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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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"You road I enter upon and look around, I believe
you are not all that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here."
- Walt Whitman "Song Of The Open Road"

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Interstate 44
July 27
0850 hours


The time it takes for a motor vehicle to come to a complete stop is roughly equal to 0.25 times the square root of the distance in question divided by the coefficient of friction of the roadway. However, this never even entered Mulder's mind as they continued to slide. It only made him stomp harder on the brake.

"Hang on, Scully!" Mulder yelled...

The Expedition finally came to a slippery stop, its front bumper just resting against the obstacle in the road. And everyone had forgotten to look at a stopwatch.

All Mulder could do, his white-knuckled hands still gripping the steering wheel, was stare out the window and laugh.

"Mulder?" Scully scrambled onto her knees in back. Rubbing her sore head, she crawled up in between the front bucket seats. Puzzled by Mulder's reaction, she looked out the windshield.

"Mulder?" she repeated.

"Yes, Scully?" He was still chuckling.

"Can you please tell me why us almost crashing into a giant church billboard is so damn funny?"

This, of course, only made Mulder laugh even harder. He fumbled for the door handle and finally managed to slide out of the car onto the road. He stood there, hands on hips, shaking his head in disbelief.

The large billboard had apparently been tipped over by a storm -- maybe last night. And there it now sat, on its side, in the middle of the interstate.

Its artwork included the source of Mulder's laughter. A spindly, completely unprofessional painting of a burning bush. Along with Noah's Ark and a cross. "Come visit the Ozark Church of Signs & Wonders! Behold the Power of God! (Take this exit...We're right next to Imo's Pizza!)"

"Mother Abagail, you do have a sense of humor," Mulder smiled. Then he frowned as he realized that Scully was climbing out of the car.

"What are you doing, Scully?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing...what's going on, Mulder?"

Mulder continued to shake his head in disbelief. "It's just something that Mother Abagail told me last night."

Scully stared at him. "You didn't tell me that you dreamed..."

Mulder held up his hand to cut her off. "I was a planning on discussing it with you later today..." He leaned forward to brush some hair back behind her ear. "When you were feeling a bit more coherent."

Scully looked him in the eye and could see that he was telling her the truth.

"But right now," he continued, "I better get this...sign...out of the road so we can get moving again."

"How can I help?" Scully asked.

Mulder again was shaking his head in disbelief...this time at Scully, who was barely able to stand under her own power. Her eyes were already drooping shut, the adrenalin from their near accident wearing off.

"You can help by getting back in your sleeping bag instead of trying to stand here in a Dramamine-induced coma. C'mon." He flicked the automatic locks switch on his open door, took her by the elbow and led her back to the rear cargo door. He lifted the door open and helped her crawl back into her nest.

"Just hang on here a bit, Scully. I'm going to go try and move the sign myself. And if the ol' Mulder-Heave-Ho doesn't work, I'll be back here for some rope. I can tie it off to the bumper and pull that sign off the road if necessary."

Scully nodded and closed her eyes, ready for sleep to claim her again.

**

0920 hours

Scully tossed and turned in her sleeping bag. She was just too damn hot. She threw the top half of the bag off of her body, praying that a cool breeze would waft through the still open cargo door. No such luck. Not in mid-summer Missouri.

She sat up, rubbing her temples, her headache mostly gone. It had left behind a wooziness along with an incredible thirst. *Must have been the Dramamine,* she thought. She reached over for a bottle of water. As she took a few sips, she looked forward to check on Mulder's progress.

He looked hot and sweaty, but he almost had one lane of the highway clear. With one final grunt, he pushed the last bit of debris out of the way.

Soon he was back at the cargo door, using his shirt tail to wipe the sweat from his face.

Scully lazily enjoyed the view of his hard stomach before offering him some water. "Here you go..."

"Thanks," he replied as he took the bottle from her hand. He took a long, deep drink. "How're you feeling now?" he asked.

Scully shrugged. "A little funky from the drugs, but no headache."

"Good," he said as he wiped his mouth with his forearm. "I've got a lane clear so we can get going now...You wanna stay back here?"

"I probably should," she replied, although she wanted to ride up front with him. "Just promise you'll set the A/C on full blast for a while, okay?"

"You're reading my mind again, Scully." He waggled his brows. "And that really turns me on..."

"What doesn't?" she teased as she laid back down.

Mulder closed the cargo door and climbed back into the driver's seat. He started the engine and put the Expedition in gear.

"Oh, crap," Scully muttered. She'd left her water bottle by the door and she was still thirsty. With a slight groan, she sat up and started to fish for it by the back door.

Mulder began to drive carefully around the sign, not wanting to puncture a tire on any debris he might have missed.

Scully finally found the bottle and was just about to lay back down when she looked out the rear window. She squinted, trying to clear her vision.

Mulder was about to hit the accelerator and make up for lost time...

"Mulder!" Scully called out.

"What?" His foot automatically moved toward the brake when he heard the tone of her voice.

"Stop the car!"

Mulder immediately stopped the vehicle. He threw it in park and turned around, worried that Scully was sick again. "What is it?"

She pointed at the road behind them. "It's Fluffy!" she exclaimed.

Mulder looked back at the highway, but he could see nothing but pavement and trees. He looked at Scully. Was she hallucinating things out of guilt or wishful thinking? Maybe the medicine she had taken...or her headaches...were making her delirious.

"I don't see anything, Scully," he said softly.

"He's back there, Mulder. I saw him," she insisted.

Mulder turned off the engine and got out of the car. He stared down the road. Still nothing. He walked to the back and opened the cargo door. Scully's eyes were bloodshot, but her chin was set. He reached out and put his hand on her forehead to check for a fever.

"Damnit, Mulder! I'm not seeing things! I'm not imagining this."

Mulder looked at her doubtfully.

"Look," her voice shook as she tried to speak calmly. "Just do me this favor and go back for a look. Please?"

Mulder chewed his lower lip in thought. He couldn't refuse her, no matter how futile he thought the request. No matter how disappointed he knew she would be when he found nothing.

"Okay, Scully. Okay." He nodded. He even returned the small smile Scully offered. Then he went back to the driver's seat and pulled out a shotgun. Carelessness was not an option. He handed the gun to Scully and she took it without question. He had his own gun in a holster at his side.

Mulder started walking...no sense in risking the tires with another drive by the billboard remains. The temperature had started to rise toward its afternoon zenith, and he could already spot the ripples rising from the pavement on the horizon.

As he got further from the car, he became aware of how thick the trees and how tall the grasses were that lined the highway. More than enough cover for anyone...or any thing...that wanted to ambush the unsuspecting soul. He rested his hand on his gun, taking comfort in the feel of metal and the sound of the unsnapping holster. He was ready to draw and fire if necessary. Everything, every warning Mother Abagail had given him about distractions and dangers swam through his head.

He slowed and let his eyes shift from side to side. He'd gone well over one hundred yards and still saw no signs of life. Scully would just have to accept that there was nothing there. She had seen nothing real.

He began to turn around when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Something was in the tall grass at the roadway's edge. He drew his gun and spun toward it.

The grass rustled...and it started to part.

Mulder planted his feet and took aim...

And was greeted with the most pathetic and yet the most welcome sight he could imagine. His hands dropped to his sides as he quickly holstered his gun.

"Fluffy!"

Fluffy wore a coat of rain-streaked soot that hung on singed hair. And his paws seemed to be very tender as he hobbled toward Mulder. Fluffy sat down at Mulder's feet, heaving what sounded like a sigh of relief.

Mulder knelt down beside the dog, softly rubbing those furry ears, and fighting a lump in his throat. He could only guess that Fluffy had been walking in the tall, softer grasses for miles, only venturing out onto the hard pavement highway for brief moments to get his bearings. What a miracle that Scully had happened to look out the window just in time to catch a glimpse of Fluffy before he headed back into the grass. Otherwise... otherwise they would have left him behind. Again.

Fluffy gave a whimpering bark of joy and his tail wagged back and forth, albeit painfully. Mulder wasn't sure if he would hurt Fluffy by picking him up -- or damage his own still weakened leg, but he couldn't let him walk back to the Expedition either.

He bent over and scooped Fluffy up into his arms. Fluffy flinched a little at the contact, but he still made an effort to lick Mulder's face raw.

Mulder laughed. "Good boy. Let's get you back to Scully," he said as he turned and started back to the car.

Scully was out of the car and fumbling around for medical supplies when Mulder arrived with his patient. She had laid a blanket on the ground and directed Mulder to place Fluffy on it.

At first, Scully was all business. Even when Fluffy slobbered all over her face. She had pulled two gallon jugs of water from the car and used it and a large sheet to wash off most of the remaining soot that the rain hadn't taken carried away. The only real damage appeared to be dehydration, hunger, and some second degree burns on the pads of his feet. She set to work with antibiotic ointment and bandages, all the while seeming to ignore Fluffy's looks of happiness and adoration.

But Mulder could see the truth. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes had little pools of water in their corners. Hell. So did his. He sat back on his heels and watched, staying out the way, letting Scully do what she needed to do to exorcise her own demons.

Finally she was done, and Fluffy's paws looked like something out of "The Mummy," but the dog was on cloud nine. But Scully was now trying to find something new to do. Her hands flitted about, looking for trash to clean up or something.

"Scully," Mulder tried to grab her attention, but she ignored him.

"Scully," he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Just stop."

She did, but she seemed at a loss.

"He's back. He's alive. And we've got him back because *you* spotted him. And look at him. I don't think he's holding any grudges, Scully," Mulder gently stated.

Scully looked at Fluffy. The dog focused his big brown eyes upon her.

"What did we do to deserve such devotion, Mulder?" She asked quietly.

Mulder gently squeezed her arm. "I don't know, Scully. I've been asking myself that same question for almost seven years now."

Scully turned to face him, was searching for words...

But Fluffy had unfinished business. He'd been waiting for the moment he could make eye contact with the woman. As soon as she began to turn away, he awkwardly pounced with a happy yip.

Scully laughed, tears now flowing down her face, as Fluffy adorned her with his version of kisses. Mulder bowed out to grab a dish from the car. He filled it with water and laid it out for Fluffy. Thirst finally won out and he left Scully for the bowl. She reached over to him and scratched his ears, leaning in to kiss him on the head.

"I missed you, you Mutt," she whispered.

***

Interstate 40
August 2
1430 hours


"Tra la la la la la la
Tra la la la la la la
One banana, two banana, three banana, four
Four bananas make a bunch
and so do many more
Over hills and highways the banana buggies go
Coming on to bring you the Banana Splits Show
Making up a mess of fun
Making up a mess of fun
Happiness for everyone
Tra la la la la la la
Tra la la la la la la"

This was the song that Scully could not get out of her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Fleegle, Bingo, Drooper, and Snork. All giant mutant animal...things...developed by some demonic children's television programmer in the late 1960's. Come to think of it, though, Mulder *did* have Fleegle's eyes...and that long tongue...

Uh-oh! Chongo!

*No more Percodan for you, missy,* she thought as she shook her head to rid herself of the damn theme song. Of course, that was more than likely to simply move the jukebox in her head onto such magnum opus works such as "Ultraman" or "Mighty Mouse"...or maybe even "Speed Racer." Not that she could even remember more than the first two lines of the "Speed Racer" theme song when she was lucid.

Speed Racer. That would be Mulder. Did that make her Trixie? Fluffy would be Chim-Chim....Skinner was Pops, Pendrell would have been...oh what was his name? The skinny mechanic guy? Hmmm. No Spridel casting...that kid deserved to be shot. He was worse than Scrappy-Doo. Who could be Racer X?

She stopped herself. It was too hard to think of those people they had lost.

She rubbed her eyes and looked out the window. From the road signs, it looked as though they were almost in Amarillo, Texas. Good. Her stomach was ready to be at rest. No more road motion.

**

Seven days of road churning had done enough damage...even if they were half-days of driving. Her car-sickness had slowed them considerably, but Mulder refused to push. He kept insisting that Mother Abagail told him not to. Four or five hours driving a day was enough.

When Scully wasn't laying in the back, fighting nausea, she and Mulder had taken to playing road sign games to keep their sanity in a very empty world. Fluffy, his paws healing nicely, would just sit and watch them with amusement. Occasionally, he'd woof out something that sounded like a laugh or a guffaw, if only to be part of the joke.

Missouri had held their favorite sign so far...a little one just west of Newburg on their first day: "This section of highway is kept clean by Licking Youth For Christ." Mulder had actually snorted water out of his nose when he saw that one.

The next day had netted several signs around Springfield. There was the Bass Pro Shops store, complete with a bass dangling from a hook and a waterfall -- all of which prompted them to stop by and grab some fishing and hunting gear. Then there were all the tacky and glitzy signs for Shoji Tabuchi and Andy Williams in Branson. And, of course, the "World's Smallest Cathedral." And the signs with paintings of people driving Jeeps into "Fantastic Caverns." Who woulda thunk that the Ozarks held so many treasures?

The Bass Pro Shops stop meant they only made it Joplin...on the state border...that night. But that brought the wondrous "Precious Moments Chapel" signs into view. With lots of ads for the gift shop and all those little "precious" figures. Scully had wanted to gag. Even the Dramamine didn't help.

Then they were in Oklahoma. It had such welcoming signs as "Don't drive through smoke" and "Hitchhikers may be escaped convicts!" Ironic considering they were on the "Will Rogers Highway." Which also happened to be a toll road before the Superflu. Scully did have to admit to herself, however, that once you got past the creepiness, it was rather fun to drive right on past those toll booths without having to stop.

And all along the roadways there were signs for the lovely "Houston Vasectomy Reversal Clinic." Mulder always cringed when he saw that one.

Tulsa hadn't been too bad, the roads not too cluttered. They'd spent the night in the Expedition, not in the mood for dealing with a motel's "previous" guests that never had gotten around to checking out.

But Oklahoma City had been a different kettle of fish. The highways were clogged every mile or so. Each time, Mulder had to stop, hook up the chains to their tow hitch and drag stalled cars out of the way to make a clear path. If he was lucky, the cars had been abandoned. He wasn't always lucky.

It took two days to get around the city and over to the junction of Interstates 44 and 40...where 44 ended.

Last night, they had made it to Elk City, Oklahoma and they had lucked out. They found an empty Days Inn where the rooms had small kitchenettes with gas stoves. And Scully had been thrilled to find that there was still some gas in the lines. It lasted just long enough for them to whip up a halfway decent hot meal. They'd gone to bed full and happy.

They had headed out this morning for the Texas Panhandle.

**

"Oh, god. That's just mean," Mulder grumbled and pointed to another highway billboard.

The "Big Texan" restaurant had littered the highway to Amarillo with large signs advertising their 72-ounce steaks...and here was another one. But this one had an arrow pointing to an exit just ahead. Yup. There it was. The land of great steaks and baked potatoes and steak fries.

"We could always grab a chainsaw and find you a live cow, Mulder," Scully muttered unsympathetically. The last thing she needed was to ponder was rare, red meat.

Mulder scrunched his nose. It was not a pretty image. He was a man who wanted no knowledge of his dinner's previous life history, thank you very much. Time to change the subject. Fortunately, a building on the south side of the highway gave him his opening.

"Ooh! Scully! How 'bout we stay there tonight?"

Scully followed his gaze over to the Pepto-Bismol Pink "Camelot Inn" motel. It was hideously decked out with towers and decorations that were *supposed* to make it look like a medieval castle. Maybe it worked with tourists in the 1950s.

It didn't take a genius to read the look on Scully's face. "I'll take that as a 'no'..." Mulder murmured.

A few miles later, they spotted their omen. Their signal to stop. A monolithic plaster cow stood on top of a building in the middle of a shopping plaza called "Wolfen Square."

"No chainsaw jokes," Mulder rumbled as they pulled off the highway and down the exit.

The plaza was perfect for their needs. Much of it was hidden from the highway, so they would be safe. And there were two gas stations, a donut shop, and two small family-type restaurants. Everything they needed...plus a grassy area where Fluffy could get some much needed exercise.

**

1830 hours

Dinner was not a formal affair, but the camp stove they'd picked up in Springfield had done an admirable job of warming up some Stagg's Beef Stew and Potatoes. Fluffy had really chowed down...a good sign that he was almost fully recovered from his brush with death.

Mulder had managed to fill the gas tank at one of the nearby stations and now they could relax for the rest of the evening. Scully appreciated the down time.

Mulder pulled out their sleeping bags and laid them down on the grass like a large blanket. As the sun finally began to fall from the sky, they stretched out together, Scully resting her head on Mulder's arm, her hand draped across his stomach. They would spend the night in the van for safety, but there was no reason they couldn't enjoy these moments outside.

"We're getting close, Mulder," Scully spoke drowsily.

"Yeah, we are. Maybe just three or four days 'til we're in Boulder," he replied, letting his fingers trail down her arm.

"I meant, close to Matthew," Scully raised up slightly to look at his face.

Mulder nodded and closed his eyes. What she meant was "close to the end." And as much as he wanted answers, as much as he wanted to make it to Boulder and Mother Abagail, he wasn't blind. He could see that Scully's health was deteriorating and she was slipping away from him. He wished that he could make each of these days last longer, stretch them out to triple their natural length. He tightened his hold on her.

Scully could see what Mulder was thinking. She wanted the same thing. She laid her head upon his chest and closed her eyes. It *wasn't* fair. Would it ever be their time? Could they ever be able to just stay put in one place together? Or would her time run out before they ever had the chance to know what peace was...

But for now, Mother Abagail was waiting just a few days away.

And so was Randall Flagg.