The clouds pour in overhead, the air dark, hazy and thick with the scent of
a storm. I can't breathe and every time I try, the pain that emits from
every point of my body is excruciating. It falls over me in waves,
threatening to turn my world black quicker than I can even form a lucid
thought. I'm too sore to ponder a way out of this mess, but I know I have
to try. I have to save myself before the squall comes and I'm swept away in
the depths of the sea I can hear crashing below me.
How I got here, I'm not quite sure. I can feel the prickly tips of the rocks under my back and even though it is uncomfortable, I am unable to move. Every bone, muscle and limb feels as if it's undergone some form damage and my sides are heaving with the effort to simply inhale one diminutive breath. All I remember is falling and the sickening crunch as I landed on the rocks. The only thing I can recall thinking since then is a sentence that is haunting my disjointed mind. . .
Why am I still alive?
I look up at the sky as lightening washes the area in its bright flash and thunder rolls in my ears. The rain begins to plummet on my bruised skin now, and it sluices me in its cleanliness. It's cold on my body, like a million microscopic ice cubes drumming over my wounds. My eyes threaten to close, and I'm so drained I'm not sure how much longer I can fight unconsciousness.
My heart slows and I begin to surrender to my exhaustion, knowing that the opposite reaction might have disastrous effects. If I panic, I could further injure myself or fall further down - if there is a further down. I concentrate on pushing away the searing aches and try to get my brain into a state of serenity, though even I know that could prove to be impossible.
I think of everyone I'm leaving behind if something happens to me before I'm found. I wonder if, somehow, they can hear my thoughts and will come rescue me. Oh, Scott, can you hear me? Scott, I'm here, please come get me.
I shiver against the tears of rain and the wind that has picked up, blowing over me like translucent snow. My shape feels numb now, as if frozen by sheets of the non-existent blizzard. I long for something warm to wrap myself in, but I know it isn't coming. Virgil, I'm so cold - so very cold. Come find me, Virgil, and don't forget the blankets.
The waves splash and toss as if in a heated fight with each other beneath me. They sound so close, yet so far. My head forms crazy ideas of swimming to safety, but I know the waters are too cold to survive such a feat. Gordon, I can hear the ocean. Bring Thunderbird 4, and pick me up in your yellow submarine. Please, Gordon, come save me.
As I stare at the sky, blinking as the rain splatters my face, I consider whether I would be able to see Thunderbird 5. If the clouds would just move, I might be able to peer up into the atmosphere and locate the satellite. It gives me something concrete to imagine I can be seen from there, a solid fantasy floating through my conscience. I know it's up there, somewhere, looking down on the planet. John, are you reading me? Please come in, John, and tell the boys I need them.
And Alan. Oh, Alan, I'm here. Won't you come for me and take me home? I want to sit by the fire and watch Gordon and Scott play chess. We'll have hot cocoa and sing with Virgil as he plays soft tunes on the piano. We can discuss rescues, and help Brains with his experiments in the lab. I'll come into your room and we'll call John and talk to him until the sun peeks over the horizon and the birds begin their morning songs. Please, Alan, come get me. I just want to go home.
Boys, are you there? Do you know where I am? Please. . .please, come get me and bring me home. I don't want to be here anymore. It's too lonely and I'm in so much pain. Please rescue me.
My eyes flutter open and my heart begins to pound in disbelief, making my ribs cry out. There's a sound audible over the waves pushing against the rocks and it takes what breath I have managed to acquire away. I'd know that hum of engines anywhere.
Oh, Scott. Scott, you heard me!
I want to shed tears of relief, but my trembling body isn't capable of the act. Amongst the clouds is the unmistakable rocket-shaped Thunderbird 1, the lightning shining off its hoary outer flesh. I can't move or call attention to myself, but I hope he can distinguish me from the sharp boulders I'm lying on.
The craft lands, and I see a shadow jump out and slip over the rocks towards me. I want to run to him, to tell him I'm still alive but I can't. My breathing becomes shallower as he approaches and my fatigue takes over, pulling me under its gloomy covers. The last thing I see before my eyes shut is him leaning over me, the distress evident on his features.
I don't need to be awake any longer. I've been saved.
How I got here, I'm not quite sure. I can feel the prickly tips of the rocks under my back and even though it is uncomfortable, I am unable to move. Every bone, muscle and limb feels as if it's undergone some form damage and my sides are heaving with the effort to simply inhale one diminutive breath. All I remember is falling and the sickening crunch as I landed on the rocks. The only thing I can recall thinking since then is a sentence that is haunting my disjointed mind. . .
Why am I still alive?
I look up at the sky as lightening washes the area in its bright flash and thunder rolls in my ears. The rain begins to plummet on my bruised skin now, and it sluices me in its cleanliness. It's cold on my body, like a million microscopic ice cubes drumming over my wounds. My eyes threaten to close, and I'm so drained I'm not sure how much longer I can fight unconsciousness.
My heart slows and I begin to surrender to my exhaustion, knowing that the opposite reaction might have disastrous effects. If I panic, I could further injure myself or fall further down - if there is a further down. I concentrate on pushing away the searing aches and try to get my brain into a state of serenity, though even I know that could prove to be impossible.
I think of everyone I'm leaving behind if something happens to me before I'm found. I wonder if, somehow, they can hear my thoughts and will come rescue me. Oh, Scott, can you hear me? Scott, I'm here, please come get me.
I shiver against the tears of rain and the wind that has picked up, blowing over me like translucent snow. My shape feels numb now, as if frozen by sheets of the non-existent blizzard. I long for something warm to wrap myself in, but I know it isn't coming. Virgil, I'm so cold - so very cold. Come find me, Virgil, and don't forget the blankets.
The waves splash and toss as if in a heated fight with each other beneath me. They sound so close, yet so far. My head forms crazy ideas of swimming to safety, but I know the waters are too cold to survive such a feat. Gordon, I can hear the ocean. Bring Thunderbird 4, and pick me up in your yellow submarine. Please, Gordon, come save me.
As I stare at the sky, blinking as the rain splatters my face, I consider whether I would be able to see Thunderbird 5. If the clouds would just move, I might be able to peer up into the atmosphere and locate the satellite. It gives me something concrete to imagine I can be seen from there, a solid fantasy floating through my conscience. I know it's up there, somewhere, looking down on the planet. John, are you reading me? Please come in, John, and tell the boys I need them.
And Alan. Oh, Alan, I'm here. Won't you come for me and take me home? I want to sit by the fire and watch Gordon and Scott play chess. We'll have hot cocoa and sing with Virgil as he plays soft tunes on the piano. We can discuss rescues, and help Brains with his experiments in the lab. I'll come into your room and we'll call John and talk to him until the sun peeks over the horizon and the birds begin their morning songs. Please, Alan, come get me. I just want to go home.
Boys, are you there? Do you know where I am? Please. . .please, come get me and bring me home. I don't want to be here anymore. It's too lonely and I'm in so much pain. Please rescue me.
My eyes flutter open and my heart begins to pound in disbelief, making my ribs cry out. There's a sound audible over the waves pushing against the rocks and it takes what breath I have managed to acquire away. I'd know that hum of engines anywhere.
Oh, Scott. Scott, you heard me!
I want to shed tears of relief, but my trembling body isn't capable of the act. Amongst the clouds is the unmistakable rocket-shaped Thunderbird 1, the lightning shining off its hoary outer flesh. I can't move or call attention to myself, but I hope he can distinguish me from the sharp boulders I'm lying on.
The craft lands, and I see a shadow jump out and slip over the rocks towards me. I want to run to him, to tell him I'm still alive but I can't. My breathing becomes shallower as he approaches and my fatigue takes over, pulling me under its gloomy covers. The last thing I see before my eyes shut is him leaning over me, the distress evident on his features.
I don't need to be awake any longer. I've been saved.