At the coincidence of the moment of the solstice and the heliacal rising of the galactic center, levels of planetary novelty will exponentially increase and will result in solar explosion, planetesimal impact, or alien contact. –Novelty Theory of December 22nd, 2012

Sasabe, Arizona

December 20th

Wednesday

The young man paused to wipe sweat from his brow with the red bandana that he had tucked in the pocket of his faded jeans. His long hair was beginning to fall loose around his face and was becoming damp with perspiration, so he tugged the ponytail tighter. After the brief respite, he lifted the pieces of smoothed timber and carried them to edge of the field where he was reconstructing the fence around the ranch. He was a small man, but he was strong. As he worked, the muscles on his bare chest and back contracted and rippled under his skin. He'd become very dark from several years as a field hand in the southwestern sun; his skin tone was only a few shades lighter than that of his Navajo brothers, but the light brown hair and green eyes set him apart from the other workers. He was a quiet man; he lived in the world of his thoughts and preferred listening to speaking—he was always listening.

"You're trying to tell me this boy can read minds?"

"Yes."

"He's reading your mind right now."

"And the minds of the judges too?"

"Yes."

The boy is the missing link between us and them. We need him. We will come for him. But he'll be stronger, more valuable. His gift will have time to grow. When it comes, he will be a man. He can lead the others. He will be the first—the most powerful. Once he is changed, the rest will follow…

"Even his."

"And what makes him so special?"

"He's not human."

"Hey Gibson, do you need help with that?"

The young man turned from hammering and squinted as he glanced up at the figure silhouetted in the blinding sunlight. Olli crouched beside him, flipping his thick black hair to one shoulder to cool his back. His olive complexion and high cheek bones reflected the faces of his Navajo and Apache ancestors.

"No, I'm okay."

"I just finished checking the horses…It's hotter than hell out here. I can't remember it ever being this bad. Well, maybe in July, but December? I guess global warming is finally turning on us, huh?…Gibson, hello? Are you listening to me?"

"What? Yeah, sorry," he said, realizing that his brow was creased and that he'd been staring intently past his friend.

"So what do you make of these temperatures? It's well over 90 today."

"I…I don't know, Olli."

"You've got that look again."

"And what look is that?"

"Like you know something, but you don't want to tell me."

"I don't know anything."

Gibson silently returned to his job at hand. He was grateful for the anonymity this life offered. No one knew anything, and for the most part, they didn't ask; he kept to himself. His employer and fellow workers thought he was simply another drifter, and while they agreed that he was a bit strange, they didn't pry. Olli was his closest friend, and once, after more than a few drinks, Gibson had almost told him. Almost.

"Gibson, I have a question."

"All right."

"Why do you do this? This work, I mean. The rest of us, that's easy, we couldn't do much else, but you…you're smart. How come you didn't go to college and become a doctor or something?"

"Because I'd rather be here."

"That's not really an answer."

"Yes it is."

Olli sighed and shrugged his shoulders before rising to his feet.

"It's after two. Do you want to take lunch break with me?"

Gibson nodded and stood to follow his friend to the shade of the barn, but after he'd taken a few steps, he froze.

"C'mon, man. What are you just standing there for? What's up with you today?"

He could not hear Olli's words; he grimaced and collapsed to the ground, unable to hold back the screams of pain and terror.

"Gibson, what? What is it? Are you okay? Talk to me!"

"So loud…Oh, oh God. I can hear them, Oh my God—I HEAR THEM! THEY'RE COMING! THEY'RE COMING!"

"What? What the hell are you saying?"

Gibson, his hands pressed over his ears, looked up at Olli blankly with expressionless green eyes.

"We're going to die."

--

Baltimore, Maryland

The old woman stared at the ceiling while she fingered the gold cross at her neck. The bed had been destroyed, so she slept on the mattress on the floor. Damage to her building was extensive and most residents fled to shelters, but she had not. She didn't see the point. This is my home. Whatever happens, I am in God's hands. Her daughter and son-in-law thought she should leave, but she would not. She'd called her sons and warned of the elusive "Them", and that was all she could do. Even though the warnings came from their sister, the men had been reluctant to believe, and quickly dismissed the idea, since Dana had clearly been corrupted by "that Mulder". The woman could not force them to believe—it was not her purpose.

She reached beside her and studied the tattered photograph of two little girls playing in the rain, both with curly red hair. Her fingers desperately gripped at the image as if she could physically propel herself back into that time of comfort and security and hot chocolate; a time when she wasn't alone and all of her children needed her. Before Bill and Melissa—What's gone is gone. We will be together again someday. Tears pooled in her eyes when she thought of Dana and the granddaughter she would never know. Softly, she murmured a prayer for those she loved.

"Mom, please understand why I have to do this. I love him. He's my life, just like Daddy was yours. I already lost my son—I cannot lose my soul mate…I'm going to get him out of there and I will run with him."

"But where will you go? Where will you live? How will you work? Oh Dana, please…you're being rash…it's too dangerous. You need to put your faith in the Lord. He has a plan for us all, for you and Mulder. Whatever happens, we are all in God's hands—"

"NO! There is no fate, no greater plan. There is only this, right here, right now. I will not let him die; if he dies, I will die with him. I don't know what will happen or where we'll go or what we'll do when we get there…but I'm leaving."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know, Mom. Probably not…I'm sorry—"

"Do what you must. Please know that I love you more than anything, I always have and I always will. And if you ever need me…"

"I know, Mom. I know. And I love you too."

"…And please, Lord, be with my Dana. Love her and protect her and send her your grace. Whatever happens, whatever comes, give her the strength to survive and to fight until the end. Help us all find peace…"

Without warning, a brilliant flash assaulted the old woman's vision, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her face and cowered to shield her body. The final sensations she would experience in this life were the heat bubbling and inflating her skin, a powerful wind, and the weightlessness of flying. The blast wave took her swiftly and spared her from what was to come.

--

Near Stony Rapids, Saskatchewan

December 21st

Thursday

The pink-orange glow of dawn began to kiss the jagged mountain peaks that circled like a giant cereal bowl. They spoke in frantic, hushed voices while Abby slept, oblivious, across the backseat. Mulder clenched his jaw and tensed his knuckles against the steering wheel while Dana flipped radio stations, as she had done ceaselessly for the last few hours.

"Scully, just stop. There's nothing but static."

"It's worth checking. Maybe the signal will come back."

"I don't think so. The U.S. government is gone. They took it out from the inside, and those explosions were nuclear. No telling how far the fall-out zone reaches."

"It took the super soldiers one day to overthrow the government?"

"They'd pretty much become the government. Everyone else was vastly outnumbered, and now, the human leaders are all dead. They're preparing now…for it to begin."

"Oh my God, Mulder…do you think they survived? My mother, Skinner, John and Monica?"

"Hopefully they all got out in time."

"So what happens now? No central government, no law…do you think the militia will try to fight them?"

"Maybe, but it'll be more than futile; they'll be crushed in a heartbeat. Now it's…it's just about survival. Everyone fighting for themselves. If we can find some kind of shelter here in the mountains, a cave system or something…maybe we can hide…"

"Our food and water supply will only last a couple of weeks, and what about gasoline? We only have half a tank left."

"I don't have the answers, Scully. I have no idea about anything right now. I'm just running on instinct; there's no time for careful planning…You put the guns in the glove box, right?"

"Yes."

"We're going to need them."

Mulder drew a deep, shaking breath, and fixed his eyes on the road before him as if the double yellow line held the answers. Don't think. Just drive. Just go. He turned his head toward his wife when he heard her stifled sobs. She was facing away from him, her forehead resting on the window. He reached for her left hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she interlocked her fingers with his on her thigh.

"Scully, would you do something for me?"

She studied his expression with glistening blue eyes and nodded.

"Would you pray?"

"I'll pray for you every day."

"I thought you didn't pray anymore."

"I don't, but I will."

"I'll come back as soon as it's safe."

"I wish it could be easier for us."

"This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Don't worry about me... I'll be careful, I promise."

"I can't lose you again, Mulder. I wouldn't be able to live."

"You would live for our son. Give William a kiss for me every day, and remind him that I love him; I don't care if he doesn't understand."

"I will."

"Hey…don't cry, Scully. If you cry, I'm going to cry, and then I'll never be able to leave…"

Dana had fallen into a light doze, since she hadn't slept in 24 hours; her hand went limp in his, and her head lolled to one side. Mulder glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on his little girl. Her thick, curly dark hair spilled over her peaceful, round face. He was in awe each time he looked at her, this little person that was such a perfect mixture of the two of them. Scully's laugh, my pouty lip, Scully's nose (thank God), my persistence and curiosity, Scully's glare…What will she be like when she's grown?...Will she have the chance to grow in this world?

Mulder sighed, willing himself not to think of the future. William, wherever you are…I hope someone is looking after you. And that they love you…like we love both of our children.