Foreign.
Glasgow, Kentucky.
May 21, 2010.
Mulder knew everyone else was still asleep. He had this feeling in his gut that he wasn't supposed to be walking away from them, but he couldn't stop himself. Something was compelling him. He crossed the metal bridge to the chamber he had found them in, setting the artificial campfire in the center and letting it light up the area. He was dazzled by the light for a moment, and then his eyes fell on the walls, and he realized why he had been brought here.
He started taking pictures from every angle, documenting the scraped up rock with the flash on his camera. He peered into each crevice, expecting to find bones, or an old hunting knife, or some kind of object the spirits were mounting themselves to.
He was halfway around the room when he heard someone sobbing.
He turned, finding a man bent down near the light source. He had his face in his hands. There was a bloodied knife rolling away from his feet. As Mulder approached he looked up, and it became clear that he was the brother who had found the young woman in the field. But he was casting a shadow, and he wasn't glowing like the woman had. He looked alive.
Mulder went all the way around to his front, crouching down at a safe distance and staring at him. He had nothing to say, no ghostly greeting to throw out.
Minutes passed. The ghost stopped crying and returned his stare, anger and grief swirling around in his young eyes. He braced his hand on the ground between them and said something in a foreign language. Mulder couldn't begin to recognize it.
"I can't understand you," he responded. "I want to help you get out of here, but I don't know how."
Even with his words still echoing, the second ghost began to fade away. He was still watching Mulder, still waiting for some sort of explanation, but Mulder couldn't give it to him.
Soon he was alone. He stood up, picking up the artificial campfire and spinning it around. He looked at the room once more, doing his best to read into the walls, like Gene had earlier. He had encountered both ghosts now, and neither of them seemed particularly malicious – perhaps his theory about the abductions was right. Both of them were grieving, gravitating toward others who shared their pain. Perhaps this young man had failed to protect the woman.
Perhaps he was still trying to protect her, after all these years.
He woke up in his own sleeping bag, his arms still wrapped tightly around Scully. He groaned when he realized the ghosts were playing with his head again. How could he be sure he wasn't dreaming right now?
Scully stirred, twisting around and burying her face in his shoulder. "Have you been awake this whole time?" she mumbled.
He had no idea how much time had passed. "I had a bad dream. Go back to sleep."
"Was it the ghosts again? Another vision?"
"I'm not sure. It could have just been my mind." He was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should share this with her. He felt a strange connection with these spirits, and he didn't want to be mocked for believing what they showed him, especially by Scully. But he wanted someone to talk to, as well. "I saw the second ghost… he was related to the woman. She was murdered. I think… I think he might be trying to protect her."
"From what?"
"From the killer. From us. From anything that comes down here. I don't think he knows, Scully."
"He doesn't know he's dead?"
"I've read accounts of ghosts who refused to accept their deaths."
"That was 'A Christmas Carol,' Mulder."
"I'm being serious. Sometimes a death is so tragic and the circumstances are so serious that a spirit just keeps trying to complete the task, even though it can no longer have an effect on our world. It's harmless in most cases – the ghost who perpetually sweeps the hotel hallway, the ghost who keeps trying to bring news to the battlefield – but when a spirit is this determined, it begins to push through. Gene and I found ectoplasm on the shore of the river, and when I woke up after being taken, I was covered in it."
She was silent.
"Or the second ghost could be reacting to perceived threats. He could be lashing out because he thinks the tourists are trying to hurt the other ghost."
Scully shifted a little. "If he is trying to protect her, how do you expect to get them both out of here? You said it yourself – unless we find something anchoring them, we have nothing, and we could spend weeks searching these caves."
"I want to go into town. Maybe we can find an expert and bring them down here. Or we could at least bring someone who speaks their language, to tell them we don't want to hurt them."
Silence.
"Mulder?"
"Hmm?"
"If you're right about this, that means the second ghost is acting maliciously. If he is the one who took those people… they might not be alive."
"I thought about that, too."