The Truth is Outer - An X-Files Homage
Following a conversation with Serpion5 I was looking through the depths of my filing system and found an X-Files crossover that I wrote in response to a friend's complaint that episodes did not contain enough of David Duchovny.
Obviously it does not fit into the canon; however, there might be cookies for people who work out what else I brutalised to make it.
June 21, 1815 - Northern Alaska
White...white of every shade...when Dr. Farlmer arrived he had seen the snow as an endless sheet of light then he had started to see the subtle shifts caused by depth and wind until he could recognise every one of the different kinds of snow for which the natives had a word. Or so he thought; now, studying the flakes as well as he could whilst cowering from the blizzard in his tent he could swear there were five-sided ice crystals amongst their normal six-sided brothers.
"Honoured sir", said Quenou, the only bearer not to have fled the storm, "The ceremony begins soon. Only carried out every five years. We should cross over."
"You are sure the blizzard will not prevent the ceremony?"
"No Honoured sir, the ceremony will go ahead", replied Quenou smiling strangely at the back of Dr Farlmer. "The God will be appeased tonight."
* * *
June 19, 1999 - FBI Headquarters, Washington DC
"No doubt you've already seen this, Agent Mulder." said Assistant Director Skinner tossing the latest National Enquirer at across this desk.
Mulder caught the paper before glancing down and passing it to his partner. "I'm still on last weeks edition; the one about how Tia Leone was a sexbot sent to weaken our natural essence."
"'It's Raining Men'," read Scully, with increasing scepticism. "'In the remote Alaskan town of Seal Flats this month the bodies of two men fell from the sky....' I'll admit it is more unusual than frogs, but why show us?"
"Apart from the ideas about aliens being responsible it's true... the bodies of Robert Matheson and Albert Stevens were found with every bone in their bodies shattered, as if they had been dropped from a great height. The local police are baffled, and they asked for our help... specifically yours."
"They requested us by name? Well I suppose if you want to see it hard enough it could be an X-File," asked Scully, ignoring her partner's glare, "although it is much more likely they were crushed by loosened snow which was then blown away."
"Mulder wasn't mentioned in the request- they asked for you Agent Scully." replied Skinner. "You leave this tomorrow morning."
"Sir," interjected Scully, "with respect I still don't see why the FBI is investigating this."
"Look, all I know", replied Skinner wearily, "is that someone in Washington thinks this needs investigating so the Director passed the request to me. You think I don't have better things for you to be doing?"
* * *
Somewhere between Washington and Anchorage
Hurled around the sky by turbulence the aeroplane slogged on towards Alaska. Passing back and forth along the gangway the flight attendant handed out coffee against the illusion of cold and brandy against the fear.
Scully gazed out of the window, lost in thought. Before her eyes, the refracted light from the plane began to take on form, solidity; slowly the curves became planets, and the twinkles stars; she began to imagine a soaring score to match the view. Captivated by their beauty, she half-heard all but the woodwinds drop away leaving an eerie gusting melody. With eyelids drooping she started to hear gentle whispering in the flutes...
"Join me. let me show you the beauty of my world. together we will make the worlds anew.."
Jerking out of her reverie Scully blurted, "Mulder, something's out there!" Still shaking off her lethargy she could swear that two carmine eyes the size of moons were peering through the window at her before shooting upward into the storm. Bolt upright she tried to reconcile the memory of a voice offering her voids of infinite beauty to stride, and icy planets to rule; offering her the human race to make anew.
"It's just the ice crystals in the air causing light to refract into patterns", smirked Mulder, signalling the attendant for coffee. "Hey if your having this much fun on a DC10 imagine how much fun the transfer from Anchorage in a little old prop plane will be."
* * *
Private Airstrip near Seal Flats, Alaska
"So what happened exactly, Sheriff" asked Mulder breath fogging.
"Well," replied Sheriff Mason leading them toward a pickup with a strip of lights on the roof, "Mathesons have lived in Seal Flats since anyone can remember. About twenty years ago Robert went away to study in New York. Like with most of the kids who get out, he stayed out. Became a big shot in the construction business. Anyway about three month ago his father died. He came back and brought his city ideas with him... said he wanted to put something back in.... but I reckon it was guilt. We've always been a small bit of nowhere...suddenly he wants to put us on the map. Just after the funeral he meets this Inuit; they've always lived north of Seal Flats, but they never really mixed before. Joseph Clearwater he calls himself. Seems he wants to bring his people up to date as bad as Matheson. He must've told him something pretty big because the two of them head off to the tribe with a big shot lawyer- Albert Stevens- in tow; apparently Matheson thought he could buy the tribe's sacred ground or something. Next thing is Matheson and Stevens are found frozen to death, with every bone in their bodies shattered like they were dropped or thrown around....
"Hey listen, you up to this now. Your partner looks dead on your feet."
"I'm fine" snapped Scully "Just recovering form the boredom induced by someone's inexhaustible collection of disappearing aircraft stories."
"Right well there's coffee", said Mason reaching into the glove box "It isn't posh but it is hot. We found one witness, Jack Ellis, but everybody round here calls him Mad Jack, so we didn't really hope for much. He says he saw a whirling, roaring person only not a person with bright red, staring eyes cast them down from the sky."
"What does Joseph Clearwater have to say?" asked Scully trying to ignore the coincidence.
"That's another problem. He hasn't been seen since the three of them went of together. I talked to his father, but he said he didn't have a son anymore... some tribal thing I suppose." Shaking his head Mason added, "Like I said they don't mix and they don't cause trouble, so - apart from driving up with the Bureau of Indian Affairs when they come out - I don't really know much about what they do."
"Sounds like you got the name of your murderer," said Mulder, "So why were we... sorry... why was Scully called in?"
"We reckon he needed accomplices. Jack's monster sounds like a helicopter to me and Clearwater sure as heck couldn't fly one of them. They was killed by being dropped out of it; probably came in to get a piece of the action and got too choosy... that sounds like an organised crime thing to me...so I asked for the FBI- don't know why they sent you in particular. Anyway I've booked you two rooms in the Little Northern. I'll swing by breakfast time and take you out to where they found them."
* * *
Little Northern Hotel
Dropping onto the side of the bed, Scully eased off her shoes and started rubbing her soles.
"OK Mulder, spit it out. You would have to be mad to use a helicopter in a blizzard so you think it was aliens."
"You wound me to the core Scully" laughed Mulder, leaning against the door. "Think of all the times I was right and it wasn't aliens. I did some research before we left. About ten miles west of here is a mountain called Farlmer's Halt. In 1815, Dr. Joseph Farlmer started a study of the Inuit population in what is now Northern Alaska. Travelling east, he reached the foot of the mountain on June 21st. That night a huge storm blew up out of nowhere and he disappeared. He was found twenty years later just outside of Quebec, frozen and looking like he had been dropped from the sky."
Scully snorted. "So he got lost in the storm, it drove him mad, and he wandered living wild until he finally died of a fall in Canada."
"In Northern Wisconsin a Jesuit missionary named Father Piergaard went to the aid of a group of Indians. He disappeared and was found curled up, frozen solid, inside a tree stump."
"He obviously tried to shelter and died of cold," said Scully with irritation, "Now can we get on with our investigation?"
"He was found over three hundred years later... and when they thawed the body it decayed overnight, leaving only the contents of his pockets; artefacts from many cultures... some less than a hundred years old."
Scully raised an eyebrow. "And who found him Mulder? Students on an expedition?"
"As it happens yes. But that doesn't mean they did interfere with the body."
"Go to bed Mulder. I'm too tired for this."
* * *
Scully awakened to the sound of the shower. Pulling a robe over the sweater she had slept in, she slipped her gun form the nightstand and padded into the bathroom.
"I was just going to wake you", laughed a voice, opening the stall. "I was thinking there's room for two in here."
Tendrils of steam slipped around her thighs and a gentle breeze stroked her back. Dazed Scully ran her eyes up the well-muscled legs, up to the flat, wet chest, strong arms, and up to the face, then found her eyes drawn down again. Flushing, she suddenly remembered the gun and pointed it down.
"Mulder... I... um..."
Mulder's face slowly moved into an alien look of amusement; unlike Mulder's usual smile, this one seemed to sit below the skin. She could feel a definite pressure on her back and her instinct seemed caught between stepping onto the shower and running until she collapsed. She heard whispers chasing around her through the stream.
"So this form pleases you... In time you will have more than just dreams... Come to desire my caresses in all my shapes..."
Desperately fighting the fear, Scully forced herself to step back toward the bedroom. Whirling at a sound behind her she gasped as a familiar figure rose from the bed, sheets flowing from hard muscles. Desperately trying to clear the fog from her head or at least unfreeze her muscles she watched as Mulder's eyes filled her sight like blood-red stars.
Snapping bolt upright Scully awoke screaming. Feeling slightly stupid she picked up her gun and walked tentatively into the bathroom. The shower stood empty and dry.
The rest of the night passed slowly and sleeplessly; the red glow of dawn brought no relief from her nameless dread. Resolving to have a check-up as soon as she got back to Washington, she dressed and went to find an early breakfast.
* * *
Mulder looked around the restaurant before seeing Scully tucked in a corner behind an empty jug of coffee.
"Anything there for me", he greeted her cheerily, dropping into a chair. "Hey it was only a joke," he added noticing her flush. Picking up a menu he addressed the important question of how to have his eggs.
Mopping his plate with the remains of a waffle Mulder waved his mug toward the door. "Looks like our ride's here. And he looks about as happy as you."
Waving Mulder pushed out a third chair. Instead of sitting Sheriff Mason just clutched the back.
"Agents...uh... Joseph Clearwater turned up just outside town. Only problem is he's dead like the others. We got his body on ice."
"I'll check out the Inutos while you do the autopsies", said Mulder, pulling on his coat and leaving Scully to finish another coffee.
* * *
5 miles north of Seal Flats
Peering through the window of Sheriff Mason's borrowed pick-up Mulder saw the plain stretched out to the horizon. Even the curiously regular mounds and ridges did not break the uniform white; only a grouping of leather igloos in the lee of the nearest ridge gave any sense of scale. Before Mulder had even drawn to a halt a group of approximately twenty fur-clad figures, clutching picks, converged on the pick-up; their pinched, yellow faces seemed almost devoid of emotion.
"I'm Special Agent Mulder. I'd like to speak to Mr Clearwater." Having arrived the figures remained motionless. Blank faces stared back without interest. There was more life in the vagrant breeze blowing loose snow into intricate patterns.
"Joseph Clearwater's father?" tried Mulder.
One of the Inutos hawked sideways. The spittle seemed to hang above a nearby mound before falling reluctantly to the snow, a trick of the light making the impact seem to smoke for an instant.
"Quenou busy man. Quenou have no son. law already come talk. today is religious festival. without warrant constitution say no disturb us..", grinned the Inuit. The others gripped their tools meaningfully.
Driving away Mulder gazed across the featureless plain and he wondered what exactly needed so many men with picks.
* * *
Seal Flats Sheriff Station and General Store
"Mulder, there's something strange about these bodies: Matheson and Stevens show definite signs of having suffered fracture of the soft tissue, as if they were frozen solid and then dropped. And Clearwater's even stranger; his body is totally unaffected by the cold, almost as if his body was adapted for sub-zero temperatures."
"So we're looking for a group of genetically engineered criminals, who freeze their rivals and drop them from helicopters... and people think I'm spooky." smirked Mulder, miming a dropping motion.
"I never said that, Mulder!" shouted Scully, "perhaps someone found the bodies and dropped them away from the sight of their deaths to avert suspicion."
"Or maybe it's a wendigo, an ancient demon which lurked in icy wastes... or at least that's what someone wants us to think is protecting the sacred land," amended Mulder seeing his partner's frown. "Either way we need to talk to Mad Jack to find out what he saw exactly. Well I need to talk to him. You need to lie down and lay off the coffee."
"Can it Mulder. The sooner I find out what's really happening the sooner I can get back to civilisation."
* * *
East of Seal Flats
Scully climbed from the pickup and snorted at the rough shack. Apart from a storm lantern steaming in the snow there was not sign of occupation. Raising an eyebrow at Mulder she waved an arm toward the door. As her hand raised the latch a piercing shriek broke the silence before dying in a wet cough and a pattering sound.
Pulling her gun she burst into a small room followed quickly by Mulder. The room was empty apart from a broken rocking chair and snow drifted in a line form the fireplace toward the far door. Stepping across the room she saw a short corridor with a door on either side, and blood spattered on the floor. Following the rasping breath she entered a cramped bedroom.
Lying mostly across the bed at the end of the blood trail was an elderly man. From the fluttering of his eyes and the hitched breath possibly in a critical condition.
"This man needs immediate medical attention", barked Scully kneeling at his side.
"They can't have got far," replied Mulder, following the trail across the corridor. "You do what you can."
"The Black Man.... tried to call... maybe too cold... or holds them too....", mumbled the old man.
"Mr. Ellis... I'm a doctor... can you tell me what happened?"
"I found out... tried to stop... they come from Farmho...." As if this information was the last of his life force, Mad Jack collapsed back onto the bed with blood with gouting from his lips.
Pulling out her phone Scully attempted to summon assistance. Instead of the expected ringing she heard a strange howling like gale force winds. Checking the display she saw her battery was full and she had reception but every number just produced the same howling.
"Mine's on the fritz too", said Mulder re-entering the room. "I followed the trail; suddenly the killer stops to put on snowshoes; then he gets on a yak."
"Mulder, be serious!"
"I am... either that or his feet changed from normal to large pads, which then split and hardened into hooves."
"That's as strange as the method of killing... Mr. Ellis had his ribcage crushed; the bruising matches that of one hand either side of his body... but the fingers met on his spine and the balls of the thumbs touched his solar plexus!"
"So it's looking like another Eugene Toombs?"
"It's more likely than some mythical demon Mulder... maybe the killer has more control than Toombs."
"And you think this person killed the others"
"Jack did say he found something out", said Scully filling her partner in on his final words.
"Eugene Toombs, a cryogenics chamber, and a smuggling organisation all forming a solution.", grinned Mulder, picking up a journal from the table.
"He said 'They come from Farmho.' Do you think he was trying to say Farlmer's Halt? Come on... you can read that on the way back to town."
* * *
Seal Flats Sheriff Station and General Store
"There isn't a police helicopter anywhere near, but I've arranged for a Deputy to go up in a Rescue Copter. If there is a hidden landing spot near here it should be visible from the sky," said Mulder, hanging up the phone. "Particularly if it has a cryogenics lab next to it "
"Mulder," muttered Scully glaring. "Enough already. Sheriff Mason's sent two Deputies over to Mr Ellis' hut so we can follow your oh so sensible idea now."
West of Seal Flats.
"Listen to this", said Mulder, reading from the journal, "'Matheson wants to buy the city... he thinks the Inutos are degenerate descendants, but I know the Wind Walker sent them to drive out the guardians... I asked him why they called it Seal Flats if the seals don't live there... but there is a seal; blocks to hold him down, like others in the icy wastes. They don't live to protect it... they want to tear it down... I hear the piping on the wind and they have almost done... soon he will be free to reek havoc in this place and nearer to total freedom.
"There is lots more like that, then at the end he goes on, 'I have to stop them... I will work the conjuration on Cthuga, His enemy, when Formhault rises tonight.' Then 'I have said it thrice but it does no good... they know of my part in this and send He who ruled Khem as they did in Wisconsin. Even now he pushes at my mind and feels for holes to enter this house... if I fail then the ritual is in....' He must have still been writing when the killer found him.
"Farmho... Formhault... he wasn't trying to tell us where to go... he was trying to tell us where to get help."
"We can go back... maybe he has recovered... we didn't check the hut for clues...." mumbled Scully staring back across the snow.
"No, the answers are onward Scully," enthused Mulder.
"And that looks like a hard blow coming in. Probably a blizzard," commented Mason. "We're safest heading on this way hope to outrun it."
* * *
22 June 1999 - Farlmer's Halt, Alaska
Scully wrapped her arms around herself. Even with the blankets from the pickup it was old, although not as cold as she had expected after the howling winds of the night before. In fact, compared to the previous morning she felt positively energised.
"Come take a look at this", called Mulder from the top of the hill.
Making her way over the crest she was stunned to see that the heavy snow ended in an almost straight line at the top; to the east and stretching as far as she could see, the plain was not just clear of snow but stripped to bedrock in places.
"Not that, although that is fascinating, this, " interjected Mulder pointing at a large rock. "Doesn't that look like it has been shaped, and there is something cut in the top."
Turning back, Scully had to agree that the smooth black stone was an almost exact cube so did look almost man-made. Crouching down she could make out a rough star carved into the east face with a sort of oval and maybe a flame or a snake in the centre.
"You know Mulder, last night I felt the strongest desire to return, then suddenly we crossed Farmer's Halt and I found I felt sick even thinking about Seal Flats", mused Scully, still focussed on the stone.
"Good job we didn't return... I called up the Rescue team this morning to see if they had found anything. They went up after he blizzard died and apparently Seal Flats is gone; no people, not even the buried remains of a building. So I guess we'll never know how those men died."
* * *
23 June 1999 - An office, somewhere
Cutting the wreaths of smoke with an impatient gesture Spender towered over the seated Arab. "Who are you really... and how did you find me here!"
Assembling a smile piece by piece, his companion drew in the smoke with relish, "I am nuclear war, random chance, I am death by cancer. I am in you; each breath you take marks you more as mine. Even your precious hybrids cannot bring salvation from the invasion that is me. And thank you for finding Scully... I am sorry I could not tell you why we wanted her. Next time my... master... will take his bride."
Jerked awake by a sharp pain, Spender shook the coal of his cigarette from his hand. For a moment the dream lingered before slipping away.
Last edited by Dave T Hobbit; 02-12-12 at 06:26 PM.
Reason: Fixed a couple of typos