Disclaimer: I don't own zilch.
Summery: Brad and Randy are home alone and having fun but when something goes wrong one of them may be fighting for his life. Probably a two-entry story. I don't know a lot about asthma, so if I get something wrong, tell me and I will fix it. I don't have a beta right now.
Rating: PG (K)
Paper Clip, Card and Sock
"Boys, I'm going to the grocery store! Do you want anything special?" Jill Taylor called up the stairs to her boys. Tim was at work and wouldn't be home for a few hours; Jill wanted to get the shopping done before she would have to start dinner. Luckily she thought that Randy and Brad were old enough to stay home alone for a little while. She didn't need all of them to go out together anymore.
"Mark, I want you to come with me, so come down, okay?"
He came running down the stairs with a smile on his face, he loved doing things with Tim and Jill. Mark grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, it was a little big, seeing as it used to be Brad's. He didn't mind too much, a lot of what he had were hand me downs.
"Brad! Randy! We'll be back around five thirty, okay? Don't kill each other, um, the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator," She had no idea if they were even listening but she had to try.
"We'll be fine!" They chorused from upstairs.
"Fine…" she muttered "Goodbye!"
"Bye!" Randy and Brad yelled.
Upstairs, they heard the front door close. Randy hopped off his bed and stood behind Brad who was on the computer.
"Do you mind?" Brad said, turning to look at his little brother.
"Not at all, but thanks for asking," Randy retorted pleasantly.
"Well I do, so bug off, okay?"
Randy retreated to his bed, forming a plan. His brother was always just sitting and staring at the computer screen, so boring. It was the weekend and that was the time to goof off and have fun. He missed that.
Randy looked around and smirked. There was a perfectly good paper clip sitting innocently near his foot. The young boy picked it up and stared at his brother for a moment, then gave it a little toss and had it bounce right off his head. Brad spun around and gave Randy a pretty evil glare. The latter was lying on Brad's bed looking innocent.
Brad huffed and went back to his computer, until a playing card slapped against his neck.
"Quit it!" he yelled, looking at Randy. Who was, quite unconvincingly 'reading' a comic book.
Grumbling, he once again went back to the screen. Randy carefully reached down and slowly peeled off his sock, they were perfect projectiles. Trying not to make a sound, he rolled it up and took aim…
It hit Brad right in the ear.
Brad stood up and turned around, looking quite mad.
"You're dead midget!" He lunged at Randy but Randy flung himself off of the bed and landed on the floor. With a yell, he ran to the door and thundered down the stairs, jumping the last three. But Brad was right on his heels. "I'm going to kill you!"
"But that's what mom said you couldn't do! Jeeze!" He cried as something whizzed past his shoulder.
"Too bad Mom isn't here," Brad said, trapping Randy on one side of the couch. "And you're cornered," He jumped the back of the couch, catching Randy by surprise and managing to grab him by one of his overall straps. As Brad fell, he took Randy down with him. Randy gave a yelp as he hit the floor, but Brad's elbow smacked the floor and he loosened his grip allowing Randy to scramble to his feet.
He took off around the table and heard Brad getting up too. They zigzagged around the house until Brad finally got in his way and they fell to the ground wrestling. Randy realized after a minute that Brad was laughing and figured he probably wasn't going to die. They rolled around having fun play fighting.
Brad was sitting on Randy's stomach with his little brother struggling underneath, both laughing and gasping for breath. Randy closed his eyes for a moment and felt Brad punch him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.
But, no that wasn't right. Brad was getting off of him. But he couldn't breath!
"That was fun," Brad was saying, standing over Randy, and extending a hand for him to get up. Randy didn't take it. Brad looked down at his little brother; Randy's face was turning from red to a pale, grayish color. He was tugging at the neck of his shirt like it was trying to strangle him.
"Wha…" Brad knelt next to him. Randy rolled on his side and stared at Brad, his eyes confused and begging him to help. He was gasping frantically for air that would not come.
Brad's mind registered one thing. Asthma.
"Brad, Mark, listen to me. Randy has asthma, so don't let him over-exert himself, alright?"
Brad became very frightened. He had no idea what to do! Randy couldn't breath, he couldn't carry him or drive him anywhere and no one was home. An idea came to mind.
"Randy! Randy listen, will your inhaler help?" He cried, feeling helpless.
Randy didn't respond, but was starting to shut his eyes tightly when he attempted to take a breath.
Brad ran up the stairs faster than he could have imagined and ransacked their room for about fifteen seconds until he found it under a book on the dresser. He remembered the doctor saying that it was only precautionary, and he hoped it would save Randy's life. Half falling down the stairs, he got to him, a cold sweat breaking out on his face. Randy grabbed the inhaler and took a rattling breath with it.
It wasn't enough, it was supposed to prevent an attack but not stop one.
Panic took over both of them.
Brad jumped to his feet and flew to the yard side door with only one thought in his head. Wilson.
"Wilson! Wilson! You have to help, it's an emergency!" He banged on the fence frantically.
Almost immediately Wilson's head appeared at the top of the fence.
"What's the matter little neighbor?"
"It's Randy! He's having an asthma attack! He can't breath and no one's home-" He yelled almost in tears.
Wilson had disappeared from the fence and was hurrying into the yard and towards Brad.
"I tried, but I can't do anything!" Brad cried as they went quickly to Randy, still lying on the floor.
"How long has it been?" Wilson helped Randy into a sitting position, but he seemed to be only half conscious.
"I dunno, maybe a few minutes? Four or something. Should I call the hospital?" Brad mumbled. He was staring at his brother's face, still choking and gasping for air.
"No, but come on, we have to go now" he ordered Brad to his house to grab the keys from his table.
Carefully, he picked up the boy and scrawled a quick note to Jill and Tim.
Randy asthma attack hospital.
"I've got the keys,"
They hurried out to Wilson's car.
"Brad, there is no back seat so I want you to sit up front with Randy. Just keep him from moving around too much, don't put on a seatbelt either. We don't want to have anything constricting him."
Brad felt like the ride had taken forever and yet suddenly they were at the hospital. In the emergency room. He was vaguely aware of Wilson telling him to stay in the waiting room and that he'd be back in a minute.
Brad sat in a seat near the door with two lines going through his head over and over again.
It's my fault. I killed Randy.
Greetings! Tis i. Anyway, I hope you liked it, I think I can update pretty soon. I think that Wilson isn't supposed to have a car, but I needed to give him one, so there.
Press the pretty periwinkle button or I kill Jonathan Taylor Thomas!!!!