WITNESS
Note: Every so often a story comes that you just have to write down. This is mine. I have no idea where it came from, I think it was a spur of the moment thing.
Don't worry, I haven't given up on Stranded. I just wanted to write something new as well
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the great Gerry Anderson.
This first chapter is pretty short.
Chapter one
It was early afternoon and the city center was considerably more quiet than it usually was. This wasn't surprising really since most people were at work, and the children were at school.
Alan Tracy walked down Main street dressed in a dark suit, scowling to himself. He hated this part of working for his father: The paper work, the meetings at Tracy Industries and worst of all,-the never ending documents to sign.
No way. Alan preferred the physical side, the International Rescue side; helping people when they were in immense peril, piloting Thunderbird Three, his baby, to help people lost or endangered in the darkness of space.
"Why am I here?" Alan thought to himself, "I should be back home, soaking up the sun. Instead I'm stuck in a boring city, dressed like a snob."
Once again Alan scowled, he knew the exact reason he was here. It was his brothers' faults, not his.
"Alan hasn't been to the office for ages," Gordon had said.
"We don't want him getting lazy, do we?" Virgil had added.
"He needs the exercise," Scott had placed his point too.
Of course their father had agreed with them wholeheartedly, and no amount of arguing and pleading had changed his mind.
So now here he was just out of a two-hour-long meeting, he was tired and his stomach hadn't stopped rumbling.
Alan decided to find a café and get something to eat. A nice hotdog with fried onions, yum.
He started walking down the street. To the right of him past the metre high iron fence, was the park. It was empty save for a few small children, too young to be attending school.
Suddenly a couple of metres in front of Alan, a young boy about four-years-old ran out of the park entrance. He was chasing a red soccer ball. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a red and white striped shirt, and on his head was a light green baseball cap.
The soccer ball rolled off the curb and into the center of the street, and the little boy followed it. He was giggling and laughing as he went.
Alan never forgot what happened next.
From around the corner came a silver Cadillac. It was going fast,-faster than the limit at any rate. The tyres screeched on the hard cement and Alan could see that the driver was talking on his cell phone.
The boy's back was turned away, oblivious to the oncoming vehicle.
"Isn't the car going to slow down? Can't the boy hear it coming?" These questions flashed through Alan's mind, yet he couldn't move. It was as if some strange force had frozen him on the spot, in shock.
The car came closer to the boy. Alan could see that the driver was a middle aged man, wearing a dark suit similar to his own. He was still talking on his cell, and from what Alan could make out, it wasn't the politest of conversations. The driver was shouting, his mouth turned into an angry sneer. He too seemed oblivious to what was happening.
Alan started to run into the street, his paralysis finally broken. "Hey kid, watch out!" He cried, and at the same time the driver looked up. His face contorted into a look of horror when he saw the boy. He dropped the cell phone and slammed on the brakes.
The little boy looked up, and the first thing he saw was Alan running toward him……..Then he saw the car.
Alan shouted out again. But it was too late. He could only watch in horror as the terrible scene unfolded.
The car skidding.
The boy screaming.
The sound of a horn.
A horrible thud.
Then silence.
Alan felt something warm splatter onto his face…..Blood. He raised his hands, rubbed his face and then looked down at them, groaning in disgust at the red liquid that stained them.
Letting out a cry of horror, Alan ran into the road. He dropped down beside the boy who was lying sprawled on his back, legs splayed at an odd angle. There was a small pool of blood around his head.
"Oh my God! Is he ok?" Alan looked around to see the driver of the Cadillac, trembling all over as he looked down at them.
Alan fought the urge to knock the guy out. Instead he placed his middle and index fingers on the boy's neck, checking for a pulse.
He didn't find one.
Looking up at the smartly dressed man, Alan tried to stay calm. "He's dead."
For a few moments the man just stared at him. Then he began backing slowly away, shaking his head, as if in denial. "No" he muttered, "no."
Before Alan could stop him, the man turned and raced back to his car. He threw open the door, jumped inside, started the engine and raced away.
Alan watched as the car raced into the distance, and his eyes narrowed in anger. "You selfish bastard!" He cursed, "how could you? I'm going to…."
"Oh my God! Sammy!" Alan turned to see a hysterical woman racing towards him, her long dark hair flowing out behind her.
Alan stood to face her. "I'm so sorry," he began. "The car…."
But the woman shoved him aside, collapsing to her knees. She picked her son up, cradling him in her arms, rocking him back and forth. "Do something!" She sobbed, rubbing her son's head. "Call an ambulance!"
Alan knew that it wouldn't do any good. He couldn't tell her though, could he? So instead he removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket, flipped it open and dialled 911.
"Emergency services, how may I help you ?" A voice on the end answered.
"I need an ambulance, and the police, a boy's been knocked down……..Outside Main street park…….Yes that's right……Head and spinal injuries…..Ok thanks, please hurry!"
Alan replaced his cell, "they'll be here soon."
The woman nodded, looking up at him, tears staining her emerald eyes. "Wh-Wh-Why did you ask for the police as well?"
"I'm really sorry." Alan sighed, "it was a hit and run."
The woman began to sob harder, and Alan wrapped a friendly arm around her.
"Wh-Wh-Why would someone d-d-do this?" The woman sobbed, still rocking the boy-Sammy.
"I don't know," Alan answered truthfully, "I just don't know."