Thunderbirds Are Go!
Halloween Specials 2021 Edition
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. I do not own Thunderbirds or any affiliated characters with the show.
The Maniacal Man
By Scott Tracy
It was an incredibly warm night over the Pacific Ocean when our uneventful night was interrupted by a call from John. I had spent the day find things to pass the time as the heat would often drive me crazy. I'm not one for the hot climate, unlike my brothers who seem to relish in it. I'd happily fly across the world in the refrigerated cabin of my Thunderbird. When we got the call, I was able to do just that. John had detected an automated distress beacon in a remote area of the Pacific. It looked as if it had come from a lifeboat which told us that a vessel had gone down nearby. I remember finding it strange that we hadn't detected any other distress messages, figuring that we would have, had a ship gone down. Despite that detail, Dad dispatched me to go and find out for myself. Honestly, I was just happy to climb inside Thunderbird One just so I could join the air conditioning.
I took off just as the stars appeared above, the flicking flames from my engines lit up the warm summer night. I plotted a course for the distress signal, using the coordinates relayed from the space satellite. It was a relatively short trip, about 20 minutes to be exact. When I arrived at the area, I found it hard to see anything below me. The dark shrouded the waves. If it wasn't for my height indicator, I would have hit them myself. The powerful beams of my searchlight guided me as I scanned the surface for the source of this signal. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. The waves were choppy, spitting up foam towards my craft. I could see the moon disappear behind a bubbling layer of cloud. A storm was moving in and it was heading in my direction. I knew that if I didn't locate this person or persons before the storm hit, then I'd never find them. Growing concerned, I asked John to keep an eye on the developing storm.
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five, I can't see anything out here, John," I moaned. "Are you sure this signal is legit?"
The seriousness in John's voice told me otherwise. "Scott, you know full well that these instruments are infallible. I've checked it over with EOS and she confirms it. Someone had to have activated it."
As he said that, the beam of my searchlights, caught something shimmer in the waves. As I flew towards it, I could see the remains of an aircraft. The debris sported the colours of a GDF transporter. It became apparent that it wasn't a ship that went down out here, but a GDF transporter craft. If that was the case though, then how come we didn't hear anything over the official channels? It wasn't like them to carry out a radio blackout. As I pondered over this a while, another object drifted under the beam of my searchlights. It was a small, red, rubber life raft that had been partially deployed. It was on its side as part of it protruded out of the water. As the waves picked up momentum, I spotted a figure in the water, clinging desperately onto the side of the raft. He must have seen me because as I got lower, he extended his right arm and waved at me.
"Base from Thunderbird One! I've found him!" I said into my radio as my Dad's hologram floated before my eyes. "He's clinging onto a GDF emergency raft. I'm going down there to pick him up."
The mention of the raft puzzled my dad greatly. He frowned for a moment before switching off. I'd later learn that he contacted Colonel Casey with my discovery where he'd later learn something terrifying. Anyway, I didn't think much about this individual except for the fact that he needed rescuing. I brought my Thunderbird in low so I could open the lower canopy and reach down to him. As I did this, the beam from my lights provided me with my first glimpse at the man. He looked like a right mess. He wore a set of scruffy clothes, his hair was soaked from the water and his chiselled face was riddled with scars that contrasted with the paleness of his skin. His dark eyes met with mine as he bore an unsettling smile complete with missing teeth along his bottom jaw. I had a bad feeling at that point as if my conscience didn't want me to help this man. International Rescue couldn't turn down a call for help though, even if the person made you feel uneasy. I opened the canopy and a sudden rush of wind filled the cabin. I felt the ocean spray hit my face as I lowered my arm down towards the stranger. Without hesitating and with little effort, he leapt up and grabbed it. I remained in my flight seat as I used my body weight to lift the man aboard. He grabbed the base of my graft and pulled himself inside, slumping his body into the small seat behind mine.
"Thank you," he muttered as he coughed up saltwater. "I thought I was done for!"
I closed the canopy and looked back at him. "Looks like I got here just in time. There's a storm brewing up."
"You don't say," he murmured. "So where are we headed?"
"I'll fly you to the shoreline and drop you off there," I replied.
The man remained silent as I altered my course and flew towards the coast. I could hear him shifting about behind me, which made me feel uneasy. I was used to carrying two types of people. They were either the awe-struck fans who always wanted to ride in one of our machines or the semi-conscious or traumatised kind who needed urgent medical attention. This guy didn't fit either of those categories. There was something incredibly off about him. I had to have eyes in the back of my head because I just didn't feel safe. Still, there was something about him, a vibe if you will, that pricked away at my curiosity.
"So tell me, who are you?" I asked him.
He looked at me and ceased his murmuring. "Oh, you don't need to know about my life story."
"At least tell me how you got out here in the middle of the night? Was it to do with that transporter crash?"
The tone in his voice changed slightly. I got the impression that I rattled him slightly. It only added to my already increasing discomfort. His tone lowered, elevating the creepiness of his deep, monotone voice.
"What do you know about that?" he asked.
"Just the fact that I saw it before I came across your life raft," I replied. "Was there anyone else in the aircraft?"
"No!" he said with a pause. "No, it was just me. I was the only one who managed to get away."
I felt the pit in my stomach start to bubble. I didn't want to express my fear though. Instead, I calmly kept on course over the North Pacific divide as the lights of the Mexican coast twinkled over the horizon. As I did this, I continued to press the strange passenger for more information.
"Did the rest of the crew die?"
"Yeah," the man snarled. "It was quite gruesome watching them scream and beg for mercy as the plane went down, watching the life drain from their bodies. You were lucky to not have seen them suffer."
I gulped loudly. "You...watched them die? Did they die upon impact?"
Suddenly, he let out a crazed and maniacal laugh in response to my question. I looked back again only to stare right at a toothless grin and the sharp end of a knife. Unbeknownst to me, while I was questioning him, he reached into his pocket and removed the sharp object.
"You want to know they died?" he asked me as he pressed the blade to my neck. "I killed them. I slit their throats!"
I tried to move, but the man had a good grip on the knife. He pressed it gently to my Adam's Apple and snarled into my ear.
"We're heading to Mexico, aren't we? Alter course to Chile and I'll let you live."
"Chile?" I replied calmly. "How do I know you won't kill me anyway once we get there?"
"You won't!" He replied as he let out a shriek that pierced my ears.
As we banked towards the Columbian coast, I had a trick up my sleeve that could save my life at that moment. I felt around for a concealed button under the flight lever and stabbed it. It triggered a silent emergency alarm that alerted John to my location. We had these silent beacons installed should a scenario like this happen to any one of us. Once John got a fix on my location, he would relay it to Tracy Island who in turn would inform the GDF ground patrols. We only used the system once before when one of our enemies attempted to hi-jack Thunderbird Four. I couldn't stand the thought of being helpless at the mercy of some deranged idiot. As a matter of fact, it made me angry. I wanted to react, but the knife remained at my throat. One false move could be my last. When we approached Chile, I banked towards the ground. The maniac watched my hands tap away at the controls.
"That's it, nice and slow," he said. "No tricks, boy!"
"No tricks," I muttered as I activated the landing jets.
Thunderbird One set down gently upon the sandy shoreline in a deserted area. I slowly opened the hatch below, the knife now touching my jugular, As I led the man out of the Thunderbird, I bided my time to strike him. He still held the knife to me, but his grip wasn't as firm as it was earlier. As we walked a few paces, I asked him;
"So what now? Are you still going to kill me?"
The man shrieked once again and relaxed his grip. "No, but I sure could use a hostage! Your GDF friends will come calling! I saw you hit that silent alarm! That was foolish!"
I watched him as he reached into his pockets again. He lowered the knife to about waist height as he pulled out a coil of rope from his top pocket. As he prepared to tie my hands together, I seized my moment. I rushed him, smacking him in the jaw with my left fist. Stunned by the blow, he stumbled backwards, dropping the knife in the sand. He cursed as he tried to recover, but I kicked him in the ribs, keeping him down. He then swung his leg about, knocking me to the floor. I hit the ground with a thud, smacking my right arm hard. I recoiled but found that he had picked himself up off the ground before I could. As he loomed over me, knife in one hand and rope in the other, I sweep kicked him hard in the shin. He winced and tumbled down the sandbank towards the crest of the water. I staggered to my feet, clutching my swollen arm. I had dislocated it although I was unaware of it at the time.
"Drop that knife!" I growled as the man picked himself up out of the mud and silt. "Now!"
He looked at me square in the eye. His facial expression fluctuated between anger and amusement. His stance began to falter as he swayed around in the dark, swiping the air with his blade in a threatening manner. I balled my fists, as a red shroud impeded my vision. Rage swept over me as I charged towards him like a juggernaut, I struck him with a series of moves that Kayo once taught me, I struck him in the chest which stunned him, followed by a kick to his left hip. I then twisted my body, grabbed him by the arm and flipped him over my head into the sand. I heard his head impact with the ground. It wasn't fatal, but hard enough to knock him out. His body went limp and he dropped the knife at my feet. I took the rope from his left hand and tied them together. Sore and exhausted, I lost my balance and fell in the sand. There I sat, cradling my dislocated arm until the cavalry showed up. As my adrenaline levels dropped, the extent of my injuries became apparent. A bruise appeared on my right cheek, my bottom lip was swollen and my rib cage throbbed. I did the right number on the creep though. In my blind fit of rage, I managed to break his nose and split his bottom lip.
When the GDF response team arrived, I helped them carry the unconscious man into one of the security tanks. Colonel Casey stood amongst them, carrying a first aid box. She took me over towards Thunderbird One where she proceeded to reset my arm. I'll admit, I never knew she was trained in first aid, but I was grateful for her help. As she took my statement, she divulged some information to me about the knife-wielding creep. His name was Cletus Wieland, a serial killer who murdered 15 people, two of which were pilots of the Fireflash. He was being transferred to the Parkmoor Scrubs Maximum Security Prison when he killed the pilots and crashed the transporter into the ocean. It turned out he was after a ride to Columbia and he happened to pick mine. Rattled by this startling revelation, I asked her how she mobilised her forces so quickly to my location? She smiled and said that I had my Dad to thank for that. That's when I remembered the secret SOS beacon that I activated. It had saved my life.
Once the GDF evacuated the area, I hobbled over towards my Thunderbird. I couldn't fly her with one arm, so I switched on the auto-navigation computer which whisked me home. Flash forward a few days and the story somehow broke the headlines. A police file photo of Wieland appeared on the front page. His demonic, grizzled face shook me to the core. I tried to shake off that night, but his face continued to haunt my dreams for many nights. Taking Dad's advice, Kayo took me to see a therapist so I could work through the trauma. She stayed with me throughout the recovery process. Heck, they all did. My arm is still in a cast as I write this, but the doctors say that my arm should be healed by the end of the week. I don't know what the future will have in store for Wieland. I hope he never gets out again.