Fan-Fic: "At the Hour of Our Death"

Page 2

    He awoke with a splitting headache. It was morning. The sun was just now peeking over the horizon. Really, really early morning. The events of the night before came rushing back to him. “Scully…” He got up slowly. He was still in his sleeping clothes. Sighing, he looked around. Police cars were just arriving. I wonder what took them so long. He staggered towards them. The captain got out of his car.
    “Are you alright, Agent Mulder? The motel manager said something about gunfire,” he said.
    “Nothing a little aspirin won’t fix… The man took Scully. You gotta help me find her.”
    “Don’t worry, Mr. Mulder. We’ll do our best.”
    What if your best isn’t good enough? he thought grimly, noticing that the captain said that they’d do their best, but didn’t assure him that they’d find her. Mulder figured that since they still haven’t found the other two, it would be stupid to assume they’d find Scully any time soon. He took a deep breath. “Lemme go get dressed and then I’ll help you out.” The captain nodded as Mulder entered his room.
    Mulder put on his customary attire: a suit and a trenchcoat, and looked at his bed. His magazine still sat there. He picked it up and carefully hid it in his suitcase under some clothes. It wouldn’t be good it someone were to find out he really liked… geography. He closed his suitcase and walked outside.
    They examined Scully’s room carefully. There were definite signs of a struggle- the lamp was broken, the nightstand was toppled over, her clothes littered the place, and her gun lay on the floor- but no real evidence. They dusted the room for prints, but the only fingerprints were Scully’s. He was probably wearing gloves.
    A few hours passed. They gave up on finding anything useful. On the bed was found one of those slips of paper. Like the others, it read “Falsehoods kill the innocent.” Mulder picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. After a bit of scrounging around, Mulder also found the autopsy report, amazingly intact. He flipped through it.
    “Agent Mulder?” The captain tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing here to give us any help. We’re going back to the station.”
    “Alright. I’m gonna stay here a while and see if we missed anything.”
    “Okay. See ya.” And they left.
    Mulder looked around desperately in her room, outside, in the parking lot, everywhere. He paused to think. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Scully’s captor limping. I think I may have shot him in the ankle. Of course, that was when I was flying just before I hit the wall and blacked out. Always worth a shot, though. He walked to about the same area that the man had stood and stared at the ground, looking for blood. He stood there for quite a while when… There! Just a few drops… I hope it’s enough. He got out the slide, plastic bag, and metal utensil he had ready and scraped the ground to get a good enough sample. Hopefully, this would lead him right to their suspect. He decided that the best thing to do would be get the sample to a DNA analyst. It might also be wise to inform the Bureau that Scully was kidnapped. Mulder got into his car and drove to the Nebraska FBI.
    When he got there, Mulder spoke to the DNA analyst and gave her the sample. She studied the slide closely for a moment then sighed. “I’m afraid this will take a few days. Normally, this wouldn’t take longer than 24 hours, but with the equipment we have here…”
    He nodded. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

    He took a deep breath and began dialing. Skinner wasn’t going to be happy… even though he never did seem to be happy. It began ringing. “Yes… Assistant Director Skinner, please… Agent Fox Mulder… Thank you.” He waited.
    “Hello, this is Skinner.”
    “It’s Mulder, sir.”
    “Yes, Mulder, what is it?”
    “I have some bad news. Scully’s been kidnapped.”
    “What? Kidnapped?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Is there a ransom?”
    “No, sir.”
    “How’d it happen?”
    Mulder recounted the events of the night before.
    “She was… floating,” Skinner said.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And somehow you were thrown 30 feet without him laying a finger on you.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    There was a pause. “I don’t suppose you’re making this all up?”
    “No, I just report it as I see it.”
    “Yes, well, I trust you with this, Agent Mulder. I know you’ll do your best.”
    “You’re not going to send some extra agents to help me out?”
    “No, I’m not sure if it’s necessary. You have the police there in Verdugo.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Goodbye.”
    “Goodbye, sir.”
    Surprisingly, Mulder wasn’t all that worried. Scully always conquered every hardship she’s faced. She’s the strongest and bravest person I know. Why should I be worried?… Because the one victim who came back is dead and the other two are still missing. Then again, the folks looking for them didn’t have many resources to help them… But then, they’re the ones looking for Scully too. Reality set in. I’ll find her if I have to tear this place apart with my bare hands, he vowed to himself.
    When he got back to the station, he found a closet to read the autopsy report in. He needed to think. And somehow the closet reminded him of his office back in DC. He looked down at the report. The cause of death was listed as “blood loss due to various wounds; hunger; dehydration; exhaustion; hypothermia; and varied other factors.” He scanned over it. Nothing to tell him anything except maybe the information that said the suspect was probably left handed: “Due to the trajectory and angle of the cuts on the subjects ribcage, it is highly probable that the cuts were inflicted by using the left hand.” Besides that little tidbit of information, there was nothing even remotely useful.
    There was a knock on the closet door and a deputy peeked in. “Ah… sir? What’re you doing in there?”
    “Just needed to think. I want to talk to the captain. Where is he?”
    “Should be in his office, sir.”
    “Thanks… Oh, and, uh, tell whoever takes care of this thing to lay up on the moth balls.” He got out of the closet, brushed off his clothes and knocked on the door to the captain’s office. After he heard a muffled noise Mulder assumed was “Come in,” he opened the door and shut it behind him. “Captain, any luck?”
    The captain shook his head. “Sorry, no… This guy’s way too good. Not a trace of him anywhere.”
    “Fine. But this just won’t cut it. I want my partner found. I want every house, barn, attic, and basement searched and whatever else between. At least of every person with access to something to make those slips of paper.”
    “We can’t do that. Not without permission.”
    “It doesn’t matter. I want everything searched, including the homes of every person on the force. That means you too.”
    “Slow down, Mr. Mulder. Taking this a little personally?”
    “She’s my friend.”
    The captain nodded. “We’ll search every place the owners will let us. That’s the best we can do, without totally violating the people’s rights.”
    Mulder nodded sadly.
    Suddenly the captain looked at his watch. “Is it okay if we start tomorrow? It’s getting late.”
    “But we’ve already wasted-“ His stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten all day. “Yeah,” he said reluctantly. “We’ll start early tomorrow morning.” There was no use trying to concentrate on an empty stomach.

The man arrived home late that night. He wished his job didn’t require such long hours. He went into the kitchen and sharpened his favorite knife. Yes, that was a blade a person could be proud of. He took it with him upstairs.
He opened the door to his room and saw her there, tied firmly to the bedpost. Her wrists looked raw and scratched. She must have been trying to get free. She was really persistent. What was her name again? Oh, yes… Scully. What was her first name? Oh, well. He showed her the knife. She looked into his eyes. Eyes were very expressive. Hers said she was afraid, but also angry and full of hatred for him. That was okay. He never expected to be liked.

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