CHAPTER ONE
Nicky snuggled back into the pillows as his mother tucked the comforter around him tightly. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, smiling. He returned her smile.
"Good night, Nicky. I love you."
"I love you, too. Mom."
His mother's grin widened and she ruffled his hair before turning off the bedside lamp and exiting the room, closing his door softly behind her. Nicky marveled at his good fortune. It was only two months until Christmas. This time last year, he'd not only been an orphan, but one sick little boy. Until that special, magical Christmas had come...a Christmas which seemed to have changed his whole life.
He'd been at the Coralville Children's Hospital for fourteen long months by the time Christmas had come last year. His birth mother had abandoned him when he was a baby, leaving Nicky in the foster care system for most of his young life. Then he'd been diagnosed with tuberculosis. After that it had been an extended visit to Coralville for him.
And then Christmas. He'd almost completely recovered from TB and was about to be cycled back into the foster care system when a rocket had delivered Christmas gifts for all the boys and girls in the hospital. He remembered the anticipation, his excitement and that of the rest of the patients as the head doctor and head nurse had handed out gifts. They all waited until everyone had one, then tore into them, some squealing with joy, others giggling and still others with tears streaming down their faces.
Nicky's package was lightweight. He remembered wondering what on Earth could be in there that was so light. He got the wrapping paper off. He opened the lid to the box. And there, waiting for him, was a card that gave him the greatest gift he could ever have hoped for: a visit to International Rescue headquarters.
Nicky turned over in bed, recalling how he'd just come to his feet, holding the card in his hand and staring at it, unable to believe what it said. The nurse had come to his side and smiled broadly.
"Nicky, it looks like you're going to meet International Rescue," she'd said.
"I can't believe it. It can't be true."
"Oh, it is, Nicky," the doctor had said as he'd approached them. "Come with me."
It had been a whirlwind Christmas. Nicky recollected every detail as though it had happened yesterday: riding in Thunderbird 2 with Virgil; touring the entire International Rescue base and seeing up close all those amazing machines; opening gifts with the members of International Rescue; the food; listening as they sang carols; sitting with Mr. "Santa" Tracy as Thunderbird 3 had launched from right in the middle of the roundhouse; and the final, magical part of the evening when Brains had made it snow. Snow, there on a tropical island.
Nicky sighed at the memory. Everyone had bugged him mercilessly upon his return, wanting to know every last detail of where he'd been and what he'd seen. But he'd promised Mr. Tracy and the rest of them before he left that he'd never breathe a word of his experience to another living soul. Nicky had kept that promise.
Almost in reward for doing so, it seemed, one week later a couple had come to Coralville inquiring after any children up for adoption. They'd met Nicky last after seeing six other children, and an instant connection between man, woman and child was evident to all present. Marvin and Teresa Longfellow quickly adopted Nicky. He had a new family, a new last name and, more recently, a new puppy...and had never been happier.
In his own mind, Nicky was certain it had been that magical Christmas with International Rescue that had changed his luck so drastically. Now, as the first Christmas with his new family approached, Nicky fervently wished there were something he could do to repay those wonderful people on that island. Suddenly, as he lay there in bed, it came to him. He jumped to his feet and raced out to the living room, where his mother and father sat quietly watching television together.
"Nicky! What are you doing out of bed?" Marvin asked.
"Dad, Mom! I figured out a way to pay International Rescue back!"
"What? What for?"
"Mom, you know I visited their base last Christmas."
"Yes, I know that."
"Well, I've been wanting to do something for them, something to thank them."
Marvin smiled. "What have you come up with, son?"
"We took a tour of a factory on our field trip in school last week."
"Yes," Teresa nodded thoughtfully, "that marionette factory."
"Well, what if we had them make marionettes for International Rescue?"
"That sounds like a splendid idea, Nicky!" Marvin said, coming to his feet. "But what would they look like?"
"We could make them look like Mr.-um, I mean, like Santa and his elves," Nicky replied cautiously. "I know what they look like, I could help them."
"I think it's a fine idea, Nicky, but we can't afford to pay for all those marionettes."
Nicky's face fell. "Maybe they'll do it for free?"
"We'll talk about it in the morning, Nick," Marvin said, herding his son back toward his bedroom. "We'll figure something out."
"Say, Arnie, would you take a look at this letter?"
Arnie Reynolds came to stand beside his head puppet designer, Jay Fields. "What's it about?"
"You remember that kid who spent last Christmas with International Rescue? That one from the Children's Hospital?"
He nodded. "Yep. Couldn't a word edgeways out of him about it after it was all over. Drove the media crazy!"
"Well, get a load of this: he wants to repay them for their kindness and generosity by having us create marionettes of them as a gift for this coming Christmas!"
"You're kidding!" Arnie replied, snatching the letter from Jay's hand. He read through it, and then shook it in the air, crowing, "Jay, this is it! This is our big break! Once the world finds out Living Puppets made gifts for International Rescue, we'll be in such high demand we won't be able to keep up!"
"But they say they can't pay us."
"Doesn't matter! The publicity alone will be payment enough! Jay, get that kid in here. We've got less than two months. We need to get going, now!"
Belah Gaat sat in an orate golden chair behind an equally ornate golden table. Surrounding him were grotesque, yet priceless, golden statues...tributes to the Lords of Darkness he served. He held a newspaper in front of him, reading the story on page two with great interest.
Laughing long and low, he lowered the paper to the table, his mouth twisted into something like a snarl. "This is perfect," he growled, "absolutely perfect. It is less than two weeks until Christmas and those silly gifts for International Rescue are complete. Hanging there, waiting for me. Waiting to be brought to life!"
Belah's eyes glowed with glee as he rose to his feet and approached one particularly ugly statue...it looked like a cross between an angry dragon and a bull. "Manay, tidak lama lagi ini adalah masa."
He laughed once more, an evil, maniacal laugh. "You shall help me, Manay. You shall help me bring down International Rescue once and for all!"
"What do you mean, they're gone?" Jay practically screamed.
Arnie cringed. "I don't know, Jay, when we left last night they were hanging in the Finishing Room. We were going to package them today and deliver them to Nicky and his family. When Laura went in there to get them, they were gone!"
"I can't believe this! There are less than two weeks 'til Christmas! The eyes of the world are on Living Puppets, what the hell are we gonna do?"
An ominous fire cast shadows throughout the vast cavern-like room. On each side of the fire were golden statues, one half-man, half-bull and the other half-man, half dragon. An altar made of marble stood in front of the fire, covered with incense and burning black candles. A small silver bowl filled with goat's blood was set right in the middle of it, while six feet in front of the altar there was a tall wooden rack. From this rack, suspended by coarse black wire, hung six marionettes who, realistic as they were, might have been 1 1/2-foot living dolls.
The first one on the left looked to be an older gentleman, his face rugged, his hair salt and pepper in color. A pleasant smile graced his face, and he wore a Santa Claus outfit, complete with pointed red hat.
The second puppet had a full head of dark brown hair that looked almost black. His eyes were darkest blue, and his full lower lip curved into a smile. Next to that one was a chestnut-haired re-creation, with eyes the color of honey, right when it's removed from the hive. The startling features of a light-complexioned, blonde man graced the countenance of the next marionette, his blue eyes looking very dark in the gloom. Second-to-last hung a tawny-skinned puppet, his hair the color of copper and his eyes the color of burning embers. Finally came yet another blonde-headed creation, with large blue eyes and somewhat of a baby face.
A tall shadow towered over the rack of marionettes as Evil joined them. A low hum could be heard, rising slowly in pitch as the shadow approached. It came to rest directly in front of the rack, cloaked in a black robe, a hood covering its head entirely.
"MmmmmmmmmmMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMmmmmmmmm," the shadow hummed. Then it began to chant, its voice low and terrifying. "Manay datang ke hadapan, Manay, saya meminta anda. Manay timbul. Membuat ketika saya memerintah. Datang. Datang. Manay, datang."
The figure reached up and pulled his hood back, revealing himself to be none other than Belah Gaat, known worldwide as mastermind and arch-criminal the Hood. The fire behind the altar burned brighter, flames licking the twenty-foot high ceiling. The Hood repeated his summons, his voice louder as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back slightly.
"Manay datang ke hadapan, Manay, saya meminta anda. Manay timbul. Membuat ketika saya memerintah. Datang. Datang. Manay, datang."
Raising his arms toward the heavens, he repeated his words over and over again. Suddenly, the man/bull statue to the left began to move, as did the man/dragon statue to the right. Belah could feel the forces of darkness filling the room, answering his call to action. The two statues rose to their full height of over eight feet tall and stepped into the crackling blaze as Belah's voice droned on.
Several minutes passed, the only sound the roaring fire and Belah's continued chants. Then one figure stepped out of the fire, a golden being at least ten feet tall. Its head was that of a dragon, lips curled in a monstrously hideous grin. Its scaly neck tapered into the body of a bull, its hands nothing but hooves, while the thick legs gave way to bare human feet. It raised its fore hooves into the air and snarled, roaring with seeming fury.
Belah opened his eyes and stared at the creature, sweat beading his bald head. "Manay, mempunyai mereka!" he thundered, pointing one finger at the beast. It snarled again and walked around to the front of the wooden rack, eyeing each of the marionettes that hung helplessly suspended before it.
Holding both hooves against the first puppet, a bolt of what could only be described as lightning shot out of the fire into the dragon-head's eyes, causing it to roar with delight. Belah could hear the whispers of approaching beings, and he raised his arms in front of him, level with his shoulders as he continued to chant.
"Bawa mereka. Bawa mereka. Bawa mereka!"
Dark shadows seemed to move. One floated near to the beast before entering its back. Belah watched with twisted pleasure as the smoke-like apparition moved down the beast's arms, through its hooves and into the marionette. The puppet's jaw dropped, as if gasping for air, its eyes opening wide, its arms and legs jerking in protest.
"Yes. Yes!" Belah whispered, a yellow glow lighting his eyes.
The beast moved to the dark-haired marionette. As before, he placed his hooves against its chest. Another smoke-like apparition entered the beast's back and made its way down its arms into the puppet, whose eyes popped open as its mouth began to move. A frown suddenly creased its forehead as it came to life, heaving breath into its lungs for the first time.
"Yes!" Belah almost howled. He watched with increasing delight as the beast and the apparitions performed their evil work on each of the marionettes in turn. When at last the final one in line came to life, the demon turned, snarled ferociously at Belah, and leapt over the wooden rack and altar into the fire beyond.
Emerging from the fire on the left was the half-man/half-bull. It returned to its dais and cemented into a statue once more, soon followed by its half-man/half-dragon counterpart to the right. As the fire died down to nothing more than what you might find in a traditional fireplace, Belah approached the six marionettes that were squirming against their strings, their eyes glowing red.
"Yes, my little demons," Belah's menacing voice erupted as he looked into each of their eyes. "Yes, you know what to do, my children."
They howled and shrieked before suddenly becoming limp again, their eyes and mouths closing, looking as naïve and innocent as they had while hanging in the Finishing Room at Living Puppets. Belah turned, his face twisted, his lips forming a deadly smile.
"And now, International Rescue, your secrets will be mine!"