Thunderbirds Are Go!
Halloween Specials 2021 Edition
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. I do not own Thunderbirds or any affiliated characters with the show.
The Blackwater Butcher
By Alan Tracy
The story I'm logging happened a few days ago in Inyo County, California. We were following up an investigation into the disappearance of a well-renowned scientist who happened to be a dear friend of Brains. His name was Professor Lance Lithgow, a man whose superior intellect made up for his permanent disability. A nasty car accident left him wheelchair-bound, but it inspired him to follow a career in science, achieving a career, teaching students at Caltech. On the day of his disappearance, he was heading to a seminar in Los Angeles and set off from his country retreat in Alpine county. As far as investigators could tell, his car travelled down the main interstates until a diversion forced his driver to pull off into the surrounding countryside. He was last seen heading towards a small rural town known as 'Blackwater Creek.' He would never arrive at Caltech, prompting the Professor there to call the police. Now do keep in mind that his disappearance happened over a week ago. We weren't called in to assist at that moment as investigators from surrounding counties banded together to search for the Professor. The GDF intervened when the investigators presented them with no leads.
The case was brought to the attention of Colonel Casey, who postulated that the Professor had been involved in an accident. Their team of investigators used their satellites to trace the car by identifying its licence plates. They found it on a back street in the town of Blackwater Creek. Concerned for his safety, she passed along their files to Dad. This is where we entered the story, and where my terrifying tale begins. I accompanied Virgil and Gordon as we took the sky in Thunderbird Two. All we had to go on was a geological map of the town, along with the street where the car had been found. It was a relatively short flight when we got there. The moon was out and this seemingly innocent town slept peacefully beneath us. Blackwater Creek was surrounded by a densely wooded area that separated it from the interstate. Through the middle of this dense terrain which consisted of rugged hills and dirt trails, sat a large murky lake that had boulders sticking out of the water. A small jetty protruded into it and a long wooden structure sat to its right. Our aerial sweep of the area yielded no results, so Virgil scouted an area ideal for landing. Virgil set Thunderbird Two down in a clearing near the back streets. We disembarked and immediately approached the car.
It had been turned on its side as if something heavy had tipped it. The driver side door had been sheered off and thrown across the street. The windshield had been smashed with a hatchet that stuck out of it and a series of claw marks scratched the rear passenger door. As Gordon and I attempted to flip it back over, Virgil made a startling discovery.
"Guys, take a look at this?" he said as the expression on his face shifted. "Do these look like drag marks to you?"
They did indeed. The drag marks started from the dirt trail, matching those found on the passenger door. We deduced that the Professor had been kidnapped during an ambush, but by who we didn't know. We followed the marks in the ground as they took us down a slope which ran amongst the hills. The light faded around us as we followed the path into the thick line of trees. We continued our search by torchlight until we could see the Moon again. Its rays reflected off the water of the lake we had seen earlier during our aerial sweep. It had a calming aura about it despite its sinister surroundings. We could hear faint ripples in the water, brought on by the fish that inhabited it. The boulders that stuck out of the water silhouetted against the Moonlight, taking on the guise of a shadowy monster. The only other light source came as an orange glow from the long cabin across the lake. It looked as if it was inhabited, but the thought of someone living there in an age of luxurious living didn't sit right with me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a snob or anything, but I didn't expect anyone to live in a dilapidated cabin in 2061. As you can probably tell, I was wrong...dead wrong!
"Do you think anyone lives there?" I asked in a whisper.
"I don't know, bro," replied Virgil as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night. "But I think I can see movement. Someone's in there."
"Perhaps they can help us out?" Gordon suggested. "We've been out here for nearly an hour and we're no near to finding the Professor than when we started. Perhaps the owner might have seen him or something?"
Virgil looked at me and then at Gordon. With a shrug, he replied; "I guess it couldn't hurt to try."
A wave of apprehension swept over me as we followed the shoreline towards the cabin. The small wooden jetty stood between us and the rotting structure. It too was partially lit by the moonlight as the glow from the cabin illuminated the sand around it. Virgil took the lead, propping himself up on the wooden planks that formed the jetty. We were now a few meters away from the cabin when Virgil spotted something glint in the moonlight. He walked out towards it and made a startling discovery. A knot began to form in his stomach as he revealed his find to us.
"Um...guys. I've found the Professor's wheelchair."
It could have been anyone's wheelchair if not for the words that were engraved in the armrests along with a wristwatch that hung off the side. It blinked a red light at us, confirming what we already knew.
"Well, we've found his emergency beacon, but where is he?" Gordon pondered.
With only one answer left to us, I turned my attention to the cabin. The atmosphere felt darker now as if a dozen eyes were observing us from the darkened tree line. Whoever Virgil had spotted earlier moving around was no longer there as we observed nothing but the stillness of the air. The cabin creaked from the expansion of the wooden walls. The water lapped up against the wooden columns that supported the foundations. When we approached the door, we were knocked back by the putrefied smell of rotten flesh. It made me feel sick to my stomach, causing me to vomit at one point. Virgil, who had the nerves of steel and an iron stomach, approached the door. The door handle clicked open and Virgil pulled it to one side. We stepped inside to a grizzly scene that looked like something out of a slasher movie. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room, soaked in blood and dirt. Butcher tools and blood-soaked blades adorned the walls except for the windows that leaked the glow from the ceiling lights. A swarm of flies buzzed around three potato sacks that sat at the back of the cabin. A puddle of blood-stained one of them as it dripped through a gap in the floorboards. On the examining table lay a body, draped under a large grey tarp. I felt my heart in my mouth as Virgil instinctively removed it.
The colour drained from his face when the pale, lifeless face of Professor Lithgow stared at him. His eyes were open, his pupils were dilated. Gordon balled his hand and slammed it on the top of the table.
"We were too late!" he cried. "What did the Professor do to deserve this!?"
I can't delve too deep into the graphic nature of his death. Virgil instructed us to head outside while he closed the Professor's eyes and replaced the sheet over his body. The cause of death rocked me to my very core. It was cold, barbaric and done without mercy or compassion. We waited outside to compose ourselves while Virgil finished up when we heard footsteps approach us from behind. As they grew louder, they were accompanied by a loud, heavy breath as if somebody was struggling to move through the sand. I tensed up as Gordon grabbed my arm. His grip was like a vice as his eyes turned to meet the mysterious figure. He leant towards my ear and whispered;
"We've got to get out of here."
I looked over to see a heavyset man approach us. His hair was long and matted, his skin was covered in blood which stained his thick matted beard. He wore a long and dirty apron which covered a white tank top and muddied slacks and his boots were cached in mud and blood. He looked at us and made a pig-like sound. He balled his left hand into a fist while brandishing a long jagged hatchet in his right. It shone in the moonlight as he raised it high above his head in a threatening gesture. At that moment, I realised that this man had murdered Professor Lithgow. He butchered him without remorse and a motive.
As he trudged towards us, Virgil burst out of the cabin, wielding a blood-stained machete. He positioned himself between us and the killer, and swiped the air with the blade, in an attempt to ward him off.
"When I give the signal, run!" he said as the pair of us backed away from him. "Head for Thunderbird Two. I'll join you there."
"Come on, Virgil! You can't take him!" Gordon yelled.
"I don't intend to!" Virgil replied as he hurled the machete at the maniac.
The blade struck the murder in the leg, forcing him to drop for a moment. He growled in pain and cursed at us as Virgil turned to run. Blind panic set in as we ran blindly through the dark towards the trail that brought us here. Our eyes adjusted to the dark so we were able to make out the faint outline of the dirt trail. I lost my footing and tumbled, hitting the sand with crack. Gordon stopped to help me up, but as he did this, we could hear the sound of footsteps thundering after us. Then came the deep guttural growl that greeted us at the cabin, It was the barbaric killer. In the short time, it had taken us to traverse the shoreline, he had managed to remove the machete from his leg and bandage the wound with his apron. He grunted with each step as the pain surged through his leg. We continued to press on, favouring our chances of reaching the Thunderbird in time. The growling persisted as it echoed amongst the trees which now obscured the lake. Staggering, clutching my throbbing shoulder, I kept up my brothers until we could see the glow from the street ahead.
"Come on! This way!" barked Virgil as he directed us towards the safety of Thunderbird Two.
We made it to the hatch after what felt like an eternity of running. As I stepped onto the metal grate, I looked back to see if I could spot our maniacal pursuer. He stood there at the tree line, staring at us. He lowered his weapon and the light of the streetlamp lit up the lower half of his dirty matted face. He flashed a sick and twisted smile as if he took pleasure in what he did. Perhaps he enjoyed the chase. I stared at him for a moment when he wiped the smile from his face, backed up into the trees and disappeared from view. The hatch lifted me into the cockpit and that was the last we'd seen of that man. Virgil reported the incident on our flight back home. I held back the urge to throw up until we were back on the island. I couldn't get the revolting smell out of my system and took numerous showers to get rid of it. When you've witnessed something so vile you kinda feel dirty afterwards.
When dawn arrived at the area, Kayo returned to the scene with the Colonel and a clean up crew. They entered the cabin and extracted the deceased Professor's body. She later told us that they recovered the decapitated remains of his driver who had been discovered in one of those sacks. When we broke the news to Brains, we grieved with him. That was a very difficult and surreal moment. Having to break news like that to someone was just…I can't put it into words.
The Professor's funeral is next week and as representatives of International Rescue, the three of us are going to attend the service with Brains. I don't know if they'll ever catch the killer, but the GDF have opened a case file about him, logging the identities of all his previous victims. They've called him, "The Blackwater Butcher." I don't like the name much, but I hope they catch him and lock him away for good. Rest in peace, Professor Lithgow. You'll never be forgotten.