Title: Bete Noire Rating: PG-13 Category: X, A Authors: Laurie D. Haynes, Laura Castellano and Katvictory Email: shannara@xemplary.com, texxrose@flash.net, dev1025@uswest.net Info: Specially written for I Made This Productions Virtual Season 8 Archiving: VS8 gets it exclusively for the first two weeks, then it can be archived anywhere, but ask us, first. Summary: There's a legend of a monster in the swamps along the Texas-Louisiana border. According to the National Enquirer, the monster has mated with humans and its offspring terrorize the small town bordering the river and its swamps. Authors' notes: Special thanks to Dawn, Sally and Mori for their invaluable beta-reading services. ************************* Bete Noire By Laurie D. Haynes, Laura Castellano and Katvictory Prologue A swamp near the Sabine River along the Texas-Louisiana border 6:45 a.m. April 5, 2001 Joe Calderon whistled an old Cajun tune as his boat puttered along the trot line. He was having a good run. He'd already found five large catfish on the line. His Labrador, Beau, who had been lying quietly in the bottom of the boat until now, suddenly stood up, his ears cocked, and sniffed the air. A loud splash came from about 50 yards away and Beau began barking furiously, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. "Just a gator, Beau. Probably got 'im a nice fish or a nutria rat." Old Joe peered out over the water anyway, just to make sure that the alligator wasn't getting too close. Ripples spread out from the center of where the splash had been and Joe spotted a gator swimming swiftly away. He again heard a splash from the same area, then saw two figures break the plane of the water. One was another big alligator, but he wasn't sure what the other thing was. It had arms and hands, but it certainly wasn't human, its skin was a mottled greenish-black -- and it was getting the best of the gator. As Joe watched, astounded, a pair of claws slashed down at the alligator, which went limp, and blood began to spread out from the reptile. Beau was still making a racket, but the dog was no fool -- he wasn't about to jump in the water. The creature took a bite out of the alligator, then looked up at Joe and the dog. Its eyes were red and the pupils were tiny black dots. The old man gasped, turned his engine up full throttle and headed for home. ************************** ACT I Antoine's Houston, TX 1:05 p.m. Tuesday, May 15, 2001 As he and his partner ate their sandwiches, Mulder looked over the latest issue of the National Enquirer. They had just finished a serial murder case and were grabbing lunch before catching a 4 p.m. flight back to Washington. Scully was tired and looking forward to going home. Eight autopsies in two days were enough to make anyone exhausted. So she was really rather enjoying the silence at the table -- until Mulder spoke . "Hey, Scully, look at this!" He held out page 8 so she could see a blurry photo with a headline saying, "Bog monster terrorizes East Texas residents!" Scully sighed. "You know better than to believe anything you read in those rags, Mulder. You know they make it all up." "Sometimes they do," Mulder admitted, "but they have actual interviews with witnesses this time. Look, that's only about a two-hour drive from here. We can be over there before dark. It says here that the reporter who wrote this article is an actual journalist with a newspaper from that area." Scully stared at him coolly as she took another bite of her sandwich. "No way am I going out hunting monsters in the swamp," she informed him. "You know Skinner is going to be expecting our report on the case we just finished. I highly doubt he'll give you the go ahead to chase down another bogeyman." Mulder shrugged. "Oh, I'll use some vacation time. C'mon, Scully." He gave her his most charming grin and covered her hand with his own, but Scully would not be swayed. "That's not going to work this time, Mulder. We have reservations to fly out this afternoon and that's what I'm going to do." He wadded his napkin into a ball and tossed it easily into a nearby trash receptacle. "OK, have it your way, but I'm driving over there. I'll drop you off at the airport first." Pulling out his cell phone, he first called the airline and canceled his flight reservation. Then he contacted directory assistance and got the number for the newspaper the reporter worked for. "Orange County Record," an older woman answered. "Yes, I'd like to speak to Belinda Gaudet, please." "Just a moment." Mulder heard a click, then another woman came on the line. "This is Belinda, can I help you?" "Yes, my name is Fox Mulder and I'm with the FBI. I read your story in the Enquirer and I'd like to come out and talk to you about it. I can be there in about three hours." He listened a moment, then jotted down the directions she gave him for the newspaper office. "Great, I'll see you then." Mulder ended the call and looked up to see Scully staring at him with disapproval. "You could change your mind, you know," he said. "Come on, Scully, come with me. It'll be fun." Scully shook her head. "I've got plans for the weekend. Mom is having a barbecue, and Bill and Charlie are supposed to be coming in. She invited you, too." Mulder grimaced. "Uh, no thanks. You put me and Bill in the same town, let alone the same house, and you're asking for trouble." He looked hungrily at the half of Scully's sandwich still sitting on her plate. "You going to eat that?" Scully gave him a half-smile and pushed the plate over to him. He proceeded to wolf it down. "Just promise me you won't go into the swamps alone, OK?" she asked suddenly. "You know how you tend to get in trouble when I'm not there to keep you moderately sane." She tempered her words with a teasing smile, but it was apparent she was truly concerned. "If you'd come with me, I wouldn't be alone," Mulder mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. Scully just shook her head and finished off her chips and soda. ******************** Gate 43 Houston Intercontinental Airport 3:45 p.m. "Now boarding for Continental Flight 2026 to Washington, D.C." came the announcement over the loudspeaker. Mulder and Scully rose, and she picked up her briefcase as she prepared to board. "Sure you won't change your mind and come with me to check out this monster?" Scully smiled and replied, "Sure you won't change your mind and come on home?" "Frankly, I'd rather chase a bog monster than make small talk with Bill." She laughed, then looked up expectantly. Mulder bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. He started to turn to go, but she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him down for a deeper kiss. "Just don't forget where home is, OK?" she said as she let him go. "Not a chance. Listen, I'll call you later tonight, OK?" "You'd better! And Mulder? Be careful, all right? I mean it." "Always!" Scully snorted, then went on to board her plane. ****************************** Orange County Record Bridge City, TX 6:10 p.m. Mulder pulled up at the tiny building that housed the County Record office. The only sign up outside said Dunn Advertising, but he had followed the directions given him. A beat-up 1985 Ford was parked outside, and there was a light on inside the building. The door was unlocked, so he went on in. The desk just inside the door was unoccupied, but piled with phone books and mail. The place reeked of stale cigarette smoke, and the carpet had seen much better days. A woman behind a computer monitor called to him from the room to the right. "Agent Mulder?" He entered the room. "Yes, are you Ms. Gaudet?" "Just call me Belinda." She moved some layout dummies from a chair and put them on another desk. "Have a seat. Want a cup of coffee?" "Sure, that would be fine." Belinda grabbed a Styrofoam cup from a package atop a small refrigerator, then went into the adjoining bathroom and returned with a steaming cup of coffee. She handed him the cup and as he turned to set it down on the desk, she looked him up and down with interest. She sat down behind the desk and leaned forward slightly, wishing she'd worn a nicer outfit to work that day. Maybe something that showed a little cleavage. "So you actually read my story?" "Sure. It seemed pretty factual, unlike a lot of the ones I see in that particular publication. Your article mentioned that pets and livestock have been disappearing around the area. Has there ever been a problem with the thing attacking humans?" "Well, Old Joe said he wasn't sure the beast wasn't about to come after him, but it didn't. It seems to be getting pretty bold, though, coming up around the houses and fish camps along the river nowadays." "Could we go out and talk to Joe tonight?" "Sure. I thought you might want to," said Belinda, "so I called him earlier. He said he'd be home all night, but he goes to bed early 'cause he gets up at 4 a.m." "Let's go. How far away is it?" "About 30 minutes. He lives in Deweyville, just up Highway 87 from here." ************** Joe Calderon's home Deweyville, TX 6:55 p.m. Mulder and Belinda knocked on the door of the beat-up old Airstream trailer overlooking the river. They heard a dog barking and a man who appeared to be in his late 80s opened the door. "Y'all come on in. Hush that barkin', Beau!" They stepped into the small trailer, and Beau came up to sniff Mulder. Apparently satisfied, the dog went back to lay down beside a worn easy chair. Joe switched off the television and invited his two guests to sit. "You really with the FBI, boy?" Joe asked dubiously. "What does the FBI want in Devil's Pocket?" Mulder pulled out his ID and showed the man, who nodded. "I read Belinda's story about your encounter with that beast in the swamp. I'd like to know more about it," Mulder told him. "Well, there's been stories about a monster out there for about the last 50 years. They call it the Bete Noire. I lived in Orange for a lot of years while I was workin' for the DuPont refinery. So I've only been livin' here for the past 25 years or so, but I've fished on that river and in these swamps my whole life and I ain't never seen nothin' like that thing what attacked that gator." "You believe there's just one monster?" "Well, people claim the Morgan boys are descended from the monster, and the Morgans'll tell you the same thing. I hear tell they've been known to kidnap people, 'specially black people, and bring them back to hunt for sport. The rumor goes that old man Morgan and his son, who lives up in Jasper (and Lord knows how that pug-ugly cuss ever got a woman to bed him and sire a whelp), were involved in the killing of that poor colored man up there a few years back. "They chained the poor guy to the back of a pickup and drug him down the road. They arrested three of the assholes that did it, but not O.D. and his son. People around here say O.D. and his boy were involved, too, but folks are too scared of them to talk. O.D. brags now that the trials are over and he figures the law thinks they solved the case, that he and his boy, Butch, killed two other men that night the same way. O.D. says they just weren't so stupid as to pick up a local man with a family, like them other fellas. And they didn't leave enough of the ones they tortured to be found. "The Morgans are mean, vicious and they're ugly enough, but they're human. Just a bad bunch of river rats. I think mebbe they just take advantage of that swamp monster story to make themselves look tougher." Mulder bit back his tendency to urge the elderly man to get to his point. "I'm told that pets and livestock have gone missing. Couldn't it just be alligators doing the killing?" "You ever seen an alligator that could take down a 3,000- pound bull, Mr. Mulder? Yeah, gators could be blamed for taking the pets and small livestock, but no way they could get a full-size bull. Somethin' got Johnny Parker's bull -- and that thing was a mean sonuvabitch." "Is it possible that someone stole it?" asked Belinda. "Well, if they did, they hurt it pretty bad, because there was a lot of blood in the pen where Johnny kept it. I SAW that thing. It was no kind of animal I've ever seen before, and there ain't anything much fiercer than a big ol' bull alligator. That thing whupped that gator easy. It was shaped like a human in a weird kinda way, but that was no man. If anything, it looked like it was half alligator and half man. The skin was bumpy like a gator's hide and it had sharp teeth. No snout to speak of but its face did stick out some." "How long ago did you see it?" asked Mulder. "It was about a month and a half ago -- it was early in the morning and the weather was kind of cool so there wasn't nobody else out where I was." "And you haven't seen it since?" "No, sir! You ain't gettin' me back out on that river with that thing out there!" "What about your neighbors? Have they seen it?" "Some of 'em have, but most of those that ain't seen it for themselves at least believe something nasty is out there. Most everyone knows someone who's either seen it or lost stock or hunting dogs to it. We were plannin' on gettin' a bunch of us together with shotguns and goin' after it. But the game warden, Chick Jackson, said he'd arrest the whole bunch of us if he found us out there with guns when it ain't duck season." "I take it he doesn't believe?" said Mulder. "Nah, he insists it's just a big gator and ain't none of us got alligator tags for huntin' gators." Suddenly, Beau growled, and someone banged on the door. Shushing the dog, Joe got up to answer it and found a very wet young man outside his trailer, breathing heavily, the water dripping from his ripped, sleeveless western shirt and cutoff jeans. "Lonnie? What in the hell?" Joe said and pulled the younger man inside, sitting him down. "What's wrong?" "Dickie and me were just comin' in from fishin' when something hit our boat and turned it over!" Lonnie reported, still gasping for breath. "I managed to swim to shore, but somethin' got Dickie. I heard him yell, but there wasn't a thing I could do but come get help." "Alligator?" Joe asked, reaching for the shotgun he kept next to the door. "No, it wasn't no alligator. I got a glimpse of it. It was the Bete Noire!" Joe grabbed a hunk of beef out of his small freezer. "Maybe we can lure it away from Dickie with this, if it ain't too late," he offerred hurriedly. "You comin'?" he asked Mulder, "or you afraid of gettin' that fancy suit of yours dirty?" Mulder quickly pulled off his coat, tie and dress shirt and threw them aside. He still wore his tee shirt, and the slacks would just have to be sacrificed. "Let's go." "What about me?" asked Belinda. "You stay here and call the sheriff and the game warden," Joe ordered. "Get an ambulance out here just in case we find Dickie alive." A few minutes later, Joe, Lonnie and Mulder were shoving off from the shore in Joe's boat. Joe pulled the starter cord and the outboard roared to life. Joe guided them into the murky swamp, and Mulder grabbed the sides of the small boat, thankful the water was smooth. They soon found Lonnie's overturned craft and a wounded Dickie lying on top of it and yelling as loud as he could. The man had blood flowing from a deep wound in his right arm, but other than that he appeared whole. Mulder and Lonnie helped him aboard, and Mulder got him settled while Lonnie managed to grab the bow rope of the overturned boat. PART 2 He threw it to Joe, who tied it to a cleat on the corner of his own boat, and they set off for shore. Mulder steadily watched the area from which they'd come, but it was too dark to see much. He thought he glimpsed a movement, and something splashed, but he wasn't sure it was the Bete Noire; it could have been any of a dozen creatures that inhabited the swamps. Once they were safely on their way, Lonnie pulled off his own shirt, which he promptly tied around the gash in Dickie's arm. "You OK?" he asked sympathetically. Dickie nodded, but his face was white in the twilight and he didn't speak. When they arrived back at Joe's dock, ambulance attendants were waiting for them. They helped Dickie out of the boat and sat him down on the stretcher. The man was bleeding badly, the blood soaking through the makeshift bandage Lonnie had applied. While the EMTs readied Dickie for transport, Mulder leaned close to the injured man. "Dickie, I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI," he said quietly. "I've come down here to look into all this. Can you tell me what it was that attacked you? Was it an animal?" Dickie's eyes darkened in fear. His breathing had become labored, and one of the EMTs slipped an oxygen mask over his face. Mulder could see Dickie's lips moving, and he leaned closer to make out the words. "Bete Noire...Bete Noire." "OK, folks, we've got to move," the ambulance driver insisted, gently shoving Mulder aside and helping load Dickie into the vehicle. As the ambulance sped away with Dickie in the back, Mulder turned to Lonnie. "You said the thing was attacking your friend?" "It was, I swear! I thought sure Dickie was a goner." "Why do you suppose it didn't kill him? It surely had the chance." Lonnie shook his head slowly. "We had a pretty big mess of fish in the boat. Maybe it figured the fish were less trouble." "Or it prefers fish to humans?" Mulder wondered. "He didn't seem to mind goin' after Dickie!" Lonnie objected. "Joe, we gotta do somethin' about this creature." "Calm down, Lonnie. You heard what Warden Chick said." Joe had stood silently aside while his young friend was attended and taken away, and now he spoke calmly to Lonnie, obviously trying to avert a disaster. Lonnie barely heard Joe's reasoning through his adrenaline- induced frenzy. "Forget Warden Chick! You listen to me, old man, that thing is gonna kill someone next time!" Joe maintained his soft-spoken tone, putting a hand gently on Lonnie's shoulder to calm him. "Let me and Agent Mulder talk to the warden and see if we can't convince him to form a huntin' party to go after it. Now, you go on to Dickie's house and tell his wife what happened, then get on home and get some dry clothes on." Lonnie agreed reluctantly. "Can you give me a ride? I don't feel like it's very safe walkin' after dark with the Bete Noire out huntin.'" "Sure, go ahead and get in the truck and I'll be with you in a minute." Lonnie walked away as Belinda came down the stairs to stand beside Mulder. She handed him his coat, tie and shirt. "Look, I gotta run Lonnie home, Mr. Mulder," Joe said as Mulder began dressing. "Why don't you give me a call tomorrow and we'll go talk to the warden?" The last thing Mulder wanted was to see the unique creature destroyed instead of studied, but he knew this was neither the time nor place to voice those feelings, so he just nodded his agreement. "C'mon, Fox, I'll take you to dinner," offered Belinda. "They got some good restaurants in Orange." "Mulder, not Fox." "Oh." Belinda's face fell a bit. "All right." It seemed to be the only appropriate reply, so she offered no more comment as they climbed into her car and drove toward town. ************************* Cody's Bar and Grill Orange, TX 9:30 p.m. Mulder picked up another boudin ball, dipped it in horseradish sauce and bit into it with relish. His eyes closed in bliss. "Hey, these are good! What are they?" he asked enthusiastically. "Sausage, spices and rice dipped in a batter and deep fried." Belinda took a sip of her beer and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. Again she thought it was a shame she hadn't worn her low-cut blouse today, but maybe Mulder would like what he saw anyway. Unfortunately, the object of her interest seemed to be paying more attention to his food than his companion. The waitress stopped by their table, a perky little brunette, and Belinda felt herself grow warm as Mulder turned on the charm. The little waitress practically oozed invitation, and for a moment Belinda thought he might ask for her phone number. To her relief, he ordered another basket of boudin balls to go with his bowl of chicken gumbo. Maybe he was just shy, she thought. After all, it wasn't his fault the little twit had nearly fallen at his feet. Mulder looked like the kind of man who needed a real woman, not one who'd be interested in silly high-school girls. Belinda considered herself a real woman, certainly up to the challenge. She'd try to draw him out. "So how long have you been with the Bureau, Mulder?" she asked, taking a "real woman" sized sip of her beer. "Fourteen years. I'll have 15 years in October." He didn't seem inclined to talk about his job, but as she'd so far discovered nothing else they had in common to discuss, she tried again. "I'll bet you're really good at your job. I'm sure your family is very proud of you." Storm clouds passed over Mulder's face. "My family is all dead." Belinda felt her "real woman" smile slipping, and could have kicked herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to touch a nerve." He gave her a forgiving grin and a shrug of his broad shoulders, and she felt her stomach do a lazy flip-flop. "That's all right, you didn't know. I don't have any blood kin, but Scully, my partner, is like family to me." "I'm sure you two are as close as brothers. Has he been with the FBI as long as you?" Mulder chuckled. "Dr. Dana Scully is a woman. She's a brilliant forensic pathologist and one hell of a fine investigator. We make a good team. And to answer your question, no. I've been in the Bureau longer than Scully, but we've been partners for years." He got a faraway look in his eyes that Belinda did not like at all. This guy was attractive, more so than any of the other men she knew, and it had only taken her moments after being blinded by his good looks and obvious intelligence to notice he wore no wedding ring. Now it looked as if her hopes, barely-formed though they were, might be for nothing. He hardly seemed to notice she was there as he suddenly groped in his pockets. "Oh! That reminds me. I was supposed to call her." He pulled out his cell phone and punched one digit, and Belinda sighed inwardly as he waited, a look of expectation on his face. Then he smiled, and she could only assume Scully had answered. Belinda was no fool; from Mulder's expression and the eager tone of his voice, it was clear there was more than a work relationship between the two agents. "I've got a real X-File, here, Scully! The monster attacked a pair of fishermen earlier this evening. Thanks to Belinda, who had taken me down to meet a witness, I was there when one of the fishermen came running up to get help." He seemed to listen for a few minutes. "Belinda? Oh, she's the reporter who wrote that article I showed you. No, she wrote the article for her own paper originally, then sold it to the Enquirer. She doesn't actually work for the Enquirer. Hmmm? No, she's not that old -- in her 30s, I'd say. What? I don't know, but it's a good question." He put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and addressed Belinda. "Say, your husband isn't going to get upset about me keeping you out so late, is he? Wouldn't want any angry cowboys coming after me with their six- shooters," he grinned. Belinda gave him her best smile in return, the one that said, 'No, I'm not easy, but if you want me I'm yours.' "I'm divorced," she told him. "And my mom keeps my son when I'm working, so I'm at your service." Mulder spoke into the phone again. "No, she's not married and someone's looking after her kid, so I'm not imposing on her." He waited. "You don't have to do that, Scully, I can handle this one. You've got that family barbecue... well of course, I'd love to have you, but it's not... yes, there's a victim in the hospital, but he wasn't hurt that badly." His smile grew broader and Belinda's mood more resigned as the conversation continued. "Well, if you really want to help me out, you could file a 302 first thing in the morning and come on back down here. I can always use your help, Scully, you know that. You will? Great, I was hoping you'd say that. Thanks, Scully, I owe you! Call me tomorrow and let me know when your flight gets in. Try to fly into Beaumont. They have a commercial airport. OK. I'll see you then. Yeah?" Mulder smiled. "Me, too, Scully." He hung up without saying goodbye, but Belinda had a feeling any chance she might have thought she had with Mulder had disappeared with his final words. Mulder put away his cell phone and looked over at Belinda, who was sitting with her head leaning on her hand and an odd look on her face. "You about ready to go?" he asked. "I need to find a motel..." Belinda perked up. "...but first I need to drive you back to your office." She sighed in disappointment and nodded. ******************* Best Western Inn Orange, TX 9 a.m. May 16 Belinda knocked on Mulder's hotel room door after taking a quick look in her compact mirror to make sure her makeup wasn't smeared. "Who is it?" she heard Mulder call. "It's Belinda. You ready to go interview some more witnesses?" The door opened and Mulder stepped out, dressed somewhat casually in khakis and a black polo shirt. He noted Belinda looking him over. "I decided I might relate a little better without the suit," Mulder told her. "People along the river don't exactly dress up." Belinda laughed. "You're right about that. You'd be hard pressed to find river rats wearing Armanis." They climbed in Mulder's car and headed north to Deweyville. ************** O.D. Morgan's home Devil's Pocket 9:37 a.m. May 23 Mulder and Belinda climbed the somewhat rickety stairs to Morgan's stilt house. Mulder knocked on the door. "Whaddya want?" a gruff voice called out. "FBI," Mulder replied. "I'd like to talk to you." "I ain't done nothin'! Unless you got a search warrant, get the hell out of here," the man yelled back through the closed door. "I just want to ask about the Bete Noire," Mulder told him. The door opened and an overweight man in a dirty T-shirt, his belly hanging over his jeans, stood in the doorway. "Lemme see your ID." The agent pulled it out of his hip pocket and showed the man. "Are you O.D. Morgan?" The older man nodded and came outside, directing them to go around the corner and sit on the deck. There were no chairs, but there were some overturned crates and scattered empty beer bottles. Morgan plopped down on one of the crates and nodded for Belinda and Mulder to do the same. "Whaddya wanna know about the Bete Noire? I'm descended from it, y'know?" O.D. reached into a cooler and pulled out a cold beer and opened it." "So I've heard," Mulder replied, successfully fighting to keep a grin off his face. "How is that?" "My great-great-granny mated with it. It come into her bedroom one night and took her right there." "I see. What did it look like?" O.D. took a swig of beer. "It was a cross between a gorilla and a man. The baby had a face like a monkey and a hairy body. Weren't stupid, but my great-granddad was one mean sonuvabitch." "But that doesn't meet the description of the beast in the swamp," Mulder pointed out. "Joe Calderon saw it and said it looked like a cross between an alligator and a man. It was living in the water." "Ahh, he's senile -- must be almost 90. I wouldn't put no store in what he says." "It attacked two fishermen last night, and before you say it was probably an alligator, they said it definitely wasn't. They said it was the Bete Noire." "Who were the guys?" "Dickie Johnson and Lonnie Williams," Belinda told Morgan. "You'd believe those two lushes? You gotta be kiddin'!" Mulder turned to Belinda. "I think I'm finished with Mr. Morgan. Did you have any questions?" "Yes. O.D., I've heard some folks say your great-great- granny had a black lover. You sure that wasn't the case?" Morgan's face turned red and he jumped to his feet. "The only thing keepin' me from sluggin' you right now is that you're a woman. You get out of here and take this Yankee with you." Mulder stood up, purposely brushing his hand along the gun in the holster on his belt. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Morgan." He and Belinda walked back to the car. As soon as they pulled away, Mulder burst out laughing. "I thought he was going to have a stroke right on the spot. Where did you get that information on his great-great-grandmother?" Belinda chuckled. "It's a tale that's made the rounds about O.D. They say that's why he hates blacks so much. Folks say his great-great-grandmother made up that story when she got pregnant -- because her husband was impotent. Oh, yeah. And the hairiness and monkey face came from HER side of the family. She was pretty enough, but her brothers looked like Neanderthals." Mulder laughed again and Belinda joined him. When he finally was able to stop laughing, he said, "Well, I think I'd like to spend the rest of the day in the library, doing research." "Want some help? I've got some comp time coming to me." "Sure. We'll get done twice as fast." They drove to Beaumont to use the library there, since it was bigger than the one in Orange. The two spent the rest of the day looking through microfilm of old newspapers as well as articles in magazine archives on CD. At the end of the day, Mulder drove back to his hotel in Orange. Belinda dropped several hints about the two of them going out to eat, but Mulder politely turned her down, saying he was too tired after poring through the records all day. He thought he was going to have to physically put her in her car when they arrived, but she finally got the idea and left. ************************** ACT II 6:27 a.m. May 17 Belinda watched as the small, red-haired woman emerged from the crowd of people exiting the plane. The woman looked rumpled and weary, and Belinda was suddenly glad she'd taken extra care with her own hair and makeup that morning. Now she stood next to Mulder, breathing in the heady scent of his aftershave, while the redhead approached them, her expression bordering upon shrewish. "Great idea, flying into Beaumont, Mulder," she said sarcastically. "If I'd landed in Houston I could have gotten a flight at a decent time. I could have had a meal. I could have gotten here in three hours instead of six, and I could have gotten a nonstop flight, instead of having to go through Atlanta and Dallas." She stopped, as if out of breath, and Belinda stared in amazement as Mulder responded to this wave of nastiness with a brilliant smile. "Glad to see you, too, Scully," he grinned, ignoring her outburst. Mulder picked up the bag that had slid off Scully's shoulder and swung it effortlessly across his own. "This is Belinda, the reporter who wrote the story about the Bete Noire. Belinda, my partner, Dana Scully." The two women sized each other up, Scully wearily and Belinda with a growing sense of futility. She'd managed to convince herself overnight that she'd been imagining things during Mulder's phone call to Scully, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she was wasting her time. Agent Scully looked tattered and worn after her all-night airplane ride, while she herself was fresh and perky, but Mulder had eyes only for his exhausted partner. PART 3 After giving her a brief nod of greeting, Scully turned back to the tall man at her side. "Bete Noire?" she questioned, one eyebrow arched delicately. "That's what the monster's called in these here parts," Mulder drawled. "It means 'black beast.'" Scully ignored his phony Texas accent. "Monster?" "How about we grab some breakfast, and I'll fill you in on our little adventure the other night." He quickened his pace, pushing open the door and holding it for the women before letting it shut behind them, then starting off for the car he'd parked in a nearby space. There weren't too many people at the Beaumont airport at 6:30 in the morning, so finding a close spot had been easy. Scully hesitated for a moment, closing her eyes and sighing dramatically before asking Belinda, "Adventure?" Belinda just shrugged. She'd let Mulder handle this one, gladly. "I'm starving, Mulder," Scully complained as he opened the door and waited for her to climb in. "You'd better feed me before you start regaling me with tales of monsters with French names." Belinda slid into the back seat, privately miffed that Scully had taken "her" seat next to Mulder, yet unable to deny that the two of them seemed barely aware of her existence. "Sure, Scully," Mulder agreed, backing the car carefully out of the parking space. "What's it going to be -- McDonald's, Wendy's or Taco Bell? Wait, scratch that. Taco Bell doesn't open until lunchtime." Scully stared at him with an expression of wounded horror. "Do you mean to tell me, after six hours of air time and two layovers, not to mention the fact that I spent the final leg of the journey next to a man named Max, whose sole reason for living is his poodle, Puffy, that you can't even offer me a decent meal?" He bit his lip slightly. "Wendy's serves burgers round the clock," he offered. "Quick and cheap. But if you insist, we can go to a coffee shop. If we can find one open." "McDonald's," she growled. "At least I can get something resembling healthy food there. And they'd better have decent coffee, Mulder." Soon they were seated at a table in a local McDonald's restaurant, and Belinda watched in careful silence while Agent Scully underwent a transformation, becoming more human with every sip of caffeine. "So," Scully invited them at last, when nothing was left of her apple-bran muffin except a few crumbs and she'd downed her second cup of java. 'Bete Noire?'" Mulder nodded. "After you've gone to the motel and freshened up a bit, I'll take you to meet Old Joe, one of the locals. He claims he saw the monster himself a couple of months ago. But the really interesting thing, Scully, is what happened last night." Scully regarded Mulder over the rim of her paper cup. "What exactly did happen the other night, Mulder?" Belinda felt a sudden rush of warmth to her face, but Mulder let the suggestive comment slide. "The creature attacked a human," he reported seriously, stabbing at the crumbs on her napkin and licking them off his fingers. "Sent him to the hospital." "Mulder, that area is swampland," Scully pointed out gently. "It seems to me more likely that your monster is nothing more than a large alligator." "You'd think that, wouldn't you?" he asked, grinning. She stared up at his teasing eyes for a second. "But what?" "The people in question have lived around there all their lives, Scully. I think they'd recognize an alligator if they saw one." "It wasn't an alligator," Belinda cut in positively. "It was the Bete Noire. Everyone from around the Deweyville area knows about it." As she spoke, she rested her hand on Mulder's forearm, which lay across the table. Then, seeing the way Scully's eyes traveled possessively over Mulder, Belinda quickly pulled her hand away. "So, tell me all about it," Scully invited, and Mulder and Belinda proceeded to fill her in. **************** Mulder dropped Belinda at her office, then drove Scully to the motel and checked her into a room on the same floor as his. He sat on her bed, going over his notes from the previous evening and trying to puzzle it out in his head while she showered. It was odd, he kept thinking, that the creature didn't kill Dickie when it'd had the chance. Instead, it had only injured its prey, leaving him alive and relatively mobile. Something about that scenario niggled at the back of Mulder's mind, but before he could sort it out, his cell phone chimed. "Mulder," he muttered into it, still immersed in the case. "Hey, Mulder, have we got something for you!" Langly's voice captured his attention. The guys never called him on the road unless it was important. "What's up?" he asked, glancing toward the bathroom. Scully was still in the shower, and he shifted position, focusing on Langly in order to banish the image of her with droplets of water beading on her skin. "Scully told us you were chasing monsters in the Southeast Texas swamps, so we took the liberty of doing a little research. Did you know there were reports of an alien spacecraft crashing there about fifty years ago?" Langly asked smugly. Mulder tried to jog his memory, but it was tough when he heard the water shut off and Scully step out of the shower. "Uh...refresh me on that?" Langly snickered. "Three separate reports of a UFO crash were made on the night of July 18, 1948. Naturally, all three were explained away by the authorities, but their 'explanations' were weak, as usual. Just thought it was interesting, since you're hunting for some type of monster down in those parts." "So your theory is this is some kind of an alien that's been running around the swamps for fifty years?" Mulder asked, only half-sarcastically. "And mating with women to produce offspring, if the reports are to be believed." "C'mon, Langly, even *you* would have an easier time getting a date, if what I've heard of the creature's appearance are to be..." Mulder trailed off, his thoughts beginning to race as he put together pieces. "Mulder? You there?" "Yeah," he responded absently. "Thanks, Langly." He disconnected and shuffled through the papers on the bed until he came up with Belinda's article, then matched it with the description Lonnie had given him the night before. He sat back, his eyes flitting between the two papers, his brain working at a pace that would have astounded most people. He barely noticed when Scully strolled into the room, clad in her underwear, and began dressing for the day. He stared at the papers, but his eyes saw a very different scene, one which had replayed in his mind countless times over the past couple of years. He remembered the aliens on the ship, how they had looked through his fear and determination to get himself and Scully out of there before they became a wake-up snack to the newly-hatched monsters. Humanoid shape, tough, hide-like skin, sharp teeth -- it wasn't exactly as he remembered them, but he had been under a bit of stress at the time. Also, if the reports were to be believed, this creature had been roaming the swamps for fifty years. Why hadn't it sought out its own, in all that time? Why stay here? Unless it wasn't fully evolved, or perhaps had... "Mutated," he muttered to himself. Scully stopped brushing her hair and glanced toward him. "What's mutated?" she asked. "The alien. Or it could be a different species altogether." Now she put down her hairbrush and turned to face him fully. "Mulder," she explained patiently, feeling much more human now that she'd had food and a shower, "nobody has said a word about aliens. I thought it was a monster we were looking for." She kept most of the sarcasm out of her voice, but left enough so he'd know she was merely humoring him, that she believed it was definitely an Earthly being they were seeking, and most likely an alligator. "Langly called while you were in the shower. He told me there were reports of a UFO crash nearby about the time the sightings began." She turned back to the mirror and began applying her makeup. "There were reports of UFO crashes everywhere fifty years ago," she commented. "People saw strange lights in the sky, BAM! They attributed it to a UFO. That doesn't mean it has anything to do with this case." "I think I want to check into it, all the same," he replied, shuffling the papers into a pile and shoving them back into a file folder. "We should interview the victim," she contradicted. "Maybe he can tell us more this morning about what attacked him." "You should do that," he agreed, slipping his jacket on quickly. "While you talk to Dickie, I'm going to go investigate the area in daylight." He slipped out the door before she could argue. **************** After 30 minutes of wrangling with Game Warden Chick Jackson, Mulder finally talked the man into taking him out into the swamp. Using a GPS mounted in the warden's boat, they soon arrived at the coordinates the Lone Gunmen had given Mulder. "Turn on your sonar, Warden, and let's see if there are any large structures on the bottom." Mulder looked over Jackson's shoulder as he ran the sonar and slowly drove the boat around the area. Suddenly, a large mound showed up on the screen. "There! Stop here!" They watched the screen for a moment. "Damn, I wish I had some SCUBA gear," Mulder muttered. "Wouldn't do you any good. You would barely be able to see your hand in front of your face because the water is so murky. Whenever we have teams of divers searching for a body, they pretty much have to do it by feel. And then they usually have something to go on, like an overturned boat to pinpoint the area." "Any way we can get some divers out here to take a look?" "You'd just have to ask for volunteers. After all, it's not an emergency situation," the warden told him. Mulder considered for a moment. "Throw out your anchor," he said at last. "I'm gonna jump in and do a free dive and see what I can tell. Do you at least have a face mask?" Warden Jackson's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You're nuts! I wouldn't get in this water without a full wetsuit. It's really not very safe." Mulder was already stripping down to his boxers. "I appreciate the warning. So do you have a face mask or not?" Jackson sighed and pulled out a diver's safety vest as well as a mask, snorkel and a set of fins. "Thanks," Mulder said, accepting the gear from the reluctant man. "Oh, and uh, how about keeping an eye out for alligators and snakes, huh?" "On one condition. You tie this rope around your waist so I can pull you up if you get into trouble," the warden insisted. Mulder nodded. "Deal. I'll tug twice if I want you to pull me up. If you see anything bad, give one good jerk and let me make sure I'm clear, then haul me in." Mulder donned the vest, mask and fins, and tied the rope around his waist, then swung his legs over the side and jumped in. The water was only about 20 feet deep so it didn't take long to reach the bottom. As the warden had said, it was all but impossible to see anything through the murk, but Mulder felt around with his hands and moved along the bottom, trying to stay down. He grasped at the vegetation that grew on the bottom, came up with a rock or two, and hoped he wouldn't slice his hand open on a rusty can or broken beer bottle. Mulder came up for air a couple of times, diving resolutely back to the bottom, and was almost ready to give up when he abruptly bumped into something very large and solid. Feeling it with his hands, he could tell it was smooth, perhaps metallic, but covered with slime. Wishing again he had a set of SCUBA tanks, he ascended to the surface for another breath. Greedily gulping in air, he looked around for the warden's boat and saw it, about forty feet away. He pulled the snorkel from his mouth and called out to Jackson. "I found something! I think it might be some sort of ship!" The warden shook his head and called back. "You won't find any shipwrecks in this water, but I guess it might be an old sunken boat." "Not that kind of ship!" replied Mulder. Putting the snorkel back in his mouth, he took a deep breath and again swam down to the bottom. Mulder had no sooner found the object again and started exploring its surface, than he felt a sharp jerk on the rope. He struck the object with his fist. It definitely seemed to be hard metal, not decaying wood. Something was happening topside, and he didn't have time to explore further. This time when the rope jerked, he felt himself being pulled at an angle to the top. He didn't resist, but instead turned and swam for the surface. Mulder had no sooner reached the surface and taken a breath when something struck him hard from the side. He turned to see what had happened, confused at the suddenness of the attack, hoping like hell it wasn't an alligator. It was no alligator that ripped its claws down Mulder's side. Whatever the thing was, it was large and black and vaguely humanoid, but with gleaming red eyes. It bared its teeth, and Mulder cried out, banging his fist in the attacker's face as Jackson frantically tried to drag him to the boat. The monster released him, but soon began following, keeping back just a pace as the warden hauled Mulder into the boat. Jackson already had the engine running in idle so immediately put it in gear. Once the boat began to move, the monster lunged toward them, trying to climb aboard. Mulder grabbed a heavy paddle and slammed it into the Bete Noire's face. It fell back, emitting a hissing, screeching sound of anger. Warden Jackson fired both barrels of his shotgun at the monster before gunning the boat swiftly away. They hadn't gone far when they hit a partially-submerged branch and damaged the propeller. "Oh, shit!" the warden cursed and looked over his shoulder. The Bete Noire had seen their plight and was rapidly headed their way. The shotgun didn't seem to have caused it any problem. Jackson quickly began rigging up his trolling motor. Mulder had kicked off his fins and was helping the warden hook up the motor to the battery, his eyes never leaving the monster, when it again tried to climb aboard. The leads in his hands had not yet been attached to the motor, so Mulder jammed the two ends into its hide and let it have the full charge from the marine battery. The beast roared in pain and fell back into the water. Mulder and Jackson quickly hooked up the spare motor and moved toward the shore. Their pace was slow, but the monster did not follow. Instead, it lay floating in the water, although Mulder was sure its head turned and watched them as they limped away. As they left the Bete Noire far behind, Mulder sat down heavily on one of the motorboat's cushioned seats. The adrenaline rush was over and his side was suddenly hurting badly. Glancing down, he saw four rows of bloody claw marks. The warden glanced at him and threw him a first aid kit. "Here, grab a wad of gauze and hold it against your side." Mulder opened the kit, found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured it over the wounds on his side, hissing in pain as the antiseptic burned into the open wounds. The gashes weren't deep enough to hit any vital organs, but looked serious enough to require several stitches. Scully was going to be pissed, and he wasn't too happy about it himself. ***** "Scully?" She stopped in the hospital parking lot, trying to find a decent signal on her cell phone. The crackling connection told her Mulder had to be out in the boondocks somewhere, because she was smack in the middle of town, as Dickie would have put it, she thought with grim humor. "Yeah, Mulder, where are you?" She raised her voice, hoping he could hear her over the sound of the traffic in the background. "I'm...Old Joe's place...," he answered. "...need you to help...hurt...bad..." "What? Mulder, what happened?" Scully shook the phone fiercely, as if her anger would make the connection clearer, then thrust it against her ear once more. "How badly are you hurt, Mulder?" "Not...kit..." The connection died and she slammed her hand in anger against the hapless phone. Then, hoping her sudden burst of temper hadn't damaged it, she dialed information, obtained Belinda's number at work, and called the newspaper office. "Belinda Gaudet." "Ms. Gaudet, this is Agent Scully. I need your help." Belinda arrived quickly and Scully jumped into the car. "He said he was at Old Joe's place," she said by way of greeting. "Does that mean anything to you?" Belinda nodded and gunned the engine, racing out of town as fast as her aging Ford would carry them, when Scully had a sudden thought. "Wait!" she commanded. "I need to stop off at the motel first." "What for?" "Medical kit," she replied tersely. "Is Agent Mulder injured?" Scully gave Belinda a sidelong look. "From what I could tell of the conversation, he may be. We had a lousy connection." Belinda increased their speed slightly, and Scully didn't know whether to be annoyed at this woman's obvious preference for Mulder. After all, who could blame her? PART 4 The car screeched to a halt in front of her motel room door, and Scully was out of the car in a flash. She grabbed up her medical kit from the table and, taking a second to wipe the sweat from her face, carelessly tossed her suit jacket on the bed. No reason to ruin her entire outfit if Mulder planned on dragging her out into the swamp, she reasoned, and knowing Mulder, anything was possible. Feeling instantly lighter, she dashed back to the car and hopped in. "Let's go." Belinda took off, and within half an hour they were pulling up to the dirt patch that served as Old Joe's driveway. The trailer door opened and a man waved them inside. Scully wasted no time in making for the door, Belinda following close behind. "Mulder!" Scully called as she entered the dimly lit Airstream. "Where are you?" "Over here," he answered calmly from the kitchen table. Beau sat with his head on Mulder's knee as the agent scratched him behind the ears. She stared at him, sitting there cool as a cucumber while she feared the worst. "I thought you were injured." He pulled up his shirt to show her the gauze, reddened from the bleeding which hadn't quite stopped. "Just a scratch," he grinned. She gaped. "But... when I asked how badly you were hurt, you said it was bad." "I said *not* bad," he corrected. "Must have been the connection." "Great," she muttered, slamming her kit down on the table. "Well, you'd better let me see it." "I'm sorry, Scully," he said apologetically as he stripped off his T-shirt. "I didn't try to get hurt, you know." She gave him a look of apology and forgiveness combined, and her face softened a tiny bit. "What happened?" He winced as her probing fingers examined his wound. "I was in the water--" "The water?" "Yeah, I found a ship--" "A ship?" "--and the Bete Noire sliced me." "He gave it a monstrous jolt of electricity, though," Warden Jackson cut in, and Scully raised an eyebrow. "Did you kill it?" Old Joe laughed. "It'd take more than that to kill the Bete Noire, Miss," he told her. Scully looked dubious and turned her attention to her partner. "Mulder, this is no scratch. And it's already showing signs of infection," Scully said. "How long has it been since you were injured?" "Only a couple of hours." "That's unusually fast for infection to set in." She sighed. "I can stitch it up, but it would be better to get you to a hospital. There's only so much I can do with this kit." He opened his mouth to protest, but her face, coupled with the fact that the pain in his side was growing by the minute, stopped him and he just nodded agreement. "Uh...getting to a hospital...that may be a problem," Belinda said from the window, her voice noticeably trembling. All eyes turned toward her, while she kept her own glued to what was slowly making its way toward the cabin. It was the Bete Noire. "Holy..." said the warden in astonishment, peering out the window beside Belinda. "Joe," Mulder announced, reaching for his weapon, "we need to get out of here. That thing's stronger than the five of us. Any suggestions?" "What about calling for help?" Belinda asked, her voice dripping sarcasm. "No phone," Joe replied apologetically. "Didn't pay the bill a few months back and the phone company finally shut me off. I've been arguing with them to get the thing turned back on, but..." He shrugged. "It beats all, I tell you -- a man shells out cash month after month for his whole life, then he misses one miserable payment and--" "Scully, where's your cell phone?" Mulder interrupted. She reached for it automatically, her face whitening as she realized she no longer had it in her possession. "Back at the motel," she ground out, clearly furious with herself for this lack of foresight, "in the pocket of my jacket. Where's yours?" "Battery ran down while I was talking to you. Completely dead, now." Mulder gave her a pathetic look, and Scully shook her head in frustration. "OK, so we have no phone, but some of us are armed and it's five against one. How tough can this thing be to beat?" Four pairs of eyes turned to her, clearly implying they thought she'd taken leave of her senses. "Fine," Scully snapped, in answer to their silent accusations. "But I'm not ready to give up. Has anybody tried simply shooting this thing?" "Oh yeah, it's been shot at before," Joe replied and nodded sagely. "Bullets don't seem to hurt it none." At Scully's skeptical look, Jackson put in, "It's true, Agent Scully. I don't know if its hide is too tough or what, but I fired at it from the boat, and it only made the thing pause a minute." "Are you sure you hit it?" "Oh yes, ma'am, I hit it, all right." "Well then, we'll have to think of something else." "Electricity," Mulder said suddenly. "Warden Jackson and I managed to stun it with electricity. We might not kill it, but maybe we can put it out of commission long enough to get away." "Well, you'd better think of something fast," Belinda told them nervously. "It's coming closer." Mulder thought for a moment. "Joe, have you got some extension cords?" "Yeah, sure," the old man replied and opened up a cabinet under the sink. He pulled out two heavy-duty extension cords. "I use them to rig up light outside sometimes for when I come in late from fishing. What do you want with them?" "Let's plug them in and wire them to the metal exterior walls of the trailer. Hopefully, that will keep the Bete Noire at bay until we can figure out how to get rid of it," Mulder replied. He stood up gingerly and walked into Joe's kitchenette. "Got a sharp knife?" Warden Jackson pulled his own buck knife from his belt and Joe handed Mulder a butcher knife. "Warden, cut off the female end of one of the cords and strip off the rubber insulation." Jackson nodded. "I see where you're going with this. Belinda, what's the monster doing?" "It's looking around, like it's sniffing in the air," answered the reporter. "Uh, oh, it's headed for our cars." They all heard a loud crash from outside. The warden and Mulder worked frantically on stripping the extension cords, while Joe and Scully peered out the small windows. Scully watched as the Bete Noire bashed in the top of Belinda's Ford, then actually picked up the vehicle and threw it on top of Joe's pickup. Both vehicles exploded in flames as the gas tank of the Ford was ruptured and the gasoline ignited. "I thought that only happened in the movies," Scully muttered. As they watched, the flames spread through the dry grass and began licking at the tires of Mulder's rental. The monster seemed surprised and fascinated by the rising flames. It stepped back a few paces and just stood watching the vehicles burn. In the meantime, both the warden and Mulder had finished exposing the wires. Mulder opened the door a crack and peered out. His jaw dropped as he saw all three vehicles burning and the monster staring in rapt fascination. "Holy shit!" he muttered as he held the cords' stripped ends between the door and the door face. He shut the door and locked it for good measure to help keep the wires in place. The warden plugged both cords into the trailer's floor sockets. "Nobody touch the door or windows," Mulder warned. "That's a lot of juice going into the metal parts of the trailer right now." The interior walls had wood paneling that Joe had installed himself, so they should be safe as long as nobody did anything stupid. That job completed, Mulder leaned heavily against Joe's kitchen table. The adrenaline rush was dying down and his side was bleeding freely again and burned painfully. ***** Now that they were relatively safe from the creature outside, Scully could concentrate on her partner. She took a long look at him, and what she saw alarmed her. His face was ashen and he was sweating, his breathing was slightly labored, and the tightness around his mouth told her of the discomfort he tried to conceal. "Sit down, Mulder," she ordered, pointing at a nearby sofa covered with a ragged, hand-crocheted afghan. The fact that he obeyed without argument did nothing to reassure her; it was obvious the pain from his wound had grown much worse. Mulder's hand was clamped over the makeshift bandage, and he was bleeding badly from the deep gashes which had been aggravated during his earlier exertion. Scully dug into her medical bag, ignoring the way his eyes flicked over the suture kit she pulled out, then fixed themselves on the wall ahead. She'd only stitched him up once before while they were in the field, when he'd come too close to an assailant's bullet and they'd been unable to reach a hospital quickly, but this injury was much worse. She had a small amount of the mild anesthetic she'd use to deaden the area, but not enough. No matter what she did, Mulder was going to feel this. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she apologized, looking up at him from her position on the floor, and he answered her with a fleeting smile. "Don't worry about it, Scully. Just don't make me watch, and tell me when you're done." She nodded, grabbing a small bottle of betadine and some gauze and beginning to clean the area thoroughly. The scratches were red and swollen, and Mulder winced when she pressed on them. She wrinkled her brow in thought -- the wounds were showing advanced signs of infection, and it had come up very quickly. Without a lab, there was no way she could determine what had caused the rapid infection, but it was clear Mulder couldn't wait much longer before receiving antibiotics. As she prepared to begin stitching him up, Scully thought conversation might be the best distraction. She'd given him the local and waited for it to take effect, but there was no way that small amount of medicine would deaden the entire area. Starting in a spot she thought would probably be the least painful, she began. "So tell me about this ship you say you found," she said gently. "I dove into the water at the coordinates Langly had given me. It was there, Scully, I swear. I couldn't see because the water was too--" he gasped, clutching the back of the sofa tightly as she reached a particularly sensitive area, then continued. "--too murky, but I could feel. Round, metal, strange markings etched into the surface..." "Sounds like it could be anything," she observed. "Yeah, it could have been anything, but it *was* a ship," he replied flatly. Belinda joined them, sitting carefully on the sofa beside Mulder, and held out a strong hand. "Need something to squeeze?" she offered, and he accepted gratefully, grabbing at her fingers and clenching them tightly between his own. Scully finished with the first gouge and began on the second, hoping the local would keep working for a little while longer. "What are we going to do about this thing out there?" Belinda asked them both, her eyes darting from one agent to the other quickly. "We can keep it out of here, but for how long? And how long can we stay inside this trailer? We're not exactly fixed for a siege here." "I've been...thinking about that," Mulder gasped. "Damn it, Scully, hurry up!" "Then hold still!" she snapped, putting a hand on his abdomen to stop his involuntary writhing. "I can't stitch a moving target." "Sorry," he whispered, leaning his head against the back of the sofa and breathing slowly and deeply. "Didn't I see some kind of lot filled with old junk cars nearby?" he asked. Joe, who had been watching the proceedings with interest, answered. "You sure did. Right out behind my trailer, as a matter of fact. It's an old wrecking yard, although they don't get much business these days. But how does that help us, Agent Mulder?" "What if we managed to rig up one of the vehicles like we have this trailer, then lured the creature inside?" "Lured him how?" Belinda asked, interested. "We'd have to have some bait," Mulder said after a few seconds during which Scully finished his second laceration and started on the third, the deepest of the four. "What kind of bait?" Scully asked suspiciously, waiting while he caught his breath before proceeding. "The one that got away," he replied stoically. "Me." "The one that got away?" The tone of her voice told him just what she thought of his idea, so Mulder explained further. "It could have killed me, Scully, but it didn't. It could have killed Dickie, but it didn't." "So, it's not very smart," she argued. "That's no reason to give it another chance." Mulder shook his head. "I don't think it's that. I think this creature likes to hunt. It wounded me, that's all. If Warden Jackson hadn't been there to pull me on board his boat, it could have toyed with me indefinitely before it finished me off. I think it was enjoying the thrill of the chase. All I have to do is let it chase me into a trap." "How do you keep from getting electrocuted yourself?" asked Belinda. "Tires," put in the warden, who had finally taken his eyes off the creature. "Lots of them in a wrecking yard. We could make a pile of them so Agent Mulder would have a safe place. The electricity won't conduct through them. But I think I should be the bait," he continued. "You're in no condition to escape from the monster, in case our plan backfires." "If it backfires, whoever's out there is dead meat anyway," Mulder argued. "I'm the one it's hunting right now. It's drawn my blood. I think it wants to finish the job." Scully looked away, tying off her final sutures, and compressed her lips together in order to avoid further protests. Mulder would never listen to her anyway. It was in his nature to sacrifice himself for the good of others. There was no stopping him. ***** The fire had burned the grass within its reach and been stopped by the wide expanse of dirt around the Airstream. Now, it was beginning to die out, and the Bete Noire had taken a renewed interest in the occupants of the trailer. Belinda had taken up residence beside the window again, keeping a careful eye on its movements, and suddenly she screamed and backed away. The monster was charging the trailer, and as they watched, it thrust its arm through the window, scattering smashed glass around the room. It grabbed for Belinda, but before its claws found purchase, its body came into contact with the metal exterior. The scream the creature emitted was deafening, and it backed away furiously. They watched to see if it would fall to the ground, but instead it glared at them, then began circling the trailer purposefully. "It's looking for another way in," Joe said grimly. "You OK?" the warden asked Belinda, and she nodded shakily. "I'm fine, I..." She stopped suddenly as they were plunged into darkness. "Bad news," Mulder commented weakly, but before he'd completed the short sentence, the lights had come up again, dimmer this time, but still working. "Generator," Joe told them proudly. "We have flaky power out in these parts." "Is the generator outside?" Scully asked quickly, but Joe shook his head. "Nope. It can't get at it, don't you worry." "How long will it last?" Joe's face fell. "Only a couple of hours," he answered Mulder's question. "Then maybe we should consider putting my plan into action." "Mulder, you're too weak!" Scully protested. "You can hardly stand on your own, let alone outrun that creature to lure it into a vehicle." "Where are you going to find a vehicle large enough, anyway?" Belinda put in. "It'd have to be--" "A bus," Joe interrupted. "There's an old school bus in that junkyard, ought to do nicely." "And even so," Belinda continued, "where are you going to get the electricity? I doubt Joe has that many extension cords. And what happens if you only manage to stun it? Our cars are destroyed, and the only way to safety from there is a two mile hike through snake-infested woods. Besides, Agent Mulder, we'd have to practically carry you." Mulder gave Scully an exasperated glance. "Dr. Scully, I'm just wondering something." "Yeah, Mulder?" "Is pessimistic second-guessing of a man's plans a gender- related trait?" Scully rolled her eyes, then her worried frown slipped back into place. "OK, does the bus move at all? Maybe we can get it closer to O.D.'s power lines -- he's got to at least have a generator, doesn't he?" Joe grinned at Mulder. "She reminds me of my Ruby. That red hair keeps their brains cooking. I've got my last two tractors stored in a shed out there. The green John Deere still runs fine, and that's where we get the juice. That dump is where everybody brings their cars when they die; we just might find a few diehards still with a little zap, so this is looking promising." "But how are we going to get out there without the Bete Noire attacking?" Belinda asked. "I'll try to distract it while you and Scully fill some coolers with water and see what we can rig up here. We need some kind of switch we can pull once it gets on the bus. If we soak the floor with the water, it'll make an excellent conductor. Maybe the monster won't have a chance to get to close to me before you three trigger the juice." Scully's frown darkened. "So you're determined to be the bait? Mulder, you're weak, if something happens, if it doesn't take him down quickly enough...or at all, you aren't moving fast enough to get away." "Scully, if we've got the current flowing through the wreck that I hope we'll get, I don't think I'll want to move anywhere but the tires we can rig for me to be safe. And anyway, I'm the one he'll be coming for. At least at first. He knows my scent. He marked me." "We've got to get it away from here long enough to get to the junkyard and rig up our trap," Mulder said. "Why don't I toss out everything in my freezer -- keep him busy eating for a while?" asked Joe. "Good idea," noted Warden Jackson. "But how are you going to get it far enough away from the door?" PART 5 "Somebody will have to get out there and throw it away from the trailer," Mulder replied, rising slowly from the couch. "You're not moving fast enough, Mulder, forget it," Scully insisted. "I'll go." "No. I was an all-state quarterback in high school," Jackson told them. "And I still run a pretty quick mile. Joe, give me the food, and I'll sneak out the back door and run around front and let him see me throw the food out. What have you got?" Joe sighed. "I have a real nice pot roast I was gonna cook up for Sunday dinner, a five-pound pack of hamburger and a lot of fish." "Lonnie said he thought the thing chose the fish in their boat instead of coming after him -- at least right away," Mulder noted. "Well, he can have it all," Joe said. "I do believe I'd rather let that thing have my dinner than have me for dinner." "I heard that!" agreed Jackson. "But if we get out of this alive, you feds are gonna owe me for a freezer full of meat," Joe added with a grin. "It's a deal," Mulder replied. "I'll personally stock it with prime rib and T-Bone steaks." Joe loaded up a cooler with every piece of meat and fish he could find in the freezer. "Hope it don't mind they ain't thawed." "No time for that," said the warden. "Give it to me." Cooler in hand, the warden nodded to Mulder and Scully who unplugged the electricity long enough to allow the warden to get out the door. They watched out the window as the warden ran around the side of the trailer and yelled, "Hey you nasty son-of-a- bitch! You hungry?" He tossed a frozen fish at the feet of the Bete Noire. The monster eyed the warden, then decided to take the food which was closest. It snatched up the fish and crunched it up quickly. Joe threw the next fish several feet past the monster and it watched and followed the food. Mulder, Scully and Joe slipped out the back, leaving instructions for Belinda to plug in the electricity, then unplug it when the warden came back. Their walk to the junkyard was not swift by any means. Scully helped Mulder along, but was grateful for the feel of his strong arm holding her much more firmly than his injuries or weakness should allow. So they began. Joe and Scully found five serviceable batteries, made Mulder a tire and bus seat bed and got the magnetos set up. Scully and Mulder got the water, rigged three switches and the able-bodied conspirators started lugging the pieces of their trap to the site. Scully was glad to see Mulder catching some sleep while they worked. He felt a bit feverish to the touch when she came in to wake him near dusk. She forced some Tylenol down him. Night was falling as they loaded Mulder on the bus, then dumped the barrels of water. "Do you think the beast will catch your scent even in there?" "Scully, it craves the odor of fear. I think right now, it could pick up that particular bouquet from me if it was down in Galveston." His partner caught the glazed look of terror in the man's fever bright eyes and forced a consoling smile, a game attempt to disguise her own fear. "Hey, you be careful in there, OK? I plan on putting in for a vacation for us when we get home. This time it's my show." "I'll follow you anywhere you wanna go, Scully. Maybe with you making the plans we won't be eating hospital food for half our stay." He tried to grin but the gesture didn't quite make it to the corners of his mouth, which had become frozen in a tight-lipped slash of pain. She reached a hand to squeeze his arm, then suddenly pressed her lips against the smooth, too warm skin of his forehead. "Checking for fever?" he asked, in a weary, slightly bitter tone. His grimace died instantly, morphing into an almost boyish grin of sheepish surprise, when his partner cupped his face and softly, lovingly kissed him. The oral caress lasted but a heartbeat before she pulled away. Her eyes were bright and somewhat damp. "You need to get to your place, hurry!" he whispered. Her reply was a quick nod, and she scurried out into the muggy evening, the light fading quickly behind the dense, lush forest. She jumped when a loud, almost human howl of pain was carried on the warm, heavy breeze from the direction of Old Joe's house. Joe heard the agent in the bus stumbling to his feet at the sound, seeing his wide eyes stare through the dusty, mud splattered windows. "He must have touched the trailer again," Scully whispered. "I hope the warden made it back in." The sun was just beginning to hit the horizon when Scully heard the low, deep-throated growl of an animal, approaching from behind her. Burying her face in a sparse, soft patch of grass by her head, she tried to muffle the harsh, frightened gasps of her breathing. Neither she nor Joe could risk distracting the Bete Noire from its prey or their plan would fail. Nor could they chance that the monster would not have the wits to suspect a trap had been laid, should he realize that his intended victim was not alone. Hearing the shuffling steps move past her in a hunched, hurried sprint, Scully cautiously raised her head. The sight that greeted her was a horrific beast. The creature's thick, green-black hide glistened in the faint illumination. It looked as though a gel or resiny secretion covered its rough skin. The sight she caught of the Bete Noire's face as he paused, not more than a stone's throw from her place, to sniff the hot, sultry night air, made her turn away. There was something familiar about the monster's appearance. She had seen one of these somewhere before, but couldn't place the memory. The powerfully-built creature let out a guttural hissing sigh, seeming to finally catch the odor he'd been searching for --distinctly enough to pinpoint its exact location. The teeth that filled the lipless grin were at least two inches in length and so sharply pointed she wondered how they didn't rend the flesh that was stretched so tightly against them. It moved deliberately, if not quickly, toward Mulder's bus. Mulder found himself dozing, and the fear that he was losing his fight against his ever increasing weakness brought a sudden surge of adrenaline which allowed him to push himself up to sit. His insulated tire perch raised him enough that if he craned his neck he had a dark, dirty but almost 180-degree view of the area outside the bus. He saw the smooth, fluid movements of a dark blur rush toward him across the field and felt a burning, watery wave of terror. The walking nightmare had returned. Clawed feet scraped against the wet metal floor. The agent had noticed in the dim, rapidly fading light that his friends had somehow scraped off what little rubber had remained of the bus' center aisle so nothing but cool metal lay beneath the thin layer of water. Harsh pants of excitement echoed through the hollowed-out wreck, growing louder and more filled with a damp, lustful hunger, as the shadowy, fetid-smelling form drew closer. The agent closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain still, struggling against the instinct to bolt in the direction of the rear exit door; praying that everything his friends had set up worked as planned. His eyes popped open in stunned awe as he heard the animal sounds stop to be replaced by what could only be described as a triumphant chuckle. The sound came deep from within the beast's throat, and Mulder no longer thought of fleeing. He was frozen to the spot, his mind numbed along with the deadly paralysis of insane fear that grew greater each passing second as the fierce creature like those he and Scully had barely escaped in Antarctica, drew close. He could feel its breath against his skin, smell its stench, and the light scratch of a needlepoint claw traced a line across his neck, and once more, the agent closed his eyes. This was the ending of a nightmare that had plagued his slumber all too often. This was what would have come had he not always awakened to his own hoarse screams. It happened so quickly Mulder wasn't certain which had come first -- the acrid smell of ozone scented electricity, the low buzz of flowing current interspersed by quick snaps and pops as magnetos arced, or the ghostly touch of the creature's fingers against his neck. His lids slid open at the sudden burst of heat, and at seeing the bright flash of flame through a blood-filtered curtain. Bete Noire had burst into flames, the cremation fueled by something within the creature's unique body chemistry. Mulder fell back, almost toppling from his vulcanized cot, but hastily grabbed hold of the battered, vinyl-covered seat before he hit the deadly fluid conductor. The moving fireball thrashed madly about and Mulder flinched as singeing ash was thrown off by this wild dance of death, peppering him with a searing rain that instantly formed blisters every exposed place it landed. "Mulder!" Scully's voice called out a few minutes later, and he lifted his head from the huddled ball into which he'd curled for protection. The organic torch had fallen at last, and it cast harsh, bright light against the walls of the bus. He saw both his partner and old Joe standing at the now-opened emergency exit. "Come on, it's safe." Unfurling his long limbs, Mulder lurched to the doorway, almost toppling through when he swayed from his fevered weakness and the bone-deep weariness that was beginning to take hold now that the crisis was over. Scully didn't reach his chin and Joe was several inches shorter, but both helped him to the ground, their grasps feeling strong and protective. Allowing himself to be supported by them, an arm thrown across each pair of shoulders for balance, the survivors made their way back toward the metal Airstream trailer. Belinda and the warden had seen them coming, so they opened the door to let them know it wasn't still electrified. Jackson helped Joe and Scully get Mulder settled on the sofa. "Is it dead?" asked Belinda. Mulder nodded, and Joe replied, "We fried that sucker good! Burned him up and there was nothing left but green goo." The warden sighed in relief and said, "Thank God! Looks like you need a hospital. I'll take Joe's boat over to my office and call an ambulance. Joe, I'm sorry I didn't believe you guys." "That's OK, Chick. It was pretty unbelievable, I know. Just goes to show there's a lot about these swamps man hasn't learned yet." "The Bete Noire may be a longstanding legend," Mulder told them, "but that thing was not native to this area." "How do you reckon it got here?" asked the warden. "Somebody brought in another species from South America or somethin'? But I gotta say, I have never heard of anything quite like this." "Let's just say it seemed unearthly and leave it at that," Scully said, and gave Mulder a meaningful glance. The warden shrugged and left. After a few minutes, they heard Joe's boat engine start up. An hour or so later, an ambulance had pulled up at Joe's trailer. Mulder was lying on the couch quietly, the pain and fever dissuading him from any more talking. The paramedics took a look at the wounds and one of them whistled at the sight of the infection present. "Nice stitching job, but you should have got treatment several days ago when this happened." "He was wounded this morning," Scully told them. "The infection set in that quickly. And a wild creature had us trapped here and we couldn't get away until we killed it." The paramedic looked up in surprise. "Sounds like quite a story." His partner finished putting a clean bandage on Mulder's wounds, then they loaded him on the stretcher for transport. "I'm coming with you," Scully insisted. "I'm his doctor." The paramedics exchanged a glance and the one who had spoken earlier, shrugged and replied, "OK, as long as you know we gotta take our orders from the emergency room doc at the hospital." Scully nodded agreement and accompanied them out to the ambulance. Belinda followed them out as well, then reached down and squeezed Mulder's hand. "Sorry you got hurt, Mulder. I'll come check on you at the hospital later and then maybe when you get out we can have dinner." Mulder sighed and answered, after first looking at Scully, "Thanks, Belinda. I appreciate the offer, but that won't be necessary. Scully will take good care of me." Belinda nodded in disappointment and waved at Mulder as they loaded him in the ambulance. As the ambulance drove away, the warden, who had driven his Jeep and led the ambulance to the trailer, walked up to Belinda. "You know, I'd love to grab some dinner in town," he told her. "Gets kinda lonely out here sometimes." Belinda brightened up and seemed to notice the well-built warden for the first time. She also noted he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. "Why, Chick, that sounds wonderful! And I'll interview you all about our adventure." Old Joe smiled as Jackson and Belinda walked to the warden's Jeep. *************************** Epilogue Two days later Baptist Hospital-Orange Scully stuck her head in Mulder's hospital room to see him channel-surfing. He was still receiving antibiotics intravenously, but he was doing well and set to be discharged tomorrow evening. "What's the matter, can't find a ball game?" Mulder turned to see his partner standing in the doorway. "No," he sighed. "Just can't find a decent game in the middle of a weekday. What's up?" "Just checking in on you, making sure you're behaving." "Did you bring me anything to eat? Hospital food leaves a lot to be desired." "As a matter of fact, I did," Scully replied, holding up two Styrofoam containers. "Belinda said you loved the gumbo and boudin balls from Cody's, so I picked up an order of each." "Ahh, Scully, marry me!" Scully chuckled. "You can't afford me. Besides, you know very well that for you, the pursuit is 90 percent of the fun." Mulder patted the side of his bed and invited her to sit. Scully set the food down on the bedside table and sat down beside him. "You're saying the monster and I had something in common? You wound me, Scully." Scully seized on the opportunity to change the subject. "I made Belinda promise not to write this story up in the paper." "Why did you do that?" "Do you really want people swarming down here to these swamps, looking for monsters?" "I imagine the area would like the tourism money." "Yes, but the swamps aren't safe. How many people would get hurt looking for such a monster? And are we sure that is the only one?" "Good point. You know that was an alien, don't you? That thing is not native to these swamps. I saw them before -- hatching out of humans in the pods on that ship in Antarctica, and I saw one with Gibson in the nuclear power plant." Scully looked dubious. "Oh, c'mon Scully, surely you remember something?" She shook her head. "I think it was on that ship that crashed here years ago. Something happened to keep it from maturing into the gray aliens. I guess we'll never completely understand why." Scully picked up the Styrofoam cup, opened the gumbo and handed it to Mulder, hoping his hunger would take his mind off aliens. "Mmmmm," he said around a spoonful of chicken and sausage gumbo. "Scully, you should try some of this." He offered her a bite and she bent down and sipped some from the spoon he held. Some of it started to drip down her chin, but Mulder wiped it away, then caressed her cheek. He set the cup down with one hand, and with the other, drew her into a deep kiss. ******************* Journal of Belinda Gaudet I know this record will never be published, but it was written for other than my own eyes. A copy of these pages will find a home in a neatly labeled, filing cabinet drawer which is located in what I've been told is a too small, somewhat cluttered, basement office of the Hoover Building, home of the world renowned FBI. I'm rather proud of myself. My literary genius has been featured in Texas Monthly, Reader's Digest, The Orange Leader, both the National Enquirer and the Midnight Globe, and now my work is officially part of The X-Files. Mother would be so proud. I do feel I should add a note here, Agents. I'm hoping your little R & R was refreshing because there might just have to be a bit of follow-up on this case. At least I don't believe WE should deem this file officially closed. The French are the ones who started up the more commonly told legends, and, of course, we know now that gruesome, vicious, ogre-like monster from these fairy tales wasn't our monster. Did Bete Noire really venture out to raid the villages and snatch up the naughty children who ventured out after dark for mischief? Why else would a kid go out after sunset back then except to find mischief? There wasn't much else out there. I know this area didn't get a drive-in until the mid-1960s, and the first arcade didn't come until the disco era. Mischief was all I ever found after dark while I was growing up around here. I could show you a few of the spots to find it, Mulder -- that is, if the lady ever gets bored with this humdrum lifestyle you two share, and leaves. Still, as I said, this child-snatching ghoulie really doesn't seem to share the behavioral patterns that we saw and more modern tales attribute to the black beast. Perhaps it did feed on an unattended child or two that wandered down and got lost in whichever bayou he'd claimed as his lair at the time, but the lust for the hunt must have been more muted then, for a lost baby would hardly be the prey that would satisfy this mismatched animal/human-like instinct. I'm now convinced that what we dealt with was not of this world. I've done my research and found the records of the meteorite that crashed in the swamp. Did it carry some sort of eggs that later hatched? I guess we'll never know. **************** Deep in the cypress swamps along the Texas-Louisiana border A green-black head broke the surface of the water, red eyes looking around for a meal. The other had been the better hunter, but the other never returned from its foray into the soft ones' territory. Instinct told the creature not to make the same mistake -- but to stay far away and hidden.