I couldn’t believe it.  We’ve been spotted.  I tried to call the guys in on our transmitters, kind of like the ones on Star Trek.  I hear people running towards me and did what Frohike told me to do.  Jump over the fence and hide.  Leave.  Get out of harms way.  I did.

 I scrambled over the fence, tough to do in my dress shoes, and got my pants leg hung on the top.  I struggle a bit then hear a loud rip as my pants tear free.  I overbalance and fall hard to the ground, rolling down into the ditch full of weeds and what I hope is just rainwater.

 As I make the other side of the ditch, my heart falls and my gut freezes at the sound of gunfire behind me.  Part of me knows it isn’t me they are shooting at.  They’re shooting at the guys.  But I run into the dark woods just beyond, hoping that my three friends are okay.  I trip more than once on tree roots and the underbrush as I run on through, towards what I remember the guys said would be the meeting spot.  When I make it to the parked van on the other side of the green belt, no one is there.  I don’t even have a key.  It’s pitch black and I listen hard, trying to hear if I was alone.  I was.  I didn’t like it.  Where were the guys?  What had gone wrong?

 All I was allowed to know was that we were going to check out this company who was supposed to be eco-friendly but was experimenting on animals or something, using some sorta mind control drug they had run into a few years back.  The guys had left me here as point.  I thought it was going okay.  The guys are real smart.  I can’t even program a V.C.R. and they can break into the Franklin Mint and empty their vaults.  So, how come their plan went wrong?  Where are they?

 I had been waiting quietly by the van for almost ten minutes when I heard a noise coming out of the woods.  Um, what was our alert signal again?  I don’t remember what a giraffe sounds like, so I make a sound up, calling it three times.

 I hear someone sigh and then get the answering sound, a rabid raccoon getting hit by a truck.  Next time I’ll come up with something that sounds better for the guys to use as recognition signals.
 
 Grinning, I whisper loudly, “I was worried when I heard gun shots.  You guys alright?”

 “No.”  I hear Byers say, his voice sounded strange.  It wasn’t pleasant like usual and that word caused fear to sour my belly.

 “Were one of you-“ I start but cannot finish.

 “Jimmy, we have to get Frohike to the hospital, NOW!”  Byers said.

 It was dark, but I had been out here long enough for my eyes to get adjusted and now I could see that two people were supporting a third.

 “Frohike got shot?”  I say, panic fills me and I rush over, “Give me the keys.  I’ll drive!”

 “No way!  Don’t let him, please, Byers!”  Protests a voice I know and admire.  It momentarily warms my heart to hear Frohike sound like himself, until I realize how strained his voice is.  He is hurting.  How bad is it?  It can’t be that bad if he’s talking, right?  Right?

 “I’ll drive.  I got the keys.  Here,” Langly grabs my arm, “take Frohike and I’ll open up the van.”

 I do as Langly says and take Frohike into my arms.  I can support him by myself and lift him up cradling him in my arms so Byers doesn’t have to hold him anymore.  Frohike doesn’t even struggle against me, like he might under normal circumstances.  He lets me hold him.  God, I think, it’s bad.  I hold onto to him, afraid.

 The van door slides open and Langly ushers Frohike and me inside.  They close the door and turn on the ceiling light (it doesn’t light up when you open the door for some reason) and I get my first look at the damage.  I bite back a sob.  It’s bad!  His chest looks like Swiss cheese with and his shirt is soaked in his blood.  He can barely keep his eyes open and his head from rolling back.  I keep a hold of him, hugging him.

 “Frohike.  Frohike!”  I say his name over and over, hoping to keep his attention so he doesn’t leave.

 Langly fires up the van and hits the gas and we peel out of there, almost tipping the van over as he makes a fast, tight corner.  I jiggle Frohike slightly.

 “Come on, Buddy.  Come on, who am I?  Say my name.”  I say.

 “Royal Pain in the Ass.”  Frohike mumbles.  His eyes aren’t open and he tries to let his head sag back.

 “Close enough.”  I say.

 “Come on, Jimmy.”  Byers says to me, then to Frohike, “Come on, Frohike, hang in there.  Just eight minutes and we’ll be at a hospital.  Stay with us, okay?  We have that appointment with Scully tomorrow.  You don’t want to miss it, do you?”

 I have heard tales about the infamous Agent Scully and how Frohike favored her.  I have never met her and had been happy to have a chance to do so tomorrow, but I wanted Frohike to introduce her to me.

 I jiggle him slightly again, “Yeah.  Come on, Frohike, you have to introduce Scully to me.”
 There was no response.  I jiggle him again and panic grips me tighter.  I look up at Byers with a look of horror on my face.  Byers lunges forward and places a hand on Frohike’s neck.  He leaves it there for a moment, then another.

 “Langly!”  Byers yells, voice breaking.

 “Almost there!  Hold on!”  Langly yells back.

 “I don’t have a pulse!”  Byers is frantic.

 “Are we there yet?”  I holler and crush Frohike’s frighteningly still body closer to mine.  I don’t care that his blood is getting all over my sports jacket and white shirt.

 “GOD!  Just a moment!  Stupid stone age van!”  Langly curses.

 “This can’t be happening.”  I say over and over again, like it was a prayer, I rock Frohike back and forth in our chair as the van makes crazy, wild turns.

 Byers is quiet.  The computer glow lights up his face.  It has a look of barely contained anguish and I know that this is really bad.  I am afraid.

 When we had gotten to the hospital, we’d careened into the emergency driveway.  I had hauled Frohike out with Byers behind and Langly after him.  The doctors and nurses had taken Frohike from us and we were sent to the waiting room.  Byers had to fill out form after form for this and that and Langly called Mulder and Scully.  It hadn’t seemed like much time had passed, but enough did for us to have sunk into a pit of despair.  I wondered what was going on in Byers and Langly’s heads while we waited.  They were very quiet and the look of dread never left their faces.  I looked up to see a doctor coming towards us with blood smeared on his smock and with a look that didn’t look like it was full of good news.

 “I’m sorry.  Your friend was dead before you arrived.  We tried to resuscitate him, but the damage was too extensive.  I’m sorry.  You may go in and say your respects to him before we take him to the morgue, if you like.  Again, my sympathies.”

 I can’t believe it!  He can’t be gone!  I follow Byers and Langly silently down to the little room that was now completely empty.  Empty as in it just had Frohike’s body in it, not Frohike.  As I knew him, anyway.  A lump grew in my throat as I stared at his body.  He’d died in my arms.  I’d never been so close to death before.

 I don’t hear whatever it is that Byers and Langly say to the body of Frohike as I stare at the still, lifeless form.  When they back up to give me room to say goodbye, I step up and clasp his hand.  It feels funny.  Growing cold, slowly.  It doesn’t feel real.  If Frohike were alive he’d never let me hold his hand.  I grip it and find that tears fall from my eyes.

 “I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but I like to think that we were friends.  The guys, they love you and I don’t know how they will be after all of this.  I will try to do my best by them for you, okay?  I’ll try not to screw up.  I know how much you hated it when I did.  I’m sorry for putting the coffee filters through the paper shredder and all that other stuff.  I’ll do better because it’s what you would have wanted.  I’ll try to think before I act.  I… I don’t know what else to say…”

 I didn’t, so I left it at that.