"Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work we go." MacGyver listened to the slightly off-key notes of the song and laughed giddily to himself as he squeezed through another impossibly narrow gap in the rubble. As he pulled himself forward, a sharp pain suddenly shot up his arm as his palm encountered a protruding nail. "Ow! Dammit!" He immediately snatched his injured appendage back, cradling it protectively against his chest. "Probably a rusty nail too," he grumbled to himself as he pressed the corner of his shirt against the wound to stop the bleeding.
Despite the pain in his hand, MacGyver had a sudden, irrepressible desire to giggle. Forgetting about his injury, he started to laugh and began crawling forward again, stopping only when he leaned his weight on his hand and felt another sharp jolt of pain. With the pain came a sudden clarity and the realization that the odd singing he had been listening to earlier had been his own. He shook his head in an attempt to banish the fuzziness that seemed to have invaded his brain, but regretted it when a wave of nausea washed over him.
MacGyver groaned, running his uninjured hand through his hair. This was *not* good. It was going to be hard enough to escape his current predicament with his faculties intact. He couldn't afford to lose it now. He took a deep breath and became aware of the stuffy, heavy quality of the air around him. "Gas," he whispered aloud as he suddenly recognized the cause of his muddled thinking.
There had to be some gas lines running beneath the building and it was a good bet that at least one had ruptured during the earthquake. The gas was probably seeping through cracks in the ground and filling the open spaces that he and Murdoc were navigating in their search for freedom, making their predicament even more threatening. Going back wouldn't help, since the gas had most likely already inundated the areas they had already passed through, so without any other options, MacGyver resumed his forward progress, quickening his pace as much as possible.
"You'd better step on it, Murdoc," he turned to warn the other man. "This place is filling up with gas."
"That figures," Murdoc responded thickly.
MacGyver turned around and pushed his way determinedly through some more broken bits of drywall. After everything he had been through, he wasn't about to let something like a busted gas line stop him from getting out of here. He only hoped that they would find a source of fresh air soon, before the gas overwhelmed them.
**********
Sam lifted his head from the desk, blinking against the sudden brightness as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He turned around and spotted Willis, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, snoring softly. With a sleepy yawn, Sam stood quietly and stretched, running his hand through his sleep-mussed hair as his memory of the lab, and why he was there, flooded back. A muted beeping noise caught his attention and he glanced at the computer monitor then froze, staring at the two words that flashed on the screen in bright red letters. "Match Found". The search had taken all night, but had apparently found an answer.
"Willis," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper that the other man didn't hear. "Willis," he tried again, louder, and this time Willis opened his eyes and sat up.
"Huh?" Willis looked around in sleepy confusion.
In response, Sam simply pointed at the computer screen. Willis straightened his glasses and reached for the mouse once the words on the screen registered.
"Okay, let's see what we've got," he said eagerly as he scanned the results of the voice analysis. His excitement, though, faded as abruptly as it had begun and he leaned back in his chair, staring grimly at the screen.
"What is it?" Sam asked hesitantly, not liking the look he saw on Willis' face.
Willis turned to him slowly and said, "Murdoc."
Sam stared at him as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. "No," he whispered as he sank defeatedly into his chair. Of all the people it could have been...
"It's an eighty-nine percent match," Willis said helplessly.
Sam leaned his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands. "Shit."
"Yeah," Willis agreed, the bleak tone of his voice matching Sam's.
**********
Markham walked down the hall toward his office, mentally composing a "to-do" list in his head for the day's activities. At the top of that list was a renewed effort to locate MacGyver and Phelps. The previous day had ended with no sign of the two men and Markham was beginning to think that something other than the earthquake was responsible for their absence. What that something was, however, was still a mystery.
At first, he had suspected that Phelps had somehow engineered MacGyver's disappearance, possibly at the behest of their superiors, using the earthquake as a cover. But repeated calls from those same superiors inquiring about the location of both Phelps and MacGyver had made him doubt that particular theory, and knowing Phelps as well as he did, he also doubted that the man had taken it upon himself to make MacGyver disappear. Phelps was a man accustomed to taking orders and also one who was wise enough to know the consequences of not doing so. The people they both worked for did not encourage independent actions and were not known to be forgiving of disobedience.
Markham was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he nearly bumped into Pete, who was waiting by the door to his office. "Oh, hello Peter," Markham greeted him. "You're here early."
"No earlier than you, it seems," Pete said with a grin.
Markham snorted faintly. "It's the only time I'll be able to get anything done. It'll be a madhouse again in here by eight o'clock."
"Earthquakes have a way of causing pandemonium," Pete acknowledged sympathetically. "I figured I'd come in early and help out."
"Terrific. We can use all the help we can get."
As Pete took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs in Markham's office, his secretary came through the door carrying a pot of coffee and two cups. "Coffee gentlemen?"
"Alice, you're a lifesaver," Markham said gratefully as he accepted the steaming mug.
"Thanks, Alice," Pete said as she placed his cup in his hand.
Taking a sip of the aromatic brew, Markham sighed appreciatively. "This will be the first of many today, I'm sure."
"I take it you haven't had any luck in finding MacGyver or Phelps?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Markham said with a frown as he leaned back in his chair.
"I spent most of yesterday trying to find them," Pete told him. "I called everyone MacGyver knows, then I tried the hospitals and the morgue. It wasn't much use, though. They have hundreds of unidentified victims and they're so overwhelmed with casualties that they don't have enough staff to track anyone down."
"Damn," Markham cursed softly. "We can't spare anyone to go out hunting for them, either."
At that moment, Markham's door suddenly burst open and Willis and Sam rushed into the room.
"Sorry to barge in on you like this, Mr. Markham, but we have some news about my dad," Sam said breathlessly.
"Sam? What is it?" Pete asked.
Sam turned around, surprised by Pete's presence in the room. "Oh good, you're here. I tried to call you at home..." he trailed off.
Markham looked from Sam to Willis expectantly. "And?"
"We're fairly certain that MacGyver has met with some... foul play," Willis began.
"There was a call from Mr. Willis on my dad's answering machine... only it wasn't him," Sam added.
"What do you mean?" Markham asked.
"I analyzed the tape and found a voice print match in our database," Willis explained. "The voice belonged to Murdoc."
The silence in the room was deafening as the two older men sat, stunned at this new development.
"My God," Markham said finally, shaking his head. "What else can go wrong this week?"
"What should we do?" Sam asked, almost pleadingly.
"Any suggestions, Peter?" asked Markham. "You're the closest thing to an expert that we have on Murdoc."
"I can make a few calls, but..." Pete shook his head dispiritedly. "MacGyver's the one who's the real expert on Murdoc."
"Maybe I can help," offered Willis. "If Murdoc was impersonating me, he would have to know a lot about me in order to convince Mac."
"Like what?" Markham asked, unsure of how this would help them find his men.
"If we assume that Murdoc lured MacGyver to a meeting, it would have to be a place that both he and Willis would normally go; someplace that wouldn't arouse his suspicion," Pete explained.
"Well, Mac and I usually get together for dinner or lunch every couple of weeks." Willis scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Wouldn't a restaurant be a bit too... public for what Murdoc probably has in mind?" Markham queried.
"Yeah," Sam said despondently. "He wouldn't want an audience when he..." Sam broke off, unable to voice what they were all thinking.
"Murdoc has tried before, Sam, and he's always failed," Pete said reassuringly.
"Yeah," said Willis, nodding in agreement. "He's just no match for MacGyver."
"I hope you're right," Sam said quietly, still sounding unconvinced.
"Sam, why don't you and Willis pursue that angle," Markham suggested. "Use whatever resources you need. Peter and I are going to have our hands full getting everything coordinated here."
"Okay," Sam agreed.
"Let's go, Sam," Willis said encouragingly. "We have a lot of work to do."
"Good luck," Pete called to them as they left.
Markham silently echoed Pete's words. He hadn't said anything to them, but he had the added hope that Willis and Sam might be able to find Phelps as well, considering how closely he had been sticking to MacGyver lately. His hope was that when they found one, they would find the other.
"So," Pete said, rousing him from his reverie. "Where do we start?"
**********
Pete had once jokingly told him that when God was handing out luck, he must have gotten in line about a dozen times, since he always seemed to find a way out of all of the impossible scrapes that he managed to get himself into. As he pulled himself into a small section of corridor that had somehow remained standing, MacGyver felt the welcome touch of fresh air on his face and smiled. Maybe Pete hadn't been too far off the mark after all.
The effects of the gas and his arduous journey through the rubble had left him exhausted and feeling hung over. His head still pounded in a steady rhythm, though the clean air had rapidly banished the last traces of dizziness. Shining the lantern around, MacGyver couldn't detect any obvious source of fresh air, but the mere fact that it was present told him that he was getting closer to finding a path to the outside. With a grunt, Murdoc dragged himself into the hallway and lay on the floor breathing deeply and staring disconcertedly at the partially collapsed ceiling above him.
"The air is certainly much better in here," he finally said, his voice hoarse from the prolonged exposure to gas and dust. "Any idea where it's coming from?"
"Not a clue," MacGyver croaked wearily as he attempted to massage the ache out of his head.
"I feel like I've inhaled a couple pounds of dirt," Murdoc complained tiredly, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he attempted to brush the dust off of his clothing.
"Yeah, well keep it to yourself," MacGyver coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to fan away the cloud of dust that Murdoc was stirring up.
Murdoc shot him a glare, then curled up against the wall. "I'm going to get some sleep."
MacGyver watched him silently for a minute before finding himself a spot that wasn't too uncomfortable. Switching off the lamp, he lay on his back and tried to sleep, but the pain in his head wouldn't immediately allow it. With nothing to distract him, he started pondering his predicament again. They were getting closer to the outside and sooner or later, he was going to have to deal with Murdoc. There was no doubt in his mind that Murdoc planned to kill him the moment they were free of the imprisoning debris, and MacGyver knew that he was going to have to use everything he had if he was going to survive. With those troubling thoughts on his mind, MacGyver finally fell into an uneasy slumber.
**********
"Why don't we get some breakfast," said Willis, stifling a yawn. "I really need some coffee -- and not that battery acid that comes out of the vending machines, either."
"Sure," Sam said, his stomach growling at the thought of food. They left the Phoenix building and walked down the block to a small diner that claimed to be open twenty-four hours a day and was, indeed, the only restaurant open at that early hour. After they had been seated in a booth and ordered breakfast, Willis took a small notepad and pen out of his pocket and began taking notes.
"We need to make a list of places that Mac wouldn't find unusual to meet with me. I'm going to start with restaurants, since that's where we usually get together," Willis said, tapping his pen on the notepad.
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I was thinking that we shouldn't rule them out, since Murdoc could have gotten to my dad before he even went inside."
"You're right," Willis agreed as he began making a list.
"Don't forget that Mexican place down by the pier that we all went to after I won that award for my Bosnia photos."
"Rafael's," Willis asserted, adding it to the list. "We've been there a few times recently."
By the time they had finished breakfast, the list had expanded to two pages. Sam stared at it gloomily. "This list is huge and we haven't even finished with restaurants yet."
"MacGyver is always dragging me off to try new places," Willis explained. "Trying to expand my horizons, I guess."
"What about other places?"
"We've met in the park and at the Science Museum, but only during the daytime."
"Anyplace else?"
"Well, we have met at some of the Phoenix buildings after normal business hours... usually when we need to work on a project that we don't want anyone else to know about." Willis began adding to the list, then suddenly looked up, staring past Sam distractedly.
"What?" Sam inquired, noting the faraway look in his eyes.
"All of the Phoenix buildings have surveillance cameras."
Sam shrugged. "So? It's not likely that Murdoc just waltzed into the building and then back out again with my dad."
"Maybe not, but there are cameras covering the *outside* of all the facilities, too."
Sam nodded slowly. "He wouldn't have seen anything unusual about meeting you back at Phoenix that night."
"I think it's a good place to start," Willis said. "Markham can get us access to all of the tapes and we can watch them in my lab."
"What are we waiting for?" Sam said with a smile. "Let's go."
**********
"I found it!" Murdoc declared, gesturing toward a hole he had uncovered in the debris that clogged the partially-collapsed hallway where they had spent the last several hours. MacGyver crawled over to him and held his hand in front of the opening, smiling at the slight movement of air he felt on his outstretched palm.
"Yep, that's it all right," he nodded, agreeing with Murdoc's assessment. For the next few hours, he and Murdoc worked furiously to widen the hole so that they could fit through it. Once it was large enough, MacGyver shone the light inside, illuminating another narrow, twisted passage, then blew out a weary breath and crawled inside. "I'm really starting to hate dark holes," he grumbled as he inched his way slowly along the tunnel, studiously avoiding the abundance of rusty nails and jagged chunks of concrete as best he could. The tunnel eventually led, with much digging and effort on his part, to another small section of intact corridor. MacGyver slid himself into it, thankful to be able to rest on a smooth surface for awhile.
The fresh air was even more abundant here, and MacGyver quickly located the source at one end of the hallway. An elevator, its doors buckled and blocked with debris, stood at what was once an intersection of two corridors. Air flowed steadily through the gap between the doors and MacGyver felt his hopes building. Elevator shafts were usually sturdy and well-reinforced and there was a good chance that this one had remained fairly intact compared to the rest of the structure. Without waiting for Murdoc, he began pulling bricks and sections of smashed drywall away from the doors with a new burst of energy fueled by the hope that this might, at last, be a way out of this nightmare.
**********
"Nothing," Sam said dully, staring blearily at the last of the surveillance tapes. He and Willis had been reviewing them all day and had seen no evidence that MacGyver had been anywhere near the Phoenix Foundation facilities since he had left his office two nights ago.
"All that means is that he didn't go to any of the Phoenix buildings," Willis said encouragingly.
"Where is he?" Sam asked plaintively, not really expecting an answer.
Willis squeezed Sam's shoulder sympathetically, noting the strain in the younger man's voice. "Sam, I've known Mac a long time. He's one of the most intelligent and resourceful people I've ever met. He'll find a way out of whatever trouble he's gotten himself into. He always does."
"I'm trying to believe that, but..." Sam shook his head dispiritedly.
"Look, he's handled Murdoc before. I'm sure it's no different this time," Willis stated confidently.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because, I've seen him do it before, and..." Willis paused for a minute then continued. "... and because we haven't heard from Murdoc."
"What do you mean?"
"Murdoc likes to... gloat about his triumphs. One of his trademarks is taking pictures of his victims as they die."
"That's sick!" Sam said disgustedly.
Willis nodded solemnly. "You can bet that if he had done anything to Mac, he would already have been in touch with us -- you and Pete especially -- to crow about it. He's been after him for so long, it would be his ultimate victory and he wouldn't be able to resist rubbing it in."
"Jesus, what a bastard," Sam swore softly.
"Yeah," Willis said quietly. "But the good news is, that we *haven't* heard from him, so your dad is probably okay."
"Probably..." Sam echoed.
"We just have to think positive and keep looking for him."
"You're right, I know," Sam acknowledged reluctantly. "But I'm just... I don't want to lose him."
"Neither do I." Willis clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, we still have this list of places to check out. What do you say we start with one of the restaurants?" Willis gave Sam a rueful smile. "I'd really like to have a meal that didn't come wrapped in plastic."
"Yeah, me too," Sam chuckled.
"Good! We'll need the energy if we're going to make any kind of dent in this list." He waved the pages at Sam.
Sam groaned inwardly at the amount of effort that was going to be required to visit the numerous places on the list. "When we find him," Sam said with a crooked smile. "My dad is going to owe us one very large dinner... at the restaurant of our choice."
"At least," Willis laughed as they headed out the door, thankful that Sam was in better spirits. He only hoped that his confident words were proven true and they *did* find MacGyver alive and well.
**********
"Man, this sucks," MacGyver said under his breath as he clung to the damaged side of the elevator shaft. His elation at discovering the relatively intact conduit to the surface had quickly turned to dismay when he realized just how far *up* the opening to the outside world lay. It appeared that the top half of the shaft had been sheared off, but this having been a ten-story building, that still left five stories worth of treacherous climbing ahead of him. And that was about four stories too many for his liking. Looking down, he saw that Murdoc was making slow but steady progress behind him, hampered by his broken arm, but seeming to have no problem with his distance from the ground. MacGyver was glad that the feeble light from the lantern, which he had hooked through his belt, didn't reach as far as the bottom of the shaft, since he really didn't need any reminders of his altitude.
As he reached for another handhold, MacGyver spotted the faint twinkling of a star through the gap in the rubble three floors above him. That was a goal definitely worth reaching, MacGyver told himself as he determinedly hauled himself the next few feet toward the surface. Several times, he nearly lost his grip, but now that he had freedom in his sights, nothing was going to stand between him and the outside. He certainly wasn't about to give Murdoc the pleasure of watching him plunge to his death.
Concentrating only on the single star above him as he climbed, MacGyver was surprised when his next upward push brought him to the surface. A wide smile spread across his face and he quickly scrambled the rest of the way out of the hole. Careful of his footing, MacGyver slowly stood and looked out at the lights of the city.
"Yes!" he shouted triumphantly, stretching his arms out as the cool breeze ruffled his hair. The sudden sensation of the cool night air made him shiver slightly, but MacGyver couldn't remember anything that had ever felt quite that good. He was so exhilarated by his hard-won freedom that he didn't even notice when Murdoc finally emerged from the rubble.
"Well," Murdoc commented as he, too, took in the view. "That was... interesting, though not an experience I'd care to repeat."
MacGyver turned at the sound of his voice and regarded Murdoc warily. He unhooked the lantern from his belt and set it down beside him. "Me neither," he quietly agreed. They stood silently, gazing out at the lights of the city, until Murdoc turned around to face MacGyver.
"I do believe we have some unfinished business," Murdoc said with a humorless grin.
MacGyver rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Give it a rest, Murdoc. Can't you simply be happy to be alive and out of that hell hole?"
Murdoc shrugged and nonchalantly waved his knife, which had suddenly appeared in his hand. "Game's not over yet." He tightened his grip on the knife and advanced toward MacGyver, who took a step back and then another, as Murdoc slowly approached him, a cold, almost feral, gleam in his eyes. MacGyver stepped back again, but this time the surface beneath his foot shifted and he stumbled backward, landing hard on his backside.
"Very graceful, MacGyver," Murdoc said with a disparaging smirk. "What do you call that move?"
As he tried to stand, MacGyver realized with sudden alarm that his left foot -- the uninjured one -- was wedged tightly between two pieces of concrete.
"Got yourself stuck, have you?" Murdoc said with a chuckle of amusement at MacGyver's futile efforts to free himself.
"Oh shut up, Murdoc," MacGyver growled as he searched vainly for some means of escape.
"This is almost too easy," Murdoc said as he drew even closer to MacGyver, who continued his frantic attempt to pry himself loose. "But still, I am rather tired of this game." He took a final step and stood over MacGyver with the knife.
MacGyver stopped struggling and stared helplessly as Murdoc toyed with the blade. His nemesis still had that same hard, dispassionate look on his face that MacGyver had come to know well over the years, but absent was the unbridled glee with which he had approached his task when their ordeal had begun. Maybe Murdoc had, as he said, grown tired of the 'game'. Or maybe he was simply worn out and didn't have the energy to enjoy his victory with the usual enthusiasm. MacGyver never had the opportunity to find out. The slow, familiar rumbling began again and the unstable ruins upon which they stood began to shudder and heave with increasing severity.
MacGyver cried out in pain when the blocks of cement trapping his foot shifted suddenly, increasing the pressure for a moment before dropping away abruptly, releasing him from their grip. With an angry growl, Murdoc regained his balance and dove toward MacGyver, his knife positioned for attack. Scrabbling backward blindly, MacGyver moved hurriedly out of Murdoc's reach, his hands and feet seeking purchase wherever they could on the shaking ruins.
Murdoc's lunge fell short of his moving target and he landed badly on his broken arm, eliciting a howl that was more a result of fury than of pain. His eyes never leaving his prey, Murdoc climbed stubbornly back onto his feet, preparing to attack again. He stepped forward just as the rubble opened up beneath him, the look on his face one of confusion, then of horror as he realized what was happening.
MacGyver threw himself forward, reaching for Murdoc's arm. But he was too far away. Murdoc disappeared into the hole, his cry of, "MacGyverrr...!" cut off abruptly as the debris swallowed him up.
As MacGyver stared in shock at the spot where Murdoc had been standing, a sudden, violent shift in the debris tossed him backward roughly. Flailing helplessly, MacGyver tumbled head over heels down the sloping side of the rubble.
"Oof!" All of the air left his lungs at once as MacGyver dropped off the edge of the massive pile and landed flat on his back in the parking lot. He lay there gasping for breath, gazing up at the sky as the temblor gradually tapered off.
"Ow!" he grumbled, once he was able to breathe again. Slowly, he sat up and took his first look at the wreckage that had been his prison for the past two days. Even in the moonlight, he could tell that the once-proud Waller Building had been completely demolished and he could hardly believe that he had survived such devastation. The wreckage looked like what was usually left of Tokyo after Godzilla got through stomping all over it in those cheesy old Japanese sci-fi flicks he had liked to watch as a child. The image of a giant lizard on the loose in L.A. made him laugh out loud, and even as he gripped his sides and the tears rolled down his cheeks, MacGyver knew that his reaction was due more to stress and sheer relief at being alive than to any real amusement at the situation.
His laughter soon abated and MacGyver pulled himself painfully to his feet, hobbling around to the side of the building where he had left his jeep. He couldn't wait to get out of here and back to his apartment. Rounding the corner, or what used to be the corner of the building, MacGyver stopped short and stared in shock at his jeep. He couldn't help himself; he doubled over and began to laugh again hysterically. His jeep was still parked where he had left it... except that it had been smashed nearly flat by a huge pile of concrete.
"Ah hell," he finally gasped, when the hysterics had faded into an occasional chuckle. It was such an ironically appropriate ending to his latest misadventure.
The mess that was once the Waller Building lay at the far end of an industrial park on the outskirts of the city, and MacGyver wasn't relishing the long walk he had ahead of him before he reached anyplace that might be inhabited at this late hour. There were few other buildings nearby, since most of the other businesses had, like the Phoenix Foundation, abandoned the area for newer facilities that were more accessible to the freeways or to public transportation. From what MacGyver could see, the majority of the structures that remained had fared almost as badly as the Waller Building during the earthquake. Giving his former transportation a last look, MacGyver straightened and turned away, trudging slowly toward the lights of the city.
**********
MacGyver stopped to rest next to a boarded-up gas station at the edge of the industrial area, the physical toll of his ordeal beginning to catch up with him. He was exhausted and dehydrated after two long days of fighting his way out from under the building without any food or water. Closing his eyes, he leaned wearily against the building, thinking about what he was going to do when he got home. Smiling dreamily at thoughts of the hot shower, good meal and soft bed waiting for him, MacGyver suddenly detected faint strains of music drifting toward him in the night air. Instantly on the alert, he pushed himself away from the wall and started walking toward the sound, which seemed to be coming from the direction he was heading anyway.
MacGyver quickened his pace as much as his aching body would allow, eager to find the source of the music, since music meant people, and that meant that help was nearby. After two days with no one but Murdoc for company, he was almost desperate for contact with someone else -- anyone else. Hell, he would even be glad to see Phelps, at this point.
The music grew louder as he proceeded and MacGyver finally identified it as some of the loud stuff that Sam liked to listen to occasionally. He actually didn't mind most of it, but he figured it was his duty as a father to make fun of his son's taste in music and he truly enjoyed the lighthearted sparring with Sam over the merits of the various artists. It was just one of the many joys of having his son in his life, and one of the best motivations he had during his grueling struggle to crawl out of the wreckage. He couldn't wait to see Sam again. With a sigh, he focused on the sound and limped steadily toward its source.
As he got closer, MacGyver determined that the music was coming from one of the old warehouses that lined the street. He stopped, debating his course of action. Most of the buildings were abandoned and covered with graffiti. Few of the streetlights remained intact and the area was know to be a haven for gangs and drug dealers -- not exactly the kind of people he wanted to run into. The dilapidated business district gave way to a more residential area further down the road, and MacGyver wondered if it might be better to just keep going. Nothing good ever seemed to happen to him in warehouses anyway. He was still making up his mind when several figures emerged from a door in the side of the building and slowly surrounded him.
MacGyver glanced around warily, looking at the group of young men who were silently staring at him. "Uh, hi guys," he said with a crooked smile.
One of them, a tall dark-haired man wearing a black leather jacket walked up to him, looked him up and down, then met his gaze coolly. "What you want?"
"Nothing, I'm just looking for a phone," MacGyver replied calmly. Someone behind him snickered.
"We look like the phone company?" the man asked him sarcastically, poking MacGyver in the chest with his finger. His companions found this hilarious and hooted with laughter, drawing even closer to MacGyver.
"I guess not. I think I'll go look somewhere else," MacGyver said with a shrug. "Maybe that way." He pointed down the street, taking a tentative step in the direction. The last thing he needed right now was trouble with a bunch of punks.
"You do that," the man said, stepping aside and gesturing for him to pass.
MacGyver nodded and started limping down the street, keenly aware of the group following closely behind. He pretended not to notice, plodding steadily toward his destination, hoping they would get bored with him and go away.
"Hey Deke," one of the guys behind him called to the tall spokesman. "What do you suppose this guy wants with a phone? He look like he been livin' in a dumpster, man."
Deke sidled up to MacGyver. "That true? You live in a dumpster?"
Without breaking his stride, MacGyver turned his head and met his gaze evenly. "Nope."
"How come you such a mess?" Deke tugged at MacGyver's dusty sleeve with distaste.
"Wrecked my car," MacGyver said calmly. "Had to sleep on the ground last night."
"Oh yeah? So what you doin' driving around my 'hood? You a cop or something?"
"Nah, I'm selling encyclopedias." He turned to Deke and grinned. "Want some?"
"You real funny, man," Deke said. "We got us a comedian here, boys." Deke suddenly grabbed MacGyver's arm, his voice turning hard. "I don't like comedians, and I don't like strangers pokin' around where they don't belong." Another of the young men grabbed MacGyver's other arm and propelled him forward, slamming him forcefully into a utility pole. Pain shot through his ribs and he was spun around roughly and shoved back against the hard wooden surface.
"Look, I'm just passing through. I'm not looking for any trouble," MacGyver said placatingly as he looked at the seven men surrounding him.
Deke smiled a cold smile that reminded MacGyver of a predator about to devour its prey. "Well you found it, funny man." He brought his face to within inches of MacGyver's. "We don't like strangers in our 'hood. 'Specially disrespectful strangers." He took a step back, then smiled again as he launched his fist toward MacGyver's face.
There was an audible crack as MacGyver's head snapped back and impacted against the pole, and the stars were still dancing across his vision when Deke followed up with a solid blow to his stomach. He clutched his abdomen and felt his knees begin to buckle. Deke shoved him sideways and MacGyver tumbled into the street landing in an ungraceful heap on the asphalt. In his weakened state, he was no match for even one of the men, let alone seven of them -- though, the other six seemed to be content to watch Deke pound on him, clearly enjoying the show.
As the tall thug approached him again, MacGyver felt a sudden surge of anger. He had just survived two days in hell, and he was not about to let these punks get the best of him. Slowly, with painful determination, he started to stand, only to be knocked down again by a hard kick to his side. MacGyver rolled away and lay dazedly on his back while Deke moved in on him again.
"Yo, Deke," one of the other men called out. "Look out!" Deke jumped out of the way just as a battered car barreled around the corner and skidded to a halt between him and MacGyver.
"Get in!" The driver yelled to MacGyver through the open window.
Not needing to be told twice, MacGyver jerked himself unsteadily to his feet and jumped into the backseat of the car as it sped away, accompanied by the sound of screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber.
"Aw man," MacGyver closed his eyes and groaned as he slowly righted himself and leaned back against the seat.
"I don't believe it!" a voice exclaimed from the front seat. "MacGyver?"
MacGyver opened one eye and grinned at the man who was staring at him incredulously from the front passenger seat. "Hey Garrett," he greeted dark-skinned man. "Boy, am I glad to see you."
Garrett snorted. "Yeah, I'll bet." Turning to the driver of the car, he said, "Mike, this sorry-looking dude is MacGyver. He helps us out at the Challenger's Club."
"Nice to meet you... I think," Mike said.
MacGyver saw the amusement in the eyes reflected in the rear-view mirror. "You too," he replied, then said to Garrett with mock indignance, "... and I am *not* sorry-looking."
Garrett laughed. "You obviously haven't taken a good look at yourself lately." He turned to MacGyver, concern written plainly on his face. "What the hell happened to you, anyway?"
MacGyver shook his head tiredly. "You wouldn't believe it."
"With you, Mac, I'd believe anything."
MacGyver shot him a dirty look. "Well, if you must know, a building fell on me."
"What?!" Mike and Garrett exclaimed simultaneously.
MacGyver chuckled at the reaction then launched into an explanation, editing out the part about Murdoc and his true reason for being at the Waller Building.
"So you were stuck under there since the quake hit?"
"Yep."
"Damn!" Garrett marveled. "Leave it to you to try to inspect a building during an earthquake."
"Who knew?" MacGyver gestured helplessly.
"So what did you do to piss off the T-Boyz?" Mike asked.
"T-Boyz?" MacGyver looked at Garrett, eyebrow arched inquisitively.
"You know, those lovely gentlemen who were kicking your ass all over the street."
"Oh, them," MacGyver winced. "They didn't like me being in their neighborhood, even accused me of being a cop. I told them I was selling encyclopedias, but they didn't buy that either."
"You didn't!" Garrett stared at him, aghast.
"Yeah, I did," he said with a shrug. "I was getting tired of their attitude."
"Oh man," Mike whispered. "You're nuts."
"You've got that right," Garrett agreed. "The T-Boyz are one nasty bunch of badasses, Mac. Nobody messes with them, not even the other gangs. You picked the wrong bunch of guys to mouth off to."
"Oops," MacGyver said sheepishly.
"'Oops' is right. You're lucky we came along when we did," Garrett said.
"What were you doing out there at..." MacGyver looked at his watch, and noticed for the first time that it was broken. "What time is it, anyway?"
"It's 2:00 a.m." Mike said.
"We were helping some of the local merchants board up their shops. A lot of them have been getting hit by looters after dark so we volunteered to give them a hand."
"Lucky for me you did," MacGyver said just as his stomach let loose a ferocious growl.
"Hungry?" Garrett asked innocently, unsuccessfully hiding a grin.
"You could say that," MacGyver replied dryly.
"I've got just the thing." Garrett leaned forward, then handed a paper bag and a bottle of water into the backseat. "Me and Mike stopped at Mickey D's right before we ran into you. I think you need this more than I do."
MacGyver opened the bag hesitantly. Normally, he didn't eat red meat, but his hunger won out over his health concerns and he unwrapped the package gratefully. After a couple of days without food, he figured his arteries would forgive him for eating one hamburger. "Thanks," he said as he took a swallow of water.
"Take a left up here, Mike," Garrett directed. "It's the fastest way to Mercy Hospital."
MacGyver's head snapped up. "Hospital?! No way, man! Just drop me near a phone or something."
"Sorry Mac, but you're a mess. You need a doctor."
"Garrett..." MacGyver protested.
"Forget about it, Mac. You're going if I have to carry you in there myself." He gave MacGyver an evil grin. "And don't think I won't."
"Gee thanks," MacGyver grumped, making a face at him because he knew the big man could, and *would*, do just that.
**********
To be continued