| Interstate 70 Colorado 1:15 P.M. She woke slowly, confused at her position compared to the dash. Without moving, she looked around the car. She was leaning against him--not unusual--and his jacket was over her. But the car wasn�t moving and it was then that she noticed that her head was pinned to his shoulder by his head. Ready to say something to wake him, she heard a single beep from the watch under her. His head rose and he briefly rubbed at his eyes before starting the car and pulling out onto the road. � Have you been doing that all day?� He appeared unphased by her abrupt awakening. � No. That was my first and only two-hour sleep break.� � What time is it?� � One-fifteen.� � Are you going to stop for lunch or are we going to be found dead because of starvation and sleep-deprivation?� � Check the back.� She looked and was treated to the sight of a brown McDonald�s bag and one of those paper cupholders with two drinks in it. � How long has this been sitting back here?� � Since eleven this morning. I thought I�d be able to make it until you woke up and then I could find a place to stop so we could eat. Dig in before it gets cold.� � I think it�s a little late for that.� She pulled the bag up to the front and then went back for the drinks. Surprisingly enough, the drinks were still cold and the food was still warm. Slightly more surprising was that he�d gotten exactly what she had wanted, though it wasn�t her usual. � How did you know this was what I wanted?� � I asked you.� He chuckled. � Did you know that you�re a lovely conversationalist when you�re asleep?� � I talk in my sleep?� � Only when you�re spoken to. Do you know how uncommon that is?� � What happened to �normal� being a superficial term?� � I didn�t say anything about normal. I just said it was uncommon, by which I mean even among people who are similar--but not normal--you stand out as one of a select few who can talk in your sleep as though you�re actually awake.� She gave him his drink and watched him switch into multi-tasking mode. In a normal situation she wouldn�t have possibly caused more trouble by giving him something else to distract him, but this was an emergency and they needed to get to Falcon as soon as possible. Then she looked out at the road. � Mulder, when are we going to replace the windshield?� � When this is over.� They stopped at Denver at her insistence and switched seats just before getting onto Interstate 25. He stayed awake for a while, but eventually fatigue won out and he slept. She drove the rest of the way to Falcon. Once at the house, she woke him and they went to speak to the man who was guessed to be the next victim. Surprisingly enough, he was cooperative. � I�ve heard about it. What do you want me to do?� � Nothing. Let us take care of it.� He turned to her. � You wait inside. I�ll sit out here. If I can�t stop it, you finish it.� � Where are you going to be?� � When hunting a bird, think like one.� And with that he disappeared up a large maple in the corner of the fenced yard. She shook her head and went inside. Kinnington Residence Falcon, Colorado 8:30 P.M. He watched the thing streak silently across the road and hop lightly over the six-foot fence. It paused and he took that time to drop to the ground, gun cocked and ready. � Freeze!� The bird turned to him and blinked as if surprised, then hissed. He watched in stunned amazement as it began to change shape. The wings became three-fingered hands and a large crest grew from its head. Smaller ridges appeared along its spine all the way to the end of its now reptilian tail. Taking advantage of his surprise, it rushed at him. He squeezed off a single shot, but the thing kept coming. Knocked to the ground, he wrestled with it as it scratched and pecked at his face. There was another shot from nearby and the thing tumbled into the fence with a pained squawk. He got up and stumbled toward the house, hardly able to see because of all the blood running over his eyes. � Mulder?!� � I�m okay,� he assured her. � Just some scratches.� Keeping one eye on the creature, she examined his face in the dim glow from the streetlight. � You should go to a hospital.� � I�m not going anywhere yet.� The thing pushed itself up and shook its head, then began to whimper. � Is it crying?� he asked. � Sounds like it.� She watched it stagger toward them and lifted her gun nervously. � Well one of us got it. It�s limping.� It suddenly tripped and sprawled floppily on the ground. Its original form returned and they saw the pattern identical to the feather they�d found in Montana. It was a rainbow pattern, spreading out color by color in a bull�s eye. She stepped over to it and knelt down to its head. It stared up at her fearfully, but didn�t attack. She put her hand on its head and pet it, watching it shrink away initially, then relax. It was like petting any regular bird; the tiny head feathers were soft and tickled her fingers. � We need to get this thing help, Scully. It�s hurt pretty bad.� She stared back at him, then realized what he meant. � Mulder, I operate on dead people. Not live ones and certainly not animals.� � Never too late to start.� � Then where do suggest I do this fruitless operation?� He turned. � Mr. Kinnington, may we borrow your kitchen table?� Two hours later, both bullets had been removed and the strangely quiet bird laid on its back, feet tucked against its stomach, and watched as the wounds were bandaged. Then, upon being set upright, it fluffed its feathers and retreated to a far corner of the room where it hunkered and stared at the two agents. � Your turn, Mulder.� Sighing, he sat in a chair and let her clean him up as she usually did. When she was done he was able to examine the bird more easily. � I was right. Nothing Audubon ever wrote about.� <--Division 3 Division 5--> |