Patter
Whatever had killed Jim Scobie, it had done a number on him like Scully had never seen. Everything from his mouth and nose to his trachea and lungs were eaten away, turning what was left to hamburger. Not one of the more gruesome cases she’d seen, but certainly not the highlight of her morning. Whatever had done this was ravenous, but seemed limited only to the respiratory system. Already she was running blood work for flesh eating virus but knew that wasn’t the answer. The damage was too localized and the process was far from necrotic. She had found no evidence of acids or any other chemicals to burn away the flesh. So what in the hell was it?
“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,” Mulder called cheerily, Skinner in tow. Scully looked up from the body at her boss who clearly wanted answers.
“What have you found,” he asked immediately.
“Well, the tissue damage on Dr. Scobie’s mouth goes all the way down his trachea into his lungs. His alveoli look like corned beef.” She displayed said lung matter to the pair of them. Skinner looked sick. Mulder merely blinked. She must have desensitized him over all these years.
“What about this being the result of some corrosive agent?”
“No, that’s not the case. There were no acids present, no caustics. This damage isn’t the result of any kind of chemical reaction. His airways have more or less just been reamed out. I can tell you what killed him, though, strictly speaking.”
“What,” Mulder wondered.
“Hypotoxemia. The inability to transfer oxygen from the lungs to the bloodstream.”
Both men eyed the destroyed lungs as if that had to be obvious.
“He choked to death,” Skinner frowned, slightly horrified at the thought. Scully nodded grimly.
“I mean…this damage?” Her boss was clearly having a hard time wrapping his mind around it. “However it was accomplished, someone did this to him?”
“Well, not necessarily,” Mulder offered thoughtfully. “There weren’t any signs of struggle in the room. Maybe no one was ever there.”
“Where are you going with this,” Skinner asked, perhaps half afraid of what Mulder might suggest.
“Well, that it isn’t a homicide,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You examined the body, Scully. Did you find any of these?”
Between his two fingers he held up a bug. It looked like some sort of roach or beetle. Scully wrinkled her nose and stared at him.
“A bug?”
“Well, it’s a tobacco beetle, yeah.”
Scully laughed, and then glanced at Skinner. If Mulder had to have a crazy theory to throw out there, why did he have to do it in front of their boss?
“I didn’t find anything like that, Mulder,” she replied firmly. “Were you expecting me to?”
He only shrugged in response.
This was clearly not the sort of factual, scientific response that Skinner was hoping for. “Killer bugs? This is what I’m supposed to tell the Director?”
Mulder hardly seemed bothered by Skinner’s lack of enthusiasm for the idea. “I don’t know, but judging from Dr. Voss’s reaction to this I think it’s the thing we should investigate.”
Skinner’s only response was to stare at him. Scully deeply sighed. Skinner had never been as exposed to Mulder’s more outlandish theories as she had been. He had no experience with the Mulder habit of dropping crazy theories in the middle of conversations that somehow made sense in his own mind, if nowhere else.
“Mulder, I can honestly say that I’ve never seen an insect who actually gnawed away at human flesh and even if there were one that could eat human flesh, in no way would it be as localized as this.”
“But you and I have both seen aggressive insects before, Scully, remember cockroaches up in Massachusetts?”
Her eyes narrowed as she did indeed recall just the cockroaches he was mentioning. “Cockroaches…Dr. Bambi’s suggested imported cockroaches?” Her voiced dripped with sarcasm.
Mulder nearly chocked, coughing mildly. Skinner, if possible, looked even more confused.
“Errr, yes, Dr. Berenbaum’s suggested cockroaches, the point is, they were aggressive, alien insects. They didn’t belong in that area and no one had seen that behavior before.”
“The difference here, Mulder, is that if this is a tobacco beetle, chances are it is native to this area. There are thousands of acres of tobacco fields out here and no one else has died like this around here.”
“Maybe it’s not something in the tobacco fields, Scully, but in a particular tobacco field. Morley is working on something, something Voss has lawyered up for. Maybe whatever they are working on has some sort of genetic effect on these bugs.”
He wasn’t totally off base. Skinner glanced at her as if to reassure him that Mulder wasn’t nearly as crazy as he sounded and did have some shred of scientific evidence to back up his plan. She humored him. “There are truck loads of studies done that show that genetically modified plants do have an adverse effect on those that consume them, including humans. It is possible, in theory, that should a tobacco plant be altered to improve it for market use that an insect that consumes it would have some sort of genetic alterations.”
“So in theory we could have killer bugs, correct?” Mulder’s hint of a smile was ever so triumphant.
“In theory,” she replied carefully, glancing sideways at Skinner. “I’d have to test that theory, however.”
“Do it,” he ordered with a snap. His dark eyes flickered between the pair of them, half in wonder, half in mild amusement. “Are the two of you always like this?”
Scully blinked, glancing at Mulder cautiously. Her partner’s eyes went wide in innocent confusion, a state she knew he was feigning. “Like what, sir?”
“This…patter? Back and forth?” He waved a blunt finger between the two of them, frowning over his rimless glasses. “It’s just…is this how you work?”
For a sudden, horrifying second, Scully wondered if Skinner knew.
“Seven years is a long time to work with anyone, sir,” Mulder cut in smoothly before panic could get the better of Scully. “And I think that Agent Scully and I have developed a sort of repartee. Helps us work more efficiently.”
Skinner only stared at him. “It certainly explains a lot,” he murmured, jerking his balding head towards the door. “Mulder, you’re with me, I want to see what we can find out on this project of Voss’s. Scully, find out what you can on the insects. Keep me posted.”
With that, he turned on his well-shined shoes and marched out. Scully watched him leave, biting back the nervous laugh that bubbled to the surface as she glanced at Mulder.
“He knows,” she whispered, completely sure of it.
“He knows nothing,” he shot back, smirking. “Skinner has suspected for years, but doesn’t know anything.”
“Mulder, if he finds out?”
“As if half the FBI hasn’t suspected I’ve been shtupping you for years?” His voice dropped and he smiled lazily as he gave her the brief, once over. “Have I ever told you how dead sexy you are when you are cutting up bodies.”
That earned a snort out of her and a swat on his shoulder. “Shut up and get out there before he finally does suspect that there is something.”
“Always had a thing for doctors, you know.”
“Liar,” she called, turning from his ringing laughter as she frowned at the body of one Jim Scobie. Killer bugs? It was possible. But if they were eating their way in, the damage would be more general than this? And Scobie would have died of blood loss well before he would have smothered to death. With a sigh, she found her cell phone and began putting in calls. She needed to figure out who in the region would specialize in tobacco beetles. She certainly hoped that whoever they were, their name wasn’t Bambi.
“Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em,” Mulder called cheerily, Skinner in tow. Scully looked up from the body at her boss who clearly wanted answers.
“What have you found,” he asked immediately.
“Well, the tissue damage on Dr. Scobie’s mouth goes all the way down his trachea into his lungs. His alveoli look like corned beef.” She displayed said lung matter to the pair of them. Skinner looked sick. Mulder merely blinked. She must have desensitized him over all these years.
“What about this being the result of some corrosive agent?”
“No, that’s not the case. There were no acids present, no caustics. This damage isn’t the result of any kind of chemical reaction. His airways have more or less just been reamed out. I can tell you what killed him, though, strictly speaking.”
“What,” Mulder wondered.
“Hypotoxemia. The inability to transfer oxygen from the lungs to the bloodstream.”
Both men eyed the destroyed lungs as if that had to be obvious.
“He choked to death,” Skinner frowned, slightly horrified at the thought. Scully nodded grimly.
“I mean…this damage?” Her boss was clearly having a hard time wrapping his mind around it. “However it was accomplished, someone did this to him?”
“Well, not necessarily,” Mulder offered thoughtfully. “There weren’t any signs of struggle in the room. Maybe no one was ever there.”
“Where are you going with this,” Skinner asked, perhaps half afraid of what Mulder might suggest.
“Well, that it isn’t a homicide,” he replied matter-of-factly. “You examined the body, Scully. Did you find any of these?”
Between his two fingers he held up a bug. It looked like some sort of roach or beetle. Scully wrinkled her nose and stared at him.
“A bug?”
“Well, it’s a tobacco beetle, yeah.”
Scully laughed, and then glanced at Skinner. If Mulder had to have a crazy theory to throw out there, why did he have to do it in front of their boss?
“I didn’t find anything like that, Mulder,” she replied firmly. “Were you expecting me to?”
He only shrugged in response.
This was clearly not the sort of factual, scientific response that Skinner was hoping for. “Killer bugs? This is what I’m supposed to tell the Director?”
Mulder hardly seemed bothered by Skinner’s lack of enthusiasm for the idea. “I don’t know, but judging from Dr. Voss’s reaction to this I think it’s the thing we should investigate.”
Skinner’s only response was to stare at him. Scully deeply sighed. Skinner had never been as exposed to Mulder’s more outlandish theories as she had been. He had no experience with the Mulder habit of dropping crazy theories in the middle of conversations that somehow made sense in his own mind, if nowhere else.
“Mulder, I can honestly say that I’ve never seen an insect who actually gnawed away at human flesh and even if there were one that could eat human flesh, in no way would it be as localized as this.”
“But you and I have both seen aggressive insects before, Scully, remember cockroaches up in Massachusetts?”
Her eyes narrowed as she did indeed recall just the cockroaches he was mentioning. “Cockroaches…Dr. Bambi’s suggested imported cockroaches?” Her voiced dripped with sarcasm.
Mulder nearly chocked, coughing mildly. Skinner, if possible, looked even more confused.
“Errr, yes, Dr. Berenbaum’s suggested cockroaches, the point is, they were aggressive, alien insects. They didn’t belong in that area and no one had seen that behavior before.”
“The difference here, Mulder, is that if this is a tobacco beetle, chances are it is native to this area. There are thousands of acres of tobacco fields out here and no one else has died like this around here.”
“Maybe it’s not something in the tobacco fields, Scully, but in a particular tobacco field. Morley is working on something, something Voss has lawyered up for. Maybe whatever they are working on has some sort of genetic effect on these bugs.”
He wasn’t totally off base. Skinner glanced at her as if to reassure him that Mulder wasn’t nearly as crazy as he sounded and did have some shred of scientific evidence to back up his plan. She humored him. “There are truck loads of studies done that show that genetically modified plants do have an adverse effect on those that consume them, including humans. It is possible, in theory, that should a tobacco plant be altered to improve it for market use that an insect that consumes it would have some sort of genetic alterations.”
“So in theory we could have killer bugs, correct?” Mulder’s hint of a smile was ever so triumphant.
“In theory,” she replied carefully, glancing sideways at Skinner. “I’d have to test that theory, however.”
“Do it,” he ordered with a snap. His dark eyes flickered between the pair of them, half in wonder, half in mild amusement. “Are the two of you always like this?”
Scully blinked, glancing at Mulder cautiously. Her partner’s eyes went wide in innocent confusion, a state she knew he was feigning. “Like what, sir?”
“This…patter? Back and forth?” He waved a blunt finger between the two of them, frowning over his rimless glasses. “It’s just…is this how you work?”
For a sudden, horrifying second, Scully wondered if Skinner knew.
“Seven years is a long time to work with anyone, sir,” Mulder cut in smoothly before panic could get the better of Scully. “And I think that Agent Scully and I have developed a sort of repartee. Helps us work more efficiently.”
Skinner only stared at him. “It certainly explains a lot,” he murmured, jerking his balding head towards the door. “Mulder, you’re with me, I want to see what we can find out on this project of Voss’s. Scully, find out what you can on the insects. Keep me posted.”
With that, he turned on his well-shined shoes and marched out. Scully watched him leave, biting back the nervous laugh that bubbled to the surface as she glanced at Mulder.
“He knows,” she whispered, completely sure of it.
“He knows nothing,” he shot back, smirking. “Skinner has suspected for years, but doesn’t know anything.”
“Mulder, if he finds out?”
“As if half the FBI hasn’t suspected I’ve been shtupping you for years?” His voice dropped and he smiled lazily as he gave her the brief, once over. “Have I ever told you how dead sexy you are when you are cutting up bodies.”
That earned a snort out of her and a swat on his shoulder. “Shut up and get out there before he finally does suspect that there is something.”
“Always had a thing for doctors, you know.”
“Liar,” she called, turning from his ringing laughter as she frowned at the body of one Jim Scobie. Killer bugs? It was possible. But if they were eating their way in, the damage would be more general than this? And Scobie would have died of blood loss well before he would have smothered to death. With a sigh, she found her cell phone and began putting in calls. She needed to figure out who in the region would specialize in tobacco beetles. She certainly hoped that whoever they were, their name wasn’t Bambi.