Unfolding Emergency

The wind bit right through Alan's jacket and scarf, and the snow was so thick he had to shield his eyes to see. I wish I'd worn another layer or two! he thought as he plodded toward the flashing lights. As he got closer, he could see that Maplewood was lit from without with the brightest halogen spotlights he'd ever seen. They illumined the huge oak tree, dark and wet and covered with a layer of snow. Because of the quad's other trees, and the emergency vehicles, Alan couldn't quite see just where the tree's upper trunk had landed, and there was a sound that he couldn't identify at first. When he reached the first of the lights, he recognized it: the roar and squeal of several chainsaws.

There was an ambulance parked in the space between Oakwood and Maplewood, a certain draw to the boys who were braving the storm out of curiosity. Mr. Magnuson and one of his men were on patrol there, talking to the rubbernecking students, and sending them back to their dorms. I don't want them to see me; they'll just send me back. But I have to get to that ambulance and find out if Fermat's there. Maybe if I go around Oakwood, I can get to it without being seen.

With that, he turned back the way he'd come. Between Oakwood and his own dorm, he found footprints, half filled with snow, and other marks that indicated others had tried his trick before him. He sighed, and continued on, the wind swirling around him somewhat lessened, but the snow falling just as hard as before. They both hit with full force again as he emerged from between the dorms. The light over here was dimmer; it seemed that the safety lights weren't coping well with the thick snow. Alan kept his eyes to the ground as he plodded along, following in both the footsteps and the faint tire tracks that had been laid down before him.

Finally, he turned the corner again, and was looking at the ambulance. Instead of following his fellow students, who had bypassed the emergency vehicle to get a better view of Maplewood, he sidled up to it. The back door was shut against the wind and cold, and he stood on tiptoes to see who might be inside.

He could see no patient inside, though there was an EMT present, preparing for whoever might be brought to him. He edged around to the far side of the truck, then quickly ducked back as a group of firefighters and EMTs emerged from Maplewood's side door. They were carrying a Stokes basket with a patient almost mummified by layers of blankets.

"Quick now. Let's get him out of the snow," someone barked. Alan peeked around the corner and watched as, with quick yet deliberate care, the rescuers moved their patient down to the rear of the ambulance. Flattening himself against the side, Alan tried to glimpse who the patient was, but the now-open doors got in the way.

A voice called from behind him. "Hey, you! Kid! What are you doing?"

Alan stiffened for a moment, glancing at the owner of the voice – which, even distorted by snow and wind, sounded vaguely familiar. He squelched the urge to flee, but did not relax. The person who had caught him, a woman, advanced. At first, Alan couldn't see her face, even in the diffused light from the work area and the strobing flashers on top of the ambulance. But as she got close, he squinted to see her frowning face more clearly. The makeup was gone, leaving behind a pair of less striking eyes, thinner lips, and a washed-out complexion now ruddy by the cold, but Alan thought he knew her anyway.

"Sable?"

The woman - who was indeed Sable de la Croix - rolled her eyes. "Figures it would be you, Blondie. What the hell are you doing here?"

"My friend... um... Specs, he lives in Maplewood. Third floor. I haven't heard from him, and his dad... his dad called me because he can't reach him either. I don't know where the tree hit, but I've got to know if he's up there."

Someone came around from behind the ambulance, calling, "Amy! We're ready to roll!" and stopped as he saw Alan and Sable together. "Amy? What's this?"

Sable/Amy grabbed Alan's sleeve. "Don't worry, Jack. He's just a student here. I've got it covered. I'll take him over to Mr. Mags right now."

"You do that, and be quick about it. We're ready to roll."

"Right!" With a sharp tug, she tried to get Alan to follow her.

"Who's in there?" Alan asked, holding his ground and hooking a thumb over his shoulder.

Sable/Amy threw him an irritated look, and blew out a frustrated breath. "You know that tall Indian kid? The cute, smart one?"

"Devdan Israni?"

"That's him. Now, c'mon. I don't have all night, and Mr. Mags will probably know where Specs is."

She tugged on his sleeve again, and this time, Alan followed her, moving as quickly as the accumulated snow would allow.

"Mr. Magnuson!" At her shout, the security chief turned. He'd been in deep conversation with a firefighter who looked to be in charge of the rescue operation. When he saw who Sable was bringing to him, he turned to his colleague, asking him to wait, then strode forcefully over to meet them.

"Thanks, Amy. I'll take it from here." Mr. Magnuson didn't merely take Alan's sleeve; he grabbed the teen firmly by the arm. Sable nodded briefly and hurried back to the ambulance, hopping in on the driver's side. The engine, which had been quietly purring, now revved a bit. Headlights came on, and it cautiously backed out of its parking place, siren wailing.

As soon as it pulled away, Mr. Magnuson turned his attention to Alan. "Now, what the devil are you doing out here, Alan Tracy? This is a dangerous situation, and you should be inside!"

"I'm looking for Fermat, sir." Alan waved his free arm. His words tumbled out one on top of another. "His father tried to call him and he didn't answer and he lives on the third floor..." Mr. Magnuson's eyes flicked upward toward the dorm, and Alan's gaze followed them. He drew in a sharp, hissing breath, and whispered, "He's up there, isn't he?"

The tree's massive lower trunk blocked the drive. Its hefty lowest branches either were shattered on the cement sidewalk and front steps, or had shattered them into chunks. Upper branches had pierced windows and/or walls on all three floors, and the upper part of the trunk, still thick around as Mr. Magnuson's waist, seemed to be resting between two rooms on the third floor. One of those rooms was Fermat's. As he watched, a thick lower branch, one that had been pointing at the thick, dark gray clouds, fell to the snow, cut by a firefighter wielding a buzzing chainsaw.

"We don't know for sure, Alan." Mr. Magnuson's voice was grave, with a touch of sympathy. "We haven't found him anywhere on campus yet, and, as you've said, he's not answering his phone. We have to go slowly in cutting the tree. It's been difficult to get ladders and lifts in there to cut. Too many men climbing on it will increase the weight, and might endanger those beneath it. We have people inside cutting away at the branches, but it's pretty tangled. We're trying to figure out how to pull the whole tree off at once." He caught Alan's gaze, bringing it back from the rescue scene. "Now, you know as much as we know, and you've seen what there is to be seen. Please, go back to your dorm and wait. Get warm and dry. I'll deal with Fermat's father. I don't need to be worrying about you as well."

Alan swallowed heavily, and looked away. He felt tears prick at his eyes, tears of both frustration and fear. He wanted so badly to run up there, calling for Fermat, and doing whatever it took to rescue his friend. But I'm not a Thunderbird here! I'm just another student, a nobody. I can't even find out if he's up there.

Mr. Magnuson's tone was kindly now. "Alan, please go back to the dorms. I'll let you know when we find Fermat." He chuckled. "Seems like if one of you isn't in trouble, the other one is. And whoever isn't wants to run to the rescue."

Head down, Alan nodded. He put his hands, gloves and all, into his coat pocket, and turned to leave. But his left hand caught on the pocket's outer edge, and he pulled it out to see what was causing the problem.

It was his watch. Alan stared at it for a long moment. Visions of the attack and Qaeshon, with Fermat calling for back up, of the tense, whispering moments with Gordon and Fermat as he tried to avoid Sugi, and suddenly, something fell into place.

He turned. "Mr. Mags, sir!"

"Alan?" The tone was a warning one.

"I think I can reach Fermat!" Alan held out his left arm, the watch bared.

Mr. Magnuson squinted through the snow, then hurried to Alan's side. His face, a half-frown, cleared, and his snow-spangled eyebrows went up in surprise. "My God, Alan. I think you may have something here! C'mon; let's get you out of the snow so you can use that thing."

"Are you w-warmer now, A.J.?" Fermat huddled down further into his blankets. His nose was cold and dripping, and between the congestion, the muffling fabric, and the ambient creaking and groaning, he wasn't sure his roommate had heard him.

"Y-Yeah, I g-guess so." The stutter caused by A.J.'s chattering teeth was a welcome sound. Fermat had managed to coax A.J. into wearing layers of whatever dry clothes he could find, clean or not. This included a number of Fermat's clothes, spilled from the laundry bag. Then he'd gotten his friend to climb back into the now-drained tub and curl up. He reasoned that the one-piece tub and shower stall might be strong enough to keep the tree from falling any further into the bathroom.

"Are you o-okay?" A.J. asked.

Fermat sniffed hard before answering. "Yeah, I'm o-okay." It was a partial truth; he was feeling the effects of the cold despite his thick comforter and his attempts at curling up. "W-We need to keep t-talking; it will k-keep us awake."

"How c-c-could we sleep?" A.J. paused, then asked, "I'm s-s-s-scared, Fermat."

"I know. S-So am I."

"Are we g-g-gonna die?"

"N-No!" The reply was out of his mouth before Fermat could think. "I'm sure that p-people are trying to g-get to us. I heard a chainsaw o-outside." This was partially true; he had thought he'd heard one but between the tree's groaning and the wind's howl, it was hard to tell. "We n-need to stay awake so we'll be ready when they g-get to us. You hear me? St-Stay awake."

"O-Okay, Fermat. I'll t-t-try."

With that answer, Fermat huffed out a sigh. This is one time I wish the Thunderbirds were here.

Virgil's eyes flicked from screen to screen, viewing and listening to Thunderbird Two, the danger zone, and the command center on the island. He noticed Brains was pacing, deep worry etched on his thin face. What's got him all fidgety? This rescue's going pretty well. Could it be the Wharton situation? I think I'll ask.

"Command and Control from Thunderbird Five."

Brains looked startled at Virgil's voice, but he stopped his pacing and settled down before the main screen. "C-C-Command and Control here. G-Go ahead, Thunderbird F-Five."

"I noticed that you're kinda on edge, Brains. Don't know if you realize it, but you're pacing. A lot." Virgil paused, considering his next words. "The rescue seems to be going fine. Dad and Scott are on the ground waiting to be called back. So, what's up? Anything I can do to help?"

"Pacing?" Brains frowned slightly. "Oh. I g-guess I was. S-s-sorry about that, V-Virgil. Didn't know I was d-doing it."

"No problem, Brains. I thought you weren't noticing." Virgil gave him an encouraging smile. "So, I ask again: anything I can do to help?"

"C-Can you pipe the Wh-Wharton chatter down here?" Brains asked, still frowning. "I'd like to k-keep abreast of the s-s-s-situation."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Virgil began to get a prickling feeling at the back of his neck. He hadn't actually been listening to the Wharton comm chatter, but he had been hearing it in the background, and somehow, something wasn't adding up.

"I c-can't reach F-F-F... my son. He's not a-answering his phone." Brains shook his head. "I'm s-sure there's a p-perfectly logical and simple r-reason for it. The storm could be i-interfering with the s-signal; he could be d-doing something i-important..."

Virgil glanced at the Earth, spinning slowly far below him. "He could be in bed."

"Th-That, too." Brains sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm b-being a w-worrywart."

"Well, there's a cure for that." Virgil forced a cheerful voice. "I'll pipe the chatter down to you and you can hear for yourself."

Brains smiled slightly. "Th-Thank you, V-Virgil. I appreciate it."

Virgil slid the rolling chair over to the speaker controls. "Here you go." He pressed a couple of buttons, and the computer told him that the emergency channel feed for Wharton was now transmitting to the island base. He listened to the chatter for a bit, not knowing what was making him uneasy, then turned away so he could report to his father.

He stopped in his tracks when a new, familiar voice cut in.

"Alan to Fermat. Alan to Fermat. C'mon, Fermat. Answer me."

"Why is this taking so long?" Scott groused. He looked up as his father offered him a mug of steaming coffee. Accepting it, he murmured, "Thanks, Dad." After a sip, he added, "You'd think it'd be easy to get one man ready for transport."

"We haven't been waiting as long as you think, son." Jeff settled back into the pilot's seat, sipping from his own travel mug. "Patience. They'll call us when they're ready."

"Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird Five." Virgil's voice, tense and clipped, sounded through the cockpit.

Jeff settled his coffee into a cup holder and replied. "Thunderbird Two here. Go ahead."

Virgil's face appeared on screen. "Alan is trying to call Fermat. I expect he's using that watch communicator. Is there anything I should do about it?"

A frown creased Jeff's forehead, drawing his eyebrows together. "Alan knows that he's only supposed to use that in an emergency."

"It might be one." Virgil turned his head slightly, listening to the Wharton comm chatter. "Brains says that Fermat's not answering his phone, and the emergency services talk-back from Wharton says the tree fell on Maplewood dorm. The impression I'm getting is that they're having trouble getting the thing off the building."

"But it's just a tree," Scott said, shaking his head. "What damage could it do?"

"Have you taken notice of the trees in the quadrangle across from the dorms?" Jeff's frown was now a look of concern. "They're old. Very old. Huge things. Likely not very healthy either. If one of those fell due to this storm..."

The three Tracys fell silent, each contemplating the import of Jeff's words. Suddenly, Virgil whipped his head around. "Hey! It sounds as if... yeah! Fermat's answering."

"Let's hear it, Virgil," Jeff said, folding his arms across his chest.

"F-A-B." Virgil reached over to touch a few keys. He paused, his hand suspended over the keyboard. "Should I transmit this to base, too? They're listening to the comm chatter already."

Jeff huffed out a breath. "Yes. Go ahead. Brains will be less worried if he can hear Fermat's voice for himself."

"F-A-B." His hands dancing over the keyboard, Virgil took a moment to warn Brains about what he was going to do. Then the sound of Alan's voice came through their speakers.

To say that Fermat was surprised by the sharp vibration of his wristwatch was an understatement. He let out a loud yelp, one that made A.J. call out.

"You o-o-okay, F-Fermat?"

"Y-Yeah! M-More than okay! Alan's c-calling me!" Fermat fumbled with the buttons on the watch's side, his cold fingers stiff and numb. Finally, he got the right one.

"...Fermat. Answer me!"

"Alan!" The glowing screen showed a close up of Alan's face, and Fermat couldn't help but notice his friend let out a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm h-h-here!"

"Where is here, Brain?" Outside, perched in the front seat of a fire truck, Alan's heart leapt with hope. Fermat's face was colored a pale gray where the screen's light hit it; sharp, dark slashes showed where he'd sustained scratches. To Alan, it was the best view he'd ever had. "Talk to me, buddy!"

"I'm in my r-r-room, on my b-bunk." Fermat paused long enough to gather his thoughts and figure out what was the most vital information for Alan to have. "A t-t-tree came through the roof and p-pierced the bed above me. I'm p-pretty much trapped, though I have a l-little room to maneuver, but it's d-d-dark and cold and I'm a-a-a-a... scared the tree will come down f-further."

"It pierced your bunk?" Mr. Magnuson moved Alan's arm so he could see Fermat for himself. "Where's your roommate, Andrew? Is he there? Is he safe?"

"He was t-t-taking a shower when the t-t-tree came d-d-down." Fermat's habitual stutter was being augmented by his now-chattering teeth. "He's stuck in the b-b-b-bathroom. I m-m-made him put on any d-d-dry clothes he could f-f-f-f... round up, and sit in the t-tub. Thought the w-w-walls might p-p-protect him."

"Good thinking, Fermat." Mr. Magnuson nodded in approval. "You and Andrew sit tight and do everything you can to stay awake. We're working on our end to get you two out."

"Y-Y-Yes, s-sir." Fermat hunched down further in his blankets.

Mr. Mags turned to Alan. "Alan, your job is an important one right now. You're our link to Fermat and Andrew; you need to keep them talking, and if something happens, alert us right away." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Can you do that?"

Alan swallowed his instinctive "F-A-B", and replied, "I sure can, Mr. Mags."

"Good." The security chief nodded firmly. "I'm going to talk with the man in charge here. We're trying to get the National Guard out to pull that tree off. I need to see if he's made any progress." He put up the collar on his heavy coat, and zipped it up to his chin. "Be back soon." With that parting word, he slipped out into the storm, letting a cold blast of air in before the door shut snugly behind him.

"Fermat, I'm alone now. I'm going to see if I can get Virgil to patch us through to my Dad, okay? You keep talking to A.J., and whatever you do, stay awake!"

"F-F-F-A-B-B-B," Fermat said, his teeth sounding like rat-a-tat between stuttered syllables.

Alan fumbled with the watch buttons again, then ripped off the offending glove and stuffed it in his pocket. Pitching his voice low and soft, he called, "Thunderbird Five from Wharton. Come in, Thunderbird Five."