Chapter Eight
Scott took the front steps of the concrete building two-at-a-time, noting how it stood in stark contrast to the palm trees and bright blue sky surrounding it. He entered through a revolving door and headed straight to the lobby desk, where a man dressed all in white stood waiting.
"Hello. My name is Scott Tracy. I'm here to see Dr. April Rameda."
The man, whose nametag told Scott he was "Bruce," tapped a few times on his computer monitor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy, I don't see Dr. Rameda having any appointments outside of her patients today."
"Look again. My brother Gordon phoned ahead."
"I'm sorry, there's nothing here. I can check to see if she's available."
"You do that." Scott drummed his fingers on the counter top as Bruce tapped on a keyboard, then waited, then tapped again. "Well?"
"One moment, sir. I'm sorry; she's with a patient right now. She'll be able to see you in fifteen minutes, if you'll just have a seat over there."
"I can't wait fifteen minutes!"
"Sir, you have no choice," Bruce replied sternly as he gestured toward two rows of chairs in front of the desk.
He's bigger than me, but I bet I could take him.
Deciding discretion to be the better part of valor, however, Scott took a seat, grumbling only a little. Bruce's look of triumph made Scott want to rip the crooked smile right off his face.
Scott fidgeted in the chair. He'd never been very good at waiting. He was a man of action; idle time was not something he'd ever been able to make peace with. Besides, being idle was a good way for your thoughts to get the better of you. And right now, that was not what Scott needed.
He heard Bruce answer a call, and turned his head slightly so that the receptionist was in his line of sight. When Bruce bent down to grab something out of a file cabinet, Scott made his move.
Crouching low to the ground, he ran as fast as he could in that position to the right side of the tall counter. When he peeked around the side, Bruce's back was to him. Scott reached around into the file cabinet drawer Bruce had left open. Luckily it was for patients with last names at the beginning of the alphabet. He silently sifted through the papers as Bruce sat down, his back still turned. At last he found the piece of paper he was looking for. He scanned it, then stuffed it back into the drawer.
Still crouching, he headed for the hall behind the desk. He turned down the first hall he came to, and raced for the elevators at the other end of it. He entered the waiting car, congratulating himself on a job well done, while at the same time marveling that the Institute still had paper files.
Better for me.
Just as the doors closed, he heard Bruce's voice. Bruce was yelling. Bruce obviously wasn't happy.
You're the one who's got no choice. Bruce.
"Nothing. There aren't any vessels within two hundred miles of this island, sir."
"Chien, I want every warrior in this sector sent out on patrol. We've been here for hours. If someone did escape, they're probably thousands of miles away by now. Pilot, back to the temple."
"Yes, Sir."
Where are you, Rebel? Belah seethed as the helijet turned away from the grid they'd been searching. More importantly,whoare you?
Cammie, Marin and the others watched as a small yellow submarine rose to the surface. Cammie gasped, dropping her gun to the sand.
Marin jumped. "What is it?"
"It can't be. It just can't be."
"What can't be? What are you talking about? Pick up your gun."
But Cammie didn't seem to hear her. Slowly she approached the water's edge, then walked right out into it, up to her shins.
It just can't be.
Marin approached her. "What's going on?"
"It's Thunderbird 4. I don't believe it. After all these years."
"Thunderbird 4? Are you serious?" Marin turned to look at the sub again. Sure enough, there was a large 4 painted on her tail fin. "I thought they were all destroyed."
"Apparently not. Who is this friend of yours? This Dana? How could she have gotten her hands on that sub?"
"I don't know. She was with a small group of refugees last I heard. Three men. They're the ones who found her close to death and nurtured her back to health."
"Do you know who they were?"
"Uh, not really. Information on NC's is sketchy at best. You know that."
Cammie shielded her eyes from the sun as the top hatch opened. A young lady emerged and cried out when she saw them on the beach. "Marin!"
"Dana!" Marin cried as she ran past Cammie into the water. Dana slid down over 4's hull and the two embraced. "My God, it really is you!"
"I can't believe it! I can't believe you're here!"
Cammie looked away from them toward the figure which soon appeared at the hatch. It was an older man, that much she could tell, but due to the sun's glare, could not make out his features. She waited as he, too, slid down the hull and into the water. Marin quickly led them to her.
As the man stepped in front of her, his height shielded the light from the sun. It took a moment for the spots in front of her eyes to clear, but when they did, her face drained of all color.
"Dana, this is Cammie. She's commander of Jarvis Faction. Cammie, this is Dana Clarke."
Dana reached her hand out, but Cammie didn't move. In fact, she noticed, Cammie's eyes hadn't left Jeff's since he'd come ashore.
"Cammie," Marin whispered. Biting her lip, she turned to look at Dana and shrugged. "Who's your friend?"
They were startled when Cammie spoke. "Jeff Tracy."
Jeff approached the woman standing partially in the water, wondering exactly why she was doing so. Her brunette hair tossed in the breeze that was blowing, obscuring most of her face. When at last he stood in front of her, he noticed that she hadn't taken her eyes off him the entire time.
She must recognize me.
But when her accented voice spoke his name, he stiffened.
It can't be. Oh, my God. It can't be! Penelope?
He pulled her hand from her eyes. The hair was different, and there was a scar covering one whole side of her face. But he'd know that voice and those eyes anywhere.
"My God. Penny?"
"Jeff?" she squeaked. "But...but you...I don't...it can't..."
"Penny? Is that you?"
She nodded and reached one hand up to touch his face. A choked sob escaped her lips as her fingers met his jaw. "My God, it is you!" she cried, launching herself into his arms.
He held her tight, burying his face in her shoulder. "Penny. Penny," he kept repeating.
"You're alive," she nearly sobbed into his chest. "Oh, Jeff, you're alive!"
"Why does he keep calling her Penny?" Marin asked. "Her name isn't Penny. It's Cammie."
"There's only one Penny I know it could be," Dana replied, smiling broadly. "And I'll be damned if he wasn't right. She is alive. And she is kicking."
The rest of the faction lowered their weapons and headed back underground to their secret base, with Marin and Dana following.
It seemed like hours before Jeff and "Cammie" finally parted.
"How can you be alive?" she whispered, one hand caressing his face. "Gaat told everyone he'd killed you."
Jeff reached out and traced the scar marring her once perfectly beautiful face. "What happened to you, Penny? What are you doing here?"
"Surviving, Jeff. As I see you've been, too."
"I think we have a lot to catch up on."
She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes and face. "I do apologize. Unfortunately, I haven't any tea to offer you, nor are our headquarters very fancy. But it's safe, and here we are among friends."
Jeff nodded, still in shock over finding her there. "Your hair," he said, touching where it lay on her shoulder.
"I must keep my identity a secret, Jeff. If Gaat ever found out I was alive, he would hunt me down, and a great many others would be in grave danger. As long as you are here, you must address me as Cammie."
"I understand. But I think Dana and her friend heard me call you Penny."
"I'll see to it they tell no one. Can we hide Thunderbird 4?"
"Yes. I'll cloak her. Wait here."
Penelope nodded and smiled as he headed back to the small sub. He stopped and turned before climbing up to the hatch. "You have no idea what it's like to see a familiar face, Penny...I mean, Cammie."
She smiled, but her smile faded quickly as he disappeared into Thunderbird 4. She touched the scar on her cheek. "What he must think of me, looking like this," she whispered. "A face not altogether familiar, I'm afraid."
Thunderbird 4 soon disappeared, and Jeff re-emerged from what looked like thin air. He was soon at Penny's side again, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
"Are you hungry?" she asked as they walked toward the bunker's secret entrance.
He nodded. "I can't remember the last time I ate."
"Very well. First we shall see to it that your belly is full. Then, Jeff, we must talk."
"Agreed."
Penelope. Alive. Thank God. Oh, thank God.
Jeff Tracy, alive and well after fifteen years. Fifteen years! Thank God. Oh, thank God.