XxXxXxXxXxX

Chapter Ten

XxXxXxXxXxX


At the gas station, Mulder jerked his car to a halt by a 
small group of curious onlookers.  Three squad cruisers 
already were already parked, zigzag fashion, in the cramped 
lot nearby.  "This is a waste of manpower," Mulder told 
Grenier as they exited the car.  "Quentin is long gone from 
here."

Grenier scowled. "Well, when we figure out where he is, we 
can direct everyone there."

"Hey!" Arkin waved them over to the mini market.  He stood 
next to a large man dressed in a faded Grateful Dead tee-
shirt that didn't quite cover his belly.  "This is Mike 
Weaver.  He's the one who sold Quentin the goods last night."

"You're sure this is the guy?" Mulder said, holding out one 
of Quentin's mug shots for clarification.

Weaver nodded.  "Yeah, that's him.  Only his hair is longer 
and darker now, kinda shaggy.  He came in around three-
thirty.  He filled his tank, bought some food, and paid in 
cash."

Arkin consulted his notes.  "He says Quentin was driving an 
old Buick, colored black or dark navy."

"It was dark," Weaver interjected.  "I couldn't see for 
sure."

"Did he say anything to you, anything that might tell us 
where he's staying or where he might be headed?"

"Sorry, no.  He didn't say a word.  Just handed me the cash 
and that's it."

"And you didn't get a look at the license plate?" Grenier 
asked.  "Even a partial would help."

"I didn't go outside at all," Weaver began. "But--"

"Damn," Grenier muttered.  "At least we have enough to make 
road blocks viable.  I'll get on that now."

"But we do have security cameras," Weaver finished.  Everyone 
stopped and looked at him.  "They were put in two years ago, 
after the place got held up three times in one month.  You 
might be able to get that license plate from the tapes."

XxXxXxX

Only the slight sway of the lone bulb overhead disturbed the 
dead air.  "You're making a mistake."  Even pinned under the 
barrel of her gun, Carl kept his yellow-rimmed eyes boring 
into hers.

"Shut up!"  Her arms still trembled, caught between the 
adrenaline rush and the leaden feel of the lactic acid.  She 
fought to keep them upright. "One more word, and I'll shoot 
you right here."

The side of Carl's mouth twitched but he held up his palms.  
Sweat dripped down his neck.  Scully tried to keep her 
slippery hands steady on the gun.  Perspiration glued strands 
of hair to her face, but she didn't dare let go long enough 
to clear her vision.

"Amelia?" she called sharply, her gaze darting from Carl to 
the woman lying prone behind him.  "Amelia, are you okay?" 
Amelia didn't move, and Scully's heart clenched.  "Amelia!"

Carl laughed.

"Shut the fuck up!"  Her gun wavered in the air between them.  
"Untie her."

His smile faded.  "No."

Scully cocked the gun and took a stumbling step forward.  "Do 
it now."

He clenched his big hands once, but then turned around slowly 
towards the bed.  Scully risked another step closer.  Carl 
gave the knots at Amelia's wrists a rough tug; Amelia did not 
respond.  

"I'll have to cut these loose.  The bitch pulled them tighter 
than a nun's pussy."

Scully swallowed.  "Get the tape off her mouth."

Carl yanked and the noisy rip tore through the cabin, but 
still Amelia showed no signs of life.  Scully glanced around 
the room for any way to call for help.  There was some sort 
of radio scanner set up the counter by the sink.  "Amelia?" 
she tried again.  "Amelia, talk to me."

"This bitch is gone."

Scully's finger quivered on the trigger.  He was little more 
than an arm's length away now.  Do it.  Do it.  The gun 
barrel wove from side to side as she tried to keep it 
centered on his chest.  "Let her go," she said aloud.

"I have to cut her," Carl repeated.  "I need my knife."

No way in hell she was giving him his knife.  She could see 
it sitting on the shelf with her shoes.  Edging the garden 
shears closer to him with her foot, she said, "Use these.  
And go slowly."

Carl scooped the shears as if in slow motion.  Scully's 
heartbeat tripled each second, the gun heavy in her hands.  
He leaned over Amelia once more.  

"Slowly," Scully repeated.

"You would have killed me already if you really wanted to," 
Carl said as he worked.  

Do it.  Do it.  No one would care.

I could hit Amelia.

Her vision blurred, and she squeezed her eyes shut once.  
"Shut up."

"I think you wanted our little get together as much as I did.  
I think you needed it."

Scully jerked the gun to the left and fired once through the 
wall.  Call flinched, fumbling the shears.  "The next one is 
through the back of your head," Scully told him.  

Carl turned, saw her eyes, and seemed to believe her.  He 
went back to the task of setting Amelia free.  A minute 
later, the ropes went slack.  Scully moved to her left so she 
could see Amelia's face and arms; Amelia did not appear to 
realize she was free.  Her bloody arms remained over her 
head, and her eyes were still closed.

"Shit," Scully muttered, tears of anguish and exhaustion 
threatening behind her lids.  "Amelia, I'm going to get help, 
okay?  I'm going to--"

She cried out as pain lanced through her arm, knocking the 
gun to the floor.  Carl swung at her again with the shears 
and tore into her shoulder.  She fell, gasping and reaching 
out for the gun.  "Oh, no, you don't," he snarled.  He 
tackling her and crushed her with a knee to the kidneys.  Her 
head swam as blackness encroached and receded.  Bile burned 
the back of her throat.

Choking, she squirmed as best she could, her fingers just 
brushing the steel edge of the gun.  Carl grabbed her forearm 
and twisted it behind her back.  He squeezed hard enough to 
press all the way to the bone.  "That was a very stupid thing 
you did," he said.

She felt the metal kiss of the shears against her cheek. "Now 
get up," he commanded, moving off of her and pulling her to 
her feet. Her lower back throbbed in time with her pounding 
heart.  "You God damned bitch.  You're going to pay big time 
for that little stunt."  He wrenched her arm tighter for 
emphasis.

Through the hot tears stinging her eyes, Scully could see 
Amelia still had not moved on the bed.  Carl followed her 
gaze and gave a low chuckle.

"Yeah.  Now that your little friend is gone, it will be just 
us.  Just like I planned."

Oh, God.  Her utter failure washed through her in a wave.  
Amelia was dead.  She was trapped.  No one had the slightest 
idea where she was.  In an hour, it would all be over.

"You're...you're wrong," she said, summoning the last of her 
strength.  The words scraped out through her parched throat.   
"Mulder knows.  He knows you're in the mountains again."

The Mulder card.  It had worked last time; she prayed he 
would fall for it again.

"Oh, shit on Mulder," Carl spat.  "I don't even want to talk 
about him."

"He knows," Scully repeated, trying to keep the desperation 
from her voice.  "He's probably got teams searching the 
mountains now."

Carl bent and picked up her gun from the floor.  "Even if 
that were true," he said as he cinched it into the waistband 
of his pants, "there are thousands of acres in the Angeles 
forest, and I assure you that we are very well hidden."  He 
used the shears to make a scissoring motion.  "We have plenty 
of time."

"You made that mistake once," Scully told him evenly.  "He 
found you then."

Carl snorted.  "And a hell of a lot of good it did him, huh?  
Let me explain something to you, Agent Dana Scully.  Mulder 
didn't catch me last time, and he won't catch me this time, 
either.  You know why?  Because I'm better than him.  I'm 
smarter than him.  Mulder just chases his tail every time, 
but I learn.  I get better and stronger."  He walked over to 
the radio that sat on the counter.  "See this baby?  It's my 
crystal ball.  I've got one here and one in my car, and they 
tells me all I need to know about Mulder."

He flipped it on, and it crackled to life.  A mix of voices 
and static filled the room.  "So you've tapped into the 
police scanners," Scully said.  "That doesn't mean you know 
everything."

"It told me you ran off last night.  It told me that they 
didn't know were you were."  He grinned.  "So don't bother to 
tell me that they're going to come pounding on my door at any 
moment, because I know better."

[All units be advised--]

"Mulder will find you when I want him to find you," Carl 
continued.

[-- FBI has issued an APB on Quentin's vehicle --]

Scully froze.  Carl turned towards the radio.

[Quentin is driving a black 1988 Buick Skylark, license Two, 
Paul, Mary, Ocean, One, Six, Three.  Vehicle is registered to 
Mr. Otis Unger, but is not believed to be stolen.  Repeat, 
that is license Two, Paul--]

Carl smashed his fist onto the counter, causing the radio to 
jump.  "Fuck!"

"Your car is by the road, isn't it?" Scully said. 

"Shut up!"

"And in these circumstances, they'll broadcast the 
description over TV and radio, too.  Any hiker could--"

"I said shut up!"  He hurled the shears at her head, but 
missed by several inches.

[If you see the vehicle, do not approach.  Radio for backup 
immediately.  Suspect is armed and extremely dangerous.]

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

Oh, please, Scully thought, let someone see the car.  Please.

Carl took her gun out from his pants.  "You," he said, 
pointing it at her.  "Get in there."  He started crowding her 
towards the tiny bathroom.  "In."

Scully walked backwards into the dark, foul-smelling room.  
Could he actually be leaving?

"Stay the fuck in there," he said.  "I'll be back."

The door slammed, and she could hear him dragging a chair 
across the wooden floor.  A moment later, he wedged the chair 
under the doorknob on the other side, effectively locking her 
in the narrow chamber.  

But then he left.

There were no windows, so Scully started pushing on the door 
immediately, rattling the knob and ramming the door with her 
one good shoulder.  The chair did not budge on the other 
side.  She tried kicking, pounding, throwing all her weight 
at it, but the door barely moved in its frame.  "Dammit," she 
said, shaking the knob once more.  "C'mon, open."

She heard a crash outside, a loud whacking sound just on the 
other side of the door.  The chair!  Scully turned the knob 
and pushed once more, and the door opened.

"Oh, my God," Scully breathed when she saw who was leaning on 
the overturned chair.  "Amelia."

"Help," she croaked.  "Can't stand."

Scully moved to her side, wrapping one arm around the other 
woman.  Amelia was heavy, and Scully's legs threatened to 
buckle beneath the weight.  "We've got to get out of here," 
Scully said.

Amelia nodded.  "Water," she said through swollen, chafed 
lips.  "Please."

"Yes, of course."  Scully helped her into the bathroom where 
they both took turns gulping handfuls of the cool water.  She 
set Amelia down on the toilet.  "Stay here.  I'm going to see 
if we can radio for help.  Then we're getting the hell out."

Amelia's eyes closed.  "I...can't walk."

In the shadows, Scully could barely make out the other 
woman's bloody feet.  "We'll deal with that when we have to," 
she said.  "Just rest for a second."

She left Amelia and ran to the radio, but even a cursory 
glance told her there was no way to use it to call for help.  
It was strictly a receiver.  "Okay, okay," she muttered, 
trying to gather her thoughts.  "Just get out."

She tried the front door, but Carl had locked it from the 
outside.  Dammit.  "Any luck?" Amelia said from the bathroom.

"I'm going to have to take the boards off a window."  She was 
already examining them for the most likely candidate.  "He 
left his knife and the shears, which might help."

"Mmmm...'sin axe."

"What?"

"Axe.  Unner the bed.  I saw."

Scully checked and found Amelia was right.  "No need for the 
windows, then.  I should be able to get right through the 
door."  She swung it over her head and attacked the door 
right at the knob.  It came off with one clean blow.  Her 
shoulder throbbed.

"How long do we have?"  Amelia's thin voice floated out to 
her between chops. 

"I'd say..."  She swung again.  "Half an hour.  Forty minutes 
at the most.  We're going to have to hurry."

Amelia didn't answer, and Scully feared she might have passed 
out again.  No time, no time, she thought, redoubling her 
efforts on the door.  She would haul Amelia out on her back 
if she needed. 

Her shoulder and back muscles screamed; she was still 
bleeding from where Carl had caught her with the shears.  
Sweat gathered at the base of her neck and ran down her 
spine, but Scully kept chopping.  She could see light coming 
through the door where the knob used to be.  "Almost there!" 
she called out to Amelia.  The axe was beginning to clank 
against the metal lock on the outside.

The effort of lifting the axe again and again made her dizzy, 
and her blows grew less accurate.  Wood chips splintered to 
the floor at her feet.  "Al...most," she panted to herself.  
Three more sharp whacks and the lock broke loose.  "Amelia!  
It's open!"  Scully let in the cool mountain breeze and 
dashed back to pick up Amelia.

"I don't know if this will work," Amelia whispered.  "I can't 
walk.  I'll just slow you down."

"I'm not leaving you here."  Scully held her up and began 
walking toward the door.  Amelia limped alongside her for a 
few painful steps, then faltered.  "Come on," Scully urged.  
"You can do it."

Tears leaked from Amelia's eyes.  "I'll never make it.  Not 
like this.  Maybe...maybe if I tried to put my shoes on..."

Scully hesitated, torn between the desire to help and the 
desire to get the fuck away from Carl's cabin.  "Okay," she 
said.  "Let's try that."

She set Amelia down on the bed and retrieved her sneakers 
from the shelf.  As she widened the laces to fit over 
Amelia's swollen feet, she kept one ear cocked for the sound 
of Carl's approaching steps.  Amelia hissed in pain as Scully 
slipped the first shoe on.  Up close, Scully saw for the 
first time how ragged the cuts were.  The area around 
Amelia's missing toe was infected.  No wonder she hurt.  

"All done," she said when she had managed to put both shoes 
on Amelia's feet.  

"Thanks," Amelia returned, her eyes still closed in pain.

"Now let's go." Scully helped her up and they made their way 
out of the cabin.  "Wait," Scully said at the door.  She left 
Amelia leaning against the door and too Carl's knife from the 
shelf.  "Just in case."

They set off in the opposite direction from Carl's car.

XxXxXxX

Mulder and Grenier stood in the hallway outside the Orange 
County forensics lab as the scientists inside turned their 
tools on their own building.  It didn't take long before a 
young man in a white coat told them what Mulder already 
feared:  Quentin's prints were all over the lab.

"Jesus Christ," said Grenier, then he kicked the door.  "How 
the hell did he get to her so quickly?"

"He probably followed her," Mulder answered.  "And don't 
forget that she wanted to be found."

A flash of anger spiked through his fear.  When had she 
decided on her suicide mission?  After she'd been in his bed, 
or had she come to fuck him one last time before heading off 
to die?  Because it wouldn't matter how mind-blowing the sex 
had been; having to identify her body in the woods somewhere 
would erase everything that had come before.

His phone rang.  "Yeah," he said, walking away from the crowd 
of people milling in the hall.

"Agent Mulder, it's Eugene Whitley.  I left a message on your 
voice mail earlier, but I wanted to make sure you got the 
numbers."

"Numbers?"

"You wanted the last numbers dialed from Scully's cell phone 
and the main forensics lab in Orange County."

"Oh, right.  And?"

"Well, her last call was to you, at seven fifty-six yesterday 
night.  The last call from the lab was to the FBI forensic 
science department in LA at five twenty-two this morning.  
You want that extension?"

"Please."  Mulder took the number, and when he was done with 
Whitley, he dialed anew.

"Pathology Lab, Ann Corvasce speaking."

"Dr. Corvasce, this is Fox Mulder.  I'm trying to find Agent 
Scully, and I have reason to believe she called this number 
very early this morning.  Did you happen to speak to her?"

"No, but one of my colleagues, Brad Gertram, did.  She wanted 
to know if we'd completed the analysis of the vegetation 
samples found in the desert and in the motel room where Agent 
Russell was abducted.  The funny thing is, she hung up before 
he could give her the results."

"And what are the results?"

"Good news, actually.  Very good news.  One of the samples 
turned out to be nut moss, which is common to many places in 
the American southwest, but the second sample found at both 
crime scenes is Eriogonum microthecum -- also known as 
Johnson's Buckwheat.  This plant is exclusive to California 
and extremely rare.  Plus, it grows only at elevations above 
8000 feet.  Find this plant, and you might have your killer.  
The folks at Berkeley faxed over a map that shows the 
locations where Johnson's Buckwheat is known to grow."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut.  At last, a break.  "I'd like 
to see that map," he said.

XxXxXxX

"That's it," Scully breathed as she half-walked, half dragged 
Amelia through the bramble.  She needed all her strength to 
hold the other woman up, so there was no way for her to brush 
aside the long, prickly branches that scratched their faces 
and caught in their hair.

"You...you think this is a...trail?" Amelia asked.

"Maybe an older one.  Looks like it's been overgrown for 
years."

"Great," Amelia said through gritted teeth.  "No one...to 
find us.  We're screwed."

"Just keep going."  Scully glanced over her shoulder.   The 
gigantic bushes and clusters of thin trees obscured their 
path, but she knew they were leaving plenty of bent branches 
and imprints in the dirt.  Carl would need only rudimentary 
tracking skills to find them.

"He knows," Amelia said, as if reading her thoughts.  "He 
knows by now we're gone."

"Maybe not."  Scully tried to convince herself with the lie.  
"He had to find somewhere new to hide the car.  That could 
take time.  We just have to keep moving."

They stumbled along the bumpy path, Amelia wincing with every 
step, until the vegetation thinned.  Tall grasses gave way to 
a large, rocky clearing.  "We can't go out there," Amelia 
said, leaning heavily on Scully's shoulder.  "We'd be open 
targets."

Scully struggled to remain upright as she surveyed the wide 
open terrain in front of them.  "We have no choice.  We can't 
go back."

Amelia's knees buckled, and she dragged both of them to the 
ground.  "Maybe you should go on ahead," she said, wiping the 
sweat from her brow.  "Stick me in the bushes somewhere and 
go for help."

Scully shook her head.  "Too risky.  We have no idea how far 
away help is."

"Dana, I can hardly walk at all.  You'll be much faster on 
your own."

"We're less than a mile from the cabin!"  Scully pushed 
herself to her feet.  "You can't stay here."

A sudden thrash from the bushes made Scully jump.  She 
reached for the knife she had tied to her pants.

"What the hell was that?" Amelia whispered, her lethargy 
gone.  Scully motioned for her to be quiet.  She crept back 
down the trail a few yards, careful not to let the backlash 
of branches give her away.  A pair of birds chattered down at 
her from a tree, but she saw no other sign of life.  
Suppressing a shiver, she hurried back to Amelia.  

"We're getting out of here.  Now."

"Is it him?  Did you see him?"

"No, but it's only a matter of time."  She grabbed Amelia's 
hands and tugged.  Wrapping her good arm around the other 
woman's shoulders, she started out of the thicket and towards 
the right.

"Wait."  Amelia resisted, her muscles tightening.

"We can't wait!"

"That way is up.  If we're going to find help, we should head 
down the mountain, don't you think?"

Scully took a deep breath.  "Yeah, okay.  Good point."  She 
reversed course and went towards the left.  Loose rocks 
skittered out from under them, making the steep walk even 
more slippery.  Scully rushed as fast as she dared.

The sun blazed in a cloudless sky, and there was little wind 
to bring relief.  Within half an hour, they were drenched in 
sweat.  Scully pushed forward amid vivid waking dreams of 
giant water bottles.  "Wait for a second," Amelia said, 
stopping to gulp for air.  "Just a second."

As they rested, Scully chanced a look behind them to see if 
Quentin was in sight.  She squinted at the bright horizon but 
saw no evidence that they were being followed.  Perhaps like 
last time, he had simply given up and disappeared again.

Amelia's fingers bit into her shoulder.  "How...how did he 
find you?" she asked.  "Mulder wanted you in protective 
custody."

"I guess you could say I found him."

"Dana..."

"Let's keep going.  Come on."

But Amelia didn't move.  "You let him do this?  You let him 
take you?"

Scully closed her eyes, fighting dizzying exhaustion.  "No 
one lets him do anything.  He takes living, breathing people 
and he uses them and then he throws them on the street like 
garbage.  So this time I decided to use him first."

Amelia stared at her for a long minute, then nodded.  "Thank 
you."

Scully pressed her lips together and eyed the rocky road 
behind them.  "Don't thank me yet.  He may still be coming 
after us."

"I almost hope he does," Amelia answered as they staggered 
onward.  "I'd like to take that knife and slit him from navel 
to nose."

"Well, then," Scully said.  "You understand why I came."

"But you didn't kill him.  You had the chance."

" I...I couldn't risk it.  He was standing in front of you. I 
couldn't risk hurting you."  She paused.  "Or the baby."

"Oh."

"I saw Mulder's notes," Scully explained.  "He mentioned that 
you're pregnant."

Amelia gave a faint smile.  "So he does take notes now?  
Maybe Wonderboy is getting old just like the rest of us.  Do 
you think...does Grenier know?"

"About the notes?" 

"About the baby.  About, um, about our baby."

"I don't know."

"It's just that I'm still hoping I get to tell him."  Amelia 
sounded close to tears again.  "That he doesn't find out some 
other way."

Like during the autopsy, Scully thought, and tightened her 
hold on Amelia.  "You'll get to tell him," she said in a 
fierce whisper.  "I promise."

Amelia sniffled and nodded.  "I know.  That's what I keep 
telling myself.  But thanks."  They stopped talking for a few 
minutes to navigate a particularly steep drop.  One wrong 
step would send them careening down into a dark canyon. 
"Look," Amelia said, pointing about a hundred yards farther 
down the mountain.  "It's a bridge."

"An old footbridge," Scully agreed.

"That must mean there are other humans around here 
someplace!"

"I don't know..."  They walked toward the bridge, and Scully 
saw that her fears were confirmed.  The bridge was only 
twenty feet or so across, but there were two foot boards 
missing, and the rope was partially frayed on one end.  "No 
one has used this bridge in years.  It might not even be 
stable."  She shook the closest rope as a test.

Amelia leaned against one of the posts, and Scully was glad 
for the respite.  Her back ached, and her shirt was soaked 
through with sweat.  "So you think we shouldn't cross?" 
Amelia asked.

Scully shielded her eyes from the sun and looked around the 
canyon.  "Well, it might be easier to get down on the other 
side.  And this rope seems like it might hold if we're--"

"Dana!"

Scully turned and followed Amelia's line of sight.  A lone 
man stood on a rocky ridge about three hundred yards away.  
Quentin. "Shit," Scully muttered.  "Let's go, quick." 

They started for the bridge when a deafening explosion echoed 
through the canyon, followed by a sharp splitting of the 
nearby rock.

"He's shooting at us!" Amelia hollered.

"It's my gun!  Come on, faster!"

The rickety bridge swayed like a boat as they crossed, the 
ropes stretched taut by their weight.  Scully kept her eyes 
forward and did not look down.  Another shot whizzed past 
them and cracked against the rock.  As they reached the other 
side, Scully could see Quentin slipping and sliding as he 
descended the mountain.  Amelia tried to push forward, in the 
direction of another cluster of trees.

"Dana, let's move!"

Scully walked her to a large boulder and set her down out of 
the line of fire.  "Wait here."

"Dana, what the hell are you doing?"

Scully ignored her and ran back to the bridge.  Carl was now 
only two hundred yards from where she stood.  Brandishing the 
knife, she started cutting through the thick ropes that held 
the bridge together.  Another bullet zinged past her head.

Grunting, she kept her head down and doubled her speed.  The 
first rope split in two.  She attacked the second one with 
equal vigor, and it, too, came apart in a matter of seconds.  

At least you keep a sharp knife, you sonofabitch, Scully 
thought as she started in on the third rope.  The line of 
boards across the canyon was starting to sag.  

"You goddamn bitches!"  She could hear him shouting now.  Her 
muscles burned with effort as she sliced back and forth 
through the weather-beaten rope.  At last it broke under her 
blade, and the boards clattered down against the side of the 
canyon.  Carl seethed.  "I'll kill you!  I'll kill you!"

Scully hurried back to Amelia and yanked her to her feet.  
"I've bought us some time. Let's go."

Carl's furious screams carried through the mountains as they 
disappeared into the trees.  "That was some quick thinking," 
Amelia panted.  "But what if there's another way across?"

"I didn't see one.  And maybe we can find help before then."

They raced through more thorny bushes, climbing over fallen 
trees and slipping down the loose, rocky path.  "Wait, stop," 
Amelia said weakly.  She sank to the ground.

Breathless, Scully braced her hands on her knees.  "Just for 
a minute."

Amelia shook her head.  "No, I can't.  I'm sorry.  I can't go 
any further right now."  She lay her head back in the tall 
grass.  "I feel like I'm going to black out at any second."

Scully reached for Amelia's wrist and felt her pulse.  Weak 
but fast.  "Okay," she said.  "I don't hear him screaming 
anymore.  We can rest for a while."

"No, you go."  Amelia's eyes were closed, her speech slurred.

"I am not leaving you.  We'll stay here for a bit and then 
move on."  She sat down next to Amelia and rested her sore 
back against a tree.  Gnats swarmed around her face, and she 
brushed them aside.

"You think they're looking for us here?"

"They're looking," Scully answered grimly.  "But probably not 
here."

"Mmm.  S'good idea you had with the bridge.  I think we may 
have lost him."

Scully couldn't believe it would be that easy, but she didn't 
hear any indication that Quentin had managed to cross the 
canyon.  They sat in silence for at least an hour.  Amelia 
dozed as insects hummed around them.  Scully felt her heart 
slow and some of the tension in her spine ease.  But her leg 
muscles tightened during her rest, and she thought it might 
be a good idea to stretch them before continuing down the 
mountain.

Just as she was about to stand, she heard a distant noise -- 
a rhythmic whacking sound that seemed to echo and repeat.  
She froze, listening more intently.

Amelia raised her head.  "What's that?"

Scully's stomach turned over and her throat seized in a 
series of quick convulsions.  "It's Quentin," she said.  
"He's chopping down a tree."

XxXxXxX

End Chapter Ten.  Continued in Chapter Eleven.

Yes, an evil place to leave off.  I know.  Carl made me do 
it. ;-)

Thanks to Alicia and bugs for beta help!

All feedback is welcome at syn_tax6@yahoo.com