DAWN OF GRAY by TB's LMC RATED FRT

In the year they have been in operation, International Rescue has seen their share of death and destruction, no death being more sad and painful than that of a child. But when California is rocked with an 8.8 magnitude earthquake, the Tracy family will be faced with a death that is much, much closer to home.

Chapter One

John grinned as he waited for his older brother, Scott, to serve. It was a beautiful October day in the South Pacific. A soft breeze was blowing and John had only been home from Thunderbird 5 for a few days.

"Luv-30!" Scott called out. He threw the ball up and pounded a deadly serve in John's direction.

Six-foot-one John Tracy dove headfirst toward the soft grass of the court. He managed to hit the ball back across the net, but the dirt beneath the grass sure didn't feel soft when he hit.

Scott mercilessly smacked the ball back John's way even though John hadn't yet gotten back to his feet. It whizzed by his ear and hit the chain link fence. Narrowing his eyes, John picked up his racket and was about to say something that would definitely have led to a fight when his wristwatch beeped.

"What are you waiting?" Scott began to ask. But he stopped as his own watch began to beep.

Without another word, the two men dropped their rackets and headed for the house.

"Earthquake in California, boys."

"Another one?" John asked. "We were just there two weeks ago."

"They, uh, seem to be coming more frequently," Brains suggested as Scott headed for his two light fixtures.

"Virgil, John, Gordon, Brains, it's all hands on deck. Ah, Tin-Tin, there you are," Jeff acknowledged Kyrano's daughter as she rushed into the Lounge. "You're going, too."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy," she replied. Virgil crossed the room to the painting of his father's rocket ship as the others headed into the hall outside the Lounge. They were on their way to the passenger elevator that would ferry them down to Thunderbird 2's cockpit.

Scott quickly changed into his uniform as Thunderbird 1 made her way down the sloped tunnel on her gantry. He slipped the sash over his torso, fastening it to the uniform, then placed his hat on his head and hopped into the gimbal-slung chair in the cockpit just as Thunderbird 1 reached the launch pad. Strapping himself in, he clicked open the communications channel.

"Thunderbird 1 to Base. Ready for takeoff."

"You're clear to go, Scott. Check in with Alan when you're airborne, he'll have the details."

"F.A.B."

Scott pulled the levers back towards him. The engines clicked then ignited, and he soon felt the familiar power of the great silver rocket plane as it roared out of the silo and streaked toward the clear blue sky. Once he hit cruising altitude, he opened a line to Base.

"Thunderbird 1 to Base. Changing to horizontal flight."

"F.A.B., Scott."

"Thunderbird 1 to Thunderbird 5."

"Thunderbird 5 here."

"Okay, Alan, what's the story?"

"Bad one. They got hit with an 8.8, Scott. Centered about two miles east of the epicenter two weeks ago. About a mile west of Lancaster."

"Have you been on with the authorities yet?"

"Can't get through, Scott. I've got no more information than what I can get from the reporters at this point. Communications to most of southern California are completely down."

Scott sighed and shook his head. "This is going to be a bad one."

"I know. Wish I was there to help."

Smiling to try and put his youngest brother's mind at ease, Scott replied, "Hey, right now I need you to be my eyes and ears up there. So don't be so worried about not being here. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I'll call you if I get any more info."

"Thanks, Alan. Thunderbird 1 out."

Scott settled back into his chair as he streaked across the ocean toward North America. It was like dejà vú. Not two weeks prior he'd been on the same heading for Southern California for the exact same reason. Only last week it had been a 7.0. An 8.8, he knew, would have caused utter devastation. They were going to be gone for a long time.

And the people. There would be many dead, many wounded, many trapped, many needing a miracle. And International Rescue somehow had to bring the miracles the injured so desperately sought. He wondered how many there would be this time. How many would be gone before they arrived? How many could they save? They were six strong, but six against millions of victims?

The odds were definitely not in their favor. Then again, they'd been up against hard odds before and come out smelling like a rose garden. Earthquakes, though, were different. The initial one was always the worst, but this was the mother of all quakes, no doubt to be followed by several aftershocks, some of which may register awfully high on the Richter.

Scott's thoughts were interrupted by Virgil's voice over his speakers.

"Thunderbird 2 calling Thunderbird 1."

"Thunderbird 1 here."

"I'm about twelve minutes behind you, Scott. What's the situation?"

"Alan can't get much, Virg. Communications are gone out there. It's an 8.8. Epicenter is somewhere near Lancaster."

"Lancaster?"

"Yeah." Scott frowned. His brother's voice sounded strange. "What is it, Virg?"

"Remember back when I was at DIT?"

"Sure."

"We did part of our class project on that SASS system they were building."

"I remember that. The San Andreas Seismological Sensor array."

"Yeah." Virgil was silent for a few seconds. "Guess it didn't work too well."

"Maybe it did and people are alive because of it."

"Maybe. I'll radio you when I'm close to Danger Zone. Virgil out."

Scott opened his mouth, but the channel was closed. Evidently, Virgil had a little bit at stake here. If, when they arrived, they discovered the SASS had been successful in warning people enough in advance for them to reach safety before the quake hit, everything would be all right. If not? Well, Virgil had that Tracy trait of serious self-flagellation, even when it was unwarranted. He'd be sure to be convinced that he and his classmates at the Denver Institute of Technology hadn't done their work properly, regardless of whether or not that was indeed the case.

Shaking his head, Scott checked the GPS on 1's control panel. He was now fifteen minutes into the 45-minute trip. Half an hour to go. This was worse than the rescues themselves, this waiting. Knowing that every second counted, that being one minute later could mean the difference between life and death for someone. He squirmed in his seat and glanced at the chronometer. Twenty-eight minutes.

Damn.

Chapter Two

"Thunderbird 1 to Base. I have arrived at Danger Zone. I'm going to have to land about three miles away from the epicenter. It's right on the fault, and I don't want to take any chances."

"F.A.B., Scott. Virgil's arriving in just under eleven minutes. Be careful."

"I will, Father. Thunderbird 1 out."

He kicked the reverse thrust on Thunderbird 1's belly into action and had soon made a soft, easy landing on the desert sand. On approach he'd seen several areas of fire, with smoke so dense in the air he'd had to rely entirely on his instrument panels for part of his descent. But without any contact with local rescue officials, it was difficult to know exactly where the team was needed.

As such, the first thing he did was pull the hover bike out of 1's cargo hold and head for Lancaster, about three miles distant. He had to find someone who could tell him something. He had less than 9 minutes now before Thunderbird 2 arrived, and it was his job to direct his brothers, Brains and Tin-Tin to wherever they had to be.

When he reached the city limits, he realized with horror that in spite of all the retrofitting done and the new technology being applied statewide to decrease the damage done by earthquakes, the city was in ruins. Buildings were down no matter where he looked. Several fires burned out of control, and he could hear the wails of people in need.

He sped toward the sound of a siren, ignoring the rubble and downed palm trees along the way. When he finally reached the fire engine, he stopped the hover bike so fast he nearly flew out of the seat.

It had been smashed to pieces by an office building that had fallen directly on top of it. No doubt it happened during an aftershock. "Sonofabitch!" He got off the bike and ran up to the area surrounding the crushed rescue equipment, calling out for any survivors. But there was no response. Electrical lines crackled and sparks came at him. He leapt back out of the way just as his watch beeped.

"Thunderbird 2 to Mobile Control."

"I'm here, Virg."

"Where, Scott? We've landed and don't see you."

"I'm in Lancaster. It's a mess, Virg. The only fire truck I've found was flattened by a building."

"No local officials?"

"No. There are people out and about, but nobody that looks in charge."

"Where do we go?"

"Hang on. Mobile Control to Thunderbird 5."

"Here, Scott."

"Any more news at all?"

"Not really. Looks like the area you're in was hardest hit. Lots of damage in outlying areas, but I'd say that's the right place for you to be."

"All right, Alan, I'll take that advice. Mobile Control out. Virgil, come in."

"With you, Scott."

"I want every piece of equipment deployed, and I mean now. Everyone fan out and just go wherever you can find someone who needs help. Start right here in Lancaster."

"F.A.B., Scott. Are you coming back here?"

"Yes, I'll get Mobile Control set up and see about trying to contact someone."

"Okay. Virgil out."

Scott hated this. Hated it more than anything. They were working blind, as blind as bats. They had pretty good intuition as a unit, having done this for just about a year now. But without direction of any sort? Odds were people would die just because they didn't know where to look.

Grinding his teeth, Scott returned to the hover bike and headed back the way he'd come. When he got to about half a mile from the city's edge, he saw the ground begin to shake.

"Mobile Control to all units!" he yelled into his watch. "Aftershock!"

He kept going as fast as he could on the bike, praying nothing would fall on him. Unfortunately, it seemed, his prayers were not to be answered.

The last building left partially standing swayed as he came upon it. He took a good look at it, trying to judge how fast it would fall, and whether or not he could make it past before it did. He had to try. There was no time to lose.

But Fate had other ideas.

Chapter Three

Virgil was just moving the Mole out of Pod 5. He'd already deployed John in the Excavator, Brains in the Laser Cutting Vehicle and Gordon in Firefly. Tin-Tin was riding second seat in the Mole, and they were on their way. There was still no sign of Scott, so Virgil opened a communications line.

"This is the Mole calling Scott. Come in, Scott."

He frowned. No response.

"Scott? This is Virgil. Come in, please."

Nothing.

"Virgil, why doesn't he answer?"

"I don't know, Tin-Tin, but I don't like it." Virgil's face bore a worried scowl as he turned back to the control panel. "Scott, answer me."

Tin-Tin bit her lip as she watched Virgil change from his normally easygoing self into an extremely worried brother.

"Mole to Thunderbird 5."

"Thunderbird 5 here."

"Alan, get me a position on Scott."

"Why, what's happened?"

"I've lost contact with him."

He could almost hear Alan gulp. There were a few seconds of silence before he replied. "GPS has him at three-four point seven-three by one-one-eight point two-two. Virg, what's going on?"

"I don't know, but I'm on my way to those coordinates."

"I'll call Base."

"F.A.B."

Virgil's body tensed as the Mole trundled on. It was far too slow for his liking, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

The best he could hope for was that Scott was in the middle of rescuing someone and was simply unable to answer his call. He didn't let himself think about the worst.

Scott had just reached the edge of the swaying building when an extra hard jolt sent it tumbling to the ground before him. He yelled out, knowing he couldn't stop the hover bike in time. Moving fast, he threw himself off it as the wall fell, pulverizing the bike. He landed hard on a piece of sidewalk jutting up into the air. Scott winced as he turned toward the building, grabbing his upper arm. That was going to leave one helluva bruise.

"Dammit," he said, rising to his feet. Great, now he was stuck without transportation. He raised his arm to hail one of his brothers, but before he could even open his mouth, he heard a sound that sent chills up his spine.

It was very faint.

"Help! Help me, please!"

He stopped and stood perfectly still, his trained ears tuning into the sound of a human voice. Nearly thirty seconds passed before he heard it again.

"Please! Help!"

Scott looked at the fallen building before him. It was now nothing more than chunks of concrete and twisted steel girders. Whoever it was, they were beneath all that.

"Hello!" he called out. "Keep talking so I can find you!"

He listened again.

"I'm here! I'm down here!"

Picking his way over the mess, he was about halfway through the pile of debris when he found a staircase that was, for the most part, free of obstructions. Adrenaline surged through his veins as a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. He wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

Leaning down over the staircase, he shouted, "Hello! Can you hear me?"

A handful of seconds passed before he heard the reply. "Yes!"

Scott immediately began picking his way down the steps. The brilliant light of day faded as he descended. He'd reached about the fifteenth step when his foot caught in something. He grunted as he went flying face-first down the staircase, tumbling head over ass until he landed on his back...landed on something very, very sharp.

"Ow! Dammit!" He pushed himself up into a sitting position, twisting his arm around to rub the sore spot on his back. He could barely see, but he felt something wet on his fingertips. He was bleeding. "Shit."

He leaned forward and felt around in front of where he sat. Broken concrete and shattered glass cut into his hands, but he ignored the pain.

"Hello! Can you hear me?"

Scott moved forward, feeling his way as best he could. His knee dropped painfully into a small hole. When he finally got that pulled out, his left hand miscalculated and slid down a steel girder. He fell with a thud onto his chest and cursed silently just as the victim's voice rang out, much louder this time.

"Help! Please! Help me!"

"Keep talking, please! I need you to guide me with your voice!"

This was exactly what he needed. Someone was in trouble, and that took his mind off any physical discomfort he was feeling.

"I...help! Please help!"

It was only then, as he inched his way forward, that he realized the voice was that of a child.

Oh, God.

Finding injured children was absolutely the worst. Unlike adults, they couldn't understand why they hurt so badly, what had happened, why International Rescue couldn't stop the pain. Soothing children, though, was something Scott was good at, having pretty much raised his four younger brothers from the time he was nine years of age.

"I'm on my way, just keep saying ‘help' so I know where to find you!"

"Help!" the voice came. "Help me!"

Scott turned to the right, honing in on the child's voice. His hands and knees kept slipping, but when he tried to stand upright, he found that the ceiling wasn't as high as it ought to be. By his estimation, he only had about four feet of space, and no six-foot-two man could even crouch-walk in that tight of quarters.

The light once filtering in from above had now left him completely. He was totally blind, relying on his hearing and sense of touch to guide him. "Are you hurt?" he called out.

"Yes! Help me, please, help me."

The child's voice sounded much more forlorn than it had even a few minutes ago. "I'm coming. I don't think I'm too far away!"

"I'm stuck!"

"Stuck? Did something fall on you?"

"I think so. I can't move my legs!"

"All right, just hang on."

Scott continued moving forward. Because he couldn't see, he had no way of knowing the bottom was about to drop out from under him. He reached both hands out and brought them down, fully expecting to find more rubble. What he found was nothing but air. The weight of his body and the force of his forward movement sent him careening over the edge.

And the earth shook.

The child cried out in agony as what was left of the building shifted, sending more of it toppling down on him. Concrete dust filled the air. Scott gasped when he tried to move his leg. He'd fallen at least three feet, and his leg was twisted painfully between two steel girders. The lungful of air he took in made him choke and cough, followed by several rounds of sneezing. When at last he'd calmed his breathing, he called out again.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

His only response was a moan and short cough. It was directly to his right. He tried to move, but his leg was stuck tight. "Damn!" He stopped to try and figure out exactly how it was wedged in. He tried to lift it out, but the foot of his boot seemed to be what was keeping it in there. So he gritted his teeth and twisted his leg, stifling the cry that wanted to escape his lips.

In spite of the pain involved, the maneuver worked. His foot popped out of the boot, and he was free. Hurting, but free. He moved slowly to the right, feeling only with his right hand this time, allowing his left to steady him. Forward he moved again. Inch by inch. How he wished he carried a flashlight on that uniform. Right now all he had was a gun, some laser clips and stun gas. None of which were very useful when stuck underground in the pitch black.

He kept going, determined more than ever to find this child.

"What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"

There was a small cough before the child replied. "Jake," he rasped.

Scott's ears perked up. He was very close now. "Well, my name's Scott, and I'm from International Rescue."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Jake's voice changed pitch. Scott smiled. Mentioning International Rescue to a victim always seemed to make them feel better. Mere words, but words that carried hope to those in need. Words he hoped to live up to every time they went on a rescue.

"I'm hurt."

"I know, Jake. I know. But I'm almost there."

"Can you--?" Jake hacked and coughed. Scott frowned, because he was close enough now to hear the child trying to breathe. With each breath, he heard the telltale rattle of fluid in the lungs, and his heart sank. Internal bleeding? Water inhalation? The former seemed to be the most likely suspect, given their location.

"Can you get me out?" the boy finally managed to say.

At that moment, Scott's hand fell upon something that didn't feel like anything else he'd touched. It fell upon Jake's head.

"I'm sure going to try, buddy."

Scott felt the rumble of the coming aftershock before it even reached them. He hauled himself around to Jake's side and covered him completely with his body. Their world shook...and shook hard. Debris rained down on Scott's back. Just when he thought he might be able to lift his head, something hard slammed into him right between his shoulder blades. He oofed as a puff of air escaped him, but kept himself rigid so as not to squash the boy beneath him.

That'll leave another good bruise.

He pushed himself up on all fours and realized that this most recent tremor had moved whatever was above them enough that a shaft of light now shone down. At last, he could see. He squinted in the direction of the boy's head, right where the beam of light was falling. The boy was filthy, covered with several layers of dust and dirt. He reached out and brushed some of it away.

When he looked into his eyes, he was struck by a feeling of familiarity, almost as though they'd met somewhere before.

"How are you, there, Jake?"

The boy shook his head as tears ran down his temples, pooling in his ears. "Not good."

"Well, let me see if I can get us some help, okay?"

Jake could only nod, his head turning to the side, his eyelids closing part way.

"No, no, stay with me, buddy. Stay with me," he said, touching the boy's forehead. He raised his watch to his face and spoke. "This is Scott calling Thunderbird 2. Scott calling Thunderbird 2, come in."

He received no response. Frowning, he tried again. But it was no use. No one was answering his call. Fear crept up his spine...was Virgil injured? It was then that he glanced down at his watch, and realized exactly what the trouble was.

In spite of it being as reinforced as it could possibly be without weighing ten pounds, the watch had been smashed. Scott suddenly recalled that indeed his wrist had been hit by something that fell from above two aftershocks ago. It hadn't occurred to him until now to question why his wrist hadn't been broken upon impact. The watch had, quite literally saved it. Only now he couldn't contact his brothers.

"What's...wrong?"

"Well, Jake, it doesn't look like I can get hold of my buddies. I need to get back up to the surface and try to contact them so they know where to find us."

"You can't leave me here!" Jake cried, lips trembling. "Don't go!"

Scott shook his head and grabbed Jake's free hand. "I have to get you help. I can't lift these big pieces of metal and concrete off you by myself."

"Yes, you can," Jake replied. "You're...you're International Rescue."

There it was again. That blind faith. That belief in miracles...miracles that everyone expected ordinary men to perform.

Miracles that sometimes didn't happen.

"Please don't go. Please," Jake pleaded, squeezing Scott's hand as tight as he could.

Scott looked down into his eyes again, and once more felt that odd feeling that he knew him somehow. In those light brown eyes he saw pure, unadulterated fear, and his heart went out to the child.

He looked around them and realized that even if he did leave Jake's side, that last tremor had effectively sealed off the way he'd entered. There would be nowhere to go but up where that light was coming through, but to do so meant both he and Jake could quite possibly be crushed by unstable debris.

"How old are you?" Scott asked.

"Eight."

Scott nodded. "Well, Jake, let me see how much of this I can get off you right now, okay? Maybe I'll be able to get you up there with me after all."

Jake managed a small smile before his eyelids began to flutter closed.

"No, no, hey, Jake, stay with me. Come on, don't go to sleep. I need you to stay awake."

"Why?"

"To help me."

"But I can't move."

"Well, I'll tell you a little secret if you promise never to tell anyone, okay?"

Jake nodded, his eyes brightening a little.

Scott leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. "I don't like to work alone, Jake. And since my buddies can't get here right now, I need you to work with me."

"But--"

"No buts. If you can't move, then talk to me. Tell me where it hurts right now," Scott said as he inspected what was covering Jake's body in the little bit of light coming in from above.

"All over me it hurts."

"I'm sure it does. Okay, tell me what you were doing down here when the earthquake hit. Were you all alone?"

"Yes. This--" Jake coughed once more, and that rattling sound in his lungs seemed to get worse. "This is the building my mom works in. She had to come in for a few hours even though it's Saturday. I was waiting for her."

"You were in the basement?"

"Yeah, just looking around."

"I see. What's your mom's name?"

"Cynthia Koen."

"So you're Jake Koen?"

He nodded as Scott grabbed hold of the piece of concrete covering the boy's upper torso and started to push. Jake groaned as Scott inched it further and further until at last it fell away from his chest. Immediately he could tell the boy was breathing better.

"How's that feel?"

"Better," Jake replied, a small smile gracing his features.

Scott flashed him a smile and worked at moving the next piece of concrete, which covered Jake's arm. The child cried out when it finally gave way, and Scott pushed it to the side before returning to his charge.

"You all right?"

Jake nodded. "I hurt so bad, though."

"I know, buddy, I know. Now let's have a look at what's on your legs."

"I can't feel them."

"That's probably because all this stuff has been lying on them for a while."

"Can you get it off?"

"I'm sure going to try, Jake. You just tell me if it hurts too much whenever I move something, okay?"

"Okay."

That was when the next aftershock hit. Electrical lines hissed and crackled as the sounds of concrete scraping concrete ground into their ears. Metal screeched over metal like a giant fingernail scratching down an old-fashioned chalkboard. Scott climbed on top of Jake's body, his chest covering his face, his body the entire length of the boy's. He braced himself against whatever might fall onto them next.

A loud scraping sound above made every muscle in his body tense. Something was falling. And when it fell...

Scott yelled out in pain as the slab of concrete slid into his right leg. Beneath him, Jake screamed in agony as the pressure crushed his legs even more beneath the girders lying across them. Tears rolled down his face as he began to cry in earnest.

"I want my mom!" he sobbed as Scott tried to move his legs.

"I know you do, Jake. I know you do," he ground out through his teeth. I wouldn't mind having mine here either.

Thankfully his legs weren't pinned down. It was now just a matter of delicately pulling them up and off Jake's legs without causing further pain. Slowly he moved one leg off and then tried the other. He yelped when the movement sent a sharp jab up his leg right into his body. Steeling himself for even more, he hauled his leg up and off the girder until he was completely straddling the boy's waist. Tears filled his eyes. He couldn't ignore the pain this last blow had brought him.

Not only that, but that tremor had enshrouded them in darkness again. Jake was trapped, Scott was injured, his watch was broken and now...now he was once more blind as a bat.

"Am I gonna die?" Jake cried.

Scott scooted off to the boy's side, wincing with every movement of his injured leg. He moved around to his head and lifted it and the boy's shoulders onto his thighs.

"You're not going to die, Jake," Scott said, his voice sounding strong and steady. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

But in his heart, he wasn't so sure that either of them would survive.

Chapter Four

"Thunderbird 5 to Mole!"

"What is it, Alan?"

"I've lost Scott's GPS!"

"What?"

"I've been monitoring his position since I first got it. Virgil, it just...winked out! It's gone!"

Virgil ground his teeth together, his face set in steely determination. "Goddammit, Alan, a man's GPS doesn't just wink out. Where the fuck is he?"

Tin-Tin's eyes grew wide. If Scott's GPS wasn't sending out its signal, that could only mean that it had been disabled. And short of taking it apart in a lab, the only way to do that was getting hit by something hard enough and strong enough to smash it.

That information didn't bode well for Scott.

"I don't know where he is, Virg, I'm telling you, he's not registering! Find him! Virg, please!"

"I'm working on it. We're approaching the coordinates now. And Alan?"

"What?"

"Don't tell the others. I need them out there saving as many people as they can. I'll take care of finding Scott."

There was a pause before Alan softly replied, "F.A.B."

Within seconds Virgil had brought the gigantic Mole's trolley to a full stop and was leaping out the side hatch before Tin-Tin could even find out what he was up to.

She picked her way down over the caterpillar tracks and through several large pieces of what was left of an office building to where Virgil stood looking all around him. "He's not here," he finally said.

Tin-Tin stepped around him and continued on to where it looked like the building's edge had once been. With some difficulty, she stepped down from a fallen wall. As she turned, she saw something that almost made her scream. Instead, she choked out a gasp before crying out Virgil's name.

Lickety-split, he was at her side. He turned to look at where her eyes fell and a cold chill swept over him from head to toe. His heart very nearly stopped. For all they could see was the very twisted and broken lower portion of a red hover bike.

"I'm sure they're on their way, Jake. They would've picked up my GPS before my watch got smashed."

"I know what that is," the boy replied, leaning back into Scott's arms. Scott had moved so that his legs stuck out on either side of Jake's body. Just those few feet had been agony for him, but this way he had Jake's body from the abdomen up resting back against him.

"You do, huh? Okay, what is GPS?"

"It's a way to use satellites to figure out where you are anywhere on Earth."

"You're pretty smart for an 8-year old."

"I'm in the advanced classes at school."

"Oh, yeah? Say, Jake, can you tell me what your mom does here in this office building?"

"She's an accountant," the child replied. Suddenly his body stiffened and he cried out.

"What is it?"

"My legs."

"Well, I know it's bad that they hurt right now, Jake, but it's actually a very good sign that you can still feel them."

"I don't think so."

Scott couldn't help a small laugh. "You're being very brave. I know this is a pretty frightening situation."

"Well, it's easy to be brave when you're with a hero."

Scott smiled and ran his hand through the boy's hair. "I'll tell you something, Jake, I don't feel very heroic right now." He expected some sort of response, and was surprised when none was forthcoming. "Jake?" Scott cursed the darkness for about the fiftieth time since that last tremor. "Jake? Answer me, Jake."

The boy moaned as Scott gently shook him. His head rested just beneath his chin, and Scott leaned down to speak softly into his ear.

"Can you talk to me, Jake?"

"What do...you want...me to say?"

"Well, I'll bet your parents are pretty worried about you right now."

"But my mom...was in her office...did the whole building fall down?"

"Yes, it did, Jake."

"Do you think my mom is dead?"

"I don't know. I didn't see anybody up there, but that doesn't mean anything. After all, you were hiding down here where I couldn't see you, either."

"I hope she's not dead," Jake said as he began to cry again.

Scott knew he had to get the child's attention off what may have happened to his mother. "What about your dad, Jake? Where's he?"

"I...I don't know. I never knew my dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"That's okay. Do...do you know your dad?"

"I sure do."

"Tell me about him."

"You want me to tell you about Father?"

"That's...that's what you call him? Father?"

"Yeah, sometimes. I also call him Dad. We all do."

"We?"

"I have four brothers," Scott said as, internally, he begged them to hurry.

For he could hear the fluid building up in Jake's lungs again. He tried to keep his voice steady and upbeat so as not to frighten the child, but he recognized what was happening here. Not only was his breathing ragged, but his skin was cold and clammy, Scott noticed as he touched his face and forehead with his hand. His heart sank. Still, there was hope. If only Virgil and the others would find them...

"Tin-Tin, get the LSI. Now."

"Yes, Virgil," Tin-Tin replied, desperately trying to shake the dread from her heart. She raced back toward the Mole as fast as she could over the debris.

"Excavator to Virgil."

"I'm here, John."

Immediately, John knew something was wrong. Just the look on Virgil's face said it all. "What's happened?"

"We can't find Scott."

"What?"

"Tin-Tin's getting the LSI."

"I'm heading over there."

"No! John, there are people who need your help. You must remain where you are."

"But--"

"No, John. You keep doing your job. I'll find Scott."

John contemplated his options and decided that Virgil had enough smarts to call him in if it turned out he needed help. "F.A.B., but keep me up-to-date."

"I will. Virgil out."

Just then, Tin-Tin returned not only with the Life Sign Indicator, but also with a torn sleeve and a long, red scratch running down her arm.

"What happened?" Virgil asked, alarmed.

"Don't you worry about me. Find Scott!"

Virgil switched the LSI on and began scanning. It was able to locate body heat up to fifty feet down. Virgil tried hard to keep his hands from shaking as he swept outward from the crushed hover bike in concentric circles praying something would register. Anything.

But there was no sign of life. Taking a deep breath, Virgil continued his pattern. Scott had to be alive. He just had to. Besides, he reasoned, he'd know in his gut if he wasn't.

Wouldn't he?

Chapter Five

"I don't have any brothers or a father. Tell me about them. Your dad, and your brothers."

"Well, my dad is--" Scott dropped off in mid-sentence. He'd never actually had to describe his father to anyone before. Then a smile crept across his face. "My dad is a good man, Jake. He likes to help people and he owns a really big company."

"Does he play with you?"

Scott all-out grinned. "He used to, sometimes. We're all a little too old for that now."

"You're never too old to play. My mom plays kickball with me."

"Well, Father plays tennis with us sometimes, or pool. We also have a shooting range we use together."

"Then he does play with you."

"Yeah, I guess he does."

Jake went into a coughing fit that lasted nearly a whole minute. Scott squeezed his eyes shut and was about to ask Jake if he was okay when another aftershock hit. He surrounded Jake's head and torso with his body, bowing his head over the boy's to protect him as best as he could. There were more sounds of scraping, of screeching, and pretty soon he heard another piece of concrete sliding. He braced himself.

When the chunk fell, it landed square on his injured leg, the one without the boot he'd had to leave behind earlier. In spite of trying to keep up appearances for Jake's sake, Scott threw back his head and howled as he felt the bone in his shin snap.

"I've got something!" Virgil cried. "Tin-Tin, I've got something!"

Tin-Tin moved as fast as she could over the rubble to join Virgil about one-third of the way back from what had once been the front of the office building. "Where, Virgil?" she asked, unable to contain her excitement. "Where?"

"Directly beneath me. I have two sources of heat. How much you want to bet that Scott found someone who needed rescuing, and is now trapped down there with them?"

Before either could get another word out, they heard a sound that made the hair stand up on their arms and the backs of their necks. It sounded like a wounded animal howling. Silently their eyes met. They both recognized the voice.

"Scott!" Virgil yelled, dropping to his hands and knees between twisted steel girders. "Scott, can you hear me?"

Tin-Tin raised her watch to her face. "This is the Mole calling Firefly. Come in, Firefly."

Gordon's face appeared in her watch. "Firefly here."

"Gordon, I need you to pinpoint my location and proceed here immediately." A sudden noise made her turn away from him. There was Virgil, still on his hands and knees, picking up chunks of concrete and tossing them to the side, an incredible feat even for someone as strong as he was.

"F.A.B.," Gordon replied before his image winked out.

"Mole calling Laser Cutting Vehicle."

"Uh, Laser Cutting Vehicle here."

"Brains, proceed to my coordinates immediately."

"F.A.B."

"Mole to Excavator."

"I'm with you, Tin-Tin."

"John, zero in on my location and get here as fast as you can."

"Have you found Scott?"

"I'm not certain, but we do have two life forms registering beneath this fallen building."

"I'm on my way, Tin-Tin," John replied, his face a mask of stone.

"Virgil!" she said firmly as she returned her attention to him. "You must stop this at once! Your hands will be torn to shreds!"

"I don't care," Virgil replied. "Scott! Scott, can you hear me? Answer me!"

His calls went unanswered, and he continued trying to dig his way through the never-ending pile of debris. Tin-Tin watched him, then realized that she, too, should be doing something. Sinking to her knees at Virgil's side, she lifted one end of a larger piece of concrete as he tried lifting the other. Together, they moved it off to the side. He looked up into her eyes and a silent acknowledgement passed between them.

When there was a life at stake, there was no worrying about your own health. Especially when that life belonged to family.

And they continued to dig.

Sweat poured down Scott's face, soaking into the neck of his uniform. Not only had he felt the bone break, but felt it rip through the skin of his leg as well. The slab of concrete that hit him was still there, mercilessly torturing him, making any attempt at movement unbearable. He bit his lower lip as Jake stirred in his arms.

"Scott? Scott? Are you okay?"

"Not...really..." he ground out in response.

"I'm sorry...for...screaming."

Scott had cried out so loudly he hadn't even heard Jake scream.

"I yelled louder than you did," he said, pain so evident in his strangled-sounding voice. Dammit, no. Shock...shock is starting to set in. No...

There were a few moments of silence as Scott tried to keep himself lucid. He wrapped his arms around Jake, whose every breath was very clearly taken with great effort.

"Are you hurt bad?"

"Me? No, it's just a scratch. Why do you ask?"

"I wouldn't want you...to never see your dad again...because of me."

"Don't you worry, Jake. This is what we do. Sometimes we have to risk injury to make sure other people live."

"Yeah, I guess..." Jake's voice trailed off and he was quiet for a moment before continuing. "I guess when there are lives at stake, you must risk it."

God, that sounds like something Virgil would say.

Scott half-smiled. "You remind me of one of my brothers."

"Really? What's his name?"

Scott hesitated. Well, truly, what would it hurt? "Virgil. His name's Virgil."

"No way! That's my middle name."

Scott managed a small laugh. "It is?"

"Yeah, Mom said--" Jake coughed again. "She said it's my dad's first name."

"That's one heck of a--" Scott stopped cold.

My God, that's who he reminds me of. He reminds me of...Virgil!

"If we...get out..." Jake gasped, "I'm...going to make...my mom...take me...to meet...my father."

"Jake?" Scott tried desperately to keep his voice steady. This couldn't be...it just couldn't be.

"Yeah?"

"When were you born?"

"November...twelfth...2018."

Scott's mind raced even as it tried to shut down. 2018...November...that would mean he'd been conceived in...the winter.

It couldn't be.

That's when Virgil and his classmates from DIT had been in Lancaster working on the SASS.

My God. My God, my God. It can't be.

But he remembered Jake's face...his mannerisms, just the way he looked at him. He was so familiar.

Could Jake be...Virgil's son?

Scott's heart rose and caught in his throat. Half of him wanted to just blurt it out, but how could he be sure? As Jake continued trying to breathe, Scott realized the hopelessness of it all. Even if Virgil and the others did find them now, the child was nearly gone.

My God, if this...it's...he's...he's Virgil's son. And he's going to...

His eyes welled up with tears.

He's going to die.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I know who your father is."

"What? How?"

"Well, you know how I told you that you remind me of my brother Virgil?"

"Yeah," Jake spat out between coughs.

"You look kind of like he did when he was your age."

"I do?"

"And he was here in Lancaster back when you were..." Scott couldn't continue. Virgil...Virgil had a son. A son he'd never known. A son who was about to die. "I think my brother is your father."

It made sense. It all made perfect sense.

Jake was quiet for a few minutes before speaking. "What's your last name?"

"Tracy," Scott choked out.

The boy shifted slightly. "Tracy. That's Virgil's last name, too?"

"Yes, Jake."

"I...that means...if he's my dad...that means you're my uncle."

"Yeah, I guess it does," Scott replied, his head beginning to spin. He knew he was losing blood fast. In spite of being afraid of hurting Jake further, he wrapped his arms more tightly around the boy and held him to his chest.

"Uncle Scott."

Scott nearly lost it right then and there. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. All this time, Virgil had had a son. And now, before he'd even get to meet him, Jake would die.

"Yeah, Jake. I'm Uncle Scott."

Suddenly Jake's body stiffened. He arched back into Scott's chest, desperately trying to take in a gulp of air.

"Come on, Jake, breathe. Breathe."

He heard the intake and felt Jake's lungs expand, and breathed a sigh of relief. Relief he knew was short-lived.

"So...you...you're all International...R-R-R..."

"Yes, we're International Rescue, Jake. I'm the oldest, and Virgil's the next oldest. Then there's John, Gordon and Alan."

"No...sisters?"

He smiled in spite of the situation. "No. Just brothers. There's also Father. Your...your grandfather, Jake."

"What's...what's his name?"

"His name is Jeff. And our grandma, your great-grandma. Her name is Ruth."

"I-I have a...a great-grandma?"

"You sure do. And two very good friends who live with us."

"Where...?"

"We live on an island."

"Tell me...tell me what it looks like."

"It's beautiful," Scott replied, wishing he were back there now soaking up the rays of the sun. "There are palm trees and the house, and a roundhouse, too. We have a big pool and caves that your uncle--" Scott faltered. "--your Uncle Alan likes to go exploring. You would really like it there, Jake."

And you'll never get to see it.

"I...I always wanted to find my dad," Jake choked out. "But I never...I never thought...he'd be...International Rescue."

"He sure is."

"What's he like?"

"Virgil is a very good man, just like our father." Scott's eyes teared up as he realized he was telling a boy about the father he would never see. "He's an engineer, and he also paints pictures and plays the piano."

"I paint," Jake replied, a hint of pride evident even in his fading voice.

"You do? What do you paint?"

"Lots...lots of things. People...trees...what--" he coughed hard, desperately trying to clear his lungs. "Whatever I want."

"Are you any good?"

"My mom says...she says I have talent."

"Well, Jake, you come by it naturally, then."

"Can I...please...I always wanted to...to be part of...International--" Here Jake just stopped altogether, unable to continue speaking. Trying to do that and breathe at the same time was simply too difficult a task.

"Well, I'll tell you what. I'll make you an honorary member of International Rescue," Scott said sadly, knowing the boy would never have the chance to grow up and become an actual member of the team. He struggled for a moment with a clasp on his waist, but had soon removed his light blue sash.

"Here," he said, pushing Jake up into more of a sitting position. "I'll put my sash on you. That means you're a full-fledged member of International Rescue now." He rested the upper portion of the sash on Jake's shoulder, then reached down to fasten the bottom of it ‘round his waist.

"I can't...believe it."

"Believe it. And Jake, nobody deserves it more than you." Jake fell into another round of coughing so deep and terrifying that he began to cry in earnest. Scott held him close, one hand stroking his head, the other his arm. "It's okay, Jake. It'll be okay." But he didn't believe his own words.

"Uncle Scott?"

A jab of anguish seared through his heart. "Yeah, Jake?"

"Am I going to die?"

Scott opened his mouth, but no sound would emerge. He fought to control his emotions, to keep his mind focused, to stave off the overwhelming urge to pass out. A single tear trickled out of his right eye as he replied in a near-whisper, "I don't know, Jake. I honestly don't know."

Fighting for each and every breath now, Jake continued to speak. "I'm glad...I got to...meet you."

Scott's lower lip trembled as more tears left his eyes. He knew what Jake was really saying was I wish I could've met my father.

"I am, too, Jake. I've never had a nephew before, and if I had to choose anyone for the job, it'd be you." Scott could almost feel the life force oozing from Jake's body. He lowered his mouth to the boy's head, tears falling into his hair.

"Uncle Scott?"

Barely able to speak, he said, "Yes?"

"Tell...my father..."

Scott felt Jake exhale. But...he didn't take another breath. "Jake?" No response. "Jake?" Nothing.

Jake Koen...Virgil's son...was dead.

An involuntary sob wrenched from his gut as the combination of blood loss, shock and grief finally overwhelmed him. He squeezed Jake's body one more time before blessed darkness claimed him.

And the earth shook.

Chapter Six

John, Brains and Gordon arrived on the scene and immediately converged upon the spot where Virgil and Tin-Tin were still desperately trying to remove debris.

Brains grabbed the Life Sign Indicator from the ground where Virgil had let it fall and ran a scan. He frowned. Then he ran another scan. His frown deepened. "Uh, Tin-Tin?"

"Yes, Brains?" she responded, rising to her feet and wiping her hands on her uniform.

"Did you say there were two life signs registering?"

"Yes, I saw the readout myself. There were definitely two. Why?"

Virgil froze as Brains turned the LSI monitor toward her. "Brains?"

"Virgil," Tin-Tin breathed. "There's...there's only one now."

"No," Virgil replied, beginning his efforts anew. "No! Scott!"

"Virgil, for God's sake, would you stop?" John said, reaching down and yanking at his older brother's arm.

"Get off me!" Virgil yelled.

"Virg, goddammit, we have to have a plan of action!"

"We don't even know for sure it's him, do we?" Gordon interjected.

"No, we don't," Tin-Tin admitted.

"It has to be," Virgil said, helpless eyes looking up at his brothers. "I have to get him out."

"We have to get him out, Virg," John retorted. "And we're going to do it right."

"What do you have in mind, uh, John?"

"Well, Brains, we don't know how stable what's left of this building is. Using something as large as Firefly to doze a clearer path might cause more injury to whoever's down there."

Virgil rose to his feet as some semblance of reason began to return to his mind. "And the ground is just too unstable for the Mole. Not to mention the effect aftershocks might have on successfully getting down or back up to the surface."

"Well, we can't move these girders on our own," Tin-Tin pointed out. "They're far too large."

John looked at Virgil. Virgil looked at Gordon. Gordon looked back at John and smiled. "Not for Tracys, they're not."

"We'll work together," Virgil said, his spirits lifting. "Between us we ought to be able to get enough of this pulled away to at least use shovels."

"I'll return to Thunderbird 2 and get them, Virgil."

"No, Tin-Tin," Gordon piped up. "Your hands are torn to shreds, you should have them bandaged."

"Gordon, I--"

"He's, uh, right, Tin-Tin. I-I'll take you back to Two, fix up your hands and return with the shovels. I-In the meantime, you should stay in contact with, uh, Base a-and Thunderbird 5 about our e-efforts."

"Then let's get to it!" Virgil said, turning and bending to pick up one end of a partially twisted girder.

John took the other end while Gordon took the middle. "On three," John said. "1...2...3!" They applied every ounce of strength they had to the task at hand. Slowly the girder began to move.

Brains and Tin-Tin boarded the Laser Cutter and headed back for Thunderbird 2 as the brothers continued what amounted to a massive undertaking. In the end, they successfully moved the three girders which had been blocking their way far enough to the side that the way down to Scott...or whomever was trapped down there...was unobstructed.

"Okay, now," Virgil said. "Until Brains returns with those shovels, let's go after these larger chunks of concrete and wood. Watch your hands, there's glass everywhere."

John and Gordon took note of the fact that Virgil's hands were covered in blood, but they said nothing. There was no way Virgil was going to go anywhere to have his hands bandaged up. Not right now.

Each brother lifted what debris they could, and worked together to move that which was too heavy for one alone. Their uniform shirts were soaked as sweat poured down their faces and necks in the heat of a California afternoon. Soon they heard the familiar sound of a hover bike, and within seconds of that, Brains had given each of them a shovel.

"Dig," Virgil breathed, his mind wandering to the fact that there was now only one life form reading down below. It had to be Scott.

Please, God. Please let it be Scott. Please.

Just as they began digging into the rubble, another aftershock hit sending all of them flying to the ground. As it began to subside, their blood curdled in their veins when a scream rang out.

Scrambling to their feet, John and Gordon raced toward the back of the building, the direction in which the sound had come from. It had been a woman, of that much they were certain. Obviously there was another victim besides the one they were digging for.

Virgil continued to work with his shovel. Without a word, Brains picked up the one Gordon had dropped and started digging himself. They heaved pile after pile of rubble off to the side as, not twelve feet away, John and Gordon undertook a second rescue. They could see nothing but an arm sticking out from beneath a large chunk of concrete. They began to pull at the concrete with all their might.

"We've got a live one here!" John called out as he and Gordon raced to free the trapped woman.

Virgil and Brains continued to dig through the rubble. Lifting one particularly large load on his shovel, Virgil misstepped when his foot hit an odd-shaped piece of concrete. He dropped the shovel just as he tipped forward into the hole they'd created.

Tucking his head under his arm, Virgil braced for impact. He landed shoulder-first in the hole...but didn't stop. Without warning, the rest of the rubble gave way, and Virgil completely disappeared.

"Virgil!" Brains cried, dropping his shovel and sinking to his knees at the edge of the hole. "Virgil!"

John and Gordon's heads whipped around. "Go help, Gordo, I've got this one."

Gordon nodded and headed to Brains' side. "What happened?"

"He fell in!"

"Go get a rope from the Mole."

"F.A.B.," Brains replied, rising to his feet and scurrying away.

Virgil coughed and choked on the dust he'd stirred up. He rubbed his eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths.

"You okay?" he heard Gordon call out from above.

"Yes!" he yelled up. "I got--" He coughed some more. "I got the wind knocked out of me!"

"What do you see?"

"Hang on!"

Virgil turned over, pushed himself to his hands and knees and looked up. He was on a large concrete slab, and in front of him was another slab leaning down from above at a very odd angle. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, the only light coming from the hole he'd made.

His eyes followed the outline of the slab in front of him down...down...down...

Virgil gasped.

For just beneath that he saw what he hadn't seen before. Light blue fabric. And there was dark blue fabric in front of it.

"Scott! Scott!"

"Virgil, what is it?"

But Virgil paid no attention to Gordon's question.

Please let him be alive, please let him be alive.

Virgil moved forward and reached out to touch the little bit of body wearing the dark blue fabric. A hand to the chest revealed this smaller person wasn't alive. He scooted further forward and touched the only part of the light blue he could at that point...an arm. He moved down along the arm to a wrist.

There was a pulse.

"Gordo! Get down here now!"

Gordon complied immediately, dropping the four-foot distance in seconds. Brains poked his head down into the hole. "I-I'm lowering the, uh, rope!"

"Virgil, what...oh, my God," Gordon breathed as he took in the scene before them.

"We can't move these slabs on our own. Here, hand me that rope."

Gordon grabbed the rope and handed it over. "Is it Scott?"

"One of ‘em is."

"What's the action?"

"That slab over there, the one covering their heads, we've got to move it."

Gordon moved immediately to the left of the slab, Virgil squeezed around to the right. He threw his brother part of the rope, which Gordon fitted around his end of the slab. There was only a small space behind it, barely large enough for their arms, but Gordon managed to pass the rope through it to where Virgil could grab it. He pulled it through and tied it securely to the length of rope he had on his end. Tugging at it a couple of times, he determined it was as secure as they could make it.

"Brains!" Virgil shouted up through the hole.

"Yes!"

"I need you down here now!"

Brains dropped down into the space feet-first. "What do you need me to, uh, do, Virgil?"

"Gordon and I are going to pull this slab away from their faces. I need you to move them to the side as best you can while we hold it."

"F.A.B.," Brains replied, scurrying over to the right of the slab.

Virgil stepped over the concrete covering Scott's and the victim's legs. Gordon came ‘round behind him, and the two grasped the length of rope firmly in their hands. "On three, Gordo. 1...2...3!"

The men grunted with the effort of trying to move the concrete. But as impossible as it seemed, their efforts paid off. "O-Okay, you can stop!" Brains said as he grabbed the fabric covering two shoulders. Pulling with all his might, he finally managed to move Scott's and what he discovered was a child's face about six inches out from the edge of the slab. "Let her go!"

Gordon and Virgil slowly eased the slab back into position.

"Is he alive?"

"Y-Yes, Virgil. His pulse is weak, though."

"Let's get this concrete off their legs. Gordon, you take that side."

"On it."

"Brains, there isn't much room, but pull their legs out as quick as you can when we get this slab up."

"F.A.B."

Gordon went to the far side of the concrete next to Brains, who crouched with his hands on the little bit of fabric on Scott's pants he could reach. Virgil knelt on the near side of the slab and looked up at Gordon.

"1...2...3!"

Sweat rolled down their faces and necks, white teeth bared as they strained to lift the slab. Brains grabbed Scott's leg, pulling and pulling with all his strength.

"I-I can't!" he panted. "There's a girder!"

"Dammit!" Virgil swore as he and Gordon eased the slab back down. "We need to break this up," he suggested, wiping the sweat from his brow. "John!" he yelled up through the hole. "John!"

Within seconds, John's blonde head was peeking down at them. "What is it? Is it Scott? Is he alive?"

"Yes! But we need to break a slab of concrete or we won't be able to get him out!"

"I'll get the hammer!"

Virgil nodded as he returned his attention to the scene before him. Gordon and Brains were kneeling next to Scott and the boy. Virgil peered through the semi-darkness at the boy's face. An odd feeling came over him. He sure looks familiar.

His gut twisted, but he had no idea why.

Above ground, John ran into the Mole and grabbed a miniature jackhammer. He raced back to the hole and yelled, "Coming down!" before dropping the two-foot-tall piece of equipment to them. "Anything else?"

"Not now!" Virgil called out. "How's the victim?"

"Broken legs, a few other broken bones! Am securing for transport!"

"F.A.B.! Get ready for when we start bringing Scott and the boy out!"

"The boy?" John mumbled to himself as he headed back to his female victim. So sad. Scott had tried to rescue a child, but that child hadn't survived. As badly as John felt, he couldn't help but be glad the one who'd survived had been his brother. A twinge of guilt passed through his chest.

But these men were, after all, only human. This was their brother. It was a natural response.

John grimaced as he gently eased the woman onto a backboard. Only human. Natural response.

"Then why do I feel so awful about it?"

Virgil worked at breaking up the slab of concrete with the miniature jackhammer while Brains studied Scott's position. He climbed over them to the near side and soon discovered that Scott himself wasn't stuck under the girder at all. Only the boy was. He motioned for Gordon to join him, and with a few simple hand gestures was able to convey what was going on. The noise of the hammer drowned out any possibility of speaking.

Only ten minutes later, Virgil had enough of the slab broken up that it was short work for he and the others to remove the chunks of concrete and free Scott's legs. As they worked, Gordon relayed that Scott would be easiest to extricate first given that he wasn't trapped beneath the girder. Virgil agreed that Gordon and Brains should pull Scott to safety while Virgil would look after the boy.

Gordon looked sadly at the child's limp form. Scott had put his sash on him to try and keep him calm, no doubt. Or make him happy as he lay dying in Scott's arms. He shivered as he and Brains tried to pull Scott away from the boy. They both frowned at the same time, and Virgil asked why they'd stopped.

"He's holding tight to the child," Brains replied.

Virgil got a better look and saw Scott's arms were wrapped tightly around the child's chest, his hands grasping his forearms to secure the position. He reached down and, with no small amount of effort, managed to loosen Scott's hold and pull his arms away. It was only then that he seemed to notice the light blue sash on the child's torso. He set his jaw and said, "Okay, get Scott out and onto a board. We can't secure him down here, that hole's not big enough for a full body board to go through. I'll need you back here to help me get the boy, Gordon."

Gordon only nodded. The sight of this child was obviously affecting his brother. Hell, it was affecting all of them. A child had died. That always hurt. But it made it just that much more painful knowing Scott had tried to save him. And knowing that Scott would self-flagellate once he regained consciousness.

In spite of the fact that things were very often out of his control, Scott tended to blame himself for not succeeding in situations such as this. Undoubtedly he'd done everything humanly possible to keep the kid alive, but he'd find some reason for beating himself up over his death, of that all three were certain.

Brains reached up – the hole was only four feet deep, and so it was easy for him to hike himself out of it. Then he turned on his belly and reached down into the hole. "Pass him up."

Gordon lifted Scott's hands, which Brains grasped. The engineer pulled while Gordon lifted from below.

"John!" Brains called out when Scott was halfway up. "Board!"

John raced over to Brains and helped him haul Scott the rest of the way out. They worked at securing him to a body board while Gordon turned his attention back to Virgil and the boy.

"Looks like we'll need a laser," Gordon said after taking a better look at the girder. He went back over to the hole. "Need a laser cutter!"

"F.A.B.!" he heard John reply.

Gordon turned back toward the boy and noted once more the dirty blue sash over his chest. He just shook his head and watched as Virgil knelt next to the child on one knee. He reached out and straightened the sash, then closed the boy's eyes, which were wide open.

"Coming down!"

Gordon jumped slightly when John yelled, but he recovered quickly enough to catch the small laser cutter when it fell. Without a word he went to work cutting the girder. How he hated rescues like this. Hated them.

At least Scott's alive.

Chapter Seven

"At least you're alive," John said softly as he and Brains finished securing Scott to the board.

"He sure is, uh, lucky," Brains remarked. He looked to a spot a few yards away. "You have the o-other victim secure?"

"Almost. I just finished splinting her legs and arm. Just have to strap her down."

"Go a-ahead. I'll get Scott back to the, uh, Mole."

"F.A.B."

In no time, Gordon had cut through the girder. He threw both the laser cutter and the small jackhammer back up through the hole as Virgil pulled one side of the split girder away.

The child's legs were completely crushed, a mangled, bloody mess of flesh, bone and dirt.

"Go on up," Virgil said quietly.

Gordon nodded and hoisted himself up through the hole, pushing the two small pieces of equipment to the side. He waited until Virgil appeared below him, the boy cradled in his arms. Just the sight of it made his heart catch in his throat. But he pushed that aside as Virgil lifted the child's head and torso up.

Grabbing his arms, Gordon pulled until he had the child held firmly against him. Virgil then lifted himself up to ground level and silently held out his arms. Gordon handed the boy over, the unspoken pain of the moment hanging like a tangible thing in the air between them. Gordon turned away, following Brains, who was taking Scott to the Mole.

Virgil looked down at the boy's angelic face. He turned slightly as he heard a hover stretcher approaching. It was John with the female victim. The brothers locked eyes for a moment before Virgil looked away. He turned to take the child to the Mole.

"My son..."

John stopped.

"Where's my son?" the woman rasped.

"Your son? Where was he?"

"Here. In the building. His name's Jake. Where is he? Please, I must find him."

"Your..." John turned to where Virgil was just a few feet away. He'd stopped and turned when he'd heard the woman mention her son.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, he didn't...he didn't make it."

"No!" she cried. "No! Jake! Let me see him! Let me see him!"

Reluctantly, Virgil turned and headed back to where she lay on the hover board.

When she saw him, she gasped.

"Virgil? Virgil Tracy?"

John frowned as he looked at Virg, then back at the woman.

"Do you remember me?"

He looked at her...looked hard.

"Cindy. We met here at Paolo's Restaurant, remember?"

Realization dawned.

Cindy...it can't be.

"Virg? What is it?"

Cindy? But...

"Virg?"

Virgil looked down at the boy in his arms, then back to the woman. His head shook slightly.

Cindy...this boy...look at him...that's...it can't...no. No.

"Virgil, what the heck is wrong?"

Virgil looked from the woman to the boy and back again, over and over, as though trying to comprehend something incomprehensible.

John came forward and touched Virgil's arm. "Answer me."

Suddenly the world began to spin out of control as Virgil stumbled backwards. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "Oh, my God."

Chapter Eight

The soft sound of the heart monitor beeping was barely heard by the man who sat in a chair staring at the immobile form on the bed in front of him.

Why didn't you tell me? Dammit, Cindy. Damn you.

Scott was fine. He was in a room down the hall. His broken shin had been repaired; it was only a matter of time before it would heal. He had a concussion, but other than that he'd come out of it all right. Virgil had sat by his bedside for a couple of hours before being reluctantly drawn to Cindy's room.

Now he just stared at her as her chest slowly rose and fell.

In a world where secrecy was all-important, where relationships were difficult at best, nearly impossible at worst, a Tracy had managed to have a son.

Only to have him taken away before he'd ever known of his existence.

How could you keep me from my own son?

He was startled when he heard his name whispered. His eyes focused and saw that Cindy was awake, her open eyes filled with tears.

"I'm...Virgil, I..."

He rose to his feet and came to stand by the bed. As much as he knew he should feel bad for her, a mother having just lost her son, he could find nothing but anger in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Virgil."

"You're...sorry?" he ground out.

Her lower lip trembled.

"How could you...why...why didn't you tell me?"

"Virgil, I...it was a one-night stand. You didn't even come back to the restaurant for the rest of your time here, I--by the time I found out I was pregnant, you were long gone."

"You knew where I was!" he retorted in a fierce whisper. "You knew my name."

"I also knew you were rich and you were in college, on your way to becoming an engineer. You didn't need me and a baby changing your life."

He just stared at her.

"I didn't want you to think I'd done it on purpose, to get at your money." Her voice was tired and small as tears escaped her eyes.

"You said you were protected."

"I wanted you," she replied simply.

He shook his head and turned away, balling his fists as he tried desperately to control the pain that threatened to overwhelm him.

"You had no right to make that decision, Cindy. He was my son."

She watched his back tremble ever so slightly before he straightened and was still once more. "What would you have done? Married me? Quit school? What?"

He whirled on her. "I don't know!" he nearly yelled. "I was never given the chance to make that decision!"

She began to cry in earnest. "I'm sorry," she repeated over and over again. "I'm so sorry."

Virgil's face softened. It was done. It was over. Jake was gone now, and there was nothing he could do to change the past. And this mother had lost her eight-year old son.

Their son.

He reached down and touched his fingertips to her arm. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

And then he was gone.

It was in the wee hours of the next morning that Scott rose to consciousness. His first thought was that he hurt like hell, especially his leg. His second thought was that his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. His third thought was...

Holy shit, earthquake!

...to wonder why his bed was shaking.

His eyes snapped open.

Oh, shit, not again.

It took a few seconds for him to realize it wasn't an earthquake. He could feel something on his left arm, and moved his head a little, causing him to wince. What he saw made him remember not only what he had figured out on his own, but made him realize that Virgil must have figured it out, too.

Virgil was sitting next to the bed, his head bowed over on his arms, hair touching Scott's arm. His whole body was shaking.

Scott's heart rose to his throat and tears came to his eyes. He lifted his hand and laid it on Virgil's head.

Grief had come. Virgil wept for a child's life lost. Wept for the child that was his. The child he never even got a chance to know.

"He..." Virgil choked, his voice muffled by his arms. "He was...my son."

One tear escaped Scott's eye. "I know, Virgil," he said softly, stroking the chestnut hair. "I know."

"Tell me about him."

Scott swallowed hard as Virgil raised his tear-stained face. "He painted," he replied. "And he was very brave. He was..." Scott paused as Virgil wiped his face with his sleeve. "He was just like you."

Virgil shook with the effort to keep himself together.

"Come here," Scott whispered. He put his arms around Virgil as best he could, his brother's face on his chest. He felt wetness on his gown and his throat tightened.

"He was my son."

Scott bowed his head over his brother's.

As the evening stars outside began to fade, that's how they remained.

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, who said, "Suffer the little children to come unto me," we commend to Almighty God this child, Jake Koen, and we commit his body to the ground. Earth to earth. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."

The only other sound was a woman crying.

"The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make His face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him His peace. Amen."

There were murmured Amen's in response. Slowly the small group of people began walking away, stopping to lay a hand on the woman dressed all in black. There were children, friends, mothers, fathers, teachers. When most of them had gone, the woman looked across the casket to the group of men and women who stood there. She had only just met them the day before when they all arrived in town for Jake's funeral. She watched as one of them walked around the small casket to join her. He put his arm around her, much to her surprise.

"Will you...come back to the hotel?"

"We can't. We have to go."

Cindy nodded. "Thank you for coming. And thank your family for me."

Virgil dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"You're not...angry with me anymore?"

He shook his head. No, he wasn't angry. Just...he felt defeated.

Virgil looked up and saw everyone's eyes on him and Cindy. His father's face was unreadable as he nodded once and turned to walk away. Alan and Gordon looked at him, then followed their dad. Tin-Tin, Kyrano and Ruth, the women with eyes full of tears, followed suit. John nodded to him and helped his grandmother away.

The only one left, Scott hobbled over on his crutches to where they stood. "He was a brave young man," Scott said. "You should be proud of him."

"I am," Cindy replied, a small smile gracing her features. "Thank you for letting him...be buried with your sash."

"He's family," Scott said. "It seemed the right thing to do."

Cindy looked across the cemetery to where a man and a woman waited. "I should go. My parents are waiting." She looked up at Virgil. "Thank you."

"For what?" Virgil asked, genuinely perplexed.

"For giving me Jake."

He swallowed hard.

"Good-bye, Virgil."

The brothers watched as she walked away. Their father had already seen to it that a headstone had been created and delivered. It sat off to the side, waiting for the body to be buried before being set into the ground.

Virgil and Scott's eyes both wandered to the writing on the stone.

JAKE VIRGIL KOEN TRACY

"Come on, Virg. Let's go."

Virgil looked up at the sky. It was gray. It had been since dawn. Gray like the blanket covering his heart, as though the heavens sat in silent mourning with him. And maybe they did.

"Good-bye, Jake," Virgil whispered as Scott turned to leave. "Good-bye."