Hmmn. So the best way to get lots of reviews is to kill off a much loved character. Must remember that. Must also remember that I've still got another four Tracy boys to work my way through… as well as the rest of the International Rescue team...
;-) Purupuss
It was black…
Black with an occasional confusing splash of light…
There was nothing around him. No sense of gravity to tell him which way was up, and which way was down. No pressure on the soles of his feet, or his sides, or his back, or even his head to allow him to orientate himself.
It was disorientating.
Reaching out, he could feel nothing and was touching nothing. Nothing was pressing down on him. There wasn't the comforting embrace of clothing… or a caring family member. There was no pain or sadness, but neither was there anything to allow him to experience joy or relief. He couldn't see his hands. The wall and the floor could be millimetres or kilometres away from him and he had no way of telling how far or in which direction.
He felt alone.
But there were some smells. A confusing mixture of life, death, and stages in between. All known, but nothing identifiable.
Taste? Nothing. Even those unpleasant smells that tended to linger in the mouth weren't being absorbed there to be remembered long after the smell had long gone.
But the joy of hearing! That first sound was a shock. A shock that hit like a tsunami of relief. To know that something, someone, was out there, reaching for him.
Music: Sweet, sweet music. Music to make the pulses quicken, and music mellow and mild to calm and relax. Music that was modern and music that had stood the test of time.
Music…
And then voices!
The voices of strangers. Strangers talking to him…
And to others about him.
And then…
Heaven!
He could hear the voices of his family!
Scott. Scott who'd always protected him. Scott who'd had that special bond with him.
Scott…
"Bruce, and Butch, and Lisa are all well. And Ginny's happy. No one's told her what's happened to her Uncle Virgil. I saw Mr Watts a few moments ago and he seems well too…"
"I don't care about them! What about my family? Our family?!"
"What am I supposed to say to you, Virg…?"
"You can tell me that everyone's okay."
"I'd do anything to help…"
"Tell me that our family's all right. That they're not trapped in here with me. Scott! Please…!"
"Do you feel like you're in a pitch-black hangar…"
"Gordon?"
"…and you can't feel anything to find your way out…"
"Is that where I am? How do I leave? Just give me a bearing, Gordon…
"Where's everyone else?"
"It's not my fault this time, Virgil. Alan told me that."
"What's not your fault? Whatever you've done, Gordon, I don't care. I just need to know that everyone's okay. Is Father okay?"
"Thunderbird Five calling Thunderbird Two… Come in Thunderbird Two."
"John! I'm receiving you. Are you all right? Is everyone all right?"
"I've tried to keep my promise to you. I've done all I can to support Scott…"
"Scott? Why does Scott need support? What's happened to Father!?"
"John seems to have elected himself Scott's minder…"
"Why, Alan? Why is John Scott's minder? Why isn't Father looking after him!? Why does he need support?! What's happened? Where's Father?! Please! Tell me! What's happened to Father!?"
It was hot… Unbearably hot… Hotter than the bottom of the Sidewinder's pit. Hotter than the bottom of a live volcano's crater. As hot as the various mythical incarnations of Hades…
"Go peacefully, Virgil."
"Grandma? Where am I supposed to be going?"
"Don't linger if you must leave us."
"I don't want to leave you. Why would I leave you? I want to know that you're okay. Is Father okay? … Grandma, I haven't heard from Father! I've heard from the rest of you, but not him! Where is he? What's happened to him!? Why won't you tell me?!"
"I'm here…"
"Father?"
"And I'm not leaving you until you tell me that it's time to go."
"I don't want to leave you! Don't leave me. Please don't leave me! I can't feel anything, Dad! I can't see anything! I can't see you! Tell me that you're all right! I can hear your voice, Father…
"But I don't know what you're saying…
"Where am I…?
"Why is it so dark…?
"But it's not dark…
"Is that a light?"
The light was dim at first, but as Virgil tried to focus on it, it grew brighter.
Somehow, he knew that that light meant safety. That light meant that he was being lead out of the draining darkness… That light meant that someone was waiting for him…
Waiting for him to join them…
Virgil found peace.
-I-R-
-F-A-B-
3:52 a.m.
Jeff Tracy had sat beside his son's bed for he didn't know how many hours. He hadn't wanted to leave, not even when his body made him. He didn't want to take his eyes off his son's face, not even to get some rejuvenating sleep.
He didn't want to miss his son's final moments.
As he sat, he considered that everyone could have had longer than their allotted five minutes to say goodbye, and wondered if he should set up another roster…
But what if, while his son was alone, he left them forever?
The first sign that he wouldn't have to maintain his vigil for much longer came when Jeff felt a movement beneath his hand; a thumb twitch…
"Virgil?"
Adjusting his grip so he was still holding his son's lifeless hand, but the thumb was free, he watched.
The thumb twitched again.
"Virgil!" Jeff struggled to keep calm. He'd been through this before and the twitch had meant nothing… And this time the doctors had told him there was no hope.
But another twitch made him hope that maybe the doctors were wrong. "Nurse! He moved."
The nurse; at some point, Jeff didn't know when, the original one had been relieved, and another male nurse had taken over; moved closer. "Mr Tracy?"
"He moved!" Jeff insisted; trying, and failing, to keep the delight out of his voice. He still remembered the long hours when the only movement Gordon displayed was a thumb with a life of its own. They were agonising hours when his son could have lived or could have died. He took a deep, calming, breath. "Virgil moved his thumb."
The nurse made no comment, preferring a more scientific examination of the status board to looking at the stationary digit. The various numbers were shifting and changing.
Growing stronger.
The nurse moved away, requesting into his radio that someone join him in triage four.
Jeff looked down at the limp hand. "Come on, Virgil! Move your thumb!"
But Virgil's thumb didn't move.
"Please…"
"Fff…"
Jeff's head snapped around to the top of the bed. The mask had misted over, and a pair of brown eyes were looking at him.
Not staring sightlessly but looking!
"Virgil…" Reaching out to confirm that he wasn't dreaming, Jeff stroked the side of his son's face. "Can you hear me, Virgil?"
"Y's." The voice was quiet, weak, but unmistakably Virgil's.
Jeff allowed his own eyes to close for a moment in relief. He opened them again when he heard his boy try to speak.
"Yiv."
"What?" Jeff leant closer. "What was that, Virgil?
"'live."
Jeff smiled. "Yes, Virgil. You're alive."
"N'." Virgil gave a tiny shake to his head and his father's smile vanished.
"No…? I don't understand."
"Y'…" Virgil swallowed and grimaced.
"Is your throat sore? You had a tube down it earlier."
Virgil appeared to consider this, then he attempted to say his piece again. "Y'u…"
"You?"
This time the response was a minute nod.
Jeff pointed to himself. "Me?"
The nod again. "'live?"
Jeff still wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. "I'm alive? Why wouldn't I be alive? I've been sitting here waiting for you to… To wake up."
Virgil tried to say something, and Jeff leant closer still to try to understand.
The misting in the mask intensified. "Didn' 'ear y'."
"You didn't hear me? But could you hear the others talking to you? The rest of the family?"
A miniscule nod.
"Did you hear Scott?"
Another miniscule nod before four almost incoherent words. "N'd'd t' 'r y'."
Needed to hear you.
It was silly Jeff knew. It was selfish, and childish, and unworthy of a man of his age and station, and it showed no regard for their situation; but still he felt a glowing sense of satisfaction, of pride, of smugness even, that it had been his voice and not Scott's that Virgil had been desperately listening out for. It was his father's voice that had dragged him out of the coma.
Jeff told himself to forget all that. He had someone more important to focus on. "It's all right, Virgil. I'm here. Keep positive. Keep fighting."
"Mr Tracy."
Jeff glanced over his shoulder at the new voice. A very young doctor was standing there, stethoscope at the ready and with the clear expectation that he was going to move out of the way and let her do her job.
Jeff turned back. "Virgil… I'm going to tell the rest of the family you're awake."
Virgil's eyebrows drew downwards millimetres in a frown. And Jeff felt a faint tightening around his fingers.
"Please, Son, let me go. They're desperate to hear good news about you and it's only fair that I tell them."
With a barely perceptible movement, Virgil shook his head.
"Virgil… The doctor needs to examine you. While she's doing that I'll go and tell everyone that you're getting better. I promise that I'll be back before the doctor's finished. And then I'll sit with you for as long as you need me to. Okay?"
Virgil looked like that wasn't okay, but that he didn't have the strength to complain.
"Thank you." Jeff gave Virgil's sole good hand a quick squeeze. "Back soon." He extricated himself from beside the bed.
"Mr Tracy," the doctor caught his arm as he slipped past. "Please…" she whispered. "Don't get anyone's hopes up just yet."
Jeff walked out of the room thinking that that was too late. The closer he got to their storeroom, the bigger his grin became. By the time he reached the door it felt so big that he doubted that he'd be able to walk through.
But he did.
Jeff's family were all slumped in their seats waiting for the news they didn't want to hear. The room was hushed, and an almost perceptible pall of depression hung over it. As one they looked up, saw him standing there and assumed the worst.
-F-A-B-
Despite being shamed by Tin-Tin's tirade, a short time after she'd left to prepare the aeroplane for her flight to Tracy Island, there had been an argument between the two Australasian researchers and Brains. Bryce and Timoti had wanted to avoid wasting the expensive polymer and stop the programme running half a world away so they could start their preparations for the next patient. Brains, unwilling to give up hope so long as his computer was telling him that his friend was still alive, had demanded that they keep the printer printing until there was absolutely, positively no point in continuing. Jeff Tracy, he insisted, would ensure that there was plenty of polymer to go around.
They eventually reached a compromise by both sides agreeing that they would start going through the multitude of prospective patients to select their next candidate. Once the "lucky" individual had been selected they would make a start preparing that patient's scans so copies were able to be made by the 3D printer. Only when the plans were ready to be printed would they cancel the programme in operation.
It had made for an uncomfortable environment to work in. Made more uncomfortable by the way that their first patient's stats were slowly reversing themselves.
That was until they received word that the patient had displayed evidence of being grade 15 on the modified GMS scale. Then all animosity was forgotten. Brains did a dance and his two associates cheered that their theories were that much closer to being tested on a live world subject… Uh… That their patient had a chance of being saved.
Brains was so delighted that he ignored their slip and got on the phone to Tin-Tin.
-F-A-B-
John's phone hit the roof with a clatter, sending the back flying in one direction while the body and other components arced off in another. The communicator's owner didn't notice as he let out another ecstatic whoop similar to the one that sent it flying in the first place.
No one else noticed either. They were all in a similarly ecstatic frame of mind and only aware of one thing.
Virgil was awake.
Jeff had joined in their celebrations and had danced a jig with his mother before lifting her off the floor with one of what was to be many ecstatic hugs.
Ecstatic. As far as the Tracys were concerned it was a word that couldn't be overused. That was the only word that could describe what they felt after all those hours of despair.
Finally, Scott settled down enough to speak coherently. "What happened?"
"Nothing dramatic," Jeff admitted. "His thumb started twitching like Gordon's did." He grinned over at his second youngest son, who, beaming, had his arms about both Alan's and John's shoulders. "I had visions of watching a rerun…" he paused for dramatic impact, "when he tried to speak."
"He spoke!" Scott exclaimed. "What did he say?"
Jeff looked at him and wondered if his son would see the smirk that he was sure was there. Chiding himself for the gloating thoughts that lurked so close to the surface and hoping that the smug look would be interpreted as a mixture of relief and joy, he fudged the answer. "He was a little confused, but he said that he heard us talking to him. He had heard all our voices!"
"See!" Gordon crowed. "See, I told you he needed to hear us."
"You did that," Jeff confirmed. "And you were right."
Alan pulled his phone out of his pocket and nearly dropped it in his haste. "We've got to let everyone know! I'll call Tin-Tin! Uh… And Kyrano."
"I'll call Penny!" Gordon offered.
"You call Lisa," John amended. "I'll call Penny… Where's my phone?" He collected the pieces and tried to reassemble them; failing when the various bits refused to stay together. Unperturbed by the damage, he grinned. "Just as well I've got my watch."
"He probably already knows, but why don't you call Brains, Scott?" Jeff suggested. "I promised Virgil I wouldn't leave him for too long." Eager to return, he turned to go.
Scott reached out to stop him. "You'll tell him that we can't wait to see him? And that he's got to stop giving us all heart failure?"
This time Jeff's smile was warm and genuine as he reassured his eldest. "I'll be sure to do that… Will you let Hamish know, Mother?"
"I'd be delighted to, Jeff."
Jeff Tracy practically ran back to Virgil's room, almost knocking over a now-familiar figure in his eagerness. He apologised quickly. "Have you heard our news?"
Colin Eden smiled what felt like the first smile since his hospital had been inundated with patients and he'd almost literally been buried under a mass of paperwork and humanity. "I have to say, Mr Tracy, that your boy has the constitution of an ox!"
"Jeff, call me Jeff," Jeff babbled, shaking his hand. "Isn't it wonderful?!"
"It is, ah, Jeff, and you'd better call me Colin… But… Please…" Bearston General's General Manager warned, "don't get too excited. This may only be a temporary reprieve."
"No." Jeff refused to accept that. "Virgil won't give up. Not now. Not ever. He'll never give up. And I'm going to stay with him for as long as he needs me."
Colin indicated the door. "If you're going to sit with him again, I'm not going to stop you." He checked his tablet. "The doctor's just finished examining him."
"And…?"
"And… She's cautiously optimistic… And very surprised. I'll see you later, Jeff."
Jeff's smile was nearly as wide as when he'd left when he peeked in through the door to ensure that he wouldn't interrupt anything important. "Can I come in?"
The doctor also smiled. "He's asleep now, Mr Tracy, but you can stay with him. If you have any questions, you can ask the nurse."
"Thanks." Jeff entered the room, surprised to realise that one of the other patients had gained a visitor, and moreover that visitor was someone he knew. "Mr Eagles?"
A haggard face started and looked up at him. "Huh…? Uh…" Freddy stammered. "Mr Tracy?"
Jeff moved closer to the end of the bed that his employee was squeezed in beside. This was the first time he'd taken notice of either of the other patients and he realised that the person who shared the bed next to the sleeping Virgil was a young lady. Even then, with her face swollen and hidden behind bandages and an oxygen mask, he doubted that he would have recognised her. "Is this your sister…? Er… Angela?" He noted the frame distorting the blankets on the lower part of the bed and felt empathy with the young man.
"Yes." Freddy took up his sibling's hand. "All those hours that I've been worried about how and where she was, and she's been here all along."
"How is she?" Jeff could tell by Freddy's haunted expression that the answer wasn't going to be good.
Freddy's response confirmed his fears. "They say she's been unconscious since the 'quake. That's been nearly 48 hours, Mr Tracy."
Jeff knew it. "What happened?"
"From what I understand she was on her way to work and was in a car accident. Someone lost control during the earthquake and ran into someone else, who ran into her… Her leg was trapped… Crushed…" Freddy glanced down the bed at the elevated sheets. "It took three hours for the rescue services to get to her and nearly another hour to free her. They flew her here in a helijet." He gave a bitter laugh and slumped back in his seat. "Isn't that ironic? I fly to Bearston in a matter of seconds in a Thunderbird, and she had to endure a slow flight in a helijet."
"Look on the bright side," Jeff suggested. "If the rescue had taken any longer, she would have died. They say that four hours is the maximum a person can survive with a crush injury."
The information didn't seem to help Freddy's mood.
"What's her prognosis?"
Freddy looked up at his boss and Jeff saw fear in his eyes. "She's on amputation watch!" He looked back down at his sister. "That's if she lives."
"Don't think like that," Jeff instructed. "It's vital that you keep positive. And keep talking to her. Tell her you're here; supporting her."
Freddy made a hopeless gesture. "She won't be able to hear me."
"There's every chance that she can," Jeff dropped ACE protocol, "Freddy."
The use of his first name didn't even register. Instead Freddy looked like he was going to argue. Then he looked back up at Jeff. "How can you know that?!"
"Because I've had two sons live through a coma and they both reported hearing, and more importantly needing to hear, the voices of loved ones. Angela needs to hear you talk to her… Freddy, I don't know exactly what you're going through, but I do know what it's like to sit beside someone you care about and not know if they're going to wake up."
Freddy sniffed and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. "What if she loses her leg? What if she wakes up and discovers that she…? That she's…?"
Jeff remembered the bubbly personality. "Trust me," he said gently. "So long as she's got her family supporting her, she'll cope."
"But she won't be able to do her job or any of the things she loves!"
"She's a…" Jeff ran his hand through his hair. Normally this kind of information about his employees and their immediate families came to him easily, and the fact that he was struggling to remember spoke volumes of the stresses he was under. "A… A teacher, isn't she?"
"A fitness trainer," Freddy corrected. "She loved her job. She was forever badgering me to do more exercise, but I'd tell her I got a decent workout at ACE." He managed to share a small grin with his boss before it disappeared. "But how can you encourage someone to exercise when you've only got one leg yourself?"
"I should think that anyone with the strength of personality to encourage some person, who's spent much of their life being overweight and unhealthy, to take control of that life, will have the strength of personality to overcome any challenges. And I'm sure her clients will all support her… As I know you will, Freddy… Uh…" Jeff knew he was potentially about to step into dangerous waters. "…and your parents?"
Freddy made no comment.
"Have you heard how they are?"
"I talked to them before I came in here. Physically they're both fine. But they're worried sick about Angela."
"I'm sure they are. Where are they?"
There was another bitter laugh. "They were evacuated in a totally different direction to us. They're in Asp over 400 miles away."
"In a refugee shelter?"
"Yes. They haven't found any accommodation."
"Keep strong, Freddy," Jeff advised. "And keep talking to Angela. I'm sure it'll help her more than you realise." With a quick glance to reassure himself that the figure in the next bed was still sleeping, he ducked back into the corridor, where he made a quick call.
Then he returned to the room, reclaimed his seat, and took up his son's hand again. "I'm back like I promised, Virgil. And I'm not going anywhere."
-F-A-B-
4:12 a.m.
Lisa Crump stirred at the persistent sound of buzzing in her ear. Pulling her phone out from under her pillow she glared at the clock on screen. Four in the morning! Who on earth would ring her at this awful time? Beside her in the bed, Ginny stirred.
Lisa was tempted to sneak through the curtains so that she couldn't wake her daughter, but Butch, who'd insisted that he couldn't let his father sleep outside another night, had been banished to the bed that had been Ginny's while Crump senior was snoring at the far end of the motorhome. Seriously annoyed with her husband, she thought of waking him out of spite, but decided she didn't want her father-in-law listening in on a private conversation. "Hello," she whispered.
"Lisa!" The person on the other end of the line wasn't whispering. Neither were the others in the room with him by the sound of it. It sounded more like there was a party going on.
"Gordon?" Lisa wasn't awake enough to comprehend what the phone call might mean.
"He's awake, Lisa! Virgil's awake!"
So was Lisa Crump when the news sunk in. Deciding that this was something that Butch needed to know and that he should be told it immediately, she slipped through the curtain that separated her 'room' from the rest of the vehicle. "That's wonderful news!" she exclaimed to Gordon. "You all must be thrilled!"
Butch grumbled and opened his eyes.
She could hear her caller's excitement and relief. "Thrilled doesn't begin to do justice to what we're feeling, Honey!"
Glaring at his wife for banishing him to a solitary bed and then waking him while it was still dark, Butch pulled the pillow over his head.
"Would you like to tell Butch yourself?" Lisa asked.
"Tell you what," Gordon laughed. "Let's let Alan tell him."
Lisa laughed too. "He'll never come down off cloud nine."
"I'll just get him… Hey, Alan!"
"What?"
"You can tell Butch."
"Yeah? Hi, Butch."
Lisa chuckled. "Not quite. Here he is." She handed the phone over.
"Yeah?" Butch growled into the speaker.
"Hiya, Butch. It's Alan Tracy. I've got some news for you."
Butch sprang up into a sitting position. "Alan?"
"Yes. We thought we should let you know right away. Virgil's awake."
"He's awake?!" As the news sunk home a beaming smile radiated from Butch's face. "That's primo news!"
He heard Alan laugh as Lisa leant closer so she could listen in. "Isn't it just. We can't quite believe it. It might only be a temporary reprieve, but we're going to make the most of it. Dad says Virgil was a bit confused, but he was talking, so we're all telling ourselves that he's going to get better."
"Primo!" Butch repeated.
"Well, guess I'd better let you get some sleep."
"Sleep? Who c'n sleep? Me 'n Lisa are gonna tell Bruce and th' rest of 'em."
"Thanks, Butch. We'll give Virgil your best."
"Thanks, Pal." Beaming Butch returned her phone to Lisa, before, with a restrained cry of joy, wrapping her in a big hug. Then he lumbered to his feet, bumping his head on the motorhome's ceiling. "Let's go tell Bruce."
"All right." Lisa checked that Ginny was still asleep and then slipped out of the motorhome after her husband…Who hurried over to Bruce's accommodation and banged on the door so loudly that it woke all the other occupants in the temporary camper park.
All except for those in the Mickelson's home.
"That's wonderful news," Hamish repeated for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "Edna's thrilled too. We're going to have a hot chocolate to celebrate." He grinned at his wife who already had the necessary pot on the tiny stove. "How's Jeff?"
"Over the moon," Mrs Tracy admitted, and Hamish heard her give a joyous laugh. "We all are."
"I'm sure you are. If you don't feel like celebrating in that storeroom, perhaps you'd care to join us?"
Edna looked alarmed at the suggestion. She began a hasty tidy-up.
"Maybe later, thank you. We don't want to stray too far in case they say we can see him."
"Fair enough." Hamish heard a banging noise. "I think Butch is trying to break down Bruce's door to give him the good news."
"Is that that noise I can hear?" There was more laughter. "I thought the building was collapsing… Well, I'd better leave you and Edna to your hot chocolate. I'm so glad that you're feeling better."
"And we're glad that Virgil's feeling better. Tell him he's got to stop scaring everyone like that."
"I will. Goodbye, Hamish. Give my love to Edna."
Hamish Mickelson shut down his phone and beamed at his wife.
-F-A-B-
4:15 a.m.
Bruce Sanders was not impressed at being woken at some ungodly hour by someone banging on his door.
Neither was his roommate Max Watts.
"Who is that!?" he grumbled, blinking against the electric light that had been turned on a short time after it appeared that someone had tried to ram-raid their accommodation.
"I thought we were having another earthquake." Bruce stumbled down the motorhome to the door, wondering why he was having to get out of his (relatively) comfortable bed and admit what could only be a herd of buffaloes.
He swung the door open to two beaming smiles. "What?!"
"It's good news," Butch told him. "Virgil's gonna be okay."
"What!?" One hand on the door handle and the other on the jamb for support, Bruce stared at him. "What did you say?"
"That's what we were wondering."
Bruce looked over the Crumps' heads to where Greg and Mavis Harrison were scowling at his visitors. From around the adjacent vehicle Winston and Rex staggered towards them in the darkness. Olivia was peering out of the window opposite him, Auntie Alicia's beady eyes trying to see around her.
"Why…" Winston began, "have you decided to wake us all up out of our beauty sleep? Which heaven knows, after all the upheavals of the last two days, we all need desperately."
Bruce became aware that his roommate was standing at his shoulder and he stood to one side so ACE's Production Manager could join in the conversation. "Butch says Virgil's going to be okay."
"That's not exactly what we were told," Lisa clarified.
"I'm sure it wasn't."
As one, everyone turned to Hamish Mickelson.
"I've been talking to Virgil's grandmother. He has woken up and said a few words, but to say that he's on the road to a full recovery is a bit premature…" Hamish's smile slipped. "Remember that he's had some major surgery and he's going to have to learn how to deal with his…" he tried to think of a tactful way of phrasing it, "new situation before we can confidently say that he's fully recovered."
Bruce felt a smile forming on his now wide-awake face. "But he's not going to die?" he checked.
"It's too early to say that he's out of danger," Hamish corrected. "However, the Tracys are quietly optimistic."
"Quiet optimism; I can live with that." Bruce grinned. "It's better than the overbearing pessimism we've lived with for the last few days." He looked across at one of his friends. "Hey, Lisa. How did you manage to get out of your trailer without waking Ginny and Mr Crump? Butch made enough noise to wake th…"
"Ginny!"
"…dead…" Shocked by her sudden flight back to her trailer, Bruce stared after Lisa as she ran.
"Leece?" Confused by his wife's unexpected behaviour, Butch lumbered behind her. "Wha's wrong?"
What was wrong was that Lisa had left her vulnerable young daughter alone with a patched gang member. Feeling sick at how foolish she'd been and desperate to rescue Ginny before something unspeakable happened, she fled back to the motorhome. With the dread of what she would find flooding her system, she leapt onto the steps and wrenched the door open. "Ginny!"
Even at that moment, with her imagination spinning out of control, she was shocked by the sight that confronted her.
Ginny was sitting on the edge of her grandfather's bed. The older man was crouched awkwardly on the floor, both his hands raised toward the little girl. He quickly hid them behind his back where they couldn't be seen.
Ginny turned a toothy smile to her mother. "We' been playin' pat-a-cake," she said proudly. "I'm teachin' Grandpop."
"Pat-a-cake?" Lisa squeaked.
Crump Senior looked embarrassed. "Don' know any little girl's games," he confessed. "Ginny had t' show me."
-F-A-B-
As soon as Tin-Tin returned from preparing the aeroplane she barrelled through the door and almost suffocated Brains in a joyous hug. "He's alive! Virgil's still alive!" Suddenly remembering her scientific background, she took a step back, so she could confirm her facts. "Alan said he is alive! He is right, isn't he?"
"Virgil is alive," Brains confirmed, and then let out a smothered yelp when he was caught up in another ecstatic embrace.
Tin-Tin released him. "How long before you will be able to operate?"
"We still haven't got our visas yet," Bryce reminded her.
"We have already ascertained that you do not need to be there." Folding her arms Tin-Tin turned back to Brains. "Well?"
"If h-he is strong enough," Brains made a quick calculation, "eighteen hours?"
"Good. The weather bureau says the cyclone should have passed by then. It will at least be weak enough for us to fly through to the States."
-I-R-
-F-A-B-
8:09 a.m.
The early dawn was just lightening the landscape when Virgil next stirred.
Jeff, who'd been dozing himself, awoke with a start. "Virgil…" He gave his son's hand a gentle squeeze.
He saw a frown and the oxygen mask misted over. "W'r'm I?"
"In the hospital. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Virgil shook his head.
Jeff thought that was probably just as well. "How are you feeling?" This was, he thought, a stupid question. There could only be one answer from someone who'd been unconscious for hours, endured several surgeries and amputations, was connected to numerous machines and IVs dedicated to keeping him alive, had a multitude of drains removing litres of unwanted fluid, and had his internal organs in an unknown and probably unrecognisable state.
Virgil didn't respond.
"Everyone was very happy to hear that you're alive," Jeff told him. "John even broke his phone and didn't care."
Virgil didn't comment. He lay with his eyes closed, breathing gently, and, needing to prove to himself that his son was still alive, Jeff was tempted to nudge him awake. But he held off, knowing that Virgil's need for sleep was more important.
"W'r'm I?"
Not expecting the quiet voice, Jeff looked into his son's brown eyes. "Bearston General Hospital."
"W't 'pn'?"
"There was an earthquake…"
But Virgil appeared to be asleep again.
When he awoke again a few minutes later, Jeff prepared to repeat his answer to the "where am I?" question.
But this time Virgil grimaced.
"What's wrong?" Jeff asked, fearing that he wouldn't be able to help.
"H…'v'."
"Heavy?"
There was a tiny nod.
"What's heavy?"
"M' f'd."
Jeff felt a chill. "Your foot feels heavy?" He looked around, but the nurse had briefly vacated the room.
"S'm'd'n scw's i'."
"Something's squashing it?"
Instead of confirming Jeff's guess, Virgil attempted to look down the bed. Finding his view hampered by the blanket-covered frame, he shuffled his torso.
Jeff grabbed him, holding him gently down by the shoulders. "Don't move, Virgil, you'll only hurt yourself more."
He felt his son relax beneath his hands and let go. Then Virgil looked straight at him. "Y' m'v' i'."
"You want me to move something?"
There was a nod.
"What?"
"Scw's'g f'd."
"You want me to move what's squashing your foot?" Hoping that Virgil was confused and he was meaning another part of his body, Jeff pointed to the end of the bed. If his son was going to think he was a fool, he didn't care. "Which foot?"
"L'f'."
The left foot. The leg that had been amputated to the hip. The chill, which seemed to have settled into Jeff's bones, froze his heart. He'd heard about those phantom pains where the owner of a lost limb could still feel its irritations. "I… I can't, Virgil."
This time the frown looked accusing and disappointed. "Pl'z'."
"I can't move anything off your foot. There's… There's nothing there."
"Dri."
"I can't, Virgil. Nothing is squashing your foot."
Jeff saw unexpected anger flare up. "C'n f'l id!"
"Virgil. Please… Listen to me. There is nothing squashing your foot… It can't…"
Virgil looked confused. Then he asked the question that Jeff wished he wouldn't. "'Y?"
"Virgil. Do you remember the earthquake? That's why you're in hospital. You've been badly, seriously, hurt. You and a lot of other people. The doctors… and surgeons… are working very hard to help everyone. They are doing what they need to do to keep people alive."
"Wod d'?"
Jeff had told himself he wouldn't do this. He'd told himself that there would be an appropriate time at some point in the future and that would be when he, or someone better qualified, would break the news. He'd been convinced, or at least had convinced himself, that the pain killers had numbed his son's crushed body and that he'd have no knowledge of the crisis he was going to have to deal with.
But Virgil was as tenacious as he would have been on a rescue. "Wod?"
Jeff looked towards the door, wishing that it would open, and the nurse would appear to take the heat of him.
"D'd?"
"Virgil…" Jeff took a deep breath and picked up his son's good hand, holding it as tightly as he dared. "Do you remember being squashed under a large and heavy weight?"
Virgil frowned as he thought, and Jeff hoped that this state of concentration would continue until the nurse returned… or he forgot the question.
"N'."
"Oh…" Jeff swallowed. "It crushed your legs, Virgil." There was no way that he was even going to mention the damage to his son's left hand. "The doctors had to operate to save your life."
"'p'ra'?"
"Yes. Operate."
"F'd."
"Yes," Jeff fudged. "They operated on your foot."
"Wod d'?"
"They…" Jeff shot another, agonised, glance at the door. "Remember they did what they had to, to save your life."
"Wod?"
The door remained obstinately closed and Jeff took a deep breath. "They amputated it, Virgil."
His son's eyes widened. "L'f'?"
"Erm…" The door showed no signs of opening and Jeff looked down at where Virgil's hand was grasping his. "Both… Both your feet."
"N'…"
"I'm sorry. We delayed it as long as we cou…"
"N'!" Surprising his father with the amount of strength he demonstrated, Virgil pulled his hand away from Jeff's. "N'!" It was a sound that seemed to rip through Jeff's soul. Followed by a never-ending wail that said nothing but spoke volumes.
"Virgil…"
Still screaming, Virgil thrashed his good arm and, Jeff was horrified to see, began to beat himself across the body. An IV was torn free. Liquid, including precious blood, began soaking the sheets. The protective frame was nudged askew.
"Virgil! Stop." Jeff attempted to grab hold of his son's arm, so he could keep it still, but was thwarted by the limb's almost uncoordinated thrashing. He was even more concerned when Virgil attempted to roll away from him over his injured limb. He didn't want to think what the reaction would be if Virgil succeeded. Or saw the bandage hiding his hand. "Virgil!" He managed to press his son's shoulders down flat again. "Virgil, please… Stop this!" he pleaded. "Don't move! You'll hurt yourself even more!" He was hit by the flailing arm.
The wailing intensified.
Jeff wanted to press the buzzer to alert someone but didn't dare release his grip. "Virgil! Calm down… Please…"
"Mr Tracy… Virgil…"
Panting as he pressed his son's shoulders into the mattress, Jeff looked over his shoulder.
Freddy was standing there. His face was white, but he appeared calm. "Virgil's right, Mr Tracy. There is something on his foot." He pretended to lift the phantom object. "But it's too heavy for me to lift by myself. Can you help me, Mr Tracy?"
It took a moment for the younger man's plan to penetrate Jeff's frightened mind. When it did, he nodded. Then he looked down at the wide-eyed, pale, clammy face that was gasping behind the oxygen mask. "Freddy's right, Virgil. There is something lying on your foot. But you're going to have to lie still while we remove the… thing. Can you do that?"
Virgil, beads of sweat running off his brow, his gasps audible, nodded.
Hoping that his son understood the instruction, Jeff let go and was relieved when he lay still. He shuffled down to the end of the bed and, mirroring Freddy's actions, pretended to slip his fingers under the mystery object.
"We're not going to be able to lift it too high," the younger man warned. "So, we'll slide it off the end and onto…" he swung a wheeled chair around, so it was at the foot of the bed. "…this chair. Then we'll shift the thing over there." He pointed beyond Virgil's line of sight. "Okay, Mr Tracy?"
Jeff nodded, not trusting his voice to betray them. If it was shaking as much as he was, Virgil would probably see through their lie. As it was, for the first time in about two minutes, he was glad the nurse wasn't in the room with them.
The nurse entered. He looked surprised by the tableau before him.
"There's a weight on Virgil's foot," Freddy explained. "Perhaps you'll see to Virgil while we remove it?"
"I see…" The nurse hurried to his patient's bed and squeezed past Jeff. "Let's have a look at you, Virgil."
The charade could have ended then, but, through some unspoken agreement, Jeff and Freddy, grunting, groaning, and making it seem like it took a real effort, mimed shifting something heavy free of the bed. Then, keeping their bodies between the patient and the empty chair, they pushed it out of sight.
Jeff straightened and wiped real sweat off his brow. "Freddy…" He said in a quiet voice as he extended his hand, "I can't thank you enough. I would never have thought of pretending to help him."
"I joined a drama club a few years ago," Freddy admitted. "The guys at work said it was so I'd be able to talk and talk and people would have to listen to me." He dredged up a quiet chuckle. "I guess it's made me look at things differently from most people."
"Well, if I could award you an Oscar, I would. Without your help, Virgil may have done further damage to himself."
"Actually…" Freddy looked embarrassed. "I'd forgotten that Virgil was your son until I heard you two. When I saw you, I wondered why you were in here."
"And I hadn't realised that it was Angela in the bed next to him." Jeff managed an understanding smile. "Virgil and I didn't exactly advertise our relationship when he worked… the last time he worked at ACE."
Freddy looked at his hands. "When you said that two of your sons could hear you when they were in a coma; was he one of them?"
Jeff nodded.
"And he heard your voices?"
"I'm not sure that he understood what we were saying, but he knew it was us."
"So, I should keep talking to Angela?"
"Yes. You definitely should talk to Angela. And so should anyone else who sits with her."
"There is no one else." Freddy slumped. "The rest of the family's miles away…"
-F-A-B-
9:22 a.m.
The city of Asp was in many ways like the city of Bearston; overrun with refugees from the earthquake. Its own hospital was full to overloaded and felt it owed a debt of gratitude to Tracy Industries for the two operating theatres and the foreign medical staff who'd flown in to help.
The refugee centre was just as full as the medical units, and just as stretched. People from all walks of life woke after a night of little sleep on hard beds in a cramped room. As babies cried, people talked amongst themselves and wondered what the third day of upheaval would bring.
Into this strode a young, well-dressed, woman and her older, uniformed, companion.
"How distressing," Lady Penelope mused. "It makes one feel so inadequate."
"H-Indeed, m'Lady," Parker agreed. "H-I believe that the reg-h-istration desk h-is h-over there."
"Thank you, Parker. I believe that you are correct."
There was a queue waiting to speak to the harassed, sleep-deprived, administrators and they joined the end.
"Do we 'ave h-any h-idea what they look like?" Parker asked. "H-It might be quicker to 'unt 'em h-out."
"Unfortunately, Jeff was unable to supply us with any more information other than their names." Lady Penelope took a miniscule step forward.
"Shall H-I see h-if H-I strike h-it lucky?"
"Do, Parker, but do not cause any fuss. These people have been through enough without us causing them further distress."
Parker made a small salute. "Yes, m'Lady."
He began by standing just inside the door to the hall, "casing the joint" as he might have said in earlier years, before deciding that he'd probably have more luck by standing between the two doors marked "Women" and "Men" and checking out the through traffic.
He struck it lucky.
"…My son finally managed to get hold of us yesterday evening, which was such a relief; but he told us that our daughter, Angela, has been seriously injured. Billy spent most of last night trying to get us a ride to Bearston, but there're no buses between the two cities…"
Parker stepped forward. "Excuse me, Madam," he said, tipping his cap. "But would you 'appen to be Mrs H-Amelia H-Eagles?"
The lady in question and her newly acquired friend stared at the unusually dressed man with the funny accent and the strange choice of words. "I…" she glanced at her associate. "I am Amelia Eagles."
"H-I work for Mr Jeff Tracy," Parker announced. "Meself and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward h-are 'ere to take you to Bearston."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Mr Tracy h-is the h-owner of H-Aeronautical Component Engineering h-and your Mister Freddy works for 'im."
"I'm, ah, I'm aware of that."
"Mr Tracy 'as h-instructed 'er Ladyship h-and meself to transport you h-and your 'usband to Bearston so that you can be with your nippers, ah," Parker looked embarrassed at his verbal slip, "children… H-If you 'ave things you've got to do first," he made a subtle gesture towards the door marked Women, "then we can wait."
"Oh… ah… Thank you?" Mrs Eagles looked at her friend again.
Parker glanced across the room. "'Ere's 'er Ladyship now."
Amelia Eagles turned and saw her exhausted husband, looking as dazed as she felt, in the company of an impeccably dressed young woman. She immediately felt old, dirty, dishevelled and frumpy.
"Amy," Billy Eagles addressed his wife. "This is Lady Penelope, erm…"
"Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward," Lady Penelope offered. "I am delighted to meet you Mrs Eagles… I see you have already met my man Parker."
Both the Eagles were beginning to feel like they were living in a dream. Not sure what else to do to someone who appeared to be English royalty, Amelia and her friend bobbed a curtsey.
Lady Penelope made no comment about the social faux pas. "Parker and I have been requested to escort you to Bearston, so you can be reacquainted with Angela and Freddy," she explained. "Please do not feel that you must hurry. We shall await you outside in the Rolls Royce, and you may take all the time you require."
"Oh, ah, thank you," said Billy Eagles. "But we haven't got much, so we won't be long."
"Excellent. I am sure that you are all eager to be reunited with your loved ones." Lady Penelope gave the couple a gracious smile and, Parker a respectful two steps behind, withdrew.
"What was that!" the friend exclaimed. "Do you think they're legit?"
"I don't know, but…" Amelia turned to her husband. "Billy! They said they're going to take us to Angela and Freddy!"
"It could be a trap, Amy," he protested.
"A trap?! He said that he worked for Jeff Tracy and that Freddy worked for Jeff Tracy and Aeronautical Component Engineering. How could anyone else know that?"
"We've talked to a lot of people about our kids over the last few days."
"But why would anyone set up a scam like this? It's not like we've got a lot of money, especially after the earthquake. It's so unbelievable that I believe they're telling the truth."
"Well, there's one way of finding out," the friend said. "Er Ladyship," she mimicked Parker, "said they were in the Rolls Royce. How many of those will there be out there? I'll go and see if I can see it. If it's there, they're legit." She hurried away leaving Billy and Amelia to gather their meagre things together in disbelieving anticipation.
She was back in short time. "They're legit," she announced.
Amelia stood there, holding her few belongings, almost frightened to move. "How will we know which car is theirs?"
"Amy," her husband sighed. "It's a Rolls Royce. How many can there be?"
"Especially bright pink ones," the friend added. "And he's standing next to the door waiting for you like he's some kind of chauffeur and you're royalty… Good luck," she gave Amelia a brief hug. "I hope your kids are okay."
So did Billy and Amelia Eagles as they signed out of the refugee centre, were assisted into a pink Rolls Royce by a man in a purple uniform, seated next to a titled lady, and were whisked away into a dream.
-I-R-
-F-A-B-
10:15 a.m.
"Have you got your phone working, John?" Alan asked.
"Nope," John admitted, looking up from the instrument in question. "I don't have the right tools. I wouldn't worry except I promised Lisa I'd let her know what's going on… Not that we've got anything new to tell anyone."
"I can call her when we do," Gordon reminded him.
"I know. But I was hoping to hear about the house by now."
"Here," Scott handed over his mobile. "You're getting my money. You may as well use my phone as well."
John grinned, swapped the cards over between the phones, and checked his messages. "Looks like you and I have just extended our property portfolios," he announced. "The motel units are in a good state. The house needs work, but mainly on the attic and that can be done while we're over here." He checked his watch. "I'll ask the agent to bring the paperwork for signing to the house in half an hour." He looked at Scott. "Do you want to come with me? We can add your signature later."
"I'll come. Lisa said it's not that far away that we can't run back, and I need to stretch my legs."
John looked at his two youngest siblings and his grandmother. "Anyone else want to come?"
"I don't want to go too far," Grandma admitted, "but I might go and visit Edna and Hamish. But I will walk with you to the gate of the hospital, so you can point me in the right direction of your new house."
Gordon sniggered. "Don't forget John's never seen the place, Grandma. You might need to point him in the right direction."
John fixed him with a pointed look. "Do you want to stay here?"
"Nope. I want to see this monstrosity you've bought."
"Okay." John stood, stretched, and then looked down at his youngest brother. "Coming, Alan?"
"May as well. Gordon and I can keep an eye out for that reporter. We know what he looks like."
"Good point." John reached into his bag and pulled out a cap and sunglasses.
It was easy to find the location; the sign was still out front with a sold sticker defacing the photograph.
John looked at the tangled forest of weeds. "What a mess!"
Alan chuckled. "That's what you get for buying sight unseen."
"Well, let's see what the house is like."
They followed the long and curving driveway. "You know?" Scott began. "I really like this… It's private."
The driveway emerged onto the main building.
Gordon gave a low whistle. "John… You've bought the Bates Motel."
"It's not that bad," John told him, in an unknowing echo of Bruce's words. "It just needs a little work."
"Work?" Scott scratched his head. "Where did the inspector say it needed work?"
John craned his neck up three levels. "The attic and the roof."
"I wonder how much that's going to cost?"
John looked at his elder brother. "Having second thoughts?"
"No… There's the agent."
A well-dressed man approached the four brothers, unsure who to address. "Ah… Mr Tracy?"
"Yes." John took a step forward to clarify. "I'm John Tracy. You must be Mr Barefoot."
"Yes." Barefoot indicated the house. "Are you happy with your purchase?"
"We haven't had the chance to see it yet, but the inspector says that it's safe and watertight, apart from the roof. Once that's fixed this place will be all we need. Do you have the necessary papers?"
"Yes. Do you require assistance with a mortgage?"
"We don't need one. Do you have the bank account details, so I can transfer the cash over?"
"Do you want me to transfer my half over now?" Scott asked.
"No rush. That can wait until we've discovered how much the repairs are going to cost."
Their casual exchange about huge sums of money, for a property as yet uninspected, from such young men, had the agent slightly gobsmacked. Especially when he fired up his own phone and saw an extraordinary number of zeros after his firm's bank balance. "Erm… Here are the ownership papers."
"Thanks." John swiftly completed the transaction. "Know any good gardeners?"
"Ah... For this property?"
"Yes. From what we've seen of it, it needs some work."
"Maybe some of the refugees would like the job, John?" Alan suggested. "It'll give them an income and something to do until they can go home."
John nodded. "Good idea." He accepted a large ring of keys.
The Tracys thanked the rather bemused agent, saw him to his car, and waved him off the property.
John rubbed his hands together. "Let's explore."
"You guys can check out the buildings," Scott told him. "I'm going to check the grounds." Without waiting for approval or a general comment, he turned and walked away.
His brothers watched him go.
"I'd know that expression anywhere," Alan noted. "He's planning something, isn't he?"
"Looks like it." Gordon turned to his elder brother. "Where's this pool, John?"
"According to Lisa, it's by the motel units. Do you fellas want to check them out…" John gave Gordon most of the keys, keeping one for himself, "while I take a look at the house?"
They went their separate ways…
-I-R-
-F-A-B-
3:33 p.m.
Hours earlier, soon after Virgil had been calmed down, Colin Eden had arrived in the room, had a quiet conversation with the duty nurse, and then had approached the worried father. "How are you, Jeff?"
"Me?" Jeff had run his fingers through his hair. "I feel like a gopher who's been running for his life and is now trapped down a hole with a coyote at one entrance and a rattler at the other. I'm exhausted and I don't know where to turn to next."
"What happened?"
"He told me something was squashing his foot. I made the mistake of telling him why that wasn't possible."
Colin had made no comment about the other man's actions. "Is that the reaction you would have expected?"
Jeff had considered the question. "No… But then how can you know how anyone would react to being told that they'd lost both feet?" He had given a helpless shrug. "Thank heavens I didn't mention his hand."
Once again, no comment was made. "The medication that Virgil has been on has been the bare minimum required to maintain the patient's quality of life."
Jeff had been aware of this from the first time he'd seen Virgil in the hospital. "Because you don't have the staff available to give your patients more than a basic examination, and you've had to ration your medical supplies."
"That's correct. Now that things are starting to settle down, and Bearston General has been able to transfer some of our less serious patients to other medical establishments, we are going to revise Virgil's treatment. The pain relief that he's been receiving has been, in my opinion, inappropriate for his condition…"
Surprised to hear this admission from the hospital's own head administrator, Jeff had stared at him.
Colin Eden had continued speaking as if he hadn't just offered one of the wealthiest men in the world grounds to sue his hospital for every penny and more. "…and so, we've now decided on a new course of treatment. One which will allow Virgil to, hopefully, improve, so that he will be strong enough to survive the operation when your surgical team is ready to proceed. I have spoken with the nurse on duty and we've confirmed which medication we are going to use. It should dull the pain and prevent further injuries, without causing the confusion that you've just experienced. This will have a similar effect to an epidural in that it will block all signals below a certain point on Virgil's torso. Obviously, in Virgil's case, we are unable to use a true epidural, but the alternative will work as well, with a few conditions…"
Jeff had felt a twinge of alarm. "Conditions?"
"We will have to be careful where we administer this anaesthetic to ensure we do not compromise any organs in the thoracic area, but I am confident that the new treatment will be administered correctly and will make Virgil unaware of any pain, phantom or otherwise, while keeping him clear-headed and able to make intelligent decisions on his own…"
Since then, all those hours ago, Jeff had been sitting at his son's side and the patient had shown no sign of awakening from his sleep.
…Able to make intelligent decisions on his own…
How could anyone do that when they'd been as good as unconscious for hours?
All Jeff could do was wait. Wait and hope that his son would awaken as clear-headed as Colin Eden had promised…
And awaken soon.
Except that this time, Jeff vowed, he wasn't going to say anything to Virgil about his condition.
The door opened and, glad for a change from the tedium of waiting, Jeff glanced across to see who'd entered.
A couple, looking frightened by the scene that was confronting them, slipped inside and stopped to get their bearings.
There was an exclamation of surprise, a scurry of feet on the vinyl floor, and Freddy left his post at his sister's bedside. There he'd been living up to his reputation of being a motormouth and had been dutifully talking to Angela about anything and everything. Now he ran across the room to the couple, wrapping them in a tight, tearful embrace. They, Jeff noted, clung to him just as tightly and shed just as many tears of relief.
Embarrassed at experiencing the raw emotion of such a private moment, Jeff diverted his gaze back to his sleeping son.
"Mr Tracy?"
Jeff looked back up.
Freddy, his eyes red, but his smile huge, was standing there with his arms about the couple at his sides. "These are my parents, Mr Tracy."
Jeff stood, shuffled a couple of steps along so he was closer to the Eagles, and extended his hand in greeting. "Always a pleasure to meet the family of one of one of my valued employees."
Freddy looked embarrassed.
"You…" Billy Eagles started speaking, but his voice shook, and he stopped. He tried again. "You brought my family together, Mr Tracy."
"How can we thank you?" Amelia had a hold of Jeff's hand as if he were some kind of deity who'd granted her their greatest wish.
Jeff gave an it was nothing shrug and retrieved his hand. "Your kids needed you and, if you're anything like me…" he saw two pairs of eyes dart towards the still figure before him, "you needed to be with them."
"You should tell Angela that you're here," Freddy told his parents. "You need to talk to her." He gently steered his mother and father towards what Jeff was sure was their greatest nightmare.
He tried not to listen as the despairing parents implored their daughter to wake up. That had been him only a short time ago.
"Mr Tracy?"
Hearing Freddy's voice, Jeff looked around.
"Thank you, Mr Tracy. Thank you for bringing my folks here."
"Families should be together at a time like this."
"Yes, but…" Freddy looked at Virgil. "You had enough to think about without worrying about us."
"I can understand what you and your parents have been going through. And if I can help in some small way," Jeff shrugged again, "then I should… And I'm happy to."
"Thank you, Mr Tracy," Freddy repeated.
Billy Eagles approached his son. "There isn't enough room in here for all of us. Why don't you show me where you've been staying?"
And Jeff received two more heartfelt thank yous before the Eagles left the room.
He settled down to wait again.
To be continued…