EAST COULEE, ALBERTA
MARCH 1999
On a dirt road leading deep into the Alberta badlands, a grey car progressed slowly. The vehicle disappeared behind a clump of bushes and sagebrush; a tall blond man emerged from the branches, surveying his surroundings with great caution. Striding silently along the rugged terrain, he climbed up the mound for an overview of the plantation. Down below: ginseng rows hidden under shade cloth and, beyond, two white domes installed a year earlier, air-conditioned apiaries sheltering thousands of black oil-carrying bees. No signs of life except the wind shaking the yellow grasses still entangled in small patches of snow. It was strange. The man descended, expecting to find the children at work under the canopies. Both plantation and apiaries appeared deserted. Following the road running alongside Red Deer River, the man reached the first cabin and entered without knocking. The darkness and cold air struck him right away. He drew the curtain and saw a messy-haired worker sitting at the kitchen table. She was dressed in a thick woollen sweater, her head resting drowsily on her folded arms. The sound of the door woke her and the sight of the man seemed to bring her a sort of relief.
"What's going on here? Power's been cut off? Where's your partner?"
The girl indicated a blond boy wrapped up in a blanket, sound asleep on the sofa.
"But it's almost noon…"
The worker pointed to a calendar on the wall. Her emaciated face and sunken eyes left the man breathless. The child got up to turn the page. Her finger rested on a "Supplies" entry from the previous month.
"That was your last delivery? It was over a month ago!"
The man ran out to the next house where he found two more children sleeping in their beds. On the third stop, he was greeted by a sobbing boy sitting alone in a corner.
"Kurt? Where is she?"
The boy pointed to the staircase. The man climbed up to the worker's room only to find a dark green stain on the sheets.
When Samantha Crawford came home, she stepped into deep blackness. She felt her way around until she reached the kitchen where a computer screen cast a faint blue glow on her brother's face.
"Kurt? It's dark in here…"
The child turned the switch on and sat in front of the man. With an absent gaze, Kurt pushed the computer aside and rubbed his eyes.
"How was your visit?"
Kurt looked down.
"Three of the children are dead."
Samantha turned pale.
"Dead?…What, they killed them?"
"They starved to death. Electricity and supplies have been cut off. It's as if the farm has been abandoned. I don't understand."
"What did you do?"
"I drove to Drumheller and bought enough food for a week, but there are over twenty of them. I can't do this forever…It makes no sense. This is not like the Syndicate. These men's great fear is exposure. If they decide to end a project, they destroy it all. They would never leave traces of such scope."
"Kurt, maybe it's time to call the police."
"We can't, you know that! The Syndicate would get rid of the workers and find us. I still don't know if Canadian authorities are in on it."
"What about the FBI agent who investigates those things? Fox Mulder? His family is involved. Maybe he knows something."
"I don't know if we can risk contacting him. They are watching him. I hear they've even set up a camera in his apartment."
"But, you left me his number to call in case of an emergency."
"As a last resort! If something happens to me."
The man's tone was loaded with underlying anger, but Samantha knew this was often his way of expressing sadness. Kurt never cried, having learned early on to repress emotions as a security measure. So when his eyes welled up, the girl knew the situation was critical.
"I should have gone earlier. We could have saved them."
"You couldn't know."
"I should have taken action sooner!"
An acute sense of guilt had been stirring up in Kurt Crawford's guts for hours. It gushed out into a flow of despair, and none of it could be contained.
CENTRE FOR REPRODUCTIVE MEDICINE
LEHIGH FURNACE, PENNSYLVANIA
1:46 AM
Martin Bachman was staggering along the street after a drunken night when he noticed the smoke and flames. A closer look revealed that the adjacent fertility clinic was ablaze. It seemed to him as if two faceless men of identical build were standing nearby. The twins disappeared into the night, and the man ran away in terror.
LOMBARD REASEARCH FACILITY
ALLENTOWN, PENNSYLVANIA
10:13 AM
"Are there any victims?" Scully asked the police officer who was giving her an account of the latest events.
"There were no bodies inside, but three Allentown doctors employed at this facility were murdered in their homes last night. Burned alive. Apparently, many others had recently resigned and left the city. Perhaps they'd received death threats?"
Mulder explored the ruined building as he approached them.
"Has a suspect been identified?"
"This facility is pretty isolated, so there are no witnesses to the crime, but two men were seen near the fertility clinic where there was another fire last night. We think we might be dealing with the same arsonists."
"We have a description of these men?"
"Well, it gets kind of weird. A certain Martin Bachman claims to have seen two buff, identical white males with messed up faces or something of that sort. Actually, he said they had no faces, but he'd been partying hard, so I don't know if we can trust his testimony. Maybe they were wearing masks?"
Scully shot a telling glance at her partner.
"They are not done yet," muttered Mulder.
"You know who we're dealing with here?"
"There's a good chance, yes."
"There's something else," said the police officer, pulling sealed evidence from his pocket. "The arsonists seem to have used explosives in one of the labs. We found a lot of broken glass and an impressive amount of this substance on the floor. I think this sample should be analysed."
Scully took the bag and lifted it to the sunlight to make out a greenish crust the size of a human hand.
The police officer walked away.
"You think that's Kurt Crawford, Mulder?"
Mulder stared at the sample, grimacing.
"I hope not. To tell you the truth, I don't think he was there. The Crawfords were against the project; maybe they've been dead a long time. Unless they fled...Who knows?"
"I thought they meant to subvert the project as an inside job."
"I don't know, Scully."
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D. C.
His report completed, Agent Mulder headed to the assistant director's office to hand it in. Scully was leafing through related files in the basement when the telephone rang.
"Agent Scully."
"…Who?" asked a child's voice.
"Scully."
"… Could I speak to Agent Fox Mulder, please?"
"Mulder is not here right now, but he'll be back in a few minutes. Maybe I can take your name and he'll get back to you as soon as possible?"
"I can't. I'm calling from a phone booth."
Scully was intrigued by such a young caller.
"Are you in danger? How old are you?"
"I'm ten. Are you his partner?"
"I am. Maybe I can help you?"
"You're one of those ladies who were abducted and became very sick because of the tests? My brother thought you had died. He'll be really glad to know you're alive. How is your health?"
"I'm fine, but how do you know all this? Who is your brother? Do I know him?"
"I don't know. His name is Kurt Crawford."
"You are Kurt Crawford's sister? …Are you calling from Allentown?"
"No, from Canada. We had to leave Allentown when they raided the lab."
Scully heard steps in the corridor and walked out to meet her partner.
"Mulder, you've got to talk to this little girl. She says she's Kurt Crawford's sister. She knows all about my abduction and the women who died in Allentown. She asked for you."
Mulder frowned and picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"…"
"This is Fox Mulder. You wanted to speak to me?"
"Hi… My name is Samantha Crawford and I'm calling from Alberta. I'm not far from a ginseng farm I believe you've visited before. You know my brother?"
Mulder's heartbeat accelerated. He felt his throat going dry.
"Samantha?"
"Yes?"
This voice brought a sudden surge of images and memories. It was his sister's voice the way he remembered it. He hadn't heard it in years and an irrational hope filled him up. Mulder was dumbstruck for a moment. His head was spinning.
"…Are you a hybrid?"
"I am."
"Who gave you this name?"
"I don't know…It's a series name."
"You have my sister's voice."
"Probably …I think I look like her too."
"You live on that plantation?"
"We live nearby, but no, I'm not a worker. They can't speak."
"Where are you from?"
"The Lombard Research Facility. I was still in my incubator the night you came to the lab. My brother told me about it."
"Which is your brother? Last time I saw him, there were five of him."
"Kurt's brothers were killed two years ago. I was in a different room with him when it happened. We managed to escape and we settled here in East Coulee to live close to the workers. Kurt felt responsible for them because he and his brothers had conceived them. He's been trying to find the best way to help them, but the last time he went, three of the children had starved to death and it looked like they had been abandoned by the Syndicate. We don't understand what's going on. I thought perhaps you could help."
"Abandoned? Does Kurt know the Syndicate and their families have been murdered by a rebel faction?"
"What?"
"Is he there with you?"
"No, he's working."
"I need to talk to him."
"I'll tell him to call you. The school bell is ringing. I really need to go!"
"Wait, where can I reach him?"
The phone line was cut.
"She hung up?"
Mulder kept silent.
"Mulder?"
Mulder was in a daze. A door. A new opportunity. Would this investigation lead to the answers he so desperately sought?
That night, Mulder received a call from Kurt Crawford disclosing every detail about the plantation and his intentions with the young workers. The hybrid's relief upon hearing about the Syndicate's dissolution quickly switched to panic when Mulder described the dissident faction's latest stunts. The agents reported to the assistant director in the morning, requesting permission to continue their investigation on site.
Skinner was puzzled.
"In Canada?"
Mulder handed him a file containing the documents on the Albertan plantation he was able to restore. The reconstitution of a charred photograph showed a dozen identical young girls working under a canopy.
"I believe you are familiar with this case, sir?"
"The smallpox-carrying bees? What does this have to do with the fires in Pennsylvania?"
"The children in this picture were conceived in vitro at the facility that burned down in Allentown. Until recently, they served as a workforce on this plantation where apiaries similar to the ones we saw in Texas were installed, housing black oil-carrying bees, the virus Agent Scully contracted last year. This plantation is directly related to the project the arsonists are seeking to stop through the systematic destruction of every site and individual that are linked to it."
"Our contact in Alberta explained that this farm seems to have been abandoned and the children left to starve," Scully went on. "He wants to destroy the infected plants and apiaries and make good use of the land for the children's education and sustenance. We have reason to believe this plantation will be the arsonists' next target."
"Who is this contact?"
"Kurt Crawford, a former Lombard Research Facility employee. He was opposed to the project and had to run for his life. He also has a child rescued from the facility under his custody. They are currently living in hiding."
"But if he plans to destroy the installation himself, why fear these arsonists' intervention?"
"The twenty-two children involved could also be their target, as well as our contact."
"They would attack children?"
"These children's hybrid nature, eleven identical boys and eleven identical girls (the ones that remain), in itself exposes the project, and their story would make the headlines if it were known. They must be protected."
"Agent Mulder, if twenty-two children's lives are at stake, you know what you have to do," Skinner replied, handing the file back to him. "Does the RCMP know about this?"
"Not that we're aware of. Crawford was afraid to contact the authorities. This is a delicate situation and he must be consulted every step of the way."
"I'll see to it."
THE ALBERTA BADLANDS
11:07 AM
After leaving the Calgary airport and driving over miles of grassy flat lands, Mulder and Scully were taken aback by a series of striped hillocks rising on each side of the road like odd vestiges of a formidable catastrophe.
"Mulder, did you see that?"
Dry sagebrush covered the feet of these eroded forms around which the Red Deer River brought its bed in a smooth crisscross. Heavy skies revealed sheets of spring rain moving south after dampening the wrinkled desert, giving life back to the sparse greenery, breathing once again at the end of a rough winter.
The vehicle soon reached the ghost town of East Coulee where it ended its course in front of a plain clapboard house half concealed behind a dishevelled birch tree.
Three knocks at the door.
Kurt Crawford stepped forward without a sound, bending at the peephole to identify his visitors. He'd had the door replaced as soon as they moved in to ensure their safety. Seeing Mulder and Scully wasn't satisfactory; he had to inspect the surroundings for any suspicious element. When Crawford finally opened the door, the bemused agents couldn't help but stare at what struck them as a tall Viking in a flannel shirt.
"Kurt Crawford?" Mulder hesitated. "You sure have changed! With that beard and all, I wouldn't have recognized you."
"Good! You do what you can to go unnoticed."
What a contrast with the white-coated, clean-shaven scientist leaning over his microscope! But Mulder denoted the warmth and ease that freedom had generated in him.
"Were you followed?"
"I don't think so."
Mulder looked around with increasing nervousness. He hoped, yet feared, the moment he would meet the child whose voice had left such an impression on him a few days before. Kurt Crawford was visibly moved to see Dana Scully, as if her presence had a particular meaning, as if he had hoped this day would come.
"I am honoured to make your acquaintance. If you knew how happy I was to find out you recovered from your cancer!"
"Haven't we met before?" Scully asked, shaking the hand extended to her.
"That was one of my brothers. He was murdered the night you met."
The agents exchanged a stupefied glance.
"… I must tell you how sorry I am for having taken part in this project, even if I acted mainly under coercion and ignorance."
"I don't hold it against you. Mulder told me how you and your brothers attempted to help these women. Your courage was costly. I am grateful for your efforts."
Crawford bowed his head.
"Was your brother targeted because of us?"
"I think they'd been watching him because of his involvement with the MUFON group. They discovered our resistance about a month later."
"That little girl who spoke to us on the phone this week…Is she here?" inquired Mulder, unable to contain his curiosity.
"She'll be here shortly. She is part of a church prayer group who visit the sick. They probably went all the way to the Drumheller hospital."
"Are there many children in this group?"
"Samantha's the youngest. I used to go with her at first, but she is discreet and shows great discernment."
The kettle whistled.
Crawford headed for the kitchen. Scully followed, offering help, and Mulder began to explore the hybrid abode with the hope of unveiling another facet of the truth.
In the kitchen, Scully was drawn to a text affixed to the refrigerator door by a magnet promoting a realtor's services:
For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but the doers of the law shall be justified. For when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves:
Which shew the work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the mean while accusing or else excusing one another. (Romans 2:13-15)
"Now, that's an odd passage of Scripture to put on the fridge!" Scully chuckled.
"Samantha put it there. As a reminder, I guess. I think it comforts her to see it."
Scully was perplexed.
"And what does this mean to her?"
"…The work of the law written in their hearts, their conscience also bearing witness," Crawford quoted, pensively. "The day I told Samantha about our origins, the project and the cloning, she was quite overwhelmed. I kept it a secret at first; I didn't want her to feel inferior or live in fear like the rest of us. She was so young...What if she started talking about it in class? One day, as she ran home from school, she stumbled on the front steps and ended up with a really bad cut on her knee. When she saw the wound, she couldn't make sense of what was happening, why her blood was nothing like what it should have been…I came home from work and found her curled up on the sofa. She was very confused and thought she was going to die. I couldn't lie to her…I explained everything. She was mostly upset at the thought of being a clone, or as she put it, 'not a real person.' As if we were mere copies, soulless beings manufactured in a lab. I tried to tell her we all had our own personality, that some of my brothers were much bolder than I was, in spite of being identical. She kept quiet, but I knew she was thinking hard. That night, I heard her sobbing in her room. She was kneeling on the floor, the New Testament opened in front of her and she was calling to Jesus. She wanted to get it straight. Did we have a soul or not? …I had asked that same question a few years before, and it seemed to me that my brothers and I had a conscience. That conscience had to mean we did have souls. The pain inflicted on the project's victims haunted us and we couldn't continue with these experiments pretending not to know. Reading the New Testament myself, I had come across these verses that had somehow confirmed that this conscience was God's workings in us, that it was his law written in our hearts. I read it to Samantha and it was a great comfort to her."
"Is she at peace with this now?"
"I think so. She also understands the need for responsible action."
Scully pondered for a while.
"What about these men's consciences?"
"What men?"
"The Syndicate."
"I believe conscience can be a very elastic thing…You can stretch it until you go deaf. Then, you become indifferent to all warnings. They have suffered the consequences."
"Who is that young woman in the photo near the sofa?" Mulder asked.
"That's our mother."
"Your mother?"
"Betsy Hagopian. It's an old one; it goes back before the abductions. I found it in her house after she died."
The sound of running steps was heard on the porch. Samantha Crawford rushed in out of breath, hoping to have preceded the visitors. She was instantly confronted by a tall dark-haired man whose gaze was fixed upon her. It was Fox Mulder, assuredly, and she couldn't help staring back at him. Scully and Crawford remained silent, sensing they were granted witness to a most intense encounter. The speechless man and clone examined each other uneasily. After a moment, Mulder felt both disappointment and relief. For the first time, he knew what he was dealing with; nobody had intended for this hybrid to pass for someone she was not. To him, this girl did not resemble his lost sister; her expression portrayed a different character, tinged with an intuition and spirituality that Samantha Mulder's lively and spontaneous demeanour would not have suggested. With her hair dressed in the workers' fashion, braids pulled back into a tight bun, Samantha Crawford appeared to spring forth outside of time. A new consideration loomed for Mulder who began to see this clone as a distinct individual.
The young girl couldn't repress her secret desire to see herself in the man's face and acquire a better understanding of her origins. But a sense of imposture and indignity imposed itself right away: were the Mulders her extended family? These people had always been consigned to the mythology of her conception, the harrowing event that gave her life. Yet, Fox Mulder was standing before her; he was real and so was his sorrow and longing to find his true sister. Perhaps he harboured bitterness towards her and her brother for their involvement in this business.
Was it remorse or some mysterious connection to this man that choked her up until she spurted silent teardrops? Samantha sought out Kurt who perceived her strange distress and came forward to console her. The child held him close and swallowed back her tears. When she got a hold of herself, she dared a peek at the agent who was wiping his own face. The red-haired woman was holding his hand. Samantha wished to know the reason for this display of emotion, but Mulder couldn't comprehend it himself.
After lunch, the agents followed Crawford down a narrow dirt road to the plantation. Stepping out of the car, Samantha saw a young worker walk by, a hoe resting on her shoulder.
"Sara!"
Samantha ran up to her, greeting her twin with an enthusiastic embrace. The girl's startled look soon gave way to her affection.
"She can tell them apart?"
Mulder was amazed.
"Slowly but surely. She recognizes their clothes, but she's starting to discern their unique traits."
"Physical traits?"
"Moral, I would say. She actually took the initiative to name them. I'd call them all Kurt and Samantha, after our series names, but she thought it was absurd."
Kurt pointed to a boy dressed in a plaid shirt.
"She named that one Galahad, after a knight of the Round Table. She says he reminds her of an old illustration she saw in a book."
Galahad heard his name and smiled.
"They've grown," Mulder whispered.
Under the canopies, the agrarian workforce busied itself uprooting the infected ginseng shoots. An entire square had already been cleared and the shade cloth rolled away. Far behind, the agents recognized the Texan apiary structures. The now charred and shredded white canvas lay on the metallic foundation from which thick smoke rose high into the sky. From time to time, a child brought a wheelbarrow full of roots and unloaded it onto what was left of the apiaries.
"Look at this weather! Sure feels like a Chinook!" Crawford exclaimed, shoving his hoe into the ground. "What a blessing! Soil's loose enough to work. We still had ground frost last week."
The tools' muffled sound was the only thing breaking the silence. Scully had never met the workers and did not know what to make of what she was looking at. She'd been assigned to photograph the site for the investigation report. Camera in hand, she wondered where to start and how to approach the children.
"What does this mutism stem from?" she asked Crawford.
"A genetic anomaly in the Broca area. In the beginning, this unfortunate defect was found in one of the early experimental series, but the Syndicate thought it could make good use of the feature on the agrarian workforce. First of all, children, because the manual tasks to accomplish were rather simple and their gestation period was shorter; muteness would make them more effective and less distracted. Also, a young, mute and isolated workforce required no surveillance; it was impossible for them to leave the plantation without transportation and if they were ever found, they couldn't reveal anything about the project. With adequate training and absolute dependence on the Syndicate for their sustenance, the children could only obey."
Scully thought there was something tragic and deeply unjust about this but couldn't help seeing an inspiring resolve in these children united as one to destroy the Syndicate's work.
"Crawford," questioned Mulder, "Samantha said she was among the gestating hybrids I saw when I visited the Lombard Research Facility."
"That's right."
"What happened to the rest of them?"
"They were still in their incubators the night they raided the lab. I sure hope they were spared. They were definitely part of the reason my brothers died. I think a follow-up on our progress revealed that we were no longer following instructions and that we had a plan."
"A plan?"
"Healers."
"Hybrid healers? Like Smith?"
Crawford nodded.
The sound of sirens was heard from afar and a Royal Canadian Mounted Police convoy appeared on the dirt road. The officers parked near the plantation; the curious workers left their canopies and lined up to see what was happening.
"Should they hide?" Crawford asked, concerned about law enforcement seeing this upsetting picture.
"Hide?"
"They were given strict orders to appear only in limited numbers or retreat when a delivery man or stranger showed up."
"We're not here to play hide and seek," Mulder declared. "Let them be seen; they are what they are – a manifestation of what this sick project was trying to accomplish."
Mulder and Scully approached the officers who were scanning the site.
"Any news?"
"Nothing so far," Scully replied. "Crawford and the children have undertaken the uprooting of the contaminated ginseng. The carrier bees were destroyed for our safety yesterday. Your officers should be positioned at every point of entry, including this mound overlooking the plantation. Crawford can lead you to the most strategic spots."
A policewoman who had just noticed the assembled children opened astounded eyes.
"Is this normal? What kind of child labour are we talking about here?"
"A young workforce produced using a cloning method," Mulder explained with great confidence, knowing his claim was undeniable since they were witnessing the fait accompli.
"Cloning?"
The dumbfounded officers couldn't help staring for a long moment.
"Did you know we have reported cases of linesmen and tourists found dead in this area? They were infected with a virus that left them completely disfigured. No connection was ever made to this isolated plantation."
"What you saw was only a trial. What they are currently destroying is even worse."
"What is going on here? Is this the work of some mad scientist?"
"If only we were dealing with a mad scientist...But no, the puppeteers were influential men, inventors of evil who expected something beneficial to come out of this. Now, their enemies are seeking to destroy it all but make no distinction between the victims and the tormentors."
Scully called out to Crawford who joined the group. As the officers were about to take their respective positions, Mulder felt the urgency of an important detail:
"If you remember only one thing when these arsonists show up, remember to aim for the back of the neck. Aim for the back of the neck and nothing but the back of the neck."
The man who had spoken with such eloquence until that point suddenly came across as a lunatic.
"The back of the neck? Why?"
"You'll have to trust me on this."
Kurt Crawford walked away with the RCMP officers and Scully slipped under the canopies to photograph the children's work. A single voice rose from the group, that of Samantha Crawford who'd been trained by Galahad.
"Oh, look at this one," she said, waving the shoot she'd just uprooted. "Looks like a funny little man!"
"Can you show it to me for the picture?" Scully asked.
Samantha shook the dirt off the plant and held it still in front of the lens.
"How do you communicate?"
"We find ways; we understand each other. Sometimes, they write words or draw pictures on the ground with a stick."
"They can read and write?"
"Enough to follow the Syndicate's instructions and use a calendar."
"You and Galahad are good friends?"
"When we move here, I'll be his partner."
"His partner?"
"His died last week."
The agent's phone rang.
"Scully."
"Scully, it's Skinner. Where are you now?"
"We made it to the plantation, sir. It's quite a sight and quite a story."
"I'm afraid there's some more bad news regarding this case."
"There's been another fire?"
"Prangen pharmaceuticals in San Diego."
"Prangen? Are there any victims?"
"Nine of the leading scientists working at the facility. They had gathered for a meeting and were all burned alive on the spot. Arsonists struck early in the morning."
"Have suspects been seen or apprehended?"
"Hard to say. According to security camera footage, three Prangen employees were seen entering the building twice without ever walking out or leaving the premises after the fire started. But these same men were found lying unconscious among their colleagues affected by the smoke later on."
"What?"
"Agent Scully, I need a list of every location susceptible to becoming these arsonists' target. Security must be heightened."
"I'll speak to Agent Mulder and get back to you."
"These men are not fooling around. If they turn northward, they're heading straight to Alberta."
"We have RCMP officers positioned all around the site, sir."
"Good. I'll be expecting your call."
The enterprise progressed without interruption for hours. The agents had gone over past cases pointing out high risk establishments but noted that all had already been destroyed.
The workers were attempting to roll another length of shade cloth when one of the boys looked up and noticed three men on the mound. Galahad alerted Samantha who peered at them, horrified.
"Kurt!" she cried. "Kurt, look at these men, they have no faces! What is that?"
The rebels' scarred faces soon took on the appearance of what the agents had come to associate with the alien bounty hunter. The arsonists gazed at the plantation with great confusion, especially at the garbage heap still smoking in the distance.
"Who ordered this operation?" inquired a rebel.
Crawford felt his heart beating in his throat but managed to collect himself and stand his ground.
"I acted on my own initiative."
"For what purpose?"
"To put an end to the project and see to these children's needs."
"Children? They are products of the project."
"They are victims who have a right to life just as you do."
"Don't you know what the colonists have in store? Where this leads?"
"We've seen enough," Crawford asserted.
"You have seen nothing yet."
"Don't you have a common goal?" Mulder intervened. "Why do you want to destroy them?"
"You want to be conquered?"
The battalion at the foot of the mound was paralysed by doubt, pausing to consider the claims of this faction driven by obscure motivations. But one of the rebels began his firm descent and the others followed closely behind. High flames already burst forth from their torches and many of the children fled toward the river, panic stricken. Police forces sprang from their hiding places and began shooting, spraying the rebels' back with bullets.
"The back of the neck!" Mulder screamed out, preparing to shoot. "Aim for the back of the neck!"
But it was too late; the rebels' blood had already affected both officers and agents. Mulder's sight began to wane. The pain and pressure had him on his knees and he collapsed onto the ground.
Everything went black and quiet for a while.
In his half-conscious state, the agent felt despair. Nauseated, he envisioned the slaughter that would leave no bodies, a simple disappearance. All was in vain. Those who had once been seen as potential allies now revealed themselves to be unreasonable enemies, blinded by a thirst for vengeance and carnage. Or did they know better? Could they see a different future, a threat still looming, something far more alarming? Could such violence be justified?
The agent was floundering when Samantha Crawford's features began to take shape above his head.
"Agent Mulder? Can you hear me?"
The pain lifted as he felt a small hand on his brow.
Healers.
Mulder's eyes turned to the rebels' bodies disintegrating into the sand. Kurt Crawford and two of the boys were standing above them, ice picks in hand. Samantha left her patient to bring aid to the police officers scattered on the mound.
"Scully?"
"Mulder, are you all right?"
Scully sat up and crawled to Mulder who shook the sand off her hair and put his arm around her shoulders.
As evening fell, the agents were invited to a funeral ceremony commemorating the three recently deceased children. The eulogy was to be held in the tool shed where the agrarian workforce kept its hoes, rakes and buckets. Power hadn't yet been restored and the clones assembled, lit by a few lanterns casting flickering shadows on their identical faces. The children formed a semi-circle in front of Kurt Crawford who'd hung his kerosene lamp on a nail by the door. Samantha was standing in a corner, pressing the New Testament against her chest.
"We are gathered here tonight to reflect on the passing on of a brother and two sisters from this world to the next," Crawford began. "You knew them much better than I did. They were your colleagues, your friends, your family. Their existence was not insignificant, despite what you have been made to believe. They led a short life, a life of hard labour and isolation that ended in tragic death. They unknowingly served the interests of unethical men. They left us, as it must have seemed to them, forgotten by all, denied essential care, feeling cold and hungry. I hold myself partly responsible for their demise due to my fear and hesitation to take action on your behalf. I hope you will be able to forgive me this wrong."
The children listened attentively but couldn't comprehend much of their big brother's eulogy. They were endowed with intelligence, but these spiritual concepts were new; this compassion, alien to them. They felt no resentment; rather, this man's sporadic visits, his words and attention had sown hope within them, the notion of a richer, diversified life and the eventuality of a relationship with those outside.
"I would ask those who lost their partner to come forward."
Two boys and a girl joined Crawford who handed a candle to each one.
"These flames remind us of our brethren's souls, which I believe live on in another form," the hybrid continued, lighting the candles that the children handled with care. "In faith, I find solace in the belief that they have been welcomed into a place where there is no misery, no wickedness and where they have found true freedom. I am also comforted as I look forward to the day we will meet again and meet Him who gives life and meaning to all things."
As the possibility of such a reunion was spelled out, Mulder and Scully noticed that the girl holding the candle had lifted pleading eyes to Crawford; she had grasped the flame's meaning as she remembered her partner, reliving his disturbing disappearance, suddenly filled with a horrible solitude. Mulder's heart sank. But what could his consolation be worth to this young worker who didn't know who he was?
"Samantha will now read from the Gospels."
The child stepped forward and opened the book's crumpled pages:
"For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops. And I say unto you my friends, be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do…Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows."
Kurt and Samantha intoned the opening verse from It Is Well with My Soul; Scully was familiar with the hymn and joined in. The boy standing in front of her turned around and stared, fascinated. Music had never been part of the workers' lives and this plain singing moved them in a particular way. Some even smiled in awe, holding on to the conviction that a new reality had decidedly dawned for them.
On the day the agents returned to Washington, Fox Mulder rose early and drove to East Coulee for one last talk. He had slept poorly and awoken with his stomach in knots, realising he was about to leave without that which he had most hoped to obtain from this journey. Dawn was just breaking and a purplish-grey sky still lingered, spreading out over the hoodoos.
Upon hearing the sound of the engine, Kurt Crawford stepped out onto the porch.
"Agent Mulder? Did you forget something?"
"Crawford, before I go, I need to know what happened to my sister after her abduction."
Crawford was startled.
"Believe me, if I knew anything that could help you find her, I wouldn't withhold this information from you."
"What do you know?"
"Back when I worked for the Syndicate, she was no longer involved in the project, apart from the DNA used for the hybrids' conception. I know that in the early years, she served as a test subject and was kept at a military base somewhere out in California. A good deal of our data came from those experiments. But that goes way back, that was before my time. There always was a kind of mystery surrounding her disappearance, even within the project."
"Her disappearance?"
"If she was never returned to you, yet no longer involved, where had she gone? Few seemed to actually know. The best we can hope for is that she managed to run away, like us."
"You think she could have run away?"
"Why not?"
"And the worst case scenario?"
Kurt Crawford was reluctant to answer.
"That she succumbed to the effects of the tests."
Mulder took a deep breath. He had surprised himself by not having seized the opportunity to ask until now, but this was probably what he dreaded the most.
"Did the information you had tend to favour this hypothesis?"
"No. But can we rely on those Syndicate stories at all? None of these men were trustworthy. They even kept things from one another. Did you know we'd been told that the facility's ova bank came from women who had made a donation for the advancement of science? Sometimes, I question everything, Mr. Mulder. I no longer know what to believe in all of this."
"Me neither."
Mulder was about to drive back to the Drumheller motel when a moving figure in the window caught his attention. Samantha Crawford's face had appeared in the casement where the new day cast its own reflection. She looked deep into his eyes, as though to catch a last glimpse of this estranged brother. And in this portrait of hazy light, Mulder drew out what he could find of his sister in a transient trickle of hope.
FBI HEADQUARTERS
WASHINGTON, D.C.
At the photo lab, Scully examined the pictures she had brought back from the plantation and pondered on the report that would accompany them. Mulder was leaning on the counter with haggard eyes. He had been quiet and distracted since morning, and in this, his partner perceived weariness far more insidious than that of the body.
"Mulder, I think you should go home."
For the first time that day, Mulder gazed at her intently and allowed her to peer into his mind. Scully was aware of what bothered him but didn't know how to lift his spirits. The man thanked her with a nod and walked away.
"Where's Agent Mulder going?" Skinner inquired as he arrived at the laboratory.
"Home. He needs it."
Scully opened the file containing the freshly printed photographs, and the assistant director thumbed through them with mixed feelings of anger and curiosity.
"Mulder had great expectations concerning this case, but now he's left with a deep emptiness. I don't know what he was hoping to find, exactly."
"It's good work. At least we know these children will be safe and provided for."
Skinner couldn't stop looking at a snapshot depicting the scrawny young clones lined up in front of the burnt apiaries.
"Such devious minds," he muttered under his breath.
"These children are unlike anything we can imagine. You'd like to know what they're thinking and hear them express what this all means to them, but they can't speak."
Day was drawing to a close when Mulder found himself alone at home. He tossed his raincoat and suitcase onto the couch and sat down in the dark. The fish moving back and forth in the aquarium entertained him for a while. A whirlwind of melancholy had filled his heart since he'd left Alberta. Would this quest ever come to an end? Was he beating a dead horse? The image, the memories and the very idea of his sister were fading in the eleven identical faces he had just left behind. In a sudden urge to hang on, Mulder grabbed an old family album. The familiar scenes and settings brought him some clarity, reviving his desire to find Samantha again, as she was then: cheerful, carefree and unaware of the sinister project that would change everything.
Oh, but even if he did reach his destination, who would he find there?