by Cindy Combs
"Now, I know Blair's okay right now. I can feel it. But I want you to promise me something. No matter what happens, now or in the future, don't close yourself off from people. Trust me, existing is a lousy way to live." Jim turned to pin his laser blue eyes on the young man.
Sam paused a moment, soaking in Jim's unusually long speech. "I promise," he replied.
After another moment of studying the solemn brown eyes, Jim turned his attention back to the road. A few moments later, his sentinel ears heard a softly spoken, "Thank you."
Inside the cliff, Bar M Ranch
A tall, thin man carried a tray of stew and coffee down the stone hallway while a short, dark man holding a gun followed. Admittedly, the prisoner hadn't been much trouble so far, but they had heard the stories from Florida. The skinny college boy didn't look like he'd be much trouble, either. However, it didn't hurt to be careful.
Upon opening the door, the first man quickly spotted the sneaky prisoner curled up on the mattress, but there was no sign of the college boy. "Hey!" the tall man shouted, jerking the prisoner awake. "Where's the other one?"
Brown eyes blinked at him in confusion. "What other one?"
"You know, the skinny, long-haired guy!"
Slowly, Mac sat up and looked around the room. "I don't see anybody else."
The dark man stepped up to join the first in confronting the prisoner. "Stop playing dumb. Tell us where he is."
"You think I'M dumb?"
Suddenly, a heavy metal grate swung down from the ceiling, hitting both men. Mac winced as the tray of food slid across the floor, slopping stew and coffee everywhere. Blair dropped down from the hole, checking to make sure they were out cold. Mac smiled as he picked up the journal from the table. "Nice job."
"Thanks." Blair swiftly walked over to the fallen tray, dumping the remaining coffee out of a mug into the sink.
"Blair, we need…"
"Yeah, I know," he replied, pouring the stew left in a bowl into the mug. He handed the mug to Mac. "Eat. You'll need the energy." Blair then grabbed his backpack and ushered his father out the door.
Struggling to remember how he had been brought in, Blair led Mac down the stone halls into the main part of the building.
"Did you move the cattle in the back pasture to Dorry Park?" Madison's voice echoed around them.
Mac grabbed Blair's arm, pulling him into another side passage. Hearing more voices, they ducked through a door and found themselves in a kitchen. Silently, Mac pushed Blair down behind an island before the cook could spot them. The chubby, gray hair man was whistling as he finished loading dishes into sudsy water. As he turned to the oven, Blair and Mac scrabbled across the linoleum floor and out the side door.
Blue, yellow and orange stretched across the horizon, signaling the coming night. Crouched down by a fence, Mac studied the horses milling around the corral. "Can you ride?"
"Who, me?" Blair whispered, squinting to see the ranch hands on the other side in the dusk. "Sorry, Jim got the highbrow education with the horseback riding lessons. I just got to ride the merry-go-round ponies. Except for that time at my cousins' in Texas, but I was only seven and that old nag didn't like me. I think the problem was…"
Mac clamped a hand around Blair's mouth as he spotted another ranch hand approaching their position. If the chatter hadn't clued him in to Blair's nervousness, the slight tremors from his son did. Together, they watched the man pass within a couple of feet of their location to join his fellows across the corral.
"Do you know what that building over to the left is?" Mac whispered in Blair's ear, removing his hand.
"It looked like a maintenance shed," Blair softly replied back. "I saw an old engine outside it next to some rusty drums."
"Then let's check it out," Mac suggested. Crouched low, they scurried over to the shed.
Once inside, Mac swiftly took a quick inventory of the contents. Like most garages, this one was full of discarded equipment and supplies. Then in the corner, Mac spied a motorcycle. He walked over to the machine. A quick check revealed that is was well maintained and should start. He walked back to the doorway where Blair was keeping watch. "Can you ride a motorcycle?"
"Those I can do," Blair replied with a smile. "Naomi dated a motorcycle racer when I was eleven. Only one hitch." He pointed to the men working on an engine near the barn. Both were armed.
Mac glanced back, noting the oily rags, the leftover fertilizer, the engine starting fluid, empty oil cans, and the pile of old straw just outside the shed. "Oh, I think I can come up with a little diversion. Think you could sneak that bike behind the barn near those bushes without being seen?"
"Not a problem."
"Okay, wait for me there, and be prepared to start the bike and ride."
As Mac started to turn, Blair softly called out, "Mac?"
Turning back, Mac replied, "Yeah?"
"You might need this." Blair tossed him his Swiss army knife.
Mac caught it, then stared back at Blair in amazement. "How'd you hide this?"
Blair grinned, "On any morning that starts as bad as this one, I've learned to take precautions. I put it in my boot."
Ten minutes later
Blair ran his thumb along the ridges of the bike's handhold as he watched the men from the bushes. He wasn't quite sure what Mac was up to, but had a feeling it was going to be good. He took a deep breath. He felt better, knowing Mac was getting back up to speed. Yet he was still worried. Who knew how long Mac's current energy spurt would last? Blair wouldn't be happy until Mac was in the hospital, getting the care he needed.
Glancing back, he could barely make out the dark figure crawling around the pile of straw in the distance. As dry as it was, Mac probably didn't need much from the shed to make a really nice diversion. Blair turned his attention back to the men in front of them.
Suddenly, Mac appeared next to him. "Let's go!" he whispered urgently. Remembering Mac's background in explosives, Blair didn't need to be told twice. He was starting the engine just as the first oil can blew, shooting up into the night with a trail of impressive sparks.
One mile from the Bar M Ranch
Sam stood back. No, he couldn't see the jeep sitting in the rocks with the juniper bushes in front. "Looks good, Jim."
"Okay," Jim replied, stepping out from the rocks. "Let's start walking. The sooner we scout the place out, the sooner we can find a way to spring Blair and your dad."
Just as they turned towards the ranch, a trail of light shot up into the sky, soon followed by many more. Jim winced from the explosion that even Sam could hear in the distance. "What the hell is going on?"
A wide smile stretched across Sam's face. "Oh, I'd say Dad's on the loose."
Late evening, Fortuity
Deputy Nighthawk stood outside the door of the Fortuity News. He took a deep breath, working up the courage to do what he knew had to be done. Several people had warned him that Sheriff Raston was crooked, but Toby hadn't wanted to believe it. Yet after all stuff that had happened today, Toby was forced to admit something was wrong. It hurt since he took pride in doing the best job he could for the small community. Yet the only people he truly trusted at that moment in the county was Jill and her dad. Oh, well, his grandmother the shaman said he would be making a difficult choice between loyalty and truth. It was time to make that decision. With another breath and a quick glance around, he stepped inside.
Jill and her father were already sitting with Karl Dunn, a nephew of Ted Rhodes. "I'm telling you, something weird is…" He stopped when he spotted Toby.
"Is going on around here?" Toby finished. "I'd agree with that."
"Toby," Jill warned, her eyes concerned. "You might not want to hear this."
"No, I can already guess. There was a big-city cop here with the brother of his partner. Good men. They claimed that the partner was abducted and brought here. The sheriff gave them the run-around. I just now overheard him telling his main guys that his cousin Winston needed some extra help."
"Extra help?" Jill repeated. She looked at her father. "Do you think Sam and Detective Ellison are in trouble?"
"Possibly," Mr. Rhodes replied. He pulled out the business card Malloy had given him. "I think I better call this Phoenix Foundation."
One half mile from Bar M Ranch
Blair was riding as fast as he dared. Yet with the extra weight of riding double and trying to avoid potholes and ruts in the growing darkness, it didn't feel nearly fast enough. Not that it hadn't been fun seeing a few of the homemade rockets Mac had set off. He just didn't think Madison would appreciate the Fourth of July a few weeks late.
An exposed root in the road, about the same color as the dirt, was their undoing. The bike flipped up into the air, dumping its passengers.
"You okay, Mac?" Blair glanced down at the road rash scraped down his arm, deciding it wasn't too bad. At least nothing was broken.
"Yeah," Mac replied, brushing the dust off his jeans. He gave his son a smile. "You know, Harry always use to tell me not to ride my bike after dark."
Blair chuckled. "Well, I doubt Harry ever had a group of enraged cowboys after him!"
"Nope, probably not." Mac took the hand Blair offered and stood up, promptly swaying.
"Mac?" Blair steadied his father, a wealth of worry in his voice.
"I'm okay, just stood up too fast."
Yeah, right. Blair looked around. "It really is too dark to be riding on this road."
"Agree. Let's hide the bike and get off the road. They're less likely to find us that way."
Jim stopped, putting a hand behind him to let Sam know he'd stopped. While Jim could see fine in starlight, he knew Sam was having trouble. They had only been making such good time by having Sam rest his hand on Jim's back. While not as practiced at it as Blair, Sam was catching on.
"What is it?" Sam whispered.
"I hear Blair and your father. Come on, let's catch up."
Blair studied the sky above them. "I wish we had more than a crescent moon tonight. We could use the light."
MacGyver sighed as he leaned against a tree. He was frustrated with himself for being so fatigued. They needed to move faster to stay ahead of Madison and his people. "Do you have any idea where we are?"
Blair turned to him and smiled. "You're asking me? I'm afraid you're with the wrong son if you want directions."
"Then it's a good thing we found you."
Blair and Mac swiftly turned to find Jim and Sam walking around some rocks. "Man, am I glad to see you!" Blair declared, greeting Jim with an arm clasp and a quick, tight hug.
"Same here, Chief." Jim lifted Blair's arm, looking at the red and dirty scrape. "You okay?"
"I'm fine. It's Mac I'm worried about."
A couple of feet away, Sam was giving Mac a big hug. "Man, Dad, do you have any idea how much we've been worried about you?"
Mac, enjoying the feel of his son's warm embrace, smiled wearily. "Blair mentioned something about that."
Stepping back, Sam studied his father as best he could in the darkness. "Are you okay, Dad?" Mac seemed thinner than normal.
"Why don't I check you out?" Jim suggested as he and Blair walked over to them.
Mac rolled his eyes. "I'll be okay. We have a gang of angry men behind us, so we'd better be moving."
Jim paused, stretching out his hearing. "They're still fighting the fire you set and calming the livestock. We've got a few minutes." He took Mac's arm and led him to a nearby boulder.
"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked Blair in a low voice as he gratefully hugged his brother.
"He's had malaria for over a week now."
"Damn."
Jim lightly felt Mac's bruises, noting the swelling but relieved not to find any signs of broken bones or internal bleeding. He met Mac's eyes, judging the fatigue he saw in them. "Think you can walk about another quarter mile?"
"What's in another quarter mile?"
"The jeep Sam and I stashed. It also has some food and the first aid kit so I can clean up your wrists."
Mac took a deep breath. "Then I can make it."
Back at the jeep, Jim suddenly paused. "Jim?" Blair whispered, laying a hand on his sentinel's arm. The head tilt clued Blair. "What do you hear?"
"The sheriff and some of his men are setting up on the road down below us. They are planning a trap for when you and Mac would pass them on the motorcycle." Jim turned back towards the ranch. "Madison's men are planning to cut off the route near the ranch. If you don't turn up in a couple hours, they'll start a more extensive search."
Sam quietly opened up the door to the jeep and helped his weary father sit down. "Didn't we pass a four wheel drive road near here? Can you hear anyone on that road?"
Jim shifted his focus. "No, no one's on it yet."
"Think you can drive without lights?" Blair asked Jim, knowing he was the only one who had a chance in the dark night.
"No problem," Jim replied. "With all the stars, I can see fine."
Suddenly, Mac's head popped up. He gave a startled glance to Sam, then back at Blair and Jim. "Wait a minute. Ah, Sam, do you…" Mac trailed off, trying to figure out a way to ask without giving Sam questions if the answer was no. His tired mind just wasn't up to mind games.
Blair laughed quietly. "Sam knows, Mac. He figured it out this last weekend." Then Blair eagerly took a bite out of the sandwich Jim handed him. "Oh good, turkey."
"Okay." Mac also took a sandwich, then stared at it a minute. "Wait." He turned to Sam. "Wasn't this past weekend Terry's wedding in Chicago? Or am I all mixed up again?"
"No," Sam replied with a big smile. "You're fine. It was the weekend that got a little mixed up."
At Mac's puzzled expression, Jim gently clasped his shoulder. "Why don't I clean up those wrists, then find that jeep trail? Once we get going, Sam can tell you all about mad bombers and snipers in Chicago."
"Mad bombers? Snipers?" Mac repeated. He looked back at Sam. "Can't leave you alone, can I?"
"Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?"
A smile stole across Mac's face. "Touché."
Near midnight, Cheyenne, WY
Simon glanced around as he entered the small airport. It was late, he was tired, and he didn't like the silence from Jim since he and Sam had gone to check out the rancher. Add in the call from Fortuity about a crooked sheriff and Simon's instincts were screaming trouble. Something was going on and Simon was sure it wasn't anything he'd like.
"Banks!" Jack Dalton was over by the rental booth, waving his hands. He and Ms. Carpenter had flown in from Miami earlier.
"Dalton," Simon returned. He shifted his carryon over his shoulder and walked over to Mac's friend. "Any word?"
"None, except that I think our boys pulled off an escape. The young deputy, who's friends with the newspaper people helping Sam, reports that the sheriff and his inner circle are helping Madison search the area." Simon's head reeled trying to make sense of that statement. Why wasn't anything involving Sandburg ever simple? "There was also a report of an explosion."
"Explosion!"
Jack laughed. "Believe it or not, that's GOOD news - means Mac is alive and ticking. He's always exploding something so he can escape."
"If you say so…" Simon still didn't like it.
"Anyways, I've got a helicopter rented for tomorrow. We can fly out to Fortuity, see if the guys have put in an appearance. If not, we can search the area."
"Can you fly a helicopter?"
"Hey, I've flown anything that's suppose to fly. And a few things that probably shouldn't have."
Simon rolled his eyes, remembering a certain junker airplane from last summer. "Do we have any idea WHERE to search?"
"I picked up some maps," a woman's voice replied. Simon turned to see an attractive brunette of about his age with serious brown eyes. "Hopefully, the contacts in Fortuity can narrow things down for
us."
Jack smiled. "Captain, this is Nikki Carpenter, the new Assistant Director of Operations at Phoenix and a good friend of Mac's and mine. Nikki, this is Captain Simon Banks, Blair's police boss."
"Hello," Nikki replied, shaking the tall black man's hand. She guessed he had to be several inches taller than even MacGyver.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Carpenter."
Jack rubbed his hands together. "Did you get us rooms?"
Nikki sighed. "After a lot of calling I could only get us one, and we were VERY lucky to get it. Apparently, something called 'Cheyenne Frontier Days' starts this weekend, and everything within a hundred mile radius is totally booked for it. If we had tried on Thursday, we'd have been totally out of luck."
"Then I guess we're sharing, Banks."
Banks forced himself not to sigh. He had a feeling it was going to be a LONG night.
Four wheel drive trail, Northwest of Madison's ranch
When Jim suddenly stiffened, Blair was alert for it. "Jim!" he softly called out, lightly gripping his sentinel's arm and preparing to shake it.
Jim shook his head and hit the brake. Shifting the jeep into park, he then rubbed his aching eyes.
"Jim, that was the third time in the last 90 minutes," Blair reminded him. "You're not going to be able to keep this up for much longer."
"Or I'll drive us over a cliff," Jim added, still rubbing his eyes.
Gently massaging Jim's tense shoulder, Blair asked, "Can you hear Madison's and the sheriff's men?"
Drawing strength from his friend and guide, Jim closed his eyes and reached out his hearing. "They're still searching the main road, from what I can tell."
"Maybe you should get some sleep and try again when the sun comes up," Sam's voice softly suggested.
Blair and Jim turned to the back seat. "I thought you were asleep," Blair told him.
"I've been dozing." Sam was leaning against the door, the blanket-wrapped MacGyver sleeping against him.