Fonziebirds: In Enemy Hands

[Bea]

Chapter Sixteen- Am I Nutso?

As quickly and quietly as he could, Fonzie led his brother back down the tunnel he had followed him through a short time before. Crossing the cavern where his interrogation had taken place, Fonzie suppressed a shudder and kept his eyes averted from the area where he had been beaten. A step behind him, Potsie silently kept pace, his face calm and impassive, showing no reaction to the many concerned glances thrown at him by his older brother.

The large cavern was clear of inhabitants and Fonzie swiftly led them back into the system of caves and porous passages that preceded it. They were fortunate and encountered no-one although, once again, Fonzie could hear the faint sound of voices reverberating out of some of the side passages as the two brothers passed the openings. They had been travelling through the passages for some minutes when a sudden gasp behind him caused Fonzie to stop and turn to check on his younger brother. Potsie was bowed over, supporting himself with his right arm braced on the wall and his left pressed against his thigh. Hurrying back to his side, Fonzie rested one hand lightly on Potsie’s back to get his attention and was shocked to feel the heat radiating through his brother’s clothes.

“Yo, Pots, what’s wrong?”

There was no response from his brother but Fonzie could feel shudders coursing through the body beneath his hand. Potsie was breathing heavily, taking in large gulps of air and holding them for seconds at a time before releasing them, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

“Potsie?” Fonzie dropped to a crouch beside his brother, looking up into his brother’s face. “Warren, can you hear me?”

Potsie didn't answer but he raised his left hand, blindly reaching out towards his brother. When his hand found Fonzie’s shoulder, it latched on to the strong muscle block, the fingers digging in convulsively as more shudders ranged through his body.

“Okay, Pots, okay, take it easy. I’m here.” Fonzie stood again, reaching his right arm around Potsie and locking it around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you sat down.”

Potsie gave no indication of having heard or understood, continuing to gasp and shudder beneath Fonzie’s arm but as Fonzie tried to lower Potsie to the floor, he met only resistance, his brother refusing to move from his bowed over position. Just as Fonzie was considering trying to drape Potsie over his shoulders and carry him onwards a loud klaxon echoed through the underground passageways, the suddenness of its alarm causing Fonzie to jump in shock.

“Whoa! They must have missed us.” Fonzie looked frantically up and down the passage, fearing pursuit would find them immediately but for now there was no-one in sight. From what he remembered, there was still some distance to go in these passageways before they would have cleared what seemed to be the inhabited portion of the cave system. The dizziness, pain and sheer exhaustion that had been with him since his beating he had so far managed to push to the back of his mind, in his desperation to get Potsie away. However even this short break in the pace had allowed sufficient time for those sensations to assail him again and he was already having to concentrate on standing up. Add to this the sudden indisposition of his brother and it made their re-capture certain if they attempted to continue with their present course. They had no choice. They must hide.

Desperately he looked around him. The passageway was empty, barely wide enough for two to walk abreast. The side passages were out of the question as most were obviously inhabited. Rubbing the back of his neck to relieve the pain and stress he lifted his head as he desperately tried to think what to do. His gaze fell on one of the recessed ledges that ran along just above head height at this part of the tunnel. Quickly stepping to the side of the tunnel, he clambered up onto a rock outcropping so that he could see over the lip of the ledge. It looked better than he had dared hope. The ledge went some way back into the darkness, further than he could see and increased in height as it went backwards. It was almost a cavern in its own right. There would definitely be room for them both – if he could get them up there. Stepping back, he stood facing his brother.

“Potsie, look at me!”

He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the raucous noise of the klaxon and used his best NASA command tone, hoping that the serum in his brother’s bloodstream would make him compliant for the next few minutes. Fortunately it seemed to work. Potsie’s head came up and pain-glazed eyes locked onto Fonzie’s face. Fonzie bent his knees slightly and laced his hands together about a foot off the floor in front of him, the fingers of his right hand lending support to the much weakened fingers of the left.

“We’ve got to hide. I’ll give you a help up onto that ledge.”

There was a moments hesitation and then Potsie straightened, put his foot into the mounting stirrup made for him and launched himself at the wall. The added height given by the push Fonzie gave to his foot enabled Potsie to throw his arms over the ledge and then to drag the rest of his body over. As soon as he could see that Potsie was safe, Fonzie jumped at the wall, used the rock projection as a boosting step and managed to get his right arm and shoulder over the edge. As he landed his damaged left arm jarred against the rock, causing pain to explode through his arm, chest and neck. Frantically he tightened his hold with his right arm but he could feel himself starting to slip backwards towards the tunnel as the pain from his injuries threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, a hand reached over and hooked itself under his right arm, hoisting him further onto the ledge. Kicking his feet, Fonzie managed to gain some purchase on the uneven wall with his toes and pushed upwards as hard as he could. A second hand grabbed his sweater and more power was applied to drag him over the ledge. Fonzie gasped in pain as his damaged body was dragged over the rock and he felt the first hand shift its grip to his hip to pull the lower half of his body upwards. His centre of gravity passed the top of the ledge and his built up momentum carried him onwards, landing heavily on his right side. Unfortunately, the slope in the floor was steeper than he had thought on first observation and he continued to roll, barely registering that a pair of arms were locked around him and another body was rolling with him. Ceiling followed floor, followed ceiling as the two brothers rolled together down the slope and landed up with a resounding thump against a solid wall.

In the tunnel below no sooner had the last vestige of, the Tracy brothers vanished over the lip of the ledge than a half dozen burly men, and a number of women, all dressed in scruffy, military style clothing, came trotting around a bend in the tunnel and passed the place where the two brothers had stood only moments before. Not a single eye was lifted to the ledges running along the channel and the alarm klaxon, still reverberating through the tunnel system, hid the noise of rolling bodies and disturbed stones that came from the hiding place.

Fonzie opened his eyes and looked around him. A little of the light from the tunnel made it into this recess but it was still dark and heavily shadowed. His whole body ached fiercely, each part of his torso and limbs reminding him of the various hurts he had acquired over the last few hours. Remembering his brother, Fonzie tried to sit up to better take stock of the situation only to find that his arm and leg were pinned to the ground, small rocks and stones uncomfortably digging into the underside of his limbs. Turning his head sideways, Fonzie was alarmed to find the still form of his older brother lying next to him, pinning him to the floor.

“Warren Scott Tracy, are you okay?”

Fonzie eased himself free and then leant over his brother’s body. Potsie’s eyes were closed, his face covered in sweat. Alarmed, Fonzie shook his brother's shoulder, called his name, tapped his cheek, but all to no avail – all of his attempts to get a response failed miserably. Sitting back on his heels to think, Fonzie took a moment to register the sudden silence that fell as the klaxon ceased its remorseless screaming. Sighing at the peace that followed, Fonzie began to slide his uninjured arm under Potsie's shoulders and then stopped abruptly as the steady rhythm of pounding feet began to reach him from the tunnel.

Quickly but gently lying Potsie down again, Fonzie slid down next to him, hugging the floor with his body and dropped his head, turning his face to monitor his brother as he waited in the dimness. He rested one arm on his brother's chest, close to his face, ready to cover Potsie's mouth if he showed any signs of reviving at the wrong moment. The running feet came closer and soon passed the entrance, travelling from left to right, coming from the caves where he had rescued Potsie and heading up the tunnel, towards the area where Fonziebird One had been left. Fonzie waited until the line of heads had disappeared and the echo of their feet had died away before he moved. After quickly checking on his brother again, Fonzie extracted a small torch from another of the pouches on his belt and moved away into the back of the recessed area, looking for another way out or somewhere they could hide.

Ducking his head to avoid bashing it off the roof, he followed the wall as he carefully progressed into the gloom. The cavern was asymmetrical, the nearest wall running smoothly from ceiling to floor and continuing on across the back of the cavern while at the far side there was a gap in the darkness where he expected the wall to turn back towards the tunnel. Cautiously edging his way forward, Fonzie found a twist in the cavern with a small set back area, almost like a separate cave joined to the side of the main opening. If he had not been inching around the walls step by step he would never have found it as it was well back into the blackness of the cave, entirely hidden from the weak light sifting in from the tunnel. Here as well, all of the walls were pock marked and perforated by the holes that characterised this strata and there were still other, mini tunnels breaking the wall surface at various points, but all were too small for a human to fit into. There was no other way out of this area apart from the small entrance from the larger recess.

Fonzie returned to his brother’s side, raised him to a sitting position and then slid in behind him, propping Potsie up against his chest while he slid his arm further around Potsie's chest so that he could lift him. Struggling a little, he regained his feet, dragging his brother upwards with him. Fonzie was not sure if Potsie was completely unconscious as, although his head lolled forward onto his chest, he seemed to be making some small attempt to support himself, his legs stumbling and dragging along beneath him as John half-carried, half-dragged him through the bottleneck into the smaller opening. Laying him down near a corner, Fonzie checked him over as best he could in the limited light available. In the starkness of the torchlight, Fonzie was taken aback by his brother's appearance. Besides the rough day old stubble and the pale, sickly appearance of his skin, dark shadows were starting to appear under his eyes and the only real colour in his face was in his cheeks, which appeared flushed. Resting the backs of his fingers against Potsie's forehead, Fonzie was not surprised at the heat he found. Moving his hands down to Potsie’s torso, he found the rest of his body was still very hot and every so often small tremors flashed along his frame, causing his muscles to contract and relax in quick succession. His pulse was fast, much faster than Fonzie was happy with but there was nothing he could do about it here.

Passing his hands gently but rapidly over Potsie's body, Fonzie checked for any damage that might have been caused in their precipitous entry to the cavern but fortunately, Potsie seemed to have escaped unscathed. Shaking his brother and calling his name evoked no response and, after doing what he could to make Potsie comfortable, Fonzie turned to assess his own situation.

Sitting down beside Potsie's head, Fonzie held the torch between his teeth and, with his right hand, gently tried to pry the torn fabric of his sweater away from his left shoulder. He hissed in pain as the drying blood that caked the garment tore at the skin around the wound and he felt the leaking of warm liquid over his fingers. The agonising, shooting pain which had nearly immobilised him as he tried to struggle up here out of the tunnel had gradually been reducing to a steady ache but now the pain threatened to return as he tried to check the damage done to his arm. A particularly sharp pain caught him by surprise as his finger slipped into the wound in his flesh made by the bullet and he had to bit down on the torch to keep from shouting out as a tongue of fire shot through his shoulder. Breathing as deeply as he was able, around the torch, Fonzie rested his head against the cavern wall, waiting for the pain to pass before continuing his examination. A few minutes later it was clear that the damage did not appear as bad as he had initially feared. Bloody, painful and for the moment debilitating yes, but the blood loss had already slowed enough to allow clotting to start and the wound, although clean through his shoulder, did not appear to have cut anything critical. Experimenting carefully, Fonzie found he could send signals down to his fingers and touching his left hand with his right revealed no immediately obvious loss of sensation. His guess was that the loss of mobility was down to the shock of the wound and the bruising and inflamation around the wound itself. Maybe the motor nerve had been bruised but it certainly did not seem to have been cut as he had first feared when he could barely use the arm to protect himself against Mestari.

Lifting his sweater, he gazed down at the mass of blue and black bruising that mottled his chest and abdomen. The skin was not broken and he was able to breathe unhindered, well - apart from the pain, so he was certain that his lungs were not punctured. A couple of ribs creaked suspiciously when he applied any kind of pressure to them and the swelling around some others made it practically certain that the ribs were broken, albeit still in place - he could not bring himself to touch them for further confirmation. His abdomen was bruised but there was no sign of major internal bleeding that he could see – it appeared that his rigorous workouts in the space station had not been in vain and his abdominal wall muscles had managed to protect him from major damage.

Happy there was no immediate likelihood of him keeling over and leaving Potsie unprotected and alone, Fonzie thought for a moment. They would have to wait for the hue and cry to die down before attempting to move on any further. Fonzie could only hope that Potsie would regain consciousness before then and be fit to move. In the shape he was in himself, Fonzie knew he would have precious little strength left of his own to aid his brother. Coming to a decision, he raised Potsie's head and shoulders slightly from the floor, scooted underneath him and made himself comfortable so that his aching body could rest propped up on one side by the wall. Cradling Potsie's head in the crook of his uninjured arm, Fonzie leant his head back against the cavern wall, snapped off the torch, closed his eyes and tried to rest.

“NOOO! FONZ! NOOOOO!”

The cry, at full volume and right next to Fonzie’s ear, brought him awake with a jump. In the darkness, he could see nothing but his arms automatically tightened around the body that was writhing against him. Arms and legs seemed to be everywhere as Potsie squirmed around, desperately trying to free himself. Fonzie shook his brother hard, trying to break through the barrier of confusion that held him.

“Pots! Pots! It’s okay. Calm down, I’m here. Calm down, will you. Stop fighting me.”

His actions, however, seemed only to antagonise the situation for, at his attempt to restrain his brother Potsie’s struggling increased, arms hitting out in an attempt to fight him off.

“Let go . . . . let me go . . . . got to get away, get out. It’s so dark . . . .so dark. . . . Fonz . .. .Fonz, I’m sorry . . . .I didn’t mean to . . . . couldn’t stop. Didn’t mean to…..let me go.”

Realising he was not going to get through to his brother, Fonzie loosened his grip and started feeling around on the floor by his leg for the torch. He could feel Potsie still partially lying over him, shaking and shivering, his words now becoming disjointed and unintelligible. Potsie’s fingers found the slim pencil light and closed around it gratefully, flicking on the mechanism. After the encompassing darkness, the light seemed to almost blind him and he had to force his eyes to stay open as they slowly adjusted to the glare. When he could see again, Potsie was lying across his lap, shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide but focussed on nothing. His body was bathed with sweat, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Bending over him, Fonzie held his head gently with one arm, using his other hand to stroke his face and his hair to try to calm and reassure him.

“Potsie, calm down, listen to me. It's da Fonz. Take it easy, Potsie, relax. you're safe now, you're safe.”

For a moment, Fonzie thought he had broken through as Potsie's head turned towards him, his eyes partially focussing on his brother, one hand reaching up tentatively towards him.

“Fonz, Fonz. . . . .is that you?”

Thankfully, Fonzie grasped Potsie's hand, holding it firmly in his own to give his brother an anchor in the real world.

“Sure, Pots, it's da Fonz, I'm here. Take it easy, you're safe now.”

Instead of relaxing, Fonzie continued to stare up at his brother, his eyes full of despair.

“Fonz, I’m sorry. So sorry . . . . couldn’t stop . . . .tried . . . . drug.” Potsie's agitation increased and he tried to free himself of his brother's embrace, his hand fighting to be free of the grasp that held it. “Got to get away . . . get out. . . so dark, so dark . . . can't see . . can't move . . .got to get away.” He tried to roll away from his brother's arms, his legs and arms starting to flail around, his hands clenched weakly into fists and aimed at the unseen enemy that held him. “No . . .no more, . . not again. Leave me alone . . I won't tell you . . let me go. . . . Got to get out . . . Ralph!”

Fonzie started, surprised as Potsie called their brother's name and temporarily released his hold on Potsie, allowing him to roll out of reach.

“Ralph, you're here . . . help me . . help get away. No . . . no . . not the gun . . . no . . Ralph!”

Potsie’s voice was cut off as his body momentarily became rigid then he began to jerk and twist and convulse, his head bouncing slightly off the floor as his neck muscles contracted. Fonzie jumped forward and caught his brother, gently rolling him over onto his back and then releasing him so that his hold did not cause his brother to injure himself any further pulling against his restraint. Potsie’s body continued to convulse uncontrollably, shaking and twisting and shuddering, blood running down his face from the cuts inflicted a second before, his limbs stiff and rigid, his fingers twisted into claws. All Fonzie could do was watch, leaving his brother room to move but ensuring that he did not hurt himself against the cave walls. Occasional moaning sounds came from Potsie but mainly he was silent, his mouth open and his eyes half-lidded.

Fonzie counted to fifteen before the fit finished and Potsie’s body collapsed into an unmoving heap. Reaching out tentatively, Fonzie rested his fingers on his brother’s throat, relieved to find a pulse – fast and irregular but strong. He moved to gather Potsie back into his arms but froze as the sound of feet reached his ears. Snapping off the light, Fonzie stood silently in the blackness, his heart pounding in alarm and then edged carefully towards the opening. The feet were coming back down the tunnel, stopping every so often for a few seconds and then moving on, coming gradually closer. The sound of low voices reached his ears but the distortion of the cave system prevented him from hearing the words clearly – it was not until they were very near that he realised they were not even speaking in English. Disgusted at his own obtuseness, Fonzie shook his head in disbelief, unconsciously leaning forward to try to hear the words clearly enough to make sense of them.

The ambient light in the cavern brightened suddenly as someone shone a torch over the rock edge, trying to probe the depths of the darkness. Barely breathing, Fonzie stood stock still, hugging the wall with his body and praying that Potsie would not move or make a noise. The ambient light grew brighter as the beam scanned the near section of the recess and someone spoke. There was a brief exchange of comments and then the sound of someone climbing on rock. Cursing inwardly, Fonzie inched forward in the opening, preparing to make a stand against whoever was coming to find them. More scrabbling against rock told him his opposition had doubled. His blood ran chill at the sound of a weapon being readied for use. Desperately, Fonzie considered surrendering in the hope that Potsie would remain undetected but he knew that would not happen and hardened his resolve – these guys wouldn’t get their hands on Potsie again – not if he had anything to do with it.

The crunch of footsteps came closer and Fonzie had crouched down, ready for a leap on the man drawing near, when the rock around him came to life. The ground under his feet shook, throwing him hard against the wall, at the same time that a number of deafening explosions reverberated through the tunnels. Dust and stones fell from the roof above him and Fonzie turned and threw himself over his brother’s still form, cradling Potsie’s head with one arm and covering as much of his brother’s body with his own that he could. Nearby, he could hear the rumbles and thumps of falling rock and his own body was peppered by countless stones and small rocks as a cloud of dust rose up to cloak them. As a loud alarm klaxon rent the air and reverberated around the cavern, Fonzie wondered whether they had escaped Mestari only to die in a collapsing cave system.

[Race's Girl]

Chapter Seventeen- Come On, Potsie

The shaking of the rock continued for what seemed like minutes as Fonzie lay protectively over his brother’s body, his eardrums almost bursting with the reverberations of the alarm until it suddenly and ominously fell silent. When the shaking and heaving of the rock finally ceased Fonzie kept his position, unsure if all of the loose rocks had yet fallen. From nearby he heard movement and he lay, unmoving, his ears taking in the sounds of stumbling bodies and alarmed voices.

Lifting his head, he could see the ambient light had decreased and, as he watched, it diminished and vanished altogether as the sound of scrambling feet disappeared. He waited for several minutes before he dared to move further, then, pushing himself away from his brother, he sat up dislodging small pieces of rubble from around him as he moved. Once upright he activated his torch and quickly checked his brother for any damage. Although still unconscious his breathing appeared to be easier and his pulse had returned to normal, although he was still very hot. All of the roof-fall had missed him as he lay under the protection of Fonzie’s body.

Gaining his feet, Fonzie made his way to the opening of the side cave and, taking care to shield his torch with his hand, poked his head around into the larger cavern. The cavern had shrunk severely in size, much of the roof having collapsed, boulders and rocks now covering the area where he had lain by his brother’s side a short time before. As he moved nearer, Fonzie’s attention was drawn to an arm sticking out from underneath one of the larger boulders. Knowing it was hopeless, Fonzie knelt anyway and checked for a pulse then rose and turned away, his face a mixture of relief and sadness.

Cautiously he approached the tunnel, listening carefully before sticking his head over the ledge. The passage was empty in both directions. Whatever the alarm may be it seemed to have drawn their enemies away and left the route clear for escape. Climbing to his feet, Fonzie made his way back to the cavern. As he turned the corner into the small cavern movement caught his eye and he hurried to his brother’s side just as Potsie’s eyes began to flicker.

“Pots? Pots, can you hear me?”

Slowly, Potsie's eyes opened fully and focussed on his older brother and then filled with alarm. Using his arms and legs to propel himself, Potsie scooted backwards away from Fonzie until he was brought up short against the rock wall of the cavern.

“No, no. Stay away from me. No more. No!”

His eyes were wide with fear and he scrabbled frantically against the wall, as if trying to burrow through the wall itself in his attempts to lengthen the distance between himself and his brother. Impulsively, Fonzie reached forwards to grab Potsie’s arm and pull his brother back towards him but as soon as he moved Potsie pressed even further back against the cavern wall. Fonzie stilled his movements and then slowly opened his hand, presenting it, palm outwards, for inspection.

“Pots, calm down. It’s me, da Fonz.”

Although Fonzie kept his voice calm and measured, it at first seemed to have little effect on Potsie and he remained squashed back against the wall, his hands by his side, gripping the wall of the cave and his eyes darting from side to side as if seeking a way out.

“It’s okay, Warren. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ve come to take you back…”

He got no further as Potsie’s frantic attempts to escape redoubled.

“No. No. I’m not going back. Not ever. Not back to the dark, not to the dark. Can’t move….can’t think. I won’t go back, I won’t.”

“No, Pots. Not back to the dark.” Fonzie hurried to cover his misstep. “I’m taking you home. Back to the island. You remember the island, don’t you, Pots? You remember Ralph and Rich and Dad, don’t you?”

All the time, Fonzie kept his voice soft and low and carefully, slowly inching towards his brother. “We’ll go back in Fonziebird One, Potsie. You and me.”

“Fonziebird One?” At the mention of his craft, Potsie’s eyes stopped roving the darkness and locked back onto his brother’s face. “Fonziebird One?”

“Sure, Pots, Fonziebird One.” Fonzie inched closer, his hands still outstretched towards his brother. “We’ve got to get back to her and stop Mestari from taking her….”

Potsie’s reaction to the rogue scientist’s name caused Fonzie to mentally curse himself for his slip.

“Mestari! Where?” Potsie’s head snapped round as he scanned the darkness left and right “Where is he? Where’s Mestari? We’ve got to stop him.”

Fonzie, kneeling now right in front of his brother, grasped Potsie’s shoulder and shook him to gain his attention.

“Warren, it’s okay. It’s okay. He ain’t here.”

Fonzie moved his hand to the back of Potsie’s neck and forced his brother’s face towards his own, making his words strong and clear. Slowly, Fonzie’s words penetrated the fog of confusion that was blanketing Potsie’s mind and the dark haired man’s attention was focussed on the pale blue eyes only inches from his own. Potsie’s eyes flashed backwards and forwards in front of his brother’s steady gaze, checking the face before him for confirmation, confusion and alarm fading and being replaced by uncertainty.

“Not here? Mestari’s not here?”

Fonzie shook his head firmly, paling somewhat at the instant giddiness and nausea produced, and re-iterated again firmly.

“No, Potsie. Mestari is not here. You’re safe now”

Recognition was replacing the uncertainty and Potsie drew back a few inches to better focus on the face before him.

“Fonz?”

“Sure, Pots,” Fonzie's heart lifted in relief at his brother's recognition. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” Potsie's brow creased in confusion. “How do I......? I don't know. Tired, confused.” Potsie paused and looked around him. “What's going on?”

Studying Potsie's face to gauge his reaction, Fonzie answered cautiously.

“We're in a cave, Pots. We’ve got to get back to Fonziebird One.”

“Fonziebird One?” Potsie's gaze, which had again begun roving around the edges of the gloom that surrounded them, returned to Fonzie's face, the faint echoes of a frown evident. “What’s Fonziebird One doing in a cave?”

Inwardly dismayed, Fonzie schooled his expression to remain calm and reached down to grasp Potsie's left forearm with his right hand.

“Never mind that now, Warren. I'll explain later. Right now, we need to get moving.” Gently, he exerted pressure to start raising his younger brother to a sitting position. “Do you think you can walk?”

“You trying to call me decrepit or something?” The slight tone of amusement in Potsie's voice would have reassured Fonzie but as the second oldest Tracy brother began to climb to his feet, any comfort Fonzie had felt was dashed as Potsie's knees buckled under him, dropping him back to the ground in an unceremonious heap at his feet. Only Fonzie's grip on his arm kept him from losing his balance and rolling onto his back. Surprise filled Potsie's face as he turned his eyes to his brother. “Guess you might be right. What have I been drinking lately?”

Concern now eating at his mind, Fonzie forced a grin and dropped to a crouch.

“Obviously, something a little too strong for your constitution, oh ancient one. Let's take it slowly then.” An idea popped into Fonzie's head and before he thought about it he reached into the now badly soiled and crumpled sash that still hung from his brother's shoulder and opened the small hidden compartment just inside the seam. From it, he extracted one of the edible personal transmitters that all of the members of International Rescue habitually carried with them when away from base. “Here, Potsie,” he opened Potsie's hand and dropped the small device into his palm “under the circumstances I think you'd better take this.”

Fonzie had acted on impulse when the thought had come to him and, even as he passed the transmitter to his brother, he expected an explosion of indignation and a flat refusal of co-operation from Potsie to this blatant attempt by one of his younger brothers to try to tell him what to do. A knot of ice appeared in his stomach when his younger brother, the one who had always made it his own personal mission to protect his brothers, merely looked at the false candy for a moment, nodded and popped the device into his mouth, chewed once and swallowed. Inwardly shaking his head in dismay Fonzie once more gently pulled on Potsie's arm, forcing his damaged left arm behind Potsie's back for the little support it could give.

“Right, let's try this again, dig it?”

Together, the two siblings came to their feet. As they reached vertical, Potsie's knees again threatened to give way beneath him but this time, Fonzie's grip on his arm and around his back kept him on his feet. He stood swaying and trembling for a moment and then raised smiling brown eyes to his brother.

“You see? Nothing to it.”

Fonzie nodded and smiled in reassurance, trying to push away the alarm he felt at the weakness in his brother's body. Turning to the side, he took a step towards the opening to the main cave area.

“Okay, let's go.”

Fonzie was taken by surprise as the stillness of the figure beside him nearly robbed him of his balance as he tried to encourage it forward. He glanced at Potsie, to be met by an all too familiar frown.

“Pots?”

“Your turn.”

“What?”

“I might be slightly dizzy but I'm not stupid.” Potsie pulled his arm from Fonzie's grasp, the effort unbalancing him and causing him to totter sideways to the cave wall for support. “I might not fully understand what's going on around here, but if I need to swallow one of Al's transmitters then I'm sure as heck not taking another step until you've swallowed one too.”

Hastily, Fonzie stepped towards his brother, reaching out to grasp his arm again.

“Warren, we ain't got time for this.”

Pressing himself back against the wall, Potsie batted away his brother's hand and grinned back at his older sibling.

“Then the sooner you stop arguing, tough guy and do as you're told, the better.”

Exasperated, but at the same time both relieved and amused, Fonzie gave up the fight, reaching down to the belt around his waist. Turning it inside out close to the fastener he grasped a short stretch of the thick material between his fingers and constricted it with a slight twisting motion. A previously invisible split appeared in the belt, revealing a tiny hidden pocket, inside which another of the small transmitters was safely stored. Removing it, Fonzie put it in his mouth, chewed briefly and swallowed. With a grin, he reached back towards Potsie.

“Ready now?”

“Sure.”

Balancing himself with his brother's arm, Potise pushed himself off the wall of the cavern and the two brothers turned towards the exit.

High above the Baltic Ocean, Fonziebird Two streaked north-east, heading for the Scandinavian coast. On board, four members of International Rescue sat in a tense silence, eagerly looking for the first glimpse of the land mass that would indicate they were drawing near to their goal. The silence was broken only by the soft snores emanating from the rear-most seat in the cockpit where Lori Beth's butler sat sleeping.

“Fonziebird Five calling Fonziebird Two.”

The voice of Howard's youngest son caused the occupants of the flight compartment to jump. Richie got to the communication switch first.

“Fonziebird Two to Fonziebird Five. Come in, Chachi, what's wrong?”

“Rich, I'm picking up a signal from the area where Potsie's last transmitter signal originated – it’s from one of the personal emergency transmitters.”

Ralph and Richie exchanged glances as Howard leant forward in his seat.

“Only one signal, Chachi?”

“Yeah, Dad, just the one.”

“Alright, son. Have you got the co-ordinates?”

“Yeah, Dad. The signal's coming from International map reference HN6918/DE2115.”

“Is it moving, Chachi?”

“No, Dad. It seems to be static but if. . . hold it!”

The few seconds silence seemed to stretch to an eternity before the excited voice of the youngest Tracy brother floated back into the cabin.

“Dad! There’s a second signal just started. It’s at exactly the same location as the first but there’s definitely two.”

Smiles of relief broke out on the faces of all four of the listeners as Chachi continued.

“That’s them, Dad, it must be. Potsie and the Fonz must both be okay.”

“Alright, Chachi. Keep monitoring those signals and let us know the minute anything changes. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”

“F.O.N.Z.”

As the young astronaut signed off, another call came through the speakers.

“Base to Fonziebird Two.”

“Fonziebird Two to base, come in, Al.”

The visual screen on the communication panel revealed the features of the Italian scientist back at the tropical island base of International Rescue. From the background behind him, Richie and Ralph could see that he was in the lounge of their home and both brothers grinned at the incongruous thought of Al seated behind their father's desk. No such thoughts seemed to have occurred to the ageing astronaut however, as he leaned forward in anticipation of the reason for Al's call.

“I've been monitoring the transmissions, Mr Tracy. The co-ordinates that Chachi gave come from the region of one of the few mountains in Finland. A peak called Halti.”

“That makes sense, Al. That's the same region we're already heading for already.”

“Yes, Mr Tracy, it is. But my researches since you left have found some further information that relates directly to this exact location.”

“Okay, Al, let's have it.”

“In the early 1940s when the World Government was first established, there was a huge movement to dismantle many of the secret underground bunkers and rocket silos that had been built up during the militaristic stand-off's in the last 2 decades.”

“I know,” said Howard gruffly. “Tracy Island was one of them.”

“Exactly, Mr Tracy. Well, the peak called Halti was another one.”

“A rocket silo?”

Ralph and Howard exchanged anxious glances. Much as they were determined to find both Potsie and Fonzie, they were not equipped to take on a military arsenal.

“No. The inside of the mountain was excavated and set up to be used as a safe underground bunker that could be used government and military officials from the Scandinavian or European areas in the event of an overwhelming military threat. They were built to be safe from nuclear attack and fall-out but were only big enough to shelter a limited number. It was thought that, if they were ever needed, most of the fighting forces would be already dead and they would only be used until it was safe to emerge again.”

“So this place isn't likely to be heavily armed?”

“We can't tell, Mr Tracy.” Al evidently saw Howard's frown of concern and hurried on “The bunkers were dismantled with the establishment of a World Government in the mid 40's and the bunker has been left deserted since that time.”

“Well, an old military bunker would be a good place to hole up if you wanted to avoid notice,” put in Richie from the pilot’s seat. “Sounds like that’s where we’ll find them.”

“Yes, Richard, I think you’re right. Head for the co-ordinates Chachi gave you.”

Far below the surface of the Hilo peak, Fonzie stopped, tightening his grip on his brother’s arm to stop him from moving on. The two siblings had been moving slowly through the tunnels, gradually backtracking their steps towards Fonziebird One – or at least Fonzie hoped that was what they were doing. Together, they had managed to half-climb, half-drop down from the shelved recess where they had been hidden and had begun making their way back through the tunnel system. However it had rapidly become apparent to Fonzie that something in Potsie’s system was reacting badly to either the serum or the antidote or to both concoctions that had been forced into him.

The descent to the tunnel floor had re-awakened all of the pains and weaknesses in Fonzie’s body that he had so far been steadfastly pushing to one side in his search for and liberation of his brother. The dizziness and nausea from his head wound had returned with a vengeance but was as nothing compared to the pain that enveloped his torso every time he breathed. He was breathing as shallowly as he could, while still taking in enough oxygen for his needs, but every time his lungs expanded his chest was racked by sharp, agonising pains as his damaged and bleeding body begged for respite. Every step was an effort and the only thing that was keeping him on his feet was the need of the stumbling figure of his brother beside him.

The steady, pacing rhythm that Potsie had travelled with when Fonzie had followed him down this tunnel sometime earlier had entirely vanished. Now Potsie was stumbling along at Fonzie’s side as if he had not slept for a week, his head lolling randomly on his shoulders and his eyes half-closed. Fonzie had reached out a steadying hand to Potsie’s elbow when the dark-haired younger brother had stumbled clambering over fallen rocks that partially blocked the tunnel shortly after they rejoined it but the hand had become a fixture. As the two brothers cleared the slope of rock that rose to the next level of the cave system, Potsie was more than half-leaning on Fonzie and the older brother was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his younger brother upright.

“Hold it, Pots. I think we need a breather.”

Fonzie lowered his younger brother down onto a rock and stood in front of him as Potsie leaned wearily back against the passage wall with his eyes closed. Fonzie brushed Potsie’s forehead with the backs of his fingers. The skin was still far too hot and damp from a sheen of sweat. Potsie gave no indication that he had even felt the touch and Fonzie’s fingers moved down to the pulse point on his neck.

“Still here.”

Potsie’s voice was weak and subdued, alarmingly different to the strong, assured, ‘in control’ tone that was normal for the field commander of International Rescue. Fighting hard against the knot of fear that was sitting in his stomach, Fonzie forced his voice into a cheerful façade of unconcern.

“Glad to hear it. I don’t want to have to carry your carcase all the way back to Fonziebird One. How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

The strained, hoarse tone of Potsie’s reply garnered a snort of derision from Fonzie.

“Fine? And I’m the King of Siam!”

At that, Potsie’s eyelids opened and a faint flicker of amusement quirked the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Ah, that would explain why you look like death warmed up, big brother. Siam disappeared over year ago.” His eyelids flickered shut again. “Is there far to go?”

Fonzie looked up the tunnel, gnawing his lip as he strove to remember his previous walk through these passages.

“I don’t think so,” he replied honestly. “not in these caves anyway. Once we get back to the main complex area we...….” He broke off suddenly and his head shot back towards the way they had come, sniffing cautiously. “Whoa.”

His words were scarcely more than a breath but Potsie’s eyes shot open in alarm as he struggled to sit upright.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Fonzie pushed him back against the wall. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a minute.” and with that he turned and vanished back down the tunnel.

“Fonz! Fonz, what's wrong? Come back”

With a subdued groan, Potsie hauled himself to his feet and stood wobbling for a few seconds before heading back down the tunnel. He got no further than a couple of steps before Fonzie was back at his side and had turned him around again.

“Come on, Pots. We got to get out of here.”

“Fonz,” Potsie stopped in exasperation, jerked his arm from Fonzie's grasp and turned to face his brother. “What's going on?”

His older brother was in no mood to be trifled with however and seized his arm again, propelling Potsie forwards.

“Fire.” Fonzie's words were hurried and concise. “and the smoke’s getting stronger by the second. Move it.”

Without another word, the two siblings stumbled away up the tunnel.

The looming bulk of the massive, green aircraft dwarfed the conifers that covered the slopes of the tallest range of hills in Finland. It approached slowly from the west, five eager pairs of eyes scanning the terrain from the elevated cockpit windows.

“Ay carumba! That's some hole!”

The startled exclamation from the Brooklyn-born butler drew all eyes to the port side of the 'craft.

“What happened here?” exclaimed Lori Beth in shock.

Beneath the aircraft the ground was distorted by a huge depression. The trees that had covered the hillside lay fallen in all directions, their trunks and boughs interlaced, some leaning against each other like drunks in mutual support, others lying horizontal in death, the large circles of dirt and earth still attached to their, now aerial, roots.

“Some sort of underground explosion?” guessed Ralph.

“Chachi, have there been any reports of recent earth tremors in this area?” asked Howard as he surveyed the scene, his brows drawn together in concern.

“No, Dad,” the youngest astronaut's voice came back to them after a few seconds delay. “The nearest monitoring station is a hundred and fifty miles away but has no reports of any seismic activity anywhere near your area.”

“How far away is the entrance to this bunker, Al?”

The Italian scientist's voice came through the three way communication link as he watched the live feed of the scene below being transmitted back to him at Tracy Island.

“There were a number of entrances to the bunker, Mr Tracy but the main entrance is shielded by blast-proof doors and should be on the exposed face of the escarpment that you are approaching. The complex itself runs for some distance in every direction so you're probably over some of the complex itself already.”

“Could these trees have been affected by something happening in the complex, Al?” asked Ralph, his voice tight in sudden anxiety.

“From the evidence that I'm seeing, Ralph, I'm afraid that that does seem to be the logical conclusion.” replied Al sadly.

“The Fonz and Potsie are down there!” The pitch of Richie's voice rose in distress as the young man turned the rescue craft away from the scene of destruction below them. “We've got to find them.”

“Let's find those blast doors, son,” Howard squeezed the shoulder of his second youngest son, steadying him with a firm grip of reassurance “and somewhere clear of the trees where we can land Fonziebird Two. Then we can find your brothers.”

The smoke of the fire had caught up with them now, catching in their throats and causing them to cough and gasp as they strove to draw in breaths of air. The light in the tunnel was becoming dim as the smoke rose from the lower levels and snaked along the roof above their heads, clouding around the lamps and subduing the little light they gave.

Potsie's foot caught on the uneven floor and he stumbled forward to his knees, catching his weight on his hands as he fell. Fonzie, pulled off balance, sprawled over him, his weight knocking Potsie flat. For a second or two, Fonzie just lay there, gasping for breath and trying to control the spasms that radiated throughout his body, until the fact that he was lying over his brother’s body penetrated his pain hazed mind. Pushing himself up with his hands, he rolled to one side, grasping one of Potsie’s shoulders and pulling him with him until his brother was lying in his arms. Potsie’s eyes opened as he turned but they were distant and unfocussed. Dreading that his brother had been overtaken by the serum again, Fonzie waved his hand in front of Potsie's face.

“Yo, Potsie, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Fonzie had to bend to hear Potsie's reply, his voice weaker than Fonzie had ever hear it before.

“Too tired. Can't do this. Must rest.”

“No, Pots!” Alarm thrilled through Fonzie's heart as he started to push Potsie upwards “Come on. We can't rest here.” Frantically, he stumbled to his knees, pushing Potsie up before him so that he was leaning against Fonzie's body. “That fire's getting worse and I'll be damned if I'm leaving you here.”

Up on his feet now, Fonzie wrapped his arm around the leaden body of his brother and began to haul him manually to his feet. His back and shoulder muscles burned with pain at the effort but Fonzie ground his jaws together and exerted every ounce of his waning strength to bring his older brother upright.

“Leave me, Fonz.” Potsie's body was slack and unresponsive, his head lolling sideways and his arms limp at his sides. “I can't go on. Too tired. Go.”

“No way, Pots, not going to happen. Now,” Fonzie gave one final haul and caught his brother about his waist and drew him to his side “you can either walk or” Fonzie took a step forwards and physically dragged his brother with him “I'll drag you. Either way you're coming with me. Which” he took another step, dragging his brother beside him. “is it going to be?”

“Fonz, I can't....”

“CRUD!” The expletive came out hot and fiery, matching the burning fire of resolve which gleamed in the eyes of the normally quiet and restrained Tracy brother as he jerked the form next to him fully upright, forcing him to stand fully on his own feet. “You never gave up in your life, Warren Scott Tracy and I'm damn well not about to let you give up now. I didn't survive having you stand by and watch me being nearly being beaten to a pulp and then taking a shot at me to boot only to then have you lay down to die like some rookie private on his first route march when we're so close so getting out of this joint. Now get your tail in gear, Warren and shape-up!”

The words struck home and Potsie's head jerked up, his eyes wide and shocked. Within them, Fonzie could see a deep pain and dismay as the realisation of his words sank into Potsie's heart but he had no time to regret the sharpness with which he had spoken. The smoke was thickening around them and it was becoming steadily harder to breathe. Not waiting for a reply, he tightened his grasp around Potsie's waist and took another step. The desperate beating of his heart was eased somewhat when his younger brother, without a word, moved with him.

As Fonziebird Two crested the hill, Ralph let out a cry of relief and pointed forwards, over his brother's shoulder, to the rolling hills that fell away before them.

“There, Rich. There's a flatter piece of land there, that'll take her.”

“What about these blast doors?” Richie gradually brought the large rescue craft around to check the ground before setting the immense aircraft down. “We've still got to get into that complex.”

“Don't worry, son.” Howard was looking back at the hillside they had just cleared and his face was set like flint. “I think we've just found them.”

As Fonziebird Two slowly swung round, facing back the way it had just come, all of the occupants could see the exposed face of the Hilo peak. Unlike the heavily forested side from which they had approached, this side of the hill was windswept and bare. Winding its way up the hill was an overgrown, unmaintained track that had, at one time, been a worn roadway. Now it was in places little better than a sheep track. The track ended at a steep wall of rock – a wall of rock where the middle section was wiped clean of the vegetative matter that covered the rest of the face and resembled nothing so much as two very large, badly disguised doors.

Moving together, the two brothers reached the final cavern of the cave system, the same cavern where Fonzie had been taken captive by Mestari. Coughing continuously now, their eyes streaming with tears, they staggered forwards across the cave to the tunnel opposite, where the subdued lighting of the tunnel was somewhat brighter. Side by side, they advanced, their hands reaching out to the side walls for support. The light rapidly increased in strength until they were standing screwing up their eyes in front of the open security doorway that led back to the main complex area. Fonzie went through first, quickly followed by Potsie and the two siblings thrust their combined weight against the door to swing it shut, sealing out the noxious smoke. They stood panting for a minute, wordlessly leaning against the door and looking at each other then, with a clap on his brother's shoulder, Fonzie turned and started along the green corridor before them.

The journey back to the hanger where Fonziebird One had been left passed in a haze to Fonzie. He was not even aware that he knew the route but his feet seemed to lead him and he was content to follow, too busy trying to keep himself and his brother vertical to give much thought to where they were going. The change in colour of the corridors gave the impression that he was flying through a rainbow and as his feet seemed to be the only part of him that was not in pain at the moment it did not seem too unreasonable to his confused brain to think that he was indeed doing just that.

Sooner than he had thought possible, he was operating the opening mechanism on another security door and stepping through, bringing his now semi-conscious brother with him. There before him stood the magnificent sight of Fonziebird One and he paused for a moment, swaying on his feet, to drink in the sight.

“There you go, little brother, there's your baby.” He adjusted his arms around Potsie, renewing his grip and pulling his brother forward into the middle of the hanger area . “Now, I just need you to wake up long enough to give me the new security code and then I can get you on board and get us both out of here. So, what about it huh?”

“Oh, I really don't think I can let you leave just like that, pigeon.”

Fonzie nearly dropped Potsie in shock as four figures appeared at the far end of the hanger, close to the nose cone of Fonziebird One.

“After all, stowing away aboard my Fonziebird was one thing. Stealing my merchandise, wrecking my home and then stealing my aeroplane is quite another.”

Mestari, dishevelled, covered in dust, red-eyed and bloody, one arm hanging by his side and limping badly on one leg, approached slowly from the edge of the hanger, holding a gun that was levelled on the two brothers. The three men behind him appeared in little better condition but they followed silently, their faces blank and hostile, guns in their hands.

“Move to the 'plane but don't try anything stupid. You may have dodged one bullet but believe me, you won't dodge the next.”

Fonzie remained stock still, too confused and drained to be able to process the turn in events. Just when he thought they were about to get out, the madman turns up again. Next time, International Rescue or not, I swear I'll put a bullet through his brain. It was a comforting thought, but one that Fonzie doubted he would ever have the chance to carry out.

“You ain't goin' nowhere Mestari.” Certain that he was facing imminent death, Fonzie had no intentions of complying with the scientist's request. “Potsie's out of it and I'd rather destroy the 'plane than let you have it. You've lost.”

“Oh, have I?” Mestari gestured briefly with the gun and, with small whine of hidden motors, the huge, metal doors began to slide back, letting in a strip of late afternoon sunlight, “We'll see about that. Now, move over to my Fonziebird and take our friend with you. I'm getting out of here and you're coming with me.”

As Fonzie stood his ground, refusing to move, Mestari cocked the gun and shifted his aim so that it was pointing directly at Potsie.

“You may be willing to throw away your life in a heroic gesture, pigeon but I don't think you'll be quite so cavalier about throwing away the life of your brother.”

Fonzie's breath hissed as he drew it in sharply. He had hoped that by some miracle Mestari had missed that comment but it appeared that although his sanity was questionable, his hearing was not.

“So, if you don't want me to drop him right where he is,” Mestari was speaking through his teeth, a vein jumping in his forehead as his finger began to tighten on the trigger of the gun but Fonzie's attention was caught by a flash of movement from the side of the now open doors “then . . ”

“MOVE!”

As the shout came, Fonzie dived to the side, carrying his brother with him. As he fell he heard the retort of a gun, followed a split second later by multiple volleys of gunfire. His landing was bad, his right elbow getting caught beneath him and his ribcage landing with full force on top of that. His chest was torn by an agonising fire and as the darkness that he had been fighting off for the last few hours finally caught up with him he was aware only of the fuzzy shape of figures running towards him and of the warm, metallic taste of fresh blood in his mouth.

[Race's Girl]

Chapter Eighteen

It seemed to Fonzie that a great weight had been lifted off his chest and, for what seemed the first time in a long period, he was able to inhale freely again. The sense he had of almost being drowned, of trying to inhale air and managing only to breathe in liquid, had passed and now he lay, relaxed and drowsy, content to float in a comfortable darkness that filled him with peace.

For what seemed an immeasurable amount of time, Fonzie floated along but gradually his awareness shifted and the comfortable drowsiness thickened and congealed into a heavy, groggy feeling that he recognised. He had been here before, several times, mostly since the establishment of International Rescue. Fonzie knew this state of existence only too well, even if he could not right now remember what had caused it.

"Anaesthetic," he pondered sleepily, "I was been given an anaesthetic. I wonder why." Slowly, he wandered through his memories, trying to account for the requirement for an anaesthetic but after a few seconds all he had decided was that the headache that had just come to his attention was growing worse with every second that he tried to remember. Giving up the idea as a bad job, Fonzie left his mind to go blank and let time wash over him.

His mind, however, seemed to have other ideas. Now freed from searching for memories his brain began to detail and catalogue what it could feel. Soon, Fonzie was aware of a dull ache around his left shoulder and arm and the continuing ache that seemed to encompass most of his head. Thinking of his head brought Fonzie's attention to his other senses and his brain instantly alerted him to a steady bleeping coming from nearby that he had no difficulty in recognising as a heart monitor.

"Then I must be in the infirmary." The thought was followed by his eyes flickering open to take in his surroundings. Lying flat in bed, Fonzie got a blurred view of a typical, white, clean ceiling which, as his eyesight gradually focussed, singularly failed to resolve itself into anywhere that he recognised. Turning his head to his right, he was not overly surprised to find a figure sleeping in a chair by the side of the bed, although the fact that the figure was his father did give him pause for thought. A little further away, lying in another bed was the sleeping figure of his younger brother. Potsie looked decidedly paler than usual but bore no obvious sign of damage that Fonzie could see.

"We're definitely in a hospital of some sort," decided Fonzie. "but not on the island. Interesting." Opening his mouth to call his father, Fonzie found his throat to be so dry and rough that not even a squeak came out. His father was too far away to touch and for a moment, Fonzie was at a loss as to what to do. Spying a glass of water, complete with ice, on a cupboard at the side of the bed he sat up and began to reach for the drink.

A small cry of pain was all that made it past Fonzie’s parched throat as the whole of his chest, back and abdomen went into spasm. The white hot agony caught Fonzie by surprise and he froze in a half-upright position, his mouth open and his eyes screwed shut as he vainly tried to draw breath. He heard an exclamation from nearby and felt two hands on his shoulders trying to push him back against the pillows as his father’s voice encouraged him to ‘relax’, ‘take it easy’ and ‘just lie back’. Those were all things that Fonzie would have dearly loved to do but right at that moment he was certain that the super glue that was holding his muscles in a rigid vice would surely shred any muscle that dared to try to elongate itself enough to allow him to comply. From nearby a monitor began to bleep as the rising carbon dioxide levels in his blood triggered an alarm and the now terse voice of his father ordered someone to summon aid.

The spasm continued for another few seconds and then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. All of the muscles that had previously been clenched tight relaxed at the same instant and Fonzie’s limp body collapsed back into his father’s arms, his chest heaving in relief as his father lowered him to the bed. Opening his eyes, he found Howard anxiously peering down at him but he was too busy trying to restore his breathing to normal to answer Howard’s requests for assurance that he was alright. Somewhere a door banged open and rapid footsteps approached the left side of the bed followed shortly after by a light haired man with a competent, authoritative air who took his wrist and looked down at him with a smile.

“Ah, so you’re back with us, Arthur. Your colleagues have been quite concerned about you. Now, what’s the problem?”

Fonzie tried to talk but his voice again failed him. He caught a movement in the corner of his eye and his father, who had been hovering on the right hand side of the bed, took something offered to him from behind and then turned back to Fonzie, his hand going behind Fonzie’s head to lift it from the pillow as a glass of water was pressed to his lips. Gratefully, Fonzie sipped the cool, refreshing liquid and mentally sighed in contentment as the roughness of his throat found instant relief. As he drank, he heard his father explain to the doctor what had just taken place.

“Sounds like muscle spasms. Did you try to move, Fonzie? To sit up maybe?”

As Fonzie nodded weakly, the doctor tutted his disapproval.

“That was a bad idea, young man – as you just found out. You body has been badly battered and one of your lungs was perforated by a rib, not to mention the other four broken or cracked ribs and both bruised kidneys. You're going to be in bed for a number of days I’m afraid and after that you mustn’t do anything too strenuous or taxing for several weeks to ensure that your body heals correctly.”

Seeing a movement at the foot of the bed, Fonzie looked down and his eyes widened in surprise as he found Potsie standing there, dressed in a hospital robe, watching him with a strange expression of regret on his face as the doctor continued.

“The bullet wound was clean and only really damaged the muscle but once you’re up and about, you’re going to have to work on that to build up its strength again.”

At the doctor’s words, Fonzie was astounded to see Potsie’s expression change to one of – was that shame? As he watched a different picture came to him in his mind’s eyes, a picture of Potsie, his face impassive but his eyes reflecting horror and dread, pointing a gun at his heart. Fonzie’s shock must have been reflected on his face as Potsie coloured, turned on his heel and headed for the door. Fonzie’s view of him was blocked as the doctor leaned across him.

“Now, as you’re awake we’ll take the opportunity to check out this head of yours and make sure you’ve not done too much damage to your brain.”

Over the next few minutes, Fonzie’s head and eyes were examined and studied to the nth degree and he had questions asked of him until his head spun. He was not sure if Howard was in the room or not, his field of view being blocked by the doctor. Finally the examination was over and, with a joviality that had long ago worn thin on the rapidly tiring Tracy brother, the doctor took up a hypodermic from a tray by the side of the bed, swabbed Fonzie’s arm and then injected him.

“Well, you seem to be on the mend my friend. This will ease the discomfort I’m sure you are feeling again by now and make your journey home more comfortable. Good luck.”

With that he was gone. Dazed and rapidly growing sleepy, Fonzie lay back with his eyes closed. A little while afterwards a quiet movement by his side roused him and he opened his eyes to find his father moving the chair nearer and sitting down.

“Dad,” Fonzie asked drowsily, “where’s Potsie?”

Howard’s face was tired and careworn and showed his years but his eyes were warm and smiling as he looked down at his son.

“He’s just outside. He needed some air. How are you feeling?”

Fonzie ignored the question and returned one of his own.

“Is he okay? Did the serum .. . . “

Howard cut him off.

“Potsie's just fine, tired, but fine. We’ll talk about it all later when we get home. For now you just need to rest. Ralph'll be here soon and then we’ll leave.”

The room was starting to fade into the background and Fonzie was fighting his eyes to keep them open and focussed.

“Need to talk . . . Pots . . . .so . . .tired . . .Can’t . .”

As his eyes finally closed and his breathing deepened and levelled out, the door to the room opened slowly and a dark head was poked round it. Seeing his brother was asleep again, Potsie quietly walked to stand behind his father’s chair.

“Did you contact your brothers?” Howard asked without looking round.

“Yeah. Rich's just reached base and Ralph's dropped Lori Beth and Tom off. He should be here in about thirty minutes.”

“And Chachi?”

“He's fine now he knows Fonzie's awake.”

Howard nodded in response, his eyes still on the sleeping figure in the bed. There was a moments silence before Potsie spoke again.

“How is he?”

“Concussion but his skull’s intact and there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage. The swelling around his face should be going down soon but it’s going to take a while before he’s back to full strength. The doctor says it’s safe to move him.” Howard paused and then glanced up at his second oldest son. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he does.” commented Potsie, his voice quiet and subdued as he sat down heavily on the second bed.

Howard looked at his second oldest son quizzically, who was just sitting, watching his sleeping sibling with a peculiar expression on his face. As Howard watched, wondering what was passing through his second eldest son's mind he suddenly recognised what he was seeing. Potsie's face was covered in guilt. Astounded, Howard switched his gaze backwards and forwards between his two sons, trying to fathom the cause. He cast his mind back to the little he really knew about that had been happening to Potsie and Fonzie over the last few days. His thoughts were thrown into turmoil when Ralph's words came back to him, “He didn't know us, Dad, he just didn't know us. Whatever Mestari's given him has completely taken him over.”

“Potsie?” called Howard softly.

Potsie's head turned towards his father and a thrill of fear ran down Howard's spine as he saw the haunted look that filled his son's eyes.

“What happened down there, Potsie? How did your brother get hurt?”

Potsie looked down at his feet refusing to meet Howard's eyes. He was silent for so long that Howard thought he would not reply but then his voice, quiet and hesitant, drifted up from his down-turned face.

“It's kind of a long story, sir and Ralph'll be back soon. Maybe it would be better if we left it till tomorrow when me and the Fonz can tell everyone at the same time. Save repetition.”

Howard's eyes widened in dismay and disbelief and for a moment he could not speak. Potsie glanced up quickly at his father's face and Howard's heart lurched at the pain he saw there.

“Son,” Howard's voice nearly broke but Potsie quickly ducked his head and looked back at his feet without replying. Swallowing down his grief at the hurt that had befallen his sons, Howard breathed deeply and forced his voice back under control. “Alright, Potsie. Get some rest. I'll wake you when Ralph arrives.”

With a short nod, Potsie slipped back beneath the covers and lay down on his side, facing the opposite wall, denying his father sight of the despair covering his face.

For the next little while, Howard sat in the hospital chair, his gaze alternating between the sleeping forms of his sons.

It was late at night on Tracy Island when Fonziebird Two returned. Potsie and Fonzie had slept the whole way home, watched over by either Howard or Ralph as the other piloted the rescue craft back to base. They were met by Richie who had returned hours earlier with Fonziebird One, Al and Joanie but neither of the sleeping siblings awoke as they were transferred to the sick room. By the time Al had checked them and settled them to his satisfaction, it was the small hours of the morning and the family dispersed to bed, leaving Joanie and Al to divide the remainder of the night watch in the sick-room between them.

Now it was late afternoon. Potsie, although being washed out and both physically and emotionally drained, appeared to be physically unhurt. He had woken up mid-morning and, after being checked over by Al, had been allowed to get up, shower and get dressed. Fonzie, waking shortly after Potsie, had been allowed a light meal of soup and had then dozed on and off until his father and brothers had come down to the sick-room to go over the events of the last few days.

Howard, Ralph, Richie and Potsie sat in chairs around Fonzie's bed while a live feed from the space station, connected to the television set mounted on the wall across from the bed, allowed Chachi to join them from the space station. Fonzie sat propped up against a bank of pillows, his dark hair showing through the bandage wound around his head and his left arm in a sling, immobilised against his body. Howard had gone over the events immediately following Potsie's disappearance, the location of his chronometer and discovery of Tony and Bob with their father in the homestead.

“Have we heard anything more about Mister Williams' or Professor Garrity's condition, Dad?” asked Richie. “Surely they should have woken up by now?”

“Yes, son, we have. I forgot to tell you with all the concern about Fonzie and Potsie. Chachi heard from the hospitals while Fonzie was in surgery. Williams and Lord Silton have both regained consciousness 'though the last I heard they were both still pretty drowsy and confused. Chachi, have there been any updates since?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Chachi's youthful face looked down at them from the television set. “Mister Williams seems to have recovered with no ill effects and the state hospital is considering letting him go home sometime tomorrow if everything continues okay. Professor Garrity seems to be suffering from some loss of mobility in his right arm and they'll be running tests on him over the next few days.”

A silence fell over the room for a few seconds and then Howard briefly explained Al's report of the characteristics of the drug used on Potsie and Lori Beth's information of the proposed auction before handing over to Ralph to cover the happenings at the 'auction' in Milwaukee.

“ . . and then this guy Price reaches down his neck and then rips off his face.” Ralph was well into his retelling of the events when Richie broke in, his voice animated and amused.

“Yeah, I couldn't believe it. It was just like a film taking place right in front of your eyes. I wondered if he was going to turn into 'The Invisible Man' or something from a B horror movie. I thought Mestari's eyes were going to pop out of his head.”

Howard and Ralph chuckled at Richie's addition to the story and Ralph continued to tell of the confrontation between the World Police officer and Mestari. Fonzie, however, from his vantage point on the bed, fixed his gaze on Potsie, whose bright blue eyes, wide and unblinking, were staring out into the distance. As Ralph's report of the events covered the use of the gas pellets to spread confusion and panic in the auction room, an expression of dismay covered Potsie's face and as Ralph went on to tell of Mestari's flight into the room at the side of the stage, Fonzie could stand it no longer as the dismay suddenly changed to surprise and shock.

“Potsie? Are you alright?”

Instantly, Ralph stopped speaking and all eyes in the room were fixed on Potsie.

“Potsie? Son?” Howard, from his chair next to Potsie, reached out a hand and touched Potsie's arm. “Are you with us?”

Howard sucked in his breath sharply as Potsie blinked, his gaze shifting slowly to Howard and then turning to fall on Ralph. Once again, his eyes were filled with the haunted look that Howard had seen in the hospital and an expression of confusion and hopelessness, that Howard could not recall having seen for many years, covered his face.

Ralph, startled by the look levelled on him by his older brother, was not sure what to say.

“Pots? What is it? What's wrong?”

“I shot you,” Potsie’s voice was tight with emotion. “I remember now. We were in a room, Rich was there,” his eyes flicked quickly to his copper haired brother for confirmation before returning to Ralph. “and Lori Beth and Tom. You were just standing there . . and I shot you.”

“Pots, it’s okay,” Ralph quickly interjected. “It was only gas. We’re fine.”

“That’s not the point, Ralph,” Potsie replied vehemently, his words sharp. “I could have killed you. If it had been bullets instead of pellets I would have killed you. Just like the Fonz.”

“What?”

“Potsie, what are you talking about?”

Ralph and Richie looked at each other in confusion and looked up at their oldest brother where he sat on the bed. However, in Fonzie’s head, a light had just come on.

“So that’s what you meant! Well that explains it.”

Puzzled now, the gazes of Howard, Ralph, Richie and Chachi were all diverted to Fonzie, and away from Potsie, who slumped forward, his arms resting on his thighs and his head hanging down.

“Fonzie,” Howard was growing steadily more alarmed as he looked between Fonzie and Potsie, dreading what tale the two brothers had to tell of their time in Mestari’s lair. “what do you mean? Explains what?”

Still watching the bowed head of his younger brother, Fonzie quickly explained how sick Potsie had become while they were hiding in the cave system and of his confusion and words when he had suddenly woken up in the dark.

“I thought he was hallucinating or thinking Ralph was me but he must have been remembering the encounter at the auction.”

“Why would your brother confuse you with Ralph? You weren’t even there at the time.”

The room fell deathly silent as Howard waited for his reply. Richie and Ralph looked at each other, questions and a growing unease in their glances as their brother's silence continued. Fonzie sat propped up on his pillows, his gaze still focussed on Potsie’s dark head where it hung from his shoulders.

“Fonzie?” Howard’s voice was calm and even but the rapidly ageing billionaire felt far from calm. A whispered dread had entered his mind in the hospital room and it had not gone away over the intervening hours, if anything it had grown.

“Tell them, Fonz,” said Potsie, his voice sad and hollow. “Tell them the truth.”

“Pots, it wasn't your fault. You had no control, it was the serum.” Fonzie leaned forward in the bed, reaching out to his brother.

“Control or no control, it makes no difference,” Potsie's head came up sharply as he glared at his brother. “It was still my finger that pulled the trigger. It was still me that tried to kill you.”

Cries of shock and amazement came from the other three brothers at this revelation but Fonzie was concentrated on the man in front of him and spared them not a glance. Grasping the bed covers with his only good hand, he curled his fingers tightly around the material, using it as an anchor to haul himself off his pillows and half dragged, half threw himself towards where Potsie sat at the bottom of the bed.

“Warren, you've got to stop . . .”

Fonzie got no further as the sudden and energetic movements demanded more of his body than it was ready or able to give at that moment. As both Richie and Howard, seated on either side of the bed and closest to Fonzie, sprang from their chairs to force him back on his pillows, Fonzie's damaged body was wracked by explosive and violent coughs. He would have fallen forwards onto the bed, so far had he managed to force himself upright, save for the arms of the two men on either side of him. Instead, he lay helpless, face down, coughing and heaving and choking, his lungs and diaphragm now starting to go into spasm and his face rapidly turning bright red. Alarmed, Howard and Richie righted him and held him upright, as he continued to cough and splutter while Potsie, who had also jumped to his feet when Fonzie had got into difficulties, stood helpless by the side of the bed. Ralph turned towards Al, who had been sitting silently at the desk in the background since the debriefing started. Al, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Al,” Ralph jumped to the open doorway and yelled down the corridor “Al, where are you? Fonz needs help.” Getting no immediate answer, Ralph also disappeared out of the room to look for the Italian scientist, his face frantic with worry.

Back on the bed, the coughing had slowed a little and Howard and Richie gently sat Fonzie back against the pillows, where he lay with his eyes closed, breathing rapidly and with some difficulty, his face now changed from red to grey, his hand trembling where it lay on the bed covers. Richie was leaning close to his brother’s ear, murmuring quietly in reassurance.

“I did this,” the low muttered comment was loud enough for Howard to catch and he looked around sharply to find Potsie standing beside him, looking down at his brother with anguish in his face. “This is my fault. I wish he'd given me the full dose. Then at least I'd probably have been dead before I could shoot Fonzie.”

At this, Howard rounded on his second oldest son, taking him by his shoulders and shaking him hard.

“Now you listen to me, Warren Scott Tracy and you listen good. I don't know all that happened down there but I do know enough to know you would have shot yourself before you'd harm any of your brothers. Whatever it was Mestari forced you to do it was against your will and I won't have you wishing yourself dead on account of something you had no control over. Do you hear me?”

Potsie just stood, his eyes fixed on Fonzie, who was still struggling to restore his breathing to normal and control the intermittent coughs that still caused his frame to shudder violently. As he watched, Al, followed closely by Ralph, came running through the door, a container of oxygen and breathing apparatus with him from the room which doubled as an operating theatre. Setting the cylinder by the bed he quickly squeezed in besides Richie, who moved away to give him more room, and began to fit the mask over Fonzie's head.

“Do you hear me, Potsie?” Howard shook his dark haired son again, not about to release him without an answer. Tearing his eyes away from the scene around the bed, Potsie looked back into his father's face, his eyes tormented with guilt and sorrow.

“I let this happen to him, Dad. I just stood by and let it happen. I’m as guilty as if I’d done it myself.”

Howard shook his head, torn between anger and frustration.

“No, Potsie. You would have given your life to protect your brother. I know that, Fonzie knows that and if you’re honest with yourself you know it too, don’t you?”

Potsie stood silent, his eyes looking into his father’s face but his thoughts examining his own soul. In a corner of his brain, he knew that his father was right, knew that he was blaming himself for something that had been out of his control. However in his heart, there was only darkness and dismay and a weariness so heavy that he could not throw it off. Knowing he was lying, to his father and to himself, he forced a false, weak smile onto his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. No matter what's happened to you over the last few days, I want you to know that I have every confidence in you and I always will. Just you remember that.”

Satisfied, Howard nodded and turned back to Fonzie. Al was sitting on the side of the bed, one hand holding the mask firmly in place, the other holding Fonzie's wrist and taking his pulse. Ralph and Richie were hovering nearby, watching anxiously. Eventually, the scientist turned back to the waiting family, the tense, anxious look that he had worn on his entry to the room now more relaxed.

“Al?” Howard asked anxiously.

“He's alright, Mr Tracy. Only it would be better if he didn't try to do any talking for the next little while and he really shouldn't be moving quickly at all.”

“Okay, Al. Thank you.”

Al nodded and quietly slipped back to his chair at the back of the room, leaving the men of the Tracy family to retake their seats around the bed, Ralph and Richie murmuring encouragements to Fonzie as they sat down.

“Right, Ralph, go back to what happened after the auction and Potsie can carry on when you've finished.” ordered Howard. Richie opened his mouth as if in protest, keen to hear more of Potsie's revelation but one look from his father silenced him and he subsided back into his chair. Ralph took up the tale again, quickly telling of their encounter with Lieutenant Svenson and their flight to Finland via Tracy Island. When he had finished, all eyes turned to Potsie.

“Potsie,” Howard questioned cautiously. “do you want to start?”

Potsie hesitated, looking over to Fonzie for confirmation before replying. Fonzie’s colour was more or less back to normal, although at the moment ‘normal’ constituted pale and tired. He still wore the breathing mask but as Potsie looked at him he nodded, reaching up to remove the mask.

“I don’t think there’s much point in me starting, sir,” Potsie replied quietly. “Mestari shot me with some sort of drug as soon as I arrived at the homestead and the next thing I remember is seeing Ralph, Rich and the others and shooting them. After that I don’t remember anything until I met the Fonz again in the caves.”

“You don’t remember anything?” questioned Richie in disbelief. “But, Potsie, there were two whole days between you being kidnapped and the auction. He couldn’t have kept you drugged for the whole time surely? Didn’t you eat? Or sleep? Did he tie you up?”

“I said I don’t remember anything, kid, alright?” Potsie turned sharply on his brother, his eyes flashing with sudden anger. “Just darkness. I couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep. I couldn’t think for most of it – I didn’t even know I couldn’t see until the damned stuff started wearing off. The only thing I could hear was his voice giving orders and I couldn’t do a thing about it! I didn’t know if I did what he told me except by what he said. Now if you don’t want to believe that, that’s just fine by me. Just don’t ask any more damn fool questions.”

Taken aback by his brother’s outburst, Richie just sat, staring at Potsie, opening and closing his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. Howard, his brows constricted in a deep frown, laid his hand on Potsie’s arm.

“Hold on there, son, take it easy. Your brother was just asking a question. There’s no need to bite his head off.”

Potsie glared at his brother for another moment and then turned to his father. As his gaze met Howard’s, he blinked once, twice, then raised a slightly shaking hand and wiped it over his face. A quiet sigh came from the young man and when he looked back at his father the sudden anger was gone as quickly as it had come.

“I guess so.” He turned towards his younger brother, true regret in his face “I’m sorry, Rich. It’s been a hell of a week and I guess I’m still sore about it all.”

Richie, whose expression had changed from surprise to anger, opened his mouth to reply but stopped when Ralph’s hand descended on his arm.

“Rich, let it go.”

Ralph’s quiet voice caused his younger brother to look over at him and, catching a small shake of Ralph’s head, he bit his lip and then nodded briefly at Potsie in mute acceptance of the apology. Breathing a sigh of relief, Howard turned to Fonzie.

“Okay, Fonzie, if you’re up to it, I guess it’s over to you.”

Nodding, Fonzie took a few seconds to order his thoughts and then commenced his narration at the point where he separated from his brothers on the stairs. Pausing every so often to take sips of water from a glass by the bed, he continued until he reached the point of his capture by Mestari and the subsequent attempt to elicit information. Richie, his face once more filled with shock and disbelief, opened his mouth to comment but Fonzie, seeing his expression, forestalled him.

“Potsie couldn’t do anything about it, Rich,” his voice was weary as he leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes. “That poisonous stuff Mestari had given him meant he couldn’t as much as move a muscle without Mestari ordering it. He couldn’t have moved to save his life.”

“I sure as heck moved to take yours.” muttered Potsie to himself, his head resting in his hands. If Potsie had not intended his words to be heard by anyone else, he did not achieve his aim. Three heads swivelled to fix gazes on him and the silence was brittle until Howard spoke after swallowing the lump of apprehension in his throat.

“What happened, boys?”

Before Fonzie could utter a word, Potsie began to speak. His voice was flat and monotonous at first, as if he were reading a statement with which he profoundly disagreed but as he continued his words came more haltingly and at the end, his voice wavered with emotion.

“Mestari ordered me to shoot him. I did everything I could to stop the gun but I couldn’t, I just couldn’t. I tried and tried but I could only slow it down and even that wasn't enough. I could only stand there and pray that the Fonz would understand. That he’d know that I couldn’t stop it and that he’d run before it was too late. . . . And then he did . . . .and Mestari yelled . . . and I . . I . . I . shot him. I shot my own brother.” Potsie raised his head and looked across at Fonzie’s face, whose eyes were now open and watching him closely. “I’m sorry, Fonz. I’m so sorry.”

Fonzie smiled and nodded back in acknowledgement. “It’s okay, Potsie.” His smile was warm and reassuring but its warmth did not reach Potsie’s face which remained clouded and troubled. “I know you had no choice.”

“What happened next,” questioned Richie uneasily. “how did you get away?”

“I lied to Mestari, told him the Fonz was dead and we headed back to his lab.”

Potsie resumed the tale, telling of his gradual re-awakening from the control of the drug, and of John’s intervention and fight with Mestari. As Potsie’s memory faded at the point where the new injection of serum took effect, Fonzie took over again and then, between them, the two brothers covered their escape into the tunnels, their elusion of their pursuers and their eventual return to Fonziebird One.

“I thought we were too late when I saw you both fall,” said Howard as their report concluded, his voice uneven with the remembered fear. “I was sure Mestari had killed you both.”

“What happened to him?” asked Fonzie, his voice now barely above a whisper, his eyes once again closed as his head rested on the pillows.

“We took them down with the knock-outs,” said Richie, his face full of anger at the memory. “They were lucky we didn't kill them for what they'd done.”

“Richard.” Howard growled warningly, looking sternly at the young man. Richie glared mulishly at his father before continuing.

“While Ralph and Dad brought you two here, Lori Beth and Tom helped me tie them up.” Richie paused and Ralph, sitting next to him saw a familiar glint of merriment appear in his brother's blue eyes.

“Rich, what did you do to them?” asked Ralph, a mixture of unease and amusement surfacing in his mind. Richie turned large, innocent eyes on him.

“Do to them, Ralph? Nothing. We called the nearest corps of the World Police like Dad told us to and then dumped them out on the plain to await collection. It wasn't our fault the land was little more than a briar filled bog in places.”

Thin smiles appeared on the faces of Ralph, Chachi and Howard as Richie continued.

“They were too heavy to carry so we had to drag them most of the way. Most unfortunate as they always seemed to get stuck in the thorny patches and their clothes were absorbent. Then, once they'd been collected we high-tailed it to the hospital, where you, dear brother...”

Richie turned back to Fonzie but hesitated as he saw by the peaceful expression on his brother's face that sleep had once more claimed him. Howard, following his gaze, signalled silently to the rest of his sons not to disturb the injured man and slowly stood up. Nodding, Ralph and Richie followed his lead and, after subdued farewells to Chachi, closed the link to the satellite and turned to the door. Al stepped forward from his desk at the back of the room and quietly drew Potsie and Howard to one side.

“If it's alright with you, Mr Tracy, I'd like to take a blood sample from Potsie and run a few checks on it.”

Surprised, Howard looked at his second oldest son who shrugged his acquiescence.

“Okay, Al, if you need to. What are you looking for?” asked Howard, a little uneasy at the request.

“I'm concerned that Potsie had a fit after Fonzie gave him the antidote. None of the others did so and I'd just like to check to make sure no harm has been done.”

“Harm, Al,” asked Howard sharply. “What harm?”

“I don't really know, Mr Tracy. I didn't have too much time to fine tune the antidote formula before it had to be used and as Potsie's a pilot then I want to make sure he's A OK before he flies Fonziebird One again.”

Howard frowned for a minute then nodded his head.

“Okay, Al, go ahead. But let us know the minute you find anything. Potsie needs a few days to recover from this mess anyway but I don't want him flying again until I'm certain he's fit for the job.”

Howard turned to his second eldest son to forestall the objection that he knew was coming his way. He stopped cold when he saw Potsie calmly turning up the sleeve of his sweater without a word of complaint. Grimly, Howard waited as Al drew the blood sample and then, after making a final check on his sleeping son, turned and silently followed Potsie from the room.

Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Potsie ate little, picking at the food on his plate and moving it around with his fork, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. There was a little desultory conversation between the others interspersed by frequent silences as Potsie’s family and friends exchanged worried glances and shot concerned looks at the brooding, dark haired brother. Most of Potsie’s first and only helping was left on the plate and he refused desert – an occurrence which left his father frowning and his brothers with open mouths – before excusing himself from the table, pleading the requirement for sleep.

Potsie lay on his bed in the dark watching the weak shadows cast on the ceiling by the moonlight, as the louder noises of the villa carried faintly through the wide panoramic windows standing ajar along one side of the room. Ralph was playing the piano, the soft strains of one of the old masters floating gently on the breeze, a clear indication that Potsie was not the only one with things on his mind. Ralph’s preferred taste for evening relaxation was jazz, the Miles Davis-ish pieces of his repertoire usually only surfacing when his mind needed distraction from other things. A soft tap at the door announced the presence of a visitor and with Ralph at the piano and Fonzie in the infirmary it was not difficult for Potsie to guess who it must be. Snapping his eyes closed, Potsie turned his head away from the door and forced his body to relax, waiting for what he guessed would follow. When a second tap went unanswered, there was a soft click as the door was opened and a sliver of light shone into the room from the corridor beyond.

“Potsie,” The voice was soft but carried easily to the still figure on the bed. “Son? Are you awake?”

Potsie didn’t move, keeping his breathing slow and even and mentally instructing his body to stay relaxed. There were a few soft footsteps into the room and Potsie was aware of a presence approaching from the foot of the bed. He desperately tried not to tense in anticipation of the gentle touch that was certain to come. The presence stopped nearby and the room was still for some seconds. Then, as Potsie began to feel as if he were about to scream, the footsteps retreated to the door and there was another soft click as the light was cut off. Potsie continued the pretence for another minute before opening his eyes and scanning the deserted room. Only when he was certain he was once again alone did he go back to studying the shadows.

It was dark all around him and Potsie could see and hear nothing. He stood silently, waiting, knowing something was about to occur but unable to do anything to bring it about or to stop it. A cold, sick feeling of helplessness and despair filled his being together with a dread of what might be about to happen. Then, from a distance, he heard them. The sickening thumps and slaps and thuds that told of things landing hard on human flesh. He heard groans, and moans of someone in pain but still he was in darkness. He tried to move but his feet were glued to the floor, his arms listless at his side.

Slowly, so slowly, the darkness thinned to a grey mist and then to a faint wisp before disappearing altogether. There in front of him was the sight he had known he would see – the bloody, beaten figure of his brother, lying on the ground facing him. His face was covered in blood, one eye completely closed, blood lining his lips, spilling down his chin mixed with spittle and tears. His clothes were torn, hanging in strips from his body, revealing the weals and cuts of his abuse. One arm was clutched to his chest, the fingers swollen and twisted, cruelly broken and battered.

As he watched, Fonzie became aware of him and dragged himself to his knees – reaching out a hand imploringly. The fingers on this hand were also broken but blood dripped from it, running in a crimson streak down from the hem of his sleeve and pooling in the palm before dripping onto the floor.

“Pots, help me.”

Fonzie's voice was weak and hoarse from screaming. His eyes were pleading with him, begging him for help. Him, Warren Scott Tracy, his brother. Asking him to stop this torture, to help him, to free him from his tormentors and captors. Potsie just stood there and watched, unmoving.

“Pots, please. Stop them. Help me.”

The hand was still there, reaching out to him. The hand that used to have long, delicate fingers, practised and accurate on sensitive equipment, now bent and bruised and distorted.

“Please, Pots. It's me, da Fonz, your brother. Please. Help me.”

Inside, Potsie was shaking. Inside he was sick. Inside, he was desperate to help, to move, to shout, to do anything. But he did nothing. Except watch.

A hand came into view. A hand holding a gun. And then a voice. His voice. The voice of his tormentor, his controller . . . his . . Master.

“Kill him.”

Two words. Two simple words. That's all it took. And Warren Scott Tracy, second eldest of the Tracy brothers, protector and defender of the younger sons of the Tracy family as well as his older brother, reached out and took the gun, betrayed all he held dear and turned it on his brother. Still Fonzie looked at him, begging him, pleading with him to help. Still the blood dripped down. Still the gun moved towards it's target.

“No, Pots, no. Don't do this. It's me, da Fonz. Don't.”

The gun was level, in line for his brother's heart. Slowly comprehension dawned on Fonzie's face, followed by fear, and betrayal. Slowly, Fonzie turned away, denying his brother the sight of his face as the bullet left the barrel. In slow motion, Potsie saw the bullet move across the gap, heading straight and true for his brother's body. Deep within him a cry broke out, a cry of denial and despair.

"NOOOOO. FONZ."

The bullet stuck home, the force of it spinning Fonzie around. As his brother turned in slow motion, his face came back into view and as the anguished eyes of Potsie watched, the face and head morphed. The hair darkened, changing from dark brown like his own to brown then red and curled. The battered features of the face broadened, the skull becoming wider and shorter and deeper and the cheeks developed freckles. The eyebrows darkened to the same colour as the hair and when the eyes appeared, open in shock, rapidly glazing over into death, they were the blue eyes of his musical brother. When the shattered, abused body hit the ground, it was Ralph, not Fonzie who lay at his feet.

With the passing of his brother's life came the end of the paralysis that had held him still and Potsie staggered backwards away from the scene of horror, the gun dropping from his numbed fingers and falling to the floor to lie with the barrel pointing towards him. Loosing his footing, Potsie's stagger became a stumble and he was falling, falling, backwards and down into a pit of darkness that gaped open behind him.

The bump of the landing vibrated through him and Potsie's eyes shot open, his heart beating as if he had just been sprinting, his breathing rapid and his body slick with sweat. Scrambling backwards, his shoulder came up hard against an obstruction and he threw his arms around it to ground himself. Still gasping for breath he looked around him frantically, looking for his brother's body – or was it bodies? He found only the moonlit shadows of his bedroom, the bed before him rumpled and disturbed and the sheets trailing down to the floor, partially tangled around his legs. Gradually, his panic began to subside as his confused brain recognised the shadowed forms around him. His heartbeat began to slow as he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, using long minutes to take in the reality around him.

Uncurling his fingers from the chair leg to which he was clinging he unwound the sweat soaked sheets from his legs and pushed them away from him with his feet then turned and used the chair as a climbing frame to help him to stand. His legs and hands were shaking and his body trembled, the residing panic now being replaced by minor shivers as the sweat evaporated, taking his body heat with it.

He switched on a bedside lamp dispelling the lingering darkness and grabbed his robe from the floor before heading for the en-suite bathroom. There he briefly washed his face in cold water, waiting while the lingering traces of the nightmare lifted and he was confidant that he was fully awake. Returning to his room he dropped a towel from the bathroom along the crack at the bottom of the door, dragged his chair up to face the window and then sat down and waited for the sunrise.

THE END