Mac felt a strange pressure on his face as he came around this time. His vision was still swimming because of the lack of oxygen he was opposed to the last few hours. But somehow he new the pressure.
A mask!
The word exploded in his head. Simultaneously he stopped breathing. Nitrogen!
"Breath!"
Never!
A hit was perfectly placed in his stomach. Mac coughed hard as all his air was driven out of his lungs. And then he needed to breath.
He wasn't drowning. Surprised his eyes popped open, searching for a point to fixate and calming down his racing heart. He was in a dim room, lying on the floor. Now one of El Noche's lackeys bend over him. A hand connected with his cheek. Tears pickled in his eyes as his head was thrown to the side. But it helped his mind to find a little more ease.
As he kept rasping, more tears formed in his eyes. He was just to exhausted. His brain was exhausted. Even though he was unconscious for a long time, he was physically and mentally done. Unconsciousness and sleeping aren't the same thing for the body, even if you are knocked out both ways. Sleeping was for getting energy back, unconsciousness was for self-protection.
After a few seconds Mac noticed a hard pull on his body. With force he was turned to his back. Mac wanted to slow down the movement, but was surprised to find his hands tightly bound behind his back. He could feel the duct tape, way to strong tied around his wrists.
Now he was looking straight up to the guy seemingly busy with tying him up. Mac felt like kicking out, but his feet were bound as well. Again, duct tape.
His visions swam again, as the man bend over him. With one hand he gripped Mac's hair in a strong grip. Mac hissed in pain, as his neck muscles were suddenly stretched. His breath sped up, leaving his hot breath on the cold plastic of the mask – a mask, were oxygen was coming from. Mac was too exhausted to feel surprised by the fact. He was too busy concentrating his body to inhale and exhale.
The position of he man's hand was replaced under Mac's chin. A strong grip kept his head in place as he could feel his body starting to hyperventilate. The free hand was bringing up the duct tape. Using two fingers of the gripping hand, the man placed a long strip of duct tape with perfection over the mask.
"Not move."
Mac wasn't entirely sure, if the man meant him or the mask now literally glued to his face. As this was his biggest problem right now. He was lying on the floor, tears in his eyes, exhausted as hell, arms and legs strongly bound with tape and a scary mask glued to his face. It was just a matter of time until his life giving oxygen was replaced with life taking nitrogen. And his brain was in no position of thinking.
Weakly he started to struggle as the man placed another strip of duct tape over the mask. Mac could feel the pulling on his skin as the man pressed the strip down a second time to ensure a good hold. Now the tears leaked out. Mac didn't know what was happening – and it drove him crazy.
A few hours earlier at Phoenix
"Mr. John Dalton?"
"Who asks?"
"Officer Lance Roman, Santa Fe", a male voice on the phone said, "Am I talking to a Mr. John Dalton?"
Jack looked at his comrades suspiciously. Riley was about to start tipping into her laptop, but Patty stopped her with a little wave. With a second one she signalized Jack to keep talking. Jack switched his phone audible for them.
"It's actually `Jack` Dalton, Sir", he corrected the officer.
A laugh was heard. Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry Mr. Dalton, but I'm not to good with Morse Code."
Morse Code?
Their eyes met. Why was this officer talking about Morse Code? Was Jack's name transmitted with it?
Mac!
Riley started tipping, Patty straightened up and Jack got really exited in fraction of a second.
"Morse Code? Where? When? Did you find Mac?"
"Ho ho ho, wait a second", Roman tried to slow Jack down.
"I want to talk to Mac!"
"I don't know this `Mac` of yours, Sir."
Disappointment.
But this officer got Jack's name and phone number. And not many people in the world knew the number of THIS phone. So there was still hope. A hand found his way to Jack's forehead as sweat trickled on his head. A few deep breaths.
"But I got your name and number from a black car, that was waiting on a red light here in Santa Fe."
What?!
"A colleague and me were helping a shop owner who was assaulted. He gave us the CCTV footage to find the robber…" Riley's tipping speeded up. So did Jack's heart. "…and as we were watching it again and again to find some evidence, I recognized a strange flashing coming from the car right in front of the shop. At first I thought it was a malfunction, but then…"
Jack wasn't even listening anymore. Mac! They finally found Mac! His boy! Tears of joy started to form in his eyes. On the edge of his hearings he could still notice the officer talking, but he didn't pay attention to the spoken words. Mac!
As he looked around in the room, searching for a point as relief washed over him, his gaze met Riley's. She as well had tears in her eyes.
With a hard press on `Enter` a video popped up on the big wall screen. It was the CCTV footage, Officer Roman was talking about. It showed the outside of a grocery shop, the side walk and some part of the road. And there it was!
The little flickering of a lamp that brought everyone such a great joy.
Mac on the other hand was way to far away from joy. And the tears tickling on his cheeks weren't of joy either. A panic rose up inside him as he weakly struggled in his bondings.
The man had left his position on Mac's side a few seconds ago. He had stepped out of the door giving Mac a small amount of time with himself and his thoughts. And this was giving Mac the chance to look around him. He was in a basement room he guessed, everything concrete, everything cold, the heavy metal door now open.
Out of nowhere and even though he knew it was pointless his struggling got stronger.
Get out!
With a power he didn't knew where it was coming from, he actually got himself on his stomach. Unfortunately the mask didn't move an inch. Like a worm he started to move ahead towards the open door. His body was screaming, being exposed to way too less oxygen over the past few hours, but he needed to get out. A fire started to burn in his breast, visible in his teary and red eyes. The way out – so close!
The man came back. Mac's movement came to a sudden halt. Behind the man a dragging sound. Heavy. Metallic.
Nitrogen!
A wave of panic captured his heart. Fanatical he threw his head, hyperventilating. No! No! No!
The man left the huge gas bottle at the door and stepped closer to Mac. Mac was pulled on his orange prison top and harshly thrown on his back again. But Mac didn't feel any pain. His head was so light, his whole body was tickling. And then there was only dark.
Noise from above brought Mac back to consciousness. He felt groggy as he tried to move, only still finding himself bound. But now he was lying on his side. The familiar pressure was also on his face as he slowly breathed in – nitrogen!
Instinctively Mac hold his breath. He started to rub the taped mask over the concrete floor to get it of – why wasn't he dead?!
Mac stopped.
He was definitely out for a few minutes, maybe longer. He knew the damage of nitrogen only breathed in for like 3 seconds, so if he was breathing in for like 3 minutes straight, he should surely be dead! So why was he still around?
Carefully he took a small breath. No drowning. Instead he felt oxygen filling his lungs. Why? Mac was confused. The man, the gas bottle, it was there! It was nitrogen! He was sure of it – was he? Did he look at the label? Was it really nitrogen?
Mac's eyes searched around the room. Moving his head hurt his muscles. His hair was sweaty. So he had been knocked out longer than he thought.
There it was!
Mac's breath stuck in his airways.
`Nitrogen`
So it really was Nitrogen! And he could even see the long tube from the gas bottle to his mask. His eyes grew wide. Why wasn't he dead?
The pressure gauge was on Zero.
So there was no Nitrogen leaking out. And this is why he was still alive. Mac wasn't sure if he should let the relief wash over him or if he should cry out of panic being strapped to a deadly gas bottle.
The ruckus from the upper floors distracted him from his emotional chaos. Was there a gun?
Jack?
Did Jack find him? Did someone got his signal from the trunk? Did someone call Jack? Was Jack on the way to get him out? Out of this misery?
Mac's head fell back as he closed his eyes. Now was the time to let relief wash over him. He couldn't be sure it was Jack up there, maybe it was a struggle between the lackeys. But no, it was Jack! It had to be Jack!
Shouting got louder as he heard footsteps rushing down the stairs. The door got opened –
The man from before.
Mac's blood froze instantly.
Jack? Where are you?
Blood was dripping from the man's forehead as he moved himself through the room, heavy gasping. His hands gripped the screw cap of the bottle –
No breathing!
Mac cramped on the floor as he started to drown again. No, not again!
He threw his head back, crashing the mask on the floor again and again, desperate for air. His eyes flew open, everything was swimming. Air! He needed air! So badly!
More and more nitrogen filled his lungs. Mac felt his whole body going limp. His eyelids began to close as his body cramped one last time in the need of oxygen.
Black.