MISSING SCENE "THE UNINVITED"
AN: ----I just felt like writing this :p I wanted to know what happened between getting found, and Virgil and Tin-Tin arriving.
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Juud18
When I wake up, a low buzzing noise like an engine sounds from afar. I right myself, and groan as the pain in my head increases. I vaguely realize I knocked my head on the top of the hatch of Thunderbird 1. Just a soft knock, but it was hard enough to send sparks flying behind my eyes. Feels like my head is gonna fall off.
I hold my hand against my head, as if it will relieve the pounding headache. As expected it doesn't, and I pull my hand away for just a few seconds. Long enough for me to realize there are two men coming my way.
Both of them are wearing large blue sunglasses, beige overalls and are covered from head to toe in sand and dust. The one standing the farthest from me has a big beard.
I grab for my head again when the closest one says:" Hey, you're hurt.." My head really feels like it is going to fall off. I've had a concussion before, but this one is really gonna do me in if I'm not careful. How I know for sure I have a concussion? This happens to be the fourth time in ten years. Long live the Air Force and International Rescue...
I think my concussions are a record in the family.. We all have some kind of injury record. Virgil breaks his ribs most of the time, while Alan usually breaks his arm or leg. John and Gordon always have to have it all. When one of those two got injured, it was pretty serious.
"I'll survive." I mutter softly. I didn't want to raise my voice, talking hurt.
"Lindsey?" So that's his name.. Now for the one with the beard. "Get the first aid from the jeep," he orders..
"Right.." Lindsey walks off, and as he leaves, the bearded fella asks:" What happened then?"
I'm sinking down against the hatch. My knees apparently decided they didn't want to carry my weight anymore. Black spots are dancing in front of my eyes, and I hope I'm not going to pass out again.
"Well," I start, still keeping my voice low, "I was.. I was on my way home, when these three fighters came out of nowhere and forced me down here.." I vaguely recall what happened, and it plays out in my mind's eye, blurry, but there. Mild concussion then, I still remember what happened.
The bearded guy seems confused as to what I mean with fighters.
"Fighters did you say?" He queries. "Who could they have been? There's no human life for miles and miles around here.." He says. "We know 'em mister, because we've been all over these parts." He explains. I'm just short of hanging on to the hatch with my arms by now. I feel so tired, my head is pounding like crazy, and my stomach is rebelling fiercely too at the moment.
"What are you fellas doing in this neck of the woods anyway?" I mutter, trying to keep my head on straight. If I even let go of my control for a second, I'm in for it.
Lindsey comes trudging back at the same moment the bearded fellow says:" We're on a expedition to locate the lost pyramid of Camandides."
Lindsey pipes up at this, and I have the feeling the two have been on the road for a long time. They are slowly getting sick of each other, I can tell by the way they talk. Like a married couple.. "You mean, we were looking for the darn thing until you decided you had enough." Lindsey grumbles.
"Yeah well eh.. I must say the locals aren't all that friendly.." I mutter. It was putting it mildly actually. If I get my hands on whoever shot me, and my baby out of the sky, they are gonna be in for it.. I don't understand why they would shoot my out of the sky.. What could the reason have been? Revenge? General dislike of International Rescue?
"Something about this part of the desert that gives me the creeps.." The bearded man admits. I can agree with him. There is something ominous about it.. I can't figure it out. I had this feeling before a lot in the Air Force, letting me know something was about to happen, and here I am having the same feeling.
I grab for my head and moan as the dizziness and pain make my vision blur.
"Ah, come on fella.." The bearded guy says, "We're gonna fix you up.."
He reaches for my arm, but I stop him verbally. "Eh, hold it a second.. Just do me a small favor..."
"Sure thing." He mutters, probably unsure what I'd want right now... "You just name it."
"Radio International Rescue, and tell them I'm okay.." I ask him.
"Certainly, what's the frequency?"
"Ehhh, well, I guess any frequency will do, they'll receive you..." I explain to him. Don't know how John does it but he always picks everything up between all the normal radio chatter. How wrong he was to call himself a glorified answering machine..
The bearded fella turns to Lindsey, takes the first aid kit from him and tells him to make the call..
"Name's Wilson by the way.." He says, and grabs my hand to help me out of Thunderbird 1.
"Scott.." I answer back, grabbing a firm hold of his hand and letting him pull me out.
Dizziness assaults me almost immediately, and so, despite Wilson's aid as I climb out, I tumble over the hatch on the side of Thunderbird 1. I guess Wilson didn't expect me to be so unresponsive, because he doesn't react fast enough as I fall over.
I stifle a moan as I roughly collapse on the sand, my hands unable to catch my falling weight. I lay there for a few seconds, until Wilson pulls me back up by my biceps. I spit out sand and fight back the threatening, greying edges at the sides of my vision.
"Come on.." Wilson mutters gruffly. I stumble along with him as he walks me to their truck and puts me down in the driver's seat. It's warm and soft, and I unwillingly close my eyes to stop the world from spinning out of control. It's as if someone took the handbrake off the axis of the world and was spinning it like crazy.
"Hey.." Wilson shakes me, and tiredly, I open one eye to look at him. He's pretty blurry.
"I'm still here.." I slur. I sound like I had one too many.
"You better be, buddy." Wilson mutters. My eyes slip shut to slits, and the headache diminishes somewhat.
I hear Lindsey and Wilson rummaging about, as the former calls with John, and the latter prepares a quick solution for the cut on my forehead.
"Ow, darnit!" I exclaim, as Wilson presses a iodine soaked bandage against it. He's none too gentle treating it.
"Sorry fella." Wilson apologizes, pressing softly on my cut to stem the bleeding. I feel a little silly for yelling at him. It's not his fault Iodine happens to sting like a son of a gun..
"Never mind.." I mutter trough clenched teeth. He pained me enough to get my head straight again. I let him work for a few moments. Lindsey shows his face meanwhile to tell me he has radioed base, reporting I was okay..
I thank him, and then Wilson, who finished treating the cut by pressing a bandage over it and taping it to my forehead loosely. Virgil will probably do it better when he comes. I know he's coming, Thunderbird 1 has to be taken out of the desert and back to base. The radio was busted also so he will probably be bringing Brains as well.
I doze in the driver's seat of the truck for a few moments, not quite drifting off, but not entirely coherent either. My thoughts are drifting from Virgil and Thunderbird 2, to the accident with Thunderbird 1 I had under an hour ago.. I just can't wrap my mind around why those three fighters would shoot me down..
As I think, a sudden familiar engine noise fills my ears. I don't need to open my eyes to know what it is. Just as in the Air Force days, I learned to recognize the engine sounds, and this particular one is so rare, I'd recognize it anywhere...
"Thunderbird 2.." I whisper. Wilson has set himself down on the passenger seat and I can hear him shift in his seat.
"That's Thunderbird 2?" He mutters. I can tell he's in awe of the green leviathan. International Rescue's carrier ship.
I smile as I listen to the increasing noise. I wait for it to level, and then listen for the VTOL's helping the great green carrier land. It doesn't take long before I hear familiar voices.
"Scott!" It's Virgil.. I sigh in relief and close my eyes again. It's gonna be just fine now.. Virg is here.
I can't explain it, but if there is a brother I can relate to the best, it's Virgil. He's the one who drags the most out of me if something bothers me, he's the one who holds me if I feel bad, and he's the one who picks up the pieces. And in return, I do the same for him. I do it for them all, but Virgil is the one who does it in return for me..
I feel a gentle, warm hand settle in my hair, and I open my eyes. They connect with a pair of burnt-honey colored eyes, and I smile.
"Hiya Virg.." I mutter quietly. Virgil smiles back and I can tell he's relieved I'm okay.
"How's your head, Scott?" He asks. I feel his hand slide trough my hair, over the bandage, and then fall to rest on my shoulder.
"It's okay." I say, but know Virg probably doesn't believe it. He looks back, and I finally notice Tin-Tin and Brains standing behind him. Funny, I didn't see them a minute ago..
"Tin-Tin, could you see to his cut properly? And check if he's not hurt anywhere else.." Virgil turned to Brains and said to the young professor:" Brains, I think Scott's radio is busted, might want to fix it." Virgil is being bossy.. I grin and keep in the laugh that will give me a bigger headache for sure.
"It's nothing, Virgil, It's just my head. " I try. I'm not very fond of being poked and prodded twice in twenty minutes. Tin-Tin persists though, and examines me in total (thank god coming up with nothing else) before ending up stitching the cut on my forehead.. For her sake, I bite my tongue as I curse up a blue streak inside my mind. Virgil is standing behind her overseeing everything.
"Just your head, huh Scott?" He says, grinning. I know there is a comment coming.. "It's not as if you were using it.." He teases, as Tin-Tin finishes bandaging my head...
I pull myself up to a standing position, and dizzily cuff Virgil over the head for the smart comment, laughing softly, trying not to aggravate my headache. I do sway slightly, and Virgil grabs me before I can fall over. He scolds me for moving around to much, but smiles afterwards none the less.
He tells me to sit down again, and I do so without arguing. It won't get me anywhere anyway. Virgil, Tin-Tin, Brains, Wilson and Lindsey set up camp as I watch. Guess we're staying the night. I can't wait to go to sleep. I know Virg is gonna have to wake me every two hours, but I'm so tired, I just don't care. Just want to get some rest..
I yawn and watch them, while it's slowly getting darker and colder. I wait patiently for Virgil, who gets me after they finish getting a campfire going.
"Let's go get some of Tin-Tin's apple pie.." Virgil suggests, smiling. He knows I love her apple pie. Aside from Grandma's apple pie, Tin-Tin's is the best. Virgil helps me to a chair in front of our tent.
Laughing and joking, we dig in hungrily..
Now how bout the next little bit ? I'll be posting this soon, but I'll give ya a sneakpeak. ;P
Scott pushed his shades down his nose and glanced up at his brothers, knowing he was going to be in for it. I could tell he was nervous, but his face showed nothing of the sort.
"Hey, Scott. Could you help us?" I heard Gords say, "We dropped something over there, but we can't reach it, our arms aren't long enough.." He explained, elbowing his younger brother who was a hair's breath short of giggling.
Scott sighed, and stood up. He followed them to the top of the stairs leading to the woods, and they pointed at the side of the concrete steps, where I knew a small legde stuck out.
Scott bent over, and was about to lie down on the concrete to reach for whatever the boys had dropped, when the both of them pushed their older brother.
They started laughing as he windmilled with his arms, trying to regain his balance. It was pretty funny to see actually. Scott looked like a demented seagull trying to take off! He shouted loudly as he lost his balance anyway despite violently trying to regain it, and then cursed a blue streak as he went over the edge.
Even John and I couldn't resist laughing at what had befallen our oldest brother. At that point we still thought Scott would just come up, grousing and grumbling at our irresponsible younger brothers.
We were laughing for a good minute, until we realized Scott wasn't coming back up.
Instead, hard sneezing and coughing suddenly erupted from our older brother as he slowly pulled himself up at the steps, almost losing his grip as he sneeze-coughed.
Alan had to hold onto Gordon to keep from falling over with laughter, but was hardly succeeding in staying upright, since his brother was shaking as much as he was.
"That was priceless!" Gordon exclaimed. I grinned. It was pretty funny.
John beside me was still laughing. Like myself, Gords and Alan, he didn't really see that Scott was sneezing and coughing his head off, moaning after every sneeze. It hadn't worried me at that point either. He sounded as if the fall into the bushes from the side of the stairs -which was a drop of a little over five feet- had merely knocked the wind out of him. Though that didn't explain the sneezing.
I got up from the lounger and John followed. We went to stand beside Scott, who sneezed and groaned loudly again. Gordon and Alan went into a laughing frenzy all over again, and I just smiled when Scott just glared at the two, coughing.
I saw John move away from us and look over the edge at the stairs, apparently gears turning in his head by now because of Scott's behaviour.. His soft curse was enough for me to realize something was pretty wrong.
John didn't curse.
Juud18
