Martha replied, "Agreed.", before sitting down again to grab the office phone to make her calls, knowing that Poppy's gymnastics coach would be annoyed and confused if Poppy's practice is interrupted soon by Alfred once he gets there, but Poppy wouldn't care as she would be immediately determined to help Waylon any way she can. Bruce has been there to encourage Poppy at her practices this summer while earlier, it was Martha to encourage Poppy on her afternoons off from Wayne Entreprises.
Still, family emergency was probably a good enough excuse for things; and it certainly wasn't a lie of sorts and not like they needed the details. Either way, they needed to get together quickly as obviously this was not a situation that they had time to take things a bit slowly; Waylon's health was at risk and if Alfred was right, it might be worse than they could think.
It killed Alfred as he had to obey traffic laws and such, taking one of the smaller limos than the usual long limo, taking probably 30 minutes to Poppy's practice to the highest speed he could afford without being pulled over, cursing the fact that he can't take the secret routes because it's daytime, compared to the shadowing times of sunrise and sunset, which Bruce didn't have an issue with, but with a fancy limo, even if smaller, could catch people's attention easier than a public casual car.
It was similar when they got back, with Bruce actually glaring at the coach when the practice got interrupted, not caring to give details, and the siblings were explained of the details quickly as Alfred drove back to the manor, with Poppy biting her lip in worry for her best friend.
The staff was through with their chores for the day and left much to the Waynes' relief, and with security amped up from the cameras and such, and Poppy asking Chess and Bandit to keep watch of the place, they only packed up essential aid and some of Thomas' clothes, immediately filling into the airport taxi when it arrived.
The Waynes was shocked by Alfred's frenzied demands to the taxi driver to go the highest speed limit of the road when the taxi was taking its time, which angered Alfred. Martha explained the urgency, and the taxi driver understood, and obeyed Alfred.
It was another additional half hour, and several minutes of processing everything and all before they boarded their private plane, and with the emergency rush order of the flight, even with keeping clear of weather changes in the air, it seemed like forever in agony to Alfred especially, it was a hour and half before they landed in their usual private strip near the town of Eustace, and with arrangements that Martha called while on the plane, they got a rental car, heading straight for the shack through town and out of town.
"Easy, Alfred, easy!", Martha shouted as Alfred was practically driving like a man possessed. "It doesn't help Waylon if we all die in an accident!", she argued.
"Well... maybe not me...", Kel spoke in her mind. "But everyone else isn't like us so... sorry, thinking aloud.". Martha rolled her eyes as that probably wasn't the best thing to think about at the moment as Alfred slowed down a bit.
"Sorry, sorry... just... I'm terrified of losing him, ma'am... he's all the family I've got left... aside from you, Kel, Bruce and Poppy, of course, but still...", Alfred spoke wearily.
Martha sighed, "I know...I know...Your world completely changed when you took up responsibility for that boy, especially after experiencing four short years of love with Caroline, and three hours with Jane...And of course, Caroline's anniversary is coming up next week...I swear the universe is throwing switchbacks of good and bad fortune at us...".
"Let us hope then it's the good fortune this time around...", Alfred said after a few more minutes of driving before the rental finally arrived at the shack. Alfred quickly raced out, not even stopping to turn off the car which Bruce had to do before he was at the front door, frantically knocking, "Waylon! Waylon, son, are you there?!".
Waylon's voice weakly called out, "D-Dad?", before Alfred heard a shout of pain, and he opened the door swiftly, seeing in the distance of Waylon's open door of his bedroom through the house to see his son holding his arm in a wrecked sling as the boy must have forgotten that he was injured momentarily when he heard Alfred, trying to get off the bed, looking pale and shivering despite having a fresh set of clothes soaked from overheating as Alfred called out, "Waylon!", running immediately to his son.
"Easy, easy!", Waylon quickly shouted as Alfred backed off a moment. "Sorry...", Alfred apologized. "Waylon... you don't look well...".
"Yeah... I know...", Waylon winced. "I've lost track of the time; I think I got sleep but... I feel even worse...", he admitted as Alfred sighed.
Alfred replied, "Did you drink, did you have soup?", and Waylon replied, "I had water...but I don't know if I can eat...", shivering.
Alfred went to check his forehead, "Oh, you're burning up! Come on, let's get you to the bathroom to cool you down!", grabbing around his waist, and Waylon groaned in pain, closing his eyes, and Alfred saw the swollen scar on his left eye.
"Waylon! Hold on, brother!", Bruce shouted as he came in to assist Alfred, taking Waylon's good arm over his shoulders, and Waylon gave a small smile, "Hey, Bruce...I look like a real shitting mess, huh?", knowing even with the hasty wrapped bandages around his injured arm, it has been a while since he last changed them, with all the cuts in soaked gauze and swollen from his overheating body, and he probably ain't looking good if he indicated Alfred and Bruce's looks correctly.
Martha replied, "Oh, my god!", as she and Poppy came in, with Kel's astral form appearing, and Alfred replied, "Quick, get all the cold packs from the cold pantry downstairs, we need to ice a bath for Waylon, Martha and Kel! And Poppy, get a soup going!".
"Right.", Poppy rushed to the kitchen to get things going as Martha went to prepare a bath. "How bad do you think I am...?", Waylon asked as Alfred took a deep breath.
"I don't know, I'm not exactly a true doctor in ways... I certainly know some remedies and tricks but nowhere close to be certifiable. One thing is for sure, we need to get you some anti-biotics...", Alfred explained.
"Going to have to go to Gotham for that, right...?", Waylon groaned as Alfred nodded, "Unless you're wanting to get to a doctor a bit quicker and we take you to town or all the way to Baton Rouge or New Orleans. At least in Gotham, we could get Leslie to help look you over. We know we can trust her with your condition.".
Waylon exhaled, "I'll take your word on Thompkins...I can't expose my family secrets, if New Orleans or Baton Rouge desecrate Mama and Jane's tree and their resting places...I would be furious if they did that...to get at me, looking like this...and I don't... don't want to be taken away from you...I'm scared, Dad...".
"Don't be, Waylon... we'll get you the help you need... just try to relax, stay calm... and try to get something down at least while we can stabilize you.", Alfred told him as Waylon nodded. "Alfred! I got the bath running!", Martha called out.
Kel then replied, "And I got the ice packs from the cold pantry!", carrying the cold packs like Alfred ordered, and Bruce replied, "See, we ain't leaving ya, brother. You're in good hands, Waylon.", as he and Alfred walked Waylon to the bathroom.
"We boys will take it from here, you help Poppy with the soup and anything else you could think of in the kitchen.", Alfred replied as Martha and Kel nodded, leaving the bathroom.
Alfred and Bruce stripped Waylon from his overheated, soaked sick clothes, down to the boxers, putting him in the ice bath, and Bruce whistled as he removed the gauze patches and such from the cuts on the body, while putting the cold packs into the bath, "Damn, those ain't small croc claws...Can you see out of that eye, Waylon?", noting the reddening and fresh scar through the eye.
Waylon replied, "Yeah, I can, and managed to close it in time before he got it...It's swollen, though, and hurts awfully bad...", as Alfred went to remove the bandages and the wrecked sling from the arm, and his eyes widened in horror and shock, "Waylon Jones, you said that it was a decent bite, but what the hell is that?! It doesn't look like a decent bite! How big was that damn crocodile?!", as he took into the sight of the infected injury, with Bruce's eyes widening as he had a look too.
"I don't know... he wasn't exactly massive; just maybe almost as large as me if you held him up from the tail...", Waylon said as Bruce was covering his mouth. "It's really bad, isn't it...?".
"Really bad? Waylon, that's horrid!", Bruce exclaimed, and Alfred replied, "Bruce, remember what I did for you two weeks ago? There's herbs down in the pantry, Caroline would have labelled them. Got it?", looking at Bruce sternly.
Bruce nodded, realizing that Alfred wanted to make a remedy to stabilize the infection, and left the bathroom, as Alfred looked at Waylon, "You're damn lucky that this doesn't look like gangrene otherwise you'd have lost this...You're officially grounded once we get home, what were you thinking?!".
Waylon replied, "I was doing fine, Dad!", angry at him, appalled that Alfred is treating him like a kid, even if a part of him is happy to be grounded as a punishment by a father like he always wanted to be, through Caroline always had done it before for a million times.
Waylon calmed down for a second as he took a deep breath, "I was tracking this boar... I got him, fairly easy but that croc managed to sneak up on me and... I don't know why he went for me; I dropped the boar which I assume is what he was intending on eating...".
Alfred frowned, sighing, "You must have gotten into his territory, or he must have seen you as a threat...All the same, from reading stories and such, crocodile bites must be treated immediately with antibiotics and cleaned thoroughly, since infection can set in after several hours, but with the fact that you came a long time to get home, and for us to get here longer, this is very clearly infected so fast! I know you did the best cleaning and everything you could, but this is serious, son...".
Waylon sighed wearily, "I know...Maybe I don't have to go to Gotham if we get this down and all...", and Alfred looked at him, "That's wishful thinking, Waylon...But still, we will give this a couple of hours...but do not lie to me if you feel more worse.".
"I'll take the soup, the remedy, anything you give me, Dad...", Waylon nodded as he tried to relax, to let the ice bath do its work to cool him down.
"How's he doing?", Bruce asked, a few hours later after getting Waylon to down the soup and herbs, as well as giving him the ice bath. Alfred had been checking on him every couple of minutes and so far, he seemed to have at least not gotten any worse.
"Sleeping still at the moment.", Alfred said. "So hopefully, he's fighting off the infection well..." Bruce nodded, "And you?", sipping at his tea, while Martha and Kel are distracting Poppy by playing with a game out on the porch.
Alfred sighed deeply, "Tired...but relieved that I'm here...keeping my promise to Caroline by looking after him...Thank god that he wasn't stubborn when he realized that he needed help, even if he had downgraded the situation somewhat...".
"I suppose he realized the severity of the situation a bit...Don't worry, Alfred, he's a fighter.", Bruce smiled, comforting Alfred by patting his shoulder, and Alfred gave him a thankful smile before they heard something crash in Waylon's bedroom, immediately running.
Alfred shouted, "Waylon!", opening the halfway closed door to hear and see a puking Waylon as he was face-down into a gumbo pot that was put near the bed from the kitchen, not used until now, his skin paler, and his scales were even paler than before.
Between major puking, Waylon whimpered, "Daddy...I want Mama too...It hurts...My bladder was screaming at me to take a leak...I got moving...stomach turned on me.".
"Waylon...", Alfred whispered as he took a deep breath. "Listen, we're going to Gotham right now...", he told him. "Something's very wrong and we need Leslie to look you over... something isn't right about that croc that bit you, clearly...".
"Yeah... yeah...", Waylon whispered. "I think you might be right...", he started to tear up a bit. Alfred rubbed his back as Waylon slowly sat back down, with Bruce handing him a cup of water to wash away the vile taste in his mouth, and after a few minutes, Alfred asked gently, "Okay now?".
Waylon nodded, "Yeah...I think I can stand up...", and Alfred replied, "Okay.", hearing footsteps coming, and looked at Martha and Kel and Poppy, "No offense, but I need your full strength.", looking at Martha and Kel specifically.
Kel and Martha locked eyes silently, and Kel zoomed back into Martha, and then Martha took a deep breath, and then hulked out to full strength, walking to gently yet firmly pick up Waylon as Alfred and Bruce backed away a bit.
"You going to carry me all the way?", Waylon asked as Kel smiled. "I'll carry you as long as you are needed... which probably would be all the way with how you look...", she told him. Waylon gave a small smile, "Fair...Okay...", and Kel picked the sick boy up, carrying him like a little child.
Kel left the bedroom, while Alfred followed by, with the hoodie, as Waylon has been in some of Thomas' clothes which is far better fitting, and the family turned off everything in the shack, with Alfred telling Waylon, "We will come back later to pack everything you want to be comfortable in your new room after Leslie checks you over...".
Waylon tiredly gazed at his father, "Okay...But can we bring the special chimes along at least?...I want to know that Mama and Jane's with us in presence...", and Alfred smiled, "Of course. Bruce, could you do it, and gently wrap up the chimes?", not leaving Waylon's side by Kel as she carried him to the car, with Poppy heading ahead to open up and start the car.
"Right.", Bruce ran back to get them as Kel started to help Waylon into the car. "Starting to think we should've gotten a second vehicle. I could drive alone with Waylon while the rest of you go ahead in your own car and we'd meet at the plane.", Alfred admitted as he had the thought of everyone squeezed into the car; especially with just how bad Waylon was.
Poppy replied, "Hey, Alfred, it's okay, Bruce can ride in front with you. Me and Mom are small compared to Waylon anyway as soon as Mama shrinks down...It won't be that tight.".
Alfred nodded, "Yeah...", as Poppy helped arrange Waylon's seating, helping him as Kel shrunk down into Martha, "We will watch over him, Alfred...You just drive like a possessed man again, but don't overdo it like last time, alright?", as she grabbed the hoodie from Alfred, donning Waylon as he swayed, sighing with dozing moans, resting his head against the middle seat headrest.
"Yes, ma'am.", Alfred replied as Bruce returned to the car, holding the chimes in their wrapping gently on his lap as he sat in the passenger seat next to Alfred, "Got them, Alfred...Let's go...".
Alfred revved the car, and left the dark shack, murmuring in a prayer with a glance at the wrapped chimes and the diminishing sight of Caroline and Jane's tree, "I won't fail him, Caroline...Watch over us, my dear.", and he breathed a bit easier as he felt and smelled a breeze of Caroline's perfume.
Even with the best possible avoidances of potholes and such, they had to stop two times for Waylon's puking and rehydrating him with some water before he fell asleep into exhausted soreness, resting his head into Martha's lap, with Poppy rubbing his back, and to their relief, the private plane is still there with no other bookings, and with the hoodie hiding his head, Bruce was quick to get Waylon into the plane with almost no questions asked, as Martha paid extra, knowing that Kel can't be exposed to the private airport staff, with Poppy checking over the airplane medicine and such, while Alfred carried the chimes into the plane, hanging it over the couch area of the private plane.
After seating themselves properly and the plane pulling out into the air, the family was then free to wander the private area, with Bruce pulling out the daybed from the couch so Waylon can rest easier.
Strangely enough, maybe to the chimes' music, or whatever, the few attendants didn't come in at all, to their relief as they can't afford anyone else discovering Waylon, after they took off the hoodie and the shoes to let Waylon cool down somewhat, and some medicine was given from the airplane medicine cabinet, and it seemed to calm down the puking at least when turbulence came up, but to their concern, he is still shivering in his sleep.