The Brotherhood
Chapter Nine

By Esther Walker,   cenergy@earthlink.net
and Vickie Moseley,  vmoseley@fgi.net


Inside the mine
Day Two
Noon

They had been walking for over two hours along the dark, cavernous 
mine. Dixie was right, Scully thought wearily, we could walk around 
this mine for years and no one would ever find us. Every turn they 
encountered looked just like the previous one. There was no way of 
knowing which direction they were going or even if they were walking 
in circles. Only John Jacobs seemed to know where they were headed. He 
had been leading the group since shortly after the meeting with his 
men had ended. 

The two agents had tried in vain to convince Dixie that Mulder should 
at least attempt to talk to Jacobs. But the old woman had relented 
only slightly in the end, saying she would think about it. It was 
obvious to both Mulder and Scully that they needed Dixie on their 
side, they were sure Mulder would be dead by now if it wasn't for her. 
For that reason they decided to go along with her wishes. She seemed 
to know Jacobs pretty well and if she felt now was not the time for an 
FBI heart to heart with the madman, then now was not the time.

Even so, Scully was fairly certain Mulder couldn't keep walking for 
much longer. She was amazed he was still on his feet. Although Dixie's 
snakebite medicine, as Mulder had decided to call it, had helped, it 
couldn't heal the broken bones and only God knew what damage Jacobs 
had caused during his early morning outburst. She looked over at her 
husband and, for the tenth time in as many minutes, tried to offer 
some support, urging him to lean on her. He shook his head and pushed 
her away, refusing to look at her. It was an automatic reflex, she 
knew that, but it still hurt. He could barely carry himself but he was 
only concerned with her well-being, worried Jacobs would make the 
connection between the two of them. She took a deep breath and felt 
her stomach, if only to reassure herself that life goes on.

The thoughts of the baby growing inside of her led to thoughts of her 
sister and the message she had conveyed on her wedding day. Oh Missy, 
if only I could be sure, Dana thought to herself. If only I could be 
sure that this baby will come to term and Mulder will be there to see 
it. She was so deep in thought she didn't notice Tenille had slowed 
her pace and was beside her until the young woman took her hand. 
Instinctively, Scully jumped, startling Mulder in the process.

Scully looked around and relaxed when she realized the rest of the 
Brotherhood was a few feet in front of them, obviously not very 
concerned that the two agents might make a run for it.

"I'm sorry," Tenille whispered. "I didn't mean to startle you." Scully 
noticed the young woman was shaking, probably more scared than she 
was. She was at a loss for words and said nothing, letting her 
expression show that no harm was done and urging Tenille to continue.

"I have something for him," Tenille said under her breath, visibly 
terrified that one of the Brothers would see her speaking with the 
enemy. She quickly handed Scully a soft white pouch. From the feel of 
it Scully guessed it was made of silk. "It's an amulet," Tenille said 
quickly. "I was working on it right before we left."

Scully looked at Tenille carefully, not knowing what to make of the 
gesture. Tenille misunderstood the expression. "An amulet is..."

"I know what an amulet is," Scully interrupted. "I'm just wondering 
why..." Scully stopped herself before continuing. She didn't want to 
insult this young woman, who was obviously risking something by even 
speaking with them.

"It ain't fair, is all," Tenille said sadly. "What John's done to 
him." Tenille looked at Mulder, only to avert her gaze the instant he 
made eye contact. "It's an amulet to ward off fever," she continued, 
staring at the ground as she spoke. "Inside the sack there's a white 
rose, a nickel and a penknife. When the fever breaks you need to bury 
the rose." She looked at Scully for confirmation, approval. Scully 
nodded. First snakebite medicine and now amulets. It was all more than 
her scientific mind could handle on a good day. But Tenille meant well 
and what the hell, she thought, it couldn't hurt. 

Mulder looked over at Tenille and whispered the words thank you before 
the young woman scurried off to join her two female friends in front 
of them. Scully looked at Mulder and smiled.

"Seems like the womenfolk have taken a liking to you," she joked, 
handing him the small pouch. "I guess you should put this in your 
pocket. We wouldn't want to hurt Tenille's feelings..." Her words were 
cut off when Mulder reached over for the pouch and she felt his hand 
on hers. He was very hot. One look in his eyes confirmed her fears, he 
had a perilously high fever. "Mulder, you're burning up," she 
whispered.

"Then this amulet came just in time," he mused, shoving the silk pouch 
deep inside the front pocket of his Levi's. "Look at that, I feel 
better already." 

Scully was not amused and could barely hide the contempt she was 
feeling. "Not funny, Mulder. I'm scared. I'm worried about you." She 
softened a little bit, reminding herself he was the one suffering 
physically. "You don't look like you can go much further and Jacobs 
isn't about to slow down because you're not up to the task at hand."

"Dana stop worrying about me. I'm fine. If the time comes when I can't 
go on, we'll deal with it then. Right now I seem to be putting one 
foot in front of the other quite nicely, thank you."

Scully was about to say she didn't believe him when she became aware 
that the group in front of them had stopped. She could make out 
Jacobs' form about 40 feet in front of them, talking to some of his 
men who had gathered around him. They were having an animated 
discussion, as animated as any of the Brothers dared to be in front of 
their leader. Were they arguing? Whatever they were saying was in 
hushed tones, but a few of the men were gesturing feverishly, 
indicating a battle of the wills was taking place.

It was no surprise to either agent when the men around Jacobs 
retreated back into the group and began talking to the rest of the 
followers. After a few minutes Dixie casually inched her way back to 
Mulder and Scully, who had kept their distance, hoping to disappear 
into the walls.

"What's going on?" Mulder asked.

"It seems that we're about 50 yards from the exit," Dixie whispered. 
"John wants us to wait right here until it's dark before we make a run 
for the border."

"And the rest of the men are having a problem with that?" Scully 
asked.

"These men think with their stomachs," Dixie mused. "Seems John wants 
to wait until it's really dark, midnight at the earliest, and the men 
are claiming the women can't go that long without proper nourishment." 
Dixie laughed at her own statement. "Suddenly they're thinking about 
the women," she said absently. Her mind drifted for an instant, 
remembering how Jeremiah used to take such good care of her, before 
she caught herself and quickly brought herself back to the present.

"In any case," she said, looking at Mulder, "this is probably a good 
thing for you. You look like you could sit for a spell."

Mulder nodded weakly, attempting a smile in appreciation of Dixie's 
concern.

"Dixie," Scully interrupted, "Mulder's burning up. I've got a few 
aspirin left, but I hate to give them to him on an empty stomach. Do 
you have anything else we can give him?"

Dixie reached up to touch Mulder's cheek. "Don't need to touch you, 
really, my boy," she said. "As Gran used to say, I can see the fever 
dancin' in your eyes." She looked around and noticed the Brotherhood 
was starting to make themselves comfortable on the cold mine floor. "I 
ain't got no food left. Nothin' to help line his stomach, if that's 
what you mean." Scully nodded and Dixie continued. "Peppermint and 
parsley are both good for fevers," she said slowly, thinking out loud. 
"I have some peppermint with me but I would need to heat up some 
water. Let me think about that for a minute. In the meantime, you two 
sit down, it's going to be a long 12 hours."

Before she could walk away Mulder held her arm gently. "Dixie," he 
said, "I really need to talk to Jacobs. It's our only chance. Possibly 
the entire Brotherhood's only chance."

"My boy you can barely stand on your own two feet right now, you think 
you've got it in you to talk to John?"

Mulder nodded. "It's now or never Dixie. In a few hours I may not be 
able to do it."

Dixie looked at him carefully before looking at Scully. "Is he always 
this ornery?" she asked, only half joking.

"You should see him when he feels good," Scully shot back. Although 
she knew Mulder was right, talking to Jacobs probably was their only 
chance of getting out of this alive, she had her doubts as to Mulder's 
current state of mind. She hastily decided she had no choice but to 
trust her husband's judgment. "I agree with Mulder, Dixie," she 
finally said, not quite as convincing as she was hoping to come 
across. 

"Okay," Dixie reluctantly agreed. "Let me see if I can do anything 
about the peppermint tea first and then I'll talk to John. In the 
meantime, keep that amulet close to you boy." With that she walked 
away into the crowd, her slight frame easily disappearing out of sight 
the minute she sat down and began talking to some of the Brothers.


Overlooking the Brotherhood compound
7:30 P.M.


"It's getting too dark to see anything, Walt." Spence Thornley had to 
shout to be heard above the din of the helicopter. "We need to get 
back to camp and start again in the morning."

"One more time around." Skinner shouted, not bothering to wait for a 
response. After all, it wasn't a question, it was an order. He had 
promised to call Margaret Scully that evening, whether he had any news 
to report or not, and he wasn't prepared to call with no news.

They had been circling the area around the compound for nearly six 
hours. Stopping only once to refuel. They had estimated the most the 
Brotherhood could have walked since their escape was roughly 15 miles. 
And that was assuming they had been walking non-stop since three in 
the morning, which was not likely. Certainly if they had gotten that 
far Mulder would have been left behind. From what Skinner had seen of 
the agent the night before he didn't look like he could have walked a 
hundred yards, much less 15 miles. The more accurate guess was 
anywhere between five and 10 miles, but they were taking no chances. 
They were scouring every inch in every direction in a fifteen mile 
radius. As time went by they had ventured further out, not willing to 
rule out any possibilities.

Skinner finally put down his binoculars and sat back. Spence was 
right. It was now too dark to see anything. Even with the high powered 
lights coming from the helicopter the visibility was lousy. The area 
surrounding the compound was dense with trees and brush. In some parts 
the ground was hidden for hundreds of yards at a time. Tomorrow he 
would join the foot patrol, he decided. At least on foot he would feel 
like he was contributing more than he could sitting in a helicopter, 
staring at the tops of trees.

It occurred to him, certainly not for the first time, that the 
Brotherhood could have been planning their escape into the tunnel for 
a very long time, storing supplies and food to last them indefinitely. 
It could be days, weeks or even months before they ventured outside. 
Before they needed to venture outside. He closed his eyes and thought 
about his two most infuriating agents. How long would it be before 
Scully started showing? Margaret Scully would know. The thought of 
Margaret Scully, waiting by the phone, waiting for his call, made him 
nauseous. He leaned forward and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

"Take her back," he shouted. He couldn't even look at the old friend 
sitting next to him. He would join one of the foot patrols as soon as 
he had made the phone call.



Inside the mine
8:15 P.M.

The old Blackfoot Indian was standing in front of her smiling. He was 
holding a handful of colorful leaves and was urging her to take them. 
Dana Scully looked around and saw nothing but an open field for miles. 
The brightly decorated Indian took her hands and placed the leaves he 
was holding in them, carefully closing her fingers around them.

Dana opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. There was nothing to 
say. She looked up at the old man, who was still smiling, and 
questioned him with her eyes. He took her hands, and the leaves, and 
gently pressed them against her heart.

The leaves felt warm to her touch and she felt an overwhelming desire 
to press them tightly against her chest. Wisps of billowy smoke 
surrounded her and it took only an instant to realize the heat was 
coming from her. From her heart. She let out a gasp and dropped the 
pile to the ground. The Blackfoot was gone.

She woke with a start, feeling her hands for a burn that wasn't there. 
Mulder was asleep with his back against the wall beside her and she 
looked around before allowing herself to touch his cheek and forehead. 
He was still warm but not nearly as hot as he had been a few hours 
earlier. At one point he had started to talk about the baby and she 
could have sworn he was delirious. 

Dixie had come through once again, having had one of the Brothers 
start a small fire on the pretense she needed to make some tea for Bo. 
The women had packed what provisions they had and luckily had included 
a couple of small pots and some drinking water. Sneaking a cup of 
peppermint tea back to Mulder had been no small feat, but Dixie had 
managed that as well.

Unable to read her watch in the darkness, Scully sat back and closed 
her eyes. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, or how 
much longer before John mobilized the group again. She covered 
Mulder's hand with her own, throwing caution to the wind, before 
falling asleep again.

***********

Dixie had agreed to talk to Jacobs right after they made their exit 
from the tunnel. No use getting him riled up while they were still 
trapped inside. She didn't think John was going to take too kindly to 
Mulder wanting to talk to him, but she had seen the determination on 
the young agent's face and had come to the conclusion he was going to 
do it whether he had her blessing or not.

She looked over at the young couple, barely making out their forms, 
and said a silent prayer. Something about Agent Mulder reminded her of 
Jeremiah. She had a feeling the young man had a stubborn streak, just 
like her husband. And Dana...Dana reminded her of the woman she wished 
she had been when she was younger. It wasn't until recently that she 
felt the courage to stand up for herself, for her beliefs. She had 
been lucky Jeremiah never took advantage of her timidness, or her meek 
countenance. It was men like John Jacobs that took advantage of people 
like that. Something inside her had kicked in the night Jeremiah died. 
Something she didn't know was in there. Whatever it was it had given 
her a strength she didn't know she possessed. And although she felt it 
was too late to help herself, she was damned if she wouldn't do what 
she could to save this young couple.

Dixie closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep slowly, dreaming of the 
children she and Jeremiah never had.


Inside the mine
Sometime after midnight


John Jacobs had not been able to relax for the better part of the day. 
So fearful was he of having another nightmare, of showing weakness in 
front of his men, that he had refused to let himself sleep. It wasn't 
until he had downed half a bottle of Jim Beam that the decision was 
taken out of his hands and he was left with little choice than to pass 
out on the stone floor.

His sleep was fitful at best, with many ghosts from his past paying 
him a visit. The Blackfoot that had so haunted his earlier dream 
didn't make an appearance this time, but they didn't have to. Jacobs 
had enough skeletons in his closet to be spooked easily. He had caused 
enough damage and killed enough people in his lifetime to fear the 
afterlife. An afterlife he had managed, throughout his life, to 
convince himself did not exist. That was just what cowards pretended 
to believe to avoid taking any meaningful action in their lives, he 
told himself. But lately, maybe because he was getting older, maybe 
because things had started to go sour, he was starting to give the 
afterlife some thought.

It had occurred to him when he had thrown the scalding water on the 
G-Man that maybe now was the time to reverse some of the bad he had 
done. The thought lingered for an instant before he realized it was 
too late for him. Too much water under the bridge, so to speak. Being 
good to one man wasn't about to turn his fortune around. It certainly 
wasn't going to stop him from going to Hell.

At that precise moment in the kitchen he accepted the grim fact that 
his soul was beyond salvation. The acceptance gave him the freedom to 
do his will. Until that stone came flying through the window and the 
Blackfoot started hunting him down like some animal. He had accepted 
the fact that he would suffer the unmentionable, the unfathomable, in 
the afterlife, but he wasn't prepared to face it now. While he was 
still alive.

Only Jim Beam could save him now. John Jacobs was unraveling and he 
knew it. It was only a matter of time before he did himself in. Now it 
was just a question of how many men he would take with him when he 
went. With that ominous thought he stood up and started to rouse the 
Brothers. It was time to make a break for the outdoors.

***********

Mulder had been awake for a while when he saw Jacobs stand, 
unsteadily. The fact that the man was already drunk, or was it still 
drunk, didn't bode well for the conversation he wanted to have with 
him. Mulder couldn't put his finger on it, but something about Jacobs 
had changed in the last couple of days. The arrogance was still there 
but there was uncertainty as well. Something he hadn't seen when he 
first entered the compound. Maybe Dixie was right, maybe something had 
spooked him. But what?

Jacobs had turned on his lantern and was looking around the room 
slowly, almost methodically. Like someone surveying his prize cattle, 
Mulder thought bitterly. He smiled inwardly when it occurred to him 
that John Jacobs was suffering from mad cow disease.

Jacobs' booming voice was enough to startle anyone and Dana Scully was 
no exception. She came out of a sound sleep practically shaking when 
she heard the big man yelling out orders.

"Shh," Mulder whispered, stroking her hand. "It's okay. I think it's 
time. It must be after midnight."

Scully allowed herself the luxury of holding her husband's hand for 
only a moment. Long enough to get her bearings and build her strength. 
"You're not as warm," she finally said, not daring to touch his face. 
"How do you feel?"

"Okay." Mulder was grateful the lanterns were still far enough away 
that she couldn't see him clearly. He was sure his expression would 
betray his pat answer. As it was, he knew she didn't believe him. The 
fever was gone, but the pain in his ribs and his back was intense and 
once again he was having a hard time breathing. If it wasn't for Dana 
Scully, that remarkable woman that had so penetrated his existence, he 
would already have given up trying to stay alive.

Scully squeezed his hand and looked up to where John Jacobs was 
standing. He was barking orders and no one dared to move a muscle.

"Listen up, everyone," he was shouting. "It is very important we do 
this as planned. One false move and we all could die." He looked 
around the room, letting his words sink in before continuing. "I will 
give you each a number and you will stand in a line behind the exit 
according to that number. You will go out one at a time. Once outside 
I will direct you to another location. I will go first, with the G-Man 
and the Doc, our insurance policy," he added with a snicker.

Jacobs held his lantern up and looked to the back of the mine, in 
search of his two hostages. "Hey G-Man," he shouted, "you still 
alive?"

Mulder didn't answer him, instead he chose to stand up and make his 
presence known. He used the wall for support, refusing to let Scully 
help him in any way. Scully stood beside him.

"Come on up here, you two," Jacobs shouted. "It's show time."

The two agents began walking slowly to the front of the group. Mulder 
ahead of Scully, refusing to let her walk in front of him. Dixie 
brushed his arm as he walked past her and whispered the words, "not 
now." A caution to wait before attempting to talk to Jacobs. Mulder 
couldn't agree more. Something about Jacobs wasn't right. More so than 
before.

Jacobs was leering at them by the time they reached his side. "Good," 
he said sarcastically, "I'm glad you could join me." He callously 
shoved Mulder out of the way and began shouting out numbers to his 
people.

Instinctively, Mulder reached out for Scully as a wave of nausea 
washed over him. He closed his eyes and tried to ground himself, 
fearing he was going to pass out. Fortunately, Jacobs had his back to 
them and didn't notice how badly Mulder had reacted to the simple 
shove he had given him.

A couple of the Brothers standing nearby noticed but they were too 
busy waiting for their numbers to care. Dixie saw what happened, as 
well as the other women in the group. Women who forced themselves to 
look down for fear the anguish on their face would give away the 
contempt they were feeling.

After a moment Mulder opened his eyes and quickly let go of Scully. 
"I'm okay," he said, not waiting to be asked. Every breath was painful 
and speaking only made it worse. He looked at his wife, his eyes 
trying to convey everything he was feeling. Everything he felt for 
her, for their situation. She understood and simply nodded.

"Okay, does everyone have a number?" Jacobs shouted. His followers 
nodded. "Then get in a line like I asked you to damnit!" The 
Brotherhood stumbled around each other until they had made a haphazard 
line that stretched for several feet along the side of the mine.

"Good," Jacobs said, surveying his group. Now follow me." He took 
Scully by the arm and led her towards the exit. "Stay close, G-Man," 
he said to Mulder. "We wouldn't want to leave you behind now would 
we?" Jacobs laughed, a loud haunting laughter that echoed off the 
walls of the mine and reverberated garishly throughout the building.

End of chapter 9

From cenergy@earthlink.net Thu Oct 24 23:31:51 1996
The Brotherhood
Chapter 10

By Vickie Moseley,  vmoseley@fgi.net
and Esther Walker,   cenergy@earthlink.net


Outside the compound
9:00 pm

"Hello?" answered the weary voice over a 1000 miles away.

"Mrs. Scully?  This is Walter Skinner," he said quietly.  "I promised
to call if there were any new developments."

"And have there been any?" she asked, trying to match the calm in his
voice.

"I'm afraid so, and not exactly for the better."  He paused and heard
the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.  "Mrs. 
Scully, as far as we know, both your daughter and her partner are 
still alive."

"As far as you know.  When was the last time you saw anything?"
Maggie Scully was quickly losing her patience with Skinner and his
bureaucratic doublespeak.

"At 3:30 this morning, both Dana and Fox were sighted in the
compound."  He hesitated a fraction of a second before continuing.  
"Dana appeared to be fine."

Maggie drew in a breath, that had been over 17 hours ago.  She caught
both the hesitation in Skinner's voice and the absense of any comment 
on the condition of her son-in-law.  "And Fox?" she asked, letting her
impatience drip from the words.

"He is alive, of that we are certain.  More than that, I can't really
say, Mrs. Scully."

"So you can't see into the compound now?" she asked, pulling each
answer from him.

"Mrs. Scully, the Brotherhood has abandoned the compound.  They are no
longer in the building.  I'm sure it will be headline news soon out 
east. We've kept the media hounds at bay, but that only lasted 24 
hours.  It appears that they have escaped through an abandoned mine 
tunnel.  We are currently conducting an extensive search of the area.  
We aren't sure what caused the departure, but we are doing everything 
in our power to get your daughter. . ."

"And her husband," Maggie interrupted, pointedly.

"*And* her husband out alive.  Believe me, I have no intention of
losing either of them or any more of the men here in Montana.  I am
supervising this operation personally."  Skinner knew that this was 
hardly enough to satisfy Dana's mother.  But under the circumstances, 
he hoped she would at least attempt to understand his position.

"I guess I should call Ann.  She hasn't tried to contact you, has
she?" Maggie asked.  Chances were good that Ann was oblivious to her 
son's danger.  But that was the way the woman preferred it, after all.

"I haven't heard from Mrs. Mulder, no.  If you would be so kind as to
contact her, I would appreciate it."  Skinner was anxious to get this
conversation over with so he could get back to the search.

"I know you want to get going, Mr. Skinner.  And I do appreciate the
fact that you took the time to call.  Please let me know if anything 
else develops and if I'm needed out there."

"Of course, Mrs. Scully.  I'll let you know the minute we find them.
Or I'll have Dana call herself."



The mine entrance
Midnight

It wasn't the best conditions outside the mine.  A bitter wind had
kicked up, common in late spring in the mountains.  The quarter moon 
was hardly enough to light the path, had there been a path.  Perfect 
conditions to make an escape, Mulder thought grimly.  He closed his 
eyes and tried to detect any sounds of possible rescue, a helicopter 
or a plane.  It occured to him the irony of listening for a 
helicopter, considering how many times he had tried to outrun one.

Jacobs had decided that the group would stay together, at least for
the time being.  It would become necessary to split up before 
daybreak, unless shelter was available.  His plan, or so much of it as 
Mulder had been able to overhear now that he was closer to Jacobs, was 
to head for the border, some 15 miles to the north according to one of 
the men.

The hours spent in the mine had left Mulder stiff and more sore than
when they stopped.  Sometime during the last few hours, he had picked 
up a cough that he was trying to supress.  A nice stay in a hospital 
was looking relatively good, but he would never admit that to Scully.  
He looked over at her, when he was sure none of the others was 
watching.  Even in the dim moonlight, she was the most beautiful thing 
he had ever laid eyes on.  He didn't want to leave her, no way, no 
how.  But he was becoming more and more concerned about what Jacobs 
was planning to do with them once they all arrived at the border.

Once into Canada, Mulder knew Jacobs would have to 'dispose' of his
'insurance policies'.  It only made sense.  If he were to let them go, 
they could bring the authorities right down on top of the Brotherhood.  
Canadian extradition was a simple process and the RCMP's were rather 
good at tracking down fugitives in the wilds of Western Canada.  The 
only way the Brotherhood could really be free of pursuit is if they 
could get farther up into the Canadian wilderness, away from the 
border, and free of any hinderences.  He and Scully were the biggest 
hinderences Mulder could think of.

He looked hard at Jacobs.  Mulder had seen plenty of madmen in his
day, from simple killers to genetic mutants.  They all had a certain
emptiness in their eyes, like their souls were not in attendence.  
Jacobs looked different to Mulder.  Jacobs looked scared.

Once again, Mulder wondered what Jacobs was afraid of.  It certainly
wasn't the FBI.  He had nothing but disdain for the government, not 
fear. His mind kept returning to the Indian Burial ground and the 
tombstone that had crashed through the window.  Jacobs was haunted.  
Something was chasing him, pushing him further and further, making it 
difficult for him to think. Difficult for him to sleep.  That was it.  
Mulder remembered the nightmare Jacobs had had in the middle of the 
night.  He couldn't be certain, but he didn't think Jacobs had slept a 
wink since that time.  When was that, Mulder tried desparately to 
remember.  His own pain was making his mind foggy.  It seemed to be 
not long after they had settled down to rest the first time.  And 
really, Jacobs had rested only a little in the compound. The man was 
running on pure adreneline by now.  It wouldn't be long before
he dropped from exhaustion.  But before then, he would have a very 
short fuse and a very hot temper.

The men trudged off into the darkness.  Bob and Henry took point.
Mulder noticed that someone had remembered a set of night vision 
goggles and they were sharing them as well as lead position.  So much 
for hoping the group would have to find shelter sooner than later.

Jacobs made his way over to where Mulder was leaning against a tree.
"Hey, Mr. FBI, how're ya holding up?" he sneered.  Mulder tried to
straighten as much as he could, he didn't want to give the man a 
target for his anger.

He decided now was as good a time as any to have that talk, fearful 
that waiting for Dixie to arrange it would take more time than they 
had left. "Look, Jacobs, you don't need two hostages," Mulder said 
calmly, evenly. "And from the looks of it, your man is feeling much 
better.  Why not let the paramedic go now.   It's dark, she has no way 
of knowing which direction you're heading or your destination.  Let 
her go.  You've got me for a hostage," he reasoned. He was grateful 
Scully was taking a look at Bo, certain his request would have made 
her furious had she heard it.

Jacobs chewed on his lip.  It didn't seem like that bad of an idea.
Leaving the woman behind would probably save time once they were at 
the border.  And she was an innocent.  The men were getting pretty 
scared and didn't want more trouble.  That damn Miller woman was 
stirring up a ruckus among the women as it was.  "Let me think on it," 
Jacobs said with a nod and walked back over to direct the others.

"It's the Burial Ground, isn't it?  Or didn't you know the compound
was built on a Blackfoot burial ground?" Mulder called after him.  
Jacobs stopped short and his shoulders tensed.  "The rock through the 
window, the men getting sick, it's all connected, you know.  I've seen 
it before, or at least, I've read about it.  That's why it's 
considered sacred ground.  It's also dangerous to disturb them."  
Mulder really didn't know why he was risking his life by confronting 
Jacobs with this information.  Maybe he felt he could get through to 
him. Whatever made him do it, he was not quite prepared for the 
result.

"What do you know about it?" Jacobs growled angrily.

"Just that it's pretty obvious that FBI agents didn't throw that
tombstone through the window.  It was something else, some other 
power. The compound was built on sacred ground, to the Blackfoot, at 
least.  I don't know why their spirits weren't disturbed before, maybe 
it was when you buried your dead with theirs that they got angry.  
Whatever, they're haunting you still, aren't they?"  Mulder was 
speaking so fast that he was having trouble catching his breath.  It 
was coming in short gasps and the effort of standing was starting to 
take its toll.  Spots were swimming before his eyes, but he held them 
steady, not wavering from his gaze on Jacobs.

"You don't know nothing!" Jacobs shouted.  "You talk too much!"  He
covered the ground between them in a single step and punched Mulder 
with all his might right where the agent's damaged ribs were.  Mulder 
let out a yelp and crumbled to his feet.

Seeing the younger man prostrate before him only served to give Jacobs
a focus for his fear and anger.  He kicked, hit, punched the agent 
with all his force.  A couple of the men ran over to him, but refused 
to try and pull him off.  They just stood there, open mouthed and 
watched.

Dixie and Dana were several feet away, checking out Bo, when they
heard the ruckus.  Dana looked up and saw that Jacobs was in a frenzy.  
It didn't take a psychic to know the target of the attack.  She jumped 
up to run to Mulder, but Dixie shoved her roughly into Tenille's arms.  
"Keep her here," Dixie whispered hoarsely and ran over to the fight.

By the time Dixie arrived at Mulder's side, the young man was covered
with blood but still conscious, protecting his battered body by 
curling into a fetal position.  Jacobs continued his onslaught, his 
anger fueling his efforts.  So intense was his rage he was literally 
blinded by it, and was no longer aware of his own actions. He was in a 
terrifying stupor, his hands and feet no longer connecting with 
Mulder's limp body.

Dixie tried to grab him and pull him off, cognizant of the fact that 
Jacobs would indeed connect with Mulder's broken body again if left to 
his own volition. But Jacobs tossed the small woman aside like so much 
driftwood on a rough sea.  Not deterred by his assault on her, Dixie 
scrambled to her feet.  Looking around desparately, she spied a fallen 
limb a few feet from her, and, using it as a club, brought it down on 
Jacobs right across his broad shoulders.  He let out a roar and turned 
on her, his former prey forgotten.

By this time, Dana had torn herself away from Tenille's grasp and had
run over to stand as close to Mulder as the group of men around him 
would allow.  She had to jump up and down to get a good look over and 
around the men's shoulders.  By some miracle, one of the men turned 
and she finally had a good look.  But at that moment, it was a sight 
she really wished she hadn't been able to witness.

Jacobs was roaring with anger, his face red, his eyes bulging.  No man
had the nerve or the stupidity to step forward and try and protect the 
tiny woman now standing in the eye of the tornado that was John 
Jacobs.  Jacobs lifted Dixie off the ground, shook the old woman 
violently and then threw her as hard as he could against the boulders 
that lined the mine entrance. Dixie hit the rock with a sickening 
crack of bone and slid down to the ground, eyes open, unseeing.

Dana let out a shriek and ran to the little woman, Jacobs finally
coming out of the fog that his anger had induced.  A momentary panic
flashed across his eyes and he glanced around at the others, all 
staring at him, open mouthed, incredulous.  Not one of them needed to 
hear Dana's announcement to know that the old woman was dead.  That 
much was obvious. And what was worse was the fact that their supposed 
leader now stood in the center of their circle, shamefaced, and 
guilty.

No one did anything for a long time.  They stood, some accusing Jacobs
with their eyes, others confused and questioning with gazes that the 
big man refused to answer.  Finally, Jacobs took a deep breath and 
blew it out. His composure was back and with it, the guilt he had 
previously felt vanished.  "I told that damn bitch not to interfere.  
Now look what she made me do!?  If she'd left me be, this would never 
had happened!"  By this time, Bob and Henry had made their way to 
either side of Jacobs.  Bob's eyes flicked nervously over to Tenille, 
but he said nothing to her.  He just flanked Jacobs, with Henry on the 
other side, in case there was a sudden revolt among the men.  Both Bob 
and Henry hefted their weapons as warning against anyone who might 
question Jacobs' actions.

Dana wanted more than anything to go to Mulder, but the men made an
effective wall between them.  She stayed by Dixie's body, holding back
tears as she gently closed the grey eyes.  There was nothing she could 
do. Tenille and a few of the other women, casting furtive glances 
toward the men, came over and covered the body with a blanket.

"C'mon!" Jacobs shouted, more loudly than necessary since everyone was
standing so close and all eyes and ears were on him.  "We're wasting 
time. Leave the body.  We don't have time to bury it and try and make 
a run for it.  The rest of you, get a move on.  We got 15 miles to the 
border and the hounds will be out before light.  We move now."

Jacobs turned and began walking, leading his weary followers into 
darkness, too preoccupied with his own haunted thoughts to hear 
Tenille arguing with Bob.

"We can't just leave him here." She was holding on to Bob's arm, the 
one that held the rifle he had become so proud of. So reliant on. 
"This agent is innocent. Like Dixie. How many more people are we going 
to let him kill?"  Tenille's voice was trembling, her fear impossible 
to mask, but she would be damned if she would let Dixie die in vain. 
The closest thing to a mother Tenille had ever experienced, Dixie had 
lost her life trying to save the man that was struggling to stand up 
just a few feet from them.

"What do you want me to do Tenille? Risk my life to save *him*?" Bob
pointed at Mulder with his rifle, the irony of the situation not 
entirely lost on him. He was the one with the big gun, after all.

Tenille glared at him. For the first time in her life, after she met 
Bob, she had dared herself to dream, to fantasize of a future with a 
man she loved and maybe even a family of her own. The crashing of 
those thoughts, that dream, only intensified her resolve to validate 
Dixie's death. "If you don't do something, I will." She let go of 
Bob's hand, disgusted with the feel of his skin on hers and began 
walking towards Mulder. Dana Scully had already made her way to his 
side, so disoriented were the Yeomen, it hadn't occurred to any of 
them to stop her.

Bob was in a quandary. He felt an undeniable loyalty to John Jacobs. A
loyalty borne out of fear and respect. It was that fear that had him 
frozen in his tracks. The respect he had started to lose a couple of 
days earlier, when it was obvious to Bob something had clicked in 
John's head the instant he threw the scalding water at the federal 
agent. He was so used to following John's orders, no questions asked, 
rarely allowed a free thought, that he was now at a loss. Deep down he 
knew Tenille was right. They couldn't just let the agent die, not 
without trying to save him. But he had no idea where to begin.

Tenille's disgusted glare fueled his own desire to remedy the 
situation. It wasn't until that moment, the moment when she turned her 
back on him, loathing in her eyes, that he realized how much she meant 
to him. Her disdain for him, of his actions or lack thereof, made his 
stomach turn and his heart ache. He reached for her, to stop her, but 
instead turned in the direction John was headed and yelled out to him.

"John," he shouted, waiting for the big man to turn and face him 
before continuing, "what about the federal agent? He needs help."

It wasn't much, but it was a step in the right direction. Tenille 
turned and looked in his eyes. The contempt from a moment earlier was 
gone, replaced by...was it pride? Bob couldn't tell. He was scared to 
death of what might happen next.

"Leave him," John shouted back. "If he's not dead already he will be 
soon. Besides, he was right. One hostage is all we need to get us to 
the border."

No sooner had the words left John Jacobs' lips when a sudden burst of
lightning flashed through the sky, illuminating everyone in an eerie 
burst of light before crashing down on the tree where Dixie Miller's 
body was resting.

The Yeomen scattered as the massive tree was split in half, sending 
bark and branches flying in every direction. When the dust had 
settled, only Dixie's body remained in its original position. Upright, 
without the benefit of a tree to support her.


End chapter 10

From cenergy@earthlink.net Thu Oct 24 23:33:08 1996
The Brotherhood
Chapter 11

By Esther Walker,   cenergy@earthlink.net
and Vickie Moseley,  vmoseley@fgi.net


The mine entrance
Just after midnight

The pitch of one woman's scream only served to further jar the 
Brotherhood. The last 72 hours had taken their toll and there wasn't a 
Brother left that wasn't spooked in one way or another.

John Jacobs was no exception. If anything, he was more distraught and 
frightened than his followers. That realization alone sent shivers 
down his spine. He felt like a hunted man. Or was that a haunted man? 
Loud, ominous laughter left his mouth before he could retrieve it. 
Some of his men turned to face him, but none could look in his eyes. 
It was the hesitation Jacobs needed to regain some of his composure. 
They were afraid of him. Good. He was afraid of himself. He laughed 
out loud again, but this time, if only to his ears, the sound of 
nerves echoed in the background.

Bob, unnerved like the rest of them, managed to seize the moment, 
albeit slowly, and approached Jacobs, making sure to keep a healthy 
distance. "John," he said, breathing deeply before he could continue. 
"I didn't hear what you said. What should we do about the federal 
agent?"

John glared at Bob, but before he could say anything he felt the eyes 
of his men on him. This time, their own fear had given them the 
strength to look their leader in the eye. They had seen the lightning 
and the tree and the image of Dixie, as if suspended in air, as the 
omen they were sure was intended. They could not and would not let the 
agent stay behind. John Jacobs regarded his group slowly, a mildly 
successful attempt to hide his own fears, before speaking to Bob.

"I said," Jacobs spoke evenly, with the enormous control he knew was 
necessary to keep his team at bay, "to bring him along. We need both 
hostages until we can get to the border." With that, John Jacobs 
turned around and began walking, slowly, making sure he heard 
footsteps behind him before picking up his pace.

Bob went back to Tenille and Scully, who had managed to get Mulder 
into a sitting position. One of the women had given Dana a wet 
washcloth and she was slowly wiping the blood off his face when Bob 
came up from behind.

"Can he walk?" he asked.

"Probably not on his own," Scully answered. Bob had just moved up a 
couple of notches in her book and she was trying to relay her 
appreciation by not coming off as angry as she really was.

She put her hand under Mulder's chin and held his head up for 
inspection. His left eye was already swollen shut and his right 
cheekbone was badly bruised, possibly broken. She moved his jaw easily 
and was grateful that that too hadn't been broken in the last attack. 
Mulder tried to smile at her but winced with the effort and she was 
amazed he had it in him to even try. She kissed the top of his head, 
no longer caring who knew what.

"It's time to stand up, G-Man," she said, and, with the help of Bob, 
lifted him onto very unsteady feet.

Mulder felt a wave of nausea and was forced to lean heavily on Scully 
until it passed. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking his back gently. 
"Just close your eyes and let it pass."

When the dizziness tapered he opened his eyes slowly, allowing himself 
to focus on Scully before speaking. "Scully, I..." his breathing was 
labored, like it had been back at the compound, and Scully found 
herself wishing for some of Dixie's snakebite medicine. "I don't 
think...I can...make it..."

Before Scully could open her mouth Bob took over. "Sure you can," he 
said. "You lean on me as much as you have to and we'll get you out of 
this mess, together, okay?"

Mulder nodded weakly at the tall stranger before him.

Tears welled up in Tenille's eyes as she reached over and gently 
squeezed Bob's arm. He responded by handing her his rifle, effectively 
freeing himself to fully help the man on his left.

They began the arduous trek behind the Brotherhood, in search of the 
Canadian border. Mulder was barely conscious, gradually forgetting why 
he was there or why he was fighting to stay alive. Every inch of his 
body ached and every step he took made breathing more difficult.

After an hour of walking through the uneven terrain Scully was certain 
Mulder wouldn't last much longer. He could no longer control the cough 
he had been suppressing earlier and every time he coughed his 
fractured ribs moved, causing more pain and more difficulty breathing. 
The man she loved more than anything in the world was dying before her 
very own eyes, and there was nothing she could do. Or was there?

"Bob," she said quietly, although they were well behind the rest of 
the group, she wasn't taking any chances.

"Hmm?" Bob wasn't taking any chances either.

"He's not going to make it if we keep walking. He needs to lie down, 
to get to a hospital." For an instant Scully felt guilty for talking 
about Mulder as if he wasn't even there. And then, sadly, she realized 
he really wasn't. He was in too much pain to be aware of much.

"What do you suppose we do Ma'am?"

Ma'am. Scully suddenly realized just how young Bob was. He was just a 
kid, in his early twenties, if that, caught up in a mess he had very 
little to do with. "Is your gun loaded?"

"Yes..." Bob wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

"Maybe we can shoot Jacobs..."

"I don't think so." Bob wanted to scream. What had he gotten himself 
into? "I know it sounds like a good idea, but you do that and someone 
else is bound to shoot you in return. Whether they mean to or not, 
they'll just get caught up in the moment. I've seen it happen."

He may be young, Scully thought, but he's right. She wondered what 
kind of life Bob had shared with Jacobs that gave him the insight he 
seemed to possess. "Any suggestions then?" Scully was at a loss. "If 
we don't do something soon, Agent Mulder is going to die." Agent 
Mulder. She wanted to scream, my husband, the father of my child, but 
she didn't. Instead, she listened to his breathing, the short gasps 
punctuated by the wheezing and the coughing and the shuffling of his 
feet as he dragged them along the dirt.

"Let me think about it," Bob said, closing his eyes and taking a deep 
breath. He had done a lot of thinking in the last hour and had come to 
the conclusion that he wanted out of this mess in one piece, with 
Tenille by his side. Another dead federal agent would not bode well 
for his future plans. Even if he wasn't directly responsible for his 
death. It struck him as funny that he was more concerned with having 
to live with himself if he did nothing, with his conscience of all 
things, than with the fear of going to jail. He supposed he had 
Tenille to thank for that. Somehow, in spite of how hard he had tried 
to keep his distance, he had grown very fond of this woman, her 
beliefs and compassion making more than a mild impression.

It occurred to Bob that they could purposely slow down, eventually 
lagging so far behind they would be on their own, but that didn't seem 
right to him. He counted a lot of the men in the Brotherhood as his 
friends and deserting them with the madman that had become John Jacobs 
was not an option he was comfortable with. Loyalty went deep in the 
backwoods of Montana.

The FBI man was leaning on him pretty heavily and he was amazed the 
agent hadn't collapsed altogether. He would have to come up with a 
better plan.

***********


John Jacobs didn't like being set up. Worse still he didn't like being 
set up by a ghost. No matter how many swigs of Jim Beam he took he 
couldn't erase the memory of Dixie's blank eyes looking right through 
him. At another juncture in his life he would have regarded the 
lightning as an act of nature. But not any more. Not now. Dixie was 
haunting him. Finishing in the afterlife what she couldn't accomplish 
while she was alive.

He was beginning to wish he had made the escape through the mine by 
himself, without his team of losers tagging along, when Henry came up 
beside him.

"Uh...John," the young man was clearly uncomfortable.

"Speak up boy," John bellowed. "What is it?"

"It's Bo, John. He seems to be taking a turn for the worse. Mary says 
he has a high fever and is startin' to say things that don't make much 
sense."

John thought about Henry's words, their implications. What he wanted 
to do was shoot Bo  in the head, like a wounded animal, and put him 
and everyone else out of their misery. But he was smart enough to know 
he wouldn't get away with it. Hell, he was surprised he'd gotten away 
with killing Dixie. But he knew that was different, Dixie had 
interfered with a man on a mission. Bo hadn't done anything wrong.

"Okay," John finally answered. "We'll stop here for a bit. Go an' get 
the doc woman and see if she can do anything for Bo. But we stop for 
no more than 20 minutes. And then we move on, with or without Bo." He 
added the last part of the sentence for good measure. John Jacobs was 
still in charge and no one better forget it.

***********


Bob was practically carrying Mulder, most of the agent's weight 
resting on the young man's shoulders, when he saw Henry approaching.

"It's Bo," Henry said by way of introduction. "He's gettin' worse. He 
has a high fever and John wants her to look at him." He motioned 
towards Scully, unable to make eye contact with the woman he viewed as 
an innocent bystander caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Bob looked at Mulder and then back at Scully. "Let's get him over to 
that tree," he said, pointing to a large oak about ten feet away. 
"Tenille and I will stay with him while you go check on Bo."

Scully had no choice and merely nodded. She was grateful for the 
opportunity to stop walking. For Mulder as well as for herself. The 
situation was definitely taking its toll on her, on her body, and she 
was beginning to worry about the baby. How long could she go without 
food or water before adversely affecting the baby? She denied herself 
the answer, refusing to think about the possible complications.

Bo settled Mulder down carefully, stepping back to let Scully bend 
down and take a closer look.

"Hey," she whispered, "you hanging in there?"

Mulder attempted a smile, failing miserably. "I'm hanging," he 
answered between gasps for air. "You okay?"

Scully smiled, forced but sincere. "Yes," she said firmly. "I'm fine. 
And so is the baby," she added, reassurance for both of them. "I'm 
going to go check on Bo and be right back. Tenille and Bob will stay 
with you, okay?"

Mulder nodded, closing his good eye while Scully felt his forehead. He 
could feel the effects of the fever ravaging his body and shivered 
slightly as a chill cursed through him. He vaguely remembered telling 
himself to stay awake. To keep trying. To hold on. But even sitting 
was a major effort. Never mind breathing. He felt Scully move away 
from him and heard her say something to someone. He wanted to open his 
eyes, to listen, to contribute, but couldn't. He heard the words fever 
and pneumonia and warm. Was that Bo she was talking about? Or was it 
him? Mulder had a sinking feeling it was him, but he lacked the energy 
to ask. Or the will to stay awake.

***********

Bo was running a low grade fever, nothing that would make him 
delirious, and for all intents and purposes Scully found him to be 
reasonably healthy.

"I'm fine," Bo growled, pushing Scully's hand away from his forehead. 
"It's Mary, she started all this. I think she's goin' crazy."

Scully recognized Mary as one of the women that had been so attached 
to Dixie. The young wife of one of the Brothers, she was no more than 
25 years-old with very long, blond hair and blue eyes that were 
permanently clouded with bitter memories.

"I guess I'll go talk to Mary, then," Scully said, leaving Bo and 
walking to where the young woman stood, alone, about ten feet away 
from where everyone had gathered.

Mary was rubbing her arms vigorously, rocking herself back and forth 
as if cold, but Scully realized right away that Mary was shaking. She 
was terrified of something.

"Mary..."

"There ain't nothin' wrong with Bo," Mary whispered, a low sob 
punctuating her words.

"What?" Scully didn't understand.

"Your man, he's dyin'. He needed to stop walkin'." Mary rubbed her 
arms harder.

Scully wanted to take her in her arms, to stop her from shaking, to 
tell her she would be okay, that she had done the right thing, but 
instead she just stared. The right words escaping her. "I...um...thank 
you," she finally said. "You're right, he did need to stop walking but 
unfortunately, short of hitting Bo on the head, I don't think I can 
make him rest for any length of time."

Mary smiled for the first time in days. "I wish you *would* hit Bo 
over the head," she said. "He's been driving us crazy ever since he 
started feelin' better." Mary turned serious again and looked in the 
direction of John Jacobs. "John," she whispered, "he's really drunk. I 
sorta thought if he sat down for a few minutes he might doze off and 
you two could make a run for it."

My man is dyin', Scully thought to herself bitterly. He's not going to 
be doing any running in the near future. "I appreciate that, Mary, 
but..."

"No, look," Mary interrupted, eyes bulging with excitement. "He's 
nodding off."

Scully stared at John Jacobs' prostate form in disbelief. Mary was 
right. Jacobs had found a tree stump and had fallen asleep. "But won't 
the men wake him, urge him to keep moving?" Dana though out loud.

"No one would ever dare wake up John Jacobs," Mary said ominously. 
"They woulda never done it before and they surely ain't gonna do it 
now."

Scully nodded, understanding. She touched Mary's shoulder gently and 
smiled her appreciation. Mary smiled in return and went to join her 
husband.

Scully stopped by Bo before making her way back to Mulder. If only for 
the sake of appearances. "Bo, from what Mary tells me, you had a 
pretty high fever," she said in her irritating doctor mode. "You're 
lucky it's gone down. If you don't want a relapse of what ailed you in 
the first place I suggest you take it easy for a while."

Bo didn't flinch, instead he looked at John's sleeping form and 
replied sarcastically, "I guess I ain't got much choice now."

Scully didn't bother to respond, choosing instead to turn her back on 
him and join her husband as quickly as she could. The sight of Mulder 
made her choke back tears. He was asleep and covered with a blanket, 
but his face spoke volumes as to the pain and agony he was going 
through.

Bob and Tenille were sitting on his right, holding hands. Scully chose 
to sit on Mulder's other side, but not before checking his pulse and 
feeling his cheek and forehead. She took his hand in hers and held it, 
not trusting herself to speak without breaking down. All she wanted 
was to put her head on his chest and go to sleep. Hoping that when she 
woke up, the nightmare would be over.

"How's Bo?" Tenille managed to ask.

"Fine," Scully answered quietly. "I told him he should rest for a 
while." She paused. She needed a plan of action. No, they needed a 
plan, she thought ruefully. There was very little, if anything, she 
would be able to do on her own.

"John's asleep," she said softly, pausing for effect. "We need to come 
up with a plan of action. Right now, the way I see it, Jacobs is the 
one looking at a life sentence without the possibility of parole. The 
rest of you might serve some time for aiding and abetting, but that's 
minor. Kidnapping two federal agents is a major offense. If you work 
with me, if you help us, chances are most of the big charges will be 
dropped."

Bob was letting it all sink in. "Are you a federal agent?"

"Yes."

"You're not a paramedic?"

"No. I was trained as a medical doctor but I work as a special agent 
for the FBI." She looked at Mulder before continuing. "This is my 
partner." She had begun to trust Bob in the last few hours but still 
wasn't comfortable telling him everything. If Mary knew Mulder was 
'her man' she assumed Tenille did as well. Bob would find out soon 
enough.

As was his style, Bob didn't answer right away, letting the 
information sink in, a possible course of action develop, before 
speaking.

Scully knew from experience the situation was a delicate one and she 
needed to act accordingly. Any plan, in order for it to be successful, 
had to come from Bob, from one of their own. It would have to benefit 
the Brotherhood and be for that purpose, not for the purpose of 
freeing the federal agents. And although she had several suggestions 
she wanted to make, she held her tongue. For all his kindness in the 
last couple of hours, Bob had still been John's sidekick for many 
years, in a man's world where a woman's opinion didn't carry much 
credence. Scully knew she had to tread carefully.

After a few minutes, Bob finally spoke. "I think I might have an 
idea," he said slowly, still thinking. "I'm going to go and run it by 
some of the guys. I'll explain it when I get back." With that he stood 
up and walked away.

Scully wanted to stop him, to yell after him, but didn't. Instead, she 
looked over at Tenille, who was intently watching him disappear into 
the crowd. "I hope he knows what he's doing," Scully mumbled.

"Me too." Was all the young woman could say before finding a 
comfortable spot on the ground where she could sleep, and possibly 
dream of a better future.

Scully leaned her head against Mulder's shoulder, grateful that 
Tenille had nothing to say to her either, and closed her eyes. Only 
for a second, she told herself. Every instinct told her to run. She 
was fairly certain no one would go after her. Just as certain as she 
was that Mulder would die where she left him. She didn't know the 
backwoods of Montana and in the dark she wouldn't get very far very 
quickly. No, she would rather die with Mulder than alone trying to get 
help.

The desire to sleep was overwhelming and Mulder's steady wheezing was 
a difficult lullaby to resist. Against her better judgment, she 
dropped her guard and slept.



Outside the compound
4 A.M.

Walter Skinner leaned over the makeshift table, his eyes scanning the 
map in front of him, looking for anything he might have missed the 
first 20 times.

"Walt, you're not going to do anyone any good if you don't get any 
sleep." Spencer Thornley looked like he had been to hell and back in 
the last two days. And trying to keep up with Walter Skinner wasn't 
helping.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep," Skinner didn't bother 
looking up from the map. "Come daybreak I'm out of here, with or 
without you."

"I've already told you you're not going into those backwoods without 
me, A.D. Smart Ass." At last Thornley got Skinner to look up. "Now, 
what the hell is it you keep looking for on that map?"

Skinner sat down and took his glasses off, rubbing his tired eyes 
while he spoke to his friend. "I don't know, really. I keep thinking 
there must be a trail somewhere, a path, something to enable the 
Yeomen to quickly and easily make it to the border. I'm sure that's 
where they're headed."

Thornley shook his head. "I know what you're saying Walt, but there's 
nothing there. That's as comprehensive a map as you're going to get 
and we've been over it a dozen times. We'll just have to get in there, 
on foot, and look for them that way. For all we know they may still be 
in the mine."

"You're right," Skinner sighed, putting his glasses back on and 
glancing at the map one more time. "I just wish we knew where to 
begin. The weather forecast doesn't look good, so our window for 
getting in and out is a lot smaller than it was."

Thornley nodded. The thought had already crossed his mind an hour ago. 
A severe rain storm was predicted for later that day and if they were 
in the middle of the forest when it hit, they would have to wait it 
out before a helicopter could come back in for them. "We'll find 
them," he said, in a distant, not so convincing voice. "In the 
meantime, why don't you get some shut eye. Daybreak is less than two 
hours from now, you'll be lucky if you can catch an hour's sleep."

Skinner nodded as Thornley walked past him and out of the tent. When 
his friend was out of sight, he looked at the map in front of him one 
more time.

***********


Somewhere in the backwoods of Montana
5:30 A.M.

Dana Scully was running, running as fast as she could from the 
Blackfoot Indian that was chasing her. He was carrying a handful of 
leaves and plants and he was trying to give them to her. But they had 
started to smoke in her hands the last time she had held them and she 
was afraid. She didn't want them but he kept insisting. She ran and 
he ran after her, shouting words she couldn't understand, throwing 
leaves into the wind, in the hopes that she would catch them.

Dana was out of breath, out of energy to keep running, and she had to 
stop. When she did, she felt an uncontrollable urge to turn around, to 
face the Blackfoot that had so haunted her dreams. What she saw gave 
her a staggering sense of peace and she nearly lost her balance and 
fell. The Blackfoot was gone and Dixie was in his place, holding the 
same leaves and plants the surreal Indian had tried to give her. Dana 
could hear Dixie's voice, distant and soothing. "Take them," she said. 
"He needs them." The old woman's outstretched hands reached Dana's and 
she handed her everything she was holding. Dana marveled at the beauty 
of the leaves as she turned them over slowly. She was going to ask 
Dixie what they were for and how to use them when her hands started 
shaking. They were shaking so violently everything fell to the ground.

"Ma'am, Ma'am," wake up." Tenille was whispering, shaking Scully by 
the shoulders in an effort to wake her up.

"What...where?" Mulder's coughing immediately brought her to the 
present. His fever was up and his cough was now thick and wet. Scully 
didn't like the sound of it.

"He's not soundin' so good," Tenille said softly. "I'm sorry I woke 
you, I thought you'd want to know."

"Don't be sorry, Tenille. I appreciate your waking me. It was the 
right thing to do." Scully looked around and noticed that a few 
lanterns were still on about 30 feet in front of them. "Where's Bob?"

"He's still talking to the guys. He came back about an hour ago, said 
he thought they had figured out a way out of this and he'd be back 
with the details as soon as he could."

"It's going to be daylight soon," Scully muttered. She was going to 
say something else when she felt Mulder shifting beside her. "Hey, 
sleepyhead. How you doin'?" Scully couldn't help but notice she had 
picked up the native's habit of dropping the g off of everything.

"I think I've been better," Mulder replied honestly. "What's going 
on?"

Scully filled him in, pausing every time he had to cough, stroking his 
forehead tenderly while she spoke. "Don't talk now," she whispered 
when she had finished. "You need to conserve your energy."

"What energy?" Mulder mused. Once again his inappropriate sense of 
humor amazed Scully. It also reminded her of why she loved him as much 
as she did.

"Ma'am?" Tenille was looking at Scully with big eyes, wondering if it 
was okay to interrupt.

"Dana, Tenille. Please call me Dana."

"Okay, Dana," Tenille began, picking up speed with every word. "I've 
got Dixie's Thermos and there's a little bit of that stuff left she 
made for him earlier. You wanna try givin' him some more?"

"I'll try anything at this point," Dana answered sincerely. "How 'bout 
some of that snakebite medicine?" she said to Mulder with a wink.

"Mmm." Mulder forced himself to sit up in anticipation.

***********



John Jacobs thought he had outpaced them, outsmarted them. The 
Blackfoot posse that was after him had ridden right by and didn't see 
him hiding behind a clump of trees. He was laughing out loud when he 
saw the shadow across his eyes. He reached for his gun, but it was 
gone. With lightning speed he was hurled around to face the enemy. 
What he saw made him scream. The blood curdling, high pitched scream 
of a man marked for death.

***********



The arnica tea Dixie had made was still warm, thanks to the vacuum 
flask she kept it in, and Mulder drank it eagerly, anticipating a full 
recovery.

"That's enough," Scully whispered. "Remember Dixie said too much can 
kill you."

"Too much...of...anything can...do that,... Scully," Mulder mused. 
"Hey,...where's Dixie? I don't remember...seeing her...for 
a....while."

Tenille gasped and Scully stared at Mulder. He didn't know. He didn't 
see what had happened. He was probably unconscious when Jacobs had 
killed her.

"What? What...is it?" Panic was creeping into Mulder's voice. But 
before Scully could answer him John Jacobs' scream woke up the forest. 


End of chapter 11