Ninety One - BF
Scott clambered up the last few metres, brushing aside the scrub that threatened to bar his path. He emerged in a clearing.
He walked to the edge.
From here he could see for miles, the great Pacific Ocean was stretched out before him.
From here, on this rocky outcrop, he could feel the wind blowing through his hair.
From here, if he looked down, he appeared to be floating high above the Earth.
From here, if he spread his arms wide, he could pretend he was flying. Flying like a bird.
It was as close as he could get to truly flying, without having to rely on the entrapments of man made, mechanical wings.
This was his place. A haven from International Rescue, and family, and the stresses that accompanied both.
None of his family knew what this spot meant to him. None of them knew why he came here. Not even Virgil.
He'd got Virgil to assist him here once, while he was blind, but it hadn't felt the same. The never-ending darkness had robbed him of its pleasures.
He'd never gone back.
It was the view that had carried him away.
It was the view that had brought him that sense of peace.
Now, standing here with his vision nearly completely restored, he was once again feeling that sensation of tranquillity.
This was as near to flying and being in control as he'd been since...
...Since Regnad Corporation. He couldn't count the time he'd flown Alan home in Thunderbird One. He hadn't felt in control then, only a sense of desperation that he'd been forced into such a situation.
The trip home from rehabilitation, when Virgil had let him pilot Thunderbird One had been great, but not the same. He hadn't been in total control.
No... the last time he'd enjoyed flying was when he'd flown Thunderbird One to Regnad. Before he'd descended deep into the Earth away from the blue skies that he loved so much.
Before he'd descended into Hell.
He took in a deep breath, getting a lung full of that good, pure sea air.
A gull soared past him, looking at him with one white eye as if asking him what right a mere human being had to invade his space.
"You don't know how lucky you are," he told it.
It dipped away from him, down towards the waves that lapped far below.
His eyes followed it, coming to rest on a lone figure that stood on the beach looking out to sea.
For a moment he felt anger that another human had invaded his sanctuary. Then he admonished himself for feeling that way.
He reflected on the cruel ironies of life. Here he was, just regaining the things that he thought he'd lost forever, finally finding peace... And there was Virgil, desperately trying, for one short time, to convince himself that things were as they'd always been. That the sounds he heard were the sounds of the ocean.
Trying to convince himself that life as he knew it wasn't gone forever.
Scott looked at his watch. His father had called a meeting for this afternoon and the allotted time was drawing close. Time to head back home.
He didn't know what the purpose of this meeting was for, but something in the way that his father had spoken had caused warning bells to ring in his mind.
This meeting was to discuss something important.
It was the reason why he'd felt the need to come here, a chance to prepare for what lay ahead.
Scott wondered if Virgil had remembered the meeting, and was aware of the time. He decided to follow a 'goat' track down from his lookout, that way he could catch up with his brother on the beach and they could walk home together.
He started descending.
***
Virgil looked at his watch. Nearly time for the meeting.
He had a bad feeling about this. Something in his father's expression had warned him to expect something extreme.
Virgil had a feeling that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.
A wave rolled in and gently soaked the sand at his feet. He dug his toe in and watched as the next wave filled the newly formed hollow before the sand once again settled so that he couldn't even see where he'd disturbed it.
He watched a breaker chase another onto the shore.
He slowly turned and followed his footprints in the sand back to the house.
***
It had been over a year since Scott had used this track.
A year of storms, and winds, and rain.
A year of degradation.
His yell, as the ground beneath his feet crumbled away, echoed off the cliffs and out over the Pacific Ocean.
The only person close enough to hear the shout wasn't able to.
Virgil walked on obliviously.
Scott clutched desperately to a scrubby bush, its rough bark tearing at his hands. Below him the cliff dropped vertically away to hard, unforgiving rocks.
As he'd grabbed at the shrub his momentum had caused his body to swing round so that his back was against the cliff face and his arms were twisted unnaturally. The rock against his back was smooth, but that was small conciliation as he looked down at the dizzying drop and tried to find the smallest ledge to stand on.
His feet could find no purchase and every searching movement caused the roots to rip further out of the ground. Scott looked back up. Only half of the root system was embedded in the insubstantial soil. It wouldn't take too much of an effort for the whole lot to be torn from the ground, sending the plant, and himself, plummeting down to the beach below.
He wasn't that far from the track. But nevertheless it was out of reach.
He couldn't move.
"Virgil!" He tried yelling optimistically. "Help me!"
Virgil walked on.
"Help!" He tried yelling again, and the force of his bellow caused the plant's grip on the cliff to loosen a little more. Sandy soil rained down upon his head and blinded him momentarily.
"Virgil," he whispered, "if you and I are as telepathic as people seem to think, now would be a good time for you to read my thoughts."
Virgil neared the end of the beach.
Scott was watching his lifeline slip away.
Instead of seeing his life flash before his eyes he suddenly had an image of his epitaph.
'Scott Tracy - The story of his life finished with a cliff-hanger.'
***
Scott clambered up the last few metres, brushing aside the scrub that threatened to bar his path. He emerged in a clearing.
He walked to the edge.
From here he could see for miles, the great Pacific Ocean was stretched out before him.
From here, on this rocky outcrop, he could feel the wind blowing through his hair.
From here, if he looked down, he appeared to be floating high above the Earth.
From here, if he spread his arms wide, he could pretend he was flying. Flying like a bird.
It was as close as he could get to truly flying, without having to rely on the entrapments of man made, mechanical wings.
This was his place. A haven from International Rescue, and family, and the stresses that accompanied both.
None of his family knew what this spot meant to him. None of them knew why he came here. Not even Virgil.
He'd got Virgil to assist him here once, while he was blind, but it hadn't felt the same. The never-ending darkness had robbed him of its pleasures.
He'd never gone back.
It was the view that had carried him away.
It was the view that had brought him that sense of peace.
Now, standing here with his vision nearly completely restored, he was once again feeling that sensation of tranquillity.
This was as near to flying and being in control as he'd been since...
...Since Regnad Corporation. He couldn't count the time he'd flown Alan home in Thunderbird One. He hadn't felt in control then, only a sense of desperation that he'd been forced into such a situation.
The trip home from rehabilitation, when Virgil had let him pilot Thunderbird One had been great, but not the same. He hadn't been in total control.
No... the last time he'd enjoyed flying was when he'd flown Thunderbird One to Regnad. Before he'd descended deep into the Earth away from the blue skies that he loved so much.
Before he'd descended into Hell.
He took in a deep breath, getting a lung full of that good, pure sea air.
A gull soared past him, looking at him with one white eye as if asking him what right a mere human being had to invade his space.
"You don't know how lucky you are," he told it.
It dipped away from him, down towards the waves that lapped far below.
His eyes followed it, coming to rest on a lone figure that stood on the beach looking out to sea.
For a moment he felt anger that another human had invaded his sanctuary. Then he admonished himself for feeling that way.
He reflected on the cruel ironies of life. Here he was, just regaining the things that he thought he'd lost forever, finally finding peace... And there was Virgil, desperately trying, for one short time, to convince himself that things were as they'd always been. That the sounds he heard were the sounds of the ocean.
Trying to convince himself that life as he knew it wasn't gone forever.
Scott looked at his watch. His father had called a meeting for this afternoon and the allotted time was drawing close. Time to head back home.
He didn't know what the purpose of this meeting was for, but something in the way that his father had spoken had caused warning bells to ring in his mind.
This meeting was to discuss something important.
It was the reason why he'd felt the need to come here, a chance to prepare for what lay ahead.
Scott wondered if Virgil had remembered the meeting, and was aware of the time. He decided to follow a 'goat' track down from his lookout, that way he could catch up with his brother on the beach and they could walk home together.
He started descending.
***
Virgil looked at his watch. Nearly time for the meeting.
He had a bad feeling about this. Something in his father's expression had warned him to expect something extreme.
Virgil had a feeling that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.
A wave rolled in and gently soaked the sand at his feet. He dug his toe in and watched as the next wave filled the newly formed hollow before the sand once again settled so that he couldn't even see where he'd disturbed it.
He watched a breaker chase another onto the shore.
He slowly turned and followed his footprints in the sand back to the house.
***
It had been over a year since Scott had used this track.
A year of storms, and winds, and rain.
A year of degradation.
His yell, as the ground beneath his feet crumbled away, echoed off the cliffs and out over the Pacific Ocean.
The only person close enough to hear the shout wasn't able to.
Virgil walked on obliviously.
Scott clutched desperately to a scrubby bush, its rough bark tearing at his hands. Below him the cliff dropped vertically away to hard, unforgiving rocks.
As he'd grabbed at the shrub his momentum had caused his body to swing round so that his back was against the cliff face and his arms were twisted unnaturally. The rock against his back was smooth, but that was small conciliation as he looked down at the dizzying drop and tried to find the smallest ledge to stand on.
His feet could find no purchase and every searching movement caused the roots to rip further out of the ground. Scott looked back up. Only half of the root system was embedded in the insubstantial soil. It wouldn't take too much of an effort for the whole lot to be torn from the ground, sending the plant, and himself, plummeting down to the beach below.
He wasn't that far from the track. But nevertheless it was out of reach.
He couldn't move.
"Virgil!" He tried yelling optimistically. "Help me!"
Virgil walked on.
"Help!" He tried yelling again, and the force of his bellow caused the plant's grip on the cliff to loosen a little more. Sandy soil rained down upon his head and blinded him momentarily.
"Virgil," he whispered, "if you and I are as telepathic as people seem to think, now would be a good time for you to read my thoughts."
Virgil neared the end of the beach.
Scott was watching his lifeline slip away.
Instead of seeing his life flash before his eyes he suddenly had an image of his epitaph.
'Scott Tracy - The story of his life finished with a cliff-hanger.'
***