The barest hint of grey kissed the eastern sky when Mac peeled his eyes open. He quietly eased himself up to sitting and started stretching out the knots any body winds itself in when sleeping on the ground on a cold night.

The fire was mostly out, but the embers were enough to see by to get his socks and boots back on. He was going to go find some really good food to have ready for breakfast just to prove the forest could provide something past barely adequate even when all you could do was forage. Then he'd review tracking, give them a general direction and instructions to give him twenty minutes lead time. Their job would be to track him to their evening camp site. Jack had already agreed to stick with them and shepherd them along if they strayed so Mac was anticipating kind of a fun day. He was also anticipating that today would be the day he'd win the $200 that was up for grabs between him and Jack.

But first he needed to head into the woods for a minute or two. It was light enough now to heed the call of nature.

He was getting to his feet to do just that when a sleep-graveled voice demanded, "Where you going?"

"Where do you think?"

"Oh, 'kay," Jack mumbled sleepily.

Jack was tempted to fall back asleep. He was beat. And sore. He loved a good camping trip, always had, he even enjoyed Mac's more intense version of camping most of the time. But a night out on the ground in the cold made it just a little harder to convince himself that he had too many more years of this in front of him. Hot damn, but what he wouldn't give for a soft bed right about now.

He stretched and yawned and froze as he heard what sounded like a short, sharp cry from off in the direction Mac had gone. Jack was on his feet with his weapon drawn in less than no time, stiff joints and achy muscles forgotten in one fluid movement.

In the quiet of the early dawn, Jack could hear the sounds of a struggle. He swallowed hard, moving off in the direction of the sounds, taking in every nuance. It wasn't the sound of animals or even human and animal. It was an all too human sound, down to the puffing breath and someone's muffled attempts to yell.

Jack picked up his pace, still careful to move quietly.

After what felt like roughly a thousand miles but was probably less than fifty yards Jack got to the clearing a short distance from their campsite. His whole body went cold and still at the sight of an armed man trying subdue his partner, mostly through a firm choke hold that had Mac's eyes wide and his lips purpling already. He gun the man was pressing into a struggling Mac's ribs didn't make him feel any better either.

He stepped forward. "Let him go."

Mac's assailant stiffened. Mac used the opportunity to throw himself back hard, trying to headbutt or at least unbalance whoever was behind him. All he succeeded in doing with the first attempt was getting choked harder, but he renewed his struggles knowing that now Jack was here and the element of surprise was no longer his attacker's advantage.

Jack tried again. "I said let him go." Unfortunately that was the same moment another body hit him hard from the side. Jack and the new threat skidded across the rocky ground with the force of the attack and his gun flew from his hand as his wrist struck a rock. Pain blossomed and he thought he'd maybe just broken something. That didn't stop him from using the hand to form a fist and take a swing at the guy suddenly on top of him though.

Jack got to his feet taking in the new threat along with the man squeezing Mac's throat with enough force that now the kid's eyes were starting to roll back. Jack dodged his own attacker and threw himself at the man choking Mac.

He slipped on the muddy ground so he only got a hand on the guy's jacket before the one who'd jumped him was grappling with him again. Only now the bastard had a knife.

Mac saw the glitter of metal a split second before Jack barked a pained curse. Then he heard the sickening crack of a solid punch to the jaw l, followed by the sound of a big guy crumpling to the earth.

Mac's vision was narrowing down to a point in the dark and he knew he was about to lose consciousness. He tried once again to throw himself backward. This time his feet found purchase on a dry rock.

Both he and whoever jumped him went sprawling on the wet ground and the death grip on his neck was released. Mac gasped for air and started scrambling to get up, but a voice, not Jack and not the one who'd spoken from behind him just as he'd been about to head back toward camp said, "Move and you're both dead." He heard the distinct sound of a rifle being snugged into someone's shoulder, preparing to shoot.

Mac wanted to turn toward the voice but wisely he stayed still on the ground, raising his hands in the surrender. "Okay," he said, though he was barely audible, his voice hoarse from being nearly choked out.

"On your feet," the voice ordered. This time, instead of trying to talk, Mac just nodded and slowly got up.

In spite of Mac's newly declared surrender, his original attacker got to his own feet and strode over and hit in hard in the face. Still gasping for breath, it sent Mac back to the ground.

"Knock it off, Sid. We need this one awake."

"He ran his head into my nose!" the man complained.

"You'll live. Tie his hands."

Mac nearly forgot himself and started struggling when the man pulled a rope out of his coat, but the other man had picked Jack's gun up off the ground and checked the load. Now he leveled it at Jack's head, who Mac realized was on the ground and out cold. And bleeding from a wound in his side. He was muddy too so it was unclear just how badly he was injured. At least he was breathing.

Mac stilled, holding his hands out. Blood was trickling down his face and he could taste it too. He saw the other man's eyes flicker toward the direction of their camp. That was enough for him to reflexively start to rise, thinking only to warn them somehow. Memories of Riley and Bozer too damned close to The Ghost's bomb threatened to choke him just as surely as his attacker.

"Don't do it," the man warned. "So much as a peep and your buddy and those two still sleeping are done. You get me?"

Mac met his eyes and nodded once. Then he hazarded a very quiet, "You'll leave them alone if I cooperate?"

"Unless they make trouble."

"Okay."

He got to his feet when the man gestured, and fell into step between them, trying to keep his footing despite the sort of dizzy haze being choked and struck repeatedly had his brain in.

He was glad his hands were tied in front of him because it allowed him to occasionally break branches. He also stumbled from time to time, and only about every third one was unintentional. The tripping allowed him to conceal how he was dragging his boots. He hoped Jack was okay for a lot of reasons, but right now the biggest one was that as soon as his partner came to he'd be on their trail, and finding a way to get help.

Mac had had enough of being taken prisoner just in this last year to last a hundred lifetimes.

Bozer opened his eyes resentfully, grousing about his lovely food coma of a dream being interrupted. Then he got a look at Riley's face. "Where's Mac?"

"I don't know. No sign of him."

Bozer looked around a little frantically. "What about Jack?"

Riley shook her head. "He's gone too, but his boots are still by the fire pit."

"Well," Bozer hedged. "Day two is tracking … maybe we're gonna have to track Mac …"

"What about Jack's boots still being here?"

"Mac probably left him with us so we don't do anything stupid."

"Like try to burn poison oak?" she smirked.

"Yeah, like that." He thought for a moment. "Jack probably had like an emergency bathroom situation or something. If we pick up Mac's trail before he gets back that oughta be worth some points, right?"

They both got to their feet and started ranging around the campsite, looking for clues as to where Mac had gone to. Riley got lucky first. "I got some bootprints over here."

Bozer came over quickly. "Let's see." He inspected them carefully. "These aren't Mac's. Look at the sole."

"It's a different shoe," she agreed "And it wasn't here when we made camp."

Bozer found what they'd been looking for. "These are Mac's footprints."

Riley shivered. "So someone else was here?" She paused and bent down, lifting a cigarette butt and holding it up for Bozer to see. "This is the same brand we saw at that campsite yesterday. And it's got dew all over it, which means whoever dropped it must have been here last night."

Bozer's eyes were wide and round. "So that smoker was watching us while we were sleeping, and now Mac's suddenly vanished?"

"Not to quote Jack … but I'm getting a really bad feeling about this."

"Jack!" Bozer shouted. "Mac!"

Riley joined in. "Mac! Jack! Where are you?"

They headed in the direction of the boot prints, still calling out to both their teammates. It was only a low groan that kept Riley from tripping over Jack as he pushed himself up to sitting from his position on his back on the damp earth. "Ah," he mumbled, putting one hand to his head and wrapping the other arm around his middle.

"Jack!" they both exclaimed at once and dropped down onto the ground to help.

"Jack? Where's Mac?" Boze asked at the same time Riley asked, "Are you okay?"

Jack answered the more pressing of the two questions. "Two guys jumped us." He gasped as he tried to get up. "Must've taken Mac with them." He redoubled his efforts to get to his feet.

"You're bleeding," Riley observed, not that she expected him to stop getting to his feet but more because she felt it needed saying.

Jack paused, feeling around in various pockets, nodding his head. "Yeah … one of them had a knife."

"I … um … I read about how to make styptic powder in the guidebook, but I can't remember!" Riley chastised herself.

"S'alright," Jack assured her. "You just gotta ask yourself, WWMD?"

"Huh?" Bozer asked incredulously.

Riley grinned a little in spite of herself. "What would MacGyver do? I thought that's what I was doing."

Jack pulled a small tube out of the inside of his coat. "And that wasn't a half bad idea, kiddo. But a little superglue can go a long way in situations like this. Never leave home without it."

She look the glue from him, shaking her head. "Sit for a minute. Let's take a look at how bad …"

Jack didn't sit, but he leaned against the nearest tree, tugging his bloody and torn T-shirt up. A cut ran from his belly button all the way to the waistband of his jeans by his hip, but despite all the stinging and bleeding, it was pretty shallow. It wasn't deep enough to have damaged anything vital anyway. He sucked in his breath sharply when Riley applied the glue but after a couple of minutes the bleeding was stopped and the wound was almost numb from the glue.

Bozer had taken the opportunity to look around. "Looks like they headed this way," he pointed. "I've got Mac's tracks, plus two others. Same boots but different sizes so it looks like there was only the two you saw, Jack."

Jack nodded his approval, limping over to where Bozer was looking. Now that he was up on his feet, he realized he'd twisted something in his left ankle painfully. But the upside seemed to be that while his wrist hurt like hell, he was pretty sure it wasn't broken like he'd first thought. "Nice work, Boze. Let's go,"

"Um … Jack … I know how focused you get when you're worried about Mac, but do you think you maybe want your boots?" Riley asked.

"And your pack?" Bozer agreed.

Jack frowned. He'd lost sight of the fact that his feet were bare. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Be right back!" Riley called, already taking off at a run to get Jack's gear.

As soon as she got back, she helped Jack get his boots on so he wouldn't have to keep bending right at the site of that knife wound. Bozer shouldered Jack's pack. "I got this, man."

"Thanks, Boze. Thanks, Ri. Now let's go get Mac back."

They headed into the woods in the direction the boot prints pointed. After only a few steps, Jack noticed a broken branch, and then another no far beyond that. Then another. He half smiled to himself. That kid was always thinkin'.

Thunder rumbled again and a few damp sprinkles found their way down through the trees and onto the small group trudging through the woods. Mac's head was pounding now; exertion after a blow to the head (or face) wasn't exactly ideal.

He stumbled again, this one definitely not on purpose and the man in front, who he's gleaned went by the name Gio, grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upright again. "Knock it off!" he barked.

"Sorry," Mac breathed. "Sorry."

Gio sent the other man ahead to let "the crew" know they were going to be moving out. Mac found himself seized by the elbow and the barrel of Jack's pistol jammed between his shoulder blades. "Keep moving!" A shove almost sent Mac sprawling but he kept his feet and made them move in the direction the other man had gone. He glanced up at the ominous sky wondering when it was just going to open and drench them. He actually wouldn't mind. He was thirsty as hell and would have considered giving up a kidney to get enough water to wash the blood out of his mouth.

Mac felt like he struggled up the next mud-slick hill for about an hour. It was almost a relief when he was shoved again and found himself on a spot where the ground was leveled out and a small group of pale, miserable looking, hard faced people who were pretty clearly the "crew" mentioned earlier.

"Fellas," Gio said with a menacing grin. "Meet our new guide."

Hands on him, grabbing his pack. He tensed, then forced himself to try to relax again, to assess the situation. The girl had his canteen and was drinking greedily from it. "You might want to ration that," he said conversationally. When all it got him was punched in the gut again, he coughed and blinked a few times, but doubled down on what he'd started to say. "Clean water is hard to come by out here."

All that earned him was a dirty look, but when he revealed that he didn't carry food with him he knew he was about one breath away from getting the living hell beat out of him. When they were distracted by getting their meager gear together, Mac eyed a possible escape route. It was a steep bank, probably a dangerous drop if he went over it wrong. But he thought he could control his descent enough to get to the bottom in one piece. If he could do that, he could probably get ahead of these guys enough to lose them since, just as he'd pointed out to them, these guys weren't exactly experienced hikers.

"Only gonna say this once, Ranger Rick," came Gio's cold voice, stopping him from making an attempt. "Don't." Mac's eyes flicked to his face. "All my friends run faster than you."

Mac sighed. This guy didn't miss much. "So, are you gonna tell me what this is all about? Where do you need to go so badly you're willing to kidnap a guide?"

He passed Mac a creased and damp piece of paper with a rough map drawn on it. "X" marks the spot."

"What's at the "X"?" Mac asked, looking it over.

"Not your concern," Gio bit out with icy menace. "Just get me there."

"Okay," Mac sighed heavily. "But … I don't really know how to tell you this. This is on the other side of some of the roughest terrain out here." The criminal's expression hardened more, but Mac kept going. "A trek like this should only be attempted by a well-trained crew, not a bunch of first-timers."

In a brief but damaging fit of rage, Gio struck out with the butt of his rifle, landing it solidly in Mac's ribs. Mac doubled over, gasping for breath again. "I didn't ask your opinion.
Just get us there, all right?"

Mac swallowed hard a couple of times, having a stern talk with his stomach that it was not allowed to refund his meager breakfast of cattails on this guy's shoes no matter how much it wanted to. When he caught his breath, he tried again. "Getting angry doesn't change the fact that you have no food, no water.
You're inexperienced, and you're not prepared for this hike. I mean, it's about to rain and …"

He was cut off by another blow to mid midsection. Gio leveled the gun at him. "Maybe I'm not making myself clear.
Act as if your life depends on getting us to that X. Because it does."

Mac's eyes squeezed shut and this time he dropped down on the ground to catch his breath. Rain started to fall softly. He felt it patter, cold and foreboding against his overheated neck. He hoped the others had been able to follow the trail signs and come to find him. He needed back up. And fast.

C'mon, guys. Hurry.

Gio didn't wait for him to be breathing normally to haul him to his feet and shove him in the direction of the X on the map.

I've got a bad feeling about this.