Thunderbirds Are Go!
The Halloween Collection (2020 Edition)
by Lee Homer
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. Thunderbirds Are Go! Is the property of ITV and Pukeko Pictures. Rated T Any OC's are my own.
Blood in the Bayou
By Jeff Tracy
I've just received some tragic news this morning. One of my dearest friends passed away this morning at his Louisiana home. His name was Jeremiah Tuttle, a Hill billy with a heart of gold That's what my boys used to refer to him as. He was a gentle and intelligent man who helped me out during the initial conception of International Rescue. I've owed my life to him on many occasions, but there was always one mission that I can't forget nor that I want to for it was the first time that I truly appreciated my friendship with him. I was in my early thirties when I first met him. It was during a recruitment drive to hire new agents for International Rescue that he came to me with an outstanding resume. Turns out that in his hay day, he used to work with the CIA until they merged with the GDF. When that happened, he was forced to work privately as P.I until he heard about my organization. I was so honored to have hired him. You see, it wasn't until this one harrowing event that I knew I had hired him for a reason.
It started when I received a top-secret message from Colonel Casey at the GDF. She had been assisting me with my endeavors to get IR up and running. She would place orders for various mechanical parts and electronic equipment to other companies around the world, then track them until they arrived at the island. On this particular day, she had tracked a flight carrying microchips that were needed for Thunderbird One, when the flight went missing over the Louisiana area. I couldn't afford to let this incident heed our progress, so I sent my nearest agent to investigate. Jeremiah, or Agent 47 as I'd officially call him, was already on the scene, but he had insufficient information to go on. I had the tracking information so I decided to fly out there and assist him with the investigation.
It was hot, it was muggy and it was impossible to avoid the magnitude of bugs that infested the swamplands. When I arrived at his house, Jeremiah greeted me with a warm welcome and beckoned me to follow him inside. He made me feel at home. After a warm meal, we got down to work. Using the tracking information and his maps of the surrounding area, we were able to get a fix on the missing aircraft. It appeared to have vanished over the bayou, an expanse of water that was swarming with Alligators and other horrors. Jeremiah knew the area well. We used his extensive knowledge to our advantage. He also knew that it was best to traverse the waters after sundown as the darkness would provide sufficient cover. I was hesitant at the idea, but I needed to find the missing shipment. We grabbed a shotgun each and made our way towards the small jetty at the back of his house. We climbed aboard his airboat and set off into the murky depths of the bayou.
The air felt thick as we traversed the waters towards the co-ordinates. Beads of sweat trickled down my face. I wasn't used to the humidity at all. I could feel multiple eyes observe us from the trees. I'd shine my flash-light in the direction, only to see observant Alligators monitor our movements. We eventually arrived a the spot where the plane disappeared. The creep factor intensified when we could hear the sounds of movements coming from the clearing ahead. Jeremiah saw something dart in between the trees, calling for me to aim my flashlight in the direction of the sound. There was nothing. At that time, my mind tried to work out why there weren't any visible signs of the aircraft. Did it crash? Were our coordinates wrong? We sat back in the boat to discuss our options.
"I don't like this. We should head back, Jeremiah."
"Now calm down, Jeff. It's still possible that yer' plane crashed in that ol' clearing over there."
"Maybe, but I don't feel safe out here."
"Don't worry about a thing, now. We'll investigate the clearing and if we don't find yer' shipment, we'll turn back and try again at sun up."
Jeremiah's smile put me at ease. He calmly sat there and chewed away on a straw blade. Putting my hesitance to one side, we pressed on towards the clearing. Our airboat scraped along the bogged terrain as we hopped out with our shotguns drawn. We searched the isolated patch of the bayou for an hour when some strange force separated us. The faint glow of flickering fire caught my attention. It was coming from a spot within the trees at the far side of the clearing. I don't know what compelled me to head over there, but I just couldn't bring myself to stay away. It was like a voice that had guided me there. I didn't know what I was going to find at the time, but I had this preconceived notion that I was going to stumble upon the remains of the missing aircraft. I was wrong. Instead, I found myself staring at a campfire in front of a man-made cave-like structure. I had never seen anything like it before.
The fire crackled away into the night, producing the foul smell of blood and rotten flesh. My brain wanted me to flee, but my body didn't comply. As I investigated the camp, I found the source of the stench. I wasn't sure what to make of it at the time, but thinking back to it, I saw the remains of two skinned human torsos. Bloodstained the soil around them. It was impossible not to wretch at the overpowering stench. While I resisted the urge to vomit, I saw something metallic resting by the fire. I picked it up and examined it under the beam of my flash-light. It was a captain's flight badge. It belonged to a pilot. I couldn't believe it. Did I discover the grisly remains of the flight crew?
Suddenly, I could hear the sound of heavy footsteps heading towards me. I took cover behind a row of trees, switching off my flash-light to avoid detection. Two rather disheveled men emerged from their dwelling, covered in blood and dirt. Their clothes were ripped to shreds, their bare feet were as black as the night sky and the look in their eye told me they were not the type to negotiate with. I could hear them mutter amongst themselves about something. I figured they were reacting to my presence and hoped that they would go away. Of course, I was wrong again. As they paced around their campsite, I made the mistake of stepping on a loose twig. The snapping sound drew their attention towards me.
One of the men grunted. "Somebody there!?"
The other looked at me with his bloodshot eyes. "Yeah, I see 'im. Looks like we've got another one.
The first man locked his eyes on me and displayed a disgusting smile that sent chills down my spine. He bore his revolting teeth as he conveyed his malicious intentions towards me.
"Yeah, I see 'im." He sneered. "He's come looking for the other two. Well, he's gonna be Gator meat!"
I stood my ground. There was no way I was going to let these two creeps get the jump on me. I trained my shotgun at them and warned them to back the hell off. In reality, I didn't have a harmful bone in my body, but I would often deploy the tough guy act should I have to.
"I suggest you back off now unless you want a bullet in your head. I know how to use this!"
The two brutes looked at each other and laughed. It appeared my tough guy act failed this time around. I aimed my gun into the air and squeezed the trigger. I couldn't believe it. The firing mechanism had jammed. I soon found myself in a comprising position. These two brutes were about to advance on me and there was nothing I could do about it. I backed away slowly until I could find the moment to turn and run. I spun on my heel to leg it for the airboat, but the brutes knew I would do that. I felt one of them grab me by the arm with force, and hurl me into the side of a tree. I felt a shooting pain course through my body as it connected with the damp bark, the pain was excruciating. As I tried to gather my thoughts, I felt the end of a blade press up against my neck. It was a meat cleaver, It's sharpened blade still stained with blood.
The brute with the meat cleaver, smiled at me as he let out a sadistic chuckle.
"Ain't nowhere to run now, boy." He said as he licked his lips. "You've seen too much now."
The other brute began to complain. "Can't we just eat 'im?"
"Shut it, Clyde! I wanna' have some fun with him first."
I thought I was going to die. A tidal wave of thoughts and emotions flooded my mind. I wasn't going to make it home, to cuddle my boys, to see my dream come to fruition. I was prepared to lose it all. As the brute began to press the blade into my throat, they were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Jeremiah emerged from the shadows, and fired a round at the brute with the meat cleaver, disarming him. The other brute released me to attend to his cohort, who was now whimpering away in a pool of blood.
"Come on, Jeff! Let's get out of here!" Jeremiah yelled. "Quick! I'll cover you."
I didn't argue with him. Together, we bolted towards the shoreline where our airboat waited for us. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest. I embraced my freedom as we boarded the boat and high tailed it out of there. I soon settled my nerves when we reached the relative safety of Jeremiah's house. He took me indoors and put me up for the night in his spare room. He could see that I was visibly traumatized and insisted that I stay the night. I couldn't stop shaking. I just wanted vomit. The foul rotting stench haunted my sinuses for the next few days. I didn't get any sleep that night. All I could do was sit there and stare into the fireplace.
At sun up, we headed into the nearest town to report our findings to the GDF. I decided to stick around a while longer while they searched the Bayou. The officer in charge reported that they had found the remains of an aircraft over a hundred miles away, but the escape pod landed swamp close to the brutes camp. They also located the camp itself, arresting the two crazed brutes. They officially identified the remains of the two pilots that ejected from the doomed flight. I remember being hit by overwhelming sadness. If I hadn't ordered those microchips, those two pilots wouldn't have lost their lives. I felt responsible for the whole incident despite Jeremiah's insistence that it wasn't my fault.
Eventually, I went home to my family and shared the incident with my mother while the boys were sleeping. She encouraged me to not give up and convinced me that this wasn't my fault after all. As for Jeremiah, he used the encounter to help prepare him for the dangers of the bayou. If it wasn't for his quick thinking, I would surely be dead. I'm going to miss him. I better go and inform the family of his passing.
Goodbye Jeremiah. Rest in peace, and thank you for everything.
END