~ IV ~
William had been with them for barely a month but it seemed like Mulder couldn't remember a time that he wasn't around.
Now that spring was well on its way there was less time to play cards, although they usually managed a game or two in the evening if they weren't too tired. Mulder thought that it helped bond them into a genuine family. William was not only a good player and teacher, but most importantly he knew how to be a gracious loser. The more they got to know him, the more they loved their son for the person he was rather than who they wanted him to be.
One of the first things that William taught them was how to get the animals to behave when they came out of the barn in the morning. He'd been aghast at the stampede, worried that some of the smaller ones would get trampled. Several of the female goats—does-had given birth over the last few weeks and he insisted on helping to build a separate pen for them, with access to the inside on the side of the barn.
There weren't enough stalls in the barn to put one animal in each, and it was too crowded to double or triple them up for the night. Instead, William began getting up early with an old-fashioned windup alarm clock next to his hay bed and going down to put them in stalls until Mulder and Scully arrived. They let the non-nursing goats out first, then the horses, then the impatient cows. Though it wasn't ideal, it was much more manageable until he had more time to work on it.
He began the actual training with the horses, as the Haflingers were quiet, study, intelligent animals. William had fashioned simple rope halters for them since the small amount of tack they'd found in the barn and nearby shed was rotted past usability. When they had a chance, they planned to make a trip to a country store about three miles away, hoping to find at least some halters or bridles. In the meantime, he used the halters to quietly lead the horses out of the stall and into the yard, waiting until they settled down before letting them loose to graze. It didn't take more than a couple of days for the horses to figure out what he wanted and begin to behave accordingly.
The cows were a whole 'nother story. Though he was tall, William was thin. Not terribly skinny, but he still needed some feeding up with growing to do. They found out quickly (and with a few bruises) that he couldn't handle even a single rambunctious cow alone, so Mulder helped.
It took a couple of weeks, but soon the cows were behaving enough that they could be led out of the barn two by two just with their halters, then tied for milking with no kicking up a ruckus.
William had also become close with the little scruffy brown terrier he named Buddy. He'd found an old book of dog breeds among the stuff they had and identified him as a Cairn terrier, either purebred or so close that it didn't matter. Luckily all the male dogs on the place had been neutered, though they had no idea if either of the bitches were intact. Scully kept an eye on them, concerned that coyotes or other feral dogs might come after them.
Though William had been around animals all his life, his parents hadn't had any pet dogs, just a Corgi that helped herd the cows and lived in the barn. Buddy became the canine friend he'd wanted since he was little, and they were inseparable.
Mulder found himself fascinated with the active, bouncy baby goats, and helped William build a few things for them to climb on in the pen. One early May afternoon they took a break from working on the chicken coop and wandered over to the goat pen. They leaned on the chest-high (on Mulder) chicken-wire fence and watched one in particular. The little black and white spotted kid bounced off the stationary drum on its side, hopped up on the wooden platform, leaped over several of the does who were grazing on the thick spring grass, then jumped into the center of a large, half-rotted tractor tire. Both father and son were laughing as they followed his progress.
"That's the one Dana-mom named Prallen, isn't it?" William said.
"Yeah, it's German for rabbit," Mulder nodded. "And he really does—oh, shit!"
They both looked up as a pair of dark, sleek, featureless aircraft whipped by low overhead, shaking the tallest trees to the west as they skimmed just barely above them. Except for a distinct low hissing noise, they were almost soundless. Without a look at each other, both ran for the house where Scully was butchering a yearling deer Mulder had shot that morning on the way from the treehouse.
They had told William their emergency plan and now that it was really happening he didn't hesitate, but followed their lead.
As they ran the boy whistled for Buddy and Rosie, who he had trained to come at distinct whistles. The other dogs responded to a different one. Though no one wanted to lose any of the dogs, those were the two being trained to work around the farm, and also the fastest when it came to response time if they were needed.
As they rounded the corner of the barn and the house came in sight, they saw that Scully was just coming out of the back door, still wearing the faded red and white apron she used in the kitchen.
The three of them, plus the two dogs, ran for the back of the property. They saw the cows and horses grazing in the distance along the far fenceline to the east. If the house got bombed, Mulder thought, they should be far enough away to be safe. Or so he hoped.
They reached the treehouse shortly and Mulder yanked the rope that dropped the ladder. "Can I bring Buddy up?" William asked, sounding upset.
"You go up first and I'll hand him up," Mulder said, picking up the little dog.
"What about Rosie?"
"She can't get up there, William, she stays down here and keeps guard," Scully said as he quickly climbed the rope ladder and turned back for the dog.
Once they were in the treehouse Mulder yanked the ladder up and shoved the board into place. It was even more cramped than usual with three people in it, and the only place to sit was on the bed. He had a passing thought that it was a good thing Scully usually pulled the covers up over the sheets before they left, because William's arrival hadn't cooled their lovemaking at all especially since there was no room for him to sleep in here.
Scully and William sat on one side of the bed, Mulder on the other. They heard nothing outside except the wind in the trees and an occasional rustling in the undergrowth, as well as Buddy's panting and their breathing. William looked around curiously, having never been in the treehouse before.
"Did you hear them?" Mulder asked Scully in a low voice. "The aircraft, I mean."
"No, I looked out the window and saw you guys running and then heard that weird hissing noise," she murmured back. "Did they circle around?"
"Not that we saw," William said. "Maybe they were just passing by on the way to somewhere else."
"From your lips to God's ears," Scully sighed, ignoring the look that Mulder threw at her. They'd had more than one philosophical discussion since the invasion begun and had eventually agreed to disagree.
"How long do we wait?" the boy asked as Buddy jumped into his lap and he wrapped his arms around the little dog.
"I dunno. An hour?"
"I don't hear anything," Scully objected, "and this isn't the first time we've seen them fly over. I've got things to do, Mulder."
"Yeah, well, so do we," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. "How long do you think we should wait?"
"Half an hour? Fifteen minutes? Actually, I think if they were going to bomb or capture us they'd have done it by now," she said in a tense voice. Then she glanced over at William, who sat stiffly next to her holding the little brown dog in his arms. She took a deep breath. "Honestly, Mulder, do you think staying here is safer?"
In the dim light he saw her expression, which was no longer pinched and annoyed. "Again, I don't know. But I guess you're right, we may as well go back to work since they're not tearing down our tree to get to us."
Heaving a sigh, she put a hand on William's shoulder as they rose and he smiled back at her wanly.
Mulder and Scully were on the ground and William about to hand Buddy down when a deafening explosion sounded, shaking the ground, tree, and house for several seconds. "Oh shit!" she cried as the rumbles faded away. Mulder held onto the trunk of the tree while Scully had grabbed his arm to steady herself.
William had dropped Buddy when the treehouse shook and now skimmed down the ladder to go to the little dog, who fell hard on the ground but now stood up, shaking himself.
"Bomb nearby, I'm guessing," Mulder said as Scully went to where William was kneeling to check Buddy. "They were looking for someone."
"Is he okay, William?" Scully asked, crouching next to them.
"Yeah, just a little stunned I think," he said as she ran her hands over the dog's tough little body. He didn't yelp or move away. "I feel horrible that I dropped him."
"I don't think that was us, but it was nearby," Mulder said. "We'd better go check it out."
William picked up Buddy, who licked his face enthusiastically, and followed his parents out of the forest. A gray haze outside drifted across the fields, partially obscuring the view, and a strange acrid smell assaulted their noses. They moved carefully out of the trees, Rosie staying next to them and whining softly as she sniffed the air, looking around cautiously as they reached the field.
"Oh my God." Scully was the first to get an idea of where the drifting smoke was coming from, though they had to walk out into the field to get a clear view as the house was in the way.
A huge pillar of black and gray smoke rose from somewhere behind the fenced field across the dirt road that went past their house. Mulder couldn't remember if there had been buildings or anything beyond it; he'd paid little attention other than to have occasionally seen a farmer on a tractor mowing or baling or whatever the hell they did before the invasion.
"Do… do you think that was… people?" William said slowly, still clutching Buddy to his narrow chest.
"I'm afraid so. As far as we know, that's all they bomb," Mulder said gloomily. "There must have been—"
His words trailed off as they saw several dark figures moving through the drifting smoke. They were far enough away that it was impossible to make out if they were human or invader. All three were tense and ready to bolt but then several of the farm dogs ran past, barking. Rosie cocked her head, then took off after them despite Mulder calling her back.
Invaders or not, Mulder and Scully followed the dogs as William put Buddy down. By the time they reached the gate they could see that there were three humans staggering towards them.
"Too many," Mulder said, shaking his head as he unlatched the gate. "See if anyone's hurt and I'll take the others down the road."
A tall woman being held up by a smaller man cried "Help us!" as soon as they reached the fence on the other side of the road.
"Is anyone hurt?" Scully called, slowing as she reached them.
"My sister, she fell and hurt her leg," the smaller man yelled. Both of them wore mismatched, badly fitting clothes, and the woman's blonde hair was singed down to her skull on one side.
"Go with her, she's a doctor, the others come with me." Mulder, having reached the fence, helped the two over. "The invaders see more than four or five of us together we'll get bombed too."
The third person, an overweight, bearded man in overalls and a threadbare, stained gray sweat jacket, reached them last. "Them bastards killed them all," he half-sobbed, half panted. "There was at least a dozen kids in our group."
"Goddammit!" Scully took the weight of the taller woman and began supporting her across the road as the smaller man backed away. Though determined and knowing how to support the weight of a larger person, she was unable to keep her steady on one leg and they both almost overbalanced and fell. "William, give me a hand."
He did as told, slipping under the woman's other arm and helping his mother half-carry her towards their gate, where the dogs still barked.
Mulder grabbed the other two men, each by an arm. "You guys come with me. We've got to get out of here fast."
"I'm done in," the fat man said, his legs collapsing. "Can't go no farther."
"You're not getting my family killed because you're out of shape," Mulder snapped, yanking at his arm so hard that the man pitched forward onto his knees. "Get the fuck up and come on!"
Grumbling, the heavyset man stood and began stumping along behind Mulder as he led them along the side of the dirt road, the sun shining through the dissipating tendrils of wispy gray smoke. He glanced back to see that Scully and William already had the woman to the porch and were slowly going up the steps.
"We've got a shelter down there, we think that half a mile is enough distance so that they don't consider us together," he explained, letting go of the other man's arm. "How many people did you guys have in one place?"
"I dunno, we found a bunch of kids wandering around out in the woods and took 'em in," the smaller man said. "They said they escaped from some alien slave enclosure in Richmond a few days back."
"Don't you people know that you can't have more than five people in one place, or the invaders capture or bomb you?" Mulder turned to find the heavyset man ten feet or so back. "Come on, keep up, you wanna get killed? They could still be nearby."
"Fuckin' lay offa me, asshole, I done had enough!" The other man stopped suddenly, then thumped to the ground on his hefty rear end. Brown road dust puffed up around him and he coughed as he panted. "I gotta rest."
Mulder looked around, seeing that they were less than a hundred yards from the farm. "Not good enough," he said grimly, then pulled a large handgun, a M1911A1 he'd found in an abandoned house, from beneath his shirt. "Either move or I'll kill you here and now."
The smaller man backed away, wide-eyed. "What the hell!"
"I've got no problem putting a bullet through your head." Mulder knew he couldn't shoot another person in cold blood but hoped he came across as someone who would. "I'm not going to let you get the rest of us killed."
The blood drained from the fat man's face and half-bald head. "Jesus fucking Christ, all right, okay, hang on," he huffed, getting up again. Mulder waited until he passed by then fell in behind them both, occasionally prodding with the gun.
"Who the fuck died and make you boss?" The fat man wheezed as he walked.
"Well for one thing I was an FBI agent and another, I know how to survive and keep my family safe," Mulder said coldly. "What in the hell were you people thinking?"
"The kids said they'd been together for days," the smaller man spoke up. "There was, I dunno, ten-twelve of them. We didn't think a few more people would be a problem."
Mulder spoke through gritted teeth as they marched along. "I don't know how the invaders pick who to bomb or capture, whether it's by number or maybe heat signature using a sensor of some type, but everyone we've talked to knows about it. Why did you think it didn't apply to you? How old were the kids?"
"The leader said they was all about thirteen, fourteen," the fat man said. "Not real big kids, either. We found 'em a couple days ago, dunno why they attacked us now."
"Well, regardless, we're going to stay here until I hear from my wife," Mulder said. Though they had never actually tied the knot, they had wordlessly agreed to call each other as such simply to avoid confusion. "She'll take good care of… who's the woman?"
"My sister Patty," the smaller man said. "By the way, I'm Stan Mosley and this's Lee, uh, what is your last name?"
"Seligman," Lee grumbled.
"I'm Fox Mulder, I go by just Mulder." He glanced back again to see that the house was out of view. When he turned back he saw that the heavyset man, Lee, was glaring at him. He half-wished the bastard would make a go for the gun so he could whomp him with it. But that would just cause more whining, he thought tiredly. "Where are you folks from?"
"I had a farm outside Sumerduck," Lee said, his worn workboots scuffing up even more dust as he slowed. Mulder didn't say anything since they were nearly to the shelter. "Stayed there 'til the summer after the invasion, when everyone I saw was sick or dyin' and then I headed for the hills. Met up with these two a few months back and we was doin' ok."
"We heard tell there was a tradin' post of sorts where we could get news out this way so that's what we was lookin' for," Stan said. "Then we ran into the kids, and we was just lucky that the three of us had moved away from the group to talk about what we was gonna do with 'em when the bomb hit. Threw us all about five, ten feet."
They trooped around a bend in the road and Mulder stopped. "We're here," he said, gesturing with the gun to a barely visible track to their left in a long, narrow, grassy field. "Just head up there, you'll see it."
He tucked the gun away, but this time in the front of his pants instead of the back, as they walked single-file up the narrow path. A few yards later they went through a screen of bushes. Just beyond them was a small, ramshackle log cabin sitting in a small field of dry brown weeds, surrounded on three sides by dense forest. It looked like it hadn't been touched in decades, decrepit and moss-covered.
"You gotta be kidding me," Lee grumbled, glancing back at Mulder who brought up the rear.
"Shut up until you get inside—go around to the back door, Stan," he directed. "Just follow the track."
The back porch was small and sagging, with a broken one-board step and no roof on top of the peeling, leaning posts. But as soon as they stepped through the sturdy wooden door the cabin was transformed from a ramshackle wreck to a sturdy, comfortable, well-kept home. It was well-lit from a pair of overhead skylights that were tucked between the low, peeled-log beams that held up the roof on either side of the peak. The windows were covered with grime and cobwebs so that no one could see in.
"Whoa!" Stan said, wandering around the single room. Two of the walls were covered with handmade wooden shelves, packed with survival gear, canned food, and clothing. "Never woulda guessed from how it looks from the outside."
"That's the point," Mulder said, closing the door and leaning back against it. "I think we might have been the 'trading post' you guys heard about, but we're more of a waystation. Our house and this place hold things for people that need them, plus temporary shelter. And my wife's a doctor."
Lee thumped down into one of the chairs at the old but clean 1950s era red-speckled vinyl dining room table tucked into one corner of the kitchen area. "I wouldn't mind livin' here."
Why was there always one in the bunch? Mulder wondered. It seemed like every group that came through had a troublemaker or asshole of some type. "It's not a permanent home," he explained, going into the larger living room area and perching on the edge of a frayed but solid plaid ottoman that matched the couch and loveseat under the dirty front windows. "It's just a… stop, a waystation, until you can—"
"You know, one weird thing I can't forget about is that one of the kids had a bandage on his arm, and instead of red, it looked like he had green blood under it." Stan spoke out of the blue from where he was standing in front of a bank of shelves on the other side of the room, looking through cans of soup.
Mulder's eyes widened at the implication, and he now thought he knew what had happened. It wasn't urgent to let Scully and William know, but it was a good tidbit to add to their knowledge of what the invaders were doing.