Bomb + Doctor + Mattress + Doors
Chapter 3
Mac hissed as Riley dabbed at the cut on his lip. A small scrap of the fabric covering the mattress made a decent rag to wipe away blood, though he didn't want to think about the sanitary qualities of said rag.
"Sorry," Riley said, trying to dab more gently.
He watched her for a long moment. Riley was scared, even though she was hiding it well. Only someone who'd known her for years would have seen it. He tried to smile around his bruised lips. "Don't worry, Riles. Jack will bust through that door any minute."
Rather than look comforted, Riley froze, turning to him with a concerned expression. Mac met her gaze, confused. Then his words finally registered in his aching brain. "Desi. I mean…Desi. I'm so out of it."
She didn't look mollified. "Those guys really did a number on you."
He remembered first time he met Jack, and the knock-down, drag-out fight they got into, and he laughed, immediately regretting it when his bruised ribs protested. "Making friends wherever I go…."
Riley went back to cleaning his wounds. After a few quiet minutes, she shook her head. "I don't know how you do it."
"Do what?"
"I'm scared out of my mind right now," she said, voice quivering. "And you're so…calm."
Mac looked away, shaking his head. "Riley…I'm terrified. Terrified that the next time they open that door they're going to shoot us both. Terrified that they'll come for you next—"
"I told you not to worry about me," she said sternly.
He reached up and gently wrapped his hand around hers. "I can't help it."
Her expression softened. She looked at their joined hands, then placed her free hand over his. "You know, when I became 'Riley Davis, Secret Agent,' I didn't really think something like this would ever happen. I mean, they drilled the worst case scenario into us at Spy School, but…with you and Jack, and Cage and then Desi around…I guess I just stopped worrying about it. We always managed to get out of the room before the bad guys got to us."
Mac favored her with a fond smile. "You're just running with the wrong crowd, Miss Davis."
She laughed, so Mac considered his effort a success.
"You really think the cavalry is coming?"
Boosting her spirits was one thing, but lying to her was not something he wanted to do. Mac stayed silent, just squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
Before they could say anything else, the door opened abruptly, and Ugly Mustache Guy entered, pointing his AK at them.
You know, these guys just have the worst timing. Sometimes Riley and I can't seem to get an uninterrupted moment together.
"The doctor is here to see you," he said, speaking to them in English for the first time. Mac glanced at Riley, but his hesitation angered their captor. He stepped forward, keeping his gun aimed at Mac. "Move. Now."
Giving Riley's hand one last—hopefully encouraging—squeeze, Mac pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and moved toward the door, hands held out unthreateningly. The guards grabbed him and shoved him out into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. For some reason he couldn't quite pin down, Mac didn't think their "doctor" was there to give him a checkup.
MAC MAC MAC
The room they led Mac to was only three doors down from the cell. But whatever consolation he felt from staying close to Riley was immediately swept away when he was pushed inside the room.
It wasn't too different from the cell, except that it contained an overhead light, and a bare metal table with steel shackles bolted on at the corners. A small bench sat nearby, holding a large black box and a few other assorted items. Mac had seen enough of Jack's action movies to instantly know that he did not want to be in that room. When they moved to push him again, he fought back, trying to force his way out to the hallway. The butt of an AK-47 slamming into his right shoulder blade stunned him, and they managed to spin him around and slam him down onto the table before he could recover.
The shackles were quickly locked in place around his wrists and ankles, and Mac found himself unable to move. The overhead lamp was shining directly in his eyes, blinding him when he tried to look directly up, and causing his headache to flare. Ugly Mustache Guy shot him a mocking look, then reached down and unzipped Mac's coveralls, from his neck all the way down to his groin, then stepped away, leaving him feeling entirely too vulnerable.
Wordlessly, the three guards left the room. Leaving Mac to contemplate what was in store for him next. None of the ideas his mind formulated were reassuring. He tested the shackles, but they were locked tight and didn't budge. "What I wouldn't give for a paperclip right now."
After a few long, claustrophobic minutes, someone entered. Mac could barely see through the glare of the halide lighting, but he managed to make out a male, wearing a long sleeved shirt, carrying some kind of bag that he placed on the bench. He didn't seem to be in any kind of hurry.
Opening his bag, and pulling out a few things that Mac couldn't see, the man turned and glanced over him. He casually rolled up his sleeves, then approached the table. His eyes seemed to rake up and down the length of Mac's body. He reached out and opened the coveralls slightly, humming when he saw the catalog of bruises. Producing a small flashlight, he reached up and pulled Mac's eyelids open, checking his pupil response. More light wasn't something Mac's head needed, and he reflexively tried to move away, but there was literally nowhere to go.
He had to assume this was the doctor the men had mentioned. He appeared to be roughly Mac's age, blonde, bright blue eyes, an angular face, and a decidedly cold expression that filled Mac with dread.
The man checked the injuries along Mac's cheek and jaw. He showed nothing but clinical interest. After a moment, though, he paused, then stepped back and tilted his head. "Angus MacGyver?"
Mac blinked.
"You are the last person I expected to find here."
"Do we…know each other?" Mac asked hesitantly.
The man gave him a self-depreciating smile. "No, but I remember you. We were in the Sandbox together back in 2011. The base in Helmand. The 'fastest EOD tech in theater.' Then, you saved Dalton's life, and you were really a star. Dalton made sure everybody knew your name."
Mac absorbed the flattery, and the fond memory of Jack, but he couldn't really feel at ease given his situation. "I'm sorry, I don't remember you."
"No reason you would. I was a medic, until I got screwed and they handed me a DD." He shrugged. "We didn't really run in the same circles."
DD. From the context, Mac guessed he meant Dishonorable Discharge. Now, he was beginning to wonder how an ex-Army medic got involved with a terrorist cell.
"Anyway," the Doctor continued. "We are here, so, down to business. Do you have any allergies I should be aware of?"
Mac noted the shift in demeanor. The doctor was back to staring at him clinically. He shook his head slowly. The Doctor nodded, turned back to his bag, and then returned with a syringe in his hand. Mac instinctively tried to draw away, but again the shackles kept him in place. "W-what is that?"
"Just a mild stimulant, and a few vitamins. Don't want you passing out on me, and you probably haven't eaten all day, so…."
The Doctor jabbed the needle into the meat of Mac's right arm, not especially gently, and depressed the plunger. He didn't bother to sterilize the injection point.
"What do you wan—" Mac was silenced by the back of the Doctor's hand. Not the best bedside manner.
"From here on," the Doctor said firmly. "I ask, you answer. Understood?"
Mac said nothing. That was a mistake as well, as the Doctor grabbed him roughly by the chin and jerked his head back so they were face to face again. "I asked if you understood."
Not wanting to press his luck, Mac simply nodded. The Doctor went back to his bag, and took more items out. "Your new friends outside hired me to find out a few things. So, I suppose we should start with: who do you work for?"
He turned, favoring Mac with a sardonic grin. "I know, such a cliché, right? It's pretty obvious you're a spy. If I had to guess, I'd say when you got out, you were recruited by one of the Five Eyes?" When Mac said nothing, the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Am I close?"
Mac looked away. He wasn't going to give the man any more information than he had to. The Doctor sighed.
"Listen, things are going to get rough in here for you. You seem like a decent guy, Angus, don't make me do something I'll regret later."
"I work for a Think Tank in the States. I'm just on vacation here. I don't know what they want from me." Mac stated simply.
The Doctor shrugged in apparent resignation. "Well…I tried to go easy on you."
He stepped over to the bench for a moment. Mac watched him doing something with the black box, then he heard it hum to life. When the Doctor returned to the table, he was carrying a pair of metal probes about six inches long, one in each hand. All emotion had drained from his expression.
"Who do you work for?"
Mac's eyes went from the two probes to the Doctor's eyes. "I've already told you everything I can."
Nodding, the Doctor reached out, and lowered the probes until they touched Mac's chest. He heard the electric pop just milliseconds before every muscle in his upper body went rigid. His back arched and the air was forced from his lungs. It happened so fast Mac couldn't make a sound.
After an interminable length of time, the current ceased, and Mac was left dazed and gasping for breath. He didn't get a chance to do more than that. The Doctor moved the probes down and touched them to Mac's abdomen, on either side just above his navel.
This time to the pain was so intense it ripped a scream from his throat. The Doctor held it longer this time, until darkness began encroaching on his vision. Finally it stopped. Mac could only pant; he couldn't seem to draw enough air in the oven-like room.
The Doctor watched him expectantly for a moment, before shaking his head in disappointment. He shifted the probes further down Mac's body before making contact. Mac barely had time to register where they were headed before his world exploded.
MAC MAC MAC
The lights from the hallway dimmed again, and a few seconds behind, Riley heard the distinct sound of Mac screaming. She flinched every time she heard it. It had been going on for a while, and she'd never felt more terrified or desperate in her life.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Mac howled in pain, somewhere beyond the locked door. She wanted to pull the ratty mattress over her head to block out the awful sounds and the horrible imagery it created in her mind, but she forced herself to concentrate. What would Mac do? What would Mac do?
He'd find a way out of this damned room and go be the hero she knew he was. The problem was there was nothing to work with in it. If there was an actual bed instead of just the mattress, maybe she could disassemble it or…her eyes settled on the mattress. A flap of the fabric covering stuck out, from where she'd ripped a piece off to tend Mac's injuries earlier.
Another heart wrenching scream echoed in the hallway, accompanied by the lights outside dimming again. She glanced at the door helplessly, panic threatening to overwhelm any self-control she might have left. Her mind went back months earlier to their talk on the plane, as they traveled back from Banja Luka, after Mac had found out about her feelings for him.
Honestly, I don't want to lose your friendship. I'm always going to have your back.
You mean the world to me, and…I trust you, implicitly. So, I guess, keep the door closed.
As she listened to Mac being tortured just down the hall from her cell, she wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.
Focus. She'd told him she had his back. Now, she needed to do just that.
She knelt and started tearing at the thin fabric covering of the mattress, pulling it off in a longer strip. Repeating the process, she made several more. She didn't quite know what she was going to do with them yet, but some kind of plan was forming.
Riley wondered if this was how Mac felt when he started improvising.
MAC MAC MAC
"We've eliminated four of the trucks that left the warehouse," Bozer announced over the comms. "The rest went South and East, so we're shifting the search to those sectors."
"If they're still alive, they had to be on one of the trucks." Desi said grimly, staring at the ground.
"Oh, I think we can rest assured of that," Russ replied. "The NLF lured us here to gain information…I'd say Mac and Riley are most certainly still alive."
"If they had been executed, you probably would have already found them," Matty agreed. "But if they were taken alive…that might be worse."
"That's…some ray of sunshine there, Matty…." Bozer said morosely.
Desi watched the TAC team pour over the warehouse. They were looking for anything that might help locate their missing agents, but so far nothing helpful had been found.
She had the terrible feeling that they were running out of time.
Russ stepped over and sat next to her on the storage crate. For once, he didn't initiate the conversation, just sat with her.
"I'm not really mad at Mac," she said quietly, picking up where they'd left off in Istanbul. "I didn't come to L.A. looking to get into a relationship, and…we're both adults, we knew we weren't all that compatible, but it was…fun. We both knew there was a possibility that it wouldn't work out. He's still my friend."
"You should tell him that when we find him," Russ said simply.
"What if it's too late?"
"It isn't."
She looked at him. "You sound pretty certain about that."
He smiled. "I am. I know Mac and Riley. If they haven't already escaped, they will be shortly. We just have to be there when they need us."
"As simple as that."
He grinned at her. "Of course."
MAC MAC MAC
Mac flinched when the Doctor's fingers pressed against his neck.
"Pulse is a little fast, but that's to be expected…."
MacGyver couldn't stop shaking. Sweat poured off of him in the heat, but he felt cold at the same time. His body's reactions were getting erratic.
"How many fingers do you see, Angus?" The Doctor asked, holding up his hand.
"'s two," Mac replied, slurring the word. Fact was his vision was blurry. His head felt like it was going to burst. He watched the Doctor adjust something on the black box.
"Caduceus."
The Doctor glanced at him. "What was that?"
"Symbol of the Medical Corps," Mac explained, very carefully making his words statements, not questions. "You wore one."
"So I did."
"It was adopted by the Army in 1902, but a lot of physicians disagreed with that decision," Mac continued. Retrieving the information from his memory helped get his breathing under control. "You see, in ancient times, it was often associated with thieves and liars. I guess that would be more fitting in your case."
The Doctor stared at him in surprise at the insult, then pondered that for a moment. He smiled and walked back over to MacGyver, the probes in his hand. He settled at the head of the table, resting his elbows on it so that his face was right above Mac's.
"That feels good, doesn't it? Lashing out at me. Trying to hurt me, the way I'm hurting you." He chuckled, kindly brushing a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of Mac's eyes. "So, you use the only weapon you have, your mind. I like you, Angus."
"Can't say it's mutual." Mac hadn't hated many people in his life, but he felt raw hatred toward this man.
The Doctor seemed troubled. He shook his head. "I don't—I don't want to do this, Angus. It isn't right. We're fellow soldiers. We served in Hell together. We shouldn't be…. Listen, all they really want to know is who leaked the information about the bomb. You tell me that, and this can be over."
"I don't know," Mac muttered. His joints were throbbing. The longer he lay there, the worse his body began to feel.
The Doctor bit his lip, then exhaled deeply. "I don't know why you're making me do this."
He touched the probes to either side of Mac's jaw and held them there.
TBC