Author's Note: This story was initially published as part of the MacGyver 9th Virtual Season. It might be helpful to read the first few "episodes" of the 8th Virtual Season, since a few of the Virtual Season 'regulars' make an appearance (Craig Phelps, David Markham), but you can probably get by without it, since they only play a small part. If you are interested, they can be found at: http://www.macvs.com.
It is helpful to be familiar with the final episode of the series, as that is where the character of Sam was intoduced. Also, there is a minor mention of the episodes that included Lt. Kate Murphy. It's not necessary to have seen them to understand this story though.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I'm just taking them for a spin. I promise to put them back when I'm done :-) Enjoy, and *please* tell me what you think!
The phone was ringing as MacGyver fumbled with his keys at the door to his apartment. He finally opened the door, nearly tripping on the rug in his haste to get to the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mac? It's Willis," said a familiar voice on the other end of the line just as his answering machine kicked in.
"Hang on a sec while I shut the machine off..." MacGyver walked to the machine and switched it off. "So how are things?"
"Same as always," he responded. "Listen, I have something I'd like you to see."
"What is it?"
"Um, it's something you'll findinteresting," Willis said evasively.
"Ah, I see," MacGyver replied carefully. Willis had been surreptitiously digging through computer files at the Phoenix Foundation in his spare time ever since the Alliance had taken over, looking for any evidence of illegal activities. He had spent most of his career working for Phoenix and didn't like the changes in direction that activities had taken under the new management. As such, he did what he could behind the scenes, taking advantage of the fact that most people tended not to notice a quiet and unassuming scientist who spent most of his time in the lab.
Though unaccustomed to the cloak-and-dagger aspects of Phoenix work that were MacGyver's usual purview, Willis had quickly learned to take precautions after he and MacGyver had found a bugging device in his telephone. If he had found something in the files, he wouldn't want to risk discussing it over the phone. "Where and when?"
"Do you remember the Waller Building?"
"Where the old bio-labs used to be? Didn't Phoenix sell it after they built the new facility?"
"No, they just moved to the new buildings and boarded it up. It needed too much work to modernize it and make it saleable. They never bothered to change the locks, and I still have a key." Willis explained. "Can you meet me there in a half hour?"
MacGyver glanced at his watch -- six o'clock -- and eyed the bag of Chinese food he had dropped on the table longingly. "Yeah, I guess so."
"There's an auditorium in the basement. I'll meet you down there."
"See you then." MacGyver hung up the phone, intrigued by the conversation. He stowed the bag of food in the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of egg rolls to munch on as he drove toward the abandoned research building. It was an old building, one of the first that the Phoenix Foundation had built to house its growing research and development staff. MacGyver had never been inside, since they had already moved to the newer facilities by the time he had joined Phoenix. As he turned into the driveway of the old facility, he wondered just what Willis had found that required so much caution.
The parking lot was littered with trash, and grass and weeds had poked their way up through the cracks that spidered along the paved surface. Even at ten stories, the building was small compared to the new facility, which was twenty stories of modern glass and steel. MacGyver felt a pang of nostalgia as he studied the sturdy brick edifice, bemoaning the fact that most of the structures being built these days lacked the character and soul of these old buildings. The architecture, the attention to detail evident in the ornate brickwork, even the grand style of the main entrance spoke of another time, when a building was viewed not just as a utilitarian box, but as a piece of art in and of itself; a time when the outward appearance of the structure was something to be viewed with pride, not just with an eye to functionality and efficiency.
MacGyver gave a sad smile as he pictured the building in its former glory. Now just an abandoned shell, all of the windows and doors on the ground floor were boarded up, except for the main entrance in the front. MacGyver parked his jeep around the side of the building, out of sight of the main road. He was probably being paranoid, but these days it seemed wiser to be overly-cautious than to get caught with his proverbial pants down.
It was going to be dark inside, so he retrieved his a flashlight from under his seat before getting out of the jeep. MacGyver climbed the stairs to the entrance, pausing momentarily when his knee creaked in protest. He had played hockey the night before in a pick-up game with a bunch of college kids, and was now feeling all of the resulting aches and pains.
"It sucks to get old," he muttered to himself as he reached the top. He hesitated at the door, feeling a sudden sense of apprehension that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Chalking it up to the eerie silence of the old building, he shrugged it off and opened the door. It was unlocked, so Willis must have already arrived, though MacGyver hadn't seen his car anywhere nearby.
The entrance opened directly onto the second floor, so he headed toward the stairs on his left. It was dark in the stairwell, so he clicked on his flashlight and proceeded slowly down the stairs toward the basement. As he pushed open the door to the basement level, the flashlight illuminated a pair of red beady eyes attached to a furry body that quickly scurried away from the light. MacGyver shivered involuntarily. Rats were not his favorite form of wildlife.
He played the beam of the flashlight along the hallway, illuminating some footprints on the dusty floor that he then followed to a set of double doors marked 'Auditorium'. Inside, the cavernous room was dimly lit by a pair of battery-powered lanterns, similar to the type he brought on some of his camping trips. It was an old and musty room that hadn't seen any human presence for a long time, judging by the layers of dust and grime blanketing the rows of mildewed seats.
"Willis?" MacGyver called as he walked toward the lights.
"Hello MacGyver," said a voice behind him that sent a chill racing down his spine, forming an icy lump in the pit of his stomach. The voice was familiar, but it didn't belong to Willis. MacGyver knew all too well who the owner of that voice was.
"Murdoc," he acknowledged warily as he turned to face his old adversary, who was wearing a smug grin and holding a very big gun.
"Move toward the lights."
MacGyver complied, walking to the front of the auditorium next to the stage. Murdoc followed, turning to face him.
"Where's Willis?" MacGyver asked.
"Oh, he couldn't make it," Murdoc said glibly. "Meet me in the auditorium," he said in a voice that sounded exactly like the quiet scientist. "You never learn, MacGyver." Murdoc shrugged, waving the gun in front of him.
Reacting almost instinctively, MacGyver twisted his body into a spinning back kick, knocking the gun from Murdoc's grasp. "I've learned more than you think," he said pointedly as he tackled the stunned assassin. They fell to the floor, knocking aside the lanterns as each struggled to gain the upper hand.
Murdoc turned and kicked MacGyver in the side of the head before lunging for the gun, which had slid under one of the seats. MacGyver grabbed him by the back of his shirt, knocking him aside, and picked up the gun himself. He stopped and looked at the gun in his hand and then over at Murdoc, who sat watching him with a smirk on his face.
"So, are you going to shoot me, MacGyver?"
MacGyver felt an unfamiliar urge to simply pull the trigger and be done with this battle once and for all. It would be so easy. But he had never been one to take the easy way out. He shook his head. "Don't tempt me, Murdoc."
"Always the boy scout," Murdoc snorted derisively. "It's your fatal weakness." In a blur of movement, Murdoc leaped to his feet, pulled a knife from a sheath tied to his leg, and began advancing on MacGyver.
With a last look at the gun, MacGyver pitched it over his shoulder into the center of the auditorium. He had never needed to compromise his principles to defeat Murdoc before, and he wasn't about to start now.
Murdoc dove at him with a yell, the knife flashing menacingly in the dim light. MacGyver ducked to the side, shoving Murdoc as he moved, but his stiff knee impeded him and he wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the knife as it left a shallow slash in his side. He rolled to the ground and then back onto his feet, thankful that he had been practicing his karate regularly.
Murdoc turned around and came toward MacGyver slowly, brandishing the knife that was now smeared with blood. Eyes fixed on his opponent, MacGyver reached down and picked up the heavy flashlight he had dropped during the fight. Murdoc lunged again, and MacGyver blocked him with a solid blow to his arm. The two were circling each other warily, looking for an advantage, when a strange rumbling sound arose and the floor beneath them began to shake.
At first, MacGyver thought it might be an explosion of some sort, something that Murdoc had concocted as part of his latest game, but the bewildered look on the assassin's face told him otherwise. The shaking intensified and pieces of the ceiling began to fall down around them. The walls cracked and the boarded-up windows shattered as the ground undulated beneath them. Murdoc had already fallen to the floor and MacGyver was having trouble staying on his feet, when the ceiling above them caved in with a loud roar. It was like a slow-motion scene from a movie, MacGyver thought as he watched the building collapse around him. He dove to the floor and covered his head in a vain attempt to ward off the thunder of debris.
**********
It was pitch dark. His eyes were open -- at least he thought they were open -- it was hard to say for sure. His head felt like there was a jackhammer beating on it, and MacGyver could swear someone was sitting on his chest, pinning him to the floor. He was trapped. Panic raced through him, and he had to force himself to take a deep breath and relax.
It must have been an earthquake, MacGyver told himself. And very big one at that. He had experienced them before, and the sheer power and destructive capability of earthquakes had always amazed him. Though he knew all the scientific facts about what caused them, there was still a mystical quality about earthquakes that left him in awe. It was as though the earth were signaling her displeasure and putting man in his place, showing him how insignificant he was in the grand scheme of things.
MacGyver tried again to move, but it was useless -- the mountain of rubble had pinned him down quite effectively. He felt a sudden pang of concern for Sam and Pete and all of his friends, hoping that they had fared better than he had. MacGyver swallowed nervously and cleared his mind. He was going to have to do some serious brainstorming to get out of this mess.
His mind drifted back to his day. It had been uncharacteristically quiet at the Phoenix Foundation, with no major crises requiring his attention and no nasty surprises intruding upon his routine. Phelps had made himself scarce, for once, and MacGyver had enjoyed the brief respite from his snide remarks and sarcasm. He had spent an enjoyable day in the lab, working on some environmental studies, and Markham had even complimented him on the report he had turned in several days earlier. All in all, it had been a pleasant day. Funny how quickly things could change.
**********
The car stayed in the shadows at the far side of the parking lot. Craig Phelps looked through a pair of binoculars at the old building into which MacGyver had disappeared. Nothing was happening yet, so he reached into the box of doughnuts on the seat next to him, hoping the evening would prove eventful for a change. Lately, all of his surveillance of MacGyver had been deadly dull. He had even put on a couple of pounds from all the doughnuts he had been munching out of boredom while he watched MacGyver buy groceries or visit his son or do any number of mundane tasks. But, his superiors had insisted that he keep an eye on his fellow troubleshooter to see if he was stirring up any trouble that they should be aware of. Phelps yawned and stretched. At least this location had more intriguing possibilities, since it was unlikely that MacGyver would be poking around an abandoned building for no good reason.
He had just taken a bite out of a jelly doughnut when the shaking started. Phelps inadvertently put his hand in the doughnut box as he reached out reflexively to brace himself. "Shit!" he cursed as he pulled his hand from the sticky mess. He stuck a jelly-covered finger into his mouth as he scanned the area for the source of the shaking. It was too violent and prolonged to be an explosion. An earthquake?
The building he was watching began to sway and shake in an almost surreal kind of dance. Fascinated, Phelps watched as cracks snaked their way up the sides of the building and the windows above the first floor exploded into thousands of shards that sparkled in the evening sunlight as they fell to the pavement below. The structure shuddered and groaned before finally giving up and collapsing in on itself almost as neatly as a scripted demolition job. The shaking gradually subsided, leaving him staring open-mouthed at the pile of concrete, steel and brick that had once stood ten stories high.
A smile spread slowly across his face. "Let's see Mr. Wizard get out of this one," Phelps snickered to himself. He picked up his cell phone and began to dial a number, only to find that the service was out. With a smile and a last look at the fallen building, Phelps turned and drove away. It was better to deliver good news in person, anyway.
**********
"Thanks, Sam," Pete said as he lifted his shopping bag. "I really appreciate the help."
"No problem, Mr. Thornton," Sam replied as they made their way to the mall exit.
"I never realized how out of touch I was with what interests teenagers these days," Pete said. "You're sure my nephew will like this computer game?"
"Are you kidding? That's the hottest game on the market right now. We were lucky to even find a copy in the store."
"Good!" Pete grinned. "I don't want to be known as old Uncle Pete who buys dumb gifts. I had an uncle like that when I was a kid. Used to buy us ugly socks and clip-on neckties." He shuddered in remembered horror.
Sam laughed. "Well this gift will assure your status as a favorite uncle."
"Tell you what," Pete said as they reached the mall entrance. "Drive us over to Mario's and I'll treat you to dinner."
"You're on," Sam said enthusiastically. Mario's was one of his favorite restaurants. He reached out a hand to open the door when Pete grabbed his arm.
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Moments later, the rumbling started and the ground began to shake beneath their feet.
"Come on!" Sam took Pete's arm and propelled him out the door. Behind them, one of the glass doors shattered and people ran screaming from the building. Panicked drivers collided with each other in the parking lot, sending the fleeing crowd into a deeper frenzy. Sam watched in horror as the marquee outside of the mall entrance splintered and collapsed onto the crowd.
"Stay here, Mr. Thornton." Sam steered Pete away from any potential falling debris. "I'll go get the car." He didn't have far to go since Pete had a special handicap permit to allow him to park close to the entrance. He pulled the car over to where Pete stood and helped him inside. "There's some injured people over there," Sam said. "I'm going to see if I can help."
"Go," Pete nodded. "I'll be fine." Sam raced back toward the mall entrance. The ground had stopped shaking and people were lying on the ground or walking around in a daze. A teenage girl was lying unconscious in a pile of debris, bleeding from a head wound. Sam picked her up gently and headed for the car.
"Hey!" a voice behind him shouted. "Where are you going with her?" A teenaged boy, clutching his arm tightly to his chest, ran toward Sam.
"I'm taking her to the hospital," Sam explained.
"Can I come too? She's my girlfriend."
"Come on," Sam nodded toward the car. "What's your name?"
"Jeff. What's yours?"
"Sam," Sam replied. "What happened to your arm?"
"It's nothing," Jeff said, raising his chin defiantly.
Sam laid the girl on the backseat and Jeff jumped in next to her. He looked back toward the mall entrance and saw that others who had escaped unharmed were helping the remaining injured people. Reassured that there was no one else who needed his assistance, Sam climbed into the front seat and fastened his seat belt.
"There's a hospital a few blocks from here," Pete offered.
"Right," Sam agreed as he turned the car out of the parking lot, driving slowly to avoid the cars that had crashed or been crushed by falling debris during the quake.
"Half of the buildings around here are wrecked," Sam said with wonder. "What a mess!"
Pete reached over and turned on the radio. "measured seven point six on the Richter scale. Scientists are still trying to pinpoint the epicenter. Police urge everyone to seek shelter and stay off of the streets," the announcer stated excitedly.
"A seven-point-six!" Pete exclaimed. "That's a big one."
"No joke," Sam agreed. A few minutes later, Sam slowed the car and stopped. "Uh-oh."
"What is it?" Pete asked.
"Wow, look at that!" Jeff said in an awed voice. In front of them, the road had split across all four lanes, leaving a three-foot wide crevice.
"The road is gone," Sam told Pete. "We'll have to go around." He turned onto a side street and finally made it to the hospital. The emergency room was a flurry of chaotic activity as injured people streamed inside. A burly EMT took the girl from Sam's arms as they came through the door.
"Can you handle this, Jeff?" Sam asked the boy, whose eyes were on the back of the retreating EMT.
"Sure." Jeff squared his shoulders and tried not to look as scared as he felt.
"Okay," Sam smiled encouragingly at the young man. "Here's my cell phone number." He scribbled it on a piece of paper and handed it to Jeff. "Call me if you need anything."
"Thanks," Jeff said as he turned and disappeared into the crowd of people in the waiting room.
"Come on, let's go home," Sam said to Pete once he had returned to the car.
"If I still have one," Pete said with a wry smile.
**********
Carefully surveying his situation, MacGyver found that he could move his left leg a little but the rest of him, from his chest down, was immobilized by the pile of debris. A jolt of pain shot up his right leg when he tried to move his foot. "Oh great," he muttered to himself. He was lying flat on his back, pinned up against the stage near where he and Murdoc had been fighting. Murdoc. MacGyver shivered, wondering whether he had survived the collapse.
Almost as though he had read his mind, Murdoc made his presence known. A flickering light suddenly illuminated the small area where MacGyver lay. Nearly ten feet away, Murdoc lay trapped under his own heap of rubble. The area between them was relatively clear, having been sheltered by an enormous slab of concrete that was leaning against the front of the stage. That same piece of concrete was the only thing that kept the crumbled remnants of the building from crushing them both.
Murdoc had one hand free and was holding a lit match, which flickered and died. "We seem to have gotten ourselves into quite a predicament here, MacGyver."
"Oh, really?" MacGyver said sarcastically. "I wouldn't have guessed."
Murdoc laughed. "That's what I like about you, MacGyver. You don't crumble under pressure. Even when there's tons of it." He laughed again at his own joke.
"Ha ha." MacGyver was not amused.
"I don't suppose you have any creative solutions to our dilemma?" Murdoc asked breezily.
"You think I'd tell *you* if I did?"
"Of course you would," Murdoc said assuredly. "You can't stand to see your fellow man suffereven if the fellow man is me."
"Don't bet on it, Murdoc."
"Now, that isn't very nice."
"Neither are you," MacGyver retorted.
"Touche'," Murdoc laughed. "Still, of all the people to be stuck here with, I'm glad it's you. You have an enviable talent for getting yourself out of these situations."
"You should know, you got me into most of them."
"Yes, I have, haven't I," Murdoc said with undisguised glee. "So how are you going to get us out of here?"
MacGyver was perplexed as to how Murdoc could be so cavalier about their predicament. "I don't know, Murdoc, I've never had a building fall on me before. You're the expert on that, aren't you?" MacGyver said, recalling his first encounter with Murdoc and how it had ended with a building being demolished with Murdoc inside.
"Not quite," Murdoc replied. "The trick is to get out before they fall on you."
MacGyver sighed and tried again to move, but it was no use. He wasn't going anywhere without help. He could hear scratching and grunting as Murdoc tried to work himself loose, though he didn't seem to be having much better luck. If Murdoc were to escape first MacGyver didn't want to think about it. Panic began to set in as the gravity of his situation hit home. He was trapped under tons of concrete with his mortal enemy only a few feet away -- and nobody knew he was there. It was suddenly hard to breathe.
MacGyver shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. It would do him no good to let fear paralyze him now. He turned his head to find his cheek resting against the smooth wooden surface of the stage front. Something nagged at him, dancing around the edges of his memory, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. He closed his eyes, wishing he could open them to find that this was just a bad dream.
**********
"Well?" Pete asked fearfully. "How does it look?"
"It's still standing," Sam said as they stood in Pete's driveway, facing his house. "I'll go take a look around." As he waited for Sam's return, Pete could hear an almost continuous wail of sirens as emergency crews raced from crisis to crisis. The radio had announced that the National Guard had been called in to help control looting and that rescue workers were pouring in from all over the country. Pete found it interesting that disasters seemed to bring out both the best and the worst in people.
"It looks okay," Sam said. "There's a couple of broken windows and the power is out, but it seems solid enough."
"Great!" Pete said, relief evident in his voice as they went inside.
"Watch your step," Sam said as he helped Pete navigate around a fallen table. "We'd better get this stuff put back where it belongs."
"I'll start out here," Pete said as he began to feel his way along the living room.
Sam hesitated for a minute, concerned that Pete would trip on something, before he said, "Okay, I'll take the kitchen. Just yell if you need a hand with anything." He smiled and shook his head as he grabbed a broom. It was no wonder Pete and his dad were such good friends, Sam thought. They were both stubborn and independent to a fault.
**********
"There." Sam wiped his hand on a towel a few hours later. "All done." He plopped himself on the couch next to Pete. "It may take you a while to find everything in the kitchen, though."
Pete laughed. "It'll just make cooking more of an adventure."
"How about I do the honors tonight?" Sam suggested. "I've had just about enough adventure for today."
"No argument here." Pete raised his hands in front of him. "I guess we'd better eat the steaks I have in the fridge. There's no telling how long the power will be out."
"Great! I shut off the gas, just to be safe, so we'll have to barbecue outside," Sam said as he headed into the kitchen.
"Hey, you know your dad and I built this deck," Pete said as he opened the sliders and stepped onto the redwood deck that ran along the back of his house.
At the mentioned of his father, Sam felt a sudden twinge of concern. "I wonder how he made out in the quake?"
Pete had the same thought and took out his cellular phone. "Nothing," he said after listening for a few minutes. "The lines must be messed up."
"I'll run by his place later." Sam shrugged, but a feeling of unease remained. He shook it off and carried the steaks out to the grill.
**********
A small piece of plaster suddenly hit MacGyver in the cheek. The vibrations started a moment later, peppering his face with more splinters and grit. "Aftershock," he said softly as he braced himself for the tremor. The vibrations increased, sending larger chunks tumbling around his head. The concrete that trapped him shifted, increasing the pressure on his chest as the shaking reached a crescendo and the rumble turned into a roar. MacGyver let out a yell as one of his ribs gave way under the increased weight, sending a knife-like pain shooting through his chest. Something heavy dropped onto his forehead, sending him spiraling into merciful oblivion.
**********
Phelps gaped at the destruction that greeted him as he drove toward the Phoenix Foundation headquarters. Entire blocks had been leveled by the quake and people wandered around in a daze, staring at the mess. Some of the areas looked like they had been bombed, like something out of a war movie. Fleetingly, he wondered how his apartment had fared before shrugging it off as unimportant. His years in the military had trained him to live somewhat spartanly and there was nothing in the apartment that couldn't be easily replaced. The only possessions he cared about were safely stashed in a mountain cabin he had inherited from his great-uncle.
Looking at all the devastation, Phelps hoped that the supposedly quakeproof Phoenix buildings had survived. As he drew closer to his destination, Phelps noted with relief that most of the newer buildings were still standing and had not suffered much damage.
"The marvels of modern architecture," he said to himself. He felt a sudden, odd vibration from his car engine. He cursed and slowed the car, intending to pull over, when he realized the vibrations weren't coming from the car. It was a tremor and it was getting steadily worse. Phelps reduced his speed further, eyeing the surrounding buildings warily. It would really ruin his day if one of them fell on him.
Gazing out the side window, Phelps didn't see the dump truck that was barreling toward him head on, its driver unconscious after being hit with a brick that had fallen through the windshield. "Oh shit!" he swore and swerved fiercely when he finally spotted the oncoming truck, but there wasn't time to avoid a collision. His car crashed into a light pole before being hit broadside by the out-of-control vehicle. The horn wailed forlornly as the car came to rest, with Phelps slumped unconscious over the steering wheel.
**********
"Uh-oh."
"What is it?" Sam asked, as Pete sat up straighter in his chair. His question was answered when the rumbling began, knocking books off of the shelves and undoing much of their previous cleanup effort. He gripped the arms his chair tightly and looked around as the tremor shook the house. It lasted less than a minute, but managed to make a mess nonetheless.
"I guess we're back on cleanup duty," Pete said with a chuckle when the shaking had stopped.
"At least it wasn't as bad as the last one," Sam replied. "I wonder how long these are going to go on?"
"Who knows?" Pete said as he reached over and righted a fallen lamp. "At least my insurance is paid up."
Grinning, Sam stood and began putting books back onto the bookshelves.
**********
"MacGyver?"
MacGyver awoke to the sound of his name, then wished he hadn't as a wave of pain assaulted him. His head was killing him and he felt pain in his chest with every shallow breath he took.
"Ah good. You're still with us." The tremor had been kinder to Murdoc, who had somehow managed to free himself and was sitting near MacGyver holding one of the lanterns with a satisfied grin on his face.
"What's the matter, Murdoc?" MacGyver whispered raggedly. "Are you afraid I'll diebefore you get the chance tokill me yourself?"
"That would be quite a pity, wouldn't it?" Murdoc said airily.
"Well, I wouldn't want to...deprive you of your fun."
Murdoc laughed. "It *would* be such a terrible waste of all of my efforts in that regard."
"Don't you ever gettired of this?" MacGyver asked him wearily.
"Of course. Why do you think I keep trying to end it?"
"You knowwe could call it a draw...and end it right here," MacGyver suggested breathlessly.
"There are no 'draws' in this business, MacGyver. You either win or loseand I don't intend to lose."
"We're both going to lose if we don't get out of here." MacGyver let out a breath as he strained against the concrete that imprisoned him.
"Brilliant deduction," Murdoc said sarcastically. "Is that the best your infamous brain can come up with? I'm very disappointed in you, MacGyver."
"Life is full of...disappointments, Murdoc" MacGyver replied disgustedly. "Get used to it."
Murdoc's laugh filled the tiny space. "Getting a bit cranky, aren't we?"
"Being squashed under a buildingwill do that to a person," MacGyver rasped. Murdoc laughed again. "I can't believe you can find anythingfunny about this."
"This entire situation is quite amusing, don't you think?"
MacGyver sighed. It was no use trying to understand how Murdoc's mind worked. He wasn't so sure he wanted to find out anyway.
Murdoc's knife glinted in the light of the lantern as he brought it close to MacGyver's face. "You know, I could just cut your throat and end it all right now."
"Aw come on, Murdoc" He paused to take a breath. "What fun would that be?"
"Yes, it would lack that certain challenge that I so enjoy," Murdoc said as he fingered the knife lovingly. "Still, it would be almost as satisfying as watching you get slowly crushed under this building." He drew the back of the knife blade slowly along MacGyver's throat.
MacGyver suddenly felt old and tired. "If you're going ... to do it, then ... get it over with, will ya?" he said softly.
"Giving up, MacGyver?" Murdoc said with surprise. "Tsk, tsk. What would Sam say?" MacGyver felt a warm trickle of blood slide down his neck as Murdoc pressed the tip of the knife into his throat. "You know, maybe I'll look Sam up after all this and ask him myself. He might provide me a bit more sport."
"Leave him out of this!" MacGyver said with a flash of anger, coughing painfully as he strained for his next breath. "Your fight... is with me... not him."
"That's better," Murdoc said with a smile. "I knew you had some fight left in you."
"What makes you think... you'll get out of here yourself?" MacGyver gasped.
Murdoc looked around the tiny space and sighed dramatically. "I suppose you do have a point about that."
Murdoc sat silently, still pressing his blade into MacGyver's neck, and contemplated the situation. MacGyver almost wished he would use the knife. It certainly seemed preferable to waiting for the next tremor to crush the life out of him.
"We have quite a dilemma here, don't we?" Murdoc finally said. "You're right, you know. I don't have a very good chance of getting out of here by myself." Pulling the knife away from MacGyver's neck, he turned his left side toward MacGyver. His left arm was covered in blood and was bent at an odd angle, a jagged point of bone protruding through the sleeve of his shirt. "As much as it pains me to admit it, I need your help."
"Sorry, but I'm ...sort of occupied ...at the moment."
"Maybe I can do something about that." Murdoc rummaged in the rubble until he found what he wanted. With much effort, he pulled a sturdy length of steel from the debris and wedged it under the largest of the pieces of concrete that was keeping MacGyver pinned to the floor.
"You know," Murdoc said, panting heavily from the effort. "This is something I learned from you." He dragged a chunk of concrete under the steel bar, forming a crude lever. With his good arm, he pulled on the steel as hard as he could. But it didn't move. He then crawled over the end of the steel beam and leaned all of his weight onto it. The concrete moved a fraction of an inch, but it wasn't enough to free MacGyver.
"Ow," MacGyver groaned as the weight sank back onto his chest.
"Damn," Murdoc cursed. "So much for physics." He sat back and thought silently for a moment.
"There's always the brute force method, I suppose," Murdoc said as he grabbed MacGyver's shoulder with his good arm. He pulled with all his strength, but MacGyver was wedged too tightly.
"Have you got any brilliant ideas?" Murdoc asked.
"No," MacGyver answered helplessly. He closed his eyes and turned his head, wishing he could think of something, anything, that would help. Suddenly, the memory that had been eluding him came flooding back. During college, he had helped out the drama department by working with the stage crew to design sets and lighting. Every theater that he had ever seen had had an area below the stage that was used for storage and to run wiring for lighting and sound equipment. He was lying with his body pressed against the front of the stage. If they could break through the wooden wall, he might be able to slide into the space underneath.
"The stage," he said softly.
"What?"
"Break through ...the front of the stage."
Murdoc nodded his comprehension. "It might work." He picked up the piece of steel in his hand and began beating it against the wood. MacGyver turned his head away as the splinters flew through the air. As he listened to Murdoc's efforts, he wondered again at his enemy's reasons for helping him. Self-preservation was a logical motive for most people, but Murdoc wasn't most people. He had gotten out of impossible situations before with worse injuries and no help. Why should this time be any different? MacGyver shook his head to chase those thoughts away. He would have plenty of time to worry about Murdoc's motives after he was out from under this pile of rock.
A hollow crunch sounded when Murdoc finally broke through the barrier. He dropped the piece of steel and shone the lantern through the hole. "There's a room under here," he said. "It looks intact."
"For now," MacGyver said.
Murdoc grunted and resumed beating on the wood. An hour later, he had managed to widen the hole enough so that he could slide through. MacGyver heard a muffled thump as Murdoc squirmed through the opening and into the room. As Murdoc rummaged around under the stage, MacGyver tried to stifle the claustrophobia that threatened to overwhelm him. He was totally at the mercy the one person in the world who had made killing him his life's work, and who might just take this opportunity to disappear, leaving MacGyver to his horrible fate. It was far from a comforting thought.
A squealing noise in his ear distracted MacGyver from his pessimistic thoughts. He turned his head toward the stage just as one of the boards came free with a crunch. Murdoc's grinning face appeared in the new opening. "It works much better with the proper tools," he said, waving a rusty old crowbar in front of him.
MacGyver didn't reply as Murdoc began prying away more the boards. Finally, there was enough open space for MacGyver to free his left arm and he extended it into the space beneath the stage, flexing it carefully. A few boards later, he was able to reach inside far enough to grab hold of a support beam and start working himself out from under the rubble.
Pain shot through his ribcage as he struggled to extricate himself. Just as he pulled his right arm loose, another aftershock began and the slab of concrete started to shift again. Frantically, MacGyver pulled with all of his strength and tore his legs free, tumbling several feet to the hard concrete just as the massive pile crashed to the floor of the auditorium, obliterating the space he had been lying in just moments before.
"That was close," MacGyver groaned, clutching his aching ribs.
"Yes," Murdoc replied. "It was very nearly a crushing defeat."
MacGyver shot a dirty look toward his adversary, who sat on the floor smiling at him. He sat up carefully, wincing at the pain in his ribs and ankle. Pain or not, it felt good to be able to take a deep breath. He looked around, appraising his surroundings. It was a large, low-ceilinged room that ran the length of the stage overhead and it was full of broken furniture, folding chairs, and other odds and ends. He doubted anyone had been in there for a long time.
In the harsh glow of the fluorescent lantern light, MacGyver could see Murdoc leaning against a dusty podium, watching him. He stared back silently for a moment. "Thanks," he said simply. He knew that Murdoc hadn't helped him out of the goodness of his heart and that he would want to extract payment in some form later. But for now, MacGyver was just glad that he wasn't pancaked under the building.
Murdoc smiled at him mirthlessly, the shadows making him look even more sinister than usual.
MacGyver sighed and crawled toward him slowly. "Let me see that arm," he said when he had reached his side. Murdoc lifted his damaged arm toward him, the smile still on his face. MacGyver took his Swiss army knife out and cut away the sleeve of Murdoc's shirt. The arm appeared to be broken in several places and was still bleeding where the bone had pushed through.
"Best I can do is try to set it and wrap it up," MacGyver said with a shake of his head. "It's a mess."
"Do what you can," Murdoc said with a bored shrug.
"You might want to hold onto something," MacGyver warned. "This is going to hurt." Murdoc nodded and grasped the leg of the table that stood near him. MacGyver took hold of his arm and pulled. Murdoc inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth as the bones were jerked into place. MacGyver wrapped his arm with the remnants of the shirt sleeve.
His face pale and his breathing ragged, Murdoc asked, "Are you enjoying this?"
MacGyver stopped and looked at him. "No, I'm not."
"That's the difference between you and me," Murdoc laughed scornfully. "I would be."
"I know," MacGyver said as he continued bandaging Murdoc's arm. Using some slats from a broken chair, he fashioned a crude splint. "There," MacGyver said as he tied the last strip of fabric firmly. "Finished."
"Good." Murdoc leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Now we're even."
MacGyver sighed. "Don't you ever stop keeping score?"
"What fun is a game if you don't keep score?"
"You think this is a game?!" MacGyver asked incredulously.
"Everything is a game," Murdoc responded with a yawn. "And everyone is an opponent."
"Doesn't sound like much fun to me," MacGyver said as he tore some strips from a canvas drop cloth. "In fact, it sounds like a lonely way to live."
Murdoc didn't answer and MacGyver paused and looked over at him, wondering if he even knew it was like to have friends. Shaking his head, he continued tearing the strips of canvas. It was too dangerous to allow himself to feel sorry for Murdoc. The only reason the man hadn't killed him yet was because he needed his help to escape this deathtrap. Once they escaped -- if they escaped -- Murdoc wouldn't hesitate to kill him and win the 'game'.
Unbuttoning his own shirt, MacGyver looped strips of canvas around his ribs, tying them tightly. It didn't help the pain much, but it kept the broken ribs from moving around. The rough fabric rubbed across the cut in his side, reminding him again of the danger his companion posed to his well-being. Finished with his ribs, he moved on to his ankle, which was throbbing fiercely. Gently, he removed his shoe and flexed his foot, stopping when the pain worsened. He couldn't tell if it was broken or just a bad sprain, so he decided to err on the side of caution and immobilize it as best he could. He took some of the strips of fabric and began to wrap it carefully.
As he finished, he eyed his nemesis, who was leaning back with his eyes closed. He was asleep, MacGyver realized when he heard Murdoc's deep and even breathing. Looking at his watch, he was surprised to discover that it was three o'clock in the morning. The impact of the ordeal seemed to hit him all at once, and exhaustion overtook him. He wouldn't do much good trying to get them out of there if he was too fatigued to move, so, with a last wary glance at Murdoc, MacGyver turned off the lantern and curled up on the floor, asleep almost instantly.
**********
To be continued