Type 52 (5/8)
by
Lacadiva 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Type 52 (5/8)



They'd spent two hours pouring over Brian's notes.  Brian sat across the room,
spinning incessantly in the swivel chair, until the noise it made threatened
to drive Mulder crazy.

"Knock it off!" he shouted.

One more squeak, and it stopped.  

"Thank you," Scully whispered under her breath to Mulder.  It was gyrating on
her very thin nerves, too.  She stopped reading to rub her reddened eyes,
wishing she had her glasses with her.  Mulder reached over and massaged a kink
out of her neck. 

"You okay?"  Mulder asked.

"Yeah.  I'm exhausted."

"Why don't you get some sleep?"

Scully thought about it for a moment, relishing the idea of unconscious
oblivion, but then she thought about the things -- zombies -- and shuddered.  

"Mulder, she said, her voice quivering just a bit, "I don't know if I can
close my eyes. I don't know if I want to.  Not while they're roaming around up
there."

Mulder pulled her forward until their foreheads met.  "Someone will come for
us.  The Morse code message is still broadcasting.  Someone's bound to respond
soon."

Scully put a hand around Mulder's neck, and nodded.

Skinner looked up and saw his agents.  No way was he about to cite FBI male-
female behavior protocol after what they'd been through.  He went back to the
notes, not really reading, but just staring at the page.  His own eyes were
burning with exhaustion.

The reverie was broken by the sound of someone entering the room.  All three
agents went for their weapons.  

Hendricks walked in, ready for hand-to-hand combat, but relaxed when he saw
Mulder.  He seemed a bit dizzy, and his deep mahogany complexion had an almost
grayish pallor to it.  "Well, well, the gang's all here.  Anyone get the
number of that truck hit me?"

"If you're feeling lightheaded, you should sit down," Mulder said. 

Hendricks didn't wait for a second invitation.  He plopped down a few feet
from the agents and rubbed his head.  "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No, not from when we got off the elevator."  Fright shown in his eyes.  He
began checking limbs for bites.  He found a bandage strip on his left arm and
ripped it off.  He saw a tiny pinprick surrounded by red, purple and putrid
green bruising.  "What happened?  Did I get bit?"  He was ready to hear the
worse.

"No.  You might want to have a little talk with Brian Hazelip over there,"
Mulder said with a sly smile.

Hendricks looked in Brian's direction and stood, ready to fight or flee.  "Who
let one of those things in here?"  Hendricks leaped for Mulder's Sig, but
Mulder snatched it away quickly.

"Relax, Corporal," Mulder said.  "He's house broken."

Brian shook his head and turned away.

"Yeah?  Well, I still wouldn't turn my back on him."

"Neither would I," said Mulder. 

"Keep your distance," Hendricks warned Brian, "unless you want a hole in your
head, bucky."

"One is enough, thank you," Brian answered smartly.  He swiveled around, his
back to the agents and Hendricks.  He reached up to touch his head, and a
piece of skull and skin broke off into his hands..  He tried to hide it from
the others, tried to stick it back into place.  The piece plopped back out,
landing in his lap.  He grabbed the piece, stuck it in a pocket, and covered
the hole with a hand as he stood and quickly left the room.

"That thing gives me the creeps," Hendricks said with a shudder.

"Yeah, we're all a little creeped out, but we've got work to do.  He tossed
Hendricks Scully's stack of Brian's notes.  "We need you to go through these
for anything you think might help us get out of here."

To Scully, he said, "I need you to get some sleep."

"What about you, Mulder?  You're not looking so good.  How's your arm?"

"Sore, but --"

"Okay.  Up on the table, I want to check you out."

"I'm fine, Scully."  Mulder took her by her arm and pulled her to her feet.
She was too tired to protest, and felt like dead weight.

"Mulder, what are you doing!  Let me at least finish --"

"You're the doctor, our only real chance of understanding how to fight this
virus.  You need to sleep.  You need to be frosty."  

"Frosty, Mulder?"

"Yeah.  I'll sit with you if that will make you feel better."

"All right.  Only if you'll sleep some too."

"Deal."

Scully let Mulder usher her towards the door, but stopped suddenly.  "Mulder,
I haven't seen Jimmy for a while."

"Jimmy made it?" Hendricks asked, smiling.

"Yes," Skinner answered.  "He volunteer to see if he could scare us up some
food and water."

"He's been gone a long time," Scully said.

Mulder squeezed her hand.  "He's probably lost.  This is a big place.  Maybe
he found a kitchen and he's chicken-frying us a couple of steaks."

The thought of red raw meat made Scully's stomach turn.  She could see the
image didn't sit well with Mulder either.

Mulder turned to Skinner, "Sir, may I suggest --"

"I'm way ahead of you, Mulder," Skinner replied, tossing his own stack of
notes to Hendricks.

"What's up with this?" Hendricks demanded.  "I gotta read ALL of this?  You
must be kidding me."


*    *    *


McGann lurked near the elevator doors.  The wave of zombies had slowed down to
a trickle, occasionally a few.  But they recognized McGann a one of their own
and ignored him.  He could work easily now.  He stood at the numeric panel,
dialing numbers randomly.  He remembered that the coded sequence included four
sets of double digits, but the order had escaped him.  He seemed to think
slower.  He didn't let this bother him.  He kept dialing, waiting for the
green light to flash.  And then he'd do what he came to do.

Kill them all.


*    *    *


Mulder found a small lounge with a couch and a lockable door.  He walked
inside before Scully, and the automatic lights blinked on. He took a good look
around, then stepped out of the way to let his partner enter.

"No windows," Mulder said, "and only one way in or out."  He closed the door
and snapped the bolt lock in place, then pushed and pulled against the door a
few times to make sure the lock was secure.  Taking her hand, he lead Scully
over to the couch.

"It's chilly in here," she said, shivering.

"Yeah, I should have grabbed that blanket on the way out."

"Mulder, look, about Skinner. . .Let him off the hook. I agree, he should have
been more forthcoming about his suspicions, but he didn't create this
nightmare."

"I know, Scully.  I'll apologize to him in the morning.  What day is it,
anyway?"

Scully shook her head and let her partner guide her down onto the couch.  She
leaned sideways on it, letting her head lay against the soft, leathery
armrest.  Mulder sat down next to her and let his head loll against the back.
He took a deep breath, allowing his body to relax.  Just as he felt the
heaviness of sleep beginning to tug at him, he felt his partner shoot straight
up.

"What was that!" she asked, looking around the room.

"Nothing."  Mulder saw her shudder.  He reached for her, pulling her to rest
in the warm crook of his uninjured arm. 

"Mulder?"

He pulled away just a bit so that he could see Scully's face.  She looked away
from him, embarrassed as her eyes began to well up with tears.  She pulled
away only to turn around to face him, then slipped her arms around his back to
hold him close.  It hurt him, but it would have hurt him even more not to
comfort her.

"Those things. . .they can't get in here, can they?"

"As far as I know, unless they can dial a phone, we're safe."

"I'm not sure I can handle this one, Mulder.  Off all the things we've seen,
all that we've been through together. . .I don't know if I can."

"Scully. . ."

She pulled away and looked into Mulder's face.  Her cheeks were a little red,
her eyes were wet, her lips quivering.  "If they do get in, and there's no way
out . . ."

"I won't let them get you, Scully, I promise."

"No, Mulder, listen to me.  If they get in, and there's no way out, there's
only one true way to make sure we don't come back."

"Scully. . ."

"Mulder, please, listen to me --"

"Scully, what are you saying?"

"I think you know."

Mulder knew.  He couldn't say it.  Couldn't bare to think it.

"I can't do that."

"It's the only way, Mulder.  If for some reason I am unable to do it myself,
promise me, you'll take care of me.  Promise you'll. . . hel me die. . .
before they infect me."

Mulder's face took on a dark, unreadable expression.  He bit his lower lip
hard, as if trying to draw blood.  He could not bare the thought of putting a
bullet into her, even if it would spare her soul.  

"It's the only way," she said, cupping his face in her delicate hands.

His own eyes began to well up.  "If it comes to that, you can depend on me."

She sighed, as if this thought alone had completely and finally set her at
ease.  She leaned over, elevating herself just a bit and kissed her partner's
cheek, then settled in against him, snuggling inside his tentative embrace.

"I'll do the same for you," she promised Mulder, "if it comes to that."

"'Night, Scully," was all he could say. 

Sleep came quickly for Scully.  But not for Mulder.


*    *    *


Skinner awoke, practically leaping from examining table on which he had fallen
asleep.  His ribs felt terrible, but at least he seemed to be breathing a bit
better.  He sat up and bent his head down, rubbing a hand over the smooth top
of his head.  His dreams were filled with corpses and blood and mangled limbs.
He saw himself being devoured alive.  

Skinner slipped off the table and tried to walk off the weird feeling the
dream had given him.  The room was dark and quiet.  Hendricks had fallen
asleep in the chair, a stack of papers propped precariously on his lap.  It's
a wonder they all hadn't passed out earlier from exhaustion.

He wandered around the room a bit more, trying to shake off the odd feeling.
Part of it was a blatant distrust of Brian Hazelip.  True, he was a victim
here, but he was also one of the perpetrators, and it didn't sit well with
Skinner that Brian had lost his ability to think analytically.  Somebody had
to know what was going on and how to stop this madness.  It also meant baser
instincts were ruling him.  Eventually, Brian Hazelip would have to feed.

And then there were his agents.  Guilt hung from his neck like an albatross.
Mulder was right; he should have told them more.  Skinner should have trusted
that his agents would have still offered their services.  With more knowledge
they would have been better equipped to fight the zombie herds.  Or would it
have made a difference?  Now they stood to lose their lives in the ugliest,
most gruesome way imaginable, and they only had Skinner to thank.

Skinner felt cold.  Not temperature cold, but cold deep inside.  It was the
same cold feeling he'd had the day he was shot.  He remembered not being able
to keep warm, as if his body were already in shock, and despite the fact that
the tropical heat and humidity of 'Nam was downright unbearable.  Now, as
then, his hands were cold and tingly.

Skinner wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.  But something wasn't
right.  Where was Brian?  And where was that other soldier, Jimmy?  He stood,
intending to search them out, but realized he was experiencing yet another
uncomfortable sensation.  Time to empty his bladder.  Skinner grabbed his Sig,
checked the clip, and left in search of a bathroom.


*    *    *


It wasn't the sound of water and porcelain that woke him.  It wasn't the
bright light.  It was the warmth of human flesh.  It radiated, like heat.  It
came through the walls, through the floor, through the ceiling.  It was all
around him.  Bodies, living, breathing, warm bodies.  They had a scent,
alluring, wild.  It was the smell of skin -- living tissue -- and the sound of
blood rushing through living veins like a klaxon.  That was what woke Jimmy
Beaulieu from the dead.  His stiff, decomposing hand reached for the shower
curtain.


*    *    *


McGann was growing impatient.  He had been at this for what seemed like hours.
He could not recall the sequence.  Enough patience.  If he had to break down
the doors and jump down the empty elevator shaft to get them, he would.
Nothing was going to stop him.

He picked up a heavy wooden chair on casters and began banging on the elevator
doors.


*    *    *


Skinner was bent over the sink now, vigorously washing his face.  He could
smell himself, the sweat and grime from the previous day.  His Mitchum had
given out hours ago.  He looked up into the mirror and his face and saw the
shower in the reflection.  It seemed like a good idea, to just go on and hop
in and save the others from having to know by smell when he was entering a
room.

And then he saw the shower curtain move.  

Skinner turned around, reached behind his back for his Sig and clamped his
beefy hands around it.  They were shaking.

"Freeze!" he yelled out of habit, but knowing already it wasn't going to do
him any good.

The curtain kept moving, slowly, as if something heavy was dragging it out of
the way.

Skinner fired three rounds.  The bullets blew melting black holes into the
curtain, and blackish blood splattered it from the other side.  Something -or
someone was hit.  Whatever it was stopped moving.

*My God,* Skinner thought.  *What if that were Mulder, or Scully?*

Skinner reached out slowly for the curtain, grabbed hold of it, took a deep
breath and yanked it back.

Jimmy leaped out of the tub, his hands going for Skinner's throat, his mouth
wide open, thick drool running down his chin.  


Through out the entire facility, the alarm began to sound.


*    *    *


Mulder awoke to the sound of the alarm.  Scully quickly sat up, wiping a thin
line of spittle from her lips.  "What is it," she said groggily, trying to
pull herself together.

"The alarm.  Someone's trying to get in!"

Both agents were up and through the door in seconds.


*     *     *


Jimmy backed away.  There was something about Skinner that scared him.
Something about his scent.  He could smell the scents of the others on him.
He wanted to feed so badly.  But Skinner was in the way.  Jimmy had to get
out.  He had to feed.  He hissed at Skinner and snapped his fetid jaws.

Skinner tried to put his gun to Jimmy's head.  Jimmy locked his slimy jaws on
Skinner's forearm and bit down, hard.  Blood spurted as Jimmy's bite deepened,
sinking deeper and deeper into flesh. Skinner screamed.  

He reared back and threw a punch with his gun-filled hand, sending Jimmy
backwards into the bathtub. Before he could pull himself out, Skinner fired
one shot blowing the top of Jimmy's head off.  Brain and bits of skull and
blackening blood splashed the tile in a violent pattern behind his head.
Jimmy twitched once, twice and died for the last time.

Skinner caught his breath, and looked at his bleeding arm.  

He felt cold again.


*    *    *


Mulder found Hendricks coming up the aisle right at him and Scully.  He had
both AK47s and passed one to Mulder.  Scully pulled her Sig from behind her
back and checked the clip.

"There's a monitor in one of the smaller labs," Mulder yelled over the alarm,
straining his voice.  "We can see who or what's trying to get in from there."
Before Mulder could lead the way, they heard gunfire.

The three took off down the aisle and ran toward the sound of the shot.


*    *    *

The three found Skinner in the bathroom.  He was hunched over, looking at the
bleeding wound on his arm.

All three turned to see the mess that Jimmy was in the tub and on the walls.

"Aw, Jimbo," Hendricks said, then realized the implications.  He turned his
gun on Skinner.  Skinner turned his gun on Hendricks.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN!" Mulder yelled, aiming at Hendricks.

"DO IT NOW!" yelled Scully, turning her own gun on Hendricks.

"Forget it!" said Hendricks.  "He's infected.  He's toast!"

Scully's eyebrow arched high and her stomach turned when she saw blood
dripping from Skinner's forearm and pooling on the bathroom floor.

"No!" shouted Scully.  "If he's infected, we have access to infected tissue to
study!"

"I'm NOT your lab rat!" Skinner snapped at Scully.  "Back off, all of you!"

"No!"  Hendricks was ready to fire.  "You shot Jimmy."

"Jimmy was one of them!  He attacked me.  He BIT me!"

"Everybody, just take it easy, we can work this out!"  Mulder peered back at
Jimmy in the bathtub.  He felt his stomach turn, but he swallowed hard and
breathed deeply to keep from heaving.  "All right, listen.  We can't go
turning on each other," he said, trying to sound calm and trustworthy.  "I
need you to look at me, Hendricks. Look at me."

Hendricks blinked, then looked at Mulder.

"We've got ourselves a real funky situation, but here's what I think." 

Hendricks looked back at Skinner, ready to pull the trigger.

"Hendricks, stay with me, man!"

Hendricks blinked again, and his eyes found Mulder once more.  "I'm
listening!"

"If Skinner is infected, we need to test him.  Am I right, Scully?"

"Yes," she said, ready to back up her partner.  "We need to see what's
happening to his physiology, in order to find out how to kill those things."

"You got Jimmy!  Cut him open if you want to see what's what," Hendricks
shouted.

"That's the plan," said Scully.  But we need live tissue as well."

"See, Hendricks?  I need you to stay frosty.  Isn't that what you told me?  I
think we all need to secure ourselves against what's trying to get in right
now.  So let's try to work this out like sane, civilized people.  What do you
say?"

"We can't have him walking around," screamed Hendricks.  "He could turn any
second."

"He has to die first," said Scully.  "If you shoot him, he WILL come back."

"Not if I shoot him in the head!"

"Take your best shot!" Skinner screamed.

"NO!" cried Mulder.  "If you shoot him, you kill our best chance of walking
out of here alive!  You kill us all."  Mulder put his gun down and raised his
hands.  "You might as well shoot me now," Mulder demanded.  

All were silent, eyes darting. 

Mulder could see Hendricks' inner struggle playing out on the soldier's face.
Hendricks relaxed his stance a bit, but refused to put down his weapon.  To
Scully, he asked, "What if he tries to take a nip out of your neck while
you're examining him?"

"So long as he's talking, and able to reason, he's safe, Scully told him,
hoping this was true.  "So long as he doesn't die.  We'll keep him in
isolation, just to be on the safe side.  Sir?"  Scully looked apologetically
at her boss.  "Will you cooperate?"

"Do I have a choice?" Skinner asked, then knelt down to place his gun on the
floor.  

"If you so much as look at me sideways," Hendricks glowered at Skinner as he
lowered his weapon, "I'll take you out."

Mulder stood protectively in front of Skinner while Scully went to him to give
his arm a cursory examination.  "Hendricks, I need you to go see what the
alarm is about.  Find Brian.  There's a security monitor in the laboratory
where you woke up.  If it's nothing, find a way to shut it off before it makes
us all crazy.  Will you do that?"

Hendricks, unwilling to take his eyes off of Skinner, nodded.  "I'm on it,
Mulder.  I'm on it."  He backed out of the bathroom, then ran off down the
hall.

Mulder and Scully both sighed heavily.  Scully touched her superior's cheek in
a way to calm him, to reassure him.  "We're going to get you cleaned up, sir,
and take a little blood, and let you rest."


*    *    *


Mulder found a larger laboratory on the south end of the facility.  They were
aghast at the condition of the room -- broken glass and furniture, and papers
everywhere. It looked as if a twister had been through the room a few times.

"Sorry I didn't have time to spruce the place up," said Brian as he entered,
stepping over debris, with Hendricks a few paces behind dragging in the body
bag containing Jimmy's remains.

"What was all the commotion?" Mulder asked.

"Some guy in an army uniform was trying to break down the elevator doors."

"Is he still there?"

"No.  He got tired a left."

"Did you seem him, Hendricks?"

"He was gone by the time I found the monitor.  But from zombie boy's
description, I think it was McGann."

"McGann?"  Skinner asked.  "Was he one of them?"

"You mean one of you?" Hendricks shot back.  

Skinner nearly went for Hendricks, but Mulder and Scully stood between them.

Brian turned on a flood light that illuminated a small observation room
protected by heavy Plexiglas.  He opened the door and stood aside.  Skinner
voluntarily walked in and sat on the single bare mattress cot in the middle of
the room.  Scully followed him in, with the first aid kit in hand and began
cleaning and bandaging Skinner's bite wound.  

Hendricks hefted up the body bag and slammed it on a gurney, went to unzip it,
then thought better of it. "My suggestion," he called out to Scully, "Keep a
muzzle on this thing when you're working on it.  It might still have enough
brain function to come back.  If anyone wants me, I'm on the monitor."  He
left again, his AK47 over his shoulder.

Scully finished bandaging Skinner's arm and said, "I'm going to take some
blood now, sir.  Would you roll up your other sleeve and make a fist?"

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.

"Like what?"

"Like you're afraid I'm going to do something.  Why don't you slap a muzzle on
me, too?"

"Sir, I'm --"

"No, Agent Scully, I'm sorry.  Actually, I'm the one who's afraid I'm going to
do something."

"Just give me a little notice before you do, sir."  

She smiled at her boss, was warmed to see him make an effort to return the
smile, then slipped the needle into his vein and watched as blood quickly
filled the tube.

"It's going to be all right, Sir."

"I pray you're right, Scully."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 5

Type 52 (6/8)
by
Lacadiva 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Type 52 (6/8)


Scully completed the autopsy on Jimmy, and was now comparing blood samples
under a powerful microscope.  She thought she smelled coffee as she stared
through the eyesight of the microscope.  She looked up to find Mulder walking
in with two mugs of steaming liquid in one hand, and a small plate in the
other.

"Breakfast is served," he announced.

"I will dance at your wedding for this, Mulder."  She reached out and took one
of the mugs and immediately began to sip the brew.

"Is that a proposal, Scully?"

"Whatever it takes to keep the coffee flowing.  What's on the plate?"

"Manna from heaven, in the form of Pop Tarts.  They might be a little stale."

"Knock yourself out.  I'm done with Jimmy.  His brain may well have been
destroyed, but whatever is in his blood is far from dead.  The diseased cells
are still active."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure yet."

Mulder took a bite of his Pop Tart and grimaced.  He glanced over at the
observation room where Skinner slept on the cot.  "How is he?"

"Physically, not well.  The infection moves very rapidly.  You'd think the
bite wound was superficial upon cursory examination, but once the saliva from
the infected individual is introduced into the blood stream, cell morphology
is immediate.  Look here."  She stepped aside to allow Mulder to take a look
at the slide.

"What am I looking at?" he asked.

"Skinner's blood.  See these abnormal blood cells?  They're devouring the few
remaining normal cells at an alarming rate.  Before long, there won't be
anything left but the abnormal cells."

"Killing the host."

"Yes, and no.  It kills the host, but also reactivates it, essentially jump-
starting the brain and other organs, now under the control of the abnormal
cell.  And also, creating that voracious hunger for human flesh.  It's an act
of violence only from our perspective.  For them, it's an act of survival.
They attack and consume living flesh and blood in order to supply uninfected
blood for their cells to devour."  

"So much for being at the top of the food chain."

Scully removed the slide and put another under the scope.  "Without fresh
blood, this is what happens."

"The cells die?"

"No, actually, they seem to go into a sort of stasis.  This is Jimmy's blood,
removed from his body more than an hour after death.  These abnormal cells
appear dead, inactive, until . . ."  

She removed the slide, pricked the tip of her own index finger with a needle,
and dropped a tiny globule on the glass and covered it. She slipped it back
under the scope.  

Mulder's eyes widened as he watched the dormant cells return to life and
aggressively attack Scully's uninfected blood.

"This is incredible, Scully."

"Yes, it is.  And it's also frightening.  Skinner doesn't have much time left.
Not unless we find away kill this virus."

"Where's Brian, isn't he supposed to be helping you?"

"He wandered off an hour ago and I haven't seen him since."

"Look, no more pricking your finger.  I've got a couple of fresh bags of
uninfected blood in the other lab.  Although it may have a finger of two of
scotch still in it from a few nights ago."

"What?"

"Remind me to tell you about my first encounter with Brian Hazelip later.
Let's go get some blood and we can look under your coverslip some more."


*   *   *


Mulder found the lab, that first room where he had awaken to find Brian
pirating blood from him and Hendricks.  He wondered what may have happened if
Scully and Skinner had not shown up.  

Mulder moved to open the door, but heard a noise.  He pushed Scully behind
him, pulled his Sig from his waistband and stepped into the room.

The agents both gasped audibly at the sight of Brian Hazelip sitting on the
floor in front of a small open refrigerator, squeezing the contents of
Mulder's blood into his mouth like wine from an old fashioned wine skin.  He
looked up, choking and dribbling blood down his chin.  He looked at the agents
with an embarrassed smirk, then at the collection of crumpled plastic blood
bags beside him on the floor.

Mulder couldn't look at him, felt his stomach turning at the thought that this
man was drinking his blood.  Scully's expression was one of shock and disgust
as well.

Brian capped off the bag he was drinking from and slipped it back into the
refrigerator. "Afraid I couldn't help myself," he said, "but rest assured,
your donation was greatly appreciated."  He belched.

Mulder could have kicked the little monster across the room.

"Don't worry!" Brian said, standing up and wiping his blood stained mouth
vigorously with the front of his shirt.  "It's better this way.  This way, I
won't come after you."

"Stay back!" Scully warned, aiming her service weapon at Brian.

"Guys!  Come on, I'm not gonna hurt you!  I thought we were friends!"

Mulder aimed his Sig directly at Brian's head.  Brian halted and threw his
hands up in surrender. 

"I got it under control," Brian said, then struck out wildly, knocking
Scully's gun from her hand and grabbing her by the shoulder, yanking her
against him and holding her in a choke hold.

Mulder aimed for right between his eyes, and knew he could pop a hole in his
head, but would it kill him?  It may just buy him some time.  But in that
time, he might bite Scully.

"Don't even think about it or I'll nip her.  That's all it would take, you
know, just a little spit delivered subcu. . .subcu. . .under the skin, to the
blood, and she's a zombie."

"What do you want, Brian?" Mulder demanded.

"I don't know!  I want to bite her.  I want to bite you both.  I want to taste
your flesh.  I want to sooooo bad. . ."  Brian sounded as if he were going to
cry.

"NO!  You want more blood?  Take it.  Where's the needle?  Take what you want
out of me, just leave her --"

"You don't understand!  I fought SO HARD to stay human, I didn't want to be
like them!  But the instinct to feed is so strong.  It's like a siren's song.
. ."

He ran his lips along Scully neck.  Scully cringed, feeling her knees going
weak.

". . .constantly beckoning me to indulge.  I thought I could fight it.  I
tried.  I tried so hard.  Look at me!  LOOK AT ME!  WHO AM I?  I'LL TELL YOU!
I am Doctor Brian Hazelip, the youngest CDC research scientist in the history
of the organization!  Do you know how many medical research firms competed to
get me?  I'm not some random yahoo from Butt Scratch, Texas!  I'm a scientist!
An academician!  I have two masters and two PhDs and am familiar with more
science disciplines than you can imagine!  I am brilliant!  I am!  I was. . .
I don't remember anything anymore!  All I want to do is eat.  I can't, I can't
fight it anymore. . ."  He opened his mouth.

"NO!" Mulder screamed and fired. 

It occurred to him at that moment that his aim may have been off, that he
could very well have, in the throws of anger and fear for his partner's life,
missed the target altogether and shot Scully.  He didn't.  

A wide black hole appeared directly between Brian's eyes.  His head snapped
back, and he let Scully go.

Brian looked confused.  He reached up and touched the hole in his head.  Black
blood covered his fingers.  

He then stumbled, but stayed on his feet.  He turned around, his back to
Mulder, and with a trembling hand touched the back of his head.  He kept his
hand there for a moment, long enough for Mulder to realize what he was doing. 

Mulder aimed and fired, severing the brain from its stem, completely
obliterating it.  Brian slammed to the floor dead.

Scully moved on shaky legs to Mulder's side.  She wanted nothing more than to
throw her arms around him.  

Mulder had the same idea. He pulled Scully to him and squeezed hard.  "You
okay?" he whispered.  

Scully nodded against his chest, afraid her voice would reveal the truth.


*     *     *


Scully sat at the lab table, watching Skinner toss and turn while Mulder
napped.  She was still deeply shaken by the events of the past few hours.  She
still saw Jimmy's head, splattered against the bathroom wall.  She still felt
Brian's cold, dry breath against her neck.  She wanted to sleep, but she still
saw legions of zombies reaching for her every time she closed her eyes.  

Hendricks entered, his AK47 wrapped in his arms like a child.  "Awful quiet in
here," he said, taking a seat next to Scully.  "I get nervous when things get
too quiet."

"That's understandable, considering.  Has McGann come back?"

"No.  Not a peep.  Look, I came back here to tell Mulder, but I'll tell you,
too.  That truck up there, the one you came in.  Is it mobile?"

"It has a flat rear left tire."

"Other than that?"

"I think so.  Why?"

"I get the feeling our distress signal is being ignored.  I get the feeling
they'd rather we just waste away down here like rats in a sewer.  I'm going to
make a break for it.  I figure if there's not too much activity up there, I
can sneak up, disengage the back, and just take the cab."

"I don't know if there's enough gas in the tank."

"If it's enough to get us the heck away from here, it's enough.  You want to
give it a go?"

"I'll talk to Mulder about it.  And if Skinner is strong enough to travel --"

"No, not Skinner."

"What?"

"He's infected.  We can't take him.  It'll be the shortest ride you ever had."

"We can't leave him here."

"You can't cure him, either. So baldy stays behind."

"No."

"Look, there's only room in that cab for three.  That's you, me and Mulder.
Skinner stays.  That's the deal.  Take it or leave it.  One way or another,
I'm outta here."

Hendricks stood up heading for the door.  "This is a limited time offer, Agent
Scully."

"Wait!"  Scully stood.  "Do you really think they'd leave us here?"

"It's been over 24 hours.  You don't see Delta Force breaking down the doors
do you?  I'm pulling out of here in one hour.  Talk to Mulder.  See if he
doesn't agree with me."

Hendricks left.  Scully stared at her sleeping partner.  She ran a hand
through his hair.  She felt eyes on her.  She looked up.

Skinner was standing in front of the glass, leaning slightly against it,
watching her.

"Sir?"

Skinner said nothing.

"Say something."

He didn't.

Scully reached for her gun.  "Sir, I need you to say something.  Please."

Skinner took a deep breath.  "I'm all right, Agent Scully."  His baritone
voice was thinned through the Plexiglas.

Scully felt only a little better.  He didn't blink, never took his eyes off of
Scully.

"Mulder," she said, reaching for him to wake him.

"Let him sleep," Skinner said.  "I need to talk to you.  Have you had a chance
to take a look at my blood?"

"Yes, sir, I did.  Cellular morphology has begun."

"Then how do you explain the fact that, more than three hours later, I'm
standing here talking to you, instead of trying to break this door down and
attack you?"

"I don't know, sir.  Perhaps, your size, I mean, you're a sizeable man.  I
mean, your physique, your --"

"If I were infected, Scully, I could break right through this Plexiglas and
you'd be my dinner.  Those zombies are impervious to pain stimuli.  I am not.
They have but one objective.  Scully, I'm not one of them."

Scully heard the words, wanted to believe it, but couldn't deny the evidence.
She wanted to put her gun down, but held on to it.

"Mulder," she called out again.  He merely moaned and stirred, but kept on
sleeping.  She quickly and silently prayed she would not have to be the one to
put the bullet through her boss's head.

"Agent Scully, I had a fever.  It's gone."  He ripped the bandage off of his
arm.  The wound looked normal for a fresh wound -- red, puffy, but none of the
putrid suppuration she had found around Jimmy's wound.

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"Let me out of here, for one thing."

"I can't."

"Then take another blood sample from me to test. You're going to find that
whatever was destroying my blood cells is now being destroyed."

"By what?"

"I don't know, that's your job to determine.  I wondered why, when we were up
above, those creatures tended to ignore me.  Go out of their way not to make
contact.  And Jimmy, even when he came after me, he was just trying to get
out, and I was in the way.  There's something in my blood that repels them,
Scully.  And I think it's whatever they gave me back in Nam.  It lay dormant
in my body for decades.  Now, when it's needed, it's fighting back, like a
vaccination.  I know it's hard to believe, Scully, in light of what we've been
through, but the simple truth is, I'm not dead yet.  Jimmy was dead within two
hours.

"If you don't trust me, give me the needle and the tube.  I will draw my own
blood and give it to you."

"No.  I still have to open the door, sir."

Skinner walked to the rear of the observation area, placed his hands on his
head and turned his back to Scully.

"I could rush you, Scully," he said.

Scully felt a chill shudder through her body.

"But you could also blow my head off.  I've seen you shoot.  I know how easily
you could drop me."  Skinner stood patiently waiting for Scully to move or
not.

She found a sterile needle and tube, and creeping to the door, she quickly
unlatched it, opened it, threw the needle and tube in, then quickly closed the
door.

Skinner turned around and looked at what Scully had tossed in.  He smiled.  He
bent down, picked them up, holding on to his still sore ribs, then went to his
cot and sat.  He rolled up a sleeve looked back to Scully.  "You're going to
have to walk me through this."

Scully instructed him and watched carefully as the tube filled with Skinner's
rich red blood. Once done, he placed the filled tube by the door, then walked
back to his earlier position and put his hands back on his head.

Scully hesitated, then quickly opened the door.  She grabbed the tube and
raced out before Skinner could turn around.  

She went immediately to the microscope and placed a drop of Skinner's still
warm blood on a glass slide.  She peered through the scope, expecting to see
more of the same abnormal cells.  Her eyes widened and she audibly gasped.
There were no traces of abnormal cells in Skinner's blood.

"What is it?" Skinner asked, nervous that his theory was wrong.

"Mulder, wake up!"

Mulder snapped up.  "What is it?  What?"

Scully pointed to the microscope.  Mulder moved groggily towards it, and
peered through.  "What am I looking at?"

"What do you see?"

"Nothing.  Normal blood cells."

Scully went to the door and disengaged the latch.

"What are you doing?  Scully, STOP!" Mulder yelled, reaching across the table
for his gun.

Scully opened the door and stood in front of Skinner.  Skinner reached out for
her.

"No!" Mulder yelled.

Skinner wrapped his arms around his agent and pulled her close to him,
grimacing because of the ribs, but smiling with relief.

"You're okay, sir," she said with great relief.

"Did I miss something?" Mulder asked.


*    *    *


Hendricks thought about it long and hard.  He knew Scully and Mulder would not
leave their boss behind, regardless of his condition.  Deep down Hendricks
admired this.  He was a man of conscience and conviction, and his years in the
armed forces had taught him a lot about loyalty.  But this zombie thing, he
reasoned, totally changed the game.

He wouldn't wait for them to make a decision.  He was too anxious to get
moving while there was some daylight above.  He checked the monitor, and saw
no signs of zombies.  Satisfied, he grabbed his AK47 and headed for the
elevator.

He could hear their voices down the hall -- Scully's soft yet firm staccato,
Mulder's sleepy monotone, and felt for them.  He made up his mind that he
would come back for them.  He'd get out, find help, and come back himself if
he had to.  But someone had to venture up and see what they were yet up
against.

Hendricks programmed in the numeric code and heard the elevator engine kicking
and sputter to life.  The door opened, all shiny, metallic and cold.
Hendricks took one last look down the hall, silently wished Mulder and Scully
the best, and hopped on.

"I'll be back," he promised as the doors closed.


*    *    *

McGann had a crowbar, his intention to pry the doors to the elevator open.
But then he heard the sound -- the elevator was on the way up.  He could hear
the cables swishing about, and felt air rushing through the split in the door.
This was too good to be true.  He threw the crowbar down, put on his shades,
pulled his gun from his holster.  He looked up and saw the security camera.
McGann smiled, then fired one shot directly at the camera, destroying it.

He expected to hear the alarm go off, but there was nothing.  Just the sound
of the elevator getting closer and closer to the top.

This was going to be so easy.

*    *    *


"So there is a cure?"  Skinner asked, feeling optimistic for the first time
since the entire ordeal began.

"We know there is a cure for what they gave you," said Scully.  "We have to
assume that they have yet to come up with an anti-virus specifically for Type
52, or they would have used it by now."

"Not necessarily," her partner said.

"Why would they withhold the cure, Mulder?"

"Think about who we're dealing with here.  You heard Brian.  This was no
accident.  If Type 52 can wipe out three small towns in less than one week,
imagine what it would do unleashed on a large foreign country?  After the
first two thousand deaths the United Nations and the World Health Organization
could just swoop in and clamp down on all entry and exits visas, they'll send
over troops under the guise of keeping order and removing the dead, and you've
got a war nobody knows about covered in the international press as a horrible
disease started by a sick monkey.  A couple of British rock stars'll get
together for a telethon and the next thing you know some lab geek is accepting
the Nobel Prize in science for creating a cure that already existed.  This is
their Skinner box -- no pun intended, sir, and we are the rats."

"Mulder, you amaze me," Scully said with a sigh.  

"I still got a few gems left."

"So what do we do now?" asked Skinner.

"Well, sir," Scully said.  "I'm not sure if you're going to like my theory any
better than I like Mulder's, but here goes.  Your blood, as you said, has
something that repels the reanimated dead.  Somehow they know that whatever is
in your blood can counteract the abnormalities in theirs, thus destroying
them. It's as if your blood, from what I've seen, causes them to starve to
death.  I'm proposing that a transfusion of your blood, to Mulder, Hendricks
and me, might allow us to walk out of here.  I'm not certain it will work, and
I don't know what side effects to expect.  I do know, Sir, that you were given
large amounts of donated blood after your gunshot wound a few years ago, yet
enough of the antibodies survived in your system, to reactivate and fight off
Type 52.  It's hard to know without being able to completely research this,
but we're running out of time and, according to Corporal Hendricks, we should
not expect a rescue."

"How much blood will I have to give?"

"I'm not sure, but I want to wait another hour to see how your blood is
holding up.  If it looks good, we'll try me first to see what happens."

"No," said Mulder.  "I vote you try me first."

"Mulder --"

" My motives have less to do with chivalry and macho self-sacrifice than the
fact that you're the one who knows what you're doing medically."

"I can walk you through it, Mulder."

"Mulder's right," Skinner chimed in.  "He goes first."

"Sure, fine, whatever."

Mulder reached out and gave Scully's hand a squeeze.  "Remember our promise?"
Mulder said, just loud enough that only Scully could hear.  

She nodded and squeezed her partner's hand back.  "Yes.  I'll need to get a
tube of your blood now for comparison."

Mulder automatically began rolling up his sleeve.  "Hey, how do we see if it's
working?"  Mulder asked.  "Do I get to go up top and run around naked,
tempting zombies?"

"I hate to spoil your fun, Mulder, but that won't be necessary.  We'll just
take a look at how your blood reacts with Jimmy's samples.  Then we'll take it
from there."

Scully stepped away to gather the equipment she would need.  Skinner turned
his gaze away from Mulder, staring at the bite wound on his arm.

"Sir," Mulder began, not sure what to say.  "Sir, I have to 
apologize --"

"Forget it, Mulder.  We were all pretty fried."

"No, sir, I can't forget it.  I assaulted you.  I blamed you --"

"Agent Mulder, I never should have brought you and Scully into this.  I know
that now and I think I'll always regret it.  So if there's anyone who needs to
apologize, it's me."

Mulder nodded.  Both men sat in silence until Scully returned.

They all heard it and looked up as if the answer for what they heard would
come from heaven -- the sound of a motor vibrating through the room.

"The elevator!"  Mulder said and raced down the hall to the monitor.  Skinner
and Scully joined him. 

The monitor showed nothing but snow.  "The security camera is down," Mulder
said, striking the side of the monitor hard.

"Would he do that to us?" Scully asked out loud.

"What?"

"Hendricks.  He said he was leaving.  He wanted to take the truck but there
was only room for three, and they he wouldn't take Skinner.  Why would he
destroy the security camera?"

"Maybe he didn't," Mulder said.

Scully felt her blood run cold.

*    *    *


Hendricks readied himself for an onslaught.  He positioned the assault weapon,
balanced perfectly, prepared to fire at the first thing that moved.  

The doors hissed open.  Nothing moved, nothing stirred.  Hendricks wasn't
satisfied.  He would not be caught off guard.  He moved cautiously to step
over the threshold.  Before his foot could cross over, something jumped out in
front of him.

"Corporal!"

He almost pulled the trigger.  "Sir?"  He moved to salute, out of habit, out
of duty.

McGann smiled.  "At ease, Hendricks.  It's good to see you alive."  He whipped
off his shades, revealing his blue/white eyes.  "What's the rush?"

Hendricks brought up his weapon to fire too late.  McGann leaped into the
elevator and tore out the corporal's throat with his teeth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter Six

Type 52 (7/8)
by
Lacadiva 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Type 52 (7/8)


McGann heard them coming.  He looked up from Hendricks, whose gut he had
hollowed out, and saw them coming in his direction.  The elevator doors kept
trying to close, banging against Hendricks' legs, and automatically opening
again.  It occurred to McGann that he could pull the body in and finish his
meal during the ride down, then complete the job of killing the surviving
agents, or, he could allow the zombies to do the work for him.  

He stood up and moved back and allowed the car to fill with zombies, all
tumbling in in almost comic fashion to devour what was left of the still warm
soldier.  They fought for possession of the body, until the legs were dragged
away and the elevator doors closed and began it's decent.

He was amazed as all around him, the zombies, all in various stages of
decomposition, some relatively fresh, some just parts of dragging themselves
by mangled limbs, paid no heed to him.  They recognized him as one of them.
But he wasn't he assured himself.  Sure, he had a moment where he lost his
head -- he laughed at this -- and actually gave into the drive to feed, but
ultimately he knew he was better than 
these. . .*things* surrounding him.  He was a new creature, a new flesh.
And this was his time.


*    *    *


The three agents stood armed at the elevator doors.  They began checking their
weapons and backing up.

"South lab!" Mulder shouted, and all three turned and ran.  

Scully felt her knees weakening.  Her heart hammered against her chest.  She
prayed it was Hendricks, but feared it was the worse.  

Mulder easily remember the numeric sequence to get them back into the lab, but
his hands were shaking.

"Hurry, Mulder!" Scully urged him.

Mulder hit the wrong button, and had to start the sequence again.

"Mulder!" Skinner said, keeping aim down the hall.  All three heard the
elevator doors open.

"Come on!" Mulder screamed at the panel when the red light did not turn green
and the door refused to open.  He banged on it hard with a fist, tried the
door handle and found it still locked.  He cursed and began pressing keys
again.  This time the light flashed to green.  But not before Mulder heard and
recognized the sound of the undead heading their way.

Mulder practically pulled the latch off with his hands as he opened the door.
All three raced inside.

"Observation room!" Skinner directed.  All three ran into the Plexiglas room. 

"Mulder," cried Scully "the lab door!"

They looked up to see that the security door to the lab was not completely
shut.  Mulder headed for the Plexiglas door. 

Scully grabbed his arm and yanked him back.  "There's no time!"  She shouted.
Mulder closed the Plexiglas door, locking them in, at least from the inside.
They moved to the back of the observation room, backs against the wall,
weapons ready.

They could hear them, even through the Plexiglas, the zombies moaning and
shuffling. 

"How do you think they got down here?" Skinner asked.

"I don't know," said Mulder, his breathing slightly labored.

"What happened to the alarm?" Scully asked.

"Hendricks turned it off.  Guess he forgot to turn it back on."

The moaning and shuffling grew louder.  And then the door to the lab began to
open.  

One zombie entered the room, shuffling almost comically, until it turned and
saw the three agents in the observation room.  It hissed, as if calling all
his zombie cohorts to dinner.

Suddenly the room was filling with zombies, and all of them were groaning and
moving towards the observation room, arms outstretched.

Scully wanted to close her eyes, but she forced herself to keep them open, to
fight until they couldn't fight anymore.  To keep her promise to Mulder if it
came to making that decision.

"Mulder," she said, just needing to say his name.

"It's okay.  They can't -- "  He heard his voice crack.  He knew he didn't
believe what he was about to tell his partner.  "They can't get in here."

The zombies kept coming, until they all smashed into the Plexiglas.  They
still kept coming, not understanding or refusing to understand that the glass
was not breakable, or that it was even there.  They beat on the glass, slammed
their bodies against it, banged their heads and fists against it, determined
to get to the food.  

Mulder, Scully and Skinner watched, in horror, knowing there was no way out,
and the zombies were never going to leave, never going to give up, as long as
they were alive.  

"I'm open for ideas here!" Skinner snapped, wanting to pull the trigger but
realizing the bullet would either ricochet and hit them, or smash through,
allowing the zombies an eventual entry.  

Suddenly Skinner caught a glance at one of the horde.  This one was simply
standing and watching, not participating in the effort to break through the
glass.  He stood smiling, wearing sunshades.

"McGann!"

McGann Stepped forward, pushing zombies out of his way.  They fell, but
quickly rose up and resumed their efforts.

"Walter, still hanging on."

"Get us out of here!"

"I can't.  I have orders."

"You can't leave us here!"

"This is true."  McGann reached for the outer lock.  

"Don't!" Skinner shouted.

"You should have stayed out of this, Walter.  You should have minded your own
business.  The program you're so anxious to expose is what's responsible for
your being alive right now.  Where's your gratitude?"

"Am I supposed to feel grateful for what you did to them?" he said, meaning
the hungry horde.

"You wouldn't even have known about them."  McGann turned the lock.  

Mulder, Scully and Skinner backed up farther.

To Mulder, Skinner asked, "Is that AK47 fully loaded?"

Mulder nodded.

"I hope you're good with it!"

McGann opened the door, just an inch, then stepped out of the way.  The
zombies instantly lunged for the opened door and began pushing their way
through. 

The agents began firing, bodies and heads exploding all around them, splashing
them.  Mulder stepped in front of Scully and Skinner.  "GET DOWN!" he yelled,
and began to spray the converging horde, ripping them apart.  He kept firing,
his own eyes closed at one point, when he realized he could not take the sight
of exploding bodies anymore.  He kept firing until the clip finally emptied.
The room was filled with the smell of carbon.  Expired shells clinked on the
floor. 

Mulder opened his eyes to find the entire horde cut down, piles of bodies and
parts, flowing blood and fluids.  His hands shook around the weapon, and he
was still pulling the trigger.  His lower lip was quivering, and even though
he saw nothing move, he kept trying to shoot.

Scully moved to him and put her hands on his arms.  Mulder jumped, but would
not take his focus from the fallen horde.  

"Mulder, they're dead.  Let go."

Mulder jerked away from her and continued, trying to fire.

"Mulder, you got them.  Give me the weapon."  

Mulder stopped and looked at Scully.  He relaxed and allowed Scully to pull
the empty assault weapon away from him.  She tossed it to the floor and
wrapped her arms around her partner.  He hugged her tightly, allowing himself
to come back to her. 

Skinner moved to them, not sure how to, but wanting desperately to hug them
both.  He didn't.  "We have to find McGann," he whispered.  Mulder nodded and
pulled away from Scully. 

Skinner was the first one out, navigating his way through fallen bodies,
avoiding slick spots and limbs.  He saw a hand reach out for his ankle, and he
fired a shot, obliterating the hand, then continued until he made it to the
door.

"Scully?" he called.  "Follow my path."

Scully looked to Mulder, and at the sea of bodies she had to maneuver through.
She shook her head.  She didn't want to.

"Come on, Scully, you can do it," Skinner prompted.  Scully took one step,
then another.  Her eyes were wide, her eyebrow practically tickling her
hairline and she made her way to Skinner's outstretched hand.  She touched his
finger tips, and then she knew she had made it.  

Both looked to Mulder.  He took the first step around pile of bodies.  It
didn't seem so difficult watching it, but maneuvering through was difficult.
He watched for movement, his Sig now in his hands.

He stepped over and stopped at what appeared to be a child no more than eight
or nine.  She looked so much like Samantha.  Her hair was long and brown,
splayed out around her like a halo.  She wore a long flannel nighty that was
covered in blackish blood.  Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleeping
peacefully.  And her head, Mulder noticed, way too late, was still intact.

Her eyes popped open, and so did her bloody mouth.  She latched onto Mulder's
leg and bit down hard, through his pantsleg.  Mulder screamed and tried to
shake her off, but fell backwards into the pile of dead and semi-live,
squirming bodies.  He lost his gun, straining to reach for it even as he
kicked at his attacker, even as he felt the bodies under him fighting to take
hold of him.  The little girl dug her teeth in Mulder's leg deeper, trying to
rip out flesh and muscle

Skinner leaped into the fray, and aimed at the top of the girl's head.
Memories of Viet Nam overtook him for a moment, memories of a little boy who
wandering into his camp, wired to explode. . . .Skinner fired.

Mulder felt her teeth rip out of his skin.  Skinner pulled Mulder to his feet
and helped him the rest of the way through the sea of bodies.  He collapsed
once in Scully's reach, holding on to the sore and bleeding bite wound.

He rolled up his pants leg and let her see.  Blood was running from the deep
wound like a river.

"No, no," Scully whispered.  

Mulder looked her in the eyes.  Scully looked away.

"Let's go!" cried Skinner.  "We can worry about that later."

Both agents rose and followed Skinner down the hall, heading towards the
elevator.  Just as they reached it, McGann stepped from around the corner with
an assault weapon aimed at the agents.

"Aren't you dead yet?" he asked and laughed, and started firing.  

The Agents ducked back around the corner.  

McGann's weapon was exhausted quickly.  He threw it down angrily and reached
for his handgun.

Skinner came around the corner and aimed his Sig at McGann's head.  "Freeze!"

Mulder and Scully followed, both covering McGann.

McGann laughed.  "You think that can kill me?  You think Type 52 is all there
is?  Guess again, amigo.  I'm on my fourth reanimation.  And I'm not done yet.
Walter, old friend, give up.  There's a whole black ops contingent on its way
to raze this place.  They're not gonna let you walk out of here with what you
know.  I can make it quick and painless for you and your friends."

"Like back there?"

"Sorry, I was trying my hand at being creative.  I'm done now.  And, come to
think of it, I'm a little hungry."

"Eat this," said Skinner with a scowl and shot McGann in the head.  

McGann back up a pace, then began to laugh.  "You're gonna have to do better
than that, old friend."

All three agents raised their weapons and fired.  McGann backed up as each
bullet slammed into his head.  McGann fell. 

The three approached McGann's body cautiously.  Skinner kicked him, ready to
fire again.

"Is he dead?"  Scully asked.

"I'm not waiting around to find out," said Skinner.  "Let's get out of here."

The three agents stepped over McGann and into the elevator.  None of them were
prepared for the mess that was inside -- what remained of Hendricks.  Mulder
was the first to recognize the remains, and turned away sick.

Scully tried to avoid looking at the remains, as did Skinner.  Mulder however,
stared at it, as if memorizing the sight, never wanting to forget either the
man he was, or what had become of him.

The elevator doors shut, and the car began its ascent.  Skinner quickly
reloaded his weapon with his last clip.  Scully's weapon was done.  Mulder's
had only two rounds left.

"What now?" Mulder asked.

"I have an idea," said Skinner.


*    *    *


The elevator door opened.  Skinner was the first out, gun ready, using his own
body as a shield in front of his two agents.

"Stay here, keep the door open if you can," said Skinner.  He wandered off to
check the area.

Mulder leaned against the wall and slid down, still holding on to the button,
the pain in his leg growing by the second.  

"Scully," he said weakly.  

She squatted down to join him.

"I don't want to come back."

Scully held her breath.  She didn't want to think about it.  She didn't want
to keep her promise.  "I can't, Mulder."

"You have to."

Mulder handed Scully his gun.  "I don't want to come back," he repeated.  "Not
like them.  You can save me."

She was about to cry.  "Mulder, don't."

"You can save me."  He placed the gun in her hand, pulled the gun up to the
center of his chest and closed his eyes.

"NO!" she said, forcing the gun away from her partner.  "I refuse to believe
this is the only way!  There is a cure for this!  And I will find it.  We will
find it!"

"Scully, there isn't time.  I've got a few hours, and then --"

Skinner was back at the door.  "We've got to make a break for it now, or we're
done for."

Scully rose, pulling Mulder up with her.  They stepped off the elevator, on
the other side of the abandoned truck, and saw zombies scattered around the
area, walking aimlessly, tripping over the dead bodies left from the earlier
battle.

"Stay behind me," Skinner said.  "If one of those things are getting close,
make sure I'm between you and it."  He handed Scully his gun.  "You've got the
duty Scully.  You can't afford to waste a shot, so make them count."

"Sir," Mulder said, his voice low and weak as if he was ready to pass out,
"the jeep Hendricks and I came in, it should still be by the entrance gate."

"We saw it on the way in.  That might be our ticket out.  One thing before we
go.  I just want to say --"

Skinner stopped, unsure of how to proceed.  These were words he didn't get to
say very often.  "I just want to say that of everyone I've ever worked with,
ever known, you two have my complete and utter respect."

Mulder nodded.  Scully looked away, but spoke.  "You too, sir."

"All right, let's move, agents."

They headed in the direction of the gate.  A zombie ran on stiff legs,
reaching out at Mulder.  Skinner stepped in front of it.  The zombie stopped
as if disappointed.  As it moved to reach around Skinner, Scully had the time
she needed to set up her shot and take it.  BLAM!  The zombie fell.

Another approached from Mulder's side.  Skinner moved in front.  Mulder fired.
Down to one round.  Two more zombies approached.  Mulder fired, Scully fired.
Both zombies fell.  Mulder threw his gun down in frustration.  

His leg was burning as if on fire.  He stumbled and fell to his knees.  

"Mulder!"

"I can't, Scully.  I feel sick."

"Skinner!  Mulder's down!  I need help!"

"Keep moving!" Skinner demanded.

Scully did what she could to help Mulder up.  Once she looked up she noticed
that Skinner was standing stunned, unmoving.  When they saw what their AD saw,
they too were stunned.

About a hundred zombies were heading their way, like a herd of cattle being
lead to pasture.  Or to a slaughterhouse.  Mulder's legs gave out again, and
he fell to the ground, convulsing.  Scully knelt beside him, holding him.
This was it.  She took the gun, stroked hair from Mulder's wet forehead, then
placed a kiss on it.  She put the gun to his temple.  He seemed to know.  He
stopped convulsing and opened his eyes.  He nodded.

"Do it," he whispered.

Scully felt the ground vibrating under her.  It wasn't from the zombies.  She
looked up and saw huge trucks heading their way.  Canisters like grenades were
being pitched from the trucks, exploding greenish, smoke-like gas that quickly
began filling the air, reducing visibility.  Soldiers in full biohazard suits
carrying tanks on their backs and nozzles much like fire extinguishers shot
out more of the green gas, like exterminators after monster sized bugs.

The zombies were dropping like flies, kicking, trying to get up, tripping over
one another.  

Skinner huddled next to Scully where Mulder lay.  "Keep low!" he warned them.
But that didn't do them any good.  The gas began burning their eyes, burning
their chests.  They coughed, trying to find air.  Scully was the first to pass
out, falling atop Mulder.  Mulder went second.  Skinner, looking up one last
time to see helicopters descending on the place, and more black ops troops
arriving, was the last to go.


*    *    *


Mulder woke up, his head hurting worse than he could ever remember, his throat
afire, his chest feeling as if an elephant had used him for step aerobic.  He
was lying on the ground, covered by a silvery thermal blanket.  /Where did
this come from?/ he wondered.  Something covered his mouth.  It was an oxygen
mask.  Two men appeared over him, both wearing biohazard suits and hoods.  

"On three," he heard one of them say.

He cringed, remembering Hendricks' dirty trick.  Hendricks.  Mulder looked up,
wanting to find the corporal, but remembered he was dead.

"Three."  Mulder felt himself being lift and placed on a gurney.  He tried to
speak, but he was too groggy to construct a sentence. He could not be heard
through the mask, either.  "Scully," was all he was able to say.  He looked to
the side and saw what looked like garbage trucks.  Men in black suits that
made them look like enormous bipedal bugs were picking up zombie bodies and
parts and tossing them onto the garbage trucks.  A bulldozer was demolishing
what was left of the façade that housed the elevator to the military facility
below.  Mulder could smell burning flesh and saw several large piles of body
parts still writhing, burning in a diabolical bonfire.  Mulder tried to rise
up, he wanted to run.

"Easy, buddy," he heard one of the men say.  They seemed to be moving in slow
motion.  "We're going to get you some help."

Mulder let his eyes close.

"We're getting them to the mobile medical facility now, sir."  Mulder heard.
Then he heard another voice, and smelled something familiar.  Even though the
mask he know someone nearby was smoking.

"Good.  I don't want anything to happen to them, especially this one, and the
woman."

"Yes sir."

"The next time someone tries to go over my head --"

Mulder didn't hear the rest of it.


*   *    *


Mulder woke up to find sun in his eyes, pouring in from a window.  He tried to
move, but his body was stiff and sore.  He did not recognize the room, but
knew it was not a regular hospital.  He looked to the side, and found Scully,
clad in a hospital gown and robe, sitting in a chair next to the bed.  Her
head was down, resting on her hand as she dozed.

"Scully."  His voice was scratchy, is throat dry.

She didn't move.  Despite the stiffness and the IVs connected to him, Mulder
stretched out his arm, reaching for her hand resting under her chin.  His
fingers touched hers.  

Scully jumped, her face a mask of horror, gasping.  

"Scully?"

"Oh, Mulder.  God.  I had a nightmare."

"That's understandable."

"You're awake," she said, relieved to see her partner smile again.  She took
his hand into hers and pulled close to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know.  Tired.  Sore.  Am I okay?"

"Yes.  They treated you for the virus.  You've been out for days.  I was
getting worried, but they said it was to be expected.  Now that you're back,
you should be out of here in --"

"What do you mean 'back'?"

"I mean awake, Mulder.  You never died.  I never left your side."

Mulder smile.  "Thank you.  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mulder.  So is Skinner.  They say we can go back to work next week.
You'll be taking a little extra time off, however."

"What some people won't do for a vacation.  I'm confused."

"What about?"

"I was under the impression *they* wanted us dead."

"They did.  According to the CQ here, we apparent have a friend to thank for
our survival."  She pulled from her robe pocket an empty, crumpled Morleys
pack.  "I found this on your bed a couple of days ago."

"Why is it he keeps turning up like a bad penny?"

"I don't know, Mulder.  All I know is, if I saw the man, as much as I loathe
him, I think I'd have to thank him for this one."  Tears began to sting her
eyes.  She looked away.

"Hey. . ."

"That was a close one, Mulder.  I can't tell you how close I came to losing
it."

"You were the only thing that kept me going."

Scully smiled through her tears.  "I shudder to think how close I came to
putting a bullet --"

Mulder reached out so that his fingertips touched her lips.  She quieted,
closing her eyes to the memory.  "It's over now," Mulder said.  "Now comes the
worse part."

"What part is that?"

"Fighting through the lies and denials to tell the world what we saw."

"I'm game if your are."

Mulder smiled, and ran a finger down his partner's cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Chapter 7

Type 52 (8/8)
by
Lacadiva 


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
". . .may those who plot my ruin be turned back in dismay."
Psalm 35:4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Type 52 (8/8)


J. Edgar Hoover Building
9:29 AM


"Agents, would you step into my office, please?"

Mulder and Scully entered and sat before their superior.  Skinner was flipping
through the report both Mulder and Scully and spent days preparing, filling it
with as much information as they could compile from their experience with Type
52.  

Skinner closed the file and looked at them.  "I can't release this report."

Mulder closed his eyes and hissed air through his nostrils.  He was expecting
resistance, but not from Skinner, not after the ordeal they had all shared.

"Why not, sir?" Scully asked icily.

"Orders have come down from the highest levels.  It's a matter of national
security."

"National security?" Mulder spat.  

"Listen, Agent Mulder!"

"No!"

"Just listen to me.  Think about what would happen if the general public got
wind of what we saw.  We're not talking about a little healthy public outrage.
We're talking panic.  We're talking chaos.  We're talking a lot of people
dying over this.  I won't have that on my conscience."

Mulder leaped out of his seat.  "So you'd support a lie so you could sleep a
little better?  You kept that lie for over 25 years, Skinner, and look what
happened!"

"Sit down, Agent Mulder."

Mulder refused defiantly.

"I SAID SIT DOWN."

Mulder sat.  

Scully spoke, "Sir, I have to agree wholeheartedly with Agent Mulder.  This is
a travesty.  Worse than that.  You saw what they did to those people.  You
know what they've done to you!  What happens if they continue to experiment
with this virus?  How many more towns will be devastated?  How many more
lives?  I cannot sit back and be silent while these men conduct this
diabolical agenda while we keep silent for the sake of National Security!"

"I'm in total agreement with both of you.  I am outraged.  But I will follow
orders.  Until such time as I believe a more open policy is warranted.  I've
been instructed to destroy your report."

Skinner opened his desk drawer and dropped the report in.  He locked it back
and placed the key in his pocket.  Mulder's anger subsided just a bit.

"When you get back to your office," Skinner continued, "you'll no doubt find
your report is missing from your hard disk."

Mulder looked at Scully.  She had nothing to offer them. 

"I'm sorry," Skinner said.  "Think of it this way.  Every terrorist and every
so-called patriot with a bone to pick with the Government, every lunatic and
every foreign power will fight like dogs to get hold of Type 52 if word of it
ever got out.  And if any of them ever get their hands on it, the end of the
world scenario we prayed would never happened would come with the dawn.  I
don't know about you, Mulder, but I can't live with *that*."

Mulder looked away.  The truth, even this truth, needed to get out.  But
Skinner, he would not admit out loud, was right -- at what cost truth?

"Is that all sir?"  Scully asked.

"Yes."

Mulder stood and headed for the door, not waiting for his partner.

"Agent Mulder?"

Mulder stopped and turned back to Skinner.

"The truth will be told someday.  Just not today."


*    *    *


Mulder raced down the hall for the elevator. 

"Mulder, wait!" Scully demanded.

Mulder stopped short of entering the elevator, holding the door for his
partner.

"I should have known, Scully."

"We both should have known.  What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet."

"Will you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Would you go home early and get some rest?"

"Scully --"

"Please, Mulder.  You're not a hundred percent.  Go home.  Rest.  I'm leaving
early."

The doors opened and Scully stepped out, not waiting for Mulder.

He leaned against the cool metal for a moment, then followed his partner back
to their office.


*    *    *


Military Army Medical Facility
Dallas, Texas


He secured the hood of his borrowed biohazard suit, and entered the quarantine
area lead by one of the doctors on duty, also in full biohazard accouterment.
There were over a dozen beds, all empty but for one.  He walked to the bed and
with no thought for the condition of the man who was deep in the sleep of
recovery, he woke him.

McGann's eyes opened.  They were still bluish white, but fading, as if a more
natural color was slowly returning.  "You," he said with a raspy voice.

The CSM smiled through his hood.  "You disobeyed me."

"I don't take my orders from you."

"Which is why you've outlived your usefulness."  

The CSM stepped to the side and allowed the doctor to step forward. 

McGann, unable to move, could only tremble at the sight of the doctor holding
up a large syringe.  He looked pleadingly to the CSM. 
"No. .  .please!"

The doctor removed the plastic cap, revealing a shiny, sharp needle.  He
inserted the needle into one of McGann's IV lines.

The CSM stepped back to watch his old friend writhe.


*    *    *


Dana Scully's Apartment
3:11 am


Scully jumped up in bed, ready to fight.  This was the fifth night in a row
since she'd been home that she had awaken from a nightmare.  She still could
not get the faces of the walking dead out of her mind, out of her psyche.  She
knew, just like the night before, and the night before that, she was not going
to be getting back to sleep any time soon.  She knew that every bump she heard
would send her back to Harmony, Texas.

She could always call Mulder.

She considered it, and realized that she'd wakened him each and every night.
She couldn't keep doing that to him.  He need sleep as badly as she did.  She
crawled out of bed, wrapping her comforter around her shoulders, went into the
living room, and turned on the television.

QVC was showing cute porcelain dolls.  She switched to News Channel Eight.
What she saw made her jaw drop.  He *had* to call Mulder.


*     *    *


Fox Mulder's Apartment
3:21 am


Mulder lay sleeping on his couch.  The phone rang.  He knew it would be
Scully.  He got it on the first ring.

"Hi, Scully."

"Turn to News Channel Eight."

Mulder groped around the floor for his remote control.  He snagged it, and
quickly flipped to channel 8.

On the screen were exterminating trucks spraying trees, while the announcer
read copy about a nasty insect epidemic in Texas.  Mulder sat up and stared
when he noticed that the stuff they were spraying was a familiar gaseous
green.

"Oh my God, Scully."

"This isn't over yet, is it Mulder?"

Mulder wanted to tell her it was over.  He wanted to believe it himself.
"Scully. . . ."

Scully hung up.  The phone line went dead in Mulder's ear.

He put the phone down and sat up to watch the rest of the report.  The smiling
reporters came back, joking about the size of bugs that would warrant such an
effort to combat them.

". . .and they say that this is only the beginning in the war against nature
out of control.  We'll be *back* after this," the attractive female
anchorwoman said.

"Not if I'm lucky," said Mulder, and lay back down to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE END
Whoa!  Thanks for staying with me all the way through.  If you liked it, email
me at Lacadiva @aol.com.  And to everyone who also read my other stories and
sent me such kind words of encouragement -- Thanks!

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