This fanfic is based on a true story I found in "World Famous Strange But True" edited by Colin Wilson with Dr Christopher Evans. Marie was a girl who died in 1909. Five years after her death, she was seen by some former school friends at the window of a house in Haiti's Port-au-Prince. There is nothing to suggest that she came from Les Cayes and the the rest of the story is made-up. The 5-year theory is also made-up by myself.

Zora Hurston was an American writer who recorded the story in 1938. Her role in the story is also made-up. She is infact a folklorist and not a political journalist as the fanfic suggests. Hurston collected folklore in Jamaica, Haiti, where she studied voodoo, Bermuda, Honduras, and the American South. She also studied black culture, having been brought up in an all-black town in the US and influenced the Harlem Rennaisance.

Information from "Hurston, Zora Neale," Microsoft(R) Encarta(R) 99 Encyclopedia. (c) 1993-1998 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.

Notes

On the third day of me writing this fanfic, I was looking through my Official Guide to the X-Files up until the middle of Season 3 for some information on the Conception and Evolution of the show. Whilst reading that, I noticed "Fresh Bones", the highest rated episode of that series and the only X-File episode to be given an 18-certificate. I watched this episode I think in late 1996 and I've got the video somewhere. However, this fanfic is similar to that episode and Mulder and Scully seem very vague about the subject of zombies. Therefore, I would like you to imagine that they aren't so familiar with the subject.

The state of Haiti and the way voodoo works is also made up although it is thought that in the case of Marie, the sorcerer who had kept Marie, died and his widow turned her over to the priest.

The Walking Dead Part I: Ti-bon-ange

The wind swirled violently. The distant palm trees almost formed an "n". The lights were out in the town. The church doors creaked. But a man stood. His face, shrouded by a hood. He wore a cloak. He stood over a grave, a grave of a young ten-year-old girl.

His mumbled words repeatedly, hesitantly. Suddenly, he stretched out his arms, "Éleves-vous, ma chére. Éleve-vous!" he screamed, his head looking up to the starry night sky. "Éleve-vous, éleve-vous, éleve-vous…"

Port-au-Prince was quiet. The people of the city were too tired to get out of bed on this cold, chilly morning. The tempestuous storms from last night left behind soaked houses and swarms of bloodthirsty mosquitoes and other parasites seeking prey. Some children from the Lycée Les Cayes had been sent to Port-au-Prince to buy Christmas gifts. They drove a rusty jeep type vehicle.

"Le dernier Noel au vingtème siècle!" one of the girls said.

"Le dernier Noel au millénaire!" corrected one of the boys.

Suddenly, the boy driving stopped the vehicle. His eyes fixed on the window of a house opposite them, down the road. Slowly, he mouthed, "Marie."

"Qui?" another girl shouted. "Jean-Paul. Qui est Marie. Tu a me trompé?" she nudged him. "Qui est Marie. Je suis ta petite amie! Qui est Marie? Jean-Paul! Qui est Marie?"

He pointed to the window, "Regardez. Marie."

They all turned their heads in unison towards the window. They all went silent. Their friend. Marie. They stared at her. She stared at them. They had betrayed her. They had forgotten about her. Those years of mourning were gone.

Another boy broke the silence, "Non. Elle n’est pas Marie." But even he knew, that was Marie. But how?

Fox Mulder relaxed onto his chair. He wanted to be back on the X-Files. His mobile then rang. "Mulder."

"Mr Mulder. This is Zora Hurston. I’m a writer and I’m currently writing about Haiti."

"Haiti? What’s that got to do with me."

"Mr Mulder, I’m in Haiti now and there is something strange going on. I’ve read about you and your history and your work in the X-Files division, and I was wondering if you would come and investigate."

"Are you one of the walking dead or something?" he laughed.

"How did you know?"

"Know about what?"

"About the girl?"

"What girl?"

"The zombie. Marie Perez. That’s what I wanted you to come and look at."

"There is a zombie?"

"Yes."

Mulder clenched his fists in success. An X-File.

"Miss Hurston, I’ll try and get there as soon as I can. Port au Prince?"

"Yes."

"And Miss Hurston, if you wish to contact me further, contact me only on this number. It is quite imperative that you do not call the offices. And Miss Hurston, do not, answer to a man who goes by the name Spender."

"Spender?"

"Yes. He’s an obsessive fan."

"Right." She sounded puzzled.

"Well, I’ll see you later." He hung up.

Just then, his partner, Dana Scully entered. Mulder was grinning. "Mulder?" she said, looking at him with that you-are-a-naughty-boy expression. She sighed. "X-File?"

He nodded. "Game Mulder-Scully!"

"Zombies?"

"Yeah."

"Have you checked out this Zora Hurston?"

"I was just about to."

Mulder logged on to the Intelligence Network Gateway. H-U-R-S-T-O-N, Z-O-R-A. The computer began the search. Then came up a photograph of a middle-aged woman.

Name: Hurston, Zora N.

D.O.B: 09-24-59

P.O.B: Eatonville, Florida

Height: 5’-7"

Weight: 112lbs

Hair: Red

Eyes: Blue/Green

Sex: Female

Race: Caucasian

Schooling: MA (Politics) Howard University BA (Creole/French/Spanish) Columbia University

Marital Status: Single

Employment: Journalist 1980- New York Times – Travel – Central America; Politics – Castro, Fidel

Biographer 1984- François Duvalier – Papa Doc (1984); Fidel Castro – History will absolve me (1984); Fidel Castro 1961- Marxist? (1989); The End of an Era – Augusto Pinocher Ugarte (1990); Two down, One to go: Will Castro last? (1991); Papa Doc and Son – François and Jean-Paul Duvalier (1992)

Political works 1985- The Political History of Haiti (1985); Hispaniola (1987); Dictatorship in Central and South America (1989); Voodoo and Folklore Part I (1997)

"She’s a busy woman," Mulder said.

"Mulder, do you really believe this zombie stuff?" asked Scully.

"I don’t know. Why don’t we go and find out?"

"Mulder! Kersh’ll kill us!"

"Come on, Scully. Screw Kersh. I’m done with this crap, I’m going."

"Mulder, it’s nearly Christmas."

"You spent last Christmas with me, why not spend this one with me too?"

"Mulder, our jobs are on the line!"

"Scully, I’m going. I may need you out there."

Scully hesitated. She sighed. "Mulder, this is stupid. Why handle this case. It’s silly. The woman has probably just gone nuts or something."

"Look, Scully. If I let go of this case, it’ll go to Spender. And Spender, just like you, doesn’t give a damn. Only, you can be rational…sometimes. He will throw this case away and we’ll all be zombies. I don’t give a damn about Kersh. He won’t sack us."

"Mulder, as soon as the case is finished, we’re back here."

"I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go."

"Mr Mulder, I presume," said the woman from the photograph, shaking his hand. "And…I see you’ve brought the wife."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other, slightly smiling, embarrassed. "Uh, Miss Hurston, this is Special Agent Dana Scully, my partner."

"Oh, not married yet. Engaged?"

The smile was now stronger. "No. My partner as in my partner at the Bureau."

"I see," said Hurston, giving Scully a woman-to-woman smile, "I’m dreadfully sorry. In fact I think I read about you, Miss Scully in Mulder’s profile. It is Miss Scully, isn’t it?"

"Yes," Scully replied.

After that moment of embarrassment, Mulder decided to change the subject. "Miss Hurston, you were telling me about this ‘zombie’?"

"Yes. Marie Perez. She died in Les Cayes, just west of here. She was just 10 years old. However, she was found, here in Port-au-Prince, this morning. In fact, it was her friends that found her. The police, to identify her, called out more people from Les Cayes. However, when the police tried getting into the empty house, she just disappeared."

"What is there to suggest that she was a zombie? Why not a ghost?" Mulder asked.

"Mr Mulder, you joked about zombies over the phone before I even told you about the case. Either you are a psychic or you know about Haiti’s history with zombies."

"I wish!"

"The people all over Haiti are scared stiff. They believe the sorcerer is back. The police are going to open the grave and investigate later on, just to make sure. Would you like go to Les Cayes?"

"Yes," Mulder replied. "Scully’s a medical doctor and she’ll be willing to check anything out."

"Did you know this Marie personally?" Mulder asked Hurston in her chauffeur driven jeep.

"No I didn’t. But from what I hear it was a sad death. She was a lovely society girl. Doing chores here and there. Her and her friends. Her friends I do know and they still do those chores. A lovely bunch," she replied.

The streets of Port-au-Prince were old and rundown. It was an earthquake-prone place and because of their financial inadequacy, they were unable to rebuild. They were full of homeless people. "We’re nearing the house, " Huston told them. Scully hardly said a word. She just sat there, looking out of the car at the people on the streets. The children stared back. A white person. Come to save them?

The jeep stopped outside a house. There were police jeeps out side and the area was out of bounds. They got out of the jeep and entered the house. The policemen standing guard were estranged by the agents’ FBI Ids, but they let them in. The police were standing in the main room interviewing a man. The room was empty but for some blankets. The paint on the walls were peeling off and the room stank horribly. The interviewee was shivering. It was apparent to Scully that he was shivering of fear and not of the cold.

"Who’s that," she asked Hurston.

"He’s a wino. He’s been staying here. He saw the zombie. He claims she did nothing to him but he’s freaked out. He claims the zombie walked away, not even giving him an eye," she said.

"Have you identified him?" Scully asked.

"He says he is Pierre. He won’t add to that. He’s too freaked out. We’re keeping it subtle."

"Tell the police to keep him at the station."

"Why?"

"Just in case."

"But look at him…"

"Miss Hurston, I understand that you feel sorry for him and so do I. But in America, to do it quickly, we do it thoroughly and so we need him there so we can question him further, if required. It may not be needed but it’s precautionary."

Hurston felt embarrassed. Yet she also felt angry. Scully was taking advantage of her minimised knowledge of American policing. She felt like saying something like, "In Haiti…" but it wasn’t necessary. She obeyed Scully’s orders, obviously reluctantly, and she approached the Sargent. He was big both ways. The policeman nodded without argument.

She walked back to the pair of FBI agents. "He says he’ll hold him," she told them. "Anyway, the digging will be beginning soon, so I think we’d better head off to Les Cayes?"

"Sure," Mulder said.

"How far is it?" Scully asked.

"About a hundred kilometers so we’d better make a move on if we’re to catch it," Hurston replied.

They returned to the jeep. Mulder realised that this was where he’d need Scully. He also realised that up until then he didn’t. She never wanted to come on the trip anyway. It was clear that because of this, she was agitated and she wanted to be stubborn and didn’t feel like getting on with Hurston.

They continued the journey to Les Cayes. The journey took nearly three hours. Conversation was scarce. Scully still felt that this case was a misunderstanding, someone that looked like Marie or something. Sceptical. Mulder on the other hand wasn’t so sure.

"Does the family know?" he asked.

"Yes. But they are dismissing the story."

"Ten years old," Scully thought.

"How did she die?" Mulder asked Hurston quietly.

"An HIV epidemic."

Scully wondered how many more had died. Looking at the graveyard, plenty, she supposed.

There were about ten people present. The digging had begun. There were a few policemen and the priest was there too. The digging took about ten minutes. The place became silent. They diggers opened up the coffin. Everybody gasped. The priest looked to the heavens. The skeleton was too big for the coffin. The coffin was about 4"9’ long but the skeleton must have come up to about 5"6’, not the size of your normal 10 year old. But it was worse. The burial clothes were neatly stacked next to the skeleton. "X-File," Scully thought.

The coffin was taken out of the ground to be examined. Scully asked to have a look. The bones were carried away and Hurston led Mulder and Scully to the priest.

"This is Reverend Xavier," she said introducing them. "I’ll sort out the overnight arrangements."

"Overnight arrangements?" Scully asked.

"Uh, yeah Scully, I forgot to tell you," Mulder said hesitantly.

Scully gave him that "oh you are so dead" look.

They both turned around to the priest.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, French accent. He shook their hands, Mulder first. "You are here about Marie?"

"Yes," Mulder answered.

"I did the service. Lovely girl. Helped me out here too sometimes. It was a loss to the whole of Les Cayes. I cannot quite believe it. Come this way." The priest led them to the church. It was the most beautiful place they had seen. It was well preserved. The French had built it in the 18th Century. "Nice place, huh?"

The agents nodded. This was as good a church as the one in D.C that Scully attended. "It’s lovely," she said.

"It falls apart, some of it," he told them.

"You speak good English," Mulder told him.

"Thank you. I went to Oxford in England to study Theology."

"Really? I went to Oxford too."

"Oh."

"Reverend, have you ever encountered…zombies?" Mulder asked him. Scully looked at him.

"Not here. I’ve seen many out on the street. But they all come from the graves outside."

"Haven’t you ever felt the need to leave the place? Doesn’t it scare you?" Scully asked.

"Zombie’s scare me. They don’t do damage. They just scare people. But this is my life’s work. If I leave, this place may collapse for good and I don’t want that."

"That’s really brave. How do you know that the zombies won’t attack you?" Mulder asked curiously.

"Zombies have been around since the 16^th century, when Haiti was a part of Spain. They have never harmed anyone except for the odd shock," he said. "I’m sorry, but I’ve got some work to do. If you’d like to pop in later…"

"Sure, thanks for your help, Father," Mulder said, smiling kindly.

They walked out of the church into the graveyard. "Poor guy," Mulder said sympathetically.

"Yeah."

Just then, Hurston arrived. "There’s good news and there’s bad news," she said.

"Good news…" Mulder said, waiting for an answer.

"Accommodation."

"Bad news…" Scully said.

"One double bed."

They both looked at each other in disbelief.

"We usually take separate rooms," Scully told her.

"Yeah."

"Couch?" Mulder asked.

"I’m afraid it’s just a small room. Bed and that’s it."

"Since I’m such a chivalrous fellow, I’ll take the floor," he said.

"I’m afraid, the floors are full of dust and parasites. I wouldn’t recommend it," Hurston told him.

"Parasites!" Mulder said, laughing. "I’m not afraid of parasites!"

"Suit yourself."

"Ah!" Mulder screamed and jumped up.

Scully simultaneously took out her gun. "What? What?" Mulder was screaming. Something’s wrong.

"Scully, I’m not going to sleep."

"Why not?"

"A legion of parasites."

"Ah."

Mulder got up off the blankets on the floor. He felt like taking a sneak preview of what to expect from the parasites over the night. Unfortunately, it wasn’t looking good.

"Listen, Scully, I might just go to the library, and look for stuff."

"Do you think they’ll have any decent libraries here?"

"On voodoo, yeah. They must do."

Scully checked out the bed.

"The bed’s comfy, Mulder," Scully joked.

"I bet," Mulder laughed. "I’ll see you…whenever."

"Okay."

Mulder returned from the library and hour later. It was a successful trip. He’d found out some useful information. He went upstairs to the room and opened the door.

"Ah!" Scully screamed. Her hands quickly became one of the three fig leaves.

Mulder shut the door immediately. He’d seen everything. She was more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. He looked away, his face covered with embarrassment. What was she doing standing there with no clothes on? The doorknob creaked as the door opened. Scully stood there in her purple silk pyjamas. "Mulder…" she said more embarrassed than he was.

Mulder rounded his mouth in order to cover his own embarrassment. "I…I…I didn’t see…a thing." He lied. He saw it all.

Scully left the door open for him and sat down on the bed. She looked in the direction of his hips and smiled. Mulder smiled too. She knew and he knew she knew. He decided to change the subject. "The library…was quite good."

"Really? …Anything interesting?"

"Yeah. Some things about the history of voodoo and zombies in Haiti."

"That’s good. I mean, there’s a start."

"Yeah, the sorcerer. The last one died about five years ago in the HIV epidemic that Marie fell to. On the same day in fact."

"Right."

"And so on the fifth anniversary, the people who died on the same day will be brought out having been with him for five years and the soul is ready to leave the body and join him. At that point, the soulless body rises and walks out. The wife of the sorcerer uses voodoo on someone powerful, usually the priest, to help bring them out. I checked the records and the sorcerer never had a wife. It is the same as what he does. But, everybody who dies on that day get affected and get this Scully, more than one person died that day."

"So the place was expecting more?"

"Yeah."

"That proves that zombies don’t exist."

"Bull, Scully. Something’s wrong. This case is weirder than I thought."

Scully sighed. "Anyway, the coroner came. He gave me a translated report. He’s American."

"Hurston’s got some friend’s here?" Mulder asked.

Scully misinterpreted Mulder’s remark. "You didn’t like her either?" she relieved.

"No, what gave you that impression?"

"Uh. Forget it, Mulder," she said again embarrassed. "Look it’s getting late, I’m going to bed." She got in under the duvet.

There was a slight pause. "Well, enjoy," he said and walked towards the door.

"Mulder?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Come on, look, it’s a big bed. Why don’t you just sleep here? Look, we’re reasonable adults. Just sleep here."

He stared at her. "Well…"

"Come on, Mulder, or you’ll be in a state tomorrow.

"Okay."

Mulder approached his bag and took out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and went into the bathroom to get changed. "First her body and now I’m innocently sleeping next to her. Something’s wrong," he thought.

He came back changed. Scully was on the right, away from the window. He pulled the duvet up on his side and they looked at each other nervously. He got in and slid down in to the bed. He turned away from Scully and shut his eyes.

The bed felt warmer to Scully. She decided not to think about it and turned away just like Mulder.

There were loud noises coming from the other rooms. Fearful noises. And Mulder was alert. Screams and shouts. Mulder got out of the bed, gun in hand. He saw it. Through the window, a long procession of people walked the streets. A Lifeless procession of people. "Well, I’ll be damned," he whispered. "Scully!"

Scully awoke, looking up at him. Not too happy about being disturbed. "Mulder, this habit of waking me up has got to…Oh my!" She got out of bed, took her gun and put on her loafers. Mulder loosely put on his black leathers. They both hurried down the stairs. Scully led. Memories came flooding back. Week in, week out, she used to do this kind of stuff. She opened the door. She began shooting the people. The bullets just bounced. She’d never seen anything like it. She looked up at him. "Mulder, what do we do?" Scully asked, worried.

"Get the police," he said and ran off.

"Mulder! Mulder, where are you going?"

Scully, ran to the phone downstairs. Mulder was going to try and stop these zombies. "Oh, Mulder," she thought. She rang up the police. The guy on the other end couldn’t speak English, but he got the message loud and clear. The Haitians must know the word "zombie" from every language.

She ran outside, and tried to catch up with Mulder. She caught him. He was just walking now. "Mulder, I’ve called the police, they should be on their way any minute." She awaited a response and then looked up at him. "Mulder?" she said. He was walking in the same direction as the zombies. "Mulder?" she tried. "Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder? Mulder?"

Continued...