The Lambs: Part 1 (2/10)
by Lamia (AKA so kiss me goodbye) 
               
Rating: PG-13 (violence, strong language)
Category: S 
Spoilers: Seasons 1-9, Fight the Future 
Keywords: William; Colonization 

Summary: Liam van de Kamp's life changes the day two 
FBI agents kidnap him and his parents.

Author's Note: The Lambs is a three-part story (with prologue).


Chapter 2 

August 9, 2011
I-80
Wyoming 

Stark landscape rolled by in ceaseless, ceaseless 
monotony. 

They traveled an hour or more along back roads before 
doubling around to a busier route. Liam jiggled under 
the oppressive silence filling the car. 

The strangers hadn't demanded silence. Not exactly. 
They just didn't answer any of his parents' questions. 
After a hasty conversation in which his father told the 
man how to bypass Tessa's closest town, Kemmerer, talk 
dried up. The strangers didn't speak, not even to each 
other. 

Liam glanced over his shoulder every now and then. His 
parents remained rigid, gripping hands. When he caught 
his mother's eye, she gave him a compressed smile and 
an even tinier shake of her head. 

Liam's knuckles ached from squeezing the cup. After an 
hour in the car, he became aware the man was giving 
him, or - more likely - the cup, sideways looks. Once 
the man opened his mouth as though he was going to say 
something. But he didn't. The unnatural quiet pressed 
harder. Liam didn't like the silence, but it had gone 
on so long it seemed no one knew what to do about it. 
If he tried talking, maybe he wouldn't seem as much of 
a threat. *But do I really want to talk to this man?* 

The man wasn't scary or menacing; in fact, he'd been 
super polite - apologetic, even - about pulling his gun 
out. But that hadn't stopped him using it to get his 
own way, and that made Liam wary. His dad had taught 
him how to load and fire a rifle years ago. Along with 
the fun, he'd learned the responsibility. *And* the 
respect. 

"Guns aren't toys, Liam," his dad had said. "I never 
want to catch you pointing one at another person. Even 
if it's just in jest. Even if it isn't loaded." 

The strangers obviously didn't know that rule - or they 
were just plain bad, because what decent person would 
threaten a kid with a gun? 

And yet, nothing else about their behavior seemed 
"bad." Except for the whole kidnapping thing. Liam was 
sure that's what this experience was, though all the 
kidnappings he'd read about always involved rich kids 
being taken by crazy people to get money from rich 
parents. 

These people were certainly crazy - even if they looked 
normal - but his parents weren't rich. *Where are they 
taking us? Why are they taking us?* 

They weren't alone on the road. He watched for 
on-coming traffic in the hope one was a patrol car. 
*Should I try to get someone's attention?* Whatever 
they said there was no way these strangers could be 
police or FBI or any other kind of law enforcement 
officers. 

Concentration became harder as he squirmed in his seat; 
two needs were starting to override any plans he had 
been developing. He sighed when his mother picked up on 
his growing distress. 

She cleared her voice with a small cough. That got 
everyone's attention. 

"Agents, if that's who you are, surely you don't intend 
to keep driving much longer? Children have needs ..." 

Liam blushed and at that moment his stomach rumbled. 
Under other circumstances he would have made an old 
joke about the monster in his stomach demanding to be 
fed. Another concern popped into his head. 
Embarrassment and hunger forgotten, he had to speak. 

"Dad, who's gonna look after Sal and Blue and all the 
rest of the animals?" 

He scrambled around, fighting his seatbelt. His mother 
touched his hand. 

"Don't worry about the animals, Lee," she said. "Stan 
will know something is wrong. He'll look after them 
until we get back." 

The strangers said nothing. Moments passed. *Are they 
going to ignore us?* 

The man began without warning. He took his eyes off the 
road to look at Liam. "If I pull over in Wamsutter - 
that's about three miles away - can you hold on until 
then?" 

Liam glared at him. "Yes." 

His mother squeezed his hand. "There's no need to be 
surly, Liam." 

It was such a mom thing to say. They were being 
kidnapped and taken to who-knows-where, and his mother 
was siding with the bad guys? 

"But Mom -" 

"I raised you with better manners than that, Liam van 
de Kamp," she said. 

Angry with his mom, Liam pulled a face before settling 
back in his seat. Why should he have to be polite to 
these people? They didn't deserve it. 

He knew why his mother had said it. "We don't need to 
let how others treat us dictate how we treat them," she 
had once told him. 

When she spoke again he was relieved; she was still on 
his side. "We need more than a bathroom stop. None of 
us has eaten since breakfast and that was more than 
eight hours ago." 

"There's got to be a convenience store in the next 
town," the woman said. 

It's truly impossible to forget when someone right 
behind you has a gun in their hand, but the woman had 
done a good job of rendering herself invisible. Even 
the man did a double-take when she spoke. 

"We'll stop for ten minutes. Everyone gets a chance to 
stretch their legs, but - I'm sorry - Mr. and Mrs. van de 
Kamp, you must stay with Mulder. Your son stays with 
me." 

*But you're a stranger!* 

It was the opening Liam's father needed. 

"Ma'am, at some point you're going to have to tell us 
something. For goodness sake, who are you? Why are you 
doing this? You burst into our home and tell us our 
lives are at stake and then swing that gun around to 
make your point. At least tell us who you are." 

"It's difficult -" 

"I'm not sure -" 

It didn't sound right; it was like they had no idea 
what they were doing. Had they ever kidnapped anyone 
before or was this their first time? 

The woman left it to the man to explain. Only, he 
didn't; instead, he posed a question. 

"Do you know anything about genocide, Mr. van de Kamp?" 

Liam's father snorted. "You mean personally?" 

Liam sounded the word out in his head. Homicide, 
pesticide, herbicide, insecticide - four "cide" words 
that usually ended unpleasantly for something or 
someone. *Do I want to hear this?* 

"No, no." The man shook his head. "Take genocide and 
extermination. Do you know the difference between those 
words?" 

"I'm not much of a word connoisseur, Mr. Mulder, but I'd 
say one was just a fancy way to say the other." 

"Genocide Watch lists eight stages a nation or region 
goes through in the lead up to and aftermath of 
genocide." The man checked the rear vision mirror. 
"First off, typically, these stages involve 
classification - where you promulgate a 'them versus 
us' attitude against the group, race or culture you aim 
to ostracize. Then comes symbolization. Hitler made 
Jews don yellow stars long before he began herding them 
into the gas chambers at Auschwitz." 

Liam *thought* he understood most of what the man was 
saying. He had heard about the gas chambers. 

"At some point those people take on other names. We 
come up with dehumanizing terms - pigs, maggots, vermin 
- we set ourselves above them and encourage ourselves 
to believe it doesn't matter: 'They're not human, they 
don't really feel anything,' we might say. 

"It makes the next stage so much easier to accept - 
when we surrender our values, our basic decency, and 
fail to question the formation of militia, organized 
armed groups with no obvious wars to fight anywhere. 
These groups brutally discipline and brainwash 
themselves, and the word spreads. More and more voices 
find their hate speech has an audience primed and 
willing to listen to the radical calls for division and 
'solution.' Land is 'reclaimed,' property, possessions 
appropriated, freedom to move curtailed. Lists are made 
... and the last thing you want, Mr. van de Kamp, is to 
find your name on one of those lists." 

"Jesus, Mulder." 

"Are you suggesting my name is on some sort of list?" 
Liam's dad asked. "What list?" 

The man ignored him. "On the other hand, Mr. van de 
Kamp, extermination is when you pour gasoline down an 
ant colony and throw in a lighter - maybe for no reason 
other than the colony was in your way." 

Liam shuddered for the ants' sake. His clutch on 
Jerry's cup tightened and he renewed his vow to protect 
the tiny creature. He'd been raised on a farm - some 
animals were born to be dinner, some were pests to be 
shot - life and death went hand in hand with the land, 
and being a dispenser of death was a farmer's 
responsibility. It was not taken lightly. 

His dad wasn't rattled. "And your point is ...?" 

"Given those scenarios, who would you rather be? An ant 
or a Jew? Or an Armenian, or an Aborigine, or Bosnian 
Muslim, or a Kurd or Tutsi or Hutu -" 

"I think Mr. van de Kamp gets the point, Mulder," the 
woman said. 

"I'm not sure I do," said Liam's dad. "But I'll have a 
go. I wouldn't want to be any of those options. But 
thinking about it, you could argue all those human 
groups you mentioned - maybe there were signs they 
could have read. Maybe they had a chance to look for a 
way to escape. The ants, though? Never saw it coming." 

"Exactly." The man - Mr. Mulder - slapped his hands on 
the steering wheel. 

Liam pictured Jake Landsbury deliberately torching an 
ant nest. They called him Snake at school. Liam had no 
trouble imagining the cruelty on Snake's face as he 
flooded the helpless ants' home and struck a match. 

The imaginary figure grinned and waggled it in a 
challenge. He had black lidless eyes and a rippling 
smirk. He was inhuman, like some kind of animal Liam 
had never seen. Liam shook his head, trying to banish 
the image. 

His father waited a minute before trying again. "I'm 
not really sure how this applies to our ... situation." 

Mr. Mulder let out a fraught laugh. Liam had trouble 
recognizing the punch line. 

"That's the problem, Mr. van de Kamp. I don't know 
*which* word applies to our situation. Neither's 
desirable, as far as I'm concerned, but if it turns out 
to be the second ... God help us." 

"If it's alright with you, Mr. Mulder - perhaps we could 
have this conversation another time?" Liam looked 
around the seat again. A sheen of sweat had broken on 
his mom's brow. 

For perhaps the first time on the journey, the woman 
turned toward her hostages. Before his mother could 
cringe, the woman held her hand against his mother's 
forehead. 

"I'm a doctor," she said when Liam's mother went stony 
and swatted the hand away. 

"So you're a doctor now, are you? No, thank you. This 
morning you were an FBI agent, which now seems 
laughable. You'll forgive me if I struggle to believe 
anything you say." 

Liam rarely heard his mother snap; she had a point, 
though. Whatever else this woman was, she had to be a 
liar - and liars weren't tolerated in the van de Kamp 
family. 

The woman made no effort to protest. She shrank into 
her corner and stared at her knees. It was the most 
unpleasant moment they'd had in the car. 

"Scully's the most honest person I know." 

The way the man said it - a shrug of his shoulders, a 
curl of his mouth, just telling them basic fact - tore 
into Liam's certainty. *He sounds so genuine.* 

"Then tell us what's going on," Liam's mom said. She 
had leaned forward again to address Mr. Mulder as if she 
knew the woman wouldn't answer her. 

Did that spur the woman into action? She stirred, her 
head lifting. "You're not safe." 

Liam's mom fixed a stare on the woman, refusing to look 
away until the woman said more. 

"Your lives are in danger." The woman wasn't being 
dramatic. "If I tell you from what, I don't think 
you'll believe me - and that will make the situation 
worse." 

Liam read the quandary on his parents' faces. This 
woman was a liar - a dangerous liar; there couldn't be 
any truth to what she was saying. Yet the doubt and 
uneasiness his parents felt was clear. There was 
something very strange about their situation - a 
strangeness which made the woman's unexplained threat 
all the more possible. 

His mom sighed. "Ms. - Dr.? Dr. Scully - I don't even know 
what to call you - you're asking us to put our faith in 
you. I'm a woman of Faith but that doesn't make me a 
fool. In this car, with my son where he is, you have my 
undivided attention, but eventually you are going to 
have to let us out, and if you expect any of us to get 
in again without a fuss, you'd better come up with a 
more convincing story than dire threats and oblique 
references to genocide and extermination." 

Neither Mr. Mulder nor the woman gave any sign of they 
were listening or were worried about what the van de 
Kamps planned to do. The landscape rolled on, flat, 
thirsty and featureless, except for an occasional 
far-off hill. The road-sign stuck out like a beacon. 

"There's a town coming up - Wamsutter!" Liam was 
ashamed he couldn't keep the excitement out of his 
voice. He really wanted out of the car, if only to get 
away from the unpleasant battle being waged. There was 
enough static electricity inside to set off fireworks 
on Independence Day. 

"We do this the way I said." The woman could have 
commanded rain to fall in the desert. He knew only one 
other person to wield so much authority with so little 
effort. 

Liam had never seen anyone outdo his mom in the 
"do-as-I-say" department. He wanted her to fight back, 
but she didn't or couldn't. He didn't like it. 

It wasn't hard to stay still as the car slowed and they 
drove into Wamsutter's empty main street - if it could, 
indeed, lay claim to the title. 

The familiar sign of a gas station was the only 
advertisement or evidence of life in town. There were a 
few dirty SUVs around but no one on the streets at all. 
The man pulled in. 

"Liam, when the car stops," the woman said, "you and I 
are going to go ask the attendant if we can freshen up. 
Your mom and dad are going to stay safe in the car with 
Mulder. I need you to promise me you aren't going to do 
anything foolish." 

Liam looked to his mother; she closed her eyes and 
sighed, shaking her head. Liam could only nod. 

He felt guilty when he took his first step and 
stretched. Still cooped in the back of the car, his 
parents did not look happy. His dad's brows drew 
together like a heavy, dark thundercloud. Liam wanted 
to talk to them, to tell them not to worry, he was just 
going into the gas station and he'd only be a couple of 
minutes, but before he could say anything, he felt a 
hand press against his back, guiding him into the small 
service area. 

When the bored-looking attendant raised his head from 
the magazine he was reading (which he stowed under the 
counter when his eyes flicked over Liam), Liam knew he 
had an opportunity. All he had to do was scream or 
maybe kick out at the woman. Trouble was, he would have 
felt a bit stupid doing it - like a baby. And, to be 
honest, he wasn't sure the man *would* realize 
something was wrong. He might just think Liam was a 
spoiled brat. 

Overthinking cost him; by the time he screwed his face 
up, preparing to launch his tantrum, the man was 
handing a key to the woman and telling her to head 
round the side of the building. She thanked him. 

A small tut escaped her mouth when she peered into the 
restroom. There was room enough for just one toilet and 
a tiny sink. Everything, from the flush lever and paper 
dispenser, was covered in black grease. There were 
greasy smears on the walls. 

The cubicle was stifling and when Liam tried to turn on 
the faucet to wash his hands, it was so stiff he 
couldn't make it budge. He wiped his dry hands on his 
shorts before stepping out. The woman pounced. 

"Here." She squirted gel on his palms. He recognized it 
as the same sanitizer his mother always kept in their 
car. "Rub this over your hands." 

Without thinking, he said, "Are you really kidnapping 
us?" 

She hissed and whipped around. Although there was no 
one else on the forecourt, she put a finger to her 
lips. "Liam, hush. I asked you not to speak." 

She hurried him back to the car. As Liam got in, Mr. 
Mulder and his parents got out. Liam waved once at his 
mother when she looked at him from the corner, then she 
was gone, round the side of the building. His parents 
returned in minutes. They had followed his lead, doing 
nothing to draw attention to themselves. 

Finally Mr. Mulder went inside. 

As he waited, Liam picked up Jerry's cup from where 
he'd left it on the floor in the shade. The tadpole 
hovered in the water, giving an occasional twitch as 
though he was working out what was happening. The man 
returned carrying a plastic bag. 

Then they were all in the car again and it was pulling 
out of the station; the stop seemed no more than some 
sort of desert mirage. 

Instead of driving back to the interstate, they headed 
in the opposite direction, toward what looked like a 
whole lot of nothing - just more of the same endless 
desert they had been driving through for several hours. 

They hadn't gone far down the road when the man pulled 
off it again. "We're stopping here for ten minutes so 
you can have a break and something to eat." 

He reached for the bag at his feet. 

"Sorry, folks. The selection was limited." He rummaged 
in it before withdrawing an assortment of candy bars 
and packets. 

"Tell me there's something actually fit for human 
consumption in there, Mulder." 

"How can you ask that, Scully?" He grinned, pulling out 
a red packet. It was the one thing he kept for himself. 

"What's that?" 

Mr. Mulder stared at Liam. "You've heard of sunflower 
seeds, right?" 

"Oh," said Liam. 

"Not a fan?" 

Liam couldn't put a finger on why, but Mr. Mulder 
appeared crestfallen. 

"No." 

Lies were out but Liam had no compunctions about 
telling a half-truth, and he wasn't worried about 
hurting his kidnapper's feelings. The truth was he'd 
never tried sunflower seeds, so he had no idea if he 
liked them or not. It gave him a thrill to know he had 
the power to disappoint the man. 

The van de Kamp family divvied up the goods. They got 
out of the car and the woman made no move to stop Liam 
when he set Jerry's cup down in the shade of a large 
rock and followed his parents. 

Wamsutter was a good mile behind them, and only 
grass-covered plains lay ahead. There was everywhere to 
run and nowhere to run. His mom put an arm around his 
shoulder. 

Despite the distance (Mr. Mulder and the woman were 
still at the car), Liam's dad spoke under his breath. 

"They have to be taking us somewhere - and one or both 
of them will have to sleep at some point. That may be 
our best chance at getting away. If it's you, Liam - if 
you get that opportunity - I want you to run to the 
nearest phone, quick. That's what I'll be doing if I 
get away. Take a good look at their plates and them. 
Memorize everything you can about them. But Liam -" 

Liam's dad waited until Liam was looking straight at 
him. "If they pull their guns out again, do not argue, 
do not struggle, and just do what they say." 

Liam nodded. "What do you think that smoke back home 
meant?" 

His dad took a deep breath. "I don't know. I wish to 
God I did." 

"Who do you think they are?" His mother hadn't taken 
her eyes of the strangers. The man was waving his arms 
about; it was impossible to tell what they were 
discussing. "I can't get a read on either of them. She 
pulls a gun on a child, then makes sure he does his 
seatbelt up? He marches us out to a car, talks 
cavalierly about massacres and then apologizes for the 
snacks?" Their kidnappers were an equation that didn't 
add up. Liam chewed his thumb tip as he studied them 
from afar. The woman now had her back to Mr. Mulder. 

Liam's mother crossed her arms. "What if they're 
telling the truth?" 

"Occam's razor, honey," Liam's dad said. 

"One should not increase, beyond what is necessary, the 
number of entities required to explain anything," Liam 
said, adopting his best scholarly tone. It was one of 
his dad's favorite sayings. Liam had been reciting it 
since he was six. 

"I know what it means, smarty pants," she said. Liam 
wasn't expecting her to laugh. "But, all things being 
equal, isn't their explanation the simplest?" 

"No way," Liam said. 

She smiled again. "And why is that, young man?" 

He grinned. "Because they're crazy?" 

"Crazy *or* telling the truth, neither makes me very 
happy." His father scratched his chin. He circled, 
taking in the vastness of the plains. "We could risk 
running now, but what would that force them to do?" 

When the strangers beckoned, Liam's dad led them back. 
"Remember, memorize everything." At the car the family 
faced off against Mr. Mulder and the woman. 

Perhaps the man could see their stubbornness. 

"We got off to a bad start. You deserve a better 
explanation than the one we've given you" - the man 
held his hand up when Liam's dad started to protest - 
"I want you to know some things are true. My name is 
Mulder and this *is* Dr. Dana Scully. 

When no one interrupted, he went on. "We once were but 
are now no longer federal agents although we have 
maintained ties with the Bureau. As dramatic as it 
sounds, we've been sent to save your lives. I can't 
tell you what danger you face. If you ever get close 
enough to see the threat that imperils you, I suspect 
my mission will have already failed. This sounds 
unpleasant. It has to. I don't know any other way to do 
what's expected of me." 

Liam had to marvel. He'd never heard anyone use the 
word imperil in conversation. 

"Okay," said his father. "What happens next? You should 
be able to tell us where you're taking us?" 

The man screwed up his face and sucked in a breath. "I 
wish it were as easy as that ..." 

"What Mulder means is, we're waiting for instructions 
on where's the best place to take you." 

The woman (Liam couldn't bring himself to think of her 
as doctor anybody) was scowling. 

Something had upset her. "Perhaps you've noticed this 
day hasn't gone quite to plan ..." 

"Without alarming you," Mr. Mulder said, "I think we'll 
be staying in Wamsutter for the night." 

Frustration leaked from Liam's father's voice. "You 
think?" 

"I'm going to take your son with me to look for 
suitable accommodation. I want you to stay with Scully. 
As far as anyone's concerned, you're just three 
tourists who've stopped to admire the scenery." 

Mr. van de Kamp looked like Mr. Mulder had just asked him 
to admire the great artwork on the walls of the 
restroom at the gas station. 

"Why can't one of us come with you? You don't trust us 
with all your secrets. I don't exactly trust you with 
my son." 

"For the simple reason too many of us will attract 
unwanted attention, Mr. van de Kamp," the woman said. 

"You walk in looking like that and you can guarantee 
you're going to stick out like a sore thumb," Liam's 
dad replied, not to her, but to Mr. Mulder. 

"I'll fix that." Mr. Mulder walked around to the back of 
the car. He popped the trunk and fished around, 
returning in jeans and a t-shirt. 

"Fit right in now, won't I?" he said with a wolfish 
grin. "Ready for some exercise, kid?" 

Liam didn't know how he felt about walking with Mr. 
Mulder. He didn't like being separated from his parents 
but he didn't get the impression Mr. Mulder meant him 
any harm. Maybe he could learn more about Mr. Mulder? He 
looked to his father. 

Liam's dad's face was dark. "Be careful, son." 

As they set off, the doctor called out. "No unnecessary 
risks, Mulder." 

He put a hand up to acknowledge her but kept walking. 
His pace was quick and his legs long; Liam had to trot 
to keep up with him. 

"Liam - about this accommodation we're about to find. 
Your parents aren't likely to be too happy about our - 
ah - method of appropriation? It might be better if we 
wait until later to tell them how we got it." 

*What does that mean?* 

If there was one thing he liked about this man, it was 
his peculiar way of expressing himself; he was a 
challenge to work out. 

"So ... you really don't like sunflower seeds?" Mr. 
Mulder asked. His interest was real. They had about a 
mile to walk before they'd hit Wamsutter again. This 
was Liam's chance to get more out of the man. 

"Maybe," he said. "Honestly? I've never tried them 
before." 

The red packet was thrust in front of him. 

"You'll be an expert in no time, kid."