Crampton
Page 9
MULDER
(mumbling through clenched teeth)
Hi there, kids! Hi there, kids!
DUMMY'S POV: CLOSE UP on Mulder's face, his comic smile. The dummy's head turns, showing Scully looking at Mulder the way a mother looks at a misbehaving child. Mulder puts "Laffo" back on his shelf.
Illusion of Empire's SHOPKEEP is standing behind the counter. He looks like some small-time hustler out of an old gangster movie: greasy hair, thin mustache, smoking an unfiltered cigarette down to a nub with another one behind his ear.
SHOPKEEP
How can I help you folks today?
MULDER
(flashing his i.d.)
We'd like to ask you about a purchase that was made here.
SHOPKEEP
Sure, Officer...
(he squints at Mulder's i.d.)
... Muldoon.
MULDER
Mulder.
Scully hands him the receipt.
SCULLY
We'd like to know who made this purchase and what they bought.
The shopkeep looks at the blank receipt, then back up at the agents with a suspicious smile.
SHOPKEEP
You're kidding, right? There ain't nothing on this. Don't look like they bought anything.
SCULLY
All the same...
SHOPKEEP
Well, I guess I could check the back. I keep copies of my receipts for taxes. Don't want to get in trouble with the Feds, right?
The shopkeep winks, jots down the receipt number and disappears into the back. Mulder, meanwhile, is goofing around with a miniature guillotine. He sticks his index finger through the slicing hole and SLAMS the plunger down, sending the small but obviously sharp blade toward his finger. It appears to pass right through. Mulder wiggles his finger and smiles.
MULDER
Pretty cool, eh?
SCULLY
Yep, pretty cool.
The shopkeep emerges from the back with another slip of paper.
SHOPKEEP
This must be your lucky day. I found your receipt. I'd say it's about four years old.
He shows the merchant's copy of the receipt to the agents.
SHOPKEEP
Looks like they bought a gag gun. You know, the kind where you pull the trigger and a little flag pops out, "Bang!"
Mulder takes the receipt. On it, above the words "Gag Gun, one," in the same oddly ancient script as the map, is an address.
SCULLY
Why didn't this address show up on our receipt?
SHOPKEEP
Did you try this?
He takes the original receipt from Scully. Producing a lighter from his shirt pocket, the shopkeep places its flame near the paper. Brown lettering fades into view: the address, 222 Main Street, Crampton, Ohio; the words "Gag Gun, one;" and, at the bottom, "If you really want to know." At this, the agents exchange a look.
SHOPKEEP
Invisible ink. Hokey as it gets.
SCULLY
That doesn't make sense. Forensics tested the paper for chemicals. They would have found traces of the ink.
The shopkeep lights another cigarette.
SHOPKEEP
That's why they call it magic, toots.
The shopkeep starts to hand the original receipt back to the agents, then notices the map on the back, with the words "Yellow House." A broadly cunning look develops on his face.
SHOPKEEP
Yellow house, huh?
MULDER
What? Does this mean something to you?
SHOPKEEP
It's probably nothing, but there's this saying among magicians. Not all of them, just certain magicians. The ones that are a little kooky, if you know what I mean.
SCULLY
What kind of saying?
SHOPKEEP
"I never want to live in a yellow house."
MULDER
What does it mean?
He takes a long drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out his nose.
SHOPKEEP
Dunno. I'm not that kind of magician.
Mulder and Scully take back the receipt and head for the exit. At the door, Mulder is practically knocked over by a CLOWN, its face made up into a smile of torturous proportions. The clown mimes brushing itself off before heading into the shop. Mulder is visibly shaken.
SCULLY
You're not one of those people who's scared of clowns, are you?
Inside the shop, the clown turns towards Mulder and Scully. Slowly and very deliberately, it jams a finger way up into one of its clown nostrils. It is almost an obscene gesture.
MULDER
I am now.
CUT TO:
SUPER: RURAL ROUTE 7, OHIO
INT. CAR
Route 7 traverses a particularly flat and featureless section of Ohio--a pretty flat and featureless state to begin with. Mulder and Scully pass mile after mile of cornfields, mom-and-pop gas stations, and sun-blistered farmhouses.
MULDER
I don't know about you, Scully, but I've got a funny feeling. Like I've been down this road before.
Scully looks out the window. There doesn't appear to be anything about this region that would jog anyone's memory of anything.
SCULLY
Well, numerous forms of déjà vu-type experiences have been documented. Some are related to states of epilepsy or psychopathology. One of the more common varieties is paramnesia--a split-second disordering of the short-term memory. Sort of a mental hiccup. Another form--
MULDER
(interrupting)
I don't think it's déjà vu, Scully. It's more like ... like something I already know rather than something I've already experienced. It's very hard to put into words.
SCULLY
(pointing ahead)
Mulder, do you see that?
Mulder's eyes follow Scully's finger. With the flatness of the land, they can see miles in the distance. Ahead, apparently on this same road, is a house.
MULDER
It's a house.
SCULLY
It's a yellow house.
MULDER
Our yellow house?
Scully checks the map on the back of the magic shop receipt.
SCULLY
It's hard to tell from this, but it could be.
Scully looks up at the yellow house again. Heat waves coming off the asphalt of Route 7 distort the view, making it appear watery.
SCULLY
(squinting to make out the house)
Mulder, shouldn't we be getting closer?
MULDER
(also squinting)
Aren't we?
Despite the fact that they are doing ten over the speed limit, they don't seem to have closed the gap at all.
SCULLY
I don't think so.
As they talk, their car passes through a copse of trees--a rarity in this barren area--and for a moment, the house is out of their view. When they emerge from the trees, the yellow house is right on top of them. Mulder slams on the brakes. The car comes to a SKIDDING stop in front of the yellow house.
MULDER
(catching his breath)
That was interesting.
EXT. YELLOW HOUSE - DAY
The yellow house is small, but from the outside appears well maintained. The front porch is painted white, with flowery accents. Under the front door is a fancy welcome mat.
Mulder and Scully KNOCK on the door. There is no answer. Mulder tries the handle: it is unlocked.
MULDER
Ah, one of those neighborhoods.
INT. YELLOW HOUSE
They enter. The inside of the yellow house is as uninviting as the exterior is welcoming: dark, musty, and overwhelmingly claustrophobic, it looks more like a nest than a home.
MULDER
Hello?
Mulder nearly trips over a bunch of tin cans that are stacked near the front door. He holds a can up for Scully to see. Its label reads, "POTTED MEAT."
> SCULLY
Yummy.
From deeper within the yellow house comes the unmistakable sound of a shotgun RACKING. Mulder and Scully spin to face the sound, their guns drawn.
Standing in the narrow hallway, holding a shotgun in shaky hands, is a rotundish MAN with a bushy, unkempt beard and wild, feral eyes. He has the crazed look of someone who hasn't slept in a long, long time.
SCULLY
FBI! Drop it!
The bearded man complies, though more out of fatigue than obedience. He looks at Mulder.
BEARDED MAN
Ah, Agent Mulder.
MULDER
(shocked)
Ricky Smith?
RICKY SMITH nods. Wasted and apparently exhausted, he bears little resemblance to the "arrogant s.o.b." from the crime-scene videos.
MULDER
What happened to you?
RICKY SMITH
You don't really want to know.
He drops into a chair.
RICKY SMITH
What brings you out here, to the middle of nowhere?
SCULLY
It's Larry Johnson. He's dead.
RICKY SMITH
(with a wry smile)
Lucky bastard.
FADE OUT
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
INT. YELLOW HOUSE KITCHEN
Mulder, Scully, and Ricky stand around the yellow house's squalid little kitchen. Mulder and Scully have brought Ricky up to date on their investigation of Johnson's murder, and they are now hitting him with a barrage of questions.
SCULLY
Are you sure there's nothing you can tell us that might help us out? Something about the Mystery Line case, maybe?
RICKY SMITH
I'm sorry, Agent Scully. It was a long time ago.
SCULLY
Had you spoken with Johnson recently?
RICKY SMITH
My relationship with the Bureau ended six years ago.
MULDER
I heard that it ended on something of a sour note. Some kind of falling-out between you and Johnson?
RICKY SMITH
We just had trouble seeing things the same way. We'd been partners for a long time. It happens. You'll see.
MULDER
So how did you end up here? "The middle of nowhere"--your words.
RICKY SMITH
I like it out here, in the heartland. Once you live here you never want to live anywhere else. It's real.
MULDER
Compared to what?
From the way they look at the filthy house, the tins of potted meat, it's obvious Mulder and Scully aren't buying it. Ricky sees it, too. In an attempt to change the subject, he opens a drawer and pulls out a pack of playing cards.
RICKY SMITH
Do you like card tricks, Agent Scully? I don't care for them myself, but some people do seem to enjoy such things. Magic. Illusion. Smarmy little creeps in tuxedoes. All that nonsense.
Ricky shuffles the cards, fanning the deck face-down.
RICKY SMITH
Please take a card, Agent Mulder.
Mulder draws the Eight of Spades. He then slips it back into the deck. Ricky mixes the pack again, using a rather theatrical one-handed shuffle. He fans the cards face-up. Mulder checks the deck.
MULDER
No Eight of Spades.
RICKY SMITH
It's in your partner's hand.
Scully, whose hands have been in her coat pocket the whole time, removes them. In her left palm she is cupping the Eight of Spades.
SCULLY
(to Mulder)
You put the card in my pocket.
MULDER
I did not. I know better than to reach into a woman's pockets, Scully. It must have been there before.
RICKY SMITH
In magic, like in everything else, the logical explanation is almost always the right one. Almost.
Ricky pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.
RICKY SMITH
This came through my mail slot a few hours ago.
He unfolds it and hands it to Scully. She reads the words, written in that now-familiar script, out loud.
SCULLY
"She is holding the Eight of Spades."
MULDER
Any idea who sent it?
RICKY SMITH
That's a question I'm afraid I can't answer.
SCULLY
Can't? Or won't?
RICKY SMITH
Bit of both, I suppose.
Mulder produces the magic shop receipt.
MULDER
You could say this came through our mail slot too. It was found on the, uh, man who killed Agent Johnson.
RICKY SMITH
(reading the receipt)
"If you really want to know." Now, where have I heard that before?
He hands the receipt back to Mulder.
RICKY SMITH
222 Main Street is a fix-it shop run by a guy named Fred something. It's closed most of the time, like just about everything in that crummy little town. But you might get lucky. Personally, I think you should forget the whole thing and head back to Cincinnati before it gets too late.
MULDER
(a little frustrated)
Ricky, we're not on a social call here. An FBI agent is dead, killed right in the middle of the J. Edgar friggin Hoover Building, and the Director has taken it a little personally. Once upon a time you might have been able to label this thing "unsolved" and let it go at that, but that's not really an option for us now.
RICKY SMITH
I'll tell you what: go check out your address. If you really want to stick around Crampton, you're welcome to stay here.
Mulder and Scully look at each other. Given the general squalor of the yellow house, Ricky's offer is not an appealing one.
RICKY SMITH
Or, if you want, there's a cheap little motel in town. You go there, have a look around. If you still want to talk to me, we can talk tomorrow. It's not like I'm going anywhere.
MULDER
(pulling out a notebook and pen)
What's your phone number?
RICKY SMITH
Don't have a phone number. Don't have a phone.
SCULLY
You don't have a telephone?
RICKY SMITH
Nope.
Mulder hands Ricky his cell phone.
MULDER
I want you to take this, then. Scully's cell phone number is star-six. Call us if you remember anything you think we ought to know.
SUPER: MAIN STREET, CRAMPTON, OHIO
EXT. MAIN STREET - DAY
"Crummy little town" does not even begin to describe this desolate burg. Though Mulder and Scully's drive down Crampton's Main Street takes them past a number of buildings, most appear to be abandoned. There seem to be only three active businesses: the "Fix-It and Supply" shop, the Oasis Motel that Ricky mentioned, and a diner apparently called "EAT HERE."
INT. OASIS MOTEL
Mulder and Scully enter the office of the Oasis Motel, their overnight bags over their shoulders. Mulder RINGS the service bell. Also in the office is an older COUPLE. Judging by their colorfully patterned clothes, sunglasses, and cameras, they are tourists.
TOURIST WOMAN
(in a British accent)
Excuse me, could we take your picture?
SCULLY
I'm sorry?
TOURIST WOMAN
My husband and I are on a photographic excursion, and we'd like to take a picture of you and your husband. It would go so well with the others.
Mulder puts his arm around Scully's shoulders.
MULDER
Why, certainly!
SCULLY
(shrugging Mulder)'s arm off)
We're not married.
Too late: the woman's camera FLASHES, and the picture is taken. As the tourist couple leaves, the MANAGER appears from a back room.
MANAGER
&nbs
p; Good afternoon. Have you stayed with us before?
Scully begins filling out the necessary forms, while Mulder surveys the small office. A cigarette machine, the kind with the pull-knobs. Two faux-leather chairs, cracked by heat and sunlight. A gumball dispenser, with a small sign saying the proceeds benefit the local Knights of Columbus.
On a small table is a stack of leaflets. Mulder reads one, then takes it over to Scully. "Spectacular Display of Illusion and Ventriloquism," it promises, to be held at three o'clock the next day at the Masonic Hall.
SCULLY
Mulder, I think I've seen enough magic tricks for one day.
MULDER
Look at this, Scully.
Mulder points to the bottom of the advertisement: "Sponsored by Illusions of Empire."
MANAGER
Ah, yes. Our little magic show. You don't want to miss that. It's the only show in town, so to speak.
He hands them two keys.
MANAGER
If there's anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask me. I'm always at the disposal of my guests.
EXT. MAIN STREET - LATE AFTERNOON
Mulder stands on the sidewalk in front of the "Fix-It and Supply Shop." Scully is some distance behind him, talking on her cell-phone. There is a sign on the shop's door: "BACK AT SEVEN."
Scully ends her phone call and walks over to Mulder.
SCULLY
That was Skinner. They're not having any luck on their end. On top of that, the terrorist cover story seems to have backfired: an official at the Syrian embassy in Washington was assassinated about two hours ago, and the Syrians are calling it an "act of retribution" on the part of the United States.
MULDER
Retribution for what? Oh, no--Johnson's murder?
SCULLY
Exactly. And since it's too late to retract the terrorist story, they're just going to have to ride it out.
MULDER
Washington must be a real madhouse. For the first time today, I'm glad we're in Crampton.
SCULLY
Speaking of which, what's the story with the Fix-It Shop?
MULDER
(checking his watch)
We've got about a half hour before Fred's due back. Let's have a look at the hall where this magic show is supposed to be held.
They cross the street and walk the half-block to the Masonic Hall. From the outside, it looks like every other ruined, abandoned building along Main Street, except for the rather cryptic Masonic symbols adorning its face, which Mulder stands contemplating for some moments.
SCULLY
Don't tell me you've never seen a Masonic Hall before.
MULDER
You know, Scully, there are thousands of these things in cities all over the world, but the origins of Freemasonry itself are all but unknown. In the prehistoric period they were one of the first secret societies--possibly the first cult. Some scholars trace the beginnings of the Freemasons to the Egyptian god Thoth, the god of wisdom and learning who's thought of as a source of the earliest writings that attempt to illuminate the mysteries of existence. Thoth is also considered by some to be the first sorcerer or magician, and by others--