"Manifest Destiny" 
by Kelida Flynn & Slippin' Mickeys

Part 6 

"I didn't kill all those people," he told her quietly when he saw Elspeth 
disappear into the brush. Richter did not attempt to gain her sympathy with 
sad, large eyes or with a slight tremble to his voice. Scully took a moment 
to look at him. He looked tired. Dark circles were carved under his eyes 
like charcoal crescents and too little sleep. Eyes which seemed to have grown
more gray and lifeless with each passing day. He seemed sincere, as did his 
confession to her which may have seemed to come too easily, perhaps even too 
convenient, but it both of them felt it was a necessary thing. Scully tilted 
her head to look at him, her lips pressed together, although 
not so tightly as to make a line, and waited for him to continue. 

He shook his head, downcasting his eyes. "But I didn't do anything to stop 
it." Richter cleared his throat, trying to find more confidence in his voice.
"I actually encouraged it. Helped out." He laughed, a strange, sarcastic-
toned laugh. "They gave me the credit for orchestrating it all, too. 'The 
Butcher of Antioch.'" He tasted the name for a moment and laughed curtly. 
"I was proud. Still am in a way." He stopped short, looked away from her. 

She kept her voice soft. "Then why are you telling me all of this then? Why 
don't you tell . . ." she hesitated, then spoke again. "Why is it bothering 
you so much?" 

"They killed my family, you know," he said as though she had not spoken. 
"Mother, wife, little boy. Mother blew her brains out when she found out 
about the colonists. Splattered all over the stained-glass windows. My wife, 
Dorothy--she was eight months pregnant with our son. We were gonna name him 
Daniel after my father." He pulled at his jaw, stopping a moment. "Dot lasted 
a week more. They wanted our baby for their hybridization project." Suddenly 
he seemed very far away. Scully placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull 
him back away from his memories. "Middle of the night they came after her. 
She tried to run . . . cracked her head when she fell. Died . . ." He grew 
silent and knelt to the ground. Grabbing a fistful of soil, he crumbled the 
clump to its smaller, finer grains. He flung it, some of the soil flying back
into his face. "Gone like that. You know what it's like losing a child you 
never got to know?" 

She grew somber and responded slowly. Sadly. "Yes, I do, actually." 

Richter didn't seem to be too surprised, or at least didn't show it. 
"Horrible feeling, isn't it?" He gave another, short, harsh laugh. 

"That's an understatement," she answered drily. "C'mon, Richter," she said 
after a brief silence, "we should start setting up camp for the night. It's 
getting dark and we really don't know this area." "You're right," he agreed
almost reluctantly. He stood up and began to walk over to gather some 
firewood. "I can build the fire if you want to start on a shelter." She 
nodded in compliance and began back to the car to search for possible 
supplies to use for bedding or cover. 

"Dana?" he called suddenly. 

She turned around. "Yes?" "I really thought what I did was for the best. 
From the information I've gathered, it seems like the hybrids are the 
important factor here. They are somehow the key aspect to the success of 
colonization. It was the right thing to do. I firmly believe that." 
She nodded. "If that's what you believe . . ." She walked off, a slight jab 
of pain radiating from her chest. I wish I knew what to tell him, she thought
as she left him standing, a look of helplessness on his face. Then again, 
she thought, I wish a lot of things. 

XxXxX 

Elspeth had returned with better than a few "supplies" that she had gone in 
search of. She came back in a teal-green mini-van loaded with food, blankets,
and other little necessities. "Not exactly the glamorous escape vehicle I 
was hoping for," she said wryly, hands on hips with a discerning look on her 
face as Scully looked through the stash, "but it works." 

It was a short and very silent meal that they sat through, a few carefully 
selected words here and there about the plans come morning but not much more 
than that. Scully spoke the most, the unacknowledged leader by fact of her 
skills and ability, but more so by default as the other two could not be 
asked to implicitly put their trust in the other. When she was not speaking 
though, Scully was observing. Richter, emotionally drained hung his head as 
he ate, a can of corned-beef hash, the sole object of his focus. Elspeth, 
sitting to Scully's right, seemed to be making a conscious, although a 
failing effort, to ignore Richter's existence. She would give quick glances 
in his direction when she thought no one was looking, a mixture of distrust, 
curiosity, and tentative sadness etched on her face. 

They slept in the van that night, leaving the last few embers of their 
dinner fire to die out on their own. The other two didn't take too long to 
fall asleep, or at least put up the front that they were. Scully made no 
attempt--she was wide awake. 

Propped up on the passenger side seat she concentrated on watching the 
remnants of the fire still alive with tiny firefly bursts of warm orange 
color. Shifting to make herself more comfortable, she turned to face the 
window and saw in it her reflection. She was surprised at what she saw. 
She looked terrible.  "What are we doing?" she muttered shaking her head 
slightly. Exactly what were they trying to accomplish, she thought. If 
there was a vaccine, why were they the ones to find it? Would there not 
be people who knew about it already? What would their purpose be? As 
important as the objective seem, it was beginning to feel like an empty 
purpose being pursued in vain. They would likely die in this venture, she 
imagined grimly. But, she thought again, there was Mulder. Scully signed 
and closed her eyes once more, trying to fight the demons and find a little 
peace in the darkened world of sleep. 

XxXxXxXxXxXxX 

They left at Dawn, Elspeth at the wheel of the mini-van. Richter handed 
Scully a map of the midwest and the Appalachian country that was mixed 
amongst the rest of their supplies. Their tank full, they drove on in 
silence watching as the scenery whipped by in a blur of autumn colors and 
a few stretches of nature still clinging onto summer. It seemed to Scully 
that many parts of the country still seemed untouched by the effects of 
colonization. There was a gracefulness and peace to many of the roads they 
drove on, though occasionally they would slow as they passed an area littered with burnt vehicles. Somehow everything seemed a starker shade of gray. 

"Awfully mournful, isn't it?" Elspeth said as she maneuvered around the 
corpses of the cars. 

"Like a cemetery," Richter muttered from the back of the car.  Scully 
turned immediately to look at Elspeth's response, and to her surprise, 
saw her bite her lip and suppress a retort. She wondered what 
was going on. Their tank started running low somewhere around mid-
Pennsylvania. After driving for a good 8 hours, they were all in need of 
stretching out their legs some. Elspeth pulled off into a ramp into a small 
town. Harmony, Pennsylvania, population 356. Somewhere in their minds, they 
all doubted that was true anymore. 

They pulled into the middle of the town which was never much to begin with 
anyway. Elspeth parked the van in the Bobby's Gas and Food and began pumping.
Scully headed inside to check for people, gun securely in hand. They 
weren't about to take any unnecessary risks. 

It was dark inside, so any doubts that the station was open for
business was immediately pushed aside. Inside was dusty, the register forced 
open and the cash long gone. "Like cash is any good now," Scully thought 
as she continued her scan of the building. She found it clear though, and 
went outside to tell the others.  

"The rest of the town looks deserted, too," Elspeth said as she screwed 
the knob back on the tank. "The town where I got the van looked like this 
too. Dead." She paused and walked out toward the sidewalk. "What really 
bothers me though, is that never did I once see 
any bodies. Not even a trace. I mean, if there had been suicides or if the 
colonists had maybe massacred the people, you would think that there would 
have been some sort of physical evidence. But nothing." She shook her head, 
clumps of her hair shaking in her face. "It's more than a little 
disconcerting, Dana." 

"Maybe they were burned to death . . ." "There would be bodies still...
charred, but bodies." Richter appeared out from inside the story, a bag 
of food gathered in his arms. He ducked into the car. 

Elspeth made a very visible gulp. "We should get going. Staying in one 
area too long isn't safe, regardless." 

Scully didn't hesitate. "Let's go." 

XxXxXxXxXxXxXx 

The drive was uneventful and quiet, and peaceful to say the least. Scully 
was now at the helm. It was getting late, but they were taking turns resting 
so they would not have to make any unnecessary stops. Elspeth rested in the 
back and Richter was riding shotgun. 

"We don't know too much about her," he brought up when it was around 1AM. 

"We're all basically strangers still," she replied. "But we can't really 
afford to be that distrustful of one another right now." 

"I . . . don't mean it that way. Not anymore." He rolled down his window 
slightly and took in some night air. It smelled of burnt leaves, though 
Scully couldn't fathom that anyone would be left to even care that the 
autumn leaves were piling up. "Shit, I don't know what . . . Oh my god." 
His words dropped like an anvil falling on her heart. 

"What is it?" But she saw it before he could answer her. Helicopters. 
Coming their way. No, she corrected herself. Swooping in their way, guns 
blazing. 

"Fuck!" Scully swerved the car around, tires squealing. Elspeth, sleeping 
in the back seat, was rudely awaken, her body slammed into the side of the 
door. There was a roar of explitives. 

"What are you doing, Dana?" Richter screamed over the roar of the helicopter 
blades. 

"No time to stop! They've seen us already. We have to get out of here!" 
She pressed hard against the accelerator and the van stuttered for a moment, 
then exploded with speed. 

Again, without her seatbelt on, Elspeth slammed into the back of Richter's 
chair. 

"Jesus Christ, what is this? The fucking Indianapolis 500?" 

"Close. We are in Indiana afterall." Scully gritted her teeth. "And you 
know what they say, 'When in Rome . . .'" She pressed the accelerator down 
again, the mini-van jerking back before it exploded forward again. The roar 
of the chase was inudating her ears. 

So much for peace and quiet. 

XxXxXxXxXx

Mulder stole a glance down at the water, hundreds of feet below. He 
cradled his right hand to his chest, and barely hung onto the cable 
with his left. The force of the wind had started the cable he was 
hanging from to gently sway in the wind. The backpack was beginning to 
feel more like an anvil hanging from his shoulders than the lightweight 
pouch that it really was, and his arm began to cramp. He began to 
calculate altitude, velocity, the probability of hitting part of the 
devastated roadway before hitting the water, and just what impact would 
do to a human body, when he felt a tugging at his waist. 

He looked up to see Invictus attaching a carabiner to his belt. 

"Hi there," the man said. He had managed to climb back down to Mulder's
level, all the while rigging a rope that Mulder had never seen to 
somewhereon the intact surface of the bridge, and now seemed to be 
attaching it to Mulder's newly issued Patagonia nylon belt. 

"Hold tight for *two* more seconds," he continued, smiling a little in
spite of the situation. "Let me just get a good knot on here, and you 
can let go."

Mulder grunted his understanding.

"Okay," Invictus said, patting Mulder's shoulder and beginning to climb up 
to the surface of the bridge "you can let go now." 

Mulder did, fell a few feet, and was wrenched up quickly by his 
trousers.

"Hoo!" he heard Invictus yelp from up above him, "gravity works!!"

Mulder started catching his breath back as he was being slowly inched 
upthe side of the wrecked highway. Before he knew it, he was being 
helped over the edge on to the remaining highway. 

He rolled onto his side, and glanced over at Invictus who was huffing 
and puffing, kneeling over the edge, contemplating just how they'd made 
it. He stole a glimpse at Mulder, and gestured over Mulder's head to 
the other side of the bridge. 

"Watch the side there. Hell of a drop."

Mulder rolled his head to look, and discovered they were on only a few
meters of asphalt. There was a large gap, held together by only cables
before the highway started up again, and the bridge continued south. He
looked the other way at the line of asphalt that ran north dotted by 
only a few cars, trucks, a state police cruiser, an occasional semi, 
and one school bus. 

Invictus began to wrap up the rope and said without looking up, "Looks 
like we're headed north."

He shoved himself up on his elbows and began to examine his right hand. 

"Yeah," he said absently, looking more closely at his shredded palm.
"Fuck." 

Invictus crawled up and stripped the pack off of his back and grabbed 
the first aid kit out of it. He made quick work of bandaging Mulder's 
hand up. Mulder thanked him, and unattached the carabiner from his 
belt. He tossed it at the older man.

"Thanks, MacGuyver."

Invictus smiled. "Anytime."

XxXxXxXxXxX

They had walked about a mile north on the bridge, and had another to go
before they reached the end, when Mulder grabbed Invictus' arm, and 
paused. They had passed the remains of some of the cars, and the school 
bus, some of them charred, some of them spared. He glanced back at the 
school bus, and took a breath.

"Shouldn't we start to be careful? I mean, they're sure to be 
patrolling the end of the bridge aren't they? We'll be sitting ducks 
just moseying up on land, like we're just out for a stroll."

Invictus seemed to consider it for a moment.

"Nope," he finally said, "they won't be patrolling. They probably won't
even be looking. For one thing, they still probably think we're still
somewhere in the water. For another, why *would* they be guarding this
bridge? I mean, its not as if someone is actually going to *cross* it."

Mulder licked his lips and started walking again. 

"Good point."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Invictus popped his head inside another shattered car window. 

"Nobody in this one either."

He turned back to Mulder as they continued walking north on the massive
structure.

"I wonder where they all are burned probably."

"Burned?" Mulder piped in, confused.

Invictus opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, closing it.

"It's probably not information that's relevant anymore. I'll spare you 
the details."

"But-" Mulder began.

"No," Invictus interrupted him, "let's just let's not."

Mulder nodded, not pressing the issue. They approached the police cruiser,
and Mulder took his turn looking inside. Again, they saw nothing. Neither 
a survivor, nor the remains of one. 

Instead of continuing on though, Invictus stood back and turned to Mulder.

"Pop the trunk."

Mulder did so and they rounded the car, looking in the trunk. 

"Jackpot," Invictus said, looking over the veritable cornucopia of 
hidden reserves they found there.

There were several shotguns, two handguns, blankets, two sets of 
protective armor, and a teddy bear.

Mulder immediately went for the shotguns, but Invictus grabbed his arm,
telling him to wait.

"Mulder," he said, "the only things we're going to be able to carry 
safely are the two sidearms, and maybe a blanket."

Mulder thought for a moment.

"You're right," he said, "the shotguns don't exactly impress 'incognito,' 
do they?"

"No," Invictus replied, "they don't. But you can take the teddy bear if 
you want it."

Mulder gave him a ill-humored grin and shoved the other gun into the pack, 
starting once again northward. His other gun was miraculously still tucked 
into his pants, as was the sheathed hunting knife and his compass. 

"So," Mulder said, strolling along the Huron side of the bridge on the
other side of the guard rail, "what now?"

"Well," began Invictus, but he wasn't allowed to finish what he was 
going to say, because as he opened his mouth to speak, a barrage of 
gunfire erupted, and peppered the railing four feet in front of them. 
Both of them hit the ground, sliding as far down along the rocky bank 
as they could get.

Another wave of bullets went flying above their heads and around them,
scattering rock and dirt in all directions.

Mulder threw a disgusted look at Invictus and shook his head a little.

"They won't be *patrolling* it, he said," he sneered at Invictus, "they
probably think we're still in the *water*, he said.  Why *would* they 
be guarding the bridge, he said. Fucking *perfect*." Another round of 
gunfire hit the railing above them, effectively cutting off any further
cursing on his part.

Invictus looked at Mulder under the arms he had thrown above his head.

"I'm detecting a little sarcasm." 

"I should fucking hope so," Mulder grumbled, "as I was saying before, *now* 
what??"

Invictus, keeping his head low, looked out over the water. His forehead
knitted together in thought. He pressed his lips together and continued
looking east.

"Now," he said, "we go to the Island."