4:30pm September 7, 1995
"This is a waste of time," Peter Winters said, as he pulled the small black Subaru into the driveway of the old farmhouse. It was late afternoon, and the sun was setting in a huge red glow over the distant rolling hills of eastern Kansas. The house was large and rambling, made of white-painted wood with red trim on the windows. The fields around it were overgrown with wheat and weeds, the large red barn had not seen a harvest in many years.
His wife, Andrea, sighed in exasperation and worry as she got out of the car. "It's not like Laura to be out of touch for so long. She hasn't called me - or anyone we know - in two weeks, her phone line is dead, and we've got an exhibit planned for next month. Something's wrong, Peter, I know it," she insisted as they walked up the porch steps to the front door.
Peter knocked vigorously.
"Laura, are you there? Laura!" they both called out loudly, but the house remained still and silent. Peter wandered over to peer into a window, brushing his shoulder length blond hair back with one hand, while he held the other between his eyes and the window pane, peering anxiously inside. Nothing.
"Maybe she went into town, went shopping or something." he suggested, turning back to his tall, elegant wife.
"No," Andrea said, lifting a thin, silk-clad arm to point towards the blue Toyota station wagon sitting next to their car, "Her car's still here. Maybe she's in the studio." Shrugging, Peter joined her in the short walk over to the barn.
Reaching the large, red and white double doors to the barn, Peter pulled the latch up and pushed them open. Andrea stepped inside, reaching to her left for the light switch. Light flooded the large space, revealing the disarray of an active painter's studio. Canvasses, both color-filled and blank, leaned up against every wall, and were lying in piles on the wood floor. Paint-splattered cloths were spread out over a major section of the floor underneath two large easels, both with half-finished paintings on them. A large desk was covered with vials and tubes of paints, bottles of paint thinner and turpentine, brushes and scrapers and mixing boards. But there was no apparent sign of the artist.
Peter and Andrea walked up to the larger easel and stared at it in dismay. The unfinished painting was a dark, muddy nightmare of shadowy figures. A large black eye stared down from the corner, the humanoid figures were distorted. They had elongated, spidery arms and legs, oval-shaped heads, pinpoint black orbs for eyes, silver skin. "What on earth!" Peter exclaimed. Andrea shook her head, but before she could speak, they were distracted by a keening sob.
Startled they looked around anxiously.
"There!" Andrea pointed at a huddled shape in the corner, covered with one of the paint cloths. Peter rushed over to it. When he reached out to pull the cloth back, thin, red hands clutched at it and a tangle of black hair appeared out from underneath.
"My God, it's Laura!" Peter yelled. Andrea knelt down beside him and they both stared at her in shock. Under the flow of matted black hair a pair of bloodshot blue eyes peered at them in terrified non-recognition. Her hands and arms and face were covered with an angry, red, swirling rash that resembled a serious burn. A long cauterized gash stretched across her forehead. She was shaking and shivering, mumbling non-distinguishable words.
When Andrea reached out to touch her, she shrank back, screaming loudly, trying to melt into the wall of the barn,
"Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me!"
1 pm September 10, 1995
Special Agent Dana Scully wondered for the millionth time why their cases always seemed to happen in the middle of nowhere. 'At least it isn't bitterly cold and snowing,' she thought, trying to count her blessings. Kansas in early September wasn't too bad, but why couldn't they get a case in Florida, or better yet, Hawaii. She didn't see why people there couldn't get abducted by aliens or killed by monsters just as often as people in colder climates.
She shifted in the car seat, glancing at her partner, whose bright hazel eyes were intent on the long empty highway in front of them. As usual he was driving way too fast, and as usual he had insisted on doing most of the driving. She had managed to get some rest on the long drive, but she found it hard to sleep in a car, especially a speeding car. It wasn't that she didn't trust his driving skill, she just wished he'd slow down a little. But such protests only got her a wide, teasing grin, and a brief decrease in speed that never lasted more than a mile.
So she gave up on it, and stared absently at the passing countryside, mentally reviewing the 'case' that had led them out to America's heartland. A young artist, Laura Jane Corbett, had bought an old farm to use as a workplace several months ago to finish a series of portraits for an upcoming exhibition. When her friends hadn't heard from her in over two weeks they got worried. For good reason, as it turned out. According to the medical report, Laura had been found barely conscious, afflicted with a serious skin ailment of unknown etiology, and had surgical cuts on her forehead and abdomen. Her doctor had also found traces of a foreign organic compound in her blood. It was being analyzed by a lab in Kansas City.
Laura claimed that she had been abducted and tortured by aliens. However, the local sheriff had found no evidence of disturbance or break-in at the farm, and from the tone of his report, had apparently decided that this was either a drug-induced condition, or a publicity stunt. That probably would have been the end of the investigation, if Andrea Winters had not known someone in one of the UFO watch groups, NICAP, who had advised her to contact Mulder. And of course, the moment he heard the story, nothing would do but to catch the next plane out.
"Scully." Mulder's voice interrupted her thoughts, "I think we're here." Mulder eased up on the gas as they drove into a more populated area. White ranch-style and Victorian houses faded into two-story brick buildings with large glass-paned storefronts. Scully pointed to a small house on the edge of the green, with a small sign on the front lawn that said "Dieter County Medical Clinic.
"There it is," she said. Mulder pulled the car into the small parking lot behind the building.
Inside, Andrea Winters was sitting next to Laura's bed. The clinic room was small, but homey, with fresh flowers and bright wallpaper. Laura lay quietly, the rash still obvious, but fading, trying to concentrate as Andrea related the latest gossip from K.C.'s artistic community. Laura wasn't really interested, but she did appreciate her friend's attempt to entertain her. Still, Laura couldn't help feeling a slight relief when there was a knock on the door.
Two strangers entered the room, a tall, dark man and a lovely auburn-haired woman.
"Hello," said the woman with a warm smile, "I'm Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder. We'd like to ask you a few questions." she said, displaying a gold-badge and I.D. photo.
Laura looked up at them, surprised. "How did the FBI get involved? I didn't think the local sheriff believed me."
"I'm afraid he didn't," Agent Mulder responded gently, "But..." He was interrupted by Andrea,
"I called them, Laura. Do you remember my friend Janet? You met her at my birthday party in July. Well, she's involved with this organization that is interested in UFO abductions, and she told me to contact Agents Mulder and Scully." Andrea looked anxiously at her friend. "She said that they could help, that they'd take this seriously. Look Laura, I...I'm not sure I understand what's happening, but you need help. Someone hurt you, and we need to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"She's right, Miss Corbett," Scully said gently, "We only want to help." Mulder just nodded.
Laura glanced from her worried friend to the two federal agents. More than anything else she just wanted to put this behind her, to forget it had ever happened. But she also knew that it wouldn't just go away. She dreamt about it every night, waking up screaming in terror, shivering and soaked in her own sweat. And she was terrified about returning to her farm, the place that had once been her sanctuary. That thought made her angry, for she loved her studio and she was not going to be forced to run away.
Besides, she liked the look of Agents Mulder and Scully. They seemed professional and intelligent, both exuding an air of confidence and purpose. The tall, handsome man was dressed in a dark suit and overcoat, enlivened by a bright red and gray patterned tie. Humor danced in the lines around his mouth, and his eyes were piercing, but warm. She couldn't quite place their color, hazel maybe, and his face was all planes and angles. The woman was even more striking, bright auburn hair, large blue eyes which matched her own, and a slight dust of freckles in a rose-tinted complexion. Laura's hand itched for pencils or a paintbrush, she would love to draw them both. 'Maybe later,' she thought hopefully.
"O.K." she said, steeling herself for what was to come. "I'll try, but I'm afraid I don't remember more than bits and pieces. Its like looking through a fog."
"Take your time," Scully said, moving over to sit on the edge of the bed. Mulder pulled a second chair out of the corner and perched himself on it, his arms folded across the back, his chin resting on his hands, as Laura started to talk.
"Everything was fine until last Wednesday. I was making really good progress in my work. I'm doing a series of portraits of local women, and I was almost done. I wanted to finish a painting I'd been working on all day, so I stayed out in the studio later than usual. Just as I was starting to clean-up - must have been close to midnight - I heard this loud noise, a kind of whirring, buzzing...I can't quite describe it. I went to look out the window, but there was this bright flash of light. It was blinding. I think I cried out, but then everything went blank. When I woke up, there were these bright lights hovering just above me. It was hard to see, but when I tried to move, I realized I couldn't. Every muscle in my body was frozen. I tried to speak and couldn't form the words.
"There were these... They had really long arms and legs, thin bodies and oval-shaped heads. I hated the way they looked at me. They made me feel like some kind of laboratory specimen. I couldn't get away while they kept poking me with these long rods. It was like a thousand electric shocks going through me, and I couldn't even scream. Then this huge thing, like a giant metallic spider, came down over my head, and some of its 'legs' began to shoot these beams. One sliced into my head," her voice broke, tears streaming down her face, "It hurt so much, I...must have passed out. Then there was another blinding flash of light, and I woke up on the floor of my studio. I ran into the house...all I could think of was wanting to take a shower. But the rash made my skin hurt so much that I couldn't tolerate the water on it. Everything hurt so much, the phone was dead, I didn't know what to do. It gets kind of hazy again, I think I kept blacking out. The next thing I remember is waking up here in the clinic."
She studied their faces silently for a moment. Andrea, who had heard all this before looked worried and sad. Agent Scully looked disturbed, her vivid blue eyes wide and anxious. Agent Mulder was harder to read; his face was composed, those strongly carved features set and grim. But his eyes were dark with emotion.
"I know how crazy it all sounds," she said meeting their eyes, "Sometimes I think that I must have dreamed it all. But I didn't dream this," she traced the scar on her forehead, "or this," she held out her hands, exhibiting the slowly healing rash. "I don't understand it, but it's real."
Mulder looked at Scully to see how she was taking this, noting the uncertainty and worry in her face. She met his eyes, returning his concern. They shared a moment of understanding, then Mulder turned back to Laura.
"Have you ever experienced anything like this before?" he asked.
"No, never," she said.
"No unusual lights in the sky?"
"No, not that I noticed, but usually I go to bed early."
"Any dreams or nightmares that were particularly vivid?"
"No," she shook her head, "not until afterwards."
"Any recent illnesses or accidents?" Scully broke in.
"No, I'm almost never sick."
"So you're not on any medications."
"No."
"Would you mind if I took a look at your medical files and talked to your doctor. I am a qualified doctor myself, but I need your permission first."
"Sure, go ahead," Laura agreed, recognizing the other woman's need to try to find a down-to-earth explanation, it was the way Laura herself would have reacted had anyone else told her such a story.
"Thank you," Scully replied.
"We'd also like to go out and examine your studio and the area around it, if you don't mind." Mulder requested. "I know the sheriff was already out there, but I'd like to take another look."
"Of course," Laura replied willingly, "You can follow us out there this afternoon, if you'd like."
"I still don't like the idea of you going back there," Andrea interjected, "You can come stay with us in Kansas City for a while..."
"No!" Laura interrupted, "that farm is my home. I put most of my savings into it, and I love it there. I won't run away. Besides, if they want me, what would stop them from coming after me in the city. They could, couldn't they?" She asked Agent Mulder, somehow sensing that he understood better than the others. She didn't know why, but she trusted him, and felt that he believed her.
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head, "It's possible, but I have to agree that it could be dangerous for you to go back to the farm. Maybe you should stay in town until we've had a chance to investigate this."
She appreciated his concern, and she was scared. But she had never been one to run away from a problem, and she wasn't going to start now. She knew that if she didn't go back to the farmhouse now, she'd never go. "I need to go home, if only to prove to myself that I can. Maybe we can go to the city in a day or two, after I finish the last couple of paintings."
The others weren't very happy about it, but they gave in gracefully. Andrea consoled herself with the thought that at least they'd have federal protection. What could happen with a pair of FBI agents on the premises?
11pm September 10, 1995
Dana Scully closed the front door behind here and walked up beside her partner who was leaning against the porch rail, staring up at the night sky. It was a beautiful, clear night. A bright crescent moon shimmered above their heads, surrounded by a glowing cascade of stars.
"Hi," she said softly, standing by his side, her shoulder just barely brushing against his upper arm.
"Hi," He replied, glancing briefly down at her. "Everyone else is asleep?"
She nodded, then looked at him with some concern. "Maybe you should try to get some rest, too. I can keep watch for a while."
"No," he shook his slightly, "I couldn't sleep. I want to be ready if..." He stared back up at sky.
"Mulder..." she began, but halted, not exactly sure how to say this. She knew how driven he was by his desperate need to find the truth about his sister's disappearance, and she knew that Laura's story had brought that old horror back in full force. She hated seeing the pain in his eyes and not being able to offer him any real comfort. It tore him apart to come so close to an answer again and again, only to walk away with nothing, and she was afraid that this case would be the same. Something had obviously happened to Laura, but they'd been unable to find any significant physical evidence to support her claim that aliens were responsible.
"I'm okay, Scully," his voice broke into her thoughts, answering her unspoken question. "Really," he met her eyes in emphasis, then turned to lean his back against the porch rail. "Have you found anything in the medical reports?"
"Nothing definite," she sighed. "There is an unusual compound in her system. Preliminary results identify it as a kind of steroid hormone, but it's a variant I've never seen before. Nothing unearthly about it, though. Any good biochemist could probably synthesize it. I think it could be responsible for the rash, but without further testing, we can't be sure."
"What about the cuts?" he inquired.
"The gashes on her forehead and belly had to have been done with something hot enough to cauterize the wounds, my best guess is a surgical laser." She absently tucked a wing of auburn hair behind her ear, and looked up at him with uncertainty, "If it weren't for those wounds, I'd be pretty certain that her experiences were induced by the ingestion of the hormone. Possibly it caused her to develop a fever, which could have led to hallucinations. Alternatively, it could have direct neurotropic effects." She paused and thought for a moment.
"It might be worthwhile to collect some water and soil samples to send to lab for comparison, as well as samples of her paints. See if we can find a source for the compound, since I doubt that she'd have taken it knowingly."
"I suppose, but that still doesn't explain her wounds, Scully, or the paintings." He paused, then looked intently at her, his eyes dark and piercing, "I've seen those same aliens before, twice. The night my sister was abducted and then again at Arecibo. They were exactly as she drew them, Scully, exactly."
"You're certain?" she questioned, anxiously.
"I'm hardly going to forget something like that, Scully," he replied, with a tinge of frustration. "They're out there somewhere," he gestured swiftly into the air, "I can feel it," he insisted.
"Mulder," she said carefully, "I know you want them to be there, but even if you're right and they exist, that doesn't mean they're involved here. The figures in Laura's paintings were rather vague, maybe you're seeing what you want to see."
"I'm not imagining things Scully," he replied with exasperation.
"I don't think you are. Its just...I don't want you to be hurt if we don't find anything." she said, reaching out to brush his arms with tentative finger, studying his face with concern.
"I know, Scully...thanks." he said, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. He really did understand and appreciate her concern for him. She meant well, but her inability to believe, even after all the extraordinary things they'd witnessed in their time with the X-Files, still frustrated him. She needed to be able to see and examine something in order to accept it, while he was far more ready to let his vivid imagination take over-willing, even eager, to make intuitive leaps without physical proof. Perhaps it was this very difference that made them such a good team.
He smiled down at her for a moment, remembering a couple of their more vehement arguments. In an odd sort of way, they both usually enjoyed the exchanges. But he didn't feel quite up to it tonight. He had too much on his mind. He turned to look up at the stars again, then quietly began to speak, partially to her, partially to himself.
"When I was at Arecibo, and I knew they were coming, I suddenly got so scared. I've spent most of my life wanting to see them, to see her, again, but when they actually came, I was so terrified. I tried to bar the door, to keep them out. Part of me needs to know and part of me just wants to run away."
"Mulder, I think we all feel that way sometimes. Most people wouldn't have the courage to face half of what you have. There's nothing wrong with being afraid, as long as you don't let it control you. I'm scared too. That's probably one of the reasons I keep looking for more ordinary explanations for the things we investigate. The unknown can be scary just because it is unknown."
He didn't say anything in reply, just put his hand on her shoulder and stared up at the moon. She leaned up against him, and they stood there for a while. Finally Mulder moved away.
"I'm going to go take a walk around."
"I'll come with you."
"No, why don't you get some sleep. There's no need for both of us to do without," he suggested.
"I'm not sleepy," she insisted, looking at him with determination. She hated it when he went off on his own. If anything did happen, and he certainly had a gift for finding trouble, she wanted to be there. Not that she thought anything would happen, but just in case...
"O.K." he accepted feeling happy to have her with him, even though he didn't say it.
Together they walked down off the porch and headed out into the night.
11:40pm September 10
Mulder and Scully had completed a leisurely circuit of the house and barn, and were just skirting the edge of the overgrown wheatfield, when Scully's left foot hit a half-buried rock. She tumbled forward, crying out in dismay as both her feet slipped out from under her. Mulder reacted swiftly, managing to catch her before she collided with the ground. His strong hands supported her tightly, pulling her to her feet, so that she rested against him, her face buried in his chest, her hands grasping his shoulders. Gratefully, clung to him for a moment.
"Scully, are you alright?" he inquired anxiously.
"Yes, I'm OK," she said, tilting her face up towards his. He drew a breath sharply as he looked down into the beauty of her face, illuminated by the moon and stars. Curved red wings of hair swung loose, framing her face in bright glory. Her skin glowed warmly, eyes molten pools of blue fire, her full mouth trembling slightly with each breath. He felt a sudden, fierce urge to crush her up against him and devour her mouth with his.
Scully looked up into her partner's dark, shadowed face, unable to decipher his expression, transfixed by the intensity with which he was studying her. She could feel the iron-hard strength of his shoulders under her hands and the masculine warmth of his body pressed against hers. She wanted to melt into that heat: to bury her hands in the black silk of his hair and trace the length of his jaw with her tongue.
"What am I doing? I can't do this," they both thought simultaneously. However, before either of them could make a move, there was an explosive flash of light, turning night into noon, followed by a deafening blare of sound. Startled, they pulled apart, Scully's right hand still gripping Mulder's shoulder, his left hand sliding up to hold her just above her right elbow, both turning to peer with half-blinded eyes towards the farmhouse.
Scully opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. There was a huge glowing orb, floating high in the air, centered above the farmhouse. The middle section was spinning rapidly. Blue, red and yellow strobe lights streamed out from the top and bottom.
"Come on," Mulder yelled, taking off towards the house like a panther leaping to the kill.
"Mulder, WAIT!" Scully screamed after him, stunned. But he was already yards away, turning around the corner of the barn and disappearing from her sight. Her mind tumbled, a thousand thoughts and emotions chasing each other, as she raced after him.
Mulder drew his weapon, gripping it tightly in both hands as he rounded the barn and approached the house. Just as he edged past Laura's station wagon, he saw them. Three tall, gangly, silver-colored figures were walking towards the barn, one slightly in front, the other two guiding a small, dark-tressed figure that Mulder recognized as Laura. Suddenly he was back in his bedroom in his parents' house, watching his sister float through the air screaming, while he crouched frozen on the floor, his father's gun lying just out of reach on the floor beside him. He strained to move, and suddenly tumbled onto his knees. He wasn't there, he was here, and he could move.
"Let her go! Take your hands off of her, you bastards!" he screamed, running out from behind the car, training his gun on the lead alien. "Run Laura, run!" he shouted as they all turned to face him. Their eyes were blank black holes, staring at him, and he felt fear curl itself up through his gut. Tensing he tightened his hand on the gun trigger, ready to fire at the slightest move.
Flash
A sudden beam of white light struck his eyes and his gun clicked as his fingers closed on the trigger, but it did not go off. The gun stayed gripped tightly in his clenched hands as he found himself frozen, unable to move, then lifted up off the ground. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but couldn't. The muscles of his body were completely out of his control, he could only float there, several feet in the air, immersed in the beam of light.
Scully had heard Mulder's screams as she ran around the barn. Drawing her gun, she crouched as close to the ground as she could, using the station wagon for cover. Lifting her head to look over the front hood of the car, her jaw dropped in amazement. There were three tall, glowing, silvery figures, two holding onto a dazed Laura, one pointing some kind of long rod, with a bulbous end that projecting a bright beam of white light. Mulder was suspended in that light, hovering in the air, lying on his back. She reacted instantly, without conscious thought, leaping out from behind the car and shooting at the alien with deadly accuracy. Perhaps because she had reacted so quickly, it didn't realize she was there until her bullets hit it, tossing it backwards. The strange object flew out of its hands, hitting the ground in series of sparks, causing the light beam suspending Mulder to blink out and release him. He dropped to the ground, striking the driveway pavement with a thud. The alien tumbled to the ground at almost the same moment, creamy fluid spurting from its wounds, emitting an oddly musical series of chirps and whistles.
The other two aliens remained frozen in position, blankly staring at their fallen companion, as Scully raced to Mulder. Still pointing her gun in the general direction of the aliens, she felt for his pulse. But if it was there, she couldn't detect it. His skin was cold, his eyes shut. He lay there unmoving. Grief and rage swirled through Scully, turning her blood to fire, cramping her gut into knots. Feeling rather than sensing the motion, she turned as one of the other two aliens moved to stand over the wounded one. With her left hand she tried to cradle Mulder's head against her body, simultaneously moving to get between him and them.
The small, red-haired human female and the tall, thin creature scrutinized each other for a moment. She met its eyes fiercely, defiantly, not knowing what to do, how to react. It just looked back at her, tilting its oval head to the left just slightly, seemingly waiting. She never knew how she did it or why, but somehow...she gathered up all her emotions, fear and rage and anger and hurt and pain - even the love she felt for the man lying senseless and still at her feet -and hurled it all at the silent creature facing her. 'If he dies, I will destroy you. I will hunt you to the ends of the universe!" she mentally screamed. In this moment she was not the educated medical doctor or the professional federal agent, she was the primal female: desperately, fiercely, fighting to protect her wounded mate.
Showing its first sign of emotion, the alien creature visibly recoiled from her, as did the one behind it. They both lifted spindly arms and waved four-fingered hands in the air. In the same instant Scully was hit with a blast of fear and pain, accompanied by a powerful visual image which filled her mind.
She was no longer kneeling by Mulder's side on the pavement under a bright earth sky, she was standing in a alien landscape. Three bright moons glittered in a dark, yellow sky, below which stretched a desert-like panorama of green rocks and towering aqua-covered cliffs. Red liquid quivered in a pool a few feet in front of her, the edge surrounded by multi-colored vegetation. An ivory-colored, thick spider web of branches supported heavy round black globes, while silvery tendrils whispered in the breeze.
A low, angry growl caught her attention and she pivoted to her right. Crouched on the ledge were two animals. One was large and powerful, covered in black fur. It had four legs with clawed feet, which were now curled up against it, as it lay half on its side, shivering in obvious pain. A deep wound stretched across its flank, dripping a milky fluid. Its head was bobbing on its strongly-muscled shoulders. It had two eyes, now closed in agony and a mouth, out of which extended sharp fangs. On the top of its head were two knobby protrusions. In an odd sort of way, it reminded her of a big black panther.
Its companion, its mate, was smaller and bright red in color. Its deep blue eyes weren't closed in pain, they were staring at her in fierce protective anger. It growled again, menacingly, baring its fangs and tensing up on its hind legs, preparing to strike. Fear struck through her and she screamed, trying to turn and run.
The sound of her own scream jolted her back to the present. The third alien had left Laura standing where she was, still as a mannequin, obviously unaware of her surroundings. It had joined the second one, standing over the one still lying bleeding on the ground. She tried to gather her shaken wits, to try to figure out what to do, when she was distracted by a soft groan and movement under her left arm.
"Mulder...Mulder," she cried urgently, relief flooding her as he stirred and coughed. "Easy," she encouraged, letting his head relax against her knees, using her hand to sweep the dark bangs off his forehead gently. Tears filled her eyes, misting over her vision while his eyelids slowly fluttered, then opened.
"Scully....?" he murmured, "what happened?" Looking up past her he saw the aliens and tensed, lifting the weapon still clenched in his right hand towards them. She supported him into a kneeling crouch. But before they could move further, there were more brilliant flashes of light. Mulder and Scully both instantly shielded their eyes, peering over the back of their gun hands.
The huge glowing orb settled down above them, emitting two columns of light, one centered on the three aliens, the second on Laura. "No!" Mulder yelled as they were faded slowly from view, leaving the bright circles of light empty for a brief second, before they too vanished.
Both agents gazed up at the giant spaceship in shock for a moment as it hovered above their heads, but as it began to send out blazing streams of red light, Scully reacted in panic. "Come on, Mulder," she yelled, yanking hard on his arm, "We've got to get out of here!"
"What?" he responded, barely hearing her.
"Run!" she shouted in his ear, "Run!"
That got his attention and he pulled to his feet, stumbling after her. But when a flash of red light lit up the nearby station wagon, disintegrating it into nothingness in seconds, he raced ahead of her.
Mulder dropped his useless gun and grabbed Scully's hand, half-dragging her after him. Their first thought was to go towards the house, but that hope was aborted by a bright flash of red in front of them, way too close for comfort. Mulder changed direction instantly, turning on his toes, pulling Scully behind him. She stumbled, crying ouy in pain as her knees struck the hard asphalt. He turned and grabbed her other arm, hauling her to her feet. Hand-in-hand they raced out towards highway, zigzagging to avoid the deadly red beams.
Reaching the empty highway, they raced down the middle of it blindly for a while, Mulder leading, Scully working hard to keep up with him. When necessary he slowed down to let her catch up, never for an instant releasing his deathgrip on her hand. One red flash nearly hit them, and Mulder swiftly changed directions, dragging Scully off the road. They tumbled down the slight incline, to end up in a tangle of arms and legs and bodies in a small ditch. Mulder scrambled to his knees, his eyes darting, searching for cover of some kind.
"There!" he cried, grabbing Scully as he half-crawled into a small drainage pipe that ran under the highway. At the entrance he paused, reaching back to pull Scully forward until he could push her ahead of him into the pipe. She crawled into it on her knees, the fell forward onto the bottom as he shoved her from behind. Twisting around onto her back she reached out to pull him towards her. He came down on top of her, pressing her down into the bottom of the pipe, covering her with the length his body.
She wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his legs, clutching him as tightly against her as she could. He tightened his arms around her and crushed her against the wet, muddy bottom of the drainage pipe. They stayed in that position, shivering, clinging to each for what seemed to be an eternity, terrified to move. They both finally passed out from exhaustion.
6am September 11
Mulder was the first to wake, his bloodshot eyes blinking in response to the tendrils of daylight that were seeping into the pipe. Wearily, he lifted his head to peer out. He blinked again, then reluctantly lessened his grip on Scully. "Mulder," she said hoarsely.
"I think it's over," he replied, "Look." He inclined his head towards the opening. "Daylight." She turned her head to look, and nearly sobbed in relief.
They carefully disentangled themselves and crawled to the edge of the pipe. Mulder motioned to Scully to stay put while he went out first. She protested briefly, but he was adamant. She watched anxiously as he crawled out into the bright sunrise. He stood up briefly, then turned and offered her a helping hand.
Standing together in that ditch, holding each other's hands, clothes torn and muddy, they both stared out into the warm golden fields of wheat and the clear blue sky.
Neither had ever seen anything quite so beautiful.
Neither Laura Corbett nor the Winters have any knowledge or memory of the unusual events witnessed by Agent Mulder and myself on the night of September 10, 1995. Further, upon our return to the farmhouse the next morning, we were unable to find any physical evidence of our experience, with the possible exception of the disappearance of Ms. Corbett's automobile. No trace of the car - a blue Toyota station wagon, License plate number ECL 798 - has been found, despite efforts by local law enforcement to trace the vehicle. However, we cannot prove whether it was destroyed, as alleged by Agent Mulder and myself, or simply stolen.I have taken thorough environmental samples - water, soil, paint, food, and air - from the farm and its surrounding area. They have all tested negative for any known chemical that could cause visual and auditory hallucinations of such degree, including the unusual steroid previously isolated from Laura Corbett's bloodstream. Agent Mulder is certain of the reality of what we have seen, and I find it difficult to discount the evidence of my own senses, especially since Agent Mulder's experience and mine seem to be identical to a striking degree. However, in the light of day, my memories are beginning to fade, imparting a dream-like quality to the entire sequence of events and since these events are contradictory to my own personal beliefs, I have suffered moments of serious self-doubt. In conclusion, I can only say that Agent Mulder and I have witnessed an unprovable series of extraordinary phenomena, and that these events remained unexplained. No further incidents have occurred.
The End