Chapter 18

Virgil groaned and rolled onto his side, and opened his eyes to find the smiling face of his older brother about 6 inches from his face.
"Agh!" said Virgil.

"Sorry!" said Scott. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Floaty!" said Virgil with slurred speech, and giggled.

"That'll be the painkillers," said Scott.

A doctor came over to the foot of the bed.

"Mr. Tracy! Good to see you awake! How do you feel?"

"Alright," said Virgil, and licked his dry lips.

"We put a metal plate in your leg. It should be fine. We did some muscle reconstruction on your arm, and that will heal well too. It'd be a different story if you weren't in such great shape, but you shouldn't be in here more than four or five days. We'll get you some physiotherapy, and some aftercare, and you'll be right!" The doctor was Australian. He had a little koala toy holding an Australian flag peeping out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. It made Virgil giggle even more. "For now, Mr. Tracy, get some sleep!" said the doctor.

"Thank you, doctor," said Virgil. The doctor touched his head in a kind of half-salute, and left.

"Hey, Scott, can you pass me some water?" asked Virgil.

Scott poured him a glass from the jug on the bedside table, and passed it to him. Virgil drank all of it and gave a satisfied gasp.

"How's Dad?" he asked.

"Same," said Scott. "Look, are you going to be okay?"

"Sure. How are Alan and Kyrano?"

"They'll both be good soon."

"Go on, Scott. I could use the rest anyway."

"Okay, kid." Scott tapped Virgil's good leg, and headed back to intensive care to see his father.

"Dr. Featherstone is on his way, Brains. He's bringing his team."
"Okay, Gordon," said Brains.
"I'll start operation cover-up, Brains."
"Good idea!" stammered Brains. He recorded John's observations while Gordon ran out into the corridor.

Gordon changed the pictures in the Tracy lounge to those of the boys in their casual clothes. He was moved for a moment by the picture of John. He touched it with his fingertips, and proceeded to the lab. The lab was almost destroyed, with shards of metal and broken glass everywhere. There was no way he was going to clear this up alone. He went up to the end of the corridor to where it met the Thunderbird 1 hangar. He opened a panel in the floor and took hold of the lever that would manually bring down the blast door. With an almighty tug he pulled it up, and the door descended. This quite effectively blocked the view of the hangar from the lab corridor. He went to the hallway between the Thunderbird 1 hangar and the rest of the main house, and pulled that door down also, even though there was no damage to the regular doors in this section. The blast doors looked rather like bulkheads, and so there would be no question as to what lay beyond them. Next, he went into the Thunderbird 2 hangar and brought down the wall that separated Thunderbird 2 and all of it's equipment from Ladybird and the other planes in the regular hangar.

"Operation complete!" said Gordon, and dusted off his hands. He went to sit under one of the palm trees and waited for the doctor to arrive.

He did not have to wait long. A red medical helijet approached and landed on the strip next to the main house. A five people climbed out of it, and Gordon walked towards them. A sixth person, the pilot, came out too. All of the crew were carrying large bags, and Gordon offered to take some. He led the way into the main house, and the sickroom.

When he got there, Brains was alternately bagging John and pounding his chest. Gordon dropped the bags.

"He arrested again!" said Brains, breathlessly.

The medical staff strode in with an air of authority. One of the people wearing a jacket labelled 'Doctor' stood next to Brains, and at an appropriate moment in the sequence took over from him. The rest surrounded John, and some worked on him while others unpacked equipment. Their neon jackets reflected the lights and made it difficult to see between them. Brains was pushed to the back, and sidled his way around the team to stand next to Gordon in the doorway to the sickroom.

"Oh no!" said Gordon, and Brains touched his arm. Gordon really appreciated the gesture; he and Brains were close friends, and Brains wasn't the touchy-feely type. It was heart felt.
Gordon focussed all his concentration on John. He heard various cries of "Asystole", "VF", "V tach" and others. Gordon was not listening, he was just willing John to life with all of his mental energy until he felt the veins popping out of his head. He lost track of time until the doctor came out.

"Is he okay?" asked Gordon, frantically.

"We have managed to restart his heart. I understand you have equipment here; CT, x-ray, that sort of thing?"

"Yes we do!" said Gordon. He moved aside some equipment in the sickroom, and opened the door to the instrument room. "In here! And you can go through the anaesthetic room in the operating theatre to get in as well," said Gordon.

"You are remarkably well equipped; I've seen city hospitals with less!" said the doctor.

"We're a remote island, Doctor," said Brains. "We can't always rely on help being available," he stammered.

"Quite," said the doctor. "We need to run some tests on John. Why don't you get a cup of coffee or something? We'll let you know when we have something to tell you."
"Okay," said Gordon. But as soon as the doctor left, he frowned. "Ah, this is worse than waiting at the damn hospital!" he said. He and Brains headed for the kitchen to get some coffee.

Scott sat next to his father's bed, looking at his face. He heard the door swing open behind him but paid it no attention.

"Mr. Tracy?" said a familiar voice; Dr. Liu.
"My name is Scott," he said. "Mr. Tracy is my father's name."

"As you wish, Scott," said Dr. Liu.

"How is my father?" asked Scott.

"He's deteriorating, I'm afraid. I think it's looking very possible that your father has very serious brain damage. He's very sick, Scott."

"I can see that!" snapped Scott. "I'm sorry."

"Don't even worry about it, mate."

"Are you telling me he's going to die?"
"No, but I'm telling you to be ready for the worst."
"Thank you, doctor," said Scott, and turned to shake his hand. He appreciated plain speaking at times such as this.