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Title:
Shell Game (1/1) Shell
Game Chancing
it, Frohike squinted a wary eye open.
Forever Yves, had her arm slung high across Jimmy's back.
He was still disconsolate, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nearly tenderly, she tugged on him to lead him off from the
untimely death scene. Through the wire-reinforced glass pane, 'Hike saw
her mouth, 'Come along now. There's
nothing we can do. The F.B.I.
and the C.D.C. must take over from here.' "I
can't believe they did that," the blubberer sobbed.
"They made the ultimate sacrifice to save us all."
His sobs threatened his ability to regain his breath.
"Th-they're heroes. Honest
to God heroes." When he
felt Yves' hand grip his shoulder, he battled to suck it in, but sucking
it in sucked. Slow
to nod, Yves replied, "Yes, Jimmy.
They always were. Forever
shall they be." "What
are we gonna do without 'em?" "Muddle
through somehow, I suppose." Her
tone was hollow, lacking animation as though she indicted herself having
spoken them. She glanced into
the cordoned off area, an unwilling eyewitness to the carnage then hung
her head, and walked them away. Once
Frohike was certain they had gone, he called over to the slumped figure
jammed up against the wall to his left, "Hey, Gilnitz,' wipe the
Pepto Bismol from your foamy mouth. Looks
like the overacting all of us did paid off.
They're gone." Spryly taking to his feet, 'Hike went over to
his pair of fallen comrades who had elected to 'die' side-by-side.
"It's cool, men. Rise
an' shine." Langly
loosened the ball-up of fabric his fist had clutched of the 'Ramones'
lettering before 'buying it.' Byers,
sitting up now too, was straightening his tie, his eyes still fixed with a
glassy stare, as though he were waking from an intense dream. A dream that had its start as a nightmare.
He glanced over to the body soaked in plentiful pink liquid. 'John
Gilnitz' was removing the bioluminescent gel pack from his chest, and
wagging his head at the compact, grinning conspirator with his perpetual
five o'clock shadow. "Well,
guys, welcome to my corner of the dark side.
Least now I'm gonna have company.
Takin' it on the lamb solo is the pits." "Mulder,
you can lose the mask now," the blond kibitzer bandied.
Not looking up from his chest, he began smoothing out his T-shirt,
being extra fastidious with the lettering as well as the iconic imagery
beneath. "That voice
gets creepier every time I hear it. Lose
the alterer too." Byers,
now standing, joined Frohike. "We
can't afford to linger." He
looked to the barrier, the one which Jimmy, in his desperation had tried
to pry, then raise. Langly,
who had nimbly sprung to his feet had gone over to it, peered through the
glass pane to see if they would have company soon. "Byers
is right. We stick around
here much longer, our con gets blown.
Fletcher remains the pain in our collective asses.
Wasted effort, and exposure Mulder risked, and didn't need."
In full surveillance mode, he flicked his long locks behind his
left shoulder and took another look.
"High time we book. Like
now." "Glad
to do it, boys. Do it a next
time, if it needs being done again."
Mulder had the other barrier raised to shoulder height, and raised
it several more inches. "This
way, boys. At the end of this
corridor there's a stairwell. We
take it, we get to the basement. One
door whose lock I had time to pick. I've
got a car parked in the parking lot of the Mickey Dee's, two blocks
down." While
the men hustled on the move, Mulder gleefully said, "All these years
you've helped me out of tight spots, and hooked me up with the
goods..." Momentarily anticipatory, the Gunmen slowed down, but their
friend insisted they keep moving. He
could run and gush gratitude at the same time.
"And we still won't be even.
Never will be. Both
Scully and I owe you so much. We
owe you our lives, and our baby's." The
former G-man pushed the door to the stairwell open and waited for his
friends to pour through, then he produced some baling-like wire from the
depths of his pants pocket, and closed off their escape.
At the bottom of the stairs, he shone a narrow-beamed flashlight at
the compromised door. "Skinner
has it all arranged." "The
funeral," Byers supplied, sounding knowing and better composed. "The
whole shebang. The caskets,
the twenty-one gun salute at Arlington--" "Wow--Arlington,
man?" Langly crowed, then whistled.
"Def pulling of some super tight strings." "Fitting
resting place for fallen heroes, boys, don't ya think?"
Mulder had the doorknob targeted, with Frohike glued to his side. "Mulder,
man," he croaked out, but suddenly was too overcome by emotions that
he had kept bottled up over the course of these more recent life-altering
events. "Come
on, 'Hike, you can fuss and mush all over me later," Mulder reminded
as he watched Byers and Langly go through the door. "Yeah,
Mulder. Later..."
As he made to move ahead of Mulder, Mulder pulled 'Hike to himself
hard, engulfing the warhorse in a crushing hug. "I've
arranged it so all the bases have been covered, Melvin.
Just a few more weeks, and it all changes for all of us,
forever." Holding 'Hike
away then, Mulder said, "Scully's looking forward to it, she can't
wait. And neither can
I." "Yeah,
man. We've done our homework
too." "And,
let's not forget Skinner too. He's
always been our man inside. Once
he does what he needs to, he has to decide whether he walks away, or
stays. I can't push him more
than I already have." Outside,
they heard Langly and Byers clamoring for them to, in Langly's words,
"Get the lead out." The
four of them ran all the way to the parking lot.
Once they were seated in the rented Toyota SUV, and the Gunmen had
caught their breaths, Langly asked, "Mind if I hop out and get
somethin' to eat before we hit the road?
It's way past my dinnertime. My
treat." Byers',
Mulder's and Frohike's eyeballs nearly dropped from their sockets.
There had been many 'firsts' tonight.
Their collective overload had been reached and surpassed when 'Hike
had pulled down the fire alarm, sealing their fates. "Wha'?"
Langly said somewhere between a whine and a decree, "I stashed a
little cash over the long haul. My
emergency food fund. I'm
feelin' generous. Okay, what
d'yall want?" They
watched him lope off to secure the fast food, ticking off their orders to
himself aloud. Mulder who was
in the driver's seat looked around at Byers and Frohike with a
self-satisfied grin ingratiating his face.
"I did good, huh?" "You
did good, and how," the pair of them unanimously agreed. "I
think it goes without saying, we love you, man," Frohike bestowed,
gripping Mulder's forearm which rested atop the driver's backrest. "Maybe
one day, far in the future, we'll be able to tell Yves--I mean Lois, and
Jimmy," Byers verbalized with an air of regret. "Yeah,
maybe," Frohike said tentatively, looking off to the MacDonald's and
then at his watch. "Golden
boy better get my order right, or I'll make him walk to Washington." "How'd
ya think you'll like the weather out there, guys?" Mulder cued. "Oh,
I don't know," Byers said, sounding speculative, "it can't be
any worse than D.C.'s humidity. We're
trading one species of precipitation for another." Langly
was coming back with their food. He
slid into the passenger seat and handed one of the two aromatic bags back
to his compatriots. "Let's
hit it, Mulder. If you
thought I was paranoid, before, dude.
You ain't seen nothin' yet." "Why?"
Mulder asked his internal radar piqued, starting the engine with Langly's
eyes threading back to the MacDonald's.
"Something hinkey happen in there?" "No.
I just got the heebie-geebies that's all.
Big-time, super-sized." Mulder
put the car in gear, as Langly spoke around bites of his mutant-looking
Big Mac, and some fries. "Man,
am I glad to be blowin' this phony, uptight, hypocritical town once and
for all. Fightin' the future can be done just as easily in a refitted
bunker in the woods outside of Spokane, as it can outta an old, drafty
basement in a warehouse." "Yeah,
I second that," Frohike chimed in.
He pulled out a super-sized fries for Byers and one for himself.
"Hey, man, you forgot our drinks," he barked at Langly. "Like
I'm gonna go back for 'em. We
can get something, someplace else." "I
don't know," Byers said, having second thoughts about what he'd
ordered, wrinkling his nose at the greasy sticks, as Mulder drove past the
Smithsonian. "I have
always felt very much at home here." After
the laughter issuing from throats that had been made raw from the
inhalation of too much pure benzole for tactical purposes ebbed, Mulder,
Frohike and Langly chorused, "Yeah, Byers, you would..." The
New Beginning... |