Tense times for the Tracys

Jeff ran the gauntlet of reporters without giving them much information. Just a few words on how lucky he felt about not being hurt much and that the intruders hadn't recognized him. Nothing about Lou, his relationship to her, and especially nothing about the fact that she was being released that very moment. The reporters were persistent, but he shouldered his way through and slipped into the sports car that Rachel had brought up. She had wisely put on sunglasses and Jeff was thankful for the tinted glass on the windows. They sped out of the hospital parking lot, Jeff wincing as she nearly did a peel-out. They stopped a few blocks away to change drivers as Rachel wasn't familiar with the route to her aunt's house.

As they drove back to Lou's, Jeff called the little bed and breakfast inn that Brains had stayed at the night before. He was able to secure a room there and was told when he could check in.

"You're the Mr. Tracy who was at our neighbor's house, aren't you?" the proprietor asked, smiling.

"Yes, I am," Jeff admitted with a sigh.

"Such an awful thing to happen. I just wish we'd had something concrete to tell the police when they came," the innkeeper told him. "We're really fond of Luci. She's a great neighbor. Any idea when she'll be out of the hospital?"

Jeff thought a moment, before responding. "Try her place later today and see if she's home."

"Oh! So soon! All right. We will. Goodbye, Mr. Tracy. We'll see you this afternoon after two."

"After two," Jeff echoed as he disconnected the call.

Rachel gazed at him, her expression puzzled. "Why didn't you tell them she was on her way home?"

Jeff glanced back at her, a small smile on his lips. "Your aunt doesn't need to be inundated by friends and well wishers the moment she gets home." He snorted a laugh. "From what I've seen the past few days, she's got so many friends around here that they'd be standing in line for hours just to say hello."

Rachel nodded, then smiled mischievously. "Maybe she could charge admission..."

He laughed along with her as the car reached the junction with the French Broad River and they approached the road leading to Lou's home.

They pulled into the drive to find Lou's truck missing, but Jadzia's work van parked behind an unfamiliar mini-van with a South Carolina license plate. That must be Deirdre's, Jeff realized. What a wild coincidence that Lou's "Dee" and Brains's "Deirdre" were one and the same. Though I suppose Lou would call that discovery serendipitous, too.

The front door was unlocked and Jeff followed Rachel inside. Shelly came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Oh, there you are, Rachel. Would you please go out to the garage and help Dee bring in some boxes? Use the front door please so we don't let the cats out."

"Sure, Ma," the girl answered, turning and heading back the way she came. Shelly looked up at Jeff with a questioning expression.

"Where's Lou?" he asked politely.

"She's in her room, making phone calls. She said she had something she wanted you to help her with once she was finished."

Jeff was a little startled. "Oh, okay. How long do you think she'll be?"

"I have no idea," Shelly shook her head ruefully. "I think she's calling every friend in her phone book." Shelly turned and went back to the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, "And she's not in a very good mood, either."

"Can you blame her?" Jeff asked, following her down the hall. He entered the kitchen and helped himself to a glass from the cupboard.

Shelly immediately took it from his hands. "What would you like to drink?"

"Water. Just water."

The older woman filled the glass and handed it to him. He sipped it, leaning up against a counter top as Shelly hung up the towel she had been using. "It's not just all that happened, Mr. Tracy." There was a pause, and Shelly sighed heavily. "Greg called."

Jeff blinked, the hand holding the glass stopping mid-sip. "He did? Why?"

"I don't know exactly, but I think it had something to do with... you." Shelly sighed again and faced Jeff squarely. "Listen, Mr. Tracy. I know Lou is an adult and can make her own decisions and choices. But... I'm her older sister and sometimes I feel responsible for her. If there's anything going on between you that I should know about..."

Jeff put down his glass, an unreadable expression on his face. "Mrs. Clarendon. As you've said, Lou is an adult and can make her own choices. But as for what may or may not be going on between us, is it really any of your business?" He picked the glass up again, dumped the remaining water into the sink, and put the tumbler in the autowasher. "I'll be outside making a couple of phone calls of my own if Lou needs me." He turned and left the kitchen. Shelly watched him go, shaking her head and sighing once more.

He stopped in the guest room for a few minutes to organize his belongings and pack his bags. Then he took them out to the sports car, and pulled out his satellite phone. Leaning up against the car, his back to the house, he called home.

"Hello? Gordon, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me." Gordon looked from his position behind the desk to the portrait of Scott, sitting in the cockpit of Thunderbird One. "You've got the world's worst timing, Dad. Everyone's out..."

"On 'family business'?" Jeff asked, standing up straighter.

"Yeah. I'm on the desk this time. 'Cause of that pulled groin muscle."

"Ah, yes. I remember." Good call, Scott. "Where are they?"

"Haiti. Mudslide's trapped some kids in a school building. That's all we have so far. Wait. Alan's got something more for me." Gordon's face turned away from the vidphone, then he groaned and turned back. "I've just heard that it's a mission school... for the blind."

Jeff's eyes widened. "I hope your brothers are on top of this one. We haven't had to rescue too many people with physical disabilities before. I'll leave you to it, Gordon. I promised Scott I'd keep everyone up to date, so I wanted to check in and tell you that Lou is home and I've moved to the bed and breakfast down the road from her house. My plan is to try and convince her to leave with me on Friday when I pick Brains up from Atlanta."

"Good luck with that, Dad. And with Grandma if you manage to do it," Gordon said. "I'm not quite sure, but I think that I actually heard her use some cuss words under her breath when you signed off earlier."

Jeff snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised. Your Grandmother isn't as prim and proper as she's led you to believe."

"So it seems." Gordon looked away again. "Gotta go Dad. Scott's got a report for me. Talk to you later."

"Right, son. Later." The call disconnected and Jeff let out a deep breath. Out again without me. And doing a damn good job, I'm sure. Pretty soon they won't need me at all. Then what do I do? He shook his head. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Scott yawned widely. Four-thirty in the morning was his least favorite time of day, but that's roughly when the emergency signal went off. He had rolled out of bed and hauled butt out to the lounge, where a sleepy Alan was giving an equally sleepy Virgil the lowdown on their next rescue. Scott was about to take the desk when he remembered that Gordon was grounded for the time being. With a small smile, he delegated his father's position to his younger brother, and with a sigh of contentment, headed for his 'Bird.

Now he had flown east at maximum speed, exchanging the dark early morning hours of one day for the cloudy late morning of the previous one. He arrived in Haiti just before eleven and zeroed in on the coordinates of the school in question. He whistled as he flew reconnaissance over the stricken area.

"Thunderbird One from base," Gordon's taut face appeared on the screen in Scott's cockpit. "How does it look?"

"Base from Thunderbird One. This is a mess. The hill behind the school is practically bare of vegetation, hence the mudslide." He flew over the school building once then again. "The building is two stories tall and the first level is completely full of mud, so much so that it's flowing through and out the front windows and doors. But there's a bottleneck at the back of the building and soon the second story will fill up. I'm not sure that the foundation will hold. The roof is curved tile and will be dangerous for the inhabitants to wait on. I'm sending down the camera to make contact. There's really no place close for me to land and set up Mobile Control."

"That seems to be happening a lot lately, hasn't it?" Gordon asked.

Scott grimaced. "Yes, it has. We'll have to talk with Da..."

Alan cut in. "Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Five. I was instructed to use the word 'Commander' when referring to our leader."

Gordon looked surprised and Scott's eyebrows went up. "You were, were you?" he asked, dryly. "Okay then. We'll have to talk with our Commander when he returns about the Mobile Control situation." He paused. "I need an updated weather report... Thunderbird Five."

"Thunderbird One, the World Weather Administration radar of the Caribbean says that this storm cell will be dumping rain on your position for another 60 to 90 minutes," Alan responded. "I'd get out an umbrella."

Scott shook his head. "F-A-B, Thunderbird Five. Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, what is your ETA?"

A very harried sounding Virgil responded. "I've got her pushed to the limit, Scott. But I'm still fifty minutes behind you. I hope that the building doesn't shift before then."

"We've really got to talk to Brains about increasing your Bird's top speed, Virgil," Gordon remarked. "With the discrepancy in speeds between One and Two, Scott's usually already at the Danger Zone and twiddling his thumbs by the time you arrive."

"Thanks a lot, Gords," Virgil snarled. "As if I needed a reminder..."

In the meanwhile, Scott had activated the mobile camera and sent it toward the second story of the building, where he had seen movement. He winced at the loud creaking of the stucco-sided structure. As the camera approached the first window, a face appeared, framed in black and white, eyes wide in surprised. Suddenly the window was flung open and the camera picked up the image of a nun, who pointed to the device and jabbered in French.

"Uh, comment allez-vous?" Scott asked hesitantly. Damn. My French is so rusty! This might have been a good time for John to pilot One. "Parlez-vous Anglais?"

The nun said something that he couldn't quite catch over the noise of the mud and rain, but she turned and motioned to someone else. A younger woman, dressed in gray, came to the window.

" 'Allo! You are ze Intairnational Rezcue, no?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm with International Rescue. How many people are with you?"

The young woman, A novice? turned back to the older nun. They held a hurried conversation, then she came back to the window. "Il y a de vingt-deux... excusez-moi, s'il vous plait, zere are twenty-two students et ten zisters. Et deux gardien. Two hommes qui, how you zay, care take?"

"So there are thirty-four people?" Scott asked carefully.

"Non! Zirty-five. Moi aussi." The novice smiled shyly.

"Okay. This is what you will need to do." Scott instructed. "When the mud begins to come in through the windows on that level, you must move to the roof right away. But be careful, the roof is slippery."

The novice frowned. "Je ne comprends pas..."

"Okay. Wait a moment." Scott activated his link with Alan. "Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One. How's your French? I need some translation help here."

"Finally someone calls on me to do the translation rather than John!" Alan exclaimed. "What do you need me to say?"

"I'm going to patch you through to the mobile camera. Tell them that when the mud begins to come in through the windows where they are, they must move to the roof immediately. And tell them to be careful; the roof looks to be pretty slippery."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One."

Scott could see the novice jump as Alan's distinctively different voice sounded out, speaking to her in her own tongue. She asked a question in French, which Alan relayed to Scott. "She wants to know how long it will take for you to get them all off the roof."

"Tell her that we are waiting for the main rescue craft and it should be here soon." I hope.

Alan relayed the message, then Scott was struck by an inspiration. The students here are blind. There's no way they're going to be able to balance themselves on the rooftop. But, if they can straddle the peak of the roof, they shouldn't fall off. And to make it easier on them to move along the peak, one or two of the nuns or the caretakers could go out with blankets and pad the tiles up there. It might give them more traction. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Five. I have a plan."

Alan told the novice what Scott proposed that they do. She seemed to understand, because within a few minutes, a middle-aged man and the novice herself came out onto the roof, the skirt of her gray dress slit on the sides for easy movement. Looks like these are pretty practical people. They aren't above sacrificing a bit of modesty if it will save a life... or more than one.

Their actions came none too soon, for as they spread out the first of the blankets, there were screams inside the building and the sound of breaking glass echoed in Scott's ears. He maneuvered the camera up to the level where the two were working. "Alan, tell them that the mud has entered the second story and the others will be joining them now!"

The novice turned to the camera and Scott could see her expression change from one of concentration to one of concern and worry. She shouted to the man to hurry, and even as she did, the rooftop's trap door opened and one of the nuns stepped out, then another. The taller of the two stayed by the opening, while the smaller climbed the meter or so to the apex and sat straddled on the tiles, her calf-length black habit bunched up to her knees. The novice and the caretaker finished laying down the last blanket as the first small child was passed up out through the trap door, screaming. The blankets were quickly drenched in the downpour and the cracks, creaks, and groans of the embattled building nearly drowned out the audio feed Scott got from the camera, which tracked every move of those who were helping the school evacuate. The nun who was positioned at the roof's peak spoke sharply to the child, a little boy of no more than six, and gave him a little shake. She placed him astride the blanket-covered tiles, and the novice moved forward and loudly coaxed the boy to come to her.

I'd better be ready for anything, Scott thought. He began to prepare his own winch with a safety loop, something that hopefully could help pull one person to safety. "Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One. What's that ETA, Virgil. Things are getting pretty hairy here."

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two," Virgil sounded less harried and more focused. "ETA, fifteen minutes. I hate to think what I've been doing to the thrusters. What equipment will we need?"

"Right now, the rescue capsule. They're evacuating to the roof. I just hope the building doesn't shift."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird One. I have double crew of John and Tin-Tin. One can work the winch and the other help load up the passengers."

"Sounds like a plan." Scott glanced back at the camera to see that the child had followed the novice and two more children had been pulled from the house and were making their way to where the young woman sat. "Looks like they might have everyone out by the time you get here."

"F-A-B. See you in thirteen minutes." Virgil's picture winked out.

"Base from Thunderbird One," Scott called. Gordon's face appeared, still looking very serious. "Where are we taking these folks once they're aboard Two?"

"The authorities at Port-au-Prince are aware of the situation and will be ready for you at the main hospital. They're not having half as hard a time as these outlying villages and towns are."

"Speaking of which; is the nearby town fully evacuated?" Scott suddenly had visions of more people sitting on their roof tops, waiting for rescue.

Alan chimed in. "I'll get on it and find out."

While Scott waited for Alan's report, he watched intently as the roof's peak began to fill up with people. Every so often a child would be followed by a nun, who would gently touch the children in front of her on a shoulder to give them comfort. The rain was plastering down both hair and clothing, and a few of the smaller ones were beginning to shiver. Suddenly, all faces turned away from Scott as Thunderbird Two's engines could be heard coming over the denuded and sodden hill.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. I squeezed just a little bit more out of her," Virgil said, relief in his tone.

"Well done, Virge!" Scott said, smiling. "Now you've got to position Two over the building so that your retros don't blow everyone off the roof."

"So I see," Virgil replied, using Two's belly cameras to take in the scene. "You just tell them that I'm here and I'll take care of the rest."

"Alan? Would you do the honors?" Scott asked.

"Sure, Scott. By the way, there are a few people clinging to roofs and trees in the town. You'll need to swing by there when you've got the school cleared."

"F-A-B, Thunderbird Five," Scott replied as Alan's voice sounded out and told the nuns and their charges what was going to happen.

In the belly of Thunderbird Two, John and Tin-Tin manhandled the rescue capsule into position. The blond Tracy looked up at his companion. "I'll go down and you work the winch, then guide our guests back to where they can sit and dry off."

"I think I should go down," Tin-Tin said, frowning. "I speak French as fluently as you do."

"Tell you what. We'll flip for it. Rock, paper, scissors," John offered. "Whoever loses stays up here."

Tin-Tin sighed. "I have never understood why that little game has so much fascination for you boys." She paused, then nodded reluctantly. "Okay, I'll do it."

Each of them put a hand behind his or her back and said in unison, "Rock, paper, scissors, go!" She thrust her hand out in a fist, but he brought his out open and flat. She groaned.

"Paper covers rock. I go," John said with a grin. "See you in a bit, Tin-Tin." He climbed into the rescue capsule, and she began to lower it to the roof. Once he had reached the school's tiled covering, he climbed out and spoke to the nuns and their pupils. By this time, all twenty-two children, the ten nuns, and the tall, younger caretaker had joined his middle-aged counterpart and the novice and were perched on the apex of the building. He called out in French and gave his instructions: four children and one adult would make each trip until all the children were safely aboard. He also informed them that there would be someone waiting for them to guide them to a dry place to sit. Then the novice handed him the first sniffling child and the evacuation began.

Things were going smoothly, at least to Scott's augmented eyes. John and the novice were working well together, the building showed no signs of shifting, Virgil had his 'Bird perfectly positioned. He had Alan patch the camera's feed back to base so that Gordon could see what was going on. The aquanaut brother had complained that he had nothing to do.

"Dad does more at the desk than I am doing now," he griped. "Why is that?"

Scott shrugged. "I guess it's because he tends to micromanage us a bit. And at the beginning, we needed more guidance. But as we've gotten more experience, he hasn't had to do as much either."

"You're probably ri... Scott! The school!" Gordon hollered, pointing at the screen where he was viewing the camera images.

"Damn!" Scott swore. "I was afraid of this! Tin-Tin! Put that winch into overdrive!"

With a terrible creaking and a loud crashing sound, the roof of the school began to tilt as the built up mud finally managed to shake the building's foundations. John was still balanced precariously on the peak, which was moving to his left and toward Thunderbird One. He had just sent the last of the nuns up and was left with the two caretakers and the novice, who refused to go up until everyone else had done so. The middle aged caretaker slid off his perch, screaming and grasping at a sodden blanket. His fall was stopped by the quick thinking of his counterpart, who grabbed the other end of the blanket and began to pull his co-worker back up to where he was seated.

The novice, however, was not so lucky. She slipped, too, uttering a shrill cry and sliding down the slick tiles toward the edge of the teetering roof. She bumped into a vent, a metal pipe some three inches in diameter and reached out to grab onto it. With one hand, she grasped it, with the other, she quickly crossed herself then, with an effort, brought the loose hand up to hold onto the pipe as well.

John didn't hesitate. He dove off the peak of the roof after her.