Santa Suzanna Mountains, CA
August, 1969

High up in the Santa Suzanna Mountains, a young boy peers down into a valley from cliff. Another boy comes up behind him and kneels down next to him.

"What do you see, Brian?" he asked.

"Nothing,!" said Brian. "Clarky, are you sure you have the right place?"

"Yeah, I saw them yesterday right here! They were all naked and dancing to weird music."

"Well, they're not here now. I can't believe I let you talk me into this! My mom's gonna be so pissed when I get home!"

"Shh!" said Clarky, pointing, "Look! There they are!"

The two boys watched intently as men and women in the valley tore off their clothes and danced. They were so engrossed that they didn't hear three men coming up behind them.

"Hey!" said one of the men. "What are you doing here?"

"You shouldn't be here," said another.

"We were just leaving," said Clarky.

"I'll say!" said the third man.

The frightened boys tried to run away, but Clarky's foot got stuck in a hole. He yanked his foot out and tumbled backwards over the cliff. On his way down he caught hold of a branch.

"Help me!" Clarky cried.

Brian grabbed Clarky's arm and pulled. No use. He wasn't strong enough.

"Help him!" Brian pleaded with the men.

"Alright," said one of them. He bent down and took Clarky by the arm. Then, with an evil look in his eyes he-

Home of Jay Coleman
Los Angeles, CA

"Happy birthday, Darling!" said Coleman, as he brought a gift out to his wife.

"Oh, Jay!" she beamed as she unwrapped a bottle of her favorite perfume, "You shouldn't have!"

Mrs. Coleman stood up and went to her vanity to put some of the fragerance on. When she turned around she saw a boy standing behind her husband.

"Jay, who's that?"

"Who?" asked Coleman, turning around. "Oh, my-"

The boy reached around Coleman's neck and began squeezing.

FBI building
Washington, DC

"Two dead men," said Agent Mulder, slapping two case files down on his desk. "Murdered. Strangled, to be presice. Both in their late fifties, living in Los Angeles, married with children, grandchildren even, and a dog."

His partner, Agent Scully picked up the files and looked them over. She had been here one too many times and knew not to take everything Mulder says at face value.

"So, how do these cases link?" she asked. "You aren't out to prove that the dogs joined forces against their 'best friends,' are you?"

Mulder smiled. "Ha, ha."

"Okay, no the dogs. The wives then?"

"'Fraid not. Both were taken into custody and given a polygraph test, which they passed with flying colors. But that aside, these two men, Scott Austin and Jay Coleman, have one other very special thing in common. They both belonged to the Manson Family before papa Charlie got locked up in 1971."

"Who do you think is out to get them? Sharon Tate's family?"

"No, if they were going to strike, don't you think they would have thirty years ago?"

"Well, then, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure, but we're going to sunny California."

Santa Suzanna Mountains, CA

Seven hours later, Agent Scully followed Agent Mulder up a winding trail through the Santa Suzanna Mountains. Mulder looked around as if he was searching for something.

"What are we doing here?" Scully asked. "What do you expect to find? The Manson's haven't been here for a third of a century."

Mulder stopped in the middle of a valley. For a moment he stared at the dry, yellow grass. Then he turned to face Scully, as though it just occurred to him that she had spoken.

"Whoever the killer is has some fascination with Charlie. It only makes sense that he would visit this place." Mulder turned back around and watched a bird as it flew through the sky.

Scully looked at him, wondering what he was doing. "Well, let's not just stand around," she said. "If the answer is here, it's not going to jump up and bite us. Let's ask someone if they've seen anything."

Scully started back to their car. Eventually, Mulder followed.

They drove up the Santa Suzanna Pass a ways until they found a tiny house on the corner. They got out of the car and walked to the house. Scully knocked on the door and an elderly woman answered the door. Her face was pale, and was extremely surprised to see the two agents.

At seeing her expression, Mulder pulled out his badge and showed it to the woman. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, "We're with the FBI. I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Scully. We were wondering if you've noticed anyone unusual hanging around here."

The woman slowy began to close the door. "I don't normally go outside," she said. "I keep to myself. I don't believe I can help you." She closed the door. Mulder and Scully looked at eachother, then turned toward their car. A man was standing behind them. He walked up to Mulder and held out his hand to shake Mulder's. Mulder took it, hoping he would find out what the man wanted.

"You're feds?" asked the man.

"Yes," said Mulder. "Agents Mulder and Scully."

"My name is Brian," said the man. "Does this have anything to do with Clarky?"

"Clarky?" asked Mulder. "I don't know...maybe."

"Who's Clarky?" questioned Scully.

"He...he was my best friend," Brian began, "but he died. That's his mother you were just talking to. I haven't seen her speak to another human being in the longest time. Not even me. She should have moved after it happened, but she didn't have the money. Still doesn't-"

"Wait!" Mulder interrupted. "After what happened?"

"The murder."

"Clarky was murdered?" inquired Scully.

"Yeah," Brian began, "we were trying to catch a glimpse of the...'family.' We were caught by these three guys. We started to run away...and...well...Clarky's foot got stuck in a hole and he fell off the cliff. He caught hold of a branch, and I thought he was going to be okay. I wasn't strong enough to pull him up, so I asked one of the guys to help me. He said he would, but he grabbed Clarky's arm and threw him off. I ran to Clarky's house and told his mom. I was too scared to go to the police. By the time I did, Manson and his 'slippies' had already gone to Death Valley. The cops weren't too interested in the case anyway. All they cared about were the high society murders and just labeld Clarky's death as an accident. It's such crap!"

Mulder, seeing the tears coming to Brian's eyes, placed his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry about what happened," he said. "I'll do what I can for your friend." He started toward the car. Realizing Scully was not following, he turned back and motioned to her. Scully stared at Mulder, inquizitively, before following him. She sat down in the passenger seat and waited for an explantion from Mulder. When she didn't get one, she decided to take the initiative.

"What did you mean by that? You'll do what you can for his friend?"

"I think we found the murderer, Scully," Mulder replied as he started the engine.

"So do I. So why didn't you arrest him?"

"Who? Brian?"


"Because he didn't do it."

"What do you mean? Mulder, haven't you ever heard of revenge? With the recent information that's the best scenario. It's the most simple, rational, logical...Oh, forgive me!" sighed Scully. "I forgot who I was talking to."

Los Angeles Police Department

"Here it is!" said Mulder, quite exuberently, as he waved a case file in front of Scully. "Clark Gregory Kasdorf, born January 23, 1956...ooh, he was an Aquarius...Died August 21, 1969. Cause of death...fell off a cliff."

"Golly!" You could have cut her sarcasim with a knife. "What a breakthrough in our case!"

"Scully...there's something about this case that I couldn't tell you before...that I couldn't tell anyone for fear of it getting back to Kersh."

"What?" Now Scully is intrigued.

"Scott Austin's wife witnessed his mureder, and she said she saw a young boy strangle her husband. She was in the bedroom, but by the time she got Austin, he was dead and the boy was gone. Mrs. Coleman swears a young boy strangled her husband. She tried to stop him, but she couldn't. She said she couldn't feel him. He was there...but he wasn't there."

"Mulder, I don't like where this is going."

"Think about it, Scully. A young who wasn't 'there' present at each murder. Clarky was a young boy when he died."

Scully didn't hold back her humor and let out a chuckle. "You mean to tell me that a thirteen year old boy who DIED in 1969 has came back from the dead to murder the men who murdered him?"

"Scully, what do you take me for, an idiot? Don't answer that!"

"Wasn't planning on it. So that's not what you mean? You're saying Clarky didn't come back from the dead."

"No, I'm saying he's not thirteen years old. He must be almost forty-three by now."

"You mean he's aged?"

"Exactly! But not aged as you and I do, with height and wrinkles and gray hair. Aged as in grew wiser, matured. Who's to say that our souls stop growing just because we die. Death is just the physical part of us. Come on, Scully, you're a religious person. Don't tell me you believe that when we die, that's it-we die. Don't you believe in life after death? That the spirit separates itself from the body and moves on? Where do you think our souls go after we die."

"Well," Scully began, not wanting Mulder to get the best of her, "obviously heaven or hell, whatever the case may be."

"And what do we do there?"

Scully stood dumbfoundedly. She had no easy answer. She had no scientific explanation. Nothing she studied in medical school, none of her experience as an FBI agent, no personal encounter-even her own near death experience- could have prepared her for this question. "You can't expect me to know the answer to that, Mulder," she finally said.

"I'm not asking for what you know, I'm asking for what you think. Haven't you ever contemplated eternity?"

"I suppose it's very logical," she began, slowly, "that in the next realm of our existance we continue progressing; learn more in the world to come. But even so, even if that's true, I'm postive our spirits wouldn't be able to just come back on a whim and kill people."

"Why not?"

"Mulder...I'm not playing this game anymore. There's a killer on the loose and we have to find him!"

Los Angeles Library

"Hi! I need anything and everything you've got on Charles Manson...perhaps a family album?" Mulder asked the librarian.

"Charles Manson?" The librarian hoped she heard him wrong.

"Yeah! Oh, but don't worry. I'm an FBI agent. And a phone book, too, if you have it for the whole county."

The librarian glanced at Scully. "Is he serious?"

"Unfortunately." Seeing the look on Mulder's face at that moment, she was more than relieved that her cell phone had rung. 'Saved by the bell,' she thought.


"Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Kersh. How is the case coming along?"

"Well, sir, we've begun to make a connection between the two victims, who were former members of the Manson Family, and the death of a young boy in the Santa Suzanna Mountians. We were told he was killed by members of the family."

"Any suspects?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I believe the boy's best friend, who was a witness to the alleged murder, may have something to do with it. Then there's the boy's mother, however I doubt she does a lot of traveling."

"And what does Agent Mulder think?"

Scully swallowed before answering. "Well...he believes that the explanation may be...less than the norm."

"Agent Scully, do you know why you were given this assignment?"

"Time off for good behavior." Her tone was almost mocking.

"That's correct! That's why I gave you this case. Remind Mulder of that, and that he better not do anything to pisss me off!"

The line went dead.

Exasperated, Scully went back to reference counter with Mulder.

"So what did ASSistant Director Koosh have to say?"

"He was just checking up. What did you find?"

"A list of names. We have to find the last guy before Clarky does."

"Clarky...right, Mulder."

Mulder leafed through a few books before he found the one he needed. Then he proceeded to look through the phone book to find matching names. Scully examined her fingernails. 'I need a manicure,' she thought, 'I wonder at this point if Mulder would notice if I really did quit the FBI and became a spokesperson for the ab-roller...which reminds me...I need to start working out again. I wonder if I get so buff I could really-'

"Scully! Take a look at this!"

Mulder was pointing to a name in one of his Manson books, and another name in the phone book. Scully didn't even glance at them.

"Mulder, what makes you think these peolpe still go by the names they had when they were with Manson? I wouldn't."

"Neither would I. But in our family album, we see the name Christopher Wallace, don't we? And in our phone book we see the name Christpoher Wallace, don't we?"

"Both Christopher and Wallace are very populsr names." She looked to the phone book. "And it says here he lives on Topanga Canyon. That's the street one of the Manson murders occured on. Why wouldn't he move away from there?"

"Maybe he still believes Helter Skelter's comin' down fast!"

"Mulder! Don't joke about that!"

"Please, just come with me to check this out."

"Alright, but I still think this is a waste of time."

18935 Topanga Canyon Road
Home of Christopher Wallace

Christopher Wallace sat in front of his television set, fooling with the remote control.

"Hey!" he yelled to his wife, "get me some batteries! This dang remote isn't working!"

"And heaven forbid you should get up and turn the tv on yourself."

"Oh, shut up!"

"You shut up, you-!" Mrs. Wallace noticed a young boy in the room. "Hey, you!" Get out of my house!"

As the young boy started across the room, a look of horror spread across Wallace's face.

Outside, Mulder parked the car in the Wallace's driveway.

"Well, Mulder, have your fun, because when we're done here we're going to question Brian," Scully said, and they began up the driveway.

"Now, that's a complete waste of time! He didn't-"

Mulder and Scully heard screaming coming from the house. They drew their guns and ran into the house to find Wallace dead inhis chair, and his wife bending over him yelling "no! no!"

"We're with the FBI," Scully said. "What happened here?"

"He killed my husband!" Mrs. Wallace cried.

"Who did?" asked Scully, looking around the room.

"He...he's gone!" Mrs. Wallace frantically whipped her head around the room. "He was jsut there! A young boy! He strangled my husband!"

"Come on, Mrs. Wallace," Scully said, taking her by the hand. "Come with me into the other room and tell me what happened." Scully and Mrs. Wallace made their way back to the bedroom. Mulder looked down at Wallace's body. Slowly he brought his head back up and glanced out the window. He saw a young boy staring back at him.

"Clarky?" Mulder whispered. The image smiled and then vanished.

Washington DC
Fbi building
Office of Assistant Director Kirsh

A. D. Kersh sat behind his desk in his poorlyl it office. Agents Mulder and Scully stood in front of the desk. Scully took a steo forward and began her narrative.

"The case involved three former followers of Charles manson. All three were strangled to death. Despite Agent Mulder's attempt to link these murders to the death of a boy in 1969, no conclusive connection could be established. The wives of the victims were all present at their husbands' murder, and still claim that they saw a young boy at the scene as well. They are now under the care of a psychiatrist by the name of Dr. Allan Merryweather at the L. A. County Hospital."

"But you don't really know who killed these men," said Kersh, "is that right, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder did not chage his expression, his position, or even shift his eyes. The only thing he moved was his mouth. "I'm sure you know what I think, sir."

"I'm sure I do. So, this case remains open?"

"Actually, sir," Scully began, "with all the evidence, what little there is, pointing to the wives, LAPD has labeled them unrelated domestic murders."

"Thank you for your report. You may go."

On that note, Mulder bolted for the door. Scully caught up with him as he turned the corner out of the office.

"Scully, I saw Clarky!"

"Because you wanted to. You set yourself up, you expected to see a ghost, so therefore, you think you did. Clearly you see the psychological make-up of your situation."

"I know what I saw...And I'm not playing this game with you anymore."

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