Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This would go down as the worst summer in Kansas history. Worse than that one summer he had gotten tonsillitis and spent half of it stuck inside. Gordon, stared out the window, watching his father’s car as it left to head back to Tracy Industries for another week of meetings and deadlines.

Next to him, Alan sniffled, clinging to the toy rocket he had received for his sixth birthday. “I miss mommy.”

The lump in Gordon’s throat threatened to strangle him. He finally swallowed, wiping the tears that had threatened to spill. “Come on, Squirt. Let’s go play a game.”

Normally, they would go outside to play. Their yard was fenced in, so there was no fear of the youngest Tracy wondering off, but a curfew had been set after the unexplained disappearance of several children and young teens in the town. They would have to settle on a video game. Thankfully, Alan’s game collection expanded past the typical cartoon-based point and clicks that littered the web.

Virgil eventually joined them after finishing his piano lessons. He informed them that grandma was in the process of making dinner. They groaned in unison.

“Please tell me you still have your stash?” Alan perked up at Gordon’s question, looking longingly at Virgil.

The eldest just frowned, shaking his head. “After the last meal, it got cleared out. I haven’t been back to the store yet. Scott was supposed to take me, but he’s been so caught up with football practice.”

“Did you see what she was making?” There could still be hope.

The dark haired brother shivered, “Quiche...”

Gordon paled, his mind flashing back to the dry, dense egg concoction that contained bits and pieces of overcooked vegetable. “There has to be something here we can eat?”

Virgil thought for a moment and then frowned. “There's always the storm cellar?”

Alan shrieked and grabbed onto Gordon's arm. “Not down there! It's scary down in the dark!”

Normally, the blond would agree, but the cellar also had a stockpile of canned fruits and jerky that were meant for if a storm hit. It looked like tonight's storm involved eggs in a cardboard crust.

“I'll go grab something real quick.” He gave his youngest brother a reassuring ruffle of his hair. “Virge, you keep Grandma distracted.”

“You sure?” Virgil was looking out the window. “It's past curfew.”

“I'm not leaving the yard.” Gordon grabbed a bag to place the supplies in once he retrieved them. “In and out before Grandma suspects a thing. Or would you rather take your chances with the quiche?”

Both brothers shook their heads in unified agreement. Gordon gave a quick salute and opened the back door that would lead to the storm shelter.

The sky was still lit with the dull oranges of dusk, providing plenty of light to see the wooden doors that led to the underground bunker that had kept them safe through many tornado warnings. He readjusted the bag on his shoulder and bent down to twist the latch handle. He pulled open one side and let it fall to the ground. Staring inside, he knew there wouldn't be enough light to see what he needed. Both doors would have to be opened. He pulled the second door, carefully lowering it to hang open.

He turned back to the opening and froze. In the opening, a red balloon floated up freely, coming up level with his face. What the... He reached out to touch it and as his finger traced the smooth edge, it burst with a sharp pop that made him jump back.

“Oh man, I hope Grandma didn't hear that...” He was whispering to himself, trying to calm his nerves. For a beat, he didn't hear anything. Then there was a laugh; echo-y and distant.

Gordon turned his attention back to the dark abyss that held what he hoped would be tonight's dinner. He took the first step down, kicking at the balloon remnants as he went. Ten steps down and he hit the shelter's floor. The low-light that filtered in, illuminated the shelves on the other side.

Heart still racing, he quickly made his way over and started grabbing a few of the cans. They would find a can opener later. The upper shelves held the jerky, too high for him to reach. Satisfied with the cans, he stepped up onto the lower shelf, attempting to gain enough height to reach the dried meats. His fingers grazed the bag, tipping it towards himself. It fell to the ground before he could catch it.

A deep bang echoed off the walls as the bag hit the floor, too loud to be made by the food item. Gordon stood, eyes wide and searching the dark on the other side of the room. Another, softer bang as something moved.

His heart was hammering, hands shaking as he tried to move his feet. He'd forgotten all about the jerky he was stepping over.

Glowing gold orbs illuminated in the shadows of the far corner and Gordon was running. He didn't know what it was, but it wasn't supposed to be there. He hit the steps as something crashed behind him, hissing with an unnatural, low growl. He dared to glance back as he took the next step up and choked on the scream that had bubbled up in his throat.

Shivering in its slime-covered scales, a lizard three times the size of a large croc twitched as it glared at the boy frozen on the steps. Gordon's mind was yelling that this couldn't be real, even as its forked tongue shot out and twisted around his leg. He screamed as loud as he could, kicking out as the creature began pulling him in, its claws digging into the cement floor.

“HELP ME!!!!” Nails scratched at the wood, trying to find purchase even as the lizard pulled sharply, sending his chin hard into the next step down. And then the steps were gone, replaced by the cold concrete.

Gordon flipped, ready to kick out. The monster was on top of him, its gangly foot pressing down on his chest. Tears stung his eyes as his breathing began to catch with the weight. He looked up, past the beast that was going to kill him and saw the white face rimmed with red hair, a red nose in the center.

“GORDON COOPER TRACY!” The angered shout came from above and he turned to see his grandmother descending the stairs.

As she reached him, he turned, wide-eyed and breathless to see that the monster had disappeared. The markings on the floor remained.

Trembling hands clung to the woman as she lifted him up. Her tone quickly turned to concern as she took in his reaction.

“Gordon? Kiddo, what's wrong?” She bent down, pushing him slightly away from her, but still keeping contact.

His mouth didn't want to work as he looked around the room, trying to find the thing that had attacked him. The space was empty again, the jerky still lay where it had fallen.

Grandma tsked as she took his jaw in one hand, “Did you fall down the steps? That's a nasty scrape.”

“Liz-Lizard-” Gordon finally got the word out, but it didn't seem to have the same effect on the elder woman as it had on him.

Her brow pinched, “A lizard? That's what has you so freaked out?”

He nodded, gesturing to the large claw marks in the floor. Her eyes followed his hand, but after a moment she shook her head.

“I don't see any lizard?” She looked to him questioningly.

He frowned. “It- It clawed up the f-floor! See?” He bent down, running his hands over the ragged grooves.

“Come on, Gordo.” She took his forearm and lifted him up, pulling him towards the exit. “Let's get you cleaned up. Maybe then you can tell me why you scared me half to death over a harmless lizard.”

Once above ground, she shut the doors and latch, turning back to her second youngest grandson. “From now on, the storm shelter is off limits.” He didn't argue. “And you're grounded for a week.”

Gordon's mouth dropped open. “Grounded? But Grandma, there was a lizard! And it was huge! It almost killed me!”

He could see she still didn't believe him as she issued the order to go inside and straight to his room. As he stepped through the back door, he found Virgil looking pale as he held a crying Alan. He must have been yelling pretty loud for them to hear him. A hand on his shoulder steered him into the kitchen, handed him a wet towel for his chin, and ushered him down the hall without another word.

Later that evening, a knocked drew his eyes to the door. It opened a beat later, revealing Virgil with a plate of food. It was a useless offering.. He couldn't eat it even if it wasn't Grandma's cooking.

“You okay?” He asked, setting it on the bed.

Gordon shook his head, tears beginning to brim the edges of amber eyes. Virgil hadn't anticipated this reaction, expecting his usually energetic brother to spring back to his usual, happy self.

“Want to talk about it?” He began softly, taking a seat next to his brother.

He sniffled. “It was real, I swear it was.”

“What?”

“The lizard! I-it was so big, bigger than a horse, Virge!” The tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “It was trying to-” His voice caught in a croak of despair as he buried his face into his hands. His shoulders shook with the sobs.

The bed shifted as Virgil moved, putting an arm around his brother. “Gords, is okay. You're okay now.”

The brothers sat on the bed, the older as support until the younger slowly drifted into a fitful sleep. Virgil stayed, sleeping next to Gordon; a protective presence after a nightmare.

Chapter Text

John blinked in the afternoon light as he extracted himself from his bedroom at the call for lunch. He’d been spending most of the week behind the door, reading about astronautics and computer engineering. He’d even written a code that connected with the house’s surveillance system to alert him when someone was approaching his room. It had been very useful in deterring the tinies from pulling any pranks on him.

He frowned, looking around the dining area at the brothers in question. Alan was bouncing in his seat. They were having pizza, so there was reason to celebrate. Gordon, however, lacked the usual energetic spark. He was still grounded after all, so that could explain the change in attitude.

Dismissing the thoughts, he sat down between Virgil and Scott. Grandma sat at the head of the table, nodding as the group was finally assembled. A quick grace and they began pulling slices onto their plates.

Halfway through his first piece, he heard the small gasp from Gordon. Looking up, he saw the blond glaring across the table at Virgil. John chewed, watching the exchange in confusion. Then he noticed his brother’s plate, still void of any lunch. Whatever Virgil had done, it was enough to get Gordon to pull a slice, letting it sit on his plate to be untouched.

It wasn’t long before Grandma spotted the inconsistency. “Gordon? Is everything alright? You haven’t eaten anything since…” She paused, trying to remember the last time she had seen the boy eat. “Did you eat the quiche Virgil brought you yesterday?”

There was a small head shake, Gordon not meeting her eyes. John didn’t find that very surprising. Given the choice, he wouldn’t have eaten the piece he’d been given. Pizza, though? That was something all the brothers enjoyed.

John felt his brother’s leg reach out again to nudge the blond. A side glance and he could see Virgil mouthing to ‘just eat it’, a look of understanding on his face. With a sigh, Gordon did as he was told, taking a small bite of the slice. It seemed to do the trick, leading the hungry kid to eat the whole thing before grabbing another.

Grandma seemed appeased by this, returning to her lunch. Scott caught his attention with a questioning eye. John just shrugged. They would need to corner Virgil later for some answers.

Lunch went by without further interruption. Their plan to talk to their dark haired brother was waylaid by the tinies as they dragged him off to play in their bedroom. Most likely they had pulled out the dreaded Legos. The floor would be a mine field.

John found himself back in his room, periphery program active, picking up Scott as he headed to the garage. His eldest brother had been spending his free time there ever since the accident. John wasn't sure why, but he understood they all had their own way of dealing with the pain.

The book he had been reading lay open on his bed where he had left it. He picked it up and lay down, letting himself sink into the pillows. For a moment, he lay their, staring at the star-studded ceiling. He remembered the day his mother had help him stick the plastic pieces up. Gordon had laughed. Alan had demanded he get the same thing in his room. Gordon objected since they were currently sharing a room.

John gave a soft chuckle at the memory. Finally, he lifted the book and began reading.

Ping

The red head looked up from the book, glancing at the clock. It had only been half an hour of reading before it looked like his brothers were ready to bother him.

He tapped at the device next to his bed, looking at the dot hovering outside his door. “What do you want?” He released the comm.

There was no answer and he hit the comm again. “Gordon?” Nothing.

John pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. There was no point in waiting for an answer. He'd simply shoo the culprit off to bother someone else.

He pulled open the door expecting to see one of his younger brothers, hopefully not preparing to torment him with their usual antics. What he saw left him slightly perplexed. A red balloon hung suspended in the space before his door. If it was a prank, it didn't seem to be all too troubling. He glanced down the hall on both sides of his door trying to spot anyone. No one. That was a little strange.

John shrugged, stepping back into his room after a quick shout of “No, thanks.” He shut the door and went back to his book. As he sat down, he heard another chime from his program. He looked and saw another dot had appeared next to the balloon. Now that was weird. He could dismiss the balloon, but not another life sign showing up out of thin air. He stared at the screen a moment and nearly jumped as another dot pinged into view.

“Not possible...” John picked up his computer, keying in the schematics for his program. It was running perfectly fine.

Setting the computer down, he moved back over to the door, pressing his ear up against the wood, listening. He was met with silence... BAM! A curse passed his lips, one he'd never let Grandma here, and he clutched at his chest, breathing as he realized it must have been the balloon. He glanced at his program and saw the two dots still remained... and then a third.

Something slammed against the door, sending his heart racing into his throat. “Guys, quit it!” His voice shook with the unease he was feeling.

Another bang, followed by laughter from a voice he didn't recognize. His blood ran cold with realization that there was a stranger outside his door. In one quick step, he was at the handle, setting the lock. Behind him, more pings.

“Wh-who's there?” He began searching for anything he could use as a weapon. He decided on the extra stand for his telescope.

Another bang, just as strong as before.

“Jooooohn~” The voice was scratchy and warped. “Let us in, John. We just want to play.”

“Let us in John!” More distorted voices joined in, repeating the demand over and over as they banged on the door.

The program showed five- no six dots as the door began to shake violently.

“GO AWAY!” He was shaking, the tripod held aloft. More chimes, more dots.

And the door crashed open.

Eyes wide, John took in the sight before him. Children, decaying, dismembered; all staring at him with pale, clouded eyes. He swung out as the first group pushed in, clawing at his direction. The tripod connected, sending a few of the bodies across the floor. Too many piled in to take the place of the fallen. He was trapped, was going to be swarmed if he didn't think fast.

The window! Jumping up on the window seat that was littered with books, he pushed the latch and pulled the pane up. Hands were grabbing at his ankles, tearing at him as he jumped through the opening. He felt the pain of their nails digging into his skin, followed by the pain of hitting solid ground.

John was up a split second later, looking over his shoulder to see if they were following. Inside the dark room, he saw the white face, rimmed in red, sharp teeth jutting from between crimson lip under a red nose.

He ran faster than he ever thought he could, arms pumping as he rounded the corner of the garage and nearly collided with Scott. Frantic hands found the grease-covered fabric of his older brother's shirt, eyes wide as he fought to relay his distress.

“Whoa! John?” Scott held him by the shoulders. “What's wrong?”

“My room-” He breathed, pointing in the general direction. “I don't know- monsters?”

Scott gave him a skeptical frown, stepping past him to head towards the side yard. Hesitant, but not wanting his brother to go alone, John followed.

Empty. The window remained open, but the room itself was empty.

“I don't understand...” He ran a hand through his hair. “There were so many... kids! I recognized some of them. From the news!”

“Are you feeling okay, John?” Scott looked concerned.

John waved him off, already heading back inside. “It'll be on the surveillance program.”

Scott followed.

A few minutes later, John was growling at the device, willing it to show what he had seen. There was nothing from the previous ten minutes that had most likely taken ten years off his life.

“Are you sure it wasn't just a dream?” Scott was trying to ease the fear and frustration John was feeling.

“Dreams don't rip your skin off!” He pointed to the ankle with the slightly bleeding scratches.

He could tell his older brother wanted to believe him, but it all sounded so crazy. Even he would have dismissed it if he hadn't lived through it himself. He quickly grabbed his books and tablet and headed for the door.

“I can't stay in here.” John stood outside the door, waiting for Scott to follow him. “I'm going to Gordon and Alan's room.”

This had Scott's mouth hanging open. John rarely volunteered to spend his free time in his younger brothers' room.

Before Scott could question it, they were already at the door. He knocked out of common courtesy before opening the door. In the center of the room, Gordon and Alan were coloring. Virgil was overseeing the art activity.

Without a word, John walked across the room and deposited himself into a beanbag cushion.

“Everything okay?” Virgil finally asked. The coloring had stopped.

“Everything's fine apparently.” A frustrated John was to be left alone. Virgil and Scott understood this.

“Hey, Virge.” Scott turned to his younger brother. “Why don't you and I run out to the store before curfew? Pick up some more food for the stash?”

Virgil nodded, getting up from the floor to follow.

“We'll be back soon.” The three occupants nodded.

After they were gone, John put down the book he was pretending to read. His mind was still a whirl wind of unanswered questions. He let his head fall into his hands as his mind replayed what he saw.

“John?” Gordon seemed to be mirroring Scott's earlier concern.

“Hmm?” He didn't look up.

“You don't look fine.” His voice was quiet; so unlike Gordon.

He let his hands drop, finally looking up. Gordon was still holding the red crayon in his hand, the picture sitting atop a drawing board.

John froze, staring at the picture. It was crud, but the idea was there. “The clown...” His voice was shaking.

Gordon caught his eyes and they locked, a spark of understanding lighting behind the amber.

“You saw it?” His voice was a whisper.

John could only nod as the fear from earlier started clawing back up.

Chapter Text

The bike ride to the store had been quiet. Scott watched the neighborhoods drift by as they peddled back towards home, one bag each suspended from the handlebars. There was still plenty of time to make it home before seven. Might as well get some information.

“Care to explain what’s going on with you and Gordon?” He glanced over his shoulder at Virgil riding close behind him.

The younger brother was quiet for a moment. “It was just something that happened yesterday. He’ll be fine.”

This had Scott’s alarms blaring. “Something happened? I mean, other than him busting his face over a lizard?”

“I know, it’s ridiculous.” Virgil sighed. “He was just so freaked out. Didn’t eat dinner, not that I blame him. He slept horribly, and then refused breakfast.”

“And would have skipped lunch?” Yeah, that didn’t match a typical scare for their little brother.

“He’s doing better, but I don’t think he wants to be left alone any time soon.” Virgil had caught up, riding alongside as they talked.

“Have you told Grandma?”

Virgil gave him a sideways look, frowning. “Not yet…” He quickly added, “But I plan to.”

“As soon as we get back.” Scott’s nerves calmed at his brother’s nod. He was finding it overly stressful trying to hold his brothers together while their father was burying himself in work. The summer break had brought on a new kind of challenge, trying to keep the tinies out of trouble, number one on his list. 

As their trip brought them past the centuries-old cemetery, a guttural cry for help rose from farther inside. The boys were off their bikes in seconds, sprinting up to the cobblestone wall and through the gate.

“Stay close!” Blue eyes scanned the grounds, looking for who had called. Another cry, pained and desperate, and they were running towards the far right corner. Scott glanced back to see Virgil fumbling to retrieve his comm to alert the local authorities. Good thinking.

Gravestones flew by in a blur of gray as they ran. Virgil was talking to someone, answering questions that were being fed to him. Scott stopped as he caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision. Turning, he saw the hand disappear behind a large stone marker.

“There!” He couldn’t help the spark of excitement at seeing a sign that the person could still be alive. As they shot past the stone pillar, that excitement died, stopping him and Virgil in their tracks.

Before them, deep and unwelcoming, was an open and empty grave. A coffin lay at the bottom, its doors shut.

“I know I saw someone.” Scott began looking around the grassy area trying to spot the person he had seen. “Hello?”

After a beat, he turned back to Virgil, hoping his brother could confirm what they were looking for. His question halted in his chest at the sight of the dark haired boy.

Virgil stood rigid, staring down into the hole. Sweat was beading over his brow, running down into unblinking eyes as they pooled together. Scott opened his mouth to check on his frozen brother when the coffin doors flew open, a red balloon springing out and up towards them.

“What in the-” If this was someone’s idea of a joke, it was pretty sick.

Scott reached out to grab Virgil’s arm, wanting to steer him away from the sight that was obviously causing him distress. His fingers brushed the soft fabric of the younger boy’s shirt for a brief second before it disappeared.

Wide brown eyes locked to blue as he fell. Scott couldn’t react fast enough as the flailing arm shot past his grasp. In horror, he watched as Virgil hit the open casket with a hard thud, the doors slamming shut over him.

Then something impossible happened.

Dirt began filling the hole from out of nowhere. A foot over the coffin, then halfway up the sides. By the time Scott hit his knees on the ground, the dirt was level with the grass. Fingers dug frantically into the loose soil, his heart and mind screaming at him to dig faster.

“HELP!” He tried calling, wishing for anyone to appear and save his brother. Amazingly, he could hear Virgil’s frantic cries, given how far down he was. Tears were welling in his eyes as he listened, digging up handfuls of dirt. He let out a frustrated sob as the foot-deep hole filled again, erasing the progress he had made.

No no no no… “VIRGIL! I’M COMING! JUST HANG ON!”

A vice-like grip caught his right shoulder, dragging him up and tossing him across the grass. Shock and despair mixed as he tried to sit up and get back to the hole. A blur of red and white caught his attention.

A clown, probably the creepiest he had ever seen, leaned over him, it’s teeth and yellow eyes gleaming. It was on top of him before he could move.

“Scottie, Scottie.” It grinned. “Going to watch you brother die, Scottie.”

“NO!” He was hoisted and thrown again, back towards Virgil’s screams. The wind pushed out of him as he landed, the clown coming back to hold him over the loose dirt covering his brother.

“Listen.” A glee-filled laugh. “Running out of air, going to die soon.”

Scott’s chest burned for oxygen and the gripping panic. He couldn’t lose Virgil, not like this. Not like mom, trapped under all that snow. Tears rolled down his face as he tried to fight against the hand that held him down. Below the soil, he could hear Virgil’s cries growing weaker, his fists banging on the coffin, slowing.

“Get off me!” He coughed as his lungs allowed him to breathe again. “SOMEBODY, HELP!”

The clown was laughing again, throwing its head back in delight. Its teeth were changing, growing sharp, and there were too many. Whatever this clown was, it wasn’t human. The mouth grew wide, making Scott’s heart feel like it was going to burst from the sudden fear encompassing his body. He let out a strangled cry as the monster started to descend towards his face.

Movement to his left, followed by a shout.

“What are you kids doing?” It was a man, his voice full of annoyance.

Scott blinked and the clown was gone. He flipped onto his stomach, searching for Virgil. He found him, face tear streaked, laying at the bottom of the empty hole. The coffin was gone.

“Help me!” Scott called to the man who came up beside him. They reached down, not far enough to take hold of his brother. “Virgil, you have to get up!” He did, trembling as he caught their hands and was dragged to safety.

The annoyance had been replaced by concern. “You two alright?”

“Did you see where it went?” Scott asked while holding tight to his silent brother.

The man raised a brow. “Where what went? It's just you two out here.”

“The clown! There was a clown right here when you came up!” Scott was dumbfounded how this man hadn’t seen it.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t see a clown.” He stood. “But I did see the police. They just arrived, said some kid had called about cries for help.”

This had Scott standing, pulling Virgil with him. He gave a quick glance at the hole, desperate to understand what had just happened. Part of him realized the officers wouldn’t believe his story. The man beside him should have seen something, but hadn’t or was lying.

“Come on, Virge.” He gave his brother a reassuring hug. “Let’s go talk to the police.”

“Home.” The whisper was tight with emotion. “Wanna go home.”

“I’ve got you.” And he did. There was no way he was letting go of the brother he’d almost lost. “I’ll talk to them and then we’ll go.”

Virgil didn’t respond, but his feet began to move as they walked to the cemetery entrance. The talk with the officers was short. Scott explained what they heard and saw, the officers following along. His recall of the clown had them raising a brow, but they continued their inquiries. The whole exchange took less than ten minutes. One of the officers had offered to take them home, loading their bikes, as best he could, into the back of the cruiser.

Grandma, out tending to the garden, had paled when the cruiser rolled up, her boys being helped out of the car. Virgil had calmed some, no longer needing to cling to Scott. That didn’t stop the older brother from wrapping an arm over his shoulders.

They heard Grandma thank the officer, who was helping secure their bikes. She took the bags of food as well, following her grandsons back into the house.

“You boys want to explain why I nearly had a heart attack out there?” She waved towards the front of the house.

“We thought we heard someone screaming for help.” Scott began.

“We did hear someone screaming.” Virgil had taken up a spot on the couch.

“And of course you wanted to help?” She knew her grandsons too well. They were so much like their father in that way.

“I thought we found them, but…” The images of Virgil in the coffin, the dirt, came to the forefront of his mind. It had sounded so insane when he told the officers.

“I fell in a grave.” Virgil offered simply.

Grandma was by his side in an instant, a hand catching his face to look him over. “Are you alright?”

Virgil gave a quick nod, not wanting to talk any farther about the ordeal. The commotion had drawn the attention of the rest of the brothers, the three of them filing into the living room, looking worried.

“Why don’t you boys play something together. I’ll make some snacks.” She held up the bags with a knowing smile as she left the room.

“What happened?” John asked, straight to the point.

“It’s a long story.” Scott ran a hand over his face, drained from the loss of adrenaline. He laughed as he bent over, placing his head in his hands. “Got attacked by a clown.”

Two intakes of breath and a hand was pulling at his arm. “Like this?” Gordon held up the picture.

Scott stared at it in shock. “How did you-”

“Here.” John produced his own, slightly better version of the drawing. It matched the face he’d seen so close at the cemetery.

Scott’s eyes locked onto his brothers wanting to ask questions, but unable to find the words.

“Come on.” John pulled him up off the couch, Gordon and Alan doing the same for Virgil. “We found something you need to see.

Chapter Text

They had assembled in the tinys’ room, Gordon and Alan sitting on the youngest’s smaller bed, while Scott and Virgil shared Gordon’s. John stood, tapping at his computer in the center of the room. He’d pulled up a hologram of multiple news articles regarding missing children, some recent and others appearing much older.

John separated a set of articles, highlighting them for everyone to see. “These are from 2023. And these…” He moved another set forward, “are from 1996.”

“That’s a pretty big jump.” Scott looked at one of the larger articles featuring a ten-year-old boy. Samuel Morrison. His mother was quoted, saying that her son had complained of feeling scared of their shed, and of a clown he had seen at school.

“All of these disappearances occurred in this town over a twelve-month period. We’re already in month five if we assume Canady Larson was the beginning.” Virgil frowned, remembering the awkward boy from his class.

“So how does this help us?” The eldest looked to the smartest of them, John frowning slightly.

“Well… we know there’s only seven months left to stop this thing.” The red head looked to each brother for agreement. Each nodded. Even though the thought of seeing the monster again left a cold chill down their spines, they couldn’t sit around and do nothing as another kid, or one of them was taken.

“We’ll need to find out if we can hurt it… and what with.” Virgil looked pensive as his comment had them each quietly contemplating what that meant.

“Dad’s still got those demolition mines from his space missions. They’re in his office safe.” Gordon offered, giving a slightly sheepish look as they all stared at him. “What?”

“And how do you know where they are?” Scott fell into his usual big brother-dad routine.

“Irreputent… We might need them.” His eyes shifted away from his eldest brother’s gaze.

“I think you mean irrelevant.” John corrected.

“Whatever.” Gordon crossed his arms. “They’re strong enough to blow up moon rocks. They should be able to handle a monster.”

“Gordon’s got a point.” Virgil sat forward, seeming to consider his words. “We don’t know what will hurt this thing, so an explosive with a small enough range to keep us safe may be beneficial.”

Scott nodded. “We’ll need some handheld weapons too.”

“Gordon and I can search the garage.” Virgil offered, Gordon agreeing, wanting to do something other than sit around. Alan wriggled next to him, looking a bit confused and worried. They had tried explaining to him what was going on, but none of it had made much sense until they said ‘monster’. That had clicked with the six-year-old, now wanting to stay close to his brothers at all times.

“Good. John, Alan and I will look in Dad’s office. He might have some other devices we can use.” Scott couldn’t help the smile as Alan’s eyes grew wide with excitement. It was rare for any of them to go into the office when they father wasn’t home.

Their first task was now underway. Each group left to search their sides of the house for anything that looked like it could cause significant damage. They’d decided to continue their planning after they knew what they were working with.

The search had lasted for about an hour, Virgil and Gordon coming back with the most. A pile of screwdrivers, wrenches, a couple crowbars, tire iron, some steel and wooden bats, and some other tools the boys couldn’t name, but looked fairly weaponizable. Scott carefully placed the demolition charges next to the pile, still in a protective container. John was holding a small, computerized device, tapping at the screen. He produced six quarter-sized disks and handed them out to each brother, saving one for himself.

“If we can, this one’s for the monster.” He wiggled the sixth one between his fingers. “If we can find out where it lives, we might be able to find some of the missing kids as well.”

That thought was helpful as they made their plans. There were other children in danger, not just themselves. It was a motivating force that kept the fear at bay.

“We’ve also got two of dad’s laser cutters, and a grapple gun with tree shots.” Scott was holding them out, gazing at John and Virgil. The red head paled, the act of taking any of these items had been forbidden. It felt wrong to both boys to hold them now. In the end, John took the grapples, while Virgil took the extra laser cutter.

They all jumped as a knock sounded from the door. “Boys? Time for dinner.”

“Coming, Grandma.” Scott tried to hide the tremor as his heart rate slowed back down.

Quickly, they pushed to items under Gordon’s bed. They’d move them later. As they left the room, Alan was clinging to his blond brother’s hand, still shaken by the serious conversations happening in the house.

oOoOoOo

Dinner had been a surprise. Virgil and Scott had picked up hot dogs and chips on their supply run. Simple enough for even Grandma to cook. Alan had eaten two, happily forgetting all about the events that had occurred just before. They ate ice cream on the front porch, watching as the sun began to set.

The youngest Tracy found himself nodding off on the step he and Gordon shared. A soft tap on his shoulder and tired blue eyes looked up into the older woman’s face, a protest already trying to slip out of his mouth.

“Not one word, Squirt.” She smiled. “Time for bed.”

“I’ll take him.” Virgil stood from the rocker, giving Alan a small tap on the head to encourage him to follow.

Alan frowned, really not wanting to go to bed before everyone else. He blinked, a little confused as Gordon stood up as well, ready to follow them inside.

“I think I’ll head to bed too.” He rubbed at the bandage still covering his wounded chin.

Grandma gave him a suspicious eye, but didn’t question it. Alan found it weird too.

Once they were inside, Gordon explained. “No one gets to be alone until this thing is gone.”

Virgil agreed as they stepped into the bedroom. Grabbing an empty back pack, he began loading up the weapons. Before leaving, he handed a crowbar to the older of the tinies and a screwdriver to the other.

“Good night, you two.” Their older brother ruffled Alan’s hair before stepping out the door.

Teeth brushed and pjs on, Alan flicked on the nightlight, while Gordon turned off the main. He stared at his bed, watching his older brother climb into his. Decision made, he leapt into the larger bed.

“Whoa! A little warning, Squirt!” Gordon laughed, trying to pull the blankets out from under the smaller boy so he could cover up.

“Thanks, Gordo.” He placed his ‘weapon’ onto the bedside table and snuggled into the pillow.'

“G'night.” “Goodnight!” They giggled at their voices in unison. Minutes later, they were sound asleep.

When Alan woke up, he had one of Gordon's arms draped over his face. His brother was also snoring in his ear. Carefully, he moved his brother's arm away and rubbed at his blurry eyes. Something was weird.

He finally got a clear view of the room and noticed the odd pinkish-red glow bouncing off the walls. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed... and kicked a balloon, causing it to collide with three more.

Alan's eyes widened in delight at the sight of a sea of glowing, red balloons, drifting over his floor. “Oh, wow!” He jumped up, kicking at the orbs, sending them flying across the room. “Gordon! Gordon! Look how cool this is!”

He watched his brother stir, standing in the center of the room. When his brother's eyes opened, they didn't share the same excitement that he felt. Instead, he saw terror, Gordon's mouth open in a silent cry just before the glowing orbs burst with a sharp blast, plunging the room into darkness.

oOoOoOo

Gordon's eyes opened at the sound of his little brother's call, his mind telling him to throw his pillow at the annoyance. Once the fog cleared, he saw what had his brother so giddy. The red balloons, triggering a flash of red above the open storm cellar. As his eyes caught sight of his brother, standing in the middle of the twitching orbs, his mouth fell open, throat dry and silent. He had moved past the small form and was now staring at the towering clown, shadows dancing in the glow of red.

And then it was dark...

“Alan!” He was scrambling out from under the covers, trying to remember where he had put his crowbar.

He could hear his brother crying now. “I-it's so d-dark! Gordon-nn, where- where's the light?”

“I'm right here.” He tried to make himself sound calm. “Just come back towards the bed!” Flashlight! He cursed himself for forgetting the light his mother had always made sure stayed in their bedside table drawrs.

“GORD-” The cry was cut off, replaced by a stark silence that threatened to rip out his heart. He jammed his hand at the unseen table, ignoring the pain as he pulled the knob. He heard the thunk as the contents shifted and he dug in, grasping at the tube.

Please don't be dead! He could feel the tears as he realized he hadn't meant the batteries. A click and light spewed across the darkened room. It froze on the monster's face, its teeth gleaming in the beam. The glow moved and now Gordon could see his brother, suspended by clawed hands around his neck. He was kicking out, desperately trying to free himself from the clown.

The fear burned away as a rage filled his chest. His hand found the metal rod left by the bedside and he ran. The scream that left him was steady as he slammed into the creature, shoving the crowbar into its ribs with more force that he thought he had.

A pained screech filled the room, assaulting his unprotected ears. He let go of the crowbar, still stuck in the monster's side, reaching out to take hold of Alan's form as he fell. The door swung open, revealing his older brothers, weapons in tow.

Gordon pushed past the screaming creature, sprinting awkwardly towards the door. Scott's arms were out, ready to catch them and keep them safe.

He felt the pain rip through his leg, sending him towards the ground, Alan flying off his shoulder and into his brother's waiting grasp. The grip that had caught him tightened, forcing a cry out of his heaving chest. His eyes locked onto Scott's, both wide with fear and panic.

And then the darkness returned as the door slammed shut and the pain engulfed him, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

The cacophony of yelling, banging, crying filled the hallway as the brothers desperately tried to get into the room. John held a trembling Alan to his chest, his sea-green eyes watching his other two brothers throw themselves into the locked door.

Grandma was there, demanding answers, concern evident in her voice. Virgil and Scott paid her no mind, focusing on the task of breaking through the barrier. It took a moment for John to find his voice.

“Grandma…” He felt his throat closing with grief. He cursed himself for letting the emotion take hold. Gordon needed him, them, to stay strong.

She made it to him in one frantic stride, bending down to look him in the face. “John, please, what’s happened?”

“It’s got Gordon.” Alan sobbed as John spoke. He watched as his grandmother’s eyes grew wide and she stood, pushing past Scott to grab the doorknob.

To all of their surprise, the door gave, opening up into the dark room. Grandma hit the lightswitch, flooding the empty room in a bright yellow. It was empty.

“The window!” Virgil cried out, already grabbing the discarded backpack and running to the front door. John looked and saw the jagged glass and splintered wood hanging from the window pane.

“Virgil! Wait!” Scott was running after him.

Looking into the room, John could see Grandma was quickly falling into a panic. He needed to give her something to focus on other than her lost grandson. “Grandma! Take Alan. I need to get something.”

For a moment, she just stared at him, but Alan’s head had popped up and he quickly ran to her, his arms wrapping around her waist. John stood and ran to his room. The tablets had been placed on his desk in the open, just in case they needed them in a hurry. Unfortunately, he’d been right to assume the worst.

Returning to the room, he handed one of the devices to his grandmother, flicking it on. He could see two dots just outside the house, two inside, and one… moving farther away.

“Grandma.” She looked up. “You need to call the police. Give them this.” He pointed to the tablet. “This one’s Gordon.”

Her hand was at her mouth as she let the tears fall, realizing what this meant. Without a word, she stood, untangling herself from the small child. He watched her leave the room to make the call.

“Alan, you stay with Grandma.” The order came out, but he received a solid glare of refusal. Apparently, Alan’s earlier fear had worn off, now replaced by a determination no six-year-old should have to experience.

“I want to help.” His blue eyes were unwavering. John wanted to argue that it wasn’t safe, but Alan was already up, grabbing his screwdriver and heading out the door.

Not wanting to leave the kid alone, he followed after, his own tablet activating. They met up with Scott and Virgil on the front lawn, digging through the pack.

“Grandma’s calling the police. She’ll be able to give them the tracker information.” John received a nod from Scott as he handed him the grapple gun and a tire iron. He tucked the gun in the belt of his pants. He took a screwdriver as well.

“Squirt, you need to stay here.” Scott bent down in front of his youngest brother.

“I can’t.” There was desperation behind his response. “What if it comes back. You guys told me Grandma and that guy from the cem- cemit- the place with all the statues couldn’t see it. I don’t want to get taken too because Grandma can’t see it.”

John found it amazing how much his little brother could take in and understand. He almost wanted to laugh though. Alan was afraid of it coming back, but in reality, they were chasing after it. Either bravery or stupidity was dictating their actions.

“We’re wasting time!” Virgil was staring at the screen in John’s hand, seeing Gordon’s dot continuing to move farther away.

He heard Scott curse under his breath, apparently wanting to argue with the youngest Tracy, but knowing that could mean the loss of their brother.

“Bikes.” He ordered and they ran to the garage, lifting the door. They were racing down the road a minute later.

John was trying his best to shout out the directions. Their brother’s dot had finally stopped on the west end of town, about three mile away. He stared at the glow, trying to figure out what could be at the location. They’d explored most of their hometown over the years and something at the back of his mind was trying to warn him. He couldn’t remember seeing any houses at this location, just the river. The drain … The sewer drain! Kids at school would always dare each other to go inside. John had found the idea disgusting. His heart sank, hoping they would find their brother in a far safer place.

oOoOoOo

Pain registered first as he awoke, followed quickly by the cold wetness that lapped at his face. There was an oily taste in his mouth that causing him to gag as he pushed himself up. He spit, into the dark water that swirled around his hands. The pain was in his leg and head, he finally realized, gently sitting on a pile of what looked like trash. The low light from the unknown source was enough to see the piles of discarded junk. The piles were unusually tall though. Someone would have had to assemble them that way.

He pulled at the leg of his pajama pants, noting the dark splotches. The wounds, although painful, didn’t appear deep, but the fact that they were shaped like claw marks running down his calf sent pangs of apprehension through his gut.

Slowly, he came to his feet, eyeing the dark shadows that filled to room he was in. It smelled worse than it looked and immediately he knew he had to be in the sewers. His stomach heaved as he realized what the foul taste on his tongue could mean. The upheaval sent his head spinning and he crashed back down onto shaky hands and knees.

A laugh echoed off the walls, forcing him to sober, amber eyes darting around the space. Movement from behind a stack of garbage had him searching for anything to protect himself. His hands found a piece of soggy wood that was splintered at one end. The laugh continued, almost mocking his actions. Then he saw it. White face bright in contrast with the trash and muck surrounding it. The clown’s body shifted unnaturally around the heaps.

Gordon’s mind raced as he watched it approach. He needed to run, but he didn’t know which tunnel would lead to the surface. Although, faced with his current situation, being lost would seem far less an issue. He shot a glance over his shoulder, noting the opening. He backed up, keeping his eyes on the monster. His heart raced as his bare feet hit the slime covered brick, again sending his stomach flipping.

“Where are you going?” It teased with a laugh. “You can’t leave now.”

“Sure I can.” Surprisingly, he sounded steady as he took another step back. He waved the makeshift bludgeon, his mind flashing back to the attack in his room and the crowbar in its side. “I know I can hurt you, so don’t come any closer.”

For a second, the clown stopped, looking irritated. Then it was running.

Gordon spun, running with everything he had towards the opening. He barely made it two feet before he was jerked back and thrown to the ground. He lay on his back gasping up at the grinning face. A clawed hand pushed against his chest, while the other gripped his face. The boy’s hands shot up, pulling at the arms that held him down.

“You will stay.” The teeth grew pointed as the monster gazed down at him. “Can’t let you run away.”

His voice shook, though he could feel the hope that his brothers would find him. “We’ll stop you.”

The grin faltered, picking up on something Gordon couldn’t see. Its yellow eyes narrowed down at him and it sneered. “No, you won’t”

The boy began to struggle desperately as he watched the spiked maw widened, revealing rows of needle-like protrusions. A glow filled his vision and his resistance waned, hands falling away. The hammering in his chest faded and the muck-filled world around him disappeared.

oOoOoOo

Their footfalls echoed off the sewer walls as they ran. Virgil took the rear while Scott led. Beams from their flashlights bounced off the water. He held tight to the laser gun, trying to keep an eye on the tunnels they were passing.

Virgil stopped, almost running into Alan as John called out a new direction. He watched as Scott doubled back, taking the tunnel the red head had indicated.

“Almost there. We should be on him in another thirty seconds!” John couldn’t hide the stress in his voice. Virgil just hoped they’d find Gordon alive when they got there.

What they found was startling in its impossibility. They came to a room filled with rusted and corroded junk. They could see a light source coming from the center ceiling. Their flashlights swept over the expanse, trying to locate their brother or the clown. John was moving past Scott, his eyes focused on something above the grime.

Virgil followed his line of sight and saw what had his brother moving into the space. Like a magician’s trick, Gordon lay on his back, legs slightly bent… floating in midair.  

“Gordon!” Alan was shouting as loud as he dared, knowing who could be listening.

As one, they ran to his position. He was floating just out of their reach.

“What’s wrong with him?” The youngest stared, clinging to the screwdriver in his hands.

“I don’t know.” Scott tapped his shoulder. “Come on, Virge. Up you go.”

He stepped in front of Scott, who dropped down to one knee, his hands out in front of him to support his younger brother’s weight. Virgil steadied himself before reaching to grab his floating brother’s hand. There was no resistance as he pulled, the form lowering as if through water. The dark haired brother quickly wrapped his arms around Gordon’s chest, dropping out of Scott’s hands as they made it to the ground.

“Gordon?” Virgil spoke, trying to get a clear view of his brother’s lax face. His half-lidded eyes were unfocused. He could feel the slow beat of Gordon’s heart against the hand that lay on his chest.

He turned to Scott, seeing that his older brother was facing away, searching for the monster that could still be lurking nearby.

Alan moved up to Gordon’s other side, taking his hand. “Wake up, Gordo. We need to leave.”

There was no change as his head slumped against Virgil’s chest. Brown eyes prickled with tears as he let the fear start to take hold. Were they too late? Had they lost Gordon to this thing?

He looked up to see John and Scott, side by side, looking down at him with stricken expressions. He looked away, trying to blink out the moisture, if only to remain strong for Alan’s sake.

A soft voice caught his attention and he looked at the six year old, his forehead pressed against Gordon’s. The lump in his throat caught as he realized his brother was singing words from their mother.

“...my love is a light, driving away all of your fears…” He heard the sniffle, as the young boy’s voice broke. “...so don’t be afraid, remember I made…”

“... a promise to keep you safe.” His mouth moved with Alan’s as the song slipped past, a tear trailing down his cheek.

Alan’s sobs shook through Gordon’s form as Virgil held him. The gasp in his ear sent a curse echoing across the walls as the blond struggled in his brother’s grip.

“Gordon!” Alan had his brothers face in his hands, watching amber eyes blink back to life. They were all surrounding him, relief sweeping through them.

“Guys.” Gordon’s voice was a whisper. “We need to get out of here. That thing…”

“We know.” Scott had him by the arm, helping Virgil lift him to a standing position. “Let’s go. The police should be meeting us as soon-”

A crash drew their attention away from their brother. Weapons up, they scanned the surroundings for the clown that had terrorized their town and their family.

Virgil felt his heart plummet as she stepped gingerly through the muck. This can’t be real…

Their mother looked just as she had… just before the accident. “Hello, sweethearts.”

Chapter Text

The laser cutter lowered as Scott stared in pained disbelief at his mother. He’d been there when they had pulled her from the snow. He knew without a doubt that his mother was gone. This thing couldn’t be her, no matter how much he wanted it to be. And still he stared, unable to make his body work, knowing that they were in danger.

“Scott!” The call over his shoulder gave him purchase, spinning just in time to see the small figure darting forward. His hand shot out, gasping the thin material of Alan’s shirt. “Alan, no! Its- Alan, that’s not mom!”

The youngest Tracy struggled, trying to run to the woman they all missed so much. Scott pulled hard, dragging the child into a half hug, finally raising the gun again. As Alan slowly calmed, their mother began to laugh.

“Oh, come on, Scottie, let me at least give him a hug.” Her sweet coos were punctuated as a blue tinge spread over her lips and cheeks. Her eyes began to dull, glossing over white with decay.

Alan was no longer interested in the woman before them, burying his face into Scott’s side. The oldest stared, jaw tight to control the nausea.

“Stop it!” John yelled, and Scott could hear the tremble of emotion.

“You should know better than to yell at your mother, Johnnie.” Her mouth spread into a toothy grin as black sludge began to dribble out from the corners, more spilling out as she gave a cackle at their distress.

Scott almost joined in as he heard a heave from Gordon, most likely still being supported by Virgil.

She moved forward, dripping putrid mess as she approached. “Don’t you love me anymore?” His heart ached at her voice as it developed mock sadness.

“You’re not real. You’re not our mother!” The harshness of his own voice gave him the strength he needed. He pulled the trigger.

A bolt of red light shot out, striking the woman in the chest. It gave a cry of pain, the form shifting between the corpse and the clown. She snapped back with a hiss, glaring at him with pale, lifeless eyes.

“Bad, Scottie!” It was on him before another shot could hit it. He found himself falling, pinned to the muck-covered ground, water spraying out around him. He blinked in shock, catching sight of Alan beside him, sitting in the water. His mother’s face grinned down at him.

A splash above his head and something metal connected with the side of the monster’s face, sending it sprawling away from the prone form. A second later, Virgil was gripping his arm and pulling him to his feet. John took the place in front of him, tire iron held out, ready to defend.

The woman stood, her face distorted and cracked from the impact. They watched as it morphed back into place, but the expression that remained was not what he expected. Fear. He could see it in their mother’s brow. They were winning. They could do this!

Scott took a step forward, next to John and raised the gun again, followed closely by Virgil. He noted that Alan had returned to Gordon, who was rummaging through the back pack.

“You’re done hurting us, attacking this town!” He felt emboldened as they all stood together. He fired and saw a second bolt join his, the beams piercing into the creature’s shoulder and cheek. It gave a cry of pain, the image of their mother finally disappearing to reveal the white face and red hair. Again, the spaces sealed as if nothing had happened. Scott knew differently as the fear flashed over its features before turning into a snarled growl.

Its movements were quick, desperate, as it ran again, this time catching hold of a John’s throat, twisting him around to hold as a shield. The red head’s legs kicked, trying to connect with the attacker to no effect.

“Never, Scottie.” The growl was without humor. “You will stay forever. Float with your brothers.” For emphasis, it squeezed John’s throat, drawing a strangled cry from the brother.

Scott’s eyes met John’s, both filled with a fear beyond comprehension. Then a light. He hadn’t noticed the monster’s face opening, its mouth wide in an alien splay of teeth and flesh. He felt the weightlessness as the room around him disappeared and he wondered if his brothers felt it too.

And then he was back, crashing down into the sewage, panting with the return to reality. Virgil lay next to him, blinking as he breathed through the disorientation. Scott turned back to the monster, noticing that John was no longer in its grasp. Gordon was there. Sitting on the ground, unmoving, he was staring at the creatures face. Protruding from the toothy maw was a crowbar, jammed in by the blond. It clawed at the metal, trying to dislodge it with frantic swipes.

Gordon spun on the spot, scrambling on hands and knees back towards the group, his face a flood of panic. “Get back!”

Scott was pulling Virgil up as they back peddled at their younger brother’s call. His eyes stayed on the monster as light continued to poor from its face up into the ceiling. The cry had morphed into an inhuman wale of pain.

The explosion that followed sent him sprawling on his back, his dark haired brother on top of him. A dull ring filled his ears, blocking out the noises of his brothers around him. His arms wrapped around the closest, Virgil returning the embrace to let him know he was ok, if not stunned as well.

Turning his head, he found Alan hugging a dazed John from behind, sitting in the dark water. He sat up as Virgil rolled off of him, his mind screaming at him to find his fourth brother. Gordon was pushing himself up on hands and knees, face dripping with the sludge. He was trying to wipe the muck away weakly with the back of his hand.

The desire to help his brother was trumped by the immediate danger that the monster could still pose. However, as he looked past Gordon, he could see the split and splintered form of the clown. The light was flickering sporadically as the appendages twitched with the remaining signs of life.

“Is it…” Virgil’s voice was a whisper next to him.

The deformed clown continued its strange movements, as if trying to will itself back together.

“I don’t know.” Scott moved to Gordon, who had started searching around blindly. “What did you do?”

Now clinging to his oldest brother, Gordon’s speech was slightly slurred as he spat out the putrid water. “Demo- charge.” A cough as he gagged. “Attached to the crowbar.”

Scott gawked at his little brother, impressed that he had improvised a device to take out the monster in the middle of an attack. He wasn’t sure what the creature had been doing, but he was certain they would have been dead if it weren’t for the blond now covered in muck.

“Did I get it?” The question came out tired and shaky.

They all stood together, staring at what remained of the clown. The light was slowly flickering, the edges of the splintered flesh melting away into ash. Finally, the light died, the mound collapsing in on itself. The silence that followed was interrupted by the soft flow of water and dripping from the surrounding sewer tunnels. In the distance, they could hear the echo of sirens.

“So… is that a yes?”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Gords. You got it.”

“Let’s get out of here.” John was holding Alan’s hand, appearing to need it as much as the youngest did.

“I’ll second that.” Virgil took up Gordon’s other side, linking his arm under the blond’s armpit to help lead him to the exit tunnel.

“One sec.” Scott moved to the back pack, pulling out the small disk that had helped save their brother. With a flick of his thumb, he sent to tracker into the pile of monster. “Just in case.”

Task complete, he joined Virgil to help support Gordon.

Flashing red and blue lights met them as the exited the tunnel, a group of officers meeting them with cries of ‘They're here’ and ‘We've got ‘em’.

One officer with short, military cut hair took up the space behind the group of boys, herding them towards the EMS vehicles. “You’re safe. You’re Grandma is waiting up at the cruisers. Good thing she had that tracking system.”

Scott gave John a knowing smile, more proud of the red head than he had ever been. His brothers had really proved how brave they truly were, taking out the scariest thing that he hoped they would ever face.

As they approached the EMS vehicles, a group of paramedics took over for the officer, each leading a brother to be checked out. A cry of relief caught their attention as their grandmother caught sight of the disheveled crew.

Their hands were up simultaneously as she approached.

“Please, no hugs Grandma.” Gordon rasped, the adrenaline waning, still unable or unwilling to open his eyes. “We’re disgusting.”

She paused at their pleading, muck-covered faces, giving a moment’s thought to their request. And then she was on Gordon in a heartbeat. The others quickly joined, realizing there was nothing that would stop this woman from making sure they were alright.

“Boys, you scared me half to death.” There were tears in her eyes.

“Sorry, Grandma.” Their voices echoed as they stood together.

“Don’t you even worry about that right now.” She turned to Gordon. “You all go get cleaned up and checked out. No fussing. Your father is on his way home as we speak.”

The mention of their father made Scott’s heart ache with a need he hadn’t realized was there. He quickly helped usher his brothers to EMS trucks, accepting a blanket from a brunette with a ponytail. She smiled, handing him a warm, wet towel to help remove the grime from his face. He watched as his other brothers received similar treatment. Alan was being helped by Grandma, while John and Virgil sat together, making sure they each got as much off as they could.

Gordon was having his eyes flushed, bent over and looking as miserable as any of them had seen him in a while. Scott moved over to him, suddenly anxious that their brother could be in distress.

“It’s just me.” Scott spoke as he placed a reassuring hand on the younger boy’s back.

As the paramedic, a man in his late twenties, finished the flush, he bent down to peer into Gordon’s face. “How’s that feel?”

Amber eyes blinked, sending droplets down his cheeks. Gordon nodded. “Better.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Now, anything hurting? Any nausea?”

Gordon paused as if trying to remember, finally nodding. “My leg.”

Scott watched as he held out his right leg, the medic apologizing as he carefully began cutting up the pajama pant leg. Scott froze, tendrils of ice creeping up his spine as he took in the claw marks on his brother’s calf.”

The paramedic frowned, concerned. “Looks like you’ll be taking a trip to the ER, kiddo. That’s going to need to be cleaned up and examined.”

Scott felt his brother stiffen at the thought of going to the hospital. “Don’t you worry. We’ll be going with you.” The blond gave him a half-hearted smile, clinging to the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Scott glanced back at his other brothers, noting that John was standing with one of the officers, the tablet in his hand. A moment later, the officer and the tablet took off supposedly to find a superior. John caught his older brother’s eye and quickly came over.

“I showed them where Gordon had been taken. Maybe they’ll be able to find anything about the other kids there.” John spoke with a little hope in his voice.

“Good thinking. Gotta say, I’m impressed.” Scott gave him a firm pat on the back, suppressing a laugh at the blush spreading across the younger Tracy’s cheeks. “Go let Grandma know we’ll be going to the hospital. Gordo’s going to get checked out. Probably wouldn’t hurt for you to get seen as well.” He motioned to the bruising around the boy’s neck.

John let his hand brush over the spot, his jaw tight at the memory. With a gentle nod and a glance at Gordon, he went off to rejoin his other two brothers and grandmother.

Half an hour later, they were still on site, speaking to a detective. Gordon’s leg had been treated to the best of the paramedic’s ability and dressed. The most they could explain without sounding completely crazy was that a clown had broken into their home and kidnapped their brother. The officer had informed then that the department would search the area that John had indicated for them and would be in touch if they discovered anything.

Another two hours later, they were in a large hospital room. Gordon lay on a bed with an IV drip attached to his arm, the antibiotics set to help fight the infection now evident in his leg wounds. It also appeared he had a mild concussion. All in all, the doctor had informed them that he would be fine in a couple of days.

Now, they sat, watching the news. The officers had found more than just the piles of junk in the room the tracker had pinged. Bodies of missing children, each in a different state of decay. Skeletal remains were also found, which made sense when they considered what John had discovered about the monster. The sadness that would descend on their town after tonight was already being felt through the nursing staff that would periodically check on them.

The door creaked open and they turned to see their fathe. His face was a mixture of pain and relief. In two quick steps, he was engulfing the four standing brother’s in a strong embrace. Scott smiled as the weight of responsibility fell from his shoulders, moving back to release from the hug. He watched his father give Alan’s hair a ruffle, before moving over to Gordon. He gave the blond a tight hug, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Ugh, dad. Yuck.” Amber eyes were bright with mischief as he wiped at the spot. Jeff showed no offence, beaming at his son’s. They were alive and that’s all that mattered.

Chapter Text

John allowed himself to drift as he floated weightlessly through Thunderbird 5's gravity ring. He stared at the icons gliding across the holographic overlay. Thunderbird 2 and 4 were currently stationary over the Amazon rain forest, rescuing a team of researchers and their equipment from a flash flood. Virgil had reported that the scene, although dangerous, would be easily handled with no loss of life.

He had checked with Alan to see how Scott was handling the action on the sideline. The thirty-four year old had just laughed, pulling himself up on the line inside the busted elevator shaft. Scott had growled over the comm, still sitting in Thunderbird 1 outside the building. He'd tried to encourage the fact that he could at least still fly his 'bird given the extent of his nearly healed injuries. You can't just hope right back into rescues after having a building fall on you.

Now, with EOS buzzing around him, John's eyes fell on the marker he had set up more than a month ago. Still no activity. The tension in his shoulders loosened just a thread more. It was the end of another week with no reports of missing children or scary clowns. Another week he could check off his internal calendar. Twenty-seven years had been a long time to wait and see if they had truly destroyed the monster that occasionally still haunted their dreams.

“You still plan on obsessing over your home town?” EOS seemed to read his mind, but he knew he'd been staring too long.

“Just one more month.” He floated closer to the spot indicating the home they had lived in so long ago. “Ask me again in a month.”

Just to be sure...

The End.