The Four Corners Cycle
Book Three - Terminus
Chapter Three
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Late Afternoon 
Riverbend Estate

Mulder hasn't moved.

Ben has pulled the truck under a stand of trees. The shade makes the heat more bearable. Dana wishes with all her heart for a breeze to come and stir the air.

She would welcome any kind of motion at all right now.

She sits close to Mulder in the bed of the truck. The only thing that tells her that he is alive is the faint pulse that she feels when she lays her fingers against his throat. This is something she does every five minutes or so.

Because it's all she can do.

Dana fears that Mulder has succumbed to the poison he put in his system two days ago. Without knowing what kind of chemical he's ingested, though, there's little she can do for him. Especially when everyone around her is convinced he's taking some sort of psychic journey.

Well, she thinks with resignation, if nothing else he's certainly found a novel way to ditch me.

"Dana."

She looks up from her reverie to see Ben looking at her over the tailgate of the truck. Dana is beginning to find comfort in the presence of this simple, soft-spoken man. The tenderness in his manner touches her, and she feels increasingly safe when he is nearby.

A friend, Dana thinks. How long has it been since I've had one of those?

"Any change?"

Dana rolls her head from side to side and wipes the sweat off her upper lip. "No. No change."

"Kaya said to tell you she's going to come sit with him. You can take a break."

Dana nods slowly, reaching out to lay her fingers against Mulder's throat.

"He'll be fine, Dana."

"Oh, I understand. They've already told me. 'He does this all the time'."

She smoothes Mulder's hair wistfully. It is thick and soft.

"Or something like that," she sighs.

"Well, my guess is he doesn't do this 'all the time'. It's dangerous. There aren't many who can do it."

"Really," Dana says, feeling leaden, disconsolate. She cannot take her eyes from Mulder's profile.

This is how he'll look when we bury him, she thinks.

"I've heard of one or two Shamen in the Pueblos who can travel with the dead...."

There is reverence in Ben's voice. Something like envy.

"Do you really believe that's what he's doing, Ben?" Dana asks. "Traveling with the dead?"

"Yeah," Ben answers. "Of course I believe it."

"I don't know if I can."

"I know it's not easy. But Dana, there's more to the world than you can see or touch. It's arrogant to think otherwise."

They hear footsteps. Kaya approaches the truck.

"Has he moved at all?"

Kaya is still a child in so many ways, Dana thinks. Three days in a row of this has got to be hard on her.

"I've checked his pulse," Dana tells her. "He's okay."

A tear rolls unheeded down the girl's cheek. She allows Dana to grasp her hand.

"What did your brother say last night? We're just going to have to trust him."

Kaya nods.

Dana climbs out of the back of the truck. She looks back over her shoulder, reluctantly.

Ben puts his hand on her arm. "Elise and I were thinking of going down to the river. Come for a swim with us."

~~~~

Dana follows Ben down a narrow lane that skirts the house, winding through a tangle of bushes. Unforgiving air boils up from crumbling asphalt. It rushes up her skirt, searing her bare legs. It seeps through the thin leather soles of her boots, frying the bottoms of her feet.

Kaya gave her the boots this morning. That seems like a hundred years ago.

In the rear of the house there is a low wooden deck; here they find Matthew lounging on a bench, chatting with another young man who is transplanting tomato vines into a huge terra cotta planter.

"We're going down to the river," Ben tells him. "Seen Elise?"

"She's helping with supper," Matthew's companion says. "Check by the tennis court."

The tennis court is nothing more than a weed covered tarmac surrounded by bare soil and pine trees. Clotheslines have been strung from its high fences; bed sheets hang toasting like slices of bread. Nearby, a cooking fire blazes. An elaborate gazebo sits off to one side, its roof sagging slightly, its wood nagged to a lifeless gray by the relentless sun. Ben's friend Elise squats near the entryway, bending over the bowl of a cast-off birdbath. She is pounding dried corn with a heavy wooden pestle.

"There's no grain in the world that could stand up to you, lady," Ben jokes, as he and Dana draw near.

Elise stands up, stretching her long arms toward the sky. "You're right, Benjamin," she says mildly. "My arms never get tired."

"So, have you finished? Is it flour yet? Let's go to the river."

"Well, let me see if my boss here will let me have a break."

Elise looks into the gazebo and calls to a young woman who is chopping greens at the table. "Is there anything else you need me to do, honey?"

The woman looks up from her work and smiles. "No, I have it. You go ahead."

Elise waves in the young woman's direction. "This is my daughter Nina. Nina, this is Dana. She's a friend of Doc William's."

Nina and Dana exchange a smile.

"What about William, anyway?" Elise asks as they walk towards the pine grove behind the tennis court.

Dana concentrates on the smell of the pine trees.

"He's the same," Ben answers.

"Well, I wish he would finish his business," Elise says wryly. "It's just not good corpse weather today."

~~~~

The river is broad and shallow, surrounded on all sides by huge boulders that catch the rushing water, forming dark, inviting pools.

Ben and Elise instantly strip off their clothes and fall into the water with shouts of delight. Dana's hands creep to her belly, twisting the thin fabric of her dress.

She doesn't want them to see the scars.

Dana wanders upriver, circling behind a large, wedge- shaped rock, allowing her body to relax in the stream of moist air that flows around its base. She pulls her dress over her head and crouches near the coursing water, scooping it against her body with her arms. Then she stands and wades in.

It's cool. She sinks slowly into the knee-deep pool, sighing as her body adjusts to the temperature. She hasn't been this comfortable for days.

River water purls against her skin. Dana reaches down to balance herself on the smooth stones that line the river bottom, looking up at the wide lavender sky of late afternoon.

There's an old man perched on top of the rock.

She's not sure he's noticed her, though he stares in her direction. He chews absent-mindedly at the inside of his cheek.

I didn't see him sitting there, she thinks, how could I have missed him?

He is ancient. A shock of white hair sticks up from the top of his head, joining with his dangling white beard to give his head an elongated appearance, as if she were seeing him in a fun house mirror. His body is long and thin, and he sits with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, hands trembling slightly.

He is completely naked.

Dana watches him, mesmerized. A little bit frightened, perhaps.

Suddenly, he looks right at her. She sinks lower into the water, hiding her bare breasts from his gaze.

"You've never been here before," he says, in a baritone voice that seems to float on the air, echoing softly in her ears despite the roaring water.

Dana looks up at the old man, hoping her eyes aren't too wide, hoping her mouth doesn't drop open and that she will be able to speak to him in a somewhat normal voice.

"No," she says, "I'm new here."

He unwraps a long arm from his knees and leans toward her. Translucent fingers with twisted yellow nails beckon her up to the surface of the rock.

"Come sit with me," he says.

~~~~

Dana's dress sticks to her body. She sits down gingerly on top of the wedge-shaped rock, leaving several feet between her body and that of the old gentleman. It's hard to resist the temptation to stare at his naked brown form, but with effort, Dana manages to keep her eyes on his face.

She's not quite sure why she's sitting here.

Watery blue eyes peer intently in her direction: inspecting her body, scrutinizing her soul. Unnerved, Dana looks down, but finds her eyes drawn to his shriveled nudity. She forces herself to look up towards his face again. The old man meets her gaze for a moment, running his tongue along blackened front teeth.

He looks away abruptly, waving a hand toward the river.

"Water's good, don't you think?"

Dana is not sure how to answer.

"It's good to have somewhere to get away from the heat," she says, finally, locking her fingers together and staring down at them.

"Water doesn't compete."

"Excuse me?"

"It goes along its path without complaining."

He fixes his pale gaze on her face again. One of his eyes drifts lazily up and out of focus. All at once a bright, energetic smile lights his face.

The smile is too wide to be friendly. He reaches toward her.

Dana pulls away instinctively but he grabs her by the wrist, wiry fingers locking around the fine bones with a grip that is amazingly strong.

"Be empty, Dana, like the riverbed." he says, grinning wildly.

"What?"

"Allow yourself to be filled."

Dana's heart pounds.

"Please let go of me."

She looks out into the river. Ben and Elise are floating not too far away. Neither seems to notice that she's being accosted by one of the estate residents.

The old man's eyes stare into hers. "The things of this world *exist*, child. They *are*. You can't refuse them."

Dana wrenches her arm away from the old man, struggling to her feet. "I have to go."

Within moments she is pulling her boots on. As she hurries toward the path that leads to the house, she casts a glance back over her shoulder.

The rock is empty. The old man is gone.

~~~~

She meets Matthew on the path.

"Dana, you have to come. It's Will."

"Is he all right?"

"He seems fine..."

"Get Ben."

Dana heads for the house at a run.

~~~~

Mulder sits on the tailgate of the truck, with his arms wrapped around his daughter. Kaya clings to her father tightly, face buried against his neck.

It's all too much for her, Dana thinks. It's not fair to put a child through something like this.

"Mulder, god, are you all right?"

Dana grasps his wrist, checking his pulse, and lays her hand against his forehead. His pulse is weak and rapid. His skin is pale and clammy and his eyes don't seem to be focusing.

"You're suffering some aftereffects from the plant you took, Mulder...I'm really worried about your liver and kidneys..."

"Will, you okay?" Ben and Elise arrive with Matthew, just a few steps behind her.

He nods shakily. "Ben, get a piece of paper and a pencil."

"Sure, Will."

"Mulder, I think you ought to lie down and drink something. You're really dehydrated and we need to flush your system out..."

Kaya wraps her arms more tightly around Mulder's neck. "Leave him alone, Dana."

"Kaya, I'm trying to help him."

Ben comes from the cab of the truck with a scrap of paper and a pencil. "Will, here's paper."

"Write this down."

"Okay."

"West Road to Desert View. Twelve miles due north into the Canyon. Ten miles upriver to the mouth of the Little Colorado. North side of the wheel. About forty feet up the canyon wall."

Mulder slumps into Kaya's arms.

Silence.

"Mulder..."

"Scully, it's okay," he murmurs. "I'm okay."

"That it, Will?"

"Yeah," he whispers. "There's a cave there. That's where we need to go. Put that paper somewhere safe, Ben. Sometime you might need it."

Mulder speaks low into Kaya's ear. She nods and releases him, taking a step or two back. Matthew moves behind her and shyly takes her hand.

Mulder raises his eyes and looks around. "Elise, we need to take care of this man's body."

"William, I swear when you come to visit it's always the damnedest thing. Of course we'll take care of his body...you can send him off later tonight."

Elise runs her hand along the top of Mulder's head, letting it rest in his hair for a long moment. "Let's make things right again, William," she says, quietly. "Let's set you back the way you were."

~~~~

Mulder sits on a blanket with his legs crossed. Dana sits nearby. They listen to the rushing of the river.

Elise lights a bundle of dried sage. When it is smoldering, she waves the smoke over herself with a cupped hand, and then waves it away from herself, turning slowly, offering the smoke to the north, the east, the south, and the west.

To the earth. To the sky.

She waves the smoke over Mulder's body. He closes his eyes and breathes.

Dana watches as Elise brings water from the river in an earthen jar. She pours it over him, washing the dead man's essence away. Mulder allows her to wash his entire body clean, then sits quietly on the blanket, head bowed, eyes closed.

Elise bends down and kisses the top of his head. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you, William," she says softly, fondly. "I'll bring you some clean clothes."

~~~~

Dana presses her back against the wedge-shaped rock and watches the sunset. Purple clouds skim the top of the bluff above the river, scattering themselves across a rose-colored sky. Looking up, she wishes that she could melt into the air, become luminous, gossamer, as azure as the approaching night.

She wishes she could be nothing.

She wonders vaguely if that would make Mulder happy.

He sits on his blanket, concentrating on the swirling water. Dana knows she has no right to disturb his observance.

But she refuses to leave him alone.

Darkness is falling. Dana closes her eyes. It's been a long and traumatic day and she has not slept for over thirty-six hours. It would be nice just to sleep, right here by the river, she thinks to herself...

Something forces her eyes back open. There's a crawling feeling in the back of her neck; a chill stealing over her body.

Breath quick and shallow. Heart pounding.

He stands behind Mulder with both hands raised in the air. Dana squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head to clear the fog...

When she looks again the old man has vanished.

~~~~~

Early Evening 
Desert View, Arizona 

Dru is sick of walking. He's got a blister on his heel and he's hungry as shit.

There's not very much at Desert View: just a trading post, the shell of an old watchtower, and a couple of trailers. Could be this was the middle of nowhere even before the Bugs took over, Dru figures.

It sure as hell is the middle of nowhere now.

The teenage kid behind the counter in the trading post is about the most ugly, hair-lipped, scrawny excuse for a human being that Dru has ever seen. He skitters off like a startled jack-rabbit when Gary tells him to go get someone called Red.

While the kid is gone, Jonah lets himself into the back room of the store. He finds a stove there with a pot of sausage and beans cooking, so they all help themselves to somebody's supper. Dru has never been so hungry in his life. The stolen food goes down better than just about anything he's ever eaten.

Even if he is dining with a pistol in his back.

When Red, the owner of the trading post, finally shows up, he doesn't say anything about the empty pot on his stove. He acts like Birch is somebody important: says "yes sir" when Birch tells him to send such and such back for the supplies in the van; runs around getting things off the shelves when Birch points at them; sends the hair-lip kid skittering off again to find somebody called Stanley, who's supposed to have a mule.

Dru figures he's not going anywhere. While they're still on West Road he has some hope of getting home. But Desert View is the end of West Road, as far as he knows. It's all dirt track and dead asphalt from here. Pistol in his back or not, he's not going with these guys off into the Canyon.

He needs to get to Will and tell him what's going on.

~~~~

Evening drags into night and nobody can find a guy named Stanley who's supposed to have a mule.

Birch and Jonah have gone outside to the parking lot with Red, where it's cooler.

The air inside the trading post is hot and heavy. Dru sits on a cot in the back room, near the stove, beads of sweat standing out on his face like a bunch of blisters. Wallace sits on the other side of the room, his gun in his lap. He leans his chair back against the wall near the back door, which he's pushed open a crack to let some air in, and stares at Dru resentfully.

Dru counts cracks in the floor. He traces his name in the dust on the bedside table. He watches a roach crawl across the stovetop.

All of a sudden, they hear voices rise outside in the parking lot. There's a woman's voice, high-pitched and angry, and Birch talking loud but trying to sound smooth and calm. Wallace thumps his chair down to the floor, listening hard. He jumps up and throws a dirty look Dru's way, pacing back and forth in the heat like a mountain lion in a cage.

Finally he sticks his head out into the store. "What's going on out there?" he asks the kid, impatiently.

"It's Gina, looking for Stephen," the kid answers, his voice shaking. "She's mad."

"No shit," Wallace snaps. He jerks his head back inside and glares at Dru again, then motions the kid into the room, sticking the pistol in his hand and shoving him down into the chair by the door.

Wallace points a finger at Dru. "If he pulls anything, kill him."

He stalks out to the parking lot.

Dru smiles. This is gonna be easy, he thinks.

"What's your name, kid?"

The hair-lip boy doesn't answer, looking down at the gun Wallace gave him.

Dru gets up from the cot.

"That lady in the parking lot sounds mad as hell. Who did you say she was?"

He takes a step in the kid's direction.

The kid lifts the gun and points it. "Sit down."

"Yeah, no big. Sure."

Dru sits back down. He pretends to study the blanket that is spread out on the cot.

"That's the dirtiest blanket I ever saw," he remarks. "Do you really sleep under that?"

The kid just points the gun and stares.

"Did you say she's looking for? That guy, Stephen?" Dru asks, standing up again. "What is she, his girlfriend or something?"

No answer.

"Shit, no wonder she's mad. Mr. Birch is probably having a hard time explaining what he did with Stephen's body."

The kid's eyes get bigger. The hand holding the gun twitches a little.

Dru takes two steps forward.

The kid swallows and clears his throat. "Mr. Birch said Stephen had an accident."

"Yeah, he did. His leg looked like roadkill. But he was alive 'til just this morning. Was he a friend of yours?"

The kid nods.

Dru takes another step forward. He spies the bean pot out of the corner of his eye, sitting empty on top of the stove.

It looks heavy. It looks perfect.

"Mr. Birch probably isn't telling that lady how he dumped Stephen in the desert on the way here this morning. She'd really scream if he told her that."

The kid's eyes are huge now. His gun hand is shaking.

"You're lying," he says, gulping a little and trying not to cry.

Just then Dru grabs the bean pot by the handle and smacks the kid in the head. The kid goes down like a sack of rocks. He falls on the gun; Dru can't get to it easily.

Dammit. Goddammit.

Screen door slams. Someone's coming.

Dru lunges out the back door, heading for the desert as fast as he can, hoping the night will hide him.

Damn, no trees, no trees, no trees..

Shit oh shit, not even a bush...

He breaks into a run.

Stinking moon, damn, full tonight...

The shot drops him in his tracks.

Holy fuck, oh holy fuck...

The pain in his back is unbearable.

Back at the store the hair-lip kid stands holding the gun, tears streaming down his face.

End Book Three, Chapter Three