Thanks so much for the response to the last chapter. Whirlgirl, I'm so glad you enjoyed it. This was supposed to be the final instalment but it's already one of the longest chapters, so there's one more after this, just to tie up all the loose ends.
Chapter Ten
"Dad? Dad, you okay?" Gordon was exhausted after the effort of telling his story, the headache, which he had managed to forget about as he'd relived the events of eight years ago, back with a vengeance. But he still couldn't help but feel sorry for his father, who had buried his head in his hands and was now rocking back and forth.
At Gordon's words, Jeff tried to pull himself together. He'd fought in aerial battles, been to the moon, endured traumas that would have broken a lesser man, yet he'd never reacted to anything in this way before. He defied any man not to do the same. He'd honestly believed his sons had no more surprises for him, not when he'd watched five very different characters emerge over the years. But this... When he next spoke to John he'd definitely have some questions, he thought.
Although given that this was Gordon, maybe things weren't quite as they seemed. Maybe John would just laugh at him for believing such a ridiculous story. But why else would Virgil have reacted so guiltily when he'd learned exactly which tale Gordon was regaling him with...?
"Please tell me you're exaggerating." He'd hoped he would sound like his usual calm, matter-of-fact self, but to his shame there was a definite element of pleading in his voice.
Gordon just smiled, then closed his eyes and yawned.
"Don't go to sleep!" Jeff commanded, worried once more about a possible concussion. "Come on, Gordon, you haven't explained how no one ever found out about all this. I mean, I know I was tied up with work that night, but surely your grandmother would have been checking up on you."
"Sure she was. There's jus' a bit more." He yawned again. "Virg c'n tell you."
"No he can't. He's still trying to repair the radio." Jeff just hoped his middle son would hurry up about it. Surely he should be done by now? He listened intently, hoping to hear the radio crackle into life in the cabin, but there was nothing.
"Later."
"Now, Gordon!"
As exhausted as he was, Gordon knew there was no arguing with that tone of voice. Wearily shifting position so he sat up a little straighter, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, then began the conclusion of his story.
They'd made their way home as quickly as they could. The younger boys were all tired, despite the adrenaline that still coursed through them. Alan was back up on Scott's shoulders before they were even halfway home. Gordon envied his brother. His own legs were aching and he shuffled along behind his brothers, every now and again calling to them not to leave him behind.
Unusually, it was John, the quietest brother, who was doing most of the talking. He was more than pleased with himself. He'd got Tammi out of trouble - his note had made it quite clear that the troublesome teenagers who'd bothered Morten were simply the innocent puppets of their alien hosts. As long as he could keep the gang away from the farm - and if he could come up with a plan like this, then finding a way to divert their attention should be a piece of cake - Tammi was in the clear. He just hoped she'd be grateful. Of course, she could never know the truth. As obsessed as he was with the girl, he had enough sense to realise that no one could ever find out what the Tracy brothers had done that night. Still, he'd spin her some tale that painted him in an heroic light. He'd never felt so full of confidence and fire. He'd always known he possessed a potent mix of clever and cunning, but he'd never expected to have the chance to put his skills to the test like this.
"You couldn't have done it without us," Virgil told him.
John had to agree. Uncharacteristically he reached over to punch his brother affectionately on the arm. "We're a great team, Virg. Sorry I tried to kick you this morning."
Virgil considered this apology for a moment, rather surprised that his brother should have offered it in the first place, before deciding to accept it. "You have to buy Grandma some flowers or something," he ordered.
"Sure. Chocolates too." John had absolutely no qualms about anything he'd done after sneaking out of the house, but he felt absolutely terrible about hurting his grandmother. He didn't have much of his allowance left but maybe he could hack into the local florist's computer and fix things so he'd get the biggest bouquet for the smallest cost... No, he thought, rather shocked at himself for thinking such a thing. He might be devious, but he was ultimately honest - probably just as well! He'd borrow the money from Scott and do a few extra chores to make up the shortfall. That, too, would show Grandma how sorry he was.
"Home at last," Scott muttered as the Tracy house came into sight. A few of the downstairs lights were on, thanks to the automatic lighting system their father had installed. As befitted the home of one of the great innovators of the technological age, the house was equipped with just about every gadget ever invented.
"I can't wait to get to sleep," Gordon announced.
"You're not the only one," John told him. "Al's halfway there already."
"Me too," Virgil yawned. "Scott, what about you?"
"I'll sleep fine if I know we've got away with this," the oldest brother replied.
"Scott, I promise you, Morten fell for it. You said yourself-"
"It's not Morten I'm worried about! You really think no one's tried to check up on us all this time? You'd best get that brain of yours working again, Johnny, because I guarantee no alien invader's going to be a match for Grandma."
John swallowed nervously. "I guess we'll have to tell her we went for a moonlight walk or something. If we say Gordon was playing up-"
"Hey, don't blame me!"
"Nor me!" This from Virgil.
They waited for Alan to have his say, but there was only silence. The six-year-old was definitely more asleep than awake.
"There you are, then," John said softly. "We'll say it was Alan's fault."
Reaching the gate set into the wall of their back yard, Virgil tapped in the code to unlock it.
"Home at last," he sighed, as they all passed through and the gate shut behind them.
Normally it would be a race to the door, but none of them had the energy and they trudged along the side of the house towards the front door, each one of them counting the seconds until they could relax on one of their comfortable couches.
But it wasn't going to be that easy. No sooner had Scott rounded the corner of the house than the security lights on the driveway clicked on and a small figure could be seen moving slowly up the drive.
"Mrs Henderson!" he hissed, backing round the corner, nearly knocking Gordon and Virgil over as he did so and shocking Alan into wakefulness. Mrs Henderson was their next-door-neighbour and a good friend of their grandmother's.
"Grandma must have sent her to check on us! What are we going to do?" Virgil looked from Scott to John. Scott couldn't help feeling a little hurt that his brother wasn't placing his trust completely in him anymore, but then he had to admit that John was the ideas man tonight. Frankly, he himself didn't have a clue. They'd come so close to getting away with it. It wasn't fair that they were going to be caught at the final hurdle.
But John wasn't giving up that easily.
"Come on!" He ushered them back a few metres until they reached the tree he so often used to come and go without discovery. "I'll go first and guide you all in. Virg, you next, then Gordon. Scott, can you get up there with Alan?"
"I can climb!" Alan whined, only for Scott to tell him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to even attempt it. John's fear that he would cut a few branches off to prevent any more secret excursions were definitely going to come true - the last thing Scott wanted was for all four younger brothers to have an escape route. It was hard enough to keep track of them as it was!
With the benefit of plenty of practice, John climbed up in seconds. Virgil and Gordon scrambled up quickly enough, too. Scott had a harder job with Alan on his back, but in less than two minutes they were all assembled in John's bedroom.
"Now what?" Virgil asked. One thing in their favour was that Mrs Henderson didn't move quickly, thanks to a recent hip operation, but she'd be at the door at any second.
"You three get into bed!" John ordered. "Pyjamas, teddy bears, the works. Pretend to be asleep. Scott, grab your robe - you're covered in dust from that cellar - then come downstairs with me."
The three youngest did what they were told without complaint for once in their lives. Scott and John, pulling their robes on as they went, dashed down the stairs and had just made it into the den when there was a knock at the door.
"You get it," John said, turning the TV on and flicking through the channels until he found a re-run of the very show that had inspired that night's adventure.
Scott wanted to tell him to find something else but there simply wasn't time. Instead, as a second, more urgent round of knocking began, he simply did as he was told.
"Hi, Mrs Henderson." he said, opening the door. "What's the problem?"
"Your grandmother's going frantic," Milly Henderson told him. "Why haven't you answered the phone?"
Scott was saved from replying by the arrival of John from the den.
"What phone?" he asked, his voice full of confusion. "We didn't get any phone calls. We've been wondering why she hadn't been in touch, actually. We wanted to call her to make sure everything was okay, but we didn't have the Henshaws' number and we didn't dare ring Dad when he's so busy."
"She said she called at least a dozen times." Mrs Henderson told them. "Scott, she called your cell, too."
"The battery's flat," Scott said, glad that he could be completely truthful about that one.
"We definitely didn't get any calls," John said. "Maybe there's some problem with the phone..." He led the way into the den and looked at the phone before picking it up and holding it to his ear.
"That's odd," he said. "The line's dead."
"Looks like the whole phone's dead," Scott said, deciding he might as well chip in. Certainly there was no flashing light to show any messages had been left, nor any light at all, for that matter.
"You're right," John said. He wrinkled his eyebrows, a vision of someone engaged in the deepest concentration, before clicking his fingers and dropping to his knees, wincing as he put his weight onto his injured wrist. He'd have to think of an innocent excuse for that one - he was lucky it was just a sprain.
He peered under the cabinet, then reached underneath.
"Look at this," he announced, holding up a disconnected lead. "Now how do you suppose that happened?"
He looked up at Scott, who shrugged. Obviously John had disconnected it, but he could hardly say that.
"Hang on," John said, getting to his feet having reconnected the phone. "Wasn't Alan playing with his cars by here?"
Scott picked up his cue seamlessly. "Little devil! He must have pulled the plug out."
"Well, Ruth will be relieved," Mrs Henderson said. "You'd better call her, Scott. Here's the number." She handed him a slip of paper.
Scott did as he was bid, feeling incredibly guilty for the obvious worry he'd caused his grandmother. Certainly he'd never heard her sound so pleased to hear from him. It took him a while to reassure her and to promise her that everyone was safe and well and that no, they definitely didn't need Milly Henderson to babysit for the rest of the night!
John had clearly anticipated that suggestion too, because he was already manoeuvring their neighbour back to the front door.
He was just reaching up to open it, congratulating himself on yet another success, when the landing light went on and Alan appeared, half-asleep, with his hair tousled and his favourite bear clutched in one hand.
"Alan, sweetheart!" Mrs Henderson moved away from the door as John groaned inwardly. Couldn't Alan have waited two more minutes to go to the bathroom?
Alan came sleepily down the stairs. "'Lo, Mrs Hendyson," he yawned, fixing her with the beaming smile that fooled old ladies like their neighbour into thinking he'd just been borrowed from the angels - despite his brothers' insistence that he'd come from somewhere entirely different! "Are you looking after us?"
"I came to make sure you were all okay," Mrs Henderson told him. "You cut the phone off when you were playing with your cars. Your grandmother was worried when she couldn't call you."
John held his breath, shaking his head warningly at his brother. Alan wasn't one to take any slight without protest and the last thing they needed was for him to protest that he was utterly innocent.
But Alan was clearly on a roll after his performance at Kurt Morten's farm, because after a moment's pause, he simply widened his eyes, his bottom lip trembling as real tears slipped out.
"I'm sorry, Mrs Hendyson! It was an accident. Honest!"
Scott, who had finished talking to Grandma and come out into the hallway in time to witness this act, was equally surprised and appalled. John was just impressed. It was no shock to him that his brother turned on the tears to get out of trouble - he'd seen it a hundred times, as had Gordon and Virgil. It was only Scott who was fooled these days. Still, after this, maybe the eldest brother would be a little less inclined to take the baby's side. Another result! After a disastrous beginning, this was turning out to be one of the best days of his life.
Mrs Henderson was completely fooled, of course, gathering the little boy up in her arms and covering him with kisses as she carried him into the kitchen where she could be heard murmuring words of comfort. When Alan begged for hot chocolate which, he insisted, Mrs Henderson made better than his grandmother - another lie, since none of the boys liked the watery concoction she insisted on forcing on them whenever their grandmother forced them to visit her - both brothers groaned. They'd wanted to get rid of the woman and now she'd be here at least another half an hour.
Worse still, she insisted on making a cup for them, too. Though on the bright side, she did wash up the dishes they'd left after that afternoon's pizza.
Finally, after putting Alan to bed - to Scott and John's relief, he was too tired to even think of asking for a bed-time story - and checking on Gordon and Virgil, both fast asleep, the woman took her leave.
"And that's that," Scott sighed, shutting the door behind her.
"Certainly is," John agreed. "I'm going to kill Al in the morning, though. That hot chocolate was revolting."
"Get in line," Scott told him. "You know, that was quite a performance he gave. I never realised before, but he takes after you. Must be a blond thing."
"Jealous?" John asked, running his fingers through his thick hair.
"No." Scott activated the security system and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Promise me one thing, John?"
"If I can." John sounded doubtful. If Scott was going to ask him to give up on Tammi or to be a good boy from now on and not sneak off again, he wasn't going to be able to agree. If leaving Kurt Morten alone was the request then he'd have to think twice about that one, too. He could promise easily enough not to go back to the farm, but the man must be online and it might be fun to contact him in the guise of the alien commander...
But either Scott knew he'd be asking too much of his brother or else he was just too tired to think of such things. "Next time you have an idea like this, leave me out of it."
John laughed and agreed, though mentally he was crossing his fingers. He'd enjoyed himself tonight and the fact that all his brothers had been involved had just made the whole thing that much better. Recently the thirteen-year-old had felt isolated from the others and it felt good to feel part of the family again. If there was a next time - and as unlikely as it seemed, he couldn't help hoping there would be - then he'd want all his brothers, Scott included, along for the ride.