History Created and Crushed
Based on
and
both created by Gerry Anderson MBE
and
(c)Carlton International Media
PART
TWO
2029
Prologue
Los
Angeles, California.
A sprawling
mass of buildings and people caught between an ocean and a desert. A sprawling
mass, that had no idea of what was to come this day.
The
newsstand was on a side street, just a few yards from the main road, the
super-highway that linked LA with San Francisco and Oakland. This massive
six-lane-either-way structure was busy, yet the noise hardly seemed to get
through to this side street. The newsstand was almost in silence.
Its
owner was sitting, minding his own business, enjoying the quiet and solitude.
It was after all only 6.30am.
The
solitude was suddenly shattered as a man slammed down a dollar note on the
desk.
"Do
you zell Vestfalya Tribune?"
"Yes,"
the owner said, shaken from his solitude. He leaned over to a small box at the bottom
of the stand and picked up a copy. Like so many newspaper vendors in the States,
in addition to their own papers, they also made a point of providing copies, no
more than two days old, of the main European papers, of which the Tribune was
one of them.
"70
cents," the man said.
"Keep
ze change," came the reply. The man promptly turned and walked away. Not
ten yards from the newsstand, he stopped and looked at the top of the paper.
"Ze
day hass come," as he glanced down and smiled. The date read:
THURSDAY AUGUST 9TH
2029
Herbert Vimmer
smiled. "Yes, ze day hass indeed come!".
1.The Time
The
Shuttletram was packed with Thursday commuters heading into the main business
centre of the city. People from Santa Barbara, and nearby Pasadena were crammed
into the huge double decked rail car. Vimmer sat at the rear, sure in the
knowledge that if the quake struck the car would be the best possible
protection for him.
He
glanced at his watch; it was 7.35am, two minutes to go.
Up
ahead the trams from other outlying districts could be seen coming together as
their track systems converged. Vimmer surmised that there would be a fair
amount of panic once the first tremors could be felt. It would give him ample
chance to get away from the area and make for the hills, his intention once the
quake started.
He
glanced at his watch again; it was 7.36am, one minute to go.
The
tram came to a halt, a number of people got off. It took a moment or two,
despite the fact there were four entrance doors. No one got on.
He
glanced at his watch a third time, it was 7.37.
Suddenly,
he felt the whole ground shake, all those around him looked at each other, and
began to make for the exits. The tram came to a sudden and violent halt and
began to tilt on its side, the ground underneath was crumbling. Vimmer glanced
down from his seat to what he saw. Coming toward him at speed was the biggest
crevasse in the ground he could have ever imagined. All around him there were
people screaming and yelling. Confusion and panic reigned, and Vimmer realised
he had to get out quickly or the tram would disappear down this crevasse and
take him with it.
There
was a problem.
The
doors had jammed, and the people were struggling to get out; two, three, four
men tried to prise them apart. Finally they came open and the people spilled
out. At this point Vimmer made for the same door, but would not get there.
Just
as he got up from his seat, he felt the car tilt back. He was thrown up against
the rear seat that he'd been sitting on. Slightly dazed he glanced over his
left shoulder and out of the window saw the crevasse now wide open. The people
who had got off the tram saw that he, together with some four other people in
the upstairs section, were still onboard, but they were unable to do anything,
save look on in utter helplessness. The ground they were on was crumbling all
around them, and they simply had to get away. Back in the car, the fissure that
had opened up underneath it was now wide enough to swallow it, and the last
they saw of the man in the rear was of him trying desperately to clamber to the
exit they had all got out from.
Clambering in
vain.
In the
car, Vimmer saw the blackness envelop the whole tram.
It
was the last thing he would see.
The young
woman had just got off her Shuttletram, having come into the city area from
Bakersfield. She was in Glendale, some 30 miles to the north of Los Angeles,
and was on her way to visit her sister, Chrystal, who lived there. Having just
persuaded her husband to let her go to her sisters on her own, being eight
months pregnant and all that, it made prudent sense to just go straight to the
small house on the hill where her sister lived, and to call hubby from there to
let him know she was there and was OK. A straightforward plan, with no
drawbacks one might think.
This
would be a day when no ones plans would go as expected. For just as she got to
the start of the road where her sisters house stood, tremors in the ground
began to be felt. Panic consumed her and she ran for the small house at the top
of the road. As she did she caught a glimpse of Chrystal, running toward her.
All around them people were screaming in sheer panic, petrified at what was
going on.
She
got closer to her sister, but was stopped in her tracks. Never has she felt
pain like it. It was as though a knife has been plunged into her stomach. She
collapsed where she stood, unable to stand the agony no longer. Chrystal
reached her, and the distressed mother to be saw her sisters face look down on
her in horror.
Unconsciousness
overcame Kim Younger.
"I'm
tellin ya, there is no way we can get to that tram chief," the young fire
officer stood in the temporary site office that had been set up just away from
the city centre. All around there were police, ambulance crews, national guard,
and firemen. The damage had been light, the quake was not as severe as had been
first thought, yet there were still casualties, and the tram was the one
causing the most concern. The Fire Chief, tall, balding, and concerned, stood
in silence as the young lad stood and gave his report. He realised that there
was a problem, and a grave one at that. He was not one to dwell on the
situation, at once he realised he needed help from an outside organisation. The
tram could not be got to with the equipment at the cities disposal.
Standing
next to him was one of the National Guard officers. The Chief turned to face
him. "Can you get me access to a radio transmitter?" he demanded in
his thick Texan accent.
"There's
a small set in the jeep outside, will that do?" he asked.
"Yes,
let’s go."
2.The Call
"This
is Ned Cook in New York with an NTBS news special on the earthquake in Los
Angeles. Our regular Thursday schedule is suspended in order to bring you the
latest on this mornings dramatic events. The quake took place some 3 hours ago
at 7.37 PDT. As far as we know only 12 people have been killed. The improved
structure of so many city buildings means that most people were able to vacate
their offices and apartment blocks in relative safety. However we still do not
have an answer for certain as to the fate of four people who are trapped in a
double deck Shuttletram which fell into a fissure just as the quake was dying
down. So far, attempts to get the two men and two women out have not been
successful. Fire Chief John Clifford is not, at this time, saying if hope of
getting to the trapped people is lost but… "
Click.
"International
Rescue space station, this is Jeff Tracy."
"Go
ahead, father."
"Alan,
have you heard anything from the LA quake about a trapped shuttletram?"
Alan
Tracy, currently in charge of matters at International Rescue's space borne
listening post held out his hands in open gesture. "No, Dad. In fact radio
communication in the LA area is pretty quiet. Goodness knows why. I can only
guess that the civilian and military services there are already in position
with whatever gear they have for mounting a rescue attempt. S'pose they just
don't need to use radio."
Just
at that moment, another light bleeped on the monitor console that Alan was
looking at as he spoke.
"Hold
on, Dad, got something coming in now, listen in while I receive."
Alan
flicked a switch in front of him that enabled Jeff and the other lads in the
lounge at Tracy Island, the secret headquarters of International Rescue, to
listen as Alan took the call.
"Calling
International Rescue, Calling International Rescue, this Fire-Chief Clifford of
LA central fire department, we need your help, over."
Down
in the lounge, Scott and Gordon immediately stopped their game of chess and
looked up at Alan's face as he listened intently to the call from the quake
zone. Over at the piano, Virgil looked up from the manuscript he was working
on, and John and Tin-Tin came in from the balcony to take in the news. Jeff sat
at his desk, impassive as ever.
Back
up in space, Alan adjusted the volume so as to enable the family to hear what
was being said. There was a small amount of interference, possibly caused by
the weather, a severe storm had been forecast for south western California, and
it appeared that it was already in full flow. Alan acknowledged the call from
the chief and asked him to give more information.
"There
is a shuttletram trapped in a fissure, the entire vehicle is submerged upright
and is several feet down. It's a miracle that the fissure has not closed and
crushed the thing. The people in there are trapped, all in the rear of the car,
we think, and they are unable to get to the front to clamber out of the
connecting doors. Needless to say if they could do that we'd have a copter on
standby and ready to pick them up, but…"
Scott
looked over to Virgil. "Always, there's a ‘but’,” he uttered.
"In
addition to this, there is a traffic control tower that was right next to the fissure
when it opened. Just after the tram fell in, this tower toppled over and landed
right on top of it. Smashing the front. The tower is covering the top of the
fissure. I still wonder how the hell we got news of the people in there, but we
did. One of them began tapping in Morse code. It's a wonder we could hear a
thing, but again we did. Basically we can't get to them from the top because of
the tower. Because we are in a quake area, and as a contingency, we had these
towers built with reinforced steel. It would take days for us to cut through. Worse
still the thing weighs tons and we just don't have the gear to lift it. It's a
wonder it hasn't flattened the tramcar, but we think its due to the narrowness
of the fissure. The tower went far enough in to hit the front of the car, but
no further. We reckon that's all the damage there is."
Alan
responded, "OK. Stand by." He turned to face the screen and spoke to
his father, "Did you get all that?"
"Yes,
son. Tell the chief we're on our way, Scott can talk with him at length when
he's airborne." As he said this he looked at his oldest son and nodded in
the direction of the false wall with the twin light shades. Without uttering a
word, Scott walked over to them, stood with his back to the wall between them,
raised both arms and took hold of them both.
The
section of wall and floor he was on rotated through 180 degrees, an identical
wall with two light fitting turned into place. It was as though nothing had
happened.
Jeff
now turned to face Virgil and took a deep breath. "You'll need the Mole,
Firefly, and the Recovery Vehicles, not to mention your two brothers. If it
turns out you can't move the tower then your gonna have to drill your way in,
and chances are there could be a gas or electric main in the vicinity that
could go off at any time, hence the firefly's requirement. Take care, all three
of you, this is gonna be a tough one." He paused for a moment, then,
holding his hands aloft said, "What am I saying, since when is there ever
a job that isn't tough?" And as with Scott, Jeff nodded in the direction
of a tall portrait of a rocket on a pad. Virgil stood with his back to it. It
tilted up so Virgil's feet were higher than his head and the young man slid
head first down a chute on to a sled and as with Scott and the light shades,
the portrait fell back into place. Again as though nothing had happened.
Jeff
Tracy, retired astronaut, billionaire, widower, patriarch, founder, and
commander of the world famous International Rescue organisation then got up
from his desk and walked over to the balcony that overlooked the swimming pool.
He saw the pool retract and slide away from view. At the same time he heard the
windows and doors all automatically slide shut. This being done so as to
protect the house and the people left inside from the heat and fumes that would
be generated by what they were about to see, and in turn each door and window
emitted a tiny click as the locks set in, thus reassuring Jeff all was OK.
From
the now open pool section, a huge roar could be heard, and seconds later, the
tall sleek rocket known to the world as Thunderbird One soared upwards into the
pacific morning. Rising on a column of smoke that soon stretched thousands of
feet into the August sky. At two thousand feet Scott radioed base with a
familiar message.
"International
Rescue from Thunderbird One, changing to horizontal flight."
The
thin silver rocket then arced over to its horizontal configuration, and swung
east.
Back
at the island, the attention of those in the lounge, Jeff and Tin-Tin, now
joined by Kyrano and Brains, turned to the end of the airstrip, on the north
shore. There the trees that lined the runway had already fallen away from it.
Now the great green plane that millions around the globe knew as Thunderbird
Two slowly crawled into view. Just as it did, it came to a halt, and rose up on
its launch ramp. Then its two immense tail motors burst into life and propelled
the giant transporter, and its three occupants, away on its mission of mercy
and rescue.
Once
again the Thunderbirds were GO!
3.The Arrival
"Thunderbird
Five from One. Alan what's the frequency the LA fire chief was using."
"Two-Seventy
megacycles Scott," Alan responded. "Hold on, I'll connect you."
"Thanks
Alan," Scott replied. He waited a moment, then spoke, "This is
international rescue Thunderbird One, to Fire Chief Clifford, come in please."
"This
is Clifford, go ahead."
"We
will be arriving in Los Angeles in 21 minutes, do you have any idea how the
people are in terms of the safety of the tram, the state it's in, weather it's
likely to slide further down this giant crack?"
"Fraid
not, all we can gather is that the people are pretty badly banged up, guess
they're not in much of a position to tell us anything else other than their
names and addresses. At least we can let their families know the are safe. And
by the way there will be one corpse in the tram when you get there. A fella at
the back was hit by a falling seat, guy with a German accent apparently, we're
not having much luck tracing his relatives, he wasn't carrying any kind of I.D.
An ambulance copter is standing by to take care of the four that are still
alive and the one who ain't. We'll take the dead one back to the hospital too,
there we can get a DNA sample, help us identify him, and find his family."
"Fine,"
Scott said, thinking that this guy was more obsessed with the corpse rather
than those who were alive. Maybe he was concerned with this man's famil,y he
thought. He continued. "Where can I land?" he enquired.
"You
got VTOL craft ain't ya?" Clifford asked.
"Yep,
don't need runway," Scott confirmed.
"OK,
you can land on the overpass just a couple-a-hundred yards from where the tram
is. It’s safe and secure."
"Right,
talk to you again soon, estimated time of arrival now 19 minutes. This is
International rescue listening, out.”
Thunderbird
sped on into the mid morning gloom of the pacific west coast. The weather was
deteriorating by the minute as the silver plane slowed down and opened her
wings just a dozen or so miles from the danger zone.
Scott
saw from the observation port the mess the place was in. It seemed incredible
to him that only twelve had died, and yet that was the figure now being banded
around officially, according to Alan, on his last talk with Scott just before he
crossed the coast. All the news services now confirmed this. He put this
surprise out of his mind and brought his craft into a hovering position over
the overpass as instructed by Clifford. At just a hundred feet above the ground
the belly jet ignited and Thunderbird One slow descended to the ground, and
landed with barely a quiver.
He
donned his hat and a knee-length overcoat, and ventured outside
Driving
rain greeted Scott as he descended from the cockpit of the craft. Ahead of him,
and trotting towards him was a man in a fire chief’s uniform followed by a
couple of his deputies. As he reached Scott a huge burst of thunder cracked
overhead, and even Scott was startled by that one.
“Guess
you’ve brought the bad weather with ya, my friend.” He held out a hand. “John
Clifford.” Scott shook his hand.
“Just
call me Scott,” he replied, taken aback a little by the enthusiasm of the guy.
“OK
by me, son,” he said holding his hands out in open gesture, mindful of the
concern over security. He pointed over to where the tower lay. By now the sky
was getting darker, yet it was only 10.45am local time, and it was a strain to
see in the gloom, but Scott was able to make out the state of the wreck. It was
a pitiful sight.
Absolutely
no light could get into the fissure, even if it was a blue clear sky overhead
and not a downpour. The tower was covering the whole crevasse. And the first
thought was of the air, it was probably foul down there.
This
was going to be dicey.
Straight
away, Scott began looking for a place for Virgil to set down. The area
immediately next to the fissure was clear of debris and rubble but was too
close for Scott’s liking, the ground could be unstable, and Two’s huge bulk
could cause a problem. An area just behind where the overpass was looked
better. Scott leaned on the railings on the side of the overpass road, It was
on the roadway that the overpass passed over, and would be ideal, close enough
to save time, but far enough away not to disturb the ground.
Realising
he had his back turned to the Fire Chief, he turned to face him, and pointing
over his soaked shoulder with his thumb to the flat ground behind him spoke to
Clifford. “That ground there safe for our transporter to set down?”
“Sure,”
Clifford responded. “How long before it comes?” he asked.
“Gonna
check now,” Scott replied, and he unclipped from his belt a hand held radio,
shaped like a telephone receiver. He pulled out a telescopic aerial from the
top, held the radio to his ear and pressed a small button on the side and
spoke.
“Two
from Mobile Control, go.”
From
out over the Pacific, in the warm dry cabin of Thunderbird Two, Virgil, his
voice, fighting the static that resulted from the vile weather, replied.
“MC
from Two, over.”
“Virgil, confirm ETA danger zone.”
“ Be with you in 10
and one half minutes Scott. Where do I set down?”
Scott
answered, “Come over me and then land on the flat road directly behind where I
am, next to the flyover.”
“Check.
How solid’s the ground?”
“Solid
enough, you’ll be OK.”
“Right.
How’s the rain?” he asked, a little tongue in cheek.
“Very
wet, need you ask. Tell Gordon I’ll need to borrow his snorkel, and that’s just
to stand and bark out the orders to you lot. Next stupid question?” he asked a
little sarcastically.
Virgil
smiled. “I’ll save that for tomorrow when we’ve all got streaming colds. FAB.
Listening out.”
Scott,
the rain lashing onto his hat, switched over to another channel on his radio.
“Five
from Mobile Control.”
“Go
ahead, Scott,” Alan replied.
“What’s
the latest on the weather, how does it look from up there?”
“This
weather systems going to stay put over all of California and New Mexico for at
least the next 36 hours. Sorry Scott. I’m sure Gordon’s got his snorkel on
standby.” He’d been listening to Scott’s chatter with Virg.
“Eavesdropper,”
Scott could not resist a little smile at Alan’s little jibe. “Talk soon.”
“FAB
Scott.”
Scott,
his coat now saturated, turned to face the tower again, and began to wonder if
it was going to be five and not one corpse he would be digging out of there.
4.The Rescue
“Hold
on, Kim, just keep calm, keep breathing deeply, we’ll be at the hospital soon.”
Reassuring
words from one sister to another. Kim Younger had been unconscious for no more
than a few minutes. Much to the relief of the person sitting next to her. She
herself then gave reassurance to her sister, telling her she was fit to travel.
Chrystal
Blake drove her sibling down the small side road that lead to the junction with
the main commuter route between Glendale and the centre of LA. Looking more at
Kim in the passenger seat than at the road ahead. Although what she could see
ahead was not exactly clear, as the rain continued to slash against the
windscreen of the car.
“Never
mind me,” Kim said as Chrystal took yet another sharp bend at nearly 50 miles
an hour. “Just watch the road, I’m OK.” She then winced in pain for the
umpteenth time as another contraction started.
The
road ahead was clear of cars, almost too clear in fact. Then through the
ripples of water that ran down the windscreen Chrystal, her soaked blond hair
getting in her eyes for the umpteenth time, saw why the road was empty.
Up
ahead was a roadblock, manned by two policemen. The road beyond was impassable,
and the officers slowly walked toward the car. Chrystal lowered her window.
“Looks
like I made the wrong turn. I’m sorry, look, I need to get my sister to a
hospital quickly, she’s gone into labour.”
The
officer looked across to the passenger seat and saw Kim, clutching her stomach
for dear life. He had two choices. Either send them back and direct them to the
nearest hospital, or try something else.
“The
nearest hospital is Mellish, twenty minutes away, going back the way you came,
or if your sister feels up to it, there is an emergency medical station at the
top of that hill,” he pointed to a flight of steps that lead up the embankment
from the road. Steep, and narrow, it seemed to rise almost a hundred feet.
“No
Way,” Chrystal retorted, and she shoved the gear stick into reverse.
Kim
put her hand on the wheel and fighting increased pain shouted at the policemen,
“Yes, Yes lets go, I-I don’t th-think I can stand this much more, and besides,
the traffic is going to make it more than 20 minutes distance, Ouch!” she
winced once again, he voice now trembling. “Please, let’s go up there,” she
grabbed Crystals arm and looked her in the eye.
Her
sister looked back, and knew Kim would not last the journey.
“Are
you sure about this Kim?”
For
once a steady calm came over Kim Younger, and brushing her dark hair back and
tying it in a ponytail, she spoke, “You got a better idea, now’s the time.”
The
two white dots in the gloom slowly got more and more bright. As they did, those
looking up at them could start to make out that they belonged to a large plane,
bigger than anything they had seen.
“Thunderbird
One from Thunderbird Two, approaching danger zone, Scott.”
“Ok
Virgil, you’re clear to land, you’ve got a lot of folks down here looking up at
you, those front lights of yours look quite eerie. One or two people here were
wondering what was going on.”
“Tell
them I’m sorry I scared them, they shouldn’t have such wretched weather.”
“Too
true,” said Scott in agreement. Sheltering from the rain, and getting changed out
of his sodden clothes in One’s cockpit, Scott watched the huge bulk of
Thunderbird Two slowly come to a hovering position over the other side of the
flyover. The four underjets then burst into life, and the green goddess slowly
sank to the ground.
Almost
at once the four hydraulic rams pushed Two’s main body up and above the pod.
Once the door of pod five was clear it was slowly lowered to reveal a packed
pod. At the rear, lit by the internal pod lights were the two recovery
vehicles, and in front of them were the Mole, and on the left, the Firefly.
It
was the Firefly that first trundled out of the pod, Gordon at the wheel, the
yellow halftrack moved into a position on the far side of the rescue area,
immediately opposite Thunderbird Two. Should there be a fire of any sort, then
Gordon would have a clear field of view of it. As this was going on Scott,
having ventured back out from his cockpit, was making his way over to the pod
to join Virgil in the mole. Just before he entered the giant drilling machine,
he went over to the first of the two recovery vehicles.
At the controls sat
John.
Scott got him to open
the window so they could talk. “OK John, we’ll pull out the Mole so you can get
both the RV’s out, just do the best you can. We’ve no idea if the cables can
stand the strain. That tower’s heavy.”
“Right
Scott, I hope for their sake someone’s told the folks in the tram about the
weather. The minute I pull the tower away, the water that’s been collecting
around it will gush in.”
“They’ve
been told John,” Scott reassured him, “Good luck, and take care out there.”
“Same
to you Scott.” And John closed the window and gunned up the engines of the
recovery vehicles. He moved his vehicle out first. Then the Mole followed, and
finally, the remote control RV.
The Mole
took station alongside the Firefly. From inside, Scott, standing behind Virgil
watched as John positioned the RV’s at each end of the tower. Then he pulled
them both back some 20 yards. He radioed the others.
“Mole,
and Firefly from RV1.”
“We
hear you John,” Virgil replied.
“Recovery
vehicle one: power OK, recovery vehicle two: operation positive. Firing
magnetic clamps, now.”
The
two machines between them, suddenly, spat out four massive magnets, each one
tethered to the vehicle by a cable some 12 inches in diameter. The four magnets
slammed on to the side of the felled tower. John wound the cables taught. Then
he increased the strain, digging the tracks into the ground. The massive
weighted tracks with steel grips on them to help with holding the road, dug in
and held, and slowly the tower began to move over. As it did, the water that
had been collecting all around it now spilled into the fissure, soaking the
front of the tram. Applause rang out from the mass of people who, oblivious to
the rain had gathered in their thousands to watch the rescue. Just about every
possible vantage point had been taken, from buildings that were undamaged by
the quake, to piles of rubble used as makeshift galleries by young children.
As
soon as the tower was clear, Scott, Virgil, and Gordon radioed over to
congratulate John, and the four brothers then got on with the task of getting
the trapped folks out. The laser cutters would do it. The people would be out
and safe in twenty minutes maximum.
The
hardest part was over. Or so they thought.
Twenty
steps left.
The
strain was more than any sane person could bear, and yet Kim Younger was not
about to stop. There were fewer steps ahead than behind. The infant in her womb
was not many hours away from coming into the world. She barely had the strength
or the will to lift each foot on to the steps, despite the help of the police
officer with her, encouraging her with every step. The energy simply was not
there.
Yet
she found the strength. She found it from somewhere, but where.
When
the chips are down, it is an aspect of human nature that humans themselves seem
unable to grasp. When your back is to the wall, when all hope is seemingly
lost, when every ounce of willpower is drained away, somehow you summon reserves
of steel. It defies belief. Yet these reserves come. A feeling of deliverance
seems to come with it, as though the hand of a mightier power is guiding you.
Ten
steps left.
So
near, at the summit, the medical crew could now see what was happening. On no
fewer that ten occasions the police had tried to call this medical station, but
to no avail. The weather, still wretched, was playing havoc with the radio
frequencies all over the quake zone. The police were still having a torrid time
trying to get in touch with the Father to be. He was off in Santa Barbara at
work. They had reassured Kim that no one had come to any harm there. The
epicentre was further inland, and no fatalities had been reported in either
Santa Barbara or Ventura, taking a weight of her mind.
Last
step reached.
Two
nurses and a doctor were there, and a stretcher, which she collapsed on to. She
was taken into a tent that stood just yards from the edge of the embankment. To
the rear of the tent was another sheer drop, right into an electricity sub
station. Chrystal stayed outside. Tears of relief, that they had made it. Had
they carried on in the car, they would still have been in the traffic on the
freeway for sure. They had done the right thing, made the right choice and now
Chrystal found herself talking to herself.
“Almost
there.”
Virgil
Tracy surveyed the twisted remains of the rear section of the tram. His face
grimaced in disgust as he came across the body of the man in the rear. He had
been slammed right against the rear wall, and it had knocked more than the wind
out of him.
“Virg,
mind your head.” It was Scott, handing down the stretcher to his brother.
The
pianist took it from him, and once it was alongside the corpse, the two men solemnly
moved the body onto it. Scott placed the black sheet he had brought down with
him over the body, and once they had strapped it secure to the stretcher, they
brought it up to the surface.
Out
of respect for the dead man, the straps were removed. A priest said the last
rites, and the four brothers, now with black armbands on and their hats removed
stood to attention and bowed their heads as the priest spoke.
Such
a respectful gesture drew warm applause from the gathered crowd, which included
the four people who had been pulled out alive and well. Radio commentators
caught the mood as they described the events before them, yet nothing could
have prepared them for what was to happen next.
From
under the cloth, came a hand.
5.The Point of No
Return
Gordon
felt something touch his leg.
He
pulled back and saw the hand. Instinctively John pulled the cloth away. He saw
a lifeless face turn to look at his, and smiled.
John’s
stomach suddenly turned sour, he recoiled in horror at what he saw, yet worse
was to come.
In
his other hand was a knife. He drew it across John’s left leg. A six inch gash
appeared above the shin. Gordon and Scott reached for their guns. Yet they
could not stop him. They fired in his direction, but somehow their bullets
could not halt him. He raced for the hearse. Brought to the rescue area to take
him away, now he made for the driver’s door, yanked it open, dragged the driver
out, got in, slammed the door shut, and slammed his foot down.
The
Vehicle sped off in, wheels spinning.
John
was on the ground, clutching his leg; Gordon was next to him, and a medic who
had raced over to render first aid, began to take a look at the wound. Scott
and Virgil both stood next to them, but were staring blankly at the hearse as
it drove away. Scott snapped out of his daze first, and crouched down to
enquire about his brother.
“John?”
Scott put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I’m
OK, Scott. What the hell was that?”
“I
dunno, but we’ll get him.” He stood up, and, grabbing Virgil by his sash, raced
for Thunderbird One. Virgil, still dumbstruck by what he saw almost fell over
in the confusion, but it shook him out of his near trance, and he followed
Scott into One’s cabin.
“Gordon!”
Scott shouted on his radio, “Take care of John. Keep the pair of us posted on
how he is.”
“Will
do, Scott,” The aquanaut responded.
Thunderbird
One blasted off from the flyover, and made for the central part of the city
where the hearse had set off for. In the cabin, Virgil, mind reader that he
was, knew what his brother had in mind.
“Grab
a thruster pack, Virg. As soon as we see him I’ll fly low, and aim for a tyre.
If I hit it, and cause him to veer off, you drop out and grab him.”
“Oh,
thanks a bunch!” came the sarcastic reply, but there was nothing meant. It was
just the way these two got on. The closest of the five, as Jeff would observe,
and goodness knows they’d been through enough scrapes together, already in just
three years of operation.
The
pair of them always used a little humour when the heat was on.
The
hearse sped to the end of the freeway, its driver stared, expressionless at the
road ahead. Oblivious to what was blocking the road.
The
barriers were there to do a job, but it was only a job of persuasion, nothing more.
That they did persuade him was one thing. Persuade him to ram them that is, and
ram them he did. Smashing them into pieces in the process and scattering them
across the road.
All
this was even more remarkable because as he was approaching the roadblock the
officers, clad in bullet proof vests, peppered the hearse with ammunition.
Already, during his sortie the driver had attempted to run over no fewer than a
dozen pedestrians. The police has classed him as highly dangerous, and had
decided he had to be stopped by whatever means were at their disposal. They
discharged their guns as he approached, and has he passed.
No
avail.
Herbert
Vimmer, Mysteron agent from the future, turned off and scrambled the vehicle up
a steep hill. The dirt track would lead up a steep incline. One of the police
marksmen turned to his colleague, puzzled.
“What’s
with the hill? If he’d carried on he’d got a clear getaway. And why did the
ammo we just pumped into him not even appear to make a scratch, and this guy’s
supposed to be dead anyway? Just what the hell is going on?”
Very
soon they would get their answers.
“Look
Scott, there he is, climbing that hill, making for that large tent.”
From
out of the observation port of Thunderbird One, Virgil could see the hearse. It
made little effort in getting up the hill, and as soon as it reached the top,
its occupant got out, and walked slowly towards the tent.
“Virg,
he’s a sitting duck. I just don’t get it. OK I’ll drop down, Lose the
thruster-pack, we can both take care of him.”
Scott
landed Thunderbird One, and the brothers raced for the tent.
“OK,
Mrs Younger, breathe deeply, the baby will be here soon.”
The
medic reassured Kim that all was well. In between contractions, and gulps of
gas and air, she had been able at last to speak to her husband. It had taken a
weight of her mind, and he was even now racing over the city in a police
helijet, in the hope of being there at the moment their first child entered the
world.
As
she lay on the delivery table, she heard a screech of tyres outside, and
thought it was him. Yes. They have took him to a police station and they’ve
brought him the rest of the way in a police car.
She
was clutching at straws.
From
behind her head, came the sound of the entrance to the tent being opened, the
canvas being flung aside. Then the noise of an aircraft engine drowned out
everything.
She
looked over her shoulder, straight into the eyes of an assassin.
“We
will be avenged, Earth-woman. History will be created, and crushed.”
The
woman screamed, the medical team froze, and Vimmer drew back the knife he had with him, and, holding it above Kim,
prepared to plunge it like a dagger.
Two
pairs of arms came from behind him, and grabbed him round the neck; they
dragged him outside. Neither of those who were apprehending him could quite
believe his strength.
“I
dunno who you are or what your complaint is about being alive, but are you gonna
move out of here now.” Scott commanded.
Scott
and Virgil frogmarched him to the fence overlooking the cliff edge. Down below
was the electricity substation. They pinned him against the fence, and waited
for the police to arrive. Scott had noticed a squad of marksmen were making
their way up the hill as Thunderbird One descended in to land.
Their
prisoner noticed that they had arrived, and decided to take a chance. He pushed
himself away from his captors, leaned against the fence, and brought both legs
up as though he was going to shove the two siblings away with his feet.
His
first mistake, and his last.
As he
leaned on the fence, it gave way.
Before
he realised what was happening, and before Scott and Virgil realised what was
happening, he began to fall away from the Tracy brothers. He frantically
reached out to grab the blue sash on Scott’s uniform. Scott and Virgil both
reached out to try and grab some part of Vimmers clothing, but he was already
too far away.
Too
far to do anything. Too far beyond the point of no return.
He
slammed into the substation’s main power housing. Unbeknownst to anyone of this
time, electricity is the Achille’s heel of the Mysterons.
Herbert
Vimmer was now, absolutely, and definitely, dead.
“We
saw what happened, there was nothing you could have done,” said the police
marksman. “You two did the best you could.”
Scott
and Virgil barely reacted to the officers words. They stood looking down on the
sickening sight.
A
charred body. A life lost.
Maybe
he had not been dead in the first place, maybe he had been able to fake his
death, so that he could carry out his plan. No one could explain it. The police
team, the medics, the Tracys, and a whole crowd of people who were curious as
to what was going on, had all gathered to look down on the corpse in silence.
All alone with their thoughts, and all at a loss to explain why.
The
silence was broken, broken by the sound of a crying baby. At once Scott and
Virgil realised that the man who’s body lay in the smouldering powerhouse, was,
only a few minutes earlier, trying to kill the woman who has just that second,
given birth.
Epilogue
“Its
OK, you can come in now.” The nurse ushered the four Thunderbird men in. They
all took off their hats in unison, and all gazed upon the little speck of life
that Kim Younger, now reunited with her husband, Mark, himself a doctor, held
in her arms.
They
had seen something impossible to explain just an hour or so earlier. They had
radioed base, and their father has said that as far as he was concerned, this
was going to be something that they would not be able to explain in any way
shape or form. They had seen a man loose his life, yet they had saved one in
the process. For Daniel Jeffrey Tracy, that would be good enough. For now they
would celebrate that life, and cherish what that life had herself brought into
the world.
Virgil
with a grin on his face from ear to ear, was first to speak.
“Another
soul among the living. Congratulations to you both. Now. Does he have a name
yet?” he enquired.
“Yes,”
Kim replied. She looked down on her son. “He will be christened Robert.”
Without
hesitation, she passed him over to Scott for him to hold. He took her gently,
and as he did, he spoke for all who were gathered in the tent.
“Welcome
to the world, Robert,” he quietly said to the sleeping infant.
Robert
Younger had taken his place in the world.
Forty-one
years later, he would lead it.
Outside
the tent, the rain soaked hill was suddenly bathed in sunshine.
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