Title: Hoodoo 3 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?  


"What was he selling?" asked Fox.
"I dunno', some dang fool thang," she said.
"Can you remember for us?" asked Dana.
"Some kinda' cleanin' sumpin er other," the old woman 
replied.
"A vacuum cleaner?" Asked Dana.
"Vac...vac..coom? Uh, mebbee dat's it." she said.
"Did you see what he was driving?" asked Fox.
"Naw." she said.
"Can you tell us what he looked like ?" he asked.
She thought about it for a second, " White boy, that all."
Dana grabbed Fox's arm and said, " Uh, Fox, let's step 
outside."
Out in the hall Dana turned to Fox and said, " Well ?"
"Well, what ?" said Fox.
"Well, umm." Dana thought for a second, surprised that 
Mulder hadn't anything to say about a strange 
situation for once. She continued, " What do we do 
with them ? What do we tell anyone that asks and how 
are we supposed to catch this thing ?" She paused for 
a second and added, "Do you believe they're really 
that old ?"
Fox's eyes strayed toward the doorway for a second. He 
looked back at Dana and said, "They sure look that 
old. I think we should just leave them there, if 
they're over 140 years old I don't think they're going 
to want to be doing any traveling. We do know what to 
look for now, but let's not tell anyone. Let's just 
say we're looking for a potential witness. As for 
catching it, your guess is as good as mine. If you 
believe it, that is." Fox gazed searchingly into 
Dana's eyes and said, "Do you believe, Scully ?"
Scully shrugged, "Hey! Why not ?"
"Are you done bandaging Annie ?"
"Good and tight," said Scully. "I've got some trail mix and 
water in the car, I think I'll give it to them." She 
turned and headed out to the car.
"That's nice." Fox said as he watched her go and then he 
went back into the room and looked at the three 
pitiful sisters praying at their equally pitiful 
little altar. "We're going to leave now," he said, "We 
don't know when we'll be back. Is there anything you 
want when we do ?"
The sister who speaks said, "We'uns could use some food, 
mebbe. sumpin' thet ain't beans. Poke mebbe. Mebbe 
chitlins, we had nuttin' lahk thet in a good long 
while. Sugar. We want us some sugar, too. Sumpin' ta' 
let us dah happy."
"Okay," said Fox with a smile.
The old women looked at him in disbelief. "Really ?" said 
the sighted one who had not spoken but for a single  
"amen."
"Uh Huh," replied Fox.
Dana walked in and left a bottle of water and a bag of 
trail mix by the door. "This is for you to share," she 
said to them. "Ready ?" she said to Fox.
"Yes," said Fox and as they turned to leave the old woman 
spoke again. 
 "If you meet up with it," she said, "You best check the 
evil in yo'se'f." Fox and Dana turned and looked at 
her.  "Thass raht!" she warned. "It the hate you hold 
inside you and da' feyar, too that drags ya' unda' 
wit' it and meks ya' it's own!" She stopped and put 
her head down to pray and the two agents left the 
room. They walked out to the car, observing anew the 
wreckage of the porch rail and the broken bottle and 
in their mind's eye their perceptions of a scene that 
had taken place there played out. Fox took a plastic 
bag out of his pocket and placed the bottleneck and 
some pieces of glass into it as Dana searched around 
for any other clues.
After a short but thorough search of the area Fox said, 
"Find anything else?"
"No," said Dana stepping out of some tall weeds along the 
path.
"Well, let's get going then," said Fox.
"Same plan?" said Scully as they walked across the sleepy 
highway to their car.
"Same plan," Affirmed Mulder. "Split up and stake out."

Night had long since fallen and the wee hours of the 
morning had begun their progression when Dana Scully 
again had the feeling that she had wasted her efforts. 
Not that her efforts had been anything more than 
sitting in a bus stop and peering out at the comings 
and goings of the local night life on the main drag of 
a small sleepy Georgia town. She looked at her 
wristwatch to confirm that the dull ache in her sitter 
that was slowly creeping down her legs was from time 
elapsed and not from some undiagnosed illness before 
she stood up and stretched her legs while bracing 
herself on the aluminum frame of the Plexiglas walls 
of the bus stop. After she was done she leaned against  
the entrance framing and looking out  at the street, 
called Fox on her cell phone. "Hi, it's me," she said 
into it.
"Hi, Dana. Seen anything ?" said Fox Mulder into his phone 
as he sat behind the wheel of his parked car and kept 
his eyes peeled down a darkened street lined with 
aging brick warehouses. The only sign of life 
confronting his eyes being the neon Stroh's beer sign 
glowing out from the window  next to the front door of  
"The Loading Dock" bar that seemed to have been built 
into the alleyway between the two ancient buildings 
that loomed over it. 
"No, nothing yet," she replied.
"Yeah, me neither," he said and laughed quietly.
"What's so funny ?" Dana asked.
"Oh, nothing," he said. "It's just the thought of staking 
out a rogue vacuum cleaner salesman."
"Yeah, really," she replied. "Well, if there's nothing new, 
I'll get off the phone. Have to conserve the battery. 
I don't have a car to plug mine into."
"Hey, you've got to quit losing those coin tosses," said 
Mulder cheerily.
"Fine," she said, "Goodbye."
"Over and out," said Fox on the other end.
Dana folded her phone and as she put it back in her pocket 
she said to herself, "Over and out ?" She began doing 
deep knee bends as she watched the street. Halfway 
down her third time, an old rusty early fifties Chevy 
pickup puttered up the street and parked in front of 
Billy Bob's Honky Tonk and Barbecue alongside some 
other cars and trucks. Two men, a couple of hairy 
sixties refugee types in t-shirts and jeans got out 
and went into Billy Bob's. Dana watched them go in and 
she glanced across the street to the left at the other 
bar which was more of a dive than Billy Bob's. A 
wooden sign was tacked above it's door that read, 
"Bloxton Tavern," and the door was propped wide open 
with a stool. 
Dana continued her exercises for a while before sitting 
back down on the bench and resumed her watch into the 
night.
A car backfired on the highway as it went by and Dana 
Scully opened her eyes and looked around. She 
instantly realized where she was and that she had 
fallen asleep. A dangerous thing for an agent to do 
especially in the open, not in a vehicle or without 
backup. She felt inside her clothes for her weapon, 
wallet and phone. They were all there. She let out a 
sigh of relief that she didn't have to go through the 
humiliation of explaining to her superiors that she 
had been rolled like a drunk. She looked out at the 
street and got up to stretch her legs. Looking down 
the street, she saw that Billy Bob's was dark. Closed 
for the night. Maybe, she thought, she could end her 
vigil and check into a hotel for some real sleep. But 
no, she looked to her left to see the light coming 
through the still propped open door of the Bloxton 
Tavern. The faint smell of tobacco wafted down the 
street toward her from it, accompanied by the sound of 
Lynyrd Skynyrd drifting out from the juke box. 
Dana lifted her forearm to look at  her watch and saw that 
it was one-thirty in the morning. she knew the other 
bar would be closing soon. "If something's going to 
happen, it had better happen now!" she said to herself 
as her eyes searched the night for forms that might 
turn out to be something more than shadows. She closed 
her eyes for a second and breathed deep in through her 
nose. The night was thick with the smell of flowers on 
trees and in yards and Dana took the opportunity to 
savor the sweet perfume as it hung heavy in the moist 
Southern air.
A sound in front of her made her jerk her eyes open. She 
looked to see the two long-haired sixties looking guys 
who she had seen earlier go into Billy Bob's spill out 
onto the street from the Bloxton Tavern. They were 
really going at it fists and feet. She glanced over at 
Billy Bob's and saw the old Chevy still in the 
darkened parking lot. Dana darted out from her lookout 
thinking to go stop them when she realized what had 
awakened her from her accidental slumber was the sound 
of a car backfiring as it went out of town past her to 
the North. The way the hoodoo seemed to be headed. She 
was suddenly very wary and alert to the possible 
danger of the situation.
Instead of trying to break the men up, who looked pretty 
evenly matched, she figured she had time to check out 
the bar. She drew her pistol and ducked cautiously 
into the bar. Inside, she found it empty except for 
the bartender, unconscious, draped over the bar as if 
he had been pulled there by his assailant. Blood 
dripped slowly from a wound under his hair. She felt 
his neck for a pulse and then for any possible 
vertebral injury. She found no apparent injury so she 
took a chance and repositioned him a little getting 
his throat off the edge of the bar so he couldn't 
choke. She looked over the bar for anyone who might be 
hiding there and then she reached across it and got 
the phone. She dialed 911 and when the dispatcher 
picked it up, Dana said, simply, "This is FBI agent 
Dana Scully. I'm at the Bloxton tavern, I need an 
ambulance and the police. Make it quick, I have to 
go." She hung up the phone and called Fox on her 
cellular as she walked cautiously to look out the door 
at the two combatants in the street. "Fox ?" she said 
into the phone, "I'm not sure, but I think we may be 
having an incident here, right now.
From the other end, Fox asked, "Should I head over ?"
"No," Dana answered, "If I'm right, the man we're looking 
for should be headed your way. I've got to go try to 
keep two people from killing themselves right now," 
she added.
"Okay, but Dana, be very careful," he warned, "You saw the 
other places, don't  let it happen to you."
"Ten-Four," she said and hung up. On her way out the door 
she momentarily flashed on Fox musing over her "10-4" 
as she had on his "over and out". She raised her 
weapon and advanced out the door toward the two men 
fighting. Fifteen feet from them she stopped and 
barked out the order, "Freeze! Stop fighting. Now!" 
The men just ignored her, they were quite bloody by 
now and they had each other by their long hair and 
beards and were kicking and swearing at each other. As 
Dana was about to yell again, they got their legs 
tangled and fell over into a snarling mass of curses 
on the pavement. Scully crept a little closer as one 
pinned the other and began gouging with his thumbs 
into his eye sockets. Scully hit him on the side of 
his head with the butt of her gun and he groaned and 
fell over onto his back.
Scully jumped back away from the two and pointing her 
weapon at them again barked, "Freeze, that's enough!"  
The two men got back on their feet as a siren wailed 
and red and blue flashing lights began to appear from 
down the street.
"Freakin' Pig!" The two bloodied hippies seemed to say in 
unison as they charged at Scully with their hate 
distorted faces, their energies focused anew.
"No!" Scully screamed in panic at this sudden onslaught and 
managed to take a step back before they smashed into 
her. As she fell backward, she fired her pistol 
blindly before her head hit the pavement and she 
blacked out.

Fox Mulder got out of his car after Dana called and walked 
over to the bar he had been staking out all night. He 
opened the front door slightly and he stood there a 
few seconds looking in. From there, he could see the 
length of the bar and most of the tables. At one of 
the tables three men played a solemn game of poker as 
they smoked cigars and nursed their beer. Fox went 
inside and saw that nobody else was in the place. He 
walked up to the three men and introduced himself as 
an FBI agent. 
"So whatta' you want?" the stumpy guy with the apron, who 
must have been the bartender said to him. The others 
just glanced up at him briefly before going back to 
looking at their cards.
"I'm in the process of apprehending a suspect and I expect 
him to be passing by here soon," said Fox. "I'd really 
appreciate it if you could close up your bar and not 
let anybody else in for the night."
The apronned man looked past Fox out the window to the 
deserted street. "What about all my customers?" he 
said mockingly. His poker buddies hid their grins 
behind their fanned out decks of cards.
Fox looked up at the clock on the wall next to the sign 
that had a picture of a smiling alligator's head on it 
with the words, "One armed alligator baiters would 
like to do it quicker but they can't." Fox looked back 
at the man and said, "The state would be glad to pay 
you for your lost revenue, sir." And he pulled out his 
wallet.
The bartender looked surprised and he looked at his buddies 
and said, "Well, allrighty. Now you're talkin' my 
language," and he rubbed his hands together and smiled 
a greedy smile.
"Okay," Fox said with a straight face as he fished in the 
bottom of his wallet. "In these situations I've been 
empowered by the Bureau to assess the amount 
compensated. Are you boy's planning on staying here 
after he locks up and play poker still?" Said Fox to 
the poker buddies.
"Damn straight!" said the one on the right with the fishin' 
lure hat and safari shirt.
"Uh huh," acknowledged the man to his left.
"Well then, I won't be needin' to compensate for you two," 
said Fox with a sly grin.
"Dad gum it!" said the bartender and swatted at the two of 
them with his clerk's visor.
"And judging from the rate of foot traffic," Fox said, 
scraping in his wallet with his fingernail, "I owe you 
this." He dropped a little ball of lint in the hands 
of the apronned man and his face turned red as he 
choked on his anger. His poker buddies busted out 
laughing and the one with the fishing hat fell 
backwards in his chair and as he hit the floor the 
ashes from the cigar in his hand sent up a hail of 
sparks.
Fox turned and walked toward the door and as he opened it 
to leave he turned and said, "Remember, don't open the 
door for anyone," and he gave the red-faced man a look 
that said he meant business. As he stepped back into 
the night, Fox's pace quickened and his eyes searched 
for a high spot to get a good vantage point on the 
highway. Just buildings, so instead, he got in his car 
and drove to the SouthWest edge of town and waited 
there.
After a while he saw a lone pair of headlights coming 
toward him. He watched as they drew nearer and before 
they got to him, he crouched down in his seat and 
looked through the steering wheel as the car went 
past. Through his open window he heard country music 
blaring out from it. Fox reached over and turned the 
radio on after it had passed and the same song came 
out of his speakers. He watched in his rearview mirror 
as the car went around the slight curve where the bar 
is and then he hit his headlights and gunned out into 
the road to follow. After he went around the curve he 
saw the taillights going out of town ahead of him.
Fox continued following the car from a safe distance and he 
listened to the radio as he went figuring that might 
put him on the same wavelength, so to speak, as the 
man in the car. When the music stopped, this time, the 
DJ  speaking was a woman, "Hey all you late night 
music fans, this here's Jenny Jenkins and I'll keep 
bringin' you your music fix all through the night 
until the sun comes up on KFSH, the big fish. But 
right now it's time to pay your dues with some news 
and the first thing I've just gotta' tell you sheet 
keekers out there is it's not cow fishing season. Ever 
since we ran the story about the good ol' boy who 
wanted to hook something bigger than a bass, namely 
cattle, it's been reported that soon after dark 
tonight several instances of suspected bovine angling 
have occurred. One rancher says that he went to check 
on his cattle shortly after ten o clock tonight after 
hearing his dogs barking and he found five fishing 
lures with the lines broken off of them embedded in 
the sides of several of his prize steers. Boy, ya 
know, somebody comes up with a new idea....In other 
regional stories of note, the battle of Chickamauga 
re-enactment is still slated for this Saturday. It 
just goes to show that men are such little boys, 
doesn't it? Speaking of men acting like little boys, 
the State Government today said it couldn't bar the 
gathering of Cole Hunters hate group, The White 
Brotherhood from having what they call a picnic but 
what we all know is actually a hate-fest on some 
private property that coincidentally is just on the 
other side of the road from, and on the same day as 
the Chickamauga re-enactment."
As Fox drove and listened to the radio, he kept his eyes on 
the taillights of the car in front of him. At one 
point as the news played the little red lights weaved 
all over the road and nearly went into the ditch. Then 
it straightened up and continued down the highway with 
Fox watching curiously as it went.
The DJ continued, "The NAACP and several hatewatch groups 
asked the governor of Georgia if he could somehow 
legally put a halt to the gathering of what looks like 
might be several hundred members of various white 
power groups and their families. The gathering, 
organized by the infamous KKK splinter group leader, 
Cole Hunter....." Fox gritted his teeth at the sudden 
violent jerking of the car in front of him..... "who 
claims the gathering is merely to introduce white 
people from different walks of life to each other, 
talk ideology and have a few beers. However, Sunbelt 
HateWatch, who has been monitoring....." The car 
weaved from shoulder to shoulder wildly..... "the 
White Brotherhood since it's conception in 1992...." 
The little cars brake lights shone bright and it spun 
around dangerously before coming to a stop on the left 
shoulder, it's headlights shining out over the road 
toward Fox as he closed in..... "Says they are quite 
possibly the most dangerous organization to spring 
from the Southland's sordid background of racial 
intolerance since the Klan of the Twenties and 
Thirties and their picnic is nothing more than a 
thinly disguised recruitment drive. O-o-o-okay, as if 
that ain't bad enough, two instances of what the 
Georgia State Police are calling, "Random outbreaks of 
violence," have happened in small towns in Eastern 
Georgia. Apparently very similar to another instance 
in South Caroli....Click" 
Fox shut off the radio and slowed to a crawl as he drove 
past the car stuck on the shoulder. The driver was 
leaning over the steering wheel, looking out the 
windshield, wide-eyed with his hands clenched tightly 
on it. As Fox slowly drove past, the man in the car 
turned his head and followed Fox with his eyes. as he 
did, Fox saw his pale white face and just as he 
passed, Fox saw his eyes glow red.
"Whoa!" said Fox to himself and he looked back over his 
shoulder to get another look. He pulled to one side of 
the road to make a U-turn but instead found himself 
parked on the shoulder and he sat there with his hands 
on the steering wheel staring blankly out into space. 
A tear rolled down his cheek and then another, "Why ?" 
he cried out into the blackness surrounding his 
headlight beams. He started to sob and pound his head 
slowly against the steering wheel. "Why? Why? Why?" he 
wailed again.
"Knock, knock, knock!" Someone knocked on the side window. 
Fox looked up to see a Georgia State Trooper peering 
in.
"Sir? Are you all right, sir?" he asked, shining a 
flashlight into his face.
Fox looked up at the officer and waved his hand at him as 
if he didn't want the light in his eyes. Then he laid 
his head back down on the steering wheel.
The trooper, thinking that perhaps Fox was winding down 
from a near accident decided to leave him there and go 
check on the other car. As Fox leaned against the 
steering wheel of the car, he was lost in the turmoil 
of his thoughts. Anger inducing images from his life 
flashed in and out of his mind like he was channel 
surfing. He saw his father in there and the men who 
probably killed him and went about controlling his 
life and perhaps manipulating every aspect of his life 
for their possible gain. He wanted to reach out and 
strangle them and he saw his sister and in his 
greatest sorrow he found his greatest anger and his 
hands wrung the steering wheel and began to twist and 
bend it like a cheap plastic toy.
Behind him on the road, the trooper walked away from the 
little blue sedan toward his patrol car. He stopped 
for a second before he had hardly even started and 
then staggered up and stopped on the center line of 
the road, across from Fox's car. He stared at it with 
a look of dumb confusion. The confused look was 
suddenly replaced by  an intense look of hate and 
revulsion and as he stared through the window at Fox 
grappling with his steering wheel, he drew his sidearm 
and walked slowly toward the car blasting methodically 
into the window.
Fox's head came within an inch of having a nine-millimeter 
slug become a permanent fixture in it. This seemed to 
knock Fox out of his hallucinations and in an instant 
he evaluated the situation and managed to crouch on 
his side with his foot on the door and his arm reached 
out with his hand on the door latch. As the shots rang 
out closer to him, he looked up through the shattered 
window and when he saw the face of his attacker 
advance close to the door he pulled the latch and 
kicked the door open with all his might.
The addled officer fired one last round that went up 
through the roof of the car as he fell hard on his 
back. At the same time, Fox opened the passenger side 
door and crawled out so fast it was more like a dive. 
He rolled into the ditch and drew his weapon. As he 
crept up to look across the hood of his car he 
searched his mind for who might be shooting at him but 
after his fit of anger in the car he couldn't really 
remember where he was at. From over the hood of the 
car he could see the uniformed trooper on his back in 
the roadway. "What the hell?" Fox said to himself as 
he swiveled his head from left and right to look for 
any other assailants.
Seeing no one, his eyes went  back to the man in the road 
illumined by the headlights of the troopers car. A few 
feet from him across the yellow line Fox could see an 
automatic service pistol casting a long shadow in the 
road behind the course of the headlight beam. 
Suddenly, Fox saw the officer's head turn toward the 
gun. "Freeze!" Fox ordered loudly, drawing down on the 
trooper. He froze. A second after that the blue car on 
the shoulder began spinning it's tires in an attempt 
to free itself from the soft dirt.
"Aaaaargh!" The trooper sprang up at Fox screaming, a 
maniacal look in his eyes. In the few seconds he had 
to get his head straight, Fox remembered where he was 
and that the trooper had been affected by the salesman 
just as he had been. He knew the danger he was in and 
weighed it with the amount of force he wished to use 
on the innocent yet extremely violent man hurtling 
toward him. Fox sidestepped the man and took a quick 
yet careful aim and shot him in the leg. He still 
almost got Fox who had to step back again quickly or 
the trooper would have landed on top of him. As it 
was, he landed in a heap on the side of the road and 
apparently came out of his dementia. He began 
confusedly bemoaning his pain, "What the..? What the 
hell?" he said surprisedly from the ground as he 
grabbed at his hurt leg.
Fox stood there for a moment with his gun on him when 
headlights flashed bright on him from the side. It was 
the little blue sedan. It had driven free of the 
shoulder , spun around in the road and was headed 
right for Fox. Fox rolled onto the hood of his own car 
and as the car accelerated past, Fox made the mistake 
of looking at it. Red eyes like fire bored into his 
mind. His brain seized up and when he tried to see, 
lights like multi-colored flashbulbs went off in his 
eyes. He rolled off the hood of his car as he 
struggled to regain his senses. When he hit the 
asphalt, he opened his eyes and everything was red. He 
looked through the eyes of a blood crazed predator at 
the trooper on the ground clutching his shot leg.
Fox stood up and reached over onto the trunk of his car to 
retrieve his pistol. He picked it up and held it in 
his hand. It felt good. Really good. It was like he 
had suddenly got his long gone claws and teeth back 
and was ready to hunt through the jungle for prey. He 
turned toward the trooper and aimed the weapon at him 
and began to walk toward him.
"Oh, god! Please, no...Dooon't!" The trooper screamed and 
crossed his arms in front of his face as if it might 
stop a bullet. The scream caused Fox to jerk and fire 
his gun over the trooper. The sound of the shot jerked 
Fox partially back to reality and he looked down at 
the pleading officer and as he leveled his gun for 
another shot his arm went stiff and he began to fight 
with his anger over the terrible thing he was about to 
do. Choking sounds came from Fox and a heavy sweat 
broke over his face as he struggled for control of his 
thoughts and actions. Swinging his arms in the air and 
viciously screaming at his inner demons to leave him 
be, he danced about wildly in the road.
The near hysterical troopers eyes bugged out of his head in 
witness to this spectacle but he still managed to 
attempt to crawl toward his gun. As he crawled, he 
began reciting the Lord's Prayer in a faltering voice.
Fox continued to flail at the air and yell, when the gun in 
his hands went off and shot into the air. Once again, 
the sharp sound knocked him back to reality and just 
in time to see the trooper reach for the gun on the 
ground. "Don't!" Fox yelled out and the trooper froze. 
Fox felt himself slipping back into dementia as more 
hurtful images of his past began to flash in his 
mind's eye. He had to act quick if he was going to 
keep either the trooper or himself from being injured 
or killed. He wheeled around suddenly and ran off into 
the field along the road and he kept running as fast 
as he could.
The trooper on the ground saw Fox run into the blackness on 
the other side of the headlight beam and grabbed his 
gun off the road and pointed it out in the direction 
Fox ran. He shaded his eyes with one hand and squinted 
out into the darkness for a minute and then from far 
out in the field he heard a strangled scream like a 
dying wildcat. Then he dragged himself to his car and 
as he reached the door, he passed out on the pavement