Chapter Three

Jeff awoke with a start. When had he fallen asleep? Then he realized what had awakened him. Voices. He heard voices! Leaping to his feet, he ran from the destroyed boathouse out onto the beach. The sky had cleared, and the moon shone brightly, illuminating what was left of his island.

"Hello!" he called out. "Hello! Over here!"

He heard some rustling in the plants behind him that looked like they'd been growing unchecked for over a decade. Turning, he peered into the night, trying to see who it was. "Scott?" he called out. "Is that you?"

Without warning, four people appeared around him, two dropping from the partial boathouse roof to stand in front of him, a third coming in on the right, the fourth on his left. Their clothes were ragged and looked like they hadn't seen the laundry for weeks. Three of them were men, one was a woman.

"Who are you and what are you doing on my island?"

"Your island?" the man to his right sneered in an Australian accent. "Who died and made you king o' the hill, mate?"

"Who are you?" one of the men in front of him asked as he stepped forward. "How did you get here?"

"What are you talking about? I belong here!"

"Are you one of His Excellency's goons?" the woman asked in a clipped British accent, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

Jeff turned toward her. "His Excellency?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, my God," she breathed as she smoothed a stray lock of red-blonde hair back from her face.

"What is it, Dana?" the apparent leader asked, eyeing the intruder suspiciously.

She approached Jeff and reached a shaking hand out to touch his face as Jeff jerked away. "It can't be."

"Can't be what?" the Australian asked in exasperation. "What are you on about?"

"Don't you recognize him?" Dana squeaked.

"No. I don't. All I know is he's bloody well invaded our island."

"This is not your island!" Jeff yelled as he whirled on the man. "I'll ask you one more time, who are you?"

"Who is he, Dana?"

"James, don't you know? Don't you remember?"

The man called James took another step forward and peered into Jeff's face. He gasped as recognition dawned. "Holy shit. It can't be. "

"Who are you?" Dana whispered.

"I'm Jeff Tracy. Who are you?"

"Bloody hell," the Australian man said as he and the so-far silent fourth man approached him.

Jeff stared at each of them in turn. "Why are you looking at me like you've seen a ghost?"

"Because we have seen a ghost," Dana replied, her eyes big as saucers. "You died. Fifteen years ago. Right here on this very island."

Jeff backed away, shaking his head, unable to comprehend what she was saying. "You're crazy. I'm not dead. Where are my sons? What happened to my island?"

James and the Aussie exchanged looks. It was James who spoke. "They're all gone," he said. "If you're really Jefferson Tracy, you'd know that."

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"Dead," Dana whispered as the first rays of sunlight began peeking over the horizon. "They're all dead."

Air whooshed out of Jeff's lungs. He felt like he'd been sucker-punched right in the gut. The silent fourth man caught him before he fell, and propped him upright as Jeff reeled from the unseen blow. "What," he gasped, "what are you talking about?"

"Mr. Tracy," James said, his face showing sympathy for the older man before him. "Don't you remember? It's all gone. International Rescue, your family, everything. The world's gone to hell."

Jeff shook his head as darkness crept around his vision. "You're lying," he whispered, looking straight at him. "Why are you saying this? I was just with them!"

The foursome looked at one another. Dana approached him and took his hand. "No, Mr. Tracy. You couldn't have just been with them. In fact, it's not even possible that you're standing here in front of us."

Hunger, exhaustion and complete confusion made Jeff sag against the fourth man, who still held him tightly by the arms. "What are you-it can't…I don't…" Next, he knew only darkness.

"The king's been lying to us all these years," James said as he hoisted Jeff's limp form into a fireman's carry. "He never killed him."

"Let's get him down to the bunker," the Australian man said. "I just can't believe it's him."

"It's him all right," Dana said as she motioned to the fourth man. "Come on, Jared, we're going under." The man began to follow them as Dana continued. "I remember when that bastard first outed International Rescue. My mother was in shock. She was part of the design team who built the rocket that took Mr. Tracy to the Moon years before he started the corporation. She always kept a photo that had been taken of that team with the astronauts hanging on the wall in her office at home."

"Is that how you recognized him?" the Australian man asked.

Dana nodded as they climbed up to where the roundhouse had once stood and began descending into the silo that had housed Thunderbird 3. The thin metal ladder that lined the wall made for slow going where James was concerned as he balanced Jeff on his shoulders. "If the king's been lying to us about killing Tracy all these years," he grunted as he made his way down into the darkness, "what else has he been lying about?"

"I wish my mother was still alive," Dana said as they reached the halfway point. "She'd never believe her eyes."

"I don't believe my eyes, and I looked right at him," the Aussie replied from just below her. "I feel like we walked into the bloody Twilight Zone."

"I wonder how he got here," she mused as they continued their climb downwards. "And how is it we've never run across him before?"

"Maybe he can tell us," James grunted, "when he comes to."

They were silent the rest of the way to the silo floor. Moving along the old monorail track, they emerged into a large room that had once been used for storage, but which they had converted into living quarters.

James laid Jeff on his own bed as the others stood by. "Well, he didn't just appear out of nowhere," he said, rising to his feet. "There might be others nearby. Zo, Jared, get back out there and keep your eyes peeled for any more uninvited guests." The men nodded and picked up two knapsacks from their respective sleeping areas. "Dana, stay here and keep an eye on him. I'm going topside with them."

"Okay. Be careful."

James leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. "Don't you worry about me. Just keep this handy," he said, offering her a handgun. She nodded and watched as he disappeared into the monorail tunnel.

She walked over to where Jeff lay unconscious on the pile of leaves covered by a thin sheet that was her lover's bed, and sat down next it on the floor. "Jefferson Tracy," she whispered as she watched the rise and fall of his chest. "I don't believe it. You're alive. After all these years. You're alive."

Two hours later, Tracy Island's residents gathered in the Lounge, all reporting the same thing: not one of them had seen hide nor hair of Jeff. From Thunderbird 5, Alan's equally grim news was that the space station's powerful antennae had yet to hear his father's voice. Frustration mounted as Scott strode to Jeff's desk. He hesitated for only a moment before settling into the chair behind it.

"Talk to me, Brains."

"I-I've been thinking about it while we were searching for Mr. Tracy," Brains began as he walked over to stand in front of the desk. "Best I can figure is those waves that, uh, emanated from the converter, the ones that kept us on the floor, a-are the key. I-I need to do some more research though, uh, Scott. I need to reconstruct the converter for one thing, a-and then see if I can't, uh, recreate the waves we saw."

Scott nodded. "Then get to it. Tin-Tin, you worked with him on this phase converter. Help him."

"Yes, Scott," she replied as she followed the engineer out of the room.

"What can we do?" Gordon asked forlornly as the rest of them gathered 'round the desk.

Scott looked at each of their faces in turn, including Alan's from his vid portrait on the wall. He turned sideways to face the wall, forefinger tapping slowly on the stately wooden desk. Finally, he swiveled back to face them.

"John, that research you were doing on astral bodies." Frowning, the flaxen-haired man nodded. "How far did you get on it?"

"Well, I'd gotten to the point where I figured out the mechanics of a scanner I wanted to build, to see if I could pick up the resonance that's theoretically left behind when a person moves from one place to another. But why are you asking? All you ever did was scoff at my research."

Scott's eyes held his younger brother's. Embedded in that look was a silent apology. "I know, John. How long does this resonance stay behind? Theoretically."

The right side of John's mouth curved into a half-smile. "Theoretically? Eight hours."

"Eight hours. How fast can you build your scanner?"

"I get it!" Alan cried from the wall. "You figure if John can get it to work, it might tell us where Dad's been!"

"I don't know, Scott," John said. "It's purely theory at this point."

"Then make it more than a theory," Scott replied in the most commanding voice he could muster. He was determined not to let his worry and uncertainty be known to his family.

"All right. I'll give it a try. I'll be in the lab."

Scott nodded. "Help him out, Virg. You're good at mechanics."

Virgil nodded and followed John from the Lounge as Scott turned to Gordon. He knew that each of them needed something to do or they'd go mad waiting for the others to come up with something. "Okay, Gordon, I want you to do a search for me."

"Of what?"

"The web. Cross-reference key words from what's going on here...I don't know, maybe 'phase converter' with 'disappear', things like that. See if you can't find something on the subject."

"F.A.B.," Gordon replied, heading for the den that was just down the hall from the Lounge.

"What about me, Scott?"

"You keep doing what you're doing, Al. You listen for Father's voice. I need all your attention on that chatter up there. If he calls out, we're counting on you to hear him."

"F.A.B. Thunderbird 5 out."

"What can we do?" Ruth asked as she came to stand next to Kyrano.

"I don't know, Grandma."

She saw something in Scott's eyes, something that unnerved her. Walking up to him, she laid her small, wrinkled hand over his large, smooth one. "We'll find him, Scott. We're International Rescue, after all. Wherever he is, we'll find him."