Mandrake
In this small town it is expected that every one is aware of every one else's business. Hardly anything untoward happens here, at least not the kind that makes into the national newspapers and news broadcasts. It's quiet, it's middle class, and that's the way the locals prefer it. Until up until a week or so ago, when a slew of unexplained disappearances rocked the residents of the town.
A couple sits on the red and silver painted stools lined up in front of the long, lunch counter in one of the local diners. Surrounded by friends and neighbors they discuss the situation digesting their breakfast of pancakes and fried sausages along with the reports in the New England Gazette at the same time. The only problem is that most can only come up with either theories or others trying to find someone to blame.
"Pass the salt, dear," the woman says, with her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose, a napkin indicating the paragraph in the article where she left off reading.
"It says here that the police are baffled by these mysterious disappearances, a whole slew of missing persons reports have been filed, but no one can turn up anything remotely useful."
"I tell you Esther, her husband mutters around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, "That's the trouble with the world nobody wants to get involved unless they have a vested interest. It's like it's too bad somebody else's kid has gone missing," he pauses and washes down his mouthful with a swig from the glass of orange juice sitting beside his plate, "but it aint' no skin off my nose, cause it ain't my kid."
"Josiah, that's not a very nice thing to say."
"I realize that, but it's the truth, more's the pity." Josiah shrugs, setting down his glass, the moisture condensing around the outside of the glass leaving small concentric rings on the counter's polished surface.
The girl behind the counter glances up from the cash register, wiping her hands on her apron. "I hear the thing that makes it especially difficult is the can't find a connection between the ones who've gone missing."
"Do they list the names?"
"Nah. The police won't release the names of the missing persons until they have more evidence," Josiah Hicks replied, as he read another related article in the metro section.
A man seated farther down the line of diners, in faded denim coveralls, a leather jacket, and jeans he was either a farmer, a logger or trucker by his rumpled and mingled odor of after shave lotion and sweat. He spoke up to add his say to the discussion. "Been on the road and just pulled into town, but I heard a good buddy of mine who lives down in the city, that the local authorities are calling in the big boys."
"What do you mean by that, Luke?"
The man called Luke shrugged, "I mean the Feds, as in the FBI."
"Great, just great," Esther muttered. "As if we didn't have enough trouble without involving a bunch of federal agents."
"It ain't a bunch, my buddy says they're only sending two agents."
"Are you certain your buddy was sober when gave you this information, Luke," Josiah asks, raising one dark eyebrow."
"As certain as I'm sitting her talking to you, Josiah."
Agents Mulder and Scully drove down the long stretch of interstate highway in the rental vehicle which had been provided by the agency. When Skinner had provided the details of the case to them had been less than forthcoming, but then that was generally the case with him. The few sketchy details about the case they would be investigating included small, quiet town, police baffled by sudden slew of disappearances, and they did not have any leads or connections to tie any of the various reports together.
Scully drove while Mulder dozed in the passenger seat beside her. He'd been dozing off and through out the drive up the New England coastline, sometimes he would consult the map they'd picked up at a convenience store gas station. It was a nice change not to have to field endless questions and speculations about just everything under the skin, and he could probably due with the rest. He'd driven part of the way and they'd switched off as they got closer to their destination when they had stopped to fill up the gas tank.
"According to the map legend Pevenser should only be about an hour and a half away," Scully said speaking to Mulder through the partially rolled down window as she waited for her partner to return from inside the station along with two stryofoam cups of hot coffee. The temperature had steadily been dropping on the drive up the coast and as night fell she could fill the wind even through the insulated fabric of her coat.
As soon as he came around to the passenger side of the car, handing her the coffee cups before opening the door and getting settling inside, he said: "Any further leads or information from the local police on what they're doing to investigate the disappearances on their end?"
"Nothing so far, other than a written signed statement from the Chief of Police saying to the effect that they're looking into, but have not yet turned up any leads."
"This time of year it could be any number of things," Scully shook her head, then removed the lid of her cup and took a sip of the hot brewed liquid. "Not bad,"
"You mean the 'wait and see' policy'?" Mulder asked.
"I meant the coffee."
"You know it's getting close to Halloween, this could be just someone's idea of a practical joke," Mulder said, pausing to think matters through, "Then why would they call us in?"
"You're the expert on conspiracy theories," Scully replied, "Please tell me you do not believe that the disappearances are linked to a government experiment cover up?"
"Okay, have it your way," Mulder shrugged. "I won't tell you." I guess we will have to be patient and wait to see what's what once we get there. Another hour and a half you said?"
"Yeah," Scully replied as she placed the coffee cup inside the holder inside of the rental car, turned the key in the ignition and put the car into gear.
In the borders of the town where the houses come to an end is a long stretch of forested terrain, comprised of oaks, beeches, maples, cedars, and evergreen trees. In early November the leaves are shedding their green coloring and donning their fall coat of deep reds, browns, and oranges.
Deep in the heart of the forest is a bowl-shaped depression oddly out of place in the level terrain. Entering the clearing is akin to entering a very quiet house that has not been lived in for weeks, or one that is being prepped for painting.
It's dark in there because the trees grow so close together that sunlight is filtered through the forest branches and leaves, it also has a peculiar odor; green and growing things, a rich green, alive smell. Mingled in with an odor to that of damp mold and deep leaves a definite contrast.
Not many come to this remote clearing, not many people even know where in the forest to even begin looking for it.
One person knows and he has typically kept that knowledge a closely guarded secret. Emerging from the thick tangle of forest trees is a man dressed from head to foot in green; his dark hair is parted down the center of his head, all of which is topped by a green velvet cap pulled low over his eyes. Tucked underneath his left arm he carries unrolled cloth with a device that has not been seen in these parts for longer than the oldest residents can remember.
The device on the pennant is that of a man's head disgorging vegetation from all of his various apertures; head, nose, eyes, ears, and mouth.
If he once had a proper name it is one that he no longer remembers his domain lies too close to human habitation to try and force recollection of what he was once. Surviving and thriving over the centuries required a certain amount of adaptation and compromise, he's been called the Jack in the Green, the Garland, and the Lord of May.
He has decided on a new name. Silvanus.
He's been very sleepy of late but changes in the human world and the natural word have made him very uneasy and restless while he slumbered and the world spun on without him. However, circumstances have now reached a point where he's had to wake up and take action.
To that end he's gone out and found a half dozen young people, a few older ones and taken them to this place, this spot in the forest. He is vaguely aware that the humans think of it as a kidnapping, and he is satisfied to let things remain as they are for now.
The humans are a mixed lot, some male, some female, some old, some young, and none are aware of the circumstances of how or why they were brought to this place.
Meanwhile Scully estimated that it would be a good idea to call ahead and let the proper authorities aware of the exact time of their arrival.
The meeting place is the town hall even for a late Friday afternoon the place is still a scene of activity, and not just for official personnel; a few locals are milling around as well.
"The Feds are here," Officer Taylor said.
"I can see that," Police Chief Allister replied watching as a rental car pulled up in front of the town hall and the occupants stopped the car, turned off the ignition, and got out.
"We're baffled," the chief said.
"We've turned over every possible stone, as the saying goes," the grizzled police veteran shrugged, been through every lead, some more bizarre than the others, and still all of that adds up to one thing, a big zippo on the radar."
"It's a good thing we're such a close knit community 'round these parts," Officer Bill Taylor agreed, nodding his head, 'Cause otherwise we'd be in trouble 'for sure."
"Can you tell us anything more concerning the circumstances of those who've disappeared.
"It got worrisome when the count of missing persons report doubled or even tripled in the past four weeks. Usually, as I'm sure you're aware, Agent Scully," Allister chewed on the end of a wooden toothpick, "We don't take that seriously under the person in question has been gone for more than three days."
"I understand, go on," Scully prompted.
"At last count, about a dozen people are missing."
"Anything in common?" Mulder asked.
"No, except for the fact we're talking an average age range from about 15 to 35."
"Has anything like this every happened in the past," Mulder asked.
"Not that I can recall," the young officer introduced as Officer Taylor added, "Of course if you listen to the old biddies up at the diner or at the Lions's Club meeting halls…" he shrugged.
"Go on," Mulder prompted.
"Well, it's just superstition and folklore," Taylor replied, "But according to legend there's supposed to be some kind of ogre or monster of some kind lives in the forest and every so often comes out to gobble up people."
"Of course no on in their right mind believes in stuff like that," Chief Allister addded," Most of it is just folk and goblin stories, stuff you read to little un's before bedtime."
Scully and Mulder exchanged significant glances, in that wordless exchange they were saying without words: 'How are we going to separate what the true facts of this case are from local superstition?'
"You don't need to be telling these agents about folklore, Besides stuff like that hasn't happened in over two hundred years." Chief Allister shrugged, and then turned on his heel, heading signaling that two agents were to accompany him into his office where he would show them photos of the missing people.
Chief Allister went over to his desk opening one of the drawers in cherry wood old fashioned scroll top desk, coming up with a thick, much thumbed through manila folder. "Have a looksee," he said as he handed it over to Scully.
She nodded her thanks and thumbed open the clip that held the folder closed, pulling out 3 X 5 glossy color photos of approximately a dozen residents, locals at first glance, all taken prior to their disappearance.
The kids were mostly in their teens, the adults ranging in age from 25-30 years of age. An accompanying print out listed the names that went with each of the photos. Scully read the list turned so that Mulder could read it also.
"I don't see anything here that is out of the ordinary," Mulder remarked, "it's just basic search and rescue."
"We've already covered that territory, searched the township and its outskirts from end to end, and nothing." The Chief looked determined, but to Mulder's way of thinking he could detect an undercurrent of fear there as well.
"We're not ready to give up," another officer added. "A few of those on the list are family members."
"The trail went cold on Clive Hicks and Andrea Morgan at the edge of the forest, " the Chief added, "We need time and resources to conduct a proper search of the forest."
"That's where we come in," Mulder added.
"Then let's go," Scully said.
Leaving their cars parked on the edge of the forest Mulder and Scully and the accompanying officers, along with a pack of police dogs, entered the forest. The ground underneath their feet soft and springy, here and there starting to gain its fall carpet of leaves. The trees grew close together the deeper in that they wen only occasionally straying from the paths as dogs become distracted by an intriguing new scent or the passing of a squirrel or other small animals.
"Scully, this may not be best time to mention this," Mulder whispered over his shoulder to his partner, "but we look like a theatre troupe doing a medieval hunting party scene."
Scully looked up at him, despite her best efforts to not give in, she chuckle, hiding her amusement at the remark with a sudden coughing spurt. "Sometimes, I do find your off beat sense of humor pretty darn amusing, but don't let anyone else at the department know, okay?"
"Okay," he nodded. "I promise."
'Speaking of promises," Scully glanced around at the trees and undergrowth, Mulder's comment about medieval hunting parties fresh on her mind, she thought, "From what I recall from my reading of Medieval history, did not royalty sometimes get rid of inconveient rivals or nobility by staging 'hunting accidents? Because that last clearing we passed would make a great spot for an ambush. Great, now he's got me doing it."
The figure that awaited the search party deep in the forest's heart was not exactly what anyone in the group had been expecting. He stood tall and patient in the center of the clearing, dressed head to foot in green livery, recalling thoughts of Medieval heraldry to Scully's mind and she cursed under her breath at Mulder for bringing up that particular line of thought.
To either side of the green figure were half a dozen of the missing people. They appeared to dazed and lost but otherwise unharmed, Mulder's reaction on seeing them was to liken the expressions on their faces as the look that certain users of mood altering drugs had when on a particularly bad hit.
"Greetings, all, the man said, touching a hand lightly to his forehead, in a old fashioned formal salute. "I have been expecting you."
Scully glanced around, gauging the reactions of the others in the group and with an eye to whether or not the stranger's companions were armed.
"The hell with it," Chief Allister muttered, "Cover me," he added to his officers and patrolmen, "I'm going in."
"Sir, I think you might want to give a little more thought to a plan first," Taylor said. "After all, we don't know enough about the situation."
"Damn, all right, but I don't have to like it."
"Clive! Andrea!" one of the men holding back the excited dogs shouted.
"Stop him!" Taylor shouted. "We don't want to make this any harder than it already is."
"Allow me to make introductions. I am Silvanus, I am the master of this place and all that surrounds it, and for the moment, I determine the fate of those you have come to rescue."
"I don't like this one bit," Scully said.
"You think they're on drugs?" Taylor whispered in aside to Scully, worry creasing his smooth forehead.
"Something's wrong here," she replied.
"Look, Silvanus or whatever you want to call yourself," Mulder said as he took a few steps forward towards the inner circle of the man and his followers. "We're not here to cause any trouble, all we want is the safe return of townsfolk."
"I know," Silvanus nodded, gesturing with a sweep of his hand towards a boy who wore a checkered flannel shirt and blue denim jeans, and who without a word vanished deeper into the forest.
No one spoke or moves for a few tense minutes when a rustling and a tearing sound emerged from the spot where the boy had gone deeper into the forest.
Someone or something emerged from the deeper shadows and into the brittle sunlight of the clearing. It was almost startling that it did not have a nightmarish shape or form, Mulder's first reaction upon seeing it was: "What the hell is going on here?" After all, he'd seen hundreds of renderings of knights on horseback in books and movies, clad all in armor with the green surcoat that depicted a man's head with ivy, tendrils and plants emerging from its mouth, eyes, ears, and even its nose.
The surcoat that the knight wore over his armor was green, the helm wrapped in green leaves and even the armor had a faint greenish tinge, as if it had been lacking an adequate polish for quite some time. In a deep voice tinged with both determination and fear the knight said. "I issue challenge."
"Look, we just want our folks returned safe and sound," Taylor muttered.
"I think he wants a fight," Scully said.
"Well, we don't have to give him one."
"I beg to differ" interrupted Silvanus. "Yes, you do."
Mulder felt absurd dressed in red armor that was, in all but color, an exact duplicated of the green knight's. For one thing it smelled like leaf mold, it was too big in the shoulders, and it was hot and itchy. In the back corner of his wind, he wondered how he wound up in messes like this and what had possessed him to step forward and accept the challenge as it was issued.
Scully knelt beside helping to buckle on the greaves and plates that would complete the costume, and that done, steadied him as he stood and tried to gain his balance weighed down by all that plate armor. "Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?" he asked.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" she replied, taking a look around and let out a small gasp as she noticed that some of the people serving Silvanus had brought over a roan horse with white splashes on its face and forehead.
"Not really, I guess." Um, do I get a choice of weapons?"
"Of course," Silvanus replied, coming over to face the two agents, "We are not without honor."
"Well, I guess we'd better get this over with," Mulder sighed. "And you are certain there is no other way to resolve this muddle. One that does not involve violence?"
"It' is a bit late in the day to be concerned about that, Agent Mulder," Silvanus remarked, his eyes fixed on the approach of the roan horse.
Mulder walked over to the horse, reaching for the bridle, and raising a foot to place into the stirrup cup so he could mount up into the saddle, racking his brain for another solution before it was too late and he was committed to this course of action.
The green knight followed suit as soon as Mulder was mounted with the helm covering his face. Lowering his lance he coaxed his big olive- green horse into motion. A piercing noise broke the tense silence as Silvanus let out a shrill whistle. Mulder, correctly guessing that was the start signal, got his roan horse moving as well.
Closing swiftly upon each other Mulder tried to recall everything he could about horse back riding, which was something of a ten years ago on a college date, in the back of his mind he realized, "This is going hurt."
Swiftly as a striking snake, the barrel of his opponent's lance whistled past Mulder's head, as the armored creature moved forward and landed a glancing blow to his side. He darted out of the way, wondering if those so-called ground rules stated anything about an unequal contest between two opponents: one armed and the other rather out of practice at this business.
The next blow sent him reeling.
Mulder shook his head to clear it of the inevitable cobwebs and brushed aside the clinging dead leaves that trailed along the blunt edge of the creature's lance.
The first pass hit his flank and on past his position, yanking on the reins, Mulder got his roan to turn around and ready for the next one.
He let instinct take over, figuring he might as well go with the flow and chock up this encounter into the category of yet another bizarre thing that had occurred today. "Your essence will be flung into the ether and search as you will, never for a thousand years will it be found," the creature stated menacingly. Thrusting home another blow to his left flank, drawing forth a spurt of red blood.
"Pretty dire' Wish I knew how to end this quickly," Mulder thought, then spurred his roan into action, awkwardly leveling his lance into the cushion that had been made for it on the saddle. "Painful as it is to admit sometimes those conspiracy theories and belief in the paranormal really do come back to bite me on the posterior."
Mulder kept coming, his momentum spurring both his determination and that of his horse on. They two big horses met with a resounding thump and the sound of splintering wood and metal as both lances splintered.
Mulder felt a bit woozy and his head swam so that through the slits in his red helmet the earth and the ground became a bit mixed up. He rocked in his saddle and when his vision cleared he realized he was still upright and seated in his saddle.
His opponent, however, was much worse for wear. The green knights no longer seemed so tall and menacing, on foot. A slow green ichor seeping from torn rents in its armor. In a dizzying moment of excitement and adrenaline Mulder realized that the helm had been knocked off and he had a clear glimpse of the other's face. It was the boy Taylor had named Clive. "What the hell?" he yelled to be heard over the sounds of shouts and screaming. Mulder lifted up the visor of his helm and threw it to the ground.
"It's over." And I want answers!"
"And you shall have them." Silvanus announced coming up to stand beside him, "Congratulations are in order, Agent Mulder. You won and the those I have taken are free to go."
"Sometimes I really feel like a horse's rear end," Mulder griped, patting his horse's head, "No offense to present company, boy." The roan rolled his head around, snorted and looked him in the eye. "Guess you agree, huh?"
Scully sat at the wooden table provided by the motel her laptop open and blinking at her, her fingers poised over the keyboard letters, wondering how to begin her report on the case.
Mulder, typically, was ambivalent about not finding concrete evidence linking the disappearances to a clear paranormal manifestation; or better yet a government conspiracy; that would have been too much to hope for, even for him.
She finally decided to summarize the events of investigation " The idea of a spectral or even a paranormal manifestation responsible for not only the disappearances of a dozen locals from the town of Pevenser, Maine can not reliably be attributed to science. However, there is a logical explanation for most ifs not all unexplained phenomena.
It is my belief that self-appointed 'demi-god' Silvanus and his ability to transform a human being into a figure from mythological legend and folklore is nothing more than an attempt to play on peoples fears and superstitions.