Author's Note: This chapter is rated R for sexual content and violence.
****
    Once again, Wade Laughlin found himself in the middle of another dream. As usual, he wore
the uniform of the Yankee captain and possessed the grisly appetites of desire and bloodlust
that he had experienced during his previous dreams. But there was a distinct difference in this
current excursion into the realm of unconsciousness: This time he found himself in a place that
was familiar to him. 
    Wade stood in the living room of Magnolia's plantation house. The chamber was decorated
differently.  He made a quick survey of the room and noticed that the owners tastes matched his
own. He made a mental note to take the ones he especially liked when his assignment had ended
and it was time to move on. 
    The distant thunder of cannonfire drew his attention and he walked to one of the front
windows. Although he could see nothing beyond the magnolia trees, he knew that the battle was
taking place, out of view, several miles away, in the township of Vicksburg. Wade suddenly felt
a burst of anger surge through him, causing him to down a bottle of Mississippi sipping whisky
and pour himself another just as quickly. He was puzzled as to why the emotion seemed to possess
him so strongly, until the reason finally came to him: he was enraged by a command given by his
superior, the order to stay put at Magnolia, while the rest of the Union Army participated in a
skirmish northward. The very thought of being denied the chance to test his mettle in battle
nearly drove him to the point of madness. It was not fair, when the chance of acquiring a
promotion was so close at hand. 
    He stood next to the roaring flame in the fireplace and felt his rage burn and crackle as
the fire before him with the boom of each distant cannon. He thought of the house he and his
brigade had seized, and contemplated how they would leave it when that battle had ended. Past
images of similar mansions came to mind. He recalled the sight of flaming pyres: the crackle of
fire and the rich scent of burning flash drifting on the wings of cinder and ash. And with that
final act of retribution he would always savor the afterglow of what atrocities he had committed
before the first drop of oil had been spilled and the first torch lit. Atrocities such as rape,
torture, and murder as well as others that were much more deviate and heinous in nature. Taboo
appetites that could only be justified in the depraved mind of a true madman. 
    One such appetite resurfaced in Wade as he entered the entrance hall, he felt the familiar
heat of desire possess him. He thought of the woman who stood at the head of those long stairs,
and he felt his loins stir at the memory of her creamy skin, auburn hair, and the modest swell
of her bosom. Lust then took over him, like a wild animal hungering for sustenance. He knew that
he must act on it, right then and there, just as he had countless times before. 
    Wade looked at the foyer, it was decorated differently then he remembered, the light was
provided by candles and not electricity. the floor was constructed of marble slabs and not the
carpeted wood that he knew. He spotted a splash of crimson next to the staircase. A grin split
his face as he remembered the man he had cut down with his sabre just a few hours before and the
man's primal screams as the blade ripped his flesh and most of his bone, the man would be lamed
for quite sometime if not dead soon. 
    His attention turned from the blood at his feet to the noise outside and to the rear of the
house. He heard laughter and the raw and could smell of the pungent odor of cooked beef. He
smiled at the recreational activities of his men and he felt pride in them for their
accomplishments. He felt no envy toward his men, for they to had been denied the chance to fight
that day and they deserved to have a little freedom to their desires. 
    Which was what he intended to do at that moment. He had grown tired of drinking for the
evening. Now his hunger for carnal conquest had returned. He thought of the belle at the top of
the stairway--the lovely rich auburn-haired woman with the face of Agent Dana Scully--he felt
his need build until it was almost unbearable. 
    He wasted no more time. A predatory grin crossed his handsome face, and one by one, he
climbed the steps to the second floor, eager to meet the challenge of his next conquest... 
****
    I awoke with the same burning need for brutality and desire that I had experienced in my
nightmare. But this time, my emergence from the dreamscape was different. I did not rebel
against the emotions that accompanied me from sleep, but welcomed them instead. I recalled the
lust for blood and burning destruction, as well as the ache for carnal revelry, and saw them as
a natural part of myself, instead of feelings that should be denied. 
    I rose from where I had fallen asleep on the couch and stretched. I went to the back
bedroom, a place I go as to not disturb my wife when I come home late, which was quite often
nowadays, I mused. I withdrew the objects I had hidden under the bed--a long calvary sword with
scabbard and an old Colt Army revolver-- and laid them on the unmade bed. 
    As I loaded the gun--expertly, although I had never handled such a firearm in my life--I
thought of the other items I had procured that morning. The five gallon cans of gasoline that
were currently stashed in one of the houses unused servant quarters. I placed the loaded gun in
the waistband of my pants. I took the sword and got into my old Toyota and went to the grocery
store. 
    I buckled himself into the truck and turned the engine over. I started southward. I checked
the small weekly calendar I always kept in my back pocket. The significance of today's date was
not lost on me. For it was November thirteenth--the anniversary of the siege of Magnolia--and it
was time to celebrate.
****
    Shannon Braxton sat on her feather mattress, dressed in one of her finest silk gowns. But
sleep was the furthest thing from her mind at that moment. For the past hour she had sat and
listened to the roar of the bonfire that had been set in the rear garden, as well as the shouts
and dirty laughter of the drunken soldiers. She recalled Magnolia as it had been in the first
couple years of her marriage to Edward and wondered how, in such a short span of time, how it
had become a sight of tragedy and wantonness that it had become that night. 
    She recalled how Bates' sabre had cut into Philip Ashton's leg an wondered if that man was
still alive, and if so what had happened to him. 
    Her fear for the safety of her neighbor was quickly replaced by that of her own, when she
heard the distant sound of footsteps on the stairway. Shannon moved away from the french doors
of her bedroom and clutched the wooden bedposts in a death grip. She listened as the footfalls
grew closer and louder, making their way steadily along the outer hallway. Her breath caught in
her lungs as the drumming of heavy soled boots paused outside the door to her bedroom. 
    Shannon expected to hear the baritone voice of the Union captain but apparently he was in no
mood for negotiation. He banged on the door with his fist and then Shannon heard the resounding
bang as a heavy boot crashed against the doors' panelling. The door held firm under it's
assault. But with the second bang in fell inwards accompanied by the startled yelp from Shannon.
    The door fell away to reveal the powerful form of James Bates, his face a ruddy color from
drinking, his eyes burning with an insatiable desire. 
   "No!" yelled Shannon, recoiling from the man. "Leave. Leave me be!" 
    The only response to her cries was the sound of cruel sadistic laughter. 
    She turned, perhaps intending to retreat to the French doors and to the balcony beyond, but
she never got that far. Before she knew it, the officer was upon her, grabbing her wrist and
spinning her around to face him. 
    Shannon expected for him to fling her across the room and onto her bed where he would have
his way with her, but the cruelty in his eyes told her otherwise. He intended to humiliate her
before she was forced to submit to his lewd desires. 
   "My men were unable to admire their commander in battle this day," he said bitterly, his eyes
flashing with rage. "But they shall witness this conquest. They shall watch every minute of it!"
   "No!" she screamed again, but there was no reasoning with him. Bates grabbed her wrist
tighter and dragged her struggling from into the hallway and down the winding staircase. 
    She had nearly escapes his grasp when they reached the kitchen. She felt his hold loosen and
began to fight to free herself. She succeeded in wresting her wrist from his steely grasp, but
that guaranteed nothing. Bates laughed cruelly, and raising his arm, struck her across the face
with the back of his hand. Before she could regain her footing, she stumbled backward and
crashed through the multi-paned doorway that led from the kitchen to the walkway of the rear
garden. 
    Stinging pain engulfed her as shards of glass sliced skin and clothing, bringing blood.
Stunned, she landed with her back on the snow. A moment later Bates boldly stepped into view.
The lust in his eyes only increased with the act of violence he had just committed. 
   "Gather around, boys!" he called to those standing near the bonfire. "Gather around and watch
your commander in action!" 
    Soon, Shannon found herself surrounded by a mob a filthy soldiers, eager to wittiness the
act of brutality their captain was about to commit. Fear and shock drove away the discomfort of
pain and cold as Shannnon turned her eyes back to James Bates. The officer with the serpentine
muttonchops laughed harshly as he bent down and began to unbutton the front of his trousers. 
    Shannon began to scream as the man fell upon her, pressing her into the snowdrift with the
weight of his body. But there was no one within earshot who would come to her rescue.
Desperately she craned her neck and stared at the soldiers who gathered around them. Most
watched the crime with delight, laughing and cheering their commander on, while those who seemed
sickened by the act remained silent, afraid to speak out. 
    Then with a single brutal thrust, the violation began. Shannon's screams became louder and
shriller and her struggles more frantic, but they were no help to her. The powerful hands of
James Bates encircled her slender throat and began to slowly squeeze the life from her as the
driving degradation of rape continued with no sign of letting up... 

END OF CHAPTER 11******************CHAPTER 12 COMING SOON
*************************************************************

    Dana Scully had a hard time concentrating on the words in front of her. She turned her head
to better see the text in small print in the horror book she was reading when the power went
out. The standing lamp next to the chair she was sitting in was cut off and she was thrown into
darkness. For no reason that could occur to her she softly spoke the name "Shannon?". But if the
spirit of the long dead southern belle heard her she gave no notion. 
    Scully left the chair  and went down the hallway to go back to her room. She tried the
switch in the hall, Though the fixtures remained dark. She continued to her bedroom. The power
was off in the hall as well she thought as an afterthought. 
    She walked to her bedroom and the neon red lights of her alarm clock were not on. Apparently
the entire house was devoid of electricity. But for what reason? 
    A sensation of unease possessed her as she walked to her nightstand where she had place her
standard issue .9 mm. She stuck the gun into the holster at her hip and then continued into the
hallway. 
    She descended the stairway to the back of the house, top what would have been the servant's
quarters. As sudden burst of cold air told her that something was amiss. She found the back door
standing open. The wood around the deadbolt was splintered, as if someone had forcefully pried
it open. She went over to it and closed it. She went to the utility room  and found that her
suspicions were justified. When she checked the fuse box, she found that a few fuses had been
taken. The emergency fuses had also been taken. 
     She walked over to the phone to call the local police. But unfortunately she was denied
that act of precaution. For no matter how many times she tried, she could not get a dial tone.
The phone was completely dead. 
    She ascended the stairs again to retrieve her cell phone and when she got there she found
that her cell phone was crushed as if it had been stepped on by a human foot. 
****
   "Can you please just try again?!" came the exasperated voice of Agent Mulder. 
    He had been trying to reach Magnolia all day but there was no answer. When he couldn't get
an answer he tried Scully's cell phone but it wasn't working or she didn't have it on and he
wasn't one for taking unnecessary chances. A sensation of cold dread hit Mulder when the voice
of the operator came back on. "I'm sorry, sir. That number is out of order." 



   Scully donned her coat and went outside to her rented Saturn, ut she never got that far for
the tires had been slashed to ribbons. "Laughlin." she said with much certainty. He had to have
been the one to do this, she walked back up the steps of the house when she heard the rattling
of metal. 
    She glanced to the western edge of the house. Standing there, next to the evergreen bush,
was Wade Laughlin. the man was dressed in a trench coat, sweat shirt and blue jeans, but he wore
two additional objects around his waist that sent a thrill of terror through her: one was a
calvary sword in a brass scabbard that swung from the loops of his belt; the other was a pistol,
which had been haphazardly stuck in the from of the waistband of his pants. 
    Wade smiled. It was not a nice smile. "I'm back, Dana." he said.  She reached in the holster
on her hip, but discovered it was not there she looked up at him almost instantly to find him
swinging her her gun with the tip of his finger. "Looking for this."  he said with a malicious
grin. 
    She walked steadily back up to the house and slammed the door and bolted the lock, but he
was coming after her, she knew that. 
    She jumped as the boom of a gunshot echoed from the opposite side of the hallway. The bullet
punched a hole through the panel of the heavy oak, sending splinters scattering across the
foyer. The second shot struck the steel of the dead bolt, buckling the metal. 
    For some reason, not of her own volition, she retreated up the winding staircase. She knew
it was a stupid move to make but there was no time to come up with a better escape route. she
was almost the head of the staircase when the third shot rang out. This time the bullet was more
effective. She turned her head in time to see the deadbolt bounce across the floor. A moment
later Wade Laughlin was through the door. Driving the ain from  long barrelled pistol in hand. 
    Wade smiled at her from the foyer below, a heavy cloud of smoke drifting over his head
making him appear to be the devil incarnate. he thumbed back the hammer getting ready to take
another shot. "I'd advise you to give it up right now, Dana," he said. "If you don't I may have
to be forced to hurt you." 
   "Fuck you!" Scully yelled. She rose to her feet and made it to the landing that joined to the
upstairs hallway. The second before she reached the concealment of the upstairs hallway another
shot was unleashed. This time the bullet was more accurate. the bullet smashed through the wall
hitting to her left foot. She looked down at the injury fighting the pain  she thought limping along the upstairs hallway. Driving the pain out of her
thoughts she tried to make to the door of Mulder's bedroom, his cell phone and weapon were still
on his bedside table, At the same time she reached the door Laughlin was at the head of the
stairway. He simply stared at her, his hands busy with the cap of the revolver "Aw." he said
with an expression of mock concern. "You're bleeding, Dana. What a shame." Slowly, a devilish
grin replaced the frown of regret. "Stop running from me and I promise I won't make you bleed
anymore." 
    From the glint in his eyes the pure meanness told her he wasn't lying about his intentions.
"You son of a bitch!" she yelled at him. Then turning she went through the door of the bedroom
and slammed it shut. She locked it and groaned as a new wave of pain gripped her. She looked
down at her wound and it was still bleeding freely, it must have been worse then she had
thought. 
    As she began to loosen the laces on her shoes she heard the sound of Laughlin's casual
footsteps along the corridor. He had gotten through the dead bolt of downstairs and this door
was not half as sturdy. She looked to the table and saw Mulder's gun on the table. She went over
to it and aimed at the door. 
    She listened as he grew nearer. From  the corridor, she cold hear his stealthy approach, as
well as cheerful whistling. It took her a while to figure out what the song was but she
remembered that it was an old Civil War battle hymn called "Rally around the Flag," a favorite
of the Union Army. 
    Eventually, both the whistling and the footsteps ceased...directly in front of the bedroom
door. The knob rattled as he tried to gain entrance. "You might as well let me in, Dana. There
is no need to delay the inevitable." The doorknob jiggled again. but the lock held firm.
"Oh,well." he said with an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'll have to shot the door open, the same
as I did the downstairs." 
   I wouldn't try it if I were you, Laughlin" She said in a voice so calm that she had trouble
believing it was hers. 
    Scully heard the cock of the hammer on the other side of the door and knew she could
hesitate no longer, she pulled the trigger first. A hole appeared in the bedroom door the size
of a dime where the bullet had hit and gone through. 
    Suddenly, the table were turned. It was time for Laughlin to be cautious. Scully heard him
yell out, and begin to curse loudly. She listened closely and heard the footsteps recede a safe
distance down 
the hallway. "Don't get comfortable in there, I'll be back." he warned. 
    She was to be held in the room. Held a prisoner. 

END OF PART 12 *************************PART 13 COMING SOON 
*********************************************************
    It was four-thirty in the afternoon when Fox Mulder was finally released from St. Micheal's
general hospital, by the time he got to the lobby of the hospital, he was a nervous wreck. he
was convinced more over that something had happened at Magnolia. Something wrong, something that
shouldn't be allowed to happen. He could not explain why he felt this way; but something in the
back of his mind told him that danger prowled the plantation grounds. And there was something
else as well. Mulder had the definite sensation that Scully had been hurt in some way. 
    From the hospital lobby he tried her cell phone again, and again no answer. 
    Forty-five minutes later he had rented a Ford Tempest and was on the highway heading for the
mansion. It was a fifteen minute drive back to the plantation house. Then he discovered that
there was bumper to bumper traffic all along the interstate leading to the house. It was not
long before he was cursing beneath his breath and honking his horn in impatience. The feeling
that Scully had been hurt had not diminished at all. If anything is had grown in intensity and
only continued to grow stronger. 
   "Please, just get me there in time, that's all I ask." Then he grew silent as he gripped the
steering wheel with white-knuckled hands and stared at the endless line of taillights that
stretched ahead of him. 
****
    Wade Laughlin finished the last of the decanter of sherry, draining to the very last drop.
Noticing this he angrily got up from his chair and chose another decanter this one filled with
Scotch. 
    He removed the decorative top from the bottle and threw it at the mirror which hung on the
wall. The single shot that Dana Scully had fired at his had almost been a fatal one. It had
caught him on the lower half of his ear tearing most of it away. Tenderly, he 
touched the ragged edge of the torn cartilage and hissed at the burst of renewed pain that had
flared under his touch. Dried blood coated the side of his neck, as well as the the shoulder and
right 
lapel of his trench coat. 
    Laughlin tipped the decanter and took a long swallow of Scotch, although he detested the
taste of it. "The stupid bitch!" he growled. "She'll beg for forgiveness for what she's done
when this is all over." 
    He had spent the last four hours in the parlor drinking and licking his wounds, so to speak.
But now his rage began to burn again, daring him to return to the bedroom and finish what had
been so rudely interrupted. He wanted to give in to the burning in his loins, but he knew better
then to act on such a foolish impulse. He'd come within a hair's breadth of death several hours
before. Next time her aim might be much less fortunate. 
    With a roar of anguish and frustration, he sent the decanter on the table to the floor and
drew his sword. Furiously, he ran to the room, swinging the sabre with broad and powerful
strokes. The curved blade slashed the curtains and the cushions on the couch to shreds. he
mutilated everything until mats of cotton and foam were strewn about the room. 
   "I'll show that whore that she can't mess with me!" And with those words he picked up every
piece of furniture, chairs, end tables, picture frames, and threw then through the great bay
window, most of the rubble landed beneath the willow tree in the back yard. 
    Laughlin walked to the kitchen's hearth and, spying  kerosene lamp, snatched it up. He
marched to the bay window and climbed through it. The snowing had stopped but the temperature
was cold. His boots crunched on the newly fallen snow. He approached the pile of miscellaneous
furniture. Then wrenching the glass chimney from the lamp, he produced a lighter from his coat
pocket and set the cloth wick a flame. He watched it for a second marvelling the blue and orange
flames, then with a roar of outrange, flung the entire lamp into the jumbled heap. 
    Suddenly, kerosene and fire spread in all directions. Only a few moments passed before the
entire pile had ignited. Laughlin stood before the flames, gloating as the expensive hand carved
furniture turned to additional fuel for the fire. 
    Laughlin stood before the blaze, relishing the feel of the heat upon his face. It seemed to
conjure images in his mind of death and destruction, of stately mansions and fields of cotton
engulfed in 
flame and clouds of billowing smoke. It also re-ignited the passion and the desire along with
the knowledge that to act of such whims might bring a fatal shot from Agent Dana Scully's gun. 
    He stared into the flames for a while, then turned away, his eyes livid. Shucking the Colt
Army from his waistband, he stalked back to the house. 
****
    I reclined on the canopy bed. I held Mulder's 9mm. in my hands on my lap, my eyes were
constantly switching back and forth between the door and the entrance to the French doors that
lead to a balcony. The pain in my foot still throbbed but it was not as intense, since I had
found several Tylenol in Mulder's suitcase. 
    I glanced at my wristwatch in the gloom of evening. It was six o'clock. The snow had stopped
falling but that held no comfort since the darkness of night was to follow close behind. And the
threat of Wade Laughlin still loomed somewhere outside. 
   I thought of Mulder. It had only been 5 short days since he'd been hit with the rock and put
into a coma. It seemed so much longer then that now. And as unmodern and non-feministic as it
was she wished that he was here now, she always worked better with someone then by herself. 
    As I sat in the gathering darkness, stranded without electric light, heat, or phone, I
caught the scent of something. A half hour ago, I heard the sound of Laughlin having a tantrum
downstairs. First, there had been that shattering glass, followed by a larger crash like the
smashing of a window. The destruction noises bothered me but not as much as the smell of burning
that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. 
    Instantly, my conversation with Laughlin last night came back to mr, along with his cryptic
statement about the "spirit" of James Bates wanting to perform some kind of reenactment of
Magnolia's demise. Alarmed, I rose from the bed and went to the French doors of the balcony and
looked to the magnolia grove beyond. 
    As I unlatched the windows the smell increased more in intensity. Also, I noticed two things
that had eluded me in the sanctuary of the bedroom. One, was the dark vapor of woodsmoke
drifting over the plantation, while the other was the definite crackle and roar of a large fire
originating somewhere in the back yard.  I wondered. Whatever it was I
was sure it was something sinister in nature. 
    I considered crossing the banister to investigate the source of the smoke further, but I
didn't get the chance. Before I could take a single step, a shot rang out. A bullet glanced off
the ledge of the railing. I retreated back into the room just in time to miss the second bullet
coming through the balcony floor. In my haste to  escape the gunfire I feel backward twisting
the ankle which had been shot earlier, bringing a fresh burst of agony and renewed bleeding. 
    I struggled to fight the pain when a voice drifted from the driveway below. "I'm still here,
Scully!" called Laughlin. "Just reminding you of that!" 
   "You crazy bastard!" I yelled back at him "Just leave me alone!" 
    That seemed to stroke his sadistic sense of humor, "I don't believe so, my dear." he said
with a chuckle. I could have wrung his neck for laughing like that. "Not till I come for what I
wanted to get." 
    I was about to ask him what that was when an image of Laughlin's sweating drunken body
weighing down on her trying to undo my jeans, attempting to gain access, abruptly crossed my
mind. It sickened me to think of it but that was his ultimate goal. Whatever else he did was
just icing on the cake. 
    Suddenly disgust turned to anger,I pulled myself up and attempted to get up. "Laughlin!" I
shouted down to get his attention. 
   "Yes, Dana, are you ready to surrender?" he asked in a voice so sweet it sickened me. 
    "Not a chance in hell!" I lifted Mulder's Smith and Wesson and unleashed a volley of
gunfire. Before any on the slugs could hit, though, he jumped back to the concealment of the
magnolia trees."Stay away from me, Laughlin or I *will* kill you!" 
    I stalked back into the room and collapsed on the canopy bed just as my foot gave way
beneath me. I my haste though I realised that Mulder had but one clip in his weapon.
Frantically,I checked it and there was only one bullet left. I only hopped it would be enough
when Laughlin chose to strike again. And I knew it would not be long before he attempted just
that. 
****
    Finally! It was not until 7:00 that Mulder was able to get off the interstate to the exit
ramp that lead to Magnolia. 
    The tedious two hour drive on the icy interstate had graited 
heavily on his nerves. His urgency to get to the mansion and put his 
worse fears to rest had grown into an obsession that over shadowed everything else. Scully's
lovely face intruded on hi thoughts every few seconds, along with the horrible images of
smoldering desolation that he had encountered during his recent dreams. His heart ached at the
thought of such a thing taking place, not because of the house itself. No, his fear was for her
safety and that alone. He loved the woman deeply, so much that he would give up his life for it,
and he had come damn close a few times. 
    He nearly did just that when he came around a particularly sharp corner about a mile away
from the plantation. The rental car hit a patch of ice and he felt the car fishtail twice and
end up nose down in a ditch with five feet of snow surrounding him. 
    He sat there in indecsion for a moment or two, then when he looked up he noticed another
house not far from him. . He opened the door and snow came pouring in on him. "Damn!" he managed
out of the car and out of the ditch. 
    Carefully, he climbed the barbed wire fence and started across the snowy pasture. He had
originally intended to stop at the house, but the closer he got to a barn-like structure, the
more urgent his need to reach Magnolia became. His desperation grew so great that he considered
something that he would have normally thought unthinkable. 
    He went to the front of the  barn and tried it's sliding door. He went to the first stall,
one after another until he found what he was looking for. It was a magnificent horse: a coal
black roan with a white star in the middle of it's forehead. 
    Without a second thought, he went to the wall where all the saddles and bridle were kept and
saddled up the horse. He led the horse outside the barn and the horse's hooves quickly adapted
to the icy texture of the road. 
   "Let's go boy!" Mulder urged. Then, an instant later, both man and horse were speeding along the snowy avenue hopefully to prevent a monstrous disaster from occurring.