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Mulder halted and turned to her. "It doesn't matter, Scully," he said. "They're not going to believe you.
Why would they? If it can't be programmed, catalogued, or easily ref-erenced—"
"I wouldn't be so sure, Mulder," said Scully.
Mulder's anger had turned to intense impa-tience. "How many times have we been here? Right here.
Grasping at the unbelievable truth? You're right to leave. You should get away from me. As far as you can."
"You asked me to stay," Scully said chal-lengingly.
"I said you didn't owe me anything," coun-tered Mulder. "Especially not your life. Go be a doctor, Scully."
Scully shook her head. "I will. But I'm not going anywhere." Mulder's eyes narrowed as she went on,
"This illness, whatever it is, has a cure. You held it in your hand—"
She took his hand and gazed up at him "—if I quit now, they win."
They stood without speaking. In the dis-tance, the Cigarette-Smoking Man sat in a nondescript car, his grim, dread stare focused on them. He took a last puff on his cigarette and flicked it onto the street.
The car's electric window rolled up, and he drove off.
FOUM TATAOUINE, TUNISIA
Early morning heat shimmered above the rows of corn stretching endlessly towards the hori-zon. In the near distance, a man in traditional Arab garb led a second man in a dark suit through the green and golden stalks.
"Mister Strughold!" the Arab shouted. "Mister Strughold!"
Conrad Strughold emerged from the rows of corn. At sight of the man behind the Arab, Stughold's eyes narrowed very slightly.
"You look hot and miserable," said Strughold evenly. "Why have you traveled all this way?"
The Cigarette-Smoking Man stared at him coolly. "We have business to discuss."
"We have regular cha
"This involves Mulder," said the Cigarette-Smoking Man.
Strughold winced almost imperceptibly. "Ah, that name! Again and again—"
"He's seen more than he should," said the Cigarette-Smoking Man.
Strughold made a dismissive gesture. "What has he seen? Of the whole, he has seen but pieces."
"He's determined now," insisted the Cigarette-Smoking Man. "Reinvested."
"He is but one man. One man alone ca
The Cigarette-Smoking Man held something out to Strughold. "Yesterday I received this—"
Strughold took it from his hand: a telegram. He read it, then stared at the horizon without actually seeing what was there. Then he dropped the telegram. In silence he turned and headed back towards the cornfield.
On the ground the telegram rustled slightly in the wind. The words showed stark black against yellow paper.
X-FILES RE-OPENED. STOP. PLEASE ADVISE. STOP.
The wind rose, lifted the telegram and sent it spi
Chris CARTER is the writer and producer for The X-Files Feature Film, as well as the creator, executive producer, and frequent writer for the award-wi
Mr. Carter has received an Emmy Award Nomination, a Writers Guild nomination, and two nominations for directing from the Directors Guild of America. He lives in Los Angeles.
ELIZABETH Hand is the Nebula and World Fantasy Award-wi
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14