Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
Despite the rocky start, the following week passed with the gentle ease of a summer breeze, which was an appropriate analogy for what proved to be the halcyon days of an unseasonably warm September, redolent of the summers Alex remembered from her childhood. Amongst her anthropomorphic friends, little was spoken of returning home, though deep down each of them knew a plan had to be made. And yet, as Tails had said, there was no way to plan without first knowing what Robotnik's intentions were. But just as uncharacteristic as the recent warm weather, Robotnik had been unusually quiet.
                          
Patrick's lavish property proved to be more than accommodating for the Chaotix as well as the three original tenants, and what was more – in spite of a close encounter with Patrick's parents, and a narrowly avoided disaster – they were fortunate to receive news that Mr. and Mrs. Miller were going on a cruise and would not be seen for the next few weeks. Their request that Patrick stop by on the weekends to 'keep an eye on the place,' was swiftly agreed to (though he never bothered to mention he'd already been coming home every weekend for the past few weeks), and with that, the entire property was theirs to command.
                          
Even during the week while Alex and Patrick were away at school, Sonic and the others were never without entertainment. For one thing, the Chaotix were, in and of themselves, entertaining. Even if it wasn't always a situation of 'the more the merrier,' it was certainly 'the more, the more interesting.' Plus, Liam had taken it upon himself to visit as often as possible, bringing them all the treasures of a 12-year-old boy living in a highly technological society for them to feast their interest on. He was even generous enough to give Patrick pointers on how to impress and successfully court his cousin, though most of these needed be taken with a grain of salt, particularly the ones Knuckles was apt to agree with.
                          
Lazy days were spent by the Miller's pool or playing badminton on the lawn, or soccer or Wiffle ball when Alex was able to motivate the more antisocial and less athletic of them into playing. For a while, everything seemed so perfect that even Patrick found himself looking forward to the weekends, not just to see Alex, but to see his silly alien friends with whom there was never a dull moment.
                          
It was late one Friday afternoon nearing October and they were still experiencing unseasonably warm weather. Vector was lazing on a raft in the middle of the pool, listening to his tunes on his rather sizeable headphones while Patrick was regaling Knuckles with the more technical rules of Dungeons and Dragons.
                          
"So, let me get this straight," said Knuckles. "The one with 20 sides determines whether you actually hit the enemy... and that's because you have to beat the number associated with their armor?"
                          
"Yeah! That's right," said Patrick. "That's your 'to-hit' die going against their armor class."
                          
Knuckles nodded. "I see. And if it lands on 20, you can do extra damage?"
                          
"Depending on the situation, yeah. That's a critical hit."
                          
"And if you roll a 1..."
                          
Patrick winced. "That's a critical failure. The worst thing you can possibly do."
                          
Knuckles was in deep thought for a moment. "But who is this critic that decides all this?"
                          
Patrick laughed. "Whaaat?"
                          
Knuckles raised a hand and squinted against the sun as he looked up the driveway at the front of the house. "A vehicle just pulled in."
                          
Patrick followed his gaze. "Is it Alex?"
                          
But it wasn't the mini-van with which they'd become recently familiar. Instead, it was an Uber. And it wasn't Alex who stepped out, but Liam with a backpack and bedroll on his back. As the car pulled away, he ran to the pool, hailing his friends.