Thunderbirds and The Tracy Family are the creation of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson
Chapter 69
On hearing the noise behind him Scott silently cursed himself for letting his guard down, for not being more vigilant. He shot a glance at Jez, whose eyes were going wide with shock and in that brief moment he felt all hope of their returning safely was gone but then a change came over him. He knew he needed to get his friend proper medical attention, that he could do nothing more for him here and he knew if they were taken that Jez would not get the treatment he needed, if anything, they would use his injury to torture him and he was not prepared to let that happen. An all encompassing thought burned in his mind. To get them to the extraction point, to get them home.
He bore the pain of the weapon being pushed into his injured side, it might actually give him an advantage, his enemy would think he was weak but his enemy would pay a dear price for underestimating the resolve of Lieutenant Scott Carpenter Tracy. Scott closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again he was on a whole new different level, a level that would effect a swift and devastating solution.
Putting his left hand up slowly in the air Scott rose equally slowly to his feet in seeming surrender, having shut off his pain by sheer force of will, all the time his mind one step ahead. At the same time, and unseen by his enemy, he reached slowly down his right leg until his fingers wrapped around the handle of his knife. Flexing them he took a firm grasp and slid it silently from its sheath, holding it close to his body as he stood, the black blade reflecting no light and being perfectly hidden against his clothing. As he straightened he knew there would be no time for second thoughts, no time for hesitation; the element of surprise was his and he used it to his lethal advantage.
Scott turned and with cat-like agility and speed he clamped his left hand firmly over his enemy's mouth and nose, being aware of his position as he turned. At the same time and without any hesitation whatsoever Scott swung his right hand round with devastating force, plunging the knife up into his enemy's chest and under the diaphragm. With a grunt of exertion he shoved it harder, pushing it in all the way to the hilt and with a quick flick of his wrist he twisted before slowly drawing it out. It all happened so quickly his enemy had not had time to react to defend himself but, if truth be told, with Scott Tracy on his new level of consciousness, he would not have stood a chance anyway.
Jez watched in amazement, unbelieving for a moment at what just happened, hardly recognising his friend, his friend who had just swiftly and ruthlessly dispatched the enemy without hesitation. It didn't take him long to recover though and breathe a sigh of relief, for one moment he was in the depths of despair and trying to come to terms with their capture and the next, the problem was resolved and they were free again.
Scott had reacted with such lightening speed that only now, as he drew his knife out, did he take time to look at his enemy and what he saw shocked him to his core. What he saw looking back at him were eyes that would haunt him for the rest of his life, for what he saw were not the shocked eyes of a man but those of a mere boy. As Scott took his hand away he saw his enemy could not have been more than 17, a mere youth who probably thought he had captured a great prize in the two American airmen.
The boy dropped his automatic weapon, looking to Scott in shock and horror, as he first looked down at his chest then back to Scott, disbelief on his young face that his easy prize of two injured airmen had not turned out to be so easy after all. He knew the man on his knees was injured as well when he had poked him in his side and he had groaned and flinched. He would be a hero when it was known he had captured these two all by himself. He hadn't thought the injured man would have tried anything; they had been told all the American airmen were cowards, weak and easy to capture but now he knew different and he was paying the price for his youthful arrogance in thinking he could take them alone. The youth dropped to his knees then fell face forwards as the life ebbed from his young body, taking his final breath before he hit the ground with a thud.
It felt like an eternity that Scott was rooted to the spot, though in truth it was only moments, the anguish and shock on his own face at the youthful age of his enemy very evident. Without looking at his friend and still staring at his victim he spoke. "He was a boy……he…he was just a gawd damn boy…..Jez….younger than our Alan….and I killed him…..I killed a boy," Scott repeated over and over again as he turned to his friend. His very soul was in turmoil, the turmoil at being forced into a situation he had no control over, the turmoil at having reacted instinctively and without emotion.
Despite the pain of his own situation Jez could see that his friend was very much in need of his support. Scott had kept them from being captured, given them a chance to go home and there was no way he was going to condemn his friend for the action he had taken. "Yeah….and that boy….Scott….was probably a cold-blooded little killer……he would've…thought nothing of…takin us out if he had to…..you know that….probably got a lot…of our guys….notched up on his…belt….so don't you go….wastin tears over him….buddy thought he was…gonna parade us like….like a couple a prize trophies….well….you sure as hell gave him something…else to think about," Jez responded and not feeling quite so sympathetic for the plight of their enemy, the pain and the desperate situation they were in making him feel just that little bit irritable. "Scott! You did what you had to do, buddy. Scott!" he added trying to encourage him and jolt him back to reality.
It seemed to work. On hearing his name Scott was brought sharply back into the present. He closed his eyes briefly and on opening them again, however, Jez observed a cold, calm deadness where once there had been the twinkle of mischief and fun, a zest for life. Scott had shut himself down, closed off his emotions and now moved with the automatic reflexes of doing what had to be done.
Scott hunkered down and drawing his hand over the youth's face closed his unseeing eyes then wiped his blade on the boy's uniform before sheathing it. Next, he rolled the body over onto its back to lessen the blood spill, and grasping his side, he winced, as he forced himself to his feet. Searching for a suitable place Scott grabbed the youth by the collar of his uniform, after having put his automatic weapon on top of him and dragged him backwards to the undergrowth. Drawing his machete he hacked at the vegetation to loosen it and with one last drag he dropped the body in its final resting place. Scott bent and lifting an armful of leaf litter he covered the body then pulled the vegetation back into place, making sure nothing could be seen. Lifting another armful of leaf litter from the jungle floor Scott dropped it over the pool of blood that had formed where the boy fell. His last act was finding a branch that had not long fallen from the trees, one that still had its foliage. Taking his leafy broom he swept as he walked backwards, erasing the dragged heel marks from his enemy's boots. Only when all was done did Scott take a moment to rest, wipe the sweat from his brow and take a much-needed swallow of water.
Jez nodded. From where he was, anyway, it would never be known that the young boy had ever been here. A panicky feeling now and a real sudden desire to want to be as far away from here as possible took over. "Yeah…that's good….now whatdaya say we….get the hell as far….away from here…as we can, huh…buddy," Jez urged.
But Scott was already on another level of thinking. He looked Jez calmly in the eye and shook his head. "No….we stay here," he responded with cool, calm decisiveness.
"But Scott….his buddy...he could be….," Jez had started to say, allowing his fear to dictate his actions.
"Exactly….his buddy could be anywhere…could be close," Scott finished his sentence. They knew from their briefing reports that the enemy operated in small two-man patrols. It was one of the few things they did know and Scott was fairly sure that that was the case here, for had it been a larger patrol, he deduced, the boy would not have been here on his own but with two or three others.
"And just how far do you…realistically…..think we'd get, Jez…huh. If he can't find his buddy….he's gonna raise the alarm……and worse….if he does find him…….then this place is gonna be crawlin with 'Charlie'…. No…..we stay here…..make him come to us," Scott said, setting out his reasons for his decision.
"Make him come to us!" Jez replied incredulously. "And then what….Scott!" he added as he began to get a real, bad feeling about this. "What happens when the two of them don't show up?"
"And then…….you let me take care of that," Scott replied with a measure of coldness. "A patrol can be out for ages…searching…..they won't be missed for a good while…..it'll be thought they're just being thorough," he added, thinking with a military mindset.
"Scott…..I really…think we should just…..," Jez began to say, fearful of what Scott was suggesting and just wanting to get away from there. He wondered if Scott had really thought all this through or if that encounter, along with the injury to his side, had temporarily unbalanced his friend. They had been fortunate enough to evade capture once but to deliberately wait for the enemy to find them, he thought was pushing things too far; the chances of the youth's 'buddy' being as young as him were extremely remote. But he had figured without his friend's true resolve and resilience, the extreme measures to which Scott was prepared to go when pushed to his limits.
"Well…you're not in command here, lieutenant….I am…..and I say we stay," Scott stated coldly, calmly and firmly, looking his friend squarely in the eye, his face devoid of all emotion. "Now….this is what we're gonna do…," he added, informing Jez as to his role in the plan, to which Jez obediently nodded, though he noticed Scott hadn't told him what he would be doing and how he was going to take care of things but then, he didn't really want to know. When all was said and done there was no man that Jez would rather be stranded here with than Lieutenant Scott Tracy, for by now they could well have been in enemy hands and he could have been suffering untold pain, though if things didn't go the way Scott had planned that was still a pretty real possibility.
Jez watched as Scott slipped into the shadows opposite and seemingly disappear, so good, again, at his concealment that had Jez not known his friend was there he would have felt totally alone. As it was he had that strange feeling of being out here, like a 'sitting duck', which was, actually, part of the plan. Every fibre of his being, every common sense instinct told him he should be quiet, remain still and not draw attention to his being here so it felt unnatural and, indeed, a little scary to start coughing and rustle the leaf litter beside him. He coughed a little tentatively at first, as if to prove that this wasn't going to work but then, the more he thought about it, the more he knew Scott was right. How far would they get, with Scott having to carry him, if the other member of the enemy patrol was at large and could come on them at any time? He now had to summon all his courage and put his trust completely in his friend and his senior officer. With that in mind Jez coughed loudly and threw in a few groans for good measure, though that wasn't hard to do, as he still wasn't sure if this would work
Jez felt his heart pounding in his chest as he waited, the morphine making him decidedly drowsy, which was, perhaps, a good thing as it helped quell his fear a little. Then he heard it, that crunching of the leaf litter. Jerking his head up and focusing his eyes he realised he was no longer alone. Jez looked up into the suspicious, menacing eyes of the second member of the patrol and gulped. His natural instinct was to look around to see where Scott was, hoping that his friend knew of the enemy's presence, but he did not want to do anything that would give Scott away before he was ready; he knew he had to hold the man's attention.
'Charlie' started talking to Jez, his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he looked about him. Jez suspected he was wondering if his young companion had come upon the airmen and just where he had gotten too but with Jez not understanding a word of what his enemy was saying he just gave him a weak smile and shrugged his shoulders. 'Charlie' babbled more angrily, waving his gun menacingly and making Jez very nervous indeed. Jez held up his hands, shrugging his shoulders apologetically that he didn't understand what he was saying then 'Charlie' narrowed his eyes as he looked down at Jez's right leg, Jez's rather expertly dressed and splinted right leg.
Knowing Jez could not have done that himself he demanded angrily to know where the other airman was by pointing at his leg with his weapon and then back at Jez and Jez did not have to understand him to know what he wanted to know. 'Charlie' now leered menacingly as he looked down at the airman's injured leg; he knew how he would get the airman to talk.
Jez gulped and shifted uncomfortably, pushing himself back against the tree as far as he could go; he did not have to understand the man's language to know what his enemy was meaning to do and he prayed that whatever Scott was intending to do he would do it soon but he resolved he would not give his friend away no matter what.
'Charlie' extended the point of his automatic rifle slowly towards Jez'z injury, an evil leer on his face and Jez braced himself but the rifle never reached its target. As Jez watched, Scott had stepped silently from the shadows and as swiftly as before, only this time from behind, reached his left arm around his enemy, clamping his hand tightly over 'Charlie's' mouth and nose, pulling his head backwards. Jez's eyes automatically flashed to Scott's right hand, expecting to see the black blade but was surprised and a little alarmed to see his hand empty this time, his knife still in its sheath. Had Scott forgotten to take his knife out of its sheath! He suddenly felt cold fear that his friend was in danger and knew he could do nothing to help him but on looking to his friend's face he saw no hint of fear, no impression that Scott thought he was he danger, that he had bitten off more than he could chew. Instead, he saw that Scott's face was set like hardened stone and as Scott struck with devastating force for the second time Jez saw that his eyes flashed like cold blue steel.
Again with cat-like agility and speed Scott reached his right arm around in front of his enemy, grabbing hold of the side of 'Charlie's' head with his right hand and, without any hint of hesitation, pulled his head sharply back round to the right while at the same time pushing 'Charlie's' head with his left hand that was still clamped over his mouth. There was a sickening SNAP! 'Charlie' went limp and, as Scott quickly withdrew his hands, he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. It was lethal in its swiftness, cold, clean and clinical in its execution and instantaneous in its result.
Jez was dumbfounded. This was a friend he didn't know and yet he wasn't about to complain because for the second time that day they were free, for the second time Lieutenant Scott Tracy had disposed of their problem with cool, calm efficiency. "Geez Scott….remind me…never to piss you off," Jez remarked, incredulous at what he had seen his friend just do. A thought came to his mind that bordered on a macabre sense of humor. "Hell…forget about Uncle Bob when he's bin drinkin…..just don't mess with Lieutenant Scott Tracy when he's sober," he thought to himself. "Where the hell….did you learn…to do that?" he added, knowing it went way beyond what they had learned in unarmed combat to defend themselves and then a slow realisation dawned on him. "Is that what….they did to you…in that advanced course!"
Scott shot him an icy look. "I don't wanna talk about it," he snapped, an equally icy tone in his voice.
The adrenalin surge that had momentarily overridden the effects of the morphine that Jez had experienced during that brief encounter with their enemy and watching his subsequent demise was now beginning to wear off and he once more felt drowsy but even so he was concerned for his friend, for his mental and his emotional state. They say 'the eyes are the window of the soul' and even though Scott had appeared cold and emotionless, when he had looked deep into his friend's eyes he could see the pain and the turmoil within. He knew his friend was still there and that he was going to have to find a way to live with himself.
"Buddy….talk to me," Jez begged.
"I told you, Jez…..I don't wanna talk about it. Now…I've got work to do…..and then I'm gettin your ass…and mine….outta here," Scott responded, his voice so full of hurt and pain that Jez almost thought he could get him to talk if he pressed him but then just as quickly he shut himself off, returning to a cold, hard firmness.
As Jez watched his friend methodically dispose of the body in the same manner as before he couldn't help but think something had died in his friend that day, that in finding out what he was capable of it had cost him something he could never get back, a certain innocence, a fun-loving enjoyment and zest for life. Jez knew of Scott's background, his upbringing, that he had helped raise his four younger brothers and since he had known him, when Scott transferred to Cannon AFB, he had seen his friend enjoy life to the full, taking a little time out for himself for a change. Now Jez wasn't suggesting for one minute that Scott Tracy was some sort of choirboy for they had on occasion taken out a MiG or two but it is a different thing entirely to look a man or, indeed, a youth in the eyes as you take his life, to be close enough to smell his fear, to feel his heart beat, to hear his neck snap and Jez knew that things would never be quite the same again, for either of them.
Once Scott was satisfied all was done and that no trace could be seen he set about getting their things together in order to move out. Before he did so Scott reached into the pocket of his flight suit and pulled out his hypospray, giving himself a shot in the neck. Although his body was pumping adrenalin and he was on another level of focus he knew he had a hard task still ahead of him; he not only had the weight of his friend to carry but also that of the automatic weapon he had kept from his enemy, so he wanted to deaden the pain as much as possible.
Not only may the weapon come in useful if they encountered a larger patrol but he knew this to be one of the latest automatic assault weapons that it was known the enemy were using and they, meaning the American forces, had not yet got their hands on one of these weapons to study it. It was a Kolashnikov Assault Rifle, an AK-120, the very latest in high tech personal weaponry and certainly a prize worth taking back.
As Scott took a few moments of rest an ominous sound rang out. In the sticky and humid heat a deep peel of thunder rumbled across the treetops of the jungle canopy, announcing the arrival of a deluge of rain. They were fast approaching the monsoon season, an annual weather phenomenon in these parts that was dominated by heavy and almost continuous rainfall, which lasted four months from June to September. While most people normally associate the word monsoon with heavy tropical rains it is in actual fact taken from an ancient Arabic word meaning, 'season of the winds' and is more to do with the shifting of wind patterns taking up moisture from the ocean and dumping it over the jungles as heavy rain.
Scott knew he didn't have long now before they would be thoroughly drenched and thought quickly how he could protect the dressing on Jez's leg. He unzipped a pocket in his Survival Vest and took out one of the two empty plastic bags, plastic bags they could use to either catch rain or the early morning moisture for drinking water, and two bandage grips from his small first-aid kit. Ripping the bag open lengthwise with his knife, down its side seams, he wrapped it carefully round the dressing, tucking it in at the top and bottom and securing it with the grips, finally pulling the leg of his flight suit over it.
As the first large drops of rain splashed down onto the broad leaves Scott lifted his face to welcome the cooling relief from the sticky heat, filled with the vain hope that perhaps the refreshing rain would wash away the anguish in his soul. Within moments the drops had become like a cascade pouring down through the trees, as though a plug had been pulled in the heavens, releasing its contents, sudden in its intensity. Thoroughly drenched now and with the rain running down his face like torrents of tears Scott opened his mouth, allowing the water to run in and taking the opportunity to conserve his water supply by drinking in what nature had so kindly provided. Another rumble of thunder rang out in the darkening sky and it seemed to suit his mood perfectly.
Scott took a look at Jez and nodded. It was time to move out. The heavy rains would work to their advantage in that 'Charlie' would more than likely hole up now until the rain had passed, allowing them to get as far away from here as possible and move ever closer to their goal. Having donned the small backpack Scott hunkered down, putting Jez's right arm around his neck and with the aid of a stout branch that Jez used for support Scott managed to haul Jez unto his left leg, keeping his right leg straight. Jez stifled a groan as he leant back against the tree for support, balancing momentarily on his left leg. Within seconds Scott had lifted him in the combat version of the Fireman's Carry, whereby he had Jez draped across his shoulder and back, his left arm through and round Jez's left leg, holding it to his body and grasping Jez's left wrist, which was now across his chest, with his left hand, allowing Jez's right leg to remain free and straight. This combat version of the Carry also allowed Scott to keep his right hand free in case he needed to fire his weapon to defend them. Jez moaned with the pain it caused him, despite the morphine, as Scott shifted him into a final comfortable position, making sure he had his balance. Scott, too, found himself in some discomfort as he took the weight of his friend but set his face in steely determination, digging deep into his reserves of sheer courage and strength. Finally Scott lifted the assault rifle from against the tree, slung it over his right shoulder and headed out.
Jez moaned with the first few steps then Scott felt him go limp, having finally given way to the pain and passing out. "You hang…in there, buddy……I'm gonna….get us…outta this….gonna get us outta this," Scott repeated until his words just became thoughts, as he focused all his energy and concentration on that one all encompassing idea, to get them to safety. Scott, already exhausted himself from the energy sapping heat and what he had already done, now found himself running on automatic, having lifted himself to that new level of focus as he walked on through the driving rain.
Not much moved in the jungle now, all noises having been drowned out by the sound of the torrential rain. Even the animals, it seems, were wise enough to stay put in their burrows and shelters during the downpour, all, except the frogs, of course, who thrived in such conditions. Only those, out of extreme desperation would dare to brave such adverse weather.
He had no idea of how long he had walked but when he finally felt he could go no further he started looking around for a place where he could rest a while, somewhere they could hide until nightfall, when it would be safe enough to move on. His eyes fell on another of those curiously shaped bushes and he wondered; he had seen a couple of them as he had walked. As carefully as he could he laid Jez against the tree beside it and drawing his machete he hacked away part of the foliage, pulling it back. On his knees now Scott peered inside to find it was almost hollow inside, a few thin branches growing up through the middle with the bush growing in a circular fashion and forming a natural tent. Crawling in Scott hacked away the middle branches, leaving a now hollow space, enough for two men to be hidden from the outside world.
Scott shook Jez by the shoulder until he drowsily came too. "Jez…come on, buddy……I got us a room...one with running water at that," he half-heartedly quipped.
Jez stirred and Scott managed to drag him into the relative safety of the shelter, unloading the burden of the weapon and the backpack. He went outside again and hacked down some large banana-like leaves, bringing them back inside. Once inside Scott pulled up the loosened foliage 'door' effectively hiding them from the outside, so thick was the surrounding foliage that nothing could be seen of the inside, seeming to all the world like a solid bush. Although the foliage was thick the rain still managed to seep through and Scott now used the large banana-like leaves to cover Jez's leg and themselves, using them like natural umbrellas. All the time Scott was thinking ahead and, seeing as there was an abundance of natural water it seemed a pity not to take advantage of it. Taking the empty plastic bags, one from his own Vest and one from Jez's, Scott hooked them up into the branch 'roof' of their 'tent', opening them out at the neck, which allowed the rain water to drip into the bags.
Scott was tiring and longed to rest, just for a little while but there were a few more things he needed to do first. Reaching into the backpack he took a bottle of water and gave Jez a drink, along with another couple of antibiotics then gave him some of the dried rations to eat. He gratefully ate himself, knowing he had to keep his strength up and took a welcome drink of water, later they could use the rain water before they left their hiding place and so conserve their precious supply. Scott checked again the splint to make sure it was still holding firm without being too tight and was glad to see that Jez had fallen into a seemingly peaceful sleep. Finally, overcome with extreme tiredness himself, Scott lay down and pulled one of the large leaves over his head and closed his eyes.
He had only meant to rest for a little while, close his eyes briefly; he hadn't meant to fall asleep. His sleep was not peaceful, though, by any means; the same images continuing to haunt him, those young, startled eyes searing into his brain, the stab and twist, the youth sinking to his knees, stepping out from the shadows, the quick grasp and turn of the head, all seemed to be happening in slow motion, then the….snap!
The snap! Something wasn't right. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep but Scott found himself suddenly jerk awake. What little light there was filtering down through the foliage was now dimmed so he figured it must be drawing into evening and the torrential rain had stopped, allowing the jungle noises to once more be heard. He slid the large leaves aside and off his friend; Jez was still dozing. The snap! There it was again. It wasn't in his dreams, in his head, it was coming from outside. Sitting up now Scott froze at the next sounds he heard; human voices, in a language he couldn't make out. 'Charlie' was coming this way.
Scott quietly reached out and slipped his left hand over Jez's mouth and Jez, on feeling his breathing muffled, snapped his eyes open in startled alarm. Looking down at his friend Scott silently put a finger to his lips and motioned with his eyes towards outside. Both could hear the voices get louder as they approached. Jez nodded and Scott drew his hand away. The fingers of Scott's right hand now firmly wrapped themselves around the trigger-grip of the automatic weapon lying beside him, his forefinger resting on the trigger. Now they waited, hardly daring to breathe, as 'Charlie' began to file past their hiding place.
