Title: Tellus Mater (06/07)
(Sequel to Pater Familias)

Author: OneMillionAndNine

Feedback: kokotheuberchimp@hotmail.com

http://www.geocities.com/onemillionandnine/

See 01/07 for detailed headers. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't believe what Mom was going to do. What she 
wanted me to do. 

She was nuts, whoever she was.

She said there was a pregnant woman - no, she called her 
'the Subject' - who we were going to kidnap. Only she said 
'abduct.' She was very picky about the words she used, and 
she kept using that one - abduct. We were 'to abduct the 
Subject' then 'take possession of the Subject's offspring.'

The next day she added, "It may require impromptu surgery."
I must have looked at her funny or something, because she 
smirked at me and added, "Don't worry. I'll be handling 
anything difficult."

I was right about one thing. She did make me drive. "You 
don't look a day under 16," she said, and looked at me the 
way she used to look at Dad. It made my stomach hurt. 
"Where did my baby boy go?" she asked, and put her hand on 
my knee.

We spent of Halloween in a field in Virginia. She had me 
shoot pumpkins, then apples, 'til I couldn't hear or focus 
any more.

"If you're going to be watching my back, you are going to 
be prepared," she said.

It was kind of chilly, but not really cold. I was pretty 
tired and sweaty, but I made sure I cleaned Dad's old Glock 
before I tried to give it back to her.

Then she smiled at me. Really smiled. She didn't do that a 
lot. And then she said, "Keep it. Another candle or two on 
your cake, and we'll see how well you can really fill your 
father's shoes." 

When in doubt, say, "Yes, Ma'am."

She all of a sudden stepped away. "Don't forget - Alex 
Krycek was either a bastard or a fool everyday of his life, 
but never both at the same time."

I 'yes ma'am'-ed again, but slapped me anyway. 

I forgot to say, 'Thank You.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We were banking on him being able to find her. He was 
driven. He had to find her. HairBoy might be a lot of 
things but a quitter wasn't one of them. There were only 
two places Langly would go once he found her. 

He hadn't gone home to Nebraska, which had been my first 
bet. He had talked to his older brother Tom, though asked 
if he could use a hand around the farm, then called later 
and told him there had been a change of plans. I knew there 
was more Tom wasn't saying, but prying loose what little 
info we got was like pulling teeth. I've seen trained CIA 
spooks with looser lips.

Three days later, we were deep in the heart of Dixie.

Yeeha.

I could have called Mulder first, I guess. But, honestly,  
there are some things you just need to tell a guy in 
person. Like, you know, "Sorry we didn't tell you about 
your daughter, but by the time we figured she wasn't 
working for the bad guys, we were too attached to let her 
go," and "The jailbait you've been playing naked hide-and-
geek with was built to produce indestructible killing 
machines, so I hope to God you've been wearing a raincoat, 
Buddy."

It was safer to surprise Mulder than Scully any day, so we 
figured the school was the obvious place to start. We 
pulled up across the street from 'The Home of the Oracles,' 
and realized we had only one problem - we had no idea where 
to find him. He was a coach, right? So, maybe the gym. 

We walked around the perimeter of the school looking for 
the rear entrance. There was a guy leaning up against the 
wall, right under the NO SMOKING ON SCHOOL GROUNDS sign, 
lighting up.

He had the build and the presence of a silver-back mountain 
gorilla and he looked at us like he might charge at any 
minute. With his tie and khakis and ink stained shirt 
pocket, he had to be a teacher, but his aura was pure thug.

"Hey!" I decided that a frontal assault was our best bet. 
"maybe you can help us out? We're looking for Martin 
Levine."

He raised his eyebrows. "And you would be?"

"I'm John Meyers." Byers reached out and shook his hand.
"Martin is my brother-in-law."

"You work here?" I asked.

"You know, I stare at my paycheck and wonder that myself." 
He took a drag. "I'd take you to Marty myself, but I'm 
teaching right now." He took another puff of his cigarette. 
"Actually" he stroked the blond van dyke that would have 
been fashionable ten years ago and squinted one eye at us 
"it's Marty's knuckleheads I'm teaching."

"Oh?" Byers asked brightly.

"Yeah, the basketball team." He snorted. "So there I was, 
trying to explain some basic physics to these yahoos, and-"

I couldn't help myself. "Why?"

"I'm a physics teacher - the name's Swan, by the way, 
Robert Swan, call me Rob - anyway, I don't know shit about 
basketball. They wear shorts in the winter and they make a 
loud thumping sound that can be heard in my classroom even 
with the door closed. That is the extent of my knowledge of 
basketball. Oh, and the ball is orange." 

"Three for three," Byers agreed. 

"So I figured I'd discuss physics as it applies to throwing 
a ball. That's a jock thing right? Throwing a ball? I mean, 
my trainer has me on a heavy schedule of naps balanced by 
hours in front of the computer.  So I tried to explain the 
physics involved. I'd never seen anyone go to sleep 
standing up before," he drawled.

"Can't say that I'm too surprised," I muttered.

"I started explaining how curiosity about the simplest 
things can lead to huge scientific breakthroughs. For 
example, Richard Feynman's wobbling plate and..."

"...how the work it inspired eventually earned him the 
Nobel prize in physics." Byers broke in.

"Yeah.  I might as well have spent twenty minutes going 
like this." Swan put his finger in between his lips and 
made a cartoon noise something like 
"Buudeeebuuudddeeeebuuubrrrrrrdeeeeebrrruuuuudddeeee" that 
I had never seen a grown man make before, especially a 
grown man who looked like he could pull your liver out 
through your nose.

I couldn't help myself. I started laughing. Rob the 
Silverback made a low cough like chuckle in the back of his 
throat. Byers let out a surprised guffaw.

This Rob guy was okay.

"No tellin'," he lit another cigarette, "when Marty's going 
to be done. He's up in his office with Vern and Dre."

I was about to ask what that meant when he cleared his 
throat.

"The sheriff and the baseball coach. They're okay guys. 
Well, not dumbasses, anyway."

"May I ask where Martin's office is located?" Byers asked.

He pointed with his cigarette at the cupola, complete with 
stained glass windows, on top of the building.

"What are those images on the windows?" It was sunny and 
Byers squinted up at the dome.

He spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. "Some dead 
Greek guys who were wrong about, well, pretty much 
everything." 

"Can't argue with you there, Rob." Byers looked a little 
scandalized, but the guy had a point.

He threw his butt on the ground and opened the door to the 
gym. "Well, I guess I better go corrupt the youth of 
Athens."

"Mind if we. . .?" I pointed inside.

He shrugged. "Sure. And tell George 'hey' when you see him, 
for me." 

"We'll do that."  I tried not to let on I had no idea who 
the hell George was.

*****

We climbed up the final flight of tiny steps into a room 
that was no way meant for five people and a purple ditto 
machine.  And yet, once we entered, along with a ton of 
book and another ton of boxes, that's exactly what it 
contained. Guess Mulder was just fated to spend his working 
life in storage. 

The first thing Mulder did when I opened the door was 
blink. Then he tackled me.

"Melvin! What took you so long?"

I hadn't seen the guy in 6 years, but he looked the same. 
His dyed grey hair looked just as fake as it did the day 
Langly colored it in our bathroom. He was a little puffier 
around the mouth and jaw, a little more lined around the 
eyes, but even with that, he looked healthy, rested, 
younger than his driver's license said he was.

"Hey," I floundered. I didn't know what to call the guy.

"John," he slapped his arms around Byers.

A husky black guy in a Smokey-the-Bear hat and another in 
sweat suit looked us up and down like we had just appeared 
out of nowhere. Which, come to think of it, we had.

"John, Melvin, meet Vernon and Andre."

Byers extended his hand past me. "Pleased to meet you. I'm 
John Myers. I'm Laura's brother. She's my sister." He 
sounded like he didn't even believe it himself.

Mulder shot me  what could only be called a wry look, while 
Vernon and Andre peered at me expectantly. Hell, if I knew 
what to say. I extended my hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm 
Melvin F--" I stared at the colored windows, considering 
whether a leap would actually kill me. "Melvin Fenster. 
John's friend."

Mulder cleared his throat. "Friend and long-time 
companion," he added, knowingly.  

That asshole.

The two guys nodded at me. One coughed. No doubt with some 
really unsavory images of Byers and me in their heads, 
courtesy of Mulder. Fucking lovely.

I considered shooting him a dirty look.  Then I considered 
shooting him, period.  But we had to maintain cover, so I 
just looked at everyone's shoes and made a mental note to 
get good and even with the bastard later. 

Now, to business. I wanted to ask him if he'd seen Thea 
lately, but if he hadn't, if he had no idea who the hell 
Thea was, I didn't want to have to explain it in front of 
an audience. "So, Marty," I asked casually, straightening 
my vest, "you seen Ringo around these parts?"

Mulder frowned picking up a stack of papers. "Oh yeah. I 
get a good look at him on a regular basis these days. Give 
me half an hour and you can see him for yourselves, such as 
he is." He handed me a sack of papers.  "Hey Melvin, you 
know how to run a ditto machine?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mulder stopped earlier than I expected, just few blocks 
past the school, on Hippolyte Avenue, in front of a 
fleshly-painted oyster grey two story with white trim. In 
the drive way, I saw the weirdest shit I've seen in my life 
- looked like some guy was putting one of Langly's ethanol 
engines in a late-model acid-green minivan. As we got 
closer, I noticed his head was turned at a really familiar 
angle. I recognized him. Before I knew what I was doing, I 
was running up the walk.

His hair was all but buzzed and he was wearing a pair of 
Ben Franklin type glasses. He had on what looked to me like 
they were probably Mulder's clothes - white t-shirt and 
khaki pants - all the right length, but a little loose.  

"Langly?"

It was him all right, and it looked like he'd found. . .

Oh shit. 

She was sitting on the front porch steps. She was so 
pregnant she looked like a freaking weather balloon. She 
waved.

Well, that answered that question.

I hadn't seen the guy in two months, and the first word out 
of his mouth when he saw me was, "Triplets," followed by 
that smirk, that 'The-Pentagon-JPL-and-Queen's-Bank-of-
Georgetown-Cayman Islands-I-hacked-them-all-inside-of-
nineteen-minutes' smirk.  You'd have thought the guy 
invented knocking up teenaged girls, or something. 

Bet he accomplished that inside of nineteen minutes, too.  

He walked over to Thea and threw his arm around her 
shoulder. 

Way under nineteen minutes.

Thea held up three fingers on one hand, and rubbed her 
belly in some kind of Thea-style invitation with the other. 

It was a weird second there, but Byers and I couldn't help 
it. We stood there like a couple of morons, touching her 
belly. Sure felt like triplets to me. 

Langly kept a hold of her like she needed his protection. I 
guess it was normal but it sure hurt.

Mulder cleared his throat behind me.

Byers shocked the hell out of me, out of all of us, 
probably,
by leaning over and giving Thea a quick kiss on the cheek.  
"Thea," he signed, "we've been so worried."

"Don't blame Ritchie, okay?" she signed, glancing back and 
forth between the two of us. The sunlight glinted off what 
looked like a pink gold ring on her left hand, which, big 
surprise, appeared to match the one Langly was 
twisting on his own finger.  

Yeah, Buddy, I saw them. I thought about saying it out 
loud, but I didn't. 

Jesus. House, hair cut, minivan, kids; she was swell kid, a 
great girl, but she might as well have put that ring 
through Goldilock's nose.

"They aren't here to blame anyone for anything, Thea," 
Mulder signed. "They are your friends, and they've come to 
visit."

Thea nodded, but looked skeptical. 

Langly swallowed. "Well, don't just stand there bringing 
down the property values, guys." Never letting go of Thea 
once, Langly ushered us inside. 

A dozen computers, an air conditioner, and couple of
toasters had their guts strewn across the ugliest blue
chintz sofa and matching love seat I'd seen in my life. The
décor was Early Death Star Construction Zone meets
Midwestern Seventies Frump.

As soon as Mulder left, pleading his duty to educate the 
future voters of limestone county, the four of us squared 
off around their too-new kitchen table. It was too big 
table for the tiny kitchen and really belonged in a dining 
room, only their dining room was full of stacked boxes and 
spare parts.

We were quiet for a while. Thea was the first one to say 
something, not literally, but you know what I mean - she 
was the one to break the ice. 

"It would mean a lot," she signed, then stopped.  She 
drew some Japanese character across the table top with her 
finger, the way she did when she was nervous, but, as 
usual, her expression stayed pretty flat. "Mean a lot if 
you were happy for us." 

What the hell could I say to that? 

Byers saved me the trouble.  He smiled like he was about to 
vomit, and said, "Believe me when I tell you both," he 
looked Langly in the eye for the first time since we'd 
arrived, "I don't want anything for you and your children 
but all the joy in the world."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We drove around town for a while the night we arrived. I 
didn't know what mom was looking for, but I could tell she 
was looking for something.  I knew better than to ask. 

Delphi was like, like a toy town, the kind you see in the 
windows of those touristy stores sometimes, with trains and 
trees and stuff. All clean and tidy. Hardly any people on 
the street. Really fake. 

We drove by a Dairy Queen and mom asked if I was hungry. I 
could smell hamburgers and fries and grease and I hoped my 
stomach wouldn't rumble, because that always pissed her 
off. "Yes, ma'am," I answered. She was going to stop for 
hamburgers, maybe even cheeseburgers. "Thank you, I am 
hungry." 

She made me eat a peanut butter sandwich from the cooler. 

Dad was right; she was a bitch.

I was getting more and more scared.

We passed a school after driving around for hours. There 
was a big sign in front of it that said, "Home of the 
Oracles: Four Years Undefeated and Counting!"

Weird name for a team. 

I remembered a story then that Dad told me.  From Greek 
mythology, he said. Fortune tellers, sort of. 

I wondered if there were any real oracles in this Delphi. 
Maybe they could tell me what to do. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I don't know who we all thought we were, kidding trying to 
go to bed at 10. In the years I've known him, Langly has 
gone to bed before 3 a.m. maybe six times. Not even Byers 
goes to bed before 12. We were all full of shit.

By 10:45, we were all back downstairs, watching Mystery 
Science Theatre 3000. Byers made coffee.

It was kind of weird seeing Langly and Thea together like 
that. The kid was curled up on the love seat with her head 
in Langly's lap. His hands kept going to her hair. I think 
it made Byers uncomfortable, but hey, they had the 
right. They were Mr. And Mrs. George Froyers, after all. 

Half-way through 'The Prince of Space,' Thea sat up, 
rubbing her face on her paramour's arm like a cat or 
something. She scratched the bridge of her nose. "You 
people want something to eat?" 

Langly looked at her like he was about to say something, 
but wound up just frowning.

"Get a grip, Sweetpants," she signed. "I won't turn on the 
stove. I'm strictly talking hunting and gathering." She 
stretched just enough to kiss his ear lobe. He turned and 
I'll be damned if he didn't sink his own face into her 
neck, like we weren't even there.

"Just some more coffee, 'kay? If it's not too much. You've 
gotta be tired." He was looking up at her through his 
eyelashes, flirting and had his hand on her knee.

Damn. I'd never seen him do anything like that before. 

"I'm hungry." She grinned back at him, all dimples and 
arched eyebrows, "Besides, laying down too long gives me 
heart burn." She stuck out her tongue and made a face meant 
to indicate the desire to vomit. "Guys? Want something? A 
sandwich?"

In two years living with us, the kid had never offered to 
bring me so much as an olive much less a whole sandwich. It 
was hinky. 

"Ummmmm. . ." I mumbled and I looked at her. It was weird 
trying to get back into the groove of signing again.  "No 
thanks, Sweetheart," I finally got my fingers to reply. 

Byers just shook his head. 

Langly had to help her off the couch. It had to be getting 
close to time. She couldn't get much bigger without 
actually exploding, could she?

I had to know. "So what's up with that? The Hostess Barbie 
routine?"

Langly shook his head and shrugged. "Scully's a bad 
influence."

"Don't let Mulder hear you say that," Byers replied. 

"If you ask me, it's time one of you knuckleheads learned 
some manners," I said. 

"No one asked you," Langly muttered, but it was good- 
natured. 

"Um, Richard," Byers began, then, "Ah, Ringo, we have to, 
to discuss something with you."

Man, I found myself having to decide between ducking to 
avoid the collateral damage and sitting up straighter to 
get a better view. I went with sitting up straighter, but 
moved further away from Byers on the couch.

"Discuss what?" Langly asked and from his tone I could tell 
he was ready for a fight.  

Byers went on. "I hope you 're aware of how fortunate you 
are."

Well, that wasn't a  bad opening. I was even on board with 
the sentiment.

"Yeah, Goldilocks, you're one lucky son of a bitch. Looks 
like you got it made."

"Yeah," he said, concentrating on the badly dubbed Japanese 
on the screen, or trying to look like he was, anyway. 

"You know, kid, if you screw this up, me and Byers'll be 
down here to kick your ass post-haste." Byers nodded before 
I was even finished saying it.

Langly snorted. "Yeah, well, you'll have to get in line." 
His eyes never left the TV. 

"It's been kind of quiet around without you, Buddy." I 
meant it, too.  

"Well," he swallowed and cleared his throat in a choked up 
sort of way, "I admit having to eat my own cooking does 
blow goats."

"She ever give it a shot?" I asked him.

His lip curled like I was nuts just for asking.

I didn't know how to tell him what we'd come here to say. I 
looked at Byers. He was in worse shape than I was. Since 
we'd gotten there, the only thing he'd made eye contact 
with was Thea's belly. 

"Look, Langly. . . " I started, but I froze.  

Without turning his head, his eyes turned to me. 

I blew it. I couldn't say it. I looked around the room. 
"Byers, a little help, please."

Byers gave me one of those 'if looks could kill, you'd be 
dead' look, but sat up straighter.  He breath out heavily, 
then began. "There is a chance your children are going to 
be, to be, that is, they will probably be, um very 
special."  He said it in that earnest John Byers way that 
would sound insincere coming from anyone else.

"Those might be some pretty special buns you put in 
TankGirl's oven." I worked on not losing my nerve now that 
I'd found it. 

Langly just gave us that smug, superior look of his.  "Old 
news, Dudes. The Artist Formerly Known as GMan Spooks 
already clued me in about the souped-up genes."

All of a sudden Byers looked really young. "I don't think 
Mulder or Scully is aware of the information we have 
received."

"We thought we ought to tell you first." I sounded lame. 

Langly's voice was soft. "Just say it. Whatever the fuck it 
is, spit it out." 

"You remember the Kid's story about the warehouse fire on 
the day they took her out of her little Zeus Genetics 
aquarium? You ever wonder why that happened? Who'd want to 
do that? Why? We know."

"We think we know," Byers cut in. He was looking at the 
kitchen doorway the whole time. 

I was starting to get pissed at Byers. "Our sources are 
good. Turns out the little woman was part of unauthorized 
side project of the Smoker's. A side project, to invent a 
method for producing SuperSoldiers outside the lab."

Langly looked confused. "What?" he said and signed at the 
same time.  I realized he'd been doing that all along - 
speaking and signing at the same time. 

"The other conspirators apparently felt the entire idea 
was, well, ill-advised, and attempted to destroy the 
research being done." Byers explained, finally tearing his 
eyes from the door. "Only two of the experimental models 
were saved from the fire. Thea and Rhea. We don't know what 
became of Rhea."

"Thea's not a SuperSoldier," Langly huffed.

"We know that, genius. But there's - well, there's a good 
shot those kids of yours are."

"No - uh uh, no way you are full of shit..." Langly ranted 
quietly, his hands moving agitatedly at the same time. 
"Who's this fucking source? Who sold you this load of 
crap?"

"Yves," Byers said quietly.

"Fucking Yves?" Langly snorted. "You morons. You can't 
believe half of what she says. For fuck sake, we don't even 
know her real name. Fuck that shit." His knees were 
bouncing and he had started cracking his knuckles. I knew 
the guy well enough to know any second he was going to 
start tearing around the room. "No fucking way."

"There are some things about Yves you don't know," I tried 
to tell him.

"Yeah I think I just said that."

I was glad Thea couldn't hear us, because we were all 
yelling. "Langly, shut the fuck up a minute. Yves is a 
praetorian. Not a custom job like your little honey muffin 
in there, but she's still one of them.  Like Betty 
Roguebull."

"Made for the same purpose," Byers broke in. "Made from the 
same basic materials." 
  
"Mulder's same basic materials, if you catch my drift." I 
didn't even remember getting up, but I was standing over 
him "She's her sister, half-sister, whatever.  Yves knows 
Thea is in danger, and she had no choice - and I mean no 
choice, Langly - she came to us out of concern. None of the 
splinter groups are even aware The Kid escaped the fire."

"Spender was able to cover up exceptionally well." Byers 
added. "According to Yves' information, Krycek was the one 
who broke the tanks and saved her life."

"Saved his employer's property, is more like it." I brought 
my voice down. "Rumor has it Krycek is dead, dead for real 
this time, and his old partner is looking for Thea. . ."

"It seems Marita Covarrubias is of the opinion that a 
matched set of loyal SuperSoldiers would be...desirable," 
Byers continued to spell it out for him.

Langly was quiet a long moment, glaring and Byers and me, 
but I could see he was trying to think it all through. "It 
doesn't even makes sense, guys. How would Martia even know 
Thea was, um, ..." He hesitated.

"The word is 'pregnant.' Man, you are a piece of work, 
Langly, you can knock her up right under our noses, but you 
can't say it preg-"

"From what I understand," Byers broke in, shooting me a 
dirty look in the process, "her line was designed -"

"'Specifically' designed," I emphasized. 

" - with a very strong, um, procreative urge." Byers 
supplied. He was good at that kind of thing, I still don't 
know how I'd have put it. 

"Bull," was Langly's only comment, but I could see he was 
giving it some thought. 

John went on. "Initially, it was hoped her intense drives 
would overcome Gibson Praise's illness and -"

" - and Spender would find a Psychic SuperSoldier in his 
stocking one Christmas," I helped him out. "It looks like 
Krycek and company were keeping close enough tabs on her 
know she was living with three men." I had to stop and 
cough. "I guess they figured the outcome was inevitable. 
All he had to do was sit back and wait. Well, the waiting 
is almost over."

"Thea has no idea about any of this," Byers interjected

"And now probably isn't the time to tell her," I warned him 
"What we need to do is talk to Mulder and come up with a 
plan. This isn't some monolithic consortium we're up 
against anymore. This is doable. It's just one woman -"

"But one very determined woman." Byers amended. 

Langly looked sick, like he was going to faint or throw up 
or stop breathing, but couldn't decide which to do first.  
I wondered if he had his inhaler handy. 

Something squealed, then slammed shut.  I figured the 
hinges on one of the cupboard doors needed oiling. That was 
when I realized Thea had been in the kitchen for a pretty 
long time all things considered.

"Where's the missus?" I whispered.

Ten seconds later, the three of us were searching the 
house. There was coffee and jalapeno flavored potato chips 
spilled in the doorway to the living room, but no Thea. 

The back door was wide open; the screen was door closed 
tight.  But the spring squealed when I opened it.

"Dammit!" Byers ran his hand through his hair.

"It's okay. We can find her," Langly said quietly. "It 
won't be hard."

"I know it's a small town, but..."

Langly cut me off.  "That's not what I mean."  He went to 
the kitchen and came back with what looked like an 
old-fashioned palm pilot. 

"How's that going to help?" Byers asked. 

"I. . .I. . .she's wearing a, oh shit, she's wearing a 
transmitter." Langly's words came out in a rush. "I put it 
in her ring. Her wedding ring."

"What?" Byers practically screamed. "You can't be serious, 
Langly.  It's unethical, it's wrong, it's absolutely-" 

"Byers," I put my hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him. 
"Byers, right now, it's all we've got."

"She's moving fast," Langly said, squinting at the read 
out.  "Shit. She must be in a car. What in the. . .?"  Then 
his expression changed. "Come on. We gotta go. Now."  

Byers was right - it was unethical and wrong. But 
ultimately, that paranoid, devious son of a bitch saved her 
life. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was so easy, I was stunned. Mom was trying to explain 
some plan she had for us getting into the Subject's house, 
and then getting us out again, when the Subject all but 
pounded on the hood of the van and asked me to grab her.

So I did. 

Even Mom seemed to think I did good.

Mom was right; she was a girl, not a woman. She was long 
and tall, a little bit taller than me, and her stomach was 
so big. Humongous. I never saw a pregnant woman look like 
that. 

She fought hard but you could tell that giant stomach held 
her back, and she didn't seem to be able to get a good 
breath.

But it was easy. At first, I mean. You could tell nobody 
ever taught her to fight in what my Dad called a 
'systematic way.' I got her in the van. I got her 
handcuffed and put the cloth bag over her head.  I did what 
I was told.

She didn't fight or cry or anything. I probably would have 
cried if it was me, but she just sat there with that bag 
over her head, breathing hard.  All still. 

"Alex," Mom called back to me from the front of the van and 
she started the car and took off.  "Give her the shot. 
Now."

"Are we almost there? I mean, are you ready? I, I, I, umm 
she's not fighting or anything."

"Alex," she said, "I can guarantee she is not going to keep 
still for what we are going to do. Give her the shot."

I sat there and stared at her. She looked more angry than 
afraid. That worried me. 

"Have you done it?" Mom's voice was quiet. The scary kind 
of quiet.  She went on before I could answer. "You give her 
that shot before I count to three or you will live to 
regret it. One -"

I grabbed the hypodermic out of the tackle box and looked 
at the gir- the Subject. 

It was her or me. I picked her.

"Finished yet? Or am I going to have to come back there?"

I knew I was supposed to lift up her dress, pull down her 
Panties, and put it in what Mom kept calling the fleshy 
part of her buttock.  She went over that again and again. 
But I just stuck it in through the dress and everything. 

She didn't move a muscle. 

Maybe everything would be easier when she was asleep. But 
it was hard to push the plunger down. 

"Are you done?" 

I couldn't get the plunger down any more. The needle was 
still half-full but I would have done anything to keep Mom 
from coming back there, so I pulled it out and squirted the 
rest onto the floor. The Subject wasn't moving, anyway, so 
it must have been enough

"Yes ma'am, all done, ma'am."

I was pretty sure no one saw me grab her, but Mom was 
driving pretty fast now, anyway, trying to get far away. 
Out past the hi-way, into the mountains, where the woods 
were thick, she pulled off the road and drove the van under 
a bunch of trees.

"How is the Subject?" Mom asked. 

She was slumped over. She looked like she was asleep.

It was all hot and muggy in the van, but outside, it had 
started to rain, so Mom opened up the back doors. That 
helped a lot. We could kind of breathe. A couple of drops 
hit me in the face and it felt good.

"The equipment, Alex." 

I kept my mouth shut and helped Mom lay out the stuff she 
needed: scalpel, clamp, towels, blankets, diapers, some 
other stuff I didn't know the names for, and a heavy black 
bag with the zipper. 

Mom pulled the bag off the Subject's head, then checked  
pulse at her neck, then her heart with the stethoscope. 
Next she pulled back her eyelid and flashed a light in 
Subject's eye.

I guess that's when Mom figured the girl hadn't been 
asleep, at all.

In like, a second, she butted Mom right in the head and 
knocked Mom flying backwards. And Mom just laid there, 
breathing hard, stunned, I guess.  I was too surprised to 
do anything, which is right when she brought up her hands,  
all cuffed together, and hit me in the mouth with them.

I actually saw stars, like in cartoons. 

It really hurt. Even Dad never hit me that hard. So you 
can't blame me for crying. 

Of course, Mom did anyway.

"Alex Krycek," Mom's voice was all raspy and wheezing, but 
god, was she mad, "you don't know how close you are to 
having something to cry about. Don't let her get away!" 

There was no point in arguing. 

"And don't forget your gun!" she called after me.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

End 06/07