Waggons

Scully was getting hungry as she made her way back along the track. Although she had wanted to head straight back to the guest-house for a dim-sum lunch, she had turned to take the path toward the lake. It was an opportunity to look over the water in the dim night.

As she made her way up the path, the row of vehicles caught up with her. There were two close-topped jeeps and a small truck that would have been useful on logging runs although it would never have been able to tow much.

Scully stepped up onto the hard packed snow heaped beside the road to let the vehicles pass. She looked briefly over the lake straining to see the few lights on the far shore, then realized the small convoy had stopped.

"I hope no-one's looking for directions," she thought to herself.

The window of the lead vehicle rolled down and Mulder leaned out. He was wearing a heavy scarf wrapped several times around his lower face, and a badly shaped ex-army winter hat.

Scully squinted into the headlamps. "What are you doing up there?"

From the confined space of the window, Mulder shrugged. "It looks like I might have agreed to lead the search for Vern's old man." He did not seem at all disturbed by this revelation. "I'm not much of a leader. But I like to look for things."

"Vern?" she questioned. "I've heard that name. Is that the same Vern who owns the realtors? We were in his office last night." Her feet were starting to get cold from standing still. The boots she had brought were decoratively warm around the sides but too thin on the sole to be comfortable.

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"It seems he has a hand in a lot of things around here." Scully sighed. "You do know that you have no jurisdiction here. Missing persons is not a Federal issue, even if we were back home. Escaped prisoners and fugitives are for the U.S. Marshals."

Mulder looked hurt and pouted his lower lip. "Can't you see me as a Federal Marshal?"

Scully was not amused. "I hear the entrance exams are easier, so that might be an option. But, really, are you going to find this old man in the dark, in the wild, with just a couple of eager lumberjacks?"

Mulder was a little annoyed now. "Well hold on there. They say there's probably only one route he's taking, up to a traditional pitching ground." He was talking sensibly now. "We'll go up the far side of the lake; take a look around the shoreline; then come back here. We'll be back soon enough. Probably late this evening." He thought briefly. "Maybe in the morning at the latest."

Scully nodded approvingly, but still sceptical. "Okay. But I don't think I want to stay here much longer, Mulder. I'm not really sure why I came now and I'm having second thoughts. When I think about it, this place is just dead animals and, well, people with problems."

"You don't want to say 'crazy', do you?" Mulder looked smug, tilting his head.

"Since at least four of them can hear our conversation, I wanted to be a bit less rude." She looked up and back along the vehicles. A few of the men were now leaning out of their vehicles. "And you seem to have encouraged everyone with a drink problem to bring whatever guns they could get their hands on."

"Don't worry. They're all friends now. And I remember calling everyone 'crazy' last night. That much I remember."

Scully raised her eyebrows. "What did you say about why you're here?" she whispered. "Did you mention why I'm here?"

"I said you were into taxidermy. No-one batted an eyelid. They get all sorts up here."

There was an impatient beeping of the horn from the third vehicle.

"We'd better get on," said Mulder. "I think Solly from the bar has gotten a bit bored with all the small town chatter. He really wants to get his teeth into an old-fashioned posse. Brought his own six-gun and everything."

"Let's just be careful about what we say here, Mulder." Scully realized this was all becoming complicated. "I still have friends I like. I don't want to get them into trouble."

"I'm sure I should be disappointed by that comment, but I'll be back late, like I said. Don't worry. It's an old man in the snow. What could go wrong?" Mulder raised his eyebrows.

Scully raised her eyebrows. "Should I ask if you've been given any of this hardware to look after? We don't have jurisdiction and we also don't have permits for weapons."

"Don't ask, don't tell," he replied.

"Take care," she said warily, standing back from the car.

"Always," he winked. He banged the side of the car. "Waggons roll!"

:::

As the rear lights of the last vehicle disappeared into the light mist, Scully paused to think. This was all getting way out of hand. Mulder had tagged along on the scant information she had provided and was now playing a manly game of find the wild goose. Of course, Mulder's whole career was based on finding the odd and the impossible. Unfortunately her own career seemed to be heading the same way.

She turned to continue back to the town. It was way past lunch and she was way past hungry. She was contemplating what might be in the steamer baskets when she heard a crashing above her in the tallest of the trees, smaller branches cracking and larger boughs creaking. Then the crashing became louder, accompanied by a tearing of cloth and the cry of fleeing birds.

She did not see what fell from the sky, but it clanged to the ground beside her in a cloud of leaves, branches and fabric. Scully fell off to the side, her hands over her head, letting the snow piled at the side of the road protect her.

She kept her eyes closed until the crashing stopped. "Time to look" she thought. But she kept her eyes closed.