Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(5)

“Can I take a look?” Mulder asked. Gimble was his only real friend in DC. The least he could do was fake a little interest in what seemed like his prized possession.

Gimble handed him the newsprint pamphlet. “Be careful. The paper is thin.”

Mulder took it and thumbed through the pages. Lots of references to armor class and adventure goals. Serious geek stuff. Phoebe would love it.

“Interesting, huh?” Gimble craned his neck to see which page Mulder was reading. “We have an empty spot in our party.”

“D and D isn’t really my thing. I played once, and I sucked.” Mulder handed him back the pamphlet.

“At least give it some thought. Our dungeon master, Theo, likes new blood, and you’ve got me. I’m the best teacher around.”

“I’ll think about it.” Then I’ll say no.

Gimble returned Lord Manhammer’s sacred text to the nightstand. “Want to take a look at my Star Trek cards before we check out the telescope? It’ll give you something to talk about if you get stuck meeting the Major later—which you probably will—since he watches Project U.F.O. in the living room every day at four.”

“The show about aliens?” Mulder had watched a few episodes with Phoebe.

“More like the people who believe in them.”

“I didn’t know it was on every day.”

“It’s not,” Gimble said. “We have it on VHS. The Major tapes the episodes and watches one every day at four, even on Christmas Day. He usually makes me watch it with him.”

Mulder tried to imagine his dad videotaping a show for them to watch together. But it was too hard, because it would never happen.

“It’s actually a decent show if you want to watch a little,” Gimble offered. “Some of the UFO footage looks real.”

“Maybe it is. NASA’s Ames Research Center still hasn’t found a way to explain the Wow! signal.”

“Funny.” Gimble flicked his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes. “Don’t say anything like that around the Major. He’s crazy enough without any encouragement.”

“Has he always been like that?”

“No. It started right after my mom died. Her car went off the side of a bridge. The Major couldn’t handle losing her. He retraced every move she made that day. He ate bran flakes for breakfast just like she had that morning. He scrubbed the bathtub and wore her flowered rubber gloves when he washed the dishes. He even found the fantasy novel she’d been reading on her nightstand—Stormbringer—and he read it cover to cover. That’s where the Major got the idea for the code words—Agent of Chaos.” Gimble took an octagonal die he used in D & D games out of his pocket and rolled it between his fingers nervously. “That’s when he started talking about Chaos and Law, government conspiracies, and collateral damage. Someone on the base must’ve found out about it, because he was discharged right after that.”

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

Gimble shrugged. “Nobody does. It’s the kind of thing you keep to yourself.”

Mulder knew how it felt to keep secrets about your life. He hadn’t told Gimble about his sister—or even mentioned that he had one. Transferring to a new school for senior year gave Mulder a chance to walk through the halls with people who didn’t know the story that plagued him back home.

When Samantha disappeared, everyone on the island heard the same version of events. One minute his sister was watching television in the living room with Mulder … and the next minute she was gone. He was there the whole time, so why couldn’t he remember anything? That was the first question people asked. Overnight, he became the poor kid who froze when his little sister needed him.

The police and the FBI never recovered any evidence to explain Samantha’s disappearance. Mulder believed she’d been kidnapped, but no one took him seriously. Why should they when his father refused to acknowledge the possibility?

Instead, Bill Mulder sent his son to a shrink. Mulder’s parents never used the word kidnapped, at least not around him. They saved it for the endless arguments they had in their bedroom at night, when they thought he was asleep. But Mulder rarely slept. He spent his nights lying awake, making a silent vow. If the authorities refused to figure out what happened to his sister, he would do it himself.

“Mulder? You okay?” Gimble was waving his hand in front of Mulder’s face.

“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.” He fake-yawned.

“Gary? Are you coming down?” the Major called from downstairs. “It’s almost sixteen hundred.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Gimble yelled, red-faced.

“Gary?” Mulder grinned. “That’s your real name?”

“No one calls me that except my father. Gimble is my true name. And I don’t make fun of your name, Fox.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” Mulder held up his hands in surrender. “As long as I don’t have to call you Lord Manhammer.”

When they reached the staircase, the Major was stationed at the bottom, waiting. He had the tired look of a man who had fought too many battles. Deep lines were etched into his face, and his standard military-style buzz cut was uneven, as if it had been trimmed by a shaky hand. The Major was dressed in freshly ironed olive green fatigues. The button-down shirt hung from his tall frame, too tight in some places and too loose in others. It looked like a real military uniform—complete with a blue air force patch sewn above one pocket and Winchester, his last name, sewn above the other pocket. There were other patches, too, stars and a fancy crest with gold wings on the sides.