Walk on the Wild Side

By Sapphire

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Chapter 10: Mysteries And Complications

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Close to the big pod Thunderbird 2 had dropped, the Hood watched how International Rescue somehow managed to stop the rotation of the turbine the fallen tower was leaning against and how the big ship was lowering two of the pilots down to the gondola of the fallen tower.

Impatiently, the Hood waited for his chance.

He didn't need to wait for very long. While the large ship remained at the turbines, the two pilots who had left on their hover cycles returned.

The Hood was pleased when he realized that one of them wasn't actually one of the normal pilots but the engineer whom he had met before. Of all the operatives of International Rescue, he was the one who knew all the secrets, who was able to tell him how to build his own, powerful machines. Even though he would have settled happily for any of the pilots - alone for the fact that he would revel in breaking them and paying them back for all the things they had done to him - they simply didn't have the knowledge he craved. They were just the muscle, while the engineer, yes, he was the brains.

Not realizing that they were closely watched, the two men returned their hover cycles. Then they took up post outside of the pod, watching the happenings on the other ridge.

This was his chance.

He pulled his gun and walked softly over to the two oblivious men.

"Excuse me," he said, not to apologize to them - nothing would be further from his mind - but simply to get their attention.

Like one, they turned around. Before either of them could react, he directed the amazing power of his mind towards the auburn haired pilot. The man didn't stand a chance. Within a moment the Hood had overpowered the other's mind. With a simple command, the pilot shut down and he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. He wouldn't disturb him any more.

The engineer's eyes widened behind his blue-rimmed glasses.

"What d-d-do you want?" he gasped out, holding up a hand as if to fend off the Hood.

As if he could.

The Hood pointed his gun at the engineer and indicated that he should move away from the pod.

"Where are we g-g-going?" the man said, frozen with fear.

"Never you mind," the Hood replied. "You move."

Finally the engineer relented. He nervously rubbed his left arm, as he slowly started to move.

In a few minutes they would reach the Hood's car. Then they would drive away and then he finally, finally would get what rightfully was his.

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Scott climbed inside the gondola, pulling out his flashlight and pointed it around. Even though some light was falling in through the open hatch, the interior of the gondola was dark and gloomy.

"Hello, is there anybody?" he called out.

There was a moment of quiet, then from somewhere not too far away: "Help! We are here!"

All walls and the floor were tilted at a crazy angle. The generator of the wind turbine was a large round cylinder, which normally was lying on its side in the centre of the room. It used to be fixed to the floor of the gondola by several large bolts. When the blade of the turbine had impacted with the ground, those bolts had been sheered off, causing the generator to shift inside the housing of the gondola, ripping part of the metal mesh floor to shreds. The room was littered with debris, and as Scott waved his light around in his search for the source of the voice, he needed a moment to orientate himself.

Suddenly there was something white flashing in one corner and he moved further inside, attempting to get closer, while struggling to find a hold at the walls and floor.

Alan followed him. He added his flashlight to Scott's and together they scrambled ahead.

Soon they had reached the two trapped men. The man who had waved to them looked up with a mixture of hope and despair. He had wedged himself into a corner formed by the huge generator and the wall, holding in his lap the head of another man, who seemed to be deeply unconscious.

At least Scott hoped that this was the case. That they hadn't arrived too late.

"He's trapped," the man said, his voice rough. "I tried to get him out, but I can't. He lost so much blood. So much blood…" He looked away, obviously trying to hide his emotions.

Scott found some room near him, but allowed Alan to move past them and closer to the injured man. Immediately, his youngest brother started to check with calm competency for the trapped man's vitals in the light Scott provided.

"Hi," Scott tried to capture the attention of the distraught man. "My name's Scott."

The man looked from his friend to Alan and finally back to Scott. "Chris Buchart," he said. "This is Bob Hampton. We are working here,"

Scott smiled reassuringly. "You're doing good, Chris. We'll get Bob out in no time, and then we bring you both to safety."

Alan looked up from where he was working on Bob. "Bob is doing fine, but we better get him out soon. He has lost quite a bit of blood."

Now Scott pointed his light at the bottom of Bob's body and nearly gasped. When the generator had shifted, Bob must have been thrown against the wall by the impact, and then a spear-like bit of the former floor had imbedded itself deeply into his torso. Now he was pinned like an overly large insect against the wall.

Maybe it was a good thing that he had lost consciousness.

Scott swallowed. It wasn't that he was particularly squeamish, but he had ever only seen injuries like this in pictures, and nothing ever in such detail. Alan also seemed the be a bit paler than normal, but that might be due to the scant lighting in the gondola, as he did work with steady fingers with the small first aid kit he had brought along.

Scott turned his head away from the gruesome sight and addressed Chris, trying to keep his voice level. "How long has he been out?" he asked gently.

Chris took a deep breath, looked at his friend and back to Scott. "He was awake for a long time. He was in so much pain, but I knew I couldn't move him, and I had nothing to help him. So I told him that you guys are coming and that you will get him out. But maybe ten minutes ago he wouldn't react to my questions any more."

"You did the right thing," Alan said now. "We need to brace the generator before we can do anything else. Then we can cut him out and get him to a hospital. He will be fine."

After a minute, Alan had done what he could do to stabilise the injured man, and wriggled back out. Sitting on his haunches, he thought for a moment.

Scott wondered what they could do. It was clear that they needed to cut the metal bit before they could attempt to move Bob. Pulling it out was out of the question, as the same piece of metal that was causing his injury, was right now the only thing that kept him alive, as it blocked the flow of blood. If they'd pull it out, he would bleed to death within minutes, if not seconds. He might not be a medic, but so much he knew.

However, right now, that same piece of metal held up a good part of the weight of the generator. Cutting it would most likely result in the generator moving and ultimately in squishing the poor man to death.

Not an acceptable outcome.

They had to stabilize the generator somehow.

But how?

Scott was still searching for something that looked like they could use it for bracing the generator, when Alan pushed a small, metal bottle into his hand.

Scott looked up, slightly confused. What was he to do with that bottle?

Alan crawled back underneath the generator to the other side of the wounded man. He was also holding a similar bottle. When he had reached his goal, he pulled a small pin, pushed a button and yellow foam began to spew out of the nozzle. Where the foam hit the wall it immediately turned hard. With practiced and economic moves, he built the foam up, creating a solid block.

Scott realized that the foam was to brace the generator – the very, very heavy generator. He could hardly believe that this foam would be sufficient to do the job.

Nevertheless he copied Alan's movements, creating a block of foam on the other side of the trapped man. He had to trust that Alan knew what he was doing.

Finally Alan seemed to be satisfied, and stopped spraying, indicating to Scott to stop as well. He crawled back out, assessing their work.

"That should do it," he said, looking satisfied.

Chris looked doubtful, and Scott couldn't exactly blame him. After all, this was only some foam, not a block of steel.

Alan grinned, then picked up a piece of metal and smashed it against the block Scott had just created. The piece of metal bent, the block of foam didn't even show a dent.

"Wow," murmured Chris.

'Wow,' thought Scott.

"Something one of our engineers has come up with. A synthetic metal compound with the strength of tempered steel," he explained. "Practically impossible to remove later, but that's not the objective right now. Now we need to cut your friend out."

Scott pulled Chris up and pushed him towards the exit. When Alan had cut Bob free, they needed to get him out as soon as possible. There was no time to waste.

"Thunderbird 5 to rescue team, please come in."

"What's up, Thunderbird 5," Scott replied, as Alan was just crawling back into the narrow space between the generator and the wall, ready to cut the trapped man free.

"Scott, we have a problem!"

TBC

next chapter: A hero is 'No Braver Than An Ordinary Man' - only braver five minutes longer