Caffeine, Conspiracies, and the Fortean Nature of Fishes V: Mutes: It's What's for Dinner
By D. Sidhe: Erika
Category: Slash, WIP
Pairings: Mulder/Frohike, Langly/Byers
Rating: PG, for language.
Disclaimers and Apologies: I continue to exploit and offend without permission. I'm very sorry, but obviously not so sorry I'm going to stop doing it. The Beef Council slogan is parodied without permission, and the summary in this part is from TMBG's song "Cowtown". I've also used the lyrics from Coal Chamber's "Big Truck" without permission, but at least I didn't actually quote the Neil Young song, which is best known by its other name, "Computer Cowboy". Langly may not like Wisconsin (Unofficial State Motto: "Eat Cheese and Nobody Has to Get Hurt.") but I do. Regardless of how I mistreat it in this part. Further parts continue to pend, so get your Meat is Murder protests organized early and avoid the rush.
Archive: If you want it, take it.
Spoilers: I've managed to kind of ruin the final portions of the XF ep "Little Green Men", just on the off chance you somehow missed that one.
Beta: Call-Me-Betty gave up on demanding exposition long about the post-Loveland Frog conversation. "It doesn't seem to be helping any, you know? Even when you explain things, they make no sense." He has instead started demanding more gratuitous sex, and some gratuitous violence. And truffles.
Author's Note: Drose and Marvel and Rhinehart are mine, also from "Weekend". The Blue Thing is not mine. Someone may have made it up, but it wasn't me. The fact that the Blue Thing is engaged in such an odd activity is the result of what the UFOlogists call "merging" (and what the psychiatrists call "boundary-deficit disorder") on my part, but other than that the Blue Thing is represented faithfully to the original reports. (And even etheric entities probably need a hobby.) All the stories described as being in TLG are actual news stories, most reported only by the alternative press. (Including the XY Conspiracy, which, again, someone probably made up, but it wasn't me.) I did make up the specific instances of cattle mutilations, and also the additional Wow Signals (there was really only ever the one), though Ehman is real and is doing what he is reported by Byers to be doing. In my own defense, CC made up additional Wow Signals long before I got around to it.

With a little more sleep under them, all three of them felt better Monday morning. Langly wasn't delighted with the prospect of driving through Wisconsin, but Byers kept the Snickers coming, and it, and the new CDs, seemed to help immeasurably. Jimmy was restrained from cow jokes with the threat of further revelations to Yves. He continued to whisper "Frink" every few minutes, though, until Byers glared at him. The whole cow thing was starting to get to Byers.

They had just crossed into Wisconsin when Jimmy suddenly said "Weird."

It wasn't a "Frink", which made Byers look across. What he saw made him pull the van off the road. "Oh my God," he said. "Langly, you've gotta see this. Jimmy, the camera." He climbed out of the driver's seat and walked around the front of the bus, eyes on a distant part of the omnipresent cow pasture.

Jimmy finally tumbled out with camera in hand, followed by Langly, who said "cows" very quietly. Byers pointed and Langly forgot the cows.

"Holy shit."

"Yeah," Byers agreed. "You know what we're looking at?"

Jimmy handed him the camera. "A weird blue thing?"

Byers shook his head and tried to focus clearly. "Not just a blue thing, Jimmy. The Blue Thing of Wisconsin."

Byers took a couple of shots, hoping like hell they'd come out. The Blue Thing, looking very much as it had been described, a person-height amorphous gray blue… thing, gliding through the field at the edge of a wood. As the Blue Thing slid smoothly along, there was time to notice that the trees could be seen through it, like looking through colored smoke. But it held its shape, and it moved along, rather than upwards.

Byers held the camera steady despite the tingling along his nerves. The others seemed to share his sense of unease.

"Creepy," Langly hissed as Byers snapped more shots.

"I think I liked the Frog thing better," Jimmy said nervously.

The Blue Thing moved past a cow, which seemed to collapse silently when it was touched. Then the Blue Thing seemed to shift direction and slipped without a sound into the wood.

"Maybe it was just someone walking," Jimmy offered, but not in a tone that suggested he believed it.

"It wasn't walking," Langly insisted. "It was gliding. And it wasn't touching the ground. You saw that. Don't tell me it was somebody walking. And it did something to that cow. And let's get the fuck out of here, okay?"

"Wait here," Byers told them, looking intently at the camera's display. He stepped to the barbed-wire fence separating them from the pasture, and climbed over it carefully, incongruous in his sharp suit.

"Johnny!" Langly yelped, but it didn't stop the older man.

Jimmy patted his arm. "Hang on. I'll go with him, okay? You stay here and don't let anybody steal the Mobile Command Unit."

Langly watched anxiously as Jimmy ran to catch up to Byers, and they both continued across the pasture, picking their way delicately through cow patties. At the edge of the wood, where the Blue Thing had been moving, they both leaned down to look at the stricken cow. Langly stood and hoped the Blue Thing wouldn't return, hoped he'd be able to keep from panicking long enough to yell a warning if it did. His lover pulled this kind of shit all the time, and Langly doubted he'd ever get used to it. If the Blue Thing didn't kill them, Langly was seriously going to give it a shot.

Unwilling to take his eyes off them and the woods behind them long enough to find the binoculars, he tried to make out what they were doing. Langly watched Byers take pictures, and thought back to what J. Wayne had said about the mutilations. Finally, Byers backed away, and Jimmy leaned down and pushed the cow over in some way so that it appeared to be sitting. Byers took another couple of shots, and then walked to the place where the Blue Thing had disappeared. Langly held his breath long enough to turn a little blue himself. Byers took a couple more pictures.

After about a hundred years, Byers and Jimmy started back across the pasture, and Langly breathed a faint sigh of relief. As they came closer, they were arguing about something, but Langly couldn't quite catch what. Byers glanced up and saw him, and gave him an all-clear sign.

When they got to the fence, Langly helped him over, then shoved him against the side of the van and kissed him hard. Once he broke away, Byers stared at him, ignoring Jimmy's snickers. "It's okay, Ringo. Really," he said calmly. "Relax. We're fine."

Langly exhaled noisily and put his forehead against Byers' chest. "You're a fucking asshole, Johnny. You gotta stop doing this crap, okay?"

Byers put his arms around the younger man's shoulders and kissed his hair. "It's okay, really. We're fine. But Wisconsin probably isn't the best place for a PDA."

Langly gave an exasperated laugh. "Get in the fucking van, John. Jimmy, shut up and drive, willya?"

Jimmy obliged cheerfully enough. When the radio came on, he started singing along with Neil Young's "Syscrusher". Langly didn't even snipe at him, so he left the station where it was.

It took nearly twenty minutes before Langly let go of Byers long enough to ask. "Okay, so what the fuck was it out there?"

Byers sighed and found the camera. "You're not going to like it."

"Well, shit. Nothing new there."

Byers handed the camera to Langly. "Shit is right."

Langly flipped through the images. "Great. This looks like smoke, John. Nobody's gonna buy it."

"Keep going."

Langly stopped and looked up. "Mute?"

Byers shook his head. "Nothing so conventional. Just look."

Langly braced himself and then checked the rest of the pictures. He looked up at Byers with a distant expression. "What the fuck?"

"Just what it looks like."

"Yeah, but…" Langly stared at the image again. "You know what this is?"

Byers nodded.

Jimmy couldn't take it anymore. "Okay, so what is it? The cow isn't all cut up or even dead or anything, so why are you guys both so freaked?"

Langly sighed and flopped back against his seat. "The Wisconsin Blue Thing is a cow-tipper."

**

About an hour after they'd stopped for lunch, with Jimmy driving and Byers beside him, they heard loud noises. Byers glanced up, and saw three huge black helicopters moving south fast. He watched for the few bare seconds they were in sight, but there was no way of following them, and no chance of getting pictures.

"Wonder what's going on," Jimmy said.

"Hmm?" Byers was still thinking about it.

"Those are news guys, right?"

Byers blinked. "No, I don't think so. News copters usually put their station number all over them." He paused and stared at the sky. "Like, uh, that, actually."

This one definitely was a news team, it was white, with the number seven all over it in bright red, and call letters on the sides. It was headed north almost as fast as the black ones.

"So I wonder what's going on," Jimmy said.

Byers shrugged. "No way to tell."

They rounded a corner and stared. "Pull over, Jimmy."

Jimmy managed to find room for the van on the side of the road.

Byers glanced back at Langly, who was apparently napping. "Stay here, okay? I want to see what's up."

Jimmy nodded.

He was halfway over the barbed wire when he heard a voice from the pasture. "Byers! John Byers! What the hell are you guys doing here?"

Startled, he nearly fell on top of the fence. A figure detached itself from the knot standing fifty feet away and came towards him. As it got closer, he realized who it was. "Marvel?"

"So what's Gunman doing in the middle of Wisconsin?" The tall man grinned widely at him.

Byers smiled. "Passing through. What's the commotion?"

Marvel grinned wider and resettled his fedora at a rakish angle. "Drose dragged me out. Cattle mutilations all over the state this week."

"We saw the helicopters about twenty minutes ago…"

"Yeah. They've been photographed, videotaped, and reported all over the state, too. As far as I know, everybody but the air force and aviation control has seen the damned things. Where's Mel?"

"Not along this trip. Me, Langly, and Jimmy."

"Mr. Bond, I presume?" Marvel laughed. "Drose'll be really happy to see Jimmy."

Byers chuckled. "I don't think he's Jimmy's type."

Marvel pounded him on the back. "And that's the only reason I'm ever happy to see Jimmy." Marvel shouldered aside some of the reporters standing around, and dragged Byers into the thick of things. "Hey, Drose. Looky who's here!"

Byers gazed at the object of everyone's attention. "Oh, my."

An older man crouched by the carcass glanced up at them. "Neatly put as usual, John. How are you?"

Byers nodded at him, still cataloguing the site before him. "Fine. How have you been?"

"Busy, busy," Drose chuckled, standing up. He peeled off a glove and offered a hand. "What brings you out to Wisconsin, my lad?"

"Passing through."

Drose glanced around. "In which direction? Your boy didn't come? Or is he hiding in that behemoth of yours lest he spot a ruminant?"

Byers laughed a little. "Very perceptive."

"And Mel?"

"Not along this trip."

Drose looked back to Marvel. "Get some pictures of the others, heads and udders. Skin samples, hair. With follicles this time. Don't just let that stupid boy do it. You know what I need, Marvel." Marvel nodded, and Drose gestured towards the road again. "Let's talk, John."

Several of the reporters tried to get in with last minute questions. Marvel smiled politely at them. "Dr. Drose will be back to answer the rest of your questions in just a few minutes."

Drose laughed. "I hate it when he does that. Have you considered, John, that this suit may not be most appropriate for a cow pasture in the middle of nowhere?"

Byers smiled. "Marvel seems to pull it off well. But, no, I certainly wasn't expecting to be spending my day in pastures."

"You've seen the other sites?"

"No. We were just passing by and got curious, especially after we saw the black helicopters ten or fifteen miles back."

"Spotted those too, did you? You're headed west, of course."

Byers was surprised, a bit, but nodded. Lying to Drose was never going to make the list of the smartest things a journalist could do. And Byers wouldn't be at all surprised to get to Washington and discover that every alternative press organization in the country was already crawling all over the place in hopes of putting a Man In Black above the fold.

He made a mental note to remind Frohike to make motel reservations soon. The amount of stuff piled in the van this time, there was no way any of them could sleep there, let alone all of them.

"We hear strange things from Maury Island," Drose mused. "You too?"

"Yes. UFOs and MIB."

"And cattle mutilations, which is why I'm headed there too, as soon as we check the other four sites here today, and the two in Montana. I hear unconfirmed reports from Idaho, though it seems the corpses, if corpses there were, have been disposed of. People never learn."

"Very busy," Byers said. "Is it all in the Northern states?"

Drose shrugged. "Tucson, Roswell… I just got back from Socorro yesterday, and here I am already on the road again. And of course Minnesota is always good for a bloater or two. How goes the Eldridge story?"

Byers stopped abruptly. "What?"

Drose gazed at him and laughed. "Teach your grandmother to suck eggs, my boy. Nothing stays a secret from me long."

Byers acknowledged it a shade unhappily. "I thought we'd been discreet with our questions."

Drose clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Of course. You needn't worry about the military knocking down your door. But I heard the same rumors you did, from the same place you did, and I knew you'd take an interest, John."

Byers sighed. "I suppose." He started walking again.

"Don't worry. I've no interest in scooping you on this. We lack your kind of protection from the big boys. Have you heard from Dr. Rhinehart recently?"

"A few months ago."

"It might not be inappropriate for someone to take an interest in that, either."

Byers blinked. "He's missing?"

"'Absent' is perhaps a better word. Just something to keep in mind. Mel is tending the home fires?"

Byers laughed. "Not really, no. He's finishing up the issue, and he'll be flying out later."

"I look forward to seeing it. And him. I don't suppose you have any tips for an old man," Drose suggested slyly.

Byers considered it. "Powder Keg may have been caught with their hand in the cooky jar."

Drose sighed. "They're an embarrassment. I hear their young Mr. Arthur has moved on to greener," he smiled and gestured around, "pastures."

Byers nodded. "He's flying out with Mel."

Drose beamed. "So he's with you now? That is news."

"Not really, no. He's freelancing, for the moment."

"Ah. Tell me what you hear about the Wow Signals."

Byers gave it some thought. "I understand the Big Ear has been 'inspected' recently. And Ehman has rejoined the staff."

"You're holding out on me."

Byers smiled. "You mean Arecibo? Old news, unfortunately. The tapes were degaussed."

"Would your Agent Mulder consent to an interview?"

"I'll put in a good word for you," Byers promised.

Drose laughed. "I suspect it'd work better, John, if Mel did it for me. Jimmy Bond, good to see you again."

Jimmy shook his hand, grinning. "Hi, Drose. Are these cows cut up or what?"

"Several of them, I'm delighted to inform you. I imagine you're anxious to keep moving," he leaned in the front door and waved to Langly, "or Marvel and I would invite you out to dinner to discuss it with you."

Jimmy blushed and Langly snorted.

"Well, then, boys. I know you must be on your way. I expect we'll be seeing you in Washington. Drive carefully, and please say hello to Mel and young Mr. Arthur for me." He paused and glanced at Byers. "Tell Mr. Arthur to send us his résumé. Marvel and I could certainly make room for him."

Byers nodded and Langly laughed. "Say hi to Marvel."

"Of course. Good day."

They'd gone about ten miles when Jimmy suddenly said, "I think he thinks I'm cute."

Byers grinned.

Langly sighed. "Damn."

Jimmy looked from one to the other. "What?"

"You explain it," Byers said.

Langly turned pink. "I owe Johnny five bucks. He said you'd figure it out before the end of the year."

Jimmy thought about that. "I'm not that dumb, guys," he said finally.

Langly snickered. "That's pretty much exactly what Byers said."

Byers blushed.

**

Mulder finally dragged his own, exhausted, carcass into work around four. Frohike had been up since their morning… workout, and eventually prodded Mulder into verticality with the promise of lunch. Frohike had suggested, a little whimsically, that Mulder take some time off and go out west with them.

"Maybe if you wiggle that great ass at him, Skinner'll call it an X-File."

Mulder snorted, and buried his nose in more coffee.

Frohike swung by the printers on the way home and picked up the run, pleased with how well it had come out. The China story came out fine, as did the expose on activistcash.com, the astroturf consumer website. Frohike made a note to talk with Byers about including a regular watch on corporate groups posing as citizens' alliances. The stuff they'd dug up on Berman & Co. while researching the story was potentially explosive. Byers' own article on the XY Conspiracy was densely enough layered with facts that Frohike figured it might have a shot at a journalism award.

Even Jimmy's work with the Letters page was starting to look professional. Langly's column about the privatization of the broadcast spectrum was good, but it seemed to lack the kid's usual sense of outrage on behalf of the American people, and once again Frohike found himself wondering what the hell was happening out there. Byers would've told him if anything was wrong, he knew, but it did sound like things might be getting, well, weird.

But all in all, the issue looked damned good, and the web version was going to look even better, and they were all hoping it'd help increase circulation. Frohike hummed with the delight of the sexually- and professionally-satisfied conspiracist as he finished boxing them up for the trip to the post office tomorrow morning.

The phone rang in early evening. Frohike, humping the boxes out to Jimmy's car, let the recorders catch it.

"Hi, Mel. It's me, Wayne. Give me a call when you get in, and if you haven't got other plans, maybe we could have dinner together."

Frohike grinned a little to himself and went to call the kid back. On the way he passed several of the potted plants Jimmy had more success with killing ("Jimmy, it's a warehouse. No windows, okay? Plants need light.") than Mulder had, and made a note to dig up what he could on Mulder's orchid case. Maybe there was something they could use without getting the agent fired. It wasn't like he needed the help with that.

**

They stopped for dinner around six, at a Red Lobster. Langly had insisted on anything but burgers, and after the scene in the pasture earlier, Byers had been happy to agree. Byers checked in with Frohike, who didn't seem much surprised to learn that The Smoking Gun was headed for Seattle.

"Probably run into everybody out there, actually."

"We should make hotel reservations early," Byers commented.

"Good idea. The cheap places will all be taken if we wait too much longer."

"Cheap but clean, please."

"I know, I know. Any problems?"

"Not problems, as such, but this is definitely going down in my journal as one of the weirdest trips I've ever been on."

"Is this what you couldn't talk about last night? What'd you do, spot Bigfoot?"

"Bigfoot is a hoax, Fro. You know that. No… It was…"

"Just spit it out, Byers."

"The Loveland Frog."

"The what? Please tell me you didn't say what I think you said."

"I wish I could. Can you bring along the file on that, and the Juminda Incident? Juminda, Estonia."

"Juminda's a UFO sighting, isn't it?"

"I'm pretty sure there was a froglike humanoid mentioned in the reports."

"Hmm. Did you see a UFO?"

"No. I'm not sure they were aliens. But it's worth checking the cross-references. Unfortunately, it gets worse." Byers sighed and explained.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Frohike said, "You, uh, haven't been dipping into the Valium, have you, Byers?"

"Not yet," Byers said meaningfully. "That's not the worst of it, though. This morning we saw the Wisconsin Blue Thing."

"What blue thing?"

"The Blue Thing of Wisconsin. The old Ice Age hiking trail sightings. I know we have a file on it somewhere."

"On what? A blue thing?"

Byers explained further.

Frohike sighed heavily. "Byers, if this was anyone but you tellin' me this…"

"I know. I took pictures. And of the Frogs."

"How good are they?"

"We have to get a digital camera that starts up faster, Fro."

Frohike laughed. "That good, huh?"

"Unfortunately. How's the paper look?"

"Great. One of our best yet. I wanted to ask what you thought about a recurring feature on corporate front groups."

Byers nodded into the phone. "Good idea. I don't know why we haven't thought of it before. A sidebar, maybe. Front Watch or something."

"It needs a better name. Ask Langly. He'll come up with something zippy."

"We can talk it over later."

"Okay. I'm updating the web site right now with last month's issue. Should be done in a couple hours if you want to take a look. You guys going any further tonight?"

"Probably. Ringo's anxious to get out of Wisconsin."

Frohike laughed. "Check into a hotel and cheer him up."

Byers blushed. "I'm plying him with Snickers."

"What, not Twinkies?"

"Mel, I may never forgive you for explaining that to Jimmy."

Frohike kept laughing. "Frink."

"How's Mulder?"

Frohike snickered. "Crazy as a bedbug."

"Well, that's nothing new. Was he happy to see J. Wayne last night?"

"I invited him. He said no."

"He said no?"

"He said he was busy. This kid blushes almost as much as you do, Byers. But I think he's a better liar."

"Everyone's a better liar than I am, Frohike."

"Not Langly."

Byers laughed. "I better get back to the table or he's going to order me some sort of thing with tentacles."

"What, no steaks? Keep in touch, Byers. Let me know if you guys spot Elvis or something."

Byers sighed. "Have a good evening."

**

Langly wanted to keep going, so Byers took shotgun again. Jimmy sat in the back and tried to sing along with Langly's choice of radio stations. Eventually Byers gave in and dug out the earplugs again, which may have been a mistake, in that he fell asleep before too long, half-curled against the door.

At some point he became aware of being shaken roughly by the shoulder. He tried to burrow back into sleep, assuming this was the prelude to another of Langly's four AM conversations about his latest D&D campaign. But then a hand landed on his crotch, and this never failed to wake him. He shook like a wet dog and the hand was removed. He opened his eyes to protest, and immediately wished he hadn't.

Jimmy was staring at him in the dark with wide eyes, and just past him Langly's profile. Byers knew Langly had long fancied a three-way, but couldn't imagine what kind of drugs it would take for him include Jimmy Bond as part of it.

Jimmy was saying something, but it sounded like he was underwater. And then it came back to him. He pulled out the earplugs and turned to gaze at Langly, face completely neutral. "I'm assuming that was you, Ringo," he said calmly.

Jimmy started to giggle helplessly, and even Langly let out a snort of laughter before he shrugged it off. "I think we've got trouble."

Byers blinked and tried to focus. It was nearly two AM. "What is it?"

"For the last three hours, there's been a truck following us."

Byers sighed. "This is the interstate, Langly. It's possible he's just going west."

Langly shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling, John."

Byers sighed again and dug out a map. "Where are we?"

"Minnesota. We just passed the exit for someplace called Oakbury."

After a moment he said, "Okay. There's a rest stop in twenty miles or so. Pull in there, and we'll see if he follows. I could use some coffee anyway."

Langly gave him the You're-Not-Taking-Me-Seriously look, but nodded. "What if he does? Follow us, I mean."

"Then we keep going to the next town and lose him there. It's a big truck. It should be pretty easy."

"Okay," Langly agreed, still looking worried.

Byers gazed into the rearview mirror. "Put your seatbelt back on, Jimmy." It was indeed a big truck, an eighteen-wheeled hauler. But it could have been carrying anything, and a great deal of commercial trucking went on at night, so merchandise could be on shelves in the mornings, and because spot checks were less frequent.

On the other hand, it did seem to be following them closely, which was odd, considering how little other traffic there was. And, actually, that seemed a little odd, too. Byers checked to make sure Jimmy was buckled in and the doors were locked, and said, "Slow down a little, Langly. Let's see if he'll pass us."

He didn't, and he didn't try to force a confrontation. He just slowed down to match their speed.

Only when the radio started again did Byers notice it had been turned off. "That's a little loud, Langly," he observed mildly.

"I didn't turn it on!" Langly said, in pre-panic stage.

Byers turned around and stabbed at the power button. It didn't help, and he kept trying. Loud metal pounded through the van.

"Big truck
Big truck
Big truck
Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down
Ain't no grave gonna hold my body
Hold my body
Big truck
Big truck—"

Langly had moved past pre-panic. "Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit," he muttered.

"That's kinda creepy," Jimmy said once the music finally stopped.

Byers shook his head to clear it, and turned back to the mirror. He couldn't quite make out the driver, and while he was trying, the headlights went to high beam. "Okay, Ringo. Speed up. Let's get to that rest stop soon, though it does look like he's following us."

Langly nodded, still shaky. "And he knows we know, now."

"He doesn't seem to be interested in doing anything about it, though. Why'd you notice him?"

Langly went from blanch to blush fast enough Byers started to worry about him passing out, and he put his hand on Langly's leg. It was cold under his jeans, despite the warm night. "Calm down, all right?" he said quietly.

Jimmy said, "I noticed him. He was just following us. I was trying to see his license plate, you know, for the list of states, and he kept following us."

"Did you get his number?" Byers asked.

"Uh, no. But he's from New Mexico."

"Hmm."

The truck pulled in behind them at the rest area, diverting to the commercial lot. Byers caught part of the plate, EVS-something. From New Mexico. Byers shrugged at Langly. "Keep going."

As they went by it, Langly looked at the side panels and let out a humorless laugh. "Wal-Mart. That figures."

"Maybe he wasn't following us after all," Byers said, as they pulled out and it stayed parked. But seconds later, a different Wal-Mart truck detached itself from the lot and slid onto the interstate behind them.

"That's a little weird," Langly commented, starting to look anxious again.

"We've been seeing Wal-Mart trucks all over since we started, remember. It doesn't have to mean anything." Byers pulled out the map again. "The next town of any size is, let's see… Hudson. We should be able to lose him there."

"Guys?" Jimmy asked hesitantly, several minutes later. "This is even weirder."

"What?"

"It's the same license plate."

Byers turned to stare at him. "What?"

"It's a different truck, Jimmy," Langly said, sounding less confident than he'd have liked.

"Look, I saw the number, okay? EVS-028. It's the same truck."

"Johnny," Langly appealed to him.

"It was EVS, but I didn't see the numbers."

"It's the same truck," Jimmy said firmly.

They were silent as the truck followed them onto the off ramp for Hudson. Byers, watching the truck carefully, gave Langly instructions, trying to lose the truck without getting lost themselves.

"Holy shit," Langly swore suddenly.

"What?" Byers jumped.

"Look at that, John."

Byers smiled thinly. "That may be our explanation." They stared at the Wal-Mart store in front of them. "Keep going, past it."

"Whatever you say, but we're gonna need gas pretty soon."

"Hey, he's pulling off," Jimmy said. "Into the Wal-Mart lot."

As it passed them, John made a faint noise, staring out the window.

Langly kept driving. Finally he said, "Maybe it was just a coincidence."

Jimmy grinned, a little unsettled still. "Maybe we got nervous about nothing."

Byers was still staring out the window. "That's the weirdest thing," he said, slightly dazed.

"What is?"

He didn't answer, and Langly tried again. "What's weird? Johnny?"

Byers turned to blink at him, pale in the streetlights.

"Johnny? You okay, babe? You look like you saw a ghost."

Byers nodded slowly. "I swear that driver looked exactly like Jimmy Hoffa. Just like he looked when he disappeared."

Langly shook his head and headed for a gas station. "We'll get you some coffee. Maybe some Ho-Hos. I think your blood sugar's low."

"It coulda been worse," Jimmy laughed. "It coulda been Bigfoot."

Byers sighed. "Bigfoot is a hoax. Let's call it a night and find a hotel."

"—Big truck
Big truck
Big truck—"

Langly slammed his palm against the radio. "And get this fucking thing exorcised. And I think I'll call Frohike and get him to burn my Coal Chamber CDs."

**

*Next Up: Caffeine, Conspiracies, and the Fortean Nature of Fishes VI: Land of Ten Thousand Lake Monsters: In which more old friends turn up, along with assorted unnatural oddities. Bad jokes and gratuitous sex also appear, mostly at the same time.*

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