by: Margaret

He was in a white room that looked something like a hospital. Spotless white ceilings,
glaring white walls, a thick, carpeted floor. The whole place was so clean and so quiet
that it was irritating. There were no windows here, no place to feel a breeze or to smell
the fresh outdoor air. The little knickknacks that often decorate a room, portraying the
character of the person or persons living in it, were also gone. No pictures, posters, or
statues stood on any of the shelves. All was empty. All the drawers were bare. The only
thing he could see was mind-numbing white, with no other colors to break its
overwhelming monotony.
He felt wrong in this lifeless room that had the aura of institutional humdrum.
Claustrophobia and a feeling of being trapped swelled up in his throat; he was choking in
here! He turned around, looking for a door, and that’s when it dawned on him. There was
no door! There was no way out! He ran to the walls and studied them. He followed the
cracks with his fingertips, tracing the plaster, looking for a hidden door. He couldn’t find
anything. The more the seconds ticked by, the more the panic deep in his gut grew.
He ran from one end of the room to the other. *There has to be a way out! There has
to!* He was about ready to try breaking through the wall… when he heard the sound of
weeping.
He spun around, and there behind him stood a king-size bed that appeared literally out
of nowhere. White sheets with ruffles on the end draped over the mattress and spilled
gloriously to the floor. The white pillows in their white silk cases stood fluffed near the
headrest. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, that looked like the most uncomfortable
thing in the world.

The high-pitched weeping grew harder. He looked around to find the person who was
crying. He couldn’t see anyone. He was alone. Then the crying grew frantic. The sound of
a young girl’s heavy breathing echoed on the bare walls. Her high-pitched voice was
almost unintelligible. She cried out for help and followed it up with screaming, the
blood-curdling screams children make when attacked. The bed suddenly shook. It was
just tremors at first, but quickly turned into violent convulsions. The sheets spilled to the
floor as the child’s screaming grew louder and louder and louder.
Under the bed, he told himself! Someone is hurting a child under the bed! He rushed
to the furniture, fueled by the paternal instinct of an enraged father rushing to the aid of
his endangered child. It was a weird feeling, really; he was always the one that everyone
else looked out for. He grabbed the sheets and ripped them off the mattress, falling to his
stomach to look under the bed. What he saw was little Goldilocks, helplessly sprawled
out on her back. She writhed and screamed in panic as invisible chains held her limbs
fast onto the floor. He crawled after her, reaching for her arm to pull her away from the
danger when a long, skeletal hand fell on the little girl’s wrist. The child arched her back
and yelled in outright panic and pain. He looked up, and now hovering over the blonde
babe was a monster. An emaciated, skeleton of a man dressed in a tattered black suit kept
the struggling girl down. His eyes glowed bloody red, and smoke billowed out of his nose
and mouth.
“GET AWAY FROM HER, COWBOY!” the monster yelled with the deafening roar
of a tiger. “SHE IS MINE!”

*****************************************************************

Bo Duke jumped up in his sleeping bag so fast he almost hit the ceiling. He also
almost
screamed, but he recognized his room fast enough to bite his tongue in the last second.
He sat trembling violently on the floor and sat still for a few seconds trying to get ahold
of himself. He looked to his left and saw Luke snoozing away, unaffected by his violent
waking. He looked to his right and saw Fox Mulder in his bed in the same condition. Bo
pushed the top layer of his bag away and to his surprise found that it was damp with his
own sweat. He crawled out and stood upright, running his fingers through his
sweat-soaked hair. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he wondered if it
would wake the two other men in the room up.
His mind was starting to clear from its shock and grogginess. *You’re just dreaming…
I
think,* he told himself. *It’s just like yesterday when you woke up at 5:00 in the
morning.* And then after that dream all of those strange… things had… happened… with
the ghost! The young farmer’s skin crawled as a cold perspiration broke out once again.
With each second that ticked by, his head got clearer and clearer, and the more lucid his
thoughts became, the more he questioned whether he had had a bad dream… or
something else!
He spun around and quietly made his way to Mulder. The agent was curled up in a
ball
with his nose deep in his pillow. Bo grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him hard.
Fox rolled on his back. “What are you..?”
The young farmer quickly slapped his hand over the whining man’s mouth. He put his
finger to his lips and shushed him, then turned around to check Luke. The older cousin
moaned in his sleep a little, as if sensing that something was wrong, but then rolled onto
his side and resumed his peaceful slumber. Bo let out a sigh of relief. He looked back at
Mulder and saw the agent staring wide-eyed up at him. He removed his hand.
“Something wrong?” Fox whispered in stunned but slurred grogginess.
“I need to talk to you,” Bo replied nervously.

**

“Your cousin is going to rip my heart out and feed my body to your billy goats!!”
Mulder shifted uneasily on the bale of hay that he sat on. He leaned his back against
the
horse’s pen, and at the touch of scratchy wood immediately pulled upright into a stiff
sitting
position. Bo finished pulling his blue T-shirt over his head, and he tossed a white one to
Fox. “It’s a little chilly out here in the barn,” he explained.
Fox nodded and tugged his shirt on as well. “By the way, you mind explaining to me
why we’re having this discussion out here in the barn?”
“Because I don’t want to wake my family up,” Bo replied. “Not until I know for sure.”
A couple of curious chickens came out of their roost and trotted towards Bo. The
young farmer gently pushed them away with his boot. Mulder jumped off the stack of
dried grass he was on and tried to brush away the strips of hay from his jogging pants.
“Can’t this wait for the morning, Bo? It’s 11:30, for crying out loud! It’s almost midnight!
And besides, if Luke finds out that I hypnotized you, he’ll eat my liver for breakfast!”
“Fox don’t you get what I’m trying to tell ya? I’m seeing her all the time now. When I’m
awake, I see a little girl with sad green eyes watching us from the corners of every
building we walk in and out of! When I’m asleep, she’s in my dreams! In my dreams
even! And every time I see her, Fox, something bad happens! Every single time!”
Mulder buried his head in his hand and rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off a
headache. He had listened carefully to the story about the dream. Now, he was quite
certain that Bo was having premonitions about this ghost. His friend had told him that
he’d dreamt about the General Lee going berserk even before it happened. Still, he didn’t
know what to make about this latest nightmare. It didn’t make sense. “Bo,” he started
seriously. “I don’t mean to be rude, and I’m not questioning what you’re seeing. But it has
been a very long day today. You could just be having a nightmare.”
Bo gazed down at the floor and kicked a couple of strands of hay around. “I know,” he
said nodding in agreement. “There is a very good possibility that I could just be
dreaming. But there is also a very good possibility that something more is going on!
That’s why I need you to hypnotize me! I need to find out what’s goin’ on!” Bo put his
hands on his hips and sighed. “Fox, my family is shaken. Daisy is afraid to walk around
the house alone. Uncle Jesse is beside himself. And Luke is having a hard time dealing
with any of this!”
Mulder chuckled sarcastically. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.
“Luke’s just afraid for us,” Bo stood up for his much-loved older cousin, visibly
irritated. “He’s always been the leader in this family. He’s always been the one who led us
out of tough situations. He’s always known what to do. He doesn’t know what to do now,
and he’s afraid for me and Daisy and Uncle Jesse. And even though he don’t show it, he’s
worried for you and Dana too! Besides, I wish you two would grow up and stop arguing
like a couple of dang fifth graders!”
“Bo… that statement coming from *your* mouth is almost scary.” Fox crossed his
arms
and stared his young friend in the eye. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because I really
don’t. I think the Gunmen are right. This could be just a passing, freaky unexplainable
thingamajig that will be gone by the morning. Besides, I’m a guest at your house. I don’t
want to betray your family’s trust by hypnotizing you against their wishes!”
“I need to know, Fox,” Bo said softly, taking a single step forward and capturing the
older man’s eyes with that dark blue gaze that did a pretty darn good job of hypnotizing
all by itself. “I don’t wanna scare my family anymore than they already are. They’re all
scared enough as is. Look, if I’m just having a hair raising nightmare, then we’ll just
forget about tonight. We’ll go back to bed. I’ll ignore whatever dreams cross my head, and
I’ll let you sleep till noon!” He paused just long enough for effect, and Fox thought briefly
that Bo should have been an actor rather than a race driver. “…But if there’s something
more, if this ghost is really in my head, then we have to do somethin’,” he finally finished
in a whisper that had more feeling in it than any shout.
Silent for a bit, Mulder searched for words. “Bo… if Luke finds out that I hypnotized
you…” He shook his head and didn’t finish the statement. He and Luke hadn’t been seeing
eye to eye lately, but right now, he wouldn’t blame Bo s older cousin for throwing him
out of the house if he went through with this.
“I’ll talk to him,” Bo said. “He’ll listen to me. Besides, ain’t nothin’ bad gonna come
from your hypnotism ’cause I trust you! I trust that you know what you’re doin’!”
Mulder shook his head. “You trust everyone,” he mumbled. “It’s not a good habit to
hone.”
“I trust you,” Bo said again with that wide-open look of his, undeterred at the
statement.
“I trust that you can help me find the truth.”
Mulder swallowed hard. No one except Dana had ever told him that before. And given
the tough times he was going through professionally, Mulder was having a hard time
trusting himself. “Thank you,” he said softly. Though he didn’t say it, the statement of
confidence meant the world to him.
Bo saw the look of humble gratitude in his friend’s face. He shrugged and grinned.
“What are friends for?” he playfully asked.
Mulder chuckled and shook his head. You could count on Bo to cheer anybody up.
“Sit
down,” he finally said after taking a few seconds to think things over. “Try to relax, and
I’ll get my stuff.” He left and jogged back towards the farmhouse as quietly as possible.
Bo wandered towards a bale of hay and sat down on it. He tried to calm down, but he was
nervous. Mulder soon reappeared with a large black bag dangling off a thick string. He
smiled as he prepared the barn. He hadn’t sneaked around the house since he was a kid!
He brushed the thought aside as he grabbed the milking stool next to the door and placed
it in front of Bo. He set the sack down on it, then grabbed another bale of hay by the
metal straps that bound it together and pulled it across from his friend.
Bo kept his eye on the bag. “Is this gonna hurt?” he meekly asked.
“Hopefully not,” Fox replied with an impish tease. He sat down, untied the top of the
felt casing, and pulled out a large amethyst crystal. It looked like a purple tower that was
a foot high and five inches across. Beautiful swirls of light and dark shades danced across
it’s glassy surface, and under the lightbulb, the colors seemed to glow warmly. Bo
reached out and ran his fingers down the ice-smooth side. “Pretty,” the young farmer
commented. “What’s it for?”
“Isn’t it pretty?” Mulder replied, purposely ignoring the question. “But there’s a flaw in
it. Can you see it?”
Bo looked at the crystal, frowned, and shook his head.
“It’s in the center,” Mulder pressed. He stared straight at Bo, purposely avoiding
looking
at the rock. “Look harder. Concentrate. It’s in the center of the stone. If you relax
everything, including your eyes, you’ll see it.”
Bo looked into the center. The waves of light and dark purple seemed to move in the
stationary glass like the waves in a lava lamp. He looked harder and deeper into the core
of the rock, penetrating the glassy surface and delving into layer after layer of purple.
*How deep does this thing go?* he wondered.
“Relax your eyes,” Mulder continued softly. There was a second of hesitation in his
voice. He still had his doubts about this whole thing. “Relax everything. Block out the
barn and the animals. Block out the light even. The only thing you see is the flaw in that
crystal. The only thing you hear is my voice. And the only thing you’re thinking about is
the little blonde girl with sad green eyes.”
“Sad… green… eyes,” Bo whispered in response.
The young farmer was swimming now. The purple waves moved out of his eyes’ line
of
sight like a diver penetrating layers of water with his dramatic entry. The crystal seemed
to go on for yards. Like a swift, swirling whirlpool, it drew the dreamy young man deeper
into the core, and as it did, the purple grew darker and richer. The glassy smoothness
turned jagged and sharp. Bo moved swiftly through this widening canyon until finally, at
its center, a light distortion jumped out at him. The pale, crooked streak of a hairline
crack grabbed his line of sight, and suddenly Bo closed his eyes, and to Fox Mulder’s
utter surprise, the young farmer’s mind, without any fanfare or fight whatsoever, simply
left the room.

**

Bo looked around his new surroundings with very little bewilderment. He felt odd, as
if his head was outside of himself watching everything with the detachment of a mildly
interested spectator. He was in a lab of some sort. Test tubes, flasks, and different
colored liquids in strange-looking glass containers decorated the tiled countertops like
multicolored Christmas ornaments on a tree. He meandered towards the strange-looking
gadgets and found labels taped onto the sides scrawled with pencil. It was faded and
smeared. He bent over and looked hard at the words: Patricia’s blood sample, Patricia’s
cell sample, Patricia’s DNA results.
He backed away from the containers, suddenly feeling as if he had violated someone’s
privacy. He saw a door on the far end of the corner, and decided to get out and explore.
Where he was right now felt wrong. Where he was right now felt creepy. As he made his
way, he passed by a maze of dozens of other test tubes, all scattered across the room but
all bearing the same name: Patricia’s hair sample, Patricia’s brain cell sample, Patricia’s
fingernails, Patricia’s chromosome results. It was like being in a morgue with tiny bits
and pieces of the body strewn across the area and placed under microscopes in a bizarre,
macabre ritual. Who the heck was Patricia? And why did this lab seem to be dedicated to
her? Duke curiosity was getting the better of him. Although most of the time, curiosity
brought him and Luke more trouble than good, he followed it anyway.
He had forgotten about Fox, the barn, and the crystal. His memory of the recent past
was blurry here. And though he wasn’t quite sure how he d gotten to the lab, he didn’t
question his presence in the building. He’d come here looking for something, or someone.
He knew that much. And what he saw around him was so interesting, and so curious… he
just had to explore some more! He reached the end of the room and grabbed the
doorknob. His fist curled round the brass knob… and went straight through! Bo froze, not
believing what he was seeing. He reached for the knob again and again, but his hand
went through it as if his fingers were made of air.
For some reason, he wasn’t upset or scared about the phenomena. He knew he should
have been. This was not natural, and he didn’t know why it was happening. But he felt
strange. And for some unexplained reason, he was much more curious than afraid. He
reached out to the door and watched his hand go through the wood actually disappearing
into it. He chuckled at the sight. Geez! It was like he was a ghost! How cool!
He heard the voices of men on the other side of the wall. Before he could react, the
door swung open. He cringed and braced himself, expecting to be hit smack dab in the
face. A breeze brushed past him, and when Bo opened his eyes, he found himself staring
into the hallway. The wood had gone right through him.
“The sooner we knock this kid off, the better we will all be!”
At the voice, Bo spun around again to see two lab technicians, wearing white medical
coats, walking briskly through the door past him. The young farmer stared at the two
men. They didn’t even see him. He couldn’t believe it! Bo quickly jogged up to an older,
balding gentlemen in his late forties. He stood in front of the guy and waved his arms in
the air, whistling and hollering in an attempt to get his attention. Neither scientist saw or
heard anything, and they continued talking as if they were the only people in the room.
“You’re being paranoid,” the other scientist told his friend. He walked to the colored
test tubes and pulled a few free from their handles. “Patricia is a genealogist’s gold mine!
We would have never gotten this far without her!”
Bo doubled over and laughed. Oh this was rich! Not only was he intangible, but he
was
also invisible and silent! None of this was normal, and none of this made sense, but boy
was it cool! He could have a lot of fun here! This carried so many possibilities..! He tried
to stop his giggling and listen to the two men, unnaturally inquisitive at the subject
matter. The scientist spelled out a long list of genealogical terms that Bo understood
about as well as Hebrew. But he listened anyway. He couldn’t help himself. This new
world was just so fascinating! And he had to find something here.
“I just think we’re playing with fire is all,” the other man somberly replied. “Did you
see
what she did to Fox Mulder and Bo Duke?”
Bo’s frame stiffened at the mention of his name. The smile on his face disappeared,
and the laughter stopped. How the heck did these men know his name?
The scientist carrying a handful of test tubes glanced up and smiled at his friend. “You
think we saw fireworks this morning? Wait till you see what little Patricia does to the
Duke family tonight!”
“What happens tonight?” the other tech asked.
“Are you kidding? The Smoking Man is through playing games with everyone.
Tonight,
we’re going to kill everyone on that little hick farm!”
Bo’s chest tightened so hard, he found it hard to take a breath. He didn’t know where
he
was or who these people were, but they were after his family! The fun and games flew
out of his mind, and he ran for the door. He had to get back to the farm! He had to warn
everyone!
As he jogged from one room to another, he realized that the building looked familiar.
It
looked like the dog food production factory in Osage County. It had been years since he
and Luke ran through the place, and though the architecture was the same, everything
inside was not. He brushed the thought away. He had to get home and warn the others.
He raced through what looked like an empty library, bolted out an open door… and
skidded to a jaw dropping, bone chilling stop in the hallway.
They were everywhere. Men in camouflaged uniforms moved in rows in and out of
the
various rooms like a colony of ants. Some had coffee. Some others had files, but most of
them had weapons. Bo stood in the hallway, his mind racing to comprehend what he was
seeing as the soldiers briskly wormed their way through the building.
No one saw him. Not a single one! The young farmer wondered why for a fleeting
second, then decided to take advantage of the situation and just get the heck out of this
building! He ran past everyone, searching desperately for a way out of this maze. He past
by one room, stopped, twirled around and raced back inside.
The dark quarters laced with computers and men in uniform looked like a television
display area in a Circuit City store. Large screen television monitors flashed in black and
white pictures of a farm! His farm! On the left was a picture of Luke sleeping soundly.
On the right was a picture of Dana and Daisy sharing Daisy’s double bed. In the middle
was a picture of the kitchen. Somewhere, a lens zoomed, and now the hidden camera
focused out the kitchen window at the lighted barn.
“How long have they been in that barn?”
A soldier dressed in a uniform of authority walked towards two men seated behind a
computer. The technicians typed away at their keyboards and didn’t even look up at the
superior hovering above them. “A good fifteen minutes, sir,” one of them responded.
“What are they doing in there?” the authority figure asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine, sir,” the other technician replied.
The authority figure rubbed his chin in worry and gazed at the fuzzy picture of the
barn on the computer. “Whose bright idea was it to NOT put cameras in the barn?”
Bo didn’t hang around for the answer. He had seen enough. He was frantic now. He
HAD to get back to Hazzard! He had to get to his family and get everyone out of the
house! He didn’t know how much time he had, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before all
these people stormed the farm!
He ran blindly past and through people looking for an elevator, or better yet a set of
stairs! He stopped once again at a crowded crossway and wondered if he was running in
circles. He was lost and couldn’t find his way out. And it was at that moment that he
heard her.
The sound of a little girl’s crying was almost stamped out by the drumming hum of
walking army boots. Across the hallway beyond a sea of roving camouflage uniforms, a
locked door with two armed men on each side of it ineffectually tried to muffle the sound
of tears. Bo took a breath. Little Goldilocks was inside! He knew it. He didn’t know how
he knew it… but he just did.
He ran across the files of roaming men and bolted past the armed guards. He reached
for the doorknob, and his hand went straight through. He shook his head. He had
forgotten. He was like air in this environment. He would have to walk through the door.
He shut his eyes and took a few steps forward. The feel of mild static electricity shot
through his torso. When the sensation ended, the young farmer stopped in his tracks and
opened his eyes.
He had been here before, in the nightmare he’d had not an hour ago. Now he was back
in the room that was void of life. White walls and bare white shelves and desks dotted the
area. A lush, king-sized bed lay back against a white plaster wall. And on top of the bed,
with her face flushed red with tears and her eyes wide and round with both surprise and
fear, little Goldilocks stared in stupefied terror at the man in her doorway.
Unlike the rest of the people in the building, she could see him! She could see him
just as plain as he could see her! His invisibility obviously didn t work with her, just the
same as hers didn’t work with him. The girl rolled up to he knees and backed up, her
mouth hanging open. When she reached the edge, she lost her balance and fell backwards
off the mattress, crashing to the floor. Bo jogged after her, fearful that she might have
hurt herself.
“Whoa! Honey? Honey, are you okay?”
The girl quickly scampered to her knees. Breathing hard and fast, she bolted
underneath
the bed. Bo went after her, refusing to lose sight of the child again. He fell to his knees
and
crawled into the narrow opening. At the sight of the young blond’s invasion, Patricia
screamed. She grabbed her box of toys and kicked it in front of her, using it as shield.
“Get away from me!” she screamed hysterically. “Leave me alone!”
“Honey! Calm down! I ain’t gonna hurt ya!” Bo scooted away from her to the foot of
the bed, trying to put space between them in an effort to show that he meant no harm.
The child calmed down at the motion, but she still clung to the wall, her breathing
uncontrollably fast.
“How did you find me?” she whispered. “THEY didn’t say that you could do Astral
Projection! How are you doing it?”
Bo didn’t understand the last question, and he decided to gloss over the whole
statement. “Sweetie, it’s complicated,” he said. He decided to change the subject. “You
ain’t a ghost. Are ya?”
The little girl slightly shook her head.
“What is this place?” he asked. “Why are the men here carrying guns? And why is my
house on your TV screens? Why do these people want to hurt me and my family?”
Patricia swallowed hard. She started trembling again at the barrage of questions. Bo
saw that he was scaring her.
“Honey, I am not going to hurt you!” he said with a growing sense of frustration. “I’m
here to help!”
Tears rolled down the child’s face. They were tears of confusion. Patricia wasn’t sure
what to think of this man. She couldn’t tell if he was lying or telling the truth. She
couldn’t tell if he was really trying to help or if he was trying to do her harm. “Are… are
you gonna get me out of here?” she timidly asked.
Bo sighed. He looked at her gently, making sure his movements were slow. He didn’t
want to traumatize this kid any more than she already was. “What are you doing here?”
he softly asked.
“THEY took me,” Patricia replied. Her tears fell harder as she thought about her
three-year imprisonment.
Bo cocked his head. “Why?”
“THEY took me because I can do things other people can’t. THEY’RE making me do
things ~ bad, bad things!”
“Like what happened this morning with my car?” he asked gingerly. “And like what
happened at the store?”
The child stared at him for a few seconds, then burst out bawling. “I’m sorry! I’m so
very sorry! I didn’t want to! I really didn’t! But THEY’RE making me! THEY said they’ll
punish me! And it hurts! Punishment hurts so very, very, very much. Please, oh please
don’t be angry at me!”
She ranted incoherently, on the verge of outright hysteria. Bo moved closer to her. He
wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew he couldn’t. “Shhhhh,” he tried. “Don’t cry,
sweetheart. I’m not mad! Honest!”
She calmed down and quieted, the raspy noise of her heaving the only sound in the
room.
“Look at me,” Bo said with authoritative gentleness. “I’m gonna get you out of here.
I’m
going to take you away from THEM, and I’m gonna make sure that THEY never punish
you again.”
The child immediately quit weeping. She looked at the farmer, with his kind words
and
mild movements, and in one moment decided to trust him. She unfurled herself from her
turtle-like curl and crawled a few timid inches towards her rescuer. “How?” she
whispered. “How are you gonna get me out of here?”
Bo was trying to think up an answer, but his thoughts were interrupted as the front
door
slammed open and banged loudly against the wall. A team of army boots stormed into the
bedroom, and after they entered, the man in charge came inside. Shiny black shoes and a
cloud of smoke heralded his entrance. Patricia went back to the wall, cringing and
trembling, and though he couldn’t see his face from his awkward position, Bo Duke knew
exactly what it was. It was the monster from his dreams.
“Patricia!” the monster barked. “What are you doing?”
Patricia bit her lower lip, not sure how to answer the question. There were so many
scary things happening at once that she didn’t know what to do. “Nu… nothing?”
From under the bed, Bo watched even more boots pour into the small quarters. The
whole thing looked like a dang invasion! He couldn’t do anything right now. THEY were
too many. He had to get home, get everyone out of the house, then come back with the
Marines or something! He tried to get up on his knees to resume his quest of looking for
an exit, when Patricia lunged at him. She reached for his arm, and her hand went straight
through.
“Don t leave me!!” she whispered in panic.
“Patricia, the farmer and the policeman have been in the barn for over twenty
minutes!”
the Smoking Man continued in angry exasperation. “And when I look at your cameras, I
see you acting strange and talking to the air! What are you doing?!”
“NOTHING!” Patricia yelled.
Suddenly, all the boots froze. Bo shot up on his knees, and his torso went straight
through the bed. He looked up at an old man in a dark suit holding a cigarette between
his fingers.
“Take her!” the Smoking Man cried to the soldiers.
Three soldiers stormed out of their ranks towards the bed. Each man grabbed hold of
the frame, and flipped the furniture over. Patricia screamed and curled up in a ball at the
sudden light. The bed spun. The headrest splintered and cracked. The mattress and sheets
flew to the far end of the room. In a flash of sudden, hot rage, Bo attacked one of the
soldiers. He threw a right hook at the man, but his fist went through him.
The rest of the camouflaged men went straight to the little girl. They kicked her toys
out
of the way, breaking them in their blitzkrieg run. The girl broke out in tears and screamed
as the horde surrounded her. Two men grabbed the child by the ankles. Patricia’s screams
grew long and shrill. She desperately clawed into the carpet. The captors lifted her up
high off the floor. The rug slipped through the child’s fingers, and Patricia howled as she
once again hung upside down. She wiggled and struggled, her arms flailing wildly in the
air until two soldiers grabbed her by the wrist.
“LEAVE HER ALONE!” Bo angrily yelled.
No one heard him. The soldiers carried her like a gunnysack to the center of the room
and were about to walk out into the hallway with her when the Smoking Man stood in
their path, blocking the exit. Patricia squirmed at the uncomfortable position she was in.
Her wrists turned red, and without any support, her back was starting to hurt. Bo paced
behind the horde and watched everything in angry helplessness.
“Patricia!” the Smoking Man said regaining his composure. The child looked up at
him,
her tears falling sideways down her cheeks. “What does the young farmer fear?”
Bo froze. Patricia looked up at her captor then shot a glance at the young farmer, her
look pleading for help.
“PATRICIA!” the Smoking Man yelled, irate that the child wasn’t giving him her full
attention. “Tonight you are using your power for real! No more practices! No more
mistakes! No more complaints about being tired! And if you fail me, you little worm, I
will punish you so hard you will end up in the hospital! NOW WHAT DOES THE
FARMER FEAR MOST OF ALL?!”
Bo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He started backing up.
Patricia trembled in the grasp of her captors. She closed her eyes and whispered with a
voice that shook as hard as she did, “…His family… He’s afraid most when they’re in
danger.”
The Smoking Man nodded and took a quick puff from his cigarette. “Then, kill them
all!”
Panic! Bo bolted for the door, his heart pounding wildly in his head. He rushed
through
the column of men like a fleeing ghost into the hallway. He had to get home now!
Patricia threw her head back. Her long golden hair fell to the ground. Her tears and
sweat poured down her face. She gazed up in torment at the ceiling, and in agony she
screamed, “FIRE!!!”
Bo skidded to a stop at the young girl’s cry and suddenly, without warning, the feel of
cold water slapped across his face. The shock of it dragged him, kicking and screaming,
out of the room.

*****************************************************************

Jiminy crickets, what in the world had he done? What had Bo done?! Fox Mulder
paced for a few seconds, grabbed his young friend by the shoulders, shook him, yelled in
his ear, and slapped him on the side of the head for the fifth time. It had been half an
hour, and the blond farmer was still in a trance. No matter what Fox did to try and break
him out of his spell, nothing seemed to work. Bo was just not waking up!
“Oh crap, Mulder!” he muttered to himself. “Oh man, oh man, oh man, what have you
done?”
Okay! That was it! He was going to have to use some really creative and desperate
measures, or Luke would kick his butt! Heck, if Bo didn’t wake up after this, he’d kick his
own rear end! His eyes lit on a bucket near one of the goats’ stalls, and he sprinted over to
pick it up off the ground. The watering trough was outside. He ran to it, filling the bucket
halfway, bolted back into the barn, and without breaking his stride threw the water at Bo
from the far end of the room. Bo jumped to his feet the second the cold water hit him in
the face. He tripped over the bale of hay and fell backwards, inadvertently kicking the
stool on his way to the floor. The amethyst crystal flew into the air and then crashed to
the ground, shattering into marble-sized pieces.
Mulder froze and dropped the bucket as he watched his $500 trophy disintegrate into
rubble. “MY CRYSTAL!”
“Luke! Luke!” Mulder turned to Bo and saw him squirming on the ground and holding
his head in disorientation. He ran to his friend’s side and gently pulled him to his feet.
“Bo? Man, are you okay? You had me scared out of my wits!”
“Fox?” Bo shook his head and pulled himself free from his friend’s grip. “Where are
we? Where the heck are we?”
“We’re in the barn. What’s-”
He was inturrupted mid-word. “FOX, WE GOTTA GET EVERYONE OUT OF
THE HOUSE NOW!”
Bo grabbed Mulder by the sleeve and dragged the stunned lawman out the front door.
The second they hit the grass, Fox dug his feet into the ground, bringing the two of them
to a grinding halt. “Bo! Would ya tell me what’s going on?” the dazed lawman demanded.
BOOM! An explosion. Heat. Fire! The blast of a giant firestorm threw both Fox and
Bo to the ground. The roof of the house flew into the air and splintered. The windows
shattered. A mushroom flame that looked like a little nuclear bomb engulfed the old
farmhouse’s frame.
Bo scrambled off the ground and ran towards the fireball. “NOOOO! UNCLE JESSE!
LUKE! DAISY!”
Mulder staggered to his feet, still woozy from the force of the blast. With wobbling
knees, he ran behind his friend, his head spinning at the sight of the flames. “SCULLY!
SCULLYYYYY!”
A second, smaller, explosion followed the first. The flames billowed. Bo and Fox fell
again to the floor as the fire seared their faces. The young Duke struggled to his feet
again, refusing to give into the painful heat. Covering his face with his arm, he charged
for the front door. Mulder ran after his friend and grabbed the farmer by the shoulder.
“Don’t be stupid! The flames will eat ya alive! Get to the back of the house!”
They backed up and ran around the perimeter racing against the speed of the fire. Bo
leapt onto the back porch and lunged for the doorknob. He tried to ram through to the
living room, but not only was the door locked, the handle was scalding hot. He jumped
back, sticking his throbbing fingers briefly in his mouth. Then he spun to kick at the
door, frantic to get inside.
Mulder came around the corner and saw what was happening. He lunged at Bo and
dragged him away.
“What are you doing!?” Bo yelled.
“You wanna get your face burned off? That door is hot for a reason! We need
distance!
We need a battering ram!”
“The porch swing!”
Both men ran to the swinging porch set near the window. Bo flipped the frame over,
and the metallic chair clanged as it crashed to the floor. Mulder unhooked the chains that
held it suspended. Bo grabbed one end while the lawman grabbed the other, then they ran
back to the door, lugging the iron furniture across the floor. “Protect your face!” Mulder
yelled. “On the count of three! One! Two! THREE!”
Bo took off running. Fox followed in the rear. The chair pounded into the door. The
door buckled and swung open. The flames leapt out like a rabid wildcat set loose from
his cage. The fire roared, and both men screamed as the heat stung their eyes. They
dropped the chair, fell to the floor, and…
Silence.
Bo quickly wiped the tears from his burning eyes. He flipped to his back… and froze.
Mulder groped at the grass, fighting furiously to see. The unnatural silence was
deafening! When his eyes finally stopped stinging, he gazed at what Bo stared at and
gave a loud, long gasp.
The two men stared at nothing. The enflamed house was gone! All that was left in its
space was a black, muddy outline of where the building had once stood. Bo shakily got
up to his feet, not believing, not wanting to believe, what he was seeing. He walked to the
center of the miry outline where the living room had once stood. There was nothing! No
furniture, no figurines, not even a strand of fiber from the carpet. Only a large, dark cloud
of smoke remained to signal that a fire had once been here.
Mulder shot up onto his feet, his mouth hanging wide open. He staggered like a
drunken man next to his friend’s side. “Bo!” he said softly, trying to find his voice. “What
in blue blazes is going on..?”
Bo shook his head. “I… I… I don’t… I dunno,” he finally stuttered, still just staring at
what had once been his home.
It was the sucking sound of swirling mud that first caught Fox’s attention. The low
humming bubbles sounded like a boiling cauldron of thick goo. Bo started explaining
what he saw in the factory with Patricia, but Mulder’s hand quickly shot up and silenced
him. “Hold it! Shut up for a second! What’s that sound?”
Bo stopped talking and listened as the sound of the gurgling grew louder. He stared
into
the darkness, straining to see the source of the noise, but couldn’t. He felt the tentacles of
fear starting to wrap around his chest. Mulder bent down to his ankle. He reached above
his sneaker and pulled free a handgun from a holster wrapped around his shin. Bo’s eyes
grew wide. “Where did you get that thing?”
“Get real, Bo! I’m FBI! I sleep with a gun!” Fox muttered through his gritted teeth.
The ground suddenly shook beneath them. The earth turned excessively muddy. Bo
felt his boots sinking into the mire. The dirt beneath him was turning into quicksand! He
reached over and grabbed his friend by the shoulder. “Get to the grass!” he yelled.
Fox struggled against the suction of the mud as Bo doggedly pulled both of them to
the
safety of the grass. The wet earth slowly swirled. Large bubbles billowed and popped.
Like an angry whirlpool, the ground turned to liquid and spun fast, erasing the chalk
outline of where the house had once stood. Mulder’s eyes grew wide. He gripped his gun
so tight his fingers went numb. Bo slowly backed away from the sight, his stomach
churning hard at the loud gurgling sound.
“Fox? What is that?” the young farmer asked trying to keep his rising panic under
control.
“I was hoping you’d tell me!” Fox replied.
Twenty columns of earth suddenly shot into the air like a popsicle pushed out of it’s
cardboard container. Mulder reacted instantly. He pulled the trigger firing five rounds at
the six-foot-tall walls of earth. Bo ran to his friend and grabbed the lawman by the
shoulder. “Fox! Let’s just get out of here!”
A large rumble… The columns shook and wobbled as if a large earthquake hit them.
They crumbled like shattered porcelain molds. Large pieces broke off and fell to the
ground exposing a sculpted center, and the statues of Alex Krycek, General Lewinski,
Sean Charvez, and twenty faceless soldiers stood motionless in the moonlight.
Bo and Fox turned and sprinted, knowing what was coming next. At that second, all
the
statues came to life and sprang after them like a pride of lions. The fleeing pair tore
through the muddy grass and headed straight for the trees. The statues screamed each
man’s name, their morphed voices taking on an inhuman roar. They wove past the farm
equipment, and burst into the safety of the shrubbery. The statues followed behind them,
unhindered by the trees. They chased with the speed and agility of jungle apes. Mulder
quickly lost speed in the thickets; he was no way the woodsman his young friend was and
the underbrush and vines tangled around his ankles and slowed him down. He cursed
under his breath as he struggled to find his footing in the dark. Bo stopped and doubled
back.
“Fox! Keep up with me!”
Fox grabbed Bo by the wrist and allowed the agile farmer to pull him like a rag doll
through the undergrowth. Mulder heard the crunch of leaves and branches behind him
and knew the enemy wasn’t far. He looked behind him, but couldn’t see anything. Twigs
and branches brushed across both men’s faces; the dense thickets shut out the moonlight
shrouding everything in dark black. The living statues called out their names, the voices
louder than ever before. The sound of crunching leaves and twigs grew loud and intense.
Suddenly, four earthen humanoids leapt from the branches of the trees and fell on
Fox.
The lawman hit the ground, his breath rushing from his lungs as the weight of solid earth
crushed against his chest. He d lost his grip on Bo! He spun around, raised his gun, and
shot two rounds into the statues’ faces. The monsters responded by tearing the weapon
out of his hand and smacking him across the cheekbone. Mulder fell again to the ground,
stunned at the might of the blow. He felt like he’d been hit by a giant rock. He tried to get
up and run then, but the statues grabbed him by the shoulders and ankles. He twisted and
kicked at the hands that held him fast, but he struggled in vain. It was too late! They had
him!
“Bo! Get out of here! Save yourself!” Mulder desperately yelled into the darkness.
Bo doubled back, rushing to the aid of his friend. In a fit of blind fury, he leapt on the
back of one of the mud soldiers and pounded his fist into the humanoid’s head. The
young farmer yelped as his knuckles made painful direct contact with solid earth. The
monster grabbed Bo by the hair, and in a karate move flipped him over his back. The
young farmer hit the ground and immediately tried to scramble to his feet to keep
attacking and to get out of the center, when seven more monsters fell on him.
Soon, all twenty statues swarmed Bo and Fox. With grips more solid than handcuffs,
they restrained the two struggling men. Bo looked up from the ground and saw three
earthen figures drag Mulder off the ground and carry him away. The agent struggled and
kicked, throwing all his strength against his captors. He screamed blindly into the air for
Bo to run and save himself. The monsters dragged him into the brush, removing him
from the young farmer’s sight.
“FOX!” Bo yelled after his friend. He struggled to get to his feet, but the earthen
captors held him fast. In angry desperation, he yelled, wrenched his right arm free, and
rammed his fist into one of the statue’s faces. The monster didn’t even flinch at the punch.
He returned the hit with a right hook to Bo’s chin. The young farmer felt the sting of
impact for a second, and then everything went black.

**

The soldiers slammed the child down on the aluminum gurney so hard that Patricia’s
back and head bruised at the impact. She cried out in pain, and then went limp as the
camouflaged men bound her now-swollen wrists and ankles to the metallic bed. They
were all in the empty auditorium with the rows of chairs circling around them like a cage.
The people in the control room turned the spotlight directly above the girl on, and
Patricia turned away at the blinding glare.
“Please, no more!” she pleaded with the soldiers. Her tears ran faster down her cheeks.
Her lower lip trembled as she spoke. “I’m… I’m so tired! I can’t do it anymore! Please!
PLEASE LET ME GO BACK TO MY ROOM!”
She cried and pleaded and begged as she squirmed uncomfortably on the tray. Not one
soldier responded to her pleas. Not one man paid any attention to her tears. They tied her
wrists tightly, too tightly, turning her hands and feet blue. Patricia desperately used any
excuse she could think of to get herself out of captivity. It didn’t work. Her tricks were
old and all used up.
When the soldiers finished, they just walked away from her, leaving her alone under
the
glaring spotlight. Patricia trembled. She was afraid of the soldiers, but even more afraid
of being alone! She looked around the empty auditorium with the rows of empty desks
and chairs, and wondered what was coming next. She wondered if punishment was
around the corner. At that thought, her imagination started running away with her, and all
the dark fears in her head surfaced in the silence of the empty room. When she smelled
the acrid odor of cigarette smoke, she almost screamed. The bed rattled at the force of
her shaking. The aluminum bed went slick with her cold sweat. Punishment was here!
PUNISHMENT WAS HERE!
From the corner of her eye, movement caught her attention. The Smoking Man
appeared from the shadows. In his right hand was a cigarette. In his left was a whip. His
eyes were dark with anger, and the long, black whip waved menacingly in his hand.
“Patricia!” he angrily yelled.
Patricia’s eyes locked on the whip, and she screamed.
“ENOUGH!” the old man yelled above the high-pitched screech.
Patricia’s scream cut off abruptly, and except for the metallic tremors the tray made at
her shaking, the room was silent. She heaved as the tears streamed down her cheeks. The
Smoking Man took a breath and tried to compose himself.
“Patricia,” he said softly. “Do you remember how I told you to kill the policeman? Do
you remember the instructions I gave you?”
Patricia stared at the old man, her eyes wide with horror. She bit her lower lip and
hesitantly nodded.
The Smoking Man turned to a camera bolted on the ceiling. “Turn it on!” he instructed
the technicians.
The room instantly went dark. A large-screen television turned on, and the
black-and-white images of Bo and Mulder being dragged by living statues through the
Hazzard forest flashed onto the wall.
“Look at the picture, Patricia!” The Smoking Man angrily shouted. “I have two men
with cameras following the farmer and the policeman! They are recording everything
they see! Which means that I am watching everything you do! I want you to kill the
policeman now, Patricia! Kill the policeman and the farmer right now!”
“NOOO!” the child screamed in agony. Her heart raced as her eyes locked on the
swaying whip. “I can’t! Oh please! I CAN’T! I CAN’T!”
The Smoking Man rushed at the metallic gurney and angrily gave it a violent push.
The
wheels rolled fast across the wooden stage, crashing the bed into the wall. Patricia’s back
arched at the impact, and she screamed in pain as the tray rattled beneath her. “It’s you or
them, Patricia!” The Smoking Man yelled. “Do you understand that?! You kill them right
now or I will hurt you! I will hurt you so bad you will spend the rest of your life in the
hospital! Do you hear me? I will punish you very, very, very hard! Kill the policeman and
the farmer! Kill them all now!”

**

The giant statue slung Bo over his shoulder and then slapped him hard onto the
ground.
The sudden spasm of pain in his lower back brought the young farmer reeling into
consciousness. The root of a tree dug into his spine, and Bo gasped and turned over onto
his stomach. He clutched at the wet grass with his fingers and fought to see in the
darkness.
“Fox!” he yelled.
He suddenly realized that he was on the edge of Hazzard swamp. In front of him was
Bottomless Bay. The alligator-infested waters lapped at his fingertips. He tried to get up
on his knees, but a boot made out of rock stepped on his back and sent his face back into
the wet soil. Bo flipped over to see a mud soldier looking down on him with Mulder’s
gun aimed straight at his chest.
“FOX! WHERE ARE YOU?!”
More monsters appeared from out of the bushes, dragging a struggling man in
between
them. With a coordinated heave, they tossed their prisoner into the air, and Fox Mulder
landed next to Bo, slamming chest first into the knotted root of a large oak tree. The
lawman winced and gasped in pain. Bo quickly crawled to his friend’s side.
“Fox! Are you okay?”
More soldiers crunched their way to the forest, and soon the pack surrounded the two
men. In the distance, two soldiers carrying a large four foot high wooden crate dragged
the cargo to the edge of the water and dropped it to the floor. Bo stared at the wooden
box. The light colored pinewood read CAR PARTS on the side in bright red. He turned
to the statues gazing down on him.
“What’s the box for?” he demanded.
The mud soldiers stared with eyeless gazes at the farmer and refused to answer his
question. Mulder sprang up on his knees. “Who are you people! What do you want from
us!” he angrily yelled at the puppets, hoping that their master would hear his voice and
somehow respond.
One of the rock men from the rear of the platoon marched towards to where Fox and
Bo were both sprawled on the ground. The young farmer gasped and backed up next to
the tree at the monster’s approach. Fox shut his mouth and wished under his breath that
he had never asked the question. The statue stopped in front of the prisoners, towering
over them. It stood at military attention, and Fox knew that the real bad part of this
nightmare was about to begin.
“You two have committed crimes against the Secret Society,” the statue started with a
low, bass, inhuman voice.
Bo scrambled up next to the tree, wishing he could hide inside it. Mulder’s jaw
dropped at the mention of his enemies’ names. His head spun at the mud monster’s
statement, and his face flushed red with anger.
“Secret Society!” Mulder muttered in disbelief. “THE SECRET SOCIETY IS
BEHIND THIS!”
“You two have committed crimes against the laws of the Secret Society,” the statue
robotically said again. Then, in an uncharacteristic act, the lifeless puppet smiled. “The
sentence for your transgressions is death by drowning!”
Bo looked once again at the open crate on the water’s edge, and his heart went straight
to his throat. Four statues immediately snapped to life. They snatched at Fox Mulder’s
arms and legs with the speed of a striking viper and hauled him off the ground. Mulder
yelled and kicked at his enemies. Bo jumped to his feet and ran after his friend, but four
more soldiers immediately reacted to the young farmer’s dash by jumping on him and
wrestling him to the ground. Bo struggled against their grips… and then froze.
From the corner of his eye, a flash of blonde hair ran past him. Bo gazed into the
shrubbery and saw her! Little Patricia hid behind the bushes, watching the whole event!
Tears poured out of her eyes. Her mouth hung open. Her face went ghostly pale as she
watched the horror of her own actions.
“PATRICIA!” Bo yelled, desperately pleading with the child. “PATRICIA, STOP
THIS! PLEASE STOP THIS!”

**

The sound of Bo Duke’s call for help rang and echoed through the empty auditorium
like the high pitched voice of an opera singer. And like an opera singer, his voice not
only grabbed the Smoking Man’s attention, it rattled the old man as well!
The cigarette he held fell from between his fingers to the floor. He stared at the
pictures, and listened to words with stunned disbelief. They were talking to each other!
Patricia and Bo Duke were talking to each other! The ramifications of this new discovery
were extreme, and none of them good! If the Society found out, he’d be a dead man!
He walked over to Patricia and found the child with her eyes closed tight and sweat
pouring down her forehead at the great effort she was putting into her psychic endeavor.
He could see from the strain on her face that she was pushing the limits of her endurance.
“Patricia! What are you waiting for, girl! Finish them off! Finish them off now!”
The girl didn’t respond to the order. She kept her eyes closed shut, her breathing deep
and heavy. The Smoking Man was shaken, and the child’s silence chilled him to the bone.
With more fear than anger, he cracked the whip, and the sharp sound snapped the child
into attention. Patricia flinched and cringed, still keeping her eyes shut and still afraid to
look at the Smoking Man and his weapon of punishment.
“NOW, PATRICIA!” the Smoking Man barked. “FINISH THEM OFF NOW!”

**

Patricia’s astral form caressed a nearby tree and quivered as she watched her puppets
raise the policeman high and throw him into the box. His body slammed into the broken
car parts and the sound of crunching metal mixed with Fox’s cry of pain.
One of the soldiers grabbed Bo by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. The
farmer
buckled at the knees, fighting to stay on the ground, but two more statues grabbed him by
the ankles and hauled him yelling like a stuck pig towards the box. Bo kicked at the mud
soldier’s faces, but it did no good.
“Patricia!” he screamed blindly into the darkness. “Patricia, stop this! Please, help!”
Patricia ran into the thickets. She couldn’t bear to watch! She bit her lip and curled
into a ball. She covered her ears and tried to block the young farmer’s screaming out of
her head. “I can’t!” she yelled back helplessly. “I can’t! THEY’RE making me! THEY’RE
making me!”
It was the glint that made her suddenly stop ranting. She stared through the foliage at a
piece of metal that blinked on and off like a twinkling star in the moonlight. There! In the
hands of one of the statues! The policeman’s gun! The soldiers with their cameras weren’t
watching the gun! Neither was the Smoking Man nor anyone else in the auditorium! The
farmer could use it! He could use it to get out of the box! She grabbed it with her mind
and threw it, hard.
The statues raised Bo high into the air, and like a basketball threw him into the box
alongside Mulder. Bo crashed into the car parts, crying out as the metal dug into his ribs.
Mulder crawled next to his friend and pulled him upright. The statues grabbed the top of
the box, swiveled it down on its hinges, and pulled out a padlock.
Mulder shot up on his knees. “NOOOO!!!”
Patricia ran out of the bushes screaming. “FARMER! THE GUN! THE
POLICEMAN’S GUN IS IN THE BOX!”
Bo struggled to stand upright, when the ceiling came crashing down on him. The
statues sealed the top of the box, padlocked it shut, raised it high into the air and threw it
into the middle of the bayou. Patricia froze, her skin ice cold as she watched the box hit
the water and immediately sink out of view.

**

Darkness. Flight. Falling. The second the crate hit the lake, it leaked like a sieve. Bo
jerked at the sensation of water pooling around his knees and falling on his head. He
scrambled upright. It was pitch black. He couldn’t see anything! Like a blind man, he
groped in the darkness, feeling for the top of the crate.
“BO!” Mulder scrounged through the car parts in disorientation. The wet metal rattled
at his movement. “Bo! I think we’re still falling!”
“We’re not falling, Fox. We’re sinking. We’re in the middle of the lake!”
Mulder shoved his way through the metal scrap, blindly following Bo’s voice. The
sinking crate rocked at his movement. The water poured in from all sides. The cold liquid
rose from his knees to his waist. “How deep is this lake?” the lawman’s quivering voice
asked.
“Seventy feet,” Bo replied, feeling a whole lot more terrified than he sounded.
“I’m sorry I asked!” Mulder bolted straight for the ceiling. He leveraged his shoulder
under the wood and pushed against it. Nothing! He put both palms on the ceiling. His
fingers scratched frantically at the pine. He needed to find a hold! He needed to rip the
lumber from the nails!
Bo fell on his knees and blindly raced his hands over the car parts. Somewhere in this
mess of metal, the gun was here! “Fox! Help me find your gun! Your gun is in here! It’s in
here with the car parts!”
“WHAT?”
The box fell faster towards the bottom of the lake as the amount of air inside it grew
smaller. The water pressure increased. The leaking sped up at the mounting weight of
water on top of it, and Bo felt the moisture rise from his hips to his chest. They were
running out of time and air!
The lawman quit asking questions and fell on all fours on the car parts below him. He
searched for his weapon, but neither could see anything as their hands skimmed the
metallic objects underneath their legs. Both men moved mounds of metal to and fro, but
they were in trouble! In the blackness and cold water his hands couldn’t tell the difference
between a pistol and a piston! “My gun is here? Are you sure it’s here?” Mulder yelled.
“It’s here! It’s somewhere in this junk!” Bo shouted back firmly.
The water rose from the men’s chests to their shoulders. The air grew hot and stale. Bo
gave up on searching for the weapon. He didn’t have time. The water rose from his
shoulders to his neck and lapped at his chin. In desperation, the young farmer rammed his
fist into the wood, trying to punch a hole to the outside. His wrist twisted upon impact
with the wood, and his knuckles split and bled. He started to cry out in pain, but suddenly
found himself gasping for a breath. The air was too thin! In the darkness, he heard
Mulder fighting to catch his breath. “I can’t find the gun!” Fox screamed.
The water surged towards Bo’s lips and trickled down his throat, hindering his
breathing. He heard Fox scream his name, and suddenly his voice got cut off in the
darkness. Bo crawled to the corner of the box, pushed his cheek against the wood, and
gasped for air through the seeping water above him. He took a last deep, agonizing
breath, and cold liquid gushed over his nose and head. *Don’t panic! Panic will kill you!
You have two minutes, and you need to use every second of it!* In the weightlessness of
the water, Bo turned on his back. He grabbed the corner edges on each end of the box and
anchored himself to the floor. He kicked upwards at the top of the crate, trying to do with
his legs what his fists couldn’t ~ punch a hole through the wood!

**

Beside him, Mulder searched the scrap metal. The lawman was already in trouble. He
hadn’t gotten the good breath Bo had before the water had rushed over his head, and his
lungs ached for air. His hands still searched the through the car pieces, but his mind
couldn’t register the forms! Every thought in his head screamed for air! *Stop it! Stop
thinking that way! Fight through the pain! Concentrate! You know your gun! You know it
better than anything else in the world! FEEL FOR IT!*
He fingers dug through a steering wheel, a pipe of some sort, a pedal, and then a
skinny
tube with a small hole at the end. Mulder grabbed hold of the pipe with his fingertips.
With his other hand he flung the rest of the garbage aside. His fingers raced down the
side of the
strange-feeling object, and suddenly grazed across a trigger. His gun! He ripped the
weapon free from the heap. Air bubbles escaped his lips. His hands now shook. His head
spun, and his lungs felt like they were about to burst.
*Don’t lose it Mulder! Not now!* He bolted to the side of the crate and searched for
the latch. In the blackness, he guessed the position of the lock. He snugged the nozzle of
the gun against the wood, and pulled the trigger twice.

**

Bo heard the muffled explosion of gun blasts in the water. He’d found it! Mulder had
found it! He pulled both legs down and kicked with all he had at the ceiling. The
bullet-ridden padlock gave way. The top of the crate swung open. Mulder bolted out of
the box and kicked hard and fast straight for the top. Air bubbles flew out of his lips. Bo
maneuvered himself upright and shot right behind his friend.
The water was almost as dark outside the crate as it was inside the wooden box. The
young farmer couldn’t see the surface, but he could feel the nagging ache in his chest
grow. He fought the urge to lose air through his mouth and nose and put all his effort into
kicking and pulling upwards. Then some kind of large, foreign body fell on him. Bo
spasmed and pushed the strange object that was trying to pull him down away. His hands
grabbed hold of… a T-shirt? MULDER!
The lawman had passed out in the water, and was now heading straight for the
bottom. Bo grabbed hold of the T-shirt and fought to see in the near-black water. He
flipped upside down, dove below the unconscious man, secured a grip around his chest,
and kicked furiously for the surface. The extreme effort came at the cost of oxygen ~
oxygen he didn’t have! His lungs burned. His legs and arms became heavy and lost their
coordination. His head spun. *YOU CAN’T PASS OUT, BO! YOU CAN’T PASS OUT!*
He kicked and pulled at the water with his one free arm. The pressure in his lungs grew
almost unbearable. Air bubbles escaped his nose and mouth. The spinning in his head
grew violent, and Bo knew he was in trouble when his eyes started to fail him.
Black.
Blue water.
Black.
Blue water.
Black.
Grey.
Black.
Black.
AIR! Bo shot out of the lake and gasped in a mouthful of fresh oxygen. He
accidentally
swallowed some water too, and gagged. He fought to catch his breath and coughed up
swamp scum while he treaded at the surface.
“Fu… Fu… Fox wake up!”
He shook the unconscious lawman in his arm, but it did no good. Mulder didn’t move.
The lawman’s head bowed forward, and water streamed out of his nose and mouth. Bo
only had seconds, and he knew it! Though still trying to catch his breath, he swam
forland. His boots reached the ground, and with Mulder in his arms he ran for the shore.
He dropped his friend onto the muddy earth and fell to his knees. He tilted Fox’s head
back, pinched his nose, and immediately applied the CPR Luke had taught him.
Fox convulsed at the rush of warm air in his throat. He turned his head to the side,
gasped, and then vomited up swamp water. Bo almost cried with relief. He gently rolled
his gagging friend on his stomach and patted his back. “It’s okay, Fox,” he said
reassuringly, still short of breath himself. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be alright.”
“Wha… what happened?” Mulder managed to croak.
“You passed out!” Bo replied. And then with a small grin added, “Again!”
“Too bad you went through all that effort for nothing!”
Bo and Fox gazed up at the unfamiliar voice. Two human soldiers with flesh-toned
faces covered over in painted camouflage hovered over them with mobile camcorders
and machine guns. They raised their weapons and pointed it in their prisoners’ faces.
“On your feet!” one of the men barked.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Mulder wearily growled back.
Suddenly, behind the soldiers, three large baseball bats rose above the armed men’s
heads. Bo and Mulder’s eyes grew wide as they watched the blocks of wood fall directly
on the enemies’ heads. The two armed men dropped their weapons and fell to the ground.
And then from the darkness, three other men appeared from the shadows.
Bo’s jaw dropped open. “LANGLEY?!?” he cried in disbelief.
The computer geek triumphantly swung his bat over his shoulder as the two other
Gunmen stood in pose behind him. Langley flipped his long hair over his shoulder,
pushed his glasses up off the tip of his nose, and smiled. “Somebody call for the Lone
Rangers?” he asked.