This story is based on the characters and situations created  by Chris
Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and FOX  Broadcasting.  No infringement
is intended.

This story is also for the entertainment and enjoyment of  the members of
the EMXC.  Please do not further distribute  or archive without my express
permission as it will be in  violation of international copyright law.


"The Beast"
by WiscDana

Chapter One

        A file folder smacked onto the table in front of her, startling
Special Agent Dana Scully out of her daydream.  She'd been waiting for her
partner, Agent Fox Mulder, in his office for the past fifteen minutes;  as
usual, he was late.
        "Get a look at these pictures, Scully,"  Mulder told her with a
huge grin. "I've never seen anything like them."  He sat behind his desk,
propping his feet up.  There was a very smug look on his face.
        Lips pursed, wondering if she was being set up for some kind of
bad joke, Scully opened the file folder.  The first thing to meet her eye
was a photograph.  It showed what appeared to be a large, hairy creature,
maybe an ape.  Another picture showed the same creature, walking across a
gravel road set deep in the forest. The third, and last picture, showed
the creature yet again, disappearing into the trees.
        "So?"  Mulder could hardly contain his enthusiasm.  "What do you
think?"
        "I think it's someone walking around in the woods in a very
tacky-looking gorilla suit,"  she commented dryly, looking through the
pictures one more time.  "Obviously, someone is playing a joke of some
kind.  I mean, look at it - the proportions are all wrong!"
        He pulled the file closer to himself.  "Wrong for what?"  he
demanded.
        "For a gorilla.  Their craniums slope much more, and they rarely
walk upright like that.  I'm sure, if we were to look closely enough, we'd
be able to see the zipper running down the back."
        He smiled again, shaking his head.  "Of course the proportions are
all wrong for a gorilla, Scully,"  he agreed.  "But they're exactly right
for - Bigfoot!"
        She leaned  back in her chair,  laughing in patent disbelief. 
"Bigfoot? Really, Mulder, this is too outrageous, even for you!  Where did
you get these pictures from - some supermarket tabloid?  Did some woman
also claim to have had his baby?"
        "These were sent to me by  a man up in Washington state,"  he
explained, undaunted by her skeptical attitude.  After all, he was used to
it.  "He's a perfectly respectable father of three, out for a Sunday drive
with his family.  They were just enjoying the scenery, when who should pop
up out of the woods but - this guy."  He tapped the top picture.  "He
claims the creature was moving too fast to get more than the three
pictures before it disappeared back into the woods."
        Scully was still shaking her head in denial.  "It could still be
someone in a bad gorilla suit,"  she insisted doggedly.
        "Oh, yeah?"  He pulled a typewritten report from the bottom of the
file and handed it to her.  "That's a report by a noted anthropologist, who
analyzed the photos for me.  According to his estimations, based on
surrounding scenery, the length of the stride, and other things, this
creature stands right around eight feet tall.  How many eight foot tall
practical jokers are going to dress up in a custom-fitted Bigfoot outfit
and go hiking around in the woods on a Sunday afternoon?"
        "Eight feet?"  Scully echoed, looking at the photos with a little
more interest.  "If he's correct, this could be the find of the century,
Mulder. Not that I believe in the existence of Bigfoot, per se.  But maybe
some sort of mutation - a grizzly bear, for instance."
        "It's no grizzly bear, Scully.  Look at the second picture, where
the creature is turning slightly to look at the car.  The muzzle, or
mouth, is 'way too flat for a bear.  And the ears are low on the cranium,
set close to the skull.  This thing is human, Scully - or very nearly
human.  It is definitely not a grizzly bear."
        She shrugged, closing the file.  "Okay, Mulder, just for the sake
of argument, which you're very good at, so what if it is Bigfoot?  What
does it have to do with an X-File?  Or is the existence of Bigfoot itself
considered to be an X-File?"
        Smiling a cynical little smile, Mulder reached into his inner coat
pocket and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping.  Unfolding it, he passed
it over to her.
        It was a brief article about the mysterious deaths of three army
privates in eastern Washington State.  They were out on bivouac in a
near-by forest, when all three had turned up missing.  The men were
considered AWOL - Absent Without Leave - until their badly mutilated
bodies turned up ten miles away from their original campsite.
        "Let me guess - they were kidnapped by Bigfoot?"  Scully drawled,
tilting her head to one side, as if daring him to deny it.
        Mulder didn't take the dare.  "This isn't in the newspaper
account, of course, but I have it from a very reliable source that human -
or almost human - bite marks were found on all three bodies.  No body parts
were missing,  just - chewed."
        Scully's mouth formed a small moue of disgust.  "Maybe a bear came
along after they were dead."  Her motto was 'never say die.'
        Mulder shook his head, but refused to admit defeat.  He could be
just as stubborn as his partner.  "Just pack your hiking boots, Scully -
we're going camping."
        Twelve hours later, the two FBI agents were on board a flight to
Seattle, Washington.  From there, a small charter plane would fly them to
a little town just outside the Okanogan National Forest.  There, they
would rent camping equipment and a four-wheel-drive and head out into the
forested wilderness, in search of the elusive Bigfoot.  Scully was still
shaking her head, wondering how in the world Mulder had gotten permission
for this one.
        Mulder was seated beside her, his elbow taking up most of the
armrest. Scully was trying to concentrate on the in-flight movie, but was
having trouble keeping her mind on it.  Mulder was engrossed in a book
with the lurid title: "Bigfoot - Monster or Myth?"  Similar books were in
his briefcase, open on the empty seat by the window.
        With a sigh, Scully reached across him and snared one of the
books.  This one was entitled: "Man of the Forest:  Bigfoot, The New
Missing Link?"
        "I didn't know there was an old one,"  she muttered, opening to a
page at random and beginning to read.  Mulder glanced over at her
curiously, then returned to his own reading.
        At the airport, they dragged their backpacks over to a private
hangar, where their pilot was hopefully waiting for them.  Scully, as
ordered, was wearing hiking boots, along with thick jeans, a warm flannel
shirt, and a sheepskin-lined denim jacket. Washington could still get
pretty chilly in the late spring.
        Mulder was also dressed in jeans and hiking boots, with a
goose-down vest over his faded blue workshirt.  He carried his backpack
carelessly over one shoulder.  If he were any happier, Scully reflected,
watching him, he'd be whistling.
        Stepping into the hangar, both paused a moment to let their eyes
adjust to the gloom within.  A pair of over-alled legs were poking out of
the engine compartment of a red and white Cessna.  Rather alarming
hammering noises were echoing from inside.
        "Um, Jamie Peterson?"  Mulder called, trying to make himself heard
over the banging.
        The pounding stopped, and the legs began to windmill wildly, as
the owner tried to pull themself out.  Mulder glanced at Scully, eyebrow
raised in mild concern.  It looked as if the plane were eating the person
alive. Scully lifted an eyebrow in return. Mulder stepped forward to offer
what assistance he could, almost getting kicked in  the head for his
troubles.  He finally managed to get a grip on the back of the coveralls
and heaved with all his might.
        They flew backward, landing in an awkward heap on the hangar
floor. Scully rushed forward to help, then drew back in astonishment when
their pilot, lying squarely on top of Mulder, turned out to be a young
woman. And despite a smudge of grease on one cheek, a very attractive
young woman.
        Laughing, she hopped to her feet, then bent toward Mulder with arm
outstretched to help him up.  After gaping for a moment, he accepted the
offer.  She had a surprisingly strong grip for a woman.
        "Yes, I'm Jamie Peterson,"  she smiled, handing Mulder a
semi-clean rag so he could wipe the grease off his hand.  She was wiping
her own hands on another rag.  "Agent Mulder?"
        He nodded, then indicated his partner. "Special Agent Dana
Scully," he introduced.  He was still staring at Jamieas if mesmerized.
        Jamie began unzipping her coveralls, revealing a slim, jeans-clad
figure underneath.  Stepping out of the coveralls, she threw them into a
corner. "Well, I'm ready to go whenever you are,"  she announced, slipping
a blue baseball cap over shining blond hair. "I was just making a few minor
adjustments to the engine while I was waiting for you two to show up."
        Scully glared at  Mulder, mouthing the word "minor?" at him.  He
shrugged, then grabbed her backpack from her to toss it inside the
plane.  He threw his own in after it, then gave Scully a boost into the
plane, leaping in nimbly behind her.
        He took the copilot's seat next to Jamie, leaving Scully the
entire back seat to herself.  Rather grumpily, she stretched out for a
nap.  It was a fairly long flight, and she didn't care to spend it
watching Mulder making eyes at their attractive pilot.  Of course, she
honestly had to admit to herself that Mulder would have taken the front
seat even if their pilot had been old, ugly, and male.

        A change in the engine noise woke her.  As her ears began to pop,
Scully realized that they must be descending.  A glance out the window
showed no signs of civilization:  no houses, no farm fields, and no
airport.  Just trees, trees, and more trees - a solid, blue-green sea of
them.
        Mulder glanced over his shoulder to look at her.  "Well, good
morning, Scully," he smiled.  "We'll be landing in a few minutes.  Did you
have a nice nap?"
        Scully smoothed her hair out of her face, nodding vaguely.  She
hated falling asleep in the middle of the day - it made her feel logy and
dull. The plane dipped suddenly, making her gasp and clutch at the seat
back. Mulder and Jamie Peterson were laughing, so she had to assume it
wasn't anything serious.
        Faintly, she heard Mulder say, "You'd better take it now." and
realized he must have been flying the plane.  Well, they were still in the
air, so he couldn't have done too badly.
        Just as Scully was  sure  they were going  to crash into  the 
treetops, the trees suddenly opened up, revealing a small town nestled
along the edge of the forest.  A dirt track along one side of the town
was, she realized, the landing strip.  The small plane swooped down,
forcing her to clamp down on the contents of her stomach.  With a jarring
bump, and a few small hops, the plane was on the ground, taxiing over to a
small building at the end of the runway.
        "There should be a vehicle waiting for us, along with our camping
stuff," Mulder was saying, trying to make himself heard over the roaring
of the engine.  Scully wasn't sure who he was talking to.

        There was a four-wheel drive Jeep waiting for them when  they
alighted from the plane.  A burly man stepped forward to help them out of
the plane and unload their backpacks.  He gave Jamie a warm handshake and
a slap on the shoulder, asking how her how the flight had been.  They were
obviously old friends.
        "I told Jamie we'd give her a lift to the motel,"  Mulder informed
Scully, as they were carrying their things over to the jeep.  "It's too
late for her to fly back tonight.  You and I can head out to the site
first thing in the morning."
        Scully nodded agreeably, tossing her backpack into the back of the
vehicle.  Trying not to be too obvious about it, she seated herself in the
front passenger seat while Mulder and Jamie were stowing their things. 
Let somebody else have the back seat this time.
        The motel was close to the center of town, such as it was.  Each
room was actually a small cabin, separate from the others.  Mulder took
the one on the far end, Scully the middle, and Jamie the one on the other
side.
        As she was splashing water on her face to freshen up after the
long trip, there was a knock on Scully's door.  Frowning, because it was
getting late, she opened the door a crack and peeped out.
        It was Mulder, a boyish grin on his face.  "Hey, Scully; Jamie and
I are going across the street for a bite to eat.  Care to join us?"
        Scully shook her head.  "No thanks, Mulder; I'm a little tired."
        "Tired?" He was still smiling.  "You napped all the way over here,
how can you be tired?  Jamie thinks we'll be able to find someone who knows
about the Bigfoot sighting."  The smile went up another fifty watts.  "How
about it?"
        With a small sigh, Scully reached inside the door for her coat,
then followed Mulder next door to pick up Jamie.

        They crossed the main street and approached a dark brown wooden
structure. Scully paused when she noticed all the neon beer logos in the
windows.  A faded wooden sign above the door announced that this noble
establishment was called The Bigfoot Bar and Grill.
        "Uh, Mulder - this is a bar,"  she informed him.
        "Oh, but they make a terrific burger!"  Jamie told her brightly. 
"All my friends hang out here - I can introduce you two around.  Lots of
folks around here have seen Bigfoot.  Or at least, they've heard him."
        As Mulder opened the door, a cacophony of loud music, cigarette
smoke, and beer fumes hit them like a tidal wave.  Scully resisted the
urge to turn around and run, back to the safety of her motel room.
        Mulder followed the two women, directing them to three empty
stools at the bar.  Over the din, he managed to convey to the waitress
that they wanted three burgers with everything, and three beers.
        The burgers were huge, greasy, and covered with everything
imaginable. Mulder bit into his with every sign of enjoyment.  Scully took
a small nibble, decided it was edible, and ate with a bit more
enthusiasm.  Her stomach would make her pay later, she was sure, taking a
sip of beer to wash it all down with.
        A lively Country Western tune began to blare from the jukebox.
        "C'mon, Fox - let's dance!"  Jamie insisted, pulling an
unprotesting Mulder onto the small, crowded dance floor.
        Scully watched in fascination as Jamie attempted to teach her
partner the Texas two-step.  He was laughing, trying to imitate her steps
and doing a passable job of it. Scully shook her head in disbelief and
ordered another beer.
        Heavy breathing parted the hair on the top of her head, making her
look up - and then up some more.  A big, burly lumberjack-type was gazing
down at her, admiration apparent in his alcohol-bleared eyes.  The entire
bottom half of his face was obscured by a bushy reddish-brown beard.  His
wrinkled jeans were held up by a straining pair of red suspenders.
        Scully tried to catch Mulder's eye, but he and Jamie were talking
to another couple on the edge of the dance floor.  About Bigfoot, no doubt.
        "Hey little lady,"  the man breathed, once more bathing her hair
and face in a wash of beer fumes.  "You must be new to these parts.  I
surely do love women with red hair.  You all alone here?"
        "Ah, no; actually, I'm here with friends."  Scully replied, while
his big belly slowly began to press her up against the bar.  Her gun was
holstered at her back, so she wouldn't be able to get it out if she really
needed it. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.  Another glance at Mulder
showed him moving farther to the back of the room.
        "Yep, I shore do love red hair," Paul Bunyan repeated, stroking
said hair with a rather grimy, sausage-like finger.  Scully drew back as
far as she was able, which wasn't far enough.  "Wanna dance, pretty lady?"
        "Er, thank you,"  Scully stammered, "But no - I'm rather tired.  I
think I'll just find my friends and go."  Rather hard to do, with his
massive frame blocking her retreat.
        His face fell.  "Aw, don't be cold to me, baby.  Just one dance?"
        Just as Scully was about to apply her knee to a sensitive part of
his anatomy, a hand clapped her erstwhile dance partner on the shoulder,
easing him aside as if he weighed no more than - well - Scully.
        "Don't mind Pete here, darlin'."  Her rescuer was even taller than
the lumberjack, though not nearly as wide.  His clean-shaven face was
ruggedly-handsome, in a craggy sort of way.  "He's just a real lady's man,
is all."  He quirked an eyebrow at the bartender, who instantly bribed Pete
away with the promise of another pitcher of beer.
        Scully let out her breath in a sigh of relief.  "Thank you,"  she
told her rescuer with a warm smile.  "I was trying to avoid  creating a
scene, if possible."
        The man ordered a beer for himself, then stood beside Scully,
leaning an elbow companionably on the bar while he gazed at her.  "You
here on vacation?"  he finally asked, after a prolonged scrutiny of her
camping attire.
        "Um, yes,"  Scully replied, sipping her own beer to stall for
time.  "My friend and I are here to - do a little camping."
        "Camping, eh?" He was smiling, but the look in his eyes was
keen.  "Just - camping?"
        Scully wasn't sure what he was trying to imply. "Yes, just
camping,"  she repeated.  The beer was hitting her system with a
vengeance, making everything seem overly-bright, while sounds were
strangely muted.  For some reason, she felt the need to keep her wits
about her while talking to this man.
        "I'm Dick, by the way,"  he introduced himself, holding out one
hand. "Dick Johnson."
        Scully allowed her hand to be engulfed by his.  "Dana Scully," 
she reciprocated in kind.
        "That your friend over there?"  His head jerked in the direction
Mulder had last been heading.  She turned her head dutifully - Mulder was
seated at a booth with Jamie Peterson, talking to three or four other
people.
        "Yes, that's him,"  she acknowledged, turning back to her
companion.
        "I thought I heard him asking about Bigfoot back there."  His
voice was a little sharp, she thought, for such a seemingly innocuous
subject.
        She forced her own voice to remain light, as if the matter really
held no interest for her.  "Oh, well, considering the name of this fine
establishment, it's only natural, I suppose."
        "Your - friend - interested in that sort of thing?  Bigfoot, I
mean?  The Loch Ness monster, maybe?"  His tone was trying to be
bantering, but fell a little short.  Scully wondered about all the
questions.  When he had first 'rescued' her, she had expected him to hit
on her, too.  But that didn't seem to be his intention anymore, if it ever
had been in the first place.
        "Oh, a little, I suppose,"  She shrugged, to show that she neither
knew nor cared what her "friend" believed in.  "We're mostly here for the
fresh air, really."
        He opened his mouth for another question, only to be stopped by
the return of Mulder and Jamie.  Muttering something about meeting his
friends, he faded back into the crowd.
        "What was that all about?"  Mulder inquired, eyebrows raised.  "He
seemed pretty intense about something."
        Scully shrugged again. "He was just riding to my rescue,"  she
quipped, pushing her half-drunk beer away.  She'd had more than enough,
she decided. "I think I just met Bigfoot."
        Mulder's eyes lit up, then faded when Scully pointed out
Lumberjack Pete to him.  "Well, I guess we should be getting back to the
motel:  we have to be up pretty early in the morning."  He rested a hand
on Scully's shoulder to help her through the crowd, turning to Jamie. 
"Are you coming back with us?"
        Jamie shook her head, hoisting a fresh beer.    "I think I'll stay
a little while longer, mingle with my friends."  she replied.  "Good night,
Agent Scully; it was nice meeting you.  'Night, Fox."
        "I didn't think she was even old enough to drink,"  Scully
muttered, as they waited to cross the street to return to their motel.
        "Who, Jamie?" Mulder asked absently.  "Oh, sure - by about five
years, I'd say.  So, what was that guy quizzing you about?"
        "Bigfoot,"   she replied shortly.  Despite her nap, she was
suddenly very, very tired.  Must be the one and a half beers, she
decided.  And jet lag, too.
        Mulder's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.  "What's a
military-type like him asking about Bigfoot for?"
        Scully stopped, turning to face him in surprise.  "Military
type?  Do you really think so?"
        "I know so,"  he replied, stopping in front of her motel room
door.  "He was pointed out to me by several locals in the bar."
        Scully frowned, fumbling in the dark to unlock her door.  "What
possible interest could the military have in Bigfoot?"
        "I don't know, but I think we should try to find out."  He took
the key away and deftly unlocked her door, handing the key back with a
slight bow.
       She snatched it from his hand with a bit of bad grace.  "Good
night, Mulder,"  she said, closing the door in his face.
        "See you bright and early,"  he called through the door.  She
heard his footsteps walking away:  they were not moving in the direction
of his room.



Chapter Two

        Scully was just stepping out of the shower when an
all-too-familiar knock sounded on her door.  "Mulder?""  she called, just
to make sure.
        "None other,"  he replied, his voice muffled by the door.  "I
thought we'd grab a little breakfast before heading out.  There's a diner
right next to the motel. We're all checked out."
        "I'll meet you over there, okay?"  she answered, beginning to
towel her hair dry.  "I need a few minutes yet."
        "Okay - want me to order for you?  What would you like?"
        "Just get me whatever you're having," she decided, hoping it
wouldn't be a big mistake.
        "Right.  Meet you over there."  His footsteps crunched away.
        Scully joined him at the diner about thirty minutes later, and
found him in a corner booth.  He was looking at a brochure with an
artist's rendering of Bigfoot on the front.  A waitress was just setting a
large platter of bacon, eggs, hashbrowns and pancakes in front of him.  A
similar plate was in her other hand; she put it on the table as Scully
slid into the booth.
        "Mulder, I couldn't eat this much in a hundred years,"  she
protested, reaching for the syrup.
        "Hey, lumberjack's special,"  he teased, waving a crisp piece of
bacon at her.  "Rather appropriate, considering our eventual destination -
the deep, dark woods."
        "Just call me Little Red Riding Hood,"  she quipped, spearing a
bit of egg on the end of her fork.  It was just the way he liked it -
yellow and runny.  She grimaced, then ate it anyway.
        "No Jamie?"  she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her
eye. She'd heard him tip-toeing past her door about three o'clock that
morning. He looked pretty good for someone who'd only gotten about three
hour's sleep.
        "No, she's still in bed, as far as I know.  She wasn't going to
head out until later this morning."  he replied equably, folding a bit of
egg into a piece of pancake before popping the whole mess into his
mouth.  "Met some interesting people last night, though."
        "All Bigfoot aficionados, I presume?"  Her tone was more than a
little sarcastic.
        "One or two claimed to have actually caught a glimpse of the
creature," he said serenely.  "Most have only heard it, usually at night."
        "And after three or four beers, no doubt,"  she retorted, finally
giving up on her huge breakfast and concentrating on her coffee.
        "Scully, Scully,"  Mulder shook his head with infinite sadness at
her doubts. "Why can't you just admit that there might be something out
there? Something so strange, so unusual, that it's beyond our wildest
imaginations."
        "I doubt if it's beyond yours, Mulder."  She dug into her pocket
for a crumpled dollar bill.  "Bet you a dollar it turns out to be a
grizzly bear."

        They were on the road shortly thereafter, their camping gear
rattling with every pothole and crack in the road - and there were a lot
of them.  They were soon surrounded by trees, in every direction.
        "Where exactly are we going, Mulder?"  Scully inquired, craning
her neck to see the tops of the trees.
        "I'm not sure, exactly,"  he replied rather evasively,  turning
his head from side to side as if searching for something.  "I'll know it
when I see it."
        "Oh, that's a comforting thought,"  she muttered.  She dug a local
map out of the glovebox and attempted to find out where they were, and
where they could possibly be going.
        "Anyone following us?"  Mulder asked a little while later, looking
in the rear-view mirror.
        Scully shook her head, feeling a tad queasy from trying to read
the fine print on the map in a moving vehicle.  "Haven't seen a soul for
miles."
        "Good."  Rather abruptly, he swung the Jeep to the left, throwing
Scully against her door.  Rubbing her shoulder, she gave him a dirty look,
then returned to her map reading.
        "Does this road have a name?"  she demanded, squinting to see
better.  "I don't even see it on this map."
        "It's called Back Road Number Two,"  he teased, ducking
automatically as the vehicle slapped against a low-hanging branch.  "It's
not on the map."
        The jeep growled up a steep incline, then turned right:  Scully
couldn't make out even a slight trail, much less a road.  A tall,
chainlink fence appeared before them, and Mulder stopped the car.  A metal
sign on the fence announced that they were approaching a military
installation: trespassers would be subject to severe government penalties.
        Scully rattled her map, irritated.  "Now, this is definitely not
on the map,"  she insisted, crumpling it up and tossing it into the
back.  She twisted in her seat to face her partner.  "I don't know of any
military installation in this area, Mulder. And what sort of 'family man'
goes for a Sunday drive on a top secret military base?"
        Mulder gave her a rather sheepish grin.  "All right, I admit that
the pictures weren't taken by some guy out for a Sunday drive with his
kids. They were really sent
to me by an anonymous source.  Maybe someone from this base, I'm not sure.
So I fudged a little on  my Form 302."
        "So now what?"  she grumbled.  "Do we just camp beside this fence
until someone comes along and invites us in to see their pet Missing Link?"
        "Not exactly,"  he smirked, putting the Jeep into gear.  He drove
along the fence a short distance, then turned it straight at the barricade.
        Scully braced herself, sure he was going to crash straight into
it. "Mulder,"  she began warningly, "what on earth are you...?"
        The Jeep drove through an almost invisible gap in the fence, which
had been hidden behind some bushes.
        "Mulder, we can't be in here!"  Scully protested, looking at him
in horror.  "Didn't you see that sign back there?"
        "No, I didn't - and neither did you,"  he said firmly.  The jeep
continued on slowly and carefully, deeper into the forest.  Scully
couldn't see how Mulder was able to steer the Jeep through the thick stand
of trees, but somehow, he managed it.
        "Ah, this looks like a good spot, don't you think?"  he finally
said, stopping the vehicle in a small clearing.  "Nice and flat, a perfect
place to pitch our tents.  I'll even give you dibs on the best spot."
        "Your generosity is overwhelming,"  Scully muttered, getting
out.  The smell of pine was everywhere, and birds were singing happily. 
Scully was not a happy person, however, as she helped Mulder unload the
Jeep.
        They pitched their dome tents in the middle of the clearing, then
Mulder made a circle of stones in front of them while Scully gathered dead
branches and dry pinecones for a campfire.
        "Ah - this is the life, isn't it, Scully?"  Mulder sighed,
finishing up his canned stew, which had been heated over the fire.
        Scully was looking around nervously at every noise she heard,
expecting a squad of camouflaged soldiers to burst from the bushes at any
moment.  The sky was starting to look rather gray and ominous, besides. 
Oh great, just what we need - rain, she thought gloomily, huddling deeper
inside her jacket.  She took a plastic bag and gathered up the garbage
from their meal, stowing it in the back of the jeep.

        The anticipated shower soon arrived, forcing the agents to flee to
their respective tents.  Scully settled back onto her sleeping bag with a
flashlight and a copy of  "Bigfoot:  Man or Beast?"
        When she awoke, it was pitch dark.  The rain had stopped:  the
only sound was the water dripping from the trees.  Faint snores were
emanating from the tent beside hers.  Scully snatched for her flashlight,
which was only emitting a faint orange glow - she must have fallen asleep
without turning it off.
        Gingerly, she left her tent and headed for the tree they had
designated as the Little Agent's room.  When she returned, Mulder was
awake, also, rebuilding their campfire.
        "Did we bring extra batteries?"  Scully asked, shaking her
flashlight.  It flickered and died.
        "Yeah, I think so,"  Mulder rummaged in the back of the jeep,
returning with a package of new batteries.  Scully felt much better when
her flashligh t was glowing brightly once more.
        "It's so dark,"  she commented, sitting down on the log they had
rolled close to the  fire for  that purpose.   It was  terribly damp,  but
there wasn't  much she  could do about that.
        "Yep, no signs of civilization for miles,"  Mulder agreed, sitting
beside her.
        He began stirring the fire with a long stick, deep in thought. 
"Maybe tomorrow we can have a look around, see if we can spot any
evidence,"  he said finally, looking at her.  "You think this is going to
be a wild goose chase, don't you, Scully?"
        She nodded, lips pursed.  "Yes:  yes I do, Mulder."
        "But what if it's not?"  he persisted, eyes reflecting the glow of
the campfire.  Or perhaps the glow of his own inner fire.  "Just think of
all we could learn from such a creature, Scully!  About our own evolution,
our own basic instincts for survival, things of that nature.  Wouldn't that
be exciting, from a scientific point of view?"
        "I'll be happy if we don't get caught trespassing on government
property, Mulder."  she answered, voice dry.  "If we......."
        She was cut off by a piercing shriek, somewhere deep in the
forest.  She jumped, startled, then clutched at Mulder's arm.  He was
clutching her back, eyes wide.
        "Did you hear that?"  she whispered, trying to see in all
directions at once.
        "Kind of hard to miss, don't you think?" he whispered back.  His
head was swiveling back and forth, trying to figure out which direction
the sound had come from.
        "It didn't sound human, that's for sure."  Scully jumped again
when the shriek was repeated.  "A bobcat, maybe?"
        He shook his head.  "That was no bobcat, Scully.  It sounded 'way
too big. And if you say grizzly bear, I'll disown you.  No, that was
definitely the fellow we came to see."
        "Well, I hope we don't have to see him tonight, in the dark."  She
shivered, edging closer to her partner.   He placed a companionable arm
around her shoulders,
and she could feel him trembling.  Whether from fear or excitement, she
wasn't sure.  She suspected the latter.
        Mulder and Scully ate a quick supper of crackers and cheese, too
nervous to make anything more elaborate.  Both felt a need to stay close
to the fire, and to each other.  They passed a bottle of spring water back
and forth; Scully would have killed for her unfinished beer of the night
before.
        Fortunately for their nerves, the shrieks seemed to be moving
farther away, until they could barely be heard at all.  Still, it was a
long time before the two agents retired for the night.  Mulder built up
the fire to a roaring blaze before entering his tent.
        Scully could hear him rustling around for a long time, as she
huddled deep inside her sleeping bag.  Finally, the light in his tent went
out, and all was quiet for a moment.  Then:
        "Good night, Scully."
        "Good night, John Boy."


Chapter Three

        When Scully emerged from her tent the next morning, groggy from
lack of sleep, - the one time she had managed to doze off, she had dreamed
of being chased by Bigfoot - she tripped over something lying in front of
her door. The something grunted when she landed on top of it.
        "Mulder!"  she gasped, rolling off of him.  "What the hell...?
        Mulder sat up, brushing pine needles from his hair.  "I got lost
on the way back from the bathroom?" he suggested innocently.
        "You dope,"  she smiled, getting to her feet.  She walked away,
ignoring his extended hand.  Groaning, he struggled out of his sleeping
bag and began to build up the fire for breakfast.
        Scully stirred oatmeal in a small pot over the fire.  Mulder was
trying to shave using cold water and a very small mirror.  He winced and
hissed in pain when he nicked his chin.
        "Why don't you try for the lumberjack look?"  Scully suggested,
removing their slightly scorched breakfast from the fire.  She doled it
out into two bowls, then sprinkled raisins on top.
        While they were eating, Mulder heard a noise coming from a nearby
bush. Reaching back for his gun, he stood up slowly, motioning for Scully
to sit still.  There was a little whimper, and then a black and white dog
slunk out from behind the bush, tail tucked low but wagging just the
same.  He appeared to be a cross between a collie and something else.
        "Oh, poor thing!"  Scully said, holding out a piece of cheese from
the cooler by her side.
        The dog crept forward to accept the offering daintily, eating it
in one gulp.  His ears perked up, and he looked at Scully expectantly.
        "Poor thing, my eye!"  Mulder laughed, giving the dog a friendly
thump on the shoulder.  "First class mooch is more like it."
        "He's looks so hungry,"  Scully protested, producing a piece of
bread.
        "You gonna save anything for us?"  he teased, slinging his
backpack over his shoulder.  "I'm going to have a quick look around," he
told her.  "Why don't you stay here with your friend, and keep an eye one
things?"
        "Wouldn't it be better to stick together?"  Scully suggested, with
more than a little apprehension. She could still hear last night's screams
in her mind.
        "No, I think we'll be okay in the daytime.  I'll just be a few
minutes - promise."  He tramped away, whistling jauntily.  With a
long-suffering sigh, Scully began to gather the breakfast things together.

        Two hours later, she was sitting in front of the campfire, drawing
in the dirt with a long, sharp stick.  There was no sign of Mulder, though
the dog seemed content to stay by her side.  Probably waiting for lunch,
she thought a trifle sourly.  She thought of ways she'd like to use the
long, sharp stick, and most of them involved Mulder's tall, lanky body.

        Suddenly, the dog pricked up its ears.  Then, with a small whine,
it slunk back into the bushes, out of sight.  Scully stood up, reaching
for her gun, holstered behind her.  Her ears caught another faint noise,
to her left, and she pointed the gun that way.
        Suddenly, she was surrounded by men in camouflage, their faces
painted green and black.  Her gun was unceremoniously wrenched from her
hand, her arms pinned behind her back.
        A tall, vaguely familiar form stepped forward, arms behind his
back as he surveyed the campsite in the middle of the clearing.
        "So, Dr. Scully," the man drawled.  "We meet again.  Where's your
'friend'?"
        "Dick Johnson?"  she gasped, recognizing the man who had come to
her rescue in the Bigfoot Bar & Grill.  She caught sight of the insignia
on his hat .  "Oh, pardon me:  Colonel Johnson."
        "Thought you were pulling a fast one with that camping business,
didn't you?" he commented, pinning her chin between thumb and forefinger
to force her head up.  She glared back defiantly.  "Got your full names
and addresses from the hotel register, did a little checking through
government channels.  Now, would you care to tell me why two FBI agents
are trespassing on an off-limits military installation?  We have signs
posted all along the fence line - surely you saw them?"
        Scully jerked her head away angrily, detesting his high-handed
attitude. "We didn't see any signs,"  she lied.
        "And your partner - Agent Mulder?"  Colonel Johnson glanced
around, as if expecting Mulder to appear from behind a tree.  "Where is
he?"
        Scully shrugged, not an easy thing to do with her arms held behind
her. "He went for a walk,"  she said briefly.  The hands holding her jerked
upward on her arms, straining her shoulder muscles.  She hissed in pain,
but said nothing.
        "And when do you expect him to return?"
        Scully shook her head, and was rewarded with another yank on her
arms.  It felt as if her shoulders were on fire.  "He said he'd only be
gone a short while!"  she insisted.  The pressure on her shoulders eased
somewhat.
        In the meantime, the other soldiers were making a shambles of the
campsite.  The contents of the cooler were scattered all over, getting
trampled into the dirt.  Their tents had been torn down, and two men were
rifling through her backpack, heedlessly throwing everything in it to the
ground.
        "Hey, that's my stuff!"  Scully protested.  Her arms were pulled
so far up this time, she was sure both shoulders were going to be
dislocated.
        There was a piercing howl close by, very loud and very, very
frightening. The man holding her arms relaxed his grip a moment, which was
all that Scully had been waiting for.  Bringing her foot back stiffly, she
caught him right on the kneecap, forcing him to let go of her completely.
Stiff-arming Colonel Johnson out of her way, she ran straight into the
forest, making sure she was heading away from the uncanny wailing.  The
sound was almost continuous, rising and falling like a police siren. 
There was no mistaking that sound, however - "Bigfoot" had decided to come
see what all the commotion was about.
        "Get her!"  Scully heard the Colonel shout, and put on an
additional burst of speed.  She crashed through the brush, unmindful of
the amount of noise she was making.  The soldiers behind her were making
even more of a racket than she was, shouting orders and trampling through
the bushes, looking for her.
        Spying a huge pine tree with low branches just ahead, Scully
sprang for the nearest one and swung up onto it, quickly climbing  as high
as she could go.  Hugging the trunk, she gazed far below her to the ground,
watching for signs of pursuit.  They arrived soon enough, searching through
the underbrush.  Luckily for her, it didn't occur to any of them to look
up.  They probably thought that someone of her stature wouldn't be able to
climb a tree.  If not for the adrenaline rush caused by fear and panic, she
herself doubted if she'd be able to do it.
        The soldiers continued their search for her throughout the rest of
the afternoon.  Gradually,  they  began  to  extend their search area 
farther and farther  from her lofty perch in the tall pine tree.  With a
sigh of relief, Scully allowed herself to relax, even going so far as to
sit down on the sturdy branch.  She had no intentions of descending until
she was sure they were gone, however.
        Dusk began to fall.  Scully could no longer hear the voices of the
soldiers as they combed the forest floor for her.  Remembering the weird
howling of the previous night, however, she decided to stay in her nice,
safe tree until morning.
        She spent a long, cold night in her aerie, holding tightly to the
trunk with one hand and clutching the collar of her coat with the other. 
It was just luck that she'd had her coat on when she'd been ambushed by
the soldiers.  The day had been warming up, and she had almost decided to
remove it when they had sprung out of the bushes.
        She hadn't slept much the night before, which made her precarious
position in the tree a double agony.  She was afraid to fall asleep, for
fear of losing her hold on the tree trunk and plummeting to the ground
below. There was no doubt in her mind that a fall from that height would
kill her. Yet her eyes insisted on drooping, and she often jerked awake
just as her head began to fall onto her chest.
        The eerie screams began again, shortly after the moon had
risen.   Scully had no problem staying awake once those started up.  She
was grateful to the beast, whatever it might be, because its howling had
allowed her to escape.  But that didn't mean she wanted to meet up with it
in the middle of the night. She hoped Mulder was in a safe place, and not
in the arms of the military or Bigfoot.
        And she flatly refused to think about her bladder, which was
howling itself, for relief.
        Altogether, it was a cold, miserable night, and all she could do
was hold onto her tree and pray that morning wouldn't be too long in
coming.

        Scully jerked awake with a start, clutching the tree trunk with
both arms before she could tumble down to the ground.  Trying to calm her
hoarse breathing, (she had come awfully close to being a pancake, this
time), she realized with a lifting of her spirits that morning had come at
last.
        Standing up, she stifled a groan as her stiff arm and leg muscles
protested the harsh treatment they had received the day before.  Frantic
running, followed by a night of inactivity in the branches of a tree, did
not make for a happy body.
        Slowly, she began her descent from the tree.  A crackling in the
underbrush halted her progress; she once again pressed close to the tree,
trying to blend herself into it.  If it was the soldiers again, she didn't
know what she was going to do.  Let them capture her and beg them to take
her to the nearest bathroom, probably.
        A familiar lanky form appeared, pausing directly beneath her tree
to get his bearings.  Plucking a pinecone from a nearby branch, she
dropped it straight down onto his head.
        The reaction she got was everything she had hoped for, and more. 
Pulling his gun, Mulder turned in a complete circle, watching the sky. 
Finally, he caught a flash of red hair and denim jacket in the tree above.
        "Scully?"  he hissed,  "That you?"
        "No, it's Bigfoot,"  she retorted, resuming her downward climb. 
She dangled from the bottom-most branch a moment, then Mulder wrapped his
hands around her waist to help her drop to the ground.
        "Where the hell have you been, Mulder?"  she demanded, hands on
hips.  "I was worried sick!"
        "You were worried?"  he countered.  "When I got back to the camp,
and saw everything torn to pieces - I almost lost my mind."
        "Well, the damage you saw back at the camp wasn't caused by any
eight-foot-tall, hairy creature."  Scully assured him, trying to comb the
pine needles out of her hair with her fingers.  Bad mistake - her hands
were covered with pitch.
        "It was caused by six-foot-tall hairy creatures, wearing army
camouflage and carrying great big guns."
        "Yeah, I played Hide 'n Seek with them all afternoon."  Mulder
frowned, because Scully was nervously shifting from foot to foot. 
Suddenly, a light dawned. "Oh."  He decorously turned his back while
Scully dashed behind some bushes.

        "So, what's our plan?"  Scully asked, as they began to tramp
though the forest with no particular destination in mind.  At least, none
so far as she could see. She had just gotten done explaining about her
not-so-pleasant second encounter with Colonel Johnson.
        "Well, we do our best to avoid soldiers and big, hairy beasts, and
try to figure out what the army is so hot and bothered about protecting
from us." he replied, digging in his backpack as they walked.  He pulled
out a battered granola bar and handed it to Scully, then began to unwrap
one for himself.
        "Don't you think it would be wisest, Mulder, if we just packed up
our gear and got the hell out of here?"  she demanded, accepting a sip
from his bottle of water.  It was warm, but at least it was wet.  "I don't
know what the hell is out there, be it a grizzly bear - " Her look dared
him to say anything  "- or Bigfoot, or a mutant moose of some sort.  All I
know is, it's pretty damn scary.  Whether it has any connection to this
secret military base we've stumbled on, I don't know.  But what I do know
is, if we don't get out, and quick, our butts are going to be on the
line.  And I just don't think some big hairy ape-man is worth that."
        "Mutant moose,"  Mulder repeated thoughtfully, eyes far away.
        "Mulder, I'm serious!"  She stood       directly in front of him,
one hand on his chest to stop him.  "Let's go home, right now."
        "But Scully, I think you may be close to something with the mutant
idea," he insisted, looking excited.  Scully sagged, defeated once again: 
she knew that look.  Mulder was on to something, and wouldn't give up
until he had figured it out, or was killed trying.  She could only hope
that she wouldn't be killed along with him.
        They made their way cautiously through the woods.  Mulder seemed
to have some sort of idea where he was going; maybe he had found something
in his ramblings yesterday, Scully mused.  She had no choice but to follow
in his wake, because she had absolutely no idea in which direction
civilization lay.
        Well past midday, they reached a small group of buildings.  All
were painted to blend in with their natural surroundings.  There was no
one around outside; maybe they were still out in the woods, searching for
Mulder and herself.
        Gesturing for her to keep close, Mulder slipped under a wire
fence, then plastered himself against the side of the building.  Scully
was soon beside him.  Together, they peered around the corner.  Seeing no
one, Mulder edged around the corner and tried a door set flush into the
wall.  It was, of course, locked.
        Rummaging through his backpack, Mulder pulled out a slim leather
case, and extracted a thin metal probe.  Scully didn't even ask why he was
carrying lock-picking tools in his pack, or why he had thought he'd need
them out in the wilderness.  At this point, she really didn't want to know.
        There was a faint click, and the door opened smoothly.  The two
agents slipped inside, closing the door after them.  They waited with held
breath, but no alarms could be heard.  Mulder produced his flashlight, and
shone it around the room.
        It appeared to be a small laboratory.  All of the counters were
bare, the equipment covered in plastic.  Judging by the coating of dust on
everything, the room hadn't been in use for some time.
        Scully wandered over to some filing cabinets, pulling one open at
random. She was joined by Mulder.  They riffled through the files,
searching for any kind of clue.  At last, Mulder pulled out a folder,
aiming his flashlight on it in order to read it.  Scully peered around his
arm, trying to read it also.
        "What do you make of this, Scully?"  Mulder whispered, pointing to
a specific section of the report.
        "It shows different components of DNA,"  Scully explained, ducking
under his arm for a better look.  Her finger traced some of the letters and
numbers on the page.  "It looks as if someone was conducting some sort of
genetic research, way out here in the middle of nowhere.  There's a
mention of primate gene-splicing, and something here about -" she squinted
at it closely, trying to decipher the researcher's atrocious handwriting.
        The lights in the room suddenly came on, making them both blink
after the gloom they had been operating in.  As one, they turned toward
the door. Scully had a sinking feeling she knew who their guest was.
        "Well, well, well,"  Colonel Johnson drawled, standing before the
open door, arms crossed.  "After searching the woods all night, they come
right to me. And I see you've managed to find each other; how convenient."
        He stepped forward, until he was inches away from Scully. 
"Thought you were pretty smart, didn't you, Dr. Scully?  You broke my
man's kneecap, I'll have you know.  He'll be out of commision for weeks."
        "What  a  pity,"  Scully  snapped back, refusing  to be 
intimidated. Mulder  was breathing hard just behind her, ruffling her hair.
        A huge, calloused hand shot out, delivering a stinging blow to
Scully's left cheek.  She reeled backwards into Mulder, who grabbed her by
both shoulders to keep her on her feet.
        "Hey!"  he shouted in protest, "You can't treat her like that. 
She's a Federal agent, and so am I!"
        "You are trespassers on a private military installation,"  Johnson
retorted. "No more, no less.  I can treat you in any way I choose, and
don't either of you forget it."  He jerked his head at the pair in front
of him.  "Take these two outside;  I'll be there shortly.  The rest of
you, come in here and help me."
        Two soldiers stepped forward, rifles drawn, indicating that Mulder
and Scully should raise their hands.  They did so, then led the way out the
door.  The other soldiers were already in the room, pulling papers out of
the file cabinets and smashing the equipment in the room.
        Whether due to inexperience or distraction, the two guards never
searched Mulder or Scully for weapons.  Scully, of course, had had hers
taken away yesterday, but she knew that her partner was still carrying his
in a holster under his shirt.
        They were urged over to another building, and told to stand with
their backs against the wall.
        "You okay?"  Mulder asked softly, reaching down a hand to touch
her reddened cheek.  He could make out individual finger marks on her face.
        "Get that hand up!"  one of the soldiers barked.  Mulder dutifully
raised his hand.
        Scully nodded, though she was shaking slightly from reaction. 
Sounds of destruction were coming from the small laboratory.  In a matter
of hours, or less, she was sure, all evidence of it would be gone.
        "When I make my move, you run for the fence,"  Mulder murmured out
of the corner of his mouth.  Neither guard noticed, both more interested in
the mayhem going on in the other building.
        Mulder slowly lowered one arm, reaching behind him for his gun. 
He brought the butt of it down on the back of the closest soldier's neck,
yelling at Scully to run.  He disarmed the second guard with a brutal kick
to the stomach.
        For the second time in as many days, Scully began to run for all
she was worth.  Her progress was barely slowed as she rolled underneath
the fence, though she did pause long enough to hold up the wire for
Mulder.  Grabbing her arm, they dashed into the forest.  Behind them,
soldiers streamed out of the lab like angry bees.


Chapter Four

        A bullet pinged against a tree beside Mulder's head.  He increased
his pace, hoping Scully's shorter strides would be able to keep up.  He was
practically dragging her as it was.
        The ground suddenly went out from under them, and they rolled down
a steep incline.  Grabbing Scully  around the waist, Mulder continued to
roll with her, until they were both hidden under some heavy bushes at the
bottom of the ditch.  Unfortunately, it was a blackberry bush, but Scully
made no protest.  What were a few scratches, compared to being shot?  She
was sure that was exactly what Colonel Johnson had in mind.  And in this
vast forest, their bodies would never be found.
        They lay locked together, hardly daring to breathe, much less
move. Combat booted feet passed close to them several times, but their
hiding place had so far remained undiscovered.  Once, Mulder's stomach
growled, very loudly:  Scully was sure they were goners.  But the soldiers
walking by at that precise moment were talking rather loudly, angry at
having two 'measly' FBI Agents elude them once again. They never heard
Mulder's stomach protesting its lack of nourishment.  Her own stomach
could sympathize.
        A huge snake crawled across Scully's arm at another point.  Mulder
clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp of horror.  Nose to nose,
he breathed: "Okay, now?"
        Scully nodded, letting her breath out in a sigh of relief as the
snake slithered away.
        The search once again wandered far away from  their hiding
place.  They were still  far too close to the  base for  her piece of
mind, but  at least  they were safe for  the time being.  She had no wish
to encounter Colonel Johnson just now - he had to be insane with anger by
this point.
        "I think this is the safest place for us for the moment,"  Mulder
whispered, trying to shift a rock that was gouging him in the ribs.  "It's
a little damp, and scratchy, but I don't think we should risk making a run
for it just yet, do you?"
        Scully shifted slightly, until her back was up against Mulder's
stomach. "You're probably right,"  she whispered back. The dampness was
seeping right through her jacket, making her shiver.  Her back was the
only semi-warm spot on her entire body. "It'll be getting dark soon,
anyway.  I really don't care to go traipsing around the forest in the
middle of the night.  Not with that - whatever it is - on the loose."
        "Too bad it's too early for berries,"  Mulder sighed, pillowing
his head on his right arm.  He draped the other across Scully's waist, for
lack of a better place to put it. "Why don't you get a little rest,
Scully?  I'll keep an eye out for any trouble."
        "Rest?"  she snorted.  "What's that?"  With a sigh of her own, she
closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep.  Lack of sleep the night before,
combined with all the running she had done lately, eventually allowed her
to drift off into an uneasy doze.
        Once, after it was full dark, something shuffled by their hiding
place. Whatever it was, it was big, and walked on all fours.  It also
smelled very, very bad.  Not a good time for Scully to recall reading in
one of the Bigfoot books that that particular creature was said to give
off a very foul odor.  The animal paused to sniff right above their
heads.  Both agents tensed, and Mulder silently pulled out his gun. 
Whatever it was snorted and moved on.
        Scully sagged, letting out her breath in a gust of relief.
        "Now that,"  Mulder commented dryly.  "Was a bear."
        "Shut up, Mulder."  Scully muttered, and closed her eyes once more.
        Somewhere around midnight, the unearthly howls and shrieks started
up again, forcing both agents out of their uneasy slumber.  Scully felt
Mulder's arm tighten instinctively, as he tried to ease them both farther
under the blackberry bush.  She doubted if the bushes provided much
protection from an eight foot tall missing link, but it made her feel
better to be out of sight.
        The strange cries went on for what seemed like hours.  Once, there
was a different sort of scream, which was abruptly cut off.  That one
sounded a little more - human.  Scully shuddered, and wished, not for the
first time, that she was anywhere but in this God-forsaken forest.
        As the skies began to lighten, the howling and roaring gradually
began to die down.  Cautiously, the two agents, weary and chilled to the
bone, crawled out from their scratchy hiding place.  Scully's clothes were
a torn, muddy ruin; Mulder's didn't look much better, and he was beginning
to sprout quite a beard, too.
        "Now what?"  Scully sighed, looking around bleakly.
        He shrugged, too tired to think clearly.  "Maybe we should head
back to town."
        "Maybe?"  she echoed, looking up at him in disbelief at his casual
tone. "Maybe we should return to town?  Look at us!  We are bruised,
battered, and bleeding, our clothes are in ruins, we haven't slept in
days, and you think maybe  we should head back to town?"
        He gazed at her calmly.  "You don't want to?"
        Scully wanted to grab him by the front of his shirt and shake him
until his perfect white teeth rattled in his head.  "Mulder, right now I
think I'd sell you to Colonel Johnson in exchange for a hot shower and
some clean clothes."
        "Gee, I feel so loved right now."  he teased, hoping to lighten
her foul mood.
        "Which way back to civilization, Mulder?" she asked, her voice
dangerous.
        He turned in a circle, then shrugged.  "Beats me."
        "Aargh!"  Scully gave him a little shove, then stalked off in what
she hoped was the right direction.  After a moment, Mulder followed.
        They hiked along in total silence for a while, keeping eyes and
ears open for their pursuers.  Gradually, Scully regained her temper, and
slowed the fast, angry pace she had been maintaining.
        "Look, Mulder:  I'm sorry."  she muttered, trying to keep her hair
out of her face. "I'm just a little tense, okay?  We're in a very difficult
situation here, and I guess I lost my cool back there."
        "It's okay, Scully.  I guess I shouldn't rib you so much,
especially when you're upset.  Still friends?"
        She sighed - it was impossible to stay mad at him for long."Still
friends, Mulder."
        Mulder dug through his pack, producing two granola bars and a
squashed chocolate bar.  They shared these between them for their
breakfast, along with the warm, brackish remains of his bottle of water.
        There was a slight rustling in the bushes ahead of them.  Mulder
stepped forward, drawing his gun.  There was a small whine, and the black
and white dog that had visited their camp the other day crawled out of the
underbrush.
        "Don't shoot, Mulder: it's just the dog."  Scully knelt down to
scratch her furry friend behind the ears.  "Poor fella - where have you
been hiding?  Are you hungry?"  She fed him a morsel of chocolate, all she
had left.
        "He certainly has good radar, at least where food is concerned," 
Mulder commented, shoving the trash in his pack.
        There was a louder rustling in the bushes.  The two humans and the
dog all turned in that direction.
        "Maybe your pooch has a friend ..."  Mulder began.  His voice was
drowned out by a deafening roar.
        The creature rose from the underbrush, covered with pine needles
and dirt. Perhaps they had disturbed its sleep, or perhaps it had lain in
wait for them.  Whatever the case, the trio gazed in horror as the hairy
apparition rose to its full, mind-boggling height  .  Scully could tell at
once that Mulder's anthropologist had underestimated the creature's size
bya good foot or more. Its face was human-like, but in a horrible,
deformed way.
        Mulder swore, reaching for his gun.  The dog was barking
hysterically by Scully's side, and the beast turned in that direction with
a howl of rage.
        "Shoot it!"  Scully yelled, trying to hold the dog back by the
scruff of his neck.  "Mulder!  Shoot it!"
        Mulder fired, hitting the monster in the shoulder.  It whirled to
face him, so he shot it a few more times.  He could see dust and debris
flying from the brute's hairy chest as the bullets impacted, but they
didn't seem to being doing much damage.  He fired again, and the creature
began to stalk toward him, arms raised menacingly.
        "Stop, Mulder!"  Scully shrieked, still maintaining her death-grip
on the dog's fur. "You're just making it angrier."
        The dog broke free, launching itself at the massive beast's furry
shin. It roared again, swatting at the ball of fur attached to its leg. 
The dog side-stepped nimbly, then charged at the other leg.
        "Scully!"  Mulder shouted.  She didn't need him to finish - she
started to run.  Mulder crashed through the trees after her, holstering
his useless weapon.
        There was an agonized howl behind them, from the scene of the
conflict. The giant ape-like thing was holding the dog in both hands,
bending it over backwards in a
way that nature had never intended.  With a sharp snap, the dog's howls
stopped.
        Sickened, Scully stumbled and nearly fell.  Mulder snaked out a
hand to pull her back up, and they continued their mad flight.  Scully
wondered when she would ever be done running.
        A piercing whistle made both agents clap their hands over their
ears, before their eardrums could burst.  The creature, which had begun
lumbering after them, came to an abrupt halt at the sound.  It, too,
clapped its hands over its ears, howling defiance.  The penetrating
keening went on, until Scully was sure she would go deaf, or mad.  Mulder
had dropped to his knees, face contorted in agony. The monster, with one
more howl of rage and pain, backed up into the brush and disappeared.  The
dog was a pitiful bundle of black and white fur on the ground.
        "Mulder, are you all right?"  Scully gasped, kneeling beside her
partner. He was curled into a tight ball, hands still covering his ears. 
She forced them away, glancing into each ear carefully. There was no sign
of blood or a broken eardrum.  Her own ears were still ringing.
        "Take them,"  a familiar, hateful voice ordered.  "Get his weapon,
and handcuff them both."
        Colonel Johnson, of course.  Too tired to run anymore, Scully rose
to her feet, hands raised.  They were grabbed and cuffed in front of her. 
Mulder needed help getting to his feet, then stood quietly, swaying a
little, as his gun was taken away and his hands cuffed behind him.
        They were forced into a dark green van, with a plain metal bench
running along each side.  Mulder sat opposite Scully, his head back
wearily, as the van started up and began to drive away.  A strange
sniffling sound made him open his eyes and look around.
        Scully  was  sobbing quietly,  her  face buried  in  her cuffed 
hands. Awkwardly, Mulder shuffled across the floor to sit beside her. 
There wasn't much he could do to help, with his hands behind his back,
except offer her a shoulder to cry on.  She accepted the offer.
        "It'll be okay, Scully,"  he murmured, when she had calmed
somewhat. "Maybe they're not going to kill us.  Maybe they'll just torture
us a little and let us go."
        She smiled faintly through her tears.  "Oh, it's not that," she
said, still sniffing a little.  "It - it's that poor dog."  She bit her
lower lip, trying to hold back fresh tears.  "He died trying to save me,
Mulder. And he died horribly."
        "Yes, he did,"  Mulder agreed.  His shoulders were beginning to
ache. "But it could just as well have been either one of us.  Or both of
us, for that matter.  Thank God for that weird noise, whatever it was.  It
almost burst my eardrums, but it drove the creature away."
        Scully looked thoughtful.  "Yes, it did, didn't it?  And I think I
have a pretty good idea who produced that noise..."
        "Your friend and mine, Colonel Johnson?"  Mulder smiled.  Scully
nodded. "That brings up a whole new list of possibilities, doesn't it?  I
wish we'd had more time to look at those files before the good Colonel
destroyed them all."
        "Can you reach into my right back pocket?"  Scully asked, turning
her back to him.
        "Pardon?"  Mulder was confused, wondering if he'd heard her
correctly. Maybe his ears were more damaged by the noise than he'd thought.
        "My right back pocket,"  she enunciated very clearly, as if
talking to someone who was rather feeble-minded.  "See if you can reach in
and take out the piece of paper in it."
        Mulder turned his back, using  the tips of his fingers to probe in
her back pocket. His  fumbling digits  finally  located a crumpled  sheet
of paper.  Slowly, he drew  it out. "Okay, I got it.  Now what?"
        Turning around, Scully took the paper from him, smoothing it out
on the top of her thigh.  "This is the page we were looking at when we
were so rudely interrupted."  she explained, trying to read in the dim
light filtering through the tiny back windows.  "It was talking about
primate DNA and gene-splicing, remember?"
        "Yes, but how...?"
        "I managed to slide it into my pocket before putting my hands
up."  she said simply.  "I don't know who those two soldiers were that
were holding guns on us, but they make sloppy guards.  It didn't occur to
either one of them to search us."
        "Well, thank God for that,"  Mulder said, trying to read what she
was holding.  "What's it say?"
        "They were attempting to splice the genes from a mountain gorilla
onto the genes of something else."  Scully shook her head, trying to
decipher the report.  "I can't make out what the other genes were from -
it looks like nothing I've ever seen..."
        "Alien DNA?"  Mulder suggested.  He ignored her doubtful shake of
the head.  "It wouldn't be the first time, you know."
        "But - why?  It doesn't make sense!  If that - thing - we saw in
the forest, that killed the dog - why would anyone want to create
something as terrible as that?  What would be the purpose?  It can't be
controlled, and it doesn't seem to care who or what it kills."
        "Maybe they thought they could control it,"  Mulder replied.  He
winced as a particularly big bump jarred his already throbbing
shoulders.  "Maybe this one was a mistake, an experiment gone wrong.  And
they can control it, after a fashion."
        "That noise?"  Scully shook her head,  frustrated.  "It drives the
thing away,  I'll grant you that, but it certainly doesn't control it. 
Mulder, what if that thing finds the hole in the fence, and gets into
town?  Bullets don't seem to affect it much:  how could those people hope
to kill it?"


Chapter Five

        The van ground to a halt.  The back doors flew open, and they were
unceremoniously dragged from the back and pushed through some double doors.
Another door was opened, then their captors shoved Mulder and Scully into a
small, bare room.  The door closed behind them with an authoritative
click.                          Scully reached down to help Mulder to his
feet.  With his hands cuffed behind his back, he had been unable to break
his fall when he was thrown into the room.  One wall of the room was
mirrored, leading them to believe they were in some sort of observation
chamber.  The bruise on Scully's cheek stood out starkly under the bright
lights.
        Sinking to the floor side by side, the partners leaned wearily
against the wall, wondering what was going to happen next.
       "You know, if given my choice between going back out there to
confront that creature," Mulder began dryly, "or staying here to face
whatever Colonel Johnson's about to do to us - I'd have to say I'd rather
take my chances out there."
        "You don't suppose there's more than one of those creatures, do
you?" Scully shuddered at the thought of other monsters roaming the
countryside.
        "There may have been - but I have a feeling that the one we saw is
the only one that survived."  Mulder replied.  "Do you remember what else
that report had to say?"
        This time, they had both been thoroughly searched before being
placed in the room.  Everything, including the piece of the report, had
been confiscated.
        Scully shook her head.  "It didn't say how many they were trying
to produce, or even if they succeeded."
        "Well, judging by that thing we met, I would have to say they
succeeded all too well," he  retorted.  "I wonder  what  they're holding 
us for?  How  come they didn't  just shoot us and get it over with?  We've
seen their little experiment in genetics; they can't let us go after that."
        "I wouldn't be too sure, Mulder."  Scully pursed her lips,
thinking.  "I mean, what proof do we have, after all?  No pictures, no
plaster casts of its footprints; they took the one page of the report away
from us, and destroyed the whole lab."
        "Yeah, but we saw it, Scully!"  he insisted.  "We both saw it!"
        "I know we saw it,"  she agreed, but pressed on with her argument
nonetheless.  "But we still have no physical proof.  How will it look, if
we return to Washington babbling about military genetic experimentation?
An experiment that produces Bigfoot, for God's sake?  They'll say we spent
the whole trip in the Bigfoot Bar & Grill.  We'll be laughed right out of
the Agency, Mulder."
        "Man, I hate this,"  he groaned, bumping the back of his head
against the wall in frustration.  "We went through hell, and for what?  To
make laughingstocks out of ourselves!"
        "Well, if it's any comfort to you, Mulder, maybe they'll just kill
us. Then we won't have to worry about looking foolish."
        They rose to their feet to face the door as a key rattled in the
lock. Colonel Johnson came in, looking furious about something.  An aide
followed, carrying a bundle in his arms.
        "Well, Agents Mulder and Scully, it seems you've been granted a
reprieve." Johnson grated, stepping up to them to remove their
handcuffs.  Unable to help herself, Scully took a step back.  Johnson
smiled a very unpleasant smile at her reaction.  "What's wrong, Dr.
Scully?  You seem a little - skittish."
        Scully forced her voice to stay steady.  "I consider myself a
rather religious person, Colonel Johnson, but you'll forgive me if I don't
turn the other cheek."  She stared him straight in the eye, ignoring her
partner's quiet snicker of appreciation.
        "What's this about a reprieve?"  Mulder asked.  He had an idea he
knew why Johnson was so unhappy.
        "Seems inquiries from Washington are being made about you and your
partner."  Johnson explained.  "There's a lot of interest in your
whereabouts, and I've been asked to locate you, since you were last seen
in my area of the country.  So, fortunately for you two, your
'disappearance' at this particular time would make things a little -
awkward - for me just now."
        "You don't want other agencies poking around in your own little
slice of heaven?" Mulder guessed.  "Scaring up your big, hairy friend?" 
Johnson's stony expression told him he was right on the mark.  "And what
about your - pet -  Colonel Johnson?  You made him - now, what are you
going to do about him?"
        "I didn't make him,"  Colonel Johnson denied through clenched
teeeth. "I'm just - cleaning up after those who did.  And that's more than
you need to know, Agent Mulder.  Now, I've got fresh clothes for you
two..." At his nod, the aide stepped forward.  "You are going to clean
yourselves up, and then you will be escorted back to your campsite, where
you will pack your things and leave - immediately.  Back the way you
came.  My men will be standing by to close up the gap after you."  He
retreated to the doorway, waiting until the aide had handed them his
bundle and left, before adding: "You will say nothing of what you've seen
here, of course."  Mulder nodded sarcastically.  "Showers are across the
hall."  He stalked away.
        Mulder looked through the sets of  camouflage    fatigues they'd
been handed, picking out the smallest of them for Scully.  He set a pair
of combat boots on top of the clothes. His humorous little smirk was back.
"Just like your mother used to wear."
        Scully grimaced at the extremely bad joke and stepped into the
hall.  Two soldiers on either side of the door snapped to attention.
        "You go first, Scully, and I'll guard the door for you."  Mulder
offered, after peeking into the small bathroom to make sure it was
unoccupied.  "If you need any help washing your hair, just give me a
holler."
        "In your dreams, Mulder."  she rejoined.  "I think you've been out
in the woods too long."  She closed the door and locked it.
        Scully emerged half an hour later, face pink,  damp hair combed
away from her face.  She'd wanted to stay under the hot water forever, but
knew her partner was anxious for his own shower.
        "Your turn,"  she announced, leaning against the wall, arms
crossed.  The fatigues fit rather well, considering she was smaller than
the average soldier.
        "Green's a good color for you, Scully."  he teased, before going
in and closing the door.  "And I love the boots."  His voice floated back
through the door.
        Once they were both clean, Mulder and Scully were given a light
lunch, then ushered back outside to a waiting jeep. Mulder wondered who
had been asking about him and his partner, that Colonel Johnson was taking
such good care of them all of a sudden. They had even returned his gun. A
soldier was behind the wheel, waiting to take them back to their camp,
then make sure they left the way they had come.
        "What a case!"  Scully sighed, as the jeep crawled through the
thick forest.  "I can't wait to get out of here, Mulder."
        "You've got to admit, Scully, that the case never lacked for
excitement." He ducked automatically, even though she made no move to hit
him.
        "The only Bigfoot I want to see after this," Scully told him, "is
the one on the sign  of the bar across the street from the motel."
        The jeep came to a sudden halt, nearly throwing Mulder and Scully
out of their seats.  The driver was fumbling for something on a chain
around his neck - it appeared to be some sort of whistle.  Before he could
get it to his lips, however, a huge, ape-like hand reached out and grabbed
him by the throat, hauling him up into the air.  The man-made Bigfoot
stepped out of his hiding place, grabbing the man's leg with his other
hand.
        "I know - run!"  Scully yelled, jumping from the jeep without
further ado. Mulder leaped out right behind her, grabbing her by the arm
as they both hurdled a fallen tree trunk.  The soldier was screaming now,
horribly and without hope.
        "Up ahead!"  he shouted, putting on another burst of speed.
        Scully looked ahead, barely making out a small shed painted to
blend in with its surroundings.  It didn't look very sturdy, but it was
the only shelter close enough for them to reach.  The screaming behind
them stopped. They both had a good idea why.
        The door was locked.  Desperately, Mulder lifted one booted foot
and smashed it against the shed door.  Two more tries, and it crashed open.
        "Quick, get inside!"  Mulder gasped, practically pushing Scully
ahead of him.  Closing the door behind him, he waited for his eyes to
adjust to the gloom.  Scully was already trying to push a large crate up
against the door.  He went to help her.  They piled more crates against
the door, stacking some on top of the others.
        "Will it hold?"  Scully panted, as they surveyed their
barricade.  It looked pitifully inadequate, considering the size of the
thing they were trying to keep out.
        They both sat against the far wall, trying to catch their breath.
        "Well, when we don't show up at our camp, hopefully they'll come
looking for us,"  Mulder commented.  He wished they had a flashlight, or
at least some matches.  The shed had no windows, and only a tiny bit of
light came from under the one door.
        "This is the pits, Mulder,"  Scully announced, closing her eyes
wearily. "When is this nightmare going to end?  Surely, there's some way
to kill this creature?  Maybe a gun isn't big enough, but a grenade, or a
bazooka: something has to kill it!"
        Mulder  made a show of patting his pockets, even though she could
barely see him in the dark.  "Sorry, Scully, I'm fresh out of bazookas. 
Gum?"
        "You never give up, do you Mulder?"  He could see the faint gleam
of her teeth as she smiled in spite of herself.
        "Where's the fun in that?"
        Scully turned serious.  "Mulder, I want you to do me a big favor."
        "Sure, Scully, anything - you know that."
        She reached over to touch his shoulder, making sure she had his
undivided attention.  The smile faded from his face when he saw something
gleaming on her bruised cheek - a single tear.
        "Mulder, if that thing gets in here - I don't want to die like
that.  Like the dog did, and that poor soldier.  I - I want you to kill me
first."
        He could only gape at her, stunned at such a bizarre request. 
"Oh, Scully - no - please don't ask me to do that.  Anything but that."
        "You're the only person I'd dare ask, Mulder.  Just one bullet to
the head - please?  I don't want that monster to lay a finger on me - not
while I'm alive, anyway." More tears were sparkling on her cheeks, though
her voice remained calm.
        He reached over to wipe them away with his hand, then put an arm
around her shoulder to comfort her.  "Alright, Scully, I'll do it.  I
won't let it get you, I promise."
        There was a long silence, while Scully worked to pull herself
together. Finally, she asked in a small voice:  "After you do it, are you
going to turn the gun on yourself?"
        Mulder paused, thinking about it. Scully leaned closer, trying to
read the expression on his face.  "You won't, will you, Mulder?  You'll
let that - monster - tear you to bits, just to satisfy your insatiable
curiosity!"
        He smiled weakly.  "Well, yeah, I guess you're right, Scully. 
Maybe it would be worth it, just to know.  I might regret it, but at least
my questions would be answered, once and for all."
        Scully blew out a disgusted breath and leaned back against the
wall. She'd thought she was beyond being surprised by anything her partner
said or did, but apparently she'd been mistaken.
        The day wore on; the light under the door gradually began to
fade.  Soon, they could see absolutely nothing, and the air in the shed
began to cool rapidly.  Scully shivered, having left her fatigue jacket in
the jeep.  The green T-shirt and baggy pants didn't do much to keep the
cold out.
        "I can't believe they haven't found us yet,"  she told Mulder, her
voice trembling because she was shivering so hard.
        "You cold?"  Mulder asked, shifting closer.  He draped an arm
around her shoulders.  "C'mon, shared body heat."
        She sighed, allowing herself to relax slightly.  Someone would
have to come for them, sometime.  Just as long as it wasn't the wrong
someone - or thing.

        It was well past midnight - Mulder wasn't sure of the time,
because his watch had been smashed when they handcuffed him.  He could
have looked at Scully's watch, it had a lighted face, but he didn't want
to wake her.  She was leaning against him heavily, head against his
chest.  His gun lay beside him, ready to be grabbed up at the slightest
noise.  Whether he would really be able to use it on his friend, he wasn't
sure - and hoped he wouldn't have to find out.
        A faint light at last began to show in the crack beneath the
door.  The night had been relatively quiet - he'd heard the beast only
once, from very far away.  Scully was still sleeping, curled beside him on
the floor, her head pillowed on his leg.  Mulder was gazing drearily at the
faint glimmer of light at the bottom of the door, eyes bloodshot from lack
of sleep; one hand was idly stroking his partner's hair, although he
wasn't aware of it.
        He tensed, hearing a noise by the door.  The knob turned slightly,
and the door opened a tiny crack, before coming up against their
hastily-erected barricade.  Slowly, Mulder reached for his gun, training
it on the door. Then, his hand shaking slightly, he turned the muzzle
until it was nearly touching Scully's temple.  A sheen of sweat broke out
on his face, while his finger tightened minutely on the trigger.
        The door burst open with a crash, the sudden glare from the
sunlight blinding him.  Scully sat up with a start, knocking his gun hand
to one side. She gazed in shock at the squad of soldiers swarming into the
small shed, thento Mulder, then to his gun, which was still mostly pointing
in her direction.  Feeling rather guilty, Mulder quickly lowered it to his
side.
        Colonel Johnson strode over to them, hands on hips.  "What is it
going to take, for me to get rid of you two?' he glowered.  "As if I don't
have enough headaches, without FBI bigshots breathing down my neck."
        "Hey, your big hairy friend killed our driver and forced us to run
for our lives!"  Mulder protested.  He was jerked to his feet by two
soldiers. With a growl, he planted himself between them and Scully, before
they could manhandle her, too.  With grave politeness, he leaned over and
offered her his hand.  She gazed up at him for a moment, with a look that
plainly said she thought he was nuts. Then with a sigh, she allowed him to
help her to her feet.
        "Get them off my installation now!"  Johnson ordered, striding
away.
        "Gee, Scully, somehow I get the feeling we're not wanted."  Mulder
was jerked away to a waiting jeep; Scully was allowed to follow at her own
pace.
        There were three soldiers in the vehicle with them, 
heavily-armed.  All wore a large metallic tube around their necks - a
beast repellant?  Mulder wondered.  No one spoke a word for the entire
trip.  Mulder tried to ask the men about the creature, only to be stopped
by a sharp jab to the ribs.
        They were dumped unceremoniously onto a main road; the jeep sped
away without any of the soldiers ever speaking to them, not even to point
the way back to town.
        Mulder grimaced, trying to get his bearings by the position of the
sun. "Too bad I flunked Boy Scouts,"  he muttered.  He turned in a complete
circle, then pointed in an easterly direction.  "I think it's this way."
        Scully watched him, arms crossed, not saying a word.  Then she
turned on her heel and began to walk west.  Mulder glanced east one more
time, then turned and followed his partner.
        "Mulder, were you really going to shoot me?"  Scully asked out of
the blue.  They had been walking in complete silence for the past ten
minutes. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud after so much quiet.
        "Well, you told me to,"  he answered defensively.  "You made me
promise, if I recall correctly."
        "I know, but - " she shook her head in disbelief.  "You were
really going to shoot me!"
        "Well, yes, I was.  Um -  Are you sure we're going the right way?"
        "Don't nag me, Mulder;  I'm going the right way."  She hoped so,
anyway.
        "I'm not nagging you, Scully - I just wondered if we were going
the right way.  We're both tired, so let's not argue, okay?"
        "I'm not arguing."  she argued.  "Damn!  Where is everybody?  We
should have seen a car or something by now."
        "Well, if one comes by, pull up your pant leg, and maybe they'll
stop," Mulder suggested.
        "Pull up your own pant leg!  Oh, wait - do you hear something?" 
She turned back the way they had come, listening.
        A rusty green pickup truck came over a small rise, country-western
music blaring through its open windows.  Optimistically, Mulder stuck out
his thumb.
        The truck screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust and dark gray
exhaust fumes.  Four people were crammed into the cab.  All four
immediately cried: "Fox!"  "Great to see ya!"  "Where ya been, man?" 
"What's with the green duds?"  "Wanna lift?"
        Mulder leaned into the cab, elbows resting on the edge of the
door.  "Hey guys, how you doin'?  Yeah, Scully and I could use a lift into
town, if you're going that way."
        "Sure, no prob, man!  You an' yer old lady kin hop right in the
back, there!" the driver grinned, showing off his gold front tooth.
        Smiling, Mulder helped Scully into the back of the truck, then
hopped in nimbly to sit down beside her.  He gave the driver a thumb's up,
and the pickup took off with a screech and another cloud of fumes.
        "Old lady?"  Scully had to shout to be heard above the radio and
the wind rushing by.  "These some of your drinking buddies from the
Bigfoot Bar & Grill?"
        Mulder nodded, still grinning.  "I told you I made some good
connections. Better than yours, anyway."
        "Hey, don't make me hurt you - man!"


Chapter Six

        The pickup dropped Mulder and Scully off in front of the motel. 
The occupants in the cab waved boisterously, promising to meet them later
across the street, then roared off, radio blasting away.
        The motel clerk eyed their uniforms curiously, but said nothing. 
He remembered them from their previous stay, and didn't bat an eye when
Mulder requested that their accomodations be charged to the FBI.
        "I am going to sleep for a million years,"  Scully declared,
before parting in front of their respective rooms.
        It was about ten minutes later, however, just as she was
struggling out of her combat boots, that a knock sounded at her door. 
"Who is it?"  she called, holding one boot in her hand.
        "The one and only,"  Mulder replied.  "I called Headquarters, to
let them know we were okay.  And Jamie Peterson will fly in tomorrow
afternoon to take us back to Seattle.  Um, what size do you wear?"
        "Who wants to know?"  Scully retorted.  She struggled back into
her boot, and began to tie it quickly.
        "Well, I thought I'd run down the street to that little clothing
store, get us some new duds.  Unless you like wearing olive drab."
        Scully opened her door.  "Wait, I'll come with you.  I can just
imagine what you'd pick out for me."  She closed her door, and they began
to walk down the street.  "My wallet and everything are still out in the
woods somewhere - can I borrow some money?"
        Mulder held up a credit card. "Plastic, Scully; the only way to
shop. The Agency will reimburse me, so don't worry about it.  Knock
yourself out, buy something pretty."
        Scully smirked.  "Oh, sure - so I can really impress the locals at
the Bigfoot Bar & Grill?  I'll just get what I need to tide me over until I
return to Washington."
        She picked out some new jeans, two shirts, and various
unmentionables. Glancing down at her army-issue footwear, she ambled over
to the small footwear department.  There wasn't much to choose from,
however.
        "How about these?"  Mulder suggested, holding up a pair of cowboy
boots. He displayed them in his best shoe salesman-like manner.
        Scully couldn't help laughing.  "Well, it's a toss-up between
those, or that lovely pair of orange hightops.  There's nothing else here
in my size, unless I try the boy's department."  With a sigh of
resignation, she snatched the boots from Mulder and added them to the rest
of her things on the counter.  She noticed that Mulder had a similar pair
in his pile.
        They trudged back to the motel, arms full of packages.
        "I'll come by for you about seven,"  Mulder told her, as they
prepared to part company yet again.  "We'll go across the street for a
bite to eat, and enjoy the ambience."
        "Cigarette smoke and beer hardly constitute ambience, Mulder," 
Scully returned, voice tart.
        He knocked at her door precisely at seven o'clock that evening. 
Scully's eyes widened as she took in his garish western shirt and tight
jeans. Luckily, he had forgone buying a cowboy hat to complete his
ensemble, or she would have refused to go.
        Mulder led her to a small booth toward the back, where they could
eat more comfortably.  They were soon joined by some of Mulder's drinking
buddies from a few nights before, including the ones who had given them a
lift into town that morning.  Scully found herself squeezed between two
muscular men in identical plaid shirts and heavy workboots.  Beards seemed
to be the fashion in these parts, along with suspenders in various widths
and colors.

        The subject sooned turned to Bigfoot, of course, with Mulder
casually mentioning the strange howls they had heard while camping.  He
made no mention of actually seeing the creature, however.
        "Yep, most folks 'round here have heard it, too."  This was the
man on Scully's left, hoisting a giant beer mug as he talked and waving it
around.
        "Know anybody who's seen it?"  Mulder asked casually.  He gave
Scully a look, daring her to say anything.  She pursed her lips and took a
sip from her own mug.
        "Well, one or two fellas, maybe,"  It was the man on Scully's
right turn to talk.  "They got that army base hidin' in the woods there,
y'know.  We ain't supposed to know nuthin' about it, but o' course we all
do.  Them fellas out there mostly keep to theirselves, but now and then a
couple'll come in for a beer."
        "Mighty close-mouthed, tho."  This was a rather heavy-set woman
sitting beside Mulder. "Can't get much outta them, 'cept name, rank, and
serial number."  Her companions laughed loudly.
        "Yeah, well, like I was sayin',"  the man on her right again. 
"With them guys runnin' around out there, not too many folks feel like
goin' huntin' for no Bigfoot.  We'll just have to wait for it to come
lookin' for us, I guess."
        Scully shivered, and took a bigger gulp of her beer.  It went down
the wrong way; her large companions thumped her amiably on the back.
        She finally persuaded Mulder to return to the motel around one
o'clock in the morning.  He needed a little support crossing the street,
having bought round after round of beers for his friends to keep them
talking.  Of course, he was obliged to join them.  Scully had wisely
switched to near-beer, figuring one of them needed to remain a detached
observer.
        Mulder fumbled with his door key, muttering under his breath about
it being too big.  Scully snatched the key from his hand and deftly
inserted it into the lock.  As she opened the door for him, an uncanny
screech arose, much closer than either of them liked.
        "Oh God, Mulder - you don't think......?" Scully gasped.  Her eyes
were trying to search every direction at once.  She automatically reached
behind her for her gun, then remembered that hers had never been returned.
        "Quick, get in!"  Mulder hissed, pushing her into his room and
slamming the door after they were both inside.  He didn't turn on any
lights; instead, he went to the window and peered out through a gap in the
curtains.
        "Do you see anything?"  Scully breathed, looking out at the
deserted street.  Music was still booming from the bar across the street,
but otherwise there was no sign of anyone - or anything - moving around
out there.
        "No, but it sounded close."  he murmured.  "It must have followed
us back here, somehow.  Maybe it got out before they fixed the hole in the
fence."
        "What are we going to do?  We don't have anything with us capable
of killing it. Or even one of those whistles Colonel Johnson used to chase
it away."  Scully was straining to see, but it was very dark.  The scream
came again, making them both jump.  "Was that closer?  I couldn't tell."
        Mulder shook his head.  "It sounded about the same, I think. 
Maybe it's wary about coming into town.  The lights and noise may be
making it reluctant to approach too closely."
        Scully gasped in dismay when some people came out of the bar and
climbed into a huge truck with giant balloon tires.  They drove off, in
the direction of the screams.  Both waited silently, but there was no
sound of any kind of commotion from that end of town.
        "Should we call someone?"  Scully suggested, nodding to the phone
beside Mulder's bed.  "The sheriff, or somebody?"
        "And tell him what?"  Mulder frowned, turning away from the
window. "Bigfoot's come to town?  He's way over in the next town, so
unless he hears the howling for himself, I doubt he'd believe me.  Too bad
we can't call Colonel Johnson, tell him to come get his friend and take it
home."
        "I don't understand, Mulder."  Scully sank down on the bed, face
troubled. "Why don't they just kill it?  Why keep it alive, when it's
impossible to control?"
        Mulder shrugged, running his hands through his hair tiredly.  He
felt very, very sober.  "I dunno, Scully.  It's a mystery to me, too. 
Maybe they hope to control it, eventually."  He rushed back to the window
again, as the cries came once more, this time much closer.  It appeared
the creature had finally worked up the nerve to come into town.  "Scully,
come here!"  he whispered in an excited voice.
        She stood beside him to look out the window, just in time to see a
huge, shambling form approaching the bar across the street.  It let out
another bellow:  the music cut off abruptly, and all the lights went out.
        "Oh my God, Mulder....What should we do?  All those people......"
Scully was crushing the edge of the curtain in one hand.
        "Nothing - there's nothing we can do, Scully,"  he murmured.  "I
only have the one gun, and we both know what effect that had on him the
last time."
        The monstrous creature was now directly in front of the bar.  They
could make out vague shapes quickly exiting from the back door, and just in
time. One long arm shot out, and there was the sound of breaking glass. 
The beast howled again, then crashed through the door.  There were faint
screams inside from those too slow  to get out in time.
        Scully was biting her bottom lip, frustrated by not being able to
do anything to help.  But Mulder was right - one small handgun would be
absolutely no use.
        The sounds of destruction continued for a long time, with both
agents watching out the window the whole while.  There really wasn't much
to see, as the creature did most of his damage to the inside of the bar. 
They finally caught a vague glimpse of it, moving away from the back of
the bar and into the forest.
        Mulder began to open his door, to go see what the damage was - but
was stopped by Scully.
        "Don't go out there, Mulder!"  she cried, pulling at one arm. 
"What if it comes back?"
        Sirens could be heard in the distance, rapidly approaching. "Here
come the cavalry."  Mulder said, poking his head out the door.  Scully was
still clutching his arm, though neither was aware of it.  "We'll go over
just as soon as they get here."
        "Alright," she agreed, remembering that most police carried
shotguns in their cars as well.
        Four sheriff's squads screeched into the parking lot, followed by
an ambulance. Mulder and Scully rushed across the street to check on the
damage.
        "Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI."  Mulder identified himself to the
sheriff. "This is my partner, Dana Scully - she's a medical doctor.  We
came to see if we could be of help."
        The sheriff was a tall, angular man with iron-gray hair.  He eyed
the two strangers impassively, then gave them a slight nod.  "Any idea
what went on here tonight?"  he asked in a slow, deliberate voice.  They
were walking up to the door of the bar, which had been torn off its
hinges.  "Got a report of a rogue grizzly bear in town, tearing everything
up."
        Mulder glanced down at Scully.  She raised an eyebrow, then slowly
shook her head.
        "I don't know if what we saw was a grizzly bear, Sheriff."  Mulder
said, with a small degree of honesty.  "It was big and hairy, whatever it
was, and made a strange  sound - sort of a howl, I guess you'd say."
        The wreckage inside the bar was incredible.  Scully had never seen
such carnage.  She stepped aside to let two paramedics pass, carrying a
limp form on a stretcher.  She couldn't tell if the man on it was alive or
not.
        A deputy rushed up, looking a little green. "Two dead for sure,
Sheriff," he reported, then paused to wipe his mouth, as if he had tasted
something bitter.  "A couple more injured, one of 'em pretty bad."
        "This lady here's a doctor."  The sheriff jerked a thumb in
Scully's direction.  "You better take her over to the injured ones."
        The deputy nodded, though he obviously didn't want to go back
there. "This way, ma'm,"  he said, taking a deep breath.  He led the way
past the bar - or what was left of it - and into the back of the
building.  They passed two officers, laying a tablecloth over what was
obviously a dead body.
        "He's right back here, Ma'm,"  the deputy pointed to the far
corner, where another officer was kneeling beside a recumbent form. 
Through a mask of blood and gore, Scully recognized Pete, the brawny
lumberjack who had wanted to dance with her a few nights ago.  She had
been half-frightened of him at the time, but had met someone much scarier
since then.
        "Red!"  he cried happily, though how he could recognize her with
his eyes practically glued shut with blood, Scully had no idea.  "Man,
that thing really did a number on ol' Pete; yesirree!"
        "Where are you hurt?"  Scully asked, kneeling beside him on the
floor. One of the paramedics joined her,carrying a medical pack.  She
slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, then began to swab away the blood
from around a huge gash on Pete's head.
        "Oh, here and there."  he replied vaguely.  "When the booze wears
off, it'll prob'ly hurt like a sumbitch, too.  Did I tell you I love red
hair?"
        Scully smiled, applying a clean compress to the wound.  "Yes -
yes, you did, Pete."  She turned to the paramedic. "He's going to need
quite a few stitches to close this wound.  He may have some broken ribs,
as well.  As he said, it's going to be hard to tell until the alcohol
wears off.  He should be transported right away.  Pete, does your neck
hurt at all?"
        He swiveled his head back and forth a few times, despite Scully's
attempts to stop him.  "Nope, feels okay.  Think I broke my leg, though. 
Damned thing threw me up against the wall, then stomped me a few times
just for fun."
        The paramedic lifted the pant leg on the leg indicated.  Pete had
a very nasty compound fracture of the femur;  the paramedic let out a
whistle at the sight of the gleaming white bone protruding through the
ample flesh of Pete's right leg.
        "He goes in the next ambulance,"  Scully ordered, getting to her
feet.
        "Guess I'll have to take a raincheck on that dance, Red!"  Pete
called cheerfully, as Scully walked back to Mulder and the sheriff.
        "Your partner tells me you can do autopsies, Dr. Scully," the
sheriff commented after she had joined them.  "I'd sure appreciate it if
you'd take a look at the two casualties.  God knows when the regular
coroner will make it out here - he's a lazy old coot.  We can get you set
up in the clinic in town here, if you wouldn't mind?"
        Scully gave Mulder a strange look, then nodded to the sheriff. 
"Sure, Sheriff, I'll help in any way I can.  Um, would you mind if I had a
word with Agent Mulder?"  She took a step back, gesturing for Mulder to
come closer.  He bent his head slightly so they could talk without being
heard.
        "Mulder, I can't do the autopsies!"  she whispered furiously.  "We
both know they weren't killed by any bear!  But everyone in town knows why
we're here - how's it going to look when I write down on the death
certificates that these people were killed by Bigfoot?  It would sound
better coming from their regular coroner."
        He shook his head, then said quietly:  "You know he'd probably go
along with the status quo and write down bear attack.  Or if he didn't wat
to commit himself even that much, he'd just put it down as a wild animal
attack."
        "Well, isn't that close enough, Mulder?" Scully insisted.  "That
thing certainly isn't human - why can't we just put it down to a wild
animal and leave it at that?"
        "You put down whatever your conscience tells you to, Scully,"  he
told her softly. He turned and walked away.


Chapter Seven
        
        Scully returned to the motel a few hours later.  Mulder heard her
key in the lock, and popped his head out his own door.  "How'd it go?" he
asked.
        Scully leaned her head wearily against the door jamb, not looking
at her partner.  After a moment, she whispered:  "Do you mean, what did I
put down for the cause of death?  Blunt trauma, due to an attack by a
large, unknown creature, possibly simian in nature, owing to the size and
shape of various toothmarks found on the bodies."
        She finally lifted her head to stare him in the eyes.  "I may as
well have scrawled: 'BIGFOOT' all over those death certificates, Mulder. 
The sheriff will probably ride me out of town on a rail."
        Mulder reached over to pat her on the shoulder; she shrugged him
off impatiently.
        "Jamie should be flying in late this afternoon, so we'll be able
to leave here first thing in the morning." he told her.  "Scully, it'll be
okay.  If they don't agree with your findings, the coroner will just change
it to something more - acceptable."
        "That's supposed to make me feel better?"  She leaned her back
against her door, arms crossed.  "Have they talked to any of the
witnesses?  What do they say it was?"
        "They say, it was too dark to tell.  All they saw was a big hairy
body, and smelled something really terrible.You and I are the only ones
willing to say it wasn't a bear, in other words.  And I doubt we'll be
believed."
        "Well, it's not like it would be the first time,"  she sighed,
opening her door.  "At least, not for you."  She closed the door behind
her, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a nice, long nap.
        Mulder knocked on her door later that afternoon.  "Scully?"  he
called. "I'm going over to the landing strip, to watch the plane come
in.  Want to come?"
        Scully opened the door slowly, peering up at him sleepily.  "Sure,
why not?  I'm not getting much rest anyway, knowing our tall, hairy friend
is still on the loose.  Did the sheriff say he'd send men out to look for
it?"
        Mulder led the way to the air strip, hands in his pockets.  "The
sheriff wants me out of his juridiction as soon as possible.  He thinks I
was playing him for a rube when I told him who really trashed the bar and
killed those two people.  My request for a couple of shotguns was denied.
We're on our own in this one, Scully.  Unless Colonel Johnson finally
decides to wake up and smell the coffee, and do something about this
monster once and for all.  I don't doubt he and his men are out there
right now, combing these woods for it and trying to herd it back to where
it belongs."
        "As long as he keeps it busy long enough for us to leave, I don't
care what else he does."  Scully commented.  She could hear a faint drone
as their plane neared the landing strip.   
        Soon, both agents could make out a small white and red object far
off in the distance.  It gradually grew larger, until they could make out
the slim figure piloting the craft.  It waved to them, then began to
circle the field, preparing for the final approach.
        The plane was just about to land, when an enormous, ear-splitting
bellow rang out from the edge of the field.  A familiar, shambling form
had burst from the trees, and was charging at the landing plane.  Mulder
saw Jamie's eyes widen in shock, then she began desperately to pull on the
control stick, trying to lift the plane back into the air.  The engine
howled in protest at such harsh treatment, causing the nose to dip
slightly.
        The beast smashed a huge, hairy fist at the plane as it screamed
past, ripping off part of the landing gear.  The plane skewed crazily to
one side, meeting the ground with a bone-jarring crash.  It slithered to a
stop, its engine spluttering and then dying. Jamie was a limp form behind
the cracked window of the cockpit.
        Mulder began to run for the plane, as did the creature.
        "Mulder, watch out!"  Scully cried.  He saw the monster
approaching, and veered sharply, trying to lure the creature away from the
plane and its helpless occupant.
        The sound of an approaching vehicle caught Scully's attention: 
Colonel Johnson was pursuing the creature in a jeep.  Scully waved wildly
to attract his attention.  To her surprise, he actually approached her.
        "Get in, Dr. Scully!"  Johnson ordered.  "Which way did it go?"
        "Mulder's leading it into the woods - that way!"  Scully yelled,
hopping in beside him.  He punched the gas, nearly snapping her neck.  The
jeep bounced crazily across the field, following the path Mulder and the
beast had taken.
        "There!"  Scully yelled again.  "Up ahead!"
        Mulder looked extremely small and vulnerable, racing for his life
a few steps ahead of the giant, troll-like creature chasing him.  He
looked over his shoulder, at the jeep that was slowly gaining on him. 
Unfortunately, so was his pursuer.
        "Oh my God!"  Scully nearly screamed.  "Mulder!"
        An extremely long arm had reached out, and was now lifting Mulder
up by the back of his shirt.  His arms and legs flailed wildly as he tried
to break free.
        "Kill it!"  Scully ordered, pounding Johnson on the shoulder.  He
fumbled at his neck, trying to get the whistle to his mouth while
maintaining his hold on the wheel.
        "You idiot!"  Scully watched in horror as Mulder's shirt ripped up
the back, and he fell to the ground, stunned.  "It's too late for your
stupid whistle!  It's killing him!"
        "In the back!"  Johnson hollered, veering his jeep at the two
struggling forms ahead.  Mulder was trying to crawl away, shaking his head
as if trying to gather his wits.  One huge hand grabbed him by the ankle,
pulling him up into the air, up-side down.
        Scully scrambled into the back, trying to maintain her balance in
the jolting vehicle.  Pulling aside a green tarp, she uncovered a huge
assault rifle.          
        "Can you get it?"  Johnson demanded, looking over his shoulder
briefly.
        "Yes!  Just get me closer!"  Scully hauled the gun up, checking to
make sure it was loaded.  Sliding off the safety, she whirled around to
face the front.  Johnson was slowing down, as they were only about fifty
feet away from their goal.  The monster whirled at them, howling
defiance.  Colonel Johnson gave a mighty blast on his whistle, making it
roar again.
        Scully was out of the jeep, balancing the muzzle on the hood. 
Another blast of the whistle made her wince as she took careful aim.  It
also made the thing drop Mulder, so that it could cover its ears to drown
out the noise.
        "What are you waiting for!"  Johnson shouted.  "Aim for the back
of its head, just above the neck!  Hurry up!"  He blasted the whistle
again.
        "Shut up!"  Scully shouted back.  With a fervent prayer, she
depressed the trigger, being careful not to jerk her finger.
        The recoil nearly knocked her off her feet.  The creature roared
and grabbed at the back of its head.  Bright red blood sprayed from
beneath its fingers.  Regaining her balance, Scully fired at it again,
sweeping the muzzle back and forth in order to do as much damage as
possible.
        Mulder was trying to pull himself away while lying on his back to
face the creature.  He needn't have worried; the monster was trying to
break for the forest, to escape from the strange creature tearing him
apart with tiny little bites. Colonel Johnson's whistle dangled from his
lower lip, forgotten, as he watched in fascinated horror.
        The beast slowly sank to its knees, pawing at its own body, trying
to stop what was happening to it.  It finally stretched out flat on the
ground; with one more roar of defiance, which could barely be heard, it
lay still.
        The gun rattled in Scully's hands; it was out of ammunition, but
she couldn't seem to take her finger away from the trigger.  Colonel
Johnson had to reach over and wrench it away from her.  "You'd better see
to your partner,"  he ordered, picking up a radio.
        Shakily, Scully walked over to where Mulder lay sprawled on the
ground, giving the creature's reeking body a wide berth.  She half-knelt,
half-fell by his side.  "You okay?'  she asked.  She wondered if her arms
would ever stop vibrating.
        Mulder groaned as Scully's searching hands ran along his body,
checking for injuries.  "I think I twisted my knee when he picked me up
the second time,"  he managed to get out.  He stifled another groan when
her deft fingers began to probe at his right knee.
        "Well, I don't think it's broken,"  she sighed, sitting back on
her heels. "You may have torn some ligaments, though.  We'll have to get
you to the hospital, check it out."
        They were both distracted by the sound of a large truck
approaching.  It was painted in camouflage, and it slowly approached them
across the field, stopping beside the monster's body.  A half-dozen
soldiers jumped out. With a great deal of effort, they picked up the
corpse and loaded it into the back of the truck.  After they had all
jumped into it, the truck slowly ground away, returning to the base.  Not
a word was spoken throughout the entire operation.
        Colonel Johnson strolled over, the assault rifle slung over one
shoulder. "Nice shooting, Dr. Scully."  he commented, barely sparing a
glance at Mulder, who was struggling to sit up.  "Didn't think you had it
in you. Here - a little souvenir."  He tossed a small, cylindrical object
into her lap, then walked away.
        Scully held it up before her eyes - it was a Bigfoot whistle. 
"I'll treasure it always."  she muttered, slipping it into the front
pocket of her shirt.  "Can you get up, Mulder?  We need to get you back to
town."
        "Looks like you've made quite a conquest there, Scully,"  Mulder
teased, nodding at the departing Colonel.  "We need to check on Jamie,
too."
        Leaning heavily on Scully, Mulder limped across the field, toward
Jamie's disabled plane.  Sirens were approaching in the distance: the
sheriff and his men.
        "What the hell happened here?"  he demanded, leaping out of his
car and rushing toward the plane.  He eyed the two FBI Agents
suspiciously.  "Let me guess: Bigfoot?"
        Mulder shook his head wearily, while Scully maintained a stoney
silence. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, so why bother?'  Mulder
complained.  Two deputies were helping a dazed Jamie from the cockpit of
the plane.   Aside from a terrific bruise on her forehead, she appeared to
be unharmed.  When questioned, she could remember nothing about her
accident, except for a vague impression of something huge and hairy coming
straight at her plane.


Epilogue

        Scully is seated at her computer, typing her final report.  Mulder
limps over on crutches, to read over her shoulder.
        "The Sheriff's report reflects his belief that the two deaths, as
well as the damage to The Bigfoot Bar & Grill, and to Jamie Peterson's
plane, were caused by a rogue grizzly bear in the area.  The fact that a
rather large bear was subsequently killed approximately ten miles away in
another town, while attempting to break into an empty cabin, further
supports his belief.
        "The pilot, Jamie Peterson, continues to suffer from partial
amnesia relating to the attack on her plane.  As the body of the creature
was immediately removed from the area by the military, before the arrival
of the Sheriff and his men, this agent cannot support her theory that the
creature was, indeed, a genetic mutation.  Whether the mutation was caused
by a freak of nature, or by scientific manipulation, is subject to
conjecture.
        "I will close by saying that there have been no recent sightings
of the so-called "Bigfoot" creature in that particular area."
        "Nicely wrapped up, Scully."  Mulder told her, as he finished
reading. "One of these days, we'll come up with some solid evidence
that'll knock everyone's socks off."
He scratched the back of his neck, then reached under his coat to scratch
his stomach.
        "One day,"  Scully agreed, picking up a metallic cylindrical
object:  the whistle Colonel Johnson had tossed to her. She put it in an
evidence bag, then closed it up in a desk drawer.  She scratched at her
arm, where an angry red rash was rapidly starting to spread.  "You had to
roll us right through a patch of poison ivy, didn't you?"
        He shrugged."Hey, better a little poison ivy, than being torn to
pieces by Bigfoot.  Even if he was man-made.  Got any more calamine
lotion?"
        With a sigh, she turned to him, holding up a large pink bottle of
Calamine lotion.  Her face was covered with it, as was his own.
        "Next time you want to go camping, Mulder," She winced, then
scratched at her leg,  "Remind me to stay home."


end.