Chapter Seven
At the motel, Anne sprawled on her new favorite piece of furniture, having switched out one set of jeans and a tee-shirt for another that didn't smell like weed and cigarettes. After stuffing them into her duffel, she had taken her Coke and pulled up her new residence by the window-the requisite hard stuffed chair that was a reject from Goodwill.
She was itching for another nicotine hit. Scully had gone to get messages from the desk, and Mulder was bent over some file he'd brought.
"Dad," she tried and failed to get his attention. He was too engrossed in what he was reading.
She picked up the paper instead, skimming the headlines and going to the Personals. Those were always vastly amusing.
Single white female looking for white male, read one. It went on the ask for someone who liked the usual mush-long walks, movies, home-cooked meals. If Anne had an ad, it would probably be along the lines of 'Single white female seeks fellow lunatic to help solve heinous and intricate crimes, smoke and drinking a plus.' And Mulder-she didn't even want to know what his would be.
She threw the paper down. "Dad, did you get photos of the UFOs last night?"
It was probably the word 'UFO' that caught his attention. He looked up.
"Photos, old man. Of the UFOs."
"Yeah," he waved to the camera protruding like a tumor from his field kit.
She went over and picked it up. Extracting the film, she did a switch, then put to used film in her pocket. New film was now in the camera. And if someone searched her pockets?
Now evading the government was getting intriguing. What to do now that she appeared to have the photographic evidence, taken from his camera in broad daylight in full view of anyone looking in?
She flopped back in her chair, considering. A good place to hide…
That's when it struck her, because where was the best place to hide something everyone was looking for? She set about and had moved several things around in bags and parcels when Scully ran back, out of breath.
"You won't believe this," she said around her breathing. "Colonel Budahas just came home."
Satisfied with her ability to conceal in plain sight, Anne piled into the car with them to go see the Budahas family.
Anita answered the door with tears at the ends of her lashes like diamond chips.
"That's not my husband. That man," she had a hand to her face and let them inside.
Charlie and Carol were sitting at the dining room table, coloring, with all the appearance of having been set there by their mother. Anne joined them.
"Hey, what up?" she asked, sprawling in a chair. Charlie shrugged.
"Dad came home," Carol offered.
Anne could see Mulder and Scully with Anita and the Colonel in the living room. "Yeah, I got that. Your mom looks a little whacked."
"Yeah," Carol agreed.
"She thinks something's wrong with him," Charlie added.
Anne could see why. He looked like someone had vacuumed the carpet of his brain with about five high-speed Hoovers simultaneously. "Is there? Something whacked about him, I mean."
Charlie shrugged again. Carol spoke for them both. "He yelled that he didn't want to talk about anything while he was gone because he was home and he didn't want to fly anymore ever."
"Doesn't he like to fly?" Anne asked.
"Not now. He doesn't want me to be a pilot anymore," Charlie added.
Anne saw Mulder stand up. She got herself out of the chair. "Guess we're off to see the Wizard. Bye guys."
They bent back over the coloring. Anne caught a glimpse of a puppy on Carol's paper, a fir truck on Charlie's. Neither bothered to say good-bye.