Agree To Differ
Canada was cold. Mulder and Scully were in Canada. Therefore Mulder and Scully were cold.
"When you said you were coming to Canada, I thought we might be hanging out in some French speaking café or an old-fashioned Scottish bar." Mulder was not impressed.
Scully seemed a little distracted, looking over a folder of printed-out documents. "What are you saying? I told you we were coming to a distant lake. In fact, I told you I was coming to a distant lake on my own, and you thought you would tag along."
"I always like a good mystery." Mulder pulled the furry hat further down over his ears and tried to dab his wet nose again. "I just thought there might be a bit more character to set the scene."
Scully crammed all but one of the papers back into the folder and dumped it onto their small pile of luggage. "It's not a mystery, Mulder. A few wild animals with bite marks. I could have this wrapped up this evening."
Mulder looked out past the control building, a portable cabin with a heavy paint job, to the lake beyond. "A cold dark lake, hours from civilization, with no Sun in the sky at noon. It's a mystery why anyone would want to live here. What sort of job could you have? Apart from one that required you to wear a checked shirt."
Scully tried to dial a number from her cell-phone. "No reception," she said. "Maybe we could make a call from the airport building?"
"I think they close at sunset, which is probably October around here." Mulder screwed up his eyes, but the cabin was empty, closed up tight. Beside it was a large fuel tank, presumably containing kerosene for passing aircraft. But their chopper, a local police helicopter from Labrador City, had barely touched down before abandoning them, let alone sought extra fuel. "Gotta go," said the handsome young man with his total-black sunshades. "Weather is coming in. Enjoy your stay. Wherever this is." He had made a mock salute and let the chopper drift back into the sky then arc away back south.
Scully turned to face the other way across the meager air-strip. "Those lights must be the town. We can head over there."
"How far do you think that is?" Mulder was a little skeptical. "They don't exactly have left-luggage here."
Scully looked back over her shoulder briefly before heading off. "It's four bags, Mulder. Why don't you just carry them? Then we don't have to leave them to freeze or be eaten by wolves."
Mulder took a second to consider his situation. The four pieces of luggage would be no physical problem to his masculine form, but he was not so clear on why he had to carry all the items concerned. But Scully had moved on and he was keen to debunk this mystery at the earliest opportunity.
"Would wolves eat luggage?" He shouted after Scully, hoping to check her movement while he shouldered the two biggest items. "Scully?" He turned to head out of the airfield, but a small shape by the fuel tank caught his eye.
By the time Scully reached the first building her eyes had adjusted significantly to the low light and she realized that there were several buildings in the town, but they were all badly lit or in complete darkness. A thin strip of gloom outlined the length of the office-type cabin and there was a bare crack of light around the doorway. Two small wooden steps led up to the door, a sign above it reading "Lake Peary Realtors". Scully was about to knock when a commotion of clattering and shouting behind her made her turn.
"Hey, Scully. Bears. Bears would eat your luggage. Bears, not wolves. We need to look out for bears." Mulder was jogging down to the realtors office pulling a small cart behind him. Their bags were balanced efficiently on the long bed of the cart.
"What is that?" Scully was surprised by the bizarre vehicle.
"It's a porters trolley. You've been to a rail-road station, right? They put the luggage on and carry it to the train for you." Mulder seemed a little pleased with himself in a way which did Scully did not believe suited him. "I found it by the fuel tank at the air-strip."
"What's it doing here? And – Mulder – is that engine oil on the bed? Take my bags off. I'll carry them from here." Scully frowned. She knew she should really have carried her own luggage.
"Do you think they have a phone in there? A 'realtors'. Who would buy land up here?" Mulder took Scully's bags from the trolley and set them on the first step. Scully knocked the screen door politely then pushed open the door.
"Hey. How are you doing?" A young man in a cheap suit stood up from behind a document laden desk, wearing his best 'closing' smile, not disturbed by these unforeseen visitors.
Mulder felt he could have been in Maine or Florida. Apart from the woolen gloves that the young man wore, the office had the cramped feel of a busy realtors with plot maps and glossy photos on the wall, and box-files and bundles of papers on the desks and on the shelves. It was almost like home.
"Can we use your phone, please?" Scully set to business. The young salesman looked surprised, but kept up the smile.
"Not a problem. Passing thru?" He turned the desk-phone precisely around to face Scully and offered her the receiver. "Just dial '9' first."
"Thank you." Dana put the paper on the desk in a slow, steady manner, indicating her need for privacy.
"Why don't you show me what you've got for sale around here?" Mulder slipped smoothly into his role of fixer, clapping the salesman on the shoulder while simultaneously directing him to the back of the cabin. "I already know this place is just right for a little hideout I have in mind. Somewhere away from the big city where I can meditate."