Virgil didn't need a hand to count the amount of times Scott had attended a reunion of his Air Force buddies.
Zero.
But this time he'd been persuaded by the lure of the wilderness and no responsibilities. The almost-completely-healed ribs and Grandma's insistence that he was still grounded for at least a couple of weeks was the final push he needed to go explore Monongahela National Forest.
Now – now he wished that he'd insisted Scott stay at home. He didn't really need two whole weeks – his ribs were healed – but they had decided Scott needed some proper rest away from all things iR and TI-related.
Two days into the break Scott had told one of his friends that he'd gone hiking with that he'd gotten a call and had to go – an emergency, he said. It was now two days after Scott had been due back, 14 days since Scott had gone missing.
And still there was no sign of the Commander of International Rescue and CEO of Tracy Industries. It was if he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.
John and EOS had been tearing the world apart but there wasn't a sign of Scott at all. There wasn't a trace of the phone call that Scott had said he'd received, and for all intents and purposes seemed that Scott had ditched every piece of tracking he had within an hour of the alleged phone call and gone into hiding.
Monongahela National Forest was huge – a little over 40 billion square feet. They'd had cadaver dogs out and trackers but there had been no sign of Scott much beyond where he'd left his friend. That it had poured with rain for three solid days after his disappearance hadn't helped.
Virgil sat at their Dad's desk and stared at the portrait of his eldest brother.
'Where are you, Scott?'