Who's In Trouble Now?

By Spense

Chapter Seven – Close Calls and Near Misses

Alan was out on his morning jaunt, heading for the bus for the days destination. Thinking back on it later, he realized he must have been getting lax. I mean, how could you miss a bright pink car? But, he managed to do it – somehow. He didn't even realize it until a hand snaked out and grabbed his upper arm in an iron hold and spun him around.

Alan found that he was face to face with Parker. And that Parker didn't look like the friendly protector he'd always known. Rather, he didn't look all happy with him at all.

"Well, well . . . what 'ave we 'ere?" Parker commented rhetorically, his eyes narrowed in a stern expression. "Master Alan Tracy himself."

Alan found himself mesmerized. Kind of like a mouse facing a snake.

"You come right along with me, young man," Parker growled, not releasing Alan by an inch. "I know some people who'll be right glad to see you!" From the look on Parker's face, Alan got the impression that Parker himself wasn't one of them.

If Alan had ever wondered how much trouble he was in, he didn't have to wonder any more. Parker looked furious. Alan found himself shoved none-to-gently into the back of FAB-1. Parker narrowed his eyes at him and pointed a finger at him. "You stay right there, Master Alan," he said sternly as he hit the button that put the canopy up on the car. "Milady will definitely be wanting a word with you." With a final glare, he slammed the door shut. Alan heard the locks snap shut, and that finally jolted him into action. He lunged for the door, but it was too late. He was locked in tight.

'Damm!' Alan ripped his IR baseball cap off his head and threw it onto the floor of the car in a fit of pique which quickly passed. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'

Taking his sunglasses off and throwing them carelessly onto the seat next to him, Alan leaned back, crossing his arms dejectedly. It couldn't be over. Not yet. Besides, if Parker was this mad . . . how mad must his father be? Chances are, absolutely furious. Alan mentally ran over his list of transgressions covering the last month and a half, and gave an involuntary shudder at the tally. Well, he'd certainly managed to top all of his previous lists and his brothers past history combined. The travel virus alone . . He could safely say his brothers would want to pound him for all the time they probably wasted on that one. But his father . . .well, that one incident in itself would pretty much ensure that he wouldn't be able to sit down for at least a week by the time his father got through with him.

Nope. He wasn't giving up. He wasn't done yet. He wasn't going to be drug home like an errant child. One part of his mind supplied that that was pretty much exactly what he was, but he suppressed that thought quickly. Another traitorous thought provided that it would be pretty nice to see his brothers again, eat real meals, and sleep in a real bed again. And not worry about money (which was going to be a factor soon). As tempting as those thoughts were, Alan also remembered an echo of a conversation . . . the words 'mistake' and 'screw-up' figuring rather prominently. That hardened his resolve pretty quickly. Nope. He was not going to go back home. Especially not drug back by Parker and Lady Penelope. But how . . .

A flurry of voices broke into his revive. Park and Lady P. Penny's voice: "What! Where? Have you called Jeff?" Parker's voice answering. Then clear as a bell, the locks clicking open.

Alan didn't even stop to think – he grabbed his backpack and dove for the traffic side door as the opposite door near the curb began to open. Alan tumbled out into the oncoming traffic, very nearly missing his footing. Somehow he kept his feet, and darted through the four lanes of thick traffic, dodging cars and ignoring blaring horns. He could hear Penny's horrified "Alan!" from behind him. "Alan . . . stop!"

Penny's voice was fading as Alan used every trick he knew to cover his tracks and reach his sanctuary. He didn't stop until he was safely 'home', back in the basement of the library, breathing hard.

TB TB TB TB TB

Scott and John wandered out onto the lanai after hearing what Parker had to say. Scott absently fingered the International Rescue cap that Parker had retrieved from the car.

"You know," John said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure whether I want to kill Alan, or hug the life out of him and lock him somewhere where he can't escape once we get him home again."

"I know what you mean. I mean all the work on those travel reservations . . ." Scott trailed off, a wave of conflicting emotions crossing his mobile face. Admiration, worry, frustration, irritation – all within a matter of moments.

John grinned. "Yep, exactly."

Scott sighed. "But then I remember that basically, it's all my fault, and Alan's just a confused, upset kid trying to prove a point – to himself as much as anyone else."

"You did have help," John pointed out, "from two of our other brothers, both of whom also knew better."

Scott shrugged, indicating 'point taken'. "Parker said he looked okay, but his reaction . . ." He trailed off.

"He was afraid," John summed up.

"Exactly." Scott nodded. "That bothers me a lot."

"It's bothering Dad too. But, I mean, you can see Alan's point. He's definitely pulled out all the stops with this one." John shrugged.

"Oh yeah," Scott agreed wholeheartedly. "Alan has never done anything halfway, that's for sure." He fingered the IR cap again, then feeling a grin pull on his mouth, held it up to catch John's attention. "And who'd have thought he had such a wickedly ironic sense of humor?"

John laughed outright. "Oh yeah. Like I said before, I do believe we've underestimated our baby brother. But then again, I'd say he's probably underestimated you as well," he finished, with a twinkle in his eye that this older brother knew meant trouble.

"If you're going to bring up that computer lab again," Scott warned, "don't bother!"

"No actually, I was going to remind you that before you jump all over Alan for selling his computer viruses and programs, I just think it only fair that you remember you used to sell your math homework, papers and test answers. Made a small fortune as well, as I recall."

At the sight of Scott's jaw dropping open, John continued, laughing. "And I don't believe that Dad has ever been made aware of that, either . . ."

Putting the IR cap on his head, Scott slung an arm over John's shoulder and steered him back towards the kitchen. "Ok, exactly what is this going to cost me . . . "

TB TB TB TB TB

Jeff still didn't feel any better. After the incident in New York with Parker and Alan, at least he had the city narrowed down. But New York was a very big place, and Alan could leave at any time. But there were any number of brief, possible sightings that did lead to the prospect that Alan was still there. It felt like they were beginning to close in, but when? Jeff just kept mentally pushing back one hundred and one scenarios where he would finally find his son - in a morgue someplace. Ann Marie had told him she was taking walks during her lunches justto seeif she couldspot him. It was like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. But, lightening had hit once with Parker, it could possibly happen again with Ann Marie. Jeff himself had made several trips to the city, and like Ann Marie, found himself walking the streets – just in case.