Author notes: This story was initially inspired by a local story in the newspaper about a man hunting bigfoot in Wisconsin. So I decided to send Doggett and Reyes there on a case. The town of Barrett does not exist, but the county of Bayfield does, my sister and brother-in-law have a lake home up there I wonder if they know that bigfoot lives in their area. :) With most things I've written this story took on a life of it's own.

The story takes place with Mulder leaving at the beginning of season 9. Nothing else in season 9 pertains to this story, except for parts I liked, Jeffrey Spender, Mulder's ability to talk to dead people, and Doggett's love of sausages. :D

Special thanks to Joey and Diandra for taking the time to beta-read this story for me.

This story is dedicated to the Fox and Hound mail list.

The tires on the mail truck made a crunching noise as it drove down a desolate gravel road. Tiny pebbles were thrown up and hit the back bumper, with an annoying ping ping ping sound. Ben Dally had the heater in the truck turned up on high as he pulled alongside a mailbox in front of a small farm. This was the last stop on his thirty-five mile rural mail route. He flipped on the mail truck's headlights as the winter sun finally dipped below the horizon. Dally opened the box and placed several pieces of mail inside.

"Hey, Ben!" Julian Horne greeted as he trudged down his long driveway to the mailbox carefully avoiding dangerous patches of ice.

"Hey, Julian, how are you doing?"

"Fine...I just finished the chores." His breath puffed out in clouds of cold white mist as he spoke. "Are you going to the town meeting tomorrow night?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

"How are you going to vote?" the farmer asked.

"Against. I think the developers already cleared too much land for them city folk's cabins. We don't need to have another two hundred acres cleared," Dally said.

"I'm voting for. We'll be able to build a better school for our kids and attract more businesses to town with the money the folks from the cities are going to be spending up here."

"I don't like it, Julian. The more city folks, the more crime they'll bring with them. I moved away from the city for that very reason."

Horne chuckled. "At least it will give our sheriff and his deputy something to do."

Dally shook his head. "I better get home to my family. I'll see you tomorrow night, Julian."

"Bye, Ben, drive safely." Horne retrieved his mail from the box after the mail truck drove off down the road. He watched the red taillights disappear over the hill, before heading back up to his house.

A light snow had started falling as Dally turned off the gravel road onto a paved county road. He picked up speed as he drove past the large cabin development site. Acres of land had been cleared around one of Wisconsin's few remaining isolated northern lakes. As he sped around a curve his headlights fell on three figures in the road. He tried to brake but it was already too late as he ran down two of the figures. At first he thought he'd hit two small children dressed in heavy fur coats then he got a good look at the third larger figure as it roared in grief and anger. Instead of stopping the truck Dally sped up, fleeing the scene. Looking in his rearview mirror he saw several more figures emerge from the woods.

Doggett's residence

Thursday, November 29, 2001

6:00 p.m.

Doggett never felt more frustrated as he walked through his front door. He tossed his keys on a table by the door. Earlier, when he went over to Mulder's apartment he found it empty. It was a void, no furniture, no clothing, and not even a sunflower shell on the floor. He tried to find out where Mulder had gone, but Skinner and Scully were both tight-lipped.

Why would Mulder leave only days after Scully had given birth to their child? It didn't make any sense to him. Doggett still had many questions for Mulder about the X-Files and had hoped to quiz the former agent about several cases that were in the file cabinet in the basement.

Picking up the remote, Doggett flipped on the television to CSPAN before going into the kitchen. Along the way, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. He was too exhausted to even bother to change out of his suit. Instead he grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator then walked back into the living room and collapsed tiredly on the sofa with a foot propped up on the coffee table.

"Mulder, where the hell are you?" he muttered, his mind not following the events on the small screen.

Dally's residence
Barrett, Wisconsin
Thursday, November 29, 2001
6:30 p.m.

Dally pulled the mail truck into the driveway of his house and pressed the remote to open the garage door. He parked inside the detached garage, then pressed the remote to close the garage door. Dally shakily got out of the truck and walked to the front to inspect the damage. There was fur and blood on the broken grill and dented fender.

"Damn." He debated whether to call the sheriff as he walked out the side door and crossed the frozen ground to his house.

He entered the kitchen through the backdoor then shrugged out of his coat and boots.

"Dear, how was your day?" Lucille Dally greeted her husband with a smile. She was at the stove fixing dinner.

Dally could see their two teenaged daughters and five-year-old son in the living room watching television. He didn't answer his wife. Instead he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

"Ben, what's wrong?"

He drank half the can before answering. "I struck a couple of animals with the truck on my way home."

Lucille frowned. "Did you damage the truck?"

"Busted the grill and put a big dent in the fender."

"That doesn't sound too bad—"

"Luc, I think I hit a couple of baby bigfoots," Dally blurted out.

"Benjamin Dally, that Rebecca Carter didn't give you any of her special brownies again, did she?"

"I'm serious, Luc. There was a larger bigfoot in the road, I think it was their mother." Ben sat heavily on a wooden chair at the kitchen table...he was shaking badly. "You should have heard the sound she made when I hit her kids. I'll never forget it."

"Ben, maybe you should call Sheriff Sawyer—"

"No!" He shook his head. "Not until morning! He'll want me to show him where I hit them. Luc, I'm not going back out there at night." Dally wrapped his arms around his wife's waist and buried his face in her bosom. His shoulders shook as he sobbed.

"Mommy, why is Daddy crying?" Timmy asked from the doorway as his wide brown eyes took in the scene.

"Timmy, go back and watch television with your sisters," Lucille said as she rubbed her husband's back. "I'll call you when dinner is ready."

"I'm sorry, Luc," Dally said as he pulled away from his wife and rubbed his eyes. "I'm going up to the bedroom to change."

Lucille watched her husband walk into the living room. Their kids greeted him as he headed for the staircase. He told them he'd be right back before he started up the stairs.

Susan and Margaret walked into the kitchen. "Hey, Mom, can we help you?"

The girls were both taller than their mother was, and had red hair and blue eyes like their father. Susan was a year older than Margaret who had just turned seventeen on Monday. She would be graduating from high school in the spring and going off to college.

"You can both set the table," Lucille said.

Doggett's residence
Thursday, November 29, 2001
10:00 p.m.

Doggett hung his suit in the closet and tossed his dress shirt in the bag for the dry cleaners. He wobbled slightly on his feet. He'd had a little too much beer on an empty stomach. When he was upset or worried he lost his appetite for food. He walked into the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror. Crows feet seemed more pronounced around his eyes. Where was his life going? Forty-one years old and he was still a field agent, only now he was working in the least respected department in the entire bureau.

How had Mulder handled the ridicule? Doggett turned on the shower and removed his remaining clothes as his beer-fuzzed brain focused on his new obsession. Fox Mulder. After months of searching for the missing agent and getting inside his head, then getting to know Mulder after he came back from the dead, Doggett felt a connection with him. He learned more about Mulder in those months of searching for him than he knew about his former wife. Doggett knew Mulder wasn't immune to the ridicule. Mulder dealt with it through sarcasm and self-effacing humor, it was better than giving in to the hurt.

Doggett closed his eyes and let the water wash over his face as he ran a bar of soap over his chest and under his armpits. He recalled working with Mulder not even a week ago. When he looked into those chameleon eyes Doggett saw the pain and wisdom of a warrior still fighting the good fight, it had him believing in Mulder and wanting to help him.

Those short couple of days he worked with Mulder left Doggett longing for that experience again. He was sure they could have learned a lot from each other. That is, if they didn't killed each other first. Doggett chuckled as he set the bar of soap down on the ledge and washed the soap off his chest. Mulder had infuriated him during those brief cases.

After stepping out of the shower and drying himself, Doggett pulled on a pair of soft cotton boxers and walked into his bedroom. He folded down the covers on the bed then climbed underneath them, before reaching up and shutting off the table lamp. This had become the hardest part of his day. He couldn't stop the images from invading his mind, as he lay alone in his cold empty bed. God, what was happening to him? He closed his eyes and found himself staring again into beautiful chameleon eyes as he drifted to sleep.

Dally's residence
Barrett, Wisconsin
Friday, November 30, 2001
2:30 a.m.

Ben Dally gagged as he woke to a horrible stench. His blood froze in its veins as a spine-piercing scream and a loud crash from downstairs in the direction of their teenage daughters' bedroom had him instantly awake.

"Ben, the girls! Someone's in the house!" Lucille yelled as she sprang out of bed and ran toward the bedroom door. Her bare feet pounded loudly on the hardwood floor.

"LUC, WAIT!" Dally shouted.

Lucille froze as a large shape appeared in front of her. Her scream died in her throat as the creature crashed its fist down on her head.

Dally reached for the baseball bat he kept under their bed and attacked the dark shape looming over his wife's body. The bat snapped in two as it impacted the side of the creature's huge head. Blood poured from the wound as the creature went into a rage.

Across the street a light came on in the upstairs window of a small house. Rebecca Carter peered out from behind her bedroom curtains, looking toward the Dally's house. A loud noise had awakened her. She notice the lights go on in Reverend Fraser's house next door to the Dally's. Then the Reverend stepped out onto his front porch with a rifle in his hands. Snow was starting to fall harder as the Reverend carefully walked across his lawn.

There was a loud commotion coming from the Dally's garage. Then the upstairs window shattered as an object flew out, landing in the yard. The reverend crept up to it keeping the rifle ready. His face paled and he turned and raced back to his house.

Rebecca watched the Reverend run inside his house, before turning her attention back to the Dally's upstairs window where her eyes met those from a nightmare looking right at her. She fainted.

Barrett Sheriff's Office
Friday, November 30, 2001
3:30 a.m.

Sheriff Sawyer rinsed his mouth out in the washroom's sink. The taste of vomit still lingered on his tongue. He stepped back into his office and walked over to his desk. He'd been awakened earlier by a frantic call from Reverend Fraser about a disturbance at the Dally's house. The Reverend had been screaming about a severed arm, a foul smell from the depths of hell, and demons on the Dally's property.

Sawyer sat behind his desk and dug through his Rolodex looking for the private phone number for A.D. Walter Skinner.

Several years ago, Sawyer had met Skinner at an FBI sponsored conference on forensic science in Chicago. After the conference, he had stopped in the hotel's bar for a drink and found the FBI Assistant Director sitting alone in a corner booth, nursing a bourbon on the rocks. There was a weariness about the man as he sat brooding over his drink that had attracted Sawyer's interest.

Sawyer remembered walking nervously up to the booth and asking, the stern-faced FBI man if he could join him. Skinner didn't say anything just nodded to the seat across from him. They had made small talk about sports, current events, and politics. Well Sawyer had done most of the talking. Then he switched the conversation to police work and from there to their most remembered cases.

A grin had spread across Skinner's face at Sawyer's story about investigating a crop circle that turned out to be a prank. Okay so crime in northern Wisconsin was dull and the crop circle had been a big event. Reporters from Green Bay and Milwaukee had actually come up to cover the story.

To his surprise, Skinner loosened up and started talking about this department under him that investigated the paranormal and the unexplained. Sawyer had been fascinated listening to Skinner's stories about Agents Mulder, Scully, and some of their cases. He could see the pride in Skinner's eyes as he talked about them.

Sawyer remembered thinking about how lucky Mulder and Scully were to have the support and respect of their boss. He and Skinner stayed at the bar until it closed at two o'clock in the morning. Surprisingly neither one of them was drunk when they said their goodbyes and headed up to their hotel rooms.

After seeing the crime scene, Sawyer knew he had to contact Skinner.

He picked up his phone and dialed Skinner's number. The phone rang several times before it was finally answered.

"Skinner," said the gruff-sleepy voice.

"Walter, it's Gary Sawyer, I don't know if you remember me. We met at a conference on forensics in Chicago a few years ago."

"Yes, Gary. You're a Wisconsin sheriff, right?" Skinner's voice was becoming less sleepy.

Sawyer heard the springs in a mattress squeak as the large A.D. sat up in bed.

"Right. I'm the sheriff of the town of Barrett in Bayfield County. I'm sorry to disturb you so early but I have a case that needs your X-File agents."

"Let me grab a pen."

He heard the sound of a drawer opening then Skinner was back on the line.

"Go ahead, Gary."

"A family was murdered in their home about an hour ago. The mother, father, and their two teenage daughters were literally torn apart. Their five-year-old son was the only survivor. He's in a state of shock...our town doctor is attending to him. Walter, whatever attacked that family wasn't human. The place smelled worse than anything I've ever smelled before. Reverend Fraser, the only witness, said it was demons and based on the evidence I can't disagree with him. I've sealed off the crime scene until your agents can get up here."

"Okay, Gary, I'll have my agents on the first plane to Duluth. I'll arrange for a forensic team with ASAC Adams at the Duluth field office to accompany my X-File agents to your town."

"Thank you, Walter."

"No problem. I'll call you back with the time you should expect them."

Sawyer hung up the phone and blew out a breath of relief.

"Sheriff!" Deputy George Cunningham shouted as he ran in through the outside door.

Sawyer stood. "What's wrong?"

"Rebecca Carter, she's missing. Her front door was smashed in and there was that same horrid smell in her house."

"Oh God. I'll round up some men to help search for her. George, I've called in some experts at the FBI. Go back to the crime scene and keep watch over it until they arrive." The Sheriff picked up the receiver and started calling some residents that he could depend on to help with the search.

Doggett's residence
Friday, November 30, 2001
5:00 a.m.

Doggett came awake with a start. He swore as he felt wetness in his boxers. He'd come in his sleep. Damn Mulder. Doggett rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling as his hand dropped down to cover his damp groin. He tried to recall the wet dream he'd just had. The only thing his sleepy brain could remember was that it involved Mulder and a Polish sausage. He didn't consider himself gay. He'd only had one brief homosexual encounter when he was in high school. But for some reason he just couldn't stop fantasizing about Mulder. Maybe it was because he'd discovered Mulder had lived with a male lover for over two years starting in 1989. Doggett wasn't sure even Scully knew that tidbit about Mulder.

He crawled out of bed and headed into the bathroom for another shower.

After his shower, as he dressed for work, the telephone rang.

"Doggett," he answered as he brought the receiver to his ear. It was A.D. Skinner on the other end.

"Agent, I have an X-File case in Wisconsin that I need you on immediately. Do you have a pen handy?"

"Yes, sir." Doggett pulled out a pen and paper and wrote down Skinner's instructions.

"I've booked you and Reyes on Northwest flight 042 it takes off at 8:30 am out of Dulles to the Duluth International Airport. You'll be working with a team of agents from the Duluth Field Office, they will meet your flight when it lands."

"The Duluth Field Office." Doggett frowned, thinking about how cold it would be in Minnesota this time of year.

Skinner went on to explain the case. "John, Sheriff Gary Sawyer of Barrett, Wisconsin has a multiple-homicide on his hands. He and the only witness, a Reverend Fraser, believe the family was killed by demons. The crime scene is still fresh, the family was killed only a few hours ago."

Doggett didn't even flinch, he was getting used to these weird cases. "Okay, sir, I'll get right on it."

"Do you want me to call Reyes?" Skinner asked.

"No, sir, I'll call her." He placed the telephone receiver back on the cradle.

While he dressed, Doggett used his cell phone to call Reyes. "Monica, grab your parka, our flight for the frozen north leaves in two hours."

Doggett gathered his shaving gear together as he talked to Reyes.

"John, what type of case? Where is it?"

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, we're investigating demons in Wisconsin. A.D. Skinner said a family was attacked and killed in their home early this morning. Meet me at Dulles in an hour. We have tickets onboard Northwest flight 042. The plane leaves the gate at 8:30 a.m. And, Monica, dress warm."

Opening his carryon bag, Doggett added a pair of long underwear, hiking boots, and his heated hunting socks. From the sound of this case they'd be spending some time outdoors and he wasn't about to freeze his ass off. He carried his bag into the kitchen and set it on the table. Then he dug out a strawberry pop tart for a quick breakfast. He put the rest of the box of pastries inside the carryon bag...who knew if they'd even have a restaurant in the small town of Barrett.

He checked his gun before clipping it onto his belt. Then he dug out the heavy parka from the back of his hall closet. It seldom got cold enough in D.C. for him to wear it. He pulled it on over his suit coat, checking the pockets for the heavy gloves and knit cap. With the temperature in the sixties, Doggett was sure he'd get some strange looks wearing it to the airport. That wouldn't bother him; the looks wouldn't be much different from those he got from fellow agents now that he was investigating X-files. He swung his carryon over his shoulder and headed out the door.

Duluth, Minnesota
Friday, November 30, 2001
10:00 a.m.

Doggett's and Reyes' plane touched down at the Duluth International at ten-thirty in the morning central standard time. It was less than a two-hour drive from the Duluth airport down to Bayfield County in Northern Wisconsin. An agent from the Duluth office met them at the gate as they stepped off the plane.

"Welcome to Duluth, Agent Doggett, Agent Reyes," Morris said as he reached out to shake their hands. "I'm Agent Sam Morris. We had to park our forensic van in the lot because of tightened airport security. So you'll get to experience a little Minnesota winter on our walk to the van."

"Oh, great," Doggett muttered.

Morris was a young agent in his mid twenties, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Doggett assumed the other agents were using him as their gopher, while they stayed warm in the heated van.

"Did ASAC Adams assemble the team?" Doggett asked as he and Reyes followed the young agent through the airport.

"Yeah, we have a medical examiner, two crime-scene technicians, and I'm the photographer. According to ASAC Adams, Sheriff Sawyer of Barrett sealed off the crime scene after he determined none of the Dally family members, except Timothy, was still alive. A neighbor, Ms. Rebecca Carter, has since been reported missing. Her front door was found smashed in."

"Oh great, a missing person's case on top of the murders," Doggett said as they walked out of the airport and onto a snow blown sidewalk. There were patches of wet concrete where small pellets of a salt mixture had been sprinkled.

As a southern boy, Doggett didn't much care for temperatures that could freeze spit on the sidewalk in less than a minute nor did he like the snow that was falling heavily around them. He blinked and wished he'd worn his sunglasses as his eyeballs felt like they were freezing in their sockets as an icy wind whipped around them. He put on his knit cap and pulled up the hood on the parka then slipped on the heavy gloves. He was still wearing his dress shoes. Doggett debated changing into his hiking boots and heated socks once they reached the van. He glanced over at Morris who was wearing a long wool coat over his suit and dress shoes, typical FBI attire.

Agent Morris seemed oblivious to the freezing temperature. He wasn't even wearing a hat or gloves.

"John, I have a strange feeling about this case," Reyes said as they walked toward the FBI van.

"Strange how?"

"I don't like the vibes I'm getting."

"Monica, don't worry. We're going to get there and discover that this was nothing more than a case of a human psychopath breaking into that poor family's home. There are no such things as demons."

"How, and why, did Skinner assign us this case?" Reyes asked as she pulled a stick of chewing gum out of her pocket.

"I'm not sure. We'll find out once we get to Barrett." They reached the van and Morris opened the side door.

A cheerful redheaded male with ruddy skin greeted them from the driver's seat. "Hey, guys, welcome to the great white north!" Then the man glanced behind him at an older black male with gray hair. "No offence, Doc."

"Shove it, Galloway." The man chuckled. "Get your butts in the van and close the door. Not all of us Minnesotans like the snow and cold. Only these three crazy white boys."

They climbed into the van. Monica took the backseat and Morris quickly sat next to her, leaving Doggett the seat next to Doc. Doggett placed his carryon on the floor next to him as Galloway started the van and eased it out of the parking space.

"I'm Doctor Brent Jackson or Doc for short. I'm the chief medical examiner."

"Nice to meet you, Doc," Doggett said as he shook the man's hand.

Doc smiled. "The two jokers up front are our crime-scene technicians, Special Agents Bruce Galloway and Bill Beck. They don't look like much, but they're experts at what they do."

"You wound me, Doc," Beck said, turning in the bucket seat, he held out his hand to Doggett. "So you're Spooky Mulder's replacement. It sucks him being fired, we went through the academy together."

"Yeah, it sucked. I'm John Doggett and my partner is Monica Reyes."

Beck leered as he looked at Reyes. "Nice pants, Reyes. You do know you're going to freeze your ass off?"

Reyes smoothed her hand over the soft leather. "I'll be fine."

Beck was in his forties, good looking with dark brown hair and gray eyes. Unlike the other agents in the van, he wore jeans, hiking boots, and a plaid-flannel shirt. He had on a waterproof canvas jacket. The jacket had a dozen pockets.

Galloway had the windshield wipers on. The snow was coming down so heavily that the heater was having a problem keeping the ice off the windshield. It was already impossible to see out the side windows that had become heavily frosted over. Doggett watched the large flakes splash against the windshield. It was hard to see for more than two hundred feet.

"The Bayfield county coroner is going to meet us at the crime scene. He's driving down from Washburn. He'll be removing the bodies after we're done and transferring them to a morgue in Duluth. I'll be performing the autopsies, later tonight," Jackson said.

"Do you know anything about this area of Wisconsin?" Doggett asked.

"It's lightly populated. The whole county only has around fifteen thousand residents and a large stretch of it borders Lake Superior. There's also the Chequamegon National Forest going through the middle of the county. The town of Barrett and the surrounding area has a total population of five hundred and twenty-three people."

Doggett glanced out the window as the van passed a welcome to Wisconsin sign.

Sheriff's office
Barrett, Wisconsin
Friday, November 30, 2001
Noon

Sheriff Gary Sawyer shook a couple of aspirin into his palm from the plastic bottle. He closed his eyes after swallowing the aspirin dry. He'd never get the images of the inside of the Dally's house out of his mind. After seeing the bodies, he believed the Reverend's claim that demons were involved. Nothing human could have done what had been done to that family. He didn't have the resources to deal with demons.

He'd just spent the last five hours with a team of ten men searching the surrounding woods for Ms. Carter. Sawyer had come back to his office to wait for the FBI agents that were scheduled to arrive around noon.

Sawyer looked up as the outside door opened and a bitterly cold wind mixed with snow whipped through the office.

"Sheriff Sawyer?" A slender middle-aged man with piercing blue eyes asked. Next to him stood younger woman wearing a parka and tight leather pants.

"Yes. Come in and shut the door, you're letting out the heat," he said.

Doggett closed the door and walked over to the sheriff, holding out his hand. "I'm Special Agent John Doggett and this is my partner Special Agent Monica Reyes."

Sawyer shook their hands. "Where's Agents Mulder and Scully?"

Doggett and Reyes exchanged glances before Doggett answered the sheriff. "Fox Mulder is no longer with the FBI, and Agent Scully is on maternity leave. Sheriff, I wasn't aware you knew Mulder and Scully?"

"I know of them and of the X-Files from Assistant Director Walter Skinner. When I got a look at the crime scene, I realized this was a X-File and something my small department was unequipped to deal with." The sheriff pulled on his heavy jacket as he talked. "I had the crime scene sealed and my deputy is guarding it."

"We have our forensic team with us. So if you could show us to the crime scene we'll get started," Doggett said.

"At once, Agent Doggett. I want to get this case solved as quickly as possible and find Rebecca."

"Can you tell us about the victims?" Reyes asked as they headed out the door.

The town's main street had the sheriff's station, a post office, small corner store, and a restaurant. Above the restaurant were two more stories where Reyes noticed a hotel sign. Across the street was the volunteer fire department and on the corner was a large Lutheran church.

Sawyer stopped at his SUV parked in front of the station and opened the passenger door for Reyes. "Ben Dally was the area's mailman. His wife Lucille worked at the post office sorting mail. They had three kids: Susan was age eighteen, Margaret seventeen, and Timothy is five. The Dallys were a church going family and good citizens."

"Did they have any enemies?" Doggett asked from the backseat as the sheriff pulled out of the parking space. The FBI van followed the Sheriff's vehicle.

"No."

The Sheriff made a left turn at the corner then drove one block and pulled in front of a house ringed by crime scene tape. All the houses on the block had large lots. The backyards bordered a forest. Doggett saw more crime scene tape stretched across the front door of the house across the street from the Dally's.

People were milling around in the street, looking silently at the house. Through a shattered garage door a smashed mail truck laid on its side half in and half out of the garage. There were also several holes through the walls of the garage. Doggett noted the broken window on the second floor.

Agent Morris had his camera out and was snapping pictures of the scene.

In the middle the front lawn was a blue bath towel covering some lump. Part of it was covered with snow. As he stepped over the crime scene tape, Doggett noted the ground was frozen solid and had at least two inches of fresh snow covering the tracks of the person who placed the blue towel on the ground. Reyes, Doctor Jackson, and the sheriff followed him as he kneeled beside the towel and lifted it up, to expose the severed arm lying beneath it.

"Morris can you get some pictures of this?" Doggett called. He looked up at the Sheriff. "Did you cover the arm with the towel?"

"Yes. I couldn't allow it to lie uncovered in the middle of the lawn within everyone's sight. Reverend Fraser said it had been thrown out the upstairs window."

Galloway and Beck unloaded their gear from the van. Beck carried a sketchbook and a tape measure.

"Agent Reyes, can you hold this end." Beck handed her the start of the tape measure. "I want to mark the distance from the house."

Doggett stood and looked toward the house. The front door frame was broken. Agent Galloway was already brushing for prints. He turned to the sheriff. "Where did you find the bodies?"

"The downstairs back bedroom, and in the master bedroom upstairs. C'mon, I'll show you," Sawyer said.

Agent Morris followed the two older men into the house. He raised the camera and took a couple of photos of the door.

"What's that smell?" Doggett gagged as he covered his nose. He'd been to homicides before, some, where the victim had lain decomposing for days in the sweltering heat before being discovered. None compared to the foul smell coming from this house.

The Sheriff shivered. "The pits of hell were opened inside this house, Agent Doggett."

Doggett's eyes fell on a yellow stain on the white walls. It looked like it had been sprayed on--no peed on he thought under closer inspection. The smell was particularly bad the closer he got. "We're going to need a sample of this, Galloway," he said.

"Let me get my breathing mask from the van first," the agent grumbled, "My girlfriend is not going let me into our apartment tonight." He knew that his clothes and hair was going to reek once he was done gathering evidence.

"I know what you mean. I wasn't in the house very long and I still can smell that foul scent on me," Sheriff Sawyer said.

Doggett had a small notebook out as they walked into the back bedroom. He gasped and backed out of the room. "Oh shit."

"Yeah. That's why I called Walter Skinner." Sheriff Sawyer looked at Doggett's pale face. "How long have you been working on the X-Files?"

"Almost a year."

"Have you ever had a case like this?"

"No." Doggett recomposed himself. "Sheriff, I'm not sure what did that to those girls, but I doubt that it was demons."

"Nothing human did that."

"We haven't determined that yet." Doggett noticed a clump of fur snagged on the wooden doorframe. He pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket along with a pair of latex gloves and snapped them on.

"What do you have?"

"Some type of animal fur," Doggett said as he pulled it off the wood and placed it into the bag.

Agent Sam Morris stepped into the hallway and snapped a photograph of the damaged doorway.

"What type of animal?" Sawyer asked.

"I'm not sure. By the height the fur was snagged on the wooden frame, it had to be tall...maybe a large bear standing on its hind legs." Doggett wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell coming from the fur.

Morris had gone into the bedroom as they talked. The young agent ran out, and shoved his camera at Doggett who grabbed it as Morris found a corner and threw up.

Doggett looked at him with sympathy. This isn't an easy case for a rookie; even a season agent would lose his lunch over this one.

Doctor Jackson and Reyes walked up to them. Reyes held a handkerchief pressed over her nose and was breathing through her mouth.

"John, what's wrong with Sam?"

Doggett looked at his partner. "The Dally girls were butchered. It's not a pretty sight."

"Sorry," Morris said as he retrieved his camera from Doggett. "I thought I'd gotten used to violent deaths."

"I'll never get used to kids and teenagers being killed." Doggett noticed the ring on Morris' finger and asked, "Do you have any kids, Sam?"

Morris nodded. "I have a four-year-old son. My wife and I want to have another child." He swallowed and looked at the bedroom doorway. "I better get back to work."

Doctor Jackson walked into the bedroom with the younger agent.

"Let's get this over with, Monica," Doggett sighed as he stepped back into the bedroom. He kept his eyes diverted from the bodies and severed limbs. He studied the walls and floor. "Sam, take a picture of this." He pointed to a bloody print on the floor.

"Is that what I think it is?" Reyes asked from the doorway.

Doggett nodded. "Yeah, a big goddam footprint."

"Do you think it's a bear print?" Reyes asked.

Sheriff Sawyer shook his head. "No bear made that print."

"These bodies have been partially eaten," Doctor Jackson said. "It's also physically impossible for a human to have torn them apart in this manner, it would have required immense strength."

"Fuck...I thought I'd seen everything," Beck said as he poked his head around Reyes to get a look inside the room.

Doggett turned back to Sheriff Sawyer. "Let's go upstairs. After I see the rest of the crime scene, I want to come back down here to examine the bedroom more thoroughly."

"It's worse upstairs, at least in the parent's bedroom. Timothy's room has blood in it but the boy wasn't touched."

"Do you think I can talk to him later?" Doggett asked.

"Let's ask Doctor Myers first."

FBI Hoover Building
Washington, D.C.
Friday, November 30, 2001
5:00 p.m.

Walter Skinner pressed the button on his speakerphone. He hadn't heard from Doggett and Reyes yet today. The network news stations reported the homicides, but because of a heavy snowfall they had been unable to send any reporters up to the site.

He dialed Doggett's cellphone number then leaned back in his chair waiting for it to be answered.

"Doggett."

Skinner leaned forward and spoke into the speaker. "John, how's the case coming along?"

"We're still gathering evidence. The coroner arrived two hours ago and he bagged the bodies and left for Duluth. Walt, I've never seen anything like this before. It's as if a pack of wild animals tore into this family. There are chunks of flesh missing from the bodies. The teeth marks appear to be human, except for the size of the mouth. There are strange prints on the floor and walls. These animals also defecated around the house as if marking their territory."

"There was more than one?"

"Yeah, from the evidence at least three. According to one witness, the arm had been thrown out the window at the same time as noises were coming from inside the garage."

"What do you think did this?"

"I'm not sure what to think. I keep asking myself how Mulder would be approaching this one."

Skinner chuckled. "Mulder would have had a dozen theories before the plane landed then he would have zeroed them down to one after seeing the crime scene. Usually his theory would prove to be right on the money no matter how outlandish and unbelievable it was." Sighing, Skinner leaned back in his chair. "John, go with your gut on this one."

"I don't like what my gut is telling me."

"And what is that?"

"Something that wasn't human killed this family and abducted their neighbor. Whatever these animals are, they now have a taste for human flesh."

"Could it have been a werewolf?" Skinner asked, surprising himself at how easy it had been to ask that question. Mulder had rubbed off on him over the years.

"Walt, there wasn't a full moon last night," Doggett quipped. His boss's easy acceptance that the perps weren't human made it easier for Doggett to voice what he suspected. "Besides I'm leaning more towards Sasquatch."

"Bigfoot?"

"Yeah. I'm also looking into The Curtis Construction Company. It seems that there's been some controversy over a large area of land that's being developed into high-end cabins and lake homes. The Construction Company is trying to get permission to develop the other side of a lake. The town of Barrett was going to vote tonight on whether they wanted to change the zoning and allow development of the land. Ben Dally was a vocal opponent against the development."

"You think that this construction company could be responsible for killing the Dally family?"

"Walt, there is no way a human killed that family."

"Then why are you looking into The Curtis Construction Company?"

"The creatures that killed that family had to come from somewhere. I'm interested in the forestland this company is clearing to build those cabins. I think they might have inadvertently disturbed this creature's habitat."

"How much longer are you going to be there?"

"Sheriff Sawyer has gotten us rooms in town. We had wanted to drive back to Duluth, but the weather has gotten worse throughout the day. It's already snowed nine inches since we arrived. The national weather agency has issued a blizzard warning for this evening and tomorrow. Unfortunately we had to call off the search for Rebecca Carter. I'm going to check the Dally's garage and mail truck then head to the hotel."

"John, be careful."

"Don't worry, sir, I intend to be extremely careful on this case."

Barrett, Wisconsin
Friday, November 30, 2001
7:00 p.m.

Doggett dropped his carryon bag on the double bed as he walked into the small hotel room. The room was old and worn with a faded floral bedspread and an old television set chained to a rickety metal cart. He doubted that too many tourists came up to Barrett on vacation, and assumed the small twelve-room hotel's main clients were probably hunters and fishermen.

Reverend Fraser and his wife were staying at the hotel. They were too upset to stay in their house after the murders and abduction, as were the other two families on the Dally's block, the O'Connells and Terrys.

Doggett had met Timothy Dally over at Doctor Myers home. The small boy was in a near comatose state. Doctor Myers felt it would be better not to question him about what happened to his parent for the unforeseeable future.

In an hour, Doggett was meeting Reyes and the Duluth agents downstairs in the diner for dinner. He wasn't sure he could stomach eating anything. Right now all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and wash the smell out of his hair and off his body. Unfortunately he was stuck with the smelly parka until they got back to Duluth where he could have it dry-cleaned.

Doggett stripped off his suit and removed his toiletry bag from the carryon then walked into the small light blue-tiled bathroom. It only had a shower, sink, and toilet. He set the bag on the sink then turned on the shower faucets before taking out the shampoo and body wash bottles from the bag. The old pipes rattled as the water made its journey upstairs. It occurred to him as he shed his boxers that the others would be taking showers, too. He hoped this place had a big water heater as he quickly stepped into the shower stall. He washed his hair first not wanting to be stuck in the shower with a head full of soap if the water went suddenly cold.

For some reason whenever he undressed lately his mind turned to Mulder, he tried to fight against his wanton thoughts. This time he welcomed his fantasies of the other man, even encourage them, anything to expel the images of the Dally family from his mind.

He ran the soapy washcloth between his thighs then over his balls and penis before slipping it between his buttocks. Doggett scrapped a fingernail over his anus while wondering what it would feel like to be touched there by Mulder. He pulled his hand away and shook his head in disgust. God he was becoming one sick puppy.

Doggett gasped as the water turned cold and he quickly washed the soap off his skin.

He shivered as he stepped out of the shower onto the bathmat. Goosebumps broke out over his entire body. Doggett walked into the bedroom as he dried himself with a too thin towel. He looked toward the window as the wind shook the pane of glass and pelted it with sleet. He crossed the small room to the window and glanced outside. The wind had picked up in the last few minutes. The snow was whipping around so fiercely he could barely see the lights in the window of the small building across the street.

Doggett removed a clean pair of boxers, jeans, and a sweater from his bag. He dressed quickly, even putting on his heated socks. The room was freezing. Frost even coated the inside of the windowpane. He walked over and toyed with the base-heater, turning it up as high as it would go. Next he pocketed his wallet, clipped his gun back on, and headed out the door.

New Mexico
Friday, November 30, 2001
7:00 p.m.

Mulder was led through a tunnel into an underground system of caves. He had received an email on his secret PDA account with instructions and directions to this meeting in New Mexico. It was on federal land while his host was a Native American. He followed the broad shouldered brave down another tunnel. Standing Bear had introduced himself as a Dakota Sioux medicine man. Being in Navaho country, Mulder found that a bit unusual. Stand Bear's long gray hair was braided and decorated with eagle feathers.

"Why am I here?" Mulder asked.

"The holy people have chosen you."

"What do you mean?"

"Your coming had been foretold on the wind generations ago." They stepped out into a large cavern. It was filled with people. Standing Bear ignored them as he led Mulder over to a cave wall. The wall was covered with old cave paintings. "You must prepare yourself for the coming battle."

The first set of pictures showed black oil going from one brave into another. The next set of images showed a series of battles with fanged and clawed creatures, like the ones he saw on the spaceship in Antarctica. The final painting was of two men back-to-back in battle against a group of black-eyed warriors and large-headed aliens. One of the two men was wearing a fox's head on top of his head like a hat and his long brown hair was braided with feathers and beads. The painting was crude but there was no mistaking the profile, Mulder recognized himself. The other man had a fierce determined look and piercing eyes. "Agent Doggett," Mulder muttered. They were each had a shield strapped on their arms, holding them out toward beings that appeared to be disintegrating.

"What are they holding?"

"Shields that are made of the black rock from this cave."

"The other man in the painting, does he have a name?"

"Shadow Wolf."

"Shadow Wolf?" Mulder nodded, thinking that was a fitting name for Agent Doggett. The man was rather wolfish.

"You've both walked on the other side and come back. Spirit Fox, your feet and Shadow Wolf's feet straddle both worlds. The spirits talk to you." Standing Bear turned to the cave and waved his arm at the men, women, and children standing watching them. "What do you see?"

"Warriors, women, children. Men dressed in buckskins, bones, feathers, and paint. Women dressed in beads and leather." Mulder smiled at the children, they smiled back.

"You're seeing spirits," the medicine man said.

Mulder shook his head. "No! I'm seeing flesh and blood people, how naïve do you think I am?" He glared at Standing Bear, wondering what his game was.

"You're the only one alive down here. In these caves the Anasazi race died in the final battle with those who came from the stars."

Mulder turned back to the cave only to find it empty except for one small child. She walked over to him and handed him a small shiny stone. Then she vanished into thin air.

Standing Bear looked at the stone. "You're very powerful. You don't just see us."

"Why have you brought me here? What do you mean by us?"

"To open your eyes to the truth. You and Shadow Wolf must join forces, only then will you be able to defeat them." Standing Bear grasped Mulder's wrist and placed a necklace in his hand, made from a single strip of leather with a black stone arrowhead on the end. Then the medicine man turned and vanished as he walked through a stone wall.

Mulder's eyes widened and his fingers grasped the object in his hand tighter. What was happening to him?

Mulder walked back over to the picture on the wall. John Doggett didn't particularly like him. He chuckled. Couldn't stand him was more like it. How could he convince the man to help him? It's not as if he'd believe that their souls were joined by fate. Mulder sighed, he liked Doggett, and if he had to choose someone to help him, he couldn't have done better. Mulder reached up and rested his fingers on the painting of Doggett. He remembered working with Doggett on the oilrig case, remembered drowning in those intense blue eyes. He felt an attraction to Doggett that he hadn't felt for another man since Adam.

God, he didn't want to think about Adam, not now, not ever. He spent years trying to forget the man and how much he had loved him. After Adam left him, Mulder found that he could no longer sleep in the bed they'd shared, so he ended up giving it to goodwill. Mulder sighed. At least with Doggett it would never get beyond fantasy, unlike it had with Krycek. Mulder's luck with men was just as bad as his luck with women. He was either betrayed by them or dumped, and left wondering what the hell he had done wrong. Some people were always meant to walk through life alone, and it seemed he was one of those people. No matter how much he desired companionship and a family, it would always be outside of his reach.

Barrett, Wisconsin
Saturday, December 1, 2001
4:00 a.m.

Doggett was awakened by a gust of wind wailing down the street and an unnatural stillness inside the room. He reached for the table lamp and turned the switch. Nothing. He reluctantly climbed out of the warm bed and shivered when the cold air touched his bare skin as he cautiously crossed the dark room and tried the wall switch by the door. Nothing. The power must have gone out.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he walked over to the window and looked outside. It was pitch black all of the streetlights were out.

He decided to go back to bed and hoped the lights would be back on by morning. His flesh had goosebumps breaking out all over it, so he opened his bag and located his long underwear by feel then struggled to get them on in the dark. Finally he crawled back into bed and lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. He must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing he knew someone was pounding on his door.

"Agent Doggett!" Sheriff Sawyer called.

Doggett scrambled out of bed and hurried over to the door. It was still dark outside. He tried the light switch again--the power was still out. He opened the door. The Sheriff was holding a flashlight and looked upset.

"What's wrong?" Doggett asked. He noticed another door open down the hall. He stepped aside, allowing Sawyer into the room then walked over to his jeans that were draped across a chair in the corner. Sawyer's flashlight provided enough light for him to dress by.

"I received a hysterical phone call from Marvin Crowe. It sounded like all hell was breaking loose out at his place. I heard him scream--" The Sheriff was visibly shaking. "My God, Agent Doggett, I heard him being killed. I tried to get out to his place as quickly as possible, but because of the blizzard, it took me an extra ten minutes. I found what was left of his body."

"Where does he live?"

"On the opposite side of town from the Dallys. I have my deputy checking the neighborhood."

Doggett sat on the bed and pulled on his socks and boots. "We're going to need additional help to hunt down the creatures that killed the Dallys and Crowe."

Doctor Jackson stepped into the room. He was buttoning up his flannel shirt. "Do you want to fill me in?"

"There's been another murder. Doc, do you want to wake up the others? Let's meet down in the restaurant."

***

New Mexico
Saturday, December 1, 2001
7:00 a.m.

Mulder woke in a cold sweat from a nightmare. It wasn't his standard nightmare about Samantha or the recent one brought on by his own abduction and torture. This one was about Agent Doggett. He saw the agent being attacked then eaten while he was still alive. It was a gruesome death and too vivid to be a mere dream.

He picked up the motel's telephone and placed a long distance call to X-Files basement office. It would be 9:00 a.m. out east. When he didn't receive an answer, he tried Doggett's cellphone number but got an out of service message. This increased his anxiety. Next he called Skinner's office.

"A.D. Skinner."

"Sir, it's Mulder...I'm trying to get a hold of John Doggett. I tried his cellphone but got an out of service message."

"Mulder, you shouldn't be calling here, it isn't safe."

"Sir, this is important. I need to get in touch with him."

"He and Agent Reyes are on a case in Northern Wisconsin. There's a blizzard going through that area which has knocked out power and telephone lines. The battery on his cell must have died and he has no way to recharge it."

"What type of case is he investigating?"

"Mulder, what's this about?"

"I think Agent Doggett is in danger."

"What sort of danger?"

Mulder frowned. He didn't want to tell Skinner he was worried because of a dream he had. "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"Mulder, I thought you were crazy about your belief in aliens then you were abducted before my eyes. I won't think you're crazy, tell me why you think John's in danger," Skinner said softly.

Mulder's hand played with the telephone cord. "I had a dream. In it I saw Doggett being attacked by a large creature. The...the creature started eating him...he was screaming as the flesh was torn from his body." He heard Skinner's quick intake of breath. There were a few moments of silence before Skinner started talking.

"He's in Barrett Wisconsin investigating a multiple homicide. The family was torn apart and from his initial investigation they had been partially eaten. Mulder, from the evidence he found, John thinks it might have been done by several Sasquatch."

"I need to get up to Wisconsin," Mulder said.

"Be careful, Mulder, your phone call to me might have alerted our enemies to your location."

"Don't worry, sir." Mulder's fingers touched the black arrowhead he was wearing around his neck. "I have friends that are helping me."

"I'm going to contact the Duluth field office and see if I can get the cellphone numbers for their agents out in Barrett. I'll send you a message to your PDA if I find out anything," Skinner said.

"Thank you, sir," Mulder replied before disconnecting. He would need winter clothing before he headed off to Wisconsin. There was an Army surplus store in Santa Fe that should have the items he needed along with additional firepower. He'd been getting help from some friends in MUFON and NICAP. One of the NICAP members, Jack Fenig, was a pilot with a helicopter. Jack was Max Fenig's younger brother. Mulder'd used the man before to fly him out to the oilrig in the Gulf of Mexico. He knew Jack would help him get to Barrett. Jack and a few others were now his neighbors near his new home in southwestern Texas. With luck he'd be there before nightfall.

Barrett, Wisconsin
Saturday, December 1, 2001
1:00 p.m.

Doggett glanced around the church at the men, women, and children. Some of the women and children were crying. Reverend Fraser was trying to calm them. They had gathered the town's three hundred and fifty residents into the Lutheran church after they had discovered three other homes had been attacked overnight and seven more residents killed or missing; their young children had been left unharmed.

Snowdrifts blocked the roads, so they were unable to get out to the farms and homes outside the town's main boundaries. They hoped those residents would be safe until they were able to get to them. It may not be until late tomorrow after the blizzard ended that snowplows would be able to clear the main roads. Doggett turned his attention back to the window and looked outside. He held a rifle as he scanned the street.

Reyes smiled at an elderly woman who was passing out sandwiches. Several of the town women, including the Reverend's wife were in the small kitchen out back cooking. She glanced over at Doctor Myers who was taking care of the children that were left parentless in the last attack. Timothy Dally stayed close to his side.

Reyes walked across the church to where Doggett stood looking out at the blowing snow.

"I hate snow," Doggett muttered, meeting her eyes in the frosty glass.

"It's pretty. I just wish we had a fireplace and some hot butter rums," Reyes said.

"Sheriff Sawyer's gone back to use the radio in his office. He's going to see if he can get some National Guard troops out here to help protect the town."

"John, if anything happens to me. I want my ashes scattered over the Gulf of Mexico," Reyes said suddenly.

"Nothing is going to happen, Monica."

Reyes met his eyes. "Just promise me you'll do this for me. I have it in my will, but I thought I should tell you."

"Okay, but nothing is going to happen."

Doggett wandered over to where Doctor Myers sat with Timothy Dally. He knelt next to the boy. "How are you doing, Tim?"

"My mommy and daddy are angels. I want to be an angel, too."

Doggett was taken aback; he knew he had to help the boy find a reason to stay alive. "Tim, your parents are watching out for you now. They would want you to grow up and make them proud. You can do that for them can't you?"

"I don't want to grow up, I want to go to heaven with them."

Doggett felt his heart breaking as he looked into those large brown eyes. "I know the pain you're feeling. I lost my son and wanted to be with him. Tim, sometimes we don't always get what we want. Sometimes what we want is not what is best for us. You need to be strong, your parents would want you to be happy and grow up to be a good man."

"I'm scared. Who's going to take care of me?"

Doggett looked at Doctor Myers.

"He doesn't have any relatives," Myers said.

Doggett reached forward and hugged the little boy. "Don't worry. There are hundreds of couples that would want a little boy like you." He remembered Agent Morris had spoken of wanting another child. Maybe he'd be interested in adopting Timmy.

The church doors crashed opened letting in a gush of wind and snow as Agent Morris hurried inside along with Deputy Cunningham and three men from town. They were hauling in sleeping bags, blankets, and additional food. They would all be spending the evening here. Morris handed the pile of blankets he was carrying to a woman that had rushed over to help. Then he headed back outside for another load. Agents Galloway and Beck were standing guard over the back of the church along with a dozen men from town. They took turns, along with Doggett, Reyes, and Morris, walking around the outside perimeter of the church. They all had hunting rifles. Doctor Jackson was attending to a couple of elderly residents that were complaining of chest pains.

Doggett stood and walked back over to Reyes.

"Would you like a sandwich, Agent Doggett?" Mrs. Farley asked.

"Yes. Thank you, Ma'am." Doggett picked up the ham and cheese sandwich off the tray she held out to him. He didn't feel like eating, but knew he had to keep his strength up.

"Agent Reyes?" the elderly woman held the tray for Reyes to select one of the remaining sandwiches.

"Thank you."

"There's a fresh urn of coffee on the table up front," she said then moved on to pass out sandwiches to rest of the people.

Galloway grabbed a sandwich off the tray as he walked over to them. "Guys, it's your turn to patrol outside. Remember to keep your skin covered, you can get frostbite in under three minutes at this temperature."

"I know I'm going to regret this, but what is the temperature now?" Reyes asked as she finished her sandwich.

"Don't worry, Monica, it's warmed up considerably since the last time you went outside. It's now a balmy minus twenty-five degrees below zero and the wind chill is a blistering minus forty-two below." Galloway smiled.

"You're getting too much pleasure out of our misery, Bruce," Doggett said as they pulled on the ski masks and goggles that Sheriff Sawyer had loaned them.

"John, after this case is over, Beck and I will take you and Monica ice fishing."

"After this case is over, Monica and I will be heading back to sunny D.C."

"You don't know what you're missing," Galloway said.

"Yeah, I think I do." The ski mask hid Doggett's grin as they headed outside.

They walked side by side down the street on the left side of the church. They trudged through a few feet of snow that drifted over the road. Behind the church was a parking lot. Next door to the church was the small volunteer fire department. Other than the wind, it was quiet. No power or cars. The town's snowplow driver was waiting for the snow and wind to die down before going out.

Doggett kept one eye on Reyes as they walked the perimeter of the church. His gloved hands wrapped around the barrel and handle of the rifle. He'd never experienced such extreme cold. Even with the insulated gloves his fingers were becoming stiff. How did people deal with a climate that could kill them if they were outside in it for too long?

"What I wouldn't give for a mug of hug chocolate milk with a shot of brandy," Reyes said.

"I'll check with Mrs. Farley. I'm sure she can whip up some hot chocolate and I bet she knows where to get her hands on some brandy."

They spent forty-five minutes patrolling around the church before heading back inside. Ten teams of men had volunteered to patrol the perimeter of the church throughout the day and night. Once the sun went down they would send out two teams to patrol outside. It would be nightfall by the time Doggett and Reyes had to go back outside.

Twin Cities, Minnesota
Saturday, December 1, 2001
7:20 p.m.

Mulder waited impatiently while Jack filled the fuel tank of the helicopter at the small Crystal city airport. He'd fallen behind schedule. It took longer for Jack to pick him up in Santa Fe than he had planned. Mulder had wanted to be in Barrett before dusk. It was his belief that the only reason the Sasquatch had avoided detection for so long, besides their small number, was that they were nocturnal and because of their heavy coat of fur they hibernated someplace cool during the hot summer months.

"Don't worry, Mulder, I'll get us there."

"I am worried, Jack. We're going to need John Doggett if we want to defeat the aliens." He slipped his gloved hands in the pockets of his fleece coat.

"How's that? I know we need you, but from what I've heard about Agent Doggett he's not very bright in his knowledge about aliens." Jack looked a lot like his older brother Max.

"Trust me on this one."

"Okay, Mulder. Do you want to fly down to our base in Texas with him after we rescue him?"

"No. Kidnapping an FBI agent is still a federal offense."

Jack smirked as they climbed back into the helicopter. "Most of the stuff we're involved in is a federal offense."

Barrett, Wisconsin
Saturday, December 1, 2001
7:30 p.m.

The snow crunching under Doggett's and Reyes' boots was the only sound. The wind had died down and the snow had dropped off to flurries a few minutes ago. Doggett was hopeful that a rescue team would soon be on the way.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He glanced around nervously, gripping his rifle.

Reyes screamed as an immense creature rushed out of the woods and grabbed her, throwing her over its broad shoulder. It happened too fast, Doggett had just enough time to shoot another creature that was charging toward him. It took five bullets to bring the animal down, by then the creature that had Reyes had disappeared back into the snow-filled woods.

He heard more gunfire from the other side of the church then screaming and gunfire inside. Doggett was torn between dashing into the woods after the creature that had Reyes or helping the people inside the church. Duty and honor won out as he hurried to the church shooting another bigfoot that was trying to break down the back door. His rifle jammed and the enraged, wounded creature started toward him. There were three loud pops and the creature collapsed. Doctor Jackson stood behind it with his service pistol smoking in the cold air.

The other men were able to kill or run off the remaining bigfoots. Doggett rushed back inside the church and collected another rifle and a flashlight.

"John, where's Monica?" Agent Beck asked.

"One of those creatures took her." Doggett put an extra couple of clips in his pocket then headed toward the doorway. "I'm going to get her back."

"Wait, John, I'll come with you."

Doggett looked at the faces of the frightened children lit by candlelight. "No stay here and protect them until the National Guard arrives."

"At least show me what direction you're going in?" Beck said as he followed Doggett out of the church, passed the body of the bigfoot that Doggett had killed to the spot where another bigfoot had gone into the woods with Reyes. If the wind didn't pick up Doggett should be able to easily track it back to its lair.

"Be careful, John."

"I will be," he said.

Doggett had the flashlight on as he started through the woods following the large tracks. His feet became numb and his jeans were soaked up to his thighs as he trudged through the deep snow. An hour into following the trail it started snowing again and Doggett quickened his pace. He came to a clearing next to a frozen lake. The tracks went into the woods on the far side of the lake. He spent twenty-minutes following the tracks through the dense woods. If it weren't for them, he would have missed the opening between several large boulders. Doggett shone his flashlight down the tunnel. It looked like it had been carved out of rock. He started down and gagged at the overpowering scent of a bigfoot.

There was a low growl to his left and before he could respond two large hands grabbed his rifle. He held onto it with all of his strength, as he was smashed against the stone wall on one side of the tunnel then against the other. He heard the sickening sound of his arm snapping and stars exploded in front of his eyes as the back of his head smacked against the jagged hard surface. Before he lost consciousness, his whole life flashed before his eyes, along with lost opportunities at finding happiness.