The drive was longer than he expected. On his count they were on their way for nearly an hour on a bumpy road always going up and down. Mac guessed that they brought him deeper into the mountains. The men around him didn't say much. He couldn't understand a word of what they said. As soon as he tried to move just a little bit the soles of their heavy boots met painfully with his back. After some time, his left shoulder and hip began to numb. The most weight was on them, and the uneven way helped not at all. Because of his hands bound on his back he had only a chance to relief the hurting side when he changed to the other. Solely the movement of his hips and his head going up, scared his capturers. They screamed at him, and one caught the sling around his neck instantly. He pulled at it. Mac couldn't breathe anymore and ignoring the kicks against his body he tried to move in the desperate hope to get more air into his lungs. They burned. His attempts were to no avail. His vision blurred and blackness closed in from the sides. Little light dots danced in front of his eyes. Powerless his head sank down to the ground and his body felt suddenly mysterious light. He couldn't feel his legs or arms anymore. Without realizing first, finally he breathed again. Carefully he tried again to get some air into his body, felt alongside the air moving down his airways into his lungs and breathed out relieved. The rope was loosened once again.

Finally, the vehicle came to a stand. The men left the loading platform, pulled Mac also down from the Pick-up onto the hard ground. No one hindered him to sit up this time. Sitting in the shadow he tried to get a clear view of his surroundings. A few small houses crouched against the rocks at the side of a light traffic mountain road. The other side went down in a scree slope. The men left the cars and went into one of the houses. A single guard stayed with Mac. He didn't show interest in his captive, started smoking and went back and forth. Mac stood up, that get his guard's interest for a moment.

"My legs are numb." Mac declared with an innocent look and stomped a bit with both feet. The man nodded uninterested again.

Mac's earwig produced some crackling and whooshing sounds, but the conversation wasn't understandable. As long as he had at least some connection his signal could get detected. A small flicker of hope. In the meantime, Mac had fished a paper clip out of his pocket, and he worked on opening the lock on his shackles. It didn't take long for him, and his left hand was free. The weight of the heavy shackle fell from his wrist. He sighed relieved. It was easy to free the other hand too.

Step one: successful!

Soundless he laid the iron behind his back onto the platform. He waited until the guard turned away from him and went some steps in the direction of the houses. Mac flashed into action and jumped over the side of the road onto the rubble. Hopefully he didn't cause a debris avalanche that would bury him underneath. He skittered down as fast as possible.

Step two: successful!

A loud cry and then more screams behind, showed him that his escape wasn't unnoticed. Suddenly it was silent again. Only a few yards down he could cover under some scrubby bushes and little trees that were flattened from rough winds. What he would do then he didn't know yet, but that wasn't important. One step after the other.
A shot disrupted the silence. Right before his feet a few stones sputtered and some of them hit his legs.

"The next one hits you. I never miss my target!"

Clear, nearly without any accent, spoken English words and the warning forced Mac to a sliding stand. Frustrated he turned around. The distance between the road and him was less than he hoped. Maybe 70 yards. No problem for a good shooter. The man aimed at him with an American sniper-rifle, like Jack's. Mac knew enough of the weapon to understand that he was definitely an easy target.
"I would like to advise you to come up again, if your blood should not dry between the stones."
For the split of a second Mac deliberated whether he should obey.

Step three: failed!

Slowly he climbed back over the debris. The men laughed. When Mac stepped onto the road again, he saw that the bearded man with the dark eyes from the abandoned shop held the rifle. He smoked one last time, threw the cigarette stub onto the ground and stepped on it.
"Good choice, my American friend."
Mac didn't answer, he looked angry at the Taliban – at least he guessed the man was one. This man was clearly the head of this group, and he was no fool. Maybe he studied in the USA or something like that. With one hand he grabbed Mac's hair again, snatched some strands and forced Mac's head from one side to the other. He smiled when he recognized the communication system in Mac's right ear. Unceremoniously he pulled the little earwig out, threw it onto the ground and stepped on it, just like the cigarette before. With only a few words he shouted at the other men and Mac could guess what he blamed them for.

Then the hand let the hair of his captive go. With a quick movement he pulled away the patch of Mac's jacket.
"E – O – D" He read every single letter accentuated. "Explosive Ordnance Disposal. Really? You're so young! Doesn't matter, that's interesting. You will be very useful for us."
Still Mac looked very angry at him without saying one word. How stupid he was! Jack always told him that he should get rid of this damn patch if he was in danger to get captured! 'When they know what you are it will be hell. They hate EOD's!' Jack's words sounded hollow in his head. For the first time Mac felt a fatal cramping in his stomach. Coldness crept along his limbs and his blood went somewhere far away. No, he couldn't show his fear! Mac swallowed hard and stood the glance of the dark eyes which seemed to investigate his inner soul.

The bearded man grinned dangerously and the short eye contact with one of his men behind Mac was visible. Nevertheless, the first blow into his back came surprisingly. A second hit let him fall to his knees. Then the leader swung the barrel of his gun. Mac didn't feel how the skin on his temple tore and warm blood ran down his cheek. The darkness welcomed him as soon as the impressive beat hit his head.
Satisfied the bearded man gave the order to throw their prisoner onto the Pick-up again and let the patch with EOD fall down onto the ground without a second thought next to the destroyed earwig. With a small smile he looked at the spots of blood in the dust.

"That's all you ever find of this boy." He whispered into the air, before he turned around and followed his men to the waiting vehicles.