Title: Hoodoo 2 of ? Author: Kory Rating: PG-13 Classification: X Spoilers: 
Like the first kind Keywords: red-eyes, sour mash, slaves. Disclaimer: If the 
x-files was mine, i would be on a beach somewhere. I don't own any of it. 
'Kay? 
                                                              
 Fox peeled his eyes away from the small gargoyle on the 
edge of an old stone bank that had 1859, the date it 
was built, carved over the entrance. He looked at Dana 
sitting in the passenger's seat and said, "That sounds 
good, but first I'd like to keep driving East on the 
highway for a while. Just to have a look."
  "Why? We just looked at the last town, what do you think 
you'll find?" Dana said.
"I don't know," replied Fox, "I just think that if 
something concrete were responsible for this, it may 
have originated somewhere other than in town. Just an 
hour or so and then we'll head back for a 
surveillance, like you said."
Dana fixed a serious gaze upon him and asked, "Do you 
really think some instigator is responsible for these 
things happening?"
   "If we go by the belief that there are no coincidences. 
Right now, the department is classifying this as 
random unrelated incidents. I guess that's why we're 
here. To prove it is or isn't," Fox said as he put the 
car in drive and checked his mirror.
"Yeah, but what do you think, Spooky?" Dana said, referring 
to his uncanny ability to think into a subject before 
anybody else has fired a neuron.
Fox gave her a smile and continued, "I don't doubt that an 
outside factor could have. I'm just looking for a 
cause. There's no trace of an occurrence which would 
have set off a lynch mob mentality or any reason 
people may have been spurred to such violence."
   "Then you don't doubt that peaceful people could have 
been set against one another this way," said Dana, 
"But how?"
"Look at World War Two," said Fox. "One man who came into 
power was ultimately responsible for the deaths of 
millions. Not only did he turn his countrymen into 
murderers with his actions but he also did the same to 
the people who defended against him. Look at all wars, 
for that matter."
   "I think that would be covered under self-defense," 
offered Dana. "We're getting off the path here, though.. This 
was so sudden. There was none of the conditioning or 
propaganda that spurred that kind of violence here," 
said Dana.
"Granted there doesn't seem to be any concrete mind 
controlling devices behind this. I guess you could say 
that is what we're looking for right now. As for self 
defense, When you hunt the monster, be careful you do 
not become the monster," said Fox with a grin.   
      Dana raised her eyes and said, "I'm not even gonna' 
get into this!" She reached over and turned on the 
stereo and surfed the stations until she reached some 
country music and then settled back in her seat. Fox 
looked at her a little funny. "What?" she said.
   "Country and western?" he asked.
"When in Rome..." she shrugged.
They drove along slowly, keeping their eyes peeled for they 
knew not what. The music stopped and the DJ came on 
the radio, "Yeehaw ! That was the beeutiful and 
feenominal voice of LeeAnn Rimes coming at ya' from 
the bitin' mouth of the south. WFSH! The biiig fish. 
Here's one from our "you know you're a southerner 
when... file!" It seems this ole boy from out in 
Keithsburg went fishing out in Cherokee Lake and he 
caught hisself a new lake record big mouth 
bass...Booowomp( sound effect )..which you all know is 
the mascot for this radio station. Well, anyway, this 
here's what the newspaper said the next morning.      
( Ahem ) Bob Cox of Keithsburg was arrested last night 
on River Road by the Georgia State Police while trying 
to cast his fishing pole over a farmers fence from the 
bed of his pickup truck in an attempt to snag a cow. 
When the officers questioned him as to his activity, 
he replied, "I just caught me a record bass today and 
I want to see what it's like to hook into something 
really big." He was arrested for drunk driving and 
harassing livestock. However, he was not cited for 
being nude, which he was because as the police said, " 
There's no law against exposing yourself to cattle." 
Must've been a zen thing.! Hooeee ! you folks up in 
Keithsburg sho' know how to party. MOOOO ( sound 
effect ) COW ON! Yeehaw. Also in the news, we got the 
Big Battle of Chickamauga re-enactment taking place 
this weekend at the Chickamauga Historic Battlesite 
State  Park. If you ever wanted to do this, now is the 
time because the parks department says they could 
always use some more cannon fodder so if yore pappy's 
been sayin' fer some time that what you really need is 
a good butt whoopin', come on up and put on the blue." 
    "Also, ya' know we may have won the battle of 
Chickamauga but I've got news for some of you people 
out there. The South lost the war and we're all, most 
of us down here, comin' around and saying it's a good 
thing. But some of us just aren't getting the message. 
Take for instance the sad case of Cole Hunter, the 
infamous leader of the KKK splinter group, "The White 
Brotherhood", Who says, and I quote, "We don't gotta' 
take no ( bleep ) off'n no ( bleep bleep bleep ) 
darkie for no damn reason. We didn't give a ( bleep ) 
what the federal government said a hunnert and fifty 
years ago and we still don't give a  ( bleep )." 
Unquote. Mr. hunter, please get a life. For you folks 
who wish to avoid bad vibes and prob'ly worse whiskey, 
stay away from the piece of property where Mr. Hunter 
and his group of hate mongers are staging a get 
together. No doubt in hopes of attracting some hate 
monger hopefuls. And, uh Cole, if the KKK kicks you 
out for being too bad, take my advice and go into 
another line of work. Well, while I'm looking through 
the phone book for bodyguards, y'all out there can 
country boogie to some Alan Jackson."
Music splashed out from the dash and the agents continued 
driving slowly from town as the neat houses gave way 
to farmland and, in between that, abandoned properties 
overgrown with trees and kudzu vines.

   At the same time just a few miles down the road the 
other way from the first town they visited, a blue 
Dodge Aries K sedan was parked in the shade under some 
trees along a creek. Inside the car slept a balding 
middle aged man. He slept fitfully, jostling about 
from position to position, his face contorting in 
spasmodic grins of agony and his muscles contracting 
as his hands grasped tight over whatever they found to 
rip and tear at.-ZOOM!- A big rig rumbled past on the 
highway and he opened his eyes and sat upright in his 
seat. Blinking his eyes at the daylight, he sat dazed 
for a minute. A sorry sight, rumpled clothes and hair 
matted with sweat and road dust. He coughed something 
vile from his throat, spat out the window and began 
rummaging through the car.           
   The car seats had tears in the vinyl where he had torn 
at them in his sleep and the floor boards had a thick 
accumulation of trash. He found the bottle he had been 
looking for, took a drink and settled back in the 
reclined front seat and closed his eyes, a look of 
peace finding his face. For a second, and then he 
lifted his lids and fiery red eyes stared out from a 
desperate panic stricken face. He sat up and put the 
bottle to his lips, draining it completely and his 
head hit heavily on the seat as he fell back down and 
crashed fiercely into a vivid dream. 
   He opened his bloodshot eyes in another world as he 
found himself peeking around the corner of a large 
unpainted barn. He knew somehow as you can in a dream 
who he was and where he was even though he wasn't the 
same nor was he any place he had ever been. he was a 
little negro boy dressed in rags and he looked at the 
older slaves as they toiled at their labors in the 
barnyard behind the big main house. Loading and 
unloading various goods from the outbuildings and 
wagons and sweeping and doing other tasks. The boy 
disappeared behind the barn and quietly climbed 
through a window and stole up to a big copper pot 
where grain was fermenting for whiskey. More food than 
he had ever seen, he dipped his hungry hands in and 
ate his fill ignoring the bitter taste of 
fermentation. Wiping his hands clean on his ragged 
clothing, he stumbled into a corner of the barn and 
fell asleep.
      The pain of a sharp kick in the ribs awakened him 
from his sleep and he looked up through bleary eyes to 
see a big bearded white man standing over him and 
laughing a not quite so pleasant laugh. "Ha ha ha." 
The man kicked him again and the boy yelled out and 
jumped to his feet only to topple over from the 
effects of the sour mash.
     "Ha ha ha!" roared the man again and he grabbed the 
boy up by his rags and threw him out the door. "Hey, 
we got us a drunk pickaninny what got in the mash!" he 
yelled out to his two buddies across the yard and they 
stopped supervising the blacks who were loading bales 
onto wagons and walked over to the boy and began 
taunting him.
     The skinny red haired white boy with the bad teeth 
took his hat off and began beating the boy about the 
head with it. "Hey, boy, you been into the mash?" he 
said. "Huh, boy? Hee hah haw! Lookit `im, he c'n 
barely stand." The ragged little boy stumbled to the 
ground and the four men burst out laughing. By now the 
slaves had slowed down their working and begun to 
watch the spectacle through the corners of their eyes.
    "Aaaw ha ha hoo! Hey little ninny, whuts wraong 
wit'choo? Huh?" howled the fat sweaty man as he kicked 
dirt at him while the others laughed.
  Now the bearded man who found him in the barn pulled him 
on to his feet and shouted, "You a drankin' man? Huh? 
Well have a chew drankin' man," he spat a big brown 
wad of plug on top of the boy's head.
    "Haw haw hyuck kyahuu!" they all busted out laughing 
and the boy tried to walk away but he reeled drunkenly 
from side to side and only made it about ten feet 
before he fell on his butt. This started the various 
slaves laughing from the doorways and barnyard. They 
were starting to feel a little relieved that the 
whites weren't doing anything besides teasing the boy 
some.
"Hey Charlie!" the bearded man yelled to a neatly dressed 
house slave watching from a doorway. "Fetch yore 
fiddle. We gon' make `im dayance. You wanta' dayance, 
boy ?" He reached down and picked the boy up by his 
hands and danced him around like a puppet in a circle 
and then swung him around and around in the air. Then 
he set him on his feet and laughed even harder as he 
staggered around in circles. By the time Charlie 
returned with the fiddle the boy was laughing too. 
Charlie began sawing a lively tune and the white men 
started yelling, "Dance, boy, dance !" And the little 
drunk boy giggled and leapt around and fell on his ass 
a lot while the crackers roared with laughter, dancing 
around and kicking up their heels. All the slaves who 
were witness to the spectacle also slapped themselves 
on the knees, their eyes bugging out with mirth.
  Behind them all from the main house a man walked out and 
toward the impromptu party. As he passed the slaves 
and came into their views, one by one they shut up and 
nervously went back to their tasks. His tall square 
shouldered frame carried a long face with mean eyes, 
deeply lined cheeks with a nose too small and a jaw 
too long. His thin lips and leathery complexion 
betrayed no benevolence as he neared the laughing 
group, oblivious of his arrival. He walked into their 
midst and all sound ceased except for the giggling of 
the intoxicated boy still dancing in circles to 
nonexistent music.
  "What's this?" he snarled. If he had been prone to any 
merriment at all, all hope of it ended with the 
reactions of the men who had been exposed to his 
sullen temper in the past. The three whites stared 
dumbly down at their feet and the houseman with the 
fiddle retreated slowly backwards toward the house.
"He got inta' the mash, Pa!" said the man with the beard.
The old man snarled down at the boy. "So you're drunk, huh 
?" he said with venom and the boy stopped his 
cavorting and fell down and stared up at him 
unsuredly.
"Yep," the bearded man said, seeing that his Pa had not 
reacted in a physical manner already to this news, he 
thought perhaps he wasn't his usual nasty self after 
all. "We had Ol' Charlie kick up a tune on his fiddle 
and had that ninny dancin' like a game chicken."
    "That  so?" said the old man, his evil grimace catching 
the hint of a smile.
"Yep," said the fat guy cracking a wide grin. "He was going 
a mile a minute."
The evil looking man glared down at the boy again and 
started to laugh. A thick phlegmy laugh that croaked 
and grated from nonuse. The other whites started to 
laugh and the slaves looked up from their chores with 
anxious looks of half relief and then the boy, not yet 
wise enough to sense his predicament began to giggle 
and smile again.
Suddenly the old man stopped laughing and reached down 
quickly and yanked the little boy up off the ground by 
one arm. The small boy instantly began to cry from the 
pain of it and the old man leered into his watery 
face. "I'll teach you to steal my mash," he snarled 
and dragged the boy across the dirt into the mash 
barn. The cries emanating out of the barn from the 
boy's savage beating sent the yard negroes to crying 
and the house slaves retreated far inside their 
building so as not to hear. The three white men looked 
at each other blankly and went back to their work.
Out by the highway in the hot Georgia afternoon, screams 
resounded from a little blue car parked in the shade 
under some big trees. Inside it, arms and legs flailed 
trash and pieces of seat material into the air and a 
leg went through the drivers side window just before 
the door opened and a sweating panic of a man fell out 
onto the dusty searing ground and lay there weeping 
and gasping like a child after the worst beating of 
his life, so far.

Fox Mulder and Dana Scully hadn't gone down the road too 
far before the scenery was nothing more than large 
trees and kudzu vines. They drove along slowly, 
observing the overgrown ruins of cannibalized 
plantations and cropsharer's huts. Nothing moved in 
the late afternoon heat except swarms of bugs that 
filled the air with a steady humming and buzzing 
sound.
Scully looked over at Mulder who was driving and said, "It 
doesn't look like there is anything out here, Mulder. 
Just a lot of ruins and these vines that seem to be 
growing over everything." She looked out the window in 
amazement at the jungle like foliage.
"That's kudzu vine," said Mulder. "It's an import from the 
orient and that's what happens when it isn't 
controlled. I've heard that it grows so fast that 
mothers have to close their  windows at night so it 
won't creep in and strangle their sleeping babies."
Dana raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like a lot of kudzu to 
me," she said. Fox chuckled from behind the steering 
wheel. Then he quickly turned his head to look at 
something he had passed and pulled the car to the side 
of the road and backed up slowly a ways and parked on 
the shoulder. He stared out the window at a vine 
covered shack across the road.
"What's that?" asked Dana, leaning forward and looking past 
him.
" A house."
"That's not a house," said Dana. "That's just a hole in the 
vines."
"Evil grows in cracks and holes," said Fox ominously.
"Oh yeah! Right. And lives in peoples minds?" guffawed 
Dana.
Fox opened the car door and stepped halfway out. He looked 
back at Dana and said, "You got it girl. You go !"
"Oh, please," said Scully and settled back in her seat.
"I'll just be a minute," said Fox and he closed the door 
and walked across the road to the weedy path and along 
it up to the broken down porch. As he stood there and 
surveyed the scene he saw the broken off top of a 
Kessler's bottle with the plastic cap still on it. The 
freshly splintered wood of the porch railing on the 
ground carried his eye past it to the innumerable tiny 
drops of blood. He stepped up onto the porch and it 
creaked under his steps as he went to the window and 
peered in. Seeing nothing in the gloom, he decided to 
try the door. It opened hard and he stuck his head in 
and squinted into the dim light. "Hello ?" he called, 
"Is anybody here ?" No answer. He headed in and looked 
into the corners and checked the sorry old chairs for 
dust. Less on the chair seats than in the rest of the 
room. "Is anybody there ?" he yelled again. This time 
down the only hallway , opposite the front door. 
Plunging into the gloom, he checked into each room 
until he reached the third and last. Looking in 
through the doorless entry, he saw three of the oldest 
looking black women he had ever seen. They were 
sitting on chairs side by side and two of them looked 
up at him curiously while the third, in the middle, 
looked down at the floor, her face hidden from Fox.
He stood in the doorway a moment, soaking up the strange 
sight. When his eyes adjusted to the dingey yellow 
light filtering in through the dust covered window 
behind the trio, he saw that on the ground in front of 
them was a little altar with a cross and some candles 
that had burned down to their wooden holders. They had 
their hands clasped in prayer over their knees. 
Obviously, their aged legs couldn't take the strain of 
kneeling and this was their solution. "Hello," he 
said, still standing in the doorway.
"Hello," Croaked the crone on his right. She continued 
staring at him along with the other.
"Ahem, I'm, uh, Agent Mulder. I'm with the FBI. I was 
wondering if you, um, ladies could maybe help shed 
some light on a little problem we're having ?"
The two old women looked at each other and began babbling 
loudly between themselves in a language so thickly 
accented and twisted by time and isolation that it 
could only be understood by themselves. As Fox 
listened it sounded to him like birds chattering. The 
noise stirred the middle woman, who woke from her 
praying with a grunting sound and lifted her head up 
to see what was going on around her. When she did, 
though, it was to no avail because where her eyes had 
been were two hollow black holes encrusted with dried 
blood. Fox gasped and stepped back. Seeing that their 
sister had shown herself, the two sighted women 
stopped their yammering and threw a piece of cloth 
over her head to hide her.
 Fox walked quickly out of the house and into the heat. He 
crossed the road and rapped on the car window. Dana 
was inside, her seat reclined, the motor running for 
the air conditioning. When she opened her eyes, Fox 
motioned for her to come outside. She rolled down the 
window a crack so as to not let all the cold air 
escape. "What is it, Fox?" she asked, "I'm trying to 
get some sleep before our surveillance tonight."
"I think I found something, Scully! Really!" he said 
excitedly, "Come out and bring your doctor's bag." 
Scully left the air conditioned car reluctantly and 
after retrieving her bag from the trunk followed Fox 
into the dusty house.
In the room with the old women, Scully took one look at the 
eyeless one and knelt down on the floor and began 
examining her. "Mulder, this woman has had her eyes 
cut out," she said and opened up her doctors bag to 
remove some cotton swabs and a small bottle.
"I can see that," said Fox.
"Scully began swabbing away the blood on the old woman's 
face and eyes. The old woman just sat there numbly, 
hardly taking notice. "How could this have happened?" 
said Scully to Mulder.
"Maybe one of you ladies could tell us that?" Fox addressed 
the old women. They began to whimper and shake. The 
one to the right hid her face in her hands and the one 
to the left met Fox with a steely gaze and lifted both 
of her hands to reveal long yellow fish gutting 
fingernails on her thumbs.
"It had to be done," she said strongly. Dana drew back in 
revulsion at the realization that the thumbnails had 
done the cutting. This did not escape the old woman 
and seeing she had somebody's attention she fixed her 
gaze anew upon Dana and continued her explanation. 
"Lord knows we didn't want to, if we hadn't..." her 
voice trailed off and the strength seemed to fade from 
her. "Aaaiiee!" she screamed, lifting her gnarled gray 
fists clenched above her head and looking at them. "It 
did..It did anyways! It got away." She continued 
screaming as if some terrible realization had come 
over her and then opened her hands and dropped them 
over her eyes and rocked back and forth in her chair 
making pitiful sobbing sounds.
Mulder and Scully looked at each other and Mulder motioned 
Scully out into the hall. In the hall, Scully said, 
"Is this making any sense to you ?"
Mulder thought about it for a moment. "Well, she said 
something "Got away"? What could she mean? And why 
would they need to cut the other woman's eyes out ?"
"Yeah, what purpose would that serve ?" mused Scully. "Do 
you think she used her thumbnails for that? Oh, that's 
too much!"
"It looks that way." Said Mulder. The sounds from the room 
ceased and the agents heard a voice say, "They gone?" 
The agents peeked around the corner and they saw the 
two sighted women inspecting the face of the other. 
"It's okay, they gone." One said.
"No we're not," said Fox from the doorway. "And we're not 
leaving until you tell us why this happened."
The old woman who spoke before sat back in her chair. "I 
gase Ahm gon' hafta' then, s'pose," she said wearily. 
"Don' make no mattern naow. Caint hart whatns alraidy 
daid anyhaow.Nhea hye hyee," she laughed ironically 
and looked over to the other who looked back with a 
scared look in her eyes. "Ah doanow haow long it's 
been," She began and looked back up at the agents who 
were surprised she volunteered so easily. "But ah 
knows ets ben a mighty mighty loang tahm. We was jest 
etty betty garls ya see, et warnt none a our fault, no 
sir.
"Amen," chimed in the other with a tired and warped voice.
"Yeah, whane dat gout inta we'ns we dint have no chance, no 
chance at all." She shook her head as she talked, a 
far away look was in her eyes. "The thang we been 
holdin' all `dese yeha's stole ourn lahvs `way fum us, 
made us hav'n ta' hahd in ol' shacks nobody done 
wanted no mo'. `Allus mo' ampty houses `round too. 
Don' n'body stay `roun us'ns too long."
"What sort of thing are you talking about?" Asked Dana in a 
soft voice, sensing the amount of pain the woman had 
endured in her long life.
"Oh, honey. No. Don' make me tell you. It's been so long 
since I seed a face such as your'ns, so young, with 
skin so soft and eyes so `live. I'm feared. I'm feared 
if'n ah tell you, you'll turn as old as us heah an' 
your perty sparklin eyes'll turn as dead as our'n." 
The old woman said shaking her head as second thoughts 
about the whole thing came over her.
"That's okay, sweetie. We can take care of ourselves. We 
have to know so we find whatever it is before anything 
happens," Dana said as if she was talking to a child.
"The old woman looked up at Dana with wonder in her eyes. 
"Can ya' fer reals ? Can ya' do sumpin'?"
Dana gave Fox a quick glance and he raised a questioning 
eyebrow at her. She turned back to the withered old 
woman and said, "Of course we can, that's why we're 
here." Afterward she knelt down in front of the middle 
woman and began bandaging her eyes.
""Kay den, honey, ah'll try," the old woman said. "Ah'll 
tra'." She sat there for a minute with her eyes closed 
before she started to speak again. " Whan we three 
were very young, there was a slave named Jibus and..."
Dana cut in here and said, "You mean an ex-slave? He used 
to be a slave?"
    "Oh, he were a slave alla' his lahf ceppin' fer about 
two minnitts and `den he was a' kilt. See, when da' 
end a' da' war came he dayanced and yaelled and Massah 
Hunta who was a very mean massah heard. He stepped out 
onta' da' poach an' boom, jest shoot `im down and 
afta' beatin' an' h'rassin' an' whippin' on `dat po' 
nigga' nigh evvy day o' hisn's wretched lahf. An' us 
t'ree sista's was justa' stannin' aroun' anna' 
watchin' alla' dis a' hap'nin `cause we come out ta' 
see what alla' da' yellin' was abou' whan da man he 
came a' rahdin' troo on his hoss' a' yellin' `bout da' 
war bein' over an' all." The old woman paused to catch 
her breath. She looked more tired and ashen than she 
had before, as if telling the story was a great strain 
upon her. From her chair she looked up at Dana and Fox 
and the sight of their youthful faces seemed to give 
her strength and she drew in a deep breath and lowered 
her head and her eyes set straight and hard like a man 
digging through rock. "As he lay dyin' on da' groun',"  
Suddenly she raised her voice and looked back up at 
the two agents with wonder and fear in her voice. "A 
terr'ble thang happent. An evil hoodoo spirit that 
looked lahk a big dark bat sprung outta' da' roots of 
an old willa' tree." She switched her dark steely gaze 
onto Fox and continued, louder and more animatedly, " 
`Tracted by his hate and vengefulness, it was. An' it 
clamped onta' his soul an' took it fer it's own, 
denyin' that poor slave, Jibus, his rightful place in 
heaven `fer all the suff'rin' he put up with in `is 
short cursed life. But it had no body so's it jumped 
inta' us three little garls seemin' as three's a magic 
number, we foun' out latah on, an' we bein' young and 
weak an' not able ta' p'tect ourselves fum it's evil 
doin's."
She looked straight ahead again and said, "We done tol' our 
momma what happen't and she got a hoodoo doctor 
ta'come an' look at us an' he filt us fulla' potions 
an' danced taroun' usn's but he couldn't get ridda' 
da' thang. He say it cuzza' da' soul a' da' slave 
havin' been thru so much that it was too strong. So 
instead he tol' us an momma how we got ta' live away 
from peoples so's it couldna' work it's evil on `em. 
An' we done that an' thought we'd die a' old age but 
it didn't let us die. Ever'body else, but not us an' 
we jest sit here a' waitin' ta' die an eat'n da' nasty 
litttle beans a' growin' on `da vines over the house. 
But we ain't died yet." She paused here with an empty 
stare in her eyes.
Fox took a step closer to her and asked, "How did the, uh, 
hoodoo get loose?"
   The old woman looked over to her sister whose eyes Dana 
had bandaged and motioned toward her. "Most times it 
was strongest in Annie an' we jest made sure she 
didn't go an git herse'f hurt or sumpin'. But one 
night she went crazy tryin' ta' git outta' da' house 
an' we didn't think we had da' strenth to hold her 
much longer. So we cut her eyes out so'sn da' hoodoo 
couldna' see through `em no mo'. Didn'a wanna but 
hadda', dat shoulda' been da' end of it but dis dang 
fool came to da' door an tried ta' sell us sumpin'." 
"A salesman?" said Fox wide eyed.
     "Ayup. He ain't no mo' tho' the hoodoos got `im naow," 
she said, waving her arm in the air with finality.
The agents looked at each other and Dana said, " A 
salesman!?"