"That man, the one in the photo, Mr. Nicolas. His real name is Logan Jackson. He's a felon wanted on multiple counts of murder." Among other things…
"And you think David might be in danger?"
He hesitated. Definitely. "I doubt it," he lied, not wanting to worry her. "He's irrational sometimes, so I can't say for certain. See if you can get us on a flight; I have some calls to make." And a hunch to play. He clicked on his cellular phone as Scully reached for her cordless. Frantically, he pushed in a number.
"Ow!" Melvin Frohike exclaimed, swearing under his breath as he banged his head on table he was working under. He let a soldering iron clang to the cold floor as he rubbed his newly forming bump. "Langly!" he shouted. "Could you answer that blasted phone?"
"No-can-do, this chump is just about to be enrolled in the Langly's School of Gettin' Schooled," Langly shouted over the ringing, not bothering to move from his seat in front of the computer.
Grumbling, aching, and cursing Triangle Soft for ever making a sequel to Galaxy Cross, Frohike staggered his way to the phone. " What do you want?" he barked.
"Frohike, it's Mulder."
"Mulder? Oh, sorry I yelled like that," he apologized to his friend. "It's just that someone can't get off their lazy ass to answer the phone."
"Lazy? I'll have you know I put in many long hours to build up my Yurni Gladiators," Langly replied, not looking up.
Frohike shook his head, not bothering with the six witticisms that immediately sprang to mind. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Mulder?" Frohike asked.
"Listen, I need you guys to look for a website for me."
"I think we can do that." Frohike, Langly, and Byers. Collectively they were known as the Lone Gunmen, journalists for their newspaper of the same name. They had looked for websites often, but usually it ended up with them getting chased by some government cover-up once they found it.
"Do what?" Langly asked from his seat.
"Mulder wants us to find a website for him," Frohike replied.
"Puh-lease! Where's the challenge?" Langly whined.
"It's not just any website," Mulder said, lowering his voice, making sure Scully was not able to hear. "I don't know for sure it exists, but see if you can find one for Felicity Films."
"Feleicity Films?" Frohike questioned. "Never heard of it."Is this for some unquenchable fetish of yours?
"I'm not fooling around, Frohike," Mulder snapped. "This is not a game. A person's life may be at stake here, and this website-if it exists-may be able to give us some leads should we need them."
"Okay, sorry. We'll get right on it."
As he hung up on them, Mulder checked over his shoulder to make sure Scully was still occupied.
"No, Kansas, not Canada…it's a state in the Midwest…the Midwest of America…no, that's Canada again…." she said over the phone, getting visibly annoyed. Mulder would have found it humorous any other time.
In a way, he felt bad that he was keeping the whole story from her, but he could not bring himself to tell her the horrible facts; it would only serve to scare her. Scully was a strong woman, but she was only strong at carrying pain for herself, not watching others suffer.
Again, Mulder punched buttons on the phone and brought it to his ear. "Operator, I need the number for someone in Bloomfield, Kansas."
526 Grant Street
Bloomfield, Kansas
Robert Watson laid stretched out on his bed with arms spread out, feet dangling off the edge, watching the fan above him spin around and around, and just plain being bored. It was Friday night; he was supposed to go to the movies with some friends, but his best pal Matt had not called yet. He had spent the last hour pacing the kitchen, roaming around the house, and walking the edge of the pool in their backyard before winding up here. Man, I wish I could drive, he thought.
The sound of the phone ringing was a sweet music to his ears, and he blasted through the house to the receiver in record time, nearly knocking his mother down in the process.
"Matt?" he answered.
He was disappointed when the voice on the other end, too deep to be the twelve-year-old's, replied, "David?"
"David? He's not here right now; he went bowling with his girlfriend. This is Robert. I could take a message for him, if you want…. Molder? Oh, Mulder…. What was the number again?" He scribbled the number down on the back of the grocery list his mother had made the night before. "Okay, got it. I'll tell him you called." Robert hung the receiver up gently and left the paper lying on the counter feeling just a little jealous that his brother, well foster brother, was getting more phone calls than he was.
He made his way slowly back to his room. Just as he was about to fall onto the bed, the phone rang again. "I got it!" he shouted, racing through the house once again. "Hello?" he said, breathing hard as he pressed the phone to his face.
"Robert? Hey, man, it's Matt. We're all goin' to see Cain and Able. Meet us at the theater, okay?"
"Okay, good. See ya'," he said, hanging up. "Mom, can you take me to the theater?"
"Sure," the woman replied with a small sigh and grabbing her keys. They were at the door before she spoke again, "Wait. You need to go get your jacket; it might rain tonight."
He grumbled, the newly produced hormones in his body making everything his mother said stupid and obnoxious. "Fine," he said, running as fast as he could back through the house. On his return flight, he flew past the counter kicking the air around him into movement. It slowly lifted the piece of paper he had written on into the air, carrying it only for a moment, and then dropping it in the wastebasket on the floor below.
"Well, Mulder," Scully said as he put down his cell phone, "the first flight we can get is tomorrow. I know I'm probably just paranoid, but I would feel better if we warned David to stay away from this guy."
"I just tried their house, Scully. He was not home, but Robert said he would have him call me back." I can't believe this is happening again. Please let everything be okay.
That's odd, Scully thought. Had not he just said David was not in any danger, yet he was trying to warn him-and without her knowledge of it? "Mulder. Mulder?" Scully said, catching her partner's wayward stare into nothingness. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied. "I'm just…thinking..."
"Look, why don't you go home and get some rest? We have a long flight ahead of us."
"Yeah, you're right."