Aaron here, still catching up. This was my failed idea for National Novel Writing Month last year. It was a restart of the X-Files with a new twist. It’s still sitting in the back of my mind, marinating into something eventually. Here’s the actually pretty solid chapter 2 for your enjoyment.
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“…and that’s what we collected this month. Our reports are filed with the deputy director. We’ve completed the review of the department activity and compare with the case files. As you can see each case was solved and closed with two exceptions. We’ve set those two aside for further review.” The man pushed the thick glasses back up the bridge of his nose and sat down in the uncomfortable chair. The seven member panel looked on stoically. A voice from the end spoke up. “And you believe this department should remain open?”
The man nodded. His blackened hair was unkempt and in disarray. Thick glasses nearly completely obscured the bright green eyes that gazed out from the table. “Yes ma’am. I believe that if this department is closed we will lose some very important data that could provide some answers to some very important questions.” His finger reached for the bridge of his glasses out of habit. The glasses themselves had remained unmoved. A flush of red as he realized what he had one. An elder voice from the middle coughed.
“What kind of answers do you think this defunct department can give?” The lanky man in black resisted the urge to touch the rims of his glasses. “Well, there are still many questions this department was never really able to answer.” The interruption came quick and with a measure of increasing impatience. “Such as?” This time he did allow himself to touch the rims of his glasses while adjusting his bright blue tie against the white dress shirt he wore. “Since this department was started there have been many unexplained occurrences all through the case files. Abnormal, paranormal and the unknown. Whether or not you believe these things exist isn’t what matters here. What matters here is that these things are investigated, quantified and in the end understood as much as possible.”
A slight turn of his head was all the emotion he allowed himself to display. His voice had remained even throughout the whole meeting. He looked to each of the members of the panel hoping to see through the façade of faces. Nothing. He shifted in the chair. Somebody in the Federal Bureau of Investigations had to be responsible for these chairs. If he ever found out who they were they were as good as dead.
A voice from the other side of the panel spoke up. A woman in her early forties. “I understand you’ve requested to take over the management over this department Special Agent Harris?” A nod from Ambrose Harris as he pulled on the sleeves of his black suit. “I firmly believe this should not be lost in the backwaters of the Bureau Deputy Director.” A nod from the woman. He might just win this fight. Fate was in charge of this one.
The man in the middle shook his head, disbelief in his voice as he spoke. “I can’t believe we’re talking about bringing this department back. We’ve all seen the ugly history of this department. From the day it started it was a pain in our side. It caused more problems than it solved.” A shrug from the woman. “You could make the argument that the agents we had helming this are the ones to be blamed for the problems that occurred.” More from the disbelieving man. “Those two were trouble no matter where they were. I seriously doubt this program will do what Mr. Harris says it will do.” For his part Ambrose allowed the discussion to go on in front of him unabated. He was but an observer to these proceedings. The woman smiled thinly. “Well that’s why we’re here today. Special Agent Harris, we’ll be deliberating today as to the status of the department and case files you’ve reviewed. You’ll hear from us by the end of the day on your request to reopen the files and be assigned to the department. Thank you. You are dismissed.”
Ambrose Harris stood and thanked the gathered men and women. Heading out the door he breathed a sigh of relief. That meeting was over. At least now it was in someone else’s hands. The decision was no longer his.
As he walked down the hallway he took simple pleasure that some decisions were still his to make in life. His decision to remain as a Special Agent was one example. The elevator door closed as he remembered the face of his grandfather as he spoke of his plans. It was a look that had never been repeated and never explained. A simple, “Yep”, and it had been decided. They had not spoken of his feelings on the matter and it had never occurred to Harris to ask.
Ten years had passed since he had moved into the ranks. Nine years since his grandfather had left the earth and left him alone once more. And five years since his interest in the basement had begun.
Harris leaned back in his chair and looked out over the offices that occupied the floor around him. Most of the men and women here had found their way here because they no longer wanted to chase madmen across the country. They tired of the death and pain the cases served up each day. For them it was refreshing to be dealing with numbers and not with corpses. For Harris it was monotony.
At the age of thirty he was ready for something of a challenge. His career with the Bureau was spotless. A near perfect case record combined with a clean service jacket had given him something of a leg up on the others in his department. When he took on the special project of investigating the files in the basement office he began to find himself drawn to the files once more. The notes scribbled, typed and otherwise scratched into the paper seemed to speak to him of a bygone era.
The fascinating twists and turns that spanned nearly ten years drew him in the moment he stepped into the dusty office. The posters remained. The name plate that at the desk was unmoved. “I Want To Believe” was the moniker inscribed on a poster of an alien ship. Something about that desk evoked a legend of someone rarely spoken about in the hallways of the Bureau.
For Harris he couldn’t get enough of the books and assorted materials lining the office walls. He found himself sitting at the infamous desk and working his way through the books, posters, files and whatever else he could find. His thirst was insatiable.
And now as he sat in his chair and watched those around him wander through the day he felt a pang of fear pass through him. What if they denied him? What if they turned him down? And what if the files were closed, offices cleaned out and the history of those deeply mystifying files were lost to history? Harris shuddered to himself as he adjusted his glasses. He turned to his last two files and pulled slightly on his baby blue tie. Flicking the switch to the monitor his fingers began to fly across the keyboard. No matter what job you found yourself in reports always had to be finished right on time.
Two hours later he handed the file folders across the desk. “Completed and ready.” The nameless person checked the index and folder. “Thanks. Oh, Agent Harris? They asked me to deliver this note to you. I think they’ve completed the meeting.”
Ambrose raised his eyebrows and read the note. They indeed had completed their consultation and were asking for his presence. Minutes later his fist knocked on the door. A muted acceptance was heard and he entered the room once more. The door softly closed behind him as he found himself sitting in the uncomfortable chair once more.
“Welcome back Special Agent Harris.” The elderly woman spoke and nodded in his direction. “Thank you ma’am.” A small smile was allowed in his direction. “After careful review of the information presented in the case files and documents from the offices of the department in question we have concluded our deliberation.” She opened a manila folder and began to sign her name. Harris held his breath.
She did not speak until the signature was finished. She then passed the folder down through the rest of the six gathered men and women. Ambrose felt his throat run dry as he wondered just what in the world was being signed. Was it the order to close the files? Reassign him to somewhere else because of his action? He did not enjoy these moments of long silence. The women waited until all signatures had been gathered. She began to read from a single sheet of white paper in her hands.
“It is the decision of the Federal Bureau of Investigations and this governing body that the department in question shall be reopened. On the question of the assignment of such department it is hereby decided that Special Agent Ambrose Harris will be placed on temporary assignment as a lead agent to handle cases that are assigned to the department in question.”
She looked up and nodded in the direction of Harris with a hint of congratulations. “You will be graded on your performance at the end of the month.” She motioned to the guard at the door who handed a thick manila envelope to Harris. “Inside are the keys to the office. Also you are assigned one Bureau vehicle. Your computer and belongings will be moved on Monday. Any questions?”
For his part Harris wanted to jump from his chair and shout about his victory with choice words for those on the panel who had rejected his ideas. Instead he nodded gratefully to the gathered. “Thank you for your time. I appreciate your decision.” The woman raised her eyebrows. “You’re welcome Special Agent. Dismissed.”
Ambrose found his way to the basement office once more. All the way there he nearly broke out into a dance of some sort but held himself. As the elevator thumped at the bottom most floor of the building he began to realize just what was happening.
They were his. For a month, they were his. The door reluctantly opened, groaning in protest. Slowly he walked forward and nearly jumped as the thump of the door behind him sounded. This was hallowed ground. A deep breath of air and he was moving forward and through the door. The darkness hid the world around him.
Yet he knew it in detail. He knew each corner. Each darkened file and folder. A soft click. The lights were on. Slowly he leaned against the empty desk that stood across from another wood creation. Only this wasn’t empty. It had somehow remained untouched. The desk of legends. He pondered what the two who had come before would have to say to him now.
“Special Agent Harris?” He again jumped, startled at the sudden sound. Feeling the burn of his face he tried to remain composed. He nodded to the man who had come in behind him. What did he want? “Yes?” The man handed over a file. “This came for you.” Harris breathed a sigh of relief. The man wasn’t here on business. Simple mail. His heart began to settle as he signed for the file. A smirk and the man had gone. Harris waited until the he heard the elevator closed with the trademark grunt. Turning it over he found something typed that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. The file had a number with a letter at the end. X.
Harris took a deep breath and looked to the poster with the UFO. Silently he whispered the words on the poster, almost in reverence to the ghosts that haunted the office he now occupied.
“I want to believe.”
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National Blog Writing Month (nablowrimo) is underway! 22 bloggers from around the world are united in blogging once a day! You should read them and check ‘em out every day! See more details at the site here or look at the list below!
NaBloWriMo Bloggers
- groovygrrl
- I’m Not Hannah
- The Kittalog
- Indian Food Rocks!
- Cooking and Me
- The Way I Always Was
- Jugalbandi
- Culinary Colorado
- Digging In
- Thistle Dew Farm
- Mimi On The Move
- Enjoy Indian Food
- Siri’s Corner
- Conch-to-be
- Nags of a Similar Ilk
- Damn Yankee, Vermont
- Aaron Delay
- Fun Climbs Around the World
- Seriously Wonderful
- Straight From Hel
- Use Real Butter
- Here it is!!!
