Lauren leaped out of the first-floor window, landed heavily on her feet and waited. David climbed out of the window, slipped, and landed heavily on his lower end. Two brief laughs shocked the evening, were suppressed, and then the brother and sister ran into the woods, quaking with silent mirth.


Dana Scully ran as she had run only a very few times before, for what her life was worth. The woods couldn't have been better for running in, really. The trees were sparsely growing loblolly pines, without low branches and scattering a thick and even layer of pine needles that smothered all undergrowth. Even the air was nice, crisp, with a smell that was piney and salty all at once. Though of course there was the usual mess of saplings and dead branches and exposed roots, this tangle was no worse than could be expected. It was the woods, after all. Dana, however, was thinking of other things. She thought about making sure her feet hit the pine-needily ground surely and propelled her forward, without tripping her up on any of the dead branches or roots or saplings. She thought about steering herself through the woods without crashing into any of the loblolly pines. She though about breathing the crisp, piney-yet-salty air in great gulps to keep enough oxygen in her wildly-pumping blood. She thought about how, being so short, she had never been good at running like she was now. But most of all, Dana thought about the roaring, flamethrower-like noise that was following her. She ran on, glancing over her shoulder once. All around her was unbroken woods, empty. Had she outrun her assailant?

The roaring stopped. Silence. Dana jumped as the noise flickered on and off once. But it wasn't even close, it was echoing from somewhere... Yugunis sound! The roaring had been echoing off of the water of the sound, of course, and she had been running from a flamethrower that was not there. Now she had was totally lost, surrounded by loblolly pines and a silence so loud that it buzzed in her ears.


Fox Mulder suddenly converted into Commando-Mulder. He did this ever so often, when his work involved sneaking through illegal zones to uncover some government conspiracy or running for his life from some well-armed criminal. This situation seemed to qualify, so suddenly mild mannered Mulder became super athlete Commando-Mulder. Yet even Commando-Mulder had trouble running from this person and her flamethrower. It wasn't that she ran fast, which she did, but that she did not seem to tire, and she could run through the woods effortlessly, without ever placing a foot wrong.

Commando-Mulder glanced quickly behind him. Though it was barely twilight, the woods completely hid his follower in darkness, and he could only see the flame and hear its roar following him. He hoped, prayed almost, that it would run out of fuel.

And the flame went out, not in a sputtering, dying way, but suddenly. Then on again, and off again. The woman, too, must have been thinking about conserving her fuel. They were chasing each other in the darkness.

Commando-Mulder barely avoided running into a tree. He preformed an amazing sideways skid, and then glanced over his shoulder to see if his assailant had gained ground. All was darkness behind him. This time, not even his Commando-Mulder powers could help him. He did collide with the tree. Panicked at the thought of the woman running effortlessly through the woods, her flamethrower, following him with fire, he took off at total random into the shadows.


"D@*%!" thought Dana. The cell phone she always carried with her had been left in the car, after the flat tire. She had always been taught that when you were utterly and completely lost, you were supposed to wait until someone came looking for you. However, at this moment Mulder was probably busy outrunning a certain flamethrower. She couldn't just sit in the middle of the woods, waiting, she had to do something! Mulder could be anywhere, he might need help.

At least Dana had her gun. Holding it ready to shoot, she set back. She hoped.


Commando-Mulder, too, had drawn his gun, but he realized the trees were too dense to use it accurately at anything less than point-blank range. The flame that was following could reach around trees, or burn down anything in his way. Commando-Mulder could hardly keep from panicking. Not flame. Not fire. Those were some of the only things he could not face. He ran faster. This was a game of cat and mouse until the woods thinned out, or they found a clearing. Then he would have the upper hand, his gun having a longer range than the flamethrower. But every moment the woman, the flame, came closer.


Dana walked hesitantly through the woods. By now, it was night, so dark the tree-trunks were just pillars of shadows in total darkness. Dana punished herself with every step. When you are investigating strange burnings you must be prepared to deal with flamethrowers, she scolded herself. And she had been so stupid! She didn't even know where she was, much less where Mulder had run to, or what trouble he was in.

Suddenly, the trees cleared up. Dana ran out of the woods, her gun ready.

She saw two silhouettes against the sound, and flame. Then the two silhouettes let out childish screeches of panic, falling back, and in the light of the campfire they turned into two very frightened children. Dana dropped to her knees in the sand in front of them and put her gun away.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry! I won't hurt you." Dana looked at their faces, their eyes, still full of fear. But the girl was giving Dana a weird searching look. As Dana was about to explain who she was and what she was doing running around the woods with a gun, the girl exclaimed,

"You're the weird lady who's investigating the burnings for the FBI, aren't you?"

Dana recognized the girl now. "And you're the girl who was cleaning out the stormdrain!"

"Yup, that's me! I'm Lauren, and this is David. It's OK, David, she's with the FBI!"

"Really, you are?? Cool!!"

"Are you here alone?" Dana asked.

The children nodded.

"You should get home. This is no night to be roasting marshmallows. Do you two know how to get out of these woods?"

The children nodded again.

"I'll follow you, then."


A minute later, Dana was being led up a narrow, almost hidden path. It was quiet. Then not quite so. A roaring grew, filling the air.

"I don't like this!" announced both children in unison.

"Keep quiet and move quickly," Dana whispered. She couldn't even tell what direction the now-familiar roaring was coming from. They hurried further. There was a light coming from between the trees, and Dana stepped in front of the children, expecting anything.

The light turned out to be coming not from between the trees, but from the trees themselves. One whole side of the path was just beginning to burn.

"The woods are burning!! The woods are burning!!!"

Panicking, the children ran past Dana and up the path, hopefully to find help. Dana, afraid of and for the dry pine woods, made a feeble attempt to stamp out a part of the fire with her foot.

Fire. Chaos all around her.

Dana grabbed a fallen branch and began to whack a section of the flame. The fire was growing and the branch in her hand was burning. This she stamped out. The smoke rose upward, full of sparks, and though that did not bother her the heat was becoming unbearable. Dana ran over to a nearby sapling in search of a branch that was not dried out and, in a crazed effort, managed to sort of bend it. The fire was spreading from branch to branch, and the woods above her head were all aflame. Ash and cinders were dropping all around.

Chaos.

Dana was on the verge of panic. She could do nothing. She turned down the path and ran after the children.

Fifty meters further on, where a root was hidden in the darkness, Dana tripped and went flying.

She lay there for a few moments, breathing hard into a mass of pine needles. Just as Dana lifted her head, a few meters ahead came a loud roaring.

The sound did not quite register in Dana's jarred brain until she saw Mulder run across the, lit up by the flame that followed and left bits of itself in its wake.

A second later Dana was up after them in a stumbling run.


Mulder, Commando or no, could hardly keep running. The flamethrower had started up again, dangerously close, and he could not pause even for a moment. It felt as if he had been running forever, as if he would soon collapse from exhaustion.

But the flame kept coming.

Any minute now, it would catch him. It was like a dream from which he could not wake up. Mulder tried to run faster, but could not. The cramp in his side felt about to split him in two, and each breath cut his dry throat like sandpaper.

But the flame kept coming.

Mulder stumbled, almost tripped, Commando-Mulder having left him along with his strength. He was now no more than Fox Mulder, running through the woods, carried forward by no more than his fear. His steps were numbered. He would soon fall and not have the strength to get up.

But the flame kept coming. He had to keep going.

Who was this woman who followed? How could she not be tired as well?

And up ahead, a miracle, the woods thinned and clear. Mulder used his last remnants of strength, made a giant leap and landed at the edge of the sound. Mulder kept running. When the water was halfway two his knees he began drawing his gun, suddenly stopping and whirling around to face the flamethrower and the person who wielded it.

But he did not calculate the submerged log, hidden in the shadows of night.

The next thing he realized, he was more or less face-down in the water. It was cold and wet. He was tired. The world was spinning far too quickly. Thoughts flew in and out of his head so fast he was hardly aware of thinking them.

Would this finally be the end? Strange, he had never imagined his death by flamethrower. Fire. Flame. He had to get up! This was too soon... He had never found out what had happened to Samantha on that night so many years ago... his mother... He wouldn't be able to say good-bye! Scully... Oh, Scully... He needed a breath. Of air. He lifted his face out of the water and sucked in the cool night. The world was still spinning all around, too fast. The stars spun until they made him even dizzier. He could see the flame reflecting off of the water. The roaring was quite loud in the quiet night, and coming closer.

A voice, firm, authoritative, angry, not betraying the fear the owner felt, yelled out from the direction of the woods.

"Stop where you are, or I'll shoot!!"

The roaring stopped. The night grew darker, purer, lit only by starlight and a distant glow from the woods. The world slowed down and then ceased to spin altogether. Mulder heaved himself up, standing slowly. The flamethrower woman stood still. From the darkness of the woods walked out Scully, gun aimed and ready to shoot, starlight reflecting in her burning eyes.

"Put your hands in the air! Now don't move!" she instructed. From somewhere not far away came sirens. Or was the sound further off and echoing off the water? Scully and Mulder, both out of breath, took their eyes off the motionless woman and looked at each other.

In that moment, the flamethrower woman shocked them all. She laughed. The crazed, almost demonic laughter didn't fit in the cool and quiet night. It mingled with the sirens, which seemed closer now. And with one swift movement she flung the flamethrower toward Scully. Scully, ready for any sudden movement, fired, and the bullet seared through the flamethrower. Mulder and Scully dove into the water of the sound. A ball of pure flame filled the air, roaring like a hundred flamethrowers. All was fire and chaos.

A moment later the night was cool and quiet again. The sirens had stopped, their sound replaced by the distant bells of the ice-cream man, and then those bells, too, were quiet. As the agents stood, demonic, insane laughter echoed at them from across the dark waters of the sound.


Flamethrowers can be remade, insane ideas put to use again. One neighborhood has been made peaceful again, one stormdrain has been re-painted, one mystery has been solved, but many other neighborhoods may yet be witness to the strange burn marks that come in the night.

For it is said that on cool and quiet evenings, when bats circle in the sky, a strange flame may appear on the horizon, leaving only the mark where it has touched.

Fire. Chaos. Insanity.

But then, all of this is nothing more than is passed around campfires in the presence of marshmallows.


"Doo doo dee doo dee doo. Doo doo dee doo dee doo. Dee dee doo dee dee doo. Doo doo dee doo dee doo. Dee doo. Dee doo. Bum!"


By Aniad. Copyright 1997

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