542So many wonderful reviews! Did I ever tell you how awesome you guys are? I did? Well, allow me to reiterate. You're awesome! :)
I was gutted that fanfiction was throwing a wobbly last weekend (that being the only time that I'm readily available to type). Again, many thanks for your patience. College work is a bit of a nightmare at the moment (the long push from October to Christmas always is), but I'm doing much better now that I'm restored to full health once again. And I can hear out of both my ears! Whoot!
And now the long-awaited continuation. Bon appetit, mes copains.
Alan gripped onto the damp, slippery handrail, his eyes fixed on the inky shadows that engulfed the far corner of the upper decking and spanned out across the floor; thick, dark fingers creeping around the chair legs and slowly reaching out towards him.
Inch by shaking inch, he crept backwards, moving away from where he knew the creature was hiding. Heavy rain splattered against his warm, shirt-clad back as he left the protective cover of the roof, clutching onto the rail with greater desperation as the ground gave way beneath his heel and he jerked downwards onto a cold step, the wet ridges pressing against the sole of his bare foot. The cold water seeped through his top, cementing the cloth to his skin in a way that made it tickle strangely, as though an army of ants were crawling down his back.
Then he saw it: a tiny flicker in the corner of the wide shaft of light that streamed out across the centre of the decking from the glass in the double doors. The creature had moved. But where was it? The world was dark, so dark, he couldn't see it. And weird silvery spots had begun to dance in front of his eyes, obscuring his vision. Was it snowing? No, it couldn't be. It only snowed at Christmas.
The shadow moved again and Alan sucked in a sharp, panicked breath. Hot, quivering legs stumbling uncertainly as he felt for the next step, he gritted his teeth in determination and continued his descent, even as the rain began to drench his hair and trickle into his eyes. He hastily swiped an arm across his face to clear his vision, but that only seemed to encourage the water to flow faster. Panic began to build up within him as he struggled to blink the stinging raindrops from his eyes, squinting as best he could through the gloom and feeling for the next step. He couldn't look away, not even for a second, or It would attack him.
However, the shadowy form made no further move to follow him. Now that he was out in the downpour, it had stopped. Perhaps the creature had a weakness after all?
Yeah, that must be it. That's why it hasn't tried to kill me, it doesn't like the rain. Maybe it gets hurt if it touches water.
He shook his head, berating himself for neglecting to realise something so blatantly obvious. Everybody knew that It couldn't stand getting wet. He should have remembered such a basic fact, why hadn't it occurred to him before? It was probably his headache; it was distracting him, making it difficult to think straight. It didn't matter now, anyway. As long as he stayed out in the open, he'd be safe.
But how long until the downpour ceased? The rain was always heavy and intense, but it never lasted longer than a few hours, not unless there was lightning and thunder and wind - then it could last for days. And the moment the rain stopped, It would come after him. There would be nowhere to hide out in the open. He didn't dare go into the jungle; the creature could climb trees in seconds, he'd never be able to escape. He would just have to wait here and pray that somebody came to rescue him.
He shook his head again, stumbling slightly as he continued to back away from the bottom step, out across the lower decking. Even if - by some freakish stroke of luck - somebody found him before the rain stopped, he'd still be without his family. And what was the point in living out the rest of his life all alone? He couldn't go on, not without his brothers. But it was too late to save them. His family was gone, killed by the same monster that now hunted him. There was nobody left. Only It.
The enormity of his situation rose up to meet him like a punch to the gut and he staggered forward against a nearby plastic deck chair, breathing heavily. His fingers squeaked against the smooth, wet surface as he sank to his knees, the deep puddle sloshing around his legs and soaking his pyjama shorts. His throat grew sore and his chest painfully tight as hot tears burned in his eyes. He was going to die.
Slumping against the side of the chair, Alan hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms, feeling the heavy raindrops crashing against his sodden t-shirt and bare skin. Away from the house, the full sound of the downpour seemed almost deafening; thousands of drops slamming against the waxy leaves of the jungle vegetation with unmatched fury, the cumulative screaming hiss they created thundering in his ears as he squeezed his eyes tight shut and willed it all to end.
Yet still the rain continued to fall.
TBTBTB
Scott swore under his breath, slamming his hand against the light-switch and plunging the dining room into darkness. The frantic minutes he had spent searching seemed like hours, every empty room adding another kilo of weight to the cold, heavy mass of worry and fear that had settled itself in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't believe his brother had actually escaped from the infirmary. They'd joked about it often enough - Tracys were known for their stubborn nature when it came to bed rest - but for it to actually happen? It was all so surreal.
We'll find him, he assured himself for what felt like the hundredth time since Virgil had woken him up almost ten minutes ago. He'll be fine.
Virgil had expressed his concerns regarding Alan's spiking temperature earlier that day, but Scott had never imagined that it would result in anything so serious. And now the whole villa was awake and hunting for the youngest Tracy. Having discovered that Virgil had already checked all of the obvious locations, Scott had used his wrist-comm to sound the alert and send his father and brothers off in different directions to search for the missing teenager.
Things would have been far easier if Virgil hadn't removed Alan's watch earlier that evening. But the unfortunate location of a particularly irritated pock mark on Alan's right wrist had apparently persuaded the middle Tracy to attach the bio-monitor to his brother's left wrist instead. The watch had been placed on the bedside table in the infirmary, resulting in noting but frustration when Gordon had tried scanning for Alan's transmission signal.
And, to make matters worse, Virgil was now adamant that he was solely to blame for their current predicament. Things were rapidly going downhill.
I'm gonna need to talk to him about that later, Scott reminded himself, striding swiftly down the main corridor towards the front living room. It hadn't been anybody's fault. And, even if he did feel a tad guilty himself about leaving Alan unsupervised, he wasn't going to let it bother him at the moment. There would be time for that later. Right now, Scott needed to find his little brother.
When a thorough search of the living room failed to produce positive results, Scott huffed out a frustrated breath and punched the wall of the corridor in anger. Slumping against it, he shook his head, raising his left arm and angling it so that the tiny microphone at the top of the watch was facing him. Tapping the centre twice to create a connection with his father's watch, he cleared his throat.
"Dad, it's Scott. I've checked the ground floor, he's nowhere in sight. Please tell me you've had better luck?"
"Wish I could, Son," the senior Tracy replied, his voice grim as it buzzed through the tiny speaker. "Listen, Tom's run up to the office to begin analysing the security footage. There isn't a corridor in the whole complex that we don't have under surveillance. The cameras will lead us to your brother's whereabouts. I'll alert you as soon as he finds anything."
Scott nodded, even though his father couldn't see him. "Understood. Scott out."
Terminating the connection, he dragged a hand down his face and sighed deeply, shaking his head. Pushing himself away from the wall, he spared the briefest of glances towards the darkened glass of the double doors at the end of the corridor.
He paused, his frown deepening as his brain registered the odd way in which the light shined off one of the door handles. Almost as though it was...wet.
Striding towards the door, hope and fear bubbling up within his chest in unison, Scott reached out a hand and ran the tips of his fingers over the top of the handle, eyes widening as he felt the moisture against his skin. Not once had it occurred to him that Alan could have gone outside. How could he have been so stupid? They'd been looking inside, when all the while Alan had been out there, exposed to the elements.
Aw damn. Damn!
Crouching down beside the table that ran alongside the right hand wall in front of the twin doors, Scott felt beneath it for the emergency kit, grabbing onto the giant plastic container and yanking it towards him. Ripping the lid off and tossing it aside, he haphazardly threw unneeded objects across the laminate flooring of the empty corridor as he frantically dug for the giant flashlight. Locating said item, he jumped to his feet and kicked the box back under the narrow table, pausing long enough to switch on the flashlight before darting towards the door.
Flinging it open, he stepped out into the darkness beyond the threshold, wincing a little at the unexpected volume created by the heavy downpour. The extent Brains had gone to in order to sound-proof the villa was more noticeable than ever.
Knowing that every second mattered, he wasted no time in directing the beam of light around the upper decking, watching the dark shadows scuttle backwards as light weaved its way in between the chairs and tables.
"Alan!" he yelled, his voice drowned by the screaming hiss of the rain. "Alan!"
Unable to see his brother anywhere in the near vicinity, he turned so that the powerful torch beam lit up the steps and the lower decking beyond. His heart thudded against his ribcage, blood pulsing in his ears as he peered through the sheets of falling droplets, following the channel of light with his eyes.
Then he saw him. Hair darkened by the rain and slicked down flat atop his head, pock-marked bare skin almost luminous in the glow of the flashlight, Alan sat huddled behind one of the larger deckchairs, his face buried in his arms and his legs tucked up against his chest as he tried to hide from the merciless downpour.
A relieved exhaustion swept over him, and Scott descended the stairs and jogged towards his brother on legs that were suddenly bone-weary. Dropping to his knees beside the teenager, he allowed the flashlight to slip from his grasp and fall onto the decking with a loud 'thunk', water splashing up into his face as it connected with the deep puddle that surrounded them.
The sound was loud enough to be heard above the noise of the rain and Alan jerked in response, head snapping upwards a little before slowly rising the rest of the way, as though it were abnormally heavy and, therefore, difficult to move.
"Alan," Scott was breathing heavily, although it was more from shock than from actual physical exertion, "thank God. We've been looking everywhere for you!"
For a long moment, Alan seemed to stare through him, his brow crinkling into a slight frown. The beam of the flashlight - although not directed towards Alan's face - was bright enough that it lit up their immediate surrounding, and Scott could clearly see the dazed expression his younger sibling wore.
Reaching out towards his brother, he brushed a thumb over Alan's damp and burning cheek, jerking his hand away in surprise a split second later when the teenager let out a hoarse whimper and curled in on himself, the dazed expression morphing into one of total fear.
"No," the bedraggled blond creaked, his voice barely distinguishable above the roar of the downpour. He scrabbled further backwards, pushing the deckchair dangerously close to the pool's edge.
"Hey, hey, easy," Scott soothed, moving forwards again and gripping Alan's shoulder gently, using the other hand to brush the sopping wet fringe away from the boy's fevered brow. "It's alright, it's me."
The teenager shook his head, shying away from his brother's touch, whimpering again as Scott followed his movements and refused to let go. "No. No, please..."
"Alan," Scott said, a little more forcefully. As the younger Tracy let out another choked cry of fear and turned his head away, the pilot grew more gentle, cupping his brother's cheek. "Alan, it's me, it's Scott. C'mon, kiddo, listen to me. You know my voice, right?"
Alan leaned away from him, squinting up at his older sibling's face in the dim yellow glow of the flashlight. Then he stilled, recognition dawning in his eyes as the pained frown that marred his brow melted and the fear drained away.
"Scott?"
His heart still beating painfully against his ribcage, Scott nodded his head, brushing his thumb over the too-warm skin. "Yeah. Yeah, kiddo, it's me."
"But," Alan struggled to form the words, his breathing laboured as he fought to keep his wavering gaze focused on his brother. "But you...you died. It got you. You can't...you can't be here."
Scott couldn't for the life of him understand what the younger Tracy was talking about. But that wasn't important now.
"It didn't get me, Al," he assured the confused boy. "I'm fine, see? Everything's fine."
Alan's eyes closed and he clutched weakly at the hand on his shoulder. "Thought I was alone," he murmured, his voice so quiet that Scott had to strain to hear him above the splashing rain. "Don't...don't wanna be alone."
Scott squeezed the shoulder reassuringly. "I know, buddy, it's okay. I'm not gonna leave you alone, I promise. I'm gonna get you back inside, alright?"
"No!" Alan's eyes shot open, glassy blue orbs shining with fear as his breathing became erratic once more. "Not inside. Scott we...it's still there, we can't! Please!"
"Hey, shh, it's okay." Scott held Alan by the shoulders to prevent him from pushing the chair over the edge of the pool.
"But...stay here...please."
Pressing a hand to Alan's damp forehead, Scott winced at the fierce heat that radiated back into his palm. He allowed the hand to gently travel down the side of his brother's face, pausing at the neck as he pressed two fingers against the teenager's carotid pulse with practised ease. The rapid fluttering beneath his fingertips did not help to lessen the fear that was steadily growing within his chest. Dropping his hand, Scott leaned forward so that his face was inches away from his brother's.
"Alan, listen to me," he said, speaking slowly and clearly in an attempt to convey the message in one go. "You're sick, kiddo. And I know this must be pretty scary for you right now, but I need you to trust me, okay? Can you do that?"
Nodding slowly, the teenager curled into a tighter ball, chin dipping towards his chest as exhaustion took hold. Scott nudged his brother's head gently upwards.
"Alan," he called, patting the cheek softly. "Hey, stay awake for me, okay?"
He looped one of Alan's arms around his shoulders, keeping a firm grip on the boy's wrist, and slipped one of his own around his brother's lower back. Hauling the teenager to his feet, he began to make his way back towards the house, his pace painfully slow as he concentrated on keeping his younger siblings upright. Alan seemed oblivious to the fact that they were moving at all, his legs bending like hot rubber beneath him as he stumbled and swayed against Scott's side.
They had made it up the top of the stairs and half way towards the door when Alan suddenly lurched back, his eyes wide and fearful and his breathing laboured.
"No!" he slurred, almost falling backwards down the steps. "Can't...not in there. Not safe."
"What?" Scott's brows drew together in confusion. He had thought this was behind them.
Alan pointed a shaking hand towards the cheerfully lit corridor beyond the doors. "It...it's inside, Scott. We can't go back. Not ever."
Damn, this is bad.
"It's okay," the older Tracy repeated, tightening his hold and forcing Alan to take another step towards the door. "I'm here, I've got you. I'll keep you safe, alright? Nothing's gonna get you, I promise."
"Scott, no, please..."
However much it hurt him to ignore his brother's fear, Scott knew they couldn't stay out here any longer. Soaked to the skin, Alan's condition would only continue to worsen, and the kid was already sick enough without adding pneumonia to his list of woes.
Practically dragging his brother over the threshold, Scott kicked the door closed behind him, the sound overly loud in the sudden absence of noise. With the deafening hiss of the rain now quietened to a faint, distant whisper, Scott was made aware of how loud and rapid the beat of his heart was in his chest.
All of a sudden, Alan's legs gave way beneath him and he was a dead weight in Scott's grip. The field commander managed to keep hold of him, but was unable to prevent the teenager from sagging to his knees, hitting the floor with a resounding 'thud'.
"Okay, okay, I gotcha," Scott murmured, dropping down beside his brother and leaning him back so that Alan lay resting against his chest. Holding him upright with one arm, he angled his wrist-watch towards his face, more grateful than ever that Brains had programmed the device to respond to both manual and verbal command. "Scott to Commander, come in. Come in, Commander."
There was a momentary pause, before his father's voice buzzed through the speaker.
"Jeff here."
"Dad, I've got him," Scott reported, blinking as water dripped down into his eyes, squeezing his arm around his brother's chest as though to confirm his statement.
"Thank God. Where was he?"
Scott used his shoulder to brush the moisture from his face. "By the pool."
"He was outside?" Jeff's surprise was clear in his voice. "Where abouts are you now? Is he okay?"
Scott gazed down at the drenched form, watching as Alan rolled his head to the side against Scott's chest, mumbling incoherently. "We're by the front door. And no," he sighed heavily, brow crinkling into a worried frown, "he's not okay. Where's Tom?"
His watch beeped once, and then there was a second voice sounding out against the heavy silence of the corridor.
"Right here, Scotty. We're on our way down now, we'll be with you in two minutes."
Scott shook his head, droplets of water splattering against the nearby wall. "I'm taking him to the infirmary, meet us there."
"Are you sure you can manage, Son?" his father asked.
"Yeah, I got him. Scott out." Dropping his arm, he arranged Alan's legs so that they were bent a little at the knees. Adjusting his hold beneath the joints and shouldering one of Alan's arms around his neck, he slowly stood to his feet, bracing his legs against the dead weight of his brother's body.
The kid really had grown over the last couple of months. Funny, the things you noticed when you were carrying your semiconscious younger brother down a deserted corridor at three-thirty in the morning.
Scott hoped it wasn't something he was going to make a habit out of.
TBTBTB
Alan couldn't breathe. The air around him was thick and hot, pressing against his cheeks with a searing kiss that burnt its way down his neck and chest. It felt as though he were inhaling liquid, his lips tingling strangely as the odd substance filled his chest.
Voices babbled around him, the volume fluctuating from soft murmurs to sharp, thunderous shouts as something pulsed in his ears with a soft, repetitive 'woosh'. He was there, and yet he wasn't. Sometimes the mattress beneath him would disappear, along with his body, as he seemed to float in a bubble of hot, stuffy nothingness.
And then feeling would return and there would be rough sheets beneath his sweaty fingers, thin shorts clinging to his lower body, a pillow supporting his head. He liked it when he could feel the pillow. If he turned his head to the side, it would cool his burning cheek, if only for a short moment. But he knew that if he waited long enough, the area that had been previously occupied would chill and he could roll his head the other way and get the same result.
It was through repeating this action that the world became less hazy. Suddenly he was aware of his eyes, and found that he could open them. Doing so, he discovered that vision wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Simply keeping his heavy lids from drooping over his stinging eyes was burning up what little energy he retained, and the world around him was hardly scintillating. Maybe he needed to sleep a little longer. Yeah, sleep sounded good...
"Alan?"
Wrenching his eyes open, he squinted up at the wavering figure that hung over him. Calm green eyes and a gentle smile drew closer to him as something cool and solid slid over his forehead.
"Hey, kiddo. How d'you feel?"
Alan wasn't sure how to answer. Was there something wrong with the way he was feeling at the moment? He could feel his hands okay, and his legs were there at least sixty percent of the time, so what was Tom getting at?
His father's head was suddenly beside the doctor's, the Tracy patriarch's brow crinkled into a frown that made Alan's insides tingle uncomfortably. Something was wrong. Alan didn't like to see his dad so upset. He wanted to reassure him that everything was okay, but his brain and his mouth didn't want to connect with each other. For a reason he cold not explain, he felt close to tears. He could feel them stinging in his eyes, the painful lump in his throat growing more noticeable by the second.
The weight slid off his forehead and Alan grunted weakly at the loss of contact. Almost immediately, his father's hand was on his face, a thumb gently brushing against his cheek. Jeff's mouth was moving, and some form of sound was drifting around the stuffy bubble of Alan's consciousness, but none of it seemed to be in English. That was rather frustrating. His father knew that he didn't speak as many languages as his brothers. Why couldn't they just talk normally?
Scott drifted above him, as did Gordon, but they were gone a second later. Alan got the impression that they'd been there quite a while. His father had moved, his head leaning over the bed from a different side now, and Thomas was nowhere in sight. And he was really tired. Maybe he could talk to them tomorrow.
"Alan?" Someone was patting his cheek gently, and Alan realised that his eyes were closed once again. Forcing them open, he blinked up at the three heads above him, watching as they merged back into two. That was weird.
"His blood ox is back up," somebody was saying, from somewhere far off, "and his resps are starting to level out. No change in temperature, though."
Alan knew that voice. It was Virgil, he was sure of it. He wanted to call out to his brother, but again he seemed to have lost the ability to control his mouth. Which was odd, considering the ease with which he could move the rest of his body. But his head...his head wanted to sleep. That was annoying.
His gaze drifted to the side, even though the action sent daggers of pain through his throbbing skull. The figure at bedside locked eyes with him, a gentle smile spreading over the concerned features and banishing all traces of worry as Virgil uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to him.
"Hey," he murmured, and Alan could feel a hand running through his hair. "Look at who's finally decided to join us."
Alan thought that was a stupid statement. How was he supposed to look at himself? It hurt enough just to look at his brother. And why was it so dark? The faces above him were lit by a strange blue glow, and Alan could see the shadows that filled the rest of the room. Why didn't they turn on the lights? Then again, he was rather glad that they'd forgotten to, because he had a feeling that his head would only hurt more if the world around him was brighter.
He found himself opening his eyes again, unable to recall when exactly they had closed. His father was gone this time, but Thomas had returned. The doctor was fiddling with a large bag of clear liquid that hung off a pole beside the bed.
The room seemed a little clearer now. It was brighter, too. But not because of the overhead lights, they weren't on. What was he doing here, anyway? Why wasn't he in his bedroom? And why did his chest tingle and tickle like that? He wanted to scratch at it, but summoning the energy to move his arms seemed like an impossible feat in his current state of exhaustion. Man, it was hot in here. Maybe he could ask Thomas to open a window.
As though hearing Alan's thoughts, the doctor suddenly glanced towards him, his hands pausing in their task as his eyes locked with the teenager's, a small smile tugged at his lips. He lowered his arms, the mattress dipping a little as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey, buddy." A hand settled against Alan's forehead for a moment, before moving up to brush through his hair. "Do you know where you are?"
Alan frowned a little at the question, moving his tongue against his dry lips as though the organ were foreign to him. Swallowing thickly, his throat scratchy and his mouth parched, he croaked out a squeaky and pathetic answer that was neither in English nor convincingly masculine. Thomas seemed prepared for this, and a thin plastic straw was tapping against his bottom lip before he'd even registered that the doctor had moved. Sipping at the water gratefully, he didn't even grimace at the strange sensation of cold liquid trickling down into his stomach, too relieved to finally be soothing the dry feeling in his mouth and throat.
All too soon, the water was taken away, but Thomas didn't give him a chance to miss it.
"Do you know what month it is?" he asked softly, one hand resting lightly on Alan's collarbone.
Alan frowned again. He should know this. Why couldn't he remember? What in Heaven's name was wrong with him? Searching for the answer was like ploughing through dark water, looking for a needle. Was that even the right phrase? He wasn't sure. He felt so...so stupid.
His eyes stung, and Alan realised that tears were threatening to fall again. But he didn't know why. Sure, his head kinda hurt and he felt hot and stiff all over, but it wasn't enough to make him cry. He guessed it was more out of frustration than anything.
"It's okay, kiddo," Tom soothed, and Alan felt something cold and heavy and wet and wonderful settle across his brow. Somewhere nearby, he heard a soft 'hiss' and his groggy mind vaguely registered that the sound belonged to the infirmary door. "You're just a little feverish, it's making it hard for you to think. A few days' rest and some good, old fashioned Doctor Palmar care, and you'll be as good as new."
He wanted to keep his eyes open. He wanted to discover who had just entered the room. He wanted to ask Thomas what was wrong with him and why he itched so much. But his body had other ideas. Slowly, blessedly, but thoroughly against his will, the heavy lids slid closed over his stinging eyes, shutting out the light and allowing him to sink gently towards the comfortable realms of oblivion.
"That's it, kiddo. Go to sleep."
And that's just what Alan did.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
I don't like using full-width page dividers, which is why I've switched to the old 'TBTBTB' method. Fanfiction won't allow me to use anything else. I tried about ten different combinations of my usual dividers, but nothing worked. And they've replaced all my previous ones with full-width lines. I'm not best pleased. But hey, some things can't be helped.
Whatever religious views you have, I ask you to pray for those who have lost their homes in the recent floods here in Britain. A friend of my family owns a house in Cumbria, and it's been utterly destroyed. So close to Christmas, many families will be despairing over similar losses. All I ask is that, snug and warm and dry in your own homes, you spare a thought for those who no longer have one. Bless you.
Reviews would be lovely. :)
xoxoxoxox