Chapter 4

"Thunderbird 5 from base! Come on Alan, haul ass!" Gordon hollered into the microphone. Alan's portrait was replaced by the video feed on Thunderbird 5. Alan looked worn out and depressed.
"Yes, Gordon?"

"John's alive!"

"Gee, real funny, Gordon. You know I-"

"He's really alive! Brains said something about you metabolic rate slowing so much you can't detect it but you stay alive."

"Really?"

"Really!" said Gordon.

Alan shrieked, elated, and Gordon pulled his neck in like a turtle as the sound system squeaked when Alan moved the microphone too close to the speaker.

"Where is he?"

"In the sickroom. Dad wants him checked over, and Doc. Featherstone is on his way."

"Have him call me!"

"Okay, Alan."

"Alan, have you heard?" Tin-Tin had entered the room.

"Yes! It's fantastic!" The tired lines had all but disappeared from his face. "You still want to come up to the satellite?"

"You don't need me to, now, do you?" Tin-Tin smiled.

"Well you could-" Alan started to reply.

"Aw, get a room!" said Gordon, and flung the cushion from his father's desk chair at Alan's picture. Tin-Tin's face flushed.

"Hey!" said Alan. Gordon smiled at him, and they laughed as Alan signed off. Tin-Tin was crying tears of joy, and the mood was of electrifying delight.

Scott came into the room, with his arm behind Virgil, waiting to catch him if he fell. Virgil was walking unsteadily, and shaking slightly. His face was white and his eyes wide. Scott led him to one of the couches, where he laid down, and took sips of water.

"You okay, Virgil?" asked Gordon.

"Yeah, fine," said Virgil.

"He's just had a bit of a shock," said Scott.

"I thought he was a ghost! A real, actual ghost!" said Virgil nervously, the water in his glass juddering as she shivered.

Gordon chuckled slightly, but not too loud as he did not want to offend Virgil. It was true that Virgil was a little more 'sensitive' than the other boys, but Gordon felt that had he walked into John's room before Scott and Virgil, he might have had a similar reaction.

John was sitting on a bed in the sickroom, with Jeff looking on and Brains checking him over.

"Do you have any pain anywhere, John?" stuttered Brains.

"No, Brains, I feel fine," replied John.

"Are you sure, son?" asked Jeff, concerned.

"Yeah. In fact I feel better than usual."

"Really?" Jeff looked at Brains.

"Can I take some blood, John?" asked Brains, having some trouble over spitting out John's name.

John at first gave Brains a defiant look, and for a second Brains thought that he had a bestial look in his eyes. But his face softened and he spoke calmly. "Sure, Brains, go right ahead."

Brains took John's hand and began to look for a vein. "Strange," he said.

"What?" asked Jeff.

"Well, I put an IV in his hand yesterday. And there doesn't seem to be a wound here." Replied Brains.
"I guess I just heal quickly!" said John, guarding his arm.

Brains took the blood sample and began recording John's pulse and blood pressure.
"Your heart rate is only 60, John."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it's great! But your average is usually about 75."

"But that's a good thing, right?"

"Sure, John." Brains stammered. "I'll go and analyse this."

"Can I go about?" asked John.

"Let's wait until the doctor gets here, John."

"But, Dad!"

"John."

"Yessir," said John.

Brains was testing John's blood on various pieces of equipment.
"Curious," he said to himself. He had expected some degree of anaemia, since John had suffered significant blood loss. There was none. John's blood looked healthier than it ever had. Brains re-tested it and got the same results. He cultured the blood for infection, and found none. He wanted to run another test, on the electron microscope, but had not enough blood left, so returned to John to take another sample.

"I need some more blood, John," said Brains.

"Again? Why?" replied John.

"I need to do more tests, and I haven't enough blood," Brains stammered.

John had an indignant look on his face.

"I know it's frustrating, Son," said Jeff. "But we really need to make sure you're okay." Said Jeff, soothingly.

John scoffed and held out his arm. Brains took a cannula, a phial and a tourniquet from the cabinet, opened the packets, and perched on the edge of the bed next to John. All the time, Brains watched John, carefully. He put the tourniquet around John's bicep, and tightened it. He slapped the crease of John's elbow with his fingers. Normally, this would make a vein visible. It did not. After a few minutes Brains thought he could see one faintly, and decided to try and use that one.

"Sharp scratch!" he warned John. He pressed the needle into John's arm, and nodded to himself when he got the vein. Holding John's arm, he turned slightly to reach his vacuum phial. He was astonished by what he saw next.

"What the hell?" exclaimed Brains. Jeff looked up as he heard Brains curse. Both men watched as the cannula was seemingly pushed out of John's arm from the inside. Brains looked at the cannula on the floor, then at Jeff, then at John. John's eyes were wide, and he seemed piqued. Brains threw the cannula into the sharps bin, and decided to try again.

"What!" he jumped back as this time, almost as soon as he put the needle into John's skin, it was shoved out with some force, and it struck in Brains' white coat.
"Come on, Brains, what's the problem?" asked John. Jeff looked at him out of the corner of his eye. There was something wrong with John's voice, but Jeff could not place it. Brains tried a final time to insert the needle, but this time it simply would not pierce the skin. He tried his hand, and his other arm, before admitting defeat.

"This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen!" said Brains. "And believe me, I've seen some weird things."

"What?" asked Jeff.

"John's body seems to be trying to protect him from the needle."

"How is that possible?" asked John, a little wryly.

"I don't know, John." Brains shook his head.

"The doctor will be here soon, Brains," said Jeff.

"Yes, Mr. Tracy."

"Well whoop dee doo!" said John. "Maybe he'll do a better job!" said John.

"Thank you, Brains. Why don't you get a cup of coffee?"

"Okay, Mr. Tracy." Brains left.

"John, are you alright?" asked Jeff, seriously.

"I'm fine, Father."

"You're not yourself, John. I shouldn't have to tell you to act with a little more decorum. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"I'm not tired!"

"I said get some sleep, John."

John flopped down onto the bed, and Jeff went after Brains.

"What's the situation?" asked Jeff. He and Brains were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee.

"I think we should turn the doctor away, Mr. Tracy." Said Brains, flatly.

"You think John's that good?" replied Jeff.

"No, Mr. Tracy, I don't."

"So why no doctor?" Jeff thought he knew what Brains was getting at, but liked people to speak plainly.

"I think there is some kind of problem with John."

"Problem?"

"I don't know, Mr. Tracy. What's happening to him is far from ordinary. So far from ordinary that I think having the doctor hear may give our game away."

"Yes?"

"I am not sure what it is. Could be a number of things. Mind control, a virus I can't detect, alien technology, mental illness, I'm not sure."

Jeff shuddered. There was a history of mental illness in the Tracy family. "I think there's something wrong with him too," said Jeff.

"What do you think?" asked Brains.
"I don't know. He seems fine, Brains, it's just that if I hadn't seen him plainly with my own eyes, you couldn't convince me that that was John."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy. That is exactly my point."

"I'll tell the doctor he's no longer needed."

Brains nodded and stayed to nurse his coffee while Jeff went to make the call.