TITLE:  It Came From Radio Shack

AUTHOR:  Kelly Keil

EMAIL:  klkeil@butter.toast.net

WEBSITE:  www.geocities.com/kellylyn73

ARCHIVE:  You want it, you can have it.  Just leave it
intact with all my info attached.

FEEDBACK:  Is more than welcome.  Please drop me a line
to tell me what you thought.

SPOILERS:  None to speak of.

RATING:  R (for violence, language, and nookie)

CLASSIFICATION:  X, H, MSR (a little dab'll do ya)

DISCLAIMER:  I don't own Mulder or Scully.  I don't
own Radio Shack.  I don't own Mr. Roboto by Styx.  All
have been cheerfully absconded with by yours truly and
used for my own evil ends.  Muh wah ha ha.

SUMMARY:  Mulder and Scully stumble upon weird goings-on
in the middle of nowhere.  Thrills and chills abound.

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS:  I have way too many people to thank for
this story, so bear with me.  Philippa, for saving the
story and catching the picky details.  Punk, for making
me cut at least half of the adverbs.  Jodi, for the cereal.
Fi, for making it better.  Diana, for helping me despite a
family crisis.  Now THAT is a beta with dedication.  Also,
thanks to everyone at YV who read this, helped me with it,
and encouraged me to finish it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  This story owes much to MST3K and bad
horror movies everywhere.  Popcorn and drinks are available
at the concessions stand.  Please put on your 3-D glasses
and fasten your seat belts--it's going to be a bumpy night.

DEDICATION:  To Kit.  I did it for you.
_________________________________________________

Prologue

"I'm not a hero, I'm not a savior--
Forget what you know."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



"Vampires," Scully sneered.  She folded her arms in
front of her chest and glared down at Mulder's back
as he struggled to change a tire on their rental car.
They were on the shoulder of a two-lane road with
cornfields on either side.  Scully looked up and
shaded her eyes from the sun with her hand.  If she
squinted, she could just make out a sign in the
distance that proclaimed that Podunk, Iowa was
thirty miles ahead.

If this isn't officially the middle of nowhere,
thought Scully, then it should be.

"Shut up, Scully."

"'Vicious bloodsuckers terrorizing a small town.'
I believe that those were your exact words."

"Scully..."

"Oh, no.  I'm just getting started." Scully's voice
rose in a singsong chant.  "'Let's go on a road trip,
Scully.  It's not far, Scully.'"  Her voice lowered
to a menacing growl.  "'It'll be fun, Scully.'"

Mulder flashed her a full-wattage smile as he jacked
up the car.  "You mean you're not having fun?"

"I can think of a number of words to describe my day,
Mulder, but 'fun' would not be one of them."

"Oh, come on.  It wasn't that bad.  It could have been
worse."

"How?" Scully demanded.

"You remember when those people were chasing us out
of town with pitchforks?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Well, at least they didn't throw things."

"Thank heaven for small favors," said Scully acidly.

"Actually, it made me sort of nostalgic."

"Nostalgic for what?"

"It's been a long time since we hunted vampires or were
chased by a mob, Scully.  I thought it was kind of fun."
Veins popped out on Mulder's forehead as he tried to
loosen the bolts with the rental car's woefully
inadequate tire iron.

"You are a sick, sick man, Mulder."  She gestured toward
the stubborn tire.  "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'm fine, thank you.  I can't believe that even a small
part of you didn't enjoy our adventure.  You were in rare
form last night."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember when you shot that big sucker," Mulder chuckled
at his own pun, "right in the chest?  What was it, three
times?"

"It was twice, and I couldn't have done much damage--he
didn't even fall down."

"He was a vampire, Scully.  Wooden stakes for vampires,
not bullets.  But the important part is that I got away.
And you know, you looked like an avenging angel standing
over me."

Scully digested this silently, nodding her head.  First
her lip started to quiver then the laughter escaped,
pealing off into the warm afternoon air.  Good, thought
Mulder.  I'm home free now.  She can't be too pissed
if I can make her laugh like that.  He let her laugh
while he finished fighting with the tire.

"That is the biggest load of crap you've ever tried to
hand me, Mulder.  No way are you going to put a good
spin on this thing.  It was a nightmare from beginning
to finish."

"Okay, I'll admit that while we were being chased by
the angry townsfolk I wasn't having a good time, but
in retrospect--"

"No.  Not even in retrospect."

"But--"

"Look, if you want to twist this case into some sort
of wacky adventure then by all means do so.  I just
want to go home and forget that it all happened.  Is
that too much to ask?"

Mulder sighed.  "You are no fun at all, Scully."  He
waved his hand toward the car.  "Get in.  The spare
will get us to the next town and we'll rent another
car."

"Good.  The sooner we get home, the better."


*  *  *


Chapter One

"So if you see me acting strangely,
Don't be surprised."
  Mr. Roboto--Styx



In one long glance, the gas station attendant took in
Scully, Mulder, and the doughnut tire on the car.  He
seemed to be drawing conclusions from his perusal,
albeit slowly.  "Well, you folks seem to be in a mite
of trouble," he drawled before spitting a wad of tobacco
juice onto the pavement.

"You could say that," agreed Scully.  Mulder was
studiously pumping gas and seemed unwilling to enter
the conversation so she continued, "I don't suppose
there's a rental car agency anywhere nearby?  We need
to get a new car."

"Oh sure.  Frank runs the Hertz up yonder."  He
motioned with his head.  "'Bout a mile or so north
of here."

"Thank you.  You've been very helpful.  We'll just pay
you for the gas and head there--"

"Don't bother," the attendant said.  He pulled a dirty
handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his brow.

"Why not?"

"It's closed right now 'cause of Frank having the flu
real bad.   His Janie'd probably rent you a new car,
but she's off to university now, and we all know Mary
Ellen's never had a head for numbers."

Scully's head swam.  Between the gasoline fumes and
this conversation she could feel a headache coming on.
"And that means?"

"You probably won't get a new car till Tuesday.
Wednesday at the latest."

"Where's the next rental agency?" asked Scully.  She
was not going to spend the night in this town.  She
was not.

"'Bout a hundred miles west of here in Harpersville.
Won't treat you nice as Frank will, though."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"I don't think so, Scully," interjected Mulder.  "The
spare is not going to make fifty more miles, let alone
a hundred."

"We could buy a new tire, Mulder.  There's bound to be
a Wal-Mart around here somewhere."

"It's a rental car, Scully.  We'd never get our money
back."

"I'll pay for it.  I don't care how much it costs.  I
just want to get home, that's all."

"Too bad the Wal-Mart burned down a piece back.
They're rebuilding a new one, but it's only half
done," interjected the attendant.

Scully racked her brain for a solution but nothing came
to mind.  She glanced toward Mulder who was cleaning
the bugs off of the front windshield.  He flashed her
another full-wattage smile.  No help from that quarter.
He was enjoying her discomfort too much to bail her out.
"Fine.  Is there anywhere to say in the area?"

"Oh, no problem there.  My niece Velda runs the motel.
She'll treat you real nice."

"Thanks," said Mulder.  "Could you give us directions?"

"No problem, mister.  No problem a' tall.  No problem
a' tall.  No problem a' tall.  No prob--"

Scully had already turned away resigned, but Mulder
watched the man give himself a powerful blow to the
chest, mop his brow again with the dirty handkerchief,
and sigh with relief.  Odd, thought Mulder.  Very odd,
but there was no point in bringing it to the attention
of the already unhappy Scully.

"Like I was saying," the man continued, "it's easy to
get there.  Go a mile west of here, turn right, and
it's on the left hand side of the road.  The Lucky
Dog Motor Inn.  You can't miss it."

*   *   *

It was, as it turned out, easy to miss.  Mulder passed
the motel twice before finally finding it.  The sign,
featuring a neon dog, was burnt out.

"Lovely, just lovely," muttered Scully.  Even Mulder
didn't like this.  He told himself that they'd stayed
in worse places, but he couldn't think of any off the
top of his head.

"Let's go in, Scully," he said.  "We might as well get
this over with."

Behind him, he heard Scully sigh.  Taking it as agreement,
he picked up his bag and headed for the office.

The tacky décor of the office did not bode well for
the rest of the motel.  It looked like the seventies
had gone there to die.  And then die again.  They
carefully picked their way through the slightly sticky
faded chartreuse shag carpeting.  Mulder set his bag
down reluctantly, hoping that there was nothing living
in the carpet.  Or at least nothing that could chew
through nylon.  Scully, he noticed, refused to surrender
her overnight bag at all, preferring to clutch it
protectively to her chest.  Her nose wrinkled at the
dank smell of wet dog that pervaded the room.  Wishing
for a can of Lysol, or at least a pair of vinyl gloves,
Mulder rang the bell on the desk.

"What do you want?" came a querulous voice from the back
room.  He could hear someone bumping into furniture as
they made their way to the front office.  The voice got
louder as it got nearer, until it became nearly deafening.
"This better be good.  I don't want any Girl Scout cookies
and you better not be selling Amway."

Suddenly, the owner of the voice presented herself in
person.  Before he could stop himself, Mulder took a
step back.  This must be Velda, he thought.

To say Velda was a vision wasn't entirely accurate.
Rather she was a bad acid flashback.  Long, stringy
hair of indeterminate color framed a face that was
marred by coarse features, acne, and a sour expression.
Or, as Langly would have said, she was a double bagger.

"What can I do for you?" she queried crossly.  "I don't
have all day."  She glared at Mulder and Scully from
under beetled brows.  "Well, speak up.  I'm missing
Oprah."

Mulder cleared his throat.  It was apparently up to
him to book the rooms; Scully was too stunned to
move.  "We'd like two rooms, please."

"How many nights?" the woman demanded.

"Just one for now.  We're waiting for...er...Frank
to get better so he can rent us a car."

"Are you sure?  Frank's got the flu pretty bad."

Scully broke her silence at this point.  "We're
hoping that if Frank isn't better tomorrow that
he'll authorize someone else to rent us a car.
We really need to get home."

The creature sniffed.  "Suit yourself.  It's just with
the doctor being on vacation, and Harpersville being
so far away, Frank's in a bad way.  These things don't
go away overnight."

"I'm a doctor.  If there's no one else to see him--"

"No, I wouldn't do that.  Frank doesn't take well to
doctors.  Mean as a rattler he can be when you bring
out a needle."

"But--"

The woman slammed their room keys down onto the desk.
"Checkout time is noon.  If you want another day, let
me know.  I take cash only, pay in advance."

Mulder got out his wallet.  "How much?"

"Both rooms come to sixty-two dollars."

Scully started to root into her purse for her wallet,
a precarious enterprise at best, as she still wasn't
prepared to put her travel bag down on the carpet.

"Don't worry about it, Scully.  This was my idea, like
you said before.  When you follow me on a crazy mission
then the least I can do is pick up the tab."  Mostly he
wanted to pay this woman and get the hell out of the
office.  She kept giving Scully sly, assessing, sidelong
glances, which bothered him.

Scully closed her eyes and nodded, too tired to argue.
"Okay, whatever."  She waited numbly as Mulder paid,
wanting only to get out of this office and into the
fresh air.

Mulder picked up his bag, ignoring the sucking sound
he heard as it left the carpet.  "I'm starving." He
turned toward the desk.  "Is there anywhere to eat
around here?" The woman, however, had already
disappeared.

* * *

Back in the motel office, the woman picked up the
phone and dialed.  It rang for a long time before
it was answered.

"This better be good, Velda," came the petulant
response from the other line.  "I was taking a bath."

"We have guests, Master."

The voice perked up.  "Guests?  Excellent."  The tone
dipped down accusingly.  "Did you get them on video?
You know how I get angry when you forget to turn on
the camera."

"Yes, Master.  I have the tape right here."

"Well, bring it over, you idiot.  I need to see it
right away.  What rooms did you put them in?"

"Five and six, Master.  I've started the cameras
going already."

"Excellent," the voice said again.  "On second thought,
maybe I'll come to you.  I'd like to see this first
hand."

"Yes, Master."

"While I'm on my way there, call and get a pizza."

"Yes, Master.  You must keep your strength up if you're
going to take over the world.  Being an evil genius is
very hungry work."

"Can the sarcasm, Velda.  No one likes a snippy
servant."

"Yes, Master."


*  *  *

End Part 1/4