CHAPTER 5

The snow was deep enough that it was over our heads in spots. The team leader, Jim Smith, had handed out snow shovels to each of us and we worked our way steadily to the grove of trees. At last, we began shoveling snow off the Cessna, working from the sides where it looked like the hatch had been before the wings were torn off.

The plane was was flipped over with a large, snow-covered hole on the side. Jim was the first man in, with flashlight and shovel. "I've got them!" he called back out.

The other two team-members stepped aside and let me in next. I saw Emily lying in a corner underneath the pilot's seat, clearly no longer alive. Jim was kneeling over a little pile of blankets at the other end of a cockpit, next to a small, burned out fire.

"Scott!" I shouted and ran over to where Smith was peeling the blankets back. Kneeling next to him, I saw him finally uncover Scott, curled up in a fetal position with his knees tucked in and his arms wrapped around something...something that was yelling defiantly.

Smith gently moved Scotty's arms aside and unzipped his jacket, releasing a bundled and indignant Alan. "I don't think there's anything wrong with this one," Smith commented as he handed Alan over to me, then turned back to Scott.

Alan was a little bundle of radiating warmth who took one look at me and planted a wet kiss on my cheek. I hugged him close and watched Smith work on my other son. Scotty's eyes were closed and his skin was pale. "He's..he's alive, isn't he?" I asked Smith in a low voice. I could hear the other two men bundling Emily's body up and removing her from the plane behind me. I couldn't lose another loved one, I just couldn't.

Not taking his eyes off my son, Smith replied, "He's alive. Looks like hypothermia. Let's get him back into the 'cat. We have some warmed blankets in there." Rewrapping him in blankets until all I could see was his nose, Smith cradled him in his arms and nodded toward the door of the plane. "Let's get back to the 'cat, Tracy. Since the local hospital's out of commission anyway, we'll try Kinsley General in your neck of the woods."

I nodded back and took Alan back to the snow-cat. Virgil was grinning and bouncing in his seat when I put Alan next to him. "You got 'em!" he crowed, then stopped when Smith handed Scott up to one of the other men, who put him on a padded gurney.

They quickly stripped off most of his blankets and clothing, with warm packs deployed around his trunk. As they were re-wrapping him in heated blankets, Virgil approached Smith. "I can help keep him warm," he said. "When it's cold at night, I climb in with Scotty sometimes."

"Can't hurt," said Smith and pulled the blanket back. Virgil shrugged off his jacket and climbed in next to Scott, then helped pull the blankets back around them both until you could barely see their faces.

Although Alan was actively trying to climb out of my arms, they wrapped us both in blankets as a precaution in case Alan had hypothermia. Alan eventually settled down placidly when I began to rub his back and hum his favorite lullaby to him.

Once we were all strapped down for the trip, Smith started up the snow-cat and we were on our way.

I think I must have slept on the way, because a moment later we had arrived and they were taking Scott's gurney out of the 'cat. Once we were inside the hospital, they unwrapped a sleeping Virgil and handed him out to me. One of the nurses took Alan, also sleeping, so that I could carry Virgil.

I gave Smith and the team members my heartfelt thanks before they took off on another call. Together, my sons and I waited in the Emergency Room's waiting area to hear the verdict on Scott.

Finally a doctor came out and smiled when he saw the three of us buried in blankets on the couch. "Mr. Tracy?"

I gently tucked Alan and Virgil in together and went to talk to the doctor.

"How is he?"

"Scott has mild to moderate hypothermia, but we're warming and hydrating him now. We'll keep him overnight for observation, but you should be able to take him home tomorrow. Would you like to see him?"

"Oh yes!" I said, then remembered the two kids on the couch and looked back at them. I couldn't leave them alone. A nurse took pity on me. "I'll sit with them until you get back, Mr. Tracy," she said. "I've got three of my own."

"Thanks," I called over my shoulder, hurrying after the doctor.

Scott was awake now and sitting up on the gurney, shivering in a blanket. "Scotty!" I cried and ran to hug my son. He hugged me back, hard, and started to cry into my chest. I sat down next to him and held him close, resting my chin on his dark hair. "It's okay, son, you're safe now," I whispered, as the doctor tiptoed out.

"I didn't think anybody was coming," he muttered into my chest. "I thought they were just going to leave us there...and we were all alone and Mom was dead..."

I bit down my rage at the circumstances that had trapped two children in the middle of nowhere for so long. "I know, Scotty, I'm sorry I took so long to get to you." I leaned back and tipped his chin up so that I could study his face. "Will you forgive me for taking so long?"

Tearfully, he nodded, his blue eyes crystalline. "I know you tried," he said. "I know Alan and I weren't as important as those hospital people."

Or the Senator's daughter, I reminded myself. Or the billionaire or the movie star or the power player...No, anonymous little kids, the children of a not-very-unique middle pay-grade astronaut just weren't that important when the big disasters hit. I'd only been able to sell my soul to Earl Hillis because he had a use for me.

At no time, then or now, have I ever uncovered proof that Governor Hillis prevented my sons from being rescued to force me into supporting his candidacy, although I still have my suspicions. I kept my promise and made the speeches and appearances on his behalf, but was glad when he lost the election.

But at that moment, holding Scott, the beginnings of an idea began to grow.

There was a need for a rescue organization, not just in America but worldwide. It should be staffed by professionals dedicated to the idea that everyone deserves to be rescued, regardless of their race, wealth, position or political stance. Too many died because their local governments just couldn't afford up to date equipment or staffing.

What should this group be?

Fast. The rescuers should be on scene quickly to take advantage of that 'golden hour' within which life can be saved. I found out later that had Emily been rescued within an hour or two of the crash, her life might have been saved. Internal bleeding and shock had killed her; both were treatable with prompt care.

Technology. The machines used should be cutting-edge and available to everyone. My inability to get rescuers to my sons still grinds in my gut. There should be machines to fit every circumstance and they should be available to everyone, with trained operators.

Cost. Everyone deserves a rescue, whether or not they are wealthy or politically connected. The children of a poor man are as important as those of a rich one. Because of that, this service should be offered at no charge to everyone.

Secret. The kind of technology it would take to do this shouldn't be used to take life, but to save it. It should not be co-opted by the military of any government for purposes of war.

Persistent. This group must not give up when there are lives to be saved, regardless of how hopeless it may seem. If there's a chance, a rescue should be attempted. Our motto should be "Never give up, no matter the cost."

A plan like this takes money. Lots of it. Money I didn't have, at least not yet. But money, I could make. I'd always been good at finance, but more interested in space. Maybe it was time to change that. It would take hard work and a time commitment, but I thought it might be possible to bring something like this into being. Give myself, say, fifteen years to have enough of a financial cushion and the time to find the right engineers, designers, pilots, trained responders to staff this new organization. I looked down at the boy burrowed into my chest. He wanted to be a pilot. In a few years, I'd have a talk with him about my idea, and discuss it with his brothers when the time came. Maybe some of those professionals would come from my own family.

This would be the truest monument to my Emily, the saving of life in her name. Better than a headstone or even a charitable foundation. Other families wouldn't suffer the bereavement that mine was just beginning to feel, at least not if I had anything to say about it!

EPILOGUE

SCOTT TRACY

I still remember my Mom's funeral. Her coffin had an American flag draped over it, that they folded and handed to Dad. I thought for sure he'd break down when he took it, but he just set it on his knee and stroked it. A bugler played taps and I shivered when I heard it but when the jets flew over in a missing-man formation, we all lost it. We stood together, all of us Tracys, to honor her. My mom had flown one of those jets. Dad had, too, but he really had wanted to be an astronaut. No, Mom was the gifted pilot in the family and I hoped to the bottom of my heart that I could be like her.

The years that followed were hard years. Dad was crushed by Mom's death and, to us, changed suddenly into a workoholic business man. I was resentful and angry at losing Dad as well as Mom until he sat me down on my twelfth birthday and told me about his idea.

The light dawned. Of course, this was the best way to remember and honor Mom's memory by saving other people. The idea that I could prevent other families from losing loved ones was incredible, and I immediately pledged to Dad that I'd help him in any way I could.

Grandma was in on the plan from the very beginning. She took care of us all and helped Dad raise us. I focused on school and my dream of being a pilot and rode hard on my brothers to get them ready. As each brother got old enough, Dad and I explained the idea and I'm proud to say that every one of my brothers was enthusiastic about it. Knowing the need for secrecy, we didn't tell strangers about this family project, but then nobody would have believed us anyway.

Virgil decided to be an engineer and design the Thunderbird machines, as we chose to call them. John had always had a fascination with the stars, so he focused on astronaut training as his goal, eventually with an interest in languages and communications added to it. Gordon had always loved the water, so he chose oceanography and became a submariner. Alan followed John into astronaut training and our orbiting space station.

And me? I've been dedicated to International Rescue since Dad told me his idea. I remember how it feels to be helpless, waiting for a rescue that doesn't come. Every time I give a child back to its parents, I remember being reunited with Dad after the pain of losing Mom. I'm happy doing the job I do and hope to continue it for many years to come.

NOT THE END, JUST THE BEGINNING