GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0345
"You, kid, go let the lady in," Drexler said, and pointed his weapon at the teenager's head.
Nathan got up slowly, keeping Drexler in his peripheral vision as he walked toward the door to the Alzheimer's ward. Drexler had used the PA system to direct the two agents to where he wanted them, and keep them away from the areas he wanted to keep clear.
Nathan keyed in the code to open the door, a security measure in place to keep the wandering patients inside the ward. When the doors opened, Nathan gave the two agents a wary look, as if trying to gauge what their intentions were. Then he walked back to the group huddled together on the floor, and sat down silently.
"All righty, now we're in show business!" Drexler exclaimed in his Louisiana southern accent. "Now what're your names?"
"I'm Agent Dana Scully—I'm a medical doctor. And this is Agent Fox Mulder."
"Fox…sounds southern to me. You from the south?"
Mulder shook his head. "Sorry, no."
"Pity," he said, and then perked up. "Okay! You, Agent Scully, you're with me. We're gonna walk on over to this next ward here, and you all sit tight—I'll have one of my friends come check in on you every now and then. Agent Mulder, I need you here with these ones—your excitement's comin', trust me. You both are federal agents, are ya not?"
"We are. And Sir, I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in right now," Scully said.
Drexler laughed. "Aren't you a sharp little thing? You pegged me as crazy, haven't you? Well, y'all better reconsider that position, 'cause I ain't crazy. I'm back from the dead, bitches! Ha ha! C'mon, you're with me," he gripped Scully's arm and pulled her toward the exit. "Kid! Open the door!"
Nathan rose and opened the door once more, watching as Scully was led away. Mulder looked around when the door slid closed, trying to find places where Drexler might have hidden a camera other than the one recording the 'movie'. He spotted the security camera, but not anything else. "Is everyone okay?" Mulder asked the hostages.
"Mr. Pederman might have to go to the bathroom soon," a nurse offered. "He has a weak bladder but his diapers are in his room."
"It might be okay to get up and get those diapers now. You should move now, before one of his accomplices comes to keep watch over this ward. Does anyone else need anything?"
"I'll find Mrs. Gregory's meds, just in case we're here that long."
"If anyone needs meds, we might be able to negotiate a break in Drexler's film," Mulder said. "He'd understand that actors need a break."
"We're not actors. We're hostages," another nurse stated, his voice shaky. "Are you going to get us out of here?"
"I'm doing everything I can to make that happen. But my partner and I need to coordinate, and we need more information on this guy. You're just going to have to trust me, and stay calm."
"Yeah, right," the man said, and glanced at the patients. "I give it fifteen minutes before someone loses it."
"Do whatever you can to keep everyone calm," Mulder repeated, and then heard the radio in his ear crackle.
"Mulder, we've got information on this guy," Skinner's voice told him. "Brody Drexler was an independent film director in Louisiana until two years ago, during a trip to DC where he was murdered. The case was never solved, and the remains of the body were hard to identify—so it was probably a mistake. What it doesn't explain is the decuplets thing. Mulder, Brody Drexler was an only child. This means either he's pulling some kind of magic trick or this isn't Brody Drexler."
Most likely the latter, Mulder thought, but he wasn't sure yet.
"We ran his identity through facial recognition and have minimal results, but they're still significant. He's been linked to four security camera heists around the country, all in nursing homes, all staging hostage situations. But never with nine identical accomplices. All hostage situations were unsuccessful and he always appears to escape somehow, but no one has figured out how he gets past the security and back up perimeter.
"As far as personal information, all we have thus far is the real Brody Drexler had no criminal record. No gambling debts that anyone knew of, no family, and was in good financial standing. No outstanding bills. Clear your throat if you're getting this."
Mulder cleared his throat.
"He has no history of violence, but obviously the men you're dealing with here do have a proclivity towards violence. Watch Scully's back, and make sure you keep each other updated. I'm giving her this same information. We have your location on infrared tracker out here. We're ready to come if necessary. Use the codeword if you have to. The hostage negotiator—Jenkins—he says you're doing great. No complaints so far. We'll keep in touch. Skinner out."
"Excuse me, Sir?" a woman said, her frail body in a geriatric chair.
"Yes, Ma'am?" Mulder asked her.
"You can't be here."
Mulder stared at her, and then glanced at the nurses. They didn't seem to react to the woman's words. "Why is that?"
"You weren't invited," she said bluntly, and then nodded toward the door. "You can leave, and come back in when you're invited."
Mulder smiled slightly, and was surprised when the teenager spoke. "Don't mind her. Ms. Van Remp doesn't quite understand what's going on."
"I understand that man wasn't invited," Ms. VanRemp said, an irritated look on her face.
"What's your name?" Mulder asked the boy.
"Nathan. I'm a volunteer here. I'd like to help you—in whatever way you need me to."
Mulder nodded. "You can help me by keeping them calm. I understand this is the Alzheimer's unit—do you know of any disruptive patients my partner and I should know about?"
Nathan shook his head. "Naw, man, they're all pretty good as long as they got the nurses close by. There are a few who will throw a fit but the nurses should be able to calm them down."
Mulder nodded at the teenager's answer, even though he knew that a nurse with a gun to her head would not be able to calm down a patient who decided to suddenly throw a fit. "You're doing a great job remaining calm. Keep it up."
Nathan snorted. "Yeah," he said.
Mulder gave him a curious look.
The boy shook his head, and said, "I've seen this shit before. Never ends well. But nothin' you can do."
"You can do plenty, Nathan," Mulder told him seriously. "You can listen for my cue. When I need your help, I'll let you know. Stay alert. This will end well."
"That's what they all say. No offense, man. I know you're a big-wig fed, but that doesn't stop the crazies. I'll still pay attention. You got my help if you need it."
Mulder smiled, and gave him an approving nod. Then he stood by the door, waiting for someone to return.
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GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0415
Drexler had dropped Scully off at a doctor's office in the nursing home, where an elderly man was bleeding profusely from a head wound. Most likely, he had been shoved into something. Scully was doing everything she could, but doubted he would survive.
The serial killer, who had done this before many times, Scully realized, stood by the door and watched, occasionally stepping forward and uttering the same words. He had disappeared for a short time after Scully started her attempt at controlling the bleeding, and then reappeared. Or at least, someone identical to Drexler had reappeared. And he did the same thing, walking forward, pointing the gun to her head, and yelling, "Save him or we'll never get the code!" or some variant of that.
Scully managed to get the bleeding under control and was stitching the contusion while monitoring the man's iffy vitals, when Drexler stepped forward and screamed his 'code' nonsense once more. She turned to him and said coolly, "You're going to need to stop that. I can't concentrate and save this man if you keep screaming in my face."
The man took a step back, surprisingly enough, and stood holding the weapon in a fairly non-threatening, observant stance. Scully was shocked but tried not to show it. Instead, she got back to work on who the residents in this ward had mentioned was Mr. Valdor.
After a few more minutes, the man was stable, but unconscious.
"Did you save him?" Drexler—or whoever he was--stated.
"He's stable for now but I can't guarantee he'll stay that way, much less that he'll wake up and give you whatever code you need. What does the code open?"
"The door to the furnace," the man told her. "He was down there when that maintenance worker opened the door. I shot the maintenance worker, knocked the old man out. I need that code."
"Why do you need to get to the furnace room?" Scully asked, as non-confrontationally as she could.
"Why, honey, don't you know?" His horrid breath nearly gagged Scully as he leaned in. "That's where the bomb is. Damn maintenance worker changed the code at the last second, 'fore I could see what it was. Now the bomb's in there idlin' like a car in a driveway on a hot summer day, and I need to get back in there to set it off."
"Well, I doubt you'll get much out of him," Scully stated flatly, pleased that this man had leaned in to make his statement about a bomb perfectly clear to the units sitting outside, waiting to storm in if necessary. Booby-traps be damned.
"That may be true. But I'm pretty sure I can find someone else who might know just what that maintenance worker might've changed the code to. After all, security for these patients is a top priority in this here facility."
With that, the man left. Scully glanced at her patient, for whom she could do nothing at the moment, and sighed.
"Scully, I got all that," Skinner said on her radio. "See if you can find a maintenance worker who knows that code, and transmit it to us. We'll go in and disarm the bomb."
"Copy," Scully said in a low voice, and approached the small group that had gathered outside the medical room. She quickly located the nurse and bypassed the patients. "Do you know where a maintenance worker might be?"
"Um…over in the uh…in the maintenance area, I guess…third floor," the nervous woman said. She was shaking with fear. "Are they…are they gonna kill us?"
Scully placed her arm on the woman's shoulder. "My partner and I are going to do everything we can to stop these men, and end this as soon as possible. But I need your help. Can you keep these patients calm while I head to the third floor?"
She nodded rapidly, and Scully realized that by the way her eyes were darting around, and the manner in which she was shaking, hugging herself to get warm, and stuttering led to the diagnosis of shock. She looked around for another nurse, perhaps down the hall or maybe even in one of these offices, but found none. "Where are all the medical staff that usually occupy these offices?"
"He's locked them in the furnace area," the nurse stuttered, and shook her head. "He did it just before that new guy, Joe, went to change the codes for the night. We always change the…the codes. So the Alzheimers patients don't get help…from the other patients…you know, in their wandering. And Tom—the guy in there, the guy you saved, he was down there with the maintenance worker because he's a wanderer. He was caught down there."
Scully nodded. If Tom had Alzheimer's and was at the wandering stage it was unlikely that he would remember the code, even if he did wake up. She looked at the patients around her, and did a quick assessment. "Do any of you have medical training?"
"I do!" an elderly man said, and stepped forward slowly. He clearly had arthritis in his hips, Scully judged by the way he shuffled. "I'm a retired paramedic. Thirty-five years on the job, after ten years of service in the US Navy. I'm the leader of the disaster plan group here at Garden Court—if it weren't for this damned arthritis, I'd be running the place! What do you need?"
"What's your name, Sir?" Scully asked.
"Jim Randall," he said, and extended his hand to Scully. She shook it gently.
"Mr. Randall, I need you to help this nurse here—she's in shock. She needs a warm blanket, a glass of ice water, and she needs to be closely monitored for any kind of heartbeat irregularities. Can you do that?"
Jim nodded. "Of course I can. We've got the disaster plan right over here…damn it, Pete, get me the disaster plan. It's over there—my walker's in my damn room, and all this commotion started, and I didn't have a chance to get it."
Jim's friend, Pete, walked almost as slowly as Jim would have toward the receptionist's desk at the doctor's office area. He pulled a blue binder from the shelf and brought it over. "See, it's here," Jim said, and flipped to the page with the materials listed. "Everything we have, and its location."
"Great. If you can start implementing this disaster plan, Mr. Randall, I'd greatly appreciate it. And Tom in there," Scully indicated her patient, "Needs to be monitored in the same way. Heartbeat, blood pressure, and check his eyes for dilation. Can you do that?"
Jim nodded confidently. "Anything to serve my community."
"I'll try to find you a nurse to help. Does anyone here have a medical condition that requires assistance?"
Jim looked around, and then said, "Kate's got a bit of a bladder problem."
Kate, who was leaning on a walker, threw him a nasty look. "Oh, you're a fool and a liar, Jim. Don't listen to him. He's making it up as he goes along. I'll keep him in order."
Scully wondered vaguely if these two were husband and wife, here for a doctor's appointment. The group was small, and that was good—it meant less variability for Jim to handle. She nodded, and gave Jim an encouraging smile. "I'm sure you'll handle this just fine, Mr. Randall. I'll be back as soon as possible."
He gave her a salute, and Scully walked off. She admired people like Jim Randall more than almost anyone else in the world. Instead of spending their lives working toward a glamorous retirement with a golf course nearby and a country club membership, he had spent his life serving his country and community. He had signed up to serve his community in his very old age, using his talents despite his physical limitations. And finally, during a crisis situation, he stepped up to help.
She headed toward the stairs, using guidance from the techs outside to watch for booby traps. Since there were none and infrared signatures were absent from the stairwell, she opened the door and mounted the stairs. Extending her weapon in front of her, she began to climb.
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GARDEN COURT NURSING HOME
GEORGETOWN, DC
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2008
0445
It had been a while since anyone entered the Alzheimer's ward, but Mulder decided that it was worth it to wait. He had received Skinner's notice that Scully was moving, and maintaining radio silence as long as she could. She was trying to find a maintenance worker who could give them the code to the furnace room, to disarm some kind of a bomb Drexler had put there.
Drexler burst in the door suddenly, and nearly everyone jumped. He pointed to the teenager, Nathan. "You! Boy! Get up!"
Nathan got up slowly, glaring at the man with a hardened, street-wise gaze. Mulder was ready to jump if necessary, hoping this kid wouldn't be stupid enough to say something provocative.
"Do you know of any maintenance workers around here?"
Nathan shook his head.
"You don't know any? You have no clue where they might be? Does anyone know where they might be?"
Mulder closed his eyes in annoyance when a nurse stood up. "Third floor," she said. "It's where the maintenance lounge is. They have their lockers there."
"All right, Agent Mulder and Tom Thumb here are comin' with me. C'mon, this ain't part of the script but I like it. A boy and a fed, gettin' ready to help me torture a maintenance worker for a code. Sounds beautiful!"
"It sounds like a good plot for a movie," Mulder said sincerely as he led the way out the door, Drexler's weapon pointed at his back. He needed some way to stall. Skinner had said that Scully was heading to the third floor to find a maintenance worker. If she got there first, she'd get to the bomb first.
"Don't you talk smart with me, Fed."
Mulder's radio crackled, and a voice he didn't recognize, but presumed to be the negotiator Jenkins, said, "Don't antagonize him. Keep him calm. Be careful, Mulder—movies are his domain. He's likely to get territorial."
Mulder ignored Jenkins' voice for now. "No, I'm serious. I'm a bit of a movie buff. I've actually seen some of your classics."
Skinner, obviously taking his cue, began a search and supplied Mulder with information instantaneously.
"Oh yeah, like what?" Drexler stopped and pointed his weapon at Mulder's head. Mulder didn't turn.
"Skeleton in my Closet, 1998," Skinner said in Mulder's radio.
"Skeleton in my Closet. I saw it in '98, right after it was made."
Drexler's eyebrow ascended, and he said, "Go on."
"Good Times Never End, 2002," Skinner provided.
"Good Times Never End. Didn't catch it until early 2003," Mulder said.
"What else?" Drexler asked.
"Peter's Snowflake, 2005. A children's movie."
"My nephew loves Peter's Snowflake. He turned six in 2005. I figured it'd be a nice birthday present to find a way to get him to that movie."
"So you must…ah…you must travel in Louisiana a lot?" Drexler asked.
"Tell him you stopped by a few times but you catch most of his movies in DC's Trademark 10 theatre."
"I saw Skeleton in my Closet in Louisiana but I saw most of your movies in a local theatre. Trademark 10. You know it?"
"Naw, not from around this area. Have to keep movin' around, y'know? When you rehearse as much as I do, people get suspicious."
The radio crackled again, and Jenkins' voice filled Mulder's ear. "Try to find out about the plot. Where he's going with the movie."
"Have you rehearsed this movie before?" Mulder asked.
"'Bout six other times. Was in the news four times for it. Finally got it just right, but that damn maintenance worker put us off schedule. I was writin' this script before someone decided to take my life, y'know. Now I'm here, back from the dead, ready to act it all out. Wanna know what it's called?"
"Sure," Mulder said.
"The End is Near," he said, and laughed. "Kinda funny—ya have to admire the humor, these people bein' so close to dead."
"That isn't funny," Nathan stated harshly, and Mulder wanted to slap the kid.
Drexler shoved his weapon into Nathan's head and demanded, "What do you mean? You don't like my title, kid? Wanna learn just how near the end is?"
"Keep the kid under control, Mulder," Jenkins ordered.
But Nathan seemed to have a mind of his own. "These people have lived out most of their lives. At least most of them have—some of them are kids or young adults who had some kinda trauma, and are comatose. But like…dude, you can't make fun of the fact that these people are nearing their end, because every day of life to them is like a gift. Every day of life to you should be like a gift."
Mulder had to admit, he was surprised to hear what came out of the kid's mouth. For a teenager in sagging pants, skater's shoes, a huge t-shirt and sweatshirt, and shaggy unkempt hair, he certainly was profound. Apparently, Drexler thought so too.
He took the gun from the kid's head. "Why, son, I do believe you understand me. Every day of my new life is a gift. I was dead, but now I'm alive. I've been given this chance to finish my movie, don't you understand? I'm takin' it! Now let's head up to that third floor!"
"Mulder, I've got more information on Drexler," Skinner said in Mulder's radio. "He was a college dropout—his original field of study was computer engineering. He left and started his own company in 1991. The company failed in 1994. He was trying to sell holographic technology, but he was too far ahead of the market."
Mulder cleared his throat. Drexler glanced at him, but didn't react.
"Drexler's capable of constructing complex computer technology," Skinner told him. "He's probably used that skill to set up the booby traps in the building, and he might have used that skill to find a way to make the monitors show ten of him, instead of one. You'd never know the difference, if all the 'Drexlers' look the same."
There was a pause, and Mulder realized they were at the landing to the third floor.
"Scully's signature is still on that floor, Mulder. If you can stall him, do it now."
"Drexler, do you have any children?"
Drexler turned, and shook his head absently. "No, don't have no children to my name."
"Hm. That's weird, because Peter's Snowflake was extremely observant of a child's nature. Do you have any nieces or nephews?"
"You tryin' to implicate me as a pedophile?" Drexler demanded, and shoved his gun under Mulder's chin. "I ain't got no baby fetish, you understand? I have a movie fetish. I love kids, just love 'em. Can't stand 'em when they turn to teenagers, like your friend here."
"What's wrong with teenagers?" Nathan challenged.
"For that, boy, you get to go first," Drexler said, and took Nathan by the arm and shoved him in front of him. He opened the door to the third floor and pushed Nathan forward, and Mulder brought up the rear. The agent tried to push past the other two to make sure Scully wasn't in the area.
They rounded a corner and the sign for the maintenance lounge was in sight. But suddenly, Scully turned the corner at the other end of the hall, and they stared at each other for a moment before she broke into a dead run. Drexler ran after her, at top speed. Then he pressed two buttons on the remote attached to his belt. Mulder and Nathan were hot on his heels, Nathan looking like he was ready to take him down. Luckily, Mulder caught the kid's shoulder and shook his head.
They rounded another corner and went down a maze-like hallway. Mulder nearly thought he was seeing double when a second Drexler jumped in front of Scully, and pointed his weapon at her head. She stopped dead in her tracks, and the Drexler closest to Mulder and Nathan fired his weapon. Scully dropped.
"No! Scully!" Mulder screamed, and lunged toward her. But Drexler was too fast. He caught Mulder by the neck and pulled a knife, holding it against the agent's carotid artery.
"We got to find a maintenance worker," he said, far too calmly for the occasion. "So you just quiet down there, boy, and we'll get your partner some medical attention."
"Fuck you!" Mulder yelled.
Nathan's gaze rose from the fallen agent to a maintenance worker jogging down the hallway. The Latino man's eyes grew wide when he saw both Drexlers, and started to run. But the second Drexler caught him in his tracks by pointing his weapon directly at the man's skull, and saying not a word.
"Ah, there's one now," Drexler said, and released Mulder. He pointed his weapon at the agent as he approached the maintenance worker, and indicated that the man should cover the other half of the distance.
Shakily and clearly scared out of his mind, the poor man approached the serial killer and stuttered, "What…what do you want? I got kids, I'm a single dad, I'm trying to raise them by working two jobs—I got to put food on the table—"
"Didn't your mama never tell you to shut your trap? If not, shut it now, and follow me. You happen to know what the codes to the furnace room were changed to tonight?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you need, man," he said. His Mexican accent was getting thicker, which Mulder took as a sign that he was getting more and more nervous. However, he didn't much care. All he could look at was Scully's prone form across the hallway. He wasn't getting anything from Skinner on his radio, and that worried him, too. Drexler forced them down the hall, and to the stairwell. They descended the stairs in utter silence all the way to the basement.
Finally, Drexler pointed at the door. "Okay, open it, son. And I'll let you go."
Mulder saw him look at the security camera, which was no doubt recording the 'scene' as part of the movie. He realized all too well what was going to happen next.
The second the door opened, Drexler extended his weapon and pulled the trigger. The maintenance worker dropped to the floor, instantly dead.
"You bastard! That man had a family! He had kids! He was their only source of food! How could you do that?!" Nathan screamed, and Mulder held him back from lunging at the serial killer.
Drexler looked at Nathan square in the eye, and said, "I got no need for big mouths. Take particular note of that, son, before yours becomes too big for your own good."
With that, he backed into the furnace area, training his weapon on Mulder and Nathan the entire time. Mulder glanced at the doctors with bound hands gathered in the corner of the room, trying to stay away from the gunfire. Drexler set the bomb without even glancing at the medical staff, and looked into a camera that was set up near the door. "Now there won't be doubt—I rule this place and I am the master of death!"
He looked at Mulder and Nathan, and then waved his gun, indicating they should come into the room.
"You won't be able to stop me, Fed. I'm gonna blow this place and take everyone with me!" He said, his tone exaggerated. It was clear to Mulder and Nathan that this was some kind of a gruesome script. But neither one of them was in an acting mood.
"What's the point in blowing yourself up? You just got a chance at a new life—why would you want to blow it all to hell?" Nathan asked, his brow lowered angrily. "You're either stupid or pathetic."
"You don't understand, boy. I'm mastering death. Death couldn't master me the first time, what in God's name makes you think it'll master me a second time?"
"Someone made an attempt on your life, Drexler. That doesn't mean you died," Mulder stated bluntly. "Your twisted head made that up, and now you're about to take a nursing home filled with helpless elderly residents along with the staff and volunteers that keep this place running, just to make a fucking movie you never got to finish! What are you using, Drexler? Holographic technology? Is that why there are ten of you? There aren't really, are there? They're all holograms. And that means their bullets are holographic too—it's a brilliant way to control a bunch of untrained civilians. But there's one major problem with your plan. You're up against the FBI, the ATF, and the bomb squad. They've got this place mapped, and they're ready to storm in when they need to."
"Ah, but Mr. G-man, you're forgettin' one very important detail. I know my computers. I blocked the signal from that little radio you're wearin' in your ear from transmitting anything but static to your boss-man out there. They have not a clue what just transpired with your pretty little partner, Dr. Scully. And because your radios don't work, neither do you. Now…" he stepped aside, and left the doorway clear. "I suggest the two of you skiddaddle on outta here, if you want to save your partner and get out of the building." He grinned. "This'll make for one hell of a great movie."
"You're letting us go?" Nathan asked, skeptical.
"No, boy, you'll never make it before the bomb blows. But good luck. Like I said, a great movie."
"And how are you going to retrieve this movie, if your equipment's about to blow up, Drexler?" Mulder challenged him.
Drexler laughed. "You think I'd stake all this on one little building? Naw, I got cameras and computers recording this everywhere. In fact, it'll be up on Youtube in a couple of hours, when the soundtrack gets put in. See, after I go, I'm immortalized. My computer is gonna stick the soundtrack in pre-determined places, and this little improvised movie of mine will become immortalized forever. I will go down in history as Brody Drexler—the one writer, director, and producer who made a real movie. There will be tangible evidence of my story. And it'll be accessible forever."
Nathan snorted. "You don't know what forever is," he said.
Mulder glanced Drexler, and then at the bomb. "Let the medical staff go."
Drexler rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, and paused the count-down on the bomb. "You're the most difficult actors to work with." He pulled a knife and cut the zip ties around the doctors' hands, after which they looked to Mulder for instruction.
"Go!" Mulder yelled, and grabbed Nathan's arm, yanking him out of the furnace room. They ran up the stairs, bypassing the elevator. When they reached the third floor, they knew the bomb had to be close to blowing. Mulder tried repeatedly to contact Scully, Skinner—anyone, even Jenkins. But it was to no avail.
They ran directly to the spot where Scully had dropped, but she wasn't there. Instead, there was a small trail of blood droplets.
"This is good," Nathan said encouragingly. "This means she didn't lose too much blood to walk. She walked away, Mulder—this is good."
Mulder nodded numbly, and said, "C'mon, we've got to try to find her."
They jogged along the blood droplet trail until they heard a deafening roar, followed by a rumbling in the building. The sound of twisted metal and exploding fluorescent bulbs filled their ears, along with the screams of confused and terrified civilians. Mulder pushed Nathan into a corner as they were knocked to the ground by the force of the building shaking. The ceiling collapsed, and the hallway filled with thick, suffocating smoke.
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