In the passenger's seat of the FBI Ford rental, special Agent Dana Scully raised her gaze from the open folder in front of her. She was dressed in a comfortable two-piece black business suit, slightly wrinkled from the flight from Washington DC, and her shoulder-length, copper-colored hair was down, arranged neatly in a professional coiffure. She lifted an eyebrow in an expression of skeptical surprise.
"A teenager terrified to take off his shoes?"
Having been part of the X-files unit of the FBI which investigated phenomena that defied logical explanation, she was no stranger to the extraordinary and unusual. Still, every new case seemed to carry a surprise. She was a medical doctor and a scientist. She worked with facts. Her role had always been to ensure that X-files investigations were scientifically rigorous.
"Keep reading," urged Special Agent Fox Mulder. Dressed in his usual black suit, complete with a formulaic red tie that screamed FBI agent, he was the one driving, while Scully familiarized herself with the contents of the folder.
Scully read aloud.
"Anthony Terrence Crane, 16 years old. Diagnosed with acute manic phobia, possibly bordering schizophrenia. Admitted for psychiatric treatment at Seidel Memorial Hospital. Dr. Henry Walsh. I know him, he's a known name in modern Psychiatry, works very high profile cases. Anesthesia, what looks like an amount enough to knock out a small elephant. Walsh tried to take off the boy's shoes. Violent reaction, convulsions, superhuman strength." She eyed a question at Mulder. "Superhuman?"
"Four strong men plus an athletic doctor barely held the boy down," explained Mulder. He did not have a problem accepting the unusual as a starting point. He kept what he referred to as an 'open mind'. For Scully, this meant that he did not dismiss anything outright, no matter now far-fetched it sounded.
"People have been known to triple their strength under stressful circumstances," Scully said matter-of-factly. "There's nothing superhuman about that." Her scientific perspective provided the needed counterpoint to Mulder's frequently unreserved acceptance of unbelievable facts.
She finished reading and looked up.
"The boy… died!? From having his shoes taken off?"
"He did," said Mulder.
"That doesn't make sense," observed Scully.
"Hence why we are investigating," pointed out Mulder. Cases that made sense were handled by law enforcement agents who fit the traditional mold — diligent, meticulous, procedure-driven and lacking imagination. It was the bizarre and baffling ones that required thinking outside the box. Those were the cases that made their way to the only entity equipped to handle them: the X-files unit of the FBI.
Scully shrugged, accepting his reasoning. "Poor kid…" she sighed, looking at the included picture of a smiling, casually-handsome teenager with smooth baby face, deep brown eyes and tousled black hair.
"Not that poor, actually," said Mulder. "The mother, Mrs. Elise Crane, widow of the late Mr. Archibald Crane, founder of Crane Pharmaceuticals, is said to be worth at least several billion. She paid out of pocket for one of the best psychiatrists in the country to treat her boy."
"Shows you money doesn't buy everything," noted Scully. She looked up and down the document. "There's no cause of death?"
"They are waiting for you to autopsy the boy," said Mulder, "At my request."