The X Files

Fight the Future

Screenplay by Chris Carter

Adapted by Elizabeth Hand

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PROLOGUE

NORTH TEXAS 35000 B.C.

The desolated landscape stretches from hori-zon to horizon, all snow and ice and vast gray sky. In the distance two tiny figures appear, running desperately. They are manlike, with matted hair and coarse features, their bodies hidden beneath rough garments made of leather. They run across the white waste-land, bodies bent as if they are scanning the ground underfoot for prints. The trail they seem to follow leads to a crevice, a triangular fissure between slabs of ice and collapsed stone. At the mouth of the cave the prints dis-appear. One of the primitive men stoops to peer inside. They enter the cave.

Inside, the cave walls spiral; they are ribbed with ice that glistens faintly. The first primi-tive lights his torch. As he holds it up, his companion grabs his arm and points to where the cave twists a few yards ahead of them. There a soft patch of virgin snow bears the imprint of what they have been following. The torch sputters, and as though in reply a distinct scrabbling echoes back to them from the dark-ness ahead. The two primitives move quickly now. Ahead the cave splits into two tunnels. Wordlessly, they each choose a different fork.

The first primitive moves quietly through the tunnel. At the far end he finds an opening barely wide enough for a man to squeeze through. He thrusts his torch into the opening, twisting it back and forth. He propels himself through the hole and drops into the next chamber.

It takes a moment to catch his breath. When he does, he raises the torch and peers around. He is in a roughly circular cavern per-haps thirty feet across, its walls shimmering ice nicked here and there by rocky outcroppings. One of these is larger than the rest. Gazing at it, the primitive frowns, then steps toward it.

Inches away from the outcropping he halts and reaches to touch what he sees—the body of another man, clad in furs and leather, a skin of ice encasing him from head to foot. Before he can reach it something powerful strikes him from behind.

With a cry the primitive falls, the torch hurling from him to drop sputtering to the floor. He curls into a ball, one hand clenched against his chest with the knife pointing out-ward; but something is already there, claws tearing at his clothes, shredding the thick pro-tective layers of fur and stiff leather as though they were dry grass. The primitive cries out again. He rolls to one side, shoving his elbow into the creature's face, and strikes blindly and desperately with his knife. It shrieks; he feels something warm and viscous spurt onto his hand. With a groan the primitive pulls away, staggering to the wall. He hears it thrashing in the darkness at his feet.

The primitive roars and strikes at it again, feels his knife shear through its skin. But there is no reassuring bite of bone and muscle beneath his hand; it is as though his knife is mired in the body. With a grunt the primitive yanks his knife back.

Too fast. The next instant he loses his bal-ance and falls, and the thing is on him, its claws tearing at his thighs. His knife skids across the floor. Before he can reach for it a shadow fills the chamber.

The cave seems to spin as light radiates everywhere, finally coalescing into the torch held high by the second primitive who has just appeared in the chamber. The creature looks up. The second primitive raises a knife and with a cry drives it into the creature.

A deafening shriek as the thing sprawls backward. A moment and the primitive is upon it, driving the knife into it again and again as it tries to escape. With shocking strength and speed the creature throws the primitive to the cave floor.

Dazed, the primitive comes to his feet poised to attack, but the creature has vanished. He pauses, gasping for breath, and gazes down at his fallen companion. Blood soaks his gar-ments, and his eyes are already clouded. He is dead. The primitive turns away, searching for his enemy. His eyes dart as he moves through the cave. In a nearby chamber he comes upon the fallen body of his enemy. Warily he approaches waving the torch at the creature's head. Slowly its eyes open. For a brief moment the gaze of the hunter and the hunted meet.

The primitive raises his knife to strike the final blow. Before his arm drops the creature swiftly attacks.

In one motion the primitive drops the torch and with his other hand brings his knife forward, so that it slides through the creature's upper body. He withdraws it and stabs again, harder this time, while the crea-ture writhes and the cavern resounds with its cries; he strikes it until it lies motionless upon the floor.

The primitive draws back, breathing hard, and leans upon his weapon. In front of him his prey lies dead. Something black oozes from the creature's wounds. In the torchlight it seems to thicken and pool.

As he stares at it, the primi-tive frowns.

There is a tiny fissure in the cavern floor.

The black, oily substance moves toward it. Not naturally like water seeking its level, but like something alive. He watches, mesmerized, as the oil fills the crevice almost to overflowing, then disappears down the crack. It is several moments before he notices something else.

Across his chest are dark blots where the creature's blood has spattered him. The primi-tive's gaze is drawn to a single oily drop. He stares at it, brows furrowing. His expression changes, from annoyance to curiosity to hor-ror. There are drops of black ooze everywhere upon him, crawling up his torso, along his arms, across the tops of his thighs, and over his chest. He grunts and begins brushing at them, but they will not move. He opens his mouth to scream but no sound comes out.

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CHAPTER 1

BLACKWOOD, TEXAS PRESENT DAY

Without warning a boy plunged through the roof of the cave.

"Stevie? Hey, Stevie—you okay?" a voice called from the opening above him. Three other boys stood there, peering nervously through the hole. For the last few days they'd been building a fort there, digging and hammering at the ground. Behind them, sun glared off the hard-baked earth. Miles to the east, the glittering contours of the Dallas skyline reared against the horizon. In the near-distance stretched a housing develop-ment, identical buildings scattered across a dun-colored landscape.