"When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS." --Gandhi
Near Washington, D.C.
52 days after
"...And that was the last time I saw them. Then they drove south to New Mexico, and the government believed they died in an explosion. Afterward, they fled the country to Canada, I assume."
William stared ahead blankly in stunned silence. He had not uttered a word since the story began a few hours before. Gibson had described everything he could in as much detail as possible, starting with the day he first met Mulder and Scully after the infamous chess match. He revealed all he knew about them, including the details of Mulder's abduction, his "death", his return, and the months he lived with Gibson in a tiny hovel in the middle of the desert. Gibson studied William's pensive expression, trying to read his reaction. After a few minutes of quiet, William spoke softly.
"So…they really wanted me?" he asked hesitantly, obviously fearful of the answer.
"Yes, of course they wanted you… When I asked about you, your mother cried. She told me how devastated and heartbroken she was, because she'd had no choice but to give you up. She wanted you to be safe and to never have to be afraid—to have a chance at a normal life. And when your father was hiding with me, he talked about you all the time. He wondered how you were growing and changing, and he wanted to see you again more than anything. They both loved you very much—I'm sure they still do."
"Do you think they're still alive?"
"I think they are. They knew this was coming, just like I did. I'm sure they had time to prepare for it."
"I hope so…but I guess I won't ever get out of here to find out."
Suddenly, the metal locks outside the room swished, and the heavy door was forced open with a loud creak. William's face crumpled, and he squeezed himself into a ball, hugging his knees.
"More tests," the boy whimpered.
Instead of moving towards William, the two large men dressed in lab suits strode over to Gibson. One of them removed a key from his belt, unlocked the chain from the wall, and hooked it around both of Gibson's wrists.
"Up," the other man said icily.
As he was pushed out the door, Gibson glanced back over his shoulder to see William, eyes wide, huddled in the corner, shaking.
--
Somewhere in Iowa
52 days after
Dana squinted her eyes against the blinding sunlight as the trunk popped opened. She recognized the quiet bullet-thief as he peered down at her with an amused grin.
"We're here," he said cheerily, "I'll help you out, but don't try anything, darling. Remember what happened last time when you refused to cooperate?"
Dana pursed her lips and looked away from his leer. She knew it was hopeless to fight him at this point, but she wouldn't be cooperative either. Her limbs fell completely limp, so that he had to struggle to lift her out of the trunk; and his grunts and curses almost brought a satisfied smile to her lips. When she was finally on her feet, he cut the twine on her thighs and shins so that she could walk. Her legs were painfully numb and jelly-like as she stumbled with her first steps. The man clasped her arms behind her back and led her foreword.
"Where am I? Where are you taking me?" she asked coolly, curiosity getting the better of her.
"We're in Iowa. Not much to see, I know. I grew up here actually."
"What the hell am I doing in Iowa?"
"Oh, you'll see soon enough. We're going to that hardware store parking lot straight ahead."
The lot was full of various vehicles, and a large crowd was gathered around the front of the ruined building. When they arrived at the outside edge of the semicircle of people—all male—the man shoved Dana forward past the throng until she stood in a center line with five other women. As she examined the male spectators, she realized that many of them had swollen notches on the backs of their necks. Super soldiers.
"Hey, excuse me," she murmured to a blonde woman directly in front of her.
The woman turned her face slightly in Dana's direction, keeping her eyes and head down. Her left cheek was swollen, and pink finger marks were visible on the skin of her neck.
"Shhh…we're not supposed to talk," the woman whispered.
"What the hell is going on here?"
"You don't know? This must be your first time."
"I—"
Before Dana could finish, a voice boomed from behind her. She jerked her head back, startled, to see a man in a business suit and hat standing on a box in front of the shattered windows of the store.
"Gentlemen, it's wonderful to see such a large turnout today. You have a choice of one of the six in front of you, and, as always, best offer wins. No one takes more than one each. Sorry, but there's not enough for multiples this time. We'll start with the one on the end, the red head. Who brought her?"
"I did," the quiet man stepped to the front and proudly stood behind Dana.
A smaller man in the back jumped up, flailing his arm in the air.
"I have three loaves of bread, some beef jerky, and some new clothes."
"Any other offers?" the moderator asked.
"First aid kit, blankets, gasoline, matches," another shouted.
"I'll raise that. A car—Jeep Cherokee—with a full tank of gas. Two weeks supply of dry food—breads and nuts, and a lantern," someone called out from the left side of the group.
"I'll take it!" Dana's captor exclaimed.
She watched helplessly as a large man stepped towards her and grasped her shoulders, forcing her out of the line. Rage and hatred deeper than anything she had ever known burned fiercely within her.
--
Near Washington D.C.
51 days after
The room reminded Gibson of a dentist's office, except colder and harsher, if that was possible. Everything was white and stainless steel, though the overhead lights were tinted a purple hue, just like all the others. Leathery restraints bound his limbs against the icy metal of a medical table, and several bizarre instruments were splayed out on a tray beside his left arm. Masses of cords and other strange pieces of equipment were suspended from the tile ceiling. A sudden prick in his right arm caused him to jump. One of the men, now wearing a facial mask, inserted a long, thick needle into the inside of Gibson's elbow. Horrified, he watched his skin begin to emit a soft violet glow as the injected substance began to travel through his veins.
"What is that? What are you doing?"
"Just relax. It will be less painful if you release your muscles and let it pass."
"But what is it?"
"Simple nutrients and hormone therapy, nothing more."
Gibson felt as though an icy heat were flowing through his entire body. The liquid seemed heavy, and it burned with a biting sting. His body began to shake at the painful tingling sensation, and he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on drawing deep, slow breaths. When he could finally focus his thoughts away from the present, he was abruptly jerked back to reality as a thick metal ring clicked and tightened against his forehead. A three-dimensional hologram took shape in front of the blank white wall opposite him, and Gibson soon realized that the image was a diagram of his brain.
"Look there! We were right!" the man with the mask exclaimed.
"Just as I suspected," the other replied.
After the procedure, the two technicians hauled a severely dazed and light-headed Gibson onto his feet and past the double swinging doors.
"Thank you, I'll take him from here," a third man said, grabbing Gibson by the tender flesh of his elbow and commencing to drag him down a long, tunnel-like corridor. Something about his voice seemed so familiar…Gibson blinked several times through his mental haze while he studied the man's face to reassure himself that the vision was real.
"Mr. Skinner? Oh my god! Walter Skinner? It's Gibson Praise. Sir, do you know me?"
Skinner stared at him vacantly, then turned his head and continued walking without saying a word.
"Please, it's me! You used to be an Assistant Director with the FBI. I knew you through agents Mulder and Scully. Do you know who I am? Talk to me, please!"
He tightened his grip on Gibson's arm and continued to ignore his pleas, striding brusquely though a large entryway into a large white room with a long glass table in its center. Four men were seated at the far end, and Skinner pushed him into a chair opposite the group.
"Gibson Praise, my Lords," Skinner announced formally. He bowed with his hands clasped behind his back and stepped into a corner.
"Mr. Praise, I understand that you have surrendered yourself willingly. A wise choice," declared a tall, dark-haired man in a black suit seated in the largest, center chair.
"Yes sir," he answered carefully, "I am ready to accept my…power and responsibilities as you see fit."
"You are very special man. But you know that."
"Yes sir."
"Will you vow to grant us your allegiance and devote yourself to our cause?"
"Yes…sir."
"Splendid. You will not remember this session when you return to your living area. It is part of the treatment plan, I'm sure you understand…He may leave us now. He will be ready for the next step tomorrow"
Gibson felt Skinner's strong clutch once more, and the endless tunnels and passage ways back to his "living area" flashed by in a giant white and purple blur. I will remember I will remember I will remember They do not have power over me I will remember
--
"Do you know what happened to you?" William murmured after they were alone in the room. "You don't remember it, do you?"
"No, I…Yes! Yes, I remember…everything."
"But how?"
"I don't know, it's like, I just…I wouldn't let them in. I could feel all of them trying to get into my head, and I blocked it. I'm pretty sure they think they succeeded in brain washing me, though… We need to let them believe we're on their side, don't fight them…cooperate."
"What?"
"Yeah, that way we can learn as much as we can…find Their weaknesses, so we can get out of here and give humankind a fighting chance."
"We can't really even see Them until we're changed, and by then it won't matter anymore."
"No, see maybe there's a way to go through the 'changing' procedure only partially…but stop it before our memories are gone. That way we'll have the advantage of being close to Them while remaining on our side. Like sleeping with the enemy…maybe that's the key here."
Gibson's words hung in the air while the two shared a heavy silence.
"What are you thinking about now?" William asked after several minutes.
"I saw a man I once knew…he's one of Them now. They've made him some kind of low-class servant…Actually, he worked with your real parents a long time ago; that's how I knew him…it's strange, I mean, he clearly didn't know me at all, but when I mentioned your parents' names, he knew exactly who I was talking about. So…he must have been programmed to remember certain things and not others…I wonder why that is."
"I dunno," William yawned. "Gibson?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me more about my parents. What are they like?"
"Um, well, your father is tall and has dark hair. You have his eyes. He's funny, passionate about his beliefs, fearless…he would have laid down his life for his quest… He loves horrible science fiction movies, baseball, and sunflower seeds. And he is completely in love with your mother. Since the day I first met him, he was always thinking about her. Even when They took him, I could hear him thinking about her, talking to her. She was his strength…Your mother is very beautiful. She has red hair like you. I remember she wore a gold cross around her neck…She was a scientist, intelligent, rational, pretty serious a lot of the time…She seemed so selfless and compassionate…You were her dream, William. She wanted to have a baby with your father …and you were the answer to her prayers. I heard that in her thoughts."
When Gibson finished, he looked over to see William curled on his side, asleep, with a gentle smile on his lips.
--
Somewhere in Virginia
54 days after
Day became night, and then another day dawned; and maybe another after that—Dana lost count. Everything looked the same, felt the same. Was this giving up? She promised Mulder she never would. Why would I accept defeat? At this moment, that promise felt like a lifetime ago.
Outside, a once lush and green landscape was now painted with a pallet of beige and brown, just like the desert. So much was lost…gone forever… dead. At twilight, the large van lurched to a stop. Dana pressed her cheek against the window and gazed up towards the stars.
--------
"I once had a talk with Mulder about starlight…How it's billions of years old…Stars that are now long dead whose light is still traveling through time. It won't die, that light. Maybe that's the only thing that never does. He said that's where souls reside…I hope he's right.
--------
Only a faint orange glow could be seen beyond the heavy smog enveloping the heavens; the ash residue from the bombs completely masked all starlight. The sliding door beside her opened, breaking her reverie, and Dana compliantly scooted forward in her seat so that the man could help her out. Her wrists were bleeding from the twine restraints, but she had long disconnected herself from physical discomfort.
"Where are we?" she asked softly.
"Where should not concern you. Human geography is now inconsequential. But if you must know, we are in the land you used to call Virginia."
"Ah…it's been awhile," she murmured.
The man led her down a winding gravel path that headed towards a large, industrial-looking building.
"So, what do I call you?" Dana asked, "I have to call you something."
"My human name was Isaac. You may call me Isaac," the man replied evenly.
"Okay, Isaac. What exactly do you plan on doing with me?"
"You are here to work, but not for me. I am merely another servant, though I am of higher ranking than you, of course."
"Well naturally. Who do we work for?"
"His name is not important. You will call him Lord. He is not here often; I run the factory while he is gone, but when he returns, you are required to perform favors as he wishes—you and the others."
"There are other women here?"
"There are only women here—fourteen now."
"What sort of factory do you run?"
"You are told only what you need to know…We chiefly manufacture supplies and weapons for the Army."
"Army?"
"As I said, you are told only what you need to know."
When they drew close to the building, Dana observed that it indeed appeared to be an old factory with high mill-style windows that had surprisingly escaped damage from the bombs. Isaac pulled a key from his pocket to open the double doors, and then led her into a high-ceilinged, darkened room filled with strange equipment. They walked down the center aisle to the back and through another wooden door, revealing a steep, stone staircase with a soft yellow glow emanating from the bottom. When they reached the lower level, Dana looked up to see that the light came from several gas lanterns hanging on the low ceiling. Isaac jiggled his key chain as they traveled down the narrow hallway, and he unlocked an iron-bar gate at the end of the passage. Gently, he shoved Dana inside before cutting the twine on her wrists.
"Work has ended for the day. You start tomorrow," he said as he stepped out of the chamber and locked the gate behind him. Dana watched miserably as he disappeared down the hall, trapping her in the gloomy prison.
"Hello, what's your name?" a faint, squeaky voice asked.
Dana whirled around to face the shadows; she had thought she was alone.
"My name is Dana…who are you?"
A young woman with short, black hair stepped into the glow of the lantern light.
"Lauren. I'm glad they put someone in here again. It's been so lonely since Jamie went away."
"What happened to Jamie?"
"She died. The Lord killed her, because she spit in his face. He chopped her head off and said that would teach us never to defy him."
Dana studied the woman curiously. Clearly she was an adult, but she spoke like a child.
"I see."
"He killed Ruth first—that was a few weeks ago. She tried to escape. But she didn't get her head chopped off, cause that's a lesser crime than spitting. She just got shot. So that's why I listen. If you listen and do everything they say, they won't bother you. The food's nasty, but everyone gets used to it after the first week."
Numerous questions bounded through Dana's mind, but she didn't want to think about this reality anymore. She longed for an empty, dreamless sleep, so that she could be numb and unaware for at least a few hours before her hell resumed. Instead of responding to Lauren, she trudged to the back corner of the empty chamber and peered out a tiny window. On her tiptoes, Dana grasped the bars covering the window and craned her chin up to look outside. In the darkness, a purple light smoldered in a dome shape against the horizon.
"Lauren…do you know what that light is in the distance?"
"Oh yes. That's where the Lord stays most of the time. It's the place where the valuable humans with special brains are taken so they can get changed."
"What does 'changed' mean?"
"You know—make 'em not human. But only the special ones get kidnapped and taken there."
"Special …abductees…brain abnormalities… hybridization?" Dana murmured to herself.
Oh god, what if…Mulder... I have to get out get me out of here I have to know whatever they do to me I have to see if I can find him… fate maybe fate brought me here…
God, are you there? I feel like he's close…if he's here, let me find him. Please let me find him. Before I die, I need to see him…I don't care how badly they hurt me in the end…how much I suffer…I just want to have a few minutes…. If there is love and justice in this universe, please bring us together.