"I'm coming back when he's feeling more talkative."
Mac wasn't even sure he got this right when the mask was shoved on his face again. This time he was still struggling with his previous taste of nitrogen, so holding his breath never had been an option. So this time he got the full dose.
Mac felt the nitrogen conquering his way of breathing, his lung, his body, his brain. He tried to buck away, but he felt a strong hand gripping his hair harsh. His head was kept in position as it was pressed on the soft back rest of the chair he was sitting in. His taped hands began to tremble, gripping the wooden arm rest again and again in despair freeing himself.
His lung cried for oxygen.
He tried once again to shake the mask off, but the grip in his hair was like iron. With clenched shut eyes he desperately tried to fill his lungs with something to breath, but it was still the freaking nitrogen. He started to cough violently.
El Noche was right, it kind of feels like drowning if you inhale pure nitrogen. Mac's body was breathing, and something even entered his lungs, but his body couldn't use what's there. He jerked. Dots began to dance in his head, his breaths became nothing more than short gasps.
Jack, where are you?
After what felt like hours, his torturer pulled the mask away. It had only been a few breaths of nitrogen, four maybe, but Mac was literally down. If the man wouldn't have grabbed his blond hair, Mac would have slipped off the chair.
With glassy eyes he stared to the ceiling, recognizing the cracks up there, but his brain couldn't understand a bit of what he was seeing right now. He just gasped for breath. But there was still too much nitrogen left in his lungs to get the lifesaving oxygen in there.
Jack, where are you?
His captivator came in sight of Mac's vision. Everything was still blurry, his eyes unable to focus on anything. The man eyed him, and then an ugly smile formed in his face.
Before Mac could draw in a new breath of air, he felt the mask pressed down again. And this time it was done so hard, it actually hurt.
Mac felt like the man was trying to rip the mask right through his flesh inside Mac's lung. The pressure was immense. It was so immense, Mac couldn't even breath. It felt like someone was handgagging him in a harsh way.
The man noticed and jerked Mac's head upright and back by his hair. A wave of pain exploded in his head as Mac hissed. Immediately nitrogen filled his lungs, again the feeling of drowning. And this time Mac was drowning in unconsciousness as the mask was not removed again.
"What?!"
Jack was furious as he approached Riley. His hands came up to his short hair and running through them.
"You had like what – half a day of time, and still didn't find a trace of Mac?!"
"Don't give me that!", Riley yelled at him, "I tried all night to find him!"
Jack sighed and turned away from her. Of course she did. Of course the whole night. Jack knew. He knew the hard work Riley is up with, hearing her fingers on the keyboard of her laptop, the speed was amazing. Jack knew all this. But it was not enough. Not enough for him – not enough for Mac.
"Sorry."
His voice was down a little. He knew, Riley was as worried as him.
Mac has been gone for like 8 hours. 8 hours ago Jack lost track of his buddy, only left behind with a few fresh tire tracks on the wet forest ground. Riley had run her analysis, but wasn't able to pinpoint a car. Or she was – problem was, it was a car like half of the Americans are driving these days.
"Calm yourself, Jack." Patty came in the room, "We are as desperate as you to find MacGyver. And the faster the better."
Jack swallowed hard. He still hadn't turned to the women again and was happy he hadn't. Otherwise the would have seen his face going pale as a ghost. Jack looked up at the big screen, hands again in his hair, scrubbing his head. Desperation in his eyes visible he searched for hints on the CCTV footage present on the wall. But wherever he looked, everything looked the same, black cars everywhere. On the highway, at the red light, on the mountain route. Everywhere.
Jack let out a small whimper, but thank god the women behind him didn't hear him. Jack was having a very bad feeling since the beginning of this undercover mission. Mac wasn't the type for prison because he knew what kind of folk was sitting in there. And he knew what kind of folk El Noche was. They all knew it.
Mac, where are you?!