From: mabtng <mabtng@mindspring.com>
Date: Sun, 01 Sep 2002 20:17:13 -0700
Subject: Last One Standing by mabtng
Source: direct

*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

*****


"Be of sober spirit, be on the alert.  Your adversary, the devil,
prowls about like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
- 1 Peter 5:8

*****

August 7
Boulder Recreational Park
1730 hours


Who needed chicken soup for the soul crap when you had basketball? 
The would-be players had wasted little time with improvised picnic
food and idle chit chat before hitting the court asphalt.  Mulder had
gladly joined Stu and the others.  There was Dick Ellis, a
veterinarian who was acting as town doctor these days, and Harold
Lauder, who had arrived in Boulder with Stu and his group.  Then there
was Ralph and some guy named Teddy. 

Scully sat at the picnic table, Fluffy laying at her feet, watching
the male pick-up game rituals with some amusement.  First, there was
the usual finger pointing and shoulder slaps as the six men divided
themselves into two teams.  Ah.  Women should be able to mobilize that
quickly.  Of course, picking teams for sports was the *only* area
where men could mobilize without argument.

Next came Scully's favorite part.  The "who is shirts and who is
skins" question.  She smirked when she saw Mulder and his team mates
pulling their t-shirts over their heads and tossing them to the
sidelines.  *Yes!* 

"You two knew each other from before."

Scully looked up to find Fran Goldsmith standing next to her.  "I'm
sorry?" she asked.  She had been rather distracted by the view.

Fran sat down beside her, cradling her slightly swollen and definitely
early-pregnant belly.  "You and Fox...Mulder, I mean.  You knew each
other from before."

Scully nodded hesitantly.  After her conversation with Ralph the day
before, she and Mulder had agreed to maintain a low profile.  There
was no telling how people would react if they knew that they had been
employed by the Feds.  So many people were certain it was a government
conspiracy that had caused the Superflu.  Hell.  She and Mulder were
*certain* it had been a conspiracy.  But there would be major problems
convincing a bunch of angry and grieving folks that they were not
involved, that they had actually been working to uncover the evil
deeds of men unseen.  Luckily, Ralph had agreed to help keep
everything as mum as possible, outside of Stu and Glen.

"I knew Harold before, too.  We're both from Maine." She nodded toward
one of Mulder's team mates.  "Wonder what the odds are of that
happening?" Fran mused.

"Pretty slim.  But lucky for us, I think," Scully responded.  She
absentmindedly ran one of her bare feet across Fluffy's back.  The dog
sighed.

"Harold and I were never really *friends* before, but I was glad to
have him around when everyone else was gone..." Fran's voice trailed
off, almost indecisively.

Scully watched her, trying to look as though she wasn't really
watching her.  Fran was young.  Twenty at the very oldest.  In some
ways she acted her age, but in others...  Well, everyone had aged
these past few weeks.  She tried to imagine what it must be like for
this young woman, being pregnant and facing this uncertain future. 
Scully's first thought had been, "We don't know if babies conceived
before the flu are immune...Oh god."  But she had kept that one to
herself.

The dynamics at the picnic between Fran, Stu Redman and Harold Lauder
were interesting, to say the least.  Stu had apparently linked up with
Fran, Harold, and Glen somewhere in New England and they had made the
cross-country trek together.  *That* must have been interesting. 
Scully could sense the tension coming off them in waves, despite the
pleasantries they exchanged.  Fran had paired up with Stu -- a good
match, she thought -- but she could see the resentment and posturing
in Harold's body language.  And she wasn't entirely sure that Fran and
Stu were aware of the full extent of Harold's feelings.  

Scully's kinesic and interrogations training taught her to read the
signs.  Harold was a time bomb waiting to go off.  He had, no doubt,
been a geeky guy before all of this mess.  His time on the road had
given him a tan and some new muscle tone.  His acne had cleared up,
but she could still see the tell tale marks he wanted to hide.  He was
nineteen years of hormones ready to burst.  Hormones with a very keen
brain and a serious inferiority complex.

She had already decided to steer clear of Harold.  He would be way too
interested in her and Mulder's pasts.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Fran nudged her with a teasing
elbow, her eyes glued on the basketball court.  "You're lucky.  Mulder
got 'skins.'  I was hoping Stu would," she mock-whined.

"Well," Scully responded.  "We sure wouldn't be watching this game for
the score, now would we?"

Fran laughed and the two women leaned back to enjoy the game.

And Fluffy enjoyed his backrub.

*

Things weren't looking too bright for Mulder's team.  While he and
team mate Dick Ellis had been fairly consistent in scoring, Harold
Lauder had become merely a body on the court.  Everytime the kid got
the ball and tried to hit the lane, he was immediately stuffed and
snuffed by Stu.  Not good.

He watched as Dick passed the ball to Harold and, once more, Harold
tried to go inside.  And, once more, Stu jammed him and ended up with
the ball.  Mulder lunged forward and hit Stu's blind side before the
man truly had control of the ball.  He reached in and, with one quick
movement, he had stolen the ball.

"Time!" Mulder called, his hands forming a "T" for special effect.  As
the players relaxed and took a few deep breaths into their lungs,
Mulder motioned his team into a private huddle.  It was time to change
strategy.  They were down by eight with about five minutes to go.

"We need a change of plans," Mulder began.

Dick nodded his sweaty head and glanced surreptitiously at Harold
before speaking.  "Any suggestions?"

"Harold, I think you can be our secret weapon," he stated, looking
Lauder right in the eye.

Harold's eyes widened.  He hated to admit it, but he was way out of
his element.  He had spent his years reading, not dribbling.

"You know physics...math stuff, right?" Mulder asked, even though he
already knew the answer.

Harold nodded.  "Of course."

"That's all this is.  Geometry, physics...the laws of motion.  See the
court as a graph.  Angle your shots accordingly...use that mind of
yours," Mulder said as he pointed his finger to Harold's head.

"But they'll block me out," Harold admitted uncomfortably.

"That's why you'll take all your shots from outside.  Don't even try
to go to the basket.  You'll have several shots before they ever
suspect and send someone out to cover you there.  And then, when they
do, that'll open up the lane for me and Dick."

"Shoot...From outside..." Harold hesitated.

"Think. Math." Mulder insisted.

"Hey, Mulder!" Stu hollered from across the court.  "What is this? 
Are you playing or not?  Of course, since we know already who's gonna
win..."

"We're coming!" Mulder yelled back.  "Right Harold?"

Harold's eyes narrowed as he looked at Stu.  Stu taunting them.  Him. 
But the look passed quickly.  He didn't want to risk being discovered.
 He turned back to Mulder.  "Let's go," he said with new confidence.

Harold Lauder had made three shots from the field before Stu's team
could react.  Mulder's plan worked.  The lane opened up and his team
scored 5 unanswered baskets, taking the game just as Glen Bateman
called "Time!" from the sidelines.

The men shook hands, wiped their sweat with their shirts and trudged
off the court, pretending that every muscle didn't ache.  Mulder took
an extra moment to retrieve Scully's cross from his pocket and put it
back around his neck.  He could see her at the table, watching him. 
She smiled.  She didn't understand why Mother Abagail had given him
the order, but she seemed to like the idea of him wearing it.  

He paused one moment to stretch out his calf muscle, the one that had
taken the bullet only weeks before.  It was stiff, but not too
painful.  Then he headed back to the group.    

Mulder was too busy zeroing in on Scully to notice the special gleam
in Harold Lauder's eyes.  A gleam that wasn't pride or happiness at a
game well played.  No. It was a gleam of victory over a mortal enemy. 
And a look that seriously disapproved of the newfound camaraderie
between Mulder and Stu...and Scully and Fran.

*

The rest of the evening at the park was comfortable and uneventful.  A
small society beginning to take form.  From what Mulder could gather,
the folks around them were the core group.  The ones that would be
chosen to lead.  Besides the basketball players, there were Susan
Stern, Tom Cullen -- who *was* slow but had a huge heart as well as a
huge build, Glen -- who *had* been a college professor, and Nick
Andros.

Nick was quite amazing.  Though deaf and mute, Mulder thought that
perhaps the young man might be the best communicator in the bunch. 
His hand and pencil flew across his note paper, actively participating
in the conversations, Ralph acting as reader.  And his eyes seemed to
catch everything, every nuance.  He was an astute observer.  And from
what Stu had told him, Nick was special to Mother Abagail.

What a motley crew.

They all enjoyed the evening.  A respite from the work that would have
to begin again tomorrow.  They already had people trying to get the
power and the water going again.  And they were starting plans for
burial committees and the like to deal with the bodies of people who
did stay in Boulder after the flu hit.  It was enough to make your
head spin.  It was enough to make you get comfortable and forget that
there were other things to be attended to.

But Stu had reminded him.  As folks began to drift off, heading back
to their homes, Stu had pulled Mulder aside.

"Mother Abagail wanted me to remind you that she wants to see you both
day after tomorrow..."

Mulder nodded.

"And, she wanted me to make something clear to you..." he said.

"What's that?" Mulder asked.

"She said that we're not to ask you to join up with all these
committees.  You and Dana are to stay home and rest.  She said you two
have something to do.  That you'll be leaving Boulder..."  The last
was formed more as a question.  Mother Abagail hadn't told Stu what
was going on.  She hadn't told him about Matthew.

Mulder decided it wasn't his place to tell anyone, but he had to say
something.  "She's right, Stu.  We do have some unfinished business. 
But we really appreciate the help and friendship you guys are giving
us here.  And it's a big help to Scully."

"Is she feeling any better?" Stu murmured, deciding he wouldn't pry
into the rest of the matter.

"She'll be fine," Mulder said firmly. Too firmly.  "Good night, Stu. 
Thanks for inviting us."

Mulder headed back to Scully and Fluffy and they walked back to their
car.  Stu watched them go.  He really wished that Mulder had truly
believed that Dana would be okay.

**

2130 hours

"That was nice," Scully sighed as they drove up to their new home. 
She made no move to get out, so Mulder didn't either.

"Hey.  You feeling okay?  Not too tired out?" Mulder asked as he
reached out to caress some strands of hair back behind her ear.  Her
hair had grown out.  And he really liked the new length.

"Actually, this is the best I've felt in days," she replied.  She
turned her head and planted a kiss on the palm of his hand.

Mulder had to swallow back the urge to swoop her up into his arms and
carry her inside to the bedroom.  He'd been in overdrive all evening. 
After the game, Scully had constantly been beside him, leaning into
him, touching him lightly on the arm, the back...the neck.  He
shuddered and closed his eyes.

"What is it, Mulder?  I really do feel fine," Scully insisted.

"No.  I mean, I know you feel better.  That's not it," Mulder tried to
explain without having to really explain.

He looked at her.  Was that a smirk she was giving him? What the hell?
 But before he could say anything, do anything, she was out of the
car, Fluffy on her heels.  He pounded his head on the steering wheel
in frustration a few times and then got out, trudging up to join her
at the front door.

"Mulder.  I hope you know that you're not coming to bed tonight
without a bath," Scully warned as they walked inside.

"You gonna join me in the crick?" He asked in a suggestive drawl.

But instead of waving him off as usual, she actually stretched her
neck from side to side, her eyes closed, weighing the matter.  She
pulled her shirt from her sticky skin with one hand.  Then she opened
her eyes and looked at him dead on.  "That just might be a possibility
tonight."  She started walking toward the bedroom, never even looking
back.  "I'm getting some towels.  You, sir, make sure that the
synchronized swimmer stays inside this time."  And then she was out of
sight.

Mulder looked down at Fluffy, who was sitting patiently by his feet. 
Fluffy looked back at him with big, brown, oh-so innocent eyes.

Then the scramble was on.  Mulder dashed about, making sure that every
window and door was secure.  He ran into the kitchen and poured out a
huge helping of dog food into a huge bowl and set it on the floor. 
Fluffy heard the familiar clinks of Dog Chow on porcelain and
enthusiastically ran in to see his late night snack offering.  Not
only was there manna from heaven, but Mulder had also emptied a large
bottle of water into his water dish...AND the man had laid out a few
dollops of marshmallow Fluff on a dish.

Fluffy's tail was going a mile a minute.  What had he done to deserve
all of this?  He approached the Fluff.  But suddenly, Mulder blocked
his path, dropping to his knees and cupping the dog's face with his
hands.

"Understand this, dog.  Tonight. You. Stay. Here.  Consider all this
payment.  Got it?"

Fluffy could see that he was serious.  Deadly serious.  His head was
still immobile, but his eyes could go back and forth between the Fluff
dish, the food, and Mulder's face.  Choices.  His stomach made the
final decision and he gave a soft "woof!" that seemed to satisfy
Mulder for the man let go of his head.

Fluffy started to chow down, barely noticing when Scully joined Mulder
at the door and the two walked out the back, making sure the door was
firmly closed.

**
2200 Hours


"Scully?"

"Hmmm?"

"Please tell me what precipitated this..."

"...This?"

"Yes...th...Oh. My. G...that!"

"So which do you want to know, Mulder?"

"Wha...?"

"I thought so, Air Mulder."

"It was the game, wasn't it?  Scully?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your turn..."

Splash.

Drip.

"Yesssss."

"Say something, Scully?"

"I said, 'yes.'  You took off your shirt for the game..."

"I thought so."

**

"Mulder?"

"Hmmm?"

"I love you, but so help me, if that thing that just brushed by my leg
wasn't genetically attached to you..."

Splash.

"Where, Scully?  Oh shit!  I think it just nibbled on me..."

"Mulder? That definitely wasn't me..."

"Would you think any less of me as a man if I suggested that we streak
back to the bedroom now?"

"From what I can see right now...not a chance."

Splash.  Splash.  Rustle.  Pat, pat, pat, pat, pat....

***

All of Fluffy's brain cells were concentrating on the door that led
outside.  Why in the world had the man Mulder given him so much water
to drink?  He whimpered softly for the fourteenth time in as many
minutes.

He was so preoccupied with not making a mess that he barely noticed
Mulder and Scully when they frantically dashed inside, only slightly
covered by towels.

They ran in, Fluffy ran out.

Mulder closed the door as an afterthought.

***
2400 Hours

Fluffy had resigned himself to sleeping on the deck by the back door. 
His friends seemed to be occupied inside.  He couldn't see them, but
he could hear them.  Loud and clear.

As time passed, however, he began to sense that maybe he *needed* to
be outside.  He raised his head to sniff the air.  What was that
scent?  It was human, but it held something else.  He had smelled it
before.  It was sweet, but not like the flowers outside.  No this was
a sweet he had tried to eat before.  Something that tasted sweet but
made him very sick.  What had his old master called it?  Chocolate? 
That was it.

Something wasn't right.  He sat up, alert, and kept watch.

**

He watched from across Boulder Creek.  He wasn't sure why Fox Mulder
and Dana Scully had so unnerved him, but he was damn sure going to
find out.  Before they found him out.

He raised the nightscope to his eye and zeroed in on the house once
more.

**  

August 8
0530 Hours


*There's a naked man in my bed!* Scully's eyes popped open in shock. 
Then she looked over beside her and smiled.  *Nope, Dana.  There's a
naked Mulder in your bed.*

He was sprawled out on his stomach, his right leg trapped under her
right leg.  Scully raised herself up on her elbow, deciding to get
more comfortable.  Burrowing under the covers, she draped half of her
pleasantly achy body over Mulder's back, resting her head on his right
shoulder blade.

*Much better.  Nice pillow,* she thought, just as she fell back into
slumber.

**

0900 Hours

Mulder sat up and stretched as far as his limbs would reach, grimacing
as several muscles and joints realigned themselves in his body.

"Please tell me we can just stay like this for the next week, Mulder,"
Scully mumbled into her pillow.

Mulder smiled and reached over to run one finger down the curve of her
back.  "Good morning, Mary Sunshine."

Scully turned her head to the left.  Her hair was drooping over her
face so she could just see him through the strands.  And he was
beautiful.  She raised her eyebrow and smiled.  "That was...wow. 
Amazing, Mulder."

Mulder leaned over and kissed her on the temple, but that wasn't
enough for Scully.  She rolled over onto her back and tugged him down
on top of her.  He willingly obliged her request and found her lips
with his own.

He finally broke the kiss and rested his head on the pillow beside
her.  "God, Scully.  I wish I'd met you when I was fifteen..."

Her puzzled look demanded an explanation.

"If I was still fifteen, I wouldn't have to get up now and crack all
of my joints before going into the kitchen to get some food and make
some coffee.  I'm gonna die without some sustenance...Necessito
comida, woman."

"Ah.  But if you were fifteen I'd get thrown in jail for corrupting a
minor, Mulder."

"You, Scully, may feel free to corrupt me like this any time, any
where."  He leaned down to plant one more quick kiss on her lips
before rolling off the bed.

His knees almost gave way, but he steadied himself with a hand on the
bed.  He started out the door...

"Ahem.  Mulder?"

"What?"

She waved at his body.  "Not that I don't enjoy the view...in fact,
turn around once or twice there....But I suspect this is the kind of
place where folks drop in unannounced..."

"Oh."  Mulder returned to the foot of the bed and dug through a duffel
bag.  He finally found some boxer shorts and a pair of blue jeans. 
Scully tried not to sigh in disappointment as he put them on.

"You want breakfast in bed, madam?"

"No.  You go on.  I'll be back out to join you in a few..."

Mulder nodded.  He started to head for the door, thought better of it
and turned back to give her another a kiss.  "Love you."  Then, he
headed out to the kitchen.

**

"Oh, shit!  I'm so sorry, Fluffy!" Mulder exclaimed as he opened the
back door.  The poor damn dog had spent the whole night out there.
Crap!

Fluffy was tired.  He'd been keeping watch all night.  The strange
scent on the air had finally gone away a few hours before, but he
didn't want to let his guard down.  He wearily trudged inside, took a
few quick laps from his water bowl, then made straight for the blanket
by the hearth. His bed.  He laid down and was soon fast asleep.

Mulder watched the dog, confused.  Was Fluffy sulking because he'd
been left outside?  It made him feel like a heel.  He promised himself
that he'd make it up to the mutt.

Then he got busy with breakfast.

***  

August 14
1000 hours

Six days of sheer and unadulterated bliss.  That's what they'd had.

Mother Abagail's words to Stu had carried plenty of weight.  Aside
from two visits from Ralph with supplies, one visit from Fran and Stu
for coffee and a town update...well, they'd been left alone to their
own devices.

Scully grinned as she sat on the living room couch and thought of each
and every one of those devices.  Mulder was good medicine.  While she
still didn't feel one hundred percent -- she'd had a headache or
two...or three -- she did feel good enough that she didn't *care* when
she had a headache.  When the headaches came, she could just curl up
on the sofa or in bed with Mulder.  No driving, no forced marches, no
travel.  Just food, bed, and Mulder.  What else did she need?

They'd only ventured out once.  To see Mother Abagail on August Ninth.
 They thought that the old woman was going to give them more
information...something else to put in their arsenal to help get
Matthew back.  But, instead, it ended up simply being a dinner of
pan-fried trout and corn on the cob, with a side of some really good
biscuits.  Nothing else.  No meaningful conversation.  Nada.  The only
thing she seemed concerned about was the fish...and whether or not
Mulder was still wearing the cross.  She seemed satisfied shen she saw
it around his neck.  And then there were her parting words. 

"You'll promise me you won't be leaving until we talk again.  You
mustn't leave before then."

Scully and Mulder had reluctantly made the promise. 

They'd returned home stuffed with good food, but frustrated.  And that
equaled an upset stomach for Mulder that night.  He had already
decided that he would give Mother Abagail until August 16th -- one
week -- to come up with whatever pronouncement she was going to make. 
Then they were out of there, "God's blessing" or not.

She frowned.  No matter how hard she tried to think otherwise, this
time at the log home was merely a rest stop.  A carefully constructed
illusion that could not last much longer.  Her health was on an
upswing at the moment, but that wouldn't last.  She knew that from
experience.  And each downturn would take her down just a little
farther than the last.

A knock at the front door broke her contemplation.

"I got it!" Mulder called from the kitchen.  She watched as he crossed
to the door.  He hadn't been feeling well this morning.  Some kind of
stomach upset.  But he had still been out chopping wood and puttering
around in the kitchen.  

Scully stood as he opened the door to reveal Stu Redman.

"Hi, Stu.  Come on in...I've got some coffee in the kitchen..." Mulder
began.

"No, folks.  I can't stay long," Stu replied.

Scully walked to Mulder's side.  There was something about Stu's
expression that she didn't like.

"What is it?" she asked.

Stu shuffled from foot to foot.  "Well, first, I wanted to tell you
that we've scheduled a town meeting a few nights from now and we were
hoping you both would be there," Stu asked.

"We?" Mulder asked.

"Mostly the bunch from the picnic.  Me, Fran, Nick, Glen, Ralph,
Susan...and a few others you haven't met.  Like Larry Underwood. 
We've kind of set ourselves up as an ad hoc committee."

Mulder nodded.  "Well, we'd like to be there," he looked to Scully and
she nodded. "But that's gonna depend on Mother Abagail...on what she
tells us.  We need to leave soon."

Stu grimaced and looked at the ground.

"What is it, Stu?  Is Mother Abagail sick?" Scully asked. 

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Mulder demanded.

"That's one of the things we'll all have to discuss at the town
meeting.  Mother Abagail has gone missing," Stu replied.

"What?" Scully exclaimed.  "Has someone taken her?"

"No, no," Stu replied, trying to calm their law enforcement instincts.
 "She left a note this morning.  Something about needing to go into
the wilderness.  She thinks she's let her pride get in between her and
her God."

"Did she say when she was coming back?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"No.  She didn't.  Just said she had to get right with her God
again."

"Oh that's just perfect!" Mulder threw up his arms and stalked out of
the room, back into the kitchen.

Stu was unsure of what he was supposed to do.  Should he follow Mulder
and try to calm him down?

"It's okay, Stu," Scully told him softly.  "I'll talk to him.  We'll
be in touch about the meeting later.  Okay?"

He nodded and backed out the front door.  He got back into his truck
and drove out.

Scully leaned against the front door.  She could hear Mulder stomping
around, banging dishes and tossing styrofoam coffee cups around.

She walked to the entryway between the living room and the kitchen and
watched as he ranted.

"That's it!" Mulder announced.  "If she can take a vacation, we're
outta here.  Get your stuff together, Scully...we'll leave in an
hour."  Mulder stomped back toward the back deck.  "Where's Fluffy?"
he called as he opened the door and stepped outside.

Scully was not sure what she should do.  But she was rather pissed off
that Mulder seemed to take it upon himself to decide what she should
do.

"Fluffy!" Mulder yelled as he paced the deck.  Scully could see him
through the window.  He was clenching and unclenching his fists. 
"Fluffy!"  

Scully quietly made her way over to the door, deciding that they would
have to discuss this before things really got out of hand.

"Mulder," she called softly.

"Wha..." he began as he spun around to face her.  But before he could
finish that final consonant sound, he doubled over in agony.

"Oh, God...Scully," he choked as he blindly reached out one hand for
her.  Then he was down on his knees, his arms crossed tightly around
his abdomen.

"Mulder!" Scully rushed to his side.

He seemed determined to follow the laws of gravity so she helped him
down onto his side on the wooden deck.  She brushed the hair back from
his forehead, feeling for a fever.

"What is it, Mulder?  What's wrong?" She urged.

His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, but he forced them open so he
could see her face.

"It hurts...my stomach..."

Scully managed to peel his arms away from his stomach and she began to
feel the area.  She pressed down on his lower right quadrant.  He gave
no reaction.  But when she released the pressure...

"OH GOD!  Make it stop!" He yelled.

"Shit, shit, shit," Scully cursed under her breath.  "Fluffy!" she
screamed.

The dog immediately popped out from behind the trees and ran to her
side.  

"God, please let him understand," Scully prayed silently.  She turned
to Fluffy.  "Go stop Stu, Fluffy.  I need help!"

Fluffy never hesitated.  He knew that the nice man named Stu had just
left the house.  He could catch him and make him come back.  With a
woof, he took off, full speed, around the house and down the
driveway.

Scully turned back to Mulder.  There was little she could do.  She
couldn't move him by herself.  She laid a calming hand on his forehead
and leaned down to kiss his hand.  "We're getting help, Mulder.  You
just need to hang on for a little bit.  Help's coming..." her worried
voice trailed off.

Mulder opened his eyes once more and tried to focus on her face. 
"It's my appendix, isn't it?" he asked with dread.  A few weeks ago,
appendicitis was nothing a quick trip to the hospital wouldn't cure. 
But now...now it was almost surely a death sentence.

Scully nodded.  She was trying not to let the tears escape from her
eyes.  Oh God.  It couldn't end like this.  Mulder grabbed her hand
and gripped it tightly.

"Fluffy will get help, Scully," he whispered.

She tried to smile, tried to believe.  "You're going to be fine,
Mulder.  I love you." She bent over and kissed him just before another
wave of pain passed through his body.

Scully did all she could.  She held his hand, prayed... 

And kept looking for help to arrive.


******

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

******


"This is the real world, muchachos, and we are all in it."
  ---  Charles Bowden  "Blood Orchid"

******

Las Vegas, Nevada


Alex Krycek was bored out of his mind. He played with the ice at the
bottom of his glass, swirling it round and round in the last drops of
whiskey.  He let the wet glass slide through his fingers until it
rested on the bar below.

He raised his head and scanned the noisy casino.  Lots of people and
lots of noise from lots of slot machines that were happy to be back in
action.  

All those people.  But no one much talked to him.  Of course, he was
quite certain that was because of the interest that Randall Flagg had
paid him.  Everyone was too scared of Flagg to get involved in
Krycek's business.  Business that Flagg had taken into the realm of
his personal interest.

Krycek hadn't talked to Flagg in over a week.  Which was fine by him. 
Flagg made his old bosses look like choir boys with halos.  He took
one last swig of watered down whiskey and swallowed hard as he
remembered that meeting up in Flagg's penthouse suite that commanded a
view of all things Vegas.

"So, Alex.  I hope you've found comfortable accommodations here,"
Flagg grinned as he stood behind the bar and made himself a drink.

"Everything's fine, thank you," Krycek clipped back his quick
response.  He was eager to leave and return to the relative anonymity
of his room.  But Flagg had requested the meeting and he already knew
that you did not refuse Randall Flagg.  

He'd seen that the day after he arrived.  That poor slob named
Loughlin had stolen some gas for his motorbike.  When Flagg asked him
about it, Loughlin denied the theft.  Everyone in the casino had been
privy to the scene that followed as Loughlin's brain began to boil. 
Steam actually came out of his ears.  Krycek could still hear the
man's screams of horror.  Screams that stopped only after a stream of
hard-boiled brain matter leaked out of Loughlin's nose and ears onto
the very busy carpet pattern.

"Tell me, Alex," Flagg started as he crossed the room with his drink. 
With one sudden move, he jumped over the back of the sofa and into a
comfy seated position.  He held up his glass and examined it.  Not a
single drop spilled.  He smiled.  "What did it feel like when they cut
off your arm?"

"Excuse me?" Krycek cleared his throat.

"Did it hurt?  Were you scared?  You can tell me, Alex." Flagg's voice
dripped...something.

Krycek didn't answer.  He knew there was no *right* answer to give
Flagg.  Men like this, and that was using the term "men" haphazardly,
they would use any answer he gave against him.

"What's the matter, son? Cat got your tongue?  Or no!  I guess I
should say 'Cat got you arm?'" Flagg laughed, but the menace was plain
to hear.  But he didn't wait for Krycek to respond.  "I understand you
have some unfinished business to take care of out there in the
desert."

Krycek kept silent.  Kept looking forward.

"It sure would be easier if you had two good arms, wouldn't it?"

Suddenly, Krycek could feel sensations where they should not be.  And
these were not simply phantom pains.  He'd dealt with those before. 
He looked down as he raised both arms.  He closed his eyes and willed
his fingers to bend.  He opened his eyes.  Ten fingers flexed at his
command.  He stared in disbelief.

He didn't notice that Flagg had moved to stand directly behind him. 
"Now.  Ain't that something, Alex?" he whispered in Krycek's ear. 
"Two good hands to wrap around Fox Mulder's scrawny little neck.  Two
good arms to hold that bitch Dana Scully down on the ground while you
finally get a well deserved piece of her ass.  Just say the word,
Alex, and I'll be there to give you a hand.  Or a whole arm, so to
speak," Flagg tempted.

But Krycek could only close his eyes and remain silent.

After a moment, Flagg spoke again.  This time his voice came from the
area of the sofa.  "Fine, Alex.  Have it your way.  For now.  Even if
your way just isn't as much fun."

Krycek opened his eyes.  Sensations disappeared and he was back to one
good arm.  Flagg was sitting on the sofa as if nothing had just
happened.

"I can respect the strong and silent type, Alex.  But when the time
comes for you to leave here and finish your little *errand,* you might
want to reconsider my offer.  After all, Spender might hear about your
impending arrival.  You know how little birdies like to talk..."

Krycek somehow managed to keep his straight face.  But he took the
threat very seriously.  Surprise was the key to success in his plan
for revenge.

"You can go now, Alex.  I'll let you know when it's time to hit the
road."  Flagg dismissed him with a simple wave of his hand.   

Krycek turned and left the penthouse.  He only allowed his legs to
turn to unset jello after he grabbed the scotch from the mini bar in
his room.  The bottle had only helped slightly at keeping his
nightmares at bay that night.  He was sure to up the dose the next
night.  And the next...

The bartender came over and poured him another whiskey, careful not to
let the neck of the bottle touch the glass.

"Need some more ice?" the bartender asked.

Krycek shook his head and lifted the glass. He downed the whiskey in
one shot, his tongue and teeth careful to keep the ice remnants out of
his mouth.

And the gamblers kept pulling at the one-armed bandits.  The bells
kept ringing.  And the dollars and quarters -- which were pretty much
worthless but no one had seemed to realize this yet -- kept falling
and clinking against the metal trays.

And a bored Alex Krycek went back to swirling the ice in his glass.

***

Somewhere in Nevada


Roberta Parks sat on the floor of her sparse room with her back
against the cold cement wall.  She slowly bounced her head against the
wall.  Matthew was in the corner, drawing various blobs of art.  She,
however, was now plagued with boredom.  

There had been no escape from their quarters for several days now. 
And no answer from the guards when she questioned them as to why.  And
it had been several days since Mother Abagail had come to her in her
dreams.  There was no escape.  Nothing to ponder.  Nothing to wrap her
mind around.

The ennui had entrenched itself so deeply that she had resorted to
reciting various song lyrics, snatches of poems she could remember,
even phrases from Nabisco boxes.

"This package is sold by weight, not by volume..."

She had moved onto another category.  "I'll take History for
one-thousand, Alex," she mumbled.  She tried to conjure up the words
from the Declaration of Independence.

"When in the course of human events....um...it becomes necessary..." 
She stopped and frowned.  Why the hell couldn't ABC's Schoolhouse Rock
have had a Declaration of Independence song?  They had Conjunction
Junction, the Interjection song (which was her personal favorite), and
that annoying "I'm Just a Bill" thing.  Damn.  Another thing she
should remember bites the dust.  Well, if she couldn't recite the
Declaration, thanks to Saturday morning television,she could sing the
U.S. Constitution preamble.

"We the People
In order to form a more perfect union..."

Damn.

"...provide for the common defense,
promote the general welfare a-and..."

Matthew dropped his crayon and stared at her.

"...duh-duh-duh,duh...liberty,
For ourselves and our prosperity,
Do ordain and establish this Constitution
O-of the...United States o-of America."

Matthew burst into applause.

And even as she forced a smile and bent in a mock bow, Roberta's
toughened heart broke a little as she realized Matthew would never
know the significance of what she had forgotten.


*****

August 14
Boulder, Colorado
1035 hours


The United States of America was a country proud of her traditions. 
The advent of the horseless carriage at the dawn of the twentieth
century spawned more symbols related to rites of passage than nearly
every other modern convention combined.  

And, to Stu Redmond, Texas seemed to be the mother of most of those
automotive rites.  Summer nights consisting of beer, muscle cars and
Chevy Pickups driven down dust-clouded country roads, an hour or two
of cow-tipping, and then, feeling up Mary Jane Smithers in the
backseat while Jerry Lee Lewis sang "Great Balls of Fire" on AM radio
KRDA.  

Then there was the strange male custom of tying anything under the sun
to the back bumper of your buddy's car.  Somehow, the tin can
post-marriage ritual had devolved into steer skulls, metal trashcans,
and rural mailboxes attached oh-so-quietly in the deep darkness of
night to Bubba's Ford.

But none of those things, thought Stu as he looked in his rear view
mirror... None of those things had fur and barked.

"What the hell?" Stu muttered as he slammed on the brakes and pulled
over to the side of the road, forgetting that it was seriously
doubtful he would be blocking other traffic.  He got out and left the
door open, the engine running.

Fluffy barreled toward him and at the last minute put on the brakes. 
Stu could have sworn that he saw a skidding smoke rise from under
Fluffy's paws. 

"What is it, boy?" Stu asked. 

Fluffy barked between pants.

"I don't understand..." Stu exclaimed impatiently.  He had more
important things to tend to than a riled up canine.  Things like the
whereabouts of one Mother Abagail.  A small search party had already
started looking and he was on his way to join them.

Fluffy was too wound up to be patient.  He jumped into the front seat
of Stu's truck and barked once more.

"Stu, you there?" The CB radio in the truck crackled to life with 
Ralph's friendly drawl.

Stu looked at the dog and then moved to answer the radio.

"Yeah, I'm here, Ralph."

"You got an ETA?  We're dividing up territory for the search. And in
the middle of it we got a kid down here who was bustin' up some
windows in the abandoned houses.  We're not sure what to do with
him."

Stu sighed.  Mischief.  This is what happened when you started getting
everybody back together in a semblance of civilization.  Some of the
natives were bound to get restless.  And at seriously inopportune
times.  They needed to focus on finding the missing Mother Abagail.

"Gimme about twenty, Ralph.  I got a dog in my truck and I've got to
get him back up to Mulder's or they'll get worried."

"10-4, Stu.  Tell them howdy for me."

"Will do.  Over and out."  Stu put the radio mike back in its holder. 
Then he heaved himself up into the driver's seat, pushing Fluffy over
to the passenger side.  "Move over, boy.  I'll take you home. 
Scully's gonna have your hide when she hears you've been playin' in
the street."

*****

Stu forgot his admonishment to Fluffy as soon as the dog led him
around to the back of the house.  Mulder was writhing on the ground
and Scully was in obvious distress as she knelt beside him.

Scully looked up as Fluffy ran to her side.  Relief spread over her
face.  "Stu!  Help me! It's his appendix..."

Stu tamped down the dread in the pit of his stomach.  He had seen this
only a few weeks before.  That outcome had not been good.

Scully squeezed Mulder's hand one more time.  "Stu's here, Mulder, and
we're going to get you to the clinic.  Just hang on a little longer."

"Sure thing, Scully.  But I hope you won't be disappointed if I scream
just a little bit...ah..." Mulder grimaced and tightened his hold on
his side. 

Stu knelt down beside him, looking to Scully for guidance.  "How's it
hangin' there, Mulder," he tried to joke, but the concern was evident
in his eyes.  And Mulder was too busy groaning to hear the question.

"Look, Stu," Scully began to instruct.  "We need to lift him and get
him into the back of your truck."

Stu looked at Scully and then looked at Mulder.  Mulder was too heavy
to carry all the way around the house.  "Look, Dana.  I'll bring the
truck back here...less carrying time."

Scully nodded her approval and Stu ran back to his truck.  Scully
reached over to Fluffy and pulled him to her.  "Good job, Fluffy," she
murmured into his ear as she took solace in the dog's strength. 
"Thank you."

***

Boulder Clinic
1100 hours

Stu had called Ralph on the radio as soon as they hit the road.  Ralph
put the scramble on and got all the right people to the clinic -- that
being their resident vet/doctor Dick Ellis and his newly appointed
assistant, Susan Stern.  Then there were the concerned friends whose
job it would be to pace the floors of the waiting room.  Ralph, Tom,
and Glen were there.  So was Harold Lauder, who was making a great
show of "being a man" and saying things like "I'm sure everything will
be just fine.  There's nothing to worry about."

But Harold was truest to himself when Stu's truck pulled up and then
men put Mulder and a gurney and wheeled him into the clinic, passing
the small waiting throng.  Harold almost puked when he saw Mulder's
pale face and when he heard Mulder's guttural cries of pain.  Harold
slunk back to the far wall of the waiting room.

The flurry of activity slowed as the doors to the makeshift O.R. swung
shut, leaving all non-medical personnel behind.  Stu walked over to
the far wall and he swept the beads of sweat from his forehead with
his hand.

He couldn't get past the not so distant memory from their time on the
road.  He had traveled here with Fran, Harold, and Glen.  And others. 
One young man had been with them.  Along with his older girlfriend. 
The man had been struck down with appendicitis.  They had all tried to
help.  Had even found an old surgery book and some surgical
instruments in a doctor's office.  Stu had been the surgeon.  But the
man had died not long after Stu made the first cut.  The girlfriend
overdosed on pills a short time later.  Suicide in the face of
hopelessness.  He shuddered at the dark memory.

"Stu?" Tom asked the all consuming question with one word.

"It'll be all right.  Mulder is in good hands," he responded, hoping
it was true. 

***

Dick Ellis and Susan Stern had made the most of their prep time. 
Ralph had been sent out to rev up the emergency generator.  They had a
table ready.  Anesthesia was good to go.   The i.v. was standing by. 
So was the intubation tray and the assortment of surgical instruments.
 Only two things concerned Dick.  Would Mulder make it to them before
his appendix burst and would he be able to remember those nice neat
stitches he learned in school?  Most of his patients weren't overly
concerned with scarring since fur usually covered the evidence...

The doors burst open and Mulder was there.  And Mulder was not quiet
when he saw Dick.

"Scully?  Isn't Dick a vet?  I'm not barking here," Mulder questioned
nervously.

"Hey, we have an advantage here over my regular patients.  You only
have two legs.  Besides, real doctors work on more than one species." 
When Mulder only stared at him through gritted teeth, Dick continued. 
"I assure you.  I can do this in my sleep."

"Fine, Doc.  As long as you do this in *my* sleep I'll be happy.  Now
give me some drugs!" Mulder moaned.

"Is he always this way?" Dick turned to Scully.

"Only on his good days," she replied as she forced a smile and brushed
the hair from Mulder's forehead.

"Then let's get to work and get him on the table, folks," Dick
returned to business.

They moved Mulder onto the table and Dick took charge.  He leaned over
Mulder to explain what was happening while Scully went into autodrive
as she helped Susan prep the patient.  She grabbed the scissors and
Mulder's shirt fell by the wayside.  The pants went next.

Dick leaned over Mulder to reassure him.

"Okay, Mulder.  We're gonna get an i.v. going in a second and then
we're going to get you gassed up and feeling good.  I'm gonna intubate
you for the procedure, but you won't even know it.  And I'll try and
keep the scar small, okay?"

"Sure, Doc.  Just remember this is not a neutering procedure, okay?"

Dick smirked.  He had the i.v. inserted quickly.  As Susan moved to
put the mask over Mulder's face, Dick couldn't resist the urge to lean
over and pat Mulder on the head.  "Good boy, atsa good boy," he
murmured.

As the gas hit Mulder, his eyes rolled back in his head, his eyes
fluttered shut, and he tried not to scratch himself with his left
leg.

***

1200 hours

Fluffy was sitting directly in front of the operating room doors, his
head on his paws, when the doors finally opened.  A very relieved
looking Dick Ellis stepped outside to face the waiting throngs. 
Fluffy shuffled up to an alert position, his paws sliding on the
linoleum floor.

"Well, Dick?" Ralph prodded.

Dick gave an exhausted but relieved smile.  "You got him here just in
the nick of time, Stu.  Mulder came through the surgery well.  We've
got him on i.v. antibiotics and, barring any infections, he should be
just fine."

"That's damn good news, Doc," Stu exhaled and crossed the room to
shake Dick's hand.  

Ralph jumped over to a bag stashed on a nearby table and pulled out a
bottle of water.  He crossed over to Dick.  "Here ya' go, Dick.  Good
job!"

Dick took the water with a nod of thanks as he fell back into one of
the waiting room chairs.  "I confess I was a bit worried.  But the FBI
must make 'em tough.  He's one lucky G-Man."

Harold's ears perked up.  FBI?  What the hell?

"How's Dana doing?" Glen asked.

"She'll be fine.  She was something in surgery.  You'd a never guessed
that she used to work on dead folks doing autopsies and such.  I
imagine she'll be glued to Mulder's side for a while." Dick replied.
He took a swig of water before continuing.  "Is there any word on
Mother Abagail yet?"

Ralph shook his head.  "Nope.  And we need to get out there lookin'
again."

"Well, while you guys get to work, I should get back to my patient,"
Dick said as he stood and headed back into the O.R.

"He's right, fellas." Stu agreed.  He turned to Tom.  "Tommy.  Why
don't you stay here and keep Fluffy company.  And you can help Dana if
she needs anything."

"Sure, Stu.  I can do that.  M-O-O-N.  That spells help.  I sure hope
you find Mother Abagail."

"We do, too, Tom," Stu answered as he, Glen, and Ralph headed out the
door.  

Harold Lauder shuffled slowly behind them.  He was still reeling from
the information that Mulder and Scully were FBI agents.  Would that
force him to change his plans?  He had known something was different
about them.  He had just had no idea *how* different.  His mind went
into high gear.

He was going to have to do something about these agents or else all
could be lost.

As Harold finally reached the door, Fluffy raised his head.  There was
an evil odor in the room and it was coming from Harold.  Fluffy let
loose a deep, guttural growl.   Tom Cullen was confused and he sat
down beside the dog and scratched his ears.

"What's the matter, fella?  Dick says that Mulder's gonna be okay."

Fluffy's eyes followed Harold as the young man exited the building. 
Only then did his growling stop.  He walked away from Tom and planted
himself back in front of the door to the operating room.  He knew he
had to keep himself between Harold Lauder and his friends, Mulder and
Scully.

***

1500 Hours

Scully stood from her chair at Mulder's bedside and stretched her
lower back.  Maybe the new world order could do something about the
old, unbelievably uncomfortable hospital chairs.  She stepped over to
Mulder and let her hand rest on his chest. 

Mulder was resting comfortably now.  The surgery had been quick, with
no unexpected complications.  Dick Ellis had been superb.  Mulder had
roused about fifteen minutes later, singing "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On
My Head," but had quickly gone back to sleep, thanks to a nifty shot
of Demerol.  He had been in and out of reality ever since.   But
everything looked good.  For that she was grateful.  

"Hey, Dana.  How's our patient?" Susan Stern stuck her head in the
doorway.

"He's been asleep for about thirty minutes now.  His vitals are
strong," Scully answered.

Susan stepped inside and put her hand on Scully's shoulder.  "Then why
don't you take a little break, eh?"

"I don't think..."

"Don't be silly.  He's not going anywhere.  And if he tries, I'll be
right here while you're out."  She turned Scully to face her.
"Besides, Dana.  Pardon the expression, but you look like shit.  You
need to go eat something.  Grab some water or soda."

Scully bowed her head and raised her hand to knead the muscles at the
back of her neck.  Susan had a point.  She did feel like shit.  She
was tired and she had more than the beginnings of a tension headache. 
She sighed.

"Look," Susan began, "Tom rustled up some sandwiches and stuff.  The
food's all in the lounge across the hall.  Dick has been storing
equipment and supplies there from the animal hospital down the street,
but we already cleared a spot at the table for you.  Go."

Scully nodded.  She leaned over Mulder and kissed his forehead.  "Be
right back, G-Man."

She exited the room and was met by a very anxious Fluffy.  

"Hey, Furball.  You being good?" She asked as she scratched his neck. 
Fluffy was ecstatic to receive her attention.

"Fluffy's a great dog," Tom answered.  "He and I were about to go out
to play for a while."

"Sounds like a good idea, right, Furface?" Scully kissed Fluffy on the
head just before she stood.  "I'm just grabbing a bite to eat, Tom. 
You all go ahead outside."

"Are you sure, Dana?  Do you need anythin' else?  Stu said I should
help you," Tom asked, his hands stuffed down the front pockets of his
large overalls.

Scully smiled.  "I'm fine, Tom.  Mulder will be fine.  Besides, Susan
said you already got some sandwiches for us.  Thank you.  And thanks
for taking such good care of Fluffy."

"It weren't nothing."

"Well, thanks anyway," Scully insisted.  "Now.  You two go outside and
play.  It's a nice day for it."  Scully crossed the room and went into
the lounge, closing the door behind her.

"Let's go, boy," Tom called as he headed for the door.

But Fluffy now refused to budge.  He looked at Tom and then he looked
at the lounge door.  Tom came over and tried to grab Fluffy by the
collar, intending to nudge him out the door.

"C'mon, Fluffy.  You heard Dana.  She told us to go outside and
play."

Fluffy wriggled away and yipped once.  The sense of urgency in his
stomach was beginning to boil.  He ran to the lounge door and planted
himself beside it.

"Dang dog.  What's got into you?" Tom pouted.


Scully walked over to the counter and looked through the food
offerings.  The sandwiches weren't fancy -- it looked like a
cornucopia of Underwood Deviled Ham offerings -- but the bread was
fresh and homemade.  She grabbed one and unwrapped it from the
cellophane cover.  Then she grabbed a bottle of Lipton Iced Tea and
headed for the table.

Susan hadn't been kidding.  Dick had brought over all sorts of items
from the Animal Hospital.  Boxes of stuff.  She idly rummaged through
a few of the boxes.  Small catheters, accessories for x-ray and
scanning devices...an Avid scanner.  She stopped.  An Avid Scanner? 
She remembered Fluffy and the unusual tattoo on his leg.  Could he
have a microchip?

She looked up when she heard a scratching at the door.  Speaking of
Fluffy...  She turned the scanner over in her hand.  Avid scanners
could read all kinds of microchips placed in animals, ones made by
different manufacturers.  Maybe she could run this over Fluffy and see
what happened...

The scratching at the door became more insistent.  And now, Fluffy was
barking. 

But Scully couldn't hear the dog clearly.  Her head seemed to be
covered in cotton.  Her vision was narrowing.  She was dimly aware of
what was starting.  She turned toward the door and took a step. Two
steps.  She felt the warmth on her upper lip.  She raised her hand to
her nose.

And the flow became a torrent of blood.  Her legs collapsed and she
fell to the floor.

Fluffy howled at the door and began to ram it with his body...



*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

*****


"Diana's words came in the same matter-of-fact tone.  'Well, it's
important that we learn the most effective and efficient methods to be
used against them.' The woman reached into another cage, then grasped
a large, fluffy guinea pig.  As the terrified creature squeaked and
struggled, she opened her mouth - wider, wider - her jawbone seemingly
dislocated at the last second, and she lowered the frantic animal
between her lips."                -- "V" by A.C. Crispin


*****

Somewhere North


The man sat just to the side of the road, his palms splayed against
the ground.  The afternoon sun burned into the earth and he felt the
warmth reverberate from his worn fingertips to his aching shoulders.

He had been on walkabout.  Most men did walkabout to have dreams and
visions.  He did it to escape them.  It wasn't working.

He'd lost his family long ago.  At least he thought it was a long time
ago.  Recent history had made time subjective.  He did know that they
were gone before the Superflu took everyone else.  And now, when he
tried to picture their faces, he wasn't sure if he remembered them as
they really were, or just just how he *thought* they were.  He even
had to say their names aloud from time to time, just to remember.  He
was not sure of his own name now.  And it wasn't terribly important
anymore.  Names were only important to differentiate you from others. 
Others were few and far between.

When the flu had hit and everyone around him was dropping like wasps
in a cloud of Raid, he had tried to catch it.  He had carried sick
folks to the hospital.  He had lugged the earliest bodies to the
overstocked morgue.  He had made it a point not to wear gloves or a
mask.  The sick had sneezed and coughed their phlegmy last breaths
upon him.  He was covered in green and yellow snot and germs.  Yet he
had survived with nary a tickle at the back of his throat.

His life since then had been an exercise in aggressive carelessness. 
Outright suicide was out of the question.  His old beliefs still ran
too deep.  Along with a promise he had made to someone special long
ago.  So, he had placed everything in the hands of fate.  When faced
with either one hell of a mountain route or a "kind to grandmothers"
level plain, he took the high climb.  He drove motorcycles that had
seen better days at high speeds across highways littered with dead
cars filled with dead and rotting people.

And in spite of his "man is an island and a neutral country" policy,
he had interfered with more than one yahoo who had grandiose plans of
raping and pillaging. Armed yahoos.  

But, for whatever reason, he had always emerged unscathed.  Mountains
were climbed.  Highways were navigated.  And the yahoos were all dead,
courtesy of Smith and Wesson and Glock.  Life's a bitch and then you
live. 

The would-be victims were always sent on their way.  Away from him. 
He rarely spoke.  One of the women he rescued had dubbed him "Clint
Eastwood."  He preferred John Doe.  It reminded him of Gary Cooper. 
Several of the women had asked him if he would go with them to
Nebraska or Colorado.  He had simply walked away.

Oh, the Old Woman had talked to him in the middle of the night.  She
had called him by his old name.  But so had the Dark Man.  He had
tried to block both of them out of his head.  Valium had helped for
awhile, but soon he was having to up the doses to reach success.  The
doses were getting too high.  Then came the booze.  But bourbon had
made the dreams worse.  The Dark Man always came when he drank
bourbon.

So he chose the simple road of ignoring it to make it go away.  When
the Old Woman called him to Nebraska and Colorado, he went north. 
When the Dark Man summoned him to Nevada, he headed farther north. 
Now he was traveling in circles. For some reason, perhaps some
embedded patriotism, he hesitated to cross the old border into Canada.
 He bounced north, then west, then south, then east, to north again.

He had no idea where those circles would lead him.

***

Dana Scully sat just to the side of the road, her fingers splayed
across the guardrail that stood between her and a most precipitous
drop down the green and rocky mountain side.

It was a long way down -- and a long way up.  The problem was, as she
turned around to glimpse the peak above, she had no idea which way she
had been headed.  She didn't have a car or a motorcycle.  How had she
gotten here?  And where was here?  There were no highway marker signs
in sight.

The only sound was the wind.  No birds.  No insects.  The sky above
was an odd color of fiery red -- like an angry sunset.  The clouds
seemed to be unnaturally stretched across the horizon.  The heavens
seemed low, close to the earth.  It was enough to make her feel
claustrophobic.  And very alone.

She looked back over the rail, scanning the area for anything that
might pinpoint her location.

"Nice view, huh?" 

The man's voice came from behind Scully.  She spun around, her hand
automatically reaching toward the gun she always kept near the small
of her back.  But her hand came up empty as she faced him.  Her gun
wasn't there.  She raised her hands into a defensive position, her
feet shifting on the ground for better balance.

"Whoa! Take it easy," the man exclaimed, his hands raised in a gesture
of surrender.  "I come in peace," the man tried to joke.

Scully looked him over from his brown haired head to his boot clad
toes.  He appeared to be about thirty-five years old.  He wore a brown
bomber jacket and blue jeans.  The frayed cuffs of his denim shirt
stuck out from under his jacket sleeves.  His hands were tanned and
weather beaten.  But his fingergnails were clean and well-manicured.

"You can't be too careful these days," Scully stated cautiously.

"No, you can't," the man agreed.

"So," Scully continued, "You won't mind if I ask you stay right over
there."

"No problem, ma'am.  I'll just sit right here."  He sat down on the
guardrail, some ten feet away from Scully.  

"How'd you get here?  I didn't hear you," Scully asked.

"Oh, I'm just hoofin' it.  Breakin' in these boots, so to speak," he
answered.  "Where you headed?"

Scully was not inclined to answer him.  She glanced back down the
mountain side.  Something wasn't right.  She didn't know this guy. 
She was supposed to be with another.

"I just came from down there.  Not much to see.  I'm headed to the top
now," he tilted his head into the sun, facing the mountain summit. 
"Got to be better up there."

Scully didn't respond.

"By the way," he continued as he stuck out his right hand, "My name is
Ron Banner."

Scully appraised him once more.  She didn't move to shake his hand,
but she did acknowledge him.  "My name is Dana."

"Nice to meet you, Dana.  So.  Wanna join me on the trek to the top?"
Banner smiled invitingly.

Scully hesitated.  Something was gnawing at her gut.  "No, thanks.  I
think I need to stay here for a bit."

"Whatever for, Dana?  There isn't anything here for you."

"I think..." Scully stammered.  "I think I'm supposed to be somewhere
else.  Someone else should be here..." She bit her lip, fearing she
had said too much. 

"Are you sure?  I could use some company on the way up..."

"Yes.  I think I'm going to head down there."  Scully was
uncomfortable.  Her head was beginning to hurt.  Right behind the
sinuses. 

"Oh, Dana.  I'd think you want to go up.  Why go down where you've
already been.  I thought you were more adventurous that that."  His
voice held disappointment.  But it wasn't the kind of disappointment a
friend or parent would show.  The kind that wants you, expects you to
be a better person.  No.  This was the pout of a petulant child.

Scully shifted uneasily.  She hadn't told Banner that she had been at
the bottom of the mountain already.  *She* didn't even know that.  She
began to back away from him.  "No.  I think I'll be going now.  You
can go ahead and climb to the top if you want."

"No.  I think you should come with me," he said as he stood up and
walked toward her.

"Stay back!" Scully warned.  Her heart began to race as she stared at
his face.  It was transforming into someone else.  As if a facade on a
building was chipped away to reveal the true nature of the ugly
structure beneath.  The pieces kept falling away.  *Banner.  He said
his name was Banner.  A banner is a flag.  Flagg is the Dark Man.* 
"Oh my god," she mumbled as she comprehended the sick joke. 

He jumped forward with lightning speed.  There was no time for her to
prepare her footing.  He held her arm in a vice like grip.

"Time to climb, Dana," he sneered, his face a bright blood red.  "I
think I've been patient enough!" And he began to drag her toward the
uphill roadway.

"Get away from me, you son of a bitch!"  Scully struggled back.  She
kicked at him, but he deftly avoided her feet.  Then she fought back
with gravity, becoming dead weight as he dragged her.  When his grip
relaxed slightly as he tried to adjust his hold, Scully seized the
opportunity.  She swept her right leg into the back of his knees,
knocking him onto his back.

Scully scrambled back, trying to regain her balance as she stumbled to
her feet.  The blood pounded in her head with a frantic, painful
rhythm.

"Scully!"

She spun around, looking for who was calling her.  Was it Mulder?  Her
vision was fading.  Her hands flew up to help her find her way.  When
they hit something hard, she realized she was back at the guardrail.

"Scully!" the voice cried again.

"Mulder!" She frantically called.  "Mulder!"

Flagg was upon her in a heartbeat, grabbing her around the waist.  She
wrapped her hands around the guard rail and refused to let go.

"Now, now, Dana.  That isn't playing fair.  I just wanted to show
you..." he began to tug with forceful jerks..."the...nice...view!"

But Scully kicked him in the kneecap on his last tug.  He growled in
anger as he released his hold upon her.  She tightened her grip on the
rail even as she raised her right leg to kick Flagg in the face.

Flagg was ready for her, but his rage had gotten the better of him. 
He grabbed her leg midair in an iron grip and bellowed as he heaved
her into the air. "You bitch!"

Scully felt herself rise up and over the guardrail. She was falling
end over end, down the mountainside...  She closed her eyes as she
waited for the inevitable.  "Mulder!" She screamed with her last
breath.

Flagg's chest heaved with each breath as he looked over the rail,
realizing what he had done.

He threw his head back and roared.

***

Boulder Clinic
August 23
2000 Hours


He lifted his head from the chair back and spoke.

"A lot's happened this week, Scully  Let's see.  What haven't I told
you?  We covered my brand new scar...told you that I think that guy
Brad has the hots for Susan.  Oh!  Did I mention that Fluffy has a new
friend?  Glen's dog Kojak made it to town the other day.  Just walked
in out of the blue.  He was all beat up. Had to walk the several
hundred miles from where Glen and Stu and their gang had to leave him
'cause they couldn't get him on their motorcycles...but, wow.  He
honed right in on Glen.  Amazing.  Dick Ellis is thrilled to have a
dog for a patient instead of another FBI agent."

Mulder gingerly leaned forward in his chair and lifted Scully's hand
from her bed.  He slowly traced each of her fingers, memorized each
line on her palm.  Such pale fingers.  Such strong yet fragile hands.

"C'mon, Scully.  It's time to wake up," Mulder spoke softly.  There
was no response.  

He slid back in his chair with a slight grimace.  His sweatpants were
better than jeans, but the waistband still cut into the stitches from
his appendectomy.  The discomfort was a constant reminder that all of
this was real.  Not some nightmare.

It had been nine days since Dick Ellis had carved him open.  Nine days
since Scully had collapsed, covered in her own blood.  He had awoken a
few hours later, expecting to see Scully's face beaming over him,
expecting to see her raise her eyebrow and hear her warn him not to
pull any more stunts like that again.  But Susan Stern was there
instead.

His fingers drummed against the bedsheets in an ever quickening
rhythm.

Dick had rounded up several folks in Boulder who had the same blood
type as Scully.  Even without all of the fancy equipment they'd had in
Washington, D.C., he had been able to stabilize Scully within a few
hours.  

A "real" people doctor had arrived in town the next day.  George
Richardson was an older man, full of down home bedside manner and
plenty of valuable experience.  He had taken charge of Scully's case
from a relieved Dick.  George expected Scully to wake up anytime now,
explaining that her body had been saving energy to heal itself and
that's why she was still unconscious.  But the news still wasn't
good.

His right knee bounced as his agitated heel tapped on the floor.

She wasn't going to get much better.  All they could do was put the
equivalent of a small bandaid on the large evil that invaded her
body.

It was a miracle that Scully had survived this long.  He fingered the
cross that he still wore around his neck, sliding it back and forth on
the chain.  Damnit.  Mulder wanted another miracle.  He surged out his
chair, ignoring his side, and leaned over Scully, his hands on either
side of her shoulders.

"Damnit, Scully.  Wake up!  Scully!  We did not come this fucking far
just for you to give up in the middle of bum-frickin' Colorado. 
Matthew is out there and we still have to find him! Wake up!"

The door burst open and Susan Stern and George Richardson barged into
the room.  Fluffy stuck his head inside from his sentry post in the
hallway, but did not want to face a loud Mulder.

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?" Susan ordered, her hands on her
hips.

"Hey, Doc.  Susan.  Maybe you can settle an argument here between me
and Scully.  We both agree that you shouldn't drink out of the milk
carton because you leave germs.  But, can you take a swig from a
bottle of Listerine?" Mulder asked sarcastically.  He was drained from
his outburst and his long vigil.  He pulled himself up from the bed
and shuffled back into his chair.  But he still kept hold of Scully's
hand.

Susan looked to George for guidance.

"Mulder, you're exhausted.  You need to get some sleep," George gently
stated.  Susan moved over to the bed and straightened the sheets,
checked the i.v. lines.

"No.  I'm not leaving," Mulder stated as fact.

"There's a bed just down the hall.  I've got it all ready for you,"
Susan offered.

"No."

They were at a stand still.

"It's pointless to argue with him," a small voice whispered from the
bed.  "I should know."

"Scully?" Mulder's voice broke with relief.

There was a flurry of activity as George and Susan maneuvered around
Mulder to check the condition of their now aware patient.  Fluffy
bounded in with an excited bark but Susan deflected him from the bed
with a straight right leg block to the side.

"How are you feeling, Miss Scully?" George asked.

Scully blinked her eyes a few times to clear the film of coma-induced
sleep and focused on the new doctor with some puzzlement.  For a
moment, she wasn't sure if she was truly awake or if she was in some
strange dream...where people weren't what they were supposed to be. 
Then she saw Mulder hovering over her again.  She calmed.  

She cleared her throat before answering.  "Water would be good," she
rasped and licked her parched lips.  "And some Listerine, if Mulder
hasn't gotten to it first," she added as she squeezed Mulder's hand.

Mulder jumped into action and poured a cup of water from the pitcher
on the bedstand.  He stuck in the straw and bent it to an
accommodating angle.  With his free hand, he helped Scully lift her
head so she could take a much appreciated sip.  She lay back again,
exhausted from the simple effort.

"Where is Dick?" Scully asked, her eyes closed.

"This is George Richardson, Dana.  He came into town last week and
we're lucky to have him.  He was chief of staff at his community
hospital in Green Valley, Arizona," Susan explained.

"We're gonna take good care of you, Dana.  And you've got some friends
here that have been mighty impatient for you to wake up," George
informed her as he looked pointedly at Mulder and Fluffy, who was now
laying in the corner of the room.

"What happened?" Scully asked.

"You had another...episode, Scully," Mulder answered.

"Luckily, Fluffy was there and got everyone's attention so we found
you right away," Susan added.  She didn't mention the fact that Tom
Cullen was so upset that he tried to hide in broom closet after he
found Dick.  For some reason, he had thought that he was the cause of
Scully's illness.  But Dick had convinced him it wasn't his fault and
had gotten the man to go and help find blood donors for Scully.

"Dick Ellis gave you a transfusion and lots of fluids...got you
stabilized.  He did an amazing job considering the lack of working
equipment and supplies.  We did manage to get the x-ray equipment up
and running and took one series..." George let his voice taper off. 
He knew that Scully was a doctor.

"I can guess what it showed," Scully whispered.

George shook his head in frustration.  "I'm sorry we don't have more
sophisticated equipment in running order.  And it's going to take time
to train people to use what we do have."

"It's okay, Dr. Richardson.  I understand.  There's not much you could
do anyway." She paused and looked at Mulder.  "We've been down this
road before," she added before succumbing to a series of weak coughs.

When they subsided, Mulder handed her a kleenex to wipe her mouth.

"We had to intubate you for a little while so I expect your throat
will be a bit scratchy for a few days.  But, you need your rest now,
Dana," George said, raising his hand to stop Mulder before the younger
man could say anything.  "Your visitors can stay as long as they let
you rest.  I think they'll be good medicine for you."

Mulder gave the doctor a look of thanks.

"We'll get some ice chips for you in a sec -- we're the only ones in
town with ice, so use 'em -- And I'll have someone bring you some
dinner in a little while.  We need to get some food into you, bring
your energy level back up.  Eat as much as you can, okay?"

Scully nodded.  George and Susan started for the door.  "Now, get some
rest," George instructed.  "That means no talking, Mulder."

"Thanks, Doc," Mulder nodded gratefully.

The door closed and they were alone.

"Hey," Mulder said as he caressed the back of Scully's hand with his
thumb.

"Hey," she responded.

Mulder leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

She smiled, but a second later her body jerked with a start as she
remembered.  "Mother Abagail!  Have they found her?"

"No," Mulder shook his head.  "There's no word.  They stopped the
active search two days ago.  It was just too much of drain of man
power.  And Mother Abagail's note made it pretty clear she didn't want
to be found."

"But..."

"Later, Scully.  Rest now.  I'll fill you in on everything later."

"But how are *you* doing?" Scully insisted, trying to see his side
through his loose shirt.

"I'm fine, Scully.  No complications from surgery.  Just a little
sore.  Rest.  Now.  I'll be here when you wake up and we'll talk
more."  He leaned over and pulled the bed sheets up to her shoulders,
tucking her in.  Then he leaned over and kissed her again.

Scully's eyes slowly closed.  She had so many questions, and she
wanted to tell Mulder the fuzzy details she remembered of her strange
dream, but sleep descended upon her like a sea of fog, its waves
washing out all thought.

Mulder relaxed in his chair with a tight smile, finally taking time to
acknowledge to himself that his side was, indeed, sore.  He pulled his
blanket from the back of the chair and draped it over himself.  He was
careful to make sure that he fell asleep facing Scully.  His breathing
slowed and deepened as he got his first real rest in over a week.

Fluffy remained in the corner.  He was relieved to see Mulder and
Scully both sleeping peacefully.  And he was satisfied that the young
man who always smelled mean, Harold, had not been back to the
hospital.  The threat level was down -- for now.

Fluffy let his head drop down onto his paws.  He took a deep breath
and let it out with a sigh.  He needed to stay alert, but he also
needed some rest.  This might be the best chance to sleep.  There were
friends just outside the door.  Yes.  He would sleep.  But he would
keep one ear open.

***

August 25
2200 Hours


It had been a busy week for Harold Lauder.  Tonight, he sat in his
dark living room, reclined on the couch in his boxer shorts, a can of
Coors in his hand.  A nice warm beer after a hard day's work.  He let
out a small belch.  He frowned.  Even his burping ability could be
seen as weak.

Never mind.  What he lacked in noxious fumes, he had made up for in
other ways this week.  Woo boy, had he.

His first success had been at the town meeting on the eighteenth.  In
front of some six hundred spectators -- a number that surprised even
him -- he had shocked the hell out of Mr. Stuart Redmond when he
proposed that Stu, Fran, Nick, and their cronies be elected as the
Town Council.  He hadn't insinuated himself onto the committee as he
knew Stu had expected.  Instead, he had thrust himself forward as a
good and upright citizen of Boulder.  Eat that, Stu!

He took a swig of beer.  And grimaced.  He had never liked beer. 
Never understood anyone who did.  It was nasty and bitter and had a
habit of getting caught in the dam of his throat.  But, he thought as
he took yet another drink, such were the things you did to try and fit
in.  And he was doing just that for the first time in his life.  It
was a confusing feeling.

He had joined the least popular, yet the most respected committee. 
The Burial Committee.  The name was merely a euphemism.  It should
have been called the "Go into every building and find all the leaky,
disgusting dead people, haul 'em away, and burn 'em before everyone
dies of disease Committee."  Not many people stayed on the committee
for more than one day.  Harold kept going back each morning.  Which
meant he and the other regulars had formed some kind of bond.  He
wasn't used to that.  He needed to shrug it off because he couldn't go
down that road anymore.  He had to keep focused on his plan.

Randall Flagg had helped Harold cross another line that week. "Cross"
another line... Harold laughed.  Nadine Cross, an older woman, had
shown up at his doorstep.  She was all dressed up and ready to be of
service.  Harold had shortly thereafter received the first and most
amazing blowjob of his life.  He was a man now.  Granted, apparently
normal sexual intercourse was a no-no -- according to Nadine -- but
Harold didn't have a great problem with that. As long as the blowjobs
kept coming.  He had always been better at receiving than giving.

He lifted his right arm and flexed his bicep muscles.  Amazing.  Hard
work had a way of filling a body out, even if the owner still did have
a penchant for PayDay candy bars during times of stress.  For just a
moment, he had a fleeting thought of remorse.  In a perfect world,
Fran Goldsmith would look at him now and fall at his feet.  And Harold
would have given her the world.  He dropped his arm.  The world wasn't
perfect, and he had already made his pact with the devil.  There was
no turning back now.

And he could hear the clock ticking above his head.  Someone was
getting suspicious.  He had seen signs that someone had been snooping
inside his house.  Luckily, they hadn't found his journal.  The one he
kept hidden behind a loose rock in the fireplace.  The one that
expressed his true feelings for everyone in Boulder.  But the fact
that they were looking was warning enough.  He had a short list of
names on his burglary suspect list.  Stu, Fran...and the FBI agents. 
He would need to take some decisive action.

Harold Lauder knew his time in Boulder was running out.



*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

*****


"Ah, ha, ha, ha,
Stayin' alive, 
Stayin' alive..."

- The Bee Gees

*****

August 30
Boulder
1800 hours


Scully sat on the back deck of the house nursing her tea.  She wrapped
her hand around the mug, gauging its heat.  The liquid had just now
reached the perfect temperature.  Not too hot, not too cool.  As
Goldilocks would say, "Just right!"

It had taken exactly four-hundred and twenty-nine of her heartbeats
for the tea to reach this point after Mulder poured the boiling water
over the tea bag.  She had counted each one.  To his credit, Mulder
hadn't said anything when he brought her the tea and noticed her
fingers on the pulse point in her wrist.  His eyes had narrowed a bit,
but he remained silent.  He had carefully set down the mug next to the
bear-shaped honey bottle and the plate for the used tea bag, then he
walked back inside.

Four-hundred and twenty-nine down, she had no idea how many or how few
to go.  They had taken so long to count, but had passed by so quickly.
 Yet, so much could happen in those fast four-hundred and twenty-nine
numbers.  What was Matthew doing during those beats?  Was he laughing
or crying?  Sleeping or playing?  Was he alone?  Did he have his
finger shoved up his nose in his favorite pose?

She laid her head back against the deck lounger.  From his sprawled
position beside her chair, Fluffy released a snorted sigh.  He hadn't
moved during the entire countdown.  For that matter, he hadn't left
her side since George released her from the hospital yesterday
morning.

There had been no point to extending her hospital stay.  There was
little George could do for her beyond making her comfortable.  And she
was much more comfortable at home -- what had become her home of sorts
-- with Mulder.  Besides, it was a drain on the hospital's resources
to keep her there.  It had taken alot of attention and precious fuel
to keep the generator running for her room.

Physically, she was weak.  Her body was still recovering from the
blood loss.  But, she had suffered no more episodes since the main
event.  She just needed rest.  Her mental well-being was another
matter.  It did not want to rest.  It wanted her to get on the road
immediately to find Matthew, before it was too late.  The promise to
Mother Abagail be damned.  Time was a-wastin'.

She leaned over and scratched Fluffy's neck.  "What do you know, boy? 
I'm just as impatient as Mulder," she mumbled.  She shivered in the
cooling air.

Fluffy took the scratch and the conversation as an invitation to join
her on the lounge chair.  He inched his way up and slowly insinuated
himself beside her, his nose and paws finding a way under and around
her right leg.  She gave in after a few seconds and soon the whole dog
was on board, his head resting contentedly on top of her thigh.

She scratched his ears, enjoying the feel of his soft fur on her
fingers.  Then she lifted his head and leaned forward to look at him
eye to eye.  "Ya' know, fur face, I think it's almost time for you to
have a bath. I know Mulder didn't give you one this week."

Under normal circumstances Fluffy would have whined and protested, but
this time was different.  He liked getting attention from Scully, even
if it meant he had to suffer the indignities water and soap could
bring to a dog of his caliber.  He quickly stuck out his tongue and
licked Scully's face.

"Yuck!" she laughed as she wiped the doggie spit from her cheek.

"Fluffy!" Mulder shouted as he came out onto the deck, a blanket in
his hand.  

"It's okay, Mulder," Scully responded, rubbing Fluffy's head again. 
"Fluffy's just being my leg warmer," she added.

Mulder stared at the dog doubtfully.  Fluffy stared back with big
brown innocent eyes -- albeit eyes with a triumphant gleam.  "The
sun's going down soon.  I thought you might like a blanket," Mulder
stated as he held the blanket up for her to inspect.

"Thank you, Mulder.  I'm sure Fluffy and I both appreciate your
thoughtfulness," Scully answered with a soft grin.

Mulder grumbled good-naturedly as he helped Scully lean forward and he
draped the blanket over her shoulders.  "The dog can get his own
blanket," he mumbled with a smirk toward Fluffy.  Then he turned
serious, letting his hand drift to smooth Scully's hair where the
blanket had mussed it.

"Dinner will be ready soon.  Do you need anything for now?"

"We're fine, Mulder.  I think I might just take a nap for little
bit."

"Do you want to go inside?"

"No. I'm fine here.  We'll be just fine."

"Okay.  If it doesn't get too cold, maybe we can just eat out here
tonight," Mulder said.  

Scully nodded.  He leaned over and kissed her gently.  It was just an
illusion of domestic bliss, but he wasn't in the mood to shatter it
just now.  

As Scully closed her eyes to sleep, she caressed Fluffy's head,
reminding herself that she needed to talk to Dick about scanning
Fluffy with the Avid scanner.  She kept forgetting to do that...

Mulder went back inside.  And as he tinkered around the hot wood
stove, he prayed for more time.  "Mother Abagail, where are you?"

***

1900 hours


"Coming!" Mulder yelled as he ran to answer the knock at the front
door, a damp dish towel still tossed over his shoulder.

Stu stood at the front door, an arrangement of wildflowers clenched in
his hand.

"For me, Stu?  You shouldn't have!" Mulder exclaimed as Stu stepped
inside.

"Very funny, Mulder.  Fran sent these over for Dana," Stu countered as
he thrust the flowers forward awkwardly.

"Hang on to those for a sec and you can deliver those to the lady
yourself," Mulder said as he led Stu into the living room.  "We just
finished up dinner," he continued as he wiped his damp fingers on his
towel.

Fluffy was dead to the world on his doggie bed in the corner.  He
lazily raised his head an inch to let everyone know he was still on
the job but not feeling compelled to move since it was only Stu.  

Scully was relaxing on the sofa.  Stu headed toward her.  "Dana, it's
good to see you with some color in your cheeks!" Stu exclaimed as he
leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek.  He held out the
flowers.  "Here.  Fran wanted me to give you these."

"Thanks, Stu." She gently set the flowers down on the end table.  "Has
there been any word on Mother Abagail?"

Stu shook his head.  "No.  And you know I'll make sure you get the
word as soon as I know anything."

"I just made some coffee, you want some?" Mulder asked from the
doorway, suddenly realizing that he was looking way too domesticated.

"No, no.  I'm just fine.  I just wanted to check in on you and maybe
discuss a few things," Stu answered.

Scully gestured for Stu to sit and he chose an easy chair.  Mulder
joined them as he sat down beside Scully, sitting where she could lean
back against him.

"So, what's the news?" Mulder asked.

"Well, the good news is that we might have the electricity runnin'
again tomorrow."

"That's great news," Scully responded.  She ran her fingers through
her hair.  The idea of using a hair dryer again was enticing.

Mulder's eyes narrowed.  "And what's the bad news?"

Stu chuckled for a moment.  "No bad news tonight.  Unless word about
our growing bureaucracy can qualify as bad news."

"It might," Mulder muttered, memories of Washington, D.C. red tape
still flowing through his head.

"No, really.  And this is a big part of why I'm here.  We're having a
meeting day after tomorrow at Nick and Ralph's house.  All the council
and the heads of the various committees.  Sort of a progress report
and planning meeting.  And I think we could use your help, Dana."

"Me?" she asked.

"Yeah."  Stu paused.  He bowed his head as he tried to come up with
the right words.  He was clearly uncomfortable.

"Just spit it out, Stu, before you choke," Mulder prodded.

"Well.  I kinda got myself appointed as Sheriff of these here
parts..."

"Oooh, Scully.  I feel a Roy Rogers' song coming on..." Mulder
quipped, although his tone clearly showed Stu that he approved of the
appointment.

"Anyway," he looked to see if Mulder was going to wisecrack again. 
Mulder waved him on.  "That sort of makes me the Public Safety chief
for now.  And some of us on the council have some concerns about the
Burial Committee."

"What concerns?" Scully leaned forward.

"Concerns about disease.  I mean, the guys on the Burial detail are
doing a great job.  A job nobody else wants to touch.  But we need to
know if we're going about this business in the right way.  We sure as
hell don't want some epidemic sprouting up just as our population is
passing the one-thousand mark.  We need to check our procedures and
then we oughta have some plan in place just in case folks do start
getting sick..."

"You need to know if your...disposal methods are sound.  And you need
to know what signs and symptoms to look for in case something does
start to break out," Scully continued his train of thought.

"Right.  That's it!" Stu exclaimed, grateful Scully was in the gist of
things.

"I don't know, Stu.  Scully hasn't been out of the hospital for more
than..." Mulder stopped when he caught Scully's look of frustration. 
She finally had a chance to feel useful.  To have something important
to do instead of just sit around the house waiting, and here he was
cutting her off at the knees.  "What about Dr. Richardson?" He
finished.

"George was the one who suggested we ask Dana.  He needs the help and
he can't make it to the meeting.  He's on duty at the hospital
tomorrow.  Hell, he's always on duty at the hospital. Although he does
have Dick Ellis working for him as a paramedic now."

"So, Dr. Richardson thinks it's okay..." Scully said.  She was looking
at Stu, but Mulder knew the remark was directed at him.  Mulder raised
his hands in surrender.  He let one hand fall on her back and he began
to massage her muscles there.  His way of apologizing.  She signaled
her acceptance by leaning back into the massage.

"Great then.  It's settled," Stu grinned.  "The meeting starts at
eight, but most of us are headed over a little early for some
barbecue.  There won't be any steaks, but Fran has developed some kind
of burger from canned tuna...and we'll have lots of corn on the cob
and greens.  Say six-thirty?"

"We'll be there," Scully responded.

"And I guess I better get a move on.  Fran'll get all over me if I
don't get home at a decent hour tonight."

He stood and Mulder followed suit, seeing him to the door.  When they
reached the door, Stu spoke quietly.

"Can I talk to you outside for a sec?"

Mulder nodded.  He hollered back toward the living room, "Scully, I'm
gonna see Stu out to his car.  Be back in a minute!"

"Okay," echoed back from the area of the sofa.

The men stepped outside and Mulder closed the front door.  

"What's up?" Mulder asked.

Stu gestured for him to sit down on the steps.  Mulder raised his
eyebrow.  It must be serious if he was sitting down.  Meanwhile, Stu
paced.

"I know I'm the one they appointed to do this law and order thing, but
I could sure use your help, Mulder."  Stu was uncomfortable asking for
assistance.  It wasn't the way of life in East Texas where a man stood
on his own two feet.  But his mamma didn't raise no fool either. 
Mulder knew ways to get information that he did not.  He knew
technical things that he did not.

"I don't know how much I can help, Stu.  Scully needs me...and I just
don't know how long we'll be sticking around..." Mulder's voice
trailed off.

Stu knew that Scully had been doing better the past few days.  But he
also knew from Susan Stern that her days appeared to be numbered only
in the low double digits.  Stu doubted that Mulder would last long
after that.

"Well, I really would appreciate your help in one matter.  We can see
about other things after that," Stu said.

Mulder crossed his arms across his chest to ward off some of the
evening chill and sighed.  "I can't make promises to you.  All my
promises are tied up in Scully.  But I'll do what I can for you.  We
owe folks here alot, especially you.  What's the problem?"

"In a word -- Harold." Stu grimaced as he stated it out loud.

Mulder nodded with a frown.  He had suspected as much.  Harold Lauder
had made his stomach churn from day one.  There was just something not
quite right in that smug boy's head.

"I have to confess," Stu began, "I thought he would take off for Las
Vegas and Randall Flagg a week after we got here.  He looks like he's
trying to fit in, but I don't know.  I can't help but get the feelin'
that he's up to something.  Like he's got his own agenda and it ain't
necessarily what's best for the rest of the folks in Boulder."

"What do you think his plan is?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know," Stu responded.  He looked down and kicked at a small
rock.  It skittered across the pavement.  "But Frannie's gone and got
it in her head that it involves hurting me."

Mulder leaned back on the stoop and chewed on the information for a
moment.  "She may be right, Stu."

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Stu.  You can't say that you haven't noticed the evil eye he
gives you everytime Fran is around.  The boy is so jealous he can't
spit straight.  In his mind, you represent everything he hates.  All
those years he was a geek who was tortured at school.  He wants to
exact revenge upon you."

Stu could only nod.  Mulder was right.  It was obvious.  Had been
since the day they met.

"But I wonder, too," Mulder continued.  "Why hasn't he taken off for
Vegas.  I've noticed that some other people have been slipping out of
Boulder in the middle of the night."  He looked at Stu, his eyes
closely watching Stu for any reaction as he went on.  "Although, I
suspect that a few of those who left didn't do it to go and join Flagg
and his minions.  I suspect they were sent."

Stu remained quiet.  The council had agreed to keep information about
the three spies they had sent West top secret.  He knew Mulder was a
safe bet, but he had given his word.  No one could know that Judge
Farris, Dayna Jurgens and Tom Cullen had been sent to ferret out intel
about what the Dark Man was doing.  Checking the Air Force bases and
nuclear weapons to see if Flagg was planning on attacking Boulder in
the near future.

"I know you can't say anything, Stu.  But it's a smart thing to do,"
Mulder set Stu's mind at ease.  He stood up to head inside.  "Let me
see what I can find out about our friend Harold.  I'll let you know
when I've got any ideas."

"Thanks, friend," Stu waved.

"But, Stu!" Mulder turned and called out at the last second.  Stu
turned to face him.

"Yeah?"

"Canned tuna burgers?" Mulder gulped, his throat feeling constricted.

"Yeah," Stu replied, a lump in his own throat.

Mulder shook his head and went inside the house.  Stu turned and
walked down the driveway, headed home to Fran and the canned tuna.  

***

2200 hours


Harold Lauder sat in his basement, hunched over the workbench.  A
tinny old boom box blasted out the most popular disco hits of the
'70s.  All he needed was a mirror ball and roller skates and then the
Bee Gees ambience would be complete.  Instead, he was surrounded by
snips of assorted wires, blobs of discarded electrical tape,
batteries, and other sundry items he had picked up around town over
the past week.

The Dark Man had showed him in his dreams exactly where to look to
find the most important ingredient to his current project.  The lovely
storehouses of the old Boulder Department of Public Works.  A quick
trip to his local Boulder Public Library gave him the book that showed
him how to bring it all together.  Your tax dollars in action.

Three days and counting.  All he had to do was be ready for the
meeting at Nick and Ralph's house on September 2.

He turned up the music on his boom box and got ready to boogie.

***

September 2
Boulder
1800 Hours


Mulder had quickly dubbed September First as "The Day of the Blender."
 They had gotten the electricity turned on, sure enough.  And then the
electricity crashed.  

It seemed that everyone in Boulder when the lights first went out had
left every high powered appliance in the "on" mode.  Never bothered to
turn them off.  Of course, dying was a pretty good excuse for not
following politically correct energy conservation procedures.  But all
this meant that a new Boulder committee would have to be formed.  The
"Go Around To All The Buildings And Turn Everything The Hell Off So We
Don't Blow Another Generator Or Turbine" Committee.

Just one more thing for the agenda of tonight's meeting.

"Are you sure you want to go to this meeting, Scully?" Mulder asked as
he hopped around the bedroom, pulling on his dark socks and shoes.

"Yes, I'm sure," was her muffled response as she pulled a shirt over
her head.  She looked him over from head to toe.  "Mulder, is there
some reason you're looking like Johnny Cash?  What's with all the
black clothing?"

Mulder looked down at his clothing, his arms held out from his sides. 
Black pullover, black jeans, black socks.  They were there for a
reason, but Scully didn't need to know the details.  She didn't need
to be worrying while he was funky poaching at Chez Harold.

He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her.  She tilted her
neck with a smile and he nipped her ear.  "I just know how the Man in
Black turns you on," he whispered, letting his breath blow across the
side of her face.

She shivered.  "Don't start anything we can't finish, Mulder," she
sighed with disappointment.  

Mulder turned her around to face him.  "But I'm the happiest man on
earth just standing here like this, right now."

Scully pulled his head down and kissed him with a smile.  "Let's go,
G-Man in Black."

Mulder gave her another quick kiss and then he turned to grab their
jackets.  He held Scully's jacket for her as she slipped her arms into
the sleeves.

"You think Fluffy will be okay here by himself?" She asked, a little
concerned about the idea of being separated from her furry companion.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Scully.  I already told him no parties and no
having friends over while we're gone," Mulder lectured lightly as
Scully smirked.  "He's happy by the fire right now and I filled his
bowls.  I even left the back door cracked open so he can get outside
if necessary.  We won't be out that late."

Scully nodded like a reluctant parent and they headed out the door.

***

Nick and Ralph's House
1930 Hours


Dinner was winding down and everyone was cleaning up the corn cobs,
baked beans residue, tuna burgers which had been surprisingly good,
and paper plates to get ready for the meeting.

Mulder watched Scully from across the back lawn.  It was the first
time she had been out and about in public since she had gotten out of
the hospital.  He had been pleased to see her talking and laughing
with Fran and Susan Stern.  Susan had made sure to take Scully under
her wing, make sure she wasn't overdoing it.  

In fact, right now Scully was sitting at the picnic table with Susan
and Ralph.  Ralph was doing a great job of keeping her glued to her
wooden seat, not letting her lift a finger to help in the cleanup.

It would be a good time for him to make his quiet exit.  He had
already arranged it with Stu.  He looked around the crowd and finally
found Stu around the side of the house talking to Glen.  He walked
over to the two.

"It's time now, Stu," Mulder stated quietly.

Stu nodded.  "Are you sure it'll be okay?  He hasn't been seen around
for two days..." Stu cautioned.

"I'm sure it'll be fine.  Maybe we just got lucky and he and that
Cross woman took off for Vegas already," Mulder responded, although he
wasn't sure he believed the theory.

"Okay," Stu replied.  I'll let Scully know in a few minutes.  "Good
luck, Mulder."

And Mulder headed off into the darkness.

***

1952 Hours


Scully looked around the yard but she still couldn't find Mulder.  The
meeting would be starting soon.  Where had he gotten off to?  She
stood and headed into the house.  Maybe he was helping Ralph get the
chairs set up inside.  As she walked in the back door, Stu was waiting
for her, just inside the kitchen.

"Dana," he said.

"Oh, Stu.  Have you seen Mulder?  I'm thinking maybe I need to get him
a leash."

"Shoot," Stu exclaimed as he hit himself in the forehead.  "I promised
him I'd tell you and I plum forgot..."

"What?"

"I asked him to run an errand for me.  He left a little while ago,"
Stu said, not entirely comfortable with the deceit, but at least it
wasn't a complete lie.

"But the meeting will be starting in a just a few minutes," Scully
protested.

Stu lowered his voice and leaned in toward her, as if to share a
secret.  "I kinda had the impression that Mulder wasn't real keen on
sitting through meetings."

Scully shook her head.  Typical Mulder.

"Look, Dana.  Don't be mad at Mulder.  It's really my fault. I'm the
one that asked him to go," Stu tried to run interference.

"And I'm sure you had to force him," Scully remarked.

"Okay, folks!" Ralph's voice bellowed from the living room.  "Let's
get this show on the road!"

Stu headed into the living room, relieved that Ralph's call had saved
him from more questions. 

Scully followed slowly behind him.  She knew there was more to this
than Stu had told her, but she didn't have the time or energy to prod
any further.  As she took a chair beside Susan, she eyed Stu
carefully.  Yup.  Something was up.

She'd get to the bottom of it right after the meeting.

***

1953 Hours


"C'mon, you old dog.  Mother Abagail could use your help right now!"

Fluffy sat up from his bed, his senses fully alert.  His ears perked
forward.  He had heard the old woman's voice.  

"You're been a good boy.  Now don't make this old woman wait..." the
voice trailed off.

Fluffy knew the nice woman was weak.  She needed his help.  With a
yelp he bounded for the back door and ran into the night.

***

2000 Hours


It had taken him almost thirty minutes to make the hike to Harold
Lauder's house.  Mulder had enjoyed the chill of the summer evening. 
The walk had given him the chance to get back into federal agent mode,
planning his recon of Harold's lair.  

He crouched behind the bushes at the edge of Harold's dark yard. 
There were no signs of life.  Harold's motorbike and Nadine's puny
Vespa were gone.  No lights in any window.

He crept toward the house and peeked in the windows.  Nope.  Nobody
home.  And it looked as though Harold had left in a hurry.  

Mulder walked around to the back and opened the back door.  He stepped
inside.

***

2005 Hours


The meeting was already boring.  Scully had always been good at
managing to sit through these things, but that didn't mean she enjoyed
all the details people always wanted to dwell upon.  Two men were
already arguing about how to assign housing to new arrivals in
Boulder.

Where the hell was Mulder?

***

2008 Hours


Fluffy found Mother Abagail a few blocks away.  Her frail bones could
barely keep her standing.  Her skin was rough and dry after weeks in
the wilderness.  And she was so very cold.  Fluffy ran to her side. 
Mother Abagail could only whisper as she placed one hand on Fluffy's
shoulder to lean upon him.

"I knew you would be comin'...but we gotsta hurry, dog.  There's
danger."

She took several steps aided by Fluffy, but age and the elements were
against her.  Her knees began to buckle.

Fluffy whined and barked as she collapsed onto the ground.

"Go, dog.  Get help!" She whispered urgently with her last remaining
strength.

Fluffy ran, barking wildly as he headed for the nearest occupied
house.  It was just down the street.


***

2010 Hours


Mulder edged his way down the stairs into the basement.  There were no
clues upstairs, and somehow, Mulder knew Harold was a "keep the
secrets below ground" type of guy.

When he reached the bottom stair, he shone his flashlight across the
room.  There was a workbench.  He moved forward to investigate.

Wires, batteries, Radio Shack walkie-talkie boxes.  And little tiny
samples of a crystallized substance on the table.  A book laying front
cover down...

Oh, god.  Mulder knew what Harold had done in this very room.  And the
target came to him with crashing clarity.

He ran.

***

2011 Hours


Three people ran behind Fluffy toward the woman.

"Mother Abagail!"

***

2018 Hours


Mulder ran as fast his legs would carry him.  "No, no, no, no, no! 
I've got to get there in time," his mind screamed.  He ignored the
pain flaming in his side from his recent appendectomy.  He didn't care
if he tore something open and let his guts spill out onto the Boulder
streets.  As long as he got to Scully in time.

***

2024 Hours

There was a commotion on the front lawn.  The sounds of motorcycles
arriving.  Someone went to the door to see what was going on.  

"They're saying something about Mother Abagail...what?" The man stuck
his head back out of the door.  "They're saying that Mother Abagail is
back!  She's come back!"  Then Stu and Ralph were running out the
door, followed by a few others.

But suddenly, something was wrong.  A sharp pain lanced through
Scully's head.  Her hands snapped up to her temples.

"Run, Dana!"

It was Mother Abagail's voice.  The excited voices in the room were
now just a din of unintelligible noise.

"RUN! Get out of the house now!"

Scully wasn't the only one who had heard the message.  Several people
were looking around the room, panic forming on their faces.  And in a
moment when everyone should have been rejoicing, everything became
eerily still.  Fran broke the silence.

"Everyone get out of the house now!" she screamed, her eyes wide with
fear.

Scully started grabbing the slow movers and pushed them toward the
door.  She could almost hear the clock ticking, each second snapping
in her mind.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick running
toward the hall closet.  What the hell was he doing?  She turned to go
after him, but then someone grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the
front door.  There was no time to fight.  She glanced over her
shoulder and saw that Nick had picked up a shoe box from the closet
floor.

"RUN Everyone!"  Mother Abagail's voice bellowed with unbelievable
power.

Scully's feet cleared the doorway onto the front porch.

***

2025 Hours


Mulder turned the last corner and could see the house just ahead. 
Something was going on because there was a small mass of people on the
front lawn.  Folks were running to and fro, hither and yon.  No one
seemed to be in charge.

Then he could see people running out of the house.  They were grabbing
those on the lawn and pulling them away.

*Thank God!  Maybe they found the bomb....*

He scanned the runners for Scully. Where was she?

There!  There she was.  Running out the front door.  He was still
three houses away, but he yelled anyway.

"Scully!"

And the world exploded.



*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

*****

"Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas Eve.
You can say there's no such thing as Santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe."

- Elmo & Patsy


*****

September 2
2026 Hours


Mulder was thrown back by the initial blast as the house exploded into
a million lethal fiery pieces.  He rolled to his feet in seconds, just
in time to see a second wave of fire erupt from what remained of the
house.  The wave flew out and across the lawn, about five feet above
the ground.  And then, just as quickly, it was sucked back into the
remains.

There was a brief silence, as if everything in the world was holding
its collective breath.

And the night erupted into screams.

He ran, shielding his face from the bright flames and the heat. 
Bodies were everywhere.  Some were moving, some were not.  Some were
in pieces that were still moving as they rolled in the debris.

He ran, unable to breathe, to the area where he last saw Scully and
started crawling through the bodies and debris. He rolled bodies over,
threw debris aside.  Where the hell was Scully?  He grunted and gasped
with each effort.  Jagged shards of wood and nails gouged at his arms
and hands as he dug.  The heat from the fire made his skin sting.

Others were around him now, searching for survivors.  Shouting all
around.  Shouts of pain and horror.

He almost missed her.  Would have crawled right past the brutally
mangled body.  But there, sticking out from under the dead woman with
blonde hair, a small woman's foot.   He stopped.  He knew the ankle
that peeked out just above the shoe.

"Scully!"

He fell to his knees.  The dead woman's body was hard to move.  She
was nearly cut in half, a circular saw blade embedded in what remained
of her back.  The back of her head had been turned into mush by some
unknown flying object and little bits of brain tissue were already
congealing in her long hair.  Her limbs were riddled with nails and
splinters of wood.  Blood and flesh were everywhere.  He gingerly
rolled her to the side and bit back a groan when he saw who it was. 
Susan Stern.

His groan turned to panic when he saw what he had uncovered.

**

Scully was overcome by a world of deafening darkness and dripping
gore.  And an all-encompassing need to breathe.  She could feel the
sharp blades of thick grass prickling into her face.  *Ralph must have
used that push mower to cut the lawn today,* she thought.

There was a sticky wetness on her back, it trickled down the back of
her neck, into her hair, around her ear.  And there was an
unbelievable pressure bearing down on her.  She coveted the air that
she knew must be around her. She needed to move.  Now.

She willed her arms to push against the earth, but they didn't budge. 
She dimly realized that they were both trapped beneath her body.  Her
lungs were on fire.  Her thoughts were getting fuzzy around the edges.
 

Suddenly, the weight on her was gone and she could feel herself being
rolled over, her arms flailing free.  She tried to suck in a gallon of
air, but her lungs wouldn't work. She could feel the vibration of her
throat as she gasped, but could not hear it.

A hand alit on her face and stayed there.  It was warm, so warm.  She
realized then that her eyes were closed.  She tried to open them,
blinked.  A bright orange-red flared in front of her.  It was too
bright.  She turned her head slightly and opened her eyes again.

An insane man was above her, holding her, she discovered as more of
her body became aware. His face was contorted as he shouted something
she couldn't hear...

**

"Scully!" Mulder screamed. "Talk to me, Scully," he pleaded as he
cradled her in his arms.  He ran his hand across her face and her eyes
fluttered.  He gasped in relief.

"Scully.  Please..."

She remained silent, her eyes dazed.  He moved his arm from the back
of her head and became frantic when he saw the blood on his skin.  He
began to run his hands all over her, brushing away the blood, trying
to find the source, the injury that had to be there.

"Where are you hurt, Scully?  C'mon, say something Dana."

But even though he kept looking, he could find no gushing wound or
bones jutting out at wrong angles.  Only a few scratches and some
fresh bruises.  It took him a moment to notice that she was wheezing,
gasping for air.  Her face was red with the effort.  He realized that,
between the explosion and Susan landing on top of her, she must have
had the wind knocked out of her.  He gently laid her down on the
ground on her side.  He rubbed her back, trying to help her relax
enough to find her breath.  She began to move more coherently.

"It's okay, Scully," Mulder soothed.  "Just relax and breathe.  I'm
here."

**

Scully coughed and then heaved in a huge gulp of air.  She coughed
again.  But the oxygen was flowing.  And through the roar of her ears,
she could make out words once more.

"It's okay, Scully," were the words.

Oh.  The insane man must be Mulder.

"Tell me where you're hurt." She could barely hear Mulder's words, but
could now see that he was shouting.  That muscle in his neck was
straining.  It always did that when he yelled.

She took a moment to take stock of her situation and the condition of
her body.  She felt like she had been in a car wreck, her muscles were
tight and sore and her stomach had that sick, dropping feeling that
followed trauma and preceded shock.  She wiggled her fingers and her
toes.  Good.  They worked.  Then she carefully moved her arms and
legs.  No big problems there.  

Mulder watched her carefully.  Her limbs seemed to be okay.  She
lifted a hand to her head.  Well, that wasn't surprising.  She'd more
or less just been hit by a train.  Bound to have a bit of a headache.

"Mulder?" she queried as she looked up at him and made her first eye
contact with him.  She was confused.  She could barely hear her own
voice.

"It's okay, Scully.  There was an explosion.  But you're okay," Mulder
said as he brushed her hair from her brow.  

"An explosion?" she asked.  That explained the ringing in her ears. 
That explained the almost uncomfortable heat she felt on her face. 
She began to look at the scenes around her.  Oh god.  The house blew
up.  Now she remembered.  "Where is everyone?  Did they make it out
okay?" she asked, trying to leverage herself into a sitting position. 

Mulder fought her for a moment, then gave up and helped her to sit up,
trying to turn her body from Susan's remains.  "I don't know how many
were hurt, Scully.  But some didn't make it," he admitted.

Scully's face turned sick as she saw the evidence of broken bodies
around her.  Mulder tried to divert her attention.

"What about you, Scully?  Where are you hurt?" He held up his hand,
letting her see the blood there.

"I'm sore, Mulder, but I think I'm okay.  I don't think I have any
wounds...it can't be my blood," she responded as she looked herself up
and down.

"Oh god." Mulder closed his eyes.

"What?" Scully asked.

He bowed his head.  "It must all be Susan's..."

"Where is she?" Scully started to turn around but Mulder stopped her. 
Pulled her against his chest.

"Susan's dead.  I found her on top of you," he confessed.

"But Mulder....Shit.  It was her.  She's the one who grabbed me and
pushed me out of the house. I tried to stop and get Nick, but she
wouldn't let me...She was behind me when..." She stopped, choking on
the words.

"She saved your life, Scully."

Scully nodded. Her body sagged and Mulder held her tighter to him,
wanting to take away the guilt he knew she felt.

Ralph lumbered up to them and fell to his knees beside Mulder.  His
left hand was covered in blood and it looked as though he might have
lost a finger or two.

"Are you two okay?" Ralph asked breathlessly.

"We'll be fine, Ralph.  What about your hand?" Scully tried to get a
look at it, but he tucked it in closer to his body.

"This ain't nothin.'  There are folks here who need a lot more help
than I do," he said sadly.

They were interrupted from further conversation by Stu's voice.  He
was screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Fran!  Oh, God.  Help me!"

With one look from Scully, Mulder moved into action.  He scooped her
up into his arms and moved her back some fifteen feet, where the
radiating heat from the fire was lessened considerably.

Scully released her hold on him as he set her down.  He scrambled to
his feet and ran after Ralph to help Stu.

Scully managed to get to her knees.  She stared out at the debris. 
She started to look toward Susan's body, but had to turn away once she
saw her bloody hair.

One more time she had been saved from death's grip.  It was like she
was on life's merry-go-round and couldn't get off.  Was it some sick
joke?  She had cancer.  There was no cure.  How many more people would
have to die to save her limited life?  Why was she so special?

She buried her face in her hands and silently cried.

***

September 3
1800 Hours


Scully slowly shuffled through the door into the house, Fluffy nosing
at her heels.  He had been waiting for her on the front driveway all
day.  Ever since he returned from the house where Mother Abagail was
being tended.

"Scully?" Mulder called from the kitchen.  From the clattering noises
she heard, he was making dinner.

She let her jacket slide from her shoulders onto the floor as she
followed the sounds.

"Scully?" Mulder called again.  

He walked to the doorway and saw her.  No more words were necessary. 
He opened his arms and she walked straight into his embrace, letting
his strength hold her tired body up against earth's unrelenting
gravity.

After a minute or two of silence, he kissed her on the top of her head
and lifted her up into his arms.  He carried her to bedroom and gently
laid her on the bed.  She looked up at him questioningly when he
stepped back from her.

"Gimme just a sec.  I've got to take dinner off the stove.  Be right
back," he promised as he quickly jogged from the room.

Scully simply stared at the crisp white sheets on the bed.  Fluffy
wandered into the room, his head held low, and jumped up onto the
stuffed chair in the corner. 

Mulder was a man of his word and was back in seconds.  He grabbed a
blanket from the foot of the bed, crawled in behind Scully and draped
the blanket over both of them.  He wrapped his right arm around her
waist and pulled her to him.

"Seven people died.  Two more won't make it through the night.  Over
twenty injured," Scully recited to him.  Her voice was flat.

Mulder let his hand slide up her arm, massaging it softly.  She had
been working so hard.  Ever since the explosion almost twenty-four
hours ago.  George had needed all the help he could get and Scully and
Dick Ellis were it.  While they triaged and treated the wounded at the
hospital, George had to be at Mother Abagail's side.  She was being
cared for in Larry Underwood and Lucy Swann's house.  That had placed
so much burden on Scully.

At the explosion site, he had helped an insanely frantic Stu remove a
giant sofa that landed over an unconscious Fran.  Then they had
spirited everyone off to the hospital.  It had been a madhouse. 
Scully, in spite of her own soreness and injuries had jumped into the
fray and there was no way Mulder could have stopped her, even if she
needed the rest for her own well-being.  She had only taken five
minutes to down some Advil and to rinse the blood and gore from her
hair and skin. 

There had been a brief respite with the good news that Fran and her
unborn baby were going to be fine.  But Scully had kept on working
through the night.

So, needing to be a part of some useful action, Mulder had taken off
with the posse that searched for Harold Lauder.  But Harold was long
gone.  They had found the spot where he had activated the bomb.  The
Sunrise Amphitheater had provided him and Nadine Cross a beautiful
vista of the small city.  A perfect view of the fireworks and death
below.  They had taken off right after the deed, leaving only Harold's
walkie-talkie behind as evidence of the crime.  The walkie-talkie that
had been used to set off the dynamite.  

The posse had returned home, knowing there was no way they could catch
the duo.  Let Flagg have them.  Mulder had a feeling that the people
of Boulder would never be able to inflict as much pain upon Harold
Lauder as the Dark Man in Vegas would.  But it was a grim
satisfaction.

"Any word on Mother Abagail?" Mulder murmured.  He had tried to go
over to Larry's to find out for himself, but the whole town was there
now, waiting in the streets.  There had to have been over six hundred
folks there, just waiting for some word.  He had given up and returned
home to wait for Scully.

"No.  There's been no change.  She's still in a coma.  George doesn't
see how she'll ever wake up.  But if she doesn't..." Scully couldn't
say it.  If she didn't wake up, then their wait in Boulder had been
pointless.

"Hey!" Mulder stopped her.  He rolled her over to face him and he
rested his forehead against hers.  "She came back for a reason.  She
will wake up.  Besides, I can remember someone else who was in a coma.
 Someone else who the doctors said would not wake up," he reminded
her.  He kissed her nose, but her mouth still turned down in a small
frown.

"You're right, Mulder," she agreed softly.  "But that's the other
thing I'm frightened of.  What she'll say when she wakes up."

Mulder stared into her eyes, unsure of what to say.  Her face was
lined with exhaustion, dirt, and small flecks of blood.  "Let me get
some hot water ready and I'll give you a bath.  You'll feel
better...then we can stay in bed as long as you want."

She nodded.  Staying in bed with Mulder.  That's all she wanted.  But
the hot water...  "You'll join me?"

"In the bath?  Not a chance I'd miss it," he softly teased.  He pushed
himself up on his arms and leaned over her.  "I love you, Scully. 
Everything will be okay," he whispered and then he kissed her.

She closed her eyes to nap, trying to believe his words, while Mulder
headed to the kitchen to heat up the water.  He tried not to think
about what the last day meant to her already tenuous health.  He
fingered the cross around his neck.  And he tried not to think about
her fears.  Because with all the chaos around them, he hadn't realized
that he feared the same thing.  

What was Mother Abagail going to tell them?  And would Scully be up to
the task?

***
September 5

The people of Boulder had been walking around in a daze for two days
when they were offered their first ray of light.  Literally.  The
Turn-Off Committee had completed their work and Brad Kitchener had
finally gotten the power turned on.  It was going to be a strange
adjustment, getting used to the hum of fluorescent lighting once
again.

And the vigil outside Larry Underwood's house continued, although the
numbers of people in the street had begun to dwindle.

George had sent Scully home after her second all-nighter and told her
not to come back.  Everything was back under control.

So, Mulder, Scully, and Fluffy sat in their house and waited.  Living
in a kind of limbo.  It was more trying than watching Dutch Boy dry on
the wall.

***
September 6
0205 Hours


The pounding at the front door set Fluffy to barking.  Fluffy's
barking awoke Mulder and Scully.  They both sat upright in bed.

"Who the hell could that be at this hour?" Mulder grumbled loudly,
rubbing the sleep from his face.

"I don't know," Scully replied as she stood, trying to ignore the
muscles that screamed with every movement.  She grabbed her jeans and
pulled on a sweater. "But it can't be good news..."

It took them only a minute to get dressed and they both headed
cautiously for the door.  Mulder was careful to make sure his gun was
loaded and ready to go, held tightly in his hand at his side.

The knocking got louder.  "Open up, Mulder.  It's me!  Ralph!"

Fluffy stopped barking when he heard their friend's voice.  Taking
their cue from the dog, Scully and Mulder both relaxed a little. 
Mulder peeked out the window.  "He's alone.  It's okay."  He unlocked
and opened the door.  Ralph was out of breath, his face red.

"What is it, Ralph?" Scully asked.

"It's Mother Abagail.  She's awake," he panted.  "And she wants to see
you two."

"She's awake?" Mulder was stunned. 

"It's a miracle," Ralph continued.  "She's asked to see you and to see
me and Stu, Fran, and Glen and Larry.  But she wants to see ya'll
first.  Can you drive over in your car?  I gotta get over to the
hospital and pick up Fran."

Mulder nodded.  While Scully got her coat, he grabbed his car keys and
they headed out the door.


***
Larry Underwood's House
0230 hours


They walked in the door quietly, the room feeling like a church. 
George led them over to the bed where Mother Abagail lay.  It looked
as though the old woman was asleep, but as they reached the foot of
the bed, she turned her eyes upon them.  Her face was sallow and bony,
her skin merely wrapped upon her bones.  The veins in her hands stood
out sharply and looked more fragile than rice paper.  Scully could
feel her tears begin to form.  Mulder felt a lump in his throat.

Mother Abagail motioned for them to come closer.  She patted the bed,
telling Scully to sit beside her.  They obeyed.  Mother Abagail turned
her gaze on George and the doctor took the cue to leave the room.

"We gots to hurry here, Fox.  Dana.  I've already called for the
others.  But your calling is a different path."  She looked directly
into Mulder's eyes.  "It's time now.  His time."  She tightened her
grip on Scully's hand.

"I don't know if we can," Mulder murmured, his eyes straying to
Scully's pale face.

"You can.  You must.  He didn't bring you this far to abandon you now.
 He will help you, Fox," Mother Abagail insisted, her scratched voice
raising in pitch and volume.

With her free hand, Scully reached out and touched Mulder's shoulder. 
He saw the determination in her eyes.

"What do we do, Mother Abagail?" he asked in a whispered voice.

Mother Abagail closed her eyes, as if she were reciting from memory. 
"You will leave this very morning with the companion whom God sent to
you in your hour of need.  Today you will start northwards.  You will
take your truck, but only drive on the roads He has chosen."

"How will we know which roads..." Mulder interrupted.

"You will know.  He will show you the way.  You may take water and
food, but no medicines..."

"But..." Mulder attempted to interrupt once again.

Mother Abagail's eyes tightened and her grip locked onto Scully's arm.
 Scully's eyes widened as she began to speak for Mother Abagail.

"Take no aspirin, no medicines for pain, no thing to relieve suffering
made by man.  This must be obeyed."  Mother Abagail's grip on Scully's
hand relaxed and Scully came out of her near stupor.  She looked at
Mulder in amazement.

Mother Abagail began to speak again, now certain that Mulder was
paying attention.  "You must keep that cross around your neck, Fox. 
Dana, you see to it."

"Will this lead us to Matthew?" Scully asked hopefully.

Mother Abagail sighed.  "Yes, daughter.  The child is there.  But so
is great danger.  I cannot see all that He sees, but He has told me
that two will go, and three will return."

"What does that mean...'three will return?'  So we find Matthew and
bring him back here?" Mulder insisted.

"I can't say, child.  The Lord don't tell me everythin.'  Mayhaps
there's more.  But the time has come for you to go.  This old woman
can hear the others comin' now and I gots to talk to them, too." And
Mother Abagail released her hold on Scully's hand.  She shifted
uncomfortably in her bed.  It was obvious that each breath took so
much effort.

"Mulder.  We have to go," Scully said as she tried to push herself off
the edge of the bed to stand.  Mulder quickly helped her, knowing how
much it cost her to simply move.  She squeezed his hand in thanks, as
reassurance, in support.

"Thank you, Mother Abagail" Scully spoke softly as she gingerly leaned
over and kissed the old woman's forehead.  Mulder followed suit.

"God keep you both," Mother Abagail called as the two slowly left the
room and headed toward the trials ahead. 

***

The man who had dubbed himself as John Doe was agitated.  The pattern
of his circular path had been forcibly broken.  The highway was
blocked.  There was no way around it, even on his motorcycle.  The
bridge over the arroyo was gone.  And there was no way around the deep
chasm.  This meant he had to take another path. 

All paths led southward.  And the dream that invaded his sleep last
night had been the strongest of all.  The voice had told him where to
go.  It had told him to leave now.  

He revved the engine of his Harley.  He had a fleeting vision of
performing an Evel Knievel jump of death above and into the arroyo
ahead.  It would be easier.

He backed off the throttle and lowered his head.  He turned his
motorcycle toward the south.

"Damnit all to hell," he growled.

He started southward, opening up the throttle.  *Time to meet your
fate, once and for all, Dirty Harry,* he decided as he peeled down the
highway.

***

Las Vegas
September 7


Alex Krycek was grimly enjoying his scotch at the small bar when the
temperature of the room dropped twenty degrees.  The idle chatter that
had surrounded him all morning ceased.  He could hear the sounds of
people shuffling out of the room.  He finally tore his eyes from the
ice in his glass to look into the bar mirror.

Flagg.

"Alex, my boy.  Long time no see," Flagg oozed in his mock-friendly
tone.

Krycek just stared back at him in the mirror.  Flagg laughed and
strutted over to him.  He clapped Krycek on the shoulder, left his
hand there so his fingers could dig into the bones and muscle there.

"Don't apologize, son.  I know you're anxious to get on your way.  And
I want you to, too."

Krycek raised his eyebrow at that.  He lifted his glass and took
another drink.

"Just thought you'd want to know that it's time for you to leave,"
Flagg whispered as he leaned into Krycek's ear.  "Go and take care of
our business in the desert."

Krycek looked at the mirror again and found Flagg was returning his
gaze.  Without a word, he started to slide off his stool, to head out
on the road.  But, Flagg's hand clamped down painfully on his
shoulder.

"Just be sure, Alex boy, that you don't fuck it up," Flagg
threatened.

Krycek nodded ever so slightly and Flagg released his grip.  The Dark
Man stepped back and waved his arms toward the door.  

Krycek took the cue and walked out.  He never looked back as he headed
outside and onto the road.



******

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

******

"The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout.
Down came the rain and washed the spider out..."

******

September 6
Boulder, Colorado
0600 Hours


"Are you sure about this, Scully?" Mulder stopped beside her as she
examined the contents he'd already loaded in the cargo area of the
Expedition.

She did not turn.  Just continued to stare at the boxes and packs. 
"Yes, I'm sure. That box with the pork and beans should definitely be
moved over by the tuna."  

Mulder sighed in frustration.  "I'm being serious here, Scully."

Scully smiled softly and raised her hand to hold Mulder's cheek.  "It
isn't a matter of being sure, Mulder.  Right now, I just have to
believe in what Mother Abagail told us to do. I have to believe we'll
go out there and find Matthew, that there's a reason behind all of
this."

Just as Mulder was about to try and form some kind of reasonable
rebuttal, they were interrupted by the friendly call of Ralph.

"Howdy, Mulder.  Dana." Ralph lumbered up the drive and joined them at
the rear of the vehicle.  With his non-bandaged right hand, he tipped
his straw cowboy hat back on his head as he looked inside at the
supplies.  "Looks like ya'll are about ready to head out."  Ralph's
voice was upbeat, but worry lines were etched across his face.

Fluffy ran over to Ralph and greeted him with the proper two paws on
the man's chest.  Ralph gave the dog a hearty scratch behind the ears,
which satisfied the canine.  Fluffy dropped back to the ground and got
back to supervising everything.  So far he had been satisfied. 
Especially after seeing Scully stow a plastic bag filled with jars of
marshmallow Fluff.

"Yeah," Mulder said.  "We're just about done loading everything. 
Should be leaving in a few."

"Can I help?" Ralph asked.

"No.  Really, Ralph.  We've got it under control," Scully replied.

Ralph stood, rocking back on his heels, unsure of what to say.

"What did Mother Abagail say to you guys after we left?" Mulder asked
as he lifted two jugs of water into the Expedition.

"Well...she's sending us off for a bit, too," he answered.  His voice
quavered a bit with nerves.

"Who?  Where?" Scully asked.

"Me, Glen, Larry, Stu.  We'll be headed out to see Flagg."

"Oh, god," was all Scully could say as she closed her eyes.

"We're leaving in about an hour.  The others had stuff to do, things
to take care of...I just thought I'd come up here and give you guys a
proper send off."  Ralph rattled on, gaining some courage with each
word, some certainty that the journeys had to be.  But he could still
see that Scully was worried for him.  "Now, Dana.  Don't worry too
much.  The way I figure it, when I see Flagg, I'll just start singin'
a tune.  That oughta scare the cow chips outta him."

They all laughed, but the fear was still there.  And what was left to
say?  Mother Abagail was sending them all out into the unknown.  And
they were all obeying her with little question.

Mulder wanted to tell Ralph that all of these Mother Abagail escapades
were insane and that they should all just stay put in Boulder, making
the best of what they had left; but, instead he stepped forward and
stuck his hand out to Ralph.  They shook hands with a firm grasp. 
"Thanks for everything, Ralph.  Tell the others..." Mulder didn't
finish.

Ralph nodded.  "I will."

Scully gave him a hug and then lifted up on her toes to kiss him on
the cheek.  "Good luck, Ralph.  I think Mother Abagail and her God
will watch out for all of us," she whispered in his ear.

Ralph cleared his throat.  "Ya'll take care of one another, okay? 
You, too, Fluff-man."

Fluffy barked when he heard his name.  Ralph clapped Mulder on the
back and, with one last look at his three friends, he walked away. 
Headed down his own path.

Mulder broke the sad silence.  "Well.  That's it.  Did we forget
anything?"

Scully shook her head.  He reached up and pulled down the liftgate,
closing it with a firm push.  He wrapped his arm around Scully and
they stood, looking at their home.  He squeezed her shoulder once. 
"Ready?"

"Yeah.  Let's get out of here before I change my mind."

They herded Fluffy into the back seat and then they both climbed in.

They drove away, never looking back at Boulder and the friends and the
safety they were leaving behind.

***

September 14
Idaho


Mother Abagail had been right.  God, or someone with serious
Transportation Department credentials, had been showing them their
route.

And a long and scenic route it had been.  They had headed north into
Wyoming.  They were diverted west when the highway was blocked by the
debris of several 18-wheelers. Then north again when a bridge had been
destroyed.  And northwest by a landslide.  And west again.  The
directions were as plain as the nose on Mulder's face.

But Mulder was not thrilled with the time table.  What the hell was
this? Mother Abagail and her God send them off on their way, then they
make them drive around the country in circles, with no clear
destination?  Well.  If he had ever wanted to see America, he would
have called Amtrak.  He was beginning to understand how Moses must
have felt those forty years wandering in the wilderness.  Apparently,
God still hadn't gotten the latest maps from the Auto Club.

Scully was doing okay, considering.  She never complained.  Even when
she'd gotten two or three of her brain splitting, lay down in the back
seat headaches and she didn't have even a damn aspirin to take, thanks
to Mother Abagail's strict rules, she hadn't complained.  Instead, she
had actually seemed to be enjoying the views as they drove across and
around and up and down Wyoming into Idaho.  Fluffy apparently agreed
with her.  His nose was always either pressed against the window glass
or, if the window was open, sticking out into the wind, sniffing in
the scents of the rolling grassy hills and the Rocky Mountains.

Mulder had gotten quite good at siphoning gasoline from underground
tanks at defunct service stations.  And he was pretty sure he could
now give any self-respecting Boy Scout a run for his money in the
camping under the stars department.  There hadn't been too many towns
along the way.  Their path steered clear of the old cities.  So there
wasn't much in manufactured housing for them to use.

But there had been plenty of food and lots of streams and rivers along
the way.  Fluffy had even snagged a few fish.  Scully suggested that
they may have to start calling him Bear or Kodiak.

Mulder was happy for each of these moments with Scully and Fluffy. 
But he was an impatient man.  No matter how reluctant he had been to
begin this journey, once he finally jumped in the water, he wanted to
start swimming immediately.  None of this treading water crap.

"Mulder..."

He was surprised Scully was awake.  He had been so wrapped up in his
impatience that he hadn't noticed the change in her breathing as he
lay on his side, his arms wrapped around her.  

"I thought you were asleep."  He lifted his head from his pillow and
loosened his grip upon her waist.  She rolled to face him.

"I can't."

He tightened his grip on her and pulled her into his chest.  "What's
up? Does your head hurt?"

"No headache."  He could feel her shrug slightly.  "I guess it's just
the jitters.  We're getting close.  I can feel it," she spoke softly.

Mulder kissed the crown of her head.  Her hair was so soft.  He closed
his eyes.  Maybe patience could have its rewards.  This was one moment
he wished would last.  Scully shivered and he ran his hands up and
down her arm.

"I'm not even sure Matthew will remember me.  It's been so long..."

This is what Mother Abagail had meant when she talked to him so long
ago.  Back in Boulder, Scully had been the one who was gung-ho to get
under way while he had dragged his feet with doubt.  Now, he was
champing at the bit and Scully was being Thomas.  They needed each
other to balance out their hopes and fears.

"He'll know you, Scully.  Hey.  You have that Scully scent thing going
for you," Mulder replied, not altogether in jest.

"Scully scent?"  He could hear her eyebrow raise.

"Yeah.  Sure.  I'd know it anywhere.  And so would Fluffy," he replied
innocently.

And, on cue, Fluffy raised his head from his own blanket beside them. 
With a shuffle of limbs, starting at their feet, he nosed and shimmied
his way under and up the blanket until he was planted cozily under
Scully's arm.

"What am I gonna do with you guys?" She laughed.

After a moment, Mulder leaned forward to see her face.  "You know,
Scully.  No matter what happens.  We'll face it together."


***

September 16
Nevada
Highway 305
1645 Hours


The high-pitched whining had started some thirty miles south of Battle
Mountain, Nevada - also known as the middle of freaking nowhere.  It
was unbearable within five minutes. Fluffy was hiding his head under a
blanket in the rear cargo area, whimpering when he couldn't block out
the noise.

"It sounds like a Tasmanian Devil mating with a chalkboard," Mulder
yelled over the din.

"Mulder, contrary to your delicate beliefs, it's not going away on its
own.  Stop now," Scully ordered.

He obeyed and braked the Expedition to a halt.  The whining continued.
 He cut the engine and, with a sputter, the squeal was gone.  He
looked to Scully as she opened her door and slid out, her feet
dropping to the ground.  

He popped the hood and then got out, giving Scully little berth as he
stared over her shoulder at the engine.  She ignored him, having
devoted her attention to the problem at hand.  Putting her hand on
Mulder's shoulder, she stiffly climbed up onto the bumper so she could
get a better look.  This gave Mulder a better look at her behind, for
which he was always grateful.  Out of curiosity, he peered under her
arm at what she was doing.  She fiddled with hoses and rubber things
he could not quite identify.  

Damn.  He knew he shoulda taken auto shop in high school instead of
astronomy.  But then, who knew he'd be standing here in the middle of
Nevada after the collapse of the world?  The astronomy class was
taught by the fabulous celestial body named Giselle DeLa Croix.  Shop
was taught by the eight-and-a-half-fingered Mr. Schnapps.  It had been
a no-brainer at the time.

After a few minutes of prodding, banging, and under the breath
muttered swearing, Scully climbed down from the front bumper and stood
with her greasy hands on her hips, trying to stare the engine into
submission.

Uh-oh.  That look meant they were screwed.

"Do I want to know?" Mulder asked with a wince.

"The fan belt is shot.  And we sprung some leaks somewhere along the
way.  The coolant and oil are nonexistent," Scully, wiping a greasy
hand across her sweaty brow before she could stop herself.  "Shit,"
she exclaimed as she looked at her blackened hands.

"Hang on a sec." Mulder jogged back to the cargo door and opened it. 
As Fluffy jumped out for a much needed pit stop, Mulder pulled out two
bottles of water and some paper towels.  He poured some of the water
onto the towels and returned to Scully.  She patiently stood still as
he wiped the grease from her face.  The cool water felt good on her
sun-pinked skin. Mulder went to work on her hands.

Scully tried to take the towels from him.  "I can do that myself."  

But Mulder refused to give up his efforts.  He trapped her hands
between his. "Nope.  The mechanic needs to let her cleanup crew do
their job."  She relented.

"So," Mulder started as he carefully and delicately cleaned her skin. 
"What do we do now?"

Scully rolled her neck, feeling the sun bake through her muscles as
she thought.  She looked down the highway to the south, then to the
north.  It would be a damn hot crap shoot either way.  "Well, we're
about thirty miles or so south of Battle Mountain.  It's probably
fifty miles to the next town if we continue south.  Even with the car
like this, if we fill the radiator with water, we should be able to
drive a few miles before it gives up the ghost.  If we take it very
slow in low gear.  I say we head back to Battle Mountain and try to
find another car."

"All done," Mulder said as he released her clean hands.  He looked to
the west, following the sun's path in the sky.  "We've got about
another two hours before sunset.  Let's give it a shot," he agreed. 
He went to get a jug of water to fill the radiator.

When they were done with the stop gap repairs, Scully looked over her
shoulder to see Fluffy sniffing around at the side of the road.  He
immediately raised his head, sensing her glance.  "Let's go, Fluffy,"
she clapped her hands.

The trio got back into the car and headed back north.

***

1730 Hours

"Oh, come on!  Not now! Just a little farther!" Mulder shouted as he
pounded the steering wheel.  But all of the pounding did not do
anything to CPR the car's dying engine.  The car sputtered and smoke
began to spew out from under the hood.  He had to stop and cut the
engine.

Scully was out in a second, fire extinguisher in hand.  "Mulder, pop
the hood...but don't open it all the way!"

Mulder did as he was told before he jumped out, making sure Fluffy was
on his heels, and Scully went to work dousing the fire with the
extinguisher.  Luckily, the fire had not gotten its full wind yet, so
a few short bursts knocked it down.

"Good work, Scully," Mulder commented as he stared at the slightly
blackened hood.  The burned oil smell wasn't pleasant.

"Just lucky we decided to put this extinguisher up front," she replied
as she set the device down on the pavement.  It was a practice they
had started shortly after their fiery experience in Rolla, Missouri. 
They could ill afford to waste seconds searching the back of a crowded
SUV for an extinguisher in an emergency.  Not when they had no fire
engines as back up. 

Mulder looked up and down the highway.  It was going to be a long
hike.  They were still at least fifteen miles from Battle Mountain. 
Probably closer to twenty.  He looked at Scully.  In spite of being
exposed to the sun for the past several days, she looked drawn and
pale.  She had not admitted it, but he knew from the pinched look in
her eyes that she had been suffering from a constant headache for at
least a week.  Not a searing pain, but a low grade, unrelenting throb.
 She was in no shape for a desert walk.

"What now?" Scully asked as she walked in front of the car, hands on
her hips.

"It'll be dark soon.  We should get ready to camp out in the car
tonight.  But I'd feel better if we weren't out here in the open."
Mulder wished a hill or tree would magically appear.

"You're right, Mulder.  Look," she pointed.  "There are some scrub
brushes about 30 feet from the road.  Not exactly perfect, but it
might be just enough.  If we can push this monster that far."

Mulder's back was already aching just thinking about it.  He rubbed
the base of his spine.  Then he ran his hand over his still red
appendectomy scar.  His abs still weren't fully up to snuff.  Ouch. 
"It looks doable.  The ground's pretty flat here and we'll have some
downward momentum when we drop off the pavement."

"Okay.  So how do we want to do this?" Scully asked.  She wasn't
thrilled about the pushing either, but, as they had taught her at the
Academy, when cover wasn't available, concealment was the next best
bet.

Mulder raised his hand up to stop Scully from making the protest she
was going to make in seconds.  "No arguments this time, Scully.  You
get behind the wheel and steer while I push," Mulder insisted.

"Mulder, I..." 

"Nope. No arguments, Scully.  Just get in there and put it in
neutral."

"But, Mulder..."

"Damnit, Scully. You're in no shape to be pushing this thing around in
this heat and, besides, Fluffy can't steer.  He doesn't have opposable
thumbs." Mulder was ranting now.

Scully didn't say a word.  She just got in the car and popped it into
neutral.  She waited until she was out of view before smirking.  Her
plan had worked.  She knew she couldn't push the damn car.  It would
also be a feat for Mulder.  But she knew what happened when he got
pissed off.  He became Energy Man.  And that was what they needed.

"Ready!" Scully called out, trying to sound annoyed.

Mulder stood at the back of the Expedition, wiping his sweaty hands on
his pants, muttering various comments about stubborn women.  He
continued to rant as he placed his hands on the vehicle.  

Fluffy trotted up next to him, then sat down and tilted his head,
wondering what the man was huffing about.  Humans could be strange
sometimes.

With a huge growl that started somewhere around his toes and raised up
until it emerged from his throat, Mulder planted his feet on the
pavement and heaved his body into the rear of the SUV.  It creaked at
first, moving at an achingly slow pace, but then physics took over and
they were rolling.

**

1930 Hours


"So, Mulder.  Now I know why you wanted to push the car by yourself,"
Scully commented.

"You know me so well.  Oh, yeah.  Right. There." Mulder groaned with
relief.

Scully pressed her hands deeper into Mulder's back.  He was sprawled
on his stomach and she was on her knees, straddling his thighs, giving
him the best back massage he had ever received.

A few minutes later, Mulder sighed as Scully finished the massage with
a kiss to his bare back and she rolled off of him to lay at his side. 
He propped his head up with one hand and watched as she lay on her
back, staring up at the darkening sky.

"So.  What's our plan?" she asked quietly.

Mulder reached out to lightly run his fingers down her arm.  She
rolled onto her side to face him.

"Well.  First, we sleep," Mulder began.  "Then at sunrise, I get to
walking before the heat gets too bad.  I figure I can make it to
Battle Mountain in about four to five hours.  If I'm lucky, I can find
a car and get back here before early afternoon."

"If we're lucky," Scully sighed.  She didn't even try to convince
Mulder that she should go with him.  But, she wasn't going to let him
go alone.  "Mulder.  I want you to take Fluffy with you," she stated
firmly.

Mulder's first reaction was to argue, but he bit his tongue when he
saw the worry on her face.  "I don't know," he began tentatively.  "It
might be better for him to stay here."

"No.  I'm not the one walking into the unknown.  I can see around this
area for miles and I'm a big girl with a very large shotgun."

"I just got very turned on, Scully," Mulder interrupted.

Scully shot him a dirty look and continued her train of thought. 
"You'll be poking around buildings where anyone or anything might be
hiding.   Take Fluffy."

Okay.  So Scully had a very good point.  And Fluffy was a good
companion, Mulder thought.  "Okay, Scully.  You win this point. But I
get the next one," he smiled.

Satisfied, Scully turned on her other side so Mulder could tuck her
into his chest and wrap his arm around her.  Dinner could wait for a
bit.  Now if she could only get the nagging worries out her stomach.

***
September 17
0530 Hours


"That should do it, Scully," Mulder stated as he finished tying down
the last blanket over the passenger side windows.  He surveyed their
work.  They had effectively made the SUV into a tent, keeping the
fierce sun out of the interior of the vehicle.  One blanket acted as a
lean-to on the driver's side, facing away from the road where it
wasn't as noticeable.  This way, Scully could leave that door open,
allowing air to circulate.  It wasn't going to be a chiller, but at
least it might be tolerable.

"Thanks, Mulder.  I'm sure it will help," Scully said as she grabbed a
few items from inside the car.

She joined him at the rear bumper, handing him a backpack filled with
bottled water and food.  Mulder slipped it on, then he leaned over to
give her a quick kiss.

"You've got your gun and plenty of ammo, right?" Scully asked.

"I've got what I need right here," Mulder replied, patting the gun in
his holster and the extra ammo clips on his belt.  "And you've got the
shotgun ready?"

"Just call me Annie Oakley, Mulder," she replied, pointing to the gun
that rested against the left rear fender.  "Be careful," she said
quietly.

"I will." Mulder leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.  "And
you watch your back, Annie."

"I will," she promised.

"Fluffy!" Mulder yelled and the dog jumped into action, his tail
wagging to and fro with entirely too much energy.  "Let's hit the
road, dog face."

Fluffy barked with excitement, barely letting Scully take the time to
give him a head scratch goodbye.

And then, the two were off.  They walked several yards before Mulder
turned around.

"Annie Oakley?  You have no idea what ideas you give me, G-Woman," he
called out.

"We'll discuss those ideas when you get back, G-Man," she returned.

Mulder gave her a thumbs up and then turned to walk again with a silly
grin.  He made it ten more yards before he turned again.

"Promise?" He asked.

"I promise!" Scully answered.

Another thumbs up and Mulder began to walk once more.  Fluffy was
getting dizzy trying to figure out the man's steps. But after a few
yards, Mulder began to turn around again...  

"Mulder!  So help me if you turn around one more time and stick that
thumb up... You look like a damned Mentos commercial." Scully
threatened, albeit with a murmur of a nervous laugh running beneath.

Mulder snorted and got back to his hike.  As he and Fluffy hiked, he
did cheat a few times, catching a glimpse of Scully as she watched
from her perch on the rear bumper of the SUV.  But after a few
minutes, her figure vanished in the waves of heat from the desert
sand.

Back at the car, Scully suddenly felt very alone.

***

Alex Krycek watched the goings on below him as sweat beaded on his
forehead.  Even mornings were hot here.  He leaned on the large
boulder that provided him cover and used his good hand to open a
bottle of water.  He took a long swig.  And another.  No sense in
becoming dehydrated.

It was almost time to take action.  His prey was in sight.  And, more
importantly, his prey was splitting up.  His job would be easier.

*Yes.  Split up.  Move further apart.  Get out of earshot.  That's
right.*

He carefully placed the empty water bottle on the ground.  No point in
making a mistake now and ruining the element of surprise.  His body
was now taut as he waited to spring into action.

***

The man pulled out his binoculars for the twentieth time that hour. 
He could see that the woman was completely alone now.  Her man and dog
were long out of view.  His task would be easier now.

He had to be careful.  He peered up at the sky.  The sun was beginning
its rise to full strength.  It would be good to act now.  No telling
when the man and dog would return.  He checked his weapons.  They were
good to go.

He looked back down at the woman by the car.  She was moving now. 
Getting back inside.  She was laying down across the back seat.  The
blankets hanging on the side of the car now blocked his view of her.

But he was confident that this was his chance.  Gun in hand, he began
to make his way down the rocky slope that stood between him and the
woman.



*****

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

*****

"...When we get in trouble
And we're in a fight
Who's the one 
Who just won't turn and run?
Who believes in 
Doing good and doing right?
Kimba the White Lion is the one..."
      - "Kimba"

**

"The time has come for judgment to begin at the house of God..." 1
Peter 4:17

*****

Somewhere in Nevada
September 17


Ah. The joys of powdered eggs, freeze-dried imitation bacon, thawed
and toasted frozen bread, and orange juice made from frozen
concentrate.  Who the hell missed the old world order?  Life just
couldn't get any better than this.

Roberta Parks sat in the small commissary with her chair tilted back
slightly against the hard wall. Breakfast had been eaten but not
tasted.  She toyed with her glass of orange juice, tilting it to and
fro.  At least the beverages were okay here.  The freezer room had to
have at least five thousand cans of the Minute Maid stuff.  Apparently
Son-Of-A-Bitch Spender had a thing for O.J.  Who knew? 

She looked around the room.  The breakfast "rush" of five men -- what
she now called the midnight shift -- was over.  She was alone and
unguarded.  Well, as alone and unguarded as one could be in an
underground, locked down facility with video surveillance, surrounded
by Cro-Magnon thugs with big guns.

It had taken awhile, but S.O.B. Spender had slowly allowed her and
Matthew more freedom within the facility.  After all, where could she
go?  She was still shadowed when she moved about.  And she and Matthew
were still locked "snugly" in their room from 2100 to 0600 hours. But,
Spender's "allowance" had broken some of the tedium from their days. 
Not only hers and Matthew's, but also the security detail's.

While she was relieved to have a little breathing room, she was still
disgusted with herself for falling for Shithead Spender's grand plan. 
He had replaced blatant prison with something more insidious. 
Regimen.  He knew that with her background in law enforcement that
she, like all of his soldiers, would be more comfortable -- more
docile -- in a disciplined environment where there was some appearance
of freedom.  It had worked.  Of course, it also worked because Spender
knew she would never leave little Matthew behind.  Funny how her
"free" moments always seemed to be when she was separated from
Matthew.

She picked up her glass and downed the rest of the watery juice.  It
was about time to go back to the room and fetch Matthew for their
morning "recess" outside.  She had left the little boy in the care of
their morning security man.  They had some kind of catch ritual going
on with an old baseball.  

She cracked the kinks out of her neck.  She wasn't too worried about
Matthew when he was under the nose of the morning guy.  She had
learned the different personalities that surrounded their days and
nights.  She had even come up with names for their security detail.

In the late afternoon, they were usually supervised by Spock.  He said
very little, just raised an eyebrow on occasion.  And his huge hands
looked like they would deliver a superior Vulcan knockout grip. In the
late evening, there was Kirk.  The "Get. Intheroom. Now" man. He had
bad hair and needed an 18-hour girdle.  He was replaced from 0001
hours to 0500 hours by Bones.  The "Damnit, I'm a soldier, not a
babysitter" whiner.  

By far, her favorites were Scotty and Uncle Fester.  The day guys. 
Scotty did his best to beam Matthew up from his barren surroundings. 
He was good for Matthew.  It was the little things.  Like how Scotty
seemed to be genuinely glad to see them in each morning.  And the fact
that Scotty was the one guard who left his MP-5 elsewhere when he came
to take his watch.  True, he kept his 9mm in the holster at his side,
but he always seemed to be mindful not to touch it while around
Matthew.  None of that subconscious resting the hand on the butt of
the gun.  Scotty was the one who suggested that Roberta start taking
her breakfast breaks alone.  And there was nothing duplicitous in his
eyes.  He must have been a father in another life.

She and Matthew were always sad to see him go at 1000 hours.  But, at
least he was replaced then by Uncle Fester.  Fester was a tad strange,
his head was shaved and his short body looked like a beer barrel in
combat gear.  But he was still safe.  He liked the kid, so that gave
him a huge leg up in Roberta's book.  Even though he had a strange way
of showing it...like the day he brought in the sticks and string and
taught little Matthew how to snare a rabbit.  Okay.  So maybe that
*could* come in useful these days.

She leaned forward and stood up from the chair.  It was time to
interrupt the baseball game.  She exited the room and walked down the
hallway, moving to the side as two guards passed by.  

And she stopped.  There was a sudden niggling at her brain.  A cold
shudder moved up her spine.  The old woman hadn't appeared in her
dreams for ages, but this was the same feeling she had in those
dreams.

Something evil was coming.  She started running toward their room. 
Matthew.  She needed to be with him.

***

South of Battle Mountain, NV
0700 Hours


Scully sighed as she laid back across the seats of the Expedition.  It
was already hot and the temperature was sure to climb well into the
triple digits.   Top it off with the beginnings of a headache and you
had the makings of a lovely day.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to massage the ache there
and coax it back into remission.  This ache was a little odd.  It
wasn't her usual "hit me in the eyes with a sledgehammer, whydoncha"
pain.  This one was a low-grade throb.  And it made her stomach
queasy, but it wasn't though a contents breach was imminent.  Very
odd.  She wasn't quite sure what to make of it.  Was this the sign of
the next stage?  Was her vision about to disappear before her eyes?

She closed her eyes and decided to stop thinking all together about
her head and her health.  She would just concentrate on Mulder's safe
return with a new car.  She would just tune into the sounds of the
desert and go with the flow.

***

The man had begun his trek down the rocky slope, always mindful of
readily available boulders and scrub brush that could be used as
cover.  And he always kept one eye on the car.  It just wouldn't do if
the woman popped out suddenly and plugged him with her shotgun.

It was slow going.  He had to time this right.  Make sure the man and
dog were not coming back too soon, but yet, give the woman long enough
to be sapped by the morning heat and let down her guard.  He'd move
forward, stop, wait for ten minutes, then move on.  

It had taken him almost two hours.  But just a few minutes more and
he'd be on top of the SUV, ready to complete his mission.

***

Krycek kept his eyes on his prey as he began his careful trek
downslope.  His artificial arm made it more difficult as he tried to
keep gravity from pulling him down the hill too quickly.  It just
wouldn't do if he kicked rocks loose, alerting his prey to his
presence.  

The man below him stopped his walking and Krycek froze, ducking behind
a large rock.  The man scanned his surroundings quickly, his gun at
the ready. Then, seemingly satisfied that he was just being a
shit-for-brains paranoid, he lowered the barrel of the weapon and
continued on his way.

Krycek waited for a few moments before he started to stand. He looked
down at his false arm with disgust.  This was going to make things
more difficult -- dealing with multiple targets was always risky, but
this cut his odds considerably.  Perhaps he should have taken Flagg up
on his offer.  After all, it wasn't as though he hadn't already sold
his soul long ago.

Just as he started to step forward from his hiding place, five fingers
clamped down on his shoulder.  Hard.  It drove his down his knees. 
Krycek gasped.  The grip lessened and Krycek spun around on the
ground, ready to act...

And came face to waist with Randall Flagg.

"You rang, my boy?"

***

"Don't even fucking move." Her voice was cool as steel in a freezer.

The man froze. *Shit! Shit! Shit!*  How had this happened?  He had
crept up to SUV, certain the woman was still inside.  He had oh so
quietly made his way to the leanto on the far side of the vehicle. 
And he had just poked his head around the door to surprise the
reclined woman when... He heard the snick of a shotgun safety behind
him.  Just far enough away that he couldn't do anything about it.

"Drop the gun!" She demanded.

He obeyed.

"All of them," she ordered.

Damn.  She was good.  Certainly not a shrinking violet.  He pulled the
.45 from his waist and dropped it to the ground.  He started to reach
for his boot, but thought he ought to say something.

"I've got a .38 in my boot," he explained.

"Take it out.  Slowly," she responded.

He went with the program.  With his weapons on the ground, he slowly
dared to stand up straight.  This crouching forward crap was killing
his back.  He glanced sideways at the tinted glass window and could
see her behind him.  Her red hair was blowing in the dry wind.  She
was in a combat stance.  One that was ingrained, a habit learned by
rote.  She was a professional.  And she was beautiful.

"Who are you?" Scully demanded.

"Well.  I guess you could just call me J.D.," the man responded.

It only took a moment for Scully to make the connection.  "What?  Is
that supposed to stand for John Doe? Not funny."

"Lady, you've got a nice big shotgun pointed at me.  J.D. can mean
anything you want," he responded only half-jokingly.

Scully studied "John's" body language carefully.  He was being
cautious, not moving.  His body was taut.  And yet... His hands and
the muscles in his neck were relaxed.  And the tone of his voice.  It
didn't sound angry or threatening.  Inconvenienced was a better
description.  She would take a risk in letting him turn around so she
could see his eyes.

"Okay, John.  Turn around slowly.  And keep those hands up."

"Whatever you say, Dana," he answered.

And Scully's heart stopped.  

***

If Krycek had been a lesser man, he would have crapped his pants. 
Instead, he defied Flagg's intimidating eyes and stood up straight.

Flagg's eyes narrowed at the move, but he restrained his anger. 
"Look, Alex.  Son.  I'm a busy guy.  Lots of stuff going on back on
the home front.  But, I heard that you might need a little *hand* out
here."

Krycek couldn't miss the emphasis Flagg placed on the one word. 
Unconsciously, he looked down at his useless left arm.

"So.  I've got something you need.  All you have to do is ask," Flagg
invited.

Krycek stared him in the eyes.  "I think I've been doing pretty well
on my own," he responded coolly.

Flagg stuck the tips of his ten fingers under the waistband of his
jeans and arched his back as he looked down at the scene below.  "I
dunno, Alex.  You are a pretty resourceful guy.  I'll  give you that. 
But.  Even you have to admit that you're outnumbered here.  Just think
what you can do with two good arms.  With two hands that can hold and
use weapons..." Flagg leaned in closer.  "Think what you can do with
Agent Scully.  What you can do to Mulllllder," he tempted, drawing out
Mulder's name enticingly.

Krycek swallowed the dust in his throat and his eyes glazed over as
visions of strangling the FBI agent danced before him.  Choking Mulder
with *two* hands.  

He turned his focus back to Flagg.  He nodded.

And then, in an instant, his left arm was whole.  He flexed his
fingers in amazement.  Then, the energy filled him.  Along with a
buzzing rage that filled every cell of his body.  It was as though his
brain was outside of him, circling above him.  All he could feel was
pure hate.  Where he had once hid some doubts, he now only held
certainty of mission and purpose.  

"I have to go now, son," Flagg intoned, barely reaching through the
blur of Krycek's mind.  "Duty calls.  Now.  Go take care of these
fuckheads for me.  For you.  Nothing can stop you now." He reached out
and nudged Krycek down the hill.

"And don't fuck it up..." were Flagg's last words of warning as his
body disappeared.  

Krycek blinked the sweat from his eyes.  A huge black crow sat where
Flagg had been.  With a loud thump, thump of its wings, it took
flight, disappearing in the rays of the sun.

He looked back down the hill.  His first target was in sight.  He had
no second thoughts as he headed for it.  He had sold his soul for an
extra foot of arm.

***

"How the hell do you know my name?" Scully demanded.  She was angry
and unnerved.  Why did she feel like she was always in the dark? 
Always only a card in someone else's poker game?

"Would you believe a little old woman told me?" John asked.

Scully had no idea how to respond intelligently.  All she could do was
keep her cards close to her vest.

"What woman?" she asked doubtfully.

John Doe could see the battle in the Scully's eyes.  He knew he had
touched a nerve.  Truthfully, he had doubted his response would elicit
such a reaction.  He had thought he was nuts for believing the woman
in his dreams.  Was it possible he wasn't crazy? He took another
gamble.

"Mother Abagail?  I think that was her name..." he said softly.  He
saw that Scully was wavering.  He ventured on.  "She said that Dana
needed my help.  *You* needed my help.  Although, I'm starting to
think she was wrong.  You're pretty damned good at watching out for
yourself," he mused.

This was too much for Scully.  How could she begin to trust this man? 
He could easily have been sent by Flagg.  She'd seen his tricks
before.  If only Fluffy was there.  He could smell a lie a mile away. 
Her head was throbbing in a new spot.  Her skin was growing moist and
clammy.  Her knees were rubberized.  Shit. Not now.

"Hey!"

She could just hear John Doe's exclamation as her vision dimmed and
her knees buckled.


***
Battle Mountain
Joe's Stop 'N Go


Mulder sat on the stoop of the store as he downed another bottle of
water.  Fluffy was lapping away at the water Mulder had poured into an
old hubcap he had found by the gas pumps.

It had taken them a little longer to get here than Mulder had planned.
 He had hoped to jog a good part of the distance, but the twinges of
pain from his appendectomy had slowed them.  He hoped he could find a
good vehicle quickly and get back to Scully.  

He took stock of his surroundings.  Not many cars around.  But he had
noticed a few back behind the store.  Hopefully one of them would
work.  They couldn't all be junkers.  If they were, his cause might be
sunk.  Battle Mountain appeared to have been a virtually deserted and
forgotten mining town that had seen its heyday come and go long before
the Superflu came to visit.

"Let's go check 'em out, Fluffy," he said as he stood, taking a moment
to stretch the muscles in his back.

Fluffy let out a small woof and trotted around the corner of the
building, headed toward the back lot.  Mulder followed closely behind,
bemused at Fluffy's unbounded energy.

He headed over to the row of cars, some of which were beyond deceased.
 But there was one Suburban that looked promising.  He just prayed
that his personal mechanic -- Scully -- wouldn't be needed to get the
baby going.

He dropped his backpack as he walked around the vehicle, checking the
tires and body.  Everything looked fine until he reached the left rear
tire.  Yup.  Flatter than Mary Katherine Swoboda's chest in ninth
grade.  He got his first break when he peeked underneath the car and
saw that the spare was still in place.  Good.  He could do the flat
tire change thing.  But, he was gonna check the engine first.  No
since going to all that work only to find out the engine was a bust.

Fluffy was bouncing around in the distance, barking and carrying on as
he bounded around the scrubby brush and some old boards.  *Must be
chasing a rat or something,* Mulder guessed.

He climbed into the driver's seat of the Suburban and looked around
for the keys.  He pulled down the visor.  It just couldn't be that
easy.  He let out a whoop when the keys fell into his lap.  

Fluffy looked up briefly...then he went back to rat chasing.  Much
more fun than trying to figure out Mulder.  Now.  Where did that plump
rat with the ugly tail go to?  There was hole in one of the boards on
the ground.  He gave a low woof and pounced on the board...

Mulder stuck the key into the ignition.  He was surprised to find that
his sweaty hands were shaking slightly.  Nervous?  Nah.  It wasn't as
if the fate of free world lay in this moment.  Right?  

He turned the key.  And he almost hit his fist on the roof as he let
out a cry of victory.  The roar of the engine was a thing of beauty. 
He looked down and checked the gas gauge.  The tank was even full. 
Yes!

But his euphoria was interrupted by a horrible yelp.  A Fluffy kind of
yelp.  He looked out the door towards the dog.  His view was partially
blocked by a stack of boards, but he could just make out the dog's
dark fur.  Fluffy was struggling, pulling against something.  Oh.
Crap.

Mulder turned off the engine, dropping the keys on the floormat, and
he ran over to help his friend.  He stopped short when he saw the
problem.  Fluffy had gotten one of his legs caught inside the hole of
a board.  It looked painful.  The poor pup's fur was beginning to mat
with blood.

"I'm here, Fluffy," Mulder tried to soothe.  "Let me see if I can get
your leg out."

Fluffy seemed to calm a little, only letting out a small whine as
Mulder knelt down beside him.  He patted the dog on the head.  He
shifted his body around so that he was kneeling on the boards in front
of Fluffy.  

The boards creaked.  *That did not sound good,* Mulder thought.  Haste
might be a good thing at this juncture.  Trying to hurry while not
causing Fluffy further injury, he pushed two fingers down into the
hole and found the hangup.  A nail.  Damn.  

"Hang on, we're almost there, boy," Mulder promised.

He pushed down hard with his fingers.  The rotting wood around the
nail gave and Fluffy was freed.  He pulled his paw out and began to
lick the wound.

Mulder stood, his knees creaking...or was that the wood? What the hell
was under these boards anyway?

And the boards at their feet let out a stomach wrenching shriek.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry Scully." Mulder muttered as their world caved in.


***

There was something amazingly beautiful in the the final gurgle of a
dying man.  Alex Krycek was surrounded by beauty today.  It had only
taken him fifteen minutes to kill five men.

After dispatching the troops above ground, he entered the small
cinderblock building and quickly found the hidden staircase that led
to the bunkers below.  He twisted and snapped the neck of the first
guard he met at the bottom of the stairwell.  He shot the one who
rounded the corner moments later. Six. Seven.  What lovely sounds.

But someone got wise.  The alarms sounded as he opened the door to the
bunker.  Oh well. No matter.  Just an inconvenience.  He looked up and
saw the surveillance camera.  He raised his gun, grinned, and fired. 
He could hear running feet coming down the corridor toward him.  He
reached into sack he carried on his waist.  It was a good time to use
the grenades.  He wondered what noises he would hear next.

***

Spender cursed as he stared at the video screen.  That son of a bitch
Krycek had actually grinned at him.  "Well, we'll see who's grinning
after my soldiers are done with you," he muttered.

He grabbed his radio and sent all of his forces to finish off the
invader.  Then he grabbed his own gun and headed off to see to the
woman and the boy.

***

When the alarms sounded, Roberta scooped up Matthew and headed toward
the bathroom door.  Uncle Fester was torn between staying put and
following Spender's command to kill the invader.  He looked at
Roberta.  She could sense the evil outside her door.  She knew in her
heart that this was not a "rescue" mission.  Hell. It didn't take a
rocket scientist.  No one even knew she was here...  But what about
Matthew?  She was scared for him.  

She nodded to Fester and he headed out the door.  Moments later,
though, the door flew open again.  Roberta jumped, tightening her
death grip on Matthew.  She found herself breathing a sigh of relief
when she saw it was Scotty.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"There's an intruder.  He's already killed..." he paused, afraid he
shouldn't reveal too much.  Then he looked at Roberta and Matthew.  He
really did like the kid.  He looked like his own son...his son that
died from the Superflu.  He made his decision.  "Our guards up top are
dead.  The guy is inside the compound now, on this level."  Scotty
closed the door and ran across the room.  He grabbed a chair and
pushed it up under the door knob.

"It's not much, but I'm not leaving you guys," he offered.

Roberta appreciated the determination in his eyes.  She had been right
about this one.  But her thoughts were shattered when an explosion
rocked the ground.  The chair was blown away from the door.  She
stumbled.  And just as she was about to fall, Scotty was there,
gripping her by the shoulders. Steadying her.

"Oh. Shit," Scotty whispered.