REPOST: Forgotten Souls #10
ImAStinker
danger."
"What do you mean, we?" asked Langly.
"Come on guys, I need your help. They may have gotten to him already and
I can't look everywhere at once."
"What do you want us to do?" asked Byers.
"Two of you need to check out the Hobo encampment under the Harding Street
overpass; I need someone to keep an eye on the research center; and I need
someone to come with me to check out a hunch."
"Everyone synchronize your watches...cellular phones charged with spare
batteries...we have a "missing Mulder," our mission....find him. Is
everybody ready? The Lone Gunmen ride again!! Let's do it.
These people were just *too* weird. This was all a game to them, at least
that's how it seemed. Didn't they realize that this was a life or death
situation? Jesus, they may be strange and quirky but they were all that
she had and they were willing to help. She'd take what she could get.
Dana and Frohike went to the diner where she'd told Mulder to go eat. The
waitress remembered him because he'd ordered but instead of eating, he'd
left with several strange looking men in black suits. Frohike immediately
called the Harding Street team and told them to go to the research center
instead. Dana prayed that her instincts were correct...it was the only
place she could think of that they could have taken him.
He struggled as the men forced him down the hallway and hurled him to the
floor of the examination room he'd been in earlier. He tried to raise
himself up but the effort was made more difficult by the fact that they
had bound his wrists together behind his back, so he sat where he was
instead. The door to the room slowly opened once more and three familiar
people walked inside.
"Eve Eight, I presume, along with Cindy and Tina," he said acidly.
"What a commendable memory, agent Mulder."
"There's nothing commendable about it...I was born with it."
"Mr. Mulder, I don't mind saying that you've been a real pain in the ass
to us. Do you know that?"
"I certainly hope so," he replied with loathing.
"And our research was progressing along so well with a steady
uninterrupted supply of guinea pigs. You see, for the material we needed,
to be "usable," the oxygen levels and metabolic rates had to be "boosted,"
as it were. Necessary for viable hybrid material, but unfortunately,
fatal for the donor--some things you just can't replicate in the lab. By
the way, what tipped you off that these deaths were artificially induced?
We took great pains to eliminate any evidence of foul play."
"The fact that there *was* no apparent reason for death and that the
occurrences only affected one group of people in a contained area."
"We were doing the country a service by ridding the streets of the human
refuse that burdened the system. No one would miss them...why did you
care?"
"These people were human beings....with the same hopes and dreams as
anyone else...One of the "human refuse" was my friend."
"You should choose your friends more carefully. You know the girls were
quite upset with you for turning them in. Where they were sent was not a
nice place, you know."
The twins stepped forward, smiled at each other and then at him.
"You can't die the same way as the others," Tina informed him.
"It would look too suspicious," remarked Cindy.
Eve Eight threw his medical file onto the floor before him.
"How did you get that?" he asked suspiciously.
"I have contacts in high places," she laughed, not quite sanely.
Tina and Cindy stared at him with evil, conspiring eyes.
"You don't like to eat shellfish, do you agent Mulder?" The twins spoke
in unison.
"Not particularly," he answered warily.
"They make you pretty sick, don't they?" said Cindy.
Tina chimed in, "In fact, they make you so sick, that if you don't get
medicine right away, you could die, couldn't you?"
His answer to them was a cold seething stare of contempt.
Eve Eight stepped forward with a hypodermic full of a thick, milky
substance.
"Do you know what this is Mr. Mulder?"
He backed up against the table and nodded his head negatively.
"It's called "mucopolysacharides" and it's sometimes used in the treatment
of arthritis, but it's also know as concentrated green lip mussel....a
very powerful shellfish concentrate. It's a painful shot, but extremely
effective."
The men came forward in a rush and held him to the floor as she injected
him through his clothing. He lay motionless for several minutes as a
liquid fire seemed to devour him from within. An old fear gripped him as
a childhood memory filled his mind. He sucked in air but expelled it with
a pitiful wheeze. Mucous filled his lungs and throat and no amount of
coughing could dislodge it. He sucked in another breath but again could
not release the stale air that was already trapped in his lungs.
Gasping, he tried to cough but found himself drowning in his own body's
fluids.
The room went black. He didn't know if the lights went out or if he was
dying. He felt himself gently being lifted and carried away.
Scully and the Lone Gunmen began to advance toward the building. She
wasn't certain how they would get inside but she couldn't just stand here
and do nothing. They began to quicken their steps forward when Dana
perceived movement on the ground just ahead of her. A voice yelled for
her to stay back from the building and they all froze as the structure
disintegrated into a huge fireball that lit up the sky for miles, while a
singular small shadow fled into the night.
A strange little man bent protectively over Mulder as he lay gasping on
the ground.
"Doctor Scully, I believe he is in immediate need of this medication." He
handed her a syringe.
"What is it?" she asked distrustfully.
"Ephenephrine.... Please ...I would not harm him."
She bent over and shone the flashlight on Mulder's face.
"Jesus, he's cyanotic." She grabbed the syringe and administered the
medication. His breathing slowly eased into a normal rhythm, his cheeks
began to regain some color and his lungs and air passages started to
clear. He sat up carefully and coughed raggedly.