Chapter Ten
He looked at his face, so very pale and lifeless and knew there was no hope. His brother and best friend was dead and nothing could ever bring him back. He stroked Scott's handsome face, the anguish in him plain to see. He murmured his regrets at not having arrived in time but received no absolution from the still figure before him. Finally, in defeat, he could no longer hold his emotions back and placed his head down on the edge of the gurney, his shoulders shaking violently. Such was his grief that he couldn't catch his breath long enough to cry out.
He didn't know how long he had been there but he couldn't bring himself to leave. He also knew he wouldn't leave his brother's body behind, no matter what. He wanted him to have a decent burial. He looked up once more into the cold, dead face, the once vibrant blue eyes closed, never to open again and all at once, he noticed something different. Was that a twitch he saw near his right eye? He decided his mind was playing tricks on him. No, there it was again. A surge of almost irretrievable hope rose up in him. He leaned over Scott and waited, watching. Several minutes passed and it seemed to him that his older brother was now in a deep REM state of sleep, judging by the movement of his eyes under their lids.
"C'mon, Scotty, wake up." He encouraged in soothing tones.
At the sound of his brother's voice, the elder sibling became restless as he tried to achieve full consciousness. Virgil stroked his hair and spoke to him again.
"C'mon now, if you think this is going to get out of that C-check on Thunderbird One, you've got another thing coming."
That did it. Scott's eyes flickered open, the best impression of a bemused grin that he could muster at the moment on his face.
Virgil was elated. "Oh, there you are! Knew that would getcha. Welcome back!"
Scott attempted to raise his arm, looking for Virgil's hand. Virgil instinctively knew and grabbed his in a firm 'I'm here for you' grip. Scott seemed to relax and settled back down on the rolling table. His vocal cords were still trying to play catch up with his brain and so he wasn't able to speak, but Virgil could see the emotion in his eyes. So glad were they to see each other that they didn't detect their stealthy adversary as he entered the room.
"Okay then, we need to see about getting you out of here. I should let Dad and Gordo know that you're safe." Scott's eyes reflected an affirmative on that. His poor father. What must he have been going through since this whole ordeal started?
Virgil put in the call. "Dad, can you hear me?"
"Yes, Virgil, we're waiting for you upstairs with Alan and John. Need any help down there?"
"No, sir. Everything's under control and I've got someone here who can't wait to see you, but for once in his life is speechless."
Scott managed to narrow his eyes and give his brother a menacing glare. Virgil couldn't help but laugh. It seemed that Scott was already getting back to his old self. Scott smiled a knowing smile.
"We'll be meeting up with you as soon as Deke and I find a way to get this gurney back up the chute."
"Okay, but let us know if you run into any trouble, son."
"F.A.B."
As he ended the communication, he felt Scott all of a sudden grip his hand with bruising force. He looked up to see him wide-eyed with panic.
"Scott, what is it?"
Scott did his best to motion his head in the direction of the threat, but it was too late. The look on Virgil's face was that of total surprise coupled with horror as the doctor's assistant drove the bayonet at the end of his rifle into Virgil's back with all his might. Scott knew he was dead before he fell.
His brain screamed silent screams for his dead brother and the more he tried to make a sound, the more it was smothered until he realized that the crazed assistant had placed a pillow over his head. He couldn't breathe, couldn't even beg for his life, which was rapidly becoming null and void...
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...He struggled so hard, but he just couldn't get away. Virgil had died and now he was going to follow. He couldn't go on; he just didn't have the strength. He'd failed to protect them and now he would pay the ultimate price. As he lashed out, he connected with something hard, causing him to yelp, and then he hit the ground with a thud. When he awoke, he found he was on the floor in his own bedroom at home, completely tangled up in the bedclothes. Around him, the room looked like a cyclone had torn through it. The night stand had been tipped over, the glass of water sitting upon it now shattered, the headboard on his bed askew. All of his bedding, including the pillows had ended up on the floor along with him. It took a good while for him to calm down and get his bearings. 'Wow, that was a really bad one!' he mused. He disentangled himself and headed towards the bathroom where he drew a sink full of cold water and immersed his face in it, trying to rid himself of the awful visions; Virgil, killed right in from of him, Alan, John and that monster who called himself a doctor. He toweled off his face and shook his head to clear it.
He had to see Virgil now, had to make sure he was all right. He made a bee line for his room but found only an empty, completely disheveled bed. He turned and quickly headed for the only other place he knew he would be...
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Virgil had already polished off about a third of the bottle of very expensive single malt by the time Scott had arrived up in the lounge. He was sitting in the dark on the sofa and was silhouetted only by the faint sliver of moonlight that managed to make its way in between the French doors off the balcony and into the lounge. Scott stood in the shadows for a moment, still trying to shake off the after-effects of the horrendous nightmare. Then, he straightened himself up and nonchalantly made his way over to the sofa.
Virgil hadn't moved since he'd arrived, except to take the occasional swig from the formerly full receptacle. He didn't look at Scott as he sat down next to him but without acknowledging his presence in any other way, proffered him said bottle, which Scott then proceeded to take without the slightest hesitation.
Scott too sat, stony-faced, staring straight ahead as he consumed the equivalent of three shots of the golden liquor in one gulp. How long they remained that way, neither really knew for sure. Eventually though, the gift of speech began to be utilized, first by the younger Tracy.
"Couldn't sleep, huh?"
"Nope, you?"
"Nah."
The amplified sound of crickets would have illustrated just how quiet the room had once again become. Somewhere, an antique grandfather clock was ticking. They both flinched nervously as it struck the hour. They glanced at each other and the now two-thirds empty bottle once again changed hands.
Neither one spoke again until the sun began to rise, as if that had cued their vocal chords into action simultaneously.
"Scott..."
"Virg..."
They grinned and tried again, still tripping over each other's words.
"Virg..."
"Scott..."
They both laughed a bit at their verbal folly, causing them to finally relax a bit. Everyone had always said they could read each others thoughts, and then, a new one occurred to both, once again to be voiced in stereo.
"We've got to talk to Dad."