Textbook survival tells you to stay put. Stop. Wait for rescue. Don't take any risks. But there'd been a whole host of survival shows like that and I didn't really want to do that.


"Thunderbird One and Base from Thunderbird 2, ETA now two minutes."

"FAB, Thunderbird Two. As soon as you arrive, immediately deploy Thunderbird Four into the dam to begin the repairs."

I scan the damage to the concrete dam below me, under my precious 'bird. The subtle hum of the retro boosters was soothing under the circumstance, and the deeper rumble of Thunderbird Two's motors in the distance rang true to everyone who was in need of help. The vast wall below me had been ill-fated when a plane made a forced landing nearby and the impact of landing had jostled some of the supports, weakening the dam over the coming days. The concrete had worn away so much that it was in dire stress of temporary repairs, or it could destroy the town below.

"How long will it take you, Gordon?" Alan asks, over the radio from Thunderbird Five.

"About half an hour, at least." The peppy voice of my second-youngest brother was rich with concern and worry.

"And that town down there can only last another forty minutes at the water's current rate. A complete breakage would devastate it." John assessed from the cockpit.

"So let's get to it."

"And Virgil? Once Thunderbird Four has been deployed, I want you to stand by with the rescue platform. I don't want us to be unprepared if it breaks sooner."

"FAB, Thunderbird One."

I watch in recognition as the bright yellow submarine emerged from the dark green pod that had been dropped into the dam's water, and its distorted image swam around and around underneath the murky waters. I heard Gordon's radio transmissions, and he made a sly comment about Virgil and what might happen if he didn't get his butt up in Thunderbird Two ready to drop the support required down to him, or he would learn a lesson the hard way back at base. I chuckled, but as I watched water slowly seep through ever-growing cracks in the wall, I remembered my first real encounter with a horrible situation in which a level head was required to literally stay alive, even if I was sixteen at the time.

"Hey, Gords? I have the support but –" Virgil started. "Wait, what are you doing? You WHAT? Gordon! The first hole is priority! No!"

"Gordon? What's happening?" I had only caught Virgil's end of the transmissions, and then realised that Thunderbird Four was changing position to repair another area.

"The whole thing will collapse if I don't support it centrally!" Gordon reasoned.

"Gordon! GORDON!"

"Gordon, get back here!" I shout to my dear red headed brother, He wasn't too thrilled at the prospect of walking in the rain, but it was a lot better than the temptation of listening to Dad while he has business meetings, not after the last time.

"It has been raining hard for weeks! Everything, and everywhere, is wet, wet, wet!" Gordon pouted, "But we are still walking in it!"

I rolled my eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. Gordon was not happy with this, but the ironic thing was, he was normally more than willing to be outside on a nice spring day getting as wet as physically possible at the local outdoor swimming pool, letting its soothing, cooling waters wash relief from the burning midday suns. Of course, today being spring and pouring down with rain, he could not do those things. The indoor pool was the next best thing for the Fish Face, but it wasn't the same as the fresh waters on a hot summer's day.

I trudged along the path beside John and Alan, trying not to get any muddier than I already was. Yes, Gordon was right. It had been raining hard for weeks. We were all feeling miserable, sat at home with nothing to do but listen to our thoughts and memories instead of doing something productive. It was the start of Spring Break, too, which in the minds of the young Tracy boys really took the biscuit. Gordon was especially restless, and even I was beginning to regret my decision to take us out for a walk together on a path we once did as one big family. We must look like drowned rats, and I was becoming ever more tempted to give in to Gordon and go back home.

The path, on a normally warm spring day, would be bursting with colour, glowing green and wildlife, and it is a very enjoyable walk if you chose the right day. Today, unfortunately, is not that day. The path was instead lined with puddles, very muddy puddles, splashing the back of ones trousers with little specs of mud that, once noticed, will be difficult to ignore. The leaves on the trees, bushes and flowers were sagging under the immense weight of the rainwater. It was also very depressing to think that a normally very pleasant and uplifting walk was becoming an almost intolerable experience, made all the more worse by Gordon's lack of interest. Well, that and the atrocious weather accompanying it.

"Cheer up, Gords. It will make you appreciate home comforts when we get back." Virgil spoke up, ever the optimist. "Either that, or it will take the Fish out of water for a while, at least." He let out a mischievous grin, normally present on Gordon's face. Gordon glared at his brother, giving a huff of disapproval at his brother's comment. It would seem that the thirteen-year-old was still unhappy with the predicament.

We reached the wooden bridge moments later. The path we were taking leads up to the top of the valley, and we have to cross the river and its dam in order to reach the trig point, our ultimate goal for today. The path here was so worn down and as a result, the rainwater made the puddles bigger and muddier, if it was possible. The water that flows down the river comes from the dam at a controlled rate to prevent floods in the valley below. The bridge takes us over this river, except something was different this time, something was… wrong.

The rain had obviously made the river rise a fair few inches, as this is rainwater coming from all sides into the river, not just the dam. We stopped just before the bridge, watching as the murky waters below us surged dangerously beneath us, at a somewhat alarming rate. There were the usual floaters in the river, leaves, twigs and feathers which merged with the dark and dingy waters. In retrospect, this bridge cannot be very strong because it is wooden, and has been around longer than my father. This can't be that strong now, can it?

"Is anyone else feeling a little bit uneasy about this bridge?" John asked no one in particular. John was the serious one, and was not afraid to show disapproval where it was due, being very pessimistic at most times, and this made him very predictable.

"Well, we might as well turn back now -" Gordon took the opportunity and did an about turn. I held him back by his shoulder.

"Not so fast, Fish Face. We might as well keep going."

"Yeah, let's go. The bridge has survived storms worse than this before, right?" Virgil said, stepping onto the bridge fearlessly. No problems for the adolescent a year older than Gordon himself. I noticed now how the rain seemed to ignore his attempt at staying dry under his waterproof coat and hood, as his hair was matted down. The artist spent a lot of time indoors, so it was no surprise that the weather would want to sink its teeth into the boy as he tried to stay as dry as physically possible.

"Come on then." Alan followed suit.

I stepped onto the bridge behind Gordon, with John bringing up the rear, who was now slightly unhappy with our conscious decision. He murmured something, but the rain and river drowned out the voice of my immediate younger brother. That, or Gordon slipping on the wood, eliciting laughter from the rest of us. ("You did that on purpose!" "No, Gordon, no, I did not" "Did too!").

The rest of the way up the hill was just as wet and slippery as it was before the bridge. If anything, it was a whole lot worse because the puddles on the path beneath our feet became an interconnected network of little canals, rushing around the pebbles that supported us as we plodded along. If it wasn't for the pebbles, we would have slipped all the way back down again. The wind was getting stronger too, sending icy cold specs of rain into our faces as we traversed the path. The dark grey clouds were showing no signs of relenting either, threatening thunder. I was beginning to sympathise with Gordon on this front, because it was ridiculously, bitterly, horrendously cold now. The only sweet sensation keeping us going was that the dam was in sight, and it levels out after that, we were so close to our small victory that it was too much to give up on. The next obstacle was ahead, bracing itself for our arrival.

The dam was a gargantuan, stone brick wall with two rusty holes in its base to control the flow of water that emerges from the tank of water on our left side to the steep drop on our right. The drop was intimidating, dangerous, and Alan was not the biggest fan of heights, except that and Gordon was not our biggest issue.

The fences protecting innocent walkers from meeting an unnecessary fate offer a beautiful view on a clear day, but this wasn't the problem. Looking down at the water was concerning enough, but the holes somehow seemed wider, forcing more water through them than on a regular day. Yes, when there are no storms, the river is just more flowing than a stream or beck, letting out only a little bit of water at a time. However, now, the river was in full flow, the pipes seemed to be getting bigger and bigger, more and more water emerging.

"Come on, we have to get to the other side." Alan pronounced, taking steps to cross it. I was concerned now, and could see why John was looking over the railings the way he was.

"Alan. Virgil. Gordon. Come back here, now." I said slowly and sternly, gesturing them to come back.

"Why?" Virgil was already halfway across.

"The dam –"

"It's breaking up!" John announced, pointing over the chasm. Sure enough, the cracks were spouting water through them, and there were quite a few of these crevices in the wall and more were appearing, fast.

"Oh god…" Gordon murmured. Virgil was naturally very calm under pressure, so took slow steps towards us. Gordon and Alan did the same.

"Get back here, slowly…" I kept my voice low and calm, getting myself into a protective stance and ready to react to anything. I watched with bated breath, alongside my brother, as the once flamboyant teen and preteen were now scared of falling. Alan didn't have far to come, neither did Gordon. Virgil did.

It was nerve wrecking, watching the water emerge from the very full tank, for it to seep through the stone, knowing that it was going to give way at some point, but when it was going to do the inevitable remained a mystery. Our whereabouts would, too, if we didn't stop progressing forwards and warn everyone! Virgil finally reached us, both feet now on muddy ground, and no one hesitated to run back the way we came.

"We have to warn everyone!" John implored, running down at a 45 degree angle, so as to not face plant and slip the rest of the way down.

"Then what are we waiting for!" Gordon quipped, running flat footed. This was ultimately his undoing, as he slipped and slid the rest of the way down on his backside, about 80% of the hill. This was actually quite an economical way to do it, and the rest of us were sorely tempted to follow suit. The rest of us slipped at least once on our way down, but we didn't quite fall with the same grace and style as Gordon, and rolled back onto our feet. We saw Gordon just before the bridge, staring at it and not moving.

And soon, I knew why too.

"Our only chance is to cross to the bridge…" Someone said breathlessly as we all looked at the scene before us. The water had risen so high, a lot higher than earlier, and the bridge looked to be in the very possible danger of collapsing. I could swear I heard it creak.

"It doesn't look safe to me." Gordon grumbled.

"It's our only chance!" Alan stepped onto the bridge bravely, "if that dam breaks, we'll be done for!"

I saw sense in this, but it was not safe at all.

Alan was the only one who moved at this point, as he was the lightest. If it took his weight, the chances are it could take the rest of ours. We had decided this without saying a word, unspeaking, partly because we couldn't distract Alan in case he slipped or something required his rapt attention.

Well, now every move he makes requires his rapt, completely undivided attention.

I felt myself give an almighty sigh of relief when he leaped the last half a metre onto the solid ground. Everyone else made an audible noise to express their own feelings of abatement. He swiftly turned around and gestured for us to follow his lead. "Come on!"

"Right, John, Gordon." The two boys made slow steps onto the now darkened wood, ensuring that their feet were firmly gripping the slippery wet bridge. They were at opposite ends of the bridge, acting as each other's counterweight. Both were covered in mud, and it showed up more on John's bright blue coat than Gordon's navy one, but having said that, the rain was washing off most of the mud. It was almost certainly not going to get out of Gordon's hair without a fight, though, because it was now very sticky. John had a few splats of mud over his face, but compared with Gordon's remarkably strange way down the hill, John looked like he was fresh from the shower. They had a momentary scare when the water level had raised a little, splashing John's ankles for but a second, causing me, Virgil and Alan to yell out their names in fear and panic. They made it though, progressing equally as calm and collected as they had been.

Neither Virgil nor I needed telling to make our crossing as soon as they were safe, but that was when we thought we were safe to do so, because that is when disaster struck. We were too far to turn back, and too far to run ahead safely.

A colossal rumble and subsequent splash sounded from my side, the left. It caused all five of us to look in that direction and I felt my jaw drop in disbelief. Before I could, no, before any of us could register what had just happened, a wave of water gushed over me and Virgil, drenching us in icy cold, muddy river water. In nothing more or less than fear, I reached out to Virgil and grasped him by the shoulders. Before we could recuperate from the breeze ruffling across our wet bodies, breathing deeply and Virgil choking a little, we felt the bridge jerk beneath us. Virgil and I gripped the bridge, and each other, without hesitation. The moulding wood was difficult to grip, and I was certain that if it was possible, we would break the bridge with how tightly we were holding it.

Unfortunately, we didn't have to. The water was flowing full force, inches higher than it was a few seconds ago, forcing me to fight to keep in one spot. The bridge creaked beneath us, and I heard the distinct snap of the wooden handrails at the either side of the bridge. We were moving inch by inch, and the supports beneath us gave way. It could only mean one thing.

"Scott! Virgil!"

It meant that we were in serious trouble.

"Help!"

The panic on the faces of our three other brothers with their feet safely on the solid ground was beyond comprehension. Their eyes were wide with fear and desperation, reaching out towards us even though they could not reach us. Virgil and I were trying desperately to keep our balance on the transport that was, at this point in time, keeping us alive for the most part. Virgil was staying remarkably calm.

"We'll follow you along the riverbank!"

"I'll get Dad!"

"Virgil! Scott!"

Virgil said nothing, and neither did I. We could only hold onto the bridge for dear life, a distinct feeling of dread washing over me just like that wave. A feeling that I had not felt since I was eight years old, when Alan, Mother and I were trapped underneath all that snow. We were floating helplessly on floodwaters, water that would be unrelenting for a long time and no way to control this bridge in any way. The rain was blurring out our long distance vision, but all we could see anyway was lightening flash in that moment, and the abyss of water on the horizon, the memorable sound of thunder rumbling in the aftermath of the lightening.

"Scott."

I wasn't really paying attention to Virgil, but more so on a way off here without drowning.

"Scott."

"Virgil, be quiet. I'm trying to think –"

"Scott."

"What is it?" I ask sharply, my temper was short with paranoia.

"Doesn't… Doesn't this river lead to a waterfall?" Virgil raised one of his hands and pointed towards the direction we were heading in. I felt my heart skip a beat, and realised that yes, indeed, this river did lead towards a waterfall. A very, very large one which overlooks the valley. Just like dam, the view is spectacular on a regular, clear day, yet the remarkable view from the edge of the waterfall was stunning, I realised that the abyss ahead of us was just that. The normally excellent viewpoint was going to give us serious problems if we didn't get off here quickly.

I looked over Virgil's shoulder, and the words I saw sent a chill down my spine, literally and figuratively – Beware the Waterfall.

"Oh, no…"

"If we go over that waterfall, we're done for!" I realise, shuddering from the cold, whilst also remembering the shallow pool at its foot. In summer, we frequent the pool as a means of cooling down and fulfilling Gordon's wish of swimming outside. The gentle waters are soothing under the baking Kansas heat, and the gentle breeze which accompanies it is ever soothing when battling the sun-laden clearing.

"We have to get off here!"

"We can't just jump into the water, the current's too strong. We wouldn't survive its pressure."

"We can't just stand here and wait for us to fall over the edge."

"We'll be over there in minutes."

"If it isn't already too late!"

The best thing we could do at this point in time would be to try and keep us balanced. If we lost our balance, then we would be over that waterfall faster than we would bargain for. We could hear Gordon running alongside us, shouting to us. All the while, we were creeping closer and closer to the oblivion ahead of us, and as much as it pained me to admit it, I thought of my mother. I thought of how she died, and poor Alan saw it, as did I.

The cold was undeniably bitter, striking us to the core. I felt my mother's cold hand wrapped around my own, as her lifeless body, buried under all that snow, was bundled over my youngest brother. I felt a searing pain shoot through my arm, and was certain I had broken my wrist. I heard my brother's weak cries of pain, just as much as the voices over us. The feeling of claustrophobia was unnerving, and the people seemed so far away. I would cry out myself if I could, but it just wasn't possible.

The avalanche came far quicker than we had anticipated, and the snow had washed over us with a sudden blinding jerk of white light, shattering us forever. Mother was holding Alan, and he didn't seem as hurt as Mother did. Mother was breathing slowly and sharply, wheezing her breaths, whispering to us. I could listen, but not understand why she was so certain she would die. I didn't want her to. But she was already gone.

"Scott! Virgil!"

I recognise that voice, it is father!

"Dad!"

"Father!"

I couldn't turn around much to see my father, because Virgil was just as aware as I was more likely to knock our balance completely off, yet Virgil looked overjoyed. All I could see was how close we were to the drop that could be potentially fatal to us.

"I've got a rope, I need you to tie it to the bridge!" I heard him shout. Virgil shouted an acknowledgement, but I can highly suspect that I need to grab the rope. I slowly turned around, and sure enough, him and our other three brothers, watching intently with worry plastered over their once relatively happy faces.

Once I was certain that I hadn't ruined our balance, I saw father just ahead of us, swinging the rope ready to give us another fighting chance.

"Ready!" I shouted, bracing myself for the incoming rope that could be our saviour, hopefully.

Father threw the rope in our direction and I caught it instantly, but felt the pressure of this bridge and the combined weight of me and my brother. Father was straining to keep control just as much as I was, but I had to attach this to the bridge otherwise rope burn could cause me some serious problems, especially since Virgil is stood there sweating in the hopes that I don't screw up. He is naturally very calm under pressure, but there is calm and then there is calm under immense stress. Virgil is the latter, which he was only just managing.

With Virgil's quick assistance, we had the rope relatively securely strapped to the bridge, and I felt the bridge sag under the weight of some of the river water. It took a lot of strength from everyone just to hold us.

But how much more is it going to take to get us to safety?

"Are you sure this will work?" I shouted over the rain pattering against the water at our ankles and against the very strained woodwork.

"Sort of!"

I didn't register who replied because a thunderclap drowned out any and all recognition from them. I felt it become more painful to try and pull us back upstream, and I was struggling to see if this is going to work, but I was slowly but surely proven wrong as they used the current to their advantage, allowing us a little way down but getting us ever closer to the safety of the riverbank. Well, the burst riverbank could provide us a bit more stability, but we may not get there at this rate.

"Jump!"

I looked at the apparent distance between us and them, and it was quite a way. There was still time for this to go wrong or get better, just which way was the question. I had a relatively good grip on the rope, but I wasn't sure whether the bridge did have the same strength and will to live.

"Virgil, go!" I shout urgently to the boy literally next to me, and he hesitated,

"No! What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you! GO!" I yell urgently, and whilst the boy hesitated, he took steps around me and leapt forward, his hood flying behind him now. His take-off wasn't the best, as he didn't jump exactly. He just, kind of… fell forwards, landing in the water but was shallow enough to be grabbed by John's welcoming arms.

This time, however, was not one to be wasted needlessly, and I did waste it.

The beam that the rope was tied around snapped in two, sending me forwards with an almighty jerk. In sheer panic, I also had a poor take-off. I did manage a jump, more or less, but because the bridge was already moving when the rope gave way, I was doomed to miss before I even moved. My target was off because of the sudden movement and panicked action on my part. My brothers yelled my name as I landed in a slightly deeper stretch of water, reaching out to grab something, anything. I had closed my eyes, and wished that I could open my eyes underwater like Gordon could, because this was relatively simple, except for the gushing currents pushing me further downstream. The pattering of rain was muffled underwater, as was the voices of my family. I grabbed a branch or tree root or something, as I held my breath and my grip onto whatever it was, I felt someone grab my coat collar and yank me to the surface, and subsequently, shallow water.

I coughed and spluttered and rubbed my eyes, feeling the effect of the freezing river against me. I shivered, but I was kept warm by the knowledge of just how close I was. How close I was to dying today. I opened my eyes to find my father kneeling beside me, asking me questions like how I was feeling. To be honest, I felt horrible, but now that we were all safe was not a problem.

"Next time Scott, take off with a little more grace and you'll succeed."

"You're joking. There's no way he'll get into the Air Force now, not with such a poor take-off."

"Try being more bird-like, you'll get there."

"Rumbling like thunder and bright as lightening."

It was good to hear that this hadn't dampened Gordon or Alan too much, given that Virgil and I definitely were drowned rats.

And now, as I overfly the ruins of the dam which Gordon has managed to temporarily repair, I notice now just how close Gordy and Alan were to naming our beloved craft. They were right, rumbling like thunder and bright as lightening – Our Thunderbirds.

"Thunderbird One, Two, Five and Base from Thunderbird Four, everything FAB. Requiring pickup."

"FAB, on my way down."

"Good work son."

"Nice."

Once Virgil had packed up the pod, complete with Thunderbird Four, I sped off back to base, where breakfast has been waiting for me since dawn. It was then when I got the call from Virgil.

"Hey Scott, am I the only one who thought of the bridge at this rescue?"

I smile. "No, Virge, You weren't."

"Who'd have thought that this is what we do for a living? Stopping dams from breaking, all because one broke with us on it!"

"You're one to talk," John spoke up. "Frankly, dams hate you."

"Did you look in the mirror that day, Johnny-boy?" Gordon quipped. "The only thing that hated us was the horrendous mud."

"That you slid down."

"Hey, if I remember correctly, I wanted to stay home! Dry! Out of floodwater and mud!"

"So you had psychic powers and predicted that was the day you didn't fancy a swim?"

"Yes. What can I say? Respect the water, it respects you…"


This was my (first ever) entry into the TIWF "Rescue Me" challenge, and I really enjoyed the challenge :) Congrats to quiller who won the challenge with "On The Edge". :)