The Annapolis Grant, part 9/10
They both froze for a brief moment, and then Mulder let Scully slowly slide to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the sand, he very carefully pressed an arm around her and moved her so that she was behind him, shielding her from the knife-wielding would-be thief standing directly in front of them.
A low fire-plug of a man in a tatty grey tee shirt and dark pants, his face was dark and craggy, like he spent a lot of time in the sun. He smelled of cigarettes and fish, and had a silvery scar running from his elbow out to the hand holding the knife, like the knife was an extension of himself, an otherworldly dagger that shot out menacingly from his skin.
“The Dominus dockhands have changed their uniforms, Scully,” Mulder said, never taking his eyes off their assailant.
There was movement off by the boat that had beached itself in front of where their elegant picnic was set up, and in the moonlight Scully could see one other man, shifting nervously from foot to foot, wringing his hands. The boat was small and dented, the Evinrude outboard that stuck up from the back held together with duct tape.
They were likely local fishermen, seizing an opportunity to prey on unguarded rich tourists. Though it looked as if the other man wanted no part of his partner’s scheme.
“Dame tu dinero,” the man said again, this time more slowly, though he moved the knife incrementally forward.
“Mulder,” Scully said low, a worried warning.
“No dinero,” Mulder said, and the knifeman tilted his head to the side and looked slowly over the spread of their picnic. The crew of the Dominus really had spared no expense. Mulder gestured toward the table. “Take whatever you want.”
The man squinted at Mulder suspiciously, but made no move toward the picnic.
“Miguel,” the man standing by the boat whined, his voice tremulous, “vamonos de aqui!”
Scully could hear the distant Doppler effect of another boat approaching quickly. She hoped to god it was some kind of local constabulary and she hoped they were armed to the teeth.
Three things then happened at almost the same time:
One. The man presumably named Miguel turned his head slightly to either address his nervous friend or to check out the sound of the approaching craft.
Two. Mulder seized the opportunity presented him and shoved Scully backward as he launched himself forward at Miguel, who still held the knife dangerously close to Mulder’s chest. Scully screamed his name, her voice shrill with terror.
Three. They were illuminated like a sudden spotlight from a flying saucer movie, as the hard-bottomed inflatable from the Dominus —it’s floodlight bright as a flare — slammed into the beach. Several crew members catapulted themselves off the craft and into the sand, running at them with flashlights and shouts of alarm.
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