She tried to decide which was more oppressive, the heat of her own body trapped inside the trunk of her sedan, or the dark that surrounded her, unbroken even by the sealed edges of the lid of her prison. Dana Scully lay motionless, long since tired of trying to free herself from the back of her own car, worn out from her attempts to kick in her back seat, or to scream for some help. Her reliable car was well built enough to resist her awkward attempts at forcing it down, and Duane Berry had only turned up her stereo as loudly as he could to drown our her screams.
Scully had given up screaming now. She was too tired to scream, and she now knew from the brief glimpse outside she had that there was no one to hear her anyway. Wherever they were, with its tall trees and gray skies, she would receive no aid and assistance here. Scully was really and truly gone, taken from any hope of help and assistance, to God knew where. Duane Berry had only mumbled some nonsense about mountains and stars. That description fit most anywhere within a few hours drive of the coast of the Eastern United States. She had no idea if they were heading north or south, only that they were going up, up to the stars.
All sense of time was lost of Scully now. Had it been hours, or maybe days? She couldn't tell. Had Mulder began to look for her? Had anyone else? Brief images of her partner racing to her apartment to find her shattered window, her broken phone, the neatness of her home now tossed into disarray flittered through Scully's feverish mind. She saw Mulder, his hazel green eyes intense and angry as he surveyed every tiny detail, from the broken screws of her now demolished phone on the floor, to her reading glasses on the walkway, fallen from her suit pocket where she had carelessly tucked them while at the store, fallen out as she had been carried unceremoniously from her home to her car. She had winced as Duane Berry had crunched them heedlessly under his heel, and inexplicably heard her mother's admonitions to her as a girl to take better care of her reading glasses.
Mulder would find that, wouldn't he? Would he realize what had happened, follow the trail of broken glass to where she lay, terrified and trussed up in the back of her car? Scully believed he would, believed that nothing would stop her driven, single-minded former partner to find her. After all, it had been twenty-two years nearly, and he had not stopped searching for his missing sister, surely he wouldn't stop searching for her. She was his former partner, she was his friend, and she was the one person he claimed he could trust. He wouldn't rest till he knew he had her back safe, wouldn't he?
Wouldn't he?