The Lambs: Part 2 (3/21)     
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 13 

October, 2011 
New Mexico 

"Sorry, Liam. I'll make it up to you, I promise." Harry 
van de Kamp grimaced as he gripped the laces on his 
boots and pulled hard. 

Liam schooled the disappointment from his voice. 
"S'okay, Dad. Maybe tomorrow?" 

His father stood. "Third time's a charm, right? You 
ready?" 

"Yeah." Liam swung the small backpack over his 
shoulder. He questioned his need to have one, but his 
mother had insisted, so he hadn't argued - the same way 
he never said anything about the old clothes he had had 
to wear since his arrival. 

They stepped into the dark corridor. 

"Be good, Liam," his dad said. "Study hard." 

He turned one way, and Liam went the other, deeper into 
the subterranean heart of the camp. They had done it 
this way for weeks. 

Ellie waved him over to their regular meeting spot when 
he entered the hall. She was sitting cross-legged on a 
seat which had been pushed against the wall. At the 
opposite end of the room, other kids were gathering. 

Ellie wasn't one to bother with usual greetings. 

"I know why you're grumpy this morning," she said. 

Liam bristled. "I'm not grump -" 

"Your dad can't make it again." 

He couldn't stop himself falling into that trap. "How 
do you know?" 

She preened, pulling a strand of hair and twirling it 
around her finger. 

"I heard Mr. Skinner telling Mulder there was another 
sighting. He said they're sending out a team this 
morning." 

She was very still as she studied him. 

Liam shrugged off his bag and sank beside her. "It's 
the third time in a week Dad's had to go out." 

"S'probably just another false alarm." 

"Probably." 

"It'll be some hiker going the wrong way." 

"Dumb hiker." 

She snorted. "Stupid supersoldiers." 

"Yeah." 

After a silent beat, Ellie stirred. "I haven't heard 
them say anything about the hole." 

She yawned and stretched her legs, toes pointed, a 
study in nonchalance. It gave him a momentary pang; she 
was like his cat, Blue. It hurt to think about his 
pets. 

"Maybe they found it and don't want to tell us?" 

"Nah, they'd be acting sneakier - or they'd add it to 
the list of places we can't go. They don't know. Liam?" 
She turned to face him, her teeth bared in a grin. 
"Lechuguilla!" 

His forehead crinkled. *Lechu-what*? It tickled at his 
memory. 

Ellie's elbow went into his ribs. "Shhh - I'll tell you 
later." His mother was approaching. 

In the excitement of Rudi's arrival, the mysterious 
hole in the desert had escaped mention. Although they 
had never discussed it, a silent agreement had been 
forged among the children. It was their secret, the 
grownups weren't to know about it. After all - it was 
just a hole in the ground, wasn't it? 

His mother's warm smile convinced Liam she hadn't heard 
anything that might spark her interest. 

"Class is starting now, you two," she said, motioning 
them to join their classmates. Ellie was probably 
right; the secret was still safe. 

School was not what he had been expecting - not that 
he'd had much time to have expectations. 

For one thing, his mother was now his teacher. Once 
upon a time, long before he was born, she had been a 
real teacher. She used to have photos ... 

Lessons were held in the hall where Rudi had shocked 
them with his tale. There were long stalls but no 
desks; they had little paper to write on and few 
pencils or pens. Age didn't matter - there was only one 
class, teenagers mixed in with elementary school kids. 
In the first week, they spent more time playing games 
his mother devised than anything else. 

By the end of the second week Liam noticed a change. 
They were developing a routine: math, science and 
social studies in the morning and story-time, writing, 
arts and sports after lunch. 

What they couldn't write down for lack of paper, they 
were encouraged to do in their heads. His mother had 
met a malevolent and resistant class when she sprang 
that on them. It was the first run in she had with 
Ellie. It was also the last. 

"I can't do it without paper, Mrs V. I need to see it 
in front of me." Ellie's arms knotted across her chest. 

Liam's mother wasn't mean but she didn't sound too 
sympathetic either. "If it was good enough for Laura 
Ingalls, it's good enough for us." 

"Huh?" Ellie screwed up her face. 

Liam contained his grin. His mother had read him 
*Little House on the Prairie* years ago. He'd lost 
interest in having her read to him after two or three 
books - not because the books weren't interesting, but 
because he wanted to read them himself. He had never 
told her he *did* read the rest of the series. 

"School children a hundred years ago learned to do sums 
in their heads, Ellie." Mrs. van de Kamp's eyes 
twinkled. "They were very clever, wouldn't you say?" 

Liam admired her tactic. Ellie never complained again, 
and in recess she dragged him aside so they could 
practice talking through long division problems. 

His mother really *was* a teacher. She organized their 
lessons *and* she organized the adults. Usually one, 
sometimes two, joined her everyday in the classroom so 
the kids could be divided up. When she wasn't helping 
in the kitchen, Mrs. Scully was a frequent visitor. She 
was often joined by Mrs Fawbert, who was a friend of Mr 
Skinner's and had arrived on the same plane which got 
Mulder to the camp ahead of them. 

Even the scientists helped out. Liam's friends from the 
bus always grinned at him when they arrived to teach 
the older students math and science. Shu sometimes 
stayed longer to tutor a teenager in Japanese. Liam's 
father had promised to come in when he could. 

Not everyone came. Dr. Scully was busy, whether she was 
buried in a lab or running the camp's infirmary. Mulder 
spent a lot of time with Mr. Skinner. The guide Eric 
spent more time traveling between here and the outside 
world to seem a part of the camp. For the brief periods 
when he was around longer than a day, he seemed to 
spend most of his time over at Gibson Praise's 
quarters, bent over a chess board. 

Of course, Gibson Praise never came to the classroom. 
These days Liam hardly saw him - even at a distance. He 
seldom descended underground. 

It felt safer down here. 

With the exception of Gibson and Eric, no one seemed 
keen to be outside longer than the time it took to run 
between buildings. After Rudi, it took Liam a week to 
look up; vapor trails in the blue made his skin creep. 
Satellites were one thing - drone planes were another. 

The open sky was heavy, and unexpected noises - a door 
slamming, a scrape of chair leg on linoleum, an echo of 
footsteps running down the corridor - made Liam's heart 
gallop. 

And it wasn't just him. Everyone was jumpy. 

If there was going to be any fallout from their 
desperate dash through the desert to save Ruud van der 
Veldt, it hadn't shown up yet. That didn't mean it 
wasn't out there. 

The scientists spent hours locked away with Rudi, 
studying the artifact and questioning him. By 
agreement, Dr. Scully became protector of the thing 
every night. Extra security teams patrolled the camp's 
outer perimeter. 

By the third week of school, his mother had Liam and 
his classmates composing open letters to the camp, 
requesting a computer and crayons for the littlest 
kids. 

That brought Major Drummond himself to the classroom 
for the first time. 

In front of them, with his roly-poly stomach straining 
against his red shirt, and his white beard and brushed 
curls corkscrewing around his dour face, the Major was 
like a confused Santa dropped from his sleigh. His 
mouth wasn't used to smiling; Liam had the impression 
when he tried, it caused him pain. While he talked, his 
drooping mouth and animated eyebrows seemed engaged in 
a battle of wills. The brows wiggled and bounced even 
as he explained why everyone had to make do with what 
they had. 

"We all have to make sacrifices," he said. "Your 
mommies and daddies are trying to find a way to prevent 
the colonists' plans, but they have to work in secret, 
and that means it's very difficult for them to get 
everything they need." 

Shiny, blank faces stared back at him. 

"So, I'm asking you to be patient and to trust us, and 
to know that in the end, your sacrifices today mean 
tomorrow you can have all the paper and coloring pens 
you want." 

A little kid started to cry. The Major blinked. Liam's 
mother chose that moment to capture the room's 
attention by clapping and jumping from her seat. 

"Thank you, Major Drummond. I'm sure we all found that 
helpful. Everyone, let's say thank you to the Major for 
visiting class today." 

They clapped. 

The Major scuttled sideways to the door, opening it 
only as wide as he needed to squeeze through. 

The following morning they bustled into the hall to 
discover an old laptop and some marker pens on Mrs. van 
de Kamp's desk. 

This morning was dragging. It was one of those rare 
days when Liam could summon only half-hearted interest 
in his studies. He pretended to miss the raised eyebrow 
his mother directed at him when he whispered to Ellie 
during their math lesson. 

Not that Ellie was whispering back. She seemed to be 
taking his mother's side, glaring at him whenever he 
tried to bring up the hole. It was typical for her to 
raise a subject, then keep him dangling. 

He was just finishing the set of geometry questions his 
mother had prepared for his class when the main hall 
door swung in. Liam looked up to see Dr. Scully enter. 
She surveyed the room before she stepped across to his 
mother. Liam listened with interest when she spoke. 

"I'm here to take Toby's physics class." Liam eyed the 
senior class. *Lucky seniors.* 

"Poor Toby. Has he got it now?" his mother said. 

'It' was a stomach flu making its way through the camp. 
Liam was one of the few pupils to have been spared it. 
Both his parents had spent a day curled in the 
infirmary, vomiting and feeling sorry for themselves. 
Liam was pleased to have dodged that bullet. 

The teenagers warmed to Dr. Scully immediately. It was 
like getting a guitar lesson from a rock star. Toby had 
sourced study material from the internet, and she was 
probably following his plans. Whatever she had them 
doing was fascinating enough to keep them engaged with 
their heads around the computer. He wondered what 
excuse he could make to go over there. 

Once, when he looked up from his own work, he saw her 
looking at him. Startled, she smiled and dropped her 
head. His heart thrilled. 

She left before he got the chance to say hello, and he 
spent the rest of the morning feeling dissatisfied. It 
was like approaching Rudi in the infirmary. He could 
never bring himself to act. Like the day Mulder and Dr 
Scully had driven into his life. 

*What if things had been different - if they had been 
real kidnappers?* 

He hadn't done anything then, either. *Not fast 
enough.* He bit his lip, trying to decide how that 
scenario might have ended. 

Lunch had been served and everyone had a half-hour 
break. No one had been keen at first, but every day 
Liam's mother coaxed them outside when there was no 
curfew; the lure of sunshine was only now beginning to 
lull their nerves. 

Liam sprawled on the low hill where Ellie and Aaron had 
interrogated him weeks ago. For once Ellie was nowhere 
to be found. Nick and Aaron had emerged from 
underground with bat and ball and called him to join 
them. 

*Maybe later*, he'd said. 

The upset he had squashed this morning, when his father 
couldn't make it to class, still needed dealing with. 
It wasn't so much that his father had had to bail on 
him for a third time - well, not just that. There were 
other things weighing on his mind. Things that he'd 
avoided thinking about for much longer. 

"Are you alright, Liam?" 

He flinched. The doctor was already sitting beside him 
by the time he regained his wits. She must be the 
grownup on duty. There was always one at least. 

Liam thought about her question. Although he didn't 
like it, the truth seemed more trouble than it was 
worth admitting. 

"I'm fine, Dr. Scully." 

Her forehead furrowed then relaxed and she let out a 
low chuckle. She held out her hand. "I thought you 
might need this." 

He took the hat from her with a grin. "Thanks. Mom's 
always reminding me." 

"Well, she doesn't want you getting heat stroke again, 
does she?" 

"Not gonna happen," Liam said, shaking his head. "Only 
I ..." 

She gave him an inquiring look. 

"Every now and then I still get headaches." It felt 
stupid saying it. The headaches weren't serious. Not 
like the day in the desert. 

He didn't get sick often. A regular, dull ache once or 
twice a week now was a new experience - one of many he 
had faced since he came here - and he didn't like 
drawing attention to his problems. But if he couldn't 
tell a doctor, who *could* he tell? 

"Hmm." 

"They're not as bad," he added. "You're not going to 
tell Mom, are you?" 

More kids had joined the game. A loud whack was 
followed by hoots, and Aaron's ball sailed over the 
field. Dr. Scully followed its arc. "You don't want to 
play?" 

Liam shrugged. "Maybe in a bit." 

He marveled at her talent for silent interrogation. 
With the arch of an eyebrow, he knew she was seeing 
through him. He made a snap decision to trust her with 
*some* his thoughts. 

"My dad goes out more than anyone else's." 

She nodded once and slowly. "We're lucky he is who he 
is." 

They looked across the land at the same time: open and 
empty desert gave way to purple and gray rocks of the 
mountains. His father was somewhere out there. Dr 
Scully traced a line in the dust with her finger. "You 
wish he didn't go out so much?" 

Liam looked away. 

"You know, Liam, he's not out there alone." 

"We're only here because of you." There. He said it. 
He'd had to pry the thought from deep within and fit it 
into words which could only say a fraction of what he 
meant. 

Her hand froze. 

"If you and Mulder hadn't rescued us ... but I don't 
get it." He twisted to face at her. "You rescued us to 
save Dad. To stop Dad becoming a supersoldier. But 
Dad's the only one you rescued. And everyone here is 
either a scientist, or has a mom or dad who's a 
scientist, or ..." Even as he said it, he knew it 
wasn't correct. "Or maybe not a scientist - but 
everyone knew about the invasion. We didn't." 

She frowned. "You would have found out. Sooner rather 
than later, I think." 

"Yes. Just like lots of people will. But not everyone 
can come here. I heard Major Drummond tell Mr. Skinner 
camp's nearly half full already. What will happen to 
the people who have nowhere to go?" 

Her hand resumed its tracing. She pulled at a long 
grass head, worrying the stem. "I can't give you any 
answers to those questions, Liam. I wish I could." 

"I know. I guess I just feel lucky - but frightened - 
like maybe I don't really belong here? That's it, Dr 
Scully. I don't know why I'm here. Why *did* you kidnap 
us?" 

The stem snapped in her fingers. "We've already told 
you, Liam. To save your dad. To save you and your mom." 

He shook his head. "No, you don't get me. Why did you 
kidnap *us*? How did you decide on us?" "Those were our 
instructions ..." 

"Whose instructions? And why us?" 

He heard her teeth grind. "I can't tell you, Liam. I 
wish I could. I can't." 

He expected her to get up and leave. She didn't. Tiny 
movements, the pull on her mouth, tightening at the 
eyes, gave away her discomfort. 

Another whack echoed around the hill, and the ball 
swung far, heading in the direction of Gibson Praise's 
cabin. 

"Get that, will you, Liam?" Aaron yelled. 

Gibson's hut had become a no-go zone, with the man 
himself reaching almost boogeyman status among Liam's 
friends. He sighed. He was the closest. If he didn't 
go, Aaron would never let him forget it. He pushed 
himself up and rubbed the dirt from his hands. "See you 
later, Dr. Scully." 

She opened her mouth to say something, but he knew it 
wouldn't be what he wanted to hear. He launched himself 
down the incline, luxuriating in his burst of energy. 

He let out a whoop - half frustration, half relief - as 
he raced across the ground, slowing up only when he 
neared the building. He hadn't been here since his last 
mad rush through the desert. The scrub behind Gibson's 
small quarters was thick and on the high side. Bending 
into the undergrowth, stabbed by sharp stalks, Liam 
muttered. He could be here for hours searching. 

The crunch of footsteps on the hard soil alerted him, 
and he crouched lower. There was no sign saying he 
couldn't be here, but there was a definite 
out-of-bounds feeling about the place. 

He froze at the sound of a knock on the door. He could 
guess who the visitor would be. Liam dared himself to 
creep along the wall. 

"Checking up on me?" Gibson's voice was snotty. 

"Skinner's just called in." Since when had Mulder been 
unwelcome at the boogeyman's lair? "They're bringing in 
a hiker - human. Skinner wants your opinion." 

"He wants me to read him, you mean." 

"Your talents in that area could prove useful. 
Apparently the hiker says his dog led him here." 

"That's a new one." 

Liam edged closer, wishing he could put his head around 
the corner and still stay hidden. He crouched low, now 
thankful for the wild tangle of scrub. 

The door squeaked and feet trod on the floorboards. 
When Gibson continued, he was less abrupt. "Have you 
told Scully anything yet?" 

"You know very well I haven't told Scully. And you know 
I know you know. I get the rebuke, Gibson." 

"For someone who claims to be truth's great defender, 
you've always been expert at clamming up on dangerous 
secrets." 

Liam couldn't tell if that was meant to be an insult - 
Mulder didn't *sound* fussed. "Skinner says Eric and 
Cooper are bringing this man in. He should be here 
shortly." 

"I'll be there." The way he snapped it out, Gibson was 
more riled than Mulder. "If you're not going to tell 
her about Monica or de Rosier, you should at least tell 
her about Esther. And don't give me that crap about 
when it's safe - it's never going to be safe." 

Esther? Hadn't they talked about Esther before? Who did 
they mean? Certainly not someone in the camp. Liam was 
confident he knew everyone - at least by sight. 

Gibson hadn't finished. 

"I *am* your friend, Mulder, but that means sometimes 
*you* annoy me more than the bastards who stir-fried my 
brain." 

"I get it, Gibson - I suck. But it's not just me you're 
annoyed with, the way you isolate yourself from the 
rest of the camp, hiding out in this shack." 

Gibson gave a grunt. 

"Why should I come out? No one wants to listen to me 
anyway. I'm just the freak - the alien-fucked mutant - 
with the chip on his shoulder." 

*Freak? Alien-fucked?* Had he heard that right? Were 
the rumors true? Was Gibson the result of some horrific 
alien experiment? 

"I'm useful but nobody has to like me. And what I say 
comes from that deep, dark twisted place that is my 
not-good-enough-for-human-company hybrid brain." 

The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. 

"Nobody has to *really* listen to me. They're just 
sitting here. They're inert. They're worse than inert. 
They're pathetic. They could be doing more. *We* could 
be doing more. We're not doing enough of the right 
things. This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I 
planned but they don't want to hear me! Don't forget - 
I know their thoughts. I know yours. You know I'm 
right. And don't bother telling me -" 

"You were developing an ability to control it, Gibson. 
You were succeeding. Have you decided to give up 
because you tried one time and didn't get your own 
way?" 

"I can't help it. I'm angry. Ever since you jeopardized 
everything with your little rescue mission. I can't 
control it when I'm pissed off. All I hear is this" - 
Liam heard the struggle in his voice - "this din. It's 
mindless chatter. Hundreds of caged monkeys. And their 
thoughts are so *small* and so petty. So likely to get 
us nowhere." 

The catch, the tiny quiver in his voice, was 
unexpected. Liam sat up, galvanized. Something about 
Gibson finally made sense like a puzzle piece dropping 
into place. It didn't scare Liam - just the opposite. 
The power of his awe overcame his sense of 
self-preservation. He stood and rounded the corner of 
the building. That he had been eavesdropping didn't 
matter. Not in this situation. Knowing was more 
important; knowledge trumped all. He stopped in the 
open doorway. 

"You read minds!" 

Gibson fixed a clinical stare on Liam, all 
vulnerability disappearing. He didn't seem surprised. 
"No flies on you, kid." 

"I don't believe you. Mind reading's impossible." 

"God, make your mind up." 

"But it's not possible." Liam couldn't stop staring. 
Somehow it made sense and somehow it didn't. "I mean, 
not in real life. People can't really read minds." 

Gibson glanced at Mulder, a smirk twisting his mouth. 

"He doesn't really mean it. He really wants to 
believe." Gibson rolled his eyes. "He's the perfect 
embodiment of skeptic and sucker." 

"Gibson ..." It was Mulder's turn to sound a warning 
and Gibson's turn to ignore him. 

"That's right, brat. You've stumbled across our secret 
superheroes' hideout where us genetic mutants are 
planning our revenge on the monsters who birthed us 
into Hell." 

Gibson was scornful of Mulder's sigh. 

"No, Mulder. It's about time he heard some truths. 
That's right, Liam. Van. de. Kamp. I read minds. I can 
read yours. You're hacked off because you're worried 
you don't belong here. You can't bring yourself to tell 
your mother you hate the clothes she had to scavenge 
for you. Your little friend infuriates you with her 
know-all game-play. You can't stand secrets but here 
you are. Stuck in the desert in the middle of 
you-don't-know-where, playing a game of hide and secret 
with the most dangerous predators ever seen on this 
planet. 

"Do you know what these monsters do to little boys who 
display too much talent? Just look at me. They lifted 
the top of my head off like a lunchbox lid. They 
feasted on my brain. They stuck their knives and forks 
in and suctioned the curd out before deciding it wasn't 
tasty enough. They've got their eyes on something much 
more delectable ..." 

Liam's stomach churned. What to react to? The gross 
invasion of his innermost thoughts, the fact there 
*was* a gross invasion of his innermost thoughts, or 
the horrific image of cannibalistic scientists now 
planted in his mind? 

He decided not to let himself be intimidated and glared 
back at Gibson. "Freak." 

Mulder sighed again. "Children." 

Gibson's smirk reappeared. "Maybe it's time you taught 
the brat some manners, Mulder." 

He was just - just a jerk. It was time to stop being 
scared of this man. 

"I don't like liars. I don't want to be lied to," Liam 
said with a thrust of his jaw. 

The men shifted uneasily. 

"Gibson sort of isn't lying." Mulder glanced sideways 
at the other man. "He has an ability which gives us an 
advantage, Liam. 

"We could call it a gift - but it was an unwanted gift 
- and one that came with strings attached. Gibson 
doesn't like talking about it, but he doesn't 
necessarily believe in keeping secrets." 

Liam's eyes narrowed. "Okay then, what's your talent? 
If everyone here is a mutant freak with a superpower, 
what's yours?" 

Mulder's shoulders rose and fell. Then he winked. "I 
see dead people, kid." 

Gibson sniggered, and Liam wanted to kick him. 

Mulder fixed a resigned look on Gibson. "Could you go 
on ahead? I'll catch up." 

The smirk was still plastered on Gibson's face as he 
slunk away. Liam watched him retreat with a mix of 
anger and amusement. Gibson wasn't the boogeyman - he 
was just a big, pathetic jerk. Not someone who deserved 
the fear he had inspired. 

"Liam, the monsters who created the supersoldiers may 
have had a hand in giving Gibson the ability to read 
thoughts. I don't know if you can guess what that might 
mean for him. His talent isn't a secret - not 
completely - but he finds it difficult to be around 
people when they often say one thing and mean another. 
He doesn't want to scare people, so he tries to stay 
out of their way - especially you kids." 

A lifetime of reading people's minds. Knowing their 
fears, knowing their real thoughts, knowing their 
deepest secrets, when they smiled at you but inside 
were skinning you alive. Knowing they hated you and 
called you a boogeyman. Liam got it; Mulder was telling 
him to cut Gibson some slack. He didn't want to, but 
... 

The image of a weird scientist welding chopsticks and a 
meat cleaver sprang back into his head. It didn't make 
it any easier to like the man, but he would just have 
to try. His conscience wouldn't let him do anything 
else. 

"Okay," Liam said, mastering his reluctance, "but you 
don't really see dead people, do you?" 

Mulder put his hand on his heart in mock sincerity. 
"God's honest truth." 

Liam couldn't account for the dissatisfaction this 
answer provided him. 

By the time he made it back to the game with the ball, 
the field was empty. Liam could hear voices - a steady 
hum from the other side of the camp. 

Ellie appeared from between two buildings. When she saw 
him, she broke into a run. 

"Liam, come see. They caught someone. They've got a 
prisoner - they bringing him here!" 

She had grabbed his arm and tugged him along. They 
ducked through the narrow corridor she had just come 
from but stopped when they hit bright sunlight. Before 
them was a wall of backs - the entire camp was milling, 
whispering - waiting for something. A dog barked. 

"Where -" 

Ellie's clutch on his arm grew tighter. "Follow me," 
she said, and she began to weave through the crowd. 

Slipping between two adults, Liam made it to the inner 
edge; his mother broke through across from him. 

"Liam!" 

Her call was a warning, but for what? He stared at the 
drama in the centre of the group. 

They really did have a prisoner. He was flanked by Eric 
and Cooper, the guide who was always chewing grass 
stalks. Two more guides stood behind them, gripping the 
rifles. 

Ice surged in Liam's blood. 

*He looks old. Leathery.* 

The prisoner towered over his guards but made no move 
to threaten or agitate. His deeply hooded eyes made him 
seem sleepy or cagey. What he made of them was a 
mystery. The crowd was jittery. 

Liam's mother called out again; Liam was only half 
aware. Her warning was futile. He had already seen what 
she hoped to conceal. Another guard, behind the others, 
struggled as a mad thing strained against his arms. 

A collective gasp tore across the group when a black 
and white blur broke free and careened toward the 
throng. 

Liam had no time to brace. 

The dog leaped, and over they went; she landed on his 
chest, knocking the breath out of him. She barked 
furiously. 

"Sal!" 

Someone - maybe Ellie - shrieked; he couldn't 
understand the screams. He wasn't aware of anything but 
the dog panting at his ear until his mother cried out 
again. 

"Don't shoot!" 

For the second time in his life, Liam found himself 
staring down the barrel of a gun. 

"Don't shoot! It's just Sal. She's ours! She's ours." 
His mother skidded to his side. She threw her arms 
around the neck of their Wyoming farm dog. 

"Sal Sal Sal," she said over and over, burying her face 
in the dog's fur. 

The camp had fallen silent and with sudden shyness Liam 
realized his family was now the center of attention. He 
pulled himself up and raised his eyes to the prisoner. 

Paul Stanaway, their old neighbor hadn't moved a 
whisker. 

"How -" Liam wasn't heard over the hiss of disapproval 
which swept the group. 

"Out of my way," Gibson said, shoving his way to the 
center. A trail of sullen onlookers glared, but his 
rudeness was soon forgotten. 

He halted ten yards from Stan and his eyes bulged. 

"Get that *thing* out of here. Destroy it!" 

Liam's gaze swept the scene, desperate to find the 
intruder who set off Gibson's temper. His eyes came 
back to rest on the face of his old friend and his 
stomach knotted. 

Gibson's word was law. Eric's hand had already seized 
the prisoner. A tiny blade appeared like magic in his 
other hand. 

"Stop!" 

Could this moment get any stranger? For a moment Liam 
thought his mother had screamed again. But it wasn't 
her - not this time. 

The crowd parted for Dr. Scully like water - in direct 
contrast to Gibson's wake. 

She reached up to put her hand on Gibson's arm. Her 
touch was light and quick, its effect immediate. 
Gibson's face became smooth. 

Dr. Scully approached Stan. She circled him, wonder on 
her face. Calm spread through the group on the strength 
of her smile. Eric lowered his hands. 

Dr. Scully was oblivious to the power she commanded. 

"Jeremiah. Jeremiah Smith."