The X-Files: The Truth Revealed

Chapter 39

Private Residence - Buzzards Bay, MA 

The light of day was just beginning to dim when Ferguson flipped on the light switch by the shop's entrance. As he walked back to where Frohike and Will stood, a cell phone chirped. 

"It's yours," Ferguson pointed out. 

Frohike grabbed the phone from its holder and peered down at the screen. 

"Talk to me." 

Will moved closer. 

"Yeah...yeah..." were the only words out of Frohike's mouth for the longest time as he nodded his head and listened attentively. "Right," he said and snapped the phone closed. "All present and accounted for, Little Man," Frohike said, wiping the corner of his eye. 

"What about those super-soldiers?" Ferguson asked, recalling Frohike's detailed description of the invincible robot-like men. 

"They don't think they were followed." 

Heads turning in unison, they looked in the direction of the driveway as the slamming of several car doors echoed through the shop. Ferguson moved to the window and slightly drew back the blackout curtain. 

"Maybe they weren't followed, but that sure as hell isn't the local welcome wagon out in my driveway," he said and dropped the curtain back into place. "This way - now," he instructed, moving his finger to his lips to silence them. 

They raced to the rear of the shop, stopping at a metal cabinet from which he retrieved a large ammo box. 

"We'll need this if those guys are what you say they are. Hurry... and stay close." 

Frohike directed Will in behind Ferguson, and the three headed out the back door, moving quickly along the back of the shop. 

"How many we looking at?" Frohike asked quietly. 

"Counted a dozen or so heading to the house," Ferguson said. "Easy Pickens," he grinned, knowing it had been ages since anything had stirred his blood. He was going to enjoy every minute of this. 

Crossing an open area between the shop and the garage, Ferguson gave the all clear sign to Frohike. He nudged Will from behind, sending him in Ferguson's footsteps, and then he slipped across the grassy area and into the garage, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Once inside, Frohike slid the dead bolt into place, not that it would stop a super-soldier but hoping it would buy time if need be. 

"Boy, you hang by that window there," Ferguson ordered. "Stay in the shadow and keep a sharp look out. You see anyone coming this way, you let us know." 

"Yes, Sir," Will said, hurrying to the window and hugging the shadows as instructed. 

Ferguson squatted down behind the extended cab pickup and opened the box. He pulled out two ammo belts complete with grenades and several clips for the handguns he removed next. 

"You remember how to use these, don't you?" he asked, more as a statement than as a question. 

"It ain't tango dancing in Miami..." Frohike nodded, "but I remember," he added, securing a belt around his waist. 

"Too long since we were involved in anything like Miami," Ferguson grinned wickedly, slamming a clip into the butt end of the gun. 

Frohike would love to have taken time to recall some of the adventures Ferguson was referring to, but it would have to wait. Instead, he chambered a round and tucked the weapon into the belt. 

"You walking or driving?" Ferguson asked. 

Frohike couldn't help but grin with an opportunity to seriously piss off some super-soldiers. They were due some of what they'd been dishing out.