The Campaign: A MacGyver Story (Alternative title, 'The Key')
By Judybear
Some vacation this was turning out to be! It wasn't bad enough I had to work on an oil spill, but then I well, I don't believe it myself. Something like double déjà-vu.
AN: This one starts out slow, but builds into a great MacAdventure.
I do not own MacGyver or Pete Thornton or the Phoenix Foundation
(MacGyver POV)
So there I was, minding my own business, trying to relax on the vacation Pete had promised me, when I get this phone call. Of course, it's from Pete. I tried to pretend he was calling to ask how I was, maybe even give me some extra days off. But of course, he was calling to talk me into a new job. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "You want me to what? Pete, I don't know anything about being in charge of a bunch of volunteers! I don't LIKE working with … What about George? Send him! …. Only three days, huh? Where have I heard that before? …You're sure?... He'll be there in three days? … And then I can turn the whole operation over to him, right?... Yeah. It's just the 'being in charge' part that … Yeah, well, if it can't be helped… I'll let you know, Pete. You take care of yourself."
He did it again. Got me to agree to help him out! Ugh!
Seems there was an oil spill down near Charleston and it was contaminating the nesting marshes along the shorelines. The foundation was going to head up the rescue effort to try and save as much of the affected wildlife as they could. And yours truly had been talked into kicking off the enterprise. You know, there aughta be some way of protecting our planet's heritage in wildlife from the damage done by greedy people who have no thought to what they're doing to our environment. Phoenix engineers were working on some alternative fuels, but it would be years before anything would change.
Anyway, I called in some help from a few of my friends in the South Carolina DNR, and was able to get my hands on some maps of the coastal areas. They also gave me a crash course on figuring out where to place the oil-collecting booms and set up a field hospital for animals - and for people, just in case – and a location for a base camp.
I arrived in my jeep to find a large old farmhouse that had been generously donated for our use. It was on high ground near the marshes and looked to be large enough for our purposes. But what I wasn't prepared for was the huge number of people that had assembled down the bottom of the hill where the house stood. They never said I was supposed to organize an army!
"Kensella, you're late!" I turned to see a slim woman, in her mid-fifties I would guess, standing with her arms akimbo in front of a Landrover.
Not altogether attracted by her attitude, and seeing no-one else in the area, I told her, "Uh, No, actually. I'm not…"
Sure enough she dived right in, "You were SUPPOSED to be here by NINE
A M! It's almost noon! That's LATE!"
This confrontational exchange was getting us nowhere… "Well, for your information, my name is MacGyver, and I was given the wrong directions to get here by the secretary of a Doctor Wilson, which sent us thirty miles the other way. Now, could we get on with this?"
She suddenly blanched and got this perplexed look on her face…"The wrong directions? But…"
"She said the doctor had given her a folder, then locked his door and left. It wasn't until we called from Elizabethtown that she realized we had the wrong directions. Lucky for us, she remembered how to get here and gave us directions over the phone!"
By now this uppity woman was beginning to look fairly horrified and I decided that maybe she was human after all.
At the moment she was having trouble speaking, " I …uh….Ohhh… uh…"
I gave her a look of consternation, "Let me guess: you're Dr. Wilson?"
She slowly nodded her head, "Uhh… that would be me."
I looked at her sidelong and was about to walk away when she offered, "Look, Maybe we could just start all over again?" and she thrust out her hand, "HI! I'm Dr. Wilson."
Well, we needed to get started and the two of us had to work together – more or less – so I took her hand and told her, "Name's MacGyver. I was sent here by the Phoenix Foundation.
Nice to meet you. Now, let's get these people organized." And she smiled – or tried to smile. She seemed pretty unsure of herself. I wondered if this was her first clean-up?
I jumped up onto the roof of my jeep, turned to the crowds below and whistled through my teeth to get their attention, "Over here, people! Come on everybody! We have lots to get done…"
We divided them into four groups - those with different fields of experience and one for those with no experience. There were six who had multiple areas of experience and we picked them as our group leaders, assigning two to each of three sections of volunteers: those who would be taking care of the animals, those handling the oil booms and collection, and those doing the sandbags. Volunteers with no experience were divided up among the three groups.
We had them set up a group of tents for each section in even rows to make three groups of tents for them and to dig a perimeter trench around each group. We also set up a headquarters tent for me, one for Dr. Wilson and two large ones: one for cleaning animals and one for a dining and gathering area for everyone. We also established a car park where their cars could be left out of the way of the various operations. And latrines.
After everyone was busy doing their assigned tasks, I sat down and threw my head back against the car seat and blew out a lung full of air. It had been a long day.
Wilson had been nagging at me all along, questioning almost everything I did. For the most part, I ignored her, hoping she would see what I was trying to do. Next thing I knew, Wilson had cast her shadow across me, waiting, maybe evaluating me? Resignedly I opened one eye and asked her, "Spit it out, Miss Wilson, what did I do wrong this time?"
"Ellen."
I opened the other eye and looked at her, questioning.
"Ellen," she repeated, "My name is Ellen. Just thought you'd like to know. So what's next, General?" she asked with a slight smirk.
I didn't know whether she was trying to make friends or if she had some other complaint up her sleeve, but I decided to give it a rest – for now. "Get in," I told her, and we drove up to the farmhouse.
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Didn't get very far, but that's Chapter 1. You can read and review, if you like. Not much happening yet.