Where was he? He didn't know. How did he get here? He couldn't recall.  All he knew was that he was sore all over and there was an overriding smell of something: fuel? He wasn't sure.

He was on his own in what looked like a pine forest. Carefully, he rolled from his back onto his front, slowly testing his limbs and muscles as he did so. So far so good. The next challenge would be getting up onto his feet, for he had a major worry about staying where he was. He didn't feel safe.

With a lot of effort he managed to get on his hands and knees; there he stayed for a bit as he evaluated how he felt and readied himself for standing. He did so with the help of a nearby tree trunk and found that he felt a bit better.

Now he was upright. No broken bones thankfully but definitely cuts, grazes and bruises, not to mention sore muscles and a real washed out feeling. He could quite easily lay right back down and fall asleep. Yet the feeling of being in danger overwhelmed all the other causing Lieutenant Green to move away from where he was and further into the forest.

The late evening took on a real dream-like quality as he slowly moved through the trees, the setting sun causing long shadows to stretch out in front of him. He was beyond tired but it was a muted feeling just like the pain from his injuries.

Time had come to mean nothing to him and so had this journey; all he was aware of now was a faint sense of danger, the need to keep moving and that smell, which was still as strong as it had been at the start of his journey.

The sound of a stream awoke a sense of thirst in him and he headed towards the sound. As he walked, darkness arrived and a faint mist rose, magnifying the moonlight. A silvery line came into sight, that looked to him, like a moving band of thousands fibre optic filaments, but still he travelled towards it.

The stream dropped sharply over a low rock face near to where he stopped and as he went to drink, he thought that he heard a distorted voice coming from the fall, causing him to turn to it. A shot of fear ran through him, as he saw two small shining blue eyes looking at him. He blinked and suddenly there were a lot more of the glowing eyes on the rock face.

And they were all staring at him.

Startled, he backed away, his heart rate increasing, all the while those bateful eyes staring at him. He turned away and received another jolt of surprise; there, in front of him, were more glowing eyes on a tree trunk. They were bigger and a brownie yellow – and just as eerie and frightening.

 

What kind of creatures were they? What did they want with him? These woods, they weren't normal... Where was he exactly? Was he safe? The questions ran around his tired and confused mind. The mist had grown thicker adding to the atmosphere of unease.

A bang echoed across the stream, startling him; it sounded like a gunshot to him. His heart raced, the noise increasing the anxiety he was feeling. He started to run, even though the path he took was covered by dense fern-like plants. As he stumbled through them, a myriad of small flying... things came up from the plants, enveloping him in a thick mass. Pollen? Insects? Or some other type of eerie creatures, organisms or phenomenon? He didn't know and couldn't tell. He was only aware that, as they flew around him, there were bigger things flying amongst them. He could feel the air that they disturbed on his skin, making him shiver. But between the midges and the mist he was unable to catch sight of them.

Were they even real or not? His mind couldn’t tell.

He became aware of something else, like a sound just beyond his hearing which made his ears tingle. It conjured up feelings of dread within him, unnerving him even more. And the smell – that awful smell had not diminished; it kept filling his nostrils, as if no other smells existed. His senses were overwhelmed, his surroundings had become blurry and his ability to move was almost gone.

Finally, the undergrowth that had clung to his feet ended and he staggered between a couple of trees into a small clearing. The moon's light lit the thickening fog, making it difficult to see, and he tripped over a fallen branch, causing him to tumble to the ground, his arms and legs going everywhere. One of his hands hit a rock while the other hit an old log, which disintegrated under the onslaught.

Stiffly and slowly, Lieutenant Green managed to sit up and as he did so he saw the state of his hands: one of them was covered in something that, in the defused light, was a brownish colour. Blood? Had he injured himself even more? Or was it something else, still worst? He couldn't tell, for his whole body was aching and his tied mind couldn't separate the different pain signals coming from the different parts of his body. He was also starting to feel cold; his damp uniform gripping his skin did nothing to help keep him warm.

Remaining on the ground, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to warm up, as he began to shiver.

With a sense of satisfaction, Captain Scarlet slid into the Spectrum Saloon next to Captain Blue. Once again, Spectrum had managed to stop the Mysterons from completing their threat. Their target, one of the World Space Patrol’s most strategic tracking stations, was still operational and the network remained unbroken.

It was all thanks to Captain Magenta and Lieutenant Green, who had joined them after it was found that the Mysterons had affected the tracking station's computer systems. Those two had put in some long hard hours into stopping the intricate virus that the Mysterons had set loose. That was the reason why Scarlet had sent them back to base as soon as the threat had been completely neutralise, so that they would rest instead of continuing to fiddle. As the WSP own computer technicians were able to handle the virus protection upgrade from that point on. Their colleagues’ departure left him and Blue the job of dealing with the WSP hierarchy and tying up the loose ends. Now that, that was done, they were also heading back to base.

Night had fallen and a mist had started to rise as they drove along the station's access road through old growth pine trees. The warmth of night combined with the moisture left by heavy rain that had fallen the day before made perfect conditions for fog, which the mist was fast turning into. It was not ideal driving conditions, so Blue kept the speed down. That was the reason why they were able to stop in time, when they came around a corner and a dark mass loomed in front of them. A small landslide of dirt, a toppled tree and some large boulders covered the road in front of them.

Surprised, both the Spectrum officers got out of the car to discover if there was anyway around or over the slip. Scarlet headed to the hill-side of it, his torch lighting the scene, while Blue headed in the opposite direction towards where the slip had stopped.

As Blue came to the slip’s edge, a smell of gas hit him. Surprised, he quickened his pace as he went around the churned up mass to see if he could find the origin of the smell. He groaned at the sight his torch showed him.

“Scarlet,” he called. “Get here quick!”

There, in the beam of his torch, was another Spectrum saloon, looking rather smashed up.

As quickly as he could, Blue made his way to it. It was up-right but by the way its roof looked, it was obvious that it had rolled over at least once. The passenger side door was gone and the driver's one was badly caved in. Coming to it, he looked inside and saw Captain Magenta, without his cap, still strapped into his seat. His eyes were closed.

“Pat?” Blue anxiously called.

Relieved, he saw Magenta's head turn towards him and the eyes slowly open to stare at him.

“Adam?” Magenta's reply was soft and full of pain. “You found us. I knew you'll be coming along sometime.” Magenta's eyes flicked to his right arm, which hung limply by his side and then to his left, which was trapped between him and the door. “I couldn't activate the radio,” he stated sadly. His eyes then slid to the empty passenger seat. “I don't know where Green is. He wasn't here when I was finally able to think straight.”

As Blue listened to Magenta, he became aware of Scarlet arriving at the other side of the car, and heard a quiet but startled “bloody hell” coming from him.

Scarlet surveyed the scene, noting that Captain Magenta was injured, the spilled petrol surrounding the car, and the fact that Lieutenant Green was missing. Activating his cap microphone, he contacted Cloudbase to inform them of the situation and to request medical assistance.

Blue in the meantime, had tried to gain access to Magenta via the driver’s door; it wouldn’t open. Annoyed, but not surprised, he went around the car, and got into it from the passenger’s side. After accessing the wounded captain, Blue gave a preliminary diagnosis to his colleague:

“Right arm’s obviously broken, and it looks like he has a concussion. I don’t think there’s anything else, but I’ll say the quicker we can get him to the nearest hospital the better. I think it will safe to move him once I stabilise his arm and put on a neck brace.”

Scarlet nodded his acknowledgement. “Do it, then,” he instructed. “I smell petrol, so there might be a chance of fire. Make him comfortable and looked after him. Medical help’s in on its way. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can find Green.”

“Right,” Blue confirmed. “Take the first-aid kit from our car, I’ll use the one here for Magenta.”

“S.I.G.,” Scarlet replied.

“Good hunting.”

Scarlet quickly made his way back to their saloon and collected the first-aid kit from it, before returning to the crash site to start looking for signs of the lieutenant’s whereabouts. He was in luck: not very far from the crashed saloon, he found a patch of crushed plants and traces of blood. As there were no traces leading from the car to this spot, Scarlet extrapolated that Green must have been ejected clear from the vehicle and had landed here.

By the look and smell of it, the area was soaked in petrol and that caused him some concern. Had Green also been doused by it? Who knew what problems that may cause, yet alone the effects petrol intoxication might have on Green's ability to think.

Meticulously, he moved the beam of his torch around; the fog was making it difficult for him to see clearly, and he didn't want to miss the smallest clue of Green's movement. He wasn't the best tracker, he had meet and worked with some extraordinary ones but his time in the WAAF had taught him a thing or two in that field, and he was hoping that whatever skills he had would be sufficient to find wherever Green could have disappeared to.

Sure enough he soon discovered signs of Green’s movement: patches of disturbed pine needles, an old branch pushed out of the way and an overturned pine cone. With his torch, he checked the ground and found in the mud the very recognisable footprint of Spectrum boots. Green had gone that way.

He sighed with relief; Green was alive, and apparently well enough to walk away by himself.

He started to follow the tracks, lowering his cap mic as he did so. “Blue,” he called, “I've found where Green was. There are signs of blood but not that much, and it seems like he got on his feet and walked away, so hopefully that means he not too injured. He’s probably concussed or something like that. I’ll follow the tracks he has left behind. I only hope he hasn't gone too far.”

“So do I Scarlet,” Blue replied. “This fog isn't going to help.”

“I know,” Scarlet replied, “but we can't wait for it to lift. Green is likely to need medical help.”

“True. Well, good luck.”

“S.I.G. Blue.”

Scarlet continued to follow the faint trail left by Green: the darker patches of overturned pine needles, the occasionally disturbed pine cone or even the odd lot of green pine needles on the ground, caused by Green’s passage.

As he went further into the wood, the fog thinned and he became aware of the sound of running water. The sound became louder as he continued to follow Green’s tracks, and soon a stream came into sight. The fog was thicker around it but the light of his torch was able to penetrate, and showed him a small waterfall.

He went closer; the chances of Green being near water would be quite high and anyway, the tracks were heading that way as well. Unfortunately, the lieutenant wasn’t there. He had been there, however, for he had left a boot print behind. Scarlet was annoyed and concerned that Green wasn’t staying in one place; that he kept moving like that surely meant he was in a certain state of confusion. He contacted Blue again and gave him an update on his search. Then he scanned the area for clues to where Green might have gone to.

As he turned away from the waterfall, he noticed that the fog took on a slight blue tinge, which disappeared in the light of his torch. He frowned. He wasn’t sure what caused that odd phenomenon, but he had seen a lot of hanging treads around the fall. Maybe it was a type of fluorescent insect? It made him somehow uneasy.

He shook himself; whatever it was, it wasn’t important. Finding Green was, and to do so, he needed to locate his trail.

Thankfully, after some careful hunting, he finally found some signs in the form of more overturned pine needles. As quickly as he could, he followed these marks, which lead to a patch of low growing ferns. Green’s path through them was clear and Scarlet didn’t hesitate to follow.

As he passed through the ferns, his movement stirred up masses of tiny flying bugs, which added to this sense of unpleasantness he had started to feel since his departure from the fall. A movement through the fog startled him and he raised his torch to try and see what made it. It was only bats, coming to feed on the bugs he had disturbed.

‘Great’, he thought. ‘I wonder what other surprises are ahead?’

Once more, he focused the light of his torch on the ground and followed the traces left by the lieutenant.

The trail led him to a clearing; the fog prevented him to see how big exactly it was. Nevertheless, the trail went straight into it, so he followed as well.

As he moved into the clearing he became aware of a faint odour that smelt like petrol. The probable cause of it soon became visible in the beam of his torch.

There, by a crumbling log, laid a green and black clad form.

Scarlet had found Lieutenant Green.

 Quickly, he rushed to him, and crouched by his side. He put his hand on his shoulder and felt his body shiver under his touch. Green was alive; his face was ashen, with his mouth surrounded by black and slick matter, which also covered his nose. His uniform was soaked, and the strong smell of petrol coming from it was almost overwhelming.

His eyes were closed shut and his lips were moving, muttering under his breath. Scarlet couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. He leaned closer.

“The eyes… Evil eyes… Staring…”

“Lieutenant Green?” Scarlet called gently. “Seymour?”

He had no reaction at first, and so he shook Green’s shoulder, slightly. The younger man opened his eyes tiredly. The look of those eyes gave Scarlet a shock. There was an expression of untold terror in them.

“Captain…” Green slurred. “Look out… The evil eyes… They’re all around…”

He closed his eyes again, and continued to mutter, barely aware of Scarlet’s presence by his side.

Scarlet looked at him with incomprehension; it looked like Green had been scared out of his wits. But by what exactly? The petrol-induced hallucinations of his own tortured imagination… or something else?

He was about to lower his cap microphone to report to Blue, but just at this moment, he heard a twig snap behind him and turning around, he flashed the light of his torch into the fog.

But there was nothing there, nothing but all those bugs and the bats feeding on them.

He turned back to Green and patted his shoulder reassuringly. “It’s all right, Seymour. You’re just hallucinating. That’s all that petrol you ingested during the crash. You’ll be all right now.”

He lowered his cap microphone.

Behind him, he didn’t see the multitude of eerie glowing eyes lighting into the deepest dark of the woods, and staring at him with evil intent.

 

 

Author’s notes:

 

I hereby state that I know that the copyrights and all the other legal mumbo-jumbo concerning Captain Scarlet and the rest of the gang belong to someone else and not me. One is grateful for the wonderful imagination of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, the creators of Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons. That opened the door for this story.

This story has only been written for my own and others’ pleasure of reading. Therefore there’s been no increase of my bank balance.

Now that that’s aside:

A big thank you once again to this web-site’s ‘Colonel White’, Colonel Chris J for being the beta-reader of this story (no easy task with my writing) and for giving me a great end for it, when I got stuck. Also for the work you put into this site, thank you, thank you. (Oh, I take full responsibility for any missteaks – I mean mistakes in this story.)

 

 

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