X
- 2 -
RETIRED HEROES
British Colombia
The brisk weather of the Canadian wilderness was painfully stimulating for the lone man trekking through the rough sea of snow that had been falling. The night wind was howling fiercely, but the man ignored it, just reaching the end of a dense forest. Dressed in a black parka, sweatpants, and snow boots, the man was carrying four freshly cut logs, two under each arm.
Night had not yet fallen when he had ventured out in search of fire wood, but no sooner had he secured a decent amount when this relentless maelstrom had appeared, forcing him to retreat back home with barely enough wood to last the night. Luckily, the storm would at least ensure that he would encounter no danger from nocturnal predators on the trip back, and he had the luminosity of a beautiful full moon illuminating his path.
Arriving at a reasonably large log cabin, the man dropped his load near the back and climbed a flight of wooden steps that led to a back door. He had yet to pull open the screen door and already he could hear barking and scraping from the other side. Unlocking the door, the man entered his home, and was instantly greeted by a full-grown Siberian Huskie.
The dog settled down once the man had closed the door and removed his jacket. It watched as its master removed his boots and thrust himself onto a nearby couch. The man took a moment to collect himself then looked over at his faithful companion and patted the space next to him, spurring the canine. It rushed over and hopped onto the couch next to him.
"Sorry I took so long, Ace," said the man, rubbing the dog behind its ears. "Hell of a storm out there."
They remained there for another five minutes before the man got up. Walking over to the kitchen, he opened a laptop resting on a desk and allowed it to start up. Entering the pantry, the man found a bag of dog food and filled up a nearby bowl. When Ace entered, the man slid the bowl toward him and watched as he dug in.
Satisfied that his dog was satisfied, the man turned on the gas stove and returned to his computer. Checking the weather report, the man frowned. "Dammit," he muttered to himself, as the report indicated that the storm would not be letting up anytime soon. He returned to the kitchen to prepare his dinner.
A few hours later, the man awoke abruptly from a short nap to the sound of low growling. He had fallen asleep on the sofa shortly after devouring his meal, but now he was up and alert. The only lights in the cabin were that of two dimly lit candles sitting on a nearby coffee table. The man reached underneath the sofa seat and withdrew a loaded Heckler & Koch USP Compact. Switching the safety off, the man rose to his feet, blew out the candles, and walked over to where Ace was seated - in front of one of the three windows in the cabin. The curtains were shut, but Ace had stuck his head through the divide and was now growling at what seemed like the surrounding woods.
"What is it?" whispered the man, placing a hand on Ace's head.
But Ace just continued to growl. Not daring to show his face to whatever unknown enemy lying in wait outside, the man crossed the living-room of the now darkness engulfed cabin. Opening a nearby drawer, the man produced a pair of night vision goggles and quickly fit them onto his head. Rushing through the kitchen, the man climbed the stairs, making sure to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. Emerging into the attic, the man lowered himself in front of the large round window facing the front of the cabin. Switching the night vision goggles on, the man proceeded to scan the area in front of his cabin. It took him a moment, but eventually he spotted the source of Ace's discomfort.
A group of four heavily armed commandos were slowly making their way through the forest towards the cabin, each one's face concealed by a ski-mask.
"Son of a bitch" muttered the man to himself.
The commandos were about forty yards out, and the man was sure there were at least four more flanking his cabin from the opposite direction. The man emerged from his crouch, and was about to head back downstairs when the sound of a chopper caught his ears. Before he could react, a spotlight flashed on directly where the man was standing, blinding him instantly.
"Agent Jack Bauer!" declared a voice through the chopper's speakerphone. "We are not hostile! We are acting under orders from the President of the United States! Please throw down your firearm and stand down!"
They were obviously utilizing thermal scanners, otherwise they couldn't possibly know he was armed, and it wasn't until he took a closer look that he realized each of the commandos' weapons were actually non-lethal. Still, he was nonetheless clueless as to the purpose of their arrival.
"We're sending someone inside!"
Taking a moment to consider his options, Jack Bauer descended the stairs, removed the magazine from his weapon, placed both on the coffee table, unlocked the front door, and took a seat on the sofa. Ace rushed over to his side, more alert than ever. Taking a deep breathe, Jack kept his eyes on the door. After a few moments, the knob turned and the door swung open.
Jack's eyes widened. "Mike?"
Mike Novick shut the door behind him and lowered the hood of his jacket. "Jack," he said, walking slowly across the room, leaving a trail of snow behind him. "It's good to see you."
Jack was speechless for close to fives seconds. "Mike, what the hell is this?"
Ace never took his eyes off Mike for one second, and Jack had to pet him to calm him down.
Mike took a seat in a nearby chair. "Jack, the President's asked me to bring you to D.C. We need your help."
If Jack was startled by this, he did not allow it to show. "I don't think I have to remind you that I don't work for the government anymore, Mike. And speaking of which, how the hell did you find me out here?"
"Jack, what we're dealing with here. . . .it's colossal." said Mike, ignoring Jack's question. "We've never faced anything like this before."
Jack simply turned away. "Not my concern."
"Yes it is," stated Mike, quickly. "When you learn who's involved, it will be."
Jack eyed the former Chief of Staff suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"
Mike sighed. "It's. . . .complicated."
Jack scoffed. "If you want my help I'm gonna need more than that."
Mike rose to his feet. "That's all I can say for now. You'll be formally briefed when we arrive. After that you can choose whether or not you want to be involved, but you being at the briefing is nonnegotiable. These men have orders to put you down if you don't come quietly. Don't make this difficult."
Jack thought for a moment and rose to his feet, still not entirely sure of his choice.
Our Lady Of Sorrows Hospital
Homewood, AL
"I'm with the FBI," explained Larry Moss in response to the question posed by front-desk attendant of the intensive care unit. "Larry Moss, D.C. Field Office."
The woman was clearly startled at the sight of his badge. "Oh, well um, how can I help you?"
Larry returned his badge to his coat pocket. "I need to speak with Dana Scully, now."
The woman typed a few commands into her computer and looked up after a few moments.
"I'm sorry sir, but Dr. Scully is in the middle of a surgery right now. You'll have to wai-
"I'm sorry, I wasn't clear," said Larry, interrupting the sister. "It is imperative that I see Dr. Scully immediately."
"Um, what. . .for?"
"It's a Federal matter, ma'am."
If she was startled before then she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown now. "I. . .I might be able to reach her room. One moment please."
Larry nodded. "Thank you." He proceeded to pace back and forth across the lobby with his hands on his hips as the sister made the call.
"Sister Sarah?" she spoke into the receiver of her telephone. "This is Arlene at the front desk. . . .Um, there's a man down here from the FBI. . . .Yes, FBI, that's correct. He says he needs to see Dr. Scully. . . .I understand that and I explained it to him, but he insists that it's extremely important. . . .Can't you have someone take her place?" Glancing in Larry's direction, she turned her back to him, and, lowering her voice, whispered, "He says it's a Federal matter. I don't think we can keep him waiting. . . .No, I mean legally we can't keep him waiting."
A few more seconds passed before Arlene hung up. "Dr. Scully will see you now sir." She gave him a nervous smile. "She'll meet you in the waiting room on the third floor."
Larry strode quickly down the hallway towards the nearest elevator. "Thank you, Arlene."
Dana Scully emerged from the O.R. not having bothered to remove her scrubs. Turning the corner, she spotted a lone man in the waiting area standing with his back to her. Pulling her gloves off, she bolted towards him.
"What was so important it couldn't wait until after I was out of surgery?" asked Scully, clearly annoyed.
Larry Moss, hands in his pockets, turned to face her. "Dana Scully?"
She gave him an agitated nod.
"Dr. Scully," he began. "My name is Larry Moss. I need you to come with me."
Scully fixed him with a fierce glare. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about."
"You'll be briefed when we arrive."
"Arrive where, Agent?"
"Washington D.C."
Scully's face switched from irritated to puzzled. "Who in D.C. needs me and why?"
"Walter Skinner, but more importantly, the President."
Scully was really confused now. "Walter Skin-. . .the President?"
Larry grunted and looked around, equally annoyed by the situation. "Yes. Mr. Skinner is downstairs right now as we speak. You can talk to him yourself, but we need to leave now."
Scully's eyes moved to the floor, and Larry could tell she was trying to make sense of this. He couldn't blame her. After all, he himself had no idea why they needed her and did not appreciate being left in the dark.
"Alright I'll go, but we need to pass by my house first. I need to change out of this."
Larry shook his head. "No time. You'll be given clothes when we arrive."
She followed him across the room, and the two of them stepped into the elevator.
"By the way, would you happen to know the current whereabouts of Fox Mulder?" asked Larry, having just remembered something. "We know you and he were partners."
Scully looked up. "Why?"
"We've been ordered to bring him in as well," explained Larry. "It would save us some time if you could help us in any way."
Scully sighed and said, "He lives with me."
Larry was surprised by her answer. It took him a moment to process this information. "Is he at your home now?"
"He should be."
The elevator doors slid open and the two of them stepped out.
Larry sighed and scratched his head. "I guess you'll be able to change outta those scrubs after all."
