X-FILES FANFIC: Crucified Toad (PG-13/Teen) 2/5

[campylobacter]

TITLE - Crucified Toad (2/5 Chapters)
AUTHOR - campylobacter 
EMAIL - campyspornshack at gmail d o t com
RATING - PG-13/Teens (language)
GOSSAMER CATEGORY - T (Adventure)
SPOILERS - Little Green Men
KEYWORDS - Pre-XF
SUMMARY - 10-year-old Scully shows a 12-year-old boy her secret hideout. Who is he, and why is he so mysterious? I challenged myself to write Mulder & Sully meeting as kids, yet preserve future canon.
STORY TIMELINE - Sunday, June 16, 1974, Father's Day
EPISODES - Space, Little Green Men, One Breath, Piper Maru, Christmas Carol
SEQUEL -The Pilot episode of The X-Files is the sequel.
DISCLAIMER - My cat eats lawyers.
SIZE - 38k / 6397 words

CHAPTER 2: The Mention of Her Name

Mr. Wharton Oddbottom awoke from his deep, cold slumber when an excavator broke him out of solid stone. Imagine his surprise to see gigantic, strange, babbling creatures and dry dust and dirt where once stood his beautiful marsh! He was mortified to discover that he could not, try as he might, open his mouth, and it hurt to breathe. The only words he could utter were barking noises through his nose.

---

The beam of Dana's flashlight revealed a huddle of long arms and legs; buried somewhere between chest and knees was a headful of dark hair. She wondered how this boy had fit inside the tunnel. After a few moments, he noticed the light and lifted his head toward her.

"...ssama--?" he mumbled in a quavery voice. "...they gonna take me, too?" He blinked and squinted in the flashlight's beam.

"Who?" asked Dana, noticing the frightened look on his face. "I'm not 'Sam'. I'm a girl." Even in grimy overalls, and with her long ginger curls bound into a ponytail, Dana had never been mistaken for a boy.

The boy lifted his hand to shield the light from his eyes. Dana lowered her flashlight and allowed it to point toward the wall. They studied each other for a beat. Although he seemed confused that she was not who he thought she was, he asked, "Did you follow me here?" Anger edged his voice.

"You're trespassing on my secret hideout," she retorted.

"Trespassing? This is a public storm drain. You don't own it." His voice grew more confident, and its squeakless tenor revealed that he was older than she had assumed.

"It's not public; it's military," she snapped. "This is Miramar Naval Air Base. You must be a civilian."

"You must be, too, unless the Navy recruits little girls."

"My dad's a Commander. He's gonna be a Captain, soon."

The boy laughed. "That doesn't mean you own the place. Besides, it's Father's Day. Why are you spending it in a concrete pipe?"

"He's shipped out. He'll be back next week. You're not with your dad, either."

"So you want me to split, Dana?"

Dana flinched at the mention of her name. How did he know? Then her eyes caught the direction he was looking.

On the naked, concrete sides of the tunnel, revealed by the flashlight's beam, various messages in charcoal and multicolored chalk proclaimed:

CHARLIE EATS BOOGERS :-d
BILLY STINKS >:-p
DANA [heart] RICKY =)
BILLY IS GAY!!!!! GAY GAY GAY!!!!!!!
MISSY HATES BOYS ;-[

Various cartoons and smiley faces illustrated each point.

While she crouched speechless, wishing the boy had seen "vivisepultured" instead, he said, "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which is your name."

Dana had no wish to explain who Ricky was. "You're wrong, smartass. I'm Melissa. Missy, for short."

He looked at her, unconvinced.

She turned the subject on him: "You said 'Sam' or something when you saw me. Who's that?"

The boy sighed. "It's uh, um, Sam. Just call me Sam." Some of his wise-guy attitude seemed to disappear. It didn't take a rocket scientist to tell he was lying, too.

"You want me to call you Sam, even though that's not your name?"

"You want me to call you Missy, don't you?"

Dana shrugged. In a dark, close tunnel, she had cornered a boy older than and maybe as cute as Richard Johansen, Beckons Wanted champion and son of Lt. Commander Christopher Johansen. "Fine. I'm going to my hideout, Sam, and you're in my way. Kindly remove yourself from this tunnel and let me pass. You tell anyone and you're a dead man."

"Yeah, right! Like anyone gives a crap. I'm only here for the weekend. I doubt the yachters in Connecticut care about some third grade Navy brat in a San Diego sewer."

"I'm not in third grade. I'm going into sixth."

"Your sophisticated cave art had me fooled. How old are you?"

"I'm ten. How old are you?"

"I'll be thirteen in October."

"So what are you doing in a sixth grader's fort? Shouldn't you be doing teenager stuff, instead?"

"Like what? Vandalizing public property?" He pointed to a crooked bunny face drawing.

"No. But if you keep going up the tunnel, I'll show you. You'd be the only one who's ever seen my fort."

He frowned, as if her suggestion were the last thing he wanted to do. Then he looked at what she was holding and asked, "Can I use your flashlight?"

"Sure. Are you chickenshit?"

"No ma'am, I'm a fox," he replied, in a bad imitation of Elvis Presley. "I eat chickens, thankyouverymuch."

Dana burst out laughing. "You're weird."

"So are you."

"Well, go ahead, Mr. Fox," she teased.

"Don't call me that." He grabbed the flashlight and began to crawl up the underground passage. With his every movement, mad shadows slid on the walls in a silent game of leapfrog.

To be continued in Chapter 3 of 5: A Big Coffin (publishing Monday 21 June 2010)

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