"According to the cross at Hendaye the Iron Age, or the Kali Yuga, will be coming to an end with the galactic alignment on the winter solstice of December 22nd 2012." Hindu Faith
Elkhart, Kansas
35 days after
"I used to be afraid to close my eyes, but I got used to it after awhile. I would disconnect from it—tell myself it wasn't real. Sometimes that was the truth—it would all be a dream, or if it came true, it wouldn't necessarily happen to me or anyone I knew. Sometimes it would happen years after I dreamed it."
"When did it start?" Gibson asked.
The clock upstairs struck two a.m., and then the old house was once again covered in a cloak of silence. The musky stillness in the air made him feel as if they were the only two people left in the world to share the witching hour: that time after midnight when ancient magic stirs, ghosts and demons walk, and dreams become reality. Katie gazed out the window as she spoke, her face bathed in ethereal rays of moonlight, her visage expressionless and difficult to read. Gibson switched between examining his folded hands and staring intently at a rip in the wallpaper in front of his eyes. He rubbed the gooseflesh on his arms, but he couldn't rid himself of the chill on his spine. Her words were too close, too familiar, and they reminded him of the terrors in his own life.
"…When I was three years old."
"And you remember that?"
"I remember everything…after a few years, after I was abducted…I realized that sometimes They would show me things. But some of the dreams weren't from Them; I could just see certain things that were going to happen…and not everything I saw was bad…But everything They showed me—it was all about the world after…after They came."
"Do you know if—if…there is something about you that's not—if you're not exactly…"
"What, human? Yes, there's something different about me. I don't understand it, but I know that part of their DNA is in my body. My parents knew I was different when I was a child, especially after I explained the abduction experiences, so they took me to doctors who described my condition as a simple genetic anomaly…It's the same for you, isn't it? It's the reason they're searching for us. They're wiping out the human race. They've already killed everyone that's expendable, everyone They couldn't change. The people that are left will be genetically altered to become Them, so They can have a race of servants."
"And They want us, because we're closer to Them than any other humans alive." Gibson murmured.
"Yes…we're part of their prophecy; one man and one woman who will begin it…They formed them and breathed into their nostrils the breath of life. Woman and man were thus created so that they shall be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth."
"You're quoting the Bible."
"No. The prophecy is theirs—their genesis. I can explain more…Darkness came upon the face of the old earth and then it was said, Let there be a new light; and there was light…
The darkness was a gas covering over the atmosphere to alter the composition of the air, so that their natural bodies could breathe it."
"You saw this?"
"They showed me."
"Why us? Why humans? In the vast universe, why did They choose to come here?"
"I don't know…What about you? Tell me what you've heard."
--
Weyburn, Saskatchewan
35 days after
Mulder swore he felt his jaw drop at least three feet—possibly four—when he quickly halted on the last step, nearly dumping the cooler of fresh water onto the cement floor. Nate hurried down the stairs behind him and took the cooler out of his arms before it had the chance to spill; but Mulder's forearms remained frozen in their outstretched position long after his hands were empty.
"Mulder…" Skinner said questioningly as he slowly stood from the folding table where he'd been seated across from Dana.
This isn't real…We haven't seen you in ten years…
"I—we, we thought you were dead…I can't—oh my god…"
Mulder moved swiftly to the older man and embraced him firmly, and then he began to laugh. A deep laugh that began in his belly and flowed out of his lungs in sweet release—a sensation he hadn't experienced in months. He broke the hug to look into the eyes of his former assistant director and dear friend.
"Mulder, you haven't changed at all."
"I don't know if I can say the same for you," he said through his smile as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "How did you survive? What are you doing here? How did you find us?"
"Let's all sit down together. We have a lot to talk about," Dana said from the table behind them.
--
"Your little girl is absolutely beautiful. I can't believe how she's grown—of course, I only had that one picture you sent me when she was born, so of course eight years would make quite a difference, but it's just…surreal. She knew me when she saw me. She called me Uncle Walter."
"We've shown her pictures. When she was a toddler, she thought you lived inside the telephone." Mulder said.
All three of them laughed for a long moment before falling into an awkward silence.
"I have to know…are they all dead?" Dana asked hesitantly after a long pause, her voice nearly dropping to a hoarse whisper.
"I'm sorry, but I honestly don't know. I warned everyone like you asked, and then I headed out of D.C. before the bombings, so I haven't heard."
"No word about John and Monica?" Mulder asked.
"No…I'm sorry but, I just don't know. I called them, and they said they would leave as soon as possible. I don't know if it was soon enough. We should have stuck together, but…I didn't want to wait."
"I feel horrible…we haven't even spoken to them since they got married. How long ago was that—three years?" Dana asked quietly.
"Four," Mulder murmured.
"So, after you left D.C., where did you go?" she asked.
"I drove to Missouri to the quarries, like Mulder advised. Other people were there…in the caves. I hid there for a few days until the darkness came, and after that, I headed north. I made up my mind to find you…I've just been going through different pocket communities, trading supplies when I can, and getting word on other groups living in Canada. Then I traveled into Saskatchewan, and my car broke down; so I walked for several miles before I came upon this place and saw people inside. I had no idea that you were living here. It's a complete coincidence that I found you."
"That's unbelievable… I hope you got plenty to eat when you arrived. You must have been famished," Mulder said.
"I did, thank you. I feel much better now."
"I'm sure you're exhausted. We won't keep you up any longer tonight," Dana said. She sounded hesitant and furrowed her brow, glancing away.
--
"Mulder, are you awake?" she whispered tentatively into the darkness.
"Mm-hmm" he hummed sleepily.
Dana took a deep breath in an attempt to slow the frantic pace of her thoughts. She placed a hand on her chest; it felt as though her heart was racing. Something wasn't right; her uneasiness had been pulling her from sleep for at least two hours.
"I can't believe Skinner found us…what did you think of his story?" she asked.
"I dunno, pure luck, chance circumstances. It happens, Scully," he mumbled.
"No…Mulder, something feels wrong about this."
He turned over to face her, rested his elbow on the pillow, and propped his head up on his fist.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"When I found him, he…it was almost like he was expecting to see me, like he knew I was there and that I would come outside. I was shocked as hell to see him, but he was completely calm. It felt, I don't know…unnatural somehow."
"Scully, that doesn't prove anything. He was looking for us, he was tired, he was happy he found you. I think that explains it."
"We're a needle in a haystack here. Saskatchewan is an enormous place. The odds against him stumbling on us like that are just…well, they're incredibly low."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying…it's not just that, Mulder. Things about him didn't make sense. For instance, it doesn't seem like him to have taken off abruptly without John and Monica…without even knowing anything about my family."
"Everything happened so fast. I'm sure he did all he could."
"And…didn't you notice that he seemed to have a flat affect and that his mannerisms…he's different."
"Scully, do you want to know what I think? I think we haven't seen the guy in ten years, he's getting older, and he was exhausted. That's it."
"I have this strange feeling that I can't shake."
"Look, you checked his neck like regular procedure, right? He's not a super soldier. He knew everything about us in detail. We talked about shared memories. It's really him; trust me on this."
Dana sighed and rolled over, knowing that she wouldn't get any further in this debate. After a few minutes, she heard Mulder's slow, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. Maybe he's right…I'm probably just being overly paranoid.
--
Elkhart Kansas
36 days after
"We found more gardens and stuff a mile back. There are plenty of fresh vegetables, even potatoes. The barn's empty, though." Olli said as he flung the door to the kitchen open and tracked chunks of mud across the floor. Katie followed behind, her arms filled with various greenery, carrots, and cabbages.
"Perfect," Gibson said, helping them place the vegetables on the counter beside the metal sink. "We shouldn't go hungry…not for a while at least. Though we may have to resort to vegetarianism fairly soon. The canned meat's almost gone."
"So what have you and Rowan been up to while we've been exploring?" Katie asked.
"Rowan's been looking through the cellar to see what kinds of supplies we have available, and I've been checking the foundation all morning. I'm going up on the roof in a few minutes to make sure everything's sturdy."
"It's almost noon. Do you want to have lunch first?" Olli asked.
"Sure, I could use a break," Gibson replied.
"I'll get Rowan," Katie said as she walked into the hallway towards the cellar door.
"Let's wash some of these vegetables. We can make stew or something," Gibson said as he rummaged through the pile of dirt mixed with leafy greens.
"Hey, the door's locked. Are you sure he's down here?" Katie called.
"Yeah, he hasn't come up all morning," Gibson answered, walking behind Katie to try the knob. "Maybe it's stuck…Rowan?" he hollered as he jiggled the knob and banged on the door with his palm.
"ROWAN!" Katie yelled. "We can't open the door. Come on the other side and help us!"
They waited a few moments, but got no response.
"ROWAN!" she tried again, banging her fists forcefully. "If he was down there, he'd hear us."
"I'm going to walk around back and look through the windows, just to make sure," Gibson said.
Olli and Katie followed him out of the kitchen door to the back of the house, and they all crouched down to peer through the small windows down into the cellar. Sure enough, Rowan was sitting in an old rocking chair, his back facing them. Gibson banged on the window, but once again, received no response.
"Something's wrong…get something to break the glass." Gibson said.
Olli grabbed a rake from the woodpile, and Gibson and Katie stepped aside as he jabbed the metal handle into the old glass, which shattered easily. Gibson broke the remaining shards around the window frame with his elbow, slowly snaked his body through the small opening, and dropped to the dirt floor below. Rowan continued to rock back and forth in the creaky antique chair, oblivious, as Gibson rushed around him and dropped to his knees in front of the chair. Rowan's eyes were glazed over, frozen on the stone wall, and his lips were twisted into a half grin.
"Rowan, can you hear me?"
Rowan's eyes shifted focus, and his cold expression made Gibson uneasy.
"Yes?" he replied softly.
"We've been calling you. Why did you lock the door?"
"I'm sorry. It must have been an accident. I'm ready for lunch now." He said calmly.
--
"Okay, so something is clearly wrong with him. He's sleeping in the cellar again tonight, isn't he?" Gibson whispered.
"Yes," Katie murmured.
All three of them jumped and sucked in their breaths when the clock upstairs struck one a.m. After three days of Rowan's increasingly strange, aloof, and erratic behavior, Gibson had called a little meeting.
"It's okay. He's a heavy sleeper," Katie whispered. Olli and Gibson raised their eyebrows at her questioningly.
"All right…in the past, Rowan has suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome, after his abductions," Katie admitted.
"No it's more than that. There's something else going on. Katie, you need to tell us." Gibson said.
She sighed shakily and nodded. "He has bi-polar disorder and IED."
"IED?" Olli asked.
"Intermittent Explosive Disorder…random, irrational, violent behavior. But he was on medication for a long time and hasn't had any symptoms in years."
"Stress is a trigger for psychotic breaks. Everything he's been through in the past few months may just be registering," Gibson remarked.
"So what do we do?" Olli asked.
"We continue to monitor his behavior and note any changes…if he becomes a threat… we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Gibson said. "I think the best plan is to act normal. Don't let on that we're suspicious of him in any way."
"All right," Katie agreed, "Is that all then?"
"Yeah. For now," Gibson said, "Let's get some sleep."
"I'm not tired right now. I think I'll take a walk outside," Katie said.
"Not alone. It's too dangerous."
"I'll go with you," Olli said softly.
--
"Are you afraid?"
Olli's voice was barely a whisper as he paused on the dirt path leading to the barn. He tilted his neck back to gaze into the heavens and tucked strands of long black hair behind his ears as the warm breeze blew them across his face. For the first moment since he had left the house with her, he worked up the courage to look into Katie's eyes, searching for answers in their depths.
"Afraid…of what?"
"I don't know, of whatever's going to happen to us…people, I mean."
"No, I'm not afraid. Things happen that we can't change, and there are some fights we were never meant to win…What scares you? Meeting Them face to face? Dying?"
"I'm not ready to die."
"But is death really the most horrible thing? The age of humans is over…maybe it's time for us all to go."
"How can you say that? We can't just let Them win."
"It's about choosing the right battles, Olli. If you look at it on a cosmic scale, it's simply evolution; survival of the fittest—fate."
"I'm not talking about a cosmic scale. I'm asking you—just you—are you really prepared to die?"
"No…I mean, of course I'm afraid of pain and suffering and the unknown…but I'd like to believe that death isn't the end, that those we love will meet us on the other side."
"It's a nice idea…I just wish…I don't know what I wish."
"Why do you like me, Olli?"
He quickly looked up from the hole he'd been digging in the soil with his toe and met her questioning gaze. He took a nervous breath, unsure of what explanation she would accept.
"I'm sorry—I…I don't know why."
"You mean you don't want to say."
"I guess, I just…when I first met you, I found you beautiful, and then talking to you…It's so familiar, and it makes me feel safe in a way that I can't explain. I love being with you… I'm sorry—"
Olli's face burned with embarrassment, and he was horrified when he felt his eyes sting with tears. He quickly whirled around to hurry back in the direction of the house and pray that she would somehow forget their entire conversation. Before he could cover a distance of more than a couple of strides, Katie firmly caught his arm and pulled him back to face her. She held his cheeks in her palms and her thumbs wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes. With her hands on the back of his neck, she drew him down towards her until their lips gently met. He wrapped his arms around her as they kissed and held her against his body, never wanting to let go. Shameless tears trickled down his cheeks.
--
Weyburn, Saskatchewan
39 days after
Something just doesn't feel right. I'm over-analyzing…Stop thinking about it. As many times as she told herself she'd imagined everything, Dana still could not shake the uneasiness; and her instincts were rarely wrong. She shook her head and sighed heavily, trying desperately to focus all of her thought onto the menial task at hand: sorting through all of the remaining first aid kits to do an inventory of supplies. She checked each item off her list and scribbled down the exact numbers of what was left, and for a few moments, was able to numb her mind in the simple work. At least I have something to do here…I couldn't handle doing nothing, waiting for…
"Do you need some help with that?"
Dana flinched and glanced up to see Skinner hovering over her.
"No, thanks. I've got it."
"That's what everyone's been saying. Please, let me help out with something."
He crouched down beside her, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. This is irrational.
"Sure, okay. You can count how many items are in each of these piles and write the numbers down on this notepad…Can I ask you something, sir?"
"Yeah…no need for the 'sir'."
"Right, um…so, you said it was just a coincidence that you found us, right?"
"That's right," he replied with an unfamiliar, defensive edge to his tone.
"When I found you outside, you weren't…you weren't even looking around or taking precautions. You were standing in the open facing away from the building…like you were waiting for me."
"I don't know what to tell you, Scully. I was surprised to find you. Why are we still dwelling on this?"
"Sorry—never mind," she muttered.
He reached his arm in front of her to grab a stack of band-aid packages when Dana saw a dark green stain running along the inside of the arm of his white shirt.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing at his sleeve, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh, I must have spilled something," he said quickly as he moved his arm behind his back to lean against it, but not before Dana saw part of a ragged scab peeking out from underneath his cuff.