Agent of Chaos (The X-Files: Origins #1)(8)

Gimble nodded, giving him the go-ahead.

“What did the victims have in common?” Mulder asked.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, the Major cleared his throat. “They were all abducted by aliens.”

Mulder almost laughed, but the look on the Major’s face made it clear that he was serious.

“The clues are here if you know what to look for,” the Major added. “I’ll show you.”

“He has to get home,” Gimble said, signaling Mulder.

“Yeah. My dad is probably back from work by now.”

“What about the telescope?” the Major asked.

“I’ll check it out next time.”

“We’ll talk more then.” The Major turned suddenly and ducked into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Gimble whispered. “I should’ve known he would go all Close Encounters on you. You’d better get out of here before he comes back and tells you his theory about why Abraham Lincoln was really assassinated.”

Mulder was halfway to the door when the Major returned, carrying a cereal box.

“Wait.” He reached into the box and tossed a few handfuls of sugar-coated cornflakes on the floor. “I have something for you.”

“That’s okay, sir. I had a big lunch.”

For a moment, the Major seemed confused, but he shook it off. He reached into the box again and pulled out a book—a green paperback exactly like the one he had pulled out earlier. “Take this.” He offered it to Mulder.

“I wouldn’t want to take one of your books.”

“Just take it,” Gimble said in a low voice, heading for the front door. “He probably has fifty or sixty copies in the house.”

The Major shoved the book into Mulder’s hand. “There are no coincidences. You and Gary meeting, and him bringing you here today, it was all part of a bigger plan. Stormbringer has answers. Moorcock understood their ways.”

Mulder knew he was referring to aliens again. He held up the copy of Stormbringer as Gimble pushed him toward the door. “Thanks, sir. I’ll read it.”

“Or burn it,” Gimble muttered under his breath as Mulder slipped outside.

“Keep your eyes open, Fox Mulder,” the Major called after him.

Before Gimble shut the door, Mulder heard the Major say one last thing. “The truth is out there.”





CHAPTER 4

Mulder Residence

6:18 P.M.



Mulder was used to ideas getting stuck in his head. Usually, they came from Star Trek episodes or books on quantum physics. A retired military conspiracy theorist was a first. But as Mulder walked back to the school parking lot to pick up his car, he couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation with the Major—and it was still on his mind as he drove to his dad’s apartment.

After listening to Gimble’s dad talk about aliens and running an imaginary black ops unit, it seemed crazy to take him seriously, but the Major had said something that made perfect sense to Mulder because he believed it, too.

There are no coincidences.

When Samantha disappeared, people on the island had called it a coincidence. As if a kidnapper just went out for a stroll that night and happened to pass Mulder’s house when he was suddenly struck by an overwhelming urge to abduct a kid?

Yeah, right.

What were the odds?

He was still thinking about it when he walked into the apartment. The television was on. For once, his father was home before him.

“Dad?” Mulder dropped his backpack in the hallway and grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds from a bag on the kitchen counter. He used to hate them and the shells his father left all over the house, and they still reminded him of birdseed. But two years ago he had started craving them out of the blue, and he’d been eating them ever since. At least they kind of made it feel like home.

“In here,” his dad called from the master bedroom.

Mulder’s dad had rented the apartment when his parents separated, which was code for getting divorced. The place was nice, but it felt more like a hotel than a home. Everything in the second-floor walk-up was brand-new—from the cassette tape player that his dad never used and the expensive toaster that never worked, to the desk in Mulder’s room that was the identical twin to the one in his room back in Chilmark (minus the Dune quotes written all over it).

Living with his dad for the school year—the “getting-to-know-each-other-better experiment,” as Mulder called it—wasn’t much different from the pre-separation status quo of ignoring each other.

When Mulder reached his dad’s room and spotted the open suitcase at the end of the bed, it reminded him of the other reason the apartment felt like a hotel. His dad was always leaving on a business trip or returning from one.

“Going somewhere?” Mulder leaned against the door frame, looking bored. If his dad didn’t care enough to spend any time with him, Mulder wasn’t going to let it bother him.

“New Mexico. It’s a quick trip. I’ll be back on Monday.” His dad didn’t look up from the shirts he was folding. “I want you to head over to Georgetown tomorrow. Spend some time on campus like we talked about. The sooner you make a decision, the better.”

Meaning the sooner Mulder made the decision his dad wanted him make. “Acceptance letters don’t come for two more weeks.” Unless, of course, your dad used his connections at the State Department to make sure that you were already accepted to the college he wanted you to attend. “I still have time to decide.”