Springer, New Mexico, Route US-412 E, 5:30 PM.
The FBI-rented Ford Focus slid indolently along the wide open New Mexico road stretching from horizon to horizon. Yellow fields of dry grass outlined the road on both sides. The landscape was flat and featureless, save for occasional wooden barriers blocking dirt roads that diverged perpendicularly from the main road and disappeared into the desert beyond. The blue sky above was streaked by a thin veil of white cirrus clouds.
In the passenger seat, clean-shaven and dressed in a newly pressed black suit, Mulder moved his finger along his iPad while Scully drove. His screen displayed a map on which a straight red line from the East was advancing slowly to the West. Another line, this one green, was approaching from the West and converging steadily on the first one. Mulder looked at his watch.
"We will intercept Dan's trajectory in about an hour," he said.
A police radio, placed on the Ford's dashboard and tuned in to the local police frequencies, gave out occasional one-sentence notifies. Status checks were green, shift changes had no transition notes, no one had been caught speeding.
"Quiet area," observed Scully. Wearing a black blazer with matching black pants which allowed for better mobility in case action involving suspects got physical, she kept her eyes on the road.
"Maybe that's why they decided to crash here," said Mulder mischievously.
Scully smiled. Chasing evidence of extraterrestrial life was Mulder's life-long quest. It was only appropriate that he would naturally weave such a comment into any conversation that took place in New Mexico, the mecca of UFO conspiracy theorists. Still, he was neither a fool, nor a blind believer. He took the necessary scientific rigor to confirm or refute his conclusions. And he did so with a generous doze of self-criticality and humor. Scully enjoyed and appreciated that side of him.
"My understanding is that they didn't exactly decide where to crash," she joked back. "The term crash implies lack of choice."
"Right as always," said Mulder. "Still, now that we are here, what would you say to a little detour once this case is over?"
"Are you serious?"
"Why not, we are so close by."
Scully laughed. "Roswell's a four-hour drive from here," she said. "Besides, haven't you been there enough times already?"
Mulder sat back in his seat, hands behind his head.
"We can call it vacation," he mused. "Take time off. Enjoy a refreshing walk in the desert."
"You've taken too many walks in this desert, Mulder," said Scully. "They probably have your face on a 'Wanted' poster there."
"Come on, Scully," he pleaded. "We can't come so close to Roswell and not take another look!"
"OK, calm down," she concurred, amused. "When the case is over, we can talk it over."
Mulder glanced up as the lonely shape of a water turbine passed by, breaking the monotony of the otherwise featureless yellow fields on the side of the road.
"I'll hold you up to that promise," he said. Then, he invested himself in research on his iPad.
Silence settled as they sat quietly, absorbed in their thoughts. Minutes flew by. Mulder's sudden, unexpected comment took Scully by surprise.
"Cocassin!" he declared triumphantly.
"What?" Scully jumped, startled.
"We may be dealing with a Cocassin," explained Mulder, pointing to his iPad.
"What's a Cocassin?"
"According to Wikipedia," said Mulder and read aloud, "Cocassin is the English translation of the Spanish Cocachina, which, in turn, derives from the Incan word Cocojinn used by the Guatemalan Incas to describe a tree spirit."
Scully raised her eyebrow in a skeptical grimace. "Tree spirit," she said.
Mulder continued to read. "A reference to this mythical creature was found in a letter written by Pascual Vazquez, one of the foot soldiers of Francisco Pizarro, the conquistador who, following the success of his distant cousin Fernando Cortes, had set out to conquer the Incas in South America.
Being of short stature and of weak character, Vazquez had been largely unhappy and unsuccessful both at home in Spain, and as a member of Pizarro's army. His luck changed in the year of 1527, when he and a small splinter group of Pizarro's men left the lands that comprise modern day Peru, and headed North to Central America.
Vazquez reached the Incan lands of nowaday Guatemala, and returned a changed man. He had acquired unprecedented strength, which earned him respect and admiration. He had a short but successful career as the governor of lands conquered by Pizarro."
"I'm not following," said Scully, confused.
Mulder continued to read: "Before he died of a sudden inexplicable illness, which turned him into a madman, Vazquez wrote a letter to a girl back in Spain who he had always admired and had hoped some day to marry. In his letter, he attributed his turnaround of fortune to La Cocachina, a tree spirit that inhabited the Igapó forests of Guatemala, which granted him strength and prosperity. English translation of his letter translated the name of the spirit as Cocassin."
"Spirits and supernatural strength are common elements of folklore in many cultures," noted Scully.
"Maybe for a reason," said Mulder. "The Cocassin was both respected and feared by the Incas," he continued to read. "That's because it was both a friend and an enemy. It emerged from the forest to help those who were weak in spirit. It pervaded their bodies and gave them superhuman abilities. But, it didn't give without taking away. Its price was to enchain their souls."
Scully smiled, both impressed and amused. This was Mulder thinking outside the box. He had the uncanny ability to piece together fragments of ancient myths to explain otherwise unexplainable observations. Scully's role had always been to question his leaps of logic and ensure scientific rigor in his conclusions. She slipped right back into it.
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You are suggesting that Tony and Dan were haunted by a mythical tree spirit."
"It fits what we know so far," shrugged Mulder. "Cocassins help those who are weak in spirit. Both Tony and Dan needed such help. Tony had recently lost his father. Dan had a difficult life from the get-go: an orphan, working to support himself and trying to graduate from high school. But then, similarly to Vazquez, both boys had their lives turned around, which is what a Cocassin apparently does. Both started to excel in sports and became popular among their peers. Both seemed to have acquired exceptional strength. And finally, both boys lost control of their lives. They found themselves unable to free themselves from their savior, who was both a saint and a tyrant."
"And came in the shape of a size ten sneaker," interjected Scully.
"Or with the sneaker!" corrected her Mulder.
Scully looked squarely at him. "Haunted shoes," she said flatly.
"Bear with me," said Mulder. "The glue for the sneakers came from Guatemala, and it was produced by a tribe of Incas. If anyone would know anything about Cocassins, that would be the Incas, right? The Cocassin - whatever shape or form spirits like this come as - could have come with the glue."
"And what about the cocaine in the blood of both of these boys?" asked Scully.
"The cocaine could be how the Cocassin controls his hosts - victims - for lack of a better word."
"Spirits don't typically have access to controlled substances," observed Scully.
"Maybe the Cocassin was able to produce it for them, or teach them how to make it," suggested Mulder. "Scientists may not know how to synthesize cocaine, but there may be creatures that do. Bees know how to produce honey from nectar collected from petals. The Coca plant knows how to produce that special a-ha ingredient in Coke you were telling me about. Maybe Cocassins knows how to make cocaine from Coke."
Scully considered his reasoning.
"It's a nice story Mulder," she admitted. "You do have a talent for finding these."
"But you are not buying it."
"Not until I start believing in spirits," she said. "However, there is one great point that you've been trying to make all this time, and I kept missing it earlier. Whatever happened to these boys does seem to be related to these and only these two pairs of sneakers they bought. If indeed someone was supplying the boys with cocaine, they did not have to do that to two kids who bought the same unique one-of-a-kind type of sneakers. They could have picked any two kids with any kind of sneakers. You were right from the very beginning - there has to be something very unique about these sneakers. You may be right now too. It may very well be related to what happened to that Guatemalan glue when it was processed by that non-existent government lab in California where Dan seems to be heading."
Mulder tapped on the screen of his iPad. "Cocassin," he said with a sly smile. Scully laughed and shook her head.
The police radio on their dashboard suddenly came to life.
"Team four to base, team four to base, do you read me?"
"Reading you loud and clear team four."
"Heading to check out a disturbance at Sam's Goodies in Clayton. A kid's causing some kind of trouble. Owner has a baseball bat and isn't letting him out of the store."
Mulder pulled up the map on his iPad. The leading dot of Dan's trajectory, which had been on a collision course with theirs, had gotten very close. Both trajectories were converging at a spot at the edge of the town of Clayton, New Mexico.
Scully stepped on the accelerator, speeding up East on Route 412, while Mulder looked up Sam's Goodies on the GPS of his cell phone.