It was mid afternoon when Mulder worked the brass knocker on Daniel's door while Scully inspected the peeling facade of the shabby wooden house. Patches of scaly paint seemed to suggest that the house had been white long time ago. A small piece of picket fence rotted lying horizontally on the yellow grass in the small lawn in front. The rest of the fence, it there had been any, was missing.
The door opened, and a tall, skinny teenager dressed in jeans and a T-shirt emerged from the dim room behind, blinking in the light.
"Dan McNiff?" asked Mulder.
The teenager nodded. The two agents flashed their badges at him.
"FBI," said Mulder. "Special Agents Mulder and Scully."
Dan took it in stride. "I didn't do it," he said.
"We are not saying you did," said Mulder, flashing an I like this kid smile at Scully.
With an understanding nod of his head, Dan turned around and headed back into the house. Mulder and Scully following suit.
Dan's living room reflected the overall disrepair of the rest of the premises, but was otherwise tidy. Its walls were covered in faded yellow paper. The beige carpet was worn out, but its surface, infused with dust collected over many years, appeared to at least be regularly vacuumed, probably with the old vacuum that stood guard in one of the corners.
A tan-colored, caved-in couch was the most prominent piece of furniture. It lay in the dead center of the room. A chair next to it doubled as a kitchen table. It held an empty paper bag with the logo of the Tasty Burger, and a napkin, on top of which sat the skeletal remains of two dozen fried chicken wings. Several empty Coke cans were stacked in a tower next to the couch.
"Sorry for the mess," muttered Dan. He collected the remaining scraps of his lunch and disposed of them in a trash bin next to his couch. He opened his hands, showing them the room. "This is it," he said. "My whole life. Feel free to poke around, whatever you are looking for."
"We are not exactly looking for anything," said Mulder. "We are here to talk to you about these," he pointed at Dan's sneakers. They were unmistakable. Old, gray, and falling apart, they looked exactly like Tony's.
In an instance, Dan's composure crumbled. He collapsed on the couch and let out a deep sigh.
"OK, what do you need to know," he asked.
"Do you know a kid called Anthony Terrence Crane?" asked Mulder. "Two years younger than you. Basketball player."
"Never heard of him."
"Last summer, he bought a pair of sneakers just like yours. He wore them all the time. Didn't take them off at all," said Mulder. He was watching Dan closely.
Dan nodded, more to himself than to them. "You know, that's actually a relief," he said. "I thought I was going crazy."
"What do you mean?" asked Scully with a break in her voice. Mulder knew that inflection well. This was the tone of her admitting that there was more to the case than met the eye.
"Like he said," Dan pointed at Mulder. "I never take them off. Every time I try, I am terrified. I can't do it."
Scully cast a surprised glance at Mulder. Mulder returned an I told you victorious look.
"Dan, I am going to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me," said Scully. Dan nodded.
"Do you do drugs?" Scully asked.
Dan appeared to be entertained by the question. His mouth twisted into a smile. "Let me think about this one," he mused. "How about 'no'?"
"Would you be willing to undergo a test?" challenged Scully.
"Suit yourselves," he shrugged.
Mulder was looking squarely at him. "Dan, we are not here to bust you," he explained. "A kid about your age died today. His name was Tony. He wore the same sneakers as you, and also had a problem taking them off. We are here to make sure that nothing happens to you."
"I don't get it," said Dan. "Why would anything happen to me? What do drugs have anything to do with my sneakers?"
"If I have to be honest, nothing that we can surmise," confessed Scully. "However, a teen with an identical - let's call it 'condition' - died under suspicious circumstances earlier today. We are just doing due diligence in case there is a connection."
"How did he die?"
"He had his sneakers taken off," interjected in Mulder.
"Well, that's not exactly right," jumped in Scully, shooting a why-are-you-telling-him-that look at Mulder. "No one dies of having their sneakers taken off. The cause of death was an overdose of cocaine."
Dan looked at them, confused, but there was unhidden hope in his voice. "Well, in that case I don't have to worry, right? I don't do drugs. I am an athlete."
"A runner," helped Mulder.
Dan closed his eyes. "Why do you people even bother asking me questions?" he said. "You already know everything about me."
Mulder was watching him closely. "About your running," he said, "When exactly did you start winning?"
Dan opened his eyes. There was fear in them.
"Looks like you know more than even I suspected up to until very recently," he said. "I only realized this last week."
"Realized what?" asked Scully.
"I started to win shortly after I started wearing these..." He pointed down at his sneakers. His body had started to shake.
Scully shot a quick glance at Mulder and quickly sat on the broken sofa next to Dan. "You will be ok," she said, placing her hand over his. "We are here to help you."
Dan nodded, breathing with short, irregular gasps. "So, what do I do next?" he asked.
"We should take you to a hospital," said Scully. "Your addiction to your sneakers needs to be treated."
"My addiction is psychological," he argued. "I should be able to take off these sneakers anytime. So what if it scares me some? That's the most that can happen, right?"
Scully looked at Mulder, who was staring at them somberly from the middle of the room, hands crossed over his chest. He was probably considering the alternatives, weighing his curiosity against the unpredictable risk.
Scully did not want to consider alternatives. Her main concern was Dan's wellbeing.
"You should take these off in an environment where you are safe," she said pre-emptively.
"How much safer can I get than having two FBI Agents next to me?" asked Dan. "This crazy obsession has been scaring the hell out of me. Until you brought it up, I've never told anyone. You seem to know a lot about this. You can help me if I need help, right?" He looked at Mulder, who was staring at him silently, and at Scully, who sat next to him, her face creased in expression of deep concern.
Dan took their silence as a green light. "Let's get it over with!" he said.
"I would advice against…" started Scully. But Dan was already bent down, untying the laces of his right sneaker.
His shook violently. Large drops of sweat were falling on the floor from his forehead. With fierce determination he yanked out his sneaker.
Blood spurted from the bottom of his right foot. He screamed. With a jump forward, he pushed Mulder, who flew backwards and broke the closet door behind him, landing in the closet. Hundreds of Coca Cola cans collapsed on top of him from a carefully balanced arrangement inside.
Dan sprinted out the door. Scully ran after him, shouting for him to stop.
Mulder struggled to get out of the sea of cans. Once free, he started after Dan and Scully, but stopped suddenly, changing his mind before he was out the door. He turned around and walked over to the abandoned sneaker instead.
It was a worn-out gray sneaker almost identical to Tony's. Mulder peeked inside. The insole was soaked with blood and was falling apart, but there was also something else protruding slightly from the inner front part. Mulder took out a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and reached into the sneaker, carefully extracting a prickly small object. The object was the size of a golf ball and resembled a piece of thick barbed wire that had been rolled into a ball. It was mostly hollow, which would make it easy for it to flatten and spread inside of the sneaker if someone stepped on it, but the sharp spikes would almost certainly pierce the foot and inflict pain on anyone who tried to do that.
Holding the object carefully with his thumb and forefinger, Mulder walked over to the closet full of empty Coke cans, looking for a container to store it in. He found an empty glass jar with a twist-off top and placed the object inside, securing the lid. Then, leaving the jar on the floor next to Dan's caved-in couch, he ran out, looking for Dan and Scully.