Born on the Bayou

By Laurie D. Haynes
shannara@xemplary.com

Rating: R for violence and adult situations
Category: X, T, A, MSR
Spoilers: "Triangle" (but it's not a post-ep)
June 16, 1999

Summary: Mulder and Scully are sent to Southwest Louisiana
to help on some murder/dismemberment cases. But it's an X-
File, too, because rumor is it might be the work of the
legendary cat people, who live in the swampland forests of
the area. Note: the story is based partially on some actual
murder/dismemberments that I covered as a newspaper
reporter in this area. And the FBI really did help out on
at least one of the cases. I'm afraid the legend is my own
invention, however.




Johnson's Bayou, Cameron Parish, Louisiana

Standing on the creaky wooden dock, Jimmy Thibodeaux cast
his line into the bayou again, hoping to land a big bass.
As he started to reel it in, he felt something heavy
resisting him.

He became excited and started to reel faster, calling to
his brother nearby, "Hey, Donny, I got me somet'in' big
here! Get the net!"

"Whatchoo think you got?"

"Dunno. Mebbe a big catfish. It don't feel like a bass."

"Ahhh, you probably just got hung up. Better hope ya
didn't  snag a gator!" Donny teased.

As he continued to reel in the line, Jimmy could see that
whatever he had hooked was definitely neither a fish nor an
alligator,  but he couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Damn! I guess I hung up on some trash after all."

Jimmy let out some line and walked off the short dock back
to shore, then up to the edge of the pond. Standing in the
mud and weeds, he brought in his "catch."

"Ohmigod, Donny! It's a man -- or what's let of 'im!"

Donny pulled in his own line and joined his brother on the
bank. Donny held his nose and examined the gruesome find.

"Oh shit. He don't have no head! And his arms or legs have
been cut off, too!"

"Go call the sheriff," Jimmy told him. "I'll stay here
with the body."

Donny ran to their beat-up pickup and hauled ass down the
road to the nearest store, a good five or six miles away.


*********************

The Cameron Parish sheriff's department had deputies
combing the site, searching the soggy ground and tall marsh
grass lining the bayou, trying to see if there were other
body parts visible.

The ID officer took photos of the remains and a video of
the scene, as well. There being no coroner in Cameron
Parish, a funeral home hearse waited for the signal to pick
up the body and take it to wherever the sheriff instructed.

It wasn't every day a dismembered body was found in his
parish, so Sheriff Huey Fontaine himself was on the scene,
perspiring heavily in the humid climate, sweat staining his
Stetson and the armpits of his short-sleeved white Western
shirt. When his forensics team finished, Fontaine waved the
funeral home workers to bag the remains.

"Where ya want us to take him?" asked one of the young
hearse attendants.

"Take him to the morgue in Lake Charles. We'll get the
coroner there to look at him," the sheriff replied.

"But they ain't got no coroner, right now," the funeral
home worker replied. "He quit last month and they ain't
found another 'un, yet."

"Shit! I guess you gotta take him to Baton Rouge, then.
Damn, we'll be three months getting an autopsy with their
caseload!"

The chief detective on the case, Capt. Trey Kent, walked
up to the sheriff.

"Why don't we call in the FBI for help?" Kent suggested.

"Whatsa matter," said Fontaine derisively. "You don't
think you can solve this one?"

"Oh sure, but we can get it solved a lot quicker with the
FBI's resources. They might even send their own pathologist
down."

"But you know they're gonna need a better reason than we
just want help," said the sheriff.

Kent nodded thoughtfully, then an idea occurred to him.

"They have this special division, called the X Files. They
look into strange, unexplained phenomena and unsolved
cases. They're also supposed to be the best investigators
in the bureau. Tell them the locals are saying it's the
work of the Chat Hommes, the cat-men."

"I like it," grinned the sheriff. "I'll tell some of our
guys to spread the rumor around. It's not like folks
haven't been saying forever that they see those things
around here."

"Probably swamp gas," said Kent with a smile.

"Sure, but don't tell my grandmere that. She insists she's
been seein' 'em for years," laughed Fontaine.



************************

Mulder and Scully flew into New Orleans and caught a
commuter flight to Lake Charles. The journey on the small
plane was quite bumpy and Scully was white-knuckled from
clutching the arms of the seat so tightly. As usual, Mulder
was unaffected, other than being unable to catch even a
short nap with his knees crammed up against the seat in
front of him and Scully gasping at each bump.

As they filed into the airport lobby, an attractive young
woman in a business suit handed them vouchers for $2 in
chips for one of the riverboat casinos on the lake.

"Might be fun, Scully," Mulder said, looking at the
voucher. "Do big winners turn you on?" he asked her with a
wicked grin.

"I play a pretty mean hand of poker, myself, actually,"
Scully said. "My father taught me to play. And I've never
been on a riverboat. Maybe if we get time, we could go."

Mulder grimaced at the thought of getting on a boat, of
traveling on water.

"On second thought, Scully, maybe you don't need to be
impressed by my gambling prowess."

She laughed, immediately guessing the reason for his
sudden change of heart.

"It's a lake, silly. No waves, no seasickness."

He looked dubious. "If you say so."

Mulder walked up to the car rental desk and obtained a
vehicle for their use.

They threw their bags in the trunk and Scully checked out
the map and directed Mulder to the correct highway to
Cameron. They'd been told to go to the sheriff's office,
which was located in the parish courthouse.

*************************

"Have you identified the body yet?" Mulder asked the
sheriff and his detective.

"No," said Kent, "but we did find some more body parts --
we had a storm last night and a leg washed up not far from
where the trunk was found."

"Any papers in the man's pockets?" Mulder queried.

"No wallet, no nothin,'" the sheriff answered.

"What does your coroner say about the time of death?"
asked Scully.

"Well, ma'am, we hadn't got an autopsy done yet," Fontaine
replied. "We don't have a coroner of our own. We're too
small of a parish. We usually send any bodies to Lake
Charles for the Calcasieu Parish  pathologist to do the
autopsy. But they ain't got one right now, either. We were
gonna send it to Baton Rouge, but Trey said maybe the
bureau could get it done a whole lot quicker."

Scully nodded. "I'm a forensic pathologist, myself, I can
do it. Where's the body?"

"Calcasieu Parish morgue," Kent told her. "If you don't
mind, I'd like to sit in on the autopsy."

"I need to have a look at it, myself," Mulder said grimly,
"so I guess I'll stick around while you do it. Kent, you
can fill me in on the local folktales surrounding the Chat
Hommes."


******************

Scully changed into a set of too-large scrubs while the
morgue attendant brought the limbless body and its
separated leg out and prepared them for the autopsy.

When she emerged from the changing room, Mulder and Kent
joined her. Mulder pulled a jar of Vicks out of his pocket,
unscrewed the lid and offered some to Kent. The detective
scooped up a glob with his  fingers and spread it on his
nostrils and upper lip. Mulder followed  suit.

"Thanks, Agent Mulder, this is definitely a ripe one,"
Kent said, nodding at the remains on the morgue table. "How
do you stand it, Dana?"

"A liberal dose of perfume on my surgical mask helps a
lot," she replied. "You get used to it to a certain degree."

She pulled the sheet off the still-clothed trunk and leg.
Mulder and Kent came up to look with her. Scully turned on
the recorder.

"Body is wearing an undershirt, which appears to have been
white at one time, and blue jeans, with a Western belt. The
clothing is stained with blood despite having been in the
water for some time. The right leg is wearing a leather
cowboy boot."

Scully carefully worked the boot off the foot. She looked
at the tag inside.

"Victim wore a size 11 boot," she dictated to the recorder.

"Pull his belt off, Scully, and let me see it," Mulder
asked, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from a dispenser on
a nearby counter. Once gloved, he accepted the belt from
Scully and stretched it out on the table next to the body.
Using a towel, he wiped the pond scum off the leather to
reveal a name stamped into the leather.

"Our John Doe is now a Brian Doe," Mulder said, and showed
the belt to Scully and Kent.

Mulder wiped off the buckle to reveal silver inlaid with
turquoise and coral.

"Looks like we're already getting somewhere," he said. "We
can put out a description of the belt and his boot size and
see if it rings a bell with anyone or matches up with any
missing person in the area."

A further search of the clothing turned up nothing and
Scully cut the jeans, shirt and red jockey shorts off the
body and put them into a paper bag.

"Victim is a Caucasian male, age anywhere from 20-40, I'd
say. The state of the body makes it difficult to pinpoint
the age at  this time. From the decay present and larvae
infestation, I'd estimate the victim has been dead five to
10 days."

Scully prepared to make the first incision and Mulder
gestured to Kent to move with him to just outside the
autopsy bay.

The two sat down while Scully worked.

"So tell me about these cat-men," Mulder insisted.

"The old folks around here, and even some of the younger
ones who live back up in the marsh, say the creatures are
for real," Kent said. "I'm more inclined to think it's some
sort of marsh panther and a whole lot of imagination."

"I'd be interested in talking to some of them," said Mulder.

Kent nodded and avoided looking Mulder in the eye.

"Mulder!" Scully called. "Come here."

Mulder walked into the room where his partner was working.
"What's up?"

"One thing I can tell right away," said Scully. "This man
wasn't killed by any beast. The limbs were hacked off, not
torn off. Someone obviously murdered him and then mutilated
the body. Whether it was just to try to cover up the murder
or there is some sort of fetish working, I can't say. But
this is not an X File. Here, take a look through the
magnifying glass at the marks."

Mulder frowned, but let her point out what she was talking
about.

"Are there any wounds on the torso?" he asked.

"I haven't finished yet, but from what I can tell, there
are none, other than where the limbs were removed, and it
appears to me they were removed after death. I'll know for
sure once I've completed the autopsy."

"Be my guest," said Mulder, gesturing with a flair. "I'm
going to have a little talk with the detective. Something
smells, here, and it isn't just the body."

He strode out of the room and found Kent in the nearby
break room, pouring a cup of coffee.


"Scully says the victim was not killed by any kind of wild
animal, but by a human. The limbs were hacked off."

Kent stood up straight and paused before turning around to
face Mulder.

"Ah, well, we really haven't taken much of a look at the
body --  not having a coroner and all that," said Kent.

"Yet, you called in the FBI for help before you even knew
what you were dealing with?"

Kent sighed.

"We really do need your help," he said. "We don't have
much in the way of resources and we particularly wanted an
autopsy done before a month had passed."

"And this legend of the cat people," Mulder said angrily,
"you made that up, didn't you -- just to get us down here?"

"No, I swear, the folks back up around the bayous insist
the stories are true," Kent said, "but it's just folk
tales. I'm not going to apologize for trying to get
something for our taxpayers' dollars that we needed. Look,
I'd heard of the X Files and figured you guys were our best
shot at finding whoever killed this guy. We're just a small
parish and don't have much in the way of resources."

"Ok, we'll help. But I still want to talk to the people
about the legend."

"It's a deal," said Kent, breathing a sigh of relief.
"We'll need to question people around there anyway to find
out if anybody saw anything."

"Have you even started that process, yet?" asked Mulder,
beginning to wonder if he was even working with trained
professionals.

Part 2


"Oh, sure, but there are people scattered all up in there.
Some of them can only be reached by boat," said the
detective.

"Ok, so we leave out first thing in the morning," Mulder
insisted. "First thing I want to see is where the body, or
what's left of it was found."

Scully finished her autopsy, finding nothing beyond what
she already had. She gathered samples, though, and packaged
them up, along with the clothing remnants, to send to the
FBI lab in Washington. She hoped she would hear something
before the end of the week, but it wasn't likely. Other
cases would likely take priority, even as nasty as this one
was.

After she cleaned up and changed back into her street
clothes, Mulder filled her in on his conversation with the
detective.

"Tell you what," said Kent. "Let me take you out to
dinner. There's a terrific Cajun seafood restaurant, the
Plantation House, that's absolutely fantastic. I owe you
one."

Both agents readily agreed and Mulder's stomach growled
right on cue.

"Better feed that thing," joked Scully.

Mulder grinned and the three left the coroner's office.

*****************

The restaurant was housed in an old Southern mansion and
furnished with antiques.

Mulder and Scully both ordered the charcoal-grilled red
snapper covered in a Dijon sauce with scallops and
crawfish, while Kent ordered a platter of  boiled crawfish.


Never having eaten boiled crawfish, Mulder watched in
fascination as Kent broke open the succulent shellfish,
eating the tail and sucking the spicy fat from the head.
The detective looked up to see both Scully and Mulder
staring at him.

Kent laughed. "Crawfish are a true Cajun delicacy. You can
tell who's from this area and who's not. The outsiders eat
the tails and throw away the head without touching it."

"You don't exactly have a Louisiana accent," noted Scully.

"That's because I'm originally from Kansas," said Kent.
"But I've been down here for 11 years. After college, I
took a trip to New Orleans. Saw an ad in the Picayune-Times
advertising for patrol deputies in Cameron Parish. I
figured it would be like New Orleans, so I applied and got
the job. Wasn't too long before I found out differently."

"So why'd you stay?" asked Mulder around a mouthful of red
snapper.

"I met a girl and fell in love," replied Kent. "She was a
dispatcher, then, and now she's a patrol deputy. Her
family's from here and she really doesn't want to leave.
We've got two kids and a house. This is my home, now, and
I'm content to stay. I've been through three sheriffs and --
don't tell Huey -- but I'm thinking about running for
sheriff myself."

"Isn't it a problem being married to another officer in
the same department?" Mulder asked, glancing slyly at
Scully, who pretended she didn't notice.

"Sometimes," admitted Kent. "It's all I can do not to rush
to the scene when I hear her on the radio saying she's
pulling someone over. But she'd have my hide if I did that."

Mulder nodded in understanding. "You respect her as a
professional, capable of carrying out her duties. That's
how it is with me and Scully."

Scully snorted in derision. "That's not the impression I
get when you run off and ditch me, Mulder."

"Now, when was the last time I ditched you? I don't do
that anymore."

"Bermuda was only a few months ago," she pointed out.

"I didn't ditch you," argued Mulder. "We weren't assigned
to a case. I was just investigating something on my own."

Scully chuckled and told Kent, "Nine times out of 10, when
he goes off on these 'independent investigations,' he winds
up in deep trouble and I have to go pull his behind out of
the fire."

Kent grinned. "That so?"

"No, it isn't," Mulder retorted, then amended his
statement as Scully gave him her patented look. "Not that
much anyway." He laughed. "I guess it's about half the
time, though."

Scully didn't comment, but smiled slightly.

The three finished their meal and Kent took the agents
back to their motel.

The accommodations were actually quite nice for a change.
Room rates were reasonable in this casino hotel, designed
to give gamblers a place to crash in between sessions of
gaming.


Mulder was awakened about 4:30 a.m. by a call from Kent.

"Sorry to wake you, but I figured you'd want to know,"
said the detective. "We've got another body. Some boaters
found it in another section of Johnson's Bayou. Same M.O. --
the body was dismembered. How soon can you get down here?"

"Give us an hour. Where do you want to meet -- the
sheriff's office?"

"No, come on down to Johnson's Bayou. There's a little
convenience store, there, the only store in town. It's
right on Highway 82, you can't miss it."

"OK, tell them to leave everything as it is. Do you have a
forensics team you can call?"

"Calcasieu Parish will loan us one. I've already called
them. See you in an hour," said Kent and hung up.

Mulder looked over at Scully, lying next to him in the
bed. She was already awake and listening to him talk to
Kent. Mulder hung up the phone and lay back down, drawing
her into his arms.

"They just found another body in the same area as the last
one," he said, sighing. "They want us on the scene."

Scully rested her head on Mulder's bare chest and yawned.
"If I'd known we were going to have to go out before sunup,
I wouldn't have let you talk me into this last night."

He grinned and kissed her. "You thought it was a good idea
at the time."

She laughed. "I always do. You can be pretty ...
persuasive." She shifted in the bed and felt evidence of
his considerable interest in remaining where they were.
"Down, boy, we've got work to do." Caressing his face, she
got up reluctantly from the bed.

Mulder made a playful grab at her, but she evaded him and
left for her adjoining room to use the shower.

**************

Dressed in jeans and boots, Mulder and Scully stood on the
dirt road beside the bayou as the forensics team swept the
area and prepared to retrieve the body parts. As before,
some parts were missing. A team of deputies and forensic
experts were standing by with a boat, prepared to drag the
bayou if necessary.

As soon as he saw the forensics team was finished with the
area on the bank next to the body, Mulder carefully
approached, followed by Scully.

The sun was just coming up, but the area was brightly lit
by spotlights from the patrol cars on the road and the
spotlight on the boat. There were numerous footprints in
the area, which didn't help matters. Obviously, the
fishermen who had found this body had set ashore to go find
a phone. The nearest home was about a mile further up the
road.

The agents looked around the bank themselves, but could
not see anything. Scully called to the men in the boat to
bring the body in to shore.

Grimacing, the deputies retrieved the body parts floating
on the surface -- a torso and an arm -- and took them to
the bank. A hearse drove up and parked beside the patrol
cars on the road. Her hands clad in latex gloves, Scully
examined the remains. Something glittered when she shined
her flashlight on the arm. Around the wrist of the arm was
a charm bracelet. Scully removed it and handed it to
Mulder, who put it in an evidence bag.

A quick examination of the torso revealed the victim to be
a woman.

"She's been here over a day," said Scully. "I'll know more
when we get her back to the morgue."

Mulder nodded in understanding and ordered the deputies to
begin dragging the bayou.

"Hell, this damn bayou is 10 miles long," complained one
of the deputies in the boat.

"Then you'd best get started," Kent snapped. "Start at the
northernmost part that's deep enough to cover a body and
work your way down to the mouth of the bayou."


"Scully, why don't you go with the body back to the morgue
and Kent and I will get started questioning the people
around here," Mulder said.

She agreed,  climbed in the passenger side of the hearse
and left with the funeral home attendants.

Mulder turned to Kent.

"So where are the people that found this body?"

Kent motioned to one of the deputies who opened his patrol
car, ducked his head in and then a man and woman got out.
Mulder and Kent went to question them.

"How long had you been here before you saw the body?"
asked Mulder.

"We had just launched our boat and turned on the spotlight
when we saw it floatin' in the water," said the man.
"Betty, here, thought it was a piece of log at first and
hollered for me to go around it. She kept the light on it
as I steered the boat to the side and when we got closer,
we saw it was a person -- or what was left of one."

Betty nodded in agreement. "I told Bubba to put ashore and
I got in the truck and drove up the road to Old Millie's
house to use the phone. She was already up and let me in."

"Did you see anyone else around here?" asked Kent.

"No, there wasn't nobody here but us," Betty replied.

"Have you heard of anybody missing around here?" Mulder
inquired.

"Not really. But you gotta understand there's a lot of
folks who work in the oilfield and might be gone for a week
or more at a time -- especially if they work offshore,"
Betty explained. "The rig phones are usually just for the
company people and the toolpusher, so it wouldn't be
unusual not to hear from your husband or wife for a week or
more. And then there's the guys who do nothing but party
and run around in Lake Charles or Lafayette their whole
time off."

Mulder and Kent drew aside, away from the couple.

"Whoever dumped these bodies must have been figuring the
alligators would take care of them," said Kent. "There are
a few around here, but most of them are back up in the
marsh. It's illegal, but there's a fair amount of alligator
poaching that goes on, so the gators have taken to avoiding
areas like the main part of the bayou where people come out
fishing fairly often."

"Sounds like our killer may not be from this immediate
area, then," mused Mulder. "Yet he knew where the bayou
was, so he knows something about the area."

"So it's probably someone who visits around here or passes
through the area," Kent theorized.

Mulder turned in a circle, scanning the horizon. In the
distance, to both the north and west, he spotted derricks
out in the marsh. He pointed at them and added, "Or works
in the area sometimes. Let's go talk to this Old Millie,
since I gather she's the nearest resident and is up at odd
hours, then we'll go over to those rigs and ask around."

Obtaining directions from the couple who found the body,
Kent and Mulder drove up the road to the old woman's house,
which was built on stilts to keep from being flooded.

They found her on the porch of her home, rocking
peacefully in a chair. The two men climbed the stairs to
speak with her. She regarded them suspiciously.

"What you two fellas want?" she demanded.

They both showed their ID and badges and the old woman
nodded in satisfaction.

"I heared about dem dead bodies. People been sayin' since
the other day, dat de Chat Hommes tore up a man, ate on 'im
and throwed de leftovers in de bayou," she said in a thick
Cajun accent.

Mulder's eyes gleamed at the mention of the cat-men, but
he said, "In this case, the killer was all too human. The
first body was definitely dismembered using some sort of
knife or meat cleaver and I suspect we'll find the same
thing with the second one."

"Now, dat I believe. The Chat Hommes don' kill no one dat
don' try to hurt dem. Dey is peaceful creatures."

"I would like to talk to you about that," Mulder said,
"but first, have you seen any strangers around here dumping
stuff in the water?"

Old Millie shook her head. "I know most everyone," she
said. "But I'm an old woman and my sight ain't so good
anymore. I go to bed real early, but I gets up when de
rooster starts crowin'. Other dan some dirty people who
t'row down their beer cans by the bayou, I ain't seen
nothin' like dat."

"You mentioned the Chat Hommes," Mulder prodded the old
woman. "What do they look like?"

"Well, I really shouldn't be talkin' about them, seein' as
how I'm descended from Le Protectors. Why you wanna know?
You gonna go huntin' dem?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Mulder assured her. "I'm just
interested in that sort of thing."

"Well, I dunno ... You look like an honest young man.
C'mere and let me read you."

Not sure what she meant, Mulder squatted on his heels
beside her rocking chair. She reached out with both hands
and touched his temples. She closed her eyes for a moment
and Mulder could have sworn he felt a little flutter in his
mind.

"OK," she said, removing her hands. "You'll do. But you
must swear by your love for that pretty little woman of
yours that you will not take this information back to the
government."

Mulder and Kent glanced at one another and the agent saw
from the expression in Kent's eyes that he knew the old
woman was talking about Scully.

She waved Kent away and insisted on talking to Mulder
alone. The detective excused himself and promised to return
for Mulder later.

"How did you know about my partner?" Mulder asked Millie.

"I has the sight. Your thoughts of her are very strong.
You love her very much. You should not hide that love, but
let it out."


PART 3

"It's not that easy," he replied. "There are those who
would use that knowledge against us."

"Mebbe dey already know," said Millie with a slight smile.
"I loved my Richard for sixty-one years before he passed
on. But I still wish we'd had more time. Don't take your
love for granted, young man. Make the most of every day you
got on God's good Earth."

"I will," Mulder promised. "Tell me about the Chat Hommes.
I'm not going to hurt them."

"Dey are night creatures, like most wild cats. No one
knows how dey got here. The Indians say de Chats were here
before dey even got here. The Chat Hommes are a very old
race. They walk on two legs, 'cept when dey hunt, dey go on
all fours."

"What do they eat?"

"Not people, though some folks have claimed dat. The marsh
is full of birds, ducks, fish, rabbits and nutria rats. The
nutria ain't from here. Crazy government people brought
them to put in the lakes to eat the water lilies that get
out of control because people don' keep the water clean.
Dey likes this marsh country and dere are lots of dem, now.
Trappers like de fur, but dey ain't much good to eat. The
Chats like dem, though."

Millie pointed to a grove of oak and cypress trees. "Dere
be lots of areas like dis out in the marsh. In the day, the
Chat Hommes sleep in the branches."

"What do they look like? How big are they?"

"Even taller dan you, but dey have thick bodies and are
very strong. De fur is black with brown mixed in."

"Do they talk?"

"Not with the words of a man. Dey talk with their minds,
but they don' think like a human. But Le Protectors can
speak with them after a fashion."

"Who are Le Protectors?"

"The ones called by Saint Francis to be the stewards of
the wild things. Go in my house and bring me my Bible dat's
beside my easy chair."

Mulder rose and opened the screen door and entered the
woman's house. He looked around, quickly spotted the Bible
and took it to Millie.

She opened it up a pulled a medallion from inside it and
handed it to Mulder. He examined it closely. Engraved in
the bronze was a hand holding a globe with rays of light
surrounding the hand and what it held.

"Dat is the symbol of Le Protectors. My daddy, bless his
soul, was a Protector and his daddy before him. My mama was
a Protector, too. I woulda been one, but Richard didn't
believe in that stuff and didn't want me hangin' out with
those people."

"Do you know any of the local Protectors?" Mulder asked
with keen interest. "Do you think they would show me the
Chat Hommes?"

"Yeah, but dey ain't gonna tell no outsider nothin'."

"You did."

"I gots the second sight. I can look into your soul, boy.
I know you are a good man. But ain't none of dem gonna take
my word for it, you bein' a Yankee and an outsider."

"It would mean a lot to me if I could see the Chat
Hommes," Mulder insisted.

"You cain't find dem. Dey find you if dey have reason."

Mulder sighed. "Well, can you recommend someone around
here who knows the bayous and would be willing to show me
around? Capt. Kent seems to know the area fairly well, but
I'm sure he doesn't know the backwoods and the marsh."

"Lemme call Johnny -- that's my grandson. He works as a
hunting guide during duck season."

Millie rose creakily from her seat on the front porch and
went inside to the telephone. She dialed a number and after
a minute, began speaking in Cajun French to the person on
the other end of the line. She paused and put her hand over
the mouthpiece.

"Johnny said OK, he will take you where you want to go.
But it's $20 an hour for him and his airboat."

"All right. Tell him to meet me in half an hour at the
dock just down the road."

Millie nodded and apparently relayed the information to
her grandson. Before Mulder left, she pressed the medallion
into his hand. He started to protest the gift.

"Keep it for now. You can bring it back when you don't
need it anymore," she said mysteriously.

Mulder bid Millie goodbye, stepped out onto the porch and
pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket to dial the
Lake Charles morgue. He asked for Scully, who the morgue
attendant said had just arrived.

"Hi, Scully, it's me. Listen, I've found someone with an
airboat and I'm going to get them to take me out to some
rigs out in the marsh. It's possible our killer works on
one of the rigs."

Scully sighed. "OK, but be careful. And no side trips to
look for cat-men, either."

"Scully, you wound me. What makes you think I would do
that?"

He heard Scully snort in derision.

"I'll have my cell phone with me," Mulder said. "Call me
when you get some autopsy results."

"All right. Take care." Her voice lowered to almost a
whisper and she added. "I love you."

Mulder smiled and replied, "Love you. See you later. I
promise you a first class dinner and a scented bubble bath
tonight -- with me in it."

"I'll hold you to that," Scully answered. "Bye."

Mulder walked down the road to the dock he and Kent had
passed earlier and sat down to wait on Millie's grandson.

It wasn't long before he heard the roar of the airboat and
spotted it coming from the south around the bend of the
bayou.

The airboat operator cut the motor so he could talk to
Mulder.

"You the Fed that needs a guide in the marsh?"

"That's right. Are you Johnny, Millie's grandson?"

The man nodded and reached into a toolbox, pulled out a
set of ear protectors like the ones he wore over his Skoal
baseball cap, and handed them to Mulder, along with a life
jacket. The agent climbed aboard the boat and sat down on
the cushioned seat next to Johnny. He donned the life vest,
pulled on the ear protectors and turned to Johnny.

"I need to go out to those two rigs out there."

"Granny said you're lookin' for the ones what killed that
man and woman and tore 'em up."

"Right. You wouldn't happen to know anyone named Brian,
who had a western belt with his name on it and a fancy
turquoise and silver belt buckle, would you?"

"No, I sure don't. Sounds kinda fancy for folks around
here. People 'round here are pretty poor. The oil patch
pays pretty good if you don't mind bein' on the road and
not knowin' how long you'll have a job. It ain't like the
'80s when oil was boomin.' You used to see rigs scattered
all over the coast. Lots of people lost their jobs when the
bust came -- includin' me, but I do all right as a fishin'
and huntin' guide, now. At least I can feed my family and
pay the bills."

Mulder nodded. "OK, let's go."

Johnny fired up the engine and took off up the bayou, then
turned onto a side creek. The boat skipped across the water
and marshland for about 15 minutes until they reached the
first rig. Johnny pulled up alongside the drilling barge
and tied off next to a larger airboat and a couple of
skiffs with outboard motors.

"How long you reckon it's gonna take?" asked Johnny.

"Hard to say," replied Mulder. "Just wait on me, I'll pay
you for your time."

"OK, but I'm gonna wait in the rec room and watch some TV.
I know the pusher on this rig. He's a big duck hunter. Want
me to introduce you?"

"Sure, that would be great."

Johnny and Mulder climbed a ladder to the main platform.
The fingers of the derrick were full of drill pipe and
Johnny commented, "They're out of the hole right now, might
be logging. If they are, this will be a good time to talk
to the toolpusher."

They bypassed the rig floor and entered a metal building
that Johnny said housed the toolpusher's and company man's
offices and the living quarters for the entire crew. They
came to a room whose door was open, and walked in. A man
was seated at a desk, talking to a grimy rig hand. He
looked up as Johnny and Mulder entered and grinned widely
when his eyes lit on the guide.

The man dismissed the rig hand and walked up to Johnny,
hand extended. Johnny grasped it and the other man pounded
him on the shoulder.

"You no good sonnuvabitch!" the man said with a smile.
"Where the hell you been?"

Johnny grinned. "Takin' bigshots out huntin' and fishin.'
How's it goin' here, Bob? You gonnna make a well?"

"Mud loggers and geologists say it looks good. We're
runnin' an electric log right now," replied Bob.

"That's good to hear. Sounds like y'all might be stickin'
around the area for a while, then," said Johnny.

"Yeah, if we got a good hole, the company wants us on
another one here in this same field," Bob said.

"Listen, Bob, this here's Agent Fox Mulder from the FBI in
Washington. He's out here investigating some murders. He
wants to talk to your crew and see if anyone might have any
information."

Bob politely shook hands with Mulder.

"Murders? I heard about that one body they found, didn't
have no head, arms or legs. There been another one?"

"Yes," Mulder answered. "They found the body of a woman
floating in the bayou early this morning. She'd been
dismembered, just like the other body."

"Oh, man! That's bad stuff for sure," said Bob, grimacing.
"Well, I reckon you can talk to my boys. We got some
service people here, too. The mud loggers are here and
there's a well-logging crew out of New Orleans that has
been here all night."

Bob grabbed a couple of extra hard hats kept on hand for
guests and gave them to Mulder and Johnny.

"If you don't mind showin' Agent Mulder around, Bob, I'm
just gonna go hang out in the rec room and watch some TV or
somethin.'"

"Sure. Actually, you'll find a bunch of the crew in the
rec room right now, except for the ones that are helping
the loggers."

The three walked to the rec room and the toolpusher turned
off the television and told his rig hands to listen to
Mulder.

Mulder explained what was going on and then described the
belt found on the first body.

"Any of you know anyone that might have had a belt like
that?"

The rig hands looked at one another, but none of them
indicated they knew the answer.

Mulder thanked them for their time and followed Bob to the
mud loggers' trailer. Inside, one man was looking through a
microscope at what appeared to be rock samples. He
straightened as the other men entered.

"Mark, this is Agent Mulder from the FBI. He's
investigating a couple of murders and wants to ask you
something."

Mulder described the Western belt to Mark, who thought for
a moment, then nodded.

"Y'know, I remember a mud engineer a while back who had a
belt like that. Name was Brian, too. He didn't wear it when
he was working, but when he was getting ready to leave to
go on his time off, I noticed he had a fancy belt. I asked
him about the belt buckle and he said his ex-wife had given
him the whole thing -- had it made special for him."

"When was the last time you saw him?" asked Mulder.

"About three weeks ago or so. I just figured he got sent
someplace else," replied Mark.

"Who did he work for?"

"Barachem," said the toolpusher. "That's who the oil
company has on this job. I can get you a phone number and
address. They're out of Lafayette."

"Great! I appreciate it."

Mulder and Bob returned to the office where the toolpusher
looked up the information and gave it to the agent.
Returning the hard hat, Mulder took his leave and went to
the rec room to collect Johnny, who was shooting a game of
pool with one of the off-duty rig hands. Mulder felt the
suspicious eyes of the young men gathered in the rec room,
but shrugged it off.

Johnny accompanied Mulder back to the airboat and they
again put on their life vests and ear protectors before
heading out to the next rig.

As they pulled out, they did not notice the dirty young
man who climbed into a flat-bottomed boat and followed
behind them. They were well away from the first rig and
still a good mile from the next when the first shot was
fired.

Over the noise of the airboat engine, Mulder and Johnny
did not hear the ping as the first bullet hit the fan
blade. But when Johnny crumpled a minute later, Mulder
grabbed him to keep the man from falling off the airboat.
As Johnny's hand fell from the throttle, the airboat began
to slow down and the skiff pulled up beside them and the
man driving aimed a pistol again and fired again. The
bullet struck Mulder in the left shoulder and the force
carried him off the boat and into the water. As he fell,
however, he hit his head on a metal protrusion and was
knocked unconscious.

The airboat continued on for a short way, then finally
stopped. Johnny's body was spread out on the seat, his eyes
open and unseeing. The man in the skiff circled the
airboat. Satisfied that Johnny was dead, he went back to
look for Mulder. The agent, however, pushed by the waves
from the boats, had drifted into some marsh reeds and was
hidden from view. The life jacket did its job and kept his
face out of the water.

The shooter in the skiff cursed and looked at his watch.
He knew he'd better get back to the rig before anyone
missed him. He would come back later and look for the Fed.
He turned his boat back to the drilling barge and left. 


PART 4

Calcasieu Parish Morgue, Lake Charles, LA

Scully, having completed the autopsy, showered and changed
back into her street clothes. She took her phone from her
purse and dialed Mulder. His phone rang and rang, but there
was no answer.

*He probably just turned it off, or the battery is dead,*
she told herself. *Or knowing Mulder, he dropped it in the
water and lost it.*

Scully definitely did not like the hollow feeling in her
gut, though. She went into the coroner's office and looked
up the number for the Cameron Parish Sheriff's Office.

"Capt. Kent, please," Scully asked the person who answered.

Moments later, Kent picked up on the line.

"Trey, this is Dana Scully. I'm trying to get hold of
Mulder. Is he with you?"

"No, I haven't seen him since this morning when he went to
talk to Old Millie. When I went back to get him, Millie
said he'd left with her grandson to go out in the marsh."

"Yes, he said he was going out to the drilling rigs he'd
seen from where you found that second body," said Scully.
"Mulder said he'd have his phone with him, but I can't
reach him. It's probably nothing, but I'd feel better if I
could find him. Can you send someone up to get me?"

"I'll ask someone from the Calcasieu Parish S.O. to give
you a ride. Maybe he'll be back by the time you get here.
But in the meantime, I'll line up a boat in case we need to
go look for him."

"Thanks, Trey." Scully closed her phone and sat down to go
over her autopsy notes while she waited. But it was very
difficult to keep her mind on the notes when her brain kept
summoning up images of an injured Mulder, lost in the marsh.


Johnson's Bayou, Cameron Parish, LA

Mulder groaned as consciousness returned, making him well
aware of how much he hurt. And wherever he was, it was
cold. He opened his eyes and looked around him. He was
floating among some reeds near what appeared to be an
island in the marsh. Paddling one-handed, he made his way
over to solid ground and dragged himself up on it. He lay
there for what seemed to be a long time, before trying to
sit up. The attempt made his head spin and his stomach
churned in rhythm. Mulder rolled over and vomited, then lay
back weakly. He craned his neck to look at his injured
shoulder and saw that his left arm and the life jacket on
that side was covered in blood. He pushed the shirt off his
shoulder and saw the bullet wound, still bleeding steadily.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Mulder  pressed firmly
against the wound and hissed at the pain. He sat up again,
more carefully, and gazed out into the marsh. He could see
no signs of the airboat or Johnny. Either the gunman had
taken the boat or it had drifted away. Looking around him
and taking stock of his situation, he weighed the wisdom of
staying put so Scully could find him, or the need to hide
in case the shooter returned to finish the job.

Mulder opted for the latter and rose to his knees, then
unsteadily to his feet and made his way toward a grove of
oak trees about 50 yards away. His strength was all but
gone by the time he reached the trees, but he continued on
a few more steps and collapsed, his head and shoulder
throbbing. He felt his gun, still in its holster at his
side, but knew it would have to be dried out before it
would be of any use. Remembering his cell phone, he reached
in his pocket for it, hoping it hadn't been ruined. He
pulled it out and it was entangled in the chain from the
medallion Millie had given him. Mulder unwrapped the chain
and hooked his arm through it so he wouldn't lose it. As he
lifted the phone up, though, water poured from it. He
tossed  the useless thing away. Mulder clung to the hope
that Scully would come looking for him soon. He knew he
wouldn't last long out in the marsh in this condition.

Although Mulder wanted to stay awake, it just wasn't
possible. He was so tired ... and so cold. The darkness
that descended was not the sun going down, but out, so he
never felt himself lifted and carried into the trees.


**************


Scully thanked the deputy who had driven her back to
Johnson's Bayou. Trey Kent was waiting for her at the dock
with a deputy and an airboat. She donned the ear protectors
and life vest given her as they set out for the rigs.

By chance, they went first to the rig where Mulder had
been traveling when he was attacked. They went aboard the
drilling barge, but no one had seen the FBI agent there.
The toolpusher offered to radio over to the other rig,
which was being leased by the same oil company.

"No, Agent Mulder and Johnny left here about three hours
ago," Bob told Scully over the radio. "They were in
Johnny's airboat and they were headed over to where you are
now."


**************

When Mulder awoke again, he was warm, though still wet. He
was covered by a fur blanket and lying on a bed of leaves.
He was inside what appeared to be a tree hollow, but he had
no idea how he had gotten there. He blinked in confusion
and when he shifted, the pain in his shoulder returned
instantly and he groaned and shut his eyes tightly. Mulder
heard a soft step and opened his eyes to see a large, furry
... feline ... standing on two legs.


He tried to sit up and scoot away in alarm, but no sooner
rose than was overwhelmed by the pain. The creature

squatted on its haunches and simply looked at him and held
up the medallion Mulder had around his arm earlier. Mulder
eased himself back down, realizing he was in no danger from
the animal. He put his good hand up to his injured shoulder
and felt that something had been placed on it. His shirt
was gone, but someone had bandaged him using strips of
clean material. He also noticed that the wound had been
packed with a poultice of Spanish moss.

"Thank you," Mulder said. "Merci."

The Chat Homme (Mulder had no doubt what his host was)
inclined its head as if to say, "You're welcome."

***************

The rig hand pulled his boat up on the island. He had
searched all around the area in the water and had not seen
the agent's body. He knew that Mulder had been wearing a
life vest, so if the agent was dead, the body should be
floating in the area -- unless an alligator had taken it.

He shook his head. Damn gators hadn't had the decency to
eat ol' Brian or Glenda -- at least not all of them. He
doubted he would be any luckier with the agent. He had to
find the body and make sure the Fed wasn't alive. And if he
was, well, that's what the pistol was for.

He wondered if the agent would beg for his life like Brian
had. Sonnuvabitch had cuckolded too many men. And that
bitch Glenda -- she had tried to seduce him as he held the
gun on her. For a moment, he'd almost given in, but
remembered how he'd seen Brian coming out of her house that
night when they thought he was on the rig. He had taken
great satisfaction in shooting her in the stomach. He
chuckled when he remembered the surprised look on her face.
She hadn't been quite dead when he started cutting her up
and he had to admit, that had been fun.

The killer picked up Mulder's trail, the tall grass
flattened and drops of blood where the agent had made his
way to the trees. Cursing his bad luck, the rig hand
followed the trail into the woods to where it ended
abruptly at a tree.

The man peered up into the branches of the trees,
wondering if the injured agent had managed to climb one of
them.


*******************

Mulder was resting fitfully and had thrown off the fur
blanket. He was hot and suspected he had a fever. His mouth
was dry and he wished he had some water. No sooner had he
thought that, than his host reappeared with a wooden gourd
filled with water. Mulder wasn't sure how pure the water
was, but he decided to trust the Chat Homme. He tried to
sit up, but found he couldn't. The Chat supported Mulder
and he took the gourd with a shaking hand and sipped the
water.

The creature's ears pricked up and it suddenly turned its
head and looked to the opening of the hollow. He gently
lowered Mulder back to the bed of leaves and looked
intently at the agent.

Mulder received a picture in his mind of a man with a gun,
searching through the woods. He shook his head and looked
up at the Chat. *He's communicating with me,* Mulder
thought. *Damn! The killer must be out there looking for
me.* He tried again to rise, but he just didn't have the
strength. The Chat held up its hand and motioned for Mulder
to stay put. The Chat went down on all fours and crept out
the opening of the tree hollow.

Once outside on the branches, the Chat sent a silent call
to the rest of the pride, summoning them to deal with the
danger the armed killer presented. The woods were beginning
to get dark and that was definitely in their favor.

The rig hand circled the tree Mulder was in, looking
closely at the trunks. *There!* About six feet up was a
smear of blood. How the wounded agent had managed to shimmy
up the tree was beyond comprehension, but no matter. The
killer stuck the pistol in the back waistband of his dirty
jeans and made ready to climb the tree. About that time, he
heard a growl from behind him and spun around to see a huge
fur-covered creature about seven feet tall. He reached
around behind him to try to pull out the gun, but the Chat
was as quick as any of its smaller cousins and was upon him
in an instant, its claws extended.

The rig hand was no match for 300 pounds of claws and
fangs. The Chat ripped him to shreds and the man died
quickly once his throat was torn out. Satisfied that the
human was dead, the Chat carried the body to other end of
the small island and threw it into the murky water there.
As the bloody body hit the water with a splash, the Chat
heard two other splashes and saw the body jerked below the
surface. He turned and went back to see about his injured
guest. The pact between Le Protectors and the Chat Hommes
had been kept.

**************

Mulder awoke, thinking he heard someone calling his name.
He looked around and saw the cat creature sitting beside
him. He heard his name again and recognized Scully's voice.
Suddenly, he remembered what the Chat had last communicated
to him -- that a gunman was hunting him.

"The killer! He'll hurt her! Please, do something."


Again, the Chat Homme stared deeply into Mulder's eyes and
the agent saw, like a replay in his mind, the Chat jumping
upon the rig hand and ripping out his throat.

Mulder's eyes widened, but he did not condemn the creature
for protecting him as well as itself and its ... family.

Scully called again, more urgently. She and Kent had found
the trail of blood Mulder had left, then the site where the
rig hand had been slain.

"I thank you for helping me," Mulder told the cat. "But I
need to go, now. Can you help me get down from here?"

The Chat inclined its head again and picked Mulder up as
gently as one of its kits. But it was necessary for the
Chat Homme to put the human over its shoulder as it
descended the tree. While Scully and Kent had their backs
turned, the Chat Homme lowered Mulder quickly but gently to
the forest floor, then leapt back up into the branches. It
peeked out at Mulder, who waved weakly, then it disappeared
into the thick foliage.

"Scully!" Mulder called. "Here I am! Over here."

Scully and Kent turned around and ran to where Mulder was
lying. Scully kneeled and immediately began checking his
injuries. She noted his fever and dilated eyes, but was
glad to see the bullet wound was not bleeding. But she had
no way of knowing how much blood he had lost.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Scully scolded him.
But her tone was of concern, not anger. "You promised you
weren't going to go creature-hunting."

"I didn't," Mulder protested. "The killer apparently
worked on the rig I visited. He followed us and shot us
both." His voice softened. "Damn! I got Old Millie's
grandson killed." Guilt weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Don't start that, Mulder, it wasn't your fault," Scully
said, smoothing his hair from his forehead. "If we help
you, do you think you can walk to the boat?"

"I'll try," Mulder responded and grunted in pain as Scully
and Kent helped him up. All but carrying Mulder, they made
their way back to the boat.


****************

Calcasieu-Cameron Hospital

"It wasn't my imagination, Scully, the Chat Hommes really
exist and they saved me," Mulder insisted. He was lying in
the bed, his arm in a sling, with the head raised up so he
could see his partner.

"Mulder, you'd had a bad blow to the head and a
concussion, not to mention you were running a high fever.
You were delirious."

"Then how did I bandage my own shoulder? It's not like I
had a first aid kit."

Scully opened her mouth to speak, but could not think of a
reply. Instead, she shrugged and smiled at him. Mulder
patted a spot on his bed and she came and sat down beside
him.

"You believe me?"

"I guess so. We have seen some pretty strange creatures
before. Are you going to put the Chat Hommes in your
report?"

Mulder shook his head. "No, this is one time I'm going to
come up with a more conventional explanation. They saved me
and I'm not going to repay them by betraying their secret."

"Kent is still out looking for the killer."

"He won't find him," Mulder told her. "The Chats took him
out and threw him to the alligators. Were you able to
identify those two bodies?"

"Yes, the ex-wife of the man, who was from just across the
border in Texas, recognized the description of the belt
when she heard it on TV. She identified the boot, too, as
one of a pair Brian had owned. A missing persons report had
been filed on the woman by her parents, who said she'd been
dating Brian. They identified the charm bracelet as a gift
they had given her for her 21st birthday."

"Funny," Mulder mused. "Some would call the Chat Hommes
monsters, but that rig worker who killed those two young
people and dismembered them was the real monster."

Mulder yawned hugely and pulled Scully down beside him,
his good arm wrapped around her. Exhausted herself, she
closed her eyes and slept.


END