Please be advised that this chapter becomes quite graphic in places.
In Too Deep – Chapter Seven
"BANG"
The shout was loud, gruff and came from right beside his ear.
The anticipation of a gunshot meant the slightest noise triggered a reaction and the louder the sound the more of a reaction it garnered. Virgil didn't even register where the noise had come from before he squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a quick breath. Instinct told him to jerk away from the threat and he closed his mind to what he knew was happening around him. For a few seconds, he was surprised at the lack of pain, or even pressure, against his forehead but then logic kicked in and he realised that from such close range, he probably wouldn't have felt a thing. Did that mean he was dead?
"Sometimes, the look in someone's eyes when you're about to do something, is almost as good as actually doing it," he was told between bouts of hysterics.
The strident laughter that echoed around him was broken only by breathless gasping for much needed air. As the cackling continued, Virgil realised that the lack of pain and the raucous crowing were both signs that he was still very much alive. In turn, that meant only one thing: the nightmare was continuing. All the evidence led him to the conclusion that there had been no shot fired, no searing pain as he'd expected and no end to this horrendous encounter. He forced an eye open, apprehension stiffening his muscles, and allowed himself a look around.
Billy was grasping his sides and laughing so hard that he was bent over. He still held the gun but was waving it around in a lackadaisical manner. As if it was inconsequential and didn't have the potential to end life. Virgil flinched as his ears became attuned to the hysterics coming from behind him; the loud guffawing made him cringe. To his horror, he realised not only was he shaking but that he was sweating profusely. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, as if he was stood outside in the pouring rain. He began to feel grateful that he hadn't had the opportunity to drink anything substantial as he was sure he would have lost it.
As his vision began to grey a little and his chest burnt, Virgil recognised that he hadn't released the sharp intake of breath he'd taken at the last minute. Shaken, he allowed himself to breath and began gasping for oxygen that, in his suspense, he'd starved himself of.
"For God's sakes!" Luke exclaimed. He looked down at Virgil who remained on his knees but had slumped back and was panting as his body demanded oxygen faster than he could supply it. "Look at him!" Luke gestured down to their hostage before glaring at his comrades. "You're sick!" he shook his head as he stepped forward towards Virgil.
Virgil was too busy trying to drag air into his lungs to register Luke's hands on his shoulders. As his youngest captor tried to pull him to his feet, he flinched away. Unable to stop the momentum, he ended up on the floor in a heap. His stomach lurched at the movement and as the inside of his mouth began to tingle, he felt a sudden rush of goosebumps all over his body. Proceeded by a sudden rush of something else as his stomach rebelled.
Billy cried out an incoherent comment that left Virgil in no doubt as to his sentiments but he had no opportunity to gloat, he was hyperventilating and could only concentrate on dragging air back into his lungs. Humiliated, he put the sickness down to shock or lack of food, possibly both, and tried to regain some dignity. Breathing as deeply as he could at first, it wasn't long before he felt the burning in his chest beginning to subside, and the laboured gasps evened out.
The incident sobered the others and within seconds, the laughter had died away and been replaced with a mutual feeling of repugnance, which hung in the air.
"That's disgusting," Billy screwed his nose up.
"Get him on his feet," Jake ordered, ignoring the scene and stepping forwards. "We need to see for ourselves that the plane is there," he sighed, speaking almost to himself. "And this thing has no windows?"
Virgil shook his head, feeling the colour return to his face. He swallowed but then shuddered at the bitter, acidic aftertaste left there. "Only those," he gestured to his left at the miniature circular windows on either side of the Mole's main body. Within seconds, Jake darted over to the reinforced glass and pushed his face against it. Trying to see out was impossible though and after a few attempts, he gave up. His frustration was turning to anger and Virgil was aware of where he'd be channelling it. He began thinking fast.
"Camera," he managed to get out, grimacing at the way his stomach churned again. "There's a camera at the front, for drill positioning," he swallowed without thinking and experienced the same acrid taste. "I can operate it," he said. "But I need my hands," he moved his fingers behind his back, hoping to keep the blood flowing.
"No," Jake shook his head, adamant that Virgil wouldn't be released again. "Tell me what to do."
The hissing of the air recycler came to a halt and with a drone, the motors powered down leaving silence in their place. Jake and Billy looked around them, on guard. "What's that?"
"I told you," Virgil repeated his earlier statement. "It's the air recycler. Now it's finished, the motors will shut down. The only systems to stay operational will be the lights and life support, because the machine senses we're still in here," he explained.
"Yeah, right," Jake snapped, he pointed to the red console at the nose of the burrowing machine. "Tell me what to do," he ordered for a second time.
Virgil gave him instructions until the camera had been activated, "Now, move it using the stick." Jake followed his commands and moved the camera until the requested jet was in sight.
"There it is," Billy grinned. "I can't believe this is happening, we're actually doing it!" he enthused. "No more tests at six in the morning, no more needles and horrible procedures!" His elation, Virgil hoped, was a little premature.
"Yeah," Luke said sarcasm in his tone. "All we have to do now is reach the jet!" His voice was loud and his eyes darted about in anger. It was obvious he was unhappy with what had just happened and he glared up at Billy, with a burning fury in his eyes. Virgil watched him, surprised, as he took Billy's arm and spun him round. "What the hell were you playing at?" his voice got louder, and his body language became aggressive. For the first time since they'd talked, Virgil could envisage him as a killer. His anger seemed to be erupting, like a timed explosion but after the event.
"Luke," Jake sighed, arms raised in a defensive gesture, "Luke, calm down!"
"Calm down!" Luke was shouting, his temper, if possible, rising further. "You could've told me!" Virgil's head was pounding but he failed to register the increase in pain, his shock at the sudden anger in the young man's voice was so great.
Jake scoffed, "Come on!" he exclaimed. "You didn't think we'd actually kill him, did you?" he asked, his tone patronising. His answer came in the hot, tense air and the irate silence that followed. "We're hardly going to kill him yet, are we?" Jake asked, he was attempting to belittle his comrade but Virgil noted the fact that it was only a matter of time. "We haven't reached the jet." Luke frowned and Jake's smile became menacing as he spoke, there was a calculating sparkle to his eye, "We're taking some security; your friend's coming on a little adventure."
"We told International Rescue that we'd let him go," Luke shook his head and sighed. Raising a hand to his forehead, he shuffled from one foot to the other in an outward display of his discomfort. "We can't betray them," he shrugged.
Jake circled him, like a shark menacing its prey before it attacks. "Betray them?" he exclaimed. "What? You mean like he betrayed us!" He stopped to poke Virgil in the chest. The angry prod was painful and watching the continuous movement was only adding to Virgil's nausea, making him feel dizzy. He concentrated on his spot on the floor, listening but not looking. "Are you forgetting what he did? How he held a gun to Billy's head? How he pulled the trigger?" Jake pushed, "What if we hadn't taken the bullets out? Hmm? As far as he knew the gun was loaded."
"Yeah!" Billy joined in, "I told you, he would've killed me!"
"And you're willing to take International Rescue at their word?" Jake shook his head, his tone back to patronising. "We can't be one hundred percent sure that they haven't already installed some kind of tracking device." He explained the logic behind his decision, "They could be planning to shoot us out of the air, for all we know! At least, with him aboard we know they're not going to try anything."
"If we take him with us though," Luke argued, "we run the risk of them following us."
Jake was already shaking his head, "No," he reasoned. "We'll tell them that if we're tracked we'll kill him." He waited for a response, but none came so he endeavoured to explain his grand plan further. "If we tell them we'll drop him safely somewhere, they have to trust us, they won't have a choice. Then we'll get rid of the body, and get in contact with Billy's mate."
There was ominous silence.
Virgil slowly digested the transformation from 'him' to 'body'. He still felt uncomfortable from his last near-miss, his hair was damp from the sweat and his uniform clung to his clammy body. This latest development did nothing to reassure him that he was safe by any means.
When no-one questioned him, Jake went on, dictating more orders. "We could nick a car to take us to the airport and we're safe from there with Billy's mate in the know. There's always the base where Billy trained for us to land," he theorised. "Look, I don't care what you two do then. I'll be jetting off into the sunset to start my new life," he waved a steady hand out in front of him, as if imagining the sun on the horizon. His sickly sweet grin was almost responsible for reacquainting them with the contents of Virgil's stomach. Swallowing and keeping the heaves that shook his chest to himself, Virgil managed to keep it down this time.
Billy nodded, "Okay, if that's the final plan, let's get on with it."
Jake grabbed Virgil from behind and forced him towards the door. "Billy, take the gun," he ordered. "Both of you, make sure you're tooled up." He jabbed Virgil in the back and he had no choice but to take a step forward. Jake pressed the cool, sharp implement he carried against Virgil and pushed his own body closer to his captive. Virgil felt the pressure and the scratch as it dug into the delicate but clammy skin around his neck. Instinct told him that it wasn't a healthy place to be and he attempted to back away from the smooth metal but he only succeeded in pushing his body further against Jake's. His head rotated against his captors shoulder and exposed the vulnerable region of his throat. As had been the intention.
With Jake's iron grip around his, already bound, wrists and the scalpel threatening to do insurmountable damage with the slightest movement, it was all Virgil could do to breathe and comply, let alone resist. As Billy's hand hovered over the touch pad that would open the door, Virgil found himself wondering if his youngest two brothers would be on the other side. Half of him hoped they would, it would give Scott strength to deal with the situation and support in the physical sense of having extra bodies. With a shudder, he shied away from that word. The other half hoped that Gordon and Alan had stayed away. He felt humiliated enough that Scott would witness his wretched situation, for his younger brothers to witness it too would be soul destroying.
He scoffed to himself, what was it they say about pride before a fall? He couldn't understand why he was considering such an insignificant detail when compared to the grand scheme of things. Psychology classes taken whilst in school told him that it was a diversion, concentrating on the small immaterial things rather than the larger issue, was that diversion, he pondered, or displacement? He chided himself for not paying more attention. Maybe it was both. Either way, it brought a whole new meaning to the phrase death before dishonour.
XxxxX
Outside the Mole, the atmosphere was just as tense. The International Rescue operatives stood around in a semi circle, spaced out on the dry ground to cover every angle, their guns raised towards the yellow automatic sliding doors in anticipation.
The burrowing machine had been stationary for a good fifteen minutes before Gordon hissed, "What the hell are they doing in there?"
"Maybe we should go in," Alan suggested.
"No!" Scott shook his head. Stood in the centre, he held his chosen weapon out in front of him. His hand was steady, even though his heartbeat was erratic and he stared ahead, not daring to take his eyes of the scene. "We wait for them to make the first move," he decided, his gaze unflinching. "Attempting to get in might cause them to panic and that's the last thing we want. We don't want them to do anything stupid."
"What if they're waiting for us to make the first move, Scott?" Alan turned his head to face his brother and broke his concentration.
"They won't be," Scott snapped. The answer was a categorical dismissal. "They're just taking their time, trying to make us restless by keeping us waiting. It won't work," he finished, there was a warning in his tone. His brothers shouldn't let it get to them either.
"But Scott…" Gordon's sentence trailed off as the Mole emitted three loud beeps, a prelude to the doors opening.
All three brothers raised their weapons and watched wide eyed for any signs of life. The doors swished open with the usual sound of hydraulics in action, but for a few moments, nothing happened.
To his left, Scott saw Alan inch forward from his position, "Alan!" he warned. "Keep still and be on your guard."
"Maybe they want us to go inside," Alan replied, his tone fierce and questioning Scott's determination.
"No," the elder brother spoke and glared at Alan in an angry gesture which revealed to him that his brother was fast approaching the end of his tether. In fear of Scott's wrath, Alan's feet remained in place but he begrudged the order and shuffled about, making his feelings known.
Distracted by Alan, Scott was suddenly aware that the three prisoners had appeared and were stepping out onto the caterpillar tracks of the undercarriage. The first two out jumped down onto the ground without fuss, kicking up minimum dust from the dry earth. However when the third materialised Scott saw their first hurdle; there was a commotion as the three of them manhandled Virgil down onto the ground.
Scott stopped himself taking an instinctive step forward when he saw his brother struggling against their clumsy manoeuvring. Gordon didn't have the same amount of control and moved towards them, his instinct to help.
"Stay back!" Billy waved the gun in Gordon's direction, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
Gordon looked to Scott for some kind of direction and the elder brother didn't need to see Alan, to know he was watching him too. He took a step forward so as he was level with Gordon and saw Alan copy the movement out the corner of his eye.
"You heard him," Jake reiterated. "Stay back!" He still had a firm grip on Virgil's wrists and the scalpel in his hand was already threatening to cut into Virgil's skin. Despite the pilot's attempts to distance himself from the object, Jake's body was still preventing him from taking a step backwards and his steady hand only helped Virgil to judge just how much he was trembling. The pressure from the scalpel increased, the cool metal was a burning reminder of the potential damage as it scraped against his skin. Virgil tried to resist again, and pulled away from the mortal threat but it was no good.
"Look," Scott's eyes took in his brother's reaction. Virgil was pale and uncomfortable at the situation, that much was obvious. His neck muscles were straining in an effort to pull away from the knife and his breathing was unsteady. Scott addressed Jake as a matter of urgency but tried to appear calm, his free hand raised in a gesture of peace. "Just let him go," he met Jake's gaze, trying to foresee his movements.
"You've got to be kidding me," Jake grinned and shook his head, a spiteful yet satisfied gleam sparkled in his eye. "You don't seriously think we're just going to let him go now, do you?" he asked, his tone was condescending. "Let us through, when we get to the jet and we've checked it over, then we'll let him go."
Scott eyed Virgil's obvious distress at the situation in indecision. There was no doubt in his mind that Virgil was in great danger and if there was one thing he hated, it was putting his brother in unnecessary danger. He trusted Virgil more than anything though and at that moment in time, he trusted his brother to communicate his feelings, thereby telling Scott the best course of action.
Sure enough, Virgil looked directly at him, catching Scott's gaze for all of a few seconds. He looked directly into his older brother's blue eyes, hoping to hide the distress in his soul and gave Scott an almost imperceptible shake of the head, silently begging his older brother not to let them use him as a bargaining tool. Not to let them reduce him to this. Scott understood and it showed in his eyes as he offered back a gentle nod. Without saying a word, Virgil illustrated his gratitude through the smallest of smiles and then broke eye contact, turning away. He could only hope Scott understood, not just his desperation to avoid being used as bargaining chip but also, the warning that these men could not be trusted.
There was a pensive silence but, to Scott's surprise, Virgil made no attempt to look at him again, let alone convey any further instructions.
"No," Scott replied to Jake, the certainty in his tone was much greater than that which he felt. He remained unaware that his younger brothers were exchanging horrified glances behind his back. "No, you let him go now," Scott bargained, a little more certain due to the fact that it was what Virgil had instructed. "We're not going to stop you getting to your jet. You have my word. All we care about is getting Virgil back," he looked at Virgil, awaiting his brother to make eye contact but again, he didn't. Instead, he intentionally avoided looking at Scott. Scott frowned in confusion, he desperately needed to know that Virgil still approved and that he was doing the right thing by playing this dangerous game.
Not allowing himself to linger on unwanted thoughts but feeling unease building up inside him, Scott moved to fix his cold stare on Jake.
Jake let out another hollow laugh, "I'm not bartering with you, I'm telling you what's going to happen. This isn't negotiable and you're in no position to be making demands."
"Just let him go," Scott was pleased that his voice was authoritative when it reached his ears, in his head it had sounded more like a plea.
"I said no," Jake pushed the scalpel harder against Virgil's skin, forcing him to bite back a yelp. Not that it mattered, Virgil decided, the jet's engines were making it difficult to hear each other's voices let alone a muffled cry. He was unsure whether he could actually feel a warm trickle running down his neck or whether it was his imagination filling in the gaps. He knew that it would only take one second for Jake to run that scalpel straight across his neck, severing his carotid artery and trachea. He also knew that the man holding the razor sharp blade against the vital network of veins and arteries in his neck would have no qualms about doing so.
Death would be almost instantaneous.
He knew it and Scott knew it too.
"No!" Scott stepped forward, his arm raised in defence. He cursed himself for letting his own anxiety show.
"No, Scott, don't let them get…" Virgil was cut off as Jake pushed a hand against his windpipe, effectively choking him.
"Shut up," Jake growled in Virgil's ear, his tone as menacing as the way the scalpel brushed against Virgil's throat. "One more word…" he threatened.
Virgil remained mute and hoped that Jake understood his compliance. He was pleased when the obstruction against his windpipe was removed and rushed to calm his already rough breathing.
"We've got nothing to lose here," Jake reminded Scott, speaking louder to compensate for the engines in the background. "So what if I lose my temper and kill him? What's another life sentence on top of the one I've already got? You're making me angry and I don't want to lose my temper."
Scott looked to Virgil, whose eyes were fixed on him, wide and brimming with a sense of alarm he couldn't hide. Nervously, Virgil swallowed and with slow, uncertain movements mouthed the words 'won't do it'. There was no doubt in Virgil's mind that he'd done everything he could to warn his brother, he only hoped that Scott understood. Virgil watched, feeling detached and more than a little relieved as his older brother turned his attention back to Jake, who seemed thankfully oblivious to the exchange.
"Let him go," Scott's voice became softer, as he wrongly interpreted Virgil's message that they wouldn't go through with hurting him. "You have my word, you can get to the jet. We're not going to stop you," he nodded, Virgil's predicament forcing a sincere quality to his voice.
Jake hesitated for a few moments and for a few seconds he gave Virgil hope. Only to snatch it back. He tightened his grip on Virgil's arms and took a better hold of the scalpel. Titling his captive's chin back, he exposed Virgil's neck for all for all of them to see. Past the point of resistance, Virgil could only comply, knowing any movement now could be fatal. Besides, his energy to keep fighting was beginning to dissipate. He looked to Scott one last time, pleading with him not to let them win and then he closed his eyes against the despair rising in his gut. He accepted that he'd lost the battle now, his only desire was to spare his brothers the pain of seeing him suffer.
"I meant what I said, I've got nothing to lose," Jake paused to give Scott a chance to change his mind but only silence reigned. "Let me show you how much I meant it," he made a show of pushing Virgil's head to one side with the base of his thumb. As the forceful movement connected with his already bruised jaw, Virgil let out a grunt but he didn't struggle as he felt the scalpel dig into his skin. The moan of pain in the back of his throat was entirely involuntary and he bit his lips together hard to stop a whimper escaping them. "You just let me know when you're ready to let us by," Jake sung in a sickening tone containing a happiness that seemed so depraved.
Scott wasn't sure what was more disturbing: the fact that Virgil seemed so despondent and indifferent to what was happening or the fact that Jake was holding the scalpel so close to his brother's trachea.
"No!" He watched in horror as, with one smooth, fast action, Jake dragged the sharp knife from just under Virgil's jaw, partway across his neck. Scott heard his brothers' gasp and cry out behind him before realising he'd done the exact same thing himself, "Stop!"
There was silence bar the running of the engines and an almost surreal few seconds where the cut skin didn't bleed and then suddenly the blood trickled out, oozing from the wound and creating rivulets down Virgil's neck.
Virgil was sure now that there was definitely something hot and thick trickling down his neck. Slow at first, but the trickles soon felt like rivers and began to sink into his uniform top. He wasn't sure how much of it was him presuming the worst. The information his senses couldn't tell him, his imagination was filling in. He hoped the dampness was sweat, or at least part of it was sweat. Losing that much blood could be fatal if it kept pouring out.
"Let us through," Jake thundered.
"Don't hurt him," Scott swallowed, watching Virgil's blood trickle out with disgust but remembering his brother's words. "Let him go."
Scott felt bile rise to the back of his throat as the sharp blade glinted in the sun and his brother's blood continued to ooze out. He concentrated on preventing his stomach from reacquainting him with the copious amounts of coffee and sole energy bar he'd consumed.
"Are you going to let me reach his carotid artery?" Jake smiled, taking great pleasure in drawing the scalpel slowly across his captive's neck, preparing to cut again. The idea appealed to him a great deal. The wicked sparkle in his eye only brightened and he pushed the scalpel on, initiating some resistance from his captive.
"Don't." Scott said nothing else, partly out of sheer shock, partly out of a belief that Jake wouldn't go through with it.
It would only take one second for Virgil to meet his gaze and beg for freedom in silence. In just the same way he'd silently begged Scott not to let them use him like this. Then, Scott would know. He couldn't explain how he'd know, he just would. He didn't question whether the numbness or detachment he felt, as he watched his brother's blood spilled, would prevent this inexplicable knowledge from surfacing.
"Scott!" Gordon whispered, his tone of voice the epitome of panic.
Virgil could feel the incision trickling warm liquid and his resolve completely shattered. He rolled his eyes towards Scott in an unspoken attempt to convey so many things: gratitude, love, promises of protection.
And there it was, the look that told Scott that his brother had taken just about as much as he could.
The look that only took seconds to pass but would take decades to forget.
Virgil's body language had been a constant but unconscious outward indication to Scott, spelling out the signs of terror and trepidation his brother had been experiencing all along. To Scott's absolute disgust and horror, now his brother's eyes carried that same panic stricken appearance. He could all but smell the fear Virgil was discharging, the vibes were like pressure waves rolling across the space between them and had the power to knock him flat.
The panic was like nothing he'd even seen before. In anyone, let alone in Virgil.
The soulful, wide brown eyes reminded him of the countless people he had seen die in his time. The unique way in which a person's pupils dilated in horror, terror, and several other things that Scott couldn't identify, before all life departed them. Those few precious seconds of sudden realisation before the moment of bitter abruptness when it was all over, leaving only dull eyes and fixed inert expressions where there had once been verve and the sparkle of life.
For a few horrible seconds that was exactly what Scott Tracy saw in his brother. And it scared him more than anything he had ever experienced in his life.
It was a moment that he knew would haunt him forever.
"Stop!" he let out the cry with much more desperation than he'd intended to. "Okay," he conceded with an unhappy nod. "Okay, you can go to the jet but then you release him, all right?"
Jake withdrew the scalpel, leaving an incision in Virgil's neck that was pouring an alarming amount of blood. The blond reprobate looked up at Scott and smiled a menacing, toothy grin. "I'm pleased you came to your senses," he snorted as he pushed Virgil forward.
Virgil released breath he didn't realise he was holding as he was jabbed in the ribs and urged to move in the direction of the jet. Whether it was the recognition that he could breath again, or the painful prod to the ribs he wasn't sure but suddenly his chest was on fire. He fought to fill his lungs with air and began to wonder if this shortness of breath was a physical reaction to the psychological threat or if maybe the beating he'd taken had done more damage internally than he'd thought. His neck was bleeding but he concluded that Jake couldn't have done any major damage in the knowledge that he'd be dead by now, if he had.
Scott frowned, his concern deepening even further as his watched Virgil's chest rise and fall so rapidly that it concealed his brother's shaking. Virgil's struggle to breathe properly and his haggard appearance added to the blood already beginning to stain his shirt, made for grim watching. Scott briefly made eye contact, not having time to comprehend the wide range of things Virgil was trying to tell him.
With clear reluctance, Scott stepped back to let the group make their way to their jet and ordered Alan and Gordon to do the same. He watched them like a hawk though, waiting for any signs that they might not do as they'd said they would.
There wasn't a great distance between the Mole and the jet. The running engines had become part of the background noise now and they'd all become accustomed to shouting to enable their voices to be heard. As the three prisoners reached their destination, Jake turned back to where Scott was advancing.
"Stay back!" he warned, pushing hard against Virgil's throat and causing his captive to cough and choke. The blood still dribbled from the wound on Virgil's neck but Scott was comforted by the decision, as he got closer, that it didn't look as deep as he'd first assumed. He drew hope from the conclusion that Jake hadn't used the whole blade and had only scratched the skin in comparison to the damage he could've done.
Scott stopped and allowed himself a few seconds to regain his composure. He needed to stay calm if they were going to get out of this one unscathed and the importance of doing just that was weighing heavy on his shoulders. He tried telling himself that it wasn't really Virgil at the centre of this hostage situation, bleeding in front of him; that it was just another person they were trying to save. However, one look at the figure in Jake's clutches and his heart was telling him something entirely different. There was no getting away from it, this was personal.
"You're at the jet," Scott stated, keeping his tone soft on purpose, "just let him go." He tried to appear calm but he was fast approaching the unfamiliar feeling of terror that he despised so much.
Jake gestured inside the running aircraft, "Go and check it out, Billy," he ordered. Billy disappeared inside the jet without question, leaving only the other two outside.
"Everything's just like you asked," Scott told Jake. He was pleased that he sounded so calm on the outside. Inside, his gut was churning and the anxiousness in his stomach was like the discomfort that had attempted to drive him to distraction on their first rescue. "Come on," he urged to himself in a quiet mumble, glancing between the growing spot of blood on Virgil's shirt and Jake's hard eyes, "come on, let him go."
"Look at him, he needs medical attention. Let him go," Scott allowed his tongue to voice his thoughts this time. He didn't want to plead but if it meant them releasing Virgil he would try anything. He opened his mouth, prepared to appeal again but Jake's abrupt shake of the head stopped him.
"No," Jake replied. "He's not going anywhere."
Scott's jaw firmed but he held his ground, assuming that Jake wanted to check the jet out. After a few more minutes, Billy reappeared and spoke quietly with Jake before standing to his right.
"Okay, the jet's fine," Jake nodded after what seemed like an eternity. Scott let out a sigh of relief but it was short lived, as the convict continued, "Here's the new plan. We want some security that we're not going to tracked or shot out of the sky once we're airborne. So Virgil, here, is coming on a little adventure with us." Scott was pretty sure his pupil dilation and instinctive shake of the head were exactly what the delinquents were expecting and if anything, they seemed pleased at his reaction. Suddenly the true intention of Virgil's words earlier became clear with sickening clarity. "We'll drop him off somewhere when we're satisfied that we're not being followed and we'll let you know where," Jake told them all.
"No," Scott gritted out. "The deal was you would let Virgil go," he raised an aggressive finger, frustration cursing through him. Frustration that this was happening. Frustration that he'd misread the warning Virgil had tried to provide. Frustration at everything. "Let him go."
"What are you going to do if I don't?" Jake shrugged. His menacing attitude tipped Scott over the edge and in a flash, he raised his gun and aimed it, reaching to take the safety catch off. He didn't get a chance to voice a threat, as Jake began to laugh. A chill ran down Scott's spine and he felt Gordon and Alan's mutual disgust at this man's apathy "You're not going to shoot me," Jake was confident. More so, after he'd pulled Virgil's head alongside his own, grasping at the battered pilot's chin with a rough, callous force. His own hair merged with Virgil's and he forced his face up close. "It's too close," his evil smile was enough to test the patience of a saint. "You'd have to be a bloody good shot to be sure to hit me and not kill your precious agent."
Scott knew he had a valid point, there was no way he could safely take Jake out without a very big possibility of hurting Virgil in the process, or even missing Jake entirely. He would never forgive himself if he shot his brother. He turned his focus in a fraction of a second, pivoting with skill only hours of practice had taught him, so as his gun was facing Billy.
"You won't shoot them either," Jake told him. "Do you realise how quickly I could end Virgil's life?" he asked. His tone was so cold and calculating it made Virgil shiver. The detachment was disturbing but the satisfaction and sheer pleasure he was taking in causing so much pain and misery was frightening. As Virgil felt Jake playing with the blade of the scalpel along his trachea, he was convinced the maniac wouldn't hesitate to carry his threats through. "Just one slip of the wrist and oops!" Jake smirked and jolted his hand on purpose. Virgil gasped and pulled away on instinct but then felt stupid when he realised it had been a sick joke. The deep rumbling of Jake's laughter in his ear appalled him.
If Scott thought the situation was going badly he was about to get a nasty surprise, when he opened his mouth to negotiate further and another voice beat him to it. It took him a few seconds to realise neither Gordon or Alan were speaking.
"Jake, please, he's nothing to do with this," Dr Hunt's voice was clear but cautious and Scott was aghast to see him walking away from the security of their tent with his hands raised. "It's me you're angry at, take me. Let him go, he's only ever helped you."
Of course, he thought he was helping but he was only succeeding in making the situation ten times worse and at the sound of his voice, Scott experienced an overwhelming desire for the ground to just open up and swallow him.
All eyes turned to Dr Hunt in astonishment and then took a few moments to comprehend his stupidity, before widening. Stunned silence would have settled if it hadn't been for the noisy jet engines. It seemed both sides needed time to comprehend the scientist's appearance.
"I told you," Jake bellowed back at Scott after a few minutes. "It was just supposed to be us!" He scoffed, "Huh! And you wanted us to trust you, to take you at your word!" He shook his head, anger causing his cheeks to redden. "Your word's about as good as his!" he gave Virgil a rough push, channelling his fury and causing his captive's shoulders to jerk forwards. They snapped back into position due to Virgil's bound wrists but the pain from the sudden movement was excruciating. Virgil grunted and closed his eyes against the tenderness and the shouting; his head was throbbing.
"Hunt!" Billy exclaimed. Speaking for the first time, his wide eyed anger was centred on where the scientist had exited the red tent under Thunderbird Two. Without flinching, Billy raised Virgil's gun in his hand, "I've been waiting for this a long time," he muttered.
"Billy, no!" Luke's shout was too late and came simultaneously to the sound of a shot being fired.
Years of training and instincts at their rawest told Scott to duck his head down at the sound of fire but Virgil was so startled that Jake had to tighten his grip again to stop him moving. There was a painful grunt from Dr Hunt as the bullet hit with an audible pop. It was followed by a soft thud as the injured scientist fell to his knees grasping his chest. A louder, second thud was heard as he collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and gasping for breath.
Alan, being the closest, rushed to the injured man's side but Billy levelled the gun at the youngest of International Rescue's team. "Don't you dare help him," he growled. "Let him die, he deserves it," Alan just stared at the gun, frozen to the spot and unable to move a muscle. He sat back with his hands raised in a defensive motion, trying to ignore Hunt's desperate gargles for oxygen.
"Okay, so he deserves this," Scott's voice was steady, despite his rapid heartbeat and the anxiety pumping through his veins. "But Virgil doesn't…" he would've gone on, but the rumbling underneath his feet caught him off guard.
The explosion that followed sent him flying through the air.
Scott landed face down on the ground. Wave after wave of solid heat rolled across his back, with enough power to force his body flush against the rough terrain. He turned to see a column of fire lapping the sky from where the Mole's drill hole had been widened.
And as chunks of earth fell to the ground around him, he realised his wish had come true; the ground really had opened up.
XxxxX
Penelope made the mistake of breaking from her reading and looking out the window at the passing scenery as they sped along. Her head spun and her stomach churned simultaneously. She put it down to missing her customary breakfast, though she'd never quite mastered the art of reading and travelling either. It had always made her ill, even as a small child.
With a soft sigh, she leant forward and retrieved a small tin from one of the many concealed pockets in the back of Parker's chair. Opening it with her usual, delicacy so as not to damage her manicured nails, she took out one of the small pills and placed it underneath her tongue. She waited a few moments for the potion to do its work. Sure enough, it began to fizz and release a taste of strawberry. Allowing herself a moment away from the file in her lap, Penelope sat back in her seat and savoured the taste. It wasn't the breakfast she was accustomed to but she was sure Brains' anti-sickness pills would cure her nausea.
She remembered the day Brains had shown her the results. She'd been complaining that when she travelled she could do nothing but sit there. If nothing else, Lady Penelope was sharp as a tack and travel sickness pills always made her weary. Virgil had suggested the strawberry flavouring, in the knowledge that it was one of her favourites. Something that they had in common.
The results were instant and she looked out of the windows once more, feeling a little steadier in her examination of the greenery that flew past. She didn't allow herself to think too long of Virgil, it wouldn't be productive of her to drown herself in thoughts of sympathy.
"I say, Parker," she coughed to clear her throat. "Where exactly are we?"
Parker looked at her through the rear view mirror and raised his chin, compensating for the rim on his cap. "Begging your pardon, M'Lady, h'I've tak'n the liberty of h'err taking h'a few shortcuts," he explained, "h'I was 'oping to get more speed out of 'er."
"I see," Penelope nodded. "How far away are we from the optimum tracking area John advised?"
"H'about 'alf an 'our, M'Lady," he advised.
Penelope seemed satisfied and nodded, "Very well," she muttered. "Bring up the signal from the tracking device," she instructed. "I think it would be prudent to keep an eye on our friends."
Parker did as she requested. The back of his seat slid to one side revealing a screen of moderate proportions and before long a small red dot began to flash, indicating where the jet was. "Hmm," Penelope smiled. "It seems the villains haven't attempted to make their escape yet," she said to herself as she studied the stationary red dot. "And at what speed are we travelling now?"
A quick glance at his controls and Parker responded, "Two 'undred and thirteen miles p'r 'our, M'Lady."
"Excellent," Penelope made her approval known. A quick flash caught her attention and she swivelled in her chair to look behind them, trying to establish its origin. "Oh, Parker!" she sighed and turned back to him with a deep frown. "Do try to slow down for the cameras; yet another speeding fine would be most exasperating."
Parker raised his eyebrows and let out a trite response, "Yes, M'Lady."
He stopped himself from pointing out that most of the speed cameras on these back roads had been vandalised years ago. Only a few remained operational now and of those, most just emitted warning flashes. Of course, he grumbled to himself, at the pace they were travelling no speed camera would have been quick enough to get a decent photograph anyway. Still, he was on high alert as he pushed FAB1 to its full capacity.
XxxxX
As the chunks of earth fell down about him like rain, Scott tried to look around. The dust cloud attacked his eyes though, and he found himself tucking his head under his arm until it had subsided. When he could make out figures through the intense haze of dirt, he coughed and struggled onto all fours. A quick glance in one direction and he saw Alan dragging a wounded Dr Hunt into the tent, with the help of Ned Cook. Scott searched for Gordon, squinting against the powdery earth that swirled about in the air in front of him.
"Gordon," he coughed, as he caught sight of his brother's distinct orange sash.
Gordon lay on the ground about two metres away. To begin with he was still but then Scott realised he was moving and thanked their lucky stars. He watched with a sense of disconnection as Alan ran back to his aquanaut brother and pulled him to his feet. He found himself wondering if Gordon had been knocked out by the explosion.
"Virgil!" he exclaimed as memory returned in a blur. With a great deal of urgency, he turned to face the other direction. He was dismayed to catch sight of two boots, familiar in colour, being dragged inside the jet. Scott was relieved by the way Virgil was kicking out and thrashing around, at least it meant he was unharmed by the explosion. Bit by bit, his mind began slotting the jigsaw pieces his eyes were showing him into place and he stumbled to his feet, realising that the convicts were about to make their exit. The ground came up to meet him on either side but he pushed the wooziness back. Never mind Gordon, he wondered if he'd been knocked out by the explosion. He didn't have time for it though. "No!" he whispered as he pushed himself on.
"Virgil!" he knew the cry was futile; there was no way Virgil would ever hear him. But it was the only release he had for his pent up frustration and despair.
He ran towards the jet, his heart constricting in horror as he realised he wouldn't make it. His legs carried him fast, but the jet was moving away faster and there was no way on earth he could keep up with it. In the end, he had to back down, the heat from the engines was too much for him and as all he could do was watch as they disappeared into the sky.
"No!" he shook his head in disbelief. The short run and emotional exertion had left him exhausted and he doubled over, gasping in quick breathes. Raising his hands to his face, he buried his fingers deep into his dark curls, nails digging into his scalp in frustration.
It was only when he pulled his hand away that he realised his head was bleeding.
XxxxX
Back in FAB1, Lady Penelope was distracted from her reading, as the red flashing dot on her screen began to move. "Well, Parker, it seems those scoundrels are on the move," she commented. "I'll keep an eye on them, you continue on the course you'd already planned."
"Very g'd, M'Lady," Parker nodded from his position in the driving seat.
"In the meantime, I think we should contact Thunderbird Five," she decided as she reached forward. Attempting to open the link was unsuccessful, she tried a second time but received the same response. "That's strange," lines appeared on her smooth forehead. "John isn't answering," she paused.
"P'rhaps he's busy, Madame?" Parker suggested.
"Hmm," Penelope mumbled, unconvinced. "Lady Penelope, England, calling International Rescue Head Quarters."
"Penelope," Jeff's image appeared and she smiled, despite her surprise at his tired appearance. "How's it going? Have you got anything?" he asked. The anxiousness in his voice and the haggard expression he sported only attested his worry for his second eldest son's predicament.
"Well, Parker and I are tracking the jet as we speak, it's making slow progress. I tried to get in touch with John, but there was no answer." She frowned again, "Is everything quite alright?"
"I think so," Jeff's frown matched hers. "I spoke to John just a few minutes ago and everything was fine. Maybe he's busy. I'll try to get hold of Scott," he decided. "Don't let that jet off your scanner, Penny, it's imperative we catch up with these guys," he said, his resolve steadfast. "They're not going to get away with this, if it's the last thing I do they'll get what's coming to them."
Unsure how else to respond to such an adamant pledge, Penelope just nodded and concentrated on the job at hand. If there was one thing she knew about Jeff Tracy, it was that the threats would not be left hollow.
XxxxX
Scott nearly barrelled into Alan as he stormed across to the tent, in no mood to be messed with. He was angry. Angry that the crooks had managed to get away, even angrier that they'd taken Virgil with them, and angrier still at the explosion that had rocked them.
"Scott!" Alan cried, narrowly avoiding tripping over his older brother. "What happened? Where's Virgil?" he asked. "Is he okay?"
"Alan, deal with Hunt!" Scott ordered, ignoring Alan's other questions.
"But Scott…" Alan began to question him but the older brother turned an irate gaze on him.
"Now!" Scott thundered, the frustration was really bubbling to the surface and he glared until Alan scurried across to the injured scientist. Aided by Ned, he set about providing some much needed medical assistance.
Turning inside the tent, Scott realised that Gordon was sat in the seat at Mobile Control, talking on the radio. He just caught the tail end of the conversation as he approached.
"Sure, John, he's here right now," Gordon said, his tone became apprehensive when he spotted Scott's expression.
"Is that John?" Scott balked.
"I'll get some dicetylene on that…" Gordon didn't finish, he was taken aback when Scott shoved him out of the way. Resolving to extinguish Scott's anger before the fire, Gordon decided he'd be of better use staying.
Without waiting for conformation, Scott pushed his way in to the control seat, ready to address the astronaut on the screen. Barely allowing himself the time to breathe, he didn't take in John's already defeated and guilty expression, and launched into a tirade. "Damnit John! You told me that fire was contained!" John opened his mouth to defend himself, but he wasn't quick enough and Scott's harangue continued. "If it's so contained, maybe you've got another explanation for the twenty feet high column of flames out there!"
"Scott …" John tried again, unsuccessful in his attempt to stop his irate brother.
"I thought you were monitoring it!" Scott growled.
"I was! If you'd just let me explain!" John's own voice rose in order to be heard.
"Guys!" Gordon looked between his brothers, frankly surprised at the pair of them.
"Explain!" Scott cried, "Try explaining to Virgil how we let them get away, we let them take him!"
"I don't have to listen to this. Call me when you've calmed down," John mumbled before the screen winked out, leaving the customary International Rescue insignia in its place.
A tension filled silence followed.
Scott turned to Gordon and tried to bite back his anger. Truth be known, he wasn't angry with John. Well that wasn't strictly true; he was angry with John but not to the extent that he'd just demonstrated. He was frustrated by the situation and irate about how it had all unfolded… out of his control. "Are you hurt?" Scott asked, remembering seeing his aquanaut brother on the floor after the explosion. He was surprised at the way Gordon studied him, he seemed stunned.
The aquanaut managed to shake his head but Scott's unprofessional outburst had shocked him into a rare state of silence. Gordon felt the pressure of this rescue as much as his other brothers and he accepted Scott would be finding this difficult but he still expected his brother to be the same cool, calm, quick-thinking leader he always was.
They'd made mistakes before when they'd been out on rescues, but he'd always managed to refrain from chastising them until the operation was over. In addition, it had never been in public but instead, always in the privacy of their own rooms or at least Scott's office.
Gordon swallowed and watched Scott deflate with wide, uncertain eyes. It was evidence that these last twenty four hours had had a massive affect on his brother and for the first time since they'd arrived Gordon began to comprehend just what it'd been like. The frustration was the worst part, being so close yet so far away from making any progress or being able to offer any meaningful physical help.
Deep down, Gordon couldn't blame Scott for exploding after the pressure he'd been under but he was also aware that John was questioning himself already. Scott tearing strips off him was the last thing any of them needed. "Was that err…" he paused, clearing his throat and feeling uncertain as to whether he should question Scott at all. "Do you think he really deserved that?" he asked. The apprehension he felt was augmented by his brother's silence. Scott took in a deep breath and then let it out again in silent acceptance of what the younger man was saying. Gordon's calm voice broke through his waning anger. "He was cut up about it already without you reprimanding him like that," he pushed gently.
"I know that," Scott sighed, reaching a hand up to the bridge of his nose. In truth, he'd underestimated just how much John was punishing himself and he knew it. Nevertheless, John's mistake had caused a massive explosion, he felt justified in his admonishment and he was prepared to voice those feelings, "But he screwed up. I'm the commander here; you're not going to make me feel guilty for giving him a dressing down." Gordon debated whether what Scott had just done was a 'dressing down', but kept the thoughts to himself. "You, of all people should understand that, Gordon. He made a mistake," Scott was adamant that he wouldn't back down despite the nagging feeling in his gut that John had just provided the perfect outlet for all his anxiety and anger.
"Yeah, he's not the only one." Gordon replied.
Scott's head shot up and he turned to face Gordon. The fading fury in his eyes was reignited in a second and the blue orbs flashed with a dangerous rage. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. He didn't need an answer though, he knew exactly what Gordon was referring to; the questions he'd disregarded at the planning stage of the operation. "Did you see the look on Virgil's face? Did you see what he said? He didn't want me to back down! I didn't think they'd go through with hurting him like that! And I had no reason to think they'd even try to take Virgil with them!" he found himself pointing a finger at Gordon in a defensive gesture. "They just wanted to escape, Virgil's no use to them now! Why would they take him?" Scott heaved yet another sigh but Gordon didn't move. Silence settled for a good few seconds before he turned an angry glare on his aquanaut brother. "Don't you have a fire to be putting out?"
"I was on my way but the fire isn't an immediate threat and you…" once more, Gordon didn't finish the sentence.
"I what?" Scott bellowed, "I didn't tell you? You've got a brain, Gordon, use it!"
Scott slumped back in his seat as the rage was suddenly replaced by a hollow emptiness. Exhausted by the outburst, he dropped his head, unsure what to feel anymore.
Gordon watched in apprehension. He understood Scott's need to shout and scream and he knew his older brother didn't mean it. It was just the way Scott was when he was frustrated and there was definitely cause for him to feel valid frustration right now. "I wasn't going to say that…" Gordon said in a soft tone. "I was going to say that you're hurt, are you all right?" he asked as he studied the bruise already forming on Scott's hairline.
"I'm fine, it's nothing." Scott shrugged his concern away. "I should call John and talk to Alan. Go and put that fire out," he ordered. The soft tone he used conveyed an apology that Gordon was willing to accept and the aquanaut nodded, understanding the strain Scott felt as he continued. "Then I've got to explain all this to base, before I get on to Penelope and find out where the jet's heading."
Scott leaned forward to access one of the control consoles in front of him but Gordon caught his arm, "Wait a sec." He studied Scott's forehead closely and the trickle of blood that gravity was pulling down his brother's face. "This needs attention, you're bleeding," he observed.
"Yeah," a forgotten voice came from the other side of the make-shift room and both Scott and Gordon turned to face Alan, "he's not the only one…"
XxxxX
Virgil's return to consciousness was very slow, he was unaware he'd even passed out again. Taking a few moments to piece together what had happened, he found his memory unwilling. The pain had increased considerably and he tried to focus on his body. However, his vision was still too blurred. He sat back and let the nausea and giddiness churn within him.
Listening to the conversation around him, he managed to pick out words and half sentences…
"….and now we've done it…"
"…don't need him anymore anyway….deserves to pay…."
"…can't, it's not fair…"
"… got what we want… he's a liability…."
"…promised them we wouldn't… can't just leave him to die…"
"… won't be traced back to us…."
"…leave him somewhere remote, he'll be dead before they find him…"
Frowning in confusion, Virgil moved and let out a groan. Pain cursed through his veins like waves on a beach. He was surprised to find his hands were no longer bound and for a few brief seconds, he wondered if his brothers had managed to rescue him. His thinking however, was still muddled and soon reality kicked back in and the heartbreaking realisation hit that he was still in the middle of this horrendous situation. Managing to roll painfully onto one side, he was horrified when he caught sight of his arms and found the explanation for his pain.
Blood.
Lots of blood.
He tried to discover where it was coming from and brought his arms closer. His vision focused on the red streams that covered the limbs. There were large gashes down the inside of his wrists. The blood was seeping out and Virgil forced himself to dredge through his medical knowledge. It wasn't flowing fast enough to mean they'd hit anything major but the cuts were deep enough for him to lose a significant amount of blood. He could flex his fingers successfully, so no nerve damage he concluded as he put his right hand over the incision on his left wrist. The idea was to put some pressure there and stop the blood flow but it only succeeded in forcing more blood through his fingers. His attempt to stop the bleeding seemed futile. His stomach churned as he realised that between his wrists, his neck and the lack of any chance of prompt medical help, there was a very real possibility that he might bleed to death.
Taking deep breaths, he tried to stop himself panicking. Was he shaking? Was he in shock already? How much blood had he lost? He looked around him as the questions swirled round his head.
It's not that much he convinced himself. What was it he told rescue victims? A little bit of blood goes a long way, and it was true. Blood was like oil - a little seemed a lot…
He hoped.
