Work Text:
The Walls Came Down
As solo rescues go, this one wasn’t particularly tricky; Alan had a much tougher job. So while Alan was trying to catch a rather large rogue satellite before it crashed into the space shipping lanes, Virgil was about to lift a half cat full of geology students from a ravine in Greenland. It wasn’t their driver’s fault, there was no way for him to know, with a light covering of April snow, that the side of the ravine was about to give way and take them down to the bottom, still sitting on top of the chunk of grass they had parked on. Local rescuers could have got them out, but not fast enough. The collapsed ravine wall formed a very effective dam and water was now rising behind it. When it reached the top and overflowed it would either wash the vehicle away or drown it. Worse, the ravine was so narrow the doors were wedged shut, there was no room to climb out of the windows except at the back, where the tail gate hung over the ravine, or by pushing out the windscreen, which was facing the rising waters.
What Thunderbird Two could do was lift the whole vehicle, occupants and all, in one go. Using the magnet, he clamped on, it took a few tugs, but Virgil had faith in his bird and she didn’t disappoint, at the fourth attempt it came free. The seat belts and airbags had done their job and no one had more than a few bruises. Now it was time to go home.
“Err Virg?” Scott came over the comms.
Virgil didn’t like the sound of his brother’s voice.
“What?” he asked with due trepidation.
“You know that cyclone, Maggi?”
“The one that was going to pass us to the south, that one?” Virgil clarified.
“Yeah, that one, it changed direction, it’s headed straight for us, it’s a category 6.”
Grandma told them she could remember when the scale for such storms only went up to 5, now it went up to 7, although 7 was theoretical, no 7 storm had ever been recorded and there had only ever been a handful of category 6. “It’s already pretty bad here.”
“I can handle a bit of wind and rain,” Virgil told him, not liking where this conversation was going.
“Yeah, I know, but this is really bad and the water is rising. Brains says by the time you get here, there could be as much as half a meter on the runway, and before you say it, I know you can get her down safely in that, we don’t know what all that water it will do to the runway systems and if we open the hangar…”
Virgil took all this in. “All the water goes into the hangar, I get it. What about Mateo?”
Mateo Island housed their overflow hangar and served as a backup base. Situated close to the main island it to was now in the path of the storm, but the landing approach was much higher above sea level .
“Brains says no, the potential for wind shear will be too high with such a tight approach. It’s the same for Alan, worse, it’ll be longer before it’s safe to attempt a vertical landing, he’s gonna hang out with John for now.”
“Great, what am I meant to do, circle the parking lot?” Virgil griped.
“Well you could but if you’d rather put down I have a plan,” Scott assured him.
“I already hate it,” Virgil muttered to himself.
“What was that?” Scott asked.
“Nothing. So let’s hear the plan.”
<><><><><>
Kalama Atoll air strip sat in the middle of the Pacific, almost 900 miles west of Hawaii. Built during the Second World War by the Americans, it was abandoned in the 21st century, then leased to Lee Industries as an emergency landing strip for their early lunar transports. Although Lee Industries still owned the lease, it had once more been abandoned to Mother Nature. The landing strip was still intact, but the sea was rapidly claiming back the land. More importantly it was not on the track of any current storm.
Virgil landed on the runway, reported that he was down safely, did his post flight checks and then shut down the main engines; there was more than enough solar power to run the onboard systems while he waited to take off again. He was moving to the rear cabin to get himself something to eat and drink when, when out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement outside.
“What the hell?”
He moved to the window and peered out. There it was again, something running along the edge of the shore line. Something smaller than a man and four legged. That should not be, the only animals on this atoll were birds and sea life. He had circled the atoll before landing, to make sure he was alone. The Americans had built the airstrip on top of a small island within the shallow lagoon. To get supplies in and out, they had dug a deep water channel through the coral to a dock. The dock was now under water but the deep water channel was still there, the only safe anchorage for hundreds of miles. There was no boat in sight, no aircraft on land. So where did this animal come from?
He decided to find out. Ditching his heavy safety harness and spotlight, since it was almost noon and stupidly hot, he figured he didn’t need the extra weight. He did bring his utility belt and wrist band. Once he was on the ground and had retracted the lift, he used his multi viewer to scan the area where he’d seen movement. He couldn’t see the animal, so switched to thermal, which was a mistake; everything was so hot he was almost blinded. Still, the island strip was so flat, with only a few buildings at one end, there weren’t many places for anything to hide. Whatever it was had been heading in the general direction of the building, so that were where he headed.
‘I should have landed closer’, he thought before saying out loud, “whatever you are, you need water, were would you find fresh water here?”
It would have to be rainwater; someplace rainwater could collect and not drain away. He approached the small collection of buildings. There it was. In the base of a small building, the concrete was cracked and dented and in the middle was a puddle, but no animal. The next building seemed to be intact; it was squat, flat roofed, made of concrete and looked like it had been a store room or maybe an armoury. The open door was heavy and seemed to be younger than the building, it still had a thick coat of what he supposed was anti-corrosion paint, not in military grey or green but dull red.
Now wishing he did have his big light, he peered in. From the doorway, with the sunlight spilling in behind him, he scanned the interior. He could make out that the walls were covered in some kind of insulation, at the far end there were three bays, separated by what looked like plain concrete walls, rebar stuck out of them at all angles, there were lumps of crumbling concrete on the floor below them. At the back of the first bay the sunlight reached just far enough to reflected back to him from two eyes. Instinctively he knew whatever was back there; it was no threat to him. He stepped over the raised door sill and into the building, keeping the animal in sight. He had only gone a couple of steps into the room, before he realised it was a dog.
“Oh no, how did you get here?” he asked softly.
There were logically only two ways a dog ended up on this barren abandoned place. Either it had fallen off a passing boat and swam ashore – in which case who doesn’t notice their dog has fallen of the boat and come back to pick it up or it was deliberately abandoned, which was even worse.
“Some people don’t deserve dogs,” he said softly edging closer. “Hay there, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Virgil edged closer; the dog whimpered but also wagged its tale. It wanted to be friends, it wanted to be someplace safe, but it was clearly scared. He edged closer, holding his hand out, moving slowly, all the time speaking softly. Suddenly the dog’s tale stopped wagging, its ear’s pricked up, it whimpered and made a dash for the door, even before it passed him there was a loud noise, as if someone below them had dropped something very heavy. Virgil spun around to see the dog running for the door, only for the door to swing shut and plunge them both into darkness, it took less than a second for him to register the continuing rumbling and that the floor was shaking. He was turning toward the door, but it was too late.
<><><><><>
Tracy Island had been built to withstand the worst weather the Pacific could throw at it and more. Theoretically, it could withstand a category 7 cyclone, F6 tornado, XII Tsunami or a magnitude 8 earthquake. If the volcano ever came back to life they were probably all toast, but Brains assured them there was no chance of that. Withstand did not mean there would be no damage.
Even with the degree of automation available them Scott, Gordon and Brains were run off their feet keeping things dry and secure, some of the storm shutters on the round house failed, resulting in the loss of several windows. Communications were patchy at best, even when they were working, the noise of the storm more or less drowned out everything. Despite keeping all the doors closed and sealing off the exhaust system, water still seeped into Thunderbird Two’s hangar, they were forced to move some equipment and monitor the emergency pumps. It was probably water in the hangar that tripped out the power not once but twice. Almost two hours after Virgil had reported that he was safely down, the storm had died down enough that the three of them could stop, take a breather, have some breakfast and call up the rest of the family for a check in.
John and Alan were fine or fine so long as John didn’t resort to fratricide.
“He’s bored, which means he’s annoying,” he explained.
“Where is he now?” Scott asked.
“Practising his ball skills, there’s not much else he can do, I locked him in.”
The tail of the storm had hit Sydney. Kako told them not to worry.
“It’s not much more than a bad storm, lots of rain and wind, some localised flash floods. We plan to stay in the hotel, order room service. Grandma had found some classic movies she insists I have to watch, something called Star Wars.” She made a face.
“Oh those are great!” Gordon enthused, “You’ll love them.”
“Really?” Kako made it clear she thought he was being sarcastic.
“Oh no, he’s right, they really are good,” John chimed it. “Have fun.”
“If you say so. How is it there?”
“You mean you can’t hear it?” Gordon asked her. “Not to mention that the whole house is shaking!”
“He’s being over dramatic, we’re good,” Scott assured her.
Just then a large piece of debris – probably a palm tree - hit the storm shutters.
“What was that?” Kako asked, clearly alarmed.
“Oh don’t worry, the shutters can take it. They have a tensile strength…” Brains was clearly about to give a long, incomprehensible explanation as to why the shutters were so strong when they heard Grandma’s voice behind her.
“Kako, come on I have popcorn!” she called. “Oh and say hi to the boys for me.”
Once Kako had gone, they called Virgil. No response. They called again. Nothing.
“Let me check,” Gordon offered.
With a sure, deft touch he was quickly able to connect to Thunderbird Two and run a system check.
“My read out says Two’s main engines powered down, she’s running on auxillary power, all communication systems are on line,” he reported. “I have nothing on Virgil, no readings at all.”
Scott confirmed that powering down the engines was normal when ‘parked’ for an extended period of time. There were a number of reasons Virgil might not be responding. That John could get no life signs from his uniform was slightly more concerning. Half an hour later they called him again. There was no response. When they couldn’t contact him after an hour Scott prepared to go and find out what was going on. It took another half hour for the wind speed outside to drop sufficiently for him to take off, even then it was just on the limit for a safe take off.
It was a by far his worst, he only missed clipping the pool side by a millimetre or two at most. There was no way he could land back that way unless the wind dropped considerably. Flying up through the storm was also rough but thankfully brief. Once he was above it – and from above it looked incongruously beautiful and benign – it was a smooth, quick flight to the atoll.
As he arrived he could see Thunderbird Two on the runway, but he still couldn’t raise his brother. With no visible or detectable threat, he landed, and taking all due precautions, headed out to search.
<><><><><>
Without the presence of a rogue animal as a clue, it took Scott a little longer to reach the bunker-like building. His scanner couldn’t penetrate its walls, so, more in hope than expectation, he tried the door. The latch moved and he was able to pull it open. Like his brother before him, he scanned the dim interior from the doorway; he saw the dog, cowering at the back behind a pile of rubble.
“Okay, so there’s a dog, Virgil must be close by, because…” he pointed to the dog, “no way he’d leave you here.”
He turned on his wrist holo projector to give him some light and proceeded inside. That’s when he caught site of some blue. Without thinking he ran toward it.
Virgil was on his back, pinned almost to the chin, under the remains of a concrete wall, his eyes were closed and he didn’t respond when Scott called his name. A quick assessment confirmed he was breathing.
“W’a?” Suddenly Virgil’s eyes opened. “Scott?”
“The one and only. Don’t worry we’ll get you out in no time.” Scott then lifted his wrist to call in, but as he did there was a low rumble, the floor began to shake and debris began to fall from the roof.
Instinctively Scott leant over his trapped brother to protect him. Even as he did this there was a loud bang and they were plunged into darkness as the door swung shut.
“That happened to me too,” Virgil commented.
Scott stood up. “How many aftershocks have there been?” he asked as he walked to the door.
“That was the first. I think, I may have drifted off.”
Scott had reached the door and as he scanned it with the light from his wrist. “Oh crap,” he muttered.
“What?” Virgil asked.
Scott momentarily cursed that he had spoken loud enough to be heard.
“There’s no handle on this side,” he explained, he then pushed on the door, already knowing it wouldn’t open. It didn’t.
Worse was to come, he wasn’t able to contact any one. The building was heavily insulated; further examination showed it was lined with thick ceramic thermal insulation tiles. Scott thought or at least suspected it had been used by Luna Mining as a fuel store and needed to be insulated from the tropical sun. It was possible that the Americans has also used it for this, which meant that behind the ceramic tiles there might well be a layer of lead. No wonder he was getting no signal.
There was now nothing to do but wait. It was horrible, his brother was trapped, probably hurt, all the equipment he needed to get him out was just meters way in Thunderbird Two and he couldn’t get to it and he couldn’t call for help.
With nothing else to do. He sat down next to his bother.
“Sorry,” Virgil said softly.
“For what?” Scott asked. “It’s not like you chose this.”
“No, sorry for leaving you here,” Virgil clarified.
Scott was puzzled. He slid down the wall so he could look his bother in the face. The glow from his wrist light, gave Virgil an odd greenish colour, but even with that he looked pale.
“What are you talking about? You’re not leaving, if only.” He looked over his shoulder at the mass of rusty rebar and concrete pinning his bother down.
“I’m not getting out of here, you know,” Virgil told him matter-of-factly.
“Of course you are. As soon as they can’t raise me, help will be on its way, it’s just a matter of time,” Scott assured.
“In what?” Virgil countered logically. “Thunderbird 1 and 2 are here. Alan is stuck with John until the storm passes, even if he wasn’t Thunderbird 3 is not equipped for terrestrial rescue. That leaves dad’s old jet or a tug.”
‘Tug’ was the boys nickname for the family transport planes, the ones they used to travel to and from the island for non-rescue reasons. The fastest was their father’s old single seater jet, it looked benign, but was fully armed and theoretically capable of supersonic flight, no one had pushed it that fast since before Jeff disappeared. In that Gordon could get to them in less than half an hour, depending on the head winds and assuming it could still make Mach four.
Scott thought about it, he knew Virgil was right, it could still be an unpleasantly long wait, but help would come.
Virgil continued. “I’m bleeding, I can feel it, you’re sweating and I’m cold.”
Scott swore under his breath. One of the qualities that made Virgil so good in his role was his ability to keep calm and think logically no matter what was going on around him. Now he wished he’d be a little less logical. It was stiflingly hot in the bunker and yet as he gently lay the back of his hand on his brother’s cheek, it was cold and clammy to the touch. Shock, Virgil was going into shock. He looked at his watch, it had been almost an hour since he called in, Gordon would be on his way by now.
“Do you know where from?” he asked, trying once more to look under the debris.
“My leg, I think, it’s hard to tell.”
Unable to see anything, Scott looked back up. “How much pain are you in?” He’d asked this before and his brother had just said, ‘I’m okay’. “Tell me the truth.”
Virgil closed his eyes. “It hurts,” he admitted. Coming from him, this was a huge admonition and meant he was in a lot of pain. “and all for a damn dog,” he added.
The dog was lying against the wall on the far side of Scott.
“Right dog?” he asked. The dog wagged its tail and crept another few inches toward them. “Not her fault, don’t leave her here,” Virgil told his brother firmly.
“You and the dog will be going home, just as soon as…”
“Just let me finish.”
Scott wasn’t prepared to contemplate losing his brother and didn’t honestly believe it was going to happen, but he could see that despite his predicament and the pain, Virgil needed to do this and as ever, once is mind was made up and he was set on a course of action, noting was going to stop him.
“Okay,” he capitulated. “I’m listening.”
“Good, because before I can tell you what I need to, I have to get you sorted.” Virgil stopped and turned those brown eyes, which had always been the eyes of someone much older and wiser, on to Scott.
“Me?” Scott spluttered genuinely surprised. “What do you mean sorted?”
“Yes, you big brother, we need to talk about Mom.”
Scott didn’t respond he just stared. Lucille ‘Lucy’ Tracy was never talked about.
Born Lucille Armstrong, she and Jeff met while both pilots in the air force. As romance blossomed she was still ignorant she was dating a member of the richest family in the world. To make it possible for Jeff to have some degree of freedom and privacy, he had joined the air force not under his given name Jeffery Lee but as Jeff Tracy – he chose the name because he was a fan of classic movies and Spencer Tracy in particular. Jeff only told her the truth after he proposed; giving her the option to say no, if she didn’t want to take on the baggage his family would bring to their life together. She took 24 hours to think about it, then came back to him and gave him two conditions to her acceptance. Firstly they would continue to live anonymously as the Tracys, to which he agreed, going on to change his name legally. Secondly, that they had a large family and Jeff was fully involved. Lucy was the only child of corporate lawyer and research scientist. Her parents were both so committed to their careers that they hardly any time for Lucy, who was raised by servants and boarding schools. Jeff happily agreed.
Jeff himself was a the product of a very happy family, second child of Grant Lee, heir to the Lee banking fortune and owner and founder of the Luna Mining Company, sole holders of all mineral rights on the moon and Kitty Howe, heir, despite being estranged from her Australian father, to the Cooper Hills Mine Company millions. He and his older sister Celia always had their mother at home when they were young and Grant, no matter how busy, always made it a priority to be home as much as possible.
Jeff and Lucy had three sons in quick succession and then decided to stop, only for Lucy to long for a daughter, two more sons followed. Lucy was two months pregnant with their sixth child when she boarded the family jet, along with her father in law, Grant, her sister in law Celia, newly appointed CEO of the bank, her mother Kitty and second son Virgil. It was August the 18th, Virgil had just turned 10 and they were flying from their home in Florida to New Orleans. Each boy received a treat trip or experience of his choosing, on his birthday, that he did not have to share with his brothers. While she had made her career in the air force, Lucy had found solace in her lonely childhood in music. Virgil was the only one of the older boys who took to music, showing considerable talent and an early love of jazz. Celia and Grant were due to fly on from New Orleans to Austin and then San Francisco for various meetings before flying back and collecting the others four days later.
The plane was mid way across the Gulf of Mexico, with Lucy at the controls and Celia as co-pilot (like her brother, Celia loved to fly) when below them an experimental, automated mining platform exploded, sending shrapnel high into the sky and right into the Lee family jet. Lucy send a Mayday message, she gave their position, direction, height and speed. She didn’t know what had hit them, but said that the co-pilot, Celia, was dead and there was serious damage to the cockpit. That was the only message from the plane. It took rescuers more than two hours to locate the wreckage following the signal from its emergency beacon. When they did locate it, they found young Virgil clinging, to less than a foot of tail fin protruding above the water. The plane finally sank just minutes after he was lifted off. When it was later located on the ocean floor, the remains of Celia and Grant Lee were found still strapped to their seats, both very badly injured, they had been dead before they entered the water. Kitty was also found in the plane, but she was not strapped in, instead her body was caught up on the seats, she had lost a leg, but had died from drowning. Lucy’s body was never found. The plane had massive damage to the right side and under side. Air in the sealed rear avionics area had kept it afloat just long enough for rescue to reach Virgil. He had a badly broken and lacerated leg, concussion, exposure and was suffering from the effects of swallowing sea water, developing secondary drowning before he reached the hospital. He had no memory of crash or the rescue.
In one stroke Jeff lost his father, his sister and his wife, he was devastated, so much so that he fell into a deep depression. Once Virgil was out of hospital and the funerals and Lucy’s memorial service were over, he got on a plane and left for almost six months, during which time he was not heard from. The boys were looked after by their grandmother, herself grieving. The boy’s great grandfather Wing Mai was still alive, living in Shanghai and now in his nineties, he came out of retirement to take control of both the bank and the mining company.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Virgil pleaded as Scott continued so stare down at him with a mixture of disbelief and distress.
Before Scott could respond there was a deep rumble, instinctively he once more threw himself over the defenceless Virgil, shielding him from falling dust and debris as another after shock struck. He felt rather than heard Virgil’s pain as the debris pinning him down shifted. The dog whimpered.
As he lay there, with Scott’s lithe but not inconsiderable bulk just centimetres from his face, Virgil could see the dog, it had crept a little closer to Scott. ‘That’s right dog, stay close to my big brother, he’ll keep you safe, it’s what he does.’ Then, more abstractly he thought. ‘Hope he calls you just Dog, dogs don’t need a fancy name.’
Scott uncurled himself once he was sure it was over and nothing had fallen on him for some time.
“Thanks,” Virgil offered with a smile.
Scott shrugged, to say, ‘happy to do it’. He sat down with his back to the wall and looked over at the dog, reaching out his hand; the dog stretched her head forward, sniffing the back of his hand.
“What shall we call her?” he asked.
‘Damn he can read my mind!’ Virgil thought. “Don’t try to change the subject,” he said out loud and then continued. “After the crash it was just us four, don’t say five, Alan was too young and in any case he had Grandma. The rest of us just had each other, I mean I know Grandma was there and Mrs Hernandez was cooking and cleaning and stuff, but she doesn’t count; she came every day, she did what she had to and she left. We had lost our mother; we needed someone to help us, to deal with the grief and the nightmares and insomnia, all of it. There were no adults doing that; richest kids in the world and we were effectively left to fend for ourselves. Except, we had a big brother who wasn’t going to let that happen. He stood up and was counted. It was you who stayed up night after night reading to John. You were the one who played with Gordon for hours, wearing him out so he’d sleep, you who changed the sheets when he wet the bed. You used to come and check on me when I played the piano in the middle of the night, I pretended not to see you, but I knew you were there. You made sure Gordon kept up his reading, made sure I did my physio, made sure John ate. Who made sure Scott was okay? No one that’s who, Grandma had lost her daughter and her husband and her son was missing, she fixated, for a while at least, on Alan. Dad was gone. I used to be so mad at him for that, but now I understand, even if he had physically been there, he would still have been ‘gone’.
I saw it, what it was doing to you but I didn’t understand it then, I wish I could have, maybe I could have helped you. When I was older I had other stuff to deal with. Took me a long time to deal with that. I’m sorry, I should have done this before, but I put it off, now I’ve run out of time.”
He stopped and looked up at Scott, who was staring ahead at the darkened room and the fine shafts of light, striking in where the collapsing wall had brought down a few bits of the roof. There was a long silence and then Scott said quietly.
“I just wanted everything to be okay again, I wanted to make it right again, except…”
When it was clear Scott wasn’t going to say anything more Virgil continued. “Except it never was, never could be.”
“No, I knew that, always have known, but I didn’t want to believe it and I wanted…” Scott stopped, his voice cracking, there was just enough light for Virgil to see the tears. “I wanted to talk about her, but no one did, not even Gordon, it was like she was never there and I wanted her to be there, even if just in words.” He lent his head back against the wall, tears flowing, but saying nothing more.
More than anything Virgil wanted to give his bother a hug, but now, when he really needed it, he couldn’t. As if on cue the dog moved closer to Scott, placing her head on his lap. He looked down; she looked up, hope replacing fear in her eyes.
‘Yes,’ Virgil thought, ‘come on Dog, you can do what I can’t, give him the comfort he needs, give him permission to cry.’
Even as he was thinking this, the dog moved forward, now her front paws were on Scott’s lap, she stretched her neck up and, with a little whimper of sympathy licked away a tear that had reached his chin. Scott reached down without looking and began to stroke her, all the time the tears flowed.
Virgil had not finished, there was more he had to say, but for now he let Scott be, this was more emotion that he had ever see his bother display, he hoped it would provide the cathartic release he had for so long been convinced he needed.
<><><><><>
When Scott also stopped communicating, John had been able to link up to the on board computer on Thunderbird One, as with Thunderbird Two he could find nothing wrong with her systems, including communications. Gordon went into action. With what equipment he could carry took he took off as soon as possible, the jet was capable of vertical take-off and landing, so even if there was no runway left, he should be able to land. He just hoped none of this was necessary, they’d just get there and find his brothers sitting in the sun waiting to be picked up. For the life of him he couldn’t think of anything that would put both Thunderbirds out of action but he was ever the optimist.
<><><><><>
Scott took a deep breath, making his whole body shudder, he back handed the last tears away, gave the dog one last stroke. It was as if a great weight had been on him and was now gone, how had he not felt that weight before he didn’t know, but it had been there for now he knew it was gone and he was so much lighter.
He looked down at Virgil to thank him; his brother was still, his eyes closed.
“Virgil!” he shouted, leaning down and shaking his shoulder.
There was no response. He held his fingers to his brother’s neck, relieved to find a pulse, worried about how fast it was. He tapped him on the cheek.
“Come on, wake up, wake up!” he shouted.
Virgil’s eyes opened slowly, he was clearly having difficulty focusing but he looked up at Scott and finally asked. “Better?”
“Better,” Scott confirmed.
Virgil’s eyes began to close again.
“Oh no you don’t!” Scott commanded. “What was that other thing you had to tell me?”
“’m tired,” Virgil complained groggily.
“Don’t care, tell me now,” Scott ordered.
Virgil opened his eye warily. “Okay. If you’re sure. It’s about Mom.”
“Figured that, go on.”
“I remember,” Virgil began. “The crash, all of it.”
Scott was confused. “No, you had concussion, didn’t remember any of it.”
“I didn’t remember then, but I don’t think it was to do with the concussion because it came back. As I got older, thirteen I think, it began. Just bits and pieces, it was hard to put it all together but by sixteen I had it all straight. But by then we knew International Rescue was going to happen, it was the wrong time to tell anyone, I didn’t know how people would take it.”
Scott could well understand that.
“I began to lose it, by the time I got to Cambridge I was a mess, survivor guilt mostly, I even thought about killing myself.”
Scott was surprised to hear this, thinking back he couldn’t remember Virgil being anything other than cool, calm, dependable Virgil.
“Lucky for me, my tutor realised early on that I was struggling and got me some help,” Virgil continued, as if help for what sounded to Scott, like a full on mental breakdown was no more than a trip to the dentist.
Virgil looked up at his brother, then took a deep breath, which made him wince. “Do you want to hear the rest?” he asked.
Scott was momentarily confused and then realised that ‘the rest’ was the crash. In all honesty he didn’t but he thought he should. He wasn’t ready let Virgil go, but had to admit there was a chance help wouldn’t get to them in time to save his brother. If that happened the truth about what really happen would die with him, so he nodded.
Virgil told him how there was a sudden bang, how the plane jacked and began to roll. How there was suddenly a hole in the side of the plane. The oxygen masks dropped and he pulled his on, just as he’d been taught. His grandfather had been sitting beside him on the other side of the isle, he could see he was hurt or dead, he was slumped down, his head covered in blood. Behind him, his grandmother was screaming. The plane levelled out, then dropped, his mother was shouting at him. ‘Forget the mask, get your life jackets! Get your life jacket on!” Virgil could see his grandfather was still not moving, he somehow knew he was dead, behind him his grandmother was now moaning, he wanted to help her but he was scared to even look, the cabin was covered in blood. His mother had shouted again about life jackets. Now running on auto pilot, he reached under his seat and pulled it out. It was more difficult to put on than he remembered from the last time he practised, his hands were all bloody which made everything slippery. The next thing he remembered was his mother, who had no life jacket, undoing his seat belt and pulling him to the open door, there was water everywhere. She pushed him out, following close behind. Once they were out, she pulled him to the end of the plane.
“Hold on darling, she said,” he told Scott. “hold on and don’t let go, the plane won’t sink completely.”
She had then turned to go back into the plane. Virgil had begged her not to leave him, but she insisted she had to go back for her mother. He never saw her again.
<><><><><>
Gordon dropped down as he approached the island and did a reconnaissance pass. There was very little land and both Thunderbirds were on the runway. He landed vertically in front of Thunderbird One. Taking what equipment he had, he started towards the Thunderbirds.
It didn’t take long to conform they were both empty, he then began to search the buildings, what was left of them. He found no one. Puzzled and scared in equal measure he looked around, then back tracked each building. One took his eye, the door was intact, closed and looked suspiciously heavy.
He lifted the latch, it moved and he was able to pull the door open. Inside it was, unsurprising, dark. He was just about to turn his flash light on when a familiar voice shouted to him.
“Don’t move!”
“Scott, it’s me,” Gordon answered, taking a step forward.
“Freeze!” Scott shouted desperately. “the door, don’t let the door close.” Gordon froze, then took a step back and grabbed the door. “It’ll swing shut if there’s another after shock, there’s no catch on this side,” Scott finished explaining.
“Got it,” Gordon acknowledged.
Keeping the door open with his foot and looking about, he was just able to reach a rock to wedge the door open. With that done he turned on his flashlight and ran toward his brother. Horrified by what he found, Virgil pinned under crumbling rubble. Scott was kneeling beside his brother, keeping his chin tilted back. Beside them both was a rather skinny dog. Scott quickly explained what he knew of what had happened.
“He only passed out a few minutes ago, pulse racing, cold and clammy, he told me his leg was bleeding, but it must be a slow bleed, because we’ve been here hours.”
Gordon was already opening his medical bag and pulling out equipment, very glad they all had to keep up to date with their first aid training. In no time he’d set up a drip, which he hoped would give them enough time to get Virgil out. They then fitted him with a neck brace to keep his head tilted back and maintain his air way. Once he’d handed Scott a canteen of water, he pulled out an endoscope camera. Threading it under the rubble beside Virgil. It produced a 3D image on his wrist band. The good news was none of the heavy concrete was actually resting on Virgil, it was being held up by the rebar. The bad news, one of those rebars had gone right through his thigh.
“It must have missed the femoral artery, or he’d have bled out hours ago,” Scott commented, slipping back into International Rescue mode.
“Agreed, and the bar is now plugging the wound, slowing the bleeding,” Gordon concluded.
Scott remained with his brother, using the camera to further explore the debris and make a determination as the safest way to approach cutting Virgil free. Gordon went to Thunderbird Two to retrieve lifting and cutting equipment they needed.
“What’s with the dog?” Gordon asked as he returned.
Scott explained that Virgil would never forgive them if they left the dog behind. He didn’t mention that he would be heartbroken to lose her now.
It took them less than half an hour to cut Virgil free and load him onto Thunderbird One, still with a length of steel sticking out of his leg. Scott then flew directly to Honolulu, landing on the hospital helipad in less than ten minutes. He desperately wanted to stay with his brother, but he couldn’t leave Thunderbird One sitting on top of the hospital so he flew back to Gordon. Changed his clothes and took the jet. Gordon was left to load all the equipment onto Thunderbird Two, along with the dog. He wished he was going back to the hospital with Scott, but that wasn’t going to be possible. They were still International Rescue and someone might need them. Once he was home, he handed over the dog to a startled Brains and went about making sure Two was ready if called out. Right now he was International Rescue and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be ready to answer the call. Besides keeping busy was better than just sitting and waiting.
<><><><><>
Cyclone Maggi had passed on, the winds were still strong, but within acceptable limits, the water was almost gone. Alan came back; bringing John with him, now was a time for family to be together. A few hours later Kako and Grandma also returned.
“What’s with the dog?” Alan asked.
“Not sure,” Gordon told him. “but I get the feeling she’s important.”
They kept busy tiding up. International Rescue was called out almost instantly, a drilling platform had become unstable, half of the anchor cables had detached under the force of the wind, if it rolled over it would be an environmental disaster. Alan flew Gordon and Thunderbird Four out to it. There Gordon was able to make temporary repairs to keep the rig safe until new anchor cables could be put in place. While technically it was one of the simplest rescues he’d ever done, he confessed later it was the most difficult to do, because he found it so hard to concentrate. He and Alan were on the way back when the message came through from Scott.
“He’s gonna be okay guys, he’s stable, he breathing unaided, still weak of course. They’ll operate on his leg in a couple of days, once he’s stronger.”
“When can he come home?” Alan asked immediately.
“If the leg surgery goes well, it could be a little as a week.”
Everyone wanted to know when they could visit but Scott had to remind them it was a long way and they had to be ready to fly if someone needed help.
“He’s right,” John pointed out. “You know Virgil, he’d hate if we weren’t ready to do our best because of him.
“I’m gonna stay until after the surgery then I’ll be back,” Scott promised.
“We’ll fly Grandma out to you as soon as possible, she can stay as long as Virgil needs her,” John told him.
<><><><><><>
Three days later Scott walked into Virgil’s room, relieved to see him sitting up in bed, looking almost his normal self.
“How’s it going?” he asked, looking down at the injured leg under the light covers.
There wasn’t much to see, the broken bones had been fixed and plated internally, the open wounds closed.
“Okay, I get the good drugs.” He lifted his left arm with its IV tube.
Scott smiled. “Lucky you.”
“Oh it gets better, I have the cutest nurse, very easy on the eye,” Virgil told him gleefully.
From this Scott knew the ‘good drugs’ were doing their job, you didn’t often get to see this side of Virgil.
“Name of?” he asked.
“Alex, Hawaiian, lovely eyes,” Virgil told him with a grin.
Scott smiled at that as he perched on the end of the bed.
“I’m sure he’ll make the days less boring. So…”
Virgil’s demeanour changed in response to that one word. “So,” he countered.
“What happened, what we talked about…” Scott began.
“I was hurt, not talking straight, you don’t…” Virgil began to say.
“Stop, don’t do that. I wanted to thank you again, it was needed. I feel better and I didn’t even know I wasn’t feeling okay, which is kinda weird, in a good way.”
Virgil relaxed again letting the pillow take the weight of his head; he still seemed to be tired all the time.
“Doesn’t sound weird to me.” He yawned.
“Damn, I should go, I’m flying home today, just wanted to say, thanks.” Scott made to go.
“No wait.” Virgil forced himself to sit up again. “The other thing, about the crash, do you think I should tell the others?” he asked.
Scott had thought about this a lot in the last few days. “No,” he said. “No I don’t think it would help.”
Virgil nodded. “That’s what I thought, there isn’t much more I can tell that wasn’t in the crash report and I think Grandma is sort of comforted by the idea that I don’t remember it.”
Scott nodded his understanding. “So,” he began again. “This person you saw in England, what was their name?”
“Namita, Namita Shama,” Virgil told him.
“Do you know if she is still practicing?”
“She is, I still chat to her from time to time, when I need to. Do you want me to give you her e-mail?”
“Yeah, that might be a good idea.”
“No problem big brother, happy to help.”
Now Scott stood to go.
“Of course, there is someone you could talk to, in the meantime,” Virgil pointed out.
“Who?”
“The dog, you can tell a dog anything, they don’t care, they never tell, but they do understand.”
Scott considered this. “You may be right.”
“I know I am, by the way, what have you called her?” Virgil asked.
“I haven’t seen her since we left that damn airstrip. I’ve been here with you, but last time I spoke to them, Gordon just called her Dog. She’s fine by the way, just hungry and thirsty. He did say we should call her Cookie, then at least she’d always come when we call.”
Virgil laughed then winced, his body was still very sore.
“Okay, that’s it, I have to leave you to get some more sleep, I’ll see you at home,” Scott promised as he prepared to go. “Just, if it’s okay with you, we don’t have to tell Grandma about any of, you know…”
“I know and no, we don’t have to tell Grandma,” Virgil agreed.
“Don’t have to tell Grandma what?” she asked coming back into the room.
Scott grinned mischievously. “Oh nothing, other than Virgil has the hots for his nurse.” He winked at his now fuming brother.
“Oh the cute one, Alex is it?” Grandma asked.
“That’s the one,” Scott confirmed as the door closed behind him.
The End