Fiction Post

Scott stopped and stood there, regarding his father. He laughed. Jeff held his hands out and made more noises.

Scott walked a couple of steps forwards before abruptly changing direction and walking directly over to Lucy, resting his arms on her legs and grinning at her.

They laughed and Scott squealed in delight.

~

‘Watch your step, Scott!’

Eleven-year-old Virgil yelled after his brother, and Scott looked back, throwing a grin over his shoulder.

‘Don’t worry! I got this!’

The fifteen-year-old carefully climbed the tree while John and Gordon tried to comfort baby Alan, who was distraught at loosing his balloon. It had snagged high in a tree that Scott was now climbing to retrieve it.

~

‘Watch your step, Scott.’

Scott gave his father a crisp salute and picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

‘Yes Sir!’

Jeff straightened up immediately and saluted back before pulling his boy close and holding him tight for a moment.

He waited an hour. Still nothing.

The rest of the family waited with him. Tensions were high, no one spoke while they waited. For once both John and Virgil were home too, John was in between missions and Virgil had just finished his finals.

Finally Jeff tried to send Alan and Gordon to bed. Alan was tearful, angry, but ultimately he did go with Virgil. But Gordon was determined to stay up. It wasn’t the first time Scott had missed the scheduled call, he was probably on a mission, and so Gordon would wait. He had good news to share!

But eventually he was dropping off by the phone and didn’t have the energy to protest when John picked him up and carried him upstairs. They didn’t go into either of their rooms, though. John took them to Scott’s room and they settled on their big brother’s bed. Virgil and Alan joined them pretty soon and the puppy pile helped the two youngest drift off to sleep.

Not John and Virgil, though, and they softly murmured their worries to each other. They stopped when their Father looked in and shook his head, and they sighed and settled down to try and get some sleep.

It was as they were trying to eat breakfast that the doorbell rang.

Everyone paused. No one had been particularly hungry and they watched as their Dad went and answered the door and came back alone.

‘Boys, I’ve got a couple of visitors in the office. Can I rely on you finish up here?’ ‘Sure, Dad. We’ve got this.’

Jeff gave John’s shoulder a squeeze and bestowed a weak smile on everyone and left them to it.

John and Virgil exchanged glances but put brave faces on, finishing eating and cleaning the kitchen up. Their dad still hadn’t appeared so they decamped to the den and put a movie on that no one watched.

They were about halfway through when they heard the front door close and they waited to hear what was going on.

It took longer than it should have for their Dad to enter the den, but when he did his face stopped all conversation. Their father was as pale as a sheet. The only other time he’d been like that was when their Mom had died…

It was John – ever practical John – who asked.

‘Dad? What did they want?’ ‘John…boys…I…they…’

The uncharacteristic stutter was even more scary, and Jeff, seeing how scared his children were, sat down heavily on the larger sofa, held his arms open and enfolded his boys into a tight, tight hug. He took a steadying sigh.

‘I have some bad news. There’s – there was an accident. And Scott…’ ‘Scotty dead?’ ‘No! No, Alan, he’s not dead.’ ‘Of course not! Scotty promised.’ ‘Gordon, thank you. The facts are that his plane crashed and he’s currently…lost.’

Jeff didn’t need to see the faces of his two oldest boys to know that they knew exactly what he meant, but Alan at 10 and Gordon at 14 didn’t seem to know exactly what he was driving at.

Thank goodness.

It was enough for now. Jeff got up and left to get dinner together. John and Virgil went to help him and Gordon, in a fit of selflessness he occasionally showed, allowed Alan to pick the movie for them to watch after eating.

They sat at the table with paper and crayons and engaged in discussing how they could make sure Scott didn’t get lost again, coming up with more and more outlandish ideas, unaware that Jeff was watching them with tears streaming down his face.

But then Gordon glanced up and gave him a half-grin and Jeff knew Gordon understood exactly what was going on.

Dinner was a subdued affair and little was eaten, but everyone tried to put a good face on it for Alan. It seemed to work as their youngest brother kept smiling and chatting and didn’t seem to notice the rest were not so happy.

When dinner was over but before they settled for the film Alan showed them what he and Gordon had been talking about while they cooked.

Three sheets of paper had stick men drawn on them and coloured in like Scott’s uniform and all three had giant compasses – one on Scott’s wrist like a watch, one on his waist like a belt and one on his head like a headband.

They laughed and cried and settled down to watch Top Gun. Scott’s favourite movie was an excellent decision by Alan even if it meant more tears.

Jeff managed to hold it together until it was time to put Gordon to bed. At his age Jeff wouldn’t usually but under the circumstances Jeff just needed to and for once Gordon let his Dad act like his father.

‘Scott’s gonna be ok, Dad.’ ‘Of course he will be. He’s a Tracy.’ ‘No – I mean it.’ ‘Gordon?’ ‘Scott promised he wouldn’t leave me. He’ll keep that promise.’

Gordon spoke with such earnestness that Jeff couldn’t help but enfold him into another hug and hold him just a little bit longer than he usually would. He kissed his son’s head.

‘Thank you.’ ‘Scotty will be back before you know it.’ ‘I hope so, Gordon. I hope so.’

But Scott wasn’t back soon.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months.

The wait took a toll on them all, and only Gordon remained upbeat. Even when Alan wasn’t around he remained cheerful. And Jeff just couldn’t tell him how much it meant to them all that Gordon tried so hard. But every time one of them asked Gordon said the same thing: Scott had promised.

Even Alan was getting upset by Scott’s continued absence, but Gordon always managed to cheer him up.

It was another Saturday when the two men visited again.

Once more the boys holed up in the den and tried not to worry about what was going on, but this time their Dad came to them immediately once the men had left. And this time he was smiling even though he was once again crying.

‘Scott?’ ‘They’ve found him. He’s safe.’

They erupted into cheers and hugs, and grins that couldn’t be wiped off. Sally immediately packed a case for Jeff and before the evening was out Jeff was flying to New York for a plane to Frankfurt Airport.

Life at the farmhouse carried on. Jeff vid-called them regularly but there was no sign of Scott, just updates. Their Dad was apologetic but Scott wasn’t up for speaking to them, and eventually Sally had to sit down with Gordon and Alan and explain just how ill Scott was without going into too much detail.

It stopped Alan constantly asking when Scotty was going to talk to him. And it gave Gordon pause. He’d been saying Scott was going to be alright for so long now but it looked like even his big brother may not come out of this unchanged.

Eventually, though, there came a day when Jeff called and said he was bringing Scott home.

Gordon had never been so excited and neither had Alan, and they began planning a party in earnest. But when their Grandma came home she vetoed all their plans and explained that Scott might be better but he wouldn’t cope with loud noises or any kind of partying.

Her words sobered them up pretty quickly. Now they simply made sure that their brother felt at home once he arrived. John and Virgil came home that night and the three of them began rearranging the dining room so that Scott could sleep downstairs until he was better. They let Alan direct him and the ten-year-old revelled in telling his brothers what to do.

The upshot was that when Jeff arrived with a sedated but conscious Scott they were all home and waiting. But they didn’t rush to greet Scott and Jeff and Sally had never felt prouder of their boys.

Scott was settled into the room and for the next few days he mostly slept, but he did speak to all of his brothers a little at a time. They were careful around him and he was equal parts proud of them and upset that they needed to do that.

One day Scott woke up and Gordon was sitting there, humming quietly to himself. He hadn’t noticed and Scott just took a moment to regard his brother.

His little brother has grown up since that day years ago when he’d clung to him, asking him not to go. There was a kernel of regret that could have taken root in his heart, but then Gordon noticed and his face lit up like a beacon.

‘Scotty!’ ‘Hey Gords. You ok?’ ‘Of course! You’re here, you’re back.’ ‘Fishie…’ ‘It’s ok, Scotty. I know you’re not better yet. Grandma explained you might not be yourself for a while and that’s fine.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘But you will be. Back to yourself, I mean.’ ‘I – I may not ever be the Scott I was.’ ‘Not fully, maybe, but you’ll still be Scott Tracy, big brother to John, Virgil, Alan and me. I know you. You promised you’d never leave me and you haven’t, Scotty. You haven’t.’

Tears welled in Scott’s eyes and he reached for Gordon who willingly – and carefully – snuggled up to him.

The men rescuing him had been kind. Gentle. They’d sheared through the chain around his ankle and helped him onto a stretcher, had bound his wrists and ankle where the cuffs had chafed.

And then carried him from the room.

Scott closed his eyes and tried so hard not to give in to weeping in his relief. His brain warred with itself - on the one hand not believing that this was real and on the other collapsing with relief - so, despite the relief, he held himself ready.

If this was a trick then that’s made a huge error in not strapping him to the stretcher.

But as they moved him Scott became aware of the changes in the environment. The putrid smells he’d become accustomed to were replaced with something he couldn’t quite name, the word tantalisingly out of reach. The light was getting brighter too, and was that a breeze???

Light suddenly flooded him, bright enough that Scott could see it through his closed eyes, and he couldn’t help but crack one eye open.

Sunlight! Blessed sunlight!

…but…

He couldn’t see.

It was so bright! His eyes watered and he screwed them shut in a desperate attempt at controlling them.

It was too bright!

Too big!

Too much!

The roaring of his blood pumping drowned out all sound and thought, and Scott struggled as hard as he could against hands now holding him down.

He was screaming but he didn’t know it…

Hands finally secured him. Suddenly there was a sharp scratch on his arm and a metallic coldness flooded Scott momentarily before he succumbed to the sedation.

His rescuers cursed themselves. How did they not realise this could have been the reaction? They should have known!

Quickly they loaded him into the waiting medivac helo and returned to make sure everyone had been rescued from that hellhole.

They had caught the sepsis early thanks to Virgil’s keen eye and medical knowledge but it didn’t mean Scott had avoided all issues associated with it. It was like he was suffering with the worst case of flu he’d ever had. He was bone-tired, everything ached and he couldn’t stop having bouts of shivering.

Scott didn’t think he’d ever slept so much…

Eventually the worse of the flu-like symptoms wore off but the exhaustion remained. As did the inability to concentrate. By day four Scott realised that his brothers were deploying Alan ruthlessly to keep him occupied and he didn’t have the energy to be mad at them.

Sally smiled as she slipped into the room. Gordon, Alan and John were at the hotel enforcing some sleep-time on Virgil. Kayo was curled up in the chair beside Scott and both were fast asleep. They woke up as the door clicked closed and Sally waited for them to wake up a little more.

‘Gra’ma?’ ‘Hey Scotty. I have news.’ ‘Good news?’ ‘Yes. Today is your last day of antibiotics. If your progress continues you’ll be released into my care and allowed home tomorrow.’ ‘That’s great news!’

The news buoyed everyone up and by the next morning John had packed up the extra computer equipment while Gordon and Alan had cleared out the hotel and Virgil and their Grandma liaised with the doctor on further potential issues and treatments for them.

EOS had remote-piloted Thunderbird Two down onto the landing pad and they were all waiting as Kayo and Scott appeared. No one mentioned the fact that Scott still wasn’t moving under his own steam – the gunshot would have prevented him from walking out from the hospital anyway even without the added exhaustion from the sepsis. And Scott was grateful that no one had said anything.

He did ignore Alan and Gordon passing John some notes, and the grin on the ginger’s face that said everything.

The journey home was slow by everyone’s standards but Virgil wasn’t going to take any risks with blood clots now that Scott was coming home. No one mentioned it, not even Scott, but he did give Virgil’s arm a squeeze as they unloaded once home.

Scott looked around the infirmary. Yeah, he hated it here but there had been a moment, back when the sepsis had its claws deep into him, that he honestly thought he wouldn’t be back here.

He was home.

Usually a person would be encouraged to walk after a treated gunshot wound within the first couple of days but the sepsis had prevented the planned physio. But now there was nothing to hold Scott back other than the exhaustion he was still prone to.

He’d hoped that Virgil and Grandma would let him spend his first night home in his own room but Grandma had been gently adamant that they had tests to run, as they had promised, and by the time they’d finished he was practically asleep anyway.

So that first night they all slept in the infirmary.

It was the smell of pancakes that eventually roused the rest of the inhabitants. Kayo had been busy with MAX in the kitchen and between them brought down pancakes for everyone.

Even Scott had a plate, although his small pancake at first made him sigh when he saw the piles his brothers had. Yet even that small amount was too much for him to eat.

Still, the conversation was upbeat and food was eaten and plates taken away. And then Gordon, with a light slap to Scott’s shoulder, hopped onto the bed beside him.

‘You ready, bro?’ ‘Ready?’ ‘Yeah. Time for some action!’

Scott groaned and there was laughter. One by one his brothers disappeared to their various chosen tasks until it was just Scott and Gordon and Kayo. Scott looked at her and raised an eyebrow in question. She flashed him a grin. It was not a friendly one.

‘Once Gordon’s finished with you you’re all mine, Flyboy.’

She flexed her fingers at him and Scott let out a short bark of a laugh. If Gordon was going to be his demonic trainer then Kayo was going to be his angelic massage therapist. Between the two of them he was in good hands.

Of course the pair didn’t work alone. Between them all Scott was put on a strict regime of rest, exercise, food and drink. John and Virgil divided TI work between them, the GDF covered all but the most severe of rescues and everyone rallied for the rest.

Progress was slow going. Scott tired easily, he couldn’t hold on to the simplest of directions and as days turned to weeks and then to months his mood plummeted.

It wasn’t unexpected. They had been warned that depression and associated issues were common with sepsis and they were prepared for the possibility. But they had been there before, with both Scott and Gordon, and they banded together tighter, stronger.

One day at a time. One day at a time. One goddamn day at a time…

And then one day…Scott had completed his morning workout and was lounging on one of the poolside chairs, eyes closed and listening to Alan and Gordon messing around, when a shadow fell across him. He cracked open an eye.

John and Virgil were standing there, identical grins on their face. Scott had no idea why they were grinning like that but he found himself grinning back.

‘What’s up?’ ‘We have good news.’ ‘I kinda guessed. Are you going to tell me?’

Virgil and John exchanged glances and impossibly their grins got bigger.

‘You last set of bloods came back and you are back up to base level.’ ‘Really?’

Scott couldn’t help but sit up suddenly, eagerness clear across his face.

‘Really. And Gordon reports that you aced the last set of physio. Carry on like this and you’ll be back in the air in no time.’

Noticing that the pool had fallen quiet Scott glanced between John and Virgil to see both younger brothers leaning on the side of the pool. Their grins were equally as large.

‘It will be good to see you back in the air, Scott.’ ‘It will be good to be back.’ ‘This calls for a celebration!’ ‘Barbeque!’ ‘You hear the Squid! Fire up the grill, oh Great Grill Master!’

Laughter filled the air and everyone – except for Scott – busied themselves getting the beach ready for the party. By the time Penny, Parker and Sherbert arrived the first round of steaks were ready.

Six weeks later Scott sat in the cockpit of One for the first time in almost a year. As he flew, looped and barrel-rolled there wasn’t a dry eye in the villa.

Now – now he was home.

Scott had refused food but accepted a jelly after managing to keep some water down, and they resettled around the room after eating. Gordon was humming a sea shanty, Alan playing his game and John was talking with Kayo and Penny while Virgil and Scott spoke together in quiet tones.

It went unnoticed at first, but then Scott shuddered. Virgil stopped talking immediately and reached out to touch his forehead, a move Scott adroitly avoided. But he couldn’t avoid the second shudder and Virgil reached out and hit the alarm button.

‘Virgil?’ ‘Scott…you’re sweating and shuddering. Something isn’t right.’

Scott sighed bitterly and deflated as the doctor and a nurse entered. Virgil moved aside as they busied themselves around the obs machines and everyone tried to not comment when the doctor frowned.

‘We need to draw bloods and get the lab to rush them.’ ‘Yes, Doctor.’ ‘And I’m sorry, Scott, but your family need to leave for a while.’ ‘Ah, ok. Can Virgil stay please?’ ‘Usually not, but due to his medical expertise I’ll allow it as long as you don’t get in the way, Virgil. Understood?’ ‘Totally understood and I promise.’ ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

Virgil moved to the back of the room, well out of the way, as bloods were drawn and two IVs applied – one a broad-spectrum antibiotic and one fluids to prevent his blood pressure from dropping any further. A nasal canula was fitted in case it was needed and the obs machine was tweaked to be more sensitive.

‘Scott, Virgil, we have a fair idea which bacteria is causing the septicaemia but we need to be sure, hence the bloods. Once we know we can use the appropriate antibiotics but until then this one will at least start fighting the infection. Until this is under control I’m afraid you’re stuck here.’ ‘Bottom line, Doc?’ ‘Bottom line is…we’ve caught this early and as long as you keep responding to treatment there should be no long-lasting complications. But Scott…you need to do what we say and rest. It is the best treatment for you now.’ ‘Ok, Doc. Ok.’

Time seemed to slow as they waited for the results but they came back quite quickly. A new IV was attached and Virgil fretted as Scott drifted off to sleep. So many things could go wrong…

He threw a small smile at John as he entered but he couldn’t keep the facade up when he was followed by their Grandma, and Sally came straight to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze for comfort.

Virgil patted her hand in thanks and moved aside for her, crossing the room to sit beside John. He couldn’t take his eyes off Scott, though, not until John gave him a not-so-subtle nudge. Virgil turned as John showed him the screen he’d been tapping away on and rolled his eyes.

Trust John to have been researching sepsis, treatments and outcomes and goodness knew what else…John always needed to know the ins and outs. But still Virgil leaned in and the two read together the details.

Potentially several weeks in hospital. Six to twelve months for recovery. Possibly longer. And that was only the physical effects! And only if there were no further complications…

The two shuddered in unison.

Six months of Scott confined to the island, being barely able to move let alone the potential brain fog and emotional fallout of Post-Sepsis Syndrome should he suffer that too. And knowing the Tracy Luck that’s exactly what Scott would get.

‘We better start making plans.’ ‘Yeah. Otherwise it’s going to be a long six months for us all.’

Virgil snorted and John looked at him.

‘Do you know what Gordon said when you first told us that Scott had been called out?’ ‘No?’ ‘That with the amount of callouts we have had in the last week…sigh…that it was just another one of those days. You know, where we were all on rescues around the globe and one of us gets into trouble and there’s no one around to help them.’ ‘Yeah. And it’s almost always Scott.’ ‘Yeah. We really need to do something about that.’ ‘That’s a task for me and Kayo and Penny to deal with. Right now let’s get Gordon and Alan up here and start organising Scott’s homecoming and the next few months.’

Sally, silently listening, smiled in approval. Her boys would rally around Scott as they always did and it was as always beautiful to behold.

It didn’t take long for the youngest two to join them and the four began making plans for Scott’s discharge. Gordon would, of course, take charge of his physio while Virgil would look after the medical side with herself. John would share Scott’s TI duties and help with anything he could and Alan…Alan would run distraction for the times when Scott’s inactivity would eat away at him.

John spent his time divided between the designated field - walking the perimeter, taking soil samples and making extensive notes - and his barn on Thunderbird Hill making calculations and running experiments on the soil. And his dogs. Every day he spent the morning with them, running the course he’d prepared.

Gordon split his time between helping John and his own aqua farming. He’d almost perfected his pain-relieving plants but they wouldn’t be ready for this year’s competition. They still needed tending though. The rest of the time he spent looking after the farm in general, taking over the jobs his older brothers would usually do to free them up.

Alan helped out Gordon around the farm and running errands, making sure that his brothers ate and generally feeling a little useless.

Everyone knew Alan hadn’t yet found his place, his role…whatever you wanted to call it. He really wanted to do what Scott did. He’d been so much more than a big brother to Alan, he’d been the only Father Alan had had for most of his life.

He was man enough to know he hero-worshipped Scott, but Alan knew that he needed to find his own way. Creating new fuels to help his brother go even faster was all well and good, but that was something both John and Virgil had both done before him, his second-eldest brother introducing him to the process once he was old enough not to blow the barn up…more than once.

Alan needed something that was going to be all his. He just had no idea what that was going to be.

‘Alan?’ ‘Yes, Grandma?’ ‘I need your help a moment please.’ ‘FAB, Grandma.’

Sally Tracy smiled as her youngest skidded into the kitchen. Just like his eldest brother, Alan couldn’t do anything less than top speed, and he threw her a sheepish grin. She tutted but said nothing more, asking him to grab a box from the storeroom.

The storeroom was in the basement. It was neatly stacked but not somewhere Alan usually went. He found it creepy…but he’d do anything for his Grandma. The box she wanted was easy to reach but up high, and he used what looked like a sturdy box to stand on.

It was not a sturdy box and with a yell Alan unbalanced and fell, the box his Grandma wanted and a couple others falling with him.

No one heard him, though, and with a sigh he twisted around and began to stuff things back into boxes, glad that there was no one around to hear him curse. Why did they have so much junk? He shoved a photo album back into a box but a picture fell out.

Alan glanced at the photo and froze.

His phone rang and Scott broke off from his discussion of tactics with John. He frowned when he saw who was calling.

‘Grandma? Is everything alright?’ ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, Scott, but I asked Alan to bring the box of labels up from the basement. He’s been gone a long time.’ ‘FAB, Grandma. I’m on my way.’ ‘Thank you.’

Scott knew that their Grandma couldn’t leave the kitchen. Her various dishes needed constant attention and so he loped over to see what was going on with his youngest brother.

He froze at the bottom of the basement stairs. Alan was standing there, holding a picture in one hand and just…staring at it. For some reason it made Scott’s heart stutter.

‘Alan? Al, buddy?’

But Alan didn’t say anything for the longest while. Scott approached slowly but still he wasn’t acknowledged. Gently he removed the picture from Alan’s hand. He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him and finally Alan moved.

‘Scotty? Is that…is that Mom?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘I never knew she rode rodeo.’ ‘I guess…I guess we just never talk about it. By the time Gordon was born Mom had retired, but when John, Virgil and I were growing up it was Dad who looked after us mostly, Mom was always on the rodeo trail. She’d be home maybe one or two months maximum spread out throughout the year apart from when she was pregnant.’ ‘Was she good?’ ‘Oh man, Alan, I wish…I wish you could have seen her! She was like lightning on hooves. She had a turn of speed I’ve never seen anyone else have on a horse, she was a real Cowgirl. I think there should be some old footage in one of these boxes…’

Scott broke off and began rummaging around the boxes and eventually held up a vid-disk with a soft smile. Grabbing firstly the box their Grandma wanted and throwing his arm around Alan’s shoulders they made their way upstairs.

After handing over the box of labels they moved to the den and settled down. While Scott set up the vid Alan called the others and pretty soon they were all sitting on the large sofa – Alan in the middle with Scott on one side and Gordon on the other, John on Scott’s side and Virgil on Gordon’s. And the video played.

They whooped and cheered along as Lucille Evans topped the bill. They watched their Mom riding, roping and racing far into the night until there was no more to see.

And Alan turned to his brothers, eyes alight and excitement clear.

‘I know what I want to do!’

He beamed at them.

Scott bit his lip as Gordon pressed a little harder on his leg. He knew that they had equipment that could do the job well enough but he also knew that Gordon needed the tactile comfort since no one had been around when it had happened. So he lay there and said nothing and watched his brothers fuss over him.

Stripping his uniform gloves off and switching them for medical ones, Virgil looked more closely at the three leeches that had attached themselves into Scott’s wound, no doubt happy at the free meal when his brother had fallen into the same stream as Gordon had.

How to remove the leeches was the problem. Ideally he should use something flat to slide underneath their mouths and dislodge them, but being actually in the wound meant that the surface wasn’t that easily accessible.

Fingernail it was, then.

Bending over Scott’s leg with a emesis bowl Virgil carefully removed the first two leeches with ease. But the third one was a little deeper in the wound and try as he might Virgil just couldn’t get his nail underneath it. He shifted position, tried to come at it from a different angle, but as he finally managed to get it free the leech regurgitated blood all over the wound.

Cursing, Virgil immediately tried to clean out the wound but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough. EOS had been quite loquacious in her descriptions of what could happen if he didn’t remove the leech properly…

One problem at a time.

Now the leeches were removed – and rehomed into a nice little jar in case they were needed by the hospital – they could finally treat the gunshot wound properly.

While Gordon carried on putting pressure on the leg Virgil ran the Medscanner over. As expected there was major trauma to Scott’s musculature with nerve damage. They had been ridiculously lucky that the femoral artery and vein and Virgil could only hope that Tracy luck would hold out further.

Carefully Virgil eased the bandage from the top of his brother’s thigh while Gordon kept the pressure up a little higher up and sprayed in a small amount of wound foam. The foam immediately expanded on activation.

Scott gritted his teeth. That foam, a massive aid in quick stabilisation that Brains had tweaked with his usual skill, was painful as heck and he could feel his leg trying to spasm away. Gordon clamped down harder with a grimace of apology and the pain whited Scott out for a moment.

When he came to Virgil had gone and Gordon was beside him grasping his hand and talking about something…fish-related? Of course. He gave his brother’s hand a squeeze and immediately felt Gordon relax.

‘Hey Scotty. Welcome back.’ ‘How long was I out?’ ‘Only five minutes. We’re on approach to Port Moresby General.’ ‘We’re not going home?’ ‘Oh, we will. But you, my dear brother, need some blood tests run to make sure you don’t have an infection that we cannot treat at home.’ ‘Wait – what?’ ‘The leeches, bro.’ ‘But I thought leeches weren’t toxic to humans?’ ‘Well…not, they’re not. You’re gonna take a little longer to stop bleeding due to the hirudin but our main concern is the potential bacterial infection. It’s mostly precautionary.’ ‘Great. More needles.’

Gordon patted his arm, not bothering to hide his grin. If Scott was up to grumbling he was definitely feeling better, so he launched into a detailed soliloquy on Sailback Houndsharks…

Two touched down less than ten minutes later and Scott was whisked away by the waiting medics while Virgil and Gordon were shown to a private waiting room. They were joined by the rest of the family half an hour later.

Kayo immediately hugged both her brothers before slipping away to organise security. Even if they were only going to be here a short while there was no way she wasn’t going to do her job. She’d already let Scott down once today, she wasn’t about to let anything else happen to him.

It took longer than they expected for a doctor to appear, but eventually there was a knock at the door and everyone sat up.

‘Mr Tracys, Doctor Tracy, I have good news.’

There was a collective sigh of relief and grins all around.

‘Scott is doing well. We removed the foam – excellent technique by the way, probably saved his leg – and have temporarily packed the wound to allow it to drain and prevent infection.’ ‘Are there going to be any long-term complications from the injury?’ ‘We won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down. There’s a lot of nerve damage which is of concern but as long as there are no complications from the leeches all that Scott will need as time to rest and then some extensive and careful physio.’ ‘What kind of problems could we see from the leeches?’ ‘Well, we’re monitoring his blood for Aeromonas bacteria.’ ‘Oh. Oh, that’s not good.’

All eyes turned to Gordon.

‘We’re taught all about bacteria in water both with WASP and with the various environmental groups I’ve worked with. Aeromonas bacteria is nasty. Gram-negative and often antibiotic resistant, if Scotty’s unlucky to be infected it will mean some heavier antibiotics.’ ‘You are well informed, Mr Tracy.’ ‘Gordon.’ ‘Gordon. Yes, we are going to have to monitor Scott for the next 8-12 hours to ensure there is no bacterial infection.’ ‘Oh, Scott’s not going to like that!’ ‘What – the being confined to the hospital?’ ‘No – the blood draws.’ ‘Well, we’re not going to be too invasive. If he shows no sign of infection within the next three hours we’ll wait to do the draw. But if there is infection, and depending how bad it is – and I’m not going to sugar-coat it, a bullet wound is not a great place to get an infection – then the draws will become more frequent. Give me another fifteen minutes and I’ll send a nurse to bring you to his room.’ ‘Thank you, Doctor.’

They shook hands and the doctor left.

Gordon nudged Virgil.

‘What’s the betting Scott’s going to get an infection?’ ‘No bet. He’s a Tracy. The bet will be how bad an infection he’ll come down with.’ ‘Yeah…John?’

John didn’t even look up from the computer he was typing away on.

‘I’m not betting on which infection our eldest brother will come down with, Gordon.’ ‘Pfff…as if I’d stoop so low!’

Looks were exchanged as well as smirks, and Gordon muttered darkly about suspicious brothers while Sally just smiled at the release of tension.

Virgil’s head shot up to see the gunmen advancing, the other two materialising from the opposite direction. He froze at the sight but his eyes instinctively kept moving until they latched onto Scott. He paled but gave a slight smile and a nod.

The men didn’t pause. They carried on advancing and Virgil braced. But he didn’t let go of the rigging that held Gordon. He did, however, refocus onto the men around him. And then Gordon spoke…or rather yelled:

‘Hey! What gives? I’m almost at the bot…’

There was a moment of absolute silence and stillness. And then several things happened at once.

Scott broke out into the fastest run he could manage. It wasn’t going to be fast enough…but he was close enough to see when Virgil looked inward – obviously listening to John – and he let go of the rope before whirling around to face the man who was closest to him.

The fight was short and ugly. And once again Scott marvelled at the gentlest of his brothers.

Kayo, Gordon and Scott had made sure the non-combat-trained members of the family knew how to defend themselves. John hated it but understood the necessity of it all. But Virgil struggled so much. They tailored the training to fit his bulk and movements and concentrated on the kinds of moves he would be used to, but still Virgil hated every second.

The three of them had despaired but as Scott now watched his brother took all four men down in a matter of moments. It was poetry in motion and he was reminded of the saying “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no man and the anger of a gentle man.”

By the time Scott had hobbled over the fight was finished. But Scott didn’t let his guard down, looking around carefully. Virgil tilted his head slightly, obviously talking to either John or Gordon, and Scott turned his back to look out through the forest.

Where was the Hood?

A chill went down his spine and Scott bit his lip. He wished he still had his helmet on but he’d left it behind in his rush to follow the Hood out of the underground ruins. But a hand on his shoulder told him his brother had noticed…

‘What is it, Scott?’ ‘Where is the Hood?’ ‘What?! John?’ ‘Can’t see him….wait…EOS! Initiate Protocol Gamma!’ ‘FAB.’

There was the sound of the Hood bouncing off the ‘Bird and neither Scott nor Virgil could stop the smirk they shared.

‘Let’s get Gordon up before heading back to Two.’ ‘Good idea!’

Gordon’s voice, slightly muffled and a little indigent, made them both laugh, and Virgil grabbed the rope, re-threaded it through the rigging and began hauling Gordon up while Scott kept watch.

The Hood didn’t reappear and John told them he’d vanished again but still Scott couldn’t relax. Even John informing them that Three would be home soon didn’t help, and they all knew that until Two was out of the jungle he’d be on guard. Hell, they all would.

They secured the men and made their way back to Two. As expected there was no sign of the Hood around, so Gordon made a thorough examination of Two’s hull to ensure there was no sign of any type of trackers attached.

And Virgil tried to get Scott to sit in the infirmary so that he could check out his leg wound. He didn’t stay still for long, moving as One’s engines sounded. Scott couldn’t stand for long, though, and Virgil barely caught him before he faceplanted on the floor. Thankfully Gordon joined him at just that moment, and the two manhandled their eldest brother onto a bed.

It would take John around 40 minutes to remote-pilot Thunderbird One home at Mach 7 – the designated speed for remoting a ‘Bird – but once John, Alan and Brains were onboard they could get back in less than half that time.

Gordon kept up a chatter about the local wildlife – he’d been to both sides of The Independent State of Papua New Guinea in his role as an ambassador for National Geographic’s Pristine Seas initiatives – in an effort to distract Scott while Virgil set up a drip and a bag of Ringer’s solution before cutting away the makeshift (and bloody) bandage. Scott lay back, one arm over his eyes so he couldn’t see his brother work.

The sight that greeted Virgil and Gordon had them both stop work and stop talking, a marked difference enough for Scott to remove his arm and sit forward. He frowned at the sight.

‘You think you’re brave, don’t you? But you’re not. You're not brave. You're just too naive to know fear.’

Scott tried to rock back, away from having to be so close to the man who had killed his father, but the grip on his shoulders tightened, locking him in place.

The Hood stood up so suddenly that Scott flinched and the man laughed.

‘You couldn’t have proved my point any better!’ ‘What do you want, Hood?’ ‘What I always want. Money. Power. The Thunderbirds. Your head on a platter.’ ‘Forget it. They’ll never give you what you want. They don’t give in to monsters.’ ‘I didn't become a monster. I became honest. Your father, on the other hand…’ ‘Don’t you dare talk about my father! You murdered him!’

The Hood paused and watched Scott struggle against his henchmen, and for one moment it looked like the boy might actually get free, but a particularly nasty punch to his side had Scott doubled over and they could start this delightful conversation again.

‘Spare me your theatrics. If your father had left well enough alone he would still be here and I wouldn’t be talking to you.’

With a disdainful sniff the Hood began a slow walk around his captive.

‘I gave him a chance to walk away. That was my one act of mercy. Unfortunately Jeff chose to ignore that and it cost him. Dearly. But I did warn him.’ ‘You would have destroyed the planet!’ ‘Don’t be stupid, Scott.’ ‘Oh really? You set off a chain reaction that meant total annihilation if Dad didn’t stay and - and do what he did. He saved the planet!’ ‘The world doesn't want saving. It wants someone strong enough to rule it.’ ‘And I suppose that’s gonna be you. You need all this money, power, to make your bid for World President?’ ‘Of course not. The World President doesn’t hold the real power.’ ‘And neither will you.’ ‘You seem so sure!’ ‘I have hope. The world will not give you what you want. My brothers will not.’ ‘Hope is just disappointment that hasn't arrived yet. I would have thought you’d learnt that by now - especially since it took barely any time for the World Government and the GDF to demand you hand over your ’Birds last time!’

Scott ground his teeth. Villain he might be but the Hood wasn’t lying about that…he watched as the man once more crouched down in front of him.

‘You think righteousness is armour. It's a blindfold. You're fighting for people who would turn on you in a heartbeat. That have already proved they would. You bleed for people who sleep soundly while you suffer. You're the last echo of a dying ideal.’ ‘You’re wrong.’

The Hood reached out and patted Scott’s cheek condescendingly before standing and making his way around his desk to sit down. He steepled his fingers and tapped them against his chin as he thought.