Title: Into The Woods 2/?
Rating: PG future MA
Summary: Still chasing after those files. Love, sex, creatures from the dark.
Endorse: The show belongs to the usual people. Not to me. The story is mine.
You can't steal it. Please send feedback. Ask if you want to archive, please archive, my
name has to be attached and so forth.
We're standing at the beginning of a bike path. It winds endlessly into the forest before us. I have to say, I hate forests. Too many bad things have happened to us in places that look exactly like this. Mulder doesn't even hesitate of course. It's as if almost dying multiple times in the woods was a dream that he had ages ago. I on the other hand cannot forget so easily. No matter how many years pass. The excitement in his eyes is blazing out. He loves a good investigation.
"Mulder, Scully." A man we are all too familiar with these days stomps up to us. "Glad you came." He doesn't smile, he doesn't scowl. His face is unreadable and slightly creepy.
"So how many so far?" Mulder asks, getting straight to the point.
"50."
"50?" I gasp.
"So far. The bodies are spread out too, so this isn't a mass grave."
"Anything significant so far?" Mulder is unfazed. I'm still processing the number.
"Their internal organs were removed. So far there's nothing else on the bodies but a closer look will hopefully give more clues."
"Where are they?" Mulder is eager to look at the scene. The man jerks his head towards the woods and we follow him down the path.
"Do you think this could just be a dumping ground for a serial killer?" I whisper. He shrugs.
"Maybe." I can tell he already has a theory in his head. A monster hunting the woods perhaps. I should believe these things right off the bat like he does. But even with everything I've been through, the rational side of me still over powers any irrational thoughts.
"Mulder, I know what you're thinking."
"Well we wouldn't be here if it was something simple. We specialize remember?" He gives me that boyish smirk of his.
"I would hardly call a serial killer simple." I mumble. Arguing right now is pointless. He's focused and his claws are dug in.
After a mile or so we finally reach the site. A long time ago I learned the value of a good pair of boots. I've had to adapt my style from office chic to what Mulder calls, a Lara Croft look. Not sure what that means but he insists it's very sexy. I'm not sure I believe him. We step into the dense woods, going no more than a few feet when we come upon the first body; well where it was.
"This was the first discovery." The man merely nods toward the hole. "Which then of course led to all the others." He makes a sweeping motion with his arm. I finally notice the forensic workers, quite a distance away, working on another site. The void between us and the forensic team is filled with shallow graves.
"Have you found any animal tracks, anything weird?" Mulder asks scanning the ground.
"Yes." The man hands over a manila envelope that he produced from seemingly thin air. "We have taken casts and pictures of various tracks. We've been able to identify all but a few." Mulders eyes sparkle with elation. He already feels he's been proven right.
"Have you had any crypto zoologists look at these?" His eyes don't leave the pictures he's pulling out of the envelope.
"We've had them sent to Dr. Zentmer. A Zoologist that works out of the local university." Mulder just nods in approval and the man leaves. He knows to contact us, and how.
"Look at these Scully." Mulder's voice is jumping with excitement. He starts shoving pictures my direction.
"These could be anything Mulder."
"The woods in West Virginia are full of tales and legends of all kinds of monsters."
"Yes and none of them have been proven."
"None of them have been proven false." He grins. He is so annoying.
"This is probably just a deformed coyote or something. It doesn't prove anything."
"It proves a lot."
"Please tell me we aren't spending the night out here?"
"Not tonight." He grins. "We need to get a look of those autopsies. And I need to do some research on the area."
"Like you haven't already."
As I sit here in this plush chair, reviewing the autopsies, I start to realize that I miss the gentle lull of the boat. We only ever get to stay there a few days to a week if we're lucky. I like the idea of just drifting off into the vast ocean where no one can find us. No phones or internet. No communication whatsoever. But would he last very long in that sort of environment. He claims so, but I doubt it.
I pull my legs up underneath me and begin to dig deeper. There doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, except for the missing organs. Every body had its stomach sliced open by something very sharp and precise. That could hardly describe an animal, but they have yet been able to identify what made the cut. The organs seem to just have been pulled out. No careful slicing and dicing. Can't be organ harvesting. Even the black market would remove the organs a bit more carefully than that.
No signs of struggle, or that the victims were tied up in any sort of manner. Toxicology hasn't come back but surely there has to be something in their systems. According to the files, some of the bodies go as far back as 80 years ago. All apparently had clothes on and all identifying materials and objects still on their bodies. Surely a serial killer would make more effort to hide their identity. But he could feel as if he's untouchable. 80 years? A master and apprentice?
Mulder strides in. Hair wet from the pouring rain outside. Sitting on the end of the bed he chucks his shoes, looking at me like he's found buried treasure.
"How far do the bodies date." He asks. I'm not sure I want to answer. The look on his face is one that says he knows more than I do.
"The oldest one they think is about 1930."
"Coal in this area started to really boom in this area in the 1900's. This town used to be a mining town, and it was established in 1928." He gave me a look of satisfaction.
"And your point Mulder?"
"People only started to disappear when the mine came here. In the beginning they just figured it was mining accidents. Then they would claim that people just got lost in the woods. Since 1930, over 100 people have gone missing. That's only the reported ones. Who knows how many more there could be."
"I still don't get your point."
"Scully, those miners woke something up 80 years ago. And I'm going to prove it." I sigh, of course he is.
"How are you going to do that?"
"The same way I always do." He grins.
"Stumble into something you know nothing about, almost die, but declare victory." I've become very sarcastic. He moves on as if he didn't hear me.
"We need to get that zoologist to identify those prints. Then.." He pauses. "We're going to have to go into the woods."
"Mulder." I whine. He walks over and kisses my forehead, and gives me a little grin.
"Don't worry. Not tonight." Still I grumble. I hate the woods.