Chapter 43.
Alan hated being short.
Scratch that, he loathed it.
It was so embarrassing. Not being able to reach the top shelf of the cupboards without help from one of his brothers. His feet not touching the floor when he sat on one of the kitchen chairs. The humiliation of still being able to fit into the same clothes he'd worn when he was twelve.
Scott kept assuring him that he'd eventually hit his main growth spurt, and Kayo was full of promises about how guys didn't stop growing until they were twenty five.
It was all empty words to Alan. Scott and John had both passed the six foot mark in their late teens (legend had it that John was still growing), while Virgil languished around the five foot ten mark. Gordon was closer to five foot eight, but was adamant that he was five foot ten when he was underwater.
And then there was all five feet and four inches of little Alan.
There could be no denying it. He was the midget of the family.
He hadn't been blessed with Scott's height, John's giraffe gene, or Virgil's bulk. Sure, he could probably tone himself and offer Gordon some competition, but there was an element of practicality behind his aquanaut brother's athletic frame. Underwater rescues necessitated a swimmer's physique, and since the majority of Alan's aquatic experience was limited to the bath and shower, he'd so far been denied the lean muscle that came as part of the package.
Facts were, unfortunately, facts. He was short and skinny.
How ironic that he piloted the biggest Thunderbird.
"Guys!" Alan cried, his little legs struggling to keep up with his brother's powerful strides, "Wait up!"
Scott glanced over his shoulder, sapphire eyes widening in alarm when he saw how far behind Alan had fallen.
"Come on!" John hollered, his own eyes doubling when he spied Tarek pursuing them, "Hurry up!"
Alan faltered slightly as his lungs began to burn. The desert sun beat down on his head and reflected off the brilliant white of the marble driveway him and his brothers were hurtling down.
It was no good. There was simply no way he could keep up with the likes of Scott and John. His tiny legs would be the end of him.
Just as Alan felt himself start to slow down, someone scooped him off the ground and started to carry him.
"What the-? Virgil?" Alan squawked, whacking fruitlessly at the arm that was wrapped around his waist and carrying him like a roll of carpet, "I'm quite capable of running by myself!"
"I beg to differ," Virgil hissed, putting on a burst of speed to make up for the distance he'd lost circling back to grab his baby brother, "Stop wriggling!"
Alan slumped in defeat, his body parallel to the ground. He knew from experience that he'd have better luck arguing with a revolving door than with Virgil.
Up front, John motioned for the group to turn left onto a luxurious palm-lined avenue that terminated in a busy road.
"Keep going!" John yelled, his pace slowing slightly when he saw how far behind Tarek had fallen. Youth and fitness had been the Tracy's saving graces yet again.
Scott, meanwhile, was continuing to run like he had Thunderbird One up his ass.
"Taxi!" Gordon screeched, barrelling into the middle of a busy intersection and motioning frantically at one of Abu Dhabi's iconic silver cabs. There was a collective intake of breath when the fourth brother almost got squashed by a passing supermarket truck.
"Gordon!" Virgil bellowed, his heart in his throat. He swore the aquanaut was going to be the death of him.
"Get in!" Gordon yelled, yanking open the back door and gesturing madly for his brothers to hurry the hell up. In the background, Tarek had surrendered his chase and was busy radioing for backup.
Virgil wasted no time as he tossed Alan into the backseat and dove for the steering wheel, manhandling the driver out and onto the pavement in the process.
"We'll fill the tank up," he promised, tossing a handful of dirham notes out the window by way of an apology, "Sorry for the inconvenience!"
The driver spluttered something in Arabic before yelping and diving to the side as Scott and John stampeded past.
"Get out, I'm driving!" Scott ordered, the deranged expression on his face doing nothing for his cause.
"Not a chance," Virgil snapped, "After what happened in Rio, I'm never allowing you or John behind the wheel of a car again. Now get in before I strap you to the roof."
Scott scowled before vaulting over the bonnet and dumping himself in the passenger seat. In the back, Gordon and John crammed themselves in either side of Alan.
"You'll have to navigate," Virgil instructed, shifting the car into gear and hastily checking his mirrors, "I'm not even sure which side of the road I should be on."
"Right side," John piped up from the back, "How much fuel is in the tank?"
"Three quarters," Virgil replied, casting a nervous glance out the window as a helicopter hovered ominously nearby, "Are taxis equipped with speed limiters here?"
"Yes," John replied, his expression neutral as he activated his wrist controller, "But I can disable the one on this vehicle. Give me two minutes and you should be able to go quicker than sixty. The UAE has some of the highest speed limits in the world, so we shouldn't ruffle too many feathers if we stomp on the gas."
"Where did we leave Thunderbird Two?" Gordon asked, twisting his head to make sure they weren't being followed.
"Corniche Beach," Virgil replied, "What's the quickest way to get there?"
Scott quickly activated his own wrist controller and hastily entered in some coordinates, "Okay, you want to take the next left. That'll take us past the Embassy of Ethiopia and on towards the Al Bateen Mall. You're looking for a road called Al Halah Street."
Virgil cursed as he sped past the very turning Scott had just quoted, "Is there an option that involves staying on the road we're currently on? I don't want to end up downtown."
"You asked me how to get there, and I told you," Scott growled, his irritation tangible, "Exit at Bu Jeet Street instead."
Virgil's own irritation matched Scott's head-on, "That'll take me downtown!"
"It's coming up," Scott warned, "Get in the right lane. Use your signal!"
Virgil swore loudly as he yanked the car around the next bend he saw, cringing as the tyres squealed like nails on a chalkboard.
"We should have stolen some camels instead," Gordon moaned, his shoulders slumping as Scott and Virgil continued to argue like an old married couple.
"If you go via Al Falah Street we can turn off by the park," Scott carried on, his hands braced against the dashboard as he stared at the holographic map his wrist controller was projecting, "Then we can follow the road back onto Corniche Street and hoof it back to Thunderbird Two. Cyclist!"
Virgil felt himself age ten years as he jerked to avoid the cyclist Scott was frantically pointing at.
"Low gear!" Scott instructed as the road began to steepen.
"Excuse me, but the only person who orders me around is Kip Harris," Virgil retaliated, sweat beading on his forehead as the car began to lose momentum, "I'm shifting to third to compensate for the loss of power."
"Don't!" Scott snapped, holding his hand protectively over the gear lever, "If you do that you'll overheat the engine and stall it. Stay in first, we need the torque to go against gravity."
Virgil made a comical sound of distress as the car continued to slow.
"Maybe we should all lean forward?" Gordon suggested, acutely aware that the majority of the car's weight was concentrated across the three backseats.
"Too late, we're going down," Virgil warned, his stomach dropping into his shoes as the car lost all its forward momentum and began to roll back down the very hill they'd just been climbing.
"Use the handbrake!" John bleated, shielding his head with his arms as Virgil began to weave around parked cars like a rally driver.
"Brake, you fool!" Gordon squawked, thrusting his head between his knees as the car continued to gather speed, "Oh man…this is how it ends."
Virgil ignored the ensuing prayers that began to spill out of his brother's mouths, his arm hooked over the back of his seat as he maneuverered the rapidly reversing car like a pro. On his right, Scott twisted to stare out the rear windshield and began screaming like a castrated goat.
"Hold onto your underpants," Virgil grunted, cursing as he took out the wing mirror of a parked van, "Ah, shit."
Drunk on carsickness, adrenalin, and the terror of never seeing Celery again, Gordon took Virgil's advice to heart and promptly seized the band of his boxers.
Ever eager to mimic his brothers, Alan did the same.
Scott ceased his screaming as the road finally levelled out, causing the car to lose some of the momentum it had accumulated during its backwards descent. Combined with Virgil's ridiculously delayed employment of the handbrake, the vehicle finally came to a rather abrupt halt. Steam seeped from underneath the bonnet and up from the wheel arches.
"Am I still alive?" Gordon whispered, his eyes squeezed shut.
None of the others had the spare breath to answer. Up front, Scott and Virgil were both staring at the road in front of them, backs ramrod straight and eyes three times their usual size.
For the longest time, nobody said a word. Four pairs of eyes (bar Gordon's tightly closed ones) continued to stare blankly ahead, their owners sufficiently traumatised.
"I just saw my life flash before my eyes," Alan whispered, his expression suggesting that he hadn't liked what he'd seen.
John nodded, his face beyond white, "Me too. I never realised I was such an ugly baby."
-x-
Back in the comfort of Hamdan's office, Penelope and Kayo were making slightly better progress.
"And what's your daughter's name?" Penelope asked, a pen poised between her manicured fingers.
"Aiysha," Hamdan replied, his hands clasped together in excitement, "Can you really arrange a meeting with the pilot of Thunderbird Four for her?"
Penelope batted her eyelashes and swept a stray lock of hair off her arm, "Most certainly. Thunderbird Four is my favourite craft as well. Now, back to business. Naturally, we cannot offer such an experience free of charge. There will be the initial expense of transporting your daughter to Thunderbird Four's location, plus an additional deposit to ensure it is removed from duty for the day. Then there's the pilot's time, although I think we could settle that expense separately. Tell me, do the supermarkets here sell Celery Crunch Bars?"
Hamdan's face fell with every fee Penelope quoted, "I'll never be able to cover all those costs on my own. Maybe we could skip transporting her to Thunderbird Four's location and just have the pilot meet her at our local beach?"
Penelope's eyes gleamed craftily, "Or maybe we could offer the entire experience free of charge in exchange for short-term diplomatic immunity? I myself am lucky enough to already enjoy such a privilege, however my friends do not. All they require is safe passage to depart your country in Thunderbird Two in the next hour. And the return of their passports, of course. Tell me, is that something you could arrange for us?"
Hamdan sighed and pursed his lips, "I'm just a security guard, Miss Creighton-Ward."
"But surely you have influential friends who could argue our case on your behalf?" Penelope purred, her expression pleasant, "This is one of the most famous hotels in the world. I find it impossible to believe that anyone who's talented enough to work here isn't well connected."
There was a small pause as Hamdan weighed up the merits of allowing his daughter to see a Thunderbird against the dishonour of corruption.
His daughter won hands down.
"I'll make a call."
-x-
"Come on, Virg!" Scott encouraged, one hand squeezing his brother's shoulder, "Push!"
Virgil gritted his teeth, sweat pouring down his face, "I c-can't!"
"Yes you can!" John asserted, his tone offering no room for negotiation, "Slow, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."
Virgil gasped as his torso spasmed in pain, "Gah! I can't do it!"
Scott and John shared a worried look over their brother's back as a pain-filled shriek escaped his lungs.
"Hang in there, Virg," Gordon coaxed, leaning over to offer his brother a sip of bottled water, "You're doing so well! Just a little bit more."
"You can do it. Push!" Alan cried, dabbing at his brother's sweaty face with a tissue, "Keep going!"
"I can't do it!" Virgil wheezed, his entire upper body surrendering to the pain that was radiating through it.
"Just one more big push!" Scott yelled, his face mere inches from Virgil's as he seized his brother's hand in his own, "I'm not letting you give up this easily!"
"Just keep breathing," John instructed, his voice a soothing contrast to Scott's agitated squeals, "It'll all be worth it in the end."
Virgil panted and clenched his eyes shut, "You have no idea what I'm going through!"
"Just a little further," Alan enthused, scampering around John and hopping back into the driver's seat, "We've almost reached the top!"
Virgil keened loudly as he braced his hands against the car's rear bumper and pushed it the last few meters up the slope they'd just rolled down.
"Yes, you did it!" Scott whooped, slapping Virgil on the back as the ground levelled out enough for him to cease his shoving, "Well done, Virg. I told you it would all be worth it. How do you feel?"
Thunderbird Two's pilot staggered forward a couple of steps before collapsing face first onto the blisteringly hot tarmac of the hill he'd spent the last forty minutes propelling their car up.
"I'm interpreting that as somewhere between 'good' and 'excellent'," Scott quipped, jolting slightly as a trio of women wearing traditional abayas scurried down the street towards them.
"We heard the screams!" one of the women cried in Arabic, "We've come to help! My sister here is a midwife!"
John stepped forward, his trademark smile in place as the group drew closer, "That's very kind of you, but we don't need help anymore. Actually, we might. Are there any good garages around here?"
All three women gasped in delight at the redhead's flawless Arabic. The one on the far left gabbled something as the other two gazed up at him expectantly.
"What are they saying?" Scott asked, frowning in suspicion when a blanket was thrust into John's arms.
The middle brother sighed.
"They heard Virgil's screams and think we're hiding a labouring woman."