The Tracy Family and Thunderbirds are the creation of Sylvia and Gerry Anderson
JamesTKent: Nice to hear from a male point of view and thanks for your previous positive review. Yeah, I appreciate your comment on wondering why Scott would already be emotionless trying to get to his LZ. For anyone else not trained to his level that journey probably would be fraught with high tension and emotion but Scott has been trained to drop into that 'programmed survival mode' very quickly and from an early age he's been used to shutting off his emotion to protect himself. Just the fact that he has gone into jungle surroundings for the first time since he was brought out has been enough to induce a powerful flashback that has sent him straight into that emotionless state regardless of whether anyone else is out there looking for him. In his mind the 'enemy' must be out there somewhere even if he can't see or hear them. The initial trauma that sent him into that emotionless state was having to kill those 2 soldiers the way he did. So it doesn't need his brothers to induce his emotionless state, he's there already. In fact, I think I'll just let Brains explain it all.
SaucerEyes: What had John and Virgil done? I think maybe you're referring to the fact that the boys feel they might be responsible for Scott going off for quite a while and not having returned yet and taking his first walk in the jungle that may induce a flashback. They're feeling guilty because they got Scott to talk about his terrible experience out there but I don't think they need to feel guilty for I think it would be a while before Scott puts it all to the back of his mind. He would have had to go for that first walk some time; he couldn't avoid going into the interior at some stage, it's his home, after all.
Chapter 90
"Yes, Brains…I think you'd better explain yourself," Jeff responded with some concern, addressing himself to what was now a very flustered young scientist.
"O.O.Oh no, Virgil….M.Mr Tracy. I…I…don't mean for you to…um…s.shoot, Scott….as in s.s.shoot him," Brains started to fluster out an explanation, causing Virgil and John to raise their brows in puzzled bewilderment.
"Then what do you mean, Brains…..what's this for?" Virgil asked, feeling a little confused, since what he had in his hand most definitely looked like a gun.
Perhaps I s.should have made myself…um…clear. I m.m.meant that you…a…shoot him with a t.t.tranquillizing dart. Y.You see…this is…um… the latest in…a…t.t.tranquillizer dart guns and I've been w.w.working on…a…a…more effective f.formulation," Brains explained, much to the relief of Scott's two brothers.
"Gee, thank goodness for that….but is it really necessary to trank him," Virgil sighed first with relief, though still clearly unhappy about the whole thing. Having to shoot his brother, with all that he had been through, even though it was with a tranquillizing dart didn't sit too well with him, either of them.
"It…it is m.merely a precaution, V.V.Virgil…..for your own…um…safety. It is m.m.my understanding that m.men, such as Scott, in…um…combat conditions are liable to…a…s.s.suffer from…a…flashbacks if they have been exposed to…um…t.traumatic situations. It is like…um…reliving the m.m.memory all over again as though it w.w.were actually…a…happening and it can be quite a p.p.powerful and frightening…um… e.e.experience. The flashback can be…um…t.t.triggered by anything, such as .s.sights, smells or…um… sounds….or even words," Brains went on to explain, helping them to understand a bit more about the nature of flashback episodes.
Since it is the…um…first time S.S.Scott has entered the…a…jungle on his own….it is…a…m.m.more than likely he will feel he is…um…back in that o.o.other place and, as s.such, associate it with an enemy p.p.presence. Therefore….anyone who he h.h.hears out there…a…looking for him he m.m.may well think to be his…um…enemy and if he feels…a…t.t.threatened it is only…a…natural he would…um…take steps to defend h.h.himself. He w.w.would not see you as his…um…brothers but as his e.e.enemy," he concluded with his scientific and totally logical thinking, being completely unaware of the true facts of his friend's trauma, that Scott had encountered the enemy up close and personal. "And for that…um…reason you m.m.may well have to…..I believe the…um…term is…..take him down."
Virgil and John couldn't help a smirk of a grin at the serious young scientist's attempt at military speak.
Sadly, though, Jeff had to agree with the young man's analysis. "I'm afraid Brains is right, boys. You can't take any chances. If Scott were to think he was being threatened he would defend himself….so I want you to take all precautions….stay well clear of him. If he is having a flashback….and we still don't know that he is…..then try to talk him down. Just don't let him get his hands on you. If he does…you are not to hesitate…either of you…the other one must take him down immediately….is that understood?" Jeff ordered, giving his boys the best advice he could as he looked seriously from one to the other, for they all knew just what Scott was capable off but for all Brains knew, that's all it was, good, sound advice.
Jeff had to admit, though, it felt strange talking about having to 'take down' his son, his son who had already been through so much and he knew his brothers were uncomfortable with the idea too but it was in Scott's best interests and for the safety of his other two sons.
"And for goodness sake, don't go creeping around out there. Scott would hear you coming long before you ever saw him. Make yourselves visible…..keep telling him who you are….and keep calling out his name. Hearing familiar names and voices might just be enough to bring him back to the present," Jeff continued with his sound advice.
"How do you know so much, Dad?" John asked curiously.
"I've seen it happen to brave and courageous men after they've been shot down over hostile territory," their father admitted sadly, referring to his own career in the USAF.
The boys promised, acknowledging with a nod.
Now it was down to the practicalities. "So, Brains…..how many of these darts is it gonna take to trank him?" Virgil asked as he inspected his weapon and ammunition.
"Well, V.V.Virgil…I hope you would…um…only n.n.need to use one. One of these…a…darts will k.k.keep him out for at least 24 hrs though it m.may be…um…necessary to use two….but I w.w.would not advise you use…a…any more," Brains told him.
"Geez, Brains…what've you got in here!" Virgil exclaimed in wide-eyed dismay as he studied the small dart, amazed at its powerful capability. It was one of those rhetorical questions, though, that did not actually require an answer but the young scientist took it as an opportunity to indulge in his field of expertise, all things scientific.
"O.O.Oh well you see V.V.Virgil…..this is my own…um…formula. It is a m.m.mixture of ethanate-tri….," Brains had started to explain rather proudly, always glad of the chance to share his knowledge with anyone who would listen. He was intending to go on to explain about muscle relaxants, neuro-blockers and such but!
"Yeah, Brains…all very interesting….but this is Scott we're talkin about bringin down here…..not an elephant!" John interrupted, reminding him they were talking about their brother not going on some big game hunt. "Why would we need to use two darts!
"Yes…well, J.J.John……If Scott were to…um…become highly…a…charged with a rush of adrenalin he could w.w.well fight off the effects of one dart," Brains explained. "But…um…not two…..no…definitely not…a…two," he added, musing thoughtfully to himself, trying to convince himself that that would be impossible.
"Hell…that's all we'd need….a totally hot-wired Scott," Virgil mused to his brother.
"All right, Brains…thank you. Now, this is perfectly safe…isn't it? I don't want Scott harmed in any way," Jeff asked with serious concern, making his feelings quite clear for this still wasn't sitting too well with him either that this was his son they were talking about having to shoot with tranquillizing darts.
"O.Oh it's…a…p.p.perfectly safe, Mr T.Tracy. It will just have the…um…effect of inducing, in S.S.Scott, a…a deep and t.t.tranquil sleep," Brains assured him. "A.A.And with…um…time being of the e.e.essence…!"
Jeff nodded with resigned acceptance for time was of the essence; they had to find Scott and get him home before the storm hit. "All right, boys….off you go. And be careful," he called out, the three men giving each other meaningful nods.
A short time later saw Virgil and John heading up the north track, taking them deeper into the interior towards the clearing, where they hoped they would find their brother and soon. The sky was beginning to darken ominously in the late afternoon, signalling the onset of the coming storm. They had never had cause to be concerned about being out here in their jungle interior before, after all, this was their home, they knew the place well and there were no large predators to fear but now the place seemed to take on a dark and foreboding feel. In that instant, both boys felt as if they knew, in some small measure at least, what it must have felt like for their brother to have had to survive by his wits and they also had a feeling that finding him was going to prove a lot harder than they had realised, knowing that he could survive by his wits.
Mindful now of their father's advice the boys started calling out his name, telling him who they were, anything to awaken that sense of familiarity in him.
"Scott! Scott! You out here! It's Virgil and John. Come on, buddy…..we've come to take you home. There's a storm comin in. Come on, Scott…. come home with us. Scott! Scott!" Virgil called out, hoping and praying that's all it would take for his brother to respond. John joined in, echoing the same plea.
Nothing.
The only response came from the birds that rose suddenly out of the trees, having been disturbed by their shouts, causing the two brothers to jump a little, as they began to feel increasingly more edgy.
They walked on a bit farther.
"Aw come on, buddy. It'll be startin to get dark soon. What da ya say we go back home and knock back a couple a long necked bottles of cold beer, huh. Scott! Scott!" Virgil continued to call out pleadingly.
"Yeah, Scott…come on…what about it!" John echoed again his brother's plea.
The silence, apart from the birds and some other small mammals was ominous, increasing the boys feeling of edginess, that they were not entirely alone out here.
"Damn it, Scott Tracy…..You'd better get your bad ass tail back here right now….cus I sure as hell don't intend to stay out here all night," John yelled out.
To say Virgil was left dumbstruck at his brother's outburst was an understatement, his brother, usually the calming and diplomatic voice of reason. "Your bad ass tail!" he repeated in wide-eyed bemusement. "Hell, Johnny…you've been watchin way too many movies."
But far from it being an angry outburst, John just sheepishly grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought the shock value might bring him to his senses. Hey….it was worth a try."
"Well I guess anything's worth a try right now," Virgil conceded.
They waited….and listened, turning this way and that, scanning the jungle for any sign of movement.
Nothing.
"So….anymore bright ideas!" Virgil asked, starting to feel at a loss as to how they were going to find one highly trained, highly skilled in the art of survival brother who perhaps didn't want to be found.
They had followed the track until it had narrowed, coming to a point where other minor tracks were leading off it, other tracks that led ultimately to the clearing.
"Virgil….this is getting us nowhere. Look, it's getting darker and that storm's moving in……we'd better split up. I'll take this track…you take that one," John suggested, in the hope they would cover more ground.
Virgil was not one bit happy about that idea to say the least, not one bit happy at all. "I dunno, John….I just don't like it. I don't think that's a good idea at all. Remember what Scott said about that kid…..that he made a BIG mistake separating from his buddy when they were searchin," Virgil reminded his brother and very mindful of the fact that Scott was the expert here in combat tactics.
"Well have you any better ideas, Virgil!" John shot back a little testily.
"Well NO! I'm just sayin. I don't think it's a good idea….that's all," Virgil shot back equally as testy, his face puckering into a frown.
"OK….protest duly noted. Now let's get going," John returned even more testily. The two boys glared at each other.
It was then they realised what they were doing, what was happening to them.
"Heck Virgil….I'm sorry. Guess this place is starting to get to me," John apologised, looking around almost as if he were seeing the place for the first time.
"Yeah….I know what you mean…..and I'm sorry too, John. Heck….how did Scott do it! I mean….he was out there two nights…we're in here not even an hour and this is our own home….our own brother and already we're as jittery as hell and goin 'jungle crazy'" Virgil replied, musing in admiration and new-found respect for his eldest brother to which John whole-heartedly agreed.
"Look…we'll be alright, Virgil. We've got our headsets….either of us see him we let the other know immediately….and we've got our trank guns," John smiled weakly, trying to sound re-assuring as he looked at the weapon in his hands. "And anyway….maybe Scotty's just sittin somewhere…havin a good old think about things….and he's…he's lost track of time," he added hopefully, though he didn't sound too convinced of that himself.
"Yeah….you're right, John," Virgil agreed, putting on a brave face, knowing that his brother needed just as much re-assurance but in his mind he was thinking, 'Yeah Johnny….and pigs might fly'.
The two boys then went their separate ways, continuing to call out their brother's name.
How long Scott had stood gazing up that track he wasn't sure but eventually he had determined that this morning he was going in there, he was not going to let fear rule his life, he was going to overcome it; he could do this, he knew he could. After all, this was his home, there was nothing to fear; there was no enemy here. Taking deep, calming and controlling breaths Scott headed up the north track that would take him deep into the interior.
How far he had walked and how long it had been he wasn't exactly sure either but he soon began to experience that all consuming feeling that everything was moving in on him; that the jungle was closing in around him. He had been doing alright; the afternoon was warm, the sun dappled through the trees, the chorus of birdsong echoed through the tree-tops but as he went deeper the atmosphere became more intense, hot and humid, reminding him very vividly of that 'other place'. Scott stopped in his tracks to wipe sweat from his brow, turning this way and that at every sound that now seemed exaggerated in his head.
There was something he needed to do, somewhere he needed to be going, he was sure of that. He shook his head to clear his mind; he needed to think, he needed to focus and then he knew. He had a mission to fulfil, an objective to reach; he had to get to the clearing, he had to get to his LZ. With that over-riding need and all consuming thought Scott instinctively took one of the minor tracks that would take him to the only clearing in the interior of the island.
But it was still daylight and he was too visible; he needed to rectify that right away, couldn't risk being seen, his disciplined and ingrained training having soon taken over. Scott stood still and closed his eyes for a few moments and when he opened them he had raised himself to that higher level, having taken on that emotionless and detached look. He was now in full survival mode.
Taking a quick glance over himself he found he was wearing his combat pants and a black muscle t-shirt, which only served to enhance his muscular arms and chest. Black was good, he thought, it would help to hide him, allow him to blend in with his surroundings but his arms were too exposed, same with his face. He automatically put his hand to his shoulder to take off his Survival Pack to get his camouflage sticks but it wasn't there; he searched around but couldn't find it.
'Damn it', he swore softly to himself. He must have dropped it but no matter, he had been trained to survive even without it, he had been trained to improvise if he had to. Searching around Scott found what he was looking for. A small runlet of a stream ran nearby, one of dozens that criss-crossed the island and he quickly knelt down and began rooting around in the leaf litter. Finding the soft brown bark that had recently fallen from one of the trees he dipped it in the water and began squeezing it in his hand to soften it. Once it was soggy and mushy he dipped his fore and middle fingers in the brown mixture then dragged his fingers across his face to get the slash pattern camouflage effect. After wiping his hand clean he looked around and found freshly fallen green leaves and did the same with them, breaking them up, submerging them in the water and squeezing them until he had a green mush, whereupon he completed the slash pattern. He did the same with his arms, feeling now that he would not be so easily seen.
It was still light and he needed to hole up until he could travel better under the cover of darkness and with that Scott disappeared, melting into his surroundings like a ghost in the early morning mist.
He could hear voices now; 'they' were coming, looking for him, calling his name. How did 'Charlie' know his name? It was a trick, designed to lure him into a false sense of security. 'They' did that, used information from captured comrades to bring the others in, which means 'they' must have got Jez, made him talk. He closed his mind to what that would mean, he couldn't think about that now. Well, he wasn't going to fall for that, he had been too well trained to fall for any such tricks.
But it sounded like there were only two of them, a two-man search patrol. He needed to buy himself some time, time to get away before the 'others' would come. He knew what he had to do. He had to take them out.
Now that Virgil found himself on his own, deep in the interior, every little noise and sound was exaggerated, causing him to spin around as though expecting to be attacked at any moment. If he wasn't spooked before he was most definitely spooked now. It was well seen Virgil wasn't one for the great outdoors, leaving all that out-doorsy kind of stuff to his adrenalin junkie eldest brother, along with Gordon and Alan, much more preferring the quieter and gentler indoor artistic pursuits of his music and painting.
"Scott! Scott! Come on, buddy….it's me….Virgil……I know you're out here. Wouldn't you like to go home and get those cold beers, huh!" an increasingly anxious brother called out, making sure his brother knew exactly who was out looking for him, though Virgil couldn't even begin to imagine the depth or extent of the very real flashback that Scott was experiencing right at that moment.
"Aw please, buddy. You don't want to be out here all night anymore than I do……and that storm's moving in. Please, Scott……let's all just go home," Virgil continued to call out, looking this way and that, scanning the dense jungle with nervous apprehension for any sign of movement.
A sudden rising of birds from the trees made him catch his breath and break out in a cold sweat in the sticky, humid heat of the afternoon and he found himself wondering if this is how it had been for his brother. He found his hand automatically tightening around the tranquillizing gun, thankful for the feeling of security it gave him, though obviously, deep down, he hoped he was not going to have to use it but, then again, he was only too acutely aware now of how easily his eldest brother could snap his neck….if he believed him to be the enemy.
"Damn it, Scott….will you at least just show yourself….so we can talk," he found himself shouting out irritably, though his irritation was, not so much directed at his brother but stemmed from his own fear rising to the surface, that stone-cold primal fear that comes from being alone and believing you are being watched from the shadows.
Virgil tapped at the earpiece of his headset. "John! Come in, John. You got any sign of him yet?" he asked anxiously as he looked this way and that.
"Negative on that, Virgil. I guess you're the same. We'd better keep looking. Just keep heading in the direction of the clearing," John advised.
And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, the sky darkened ominously, loud claps of thunder could be heard in the distance and the first drops of rain began to fall.
Virgil threw up his hands in annoyance and shouted at the heavens. "Oh great……j.u.s.t…great. That's all I need. Give us a break here, will ya." He continued to mumble to himself as he edged another few steps along the ever-narrowing track, unaware he was being observed from the shadows by a pair of cold and emotionless cobalt blue eyes.
He had his first target in his sights. And a pretty dumb-ass soldier he was at that, Scott thought to himself. All that shouting out and stumbling around, he had just given himself away. Still, that was his mistake….and he would pay for it.
Virgil never saw it coming. With one swift, lightening kick to his arm the trank gun was sent flying from Virgil's grasp into the undergrowth but in Scott's mind he had just disarmed 'Charlie' of the weapon he intended to use against him.
Scott was well versed in several disciplines of the martial arts and was something he enjoyed doing, both for personal fitness and relaxation, which, perhaps, was what aided him in his ability to deep focus and draw upon that inner mental strength. It was about the release of explosive energy at just the right time to affect the desired solution and since Scott was not armed, for he thought he had lost his knife too, he had to rely on every method at his disposal to defend himself. So I guess, in actual fact, you could say that Scott Tracy himself was a lethal weapon, a very lethal weapon indeed….if he so chose.
In the next instant and with the same cat-like speed Virgil found a strong arm locked around his throat from behind, leaving him gasping for air and his fear intensified somewhat when he felt a strong hand grasp the back of his neck and the other clamp onto the side of his face. He was in trouble; he was in real BIG trouble. Cold, naked fear surged through him for he realised his brother was getting ready to snap his neck like a twig. He knew he was in even more trouble when he then felt his headset being ripped off, thrown to the ground and heard it being stamped on, the hand swiftly returning to hold him in the deadly headlock. Now he had no way of contacting John, even if he were to free himself for a few moments.
He clawed desperately at Scott's forearms in a vain attempt to get his brother to release him.
"S..c…o..t..t! S…c…o..t..t! It….it's…..m..e…….V..V..i…r..g..i..l," he managed to choke out but that only earned him being pulled backwards and a tightening of the arm around his throat, effectively cutting off his ability to speak, in fact, practically cutting off his airway altogether and the ability to breathe. In that moment he realised too he was probably fighting for his very life.
"Aw Scott….you've just gotta know it's me," Virgil pleaded inwardly to himself. "You are gonna feel so bad about this if you go ahead….I guarantee it."
If there was ever the remotest chance he had a telepathic connection with his eldest brother now would be a good time for it to work.
Why couldn't he finish the job, carry out his objective! He had his 'enemy' right where he wanted him now. All he had to do was one quick, sharp twist…..clean, efficient, no mess but, for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to finish it. Something was wrong. He had been taught not to hesitate, to hesitate was fatal and something told him he was probably going to pay for his mistake, though I don't think Virgil would quite see it that way. In fact, I think Virgil would be more than relieved that Scott had went against all his ingrained military training just this once.
Beads of perspiration broke out on Scott's forehead, his face taut with tension, giving rise to the great mental struggle he was undergoing but still he held his 'enemy' in a firm grip until he could clear his mind, until he could think straight.
Virgil wrapped his fingers around his brother's forearms, trying to prise them forward a little just to give himself a chance to breathe, realising what an incredibly strong grip his brother had on him.
And where in the hell was John! He could do with his help right about now. This was the part in the movies when the good guys burst in on the scene to save the day, when the cavalry came charging over the hill to the sound of bugles but, worriedly, he had to remind himself that this wasn't the movies. This was real life.
Then, as if in answer to his silent prayers!
"SCOTT! DROP HIM, SCOTT," a sudden voice ordered, sounding off to their right. "I SAID….DROP HIM. Please Scott…don't make me do this," John repeated in urging tones, while aiming the tranquillizing gun firmly and squarely at his brother. It may only have been a trank gun but he felt highly uncomfortable aiming any kind of weapon at his eldest brother.
Scott startled at the sound of another voice, his mind racing now as to how he was going to extricate himself from this situation. He knew it; he had hesitated, waited too long and now the other member of that 'two-man patrol' had shown up. For now, though, he tightened his hold on his 'enemy'.
John had known something was wrong when he had tried to contact Virgil again and couldn't raise him on the headset, sending him racing through the trees to the other track his brother had taken. He knew he had arrived just in time, shocked at seeing the situation that confronted him. It was a delicate situation, to say the least, his eldest brother holding Virgil in a deadly headlock, his arm wrapped firmly around his brother's throat, slowly squeezing the life out of him. He knew it wouldn't take but a split second either for Scott to execute that short, sharp twist.
But what had shocked him was the visible state his eldest brother was in. His arms appeared to be camouflaged in some sort of slash pattern and when Scott raised his head to look in his direction, John barely recognised his brother. Scott's face, too, was covered in the same kind of camouflaging, leaving only two piercingly cold and emotionless eyes to stare back at him and it was obvious to John his brother did not recognise him.
"Geez, Scott….where are you!" John thought to himself, all too painfully aware now his brother must be experiencing a powerful flashback.
His brother was most definitely hot-wired, in some other place entirely and yet! And yet Scott seemed to be locked in some kind of inner struggle with himself for it seemed to John that Scott could have disposed of his 'enemy' before this and been long gone.
It was the slimmest of chances and John knew he had to make the most of Scott's indecision. It was obvious to him now that there would be no talking Scott down and anyway, Virgil didn't have time. If Virgil didn't end up having his neck broken he was going to suffocate through lack of oxygen.
Virgil's pleading eyes locked with John's. 'Do it, John. Take him down'.
Scott could still break his neck, though, before the sedative took hold but that was a risk both he and Virgil were going to have to take so, without further hesitation, John fired off the trank gun, sending the small projectile slamming into Scott's upper right arm.
Virgil heard his brother wince and gasp in pain and for a split second Scott relaxed the death grip around his throat. It was now or never and Virgil lost no time in seizing his chance. Much, though, as he hated to do it, Virgil cupped one hand over his other fist and drove his elbow back hard into Scott's left side.
His brother groaned in agony and doubled over, giving Virgil the opportunity to finally struggle free. He dropped to his knees then fell forward, putting one hand to the ground to support himself while rubbing at his neck with the other, all the time choking, coughing and gasping for air.
Scott then staggered backwards slightly, beginning to feel the first effects of the strong sedative. He looked down at his upper arm, his face a mixture of questioning confusion. He knew he had been shot but with what! He pulled the small dart from his arm and tossed it away.
Since he hadn't been shot with a bullet he could only assume that the 'enemy' wanted him alive and, if they wanted him alive, it was with the intention of torturing him. Well, he had no intention of letting that happen. He would have to retreat for now, get as far away from here as possible, rethink what he was going to do. Maybe he could still make it to the clearing. He had to at least try. And with that, Scott disappeared back into his surroundings.
John immediately ran forward and dropped to his knees to aid his still gasping brother but Virgil nodded, assuring him he was all right.
When he could finally manage to speak. "Sc..o..t..t. H..o..w….is….he? Ho..pe…I…didn't…hu..rt…him," Virgil rasped out, his only concern being for his eldest brother, hoping that he hadn't hurt him too much by digging his elbow into his newly healing ribs. He felt bad about that, knowing now what his brother had already been through.
"You had no choice, Virgil. We know he didn't mean to…but he was choking the life out of you….and you know as well as I do that he could have snapped your neck at any time," John re-assured his brother.
"Yeah…I know…(cough)….but he didn't….(cough). He was struggling, John….(cough, cough)…..I could sense it in him….(cough)….he couldn't bring himself to do it," Virgil admitted and realising why he was still alive for which both boys were very thankful indeed.
They looked behind them, expecting to find Scott lying in a heap and sleeping like a baby but there was no sign of him.
John helped Virgil to his feet.
"You did hit him…didn't you!" Virgil rasped, sounding almost accusing.
"Yeah….I hit him. Got him in the upper arm," John responded, feeling somewhat defensive.
"Then what's this!" Virgil asked, lifting up the small dart that had been discarded.
"Damn it….he must have pulled it out," John conjectured as he worriedly scanned the trees in the hope that Scott hadn't gotten too far.
"So…we don't know how much of that stuff has actually got into his system then?" Virgil mused in a heavy frown.
"Guess not," John admitted.
"Well...couldn't you have…shot him…somewhere….where he couldn't have pulled it out!" Virgil suggested somewhat sarcastically.
"Yeah….like where! In case you hadn't noticed he was backed up against that tree…with you in front….so there wasn't exactly a lot of him visible. What did you expect me to do! Walk right up to him and say, 'Excuse me, Scott…would you mind stepping forward so I can shove this trank gun in your back'," John snapped back defensively with equal sarcasm.
"Well, I don't know…do I! I was kind of incapacitated at the time," Virgil reminded him sharply.
"Oh well…excuse me for saving your sorry ass. Maybe I should just have let him choke the life out of you…..then when he dropped you I'd have had a nice clear target," John responded with a forced laugh. "Why do you think we got the trank guns instead of hyposprays, huh? Because we weren't supposed to get anywhere near him…. remember!" he went on to remind him, feeling greatly irritated.
Both boys glared at each other, panting heavily from the humid heat and the high adrenalin situation they had both faced. After a few brief moments, however!
"We're doing it again….aren't we?" Virgil realised, knowing they were letting the pressure get to them and the fact they still weren't any closer to getting their brother home. "Sorry, John….I shouldn't have went off on one. I guess I really do owe you, buddy….thanks. And it was a good bit of shooting by the way, that you were able to hit him at all with me in the way," he apologised and acknowledging his brother's timely rescue.
"Yeah…I guess we are doing it again. Look, I'm sorry too, Virgil," John replied, adding his own apology and recognising that his brother had just had a very intense and scary moment. "Well….we'd better get after him. If he goes to ground and whatever stuff he does have in his system really kicks in then we might not find him until he wakes up…..and we sure as hell haven't a hope of finding him in the dark. I don't know about you but I don't intend leaving him out here all night," he suggested, followed by agreed nods from his brother.
They rooted around in the undergrowth to retrieve Virgil's lost tranquillizer gun then, with the rain coming down heavier, they headed off in the direction of the clearing after their partially doped-up brother.
"And, this time….we stick together," John stated with a little grin.
"You'll get no arguments with me on that one, buddy," Virgil replied, giving his neck another rub. "Say…how did he manage to run off at all with any of that in him?" he mused as they followed a now clear trail of crushed foliage and broken branches, making it obvious that their brother was stumbling wildly in his attempt to get away.
"Well…remember what Brains said….if he were to get an adrenalin rush he could fight off the effects of one of these darts," John reminded him.
"Yep….that sounds like Scott all right. Hell….I think he could fight off a whole army right about now," Virgil concluded with a wry grin, followed by a whole-hearted agreement from John.
They hadn't went much farther when John tapped Virgil on the shoulder and pointed just ahead of them through the trees. "There."
And they couldn't help but be moved by the pitiful sight of their eldest brother crazily stumbling his way towards his hoped for rescue, stumbling, falling and getting up again as he succumbed to more of the sedation; getting up again because he just did not know how to give up.
The boys approached him though with caution for a partially doped-up Scott Tracy was just as dangerous as a fully alert one, as any wounded animal would be.
"Scott! Scott! Please stop…..give it up. It's just us…..Virgil and John. We want to take you home, buddy," Virgil called out pleadingly.
Voices behind him. 'They' were coming; 'they' had caught up with him. Whatever 'they' had shot him with had slowed him down, was taking more effect. Everything was swimming crazily around him; he couldn't think straight, everything was getting hazy. He had stumbled and fallen a few times, his legs weak, feeling like jelly but he had got up again, had to keep going because Scott Tracy did not give up. But now 'they' had caught up with him. Well, he was not going to go down without a fight and he was not going to let 'them' take him, to torture him.
Automatically, Scott reached down to his side for his weapon, intent on bringing it up to hip level so he could round on his 'enemy' and let go with a burst of gunfire, reliving, in his mind, that moment when he heard 'Charlie' closing in on him as he ran out into the clearing. But something was wrong; he didn't have his weapon, must have dropped it, lost it somewhere, like his Survival Pack and his knife! He couldn't figure it out; he tried to think but it was getting harder, harder to concentrate. Scott shook his head to try and clear his thoughts but it was no good.
Improvise! He had to improvise, that's what he'd been taught. He needed a weapon. Desperately he searched around and finding what he was looking for he retrieved a stout stick from the jungle floor, almost falling over in the process. Grasping it in both hands and having struggled to regain his balance he turned to face his 'enemy', ready to do battle, prepared to take on all comers and with everything continuing to swim crazily and out of focus, Scott blindly swung his 'weapon' from side to side.
"Come…on…then……co..come…and…get…me," Scott shouted out in challenge, his speech slowed and slurred from the effects of the sedative. "I…I…ain't…gonna…ma..make…this…easy. You're…gonna…have…to…damn…well…kill…me…before…I…I…let…you…take…me. Come…on…then…….wh..what are…you…waitin…for…..you…you…gawd…damn…pa..pansy-assed…bunch…a…pu..pussies".
Scott continued to swing the stick wildly, prepared to defend himself to the end.
Worried and concerned the two boys looked at each other, with that last statement bringing a raised eyebrow or two, though Virgil had to admit to being visibly shocked to see his brother's state now that Scott had turned to face them. Since Scott had taken Virgil from behind, Virgil hadn't gotten to see his brother's face and what he saw upset him somewhat. His brother's eyes were rolling in his head, his face now streaked where the improvised camouflage had started to run with the pouring rain, his clothes filthy and torn from when he had fallen in the dirt and soaked right through.
"Well, you heard him….go get him, Virgil," John urged his brother.
"ME! I thought we weren't gonna get…that…close again," Virgil protested, his face puckered in a heavy frown.
"We're not. It's just your turn to take him down," John informed him 'helpfully'.
"What da ya mean…..my turn!" Virgil queried suspiciously.
"Well, I shot him last time…..it's your turn to shoot him," John retorted curtly in what was turning out to be a ridiculously childish and petty argument.
"I don't believe you, John," Virgil responded in wide-eyed astonishment.
"I'm not shootin him twice….and that's that. This way…if he wakes up madder than hell….well…we can say we both shot him," John stated quite simply, seeing it as the ideal solution.
Virgil was left speechless and open-mouthed.
"Look Virgil….just do it….just take him down….before he really hurts himself…..and before this storm closes in. Then we can all go home….get into a nice hot tub…..and get him into bed where he can sleep like a baby," John continued urging his brother, seeming to have it all sorted. "And besides….you've…got a nice clear target….you can't miss," he added cheekily.
Virgil narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Gee….you're all heart," he responded in heavy sarcasm, like John was doing him some sort of favor and making him feel guilty into the bargain, that if they didn't get Scott home soon it was because he was reluctant to deliver the final dart.
"Yeah…I know. I guess I'm just that kinda guy," John responded with a mockingly false modesty. "Now just point the gun….pull the trigger….and send him to sleep, will ya," he added, as though his brother needed lessons.
"Yeah…I know. Alright….alright…..I'm doin it….OK!" Virgil agreed irritably but not wanting to be pushed, though he knew if the shoe was on the other foot he would have made John do exactly the same thing.
In the meantime, even though dazed, confused and swaying about on his feet, Scott stared incredulously at his 'enemy', looking from one to the other as he watched their verbal ping-pong. Were 'they' really arguing over who was going to take him down! Well, no matter. He saw this as his chance to put some more distance between them while 'they' were otherwise engaged, to try to complete his objective.
With no more strength in his arms, Scott dropped his 'weapon of choice', turned and started to make a run for it again.
"Well I suggest you do it now, Virgil…..he's making another run for it," John offered 'helpfully', gesturing with his hands towards their fleeing brother.
Virgil followed John's line of sight and breathed out a heavy sigh of exasperation. "Gawd damn, Scott….will you just give up and lie down….don't make me do this," he shouted after his brother, who paid him no heed and, in his heart, Virgil knew it was something his brother would never do, give up. It was what made him who he was. It was what had brought him through this whole horrendous ordeal, his grit and determination and was a quality that his brothers would more and more admire, respect and be very thankful for in the future they would soon embark on; their future in International Rescue.
Extending his arm, Virgil lined up the trank gun and with Scott in his sights he pulled the trigger, sending the small projectile slamming into his brother's back, causing him to grunt in pain. "Sweet dreams, buddy," Virgil said softly.
There were no more smart-aleck remarks, no more sarcasms or arguments from either of the two boys, instead, John gave his brother a weak smile and patted him on the back, encouraging him at having done the right thing and knowing that the 'chase' was finally over.
He had been shot again; he knew that from the force of the blow to his back and this time he couldn't reach round to pull it out. 'They' had him this time for sure. He took another few staggering steps forward, swayed for a brief moment, his world spinning crazily out of control then his legs buckled beneath him, causing him to sink to his knees before finally falling face down in the dirt.
Virgil and John immediately dropped the trank guns and raced forward, dropping to their knees beside their brother who was fast losing consciousness. Tenderly Virgil stroked his forehead in a comforting gesture and was rewarded with a pair of eyes, puzzled and confused as to where he was or what had happened.
"V..i..r..g..i..l! J..o..h..n!" Scott breathed out, feeling his hold on the conscious world slipping away.
The two boys looked at each other and, choking back their emotion, gave him an encouraging smile.
"Yeah, buddy…we're here for you," Virgil assured him.
"Yeah, Scott….we're going to get you home….don't you worry about a thing," John added his re-assurance.
And with that, Scott fell into a deep, deep sleep.
Tired, wet and breathing heavily now that their exhaustive search was over the two boys sat down and shuffled themselves back up against a large tree, dragging their unconscious brother with them under what little shelter it offered. Virgil then, with care and tenderness, lifted his brother's head up onto his lap for his brother did not deserve to be left lying face down in the dirt and for a few brief moments they rested their heads back against the huge trunk of the tree.
"So…any idea how we're gonna get 'sleepin beauty' here back home then!" Virgil mused, turning his head to look at John. "Cus I sure as hell couldn't carry him all that way."
John rolled his head to look at Virgil, then down at his sleeping brother. "Kinda makes you wonder how he did it, though….doesn't it?" John reflected, as he looked back to Virgil.
"Carry Jez for two nights and with cracked ribs, you mean?" Virgil concluded, looking down to his brother to which John replied with a quiet, 'Yeah'. "Sure was a helluva thing to do," Virgil added in quiet admiration. And with that they pondered reflectively on all that their brother had achieved during his ordeal with no doubt in either of their minds that he well and truly deserved his Medal of Honor.
Shaking themselves now, though, from their reverie it was time to get down to practicalities and, as if to remind them of the urgency in getting home, a streak of lightening lit up the sky, followed by another ominous loud clap of thunder.
"Guess we'd better let Dad know we've got him safe and sound," John suggested, "And get some transport out here, double quick."
"Sounds like a plan to me, John," his brother quickly agreed.
John tapped the earpiece of his headset, connecting him to the villa, informing one very grateful father that they had found Scott, that he was safely asleep and that they needed transport; the rest of the details which could be filled in later. Giving him the co-ordinates the boys then sat back and waited, checking, every so often, on their unconscious brother.
Within a short space of time the much-needed transport arrived, Brains and their father astride the hover-bikes the boys sometimes used to race around the jungle tracks, much in the same way trail bikes are used today.
Now, you might be forgiven for thinking that the hover-bikes belonged solely to the era of International Rescue but even they had to start life somewhere. The fact was, Brains had taken the basic design and simply modified and enhanced it, evolving them into the hover-bikes that would become standard equipment for the rescue organisation.
Jeff lost no time in rushing to his unconscious son's side, visibly moved by the pitiful sight that met him and, once Brains had given him a quick look over, they all carefully manoeuvred Scott onto the Anti-grav stretcher. Pulling down the transparent dome cover to protect him from the rain, the stretcher was then hooked up again to the back of one of the bikes. Their father mounted the bike that towed the stretcher with Virgil climbing on behind, leaving John to mount up behind Brains and together the small party made their way back to the villa and just in the nick of time it seemed, as the full fury of the storm unleashed itself on their island home.
They entered by the massive hangar and quickly sealed the doors shut. Now all they had to do was get Scott up to his room, cleaned up and into bed, hopefully before anyone could see him. His lengthy sleep could simply be explained away by his overdoing it with his long walks and, if they were unfortunate enough to run into anyone, then they would be told just what Brains knew, that he suffered a flashback of being in the jungle with no other details being necessary.
But first they made a detour via the Infirmary, to the examining room, where, after helping Scott out of his wet and filthy clothes, Brains checked him over. The boys, too, discarded their wet clothes, donning towelling robes and Virgil asked Brains to pay particular attention to his brother's ribs, confessing and feeling guilty at what he'd had to do. His father assured him there was nothing else he could have done, that his own life was at stake but Virgil felt more relieved when Brains was able to give him the good news that Scott's ribs had not been re-broken or even cracked, though he would have some fresh bruising.
Jeff then made sure Brains took a look at Virgil's throat, with the young scientist informing him that he had sustained some bruising to his larynx but that there would be no permanent damage.
"Look Brains….I don't want you to mention all this to anyone else. It would only embarrass Scott if he thought he had hurt me…..and…and…anyway it was my own fault for coming up on him without warning. I startled him….and I should have known better," Virgil insisted, exchanging quick and meaningful glances to John and his father and thinking of his brother, hoping that Brains would see it just as a normal reaction in a flashback situation on Scott's part.
"O.O.Of course, V.Virgil….Mr T.Tracy. I would not…um…think of e.e.embarrassing S.Scott in any way," their serious young friend assured them.
"Thank you, Brains….we really appreciate that," Jeff nodded gratefully. "Now…let's get him up to his room. I'll run you boys a nice hot bath and you can help to get him cleaned up and into bed so he can sleep this off."
Their father was as good as his word and ran the bath while the boys, between them, took Scott into the shower, supporting him as they cleaned most of the dirt off him then they took him down into his large and roomy sunken bath. As they lay soaking in the warm bubbling water Virgil and John sighed in deep contentment, just glad of the chance to relax, while they held onto their sleeping brother.
"Guess you're going to be wearing polo-neck sweaters for a few days, Virgil," John observed, nodding to his brother's throat that was sure to come up in bruises.
"Guess so," Virgil agreed. "Or there's gonna be too many awkward questions asked."
After another few minutes pondering.
"Say, Virg."
"Yeah, John."
"Did he really call us, 'a bunch of pansy-assed pussies'!" John mused.
"Yep…he sure did," Virgil replied with a faint smile.
"Reckon he was kinda pissed then, Virg!" John continued to muse.
"Reckon so, Johnny," his brother responded.
"Yeah….that's what I thought," John concluded.
And both brothers let out a deep sigh and closed their eyes for a few moments, making sure, of course, their sleeping brother didn't drown.
After a long and relaxing soak the boys got Scott out of his bath, dried him off and made him comfortable in bed. Brains hooked him up to a small monitor unit that provided a read-out of his vital signs; just precautionary, according to Brains, because of the deep sleep he was in and for the same reason someone stayed with him most of the time. Jeff insisted he stay with his son that night and camped out on Scott's sofa bed. As he watched his son sleep he smiled inwardly a little because for the first time since his ordeal began Jeff couldn't help but notice a look of deep peace and contentment on his eldest son's face and, if he was not mistaken, he could have sworn he saw the glimmer of a smile.
"Pleasant dreams, Son….have a good sleep," his father whispered.
He did.
But then, maybe, he was dreaming of a bed of wolf furs by a glowing fire!
Author's Note: The formula that Brains began to refer to, of ethanate-tri…, for his tranquillizing darts is made up for the purposes of this story.
