SURVIVAL

(1/2)

SURVIVAL

Somewhere in the State of Washington

Deserted road through a forest, 4:30 PM

Part 1

Dana Scully stood with her arms crossed over her chest, shivering

occasionally, and watched her FBI partner fiddle with the interior

workings of the Taurus engine. Their rental had just suddenly

stopped running out in the boondocks, and Mulder had coasted to a

stop on the mossy verge of the road. He had spent the last fifteen

minutes looking like he knew what he was doing, but hadn't

accomplished much yet.

Bored and cold, she commented, "This happened once when I was out

on a date. Just like the cliche, my boyfriend's car quit in the

middle of nowhere for no reason we could see. So what else to do

but neck until someone came along to help?"

With an amused look on his face, Mulder looked down to his left at

Scully and asked, "Wanna neck? You sure would be an improvement

over this dirty engine."

"How would you know, Mulder?"

She peered around his left arm until she could see what he was

doing now under the hood.

"Mulder, I really don't think it's the battery. Everything else on

the car still works; it just doesn't run."

She heard a sigh. He turned and said, "I'm open to suggestions,

Scully."

She shrugged and said, "We're not out of gas and you've checked

everything from the transmission to the fan belts. Hmmm. It must

be a close encounter of the alien kind." She looked innocently up

at his face and added, "Seen any hovering spaceships lately,

Mulder?"

He grinned and said, "My conclusion exactly. Hmm. The skeptical

Dana Scully is opening herself to unusual possibilities. Spooky!"

He slammed the hood shut.

"Let's get inside. This chilly damp air is making my nose run."

Mulder blew on his hands once he was back in the car, and helpfully

summarized their predicament: "We're off the main roads. No cars

have passed us since we stopped. It's getting late and will be

dark soon. It's probably at least 20 miles to anywhere that's

capable of fixing this car, and at least 15 miles to anything

else." He reached into his inside coat pocket and retrieved his

cellular phone. After poking at it a few times, he added, "And

we're out of range for our phones to be of any use."

Scully said, "You're forgetting something, Mulder."

He looked inquiringly at her.

"This is the general area where those seven murders took place,

remember? Seven people shot then hung from a tree limb and gutted

like deer."

"You have such a delicate way of stating things, Scully."

He looked out his side window contemplatively, seeing the dense

forest, the moisture-laden trees and dripping ferns, the moss, the

silent menacing atmosphere.

Scully turned her head towards her own window, and nearly jumped

out of her skin as she was confronted with a face whose nose

touched the glass. A woman in her late twenties was glaring at her

and then Scully saw the gun. It looked like a rifle, and she

began, "Muld..." when the woman suddenly raised it and fired.

The noise was deafening as the bullet smashed the window and gouged

a two-inch long and an eighth of an inch deep furrow along her

scalp above her ear. Blood flew and some hit Mulder's face as he

was drawing his weapon.

Scully sagged across his lap, preventing him from pulling his

weapon free, and then the woman fired again. More window glass

shattered, but this bullet missed both agents and passed through

the rear window, reducing it to spider-webbed safety glass.

Mulder opened his door and fell onto the road, crouching between

the open door and the interior of the car. His left hand felt for

Scully's pulse in her neck while he pulled his gun up looking for

a clear shot.

His stomach unknotted when he thankfully felt a heartbeat, then he

concentrated on where the shooter may have gone. He peered under

the car, and saw nothing but road, car and forest. Moving swiftly,

he stood and ran around the rear of the Taurus. Nothing. The

woman had completely disappeared.

He returned to the driver's side, constantly scanning the too-close

forest at each side of the road, and knelt by the car. He gently

touched Scully's head to see how bad the wound was, wincing at all

the blood. She lay very still across the seat and there was no

reaction to his pressing a handkerchief against the wound.

With night coming on, he definitely did not want to go into the

woods with nothing to protect them from the dampness and chill. An

unconscious Scully was another big factor arguing against that

course of action. On the other hand, to stay in the car offered no

protection whatever from the shooter; she could just walk up in the

middle of the night and put bullets through both of their brains.

If he could get to high ground with some protection....Then he

remembered they had just come down a hill before stopping on this

level area. He turned and looked back, recalling some boulders

above the tree line. Making his decision, he kept his head down

and moved to the trunk of the car. He retrieved his backpack that

had a lot of essentials, stuffed Scully's sweater, extra socks, and

whatever he thought they could use into it, then moved back to

Scully's side.

Their overcoats were lying on the back seat, and he shrugged his on

quickly. Then he grabbed Scully by her shoulders and gently pulled

her out of the car. Cradling her head in his lap, he secured the

blood-soaked handkerchief with a strip of a t-shirt he had shredded

from his bag. He grabbed her coat and maneuvered her uncooperating

arms into the sleeves.

"OK, Scully," he murmured in her ear. "Here we go."

Mulder pulled her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The

glimpse of the paleness of her face frightened him and increased

his terror of losing her. And he didn't like putting her in a

head-down position, but knew he could not carry her in his arms as

far as they needed to travel by foot. "Just concentrate about

getting to the boulders and surviving this," he told himself.

Moving as quickly as he could with his precious burden, expecting

any moment to feel a bullet smashing into him, he made his way up

the road. No bullet came, but he could hear a noise from somewhere

behind him slowly growing louder. He realized it was a truck or

car, but it was still out of sight.

Despite the cool weather, sweat trickled into his eyes as he

trudged on, desperately trying to decide what to do. The vehicle

was either the shooter with or without reinforcements, or it

wasn't. His life and death decision was to flag it down, or not.

Suddenly, he swerved to his left and took refuge about 20 feet into

the forest. He gently let Scully slide to the floor of fir

needles. Mulder dropped his bag next to her and tucked her coat

around her very still body. He gave her cheek a light caress, then

moved into a position where he could view the road.

A full-sized red pickup truck moved slowly past their Taurus, then

continued on at 15 miles an hour or so. He was beginning to make

out the occupants...it appeared to be two women in the cab, and the

one on the passenger side clearly had a rifle in her hands. As

they moved closer, he recognized the driver as the one who had shot

Scully. They had a dog in the truck bed, and it was BIG.

Mulder felt he had to aggressively attack, or Scully would die out

here. They apparently had more firepower, mobility, and a dog. He

patiently waited for the truck to pull even with his location. As

it slowly drifted past, Mulder closed his mind to what he was going

to do, and then ran out with his weapon extended and put a bullet

in the dog's head. He followed with another shot at the woman with

the rifle, who was swinging it around in his direction, and she

disappeared from sight.

The truck suddenly accelerated, but not before he had vaulted over

the side of the vehicle into the back. He crouched down as the

driver swung a pistol into view in the rear window, and fired

several times. He waited for a pause in the shooting, then sat up

and fired into the cab through the broken window. The truck

abruptly swerved and headed off the road as Mulder fell to the

floor of the truck bed and wrapped his arms around his head.

The truck came to a violent stop when it ran head-on into a huge

fir tree. The only sounds afterwards were from the hissing and

popping from the smashed engine.

Time passed and it grew dark. Night birds and small nocturnal

creatures began venturing out, softening the night with rustlings

and bird calls. Then came the louder human moan, which caused all

the forest sounds nearby to cease. It came from the truck's cab,

and a bloodied hand appeared in the broken-out window opening of

the passenger side. It moved down to release the door handle, and

the door swung open with a loud creak.

The young woman who emerged had taken a bullet in her left shoulder

and it had ripped out through the side of her neck. She had lost

a lot of blood, mostly all over herself, and looked ghastly. She

still held the rifle in her right hand, though, and her eyes were

crazed with pain and fury.

She held onto the truck frame for support as she moved toward the

back of the vehicle. When she cleared the cab, she peered in the

darkness of the bed and could dimly make out two large shapes,

neither of which was moving. She retraced her steps, found her

sister's flashlight behind the seat near the door, then painfully

made her way back to the truck bed.

When the light revealed her dog, she gasped. She had hoped he had

escaped, or was only injured, but it was clear he was dead. Both

her sister and their pet had been brutally killed, and her grief

was instantly turned into rage when the other shape in the truck

stirred and groaned.

She had seen Mulder when he had run from the forest, and knew that

was probably where the woman had been left. She would kill the

woman in front of this man and then kill the man. Killing had

always been easy for her, but this time it would be a real

pleasure.

Part II

6:48 PM

Mulder was disoriented as he regained consciousness. He had a

tremendous headache, along with a left arm so painful he thought it

might be broken. Groaning, he tried to roll from his side onto his

back and encountered a large furry obstacle. Before he could

register what the hell it was, a harsh voice startled him with the

demand, "Get out of the truck. Now!"

Suddenly, all that had happened hit him like a slap in the face.

So he had failed to take all three of them out. "God, don't let

them find Scully," was his immediate thought. A sudden vicious

blow to his back made him cry out.

"I said to get..out..of..the..truck. NOW!"

He desperately felt around for his gun as he tried to comply, but

it wasn't anywhere in his reach. "Probably under the dog," he

thought, "or it fell out in the crash."

With some pain he managed to hop down to the road, but had to lean

against the truck when his vision slid sideways and upside down.

He swallowed to keep from vomiting. He thought he probably had a

concussion, hopefully a mild one. He winced as the light from her

flashlight shone directly into his eyes.

"Walk back down the road until I tell you to stop," came the raspy

demand. When Mulder didn't instantly begin moving, she shot him in

the upper left arm, the one he thought may be broken.

He let out a hoarse scream as he fell to his knees in agony. His

right hand clutched his arm, feeling the flow of blood as it

dripped onto the road.

"I said to move it," she yelled, and grabbed him by the collar,

pulling upward. She put the rifle to his temple and said through

clenched teeth, "Get up and get moving or you're dead right here."

Mulder summoned up his strength and shakily got to his feet. He

staggered in the direction she seemed to want to go, and thought

about his options. He would not lead her to Scully. If she tries

to go there, he will make an effort to stop her, even though it

probably would mean that he would die.

His brain was sluggish, but he was realizing several things: These

were probably the killers they had been called up here to find, and

he had badly wounded this one. Even in the dark he could see the

way her left arm hung at her side and the darkness of the blood at

her shoulder and throat. Her raspy voice was probably from the

damage caused by his bullet. If she lost enough blood, he might be

able to get the upper hand. Then he silently laughed at himself.

"Sure, right," he told himself. "You see two yellow lines on this

road instead of one, and you haven't even been drinking. You're

leaking blood faster than she is, and you're unarmed." He winced

as another stab of pure fire lanced his arm, and he staggered a bit

before moving on.

"Stop!" she suddenly demanded. He stopped, panting slightly.

"Turn right here and go into the woods" She pointed toward a

lightening-blasted Douglas fir, and they both knew that Scully

should be found somewhere just beyond the tree.

Mulder looked at the rifle, knowing she would shoot him again if he

didn't move quickly to do what she said. But he simply couldn't

let her murder Scully, which was obviously her intention. Visions

of their other victims in the photographs he had seen made his

stomach clench. He turned slightly as if to comply with her

orders, then abruptly lashed back with his good arm at the rifle.

It was an act of total desperation and fear for Scully. (Mulder

would never in a million years recognize his actions as heroic).

Unfortunately, his physical condition was impaired enough to slow

down him down so that she simply moved back a step, causing him to

overbalance and fall.

When he hit the ground, she angrily aimed the rifle at his chest,

ready to finish him off. But she wanted him to see her kill the

woman first. Swinging the rifle butt around, she hit him on the

temple to make sure he wouldn't go anywhere, then entered the woods

to look for Scully.

Mulder had not completely been knocked out by the blow from the

rifle; he figured he had just increased the concussion total to

two, however. He was attempting to sit up when he heard the three

loud and distinct rifle shots coming from the forest where Scully

lay.

He collapsed in horror and ruthlessly pressed his face to the road

surface, trying not to scream. Internally he shrieked Scully's

name. "Ah, God, she's killed her. I've killed her. Stupid

bungling." Mulder sobbed and whispered, "Scully." He felt that

the grief would kill him before a bullet would, and he wept.

===========================================================================

From: fox42@ix.netcom.com(Geraldine J Hill)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: "Survival" (2/3) (First post stated one of two)

Date: 29 May 1996 00:01:33 GMT

I thought I could post this in 2 postings, but something isn't working

right. This is the second of three parts. I'm struggling with my

server and word perfect to get the rest posted. Please bear with me!

Disclaimer: The following work is for the distribution and

entertainment of newsgroup members only. Any further distribution

of this work without the author's consent is in violation of

federal law. This story is based on the characters and situations

created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen

Productions. As such, the characters named are the property of

those entities and are used without permission, although no

copyright infringements are intended.

Warning: At least R rated for violence. No spoilers.

SURVIVAL

by

Gerry Hill

Fox42@netcom.com (OR GHill52695@aol.com)

Part III

Scully had regained consciousness not long after Mulder had caused

the truck to crash. She had no idea where or who she was. All she

knew was the unbearable pain in her head and the cold that seemed

to be seeping into her bones. When she moved to turn on her side,

the pain from her head wound was so severe she thought it would be

better to die.

After another violent shudder from the cold swept over her body,

she realized she was not only hurt but probably in shock. The

thought of dying alone here drew her to her knees, where she

stopped for a moment with her head hanging down. It was too dark

under the trees to see the drops of blood falling to the bed of

pine needles.

She gathered all her strength and managed to stand with knees

wobbling and her hands gripping the rough bark of the tree under

which she had been lying. The first few steps caused excruciating

pain in her head and she had to stop and bend over for a moment.

It took all she had to remain on her feet. She wasn't sure which

direction to take, but knew she had to get some help. She

continued her slow progress from tree to tree, thinking that this

was what hell was like, and that she was destined to spend all

eternity in pain, staggering in the dark forest.

Then she knew she was in hell. The next object with which she came

into contact was not a tree. It moved when she grabbed it to

steady herself, and Scully looked up to see what it was. She saw

and felt a very cold and stiff human body which appeared to be

hanging by its ankles from a tree limb. It was fairly dark, but

Scully knew she had come across another of the grisly murder

victims that she and Mulder were supposed to be investigating.

"Hands-on investigation," she hysterically thought, then took a

deep shuddering breath. She turned, suddenly nauseated, and

continued on her endless journey.

At last Scully could go no farther and slumped to the ground next

to a...guess what? she thought; a tree. She had seen no relief to

the darkness or the forest during the...how long had it been? It

had seemed to be years since she had left the first spot, but it

had only been about 20 minutes she would guess.

Somewhere along her arduous journey she had remembered who she was

and that Mulder had been with her before her head had exploded with

agony in the car. That memory of Mulder scared her more than her

injuries; was he dead? If not, where was he? He would never leave

her in this condition alone, not as long as he had a breath in his

body or was conscious. She was certain of that.

She remembered that she had been wearing her gun. She turned

slightly and felt at her back near the waist. Yes! It was there,

under her jacket. She didn't like to wear it in the car because it

made the ride far from comfortable, but since they had been going

into an unknown and possibly dangerous situation, Scully had

included it.

Scully's thoughts were interrupted by some distant rifle shots.

She knew Mulder didn't have a rifle, and those definitely were

rifle shots. Her heart rate sped up and she managed to stand up

again. Her scalp felt as though it were on fire and the pain

radiated throughout her head. For a moment Scully knew she was

passing out, but fought it until she could focus again.

Moving back toward the area from where the shots had seemed to have

originated, she pulled her own gun out so it would be ready for

whatever she encountered.

Part IV

It had not been too difficult with a flashlight to find the spot

where Mulder had hauled Scully. It wasn't very far into the

forest, on a straight line from the road. When the woman stopped

at the empty area under the tree and found a backpack and the dark

splotches of drying blood, she became enraged. She searched around

the immediate vicinity, but realized the hopelessness of finding

her prey in the dark.

Furious at being thwarted, she raised her rifle and fired into the

bag on the ground where Scully had lay not long before. Then she

stood thinking about what to do. Her head swiveled toward the

direction of the road, and she grimly started back, a murderous

glint in her eyes.

Emerging from the forest she could see the dark form on the road

and thought how good it would feel to pump a dozen bullets into it.

But she wanted to prolong his agony to pay him back for her sister.

If she couldn't shoot his woman in front of him, she would make him

pay some other way.

Mulder felt the first blow on his leg, but didn't react to it. She

thought for a moment that he was unconscious. But the next few

kicks landed in his rib cage and he groaned and tried to slide away

from her. She smiled and increased the savagery of the kicks.

Then she used the butt of the rifle again, keeping away from his

head so he would stay awake for the punishment.

She finally grew tired and just stood next to the unmoving body as

she breathed heavily. She was puzzled why he hadn't tried to

protect himself from the abuse; after the first few blows, he had

seemed to accept it with arms limply at his side. Maybe he was

dying.

The woman looked up and down the still-deserted road, and knew that

morning light would probably bring some local traffic this way.

She still had plenty of time for a little more revenge.

Back at her pickup truck, she avoided looking at the lifeless

bodies and grabbed some rope and retrieved a large hunting knife

from the glove compartment. When she returned to Mulder, she

managed to remove his bulky overcoat and his suit coat, throwing

them aside. Next, she securely tied the rope around his ankles,

put the rifle down, and dragged him to the side of the road.

She tied his wrists together behind his back, then pulled them down

and tied them to his ankles. He struggled a little bit, probably

because of the pain to his left arm and all the other damaged

parts. Finished, she stood up and looked at her prisoner.

Mulder was bleeding from a lot of places and was having trouble

breathing properly. Taking her hunting knife from her belt, she

squatted next to Mulder, letting him see the knife up close. Then

she methodically cut his shirt buttons off one by one, and pulled

his shirt loose. He had an undershirt on, which was easily

shredded with a swipe of her knife, and a thin stream of blood ran

down his chest.

Her ragged voice told him, "I'm gonna gut you like an animal for

what you did to my sister." She put the point of the knife against

his torso and began pushing it into his body, looking into his eyes

the whole time. She was dimly aware of a sound behind her before

the world exploded and she was lost in black nothingness.

For the second time that day, blood from someone else sprayed into

Mulder's face. He looked beyond the fallen killer and saw a

hellish vision. A red haired woman with wild eyes stood with feet

apart, swaying slightly, and holding a gun with both hands extended

towards Mulder. The makeshift bandage on her head as well as her

upper body were soaked with blood. She began shaking and lowered

the gun to her side.

"Scully!??" he whispered. "My god, Scully, you're alive. I

thought..." And the tears ran down his face.

She made a visible effort to gather her strength and managed to

reach Mulder before falling to her knees. Her now blurry vision

took in the bound wrists and ankles in front of her, but her brain

was not processing what to do next.

Puzzled by the stillness behind him, Mulder tried to look over his

shoulder, but gasped in pain and carefully settled back to the

ground.

Scully was suddenly aware of the sound of the short, obviously

painful breaths he was taking, and began to unfasten the knots in

the rope. "Hold on, Mulder," she whispered. "We'll be OK now,"

she promised, hoping that it was true.

After feeling the rope give way, she pulled it completely free and

shoved it aside. Mulder pulled his knees and arms in toward his

chest and continued his gasps. Unable to hold on any longer, Scully

felt the world fading, and managed to lie against Mulder's back

with an arm at his waist before succumbing to the darkness.

Part V

Hands loosely draped on the huge steering wheel, Jimmy Joe

Schlimmervagen happily bellowed, "Long haul truckers, that's what

we are, long haul truckers, we drive awful far.." He continued

humming a tune as he tried to stay awake for just a little bit

longer. When he reached Seattle, he could take a four day break

and get some sleep for a change. His triple trailer could use a

good wash, too. "Don't we all," he thought ruefully as he sniffed

toward his armpit.

Because of his turned head, he almost missed seeing the car. Out

of the corner of his eye, he was aware of a new-looking car on his

side of the road, and something seemed really wrong in the glimpse

he'd had of it. He took his foot off the accelerator and began

some down-shifting. Then he saw the clothing and the rifle on the

road in his headlights, and brought the huge truck to a noisy stop.

Jimmy Joe was no fool, so he set the radio to a police band and

made a call reporting what he had seen and the approximate

location. He said he would wait there for someone to show up.

Then he placed his .38 pistol into his belt under his shirt at the

small of his back and climbed down to the road. Before closing the

door, he reached in back of the seat and grabbed the big flashlight

both for a source of light and for its hefty weight if he needed a

handy weapon.

He directed the light at the discarded rifle, then moved it to the

clothing, which turned out to be some coats. The dark stains on

the road could be blood. He aimed the light to the side of the

road, and saw what looked like two or three bodies on the ground

over near the beginning of the forest.

He gave a short whistle through his teeth in nervousness, then

walked over to the nearest body. It was a woman, and that she was

undoubtedly dead was obvious when he saw that she was missing most

of the back part of her head. A foot or two away were the other

bodies, one against the back of the other. And someone must be a

few quarts low, because blood was everywhere.

Just then he heard a harsh, raspy breath and realized that one or

maybe two of the bodies were still alive. He squatted next to them

and felt for a pulse in both necks. The man's was strong but the

woman's was hard to find at first. When he did, it was much weaker

than it should be. He took his jacket off and tried to cover both

of them as much as he could, then ran back to his truck.

He wasted no time in re-contacting the police to tell them to send

an ambulance. Then he grabbed some blankets from the bunk overhead

and covered the still-breathing pair with them.

Jimmy Joe was curious, so he went back to the road and picked up

one of the coats, checking the pockets. What he found made his

eyes go big and round in astonishment. The guy was an FBI agent!

Something had really gone wrong for him to end up like this. Jimmy

Joe Schlimmervagen noted the name "Fox Mulder" on the ID and

thought it was a pretty weird name. He replaced the ID and dropped

the coat where he had found it, not wanting to mess up evidence or

anything.

Turning to look up the road toward Siuslaw Junction, he saw some

flashing blue lights moving his way. He sighed in relief, but then

frowned when the lights stopped moving. The cop car had stopped

about a quarter mile away. What the hell....?

His rig was still running with all the lights on, so the police

should be able to see it from there if he could see their lights.

Just to make sure, he climbed back into the cab and gave a long

blast of his airhorn. After another minute, the flashing lights

began moving his way again.

The driver of the police car didn't look old enough to drive, in

Jimmy Joe's opinion. The kid looked nervous and dazed at the same

time, and got out the car with his weapon drawn and aimed right at

Jimmy Joe's chest.

Not one to argue with a firearm, he raised his hands above his

head, then protested, "Damn, I'm the one who called this in, and

that's my rig right here. The victims are over yonder by those

woods," and he gestured carefully with one finger.

The kid glanced over, then said, "OK, lower your hands slowly then

lead the way. And get some light on them with that flashlight

you're holding."

Jimmy Joe asked where the ambulance was, since two of them were

still alive, barely. The cop didn't answer, and when Jimmy Joe

looked back, he saw the kid riveted, staring at the dead woman

illuminated in the flashlight beam.

"Oh, no," he moaned. "They killed them both." Then he fell to his

knees next to the woman, calling her name, "Lilly!" It was a

heartbroken cry, and he looked up with anguished features, saying,

"My sisters...they're both dead." Jimmy Joe looked confused. "Two

sisters?"

The kid nodded and replied, "Angie is down the road in her truck,

dead along with her dog."

"Oh, my God. I'm sure sorry to hear that, son. Is there someone

I can call for you on the radio? Get someone else here to help

you?"

"My name is Officer Richard Penhart, not 'son'," he said angrily as

he got to his feet. "Before we do anything else, I'm gonna kill

those two for murdering my sisters." He pointed at the blanket-

shrouded pair on the ground nearby. He raised his gun so that it

was aimed generally in the direction of Mulder and Scully.

"Well, now...uh...Officer. They were almost dead anyway awhile

ago." Jimmy Joe didn't really think the guy would just shoot

several people in cold blood, but those were his sisters they had

apparently killed, and by the look on the cop's face, he wasn't

kidding about revenge. "Just let me check for you, OK?"

Not waiting for a reply, Jimmy Joe went over to the far side of the

blanket's edge, using his flashlight to see where he stepped, and

lifted the corner up with one hand. He reached in to check pulses,

and shook his head. Looking up at the cop, he said, "Sorry. They

beat you to it. They're both dead. One of them had a head wound,

and the other had so many hurts on him it's a wonder that he lasted

as long as he did."

He stepped back toward Officer Penhart and commented, "It looks

like someone really messed those two up pretty bad. The guy was an

FBI agent," he added.

Officer Penhart looked at Jimmy Joe with a weird expression on his

face, then said, "Lilly and Angie were probably caught by the feds

while they were slaughtering...illegal game." He giggled at that

and almost casually moved his hand so that his gun covered Jimmy

Joe. Another thought occurred to him. "Do you know why my sisters

have gotten away for so long with their little hobby of killing

people around here? Me. That's why. Their baby brother on the

local police force keeping the law off their trail."

Jimmy Joe felt his heart thump a bit louder. He knew why he was

being told this. He wasn't going to be able to repeat it to

anyone, ever.

Officer Penhart took the flashlight from Jimmy Joe, then said, "I

need for you to help me bury the evidence in the woods. I doubt if

anyone will come across the bodies...at least not for a long long

time." He motioned for Jimmy Joe to move towards the still and

silent forms on the ground.

"Wait a minute. What about the rest of the police force

hereabouts? Didn't they get my emergency calls? They'll know

something is happening out here."

The answer was definitely one he did not want to hear.

"I took the call. It's recorded, but I'll fix that when I get

back. No one else is on duty tonight - no money in the budget for

it. Besides, we're a small operation. And no ambulance is on its

way. Now get moving!"

Jimmy Joe was 6'2" and muscular, so he was able to pick Dana Scully

up in his arms quite easily. He was contemplating how he was going

to make use of the gun in his belt to get out of this mess alive.

===========================================================================

From: fox42@ix.netcom.com(Geraldine J Hill)

Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative

Subject: NEW: "Survival" (3/3)

Date: 29 May 1996 00:32:22 GMT

At last; I got the rest of the story to upload and here it is!

Disclaimer: The following work is for the distribution and

entertainment of newsgroup members only. Any further distribution

of this work without the author's consent is in violation of

federal law. This story is based on the characters and situations

created by Chris Carter, the Fox Network and Ten Thirteen

Productions. As such, the characters named are the property of

those entities and are used without permission, although no

copyright infringements are intended.

Warning: At least R rated for violence. No spoilers.

SURVIVAL

by Gerry Hill

Fox42@netcom.com (OR GHill52695@aol.com)

Part VI

Mulder was aware that Scully was lying against his back and was

still alive, although unconscious. He had lost consciousness

himself for a little while, but revived when Jimmy Joe checked

their pulses and said that they were dead. This puzzled him for a

second, until he heard the rest of the conversation. He

desperately began trying to find Scully's gun, the knife, or any

other kind of weapon he could use.

As weak and in as much pain as he was, when Mulder found the knife

he wasn't sure he would be able to use it effectively on anyone.

It was a heavy hunting knife, and just trying to grasp it firmly

hurt his arm and chest at this point. Well, he would just have to

figure out a way to use it, because Scully and he were about to

die.

Mulder's back suddenly got very cold as Scully was lifted away from

him. He knew that the cop would be holding his gun on - what's his

name? - Joe Bob or whatever, and watching him like a hawk. Now

would be as good a time as any to make a move. Except he didn't

think he could lift an eyebrow, much less his whole body.

He could hear two sets of feet and waited for the second set to

draw even with his body. "OK, NOW!" he yelled at himself. He used

his good right arm to swing the knife around in a powerful arc,

plunging it into the back of the cop's thigh. He was rewarded with

the sound of a grunt, then a high scream pierced the night air.

Things happened really fast after that. Jimmy Joe quickly put

Scully on the ground, drawing his gun from his belt almost as soon

as she touched down. In the wildly bouncing flashlight beam, he

could see that Officer Penhart, while in agony, was managing to

bring his gun to bear on him and was beginning to pull the trigger.

Two shots rang out, one right after the other. From Mulder's

bug's-eye viewpoint, Officer Penhart was dead before he hit the

ground. Mulder and the dead officer's faces lay side by side, and

the officer was missing an eye where the .38 bullet had entered to

blow his brain mostly out the back of his head.

Jimmy Joe stood up a little shakily and realized in disbelief that

he seemed to be unharmed. "Boy, howdy," he exclaimed. "If that

don't beat all. He plumb missed me." Remembering the rest of the

group, he checked Scully again, and was relieved that she was

hanging on. He walked over to Mulder, picking up the flashlight on

the way, and said with a grin, "Hoooeee, buddy. That was all

right! Thanks for givin' me a hand with this piece a shit."

Mulder gasped, "Welcome. How. Is. Scul..ly?"

Jimmy Joe figured who he meant, and said, "Not so good, but she's

still with us. I'm going to call for help again." He began to

head for his truck.

A weak "Wait" sounded behind him, and he turned to Mulder. "Tell

them...officer...down. Get...action...then."

Jimmy Joe nodded and ran to the truck and was into the cab in a

second. When he returned to Mulder, he was grinning again. "It

sure got their attention when I said 'officer down.' They got all

excited about it."

He knelt on one knee by Mulder, and asked, "Is there anything I can

do to help?"

Mulder closed his eyes and murmured, "Already...have."

Jimmy Joe retrieved the scattered blankets and covered Mulder and

Scully once more. Then he watched for the help he knew was coming.

EPILOGUE

Scully's eyelids fluttered and then opened. Her vision was a

little blurred at first, but then cleared and she saw a huge

grinning face about two inches from her own. She groaned and

closed her eyes again.

"Scully! You're awake!"

A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth when she heard Mulder's

enthusiasm. She guessed she had better open her eyes or he would

probably do it for her now that he knew she was conscious.

She saw a battered but still handsome face beaming at her, but not

quite in such proximity, thank goodness. He had a bandage around

his head, cuts and bruises on his face, his arm in bandages and

cast, and she could see a lot of taping around his chest under the

open robe he was wearing. Sweat pants completed the attractive

outfit.

Her eyes asked all the questions he knew she needed answers for.

"You're in Siuslaw Junction Community Hospital, and we got here,

let's see," he said, as he looked at his watch, "thirty-seven hours

ago. It's Friday afternoon," he added helpfully.

"I talked with your mom and Skinner, so they know what's going on.

I told them I would let them know how you were doing once you woke

up." He looked anxious. "How are you doing, Scully?"

She finally smiled. "Other than that I'm seeing two Mulders

standing there, you mean?"

At his worried expression, she hastily added, "I'm only kidding.

I seem to be OK. But I don't remember anything from when I saved

your butt again until now, though."

"What do you mean, again?" He sounded offended.

"Oh, Mulder," she sighed. "It would take more energy than I have

right now to count the ways. How are you doing, by the way?

He still looked faintly offended, but said, "Other than two broken

and two cracked ribs, a broken left arm decorated with a gunshot

wound, a mild concussion, a slight infection from the knife wound,

blood in the urine, and various contusions and ouchies, pretty much

OK."

"So how come you get to run around out there and I'm flat on my

back?"

He leaned close again and confided, "Drugs. Lots and lots of

drugs."

He straightened up and added, "Oh, I forgot to mention something;

Jimmy Joe said to tell you that he would have stuck around to meet

you properly, but he had to "drive like a rat with his tail on

fire" to Seattle with his cargo."

Scully looked thoroughly confused.

"I'll explain everything later; you need your rest right now." He

took her hand in his and gave it a friendly squeeze, then surprised

the hell out of her by leaning over and tenderly planting a kiss on

her forehead and whispering, "Welcome back, Scully."

He added as he turned to leave, "Next time you see me I will have

returned to being my usual egotistical self-centered hard-assed

obnoxious self, so don't let my current weakness go to your head."

He flashed a grin her way and left the room. Scully could hear him

waylaying a nurse in the corridor and loudly lamenting that they

wouldn't left him have his clothes; did they hide them just so they

could admire his ass sticking out of his hospital gown?

Scully sighed and went back to sleep.

The End