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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