Hey everyone! The next one is here, and I'm excited. This is the long awaited one for me. The shadowy figure from the first chapter is finally up so you finally get to meet them. Hope you enjoy. Please, please as you read the story, review. Katya and I both love to hear how you all are enjoying the story. Also, if there is anything wrong or something you don't like, let me know. I can't promise it will be changed, but it might be I've missed something. We can't wait to hear from you!
Miss Elizabeth Blakeney and Katya
P.S. The bold faced terms are dialoge taking place in sign language. I am no expert in this, though I have had a little bit of training.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Thunderbirds or any characters pertianing to them. The only thingsI own is the story idea and the "shadowy figure".
Chapter 7: Tenderness in the bowels of Hell
She heard the heavy footsteps heading for her cell. They were coming for her. Just the thought made her long to crawl into the corner and cower. But she would not. She would be strong. He had taken almost everything from her, but she wouldn't give him her pride. Squaring her thin, scarred shoulders, she stood and waited for the guards to claim her for the daily…session. Shivering slightly in the humiliating, inadequate clothing she was forced to wear, she waited while the guards questioned the slaves who had come to get her. This was for their protection. Their master would be severely…displeased if she should disappear. A key scraped in the lock, and the heavy door swung open. While the slaves blocked the doorway, the guards advanced on her, baring a curious device. She stood stock-still and betrayed no emotion while one guard brought one part of the device around her waist. The metallic band snapped into place and locked. Then the same guard grabbed onto her wrists while the other thrust a manacle over it and locked it into place. This was repeated with her other hand. Now she was ready. The two slaves grasped her upper arms and dragged her down the corridors. With every dwindling inch of freedom, the young girl became more and more anxious. By the time the group had reached the door to the throne room, she was struggling violently. A quick rap at the door brought her back to her senses. She would not show weakness to Him. It would only lead to worse things. The door was thrown open, and she was thrown in. A shadow passed over her prone figure, pausing briefly, as if to enjoy her discomfort. Before she could push herself up, the figure passed on, and the door slammed shut. The click of the lock echoed through the chamber, mixing with another sound. The girl laboriously got up, as it was difficult to push herself up with her hands shackled.
Glancing around, she immediately spotted the lifeless figure hanging from the wall. Though she had seen many things during her imprisonment here, still the sight shocked her. She fearfully checked all the corners and all the shadows. Though she thought He had passed her when she had been lying by the door, one learned quickly here not to trust anything. However, her examination was not as thorough as it would normally have been. The sounds she had heard before where coming from the man hanging limply and obviously, painfully from his shackles. It was his breathing that was echoing through the chamber, and it didn't sound normal. Knowing how He worked, the first thing he had done was rough him up a bit and show him who's boss. And His usual method was to bruise or break a couple ribs and let you suffer.
Slippers whispered softly over the rough stones until the girl stood near the unconscious figure. His ribs needed to be bound immediately; but it wasn't as if she could just ask for supplies. She looked desperately around the room, looking for anything that could act as a bandage. Her hands strayed to her hair, and she started doing her nervous habit. She would grasp a patch of hair and give it a tight squeeze, then grab another handful and begin again. Suddenly, there it was. The solution was wrapped in her hair. The young woman quickly unwound the long silk scarf that was woven into her hair. Long cascades of brown hair with soft blond highlights fell to the small of her back. As she approached the figure, his uniform caused her to cease all movement. There on his right breast was the logo of International Rescue, and on his right sleeve was spelled vertically THUNDERBIRD. The Hood had done it. He had kidnapped a member of International Rescue. This man could not have any idea what the Hood had in store for him.
Well he would not succeed if she had anything to do with it. Though she knew from experience that no one had ever escaped His clutches, she would work until her dying breath to see that the Hood did not get his evil way. Her shoulders back, eyes steely, she swore she would help this man escape.
Carefully, and with tenderness, she undid the front of his shirt. Careful not to touch his painful ribs more then necessary, she quickly wound the long, sturdy silk piece around his torso. Getting as tight as she could without causing more damage, she neatly tied it off and did up his shirt again. Next, she checked his wrist and winced. Since he could not hold himself up, the metal of the shackles was eating into his skin. She was back where she had started. She had nothing to use as a cushion for his wrists. Looking around she came back to her slave outfit. It resembled something out of an old desert movie. It looked like a small, turquoise two-piece swim suit that had see-through white silk sleeves and leg and mid-drift coverings. Completing the ensemble was a pair of turquoise silk slippers and at one time, her hair wrap.
Thinking quickly, she carefully tore the white silk from around her mid-drift. He had more need of the cloth then she did. Tearing it long ways, she went first to the right wrist. Carefully she grasped the limp arm and moved the wrist until there was enough room between it and the manacle to insert the cloth. Gently, she moved the cloth around the wrist until it was soon protected by a thick wad of silk. Quickly, but as gentle as she could, she repeated the process on the left wrist. Standing back to view her handiwork, her eyes were drawn to his lowered head. For a moment, all seemed, relatively, fine. Then, for an instant, her eyes caught a drop of red fall onto his uniform from the left side of his forehead. Swiftly, she tore off her left silk sleeve and folded it several times.
She stood right next to the lifeless figure and placed her right hand under his chin. Slowly, she lifted his chin up until she was looking him squarely in the face. Instantly, she jumped back and fell backwards a good ways from the still unconscious figure. Her mouth opened, but no words came forth.
Slowly and deliberately, she got up and returned to the side of the unconscious man. She once again carefully lifted up his face until she could see his entire visage. Her eyes grew wide. There was no mistake, it was he. She opened her mouth and spoke his name but no words came out.
Scott?!
No. It was impossible. Scott and International Rescue, impossible! And yet, it made perfect sense. The Tracys had always been caring and kind to others. She knew that from personal experience. Scott, in particular, had been a sweet and kind boy, though he had hid his caring nature under a gruff and in control attitude. She was now even more determined to help International Rescue and foil the Hood's scheme.
Tenderly she wiped the trickle of blood, then, by tearing of her right sleeve, she made a compress and a bandage to wrap around his head. Standing back to survey her work, she noticed that he was beginning to wake up. She was extremely nervous about that. Would he remember her? Would he remember how…?
Scott slowly opened his eyes. He didn't want to. There didn't seem to be a part of his body that didn't hurt. Wearily, he raised his head, only to be confronted with a pair of deep blue eyes. Before he could react, the young woman in front of him leaped backwards, landing on her backside and instantly curling up into a little ball. For several long minutes, neither said a word. The female studied the floor and pulled her arms tighter around herself. The man studied the young lady. He didn't know quite what to think. The girl was dressed in something that was little more then a bikini. This was made of a blue-greenish cloth that looked like silk. Her legs were further covered thanks to a white see-through material that didn't quite hide the fact that her legs were marked with lashes and old scars. These also covered her arms, which must have been clothed with the white material at one time. Long brown hair flowed down her badly scarred back and onto the stone floor. She looked so scared and vulnerable that Scott's heart went out to her. He had to help this poor creature.
"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. I think I'm in the same fix as you are. My name's Scott. What's yours?" The girl slowly raised her head. Their eyes locked, and Scott felt a swift pang in his gut. Those deep blue eyes told a story for all to see. It seemed that all her fears, all her pain, all her shattered hopes and dreams were written in those expressive eyes. Yet, there was a nobility, a strength at their core that held the promise to never quit. Her face was almost elf-like in appearance and held a child-like vulnerability in its structure. She had a beauty that was not limited to the exterior, but instead was internal and radiated out to enhance her physical beauty in a way Scott had never seen, except once. He mentally shook his head, wanting to be rid of that thought.
"I promise I won't hurt you. Won't you tell me your name?" The girl shook her head. Her eyes narrowed for a second, and her brow furrowed. Then, looking directly into his equally blue eyes, she put the fingers of her right hand against the middle of her throat and tapped gently, shaking her head simultaneously. Scott had no clue, and suddenly the light bulb came on.
"You won't tell me your name because you can't. You can't talk, can you?" The girl nodded sadly.
"I'm sorry." The girl looked him in the eyes, and he could read in her eyes as clearly as if she had said it, "It's ok, it's not your fault."
"Have you never been able to talk?" She shook her head, then using her right hand she pushed away from her to her right, pointed to herself, then gestured to the floor. Scott was amazed that he could understand and communicate with her.
"You could speak before you were brought here?" Lips twitching ever so slightly up, she nodded.
"Man, there has to be a better way for us to communicate." The girl frowned, thinking deeply. Then she raised both of her hands, which were still bound by the shackles, and began signing.
There is if you know sign language. Scott laughed softly.
Waving his hands slightly, he said, "I can't sign like this, but yes, I do know sign language." The girl smiled for the first time in many years.
I'm so glad. It was going to be hard if you couldn't. This may be stupid to ask, but you are with International Rescue, right? Scott nodded.
"That's where I learned sign language. Helps with communication, and lets us operatives 'talk' to each other when we don't want people to know what we're saying. How long have you been here?"
Sadly, she answered. I'm not sure. I know it has been a few years, but there is no knowledge of time here, at least not for the slaves and prisoners.
"Will you tell me your name?" She nodded, then began to spell it out for him.
She first held up her right hand and extended her thumb and first finger so that they made a right triangle.
"L."
Next, she moved her four fingers so that they rested against the thumb, creating a circle.
"O."
Then she made a fist, slipping her thumb between the second and third fingers.
"N."
Finally, she made another fist, this time, placing her thumb, pointing straight up, next to the curled fingers.
"A. Lona? That's a pretty name. I once had a…anyway. Do you know anyway out of this…this hell-hole?"
No. There is none that I know of. Don't think it wasn't for lack of trying. But all you get for your troubles is this. She turned around and let him see the full extent of the damage done to her back. When she turned back around, she noticed that Scott looked a little green around the edges.
Sorry. But I thought you'd need to know what you were dealing with. He is totally ruthless. He will stop at nothing to get what he wants. When physical threats and violence do not work, he always has emotional and psychological tortures at his disposal. Scott nodded.
"I've never personally met the Hood before, but my d…commander and a buddy has. What he did to us…he is utterly without scruples. That's why we must get out of here, both of us."
Lona could not raise her head as she felt salty tears well up in the corners of her eyes. Finally, when she knew she had her emotions under control, she raised her head. Scott found himself staring into the hardest, steeliest eyes he had ever seen. Lona raised her hands.
Both of us.