Author's note: So, here it finally is, the alternate ending. I'm a bit red in the face over this. I've always been a very strong proponent of not posting until the story is finished. That way, you can post quickly without frustrating your readers. I re-posted this story thinking I had finished my alternate ending, but I didn't take into account my beta. Sam took one look and pointed out a couple of glaring problems with it, and it took me this long to get them corrected. Sorry about that!

"So, Ehkay Corners?" I asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to continue with our day's plans.

Scott frowned, looking at me like he hadn't heard right. John ventured, "Lunch?"

Scott gave himself a little shake, then said, "We're going back to the hotel. We need a war council, figure out what we're going to do."

I sighed, nodding. John, however, shook his head. "A couple of cat skewers aren't enough, Scott. We need to eat right if we're going to be on top of our game."

That made sense too, but Scott was shaking his head. "John, the Mandarin Sky has over a hundred restaurants, and every damn one delivers to our hotel. Just get us back there."

I held my breath for a moment. Scott used that paternal tone that Johnny hated, but without a word, my brother started the van and pulled out into traffic.

As he drove, there was none of the pointing out of interesting sites that had marked our trip when Scott was driving. We were all quiet with our thoughts, and for me, at least, the day that had started so bright and shiny now had a pall of grayness over it.

I was surprised when we arrived at our hotel. I had sunk so deep into myself, that I hadn't even noticed where we were, until the engine stopped, and Scott swung himself out of the passenger seat.

I unlocked the wheels on my chair as Scott opened the side door and took over the lift controls. John came up behind me and pushed me onto the lift.

I have to admit, the events of the day had left me cranky, and when the lift touched the ground, I pushed myself forward. When Scott reached for the handles, I growled, "I'm not an invalid."

I pushed myself on, ignoring my brothers. After a moment, John hustled ahead to open the door for me. Even that small courtesy irritated me, and instead of thanking him, I just pushed my way in, and headed for the elevators.

I sat facing the doors. Scott came to stand at my side. When I John didn't appear at my other side, I glanced around, but he was nowhere to be seen. Scott didn't seem perturbed, but like everything else, his absence pissed me off.

The elevator opened up, and Scott and I got on. For the moment we were alone. "Where is John?"

Scott stood, hands in pockets, watching the floor indicator. "I'm his brother, not his keeper."

It was said mildly, but I couldn't help the anger that burst from me. "You're just determined, aren't you?"

Scott looked me in the eye. "Absolutely. I'm determined to see to it that that monster can't ever hurt anybody ever again."

"Even if it means sacrificing yourself? Even if it means leaving the rest of your family to grieve? It'd kill Dad. You have to know that. You have to know that it'd break Virgil. And me, too. Me too, Scott."

Scott's face went hard. "In case you haven't been paying attention, that bitch is gathering herself another round of victims. Another round of families left to grieve. Another round of broken lives. I'm not going to let that happen."

The elevator doors opened on our little foyer, and Scott moved ahead and keyed the door open. I rolled into the room, aware of the strained silence between us. Scott closed the door, and came around to get up in my face.

I waited grimly for the second act of his lecture, but he surprised me with his soft tone. "But you know, I don't see any reason to sacrifice myself to stop her. That's what the war council is for. We'll figure out a way to take her down without ever getting close. Hell, what's the point of owning an aerospace corporation if you can't use the rockets for a little personal revenge?"

He said the last as a joke, and I had to appreciate the way he tried to help me. I scrubbed my face with both hands. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm tired or maybe hungry. What are we going to get for lunch?"

"Who knows. We'll wait until Johnny shows up, then we can order something tasty."

"Where did he go?"

"Not sure. Said he had to buy something."

I glanced over at where the pile of equipment he had gotten at the electronics store had been delivered. "Yeah, I can see why he'd need more stuff."

Scott snorted, then moved to the conversation area. "Come on over here, let's call Dad, see what he has to say."

"I gotta hit the head." It came out more abruptly than I intended, but like I said, I was feeling cranky. I took my time in the bathroom, using a washcloth to wipe down my face and neck.

I still had this knot where my stomach used to be. I couldn't help but feel that neither Scott nor John really got it. When I thought objectively about it, I could understand why a flabby old lady walking down the street wouldn't seem like that big a threat.

You really had to have been in that charnel house to really see what a monster that seemingly innocuous old lady was. You had to see the dying teenager squirming on the floor like a blind worm trying to get back to the woman who was killing him. You had to face someone you love calling you the most hurtful names he could think of because you were trying to save him.

Only Dad, Virgil and I had to deal with all of that. I'd told both Scott and John what had happened, but it was like a bad movie to them. Horrible to hear, but not really something they couldn't deal with.

I finished in the bathroom, and wheeled myself back into the living room. John was back, and when he saw me he tossed me a small bag. "Here."

I opened the bag and found fingerless driving gloves. I had to smile. They'd be a big help when I was pushing myself in the wheelchair. "Thanks, Johnny. What else didja get?"

I gestured to the bags on the table. John went over and opened up one, and pulled out what looked like a hamburger. He handed it to me, but when I opened the wrapping I found a pulled pork sandwich. "Ah, cool."

I took a bite and savored the flavor. Scott called us both over to the conversation area, where the big free floating screen showed my dad, and Virgil and Alan at Dad's desk at home.

John handed Scott one of the sandwiches, but he barely glanced at it, setting it down as he spoke. "No, Dad, that's not going to work. You don't have the experience. We need to meet up somewhere. I'll do the drop."

John and I shared a look. It was never a good idea to tell our dad that he couldn't do something. John asked, "Drop? What kind of drop?"

My dad ignored John's question, and looked at me. "Gordon, how are you feeling, son?"

"I'm good, Dad. What are you going to drop?"

"We're going to hit this woman hard and fast. Thunderbird Two is going to fly Tracy Four up, and I'm going to fly in and take her out."

I felt my eyes widen. Tracy Four was the TEX33, one of Tracy Enterprises most spectacular failures. Intended as a stealth craft, it had Brains' finest light bending technology, and when it flew, it was not only radar-invisible, but physically invisible, and soundless too.

Sounds great, right? Well, it achieved its ability by running through fuel like a skipjack tuna flies through the water. As far as I knew, they had yet to lick the power consumption problem. Virgil had once told me it would take engines the size of those on TB2 to make it really feasible, and engines that size created their own design issues. Anyway, as it was, the prototype literally had a range of less than five hundred miles.

Even that would not be a project killer, but there was more… it could only carry a payload of less than a five hundred pounds. It couldn't carry enough ordnance, or even spy gear to make it worth the fuel costs. And it was a twitchy beast, requiring a live pilot, so turning it into a drone wasn't in the cards.

When Dad had the prototype shipped to the island, he said it was to remind him that failure could happen to anyone. Brains liked to fiddle with it every once in a while, but for the most part, it was parked in a corner in the hangar.

The drop that Dad and Scott were talking about was a dangerous maneuver under the best of circumstances. TB2 would hold the plane with her grabs, then drop it in flight. The pilot of the plane would cold start the plane in the air.

Yeah. It was seriously beyond my skill level. It would be a fairly scary death, falling from some ridiculous height, hoping against hope that the plane could be kick started. Scott, of course, had done it on several occasions in practice.

He said it was just a good idea to have the skill in place, but we all knew it was just an excuse to show off. Him and Virgil both. The drop part was ridiculous, but they also practiced pick up. Yeah, you heard that right. Virgil would fly Two straight and steady, and Scott would bring the plane right up into her belly where the grabs would lock it in place.

But all of Scott's practice had been in Tracy Three, a little one-seater sportjet. Tracy Four was twice the size, and unless there was some part of my dad's career that he'd never told us about, Dad had no experience in this kind of maneuver.

I shifted in my seat a bit. I knew Dad would not take it well, but I had to agree, it was pretty stupid not to use Scott to pilot Tracy Four. I stilled when I got a look at my brothers, Virgil and Alan.

I felt the color drain from my face. Virgil's mouth was a tight white line, and Alan had Dad's same look of determination on his face. I blurted out, "Oh, you can't be serious!"

My mouth snapped shut as soon as I said it. Bad move, Gordon. Sure enough, Dad looked like a particularly irritated mule when he glared at me. "You have a comment, son?"

Aw, crap. I froze. I couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't piss off both my dad and my brother, but as stupid as it was to let Dad do the drop, to have Alan flying Thunderbird Two was just crazy. Yes, he was a great pilot, but he hated flying Two, and he had damned little experience with her.

I just sat there like a deer in headlights, but fortunately I didn't have to say anything, because John, bless his fearless little heart, jumped right in.

"Yeah, Dad, I've got a comment. But let me ask a question first. Virg, are you really up to flying Two? I thought the doctor had grounded you?"

"Yes, I am up to it," Virgil snapped.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "We've been over this, Virgil. Alan will be flying Two, not you."

"Dad," chorused Virgil and Scott, but Dad held up his hand.

"This is not a discussion I am going to repeat. Do you all understand?" Dad was flint hard, and I for one, nodded quietly.

Scott was angry, but he nodded curtly. Alan was biting his lip. I knew there was a smirk fighting to get out, and I was proud of him that he never let it show.

"All right. Now, Brains has ordered up a boat for you three. I want you to head over to the mainland. Once I've dropped the bombs, I want you to verify the kill."

My stomach seized up again. "But Dad, if the bombs don't get her, anybody coming close will be toast."

Dad made a calming gesture. "We'll be using satellite imaging. I'm not sending you boys in there without being damn sure we've nailed her."

"Then why go at all?" John asked, his head cocked to the side.

"I want proof." Dad said flatly.

I sat still, watching Scott out of the corner of my eye. It was obvious to me that Dad was only sending us in to let Scott feel like he was part of the action. If Scott realized that was Dad's intention, there'd be Hell to pay.

Scott was still so pissed that Dad's subterfuge went right over his head. He gritted out, "Where's the boat?"

"Simpson Marine. I'll email the directions." Dad replied.

"Not necessary. I know where it is," I piped up. Simpson Marine was one of the world's preeminent yacht brokers, and I'd done some serious window shopping there on several occasions. The thought of going there today lifted my heart despite the circumstances.

As we'd been speaking, John had pulled a box out of one of the new bags he'd brought in, and opened it up to reveal one of those fancy new virtual computers. John was talking quietly on his phone, and working hard and fast to set up his new toy.

I was distracted by his flying fingers, and started when Dad barked at me. "Gordon, are you listening?"

If it weren't for my sore butt, I would have leapt to attention. Stupid military training. "Yes, sir."

Dad narrowed his eyes at me to let me know he'd be watching me. Then he continued. "Virgil, bring up that image."

My dad's sharp gaze disappeared to be replaced by a satellite image. It started with a long shot, and I easily recognized Singapore and the surrounding area. The view zoomed in on the mainland to the north. As it got closer in, a structure, seemingly in the middle of the jungle, appeared.

Closer still, and I could see the jungle around the structure had the look of a grid that had been neglected for years. I nodded my head at the view. It was a rubber plantation that had gone to seed.

Rubber was one of those natural products that had gone the way of the dinosaurs when so-called 'green' synthetics had exploded onto the scene some ten years ago. These synthetics were cheaper, more durable, and totally environmentally friendly. Sure, there were some old timers who insisted natural rubber was superior, but not enough of them to keep the industry afloat. There were abandoned rubber plantations like this one all over Southeast Asia.

The screen changed to show a thermal image, and sure enough, in the structure, which looked to be some kind of caretaker's shack, there was a single heat signature. Although the image was live, the heat signature didn't move a muscle. I felt a shiver go down my back as my mind supplied a visual of a spider waiting patiently in its web.

"And we're sure that's her?" John asked.

Dad stated curtly, "We've had a solid track on her from the mainland."

"So, we follow the river to this point, then cut inland," Scott nodded, then pointed out something that I had noticed right away. "Why is the river this brown color?"

I answered, "Silt. Dad, what kind of boat did Brains order?"

"I told him to get something fast. John, there's a business called Diversion Camo on the 96th floor of your hotel. There's a package there to be picked up under the name of Glenn. It's hazmat gear I want you boys to wear, along with a couple of cane knives."

"Cane knives, Dad?" Scott asked, frowning.

"Yes. Anything larger requires a permit. They'll have to do," Dad responded.

I sat quietly seething. Neither Dad nor Scott understood that you couldn't just order up a 'fast' boat. Over the last few months, the Malaysian mainland had been struck by multiple floods resulting in the Johor River being overloaded with silt and debris.

Scott was nodding agreement with something that Dad had said, and the conversation was coming to a close. Scott asked, "Anything else?"

Dad was shaking his head. "No. You boys be careful."

"Dad," I barked, getting their attention. "I need to know exactly what kind of boat Brains got."

From behind me, John quietly said, "Brains says it's a Schneider Mark IV. What the hell is a Schneider Mark IV?"

I felt relief wash over me. I guess we didn't call him 'Brains' for nothing. A Mark IV would be perfect for the conditions on the river, if not for the crossing from Singapore.

"Okay, now, this is getting annoying. Brains says to tell you it has a Byerly centerboard. What the hell is that? And what is a Schneider Mark IV?"

"A Mark IV with a Byerly? Damn. How did he find that?" The Schneider Mark IV was a state of the art airboat. The problem with an airboat is its shallow draft. While that made it perfect for skimming over the debris of the silt-laden river, it would be dangerously unsteady in the open water between Singapore and the mainland. A Byerly centerboard reduced that danger to almost nothing.

A centerboard is a kind of temporary keel, intended to give shallow draft boats additional stability. In the old days, it was exactly what it sounded like, a board that could be winched down into the water from the center of the boat.

The Byerly centerboard was far more advanced. You dropped it down and it spread wings that literally changed the whole profile of the boat. The fact that the boat had a Byerly meant that the crossing of the Johor Straight was going to be a whole lot safer and more comfortable, if not faster.

"So, it's a good thing?" John cocked an eyebrow at me, frowning skeptically.

"Oh, yeah, it's seriously a good thing," I grinned.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy. Can we go now?" Scott asked drily.

"Why yes, we can," I responded brightly, and started wheeling myself to the door.

I was feeling a whole lot better about things now. The succubus still terrified me spitless, and the knot in my stomach hadn't disappeared, mainly because I was worried about that drop Dad was attempting

But I was no more willing to ignore the devastation that the succubus caused than my brothers were. It needed to be dealt with, and fast before she took any more victims. I just didn't want to risk any lives to do the job.

We loaded into the elevator, and Scott hit the buttons for the 96th floor and the garage level. "John, pick up the Hazmat gear, I'll get the van."

It was the kind of command that would have driven Alan crazy. Scott was stating the obvious, and that made Al go nuts. But both Johnny and I understood our big brother just needed to feel like he was in control, and we took no offense, just nodding our heads in agreement.

At the 96th floor, John got out and headed away at the trot. The door closed again, and silence fell between us. I could tell Scott was troubled, but I didn't really know what to say. I did the guy thing, punching him lightly in the arm, just to let him know I was there for him.

Scott's eyes were hooded. He said, quietly, "Sometimes I wonder if I really am the control freak everybody calls me."

Whoa. Deep. "Scott, Dad is wrong here. I don't care how long it took, he should have figured a way to pick you up. It's not control, it's common sense. You're the only one who has ever done a drop and pick up with Thunderbird Two."

My brother didn't respond, but I knew I had said the right thing. Scott breathed a little easier, and got that blank look he sometimes got when he was planning.

We rode down the elevator in silence, and when we hit the garage level, Scott gave me a hard stare, making sure I was ready, that I was up to the job. I stared confidently back, and with a curt nod, he got out of the elevator and headed off to get the van.

I relaxed back into my wheelchair, and wondered if my body could keep the promise that my eyes had made. I rolled out of the elevator, and took a deep breath of wet concrete-scented air. A couple of kids in valet uniforms came up with a question in their eyes. "I'm fine, guys. Just waiting for my ride."

The older of the two pointed the way to a waiting area, offering to push me, but I waved him off and rolled on over. As soon as I was alone, I lifted my wrist communicator. "Gordon Tracy to Alan Tracy. Al, have you taken off yet?"

My brother appeared on my communicator screen. "No, it's going to take a while. Brains is still trying to configure the grabs to hold on to Tracy Four. Have you left yet?"

"We're on our way to pick up the boat. You think you can handle the drop? You want me to walk you through it?"

He gave me a look. "I'm a way better pilot than you, you know."

"Not on Two, you're not."

"Yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is?"

"Two hundred bucks."

"You're on. I'll see you in the simulator room when you get back."

"Yeah, but seriously Al, this drop isn't going to be easy."

"Don't worry about it. Virgil is going to be online with me. Dad wouldn't let him come, but I promised him he could help me with the drop and pick up. In fact, he just stepped away a few moments ago."

That surprised me. Alan was never much of one for taking direction. Especially when it was something he considered himself an expert at. I had a thought and narrowed my eyes. "Are you actually listening to what Virgil is saying?"

Alan smirked. "I hear every word."

"Alan, listen to the man."

""Look, you can't fly a bird like TB2 long distance. There's not much more than 'fly straight and hold her steady' that Virg can say."

I sighed, "Please, Al, think about it. How would you feel if your entire family was out risking their lives and you were stuck at home feeling useless? Give him a break and at least act like you're paying attention."

"Actually, I know exactly how that feels. Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Gordy. I'll be an attentive little brother, and he'll feel all connected and stuff."

I shook my head, then said, "I gotta go."

"Yeah. You be careful."

"Me? I'm not the one who's going to have Dad watching his every tiny little move."

My brother had just enough time to register that terrifying thought before I cut the connection.

"Hey." I looked around at John as he came to stand at my side, heavy packages in his hands. We both looked up at the sound of an approaching car. It was Scott, and he spotted us, and pulled up next to the waiting area. John handled the lift controls, and I was soon onboard.

With my direction, Scott headed for the docks, and John pulled out his laptop. In less than ten minutes we pulled up in front of Simpson Marine. I think I surprised my brothers when I got up out of the wheelchair, and picked up my pillow.

I shrugged my shoulders, saying, "We might as well leave it here. I can't really get it onto the boat."

They saw the sense of what I was saying, but Scott frowned ferociously as he watched me limping. I ignored him, and led the way into the office. The salesman, Mr. Chu, knew me from my window shopping trips. He looked up as we entered, and came out from behind his desk to shake my hand.

He had all of the paperwork lined up and ready to go, and within ten minutes, we were on our way to the dock where our chariot awaited. It was hard to walk past all of those beautiful boats, and not stop and gawk and ask about them.

I took in deep breaths of air, reveling in the smells of new wood, and machine oil overlaid with a sea air tang. I really loved boatyards, but we didn't have the time to window shop, and way too quickly, we were at the end of the dock, where the Mark IV had been tied up.

It was bigger than I had expected, with two rows of bolted on seats ahead of the pilot's raised seat. It was a total of eight passenger seats, but what drew my eye was the thick divider that ran almost the length of the boat. It was a good two feet tall, and about four inches thick.

I pointed to it and asked the salesman, "Is that the Byerly?"

Mr. Chu smiled widely, nodding his head. "Yes. It operates from the pilot's console."

Oh, excellent. I smiled back at Mr. Chu. "This is even better than I'd hoped." I looked over at my brothers, who both wore little frowns. "Okay, guys, let's lock and load."

I started down the short gangplank, and stepped aboard my new command. She bobbed slightly at my weight, but even with a torn up butt, I could balance easily. I maneuvered over to the pilot's seat, and plopped my pillow down.

Scott stepped up with a gray Hazmat jumpsuit, and with his help, I put it on over my clothes. I could immediately feel the sweat start, but I knew once we were on the water and moving, the air flow would keep me cool.

The next bit was tricky. Under normal circumstances, I could swing up into the high seat with very little trouble, but things being as they were, I wasn't quite sure how to do it. And it didn't help that I could sense my brothers behind me staring at me, just waiting for a reason to leave me behind.

I stood gathering my courage for what I knew was going to be a painful transition, when Scott and John appeared at my sides. "Turn around," Scott ordered bluntly.

Not sure what he had in mind, I turned. "Okay, keep your arms stiff," John said.

My brothers grabbed my hands, and I immediately understood what they were doing. With my arms held stiffly at my sides, my brothers lifted me up enough to slide onto my pillow. I had to wiggle to position it right, but in a moment I was in place and ready to go.

Or not. I looked at the controls, and the labels were all in some foreign language. I'd worked with airboats a couple of times during my short time with WASP, and for the most part I could figure it out, but there were some extra buttons on the control panel, and I needed to know what they were. Especially the centerboard control. "Uh, Johnny, can you make out these controls?"

John came over and looked at the panel I'd nodded to. "Sure. That's engine start, that's throttle enrichment, that's centerboard, and that's emergency stop. Uh, what would that be?"

I nodded. "It cuts the engine, and deploys a water anchor. Trust me, we don't want to hit that one. It's like smacking into a brick wall."

"Okay, so let's get going. We need to get over there and back before nightfall." Scott sat down on one of the seats, and started to pull on the Hazmat suit.

I rolled my eyes, and turned to John. "Can you cast off the lines for me?"

"Sure."

John moved to the front of the boat, and untied the line to the pier, then moved to the rear and did the same. I gestured for him to open a storage box near my seat.

He raised an eyebrow at my implicit demand for quiet, but he did as I asked and with a smile, realized what I was doing. He pulled out two sets of noise canceling earphones, and gave one to me.

John moved quietly to a seat, and with a grin, I hit the engine start button. The huge fan at my back promptly fired up, with a roar that put Thunderbird Two to shame. The boat jumped ahead, but not nearly as quickly as Scott jumped, his eyes wide.

I immediately throttled the engine back, partially to keep Scott from being thrown overboard, but mainly to drop the Byerly. I felt the thunk of the centerboard locking just as the telltale turned green.

I looked up to find Scott had found the headphones, and had finished changing into his Hazmat suit. He was lounging on one of the seats, his Hazmat hood thrown back. John was working to get his suit on.

After a moment, Scott looked back at me, and tapped his headphones. "Let's go."

His voice sounded clear through my headphones without any tinny quality. Another plus. I shook my head. "Not 'til John's ready."

"Gordon, we haven't got all day."

I looked my big brother in the eye. "Have you ever been aboard an airboat?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

I thought for a minute to come up with an appropriate metaphor. "It's like riding a roller coaster. A lot of fun, but only if you're buckled in. This boat is fast, and you can slip right off those seats, if I turn."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "Then don't turn."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard. We will begin our tour just as soon as everybody is strapped in."

Scott shot me a dirty look, then glanced over at John. The glance became a double-take and I looked too, to see that John had finished getting his suit on, and was safely buckled in, and looking for all the world like a tourist anticipating a nice ride.

I snorted a laugh, and Scott just shook his head, but he did buckle up. I throttled up the engine just enough to get us moving, and with a roar at my back, and the salt wind in my face, we were off.

It was necessary while in the harbor to keep the speed down. Even Scott understood that, but once we cleared the Manna Channel, and were in open water, I was ready to rev it up.

I hit the throttle, and soon we were moving at about 40 knots. God, it felt good. With the centerboard, the boat was stable, and cut smoothly through the water. The sun was well past the high noon mark and the water sparkled everywhere you looked. We zipped past pleasure craft of all shapes and sizes, and for a few moments, a speedboat kept pace with us.

If it weren't for our mission, it would have been a perfect afternoon. But what lay ahead took all the fun out of it as soon as I thought of it. The boat had a heads up GPS display, and within an hour, I was cutting back the speed as the Straits narrowed down to the Johor River.

I kept us to the center of the river, and kept an eye out for any obstacles that could tear up our centerboard. As we moved on, I watched as the silt lines moved out from the shore, and just about where they converged, I idled us back to a stop.

Both Scott and John had been enjoying the ride, and now, John checked his laptop. Tapping his headphones, he said, "No, Gordon, we're still a good four miles away from where we need to be."

I nodded and gestured to the river. "Yeah, I know. I just have to raise the centerboard. We're getting into the shallows."

The operation only took a few moments, and I breathed a sigh of relief. There had been no indication that anything had snagged on the Byerly, but it still was satisfying to hear the thunk as it locked in its closed position.

"Uh, wait a minute here. Gordy, it's three o'clock," John said, dismayed.

Yeah, I knew I was going to miss that doctor's appointment, but I hadn't said anything. There was no way I was staying behind.

Scott turned and looked at me, his face reddening. I could see without him even saying anything that he felt guilty for not remembering the appointment.

"I'm fine, guys. I'll see the doctor when we get back,"

Scott's jaw worked, but he nodded. He's a sensible man, and he could see that there was no point in worrying about it at the moment.

Without the centerboard, the boat had started to bob more violently in the chop of the strait. I revved up the throttle and sent us forward, picking up speed as we went.

As the river channel narrowed, and the reeds and weeds thickened, the air boat really came into its own. We skimmed along the surface of the water practically flying over the snags and debris that would have holed any other boat.

The wind blowing in my face was a relief from the muggy heat, and the heavy Hazmat suit I'd put on kept the swarms of insects from eating me alive. The sun was well on its way to the horizon, and I kept the boat moving. I had no desire to be stuck out here over night.

I kept my eye on the GPS display, and I throttled back just as John raised a hand to signal me to stop. All three of us peered at the shoreline, looking for a good place to tie up.

Finally Scott pointed to the left, and I guided the boat in close to a huge old mangrove overhanging the water. John grabbed hold of a limb, and I shut down the motor. The sudden silence seemed very ominous to me, and now that we were here, my stomach clenched with apprehension.

Scott lifted his communicator. "Scott Tracy to Thunderbird Two, come in Alan."

"Thunderbird Two. Scott, I've dropped Tracy Four, and he's inbound."

John had his computer up and running. Soon, we had a running commentary from our father. "I'm on final approach. Brains, confirm the target."

"Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. The uh, target has not moved, and there is still no sign of any other, uh, people on the site. I do, however, see a couple of figures approaching."

"How far out, Brains?"

"Uh, the nearest is about five hundred yards and closing slowly. I calculate you will have destroyed the uh, target before this person gets within range, however, there is the uh, distinct possibility that he or she will see the missiles coming in."

"Can't be helped. I am locked and on target. Firing missiles now."

Now that was amazing. From our point of view on the air boat, two flames suddenly appeared in midair. They streaked across the sky, and hit inland in less than a few seconds. I found myself nodding. There just wouldn't have been enough time for the monster to react, let alone escape.

The fireball from the missile strike reached a least a hundred feet into the sky, and despite the distance, I could feel the heat of it. There was a rain of debris that seemed to go on forever, and I felt a sudden concern that we might find ourselves responsible for a forest fire.

My dad's voice was subdued when he spoke. "Brains, the building has been destroyed. Can you confirm? Did that monster get out?"

Brains' was just as quiet as he answered, "I saw no sign of uh, anyone escaping."

Scott hadn't said a thing during this time, but now, I could sense him relaxing in his seat. And I felt my own tense muscles start to loosen. Could it really be over?

"Brains, what's happening with the people that were headed toward her?" John asked curiously.

"Uh, one moment, John," Brains said distracted. "They have both stopped, and are not moving."

"Give me a vector, Brains. I want to check on them."

"Uh, yes, Mr. Tracy. Come to uh, course 7.439. You should overfly their position in, uh, ten seconds."

While we waited for Dad's report, I stared up into the sky. The stealth package on Tracy Four was incredible. Even knowing the jet was up there, I couldn't hear or see a thing.

We heard a grunt over the comm, and then Dad said, "They are both just standing there, not moving. Both male as far as I can tell. Brains, keep an eye on them. If they haven't left of their own accord when Scott gets there, we'll have him get them to a doctor. I'm heading back to Thunderbird Two."

"FAB." Brains responded.

It was our turn. Scott stood in the bow of the boat, looking around, and suddenly he shook his head in disgust.

I had to agree with him. The shoreline, such as it was, was very swampy, but the mangrove roots were everywhere. I was pretty sure that the swamp ended maybe a hundred yards in, I mean, there was a rubber plantation behind all of this somewhere. But that hundred yards was going to be pretty miserable going.

I bit my lip to keep from grinning. My brothers were both looking at the shore rather disconcertedly. Suddenly a torn up ass didn't seem so bad. "So, Johnny, did you get me some snacks?" I asked brightly.

Both of my brothers shot me dirty looks, which I just smiled sweetly at. Scott shook his head and turned back to stare at the shoreline. "Stay here."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I wasn't quite sure who he was directing that at. He grabbed a convenient branch and swung himself off of the boat, and started gingerly making his way inland.

John watched for a few minutes then with a sigh, started out after Scott. "Hey, Johnny, be careful, and keep in touch, okay?"

John looked back at me and waved, a small grim smile on his face. My brothers were both out of sight very quickly, and I swallowed hard against my apprehension.

When I'd first shut down the air boat's motor, I had been struck by the silence, but it soon became apparent that it had just been in comparison. There was an ever present buzz of gnats and mosquitoes, punctuated by the occasional heavier buzz of a larger insect.

The water, though sluggish, still lapped against the boat, and tree roots. And through it all I could hear bird calls and something that might have been a monkey.

The sun was still well above the horizon, and now that I was stationary, its heat beat down on me like a very heavy, very soggy blanket. It was damned uncomfortable, but there was no way I was taking the jumpsuit off. The bugs were making me crazy as it was, zeroing in on my exposed face and hands.

"Thunderbird Two to Gordon. You got your ears on, bro?"

"Hey, Al. Yeah. They're on. They're full of bugs, but they're on. How did it go?"

"Actually, it went really well. You know, I don't think I give Dad near enough credit. He handled the pick up like a pro. He's on his way up here now. How is it at your end?"

"We've reached the danger zone, and Scott and John left about fifteen minutes ago."

"Fifteen minutes? Shouldn't they be there by now?"

"I don't know. They have to make it through a mini-jungle to get to the plantation. I can't see anything but a wall of mangroves from here."

"Hold on, son," Dad had reached Thunderbird Two's cockpit. I could hear a few clicks as he conferenced in my brothers.

"Yeah, Dad, we've just cleared the swamp, and we're working our way through the rubber trees." John's voice floated in the air.

"All right, son. Keep this line open. I want a running commentary," Dad ordered.

"Yes, sir. We're getting close. There's fire haze in the air, and I can smell the MCN chemicals. Oh, there it is."

I could hear a low whistle from one of my brothers, and then Scott took up the narrative. "Dad, we're onsite. I think we might have been a bit optimistic about finding any proof. There's damn little left. The structure was completely destroyed. We're going to be sifting through ashes, and fine ashes at that."

"Do what you can, son. I want to be sure that thing is dead."

"Yes, sir. What's that over there?"

"No, it's just wood. Careful, it's pretty hot over here."

"Yeah."

My brothers kept at it, looking for any clear sign of a body. At one point they had both gone very quiet, and my stomach seized up yet again. But when Dad demanded an explanation, they explained that had found the distorted frame of a child's tricycle.

It was a reminder to us all that there were other people affected by all of this, and not all were necessarily direct victims of the succubus. Suddenly Brains volunteered the information that the two victims who had been heading to the monster's lair had turned around and were now heading away, hopefully back to their families.

"You know, that might be the only proof that we ever get that it's dead. The fact that those people were able to walk away."

I nodded my head in agreement with Alan's statement. "Yeah."

"Scott? Look at this. Does that look like a bone to you?"

I suddenly sucked in a breath, waiting for my brother's answer. "Maybe. Let's dig around here see if there's anything else."

I listened, hardly daring to breathe, and I could sense a similar stillness from the other listeners. Finally after several minutes, John said firmly, "Now that's definitely a rib."

"Yes. Dad, I think we've got our proof."

Alan let out a whoop, and I could hear Dad breathing a sigh of relief. Me? I just started to shake. I signed off the communicator, not wanting anyone to hear the quaver in my voice. I sat in my elevated pilot's chair and shook, breathing hard, grinding my teeth to keep from sobbing.

It was over. Finally. And for a miracle, I had all of my brothers alive. I knew that it would be a very long time before I'd be able to put this behind me. And it would probably be even longer for Scott and John.

I hoped that we would all get back to what we were before, but I think I knew that this whole incident would leave a mark. Who knew that the fairy tale monsters were real?

And if a succubus was real, what else was out there? And how could we deal with it? And was it our responsibility in the first place? The mission of International Rescue was to save lives, and by eliminating the succubus, we had definitely saved lives. But did that mean it was now our responsibility to go out looking for monsters?

God, I hope not. Please, dear God, let this be the only one.

The end.