Date: Tue, 29 Aug 2000 21:11:06 -0500
Subject: NEW: Heat Wave (1 of 4) by PRT
Source: xff


TITLE:  Heat Wave
AUTHOR:  Pennyroyal Tea
E-MAIL:  Spookster119@home.com
DISTRIBUTION:  Here, there, everywhere.  Gossamer and Spookys included.  Any
others please let me know where; I like to visit.
SPOILER WARNING:  Tiny ones for Trevor and FTF, of the blink-and-you'
ll-miss-'em variety
RATING:  R, for coarse and probably unnecessary language
CLASSIFICATION:  XS
SUMMARY:  It's summertime, and in the middle of a national heat wave, the
living isn't easy for our two favorite fibbies or the unfortunate victims.

=======================================================

Angelina sat on the fire escape of her slightly run down apartment building.
She wore a bikini top, cutoff shorts, and blue jelly sandals.  Her dog,
Rebecca, sprawled on her lap and struggled to breathe.

"Toby!" she yelled.

Toby poked his sweaty head through the window.  "What?"

"Turn on the radio.  I wanna see when the heat wave is going to break."

Toby rolled his eyes.  "Babe, I told you.  Not for a few days now.  The news
reporter says it may last longer than expected."

Angelina tilted her head back, her skin sticking to the plastic lawn chair.
"Maybe they changed their minds."

Toby retreated into the kitchen and flicked a switch.  A whiny DJ came on.

"Hey, Chicago, this is JVO with Q101, and man, is it hot enough for ya?  The
National Weather Service says the temperature should reach up to 103, with a
heat index that'll make it feel like 120.  Sheesh.  The heat should break by
Friday, and if not, I know some people are going to be seriously pissed!
Man, I tell ya, this is the time you hide inside by your AC and just pray to
God that the heat will break.  Other than that, I got some Metallica on the
way, the new one from MxPx, Papa Roach, Eminem, and hell, I'll even throw in
a little Kid Rock for ya, coming up next."

JVO shut up and a commercial for McDonald's played.  Angelina peeled her
neck off of the chair and stared across the street, to where a couple was
vigorously making love in the comfort of their air-conditioned apartment.
"Jeez," she muttered, leaning forward.  Rebecca shifted to keep position and
continued her labored breathing.

Toby climbed out onto the fire escape.  "Whatcha watching, Ange?"

"Some couple is getting it on across the way," she said as Toby peered over
her shoulder.  "I don't know why, in this heat."

"Their building has air conditioning," Toby explained.  The couple must have
realized they were starring in their own live action porno, because the man
got up and closed the shades.

"Damn," Angelina muttered.  Toby patted her shoulder.  "I'm gonna make some
Kool-Aid.  You want a glass?"

"Sure."  Toby crawled back into the apartment, whacking his head on the open
window.  Angelina giggled.  They had been living in their apartment for
almost four months now, and he still hadn't quite mastered that window.  She
figured that he probably would by the time they moved out of there.  Toby
and Angelina were married four months and saving up to buy a house in the
suburbs, instead of this cruddy neighborhood, filled with retired
shopkeepers and their thirty-year-old furniture.

Angelina listened to her husband rattle around in the kitchen.  She adjusted
in the lawn chair, feeling the pull of the warm plastic against her thighs.
Rebecca protested the movements.

"Sorry, Becks.  Boy, I could swear it's getting hotter by the minute!"
Rebecca whuffed and laid her head down.  Angelina's brow furrowed.  She
could feel her body temperature going up, she swore.  She shrugged, guessing
it was just the afternoon sun.

Rebecca's head jerked off Angelina's lap.  She let out a few sharp barks at
her mistress, and then jumped off her lap and through the window,
surprisingly agile for an overweight lapdog.  "What's with you?" Angelina
wondered.  She rubbed her arms, smelling sweat, sunscreen, and...smoke?

She looked at her skin in alarm.  Thin black stripes of smoke rolled off her
arms and into the mercilessly bright sky.  She watched in horror as the
smoke grew thicker.  "What the--"

Her scream was accompanied by the shattering of glass when Toby dropped the
Kool-Aid at the shock of watching his wife erupt into flames.

=======================================================

Her entire body was wet.  Trails of moisture coursed along her skin, soaking
the hair at the nape of her neck, sticking her blouse to her back like she
was participating in a wet T-shirt contest, pooling along the undersides of
her breasts.

She glanced over at her partner.  His jacket was slung over the back of his
chair.  Sweat soaked his shirt as well, giving his underarms the look of a
well-used coaster.

"Mulder," she said.

"Hmm."

"It's a scientific fact that heat rises."

He slowly looked up at her.  "And?"

"Logically, then, it should be somewhat cooler in here, right?"

Mulder glanced over at a thermometer he had set on his desk.  "It is cooler
in here, Scully.  It's 97 degrees.  Upstairs its 102."

Scully wiped her brow and wished she could take her jacket off.  She
silently worked on her autopsy notes and was only interrupted when Mulder
made a noise.

"You sound impressed, Mulder.  What is it?"

He tapped the computer screen.  "A woman was burned in Chicago."

"And?"

"Mysterious.  She was sitting out on her fire escape and burst into flames."

Scully stood up and walked over to him.  "She burst into flames?"

"Yep.  Witnessed by her husband.  Poof."

"Mulder, people just can't burst into flames.  That'd be spontaneous human
combustion--"

"Ooh, Scully, you know how my heart leaps when you say that."

"--And that's impossible.  It's basically every chemical reaction in a body
firing off at once.  A body would have to be at least 212 degrees, and the
air temperature would have to be 212 also just to keep the body burning.
And while it *is* extraordinarily hot, I seriously doubt it's 212 degrees
outside."

"Well, Scully, if it isn't spontaneous human combustion, what is it?"

They stared at each other for a moment.  Scully broke the silence.  "No,
Mulder.  No.  I have reports to work on, notes to finish--"

He grabbed his suit coat and headed towards the door.  "Bring them along."

Scully gritted her teeth and waited a full minute before grabbing her
paperwork and chasing him down the hallway.

=======================================================

Their flight landed at Midway Airport.  The captain announced that the
outside temperature was 99 degrees, with a dewpoint of 88.  Scully could see
a thick haze hanging over the rooftops and highway ramps, obscuring the view
of downtown.  Wavy heat lines rose from the tarmac as workers threw luggage
onto a cart in the cruel sun.

Scully glanced over at Mulder, who was trying to retrieve his briefcase from
under the seat.  "Mulder, do you hear that? Ninety-nine degrees.  I want
air-conditioning in everything.  The car, the hotel, everything."

He saluted her and stood up, narrowly missing whacking his head on the
overhead compartment.  "Ten-four, agent."

The airport's gates were too small, and the aisles too narrow; people
crammed shoulder to shoulder and glared at the agents every time they
slammed through.  By the time they reached the front door they were battered
and splashed with other people's sweat.  Scully pushed open the front doors
and shouted, "TAXI!"

Mulder caught up with her.  "Jesus, Scully...I didn't know you could shove
through a crowd like that.  Did you ever play football?"

"Only in the backyard."  She slid into the taxi and grabbed Mulder's hand.
"Come on, it's cool in here."

=======================================================

Jamie lay on a towel, spread over the dead grass.  Her brother, Bobby, came
outside and sat down on the porch, in the shade.

"You're an idiot," he informed her.

"Shut up."

"Dude, it's like, a hundred degrees out here.  Why in the hell would you lie
out in the sun?"

"I'm working on my tan, now go away, you douchebag!"  She rolled her eyes
behind her sunglasses.  <Brothers,> she thought.

Bobby slouched against the aluminum door.  The metal felt slightly cool from
the AC inside.  He wiped his brow and looked at the angry red eye glaring
down at the Earth.  <Stupid bitch,> he thought.  <Too dumb to go inside.>

"You're an idiot, Jamie."

"And you're a douchebag, so shut up and get me a soda."

"Get it yourself!"

Jamie sat up and scowled at her brother.  She was sixteen and he was twelve,
and both were volatile with adolescent hormones.  There wasn't a day that
went by that wasn't punctuated with a screaming match about something
completely irrelevant.  As Bobby stared, his eyes widened in fright.  Good,
she thought maliciously.

"Jamie...you're on fire!"

Jamie appeared confused until she removed her glasses and saw anorexic curls
of what appeared to be smoke rising off of her skin.  "What the fu--"

Jamie and her brother screamed as she erupted into fire.

=======================================================

Toby Jenkins, a stubby, young, potbellied man, sat numbly at the scarred
butcher block table in his kitchen.  An oscillating fan hacked up humid air
on each trip around.  Dirty dishes slept in the sink and the refrigerator
rattled like a junky car.  Rebecca sprawled on the linoleum tiles, breathing
like she'd been smoking since she was a puppy.

"I know you went through this with the police," Mulder said, "but we'd like
to hear it.  What happened that afternoon?"

Toby fingered the drops of water that had condensed off of his glass.  "Oh,
Jesus, I don't know.  I was sitting here, by the fan, and she was sitting
out on the fire escape.  I can't understand why, I mean, it's a hundred
degrees every damn day...."

The fan swirled on its base and blew all of Scully's hair to the front of
her head.  Toby hung his head.  "I dunno," he mumbled.  "She just, she just
liked hot weather, I guess.  It was too hot for her now, I guess she sat out
there and watched for when the heat wave would break."

Rebecca slowly stood up and walked over to Toby.  He allowed her to jump
into his lap as he continued speaking.  "Angelina was sitting out on the
fire escape, and Becks here was lying in her lap.  She was watching some
couple banging across the way, and then I got her a glass of Kool-Aid,
and..."

Toby dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.  "She just burst into flames,
man.  I don't know why, or how.  Just...boom, you know?"

Mulder glanced at his partner, who was unsuccessfully trying to keep her
hair from flying into her eyes every thirty seconds.  "What do you think
happened, Toby?"

Toby slapped the table and Rebecca barked.  "I told you, I don't know!  You
don't think *I* did it, do you?  Why the hell would I set my wife on fire?"

"Nobody suspects you of anything, Mr. Jenkins.  We have to ask these type of
questions."  Scully soothed.  "Do you think we could see the fire escape?"

Toby pointed to the window, and the agents headed over.  Toby took the
opportunity to flip the asthmatic dog off of him and lock himself in the
bathroom.

Mulder climbed out and stood on the fire escape.  The rusty metal groaned
sleepily as it accepted his weight.  "What do you think, Scully?"

"Well, Mulder, what do you think?"

"I think you think this is a waste of time."

Scully leaned her elbows on the windowsill.  "Not necessarily.  Perhaps
there was some kind of accelerant used."

"Like what?"

"Kerosene, gasoline, hell, maybe even nail polish remover.  Something very
flammable."

"But how would that get on Angelina Jenkins' body?"

Scully shrugged.  "She could have spilled something on herself."

Mulder turned to her.  "So you're saying she spilled gasoline on herself,
ignored it, and went out into the sun, and the heat alone caused her to
explode?"

Scully squinted at him.  "Fine.  Dazzle me, Mulder, with *your* brilliant
theory."

Mulder paused, feeling sweat beads trickle down the side of his face.  "I
don't know right now, Scully.  Maybe the sun did it."

Scully leaned farther out the window, almost knocking over a scraggly potted
cactus.  "The sun?  Did he throw down a bolt of lightning?"

"That was Zeus, Scully.  Not Apollo."

"Whatever."

"The heat's slowing you down, Scully.  Usually you're on the ball."

Scully shrugged, feeling a drip of sweat slip down her spine and dampen the
waistband of her skirt.  "I'm working on it, Mulder.  I need an AC, some dry
clothes, and a really tall daiquiri, then I'll be able to playfully banter
with you."

Mulder grinned.  "Let's go see if we can fix that."  He crawled back into
the apartment and led her to the door.

=======================================================

End Part One

Heat Wave by Pennyroyal Tea
Part Two

=======================================================

Scully's hotel room was chilled like a beer in a cooler.  She sighed in
relief and kicked off her shoes, sending them flying rather dangerously
across the room.  Her jacket was soon discarded  in the corner.  She padded
into the bathroom and ran the cold water into the tub.  While it filled, she
looked in disgust at her reflection.  She was glowing with heat and sweat,
and a faint pink stripe had appeared across her nose.  She unbuttoned her
blouse and it fell to the tiles.

She reached for the zipper on the back of her skirt and was interrupted by a
sharp knock.  "Hey, Scully, you decent?"

She glared at the bathroom door.  "What's up?"

"There's been another... fire."

Scully let out a long sigh and turned off the water.  "I'll be right out."

=======================================================

Mulder and Scully inspected the grass on the front lawn.  The blades were
sharp and crinkly in death, and a lovely beige color.  Except for the ring
where the already dying grass was burnt to a crisp, the yard looked like
every other yard on the quiet street.  It was an average neighborhood,
deceptively serene.  The street could have been mistaken for any other
street in suburban America, if not for the roar of traffic on Dempster,
merely three blocks away.

"Wow."  Mulder muttered, pushing his damp hair back from his forehead.  "I
mean...wow.  You don't usually expect this sort of thing."

"Well," Scully started tiredly, "I suppose we'll find out more once we get
to the police, and I do a few autopsies."

"I already talked to the police, Scully.  Lieutenant Grabowski was more than
willing to hand this over to us.  He doesn't want to fool with anything
freaky-deaky."

Scully and Mulder walked into the modest Chicago bungalow, where Mrs.
Dettweiller was waiting for them.  "Did you find anything?" she asked
hopefully.

"No, but we need to ask you a few questions.  What exactly happened
yesterday, Mrs. Dettweiller?"

Mrs. Dettweiller was a swizzle stick with badly dyed black hair and Bermuda
shorts.  She kept her eyes on her feet, wiggling her Barbie pink toes
occasionally.  "I was inside, watching the WGN News.  They were talking
about that other woman that died, Angela Johnson or something.  Bobby was
outside on the porch, and Jamie was sunbathing.  Suddenly, they were
screaming, and I called the fire department, but it was too late."

She swallowed hard and wiped her eyes.  "I feel so sorry for Bobby.  He and
his sister got along so well.  He'll really miss her."

A burst of loud, angry music exploded from down the hall.  They all turned
their heads.  "Is that Bobby?"  Mulder asked.

Mrs. Dettweiller nodded.  "I'll go get him."

She headed down the hall.  Scully let out a tiny snort.  "Ironic, isn't it."

"What?"

She jerked a thumb towards the music and Mulder listened carefully.  It was
loud, the pissed off angry metal kind.  "Pardon me while I burst into
flames," the lead singer bitched.  Mulder looked curiously at his partner.
"Would you be listening to that if your sister had just spontaneously
combusted?"

"Mulder," she warned.  He held up his hands in acquiescence as the music
shut off abruptly.  Mrs. Dettweiller led a twelve-year-old boy in a
Slipknot T-shirt into the living room.  He sullenly flopped down into the
recliner across from the couch where Mulder and Scully sat and avoided all
eye contact with the adults.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"What happened yesterday afternoon," Scully replied.

Bobby shrugged and kept his eyes on the tattered carpet.  "I was sitting out
on the porch, because my friend was gonna come over in a few minutes.  Jamie
was lying in the sun, working on her tan. I told her she was stupid for
sitting out there in the afternoon.  She called me a douchebag."

"Bobby!"  Mrs. Dettweiller scolded.

"What?  She called me a douchebag!"

"Bobby!  Not in front of the FBI!"

The FBI exchanged looks.

"Anyway," Bobby continued, "she started smoking.  Like, smoke was coming off
her skin.  Then she just sort of--well, she--exploded.  I don't know how
else to describe it."  Bobby's voice started to crack.  "She just...in
flames, and I grabbed the garden hose and tried to put her out."

"Did it work?" Mulder asked.  Bobby shook his head angrily.  "No, I was too
late," he rasped.  "She just...you know, for like, thirty seconds, and then
she was out."

Scully bit her lip.  "Thank you for speaking to us, Bobby.  You can go now."
Bobby jumped up and dashed back to his room, slamming the door.  The whole
house shook.  A photo of Jamie with a sash and crown fell to the floor.
Mrs. Dettweiller looked apologetically at the agents.  "I'm sorry; he's
just..."

"We understand," Mulder said, picking up the photo.  "Is this your
daughter?"

Mrs. Dettweiller nodded sadly.  "She entered that contest sponsored by NBC.
She got to ride on the float in the St. Patrick's Day parade."

Mulder showed the photo to Scully, then handed it back to Mrs. Dettweiller.
She took it as if it were a holy relic.  "If you can think of anything else,
please let us know." Mulder handed her a business card.  She accepted that,
too, and tucked it inside the frame.

The two agents headed out to the car.  Bobby had turned the stereo back on
and was listening to a different CD.  Grinding electronica this time.  "I
got the rationale of a New York cop, I got the patience of a chopping
block," the singer crowed.  Mulder cranked up the AC in the car.
"Scully..."

"What?"

"This looks like a pretty straightforward case of human combustion to me."

Scully sighed and rubbed her forehead.  "I know, I know, Mulder, but there
has to be another explanation.  I know there is."

He shook his head.  "Spontaneous human combustion, Scully.  The evidence,
come on!  Bobby's story--the quick burning of the body, the smoke, the high
temperature..."

"What high temperature?  We don't know that."

"The sun, Scully.  Both women were in direct sunlight.  The sun's hot, isn't
it?"

"Yes, but look at the other evidence.  If it was spontaneous human
combustion, the body would have burned a lot more, because the amount of fat
on the body would have fed the flames.  Also, the sun is hot, but it isn't
over 200 degrees.  That's why she only burned for thirty seconds."

"What about the hose?"

Scully paused.  "He was too late, Mulder."

"Maybe he was on time, it's just that the water was too hot."  Scully raised
an eyebrow.  "What, Scully, you've never turned on a garden hose that had
been in the sun?"

Scully shook her head as he pulled into the hotel parking lot.  "Tomorrow,
Mulder, we're going to continue this investigation.  For now, I don't want
you to speak to me unless it's absolutely necessary."

He laughed and agreed.  "All right, Scully.  Don't drink too many
daiquiris."

=======================================================

After stripping off all of her clothes, pouring some cheap alcohol from the
minibar into a plastic hotel cup, and soaking in a cold bath for an hour,
Scully felt like a brand new woman.  She sat cross-legged on the bed in her
pajamas, working on her laptop.  She was looking for other instances of this
sort.  She was determined not to admit that it was spontaneous human
combustion; though with a lack of real evidence until tomorrow, it sure
seemed like it, even to her skeptical mind.

The door rattled as someone smacked it with a fist.  "I told you not to
speak to me, Mulder," she called.  "Not unless it's important."

"I think Fudgesicles are very important, Scully."

She pondered this for a moment, sipping her alcohol.  After a moment, she
got up and opened the door.  He grinned at her.  "Nice PJs, Scully."

She took a Fudgesicle from him and shut the door against the unwelcome swell
of heat.  "Thanks."

He glanced over at the laptop.  "What're you working on?"

She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs.  "Well, I'm trying to see if
there are any other recorded instances of events like this."

Mulder turned the laptop so he could read the screen.  She had been playing
Solitaire.  "I just wanted to tell you that lovable Lieutenant Grabowski
released the reports from Angelina Jenkins' case.  Apparently, the ME did an
autopsy before I could put in your request, so he sent that over.  Jamie
Dettweiller is still scheduled for tomorrow morning."  He handed her the
files.  "Why don't you look over these and see if you can find anything
important."

He got up and threw his stick into the trash.  "Where are you going?" she
asked.

"Back to my room.  Research."

Scully squinted at the burst of humid air that rushed in as Mulder left.
She sighed, dipped her Fudgesicle into her drink, and opened a file.

=======================================================

The next morning Scully hunched over the table where Jamie Dettweiller lay,
burnt like a badly cooked hot dog.  Scully grimaced and began her external
examination.

The file on Angelina Jenkins' autopsy revealed a few interesting notes.  The
skin had been burnt, but a few layers down the tissue was unharmed.  Her
insides were fine; as well as a dead person's insides could be.  Scully
hoped to find the same thing with Jamie's body.

She pressed her scalpel into Jamie's chest.  "Note: tissue is red several
layers underneath."

The door to the room opened a crack.  "Can I come in?"

Scully turned off the tape recorder and waved him in with a gloved hand.
"Find anything interesting?" he asked.

"Yes, actually.  I don't know if you read the report on Angelina Jenkins"--a
quick glance to his face revealed he hadn't--"the ME noted that the burn
seemed completely external.  The tissue was fine underneath.  So far it
seems as if Jamie Dettweiller here is the same."

"What burns like this?"

Scully shrugged.  "Small fires, maybe.  But for this kind of epidermal
damage, I'd have to say radiation burns."

Mulder chewed this over for a few minutes.  "Radiation, huh."

"Well, theoretically, radiation burns, but there's no way that two women in
metropolitan Chicago could suffer radiation burns.  There's no nuclear plant
nearby; the closest one is in Zion, and if there were malfunctions the area
would be evacuated.  The radiation probably wouldn't reach this far north,
and they'd have to be right in the heart of the nuclear blast to cause this
much damage."

Mulder stared at her.  "Uh-huh.  So you think it's radiation?"

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it, afraid some
scathing comment about his attention span would slip out.  "I need to finish
this," she said.  "I'll tell you about it when I'm done."

Mulder nodded and disappeared through the doors, leaving Scully alone with
poor Jamie Dettweiller.  Scully stared at her, and muttered one word.
"Damn."

=======================================================

When Scully finished, she walked out and found Mulder sitting on a plastic
chair, reading a six-month-old issue of "Cosmopolitan."  He looked up when
he heard her footsteps.

"Your prognosis?"

"Same as Angelina Jenkins.  Funny enough, though, the burnt tissue goes down
a little deeper on Jamie than Angelina."

"How much deeper?"

"Few millimeters."  Scully shrugged.  "Maybe she burned a bit longer than
Angelina."

Mulder thought this over.  Scully took a deep breath and said, "So
Mulder...are you a sex kitten or not?"

His head whipped up and she pointed to the blurb on the cover.  He grinned
in a seductive manner.  "I'm not a sex kitten, Scully...I'm a sex tiger."

A laugh bubbled out of her throat.  Before she could shoot a smart-alecky
remark at him, his cell phone rang.  "Mulder."  He sat up straighter and
scrawled an address across the cover model's breasts.  "Okay, we'll be right
there."

"Another burning?"

Mulder nodded and ripped the cover off the magazine.  "Let's ride, G-Woman."

=======================================================

End Part Two

Heat Wave by Pennyroyal Tea
Part Three

=======================================================

The latest victim lived in a nicer, moderately upscale neighborhood than the
previous two. Wider, greener lawns, larger houses, higher incomes, sportier
cars.  The emergency crews were horribly conspicuous.

In the heat, the whole scene looked like a Surrealist painting come to life:
the withered trees, the unconscious lawns, the sleeping houses, all
punctured by the flashing of emergency vehicle lights and their operators.
The entire scene was underscored by Mr. Best's ceaseless screaming.  Mulder
shook his head like a dog; thinking he had been in the sun too long.  He
headed towards the house.

The lawn was swarming with police officers and firefighters.  Two EMTs were
wheeling a sheet covered body towards an ambulance.  Scully touched Mulder's
elbow.  "I'm going to speak with the EMTs.  Find out what happened."

Mulder had very little trouble finding Ritchie's father.  Mr. Best was
taller than Mulder, with the physique of a professional wrestler.  His thin
hair was combed back from his forehead, his scalp peeking through the rows
left by the comb.  He wore nylon athletic shorts and a sweat-stained
undershirt.  He was surrounded by five cops and hopping mad.

"Don't tell me to calm down, God damn it!  My son was only waxing the car!
Why the hell would he burst into flames?!"

Mulder walked over and flashed his badge.  "Mr. Best, we're working on
finding out why he burst into flames.  What exactly happened here?"

"Didn't you just hear me?  Ritchie was waxing my car.  He'd been out there
for at least an hour.  He's a lazy SOB, though, look how far he got!"

Mulder glanced over at the driveway; a silver BMW Roadster waited patiently
for attention.  The shine went up to the front doors.  A bottle of Turtle
Wax and an old rag lay on the cement.

"But I was sitting inside watching the Cubs and I heard him scream, and I
came out here, and there he was!"  Mr. Best continued.  "I can't believe thi
s!  Now who's gonna wax my car?!"  He seemed to deflate as he watched the
EMTs load his son into the back.  "Damn.  What am I supposed to tell his
mother?  I'm already behind in alimony.  And Ritchie's girlfriend.damn."

Mulder walked over to the car and stared at it for a moment, squinting
against the glare.  Scully appeared at Mulder's side.  He pointed to the
car.  "Nice penis."

She gave him a sideways look and asked, "Did you find anything out?"

"Ritchie Best's father is mad as hell.  His son was waxing the car, only got
as far as the doors when he went up."

Scully squinted at the car.  Sunlight bounced off of its surface like it was
an Earth-bound satellite.  "Fun."

He stared at her.  "You know, the heat seems almost tolerable now.  Do you
think the heat wave broke?"

Scully frowned, then looked up at the sky.  "No...we're under a cloud."

As he rolled his eyes skyward, the cloud slipped away and the sunlight
slapped him in the face as punishment for thinking it had disappeared.  He
groaned.

"Scully, I'm moving somewhere cold when I retire."

"We've already been cold places, Mulder, and we always seem to be on the
verge of death in cold places."

His voice dropped.  "So what are you saying?"

She suddenly became very interested in the toes of her shoes.  "I guess...we
never...we seem fine in hot weather."  Scully looked back up at him, placed
a hand on his arm.  "Let's stay that way."

"Agreed."

"I'm going to ride with the EMTs to the hospital.  I'll meet you back at the
hotel after the autopsy."

He watched her jog across the dead grass to the sobbing ambulance.  He took
one glance over at Mr. Best, and then made his way towards the rental car.

=======================================================

Scully knocked on his door and he grunted.  "Come in."

She walked in, wearing only her skirt and blouse.  He shut the TV off.
"So?"

"This is weird, Mulder."  She sat down on the edge of the bed, primly
folding her bare legs underneath her.  "Same thing: the epidermal tissue was
damaged, but the internal organs were fine.  No damage to the bones or
anything."

He frowned and sat up.  "Hmm."

"The only difference I could find was in the damaged tissue itself."  Scully
reached for the autopsy results.  "Angelina Jenkins' burns are five
millimeters deep.  Jamie Dettweiller's burns are a few millimeters deeper,
and Ritchie Best's are a few more millimeters more than Jamie's."  She
tossed the folders aside.  "It's burning progressively deeper, Mulder."

Mulder propped his chin in his hand and furrowed his brow.  "Why, Scully?"

"I don't know, Mulder."

"I think the heat has something to do with it."

"The heat?  Mulder, the sun doesn't burn that bad, even with prolonged
exposure, and it's certainly not hot enough to make a human body erupt into
flames, even with accelerant."

He took a deep breath.  Scully smoothed her skirt absentmindedly.  They were
silent for a few minutes until he heard the jingling from outside.

Mulder crawled off the bed and got his wallet, handing Scully a few dollars.
"Go get us some ice cream, Scully."

She looked at him as if he were crazy.  "Mulder," she said, her voice
holding onto the slightest trace of a whine, "it's at least a hundred and
twelve outside.  I'm not going back out there."

"Ice cream, Scully.  Real ice cream."

She relented and took the money.  Mulder sat at the small table and ran his
hands through his hair.  He thought hard.  Fire...heat...burned
bodies...sun...radiation...!  He grabbed a notepad and the old weather
section of the Tribune.

Scully returned with change and two orange Dreamsicles.  Before she could
open the door, it was swung wide open.

"I got it, Scully."

She raised an eyebrow.  "I was gone for three minutes and you've already
solved the case?"

He pulled her in and slammed the door.  "I got it, Scully.  It's all
progressing from a source."

"What?"

Mulder grabbed a map of Chicago and spread it out on the table.  "Look.
Here's Angelina," he made a circle around her location with a pen.  "Here's
Jamie, and here's Ritchie."  Two more circles, making an awkward line east,
towards the lake.  "Each one gets burnt worse than the next."

"Okay..."

"And look here."  He grabbed his hastily written notes.  "Wednesday, the day
Angelina died, the recorded daytime high at Midway airport was 99.
Thursday, the day of Jamie's death, the daytime high was recorded as 101.
And Saturday, today, the high was 102."

She took a meditative bite of her Dreamsicle.  "So...it's hot?"

"Don't you see, Scully?  The farther east you go, the worse off the victims.
And at the same time, the hotter it gets, the worse the burn!"

Scully nodded and took another bite.  "Okay, okay.  But we're here."  She
made an 'X' over their location, closer to the lake than any of the circles.
"So if we're the farthest east, how come we're not fish fry?"

"I think it has to do with prolonged exposure to the sun."  He anticipated
the arch of her eyebrow and plowed ahead.  "Honestly.  Angelina was sitting
out on her fire escape.  Jamie had been sunbathing.  Ritchie was waxing his
father's BMW.  We've only been outside when walking to or from our car."

She licked the remaining ice cream off her stick.  "So what do we do?"

"We keep an eye out."

"An eye out, Mulder?  There must be at least twenty miles of city around us
in all directions, if not more.  We have to watch the entire area to see if
another person explodes?"

"I know.  We could enlist the help of the police.."

"Mulder, you said so yourself.  The police want nothing to do with anything
freaky-deaky, and, last time I checked, this was pretty freaky-deaky."

He shrugged.  "Well, to be honest, all I can think of to do is wait until
there's another victim.  Maybe we can establish the pattern more before we
actually execute a decision."

Scully leaned over the table.  "Your ice cream is melting."

Mulder quickly unwrapped his Dreamsicle and took a gigantic bite.  "So have
you come to a decision about the burns?"

Scully sighed and thoughtfully tapped the map with her Dreamsicle stick.  "I
don't want to say it's radiation, but considering the turns our other cases
have taken, it just might be."  She sat down and stretched her legs out.  "I
don't know what to do, Mulder.  I'm stumped."

"Hmm."  He looked at the ceiling, then the door, then her feet, as if they
would lead him to the answer like characters in an ancient fairy tale.
"Nice toes, Scully.  I didn't know you painted them red."

"Shut up, Mulder."  But she smiled.  Suddenly, the wail of sirens pierced
the thick, humid air outside.  Scully cocked her head.  "What the hell.?"

"Sirens, Scully.  Fire engines.  The heat must be making you jumpy."

"And off the ball," she replied dryly.  They listened in silence as the
sirens neared.  They grew louder, and then seemed to stop right in front of
the hotel.

Scully jumped out of her chair and walked to the window.  "Shit, Mulder."

Mulder followed her and flung open the door.  "Shit is right, Scully."

The fire engines had parked themselves across the street.  A body lay
charred underneath a huge maple tree, while an old woman stood on the
sidewalk screaming hysterically.  Mulder put a hand on Scully's shoulder and
said, "So much for waiting for the next victim."

=======================================================

When Scully returned from the autopsy the next day, she held a black
rectangular object in her hand.

"Is that a videotape, Scully?"

She smiled slightly.  "Not anything you'd enjoy."  She flicked a switch and
waved it in the air.  "It's a Geiger counter."

"Hmm.  Where'd you get it?"

She pointed it at the TV, and then the bed.  "I borrowed it from the
University of Chicago.  They don't usually rent out their equipment, but I
have connections."

"Neato."  He stood up and walked over to her.  "Think it's radiation, now,
do we?"

Scully kept her eyes on the arrow.  "Couldn't hurt.  I tried it on our
latest victim, Mr. Bill Watters.  He ranked up there."

"And?"

"I tried it on Angelina Jenkins, Jamie Dettweiller, and Ritchie Best."
Scully looked up.  "Follows the pattern, Mulder."

"So something around here is giving off a lot of radiation."

"Yes, but that still doesn't explain why they would combust like that."

"Prolonged exposure to the sun, Scully.  It's taking 'sunburn' really
literally."

She smirked and laid the Geiger counter flat against his chest.  The little
red arrow pointed straight up towards Mulder's nose.

"You're radioactive, Mulder," she murmured.

"Is that bad?"

"You're probably just absorbing it from the air."

His brow furrowed.  "Come with me, Scully."  He grabbed her hand and led her
outside.

"Where are we going?" she asked, digging the heels of her shoes into the
carpet.

"I have a theory."

Oh, great, she thought, letting him pull her along.

=======================================================

Mulder drove slowly down the streets surrounding their hotel.  Scully braced
herself on the passenger door and held the Geiger counter outside, watching
the needle jump back and forth.  The early evening heat, almost gelatinous
with humidity, aggressively pushed its way into the open window.  Scully
turned her head back and spoke over her shoulder.

"You're sure this is going to work?"

He nodded.  "Just let me know when the needle reaches a new count."

Scully frowned.  "Do I have to lean out the window like this?  I don't think
it's very safe, and people are staring."

"If you fall, I'll grab your ankle and haul you back in."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically.

"You're always welcome."

Mulder drove at a leisurely pace, fiddling with the radio.  He left it on a
classic rock station.  They were silent until Scully gasped.

"Holy God-Mulder, stop!"

He hit the brakes, swearing under his breath.  "What is it?"

"This reading," she replied, her voice tinged with awe.  "You gotta see
this!"

He unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled over.  When he peered over her
shoulder, he cursed into her ear.  "Shit.  That *can't* be good."

She shook her head violently, her bright hair swishing against his cheek.
"It's not."

The red needle bounced in place, on the far right side of the scale.  "What'
s giving off that much radiation?" he asked.  Their eyes followed the same
path-outward and upward, into the face of a giant pink water tower.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other.  "The radiation is coming from the
water tower?" she said incredulously.

"Must be, for those kinds of readings."  He scooted back into his seat and
killed the engine.  "I'm gonna take a look."

Scully watched him for a moment as he jogged across the grass.  "Mulder."

He ignored her.  Scully flung her door open and tumbled out, running after
her partner.

Mulder reached the base of the water tower.  A ladder, no wider than two
feet, stretched to the ledge that wrapped around the tower like a lover's
arms.  Scully stopped abruptly.  "Wow, that's high."

Mulder followed the ladder up, tilting his head back.  "Not so high I can't
climb it."

He wrapped his hands around the metal, baked by incessant summer sun.
Scully pointed the Geiger counter up and the needle strained to the right.
"Mulder, if whatever's up there is the source of radiation, be careful."

"If you agree to stop checking out my ass."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Scully's eyes hit the ground.  He smiled
slightly.  "I'm kidding, Scully.  Look  all you want."

As he rose higher into the sky, they had to shout to hear each other.  "Hey,
Scully.  What was the high for today?"

"Um.105, I think."

"Hot enough for you?"

Scully watched the Geiger counter, trying not to think about Mulder losing
his grip and falling to the hard ground.  Instead, she squinted at the tiny
screen, feeling sweat drip from every pore and become absorbed by every
article of clothing.  Mulder stopped to occasionally wipe his palms off on
his T-shirt, already soaked.

"Mulder, how are you feeling?"

Don't look down, he told himself.  "All right.  Not dizzy yet."

She pursed her lips and shielded her eyes from the stare of the sun.  "How
much farther?"

Mulder's eyes rolled skyward.  "Only a little bit."  He reached for the rung
above his head and nearly wet himself when his hand, slick with sweat,
slipped off.  He swore he heard Scully gasp, even from halfway up the
ladder.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

He wiped off his palm and grabbed hold of the rung.  Five minutes of
strained silence passed until he made it to the ledge.  He sat down, held on
tight to the guardrail, and sighed with relief.  From one hundred feet in
the air, he could see the Chicago skyline for miles.

He looked down; Scully was focused on the Geiger counter.  From his vantage
point, she looked like a shining ball of auburn with pale legs and stacked
heels.  "I made it," he yelled.

She tipped her head back like she was receiving a kiss from the sky.  "Good
for you."

"How are those readings?"

"Huge.  Do you want me to come up?"

He squinted, then placed his thumb underneath her and his index finger on
the crown of her head.  "Hey, Scully!"  He pressed his fingers together.  "I
squished you."

He didn't need to be at ground level to see the expression of disdain on her
face.

"Mulder," she called, "look for a door."

He crawled around carefully, checking the tower for seams that could be a
door.  "Found one," he shouted, halfway around.  Scully walked until she
could see him.  She anxiously peered upwards as he opened it.  "Oh my." he
whispered.

"Do you see anything?"

"God damn."  was his response.

"I take that as a yes."

Mulder's eyes widened as he leaned farther into the water tower to see.
"Damn, Scully, you've *got* to see this!"

"It's not a spaceship, is it?"

He shook his head.  "Nah.it looks like.a box."

"A box?  Like a shoebox, or a metal one?"

"Metal.  Come up here and see!"

She shoved the Geiger counter into the waistband of her skirt.  She grabbed
the rungs and hoisted herself onto the ladder.  Halfway up, her heel caught
on a rung and almost twisted her ankle.  "Shit," she muttered, and let her
shoes drop to the dead grass.  She carefully ascended with bare feet and
reached the top.

"Look, Scully.what is it?"

Scully squeezed in the doorway next to her partner.  In the close proximity,
she could smell him, all sweat and Cool Water and excitement.  "God, Mulder,
I don't know what the hell that is."

Suddenly, dizziness struck him like a club to the back of the head.  He sat
back abruptly.  "Mulder?"

"I don't feel so good, Scully."

Her mind quickly made the connection.  "Mulder, get in here!  Get into the
shade, *right now.*"

He pressed a hand to his forehead, as if that would help alleviate the muzzy
feeling in his head.  Shit, he thought.  The sun.  The radiation.  He
thumped to the floor, half in and half out of the door.  Scully swore and
glanced at the box.

 "What the hell.."  Scully breathed.  Her head began to swim and her eyes
felt like they were going to explode.  She had little time to react, because
she fell like a tree in a forest, slumping over Mulder's prone form.

=======================================================

End Part Three

Heat Wave by Pennyroyal Tea
Part Four

=======================================================

As the sun pooled into the earth in the west, a man walked his golden
retriever, braving the temperatures that had lowered to the mid-nineties.
He carried a water bottle in his pocket, his hands held the leash and the
pooper scooper.  He saw a red Buick Regal parked awkwardly next to the curb,
its rear pointing into the street.

He frowned and walked towards the base of the water tower.  The retriever
began sniffing the ground, straining at the leash.  His owner let out a few
feet more of retractable leash and took a sip of water.  He hated that pink
tower.  He had been petitioning for weeks to get it painted white like
everybody else's, and the ward had finally allowed him to get it fixed.  His
neighbors weren't too pleased, but he figured he knew better than people who
hid behind their venetian blinds all day.

He turned his attention back to the dog, who was sniffing a dark pile in the
grass with plenty of interest.  "What's that you got, Cupcake?  What did you
find?"

He crouched down next to Cupcake and frowned.  A pair of shoes-black,
stacked heels.  He absentmindedly scratched the top of Cupcake's head as he
picked one up and turned it.  Cupcake sniffed as his owner thought this
over.  People threw the craziest things out their car windows, even shoes,
but he seriously doubted someone would throw obviously expensive designer
pumps out the car window.  "What do you think, Cupcake?"  Cupcake sat down.
He glanced over at the car, feeling suspicious, and pulled out his cell
phone.  It was his duty as neighborhood watchman, after all, to alert the
police to suspicious activities.

"Yeah, something's up out at the water tower on the corner of West and 17th.
There's a badly parked rental car and a pair of shoes out here.  Nice shoes,
too."

Five minutes later the police showed up, sweating in their polyester
uniforms.  The man chattered animatedly to a cop, and Cupcake lounged on his
side in the dead grass, panting profusely.  One spry cop decided to climb
the tower's ladder.

"Holy shit!"  he called when he reached the top.  "There are two bodies
here!  Call an ambulance!"

The cops on the ground scrambled frantically, as the one on the ladder
checked Scully's pulse.  "They're alive!"  he relayed to the cops.  An
ambulance pulled up and three EMTs crawled up the ladder to assist Mulder
and Scully.

=======================================================

That evening, the heat broke.

=======================================================

Scully slumped in a padded chair next to Mulder's bed.  She thought about
rescinding her earlier comment about them staying out of trouble in hot
climates.  Mulder chose that moment to wake up.

"What the fuck?" he slurred.  Scully couldn't help but smile.  "We're in a
hospital.  Radiation poisoning."

"Radiation poisoning?"

"Whatever was in that tower hit us hard.  We were in direct sunlight for a
while, so it got us."  She shrugged.  "At least we didn't burst into
flames."

Mulder sat up straighter.  "Have there been any more reports?"

She shook her head.  "The heat broke, Mulder.  Two nights ago."

He groaned.  "All gone, Mulder," she said.  "A cold front blew through, and
the temps should be in the seventies and eighties.  Normal summer
temperatures."

"I suppose that's good."

She nodded.  "I've been hearing a lot of cracks lately that if you don't
like the weather here, wait five minutes and it'll change."

Mulder shifted in the bed.  "How soon can we get out of here?"

Scully shrugged.  "I'll have to ask the doctor.  Why are you so eager?"

"We need to get back to the water tower, Scully.  If the heat wave caused
all the problems, we should be in no trouble now.  We can take that box to a
lab and get it analyzed.  See what the heck is up with it."

"What do you expect to see?  'Made in China?'"

He smiled slightly.  "Not exactly.  If the heat wave is over, we could
probably at least take the box apart and see what makes it tick, maybe put a
heat lamp on it, with lab mice or something, made in China or not."

She stood up.  "True.  I'll speak to your doctor."

=======================================================

Mulder and Scully pulled up to the curb.  "This is where we were, right?"
Mulder asked.

"Yeah, West and 17th."  She got out of the car and walked up.  The site was
barred with yellow construction tape.  Men in hard hats and reflective vests
walked around a pile of pink rubble.

"What the." Mulder breathed, eyes wide.  A construction worker walked up to
them.  "Can I help you guys?"

Scully flashed her badge.  "What's going on here?"

He shrugged.  "Water tower came down.  City orders.  Called it an eyesore."

"When did this happen?" Mulder demanded.  "We were here three days ago."

"Shoulda came back earlier.  Tower came down yesterday.  Big implosion, very
popular with the schoolkids."  The worker wiped his hands on his dirty
pants.  "We were waiting for the heat to break.  This job's been postponed
almost two weeks."

Mulder squinted at the rubble.  Scully took over.  "There was evidence
inside the tower that was pertinent to a federal investigation.  You didn't
happen to look inside the tower before you blew it up, did you?"

"We didn't blow it up," the worker corrected.  "It was an implosion.  And
no, we didn't.  The city assured us it was empty."

"Did you find anything odd in the rubble?" Mulder asked.

"Such as.?"

"A metal box?"

He shook his head.  "We didn't really pick through the debris.  If there was
anything, vandals would've gotten to it during the night."

Mulder sighed.  "Well.thanks anyway."

The construction worker tipped his hat to them and returned to work.  Mulder
and Scully headed back to the car.

"Don't you find that a little odd, Scully?"

"What?"

"The most important piece of evidence in our case is destroyed due to city
orders, mere days after the heat broke?"

"Mulder," she shook her head slightly, "weren't you listening?  The tower
was supposed to come down weeks earlier, they were only waiting for the heat
to end.  They didn't even know that box was in there."

"Scully, the evidence was destroyed!  People died and now it's gone.  We
have no proof.  I think it's a cover-up."

She splayed her hands on top of the car.  "Cover-up of what, Mulder?  Yes,
people died, but the box had been there for weeks, who knows, maybe even
months or years!  It probably would have sat there for even longer, if not
for the heat wave.  The tower is only gone because of city orders.  I bet
they didn't even know about the box."

Mulder stared at her.  "Look," she said, a bit gentler, "we can stand here
arguing about something that's pretty much irreversible, or."

"Or what?"

"Or we can go enjoy the sights and sounds of Chi-Town.  I know I haven't had
a vacation in a long time."

Mulder heaved a sigh.  "All right.  Vacation time.  But if we're buying food
we're paying Dutch."

She grinned and opened her car door.  "That's what you think."

Mulder pulled away from the curb and sped down the street.  The construction
worker they spoke to watched them go, then turned as he heard a coworker
call his name.

"Hey, Jeff.  Look what I found." In his hands was a battered and twisted
metal box.  "What should I do with this?" he asked.

Jeff peered down the street at the receding car.  "How the hell should I
know?"

The construction worker looked at the box in his hands for a moment, and
then tossed it into the Dumpster.

=======================================================

The End

=======================================================

End Notes

Story wonderfully beta-read by Amanda

Information on spontaneous human combustion came from the Skeptic's
Dictionary (www.skepdic.com)

Bobby Dettweiller's Discography:
"Pardon Me," by Incubus, from the album =Make Yourself
"(Can't You) Trip Like I Do," by Filter and the Crystal Method from the
=Spawn= soundtrack

And it's not *quite* my own *personal* website, but come visit anyway:
www.fanfiction.net/master.cfm?action=directory-authorprofile&UserID=11763
(there's no space between the hyphen and author)