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mason-rust · 7 years

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Christmas Blaze - Secret Santa

Merry Christmas @writerdarkflamespyre! Sorry it’s so delayed, this ended up much longer than I intended it to be. In the spirit of Christmas traditions, I went with an Australian summer staple, the bush fire. CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE.

The Tracy family Christmas tree was a digital affair, cast above the living room table in green and tinseled glory. Virgil leant against the wall and, like every year, couldn’t help but notice that the computer generated fir needles were perfectly symmetrical. He had never commented on it because it didn’t seem to bother anyone else. John had whipped it up with Alan’s help, and between jobs had been glowing softly for the last month. Despite how it always disappointed Virgil with its regularity, the glow was a comforting one. Pushing off the wall, Virgil wandered through the dark room, until he was close enough to run his hand through the branches made of light. He stood there, feeling the light start to hurt his eyes and waiting for whatever had driven him out of bed at the devils hour to pass so he could go back to bed. Virgil walked around the tree a couple of times, but it lingered like a mouse scratching in the back of his head. Over the last few years it had become impossible to tell whether it was the professional mouse or the paranoid mouse. Eyes smarting from the bright tree in the dark room, Virgil turned away and started off towards his room, deciding that it was simply restlessness. He was almost at the door when the alert rang through the room, making him wince. It was the professional mouse after all.

The holiday period always had lots of work – usually stupid mistakes that led to hot air balloon disasters; capsized rowboats and all manner of holiday-related incidents. But it was the big ones that needed to be watched, and this one was a big one indeed. Virgil could feel it. Natural disasters that struck near Christmas promised mess: everyone in their homes, everyone at risk. He pulled up John, the Christmas tree dissolving into his brothers features, for a second making John look like a kind of demented Christmas spirit. Before John could even open his mouth, Scott barreled into the room, fully dressed. “What's the situation John?” “There's huge forest fire in the works, moving towards settlements. It's currently burning its way through the Blue Mountains, just outside Sydney.” “Severity?” “Extreme. Local authorities were handling it, but sudden warm winds have blown it out of control. They need us to try and stop it from reaching any populated areas.” “How fast?” “Get going.” Virgil didn't even have time to shiver as he sprinted towards the chute. Somewhere in the back of his head, he heard Scott shouting for Gordon to join Virgil in the ship. Then the painting turned and all he could hear was the whirring of machines and the rush of air.

His land in the cockpit seemed to rattle all the way through his bones, and Virgil noted that he was just a little too tired for this. Not enough to jeopardise anyone's safety but enough to watch. He was already strapped in by the time Gordon appeared, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but clearly wide awake. “What's the plan.” “Usual. We'll take a dip and dump. If we need to do evac, the authorities will contact us but Scott will take care of most of it.” “Cool.” Gordon strapped in and Virgil initiated the launch sequence. Somehow it went both too fast and not fast enough. A fire right before Christmas was always a bad sign. Once Two was in the air, Virgil punched in the coordinates. The fire was in the Blue Mountains and was hardly the first one they’d helped out with in the area. “Australia again?” “It is a forest fire, and they’ve got an awful lot of forest.” “Awful lot’a bush you mean.” “That’s a terrible accent Gordon.” “Wanna hear my Russian?” “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Gordon treated Virgil to the accent anyway, and he couldn’t help but wonder where the hell Gordon had found his energy. Maybe, a little voice parroted at the back of his head, it’s because he sleeps. Virgil told it to shut up. “Hey Virgil, were you and Scott already up?” “I was. He seemed to be.” “I swear man, your sixth sense is freaky. You’re always up right before a big one.” “So is Scott.” “Yeah, but that's because he’s never down.” He couldn’t think of something to respond with, and the cabin fell silent but for the humming of the engines. “Hey Virgil, Why did the manager hire the marsupial?” Virgil cast his eyes to the heavens and offered a brief prayer. When he did speak he ground it out between his teeth. “Why?” “Because he was koala-fied. Get it?” “I’m not even going to respond to that.” “Hey Virgil, what music do kangaroos listen to?” “Do you just have a mental list of these for every country we go for?” “Yup. Imagine what I’d be capable of if I turned that to better uses.” “I tremble in fear.” “By the way, what music do kangaroos listen to?” “Just, please be quiet.”

They were almost at the destination, and Gordon had just run out of jokes when the communication line opened and John’s voice filled the cockpit. "Thunderbird 2? "Almost there John. Any evac? "Scott's handling that. I've entered the coordinates for the most pressing fire zones. "I'm inputting them into the system now The ships computer beeped to notify Virgil that the coordinates had been accepted. Virgil pulled them up and set off.

Forest fires were as terrifying as they were beautiful. It was a wild, dangerous kind of beauty, only from a distance. As the ship drew closer Virgil could see the fire shooting up the branches, devouring tree after tree faster than could almost be imagined. Sealed inside the cockpit of TB2, Virgil couldn't actually feel the heat on his skin, but he could imagine it. It wasn't the first time they'd been in fires, but this one certainly was looking like one of the largest. "I'm going to patch you through to the head firefighter, Thunderbird 2.” "Copy Thunderbird 5.” "International Rescue this is Jacob McCawley.” "Tell us where you need us Jacob.” "This is one bloody big bushfire. Our copters are doing their best but they need extinguishing help. There also needs to be some emergency evac." "That's me Jacob, Thunderbird 2 will pick up any extinguishing slack.” Scott's voice rang through the comm line, short and professional. Virgil started to peel away towards one of the nastier sections of fire. It was going to be a long, long night.

Virgil was on his 8th trip back from the water, 2 almost at its load capacity for water. They were making progress, but it was slow going. “Almost done there Scott?” “Still picking up some life signs, but at least people evacuate here. Remember California last year?” “I prefer not to. Hurry it up, John said that the wind’s picking up. Keep an open channel.” “FAB. I’ve got what looks like someone in a basement. Entering the dwelling now.” Virgil pulled Two around, one ear on Scott, the other listening to Jacob coordinate the fire-fighters. “God it’s smoky in here. I’m trying to find my way into the basement. John, scan the build-“ “Already done. The entrance is through the second door on your nine. Watch yourself Scott, you’ve got about 10 minutes before that fire overwhelms your location.” “I can feel that John.” Virgil started back towards the water when he heard an alarm through the comm channel. He instantly ran a scan of his systems, which came up blank. Before Virgil had the chance to ask John what was up, John was already speaking. “Scott, that fires right on top of you, get out now.” If you didn’t know John, then he would have sounded the same as he always did. But Virgil did, and he could hear the tension underlying the calm tone. “I’m aware of that John, but I can’t find anyone. Run the scans.” “It’s getting too hot, I can’t pick anything up.” “Maybe it never picked anything up.” Gordon frowned at the comms and Virgil couldn’t help but silently agree with his concern. He joined the conversation. “Just get out of there.” “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. John, that fires right on top of me, I’m going to have to stay in the house.” Adrenaline flooded Virgil’s system at those words. Despite his heart rate going through the roof, he somehow lost his voice as he listened to Scott and John. “Scott are you-“ “Yes, I’m sure, dammit.” “Stay away from the windows. If the heat gets too much-“ “Get outside into an area that’s already burnt. I know John.” Virgil desperately wanted to turn off the channel, his hands paralysed at the controls when they should be moving. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes for a moment before trying to banish the line to the corner of his mind. Instead Virgil put two back into motion and went back towards the fire.

Each minute was agony, the seconds ticking by as Virgil tried to ignore them and focus on his job. He knew that the front would probably pass in 15 minutes, and then Scott might be alright. If the heat hadn’t gotten to him. Another five minutes down, then there was a yelp through the channel. “Shit.” “Scott-“ He cut Virgil off before he even started speaking. “The fucking windows are gone. I’ve got embers inside the house.” “Scott get out of there.” “I’m trying, but I can’t fucking see anything.” There was a long pause on the line and more than one bang, probably as Scott walked into furniture. Virgil could hear the whine of wood and the rush of fire. “I’m outside, taking shelter, most of the front seems-“ The crack was explosively loud, and the silence that followed oppressively silent. “Scott?” Hissing filled the channel and Virgil resisted the urge to swing Thunderbird two around before he dumped his water. “Scott, come in.” If there was one sound that haunted Virgil, it was the sound of radio silence. He heard it in his nightmares, the vacuum of silence swallowing him up. Taking a breath deep into his lungs, Virgil opened his channel. “Scott, come in.” His voice sounded different to John’s, the carefully cultivated calm only a thin veneer over the panic in his chest. “Vitals aren’t showing, but that’s mechanical.” John’s voice was almost as mechanical as the read outs behind him. “John, keep trying to get him on the line. I’m going over.” “FAB.” Another counted breath, 3 in and 3 hold and 3 out, Virgil squashed the panic up into a box and went to work.

On the black soot and among the charcoaled wood, the blue of Scott’s uniform stood out like a torch. “It looks like he’s trapped John, not moving.” “Probably unconscious.” That or the other thing that Virgil knew he shouldn’t be thinking about. He pulled Two into hover, the fire front having pulled away. The trees were smoking, the air thick and almost tangible. Virgil could almost taste the smoke in his mouth, and he stood up from the controls. “Gordon, I’ll take the jaws down and pry him out. You’re in control.” “Oh yeah.” Virgil chose to ignore the edge underneath the humour, tucking it away at the back of his head for a later conversation. “Don’t break it Gordon.” “Don’t count on it Virgil. Off you go now.” “You’ve made me feel nervous Gordon.” “Shoo shoo.” But it had also made him feel slightly more relaxed. There was nothing like stress and nervousness to make a mission go haywire. Virgil headed down to the POD bay, grabbing the jaws as he did. Gordon’s voice over the comms was forcibly chipper. “Ready for deployment Virgil?” “FAB.”

Thanks to the whipping wind, the smoke was slightly clearer than it could have been after a fire. Virgil could feel the heat through his suit and, despite his helmet, his eyes smarted at the memory of smoke. The brown, singed grass crunched under his feet, and the black, scorched trees loomed over and around him. If he didn’t know better, Virgil would swear that it felt like they were watching him. He made his way towards the house. “Structure seems intact John. Looks like the verandah collapsed.” It had been wood, the verandah, and it hadn’t survived the flames. “I have a visual on Scott.” Virgil paced closer, carefully circling the broken beams. Scott was face down, not moving, with a support beam crossing his body. In a different place, it would have looked like he was sleeping, the beam just resting across him instead of crushing him. And Virgil had no doubt that it was crushing him. He started forwards, moving some of the smaller pieces out of his way, a piece of fence, a piece of the deck. Merely kindling for the fire. “John, are you reading any injuries?” There was a scene in the back of Virgil’s head, after an earthquake in Japan. A man lying under the concrete, limbs splayed to the sides. “I’ve got nothing on him. The heat must have fried his suit.” “Or the wood crushed it.” “Either way, be careful when you try and free him.” “I know.” When the concrete was lifted, the man had coughed, blood splattering across his chin. Virgil didn’t know if he died from the pieces of metal embedded in him. That part was out of their control, the bit afterwards. The clean-up. He shook the memory out from behind his eyes and pulled away another few pieces. There was just the large one, just the one that was the problem. Sometimes, the pressure didn’t kill them but the removal did. Virgil tested the beam, lifting it slightly to test its weight. It wasn’t too heavy, and Virgil kept a grip on it. For a moment, he considered asking John if he should do it, abdicate the decision. Shifting, he lifted it slightly more, and it came away easily. Scott groaned, shifting in the rubble. Virgil lifted the piece and moved it to the side just enough to see Scott fully. There was blood on the blue fabric, and Virgil moved over as quickly as he could. He wanted to turn Scott over, to shake him until he opened his eyes but instead he found his wrist and waited for a pulse. Still trying to breathe carefully, he moved his fingers around until he felt up. “I have a pulse.” There was an almost audible release over the comm line, and Virgil could imagine the expression on John’s face. Gordon laughed. “Tough fucker.” “Language.” John’s voice lacked any edge that might have given the command some weight. “Yes mum.” “I’m going to get Scott into 2. How are the fires going John?” “There’s still more to be done, but let’s see what Scott’s condition is.” “FAB.” There was a click as John dropped his channel and Gordon’s voice chirped over the line. “Anything you need Virgil?” “I’m going to steady him, and be ready to receive us.” It was an arduous process, trying to keep Scott’s neck and head straight while manhandling him onto the stretcher. Thankfully the thing had wheels because one person was not enough to move it where Gordon could retrieve it. As Virgil stood next to the stretcher, he looked up into the sky. He had barely noticed that the sun had risen, that the night had bled into day. It wasn’t a surprise, given that the smoke was so thick that the sun stared down like a large red eye. Virgil suppressed a shiver, something about the red ball and the looming, bare black trees more menacing than it had a right to be. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but somewhere deep inside his chest, Virgil hoped that it wasn’t an omen.

There was a long crack in the helmet, and Virgil carefully pulled it off, making sure Scott’s neck was straight. He patted down the sides, making sure that everything seemed in place. The blood was concerning, but there wasn’t a huge amount of it, and it didn’t seem to be growing. Virgil grabbed a pair of scissors and cut away the ruined uniform, careful not to pull it away to sharply. The cuts were relatively minor, and Vigil tidied them up as quickly as he could. Broken ribs were likely, and Virgil grabbed the scanner to make sure there was nothing poking into a lung. The scan came up clear, thankfully the ribs were more fractured than broken. There was nothing more unpleasant than very broken ribs, something Virgil could definitely attest to. Carefully swabbing everything up, Virgil tried not to fuss more than necessary. The main issue was only going to become apparent when Scott woke up, and that was a wait that Virgil was not looking forward to. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to Scott, staring through his brother. There was tiredness pushing at the inside of his eyelids, and suddenly Virgil felt every ache and pain in his body. He was exhausted, muscles and bones aching. Virgil had to chuckle to himself at the thoughts in his head, thoughts that belonged to someone at least 30. Wiping a hand down his face, Virgil leant over and opened the comms. “Gordon?” “How’s he going Virge?” Virgil almost felt like he needed to lie down thanks to Gordon’s driving, but he didn’t say anything. That was for later. “He’ll be fine, but won’t be too happy when he wakes up. Broken ribs, lacerations, smoke inhalation, plenty of bruising but nothing too serious.” “Great. I bags not being around him for the next three days.” “Unfortunately for you, it’s Christmas. So we’re going to all get a good dose of him.” “Just pump him full of painkillers. He’s great fun then.” “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call fun.” “It’s fun. Jacob says that the situation is under control, and if we need to go we can.” “I’ll just strap Scott in and get on the line Gordon.” “Don’t believe me? I’m offended.” Virgil stood and washed his hands before pulling his gloves back on. He patted Scott’s shoulder once and started towards the door. “I’m on my way up. I’ve had enough of your driving.” Gordon’s cackle almost echoed through the ship.

There were presents sitting on the table under the tree by the time Virgil stumbled into the living room. Scott was downstairs with Brains and a promise to keep a close eye. Gordon had passed out on top of his sheets, and Virgil was struggling not to do the same on the couch. He smelt of soot and sweat, and Virgil could barely keep a straight thought in his head now that the adrenaline and caffeine had worn off. The presents were neatly wrapped, labels stuck onto the sides. Walking over, he read through a couple, Alan’s handwriting scrawled across the paper. Virgil grinned to himself and looked up at the tree. There was something different about it. After a long second, he realised that small pixels of snow were drifting down around the branches. He watched them for a long time, little bits of white building up slowly on the green. Shaking his head to break the spell, Virgil used the wall to stumble up to bed. He was going to sleep like the dead.

#thunderbirds are go #rustwrites #secretsanta #thunderbirds #john tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy

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