After a few long minutes of screams and tears, Scully left her state of shock.
Wake up. Stop crying. You have to do something. He's just down there, somewhere, maybe unconscious.
She once again lit the sinking downslope at her feet and all around, trying to rationally examine the situation. She spotted signs of Mulder's upper fall—slide marks on the muddy soil, a few broken branches— but only over a few yards length down; she couldn't venture in his tracks, it was too risky. She thought of circling around Mulder's straight line of fall, but, once again, the steep slope was too large, too widely dangerous.
The talkies!
Scully got back to her backpack and took out a walkie-talkie from one side pocket. It wasn't a top-class talkie, almost a kid toy, light and small to replace their cell phones in a dead zone, its range minimal —they hadn't planned long distances separating them, nor trying to reach civilization out of Deep Valley with their use.
Scully switched on the small device, already tuned in their usual channel. "Mulder!" she cried into the mic. "Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder! Do you copy? Mulder! Mulder! Answer, please!"
Dammit! He might have passed out, he can't use it.
She launched a few more calls in the walkie-talkie, then louder screams in the air, while trying to figure out her next move.
The rope?
Scully thought of the one Mulder had wanted to bring —against her own judgment. Once again not a terrific rope, its choice being a compromise between lightness and usefulness, but as Mulder had said with a naughty smile, you never know when one needs to be tied up.
The rope, nope… In Mulder's bag… Just think of what you have… Cords!
In her backpack Scully had indeed at least a few guylines for their tarp shelter. She rummaged in her bag, pulled out all the cords and strings she could find, and put them down on the floor, pondering what she could do with all of them. Unfortunately, as tempting as they were, she doubted there was enough length after adding up the bits and that they could support much weight —especially if she had to climb up back with Mulder.
I have to find easier and safer access to Mulder… Or, a way to reach out for rescue.
She picked out the map of the zone from her coat pocket, then evaluated her position as best as she could —the resolution and accuracy of the map being rough and doubtful, as well as her exact location.
Think hard. Be efficient. Safety first.
Tracing the map with her index finger, reading level lines, rocks or streams, pondering options and doing the math for distances, times and probabilities, she finally figured out one way to follow that could lead to a couple of realistic alternatives —finding the end zone of Mulder's fall, or rushing to the deserted research building.
Let's go for it. Will choose later on, when the path forks.
Of course, her heart already knew what choice was her priority.
Hang on, Mulder. I'm coming.