A/N: Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter, as always your comments are much appreciated.
Chapter TWO:
Virgil was just finishing his hair when Gordon popped his head around the bedroom door. "Yuck!" Gordon groaned, screwing his nose up. "It stinks in here," he said as he stepped inside.
"Go away Gordon, I'm busy," Virgil replied, without even looking at his brother.
"Don't be so mean!" the copper haired little boy responded. "I was only saying!"
"Yeah well, so am I!" Virgil turned to face his brother, "What do you want anyway?"
"Don't be nasty to me," Gordon folded his arms across his chest and pouted. "It's not my fault Dad promised you, after he promised me."
"Whatever," Virgil replied, raising a hand. "Shouldn't you be leaving, it'll take you about two hours to get there, won't it?"
Gordon nodded. "I just came to tell you we were about to go," he hovered around the door, obviously waiting for something else.
"Okay," Virgil stood up and placed his 'phone and wallet in either pocket. "Me too."
Gordon glowered at his brother's unusual lack of thought. "Virg…" he insisted, leaning against the doorframe as Virgil walked towards him. "Don't you want to say something to me?"
Virgil raised his eyebrows indignantly. "I'm not apologising Gordon. The reason I needed Dad's car tonight was much more important than your stupid swimming practice," he growled. "So if you're waiting there for an apology, you'll be waiting a long time," he finished with a huff.
"I do so deserve an apology! Swimming isn't stupid!" Gordon looked at his brother with distaste as Virgil pushed passed him and headed down the stairs. His younger brother was hot on his heels, "Virgil! It's important. Don't you want to wish me good luck?"
"Good luck?" Virgil shook his head as he reached the bottom of the stairs and walked through into the kitchen to retrieve his jacket. "It's just a practice!"
Jeff parted from where he and Scott spoke to turn to the ruckus. "Dad, Virgil won't wish me good luck. Tell him!" Gordon turned to face the counter where his older brother and his father stood.
"It's just a practice!" Virgil raised his hands in defence at Scott's glare and his father's disapproving expression. "What kind of luck does he need?"
"It's not just a practice; the coach is picking the team tonight," Gordon sulked in his father's direction.
"Wish him good luck Virg," Scott warned, he reached his hand into his pocket and fingered his car keys. The gesture drew Virgil's attention and it was enough to prompt him into action.
"Fine," Virgil sighed. "Good luck Gordon," he said to his younger brother before turning back to Scott and holding his hand up again. "Can I go now?"
Reluctantly Scott threw him the keys, which he deftly caught. "Go steady with it."
"Yeah I know!" Virgil smiled in Scott's direction. "And I appreciate it."
"Be careful," Scott cautioned, meeting Virgil's gaze and conveying his meaning.
"I always am!" the younger boy grinned as he headed out of the front door and into the blizzard.
Scott watched him from the kitchen window as Virgil headed over to his most prized possession and, battling against the wind, clambered inside the small car. Scott then waited patiently to hear the familiar sounds of the engine strike up. Studying the car like a hawk watching it's prey, he watched Virgil reverse passed their fathers Bugatti and out of the driveway. Scott continued to observe until the black Porsche disappeared from view. He turned to his father. "Can I ask you something Dad?" he asked.
"Gordon, are you ready?" Jeff called into the lounge, where the second youngest of his sons had disappeared. In the same moment, he faced Scott, "What?"
Scott gestured to the back door, "Was I like that when I was his age?"
Jeff smiled. "I can remember you and Eloise spending an awful lot of time together," he grinned. "You hardly spent a night at home that summer."
"Hmm," Scott leant forward on the counter, pensively. "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Come on Gordon!" Jeff shouted out the kitchen door, before he walked over to Scott and leant next to him against the counter. "It's just a phase he's going through Scott; he's a teenager."
"John's a teenager too, he's not like that!" Scott said glumly, looking up to his father for some guidance. "Virgil doesn't even talk to me anymore."
"John'll go through the same thing, you mark my words. Trust me on this one Scott, Virgil's a teenager," Jeff shook his head, repeating the words. "And teenagers don't talk to anyone."
"I did," Scott sulked. "I talked to him."
Jeff reached a hand out to his eldest sons shoulder, "Don't worry about it Son, like I said it's just a phase; he'll come through it."
Scott seemed unconvinced but nodded anyway. He didn't have chance to reply as his Grandmother came in, shaking her head, "Was that Virgil I saw going out?" Scott nodded and she continued, "Why, that flimsy jacket he had on won't be any use whatsoever in this weather. He needs a proper winter coat on out there." She turned to her son with a frown. "Are you still here Jeff?"
"I'm just waiting for …" as of on cue, Gordon walked into the room carrying his swim bag.
"I'm ready Dad!" the young boy looked up expectantly to his father. "Can we go? We're going to be late."
"Come on then," Jeff fetched his coat and pulled it on. "I don't know what time we'll be back Mother, but I told Virgil he was to be home before ten. We'll hopefully be here before then anyway, but if the weather's bad…"
"Come on Dad!" Gordon was stood at the door impatiently.
"Don't worry Jeff, everything'll be fine here," his mother assured him as she flicked the switch to heat the kettle up.
"I'll see you later then," Jeff called over his shoulder as he ushered Gordon out the door.
"Looks like it's just you, me and the two blondes, Grandma." Scott smiled as he watched Gordon make a run for his father's car.
XxxxX
After travelling the majority of his journey on back roads in terrible conditions, Virgil was even later than he'd anticipated. He was concentrating so hard on seeing through the heavy rain that he was getting a headache. Rain that even on the fastest of settings, the windscreens wipers were failing to clear.
His concentration was broken by the sound of his 'phone ringing. Turning down the radio, he fished about on the dash. Not taking his eyes of the road, his hand came into contact with the small communications device.
"Hello?" he greeted, a little distractedly. The regular beep of a warning alarm told him the battery was getting low and he made a mental note not to use it when he didn't have to.
"Virgil? Where the hell are you?" Sofia exclaimed, shrill enough to echo around the car.
"I'm only a couple of minutes away now, I promise," he lied knowing he was at least half an hour away. "I'll be there soon. The roads are pretty bad," he squinted as he concentrated on the road again, pulling the car to a stop.
"I don't care how bad the roads are, you've got fifteen minutes," she told him sternly. "That's plenty of time in that car."
"Erm, yeah, about that…" Virgil began.
"What about it?" she snapped.
"I couldn't get the Bugatti," Virgil admitted, in a low voice. "But I borrowed Scott's Porsche."
"Scott's Porsche?" the incredulous reply came back as Sofia's voice rose even higher. "Your brother's Porsche? It doesn't have any back seats Virgil; how is that going to be any use to us whatsoever?"
"No, I know it doesn't," Virgil frowned back. "But we'll just have to improvise. We've always managed before." He smiled as he allowed his expectations for the evening to bring a grin of anticipation to his lips.
"Yeah," Sofia agreed. "And I'm not 'managing' again; don't say I didn't warn you."
"Sof, I…" A long, loud beep signified she'd hung up. "Sofia? You still there?" the beep continued and he terminated the call from his end with an aggravated sigh.
Regardless of the wet conditions or the howling winds, or even the fact that he knew how important this car was to Scott. He overpowered the engine and wheel spun on the tarmac, accelerating as hard as he could down the small country road.
The car struggled on the uneven road, but Virgil pushed it on. His frustration induced anger began to affect his driving and the small coupe bounced along the country track, valiantly obeying his command for more speed.
Until about half way into his journey, and there was suddenly a loud bang …
XxxxX
At the sound of the back door opening, Scott turned to where his Grandmother sat dozing in front of the fire. She looked up to him, returning his surprised expression as she retrieved the knitting that had slipped onto her knees. "Jeff, is that you?" she called out.
Her reply came as Gordon plodded into the lounge, dragging his swim bag on the floor behind him. He took one look at his Grandmother and his jaw dropped further. "It's us Grandma," his miserable tone replied.
"Sweetie, what's the matter?" Grandma sat forward as Scott muted the television and uncrossed his legs to give Gordon his full attention.
Gordon unceremoniously dumped the bag at the foot of the couch and threw himself down next to Scott. "Gordy, what is it?" Scott asked, leaning forward to place an arm around his brother. All eyes turned to Jeff as he walked into the room and dropped down in an armchair.
"Jeff, what on earth happened?"
"Well, we weren't even half way there, and his coach called …" Jeff started to explain.
"Practice was cancelled Scott!" Gordon suddenly blurted out, his shoulders slumping. "All because of the stupid weather."
"Never mind Gordy," Scott tried to console him. "There's always next time," he rubbed at his little brother's arm in a reassuring gesture.
"There won't be a next time!" Gordon pouted, shaking his head. "Tonight was my last time to show the coach that I can make the team. Now, he'll pick the squad and I won't even make the reserves."
"Oh Gordy, that's not true," Scott told him. "I'll bet you make the team," he leaned a bit closer and tried again to reassure his little brother. For his part, Gordon rested against Scott's shoulder as they spoke.
"You got half way there?" Grandma questioned.
"No, not even to the edge of the city," Jeff sighed as he warmed his hands in front of the fire. The expression on his face only proved he wasn't happy with the way he'd spent the evening. "Can you believe it? We can't have been on the road for more than ten minutes before I was turning back, and in these conditions!" he waved a hand angrily. "He just calls and cancels. Just like that!" he clicked his fingers.
"Well, never mind Jeff, at least you hadn't gone further. You're home safe and sound now, that's all that matters." She turned to her Grandsons, "Who wants a nice warm mug of hot chocolate?" Three affirmative replies came and she put her knitting to one side as she got to her feet, just as Alan came hurtling down the stairs.
"Gordy, you're back!" he exclaimed, wide eyed with excitement. "What happened?"
Gordon turned to him sadly and began his explanation again.
XxxxX
Hearing the loud noise Virgil immediately hit the brake, slowing the car down to a reasonable speed and listening to the sounds it made. The bang was followed by the sound of scraping metal and as Virgil pulled the car to a standstill, he grimaced.
"What the hell?" He muttered as his foot hovered over the accelerator. Increasing the revs, he could hear a gritty, roar to the usual smooth sound the car emitted. With a groan, he left the car running, pushed the door open and got out.
Getting out of the warmth of the heated car was a shock to his system; he shivered as the wind slammed into his body full force. The sleet had eased but still fell hard, attacking his skin like several sharp needles. He suddenly wished he hadn't made such a hasty exit and had taken the time to get a proper coat before he left home. He sure could have done with the protection.
Walking round the car, he thanked his lucky stars that there didn't seem to be any damage to the paintwork. Despite the fact that the engine sounded as if it was turning over smoothly, the car was making a loud, guttural, tinny noise that sounded ridiculous from such a small coupe.
It was the kind of noise he associated with heavy, diesel motors and it reminded him of the farm machinery his Grandfather used to use back in Kansas. It was definitely not the kind of noise you would expect from a tiny, high performance car, no matter how old it was.
Groaning again, Virgil got down on his hands and knees, and laid on his front. Looking underneath the back of the car, his worst fears were confirmed. Not only was the tail end of the exhaust trailing on the road, but the whole thing had all but fallen off. It shuddered, swinging in time with the engine's vibrations, causing nuts and bolts to rattle.
He coughed as he got a lung full of the fumes the car was expelling.
Feeling the rain create a stream of water down his neck, Virgil let his head drop as he pushed himself back on to his hands and knees. As he looked down at himself, the rain water streamed down his nose. The wet road had left dirty marks on his shirt and trousers. His hair had long since lost any sense of style and was a wet, curly mess.
As he got to his feet again, he looked around; he was on the tiniest of roads in the middle of nowhere. In fact, it was more of a track than a road, he surmised. The darkness went on forever, and there was little chance of passing vehicles.
Just the eerie location coupled with the darkness, brought a shiver to his spine.
Quickly, he brushed himself off and got back in the car. With another shiver, he reached onto the dash to retrieve his 'phone. His hand's trembled from the cold and water still seeped through his clothes.
He really didn't want to have to do this; Scott was going to kill him. His father would be annoyed but Scott … thinking about Scott's reaction was enough to turn his stomach. His finger hesitated over the call button but with a resigned groan, and the knowledge that his life was now over, he pressed it and held the 'phone up to his ear.
"Tracy Residence, hello?"
Virgil heaved a sigh. "Gordon?" he was surprised but didn't have time to show it. "It's me. Listen, I need to talk to Dad … or Scott."
"Oh!" Gordon sighed. "I thought you were going to be my swim coach," he said miserably.
"Just put Dad on will you?" Virgil's patience was beginning to run low; the warning alarm in the background reminded him that he really didn't have time for this conversation.
"Don't speak to me like that! Why do you want him anyway?" Gordon snapped back. "Why can't you talk to me? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't ignore you, like you ignored me earlier."
"Gordon…" Virgil ground out.
"Apologise for what you said about my swimming practice and I'll think about it," the younger boy bargained, a smug grin forming on his lips.
"Apologise!" Virgil exclaimed, "Gordon, I don't have time for this, now let me talk to Dad!"
"Okay, thanks for calling," Gordon's sung happily in complete contrast to Virgil's frustrated tone.
"Gordon!" Virgil yelled into the 'phone. "Gordon! This is important!" he sighed angrily as he realised his shout was futile and that his brother had long since put the 'phone down. "Why, you little…" Virgil muttered to himself as he dialled Scott's and then his father's private numbers, both to no avail. His 'phone flashed a warning that the battery was low, but he ignored it and dialled home again in the hope he'd get someone else.
"Tracy Residence, hello?" the same voice answered and Virgil stopped himself groaning with the infuriation he felt.
"Gordon…" Virgil began, but that was as much as he got out before the 'phone emitted three fast beeps and cut out. "Damnit!" he exclaimed angrily, throwing the communications device onto the dashboard.
He contemplated walking to his destination; his friend Rob's. At least there he'd be able to call home again and have a serious conversation about what to do. Nevertheless, Rob's was at least half an hour away in a car, never mind how long it'd take him on foot. In addition, with only a thin coat it probably wasn't the most sensible of ideas.
He summed up his options; he could sit and wait for a passing motorist to take pity on him. But on these back roads, a passing motorist was unlikely. It would be safer now to take the car back home anyway, he thought. Yes, he decided, there was only one option; he had to turn back. First though, he needed to make the car safe.
Braving the rain again, he crawled underneath the car. The fumes caused him to cough again but he held his breath as he reached a hand out to the trailing metal.
"Ow!" he winced as he pulled his hand away, cursing himself for not thinking that the exhaust pipe would be hot. Pulling himself to his feet, he searched around in the car until he found an old rag. Using that to protect his hands, he crawled under the car for a third time. This time he reached out to the exhaust pipe and grunted as he successfully yanked some of it away. Incurring numerous cuts to his hands and arms, he finally managed to get most of the metal free. Not knowing what else to do with it, he tossed it into the car.
The rain had completely soaked him now; his clothes stuck to him in the most uncomfortable places, he was filthy from lying on the road and his hands were oily and sooty. The jagged edges of the metal that had grated against the road had cut into his hand causing blood to trickle into his palm, where an angry blister was already forming. He winced as he wrapped the oily rag around the injured limb, tying it as tight as he could and using his teeth to help him.
Getting back in the car, he turned the vehicle round and continued on his way. Slowly getting used to the low, harsh drone of the exhaust every time he accelerated, he made his way home. Going slow to the point of excess and so as not to cause any more damage, the black Porsche crawled along the small country road towards the safety of the highway. It wasn't that long before he began to feel his headache worsening…
XxxxX
"Who was it?" Jeff turned to his second youngest son as he came back into the lounge.
Now in his pyjamas and ready for bed, Gordon sat down next to his younger brother in front of the fire.
Their Grandmother continued to knit and Jeff sat alongside Scott on the couch. They were both pouring over information from the Air Force but for the life of him, Jeff wasn't sure why. Scott had always wanted to join the Air Force but he wasn't close to finishing his education yet and Jeff wondered if he was getting ahead of himself.
"Oh, no one important," Gordon shrugged, making eyes at Alan. "Wrong number."
"What?" the little boy leant forward to confer with his best friend, meshing his blonde hair with his brother's copper coloured locks in a secretive attempt to block out the rest of the world.
"Virgil's going to be in trouble," Gordon whispered, unable to keep the glee from his voice.
"That was him?" Alan whispered back, his eyes wide. "But you said…" he trailed off as he realised what Gordon was up to. "How do you know he's going to be in trouble?"
"He's got to have been calling to tell Dad he was going to be late," Gordon stopped, but when Alan's eyes remained clouded with confusion he spoke again. "If he's not home by ten, he'll be in trouble."
"But Gordy," Alan was frowning again. "What if Virgil gets in big trouble?" He seemed uncomfortable with the idea and glanced up to where his father and his eldest brother spoke quietly. "Dad won't be very happy if he finds out you didn't pass on the message."
Gordon leant closer. "But Dad isn't going to find out." He glared, "Is he?" Alan shook his head but remained uncertain at Gordon's logic. "Besides," Gordon shrugged, convincing himself too. "He didn't actually give me a message to pass on. And he was stupid; he deserves it!" Gordon frowned deeply. "He was really mean to me." Another pause came; the more time passed, the more Gordon seemed to be uncomfortable with what he'd done. "And he said swimming was stupid, and then he wouldn't apologise!" the young copper haired boy cried, as if that would justify his actions.
"Hmm," Alan frowned.
"You're supposed to be on my side!" Gordon stressed quietly.
"I am!" Alan pouted.
"What are you two talking about over there?" Two little heads snapped up to look at their father. Equally innocent expressions forced into place, as they stared across the room.
"Nothing Dad," Gordon smiled up at him with an angelic expression.
"You're up to something!" Scott accused, pointing a finger at both his younger brothers. "What's going on?"
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Gordon looked across to Alan, obviously expecting some kind of support from his little brother. Alan's eyes widened as he realised all attention was on him. "Nothing," he began nodding; at first slowly, but the movement soon gained momentum and in a few seconds, he was nodding vigorously.
"Hmm well," Jeff was frowning at the thought of them hatching yet another plan. "Don't you both have homework you should be doing?"
Gordon rolled his eyes but nodded anyway, "Yeah, come on Al." He got to his feet and reached a hand out to his blonde brother. "Let's go do our homework," he said with a smirk that suggested homework was the farthest thing from his mind. He looked surprised when Scott stood too. "Are you coming to check up on us?" he asked sarcastically, smirking at his brother.
"No," Scott smiled suspicious of his younger brothers as he followed them. "I'm going to check in on John."
He followed Alan and Gordon as they traipsed up the stairs together. Watching his two youngest brothers engage in conversation, Scott made sure they went into their own rooms before he turned to the door alongside his own. Flickering light underneath suggested John was up, probably watching television. The door pushed open easily and Scott slipped inside.
"Hey," John smiled up from where he was tucked under a mountain of blankets.
"You warm enough there Johnny?" Scott smirked as he sat beside his brother. It was like walking in to a sauna for Scott but John evidently had no qualms about the heat.
"Actually, I'm freezing," John told him as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He pulled the blankets up around his shoulders and moved his legs so Scott could edge further onto the bed.
"You don't feel any better then?" Scott questioned; John looked pale and by his standards, that was saying something.
The younger boy shook his head. "Not really, my throat hurts and my head's pounding. It always feels worse at night," he mused to himself. "Grandma's hot chocolate helped," he grinned. "Though when Alan walked in here with it, I had to wonder what he'd done to it."
Scott laughed. "Yeah," he shook his head. "Him and Gordon are getting worse. I swear, they're up to something now." He looked up at his brother with a fond smile, "They've got that look in their eyes, y'know? The one they get when they're collaborating on their next master plan."
"Oh yeah I know," John smiled and then coughed. "I know alright."
Scott gestured to Virgil's computer, it sat closed on the floor by John's bed; not far from the heater emitting the maximum possible warmth. "Did you take a look at it?"
John nodded, "Yeah, I think you were right, we've drained it as best we can. Hopefully, if we leave it to dry out over night then it'll start up in the morning." He studied his oldest brother for a few moments, "I take it he hasn't told Dad."
Scott shook his head, "No, I told him not to. If you can fix it, there's no point in getting Dad stressed about it."
"Hmm," John raised an eyebrow, and smirked perceptively. "I guess you're right."
Deep down though, he knew that should this have happened to someone other than Virgil, Scott wouldn't be half as sympathetic. More to the point, he also knew the reason why. Scott desperately missed the close companionship he had with Virgil and was doing his utmost to regain his brother's favour.
"Can I ask you something?" Scott suddenly asked. Jolted from his thoughts, John just nodded. "Dad says Virgil's going through a phase and that it's a teenager thing. But I don't ever remember acting like he is now. You're a teenager John, am I being too hard on him?"
He paused, receiving his answer in John's hesitation.
"Okay, next question: What do you think of her? Sofia, I mean?"
John had known for a very long time that this was coming; he'd even tried to prepare himself for it. He thought through the words he'd carefully rehearsed. However now his brother sat in front of him, John was finding it difficult to put the cautiously constructed script into action.
Scott and Virgil had always been close, for as long as he could remember. So had Alan and Gordon. As for him, he muddled through, mostly on his own and he liked it that way. Scott and Virgil were always too grown up for him, yet Alan and Gordon were still too childish. He enjoyed his own company and he knew he could turn to any of his brother's if he needed to. Most of the time he didn't, but when he did it was usually Scott or Virgil he turned to.
He studied his older brother for a while; proud at the fact that Scott thought him adult enough to answer such a question.
"Sofia? As in Virgil's girlfriend?" Of course, John knew exactly who Scott meant but he tried stalling his brother for a precious few more seconds. He wanted his answer to illustrate his maturity and how worthy he was to be a part of his older brothers more grown-up adventures.
"You know any others?" Came Scott's sarcastic reply.
John heaved a heavy sigh and then coughed. "Virgil's happy," he stated. "If Sofia makes him happy then I guess there's nothing wrong with that. Is there?" He'd heard his father say that once to someone and he hoped Scott would believe they were his own thoughts on the matter.
"Forget being an astronaut John, you should be a politician," smiled Scott in admiration at his brother tactfulness. "But I'm asking what you really think," he studied John's obvious unwillingness to voice his opinions.
"She wouldn't be my ideal choice; she's not the type of girl I expected him to go for." The blonde teenager admitted reluctantly, knowing that was what Scott wanted him to say. "Look Scott," he sighed, now unsure whether he'd said the right thing. "If it's what Virgil wants then I'll be happy for him. You know, he's been pretty low since you left. It's good to see him so happy again," John added.
"What do you mean low?" Scott scowled. "He always seemed okay when I spoke to him." He looked at John with such anxiousness that the younger brother was beginning to wish he'd never said anything.
"Nothing…" John sighed again. "It was nothing really…" Scott seemed unconvinced. "I just think now he's with Sofia, he seems so much happier."
"Hmm, yeah." Scott nodded sceptically, having got his answer. "Promise me one thing John," he said, moving the conversation on. "I won't have to be worrying about you like this in three years time."
John smiled. "You won't," he promised, "though my science partner is really hot."
Scott's eyes widened at his brother, but he took in the smirk on John's lips, as he tired to work out whether John was being serious.
"By the way, how's the science project going?"
XxxxX
Virgil woke groggily; his headache had slowly worsened during his attempt to get home. Beginning to feel faint, he'd taken the decision to pull over in the interests of safety. He'd only intended to take a few minutes to pull himself together, but he must have dozed off. He physically shook himself; it felt like he was coming down with John's cold. That was another reason to be mad with Gordon; after all, he'd had it first.
The sensible voice in the back of his head was telling him he was in no condition to drive. However, all he could think of was that he should be home for ten and that all hell would break loose if he wasn't.
He travelled on cautiously; knowing he wasn't at his best and taking extra precautions by moving at a slow pace. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep but it hadn't done anything for his now pounding head. Closing his eyes seemed to alleviate the headache but as much as he'd have liked to, he knew he couldn't sleep any longer.
Though the headlights illuminated it, the road went on for an eternity and due to his lack of speed, it felt like it was taking forever.
All he wanted right now was to be at home. Home was all he could think about.
He shivered; despite the hot air the car fans were circulating, he was cold. His clothes still stuck to him and the moisture caused condensation to form on the inside of the car windows. His hands shook and it took all his concentration to keep his eyes glued to the road.
Swiping a hand across his forehead, he blinked and allowed his eyes to close for a second of respite.
Before he knew it, the car was struggling against the grassy verge of the small country track. Eyes shooting open, he swerved back onto the road. Blinking to clear his vision, he rubbed at his gritty eyes.
A deep breathe only caused a tickly cough to settle deep in his chest and he spluttered, becoming short of breath. Trying to steady his hands and ignore the drowsiness, he trudged on.
However, after a few more minutes Virgil's fight to keep his eyelids from closing was becoming more of a battle. His frequent blinking did nothing to dispel the cotton wool that had settled on his brain and no matter what he tried, he couldn't seem to shift it. Breathing was a struggle too, in fact, every muscle in his body ached. He was barely able to move his hands anymore; his whole body shook so much. He assumed it was the cold and tried not to think about it. Again, he found himself squinting into the darkness and using all his concentration to see where the road was.
Strangely enough, he didn't worry that his flu-ish symptoms had come on so unexpectedly. Instead, he found himself cursing Gordon again for bringing the germs into the household in the first place.
His thoughts had distracted him and suddenly a bright light in the darkness blinded him. He barely managed to swerve out of the way as another car went by, horn blaring at his careless driving.
Virgil pulled the car to a quick stop on the side of the road; the sudden adrenaline and exertion left him panting for breath at just how close it'd been. He must've drifted in to the middle of the road, though for the life of him he didn't know why: had he closed his eyes again? Surely not.
He was surprised when he tried to look at his watch; his limbs felt floppy and he struggled to control his hands as easily as he otherwise would; his movements were clumsy. The numbers of the watch face blurred together and he couldn't make out the time.
A rough estimation told him he should have been home by now though. Even with the conditions as they were, he should have at least been closer to the highway. Then he processed it: travelling so slowly and having stopped too, he concluded that he probably wasn't anywhere near civilisation yet. He looked around him through the misted up windows and tried to get his bearings but found it impossible.
He realised that he was going to be late home and imagined confronting an angry Scott, then dealing with his irate father.
The thought lingered for a few minutes; he had to get home.
Groaning, his heavy eyelids dropped again. Promising to limit himself to just a few minutes sleep, he fatally accepted the surrounding darkness…