trace of the confused battle that had taken place a few hours before. "Sun will be up in a couple of hours..." Garrison said as he looked out the remaining sliver of window. "Hopefully, some of the men got back to the main compound to bring out reinforcements..." "Assuming any did..." Mulder answered, half impressed that one creature could have gone through the troops the way it did. "Wilcox said he wanted to make warfare obsolete with his creation, and apparently he's succeeding." "This is beginning to sound like a bad 70's sci fi movie..." Scully sighed as she continued "I sure wish I had brought my cell phone with me...", exhaustion setting in her body. Garrison stepped away from the window over to Scully. "How are they doing?" Scully didn't respond; just shook her head in stoic frustration. "That's it...I'm going for help... Brenner and I will split up and get back to the main base." Garrison said. "Thank you, Mr. Custer..." Mulder half sneered at thought of more sacrifice for him and Scully. Scully stared at her partner. "Dammit, Mulder! This is no time for insults!" Garrison ran his hand through her hair as she looked up him. "I'll be back in no time, Dana..." She took his hand and rubbed it. "I said that before...and look what happened." Mulder just stared, half jealous, half disbelieving that Scully could get so soft on a guy so quick. But Scully was right, this was no time for insults. He reached for his pistol. "Garrison, here..." Mulder handed him his Sig Saur. "There's only about seven rounds left, but it'll be easier to carry then that M-16 you're still lugging around." "Thanks Mulder..." Garrison took the pistol as he handed over the rifle. "..you just keep Dana safe..." He looked over at Scully who smiled her affections, not wanting to let her true emotions show. Mulder let loose the door brace, and the Captain bolted off into the darkness. As he quickly closed the door and braced it again, Mulder looked over at Scully, who wasn't smiling anymore. He grinned wickedly. "Frohike and Pendrell are going to be two sad little puppies..." "Don't even go there, Mulder..." Scully scowled back. "I don't get involved in your personal matters." Mulder snickered. "Oh yeah...tell that to...oh, maybe a certain Entomologist or a certain female police detective..." "Or the Beastwoman of Atlantic City..." Scully playfully responded. "Alright, so I may have been a little...let's call it 'perturbed' at your distractions..." "Distractions?" Mulder asked rhetorically. He then turned the tables back to Scully. "So, what do you see in him?" "He's intelligent, kind, caring, dedicated..." Scully began. "And?" Mulder asked. "And what?" Scully asked. "You know what I'm asking." Mulder said. "What? You want me to say he's handsome or that he's great in bed?" "Ha! So you admit doing the wild thing with...." Mulder began, but suddenly and without warning, Mulder was cut off by a blast of wood coming through the wall, followed by the swift shape of Dr Wilcox's biological creation. Mulder was thrown against the opposite wall as the hybrid plowed the stack of crates. Scully grabbed the falling M-16 and after aiming at the monster, sent a volley of rounds into the cabin. But the impossibly dexterous creature dodged every round, until Scully could only produce a sickening series of desperate clicks from the empty rifle. A pair of glowing eyes seared across the room from her. Mulder appeared to be knocked out under a pile of broken boards and crate pieces. The fiery eyes grew closer. Scully tried not to breath as she tried to feel around for anything that could act as a defensive weapon. The eyes moved closer to the moon-lit area where Scully and the two wounded soldier laid. Silent prayers were all Scully could think of until she noticed that the only noise in the cabin was a curious sniffing sound. Then she noticed that the glowing eyes were slowly blinking, as if in some sort of inquisitive investigation of it's surroundings. Scully tried calling to Mulder, but could not get the air through her dry throat. Then, in the grey-white beam of moonlight, she saw Dr Wilcox's genetic experiment face to face. It was covered with a thick coat of black hair and obviously crawling on all fours, but the face... The face was more human then any primate she had ever seen. The forehead was obviously far too small for an ape, but still, not quite passable for human. The eyes were big and bright, blinking in almost disbelief as the large nose sniffed at her. They were not the eyes of ape nor human. Its mouth, with two large upward incisors was agape, only slightly bigger then any large man. But as it moved slowly towards her, she could make out the single large claw on each hand as they clicked softly on the wooden floor. The vision of a mutant sloth raced through her mind as she gently gasped for air. The creature was now just a few feet away from her, but it was not making any aggressive moves or or angry emotions. Scully mentally swore that it looked like an awe-struck child, looking in unknowing fascination at some strange new toy. It continued to sniff at her until it was just a few inches away. Scully tried shielding the wounded men, as if in some last act of desperation. But the creature looked back at her, and the mouth began to move and emit sound. But it wasn't just any sound that Scully heard then and it disturbed her more then anything that had happened that evening. "M-m-m-m-m-m-ah-ah-ah-muh? M-m-m-m-m-ah-ah-muh-muh?" Scully gasped in sanity-wrenching shock. "Was it speaking? Is it calling me...Momma? Does it think I'm it's Mother?" Her mind could hardly believe it. She reached out her hand. "Momma..." she said at first with trepidation, but then more affirmed. "Momma." The creature then laid it's head onto Scully's lap as a tear welled up in it's eyes. "M-m-m-ah-ah-muh..." it groaned in a soft throaty voice. Scully then laid her hand on its head, gently patting in the same soft reassuring fashion her own mother had given her as a child. She began rocking back and forth as the once highly aggressive hybrid began to quietly fall off into a seeming contented sleep, emitting a soft growling purr. Mulder awoke from his sudden confrontation with the creature. With disorientation swirling through his brain, he looked over and saw the unbelievable image of Scully cuddling a hairy human-like form. Trying to shake himself back into full consciousness, he looked again to see the impossible image. He whispered as loudly as he could. "Scully! What the hell are you doing?" She didn't voice her response, but instead signaled Mulder and then began pointing to the medical bag just a few feet away from him. Mulder reached for it and opened it. Scully, still patting the hybrid's head in her lap, mouthed out what Mulder took as "Auto Injector". Looking inside, he quietly pulled out a series of the injection devices, holding each one up. The fifth one got Scully's approval. Mulder looked at it. "Local Anesthetic" it read. She pointed at the creature's back, although she didn't look too happy with whatever she was thinking. Either she was terrified the creature might rip her to shreds or maybe...was she feeling sorry for it? Mulder responded back by mimicking using the injector. Scully nodded, then whispered something into the hybrid's ear. Mulder quietly crept toward the creature, now apparently asleep. As Scully held it closely, Mulder placed two of the injectors in the area she had pointed out, with two more between his middle fingers just in case they were needed. Scully looked away and Mulder pressed the triggers. The Creature awoke with a yelping cry of pain and Mulder fired off the second pair. The hybrid tore away from Scully and knocked Mulder back on to the dirty floor. It tried standing up as Scully covered the two soldiers, but it faltered and fell to the floor, a fine coating of dust flew up from where it had fallen. Just then, Private Morrison, just down from the roof, burst through the door and aimed his weapon at the creature. Mulder waved him off. "It's out like a light..." He then saw Scully, literally shaking with adrenlin on the floor. "Scully...are you alright...?" Mulder quietly asked. "That depends, Mulder...." Scully replied. "Physically, I'm just tired and a bit sore, but emotionally...don't ask... 5/16 Fort Jackson 0745 "It did what?" Garrison stood in complete disbelief as Scully explained what had happened. "I swear that's what happened, Roger." Scully found his disbelief reasonable; even she couldn't understand what had happened. When Garrison returned with the remnants of his MP force and over 500 heavily armed troops, he found Scully, Mulder, and Morrison watching over the dozing creature. Now it was chained and locked up in an armory building, but 31 of his MPs were dead and 47 horribly wounded; it was disaster of Little Big Horn proportions, but Garrison was just happy that Scully was alright. "It goes through 100 Military Police armed with automatic weapons and you and Mulder capture it with autotranqs? You must be Wonder Woman..." he said as a hand patted Scully's upper arm. Mulder was a few feet away sitting on the hood of their rental car, munching on his sunflower seeds. "Not too hard to understand what happened..." he off-handily said. Scully looked over at her partner. "Well, kindly inform me of your theory so I can write up in my report." Garrison looked equally puzzled, but didn't say anything. With his final crunch of seed, Mulder got up and walked over. "Professor Wilcox designed, incubated, grew, and instructed his animal-human hybrid with all the care and attention of the brilliant scientist he was. But he was lacking one thing that all intelligent creatures need." He looked directly into Scully's eyes. "The love and care of a mother..." Garrison looked bewildered at Mulder, then at the now awestruck Scully, then back to Mulder. "Are you trying to say that thing thought Dana was it's...Mother?" "Baby spider monkeys will instinctively cling to a feeder that's covered with a warm & smiling furry face then a plain wire feeder, even when the "mommy" version is out of food. The hybrid never had such an opportunity until it came upon the first "mother figure" it met." Mulder smiled as he tickled Scully under her chin. She smiled, rather embarrassed. Garrison still looked confused, but ready to except Mulder's explanation. "Well, that's fine and dandy, but what are we going to do with our new suspect?" A cold voice came ringing across the lawn where the trio were standing. "Oh, that has already been decided, Captain..." Scully and Mulder spun around in surprise. There, accompanied by four Blue Beret troopers, was a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses, waving a government ID. "I'm Mr. Miller, National Security Agency..." Mulder glared at the oncoming bureaucrat. "And just what the hell do you want?" "Taking care of the Army's little problem, Agent Mulder." came the answer. "Now you and your partner can get in your rental car and go back to your basement office..." Mulder erupted. "Not on your life! That 'problem' you call may be responsible for dozens of fatalities, but it needs to be openly studied by research scientists! It represents a quantum leap in genetics research!" Scully just hung back in shock, as Garrison pulled her close. "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder, but your assistance and that of Doctor Scully here is no longer required. As for the little furry fighter..." he pleasantly added. "...It needs to be no more studied then a rabid dog. It is going to be destroyed." Scully responded loudly. "You can't do that! It's intelligent, even partial human! You just can't kill it without due process!" Mulder looked at her. **She can't possibly be defending...it??** "Tell that to it's victims, Agent Scully..." The mysterious Miller nonchalantly replied. Just like a real mother protecting her young, Scully continued the futile debate. "But it was trained to kill by Dr Wilcox. It's not responsible for...what it did..." Mulder stepped in between Scully and the dark-suited man. "You just can't order us this off this case. We were invited in by the Army to investigate...You have no right to..." Mulder was quickly cut off by the response. "Captain, by the order of National Security Agency Directive 5.3.1A, you are hereby ordered to escort these civilians off your base immediately." The Blue Berets stepped forward to punctuate the orders. Mulder turned to look at Garrison, his hand on Scully's right shoulder. She looked up at him with pensive eyes. But Garrison just looked dejectedly at her with sadness in his eyes. "I-I-I'm sorry Dana...but I h-h-have to...ask you to leave..." Scully turned towards the remorseful Garrison. "You can't let him do this, Roger! You can't! We need to report on this!" Garrison could only shake his head negatively. "I'm sorry Dana, I can't disobey those orders. It's National Security stuff... way over my head...I can't..." Scully's apparent sadness slowly simmered to anger, but Mulder spoke up first. "What? You said we had complete jurisdiction on this case, not to mention the State authorities!" The sinister man replied back icily. "The Local authorities have been relieved of having to deal with this rather...unpleasant episode as well. As for you and Agent Scully, I believe the Captain here will see you off." Garrison started to protest as well, but was cut off tersely. "Do it NOW, Captain, or face immediate discharge from your assigned duties and immediate court martial!" Miller barked. Scully tried stating her case to the stoical Army officer she had held in her arms two nights ago and faced death with the previous night. "Roger, We have a solid case, but we need the creature as evidence against Wilcox! He's the one who should be held responsible!" Scully added with fearful emotion rising in her voice and body. "I...I...can't...permit you to stay on base, Dana..." Garrison exclaimed with a clear lump in his throat. "Orders. I have to...escort you and Mulder...off the base..." He tried taking her hand, but Scully angrily yanked it away from him. "Please no, Roger..." Scully begged. Garrison could only gulp and reply, "You and Mulder have to go now, Dana..." He took her hand gently, but Scully tore it away furiously. "Get away from me, you bastard!" Scully screamed at Garrison, who could only drape his head in shame. Mulder wrapped his arm around Scully as she tried to avoid bursting into tears. Mulder stared back at the NSA agent. "You've got over fifty dead servicemen out there, twelve more in the base morgue, and thirty dead klansmen out in the country...how are you going to cover that all up?! How are you going to cover that up?!?" Mulder angrily turned and helped Scully into their car, not at all expecting an answer. One did come. "I have to cover it up at all costs. I don't believe the Bible Belt citizens of Columbia, South Carolina would particularly want to know that a killing machine created in a test tube was running loose near their fair city, Mr. Mulder. Nor that a respected local doctor was successfully playing God..." He smiled wickedly. "Sometimes the TRUTH is not what the public wants..." The dark Bureaucrat looked annoyingly at Garrison. "Well? Get them off this base or be charged for dereliction of duty, Captain!" Looking at the sobbing figure of Dana Scully burying her head in Mulder's shoulder in the front seat of the rental car, Garrison turned and glared venomously at the silent bureaucrat, but he didn't say a word. He quietly got into his awaiting Humvee and drove off, with Scully and Mulder right behind him. Moments later, a puff of cigarette smoke was blown upwards in the holding room where Dr Benson Wilcox's genetic creation was caged in a former K-9 kennel. Five soldiers in blue berets standing guard with silenced submachine guns at the ready. Miller strode up to the man from whom the smoking was rising from. "Mulder & Scully have been removed from the scene, sir." "Thank you, Miller..." pleasantly answered the smoking man, who then looked back at the hybrid creature with what seemed like devout curiosity. "Interesting work, we'll have to thoroughly examine the Doctor's notes..." The hybrid, with it's soft brown eyes, looked pitifully up at him. "It's amazing that this creature can seem to understand what I'm thinking...." he continued. "Almost Human...." The old man tossed down his cigarette, stamped it out, then turned to walk outside. "Dispose of it..." As Miller and his boss walked out of the storage building, the squad of men aimed their weapons at the shackled creature and cleared their safeties. The creature mournfully made one last cry. "M-m-m-m-ah-ah-muh? M-m-m-mah-ah-muh...?" A muffled eruption of 9mm rounds was the only answer. THE END. Send Comments to R.J. Christensen @ RJCHRISTEN@aol.com Thanks to my long time friend Linda Russell for her personal tale of stalking the Wookinar, which is an actual South Carolina legend. I'm glad that she did return safely. Also, thanks to my Beta Readers Nisa "Professor" Blackmon, Lili "Grammer Girl" Daie, and especially Nita Durham.