The X-Files: Goblins

TWENTY

Scully decided her vacation hadn’t been nearly long enough, not by half. A Marville patrol car had picked them up minutes after they left the hospital, just about the time the rain had stopped. The driver, though polite, refused to answer any of Mulder’s questions.

“Talk to the chief,” was all he would say. It sounded to her as if Hawks’ equanimity at having the FBI in town was being sorely tested.

Now they sped toward town, and she couldn’t help feeling that everything was moving too fast. She needed time to think, and she wasn’t getting it. She was reacting, rather than acting; otherwise, she never would have taken Mulder’s leap from experimental camouflage to full-blown, controlled human chameleon, with no stops along the way.

It wasn’t like her; not at all.

She braced herself when the car momentarily lost traction on its way around a bend, and wished she had tried to get a hold of Webber instead. And when the driver said, “Sorry, ma’am” once he regained control, she almost snapped his head off.

Not like her at all.

Then Mulder folded his arms on the back of the seat and rested his chin on them. He said nothing, but she could feel him at her shoulder. Her eyes closed briefly at a flurry of leaves across the windshield.

“Mulder, I’m sorry about Carl.”

He grunted.

She realized then that that was part of her problem. She hadn’t liked Barelli; he was crude, too slick, and too full of himself. But for reasons she would never understand, he had also been Mulder’s friend, and she hadn’t said a single word of sympathy, of commiseration. The moment she had seen the reporter’s body, she had clicked into professional mode.

She hadn’t let the murder touch her.

It had obviously touched her friend.

“We have to get to Elly,” he said at last.

She agreed, and asked the driver to take them there instead of the station.

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I was told—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mulder said. “We’ll take the heat. You can tell him we pulled rank. FBI, pushy feds, stuff like that.”

For a second, Scully thought the man would flat out refuse. Then he grinned, shrugged, and: “Whatever you say, sir.”

“So punch it.”

“You got it.”

And it took all of Scully’s self-control not to grab the dashboard.

Traffic increased as Marville began, Saturday shoppers and wanderers taking their time to make the business district last as long as they could make it. The driver took a back-road, corner-cutting shortcut to avoid the main street, and pulled up smoothly in front of the apartment building.

“You want me to wait?” He sounded hopeful.

“Yes,” she told him as she opened the door.

He took the radio mike and called in: “Maddy, this is Spike. We’re at the Goblin Lady’s place. Maybe the chief should meet us here, huh?”

The radio hissed. “I’ll tell him. Watch your back.”

“You got it,” he said, and hooked the mike back on its cradle.

“That’s it?” Mulder asked, sounding disappointed.

“You mean, ten-four, that kind of stuff?” The driver shook his head. “The chief hates radio talk. He says it makes us sound too much like cop shows.” He laughed. “Besides, half the guys keep getting the numbers wrong anyway. Maddy knows what we’re saying, so…” He shrugged.

Scully was already outside, looking up at the bay window. The curtains were closed. She turned slowly as Mulder left the car, and clamped a hand hard against her chest.

“Mulder!”

Immediately she ran across the street without checking for traffic, heading straight for the small park and Elly Lang, sitting motionless on her bench. The old woman faced the empty ball field, bundled in a black coat, a black umbrella canted over her head.

She didn’t turn when Scully called her name.

No, she thought, leaping the curb and racing across the wet grass; damnit, no.

“Elly!”

She heard Mulder behind her, drifting to her right to come up on her flank.

“Elly!”

She grabbed the bench back and propelled herself around, damning herself for not thinking of this sooner.

If they were too late, she would personally rip Tonero’s medals off, one by one, and pin them back on his bare chest. One by one.

Suddenly a hand snapped out from beneath the umbrella, and she yelped as she jumped to one side when a stream of bright orange nearly caught her on the chest.

The old woman stared at her without blinking. “Oh. It’s you.” And she tucked the spray can back into her purse. “I must be getting slow.”

Scully didn’t know what to say, could only nod while she tried to catch her breath. “I thought—”

“Yes,” Elly said. “I can see that.” Her gaze shifted when Mulder came up beside her. “They won’t hurt me, you know. Never have. I figure they figure an old lady can’t do them much harm.”

“Ms. Lang,” Mulder said, “this one is different.”

Scully dropped onto the bench and gently pushed the umbrella to one side. “It’s killed at least three people that we know of, Ms. Lang. We think you could be in danger.”

Elly humphed. “You don’t know much about goblins, young lady.” She shook a bony finger in Scully’s face. “You should study more. You’re a smart girl. You should learn more. Goblins,” she said, “don’t kill anyone. Never have.”

Dana looked to Mulder for support, and he hunkered down in front of the old woman, one hand gently on her knee so he wouldn’t topple. “Ms. Lang, this one is sick.”

“They don’t get sick.”

He shook his head. “Not that kind of sick.” He tapped his temple. “This kind. It isn’t like the others. It’s…” He swallowed, and let his hand slide away. “It’s evil, Ms. Lang. I don’t know any other way to put it.”

Scully saw it then, the doubt and the birth of fear in the woman’s face. Suddenly she seemed two decades older. “You shouldn’t be sitting out here,” she said quietly. “You should be someplace warm. It’ll rain again soon.”

“The children,” Elly whispered.

“I don’t think they’ll be playing much today.”

She stood, sliding her hand along the woman’s coat until she grasped her hand. The fingers twitched, then curled around hers, and she pulled Elly slowly to her feet, the umbrella dropping forgotten to the ground.

Mulder retrieved it as Scully pointed to the cruiser. “See that man there? His name, if you can believe it, is Spike. I think I can talk him into staying with you for a while.”

Arm in arm they walked across the grass.

“Is he married?” Elly asked.

“I don’t think so.”

Mulder went ahead, keeping himself between the women and the driver as he spoke. Scully blessed him for that.

“He’s a nice boy,” Elly said, using her chin to point at Mulder.

“Yes. I know.”

In the middle of the street, Elly stopped, her lower lip trembling. “Is he right about this goblin?”

She nodded.

“I’m not ready to die yet, you know.”

Dana squeezed the woman’s arm. “I know. And you won’t.”

“Too mean, too cranky.”

Dana smiled, although the woman didn’t see her. “Well… I don’t think so.” She urged them forward again. “You’re just tough, that’s all. A good thing to be.”

“Are you?”

Scully didn’t know how to answer that one, and was saved from stumbling by Todd Hawks’ arrival. It didn’t take long to get Elly camped in her apartment, and not much longer than that, once they were outside again, to tell the chief they suspected that someone attached to, or working for, the Special Projects Office at Fort Dix was responsible for the murders. Someone, she added, who was extremely skilled at blending in.

“Disguises, you mean?” Hawks asked.

“You could say that.”

“A real expert, one of the best,” Mulder said, following her lead. Then he smiled so quickly she almost missed it. “You could say it gives a whole new meaning to the word wallflower.”

“Son of a bitch.” Hawks checked the sky as if daring the rain to add to his misery. “Damn, I don’t need this. I really don’t.” He shook his head and looked up at Elly’s apartment. The curtains were open; a lamp burned in the window. “If you don’t mind telling me, you got anyone in mind?”

He sounded neither bitter nor imposed upon; he only sounded as if he wanted this to be over, so his town could get back to what passed for normal.

“Because,” he added flatly, “what I’ve got is three goddamn corpses, and three families and some local politicians on my ass demanding explanations.” He looked at Mulder then, eyes narrowed. “And would you happen to know why, while I was poking around Vincent’s house this morning, a United States senator called my office?”

Oh, great, she thought; just great.

Though she could hear traffic in the distance, the neighborhood was quiet. A few lights on porches, in front windows; an old black dog trotting along the gutter; a large crow strutting across the ball field.

Like her, it seemed in a state of anticipation.

“Chief, can you patch Mulder through on your radio, to try to locate the rest of our team?”

“No problem,” he said with a wry smile. “They were on their way to the station when I left, trying to find you.”

When Mulder questioned her with a look, she shook her head slightly, waiting until Hawks was on the radio. “We’ve been sloppy,” she said, matter of fact, not a scolding. “The major’s ready to bolt, and all we’ve been able to do is run from one killing to another.”

“The restaurant,” he suggested.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Hank does his best thinking in front of a plate of pancakes.”

“Mulder,” she started, then waved herself silent. “Okay.”

Then she hurried inside to be sure Elly was all right, a concern quickly allayed when she saw Spike on the stool, cap in his lap, avidly listening to the old woman describing her lifelong hunt for goblins.

Neither noticed her in the doorway; neither noticed when she left.

Hank was at the curb when she reached the sidewalk, Mulder already in the car, waving her around the back to the other door. The chief stopped her at the rear bumper.

“You’ll let me know what I need to know?”

She promised, then swore when her shoulder bag slipped off and hit the ground. I have got to get control, she snapped at herself, and was grateful when Hawks crouched down to help her fetch her things. She had to kneel to grab a pen that had rolled beneath the car, only half-listening as Hawks made some lame jokes about a woman’s purse.

She leaned over, saw the pen, and reached for it.

And froze.

“You need help?”

She shook her head and backed out, the pen retrieved and in her pocket. Then, as he helped her to her feet, something about the license plate puzzled her, froze her again until she saw it.

“Listen, Agent Scully, if there’s something the matter—”

“No.” She waved off his offered hand. “No, thank you, I’m fine. I just thought of something, that’s all.” She knew he didn’t really believe her, but didn’t know the right question to ask. “Thanks,” she said, and slipped into the car.

As soon as she was settled, Andrews turned around to ask what next. As far as she was concerned, all they were doing was chasing their own tails, and widened her eyes when Scully said, “Exactly. That’s why we’re going to the restaurant, order a long lunch, and get things straight before we start tripping over ourselves.”

“And what about our goblin?” Mulder asked quietly.

“Our goblin,” she said, “won’t be out again until tonight.”