Faust
Episode Three, Season One: Faust
Writer: Samantha Wil
Editor: mjade
Series Index
“Faust”
A woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties ran through a dense forest. Her breathing came out in harsh, jagged breathes as she hurriedly brushed aside the limbs of the trees. Legs moved as swift as a cheetah, barely avoiding rocks, twigs, and dirt mounds scattered across the woods floor. Scratches and scraps littered her arms and legs, bubbles of blood seeping on her fair skin. Her pace was dying, her breathes coming out in a hacking cough. One fatal mistake was made. Her tennis shoe slid under a knotted log, and she went tumbling to the ground face first with hands shot out in front of her.
“Please, no no no no no!” she cried desperately. “Not yet! Not yet!”
A howl vibrated through the night sky and ominous snarls emitted from the brush. The woman crawled feebly in the dirt, brown patches smearing on her white dress. She scrambled away as though her life depended on it. Her legs and arms jerked weakly, her body swaying dangerously from side to side. Then, jaws clamped down on her ankle as white, hot, blinding pain shot up through her leg and flowed through every vein in her body. She could feel the piercing teeth dig into her skin, ripping her muscle, and connecting with her bone. The howls continued to fill the otherwise silent air as the woman blacked out.
-
FBI Headquarters
November 20, 2030
Brody rushed through the bureau in an attempt to get to the office on time. Once inside the elevator, she dug through her briefcase for her cell phone only to see that she was already five minutes late. Groaning, she punched the basement button with her thumb before slouching back against the cold metal wall. It only took one event to cause a snowball of effects to emerge - the two unwanted visitors who had caused her a sleepless night.
Thoughts throbbed in her mind, jumbled up into piles so big that she couldn’t sift through them. Her heart pounded in her ears at the very thought of telling Will who had come to visit her last night. How could she even begin to explain that two people who had been friends with his parents came to see her and not him? She could already picture the look of betrayal contorting its way upon his pale face, hurt flowing through his transparent eyes. Everything seemed to be slipping through her fingers like sand and she had only begun her work on the X-Files.
Trust was a hard thing to come by when it came to William Van de Kamp. It seemed like his initial impulse was to trust but then the weight of the past would crash into him and greedily plant seeds of doubt. His trust was like tug-of-war, a never-ending psychological battle. He would be warm and friendly to her one minute. The next minute, it was like a Freudian slip would cause memories to bombard him and the callousness to appear. Brody could understand his hesitation to trust people. Hell, if she had been kidnapped at the raw age of eleven, she would have a hard time putting her faith into humanity.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding to reveal the hallway littered with boxes that lead to the X-Files office. Brody suddenly felt like a dead woman walking as she allowed her legs to move her towards where Will was most likely waiting for her. Twisting the doorknob, Brody peered into the room to see Will pouring over a file on the desk. As though sensing her presence, he looked up with a smile gracing his features.
“How do you feel about seeing some dead bodies first thing in the morning?” asked Will as though he were a kid in a candy shop.
“I’m just glad I already ate,” she replied honestly.
“Party pooper.”
“I’m sorry that rotting bodies in a morgue isn’t my idea of a good time,” she countered with a smirk slowly working its way upon her face, her fears of telling him slowly disappearing.
“You gotta learn to live a little, Brody.”
He chuckled, a boyish grin radiating on his face. Turning his attention to the computer, he clicked the mouse a few times. The projector flickered to life and most likely displayed a dead body onto the screen. Brody walked fully into the room and gazed up at the picture. It was indeed a gray and still body of a woman. Scratches were sparkled across her upper body and legs. Large gashes were dug deep into her flesh.
“In your medical opinion, tell me about the deceased based upon looks.”
Brody glanced over at her partner, arms crossed over her chest. It was as though he thought this was some sort of warped game that the two of them could play. With a sigh, Brody decided to play along even though this wasn’t her idea of fun. Studying the deceased, she quickly made her assumptions of the woman.
“Well, in my completely non-professional medical opinion, I would say that she died from an animal attack - a large dog, a coyote, or perhaps a wolf.”
“The coroner agrees with your theory. Tell me, Brodsters, how old do you think that lovely lady is?”
Raising an eyebrow, Brody thought the game was starting to get a little ridiculous, but she decided to continue on humoring him. Honestly, it was the least she could do for chickening out on telling him about how this Doggett and Reyes had invaded her apartment, assaulted her, and checked the back of her neck to make sure she wasn’t some kind of hybrid who was going to kill the son of their friends. Then again, she never really got the chance to actually tell him anything. Will had instantly and enthusiastically grabbed her attention with a dead body.
“Thirty-five,” she guessed lazily.
“Ugh, Brody, you’re completely in the arctic.”
She turned towards her partner in disbelief. There was no way that the woman could be much older or much younger than thirty-five. Even through the bite marks and scratches, the woman was easily identifiable.
“How old is she?” Brody gave up.
“Ninety-two.”
Brody let out a scoff as she turned back to the photo of the deceased. There was no way that the woman was over forty at the most. Her face was smooth with only faint laugh lines gracing her features. Her brunette hair didn’t look dyed and wasn’t thinning. Her body didn’t seem frail. She looked like a normal, healthy woman in her thirties.
“I don’t believe it.”
“According to her birth certificate she’s ninety-two,” Will pointed out.
“There must be some sort of mistake.”
“There’s a big difference between the numbers 1938 and 1995, Brody.”
Opening her mouth to retort, Brody found herself at a loss for words. There was no explanation she could give to justify a possible mistake on a birth certificate that came directly from City Hall. Turning back to the screen, Will switched the slide to showcase the wrist of the victim. On the flesh was what appeared to be a burn mark that Brody couldn’t quite make out since scars from a bite made it difficult to see.
“What do you think it is?” questioned Will.
The mark seemed to have a defined shape to it and she swore she could see the number six etched into the flesh. There was no way that it could be a burn mark. Tilting her head to the right, she studied the spot and figured it was some sort of symbol.
“A tattoo perhaps?”
“A tattoo that all the victims shared?”
At this, Brody snapped her attention to her partner. There were multiple victims? He hadn’t mentioned anyone besides the woman who had aged considerably well. She started to wonder about the other victims. How were they tied together? Were they all well-preserved for their age? Were they all women? Had they all died from seemingly an animal attack?
“Okay… what is it then?”
“A diabolical mark,” he said seriously.
“Please don’t tell me the next words out of your mouth are ‘Malleus Maleficarum’.”
“‘Hammer of the Witches’? Brody, you make my insides tingle.”
“So if we’re not going on a witch hunt, what are we doing?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of dude in red with pointy ears and a pitchfork.”
A chuckle escaped her ruby lips. When she saw that Will wasn’t laughing but instead had a very sober look plastered across his face, her sniggers died on her tongue. Clearing her throat, she glanced back at the symbol on the woman’s wrist once more before turning to her partner.
“Will, tell me you’re not suggesting that the devil did this.”
“If the shoe fits,” he replied softly.
“So… what, you’re saying that this woman sold her soul to become young and beautiful again and her death is a result of… Satan collecting his dues?”
“A Faustian Pact, Brody. Never read Doctor Faustus by Marlowe?”
“Uh, I’ve heard of it.”
“Maybe you’ve heard of Robert Johnson. He was a blues songwriter back in the 1920s and 1930s. Had songs like Hellhound on my Tail, Come on in my Kitchen, and Cross Road Blues. It was said he practiced hoodoo and summoned the devil in order to sell his soul so that he could become a legendary bluesman.”
Brody’s lips formed a thin line as she gave her partner a hard glare of incredibility. She knew he believed in extraterrestrial life to the point of veiled government conspiracies. That clued her in to the fact that he was open minded, willing to believe in even the smallest of things that held some form of truth to them. That didn’t, however, prepare her to hunt the devil himself.
“Small town - literally in the middle of Bumfuck - had a population of roughly a hundred over six years ago is now a thriving metropolis. The place started to flourish not long after the mayor was sworn into office. Corporations built headquarters, real estate was prospering, tourism was up, even a Hollywood movie was shot there. I mean, damn, Brody, this place literally rose up from the dust and became the fastest growing city in centuries.”
“Let me guess, our mauled woman is from this town,” commented Brody dryly.
“Yeah, she is. She’s the latest victim in a string of five dead bodies in or around this town. They all died the same way, all had the symbol on their wrists, all had miraculous luck and fortune.”
Will stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. Shrugging the coat onto his shoulders, he dug into his pocket to reveal two airplane tickets. He waved them in front of Brody’s face with the most dazzling smile he could muster.
“Last year an international airport was even built. Talk about good fortune.”
“I would say so,” she replied. “Tell me about the other four victims.”
“So one sold her soul for youth, another sold his soul to become a preeminent lawyer, another sold her soul for her husband who was days away from death when suddenly he was cured of all signs of disease, one sold his soul to become literally an overnight multi-billionaire, and another sold her soul to become a famous actress.”
“What about the mayor who made this town a flourish metropolis? I was certain you were going to say he sold his soul as well.”
“Actually, I think he’s our next victim, and if my calculations are right… he’ll be dead in two days time.”
-
Desdemona, Colorado
Will stood at baggage claim while Brody went to rent a car. It was remarkable to him that this town had gone from one of the smallest towns in America to being the fastest growing city in a matter of nearly six years. It was absolutely incomprehensible to him. He knew that there had to be something paranormal or supernatural at work, and he was determined to figure out what. His adoptive mother always said that if he was going to dedicate even five minutes of his time to something, then he should hit it out of the ballpark.
Driving through the city of Desdemona, Will couldn’t help but think how much like New York City it was: skyscrapers, horns blaring, expensive boutiques, multi-billion dollar stores, and complexes everywhere. Apartment buildings were sky high, taxis were literally bumper to bumper, and there was even the wafting smells city air.
The mayor’s office was huge and covered in white marble. The architecture looked like something out of an old Roman Empire movie with large crafted pillars and high arches. The building seemed out of place in the otherwise big city vibe that the metropolis emitted.
Upon taking one glance at the mayor, Will knew everything he needed to know. He had wealth ingrained into his very bones with custom made suits and lavish décor. Will was inclined to believe that the condition that the mayor was in wasn’t his usual state. Perspiration accumulated on his brow, the collar of his button-down drenched straight through. His tie hung lazily around his neck, too long and messy. Beady eyes shifted between the pair, a mask of guilt written clearly across his greasy face.
“Mister Mayor, we have reason to believe your life is in danger.”
He ignored the glare that Brody shot his way for including her in his assumptions. His theory seemed to prove even more right because the mayor’s face paled instantly at the words. The sweat started to cascade down his face, his hand reaching to loosen his tie even more. A forced chuckle escaped from underneath his damp mustache.
“Why would you assume that?”
“The recent deaths in the area. They all died the same way, didn’t they?”
“What Agent Van de Kamp means is that he believes there seems to be certain aspects of these deaths that may relate to you,” Brody spoke as though she were talking to a small child, words picked cautiously with impeccable care.
“Wh-what aspects are these?” the mayor squeaked.
The mayor leaned back in his chair, his fingers wrapped tightly around the armrests. His knuckles were faintly turning white. It was obvious this man was attempting to keep his cool, try not to farther on suspicions that the two agents might uncover.
“Good luck, Mister Mayor. The previous five victims had a run with good fortune about six years ago. That’s when you were elected mayor and literally raised this city out of the ashes, correct?”
“So you’re saying that some sort of serial killer is-is killing people who had a run in with lady luck?” the mayor questioned. “I thought these deaths were an animal attack?”
“Mighty fine coincidence wouldn’t you say? This animal attacking five people in a metropolis… where on more than one occasion broke into a locked home.”
“What do you want me to say, Agent Van de Kamp?” the mayor whispered. “I don’t have any information for you.”
“If you think of anything that might be helpful, please contact us. We know you have a very busy schedule, so we won’t take up anymore of your time,” Brody spoke softly as she handed him a business card.
Will turned towards his partner, disbelief written across his features. They weren’t done asking questions, weren’t even close in the least. There Brody was, taking over the investigation. Nodding towards the mayor, he followed his partner out of the building. Once in the parking lot, he grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her to face him.
“What the hell?” he demanded.
“This man, whether he made a deal or not, isn’t going to be forthcoming. It was fruitless to press him on the manner. Didn’t you realize that with every question he seemed to be better at covering up… his nervousness?”
“That man did sell his soul! Didn’t you see his body language?”
“Will, stop it. Just stop it. You are acting like this is personal for you.”
He faltered, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t really know what he expected when he stumbled across the case on the late night news. Some part of him thought that perhaps he could cheat the devil - find out information on his parents and the truths of aliens but at the same time avoid a lifetime of damnation. Late at night, it seemed like a fantastic plan. Now, he seemed like he was grasping at imaginary strings. The whole thing just seemed plain idiotic.
“Let’s just go visit the family of the first victim, okay?”
Brody nodded, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly in a half-hearted smile. As though sensing his sudden shift in mood, she said nothing. Will appreciated that more than he was willing to tell her.
-
Harding Residence
Brody knocked lightly on the mahogany front door. Silently, she shot a look towards her partner to tell him to play nice. His last display at the mayor’s office was just the tip of an iceberg of erratic behavior. Will kept those around him guessing, and Brody didn’t particularly enjoy that attribute.
The door opened slowly to reveal a frail looking woman. A handkerchief was clenched in pale hands to most likely dab at the tears that had flushed her cheeks and reddened her nose.
“Mrs. Harding, I’m Agent Brody and this is my partner Agent Van de Kamp. We’re with the FBI and would like to ask you a few questions about your late husband.”
The woman looked slightly taken back but allowed them entrance into her home. The place was decorated so exquisitely that there was no doubt in Brody’s mind that Joseph Harding had owned and operated a multi-billion dollar company. There were large area rugs that covered the hardwood floors. The furniture was solid wood and the style Victorian. Except, the thing that put the furnishings out of place was the thick layers of dust covering almost every inch of the surface as well as the discarded tissues kicked under the couches and chairs.
“What do you want to know?” Mrs. Harding whispered.
“Mrs. Harding, can you tell us about your husband’s business affairs?” requested Will.
The woman looked dismayed by the question, a deep frown etching into her forehead. She cleared her throat, her arms crossing over her chest. Brody felt a surge of sympathy pump through her limbs.
“What does that have to do with my husband’s death?”
“He became an overnight success,” Brody said gently. “For that, someone could have been… jealous or bitter. Is there anyone who could have wanted to hurt your husband?”
“The police said Joe was killed by an animal. Ar-are you saying that’s not true?”
“Multiple people have died in the exact way as your husband, Mrs. Harding. We’re merely keeping our options open,” explained Will.
“No one would hurt Joe. Everyone loves him. I mean, Joe’s the kind of guy who takes the redeye when going on a business trip so he can tuck our girls in at night. He takes the earliest flight home so we can have breakfast as a family and he can drive the girls to school. He gives generous Christmas bonuses and has a very flexible management style. Everyone loves my husband.”
Brody glanced over at her partner who conveniently ignored her. A man who loved his family as much as Joe Harding couldn’t possibly sell his soul for money. Brody didn’t care what Will’s logic was. There had to be some sort of animal on the loose, a rabid dog or a vicious wolf. It was the most reasonable explanation for the deaths. The luck was just a coincidence - just pure, simple luck.
“Was your husband acting oddly before he passed?” pressed Will.
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe he was looking over his shoulder a lot? Or, perhaps, he was more worried than usual?”
“He runs a multi-billion dollar company and has three young daughters. He’s always worried!”
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Harding,” interrupted Brody because she just couldn’t take seeing the woman become so distressed.
Will shot her a look but said nothing. He nodded towards the widow and gave his final condolences before following Brody out of the picturesque townhouse. Brody tried to keep her cool even though she knew they shouldn’t have visited the widow. Hell, they shouldn’t even have taken the case! There was no case, no X-File. A little voice in the back of her head told her she was using hindsight bias in the situation, but she chose to ignore it.
“A man who loved his family that much wouldn’t sell his soul to get rich, Will,” Brody snapped as she wrenched the passenger door open.
“No, Brody, don’t you see? He loved his family so much that he always wanted to give them financial security.”
Brody plopped down onto her seat and slammed the door shut. Will eased in next to her, twisting the key in the ignition. He glanced over at her, his eyes pleading for her to talk to him. When she refused to say anything, he fumbled with the seatbelt and shifted the car into drive.
“Loving parents always want their kids to have it better than they did. My dad… my dad worked in a small business carving handcrafted wood pieces. My mom’s a preschool teacher. They loved their jobs, you know, but they were struggling paycheck to paycheck. Then when I was kidnapped and they spent thousands upon thousands of dollars on shrinks and doctors… we were basically drowning in financial ruin,” explained Will quietly. “I never saw it at the time, because I was so pissed off at them for not believing me… but they were suffering in an entirely different way than I was. My dad’s dying of cancer now. He tells me every time I talk to him that he’s proud that I went to college and made something out of my life. I never had the heart to tell him I’m the most unwanted FBI agent at the bureau and that people above me are tirelessly trying to fire my ass.”
A forced chuckle escaped his lips. Brody glanced at him, saw the raw pain and guilt shining in his emerald eyes. She wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, pull him to her chest and hug him long and hard.
“You know, I was one of those rebel teenagers. I raised some hell during my teen years. I smoked, drank, and even tried some drugs. Luckily, I never got caught so I was able to actually be accepted to the FBI. I just wanted to piss my parents off, you know, for lying to me or whatever. I would tell them that I wish they had never adopted me because they didn’t understand me. I hated them so much all through high school. They always tried to support me though… and I know that they would sell their souls to protect me.”
“Will…”
“Don’t. I just want to leave it at that.”
-
Omicron Ceti Hotel
Will sat in his hotel room with his laptop out and sunflower seeds by his side. On the screen was a website dealing with hoodoo. His eyes scanned the pictures - crossroads, hellhounds, and legendary soul-sellers. The tales fascinated him. In fact, all urban legends and century old stories enticed him to the point of obsession. Of course, the alien telltales were what interested him the most.
There was a knock on his door. He called the person in and wasn’t the least surprised to see that it was Brody. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was dressed leisurely in a t-shirt and jeans. Will had never seen his partner look so casual.
“You really should learn to lock your doors,” she commented cheekily.
“Nobody but you visits me, Brods.”
“I didn’t com here to lecture you about safety, Will.”
“I figured as much.”
Will snapped the laptop shut and placed it on the end table. He motioned for Brody to take a seat with him on the bed which she did so hesitantly. She cleared her throat and found interest in a piece of imaginary lint.
“You might have been right about Harding.”
“How so?”
“I looked at his medical records. He was dying of prostate cancer. He was diagnosed six years ago, a week before his company suddenly struck it big.”
“Are you agreeing with me?”
“I’m not saying that he sold his soul, Will. I’m simply stating that it’s another suspicious tidbit to wrap your brain around.”
“Thanks for that, by the way. It’s not like my brain doesn’t already have enough to process and figure out,” he said lightly.
“Will, say you’re right hypothetically,” she said slowly. “He would want to make sure that his family was financially secure before…”
“He kicked the bucket?”
“I wouldn’t have put it that way but yes. Goodnight, Will.”
A soft smile broke out across her face. She patted his knee gently before getting up and leaving the hotel room. Will stared at the door, a sudden breeze of loneliness washing through him. His eyes trailed towards the laptop where sites of crossroads and deals called to him. Rolling off the bed, Will shoved his feet into worn loafers and grabbed his blazer that had been tossed aside onto a chair hours previous.
He drove outside of Desdemona limits and into a lesser populated area. As soon as he could, Will got off the main roads and onto dirt ones. The sedan bounced around to the rhythm of bumps and rocks. At the first fork in the road, Will cut the engine and stepped out of the car.
Standing in the middle of the crossroads, he glanced in all directions wandering how it worked. There was no set legend that told how to summon the devil. So he stood there, his eyes darting towards the direction of the smallest of noises in the darkness.
“A cute guy like you shouldn’t be out here all alone,” a female voice said behind him.
Will turned around to see a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair standing there. The bureau issued gun resided between the waistband of his jeans and the flesh of his back. A small surge of comfort flowed through his veins to know he had a weapon in case anything turned south.
“A gorgeous gal like yourself could meet the wrong people out here,” replied Will.
“I can take care of myself.”
“So the devil is a girl?” he commented with a smirk. “It sure does make sense.”
“Who says there’s only one devil? Who says I’m even a devil at all? I could be a witch, a sorcerer, a genie in a bottle, or even one of those aliens you’re so fond of, William Mulder - oh, or should I call you William van de Kamp? I don’t know which one you prefer.”
Will felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest cavity. He wished he had drug Brody along, brought her for back-up or even moral support. This devil - or whatever she was - was one piece of work. She made his insides flop around like a fish flapping helplessly on a sandy shore.
“How do you know my name?”
“Call it mind reading or intuition or anything you want to, Mulder. I know why you came here. You wanna meet your biological mommy and daddy who gave you up to complete strangers. You know I can give that to you. Just say the words and we seal the deal.”
Will had never been so tempted in his life. The forbidden fruit was being dangled in front of him, calling out to him like a siren. He was tempted to pick the apple, tempted to finally get all of the answers that he had craved since he was eleven years old.
“Tell me what you are first.”
“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Your poor, pathetic life, Mulder, has revolved around you being adopted. You know how many people were looking for you? The miracle boy. Then they found you in 2012 all naïve and comfy in your fake little house with your fake mommy and daddy in your fake little life.”
“They were my parents whether or not they conceived me.”
“Yawn. Why are you so hell-bent on finding Fox Mulder and Dana Scully then?”
Backing away slowly, Will knew he had to get out of there. He couldn’t stay and let this woman - this thing - taunt him any longer. He couldn’t listen to her coiling words. Even though he saw the things she’s accomplished, he didn’t know that he had it in him to sell his soul.
“You came to me, Mulder, not the other way around. You remember that.”
He dashed. His legs jerked under his body. Once at the car, he wrenched the door open and slide in. As he backed up, the woman stood in the middle of the crossroads with her arms crossed over her chest and a twisted sneer on her face. He spun the car around and drove back to the hotel with thoughts of what ifs and had beens clouding his mind.
As he pulled into a parking space, he noticed Brody leaning against the building with a sober look. When she saw Will, she kicked off the side of the hotel and walked towards her partner.
“Will, where have you been?”
“I just needed some air. What’s up?”
“The mayor’s dead.”
“What? I was off on the date?”
“No, he committed suicide. His wife found him a little over an hour ago. He put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. No claw marks, no bites, no attack.”
“He didn’t want the hellhounds coming for him, so he ended his life before they could.”
“Hellhounds?”
“I’ve done some reading.”
Brody nodded, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to keep the bitter November air away. Will stood next to her, his shoulder bumping hers. There was an urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pull her close to keep her warm. Except he didn’t for more reasons than he could count. So he settled with shoulder-to-shoulder contact because he just needed someone close to him.
“If you could sell your soul for anything in the world, what would it be?” he whispered.
Will gazed up at the stars. He had his chance, had the choice to find his parents once and for all. His damn morality didn’t allow him to make the deal, to sign his very essence off to an eternity of fire and brimstone. The thought ate away at him. His parents were so close and yet they slipped through his fingers.
“I would sell my soul for a Klondike bar,” Brody jested.
Tearing his gaze away from the twinkling sky, Will saw a bright smile dazzling his partner’s features. A chuckle escaped through his lips.
“Seriously, Brody, what would you sell your soul for?”
“Honesty. Truth.” Her gaze fixated upon the night sky. “We live in a society riddled with lies and deception that sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating beneath it all. For once, I would like a breath of fresh air in the toxic atmosphere.”
Something twisted in Will’s gut. It coiled tight in his stomach and made his insides somersault. Too many times in his lifetime had he felt like he was just treading water, begging to get to land. The water had rushed into his lungs so many times that he had lost count. He had been drowning mentally since he was eleven. Every time he felt like he was finding his footing, another wave would wash him away. He could empathize with her more than she would ever know.
“Will?”
“What is truth and honesty, Brody? I mean, really. I like to believe I’m an honest man who always tells the truth… but sometimes I doubt the truths that I hold so closely. Can anyone really be honest and true when there are so many lies and deceptions out there?” Will licked his numb lips. “The world is crumpling around us, leaders betraying their people at every turn. We’ve been to war and back, seen horrific things happen to innocent people all in the name of what exactly? Our very existence seems to revolve around the fact that we’re men of war and violence. Guns, germs, and steel - the age old summation of Earth.”
“Jared Diamond?” questioned Brody.
“I dabble in all sorts of literature.”
“From soul selling to summations of the Earth. Will you ever cease to amaze me?”
Will merely shrugged, his attention returning to the twinkling twilight. Ever since he could remember, he would lie in his backyard and gaze up at the stars. He studied astronomy in college, taking every course and lab he could fit into his otherwise very psychological and political curriculum. He liked to make up stories about the stars when he was a kid. When he entered his teen years, he believed that his far away biological parents were looking at the same star he was. As the years drug on, Will tried to forget about his fantasies and live in the real world. Except working on the X-Files proved it was hard to live in everyone else’s reality.
“Will, there’s something I need to tell you… something I’ve kept from you the past couple of days.”
Part of him didn’t even want to hear it. He was predisposed at that moment to just trust the woman next to him and not cause any sort of drama. He wanted to believe that someone in his life was being honest with him, sharing truths that nobody else would understand. The bit of information that she might unveil could very well be the end of their partnership and drive him back into the lonely pit of the basement office, paranoid and afraid.
“What?” he whispered.
“I was paid a visit by a man and a woman the night before we started this case,” she started slowly.
The tightening in his gut became a vicious vise that was biting into his insides with poisonous fangs. Will hardly ever heard good news, so whenever someone suggested that they talk or that they’d been keeping something, it’s never a good thing.
“The man tackled me… peeled away the collar of my shirt to look at my neck.”
Will turned his gaze onto his partner, concern shining in his eyes. Whatever he thought she was going to tell him, it wasn’t that she had been attacked in the comfort of her apartment.
“He said he had to make sure I wasn’t one of them… they said they knew your biological parents and that they have been watching you from afar.”
There was a piece of Will that felt guilty for not feeling that these people were risking their lives for him. Instead, his insides crawled about at the very thought that these people could be lying, trying to get to him through Brody. His gut gnawed at the thought of more lies and deceptions.
“What were their names?” croaked Will.
“Monica Reyes and John Doggett. I ran their names after they left… they were both classified.
“Of course.”
“I can get them for you, if you like.”
“From who? Faraday? Jesus, Brody, he’s going to know something’s up. When he figures out that he’s lying and illegally giving you these documents for me, the shit storm of all time is going to explode. They’re looking for a reason to shut down the X-Files, that’s why they sent you to spy on me. If Faraday figures this out, he won’t hesitate to fire the bullet himself.”
A pained look of betrayal flashed over Brody’s features. Will wanted to laugh, because she knew as well as he did that the only reason she was assigned to the X-Files was to shut it down. She was writing reports, giving her opinions about the division. All they wanted to hear was how much of a time and money waster the office was. They didn’t want to hear the truth. In fact, they would crucify Brody if she tried to voice the truths that she slowly seemed to be understanding.
“Is that what you think? I’m nothing but a spy?”
“Well, you weren’t sent to work with me because I’m the golden boy of the FBI,” he reasoned.
“How many times do I have to prove to you that I’m your partner and I have no other agenda?”
“I’ve been screwed over more times than I can count, Brody. So excuse me if I don’t instantly trust you when I’ve known you for a week.”
“I can’t continue to work with you if you don’t have my back.”
“I have your back, Brody. You will always have me watching your back no matter our disagreements. But do you have mine? Do you have my back or do you just have your own?” snapped Will.
He walked away from her, leaving her to stand in the bitter air by herself to think about the situation at hand. He couldn’t stand there with her any longer when she refused to see that she was merely a pawn in one giant board of chess.
-
Arlington, Virginia
12:02 A.M.
Will twisted his key into the lock and entered his apartment. Kicking the door shut behind him, he flipped through the envelopes of a few days mail. Bills, pay stub, advertisements, skin magazine subscriptions, more bills. He tossed his keys onto the coffee table as his eye caught the flashing red light emitting from his answering machine. Punching the replay button with his thumb, he opened one of the bills.
“William, its Daphne. I know it’s been a couple of months since we last spoke… and I know that you’re probably still angry at me for taking the job at the Defense Department. I just,” the female voice faltered and Will wanted nothing more than to just delete the message and not hear anymore. “William, I’ve heard about your new partner Riley Brody. She cannot be trusted, William. She’s working against you, trying to debunk your work, shut you down, rail you in. She’s not your friend. She’s working with men who want nothing more than to destroy you. I want to talk to you, need to speak with you. I know things about Brody that would make your skin crawl. William, call me. It’s still the same number.”
The answering machine beeped loudly in the suddenly silent apartment. Will just stood there, dumbstruck at the message. His whole being shook with anger directed towards Brody. Instantly he believed the woman on the machine, his ex-partner… one of the few people he considered to be a friend once upon a time before she left him for some fancy job at the Department of Defense. Then there was a small bit of him that told him that Daphne didn’t have all the facts, that she didn’t know Brody like he did. She was making assumptions, being irrational.
Will collapsed down onto his threadbare couch in the mostly dark living room. The only light emitted from the fish tank in the corner of the room. A soft siren could be heard in the distance, a couple yelling from the floor below. Will was surrounded by people in his apartment complex, had the company of his pet fish, had the knowledge that Daphne was looking out for him, but he had never felt more alone in his life.
The phone rang, but Will didn’t have the heart to answer it. He let the machine pick up the call and a familiar, warm female voice vibrated in his ears and made him sick to his stomach.
“Hey, it’s me, Brody. I called in a favor to VCU to get me access to Reyes and Doggett’s classified files. I didn’t want to ask Cullen Faraday again, because you’re right. He’d only get suspicious. Anyways, Will, they were FBI agents and the last agents to work on the X-Files before you. Will, this Agent Doggett worked closely with your biological mother, was in charge of a manhunt for you biological father when he disappeared without a trace in Oregon in 2000. I say it’s safe to assume that they were friends with your parents. Uh, gimme a call and we can go over the files this weekend.”
The excitement he felt at unraveling the mystery of his parents and their associates lost its appeal. In fact, he didn’t want to look over the files with Brody, didn’t want her to know anything about him or his past before he talked to Daphne. She was always honest with him, true, just, and honest. He needed to know what she knew.
-
Alexandria, Virginia
12:06 A.M.
Brody clicked the end button on her cell phone. Tossing the phone onto her desk, she sifted through the last couple days’ mail. There was nothing out of the ordinary except one single letter. Her name and address was handwritten on the front of the white envelope. There was no return address. Turning the envelope over in her hands, she run her nail under the adhesive strip to see what was inside.
There were two pieces of fold paper. The first piece of paper had a list of names, dates, and serial numbers. The names were in alphabetical order; all were last names starting with ‘B’. The name Brody, Blake S. caught her eye immediately. The rest of her family was listed as well - Dean, his wife Isabel, his daughter Juliet. Her parents, Grant and Mona, were also on the list as well as her. She noted her uncle and his family’s names. The Brody family dates were relatively close together after their names - all around the spring of 2012 except for her niece whose date was much later. Scanning down through the list of other names, about two-thirds of the names had dates listed around the spring of 2012.
Laying the piece of paper on the coffee table, she focused her attention on the second piece of paper. On the top was written ‘Avian Flu Inoculation Procedure’. Below the heading were lists of how to inoculate the population and how to store the data. Glancing back at the paper on the coffee table, she realized that the dates corresponded with vaccination dates.
Sinking down into the couch, she let the paper slip through her fingers. It didn’t make sense. Who would send her that and why? What did it mean? The Avian Flu inoculation had been mandatory as far as she could remember. She had been eight or nine, had cried when the needle pierced her skin, had grown upset when the scar didn’t fade. Fingertips grazed her upper arm through the material of her blouse. The scar was still there as none of the scars from the inoculations faded.
Next week - Judas Kiss: Children start disappearing all over the U.S. only to be returned days later with spectacular abilities.
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