A giant hand lifted Mac then slammed him down hard. Mac startled awake rubbing his head. He blinked confusedly. He heard a loud grinding and his back was shoved painfully hard into the Shelby's door.
"What the hell, Jack?" Mac squeaked as he managed to stay on the seat. Mac shook his head and took in his surroundings. Two people sat in the front seat. One he recognized.
"Evalina! What's going on?" Mac shouted over the roar of gravel and dirt pelting the underside of the car. Evalina was pale and her face spotted with healing bruises. She offered him half a smile before turning back to driving. Mac managed to slide to sitting, bending forward at a pain in his side. He winced. Sweat gushed from him, and his leg was so swollen that it pushed sharply against the brace. Mac moaned and turned his attention to the passenger.
The man had kind blue eyes and short blond-grey hair that hung on either side of his high forehead like commas. His nose was long and bulbous at the end. He offered Mac a smile. The man had a perfect row of teeth.
"Hello, Mac. I am Pavlo Zakhysnyk. I am the Panimatka of the Refuge of St. Josephine Bakhita." His voice was a fluid tenor, and Pavlo had a heavy Ukrainian accent. He held out his hand. Mac rocked as the car went over another pair of deep potholes. He shook the man's hand.
"That's a priest, right?"
"Yes, we are going to the Refuge." Evalina rattled a long string of words. Over the rough roadway Mac couldn't tell if it was Ukranian or Russian, "She says another ten minutes."
"Why have you kidnapped me?" Mac asked suppressing a soft cry of pain as his swollen knee smashed into the back of the front seat. Evalina said something and grinned. Pavlo laughed then looked at Mac with amusement.
"She said we stole your car not you. It was your fault for sleeping in it during the day." Mac shot Pavlo a baleful glare. The man held up a hand, "You are right, this is no joke. We were watching the Oswalds trying to find where they were holding their latest victims. We saw you and your friends pull up. Your friends went inside. Evalina moved to wake you up, but the enforcers saw us. We stole the car and brought you with us so we can show you why we need your help." Mac closed his eyes and wiped away the rivulets of sweat dripping down his face. Pavlo studied him concerned, "Are you alright? You do not look well."
"My leg...I had surgery; I think it's infected." Pavlo turned to Evalina and rattled off a long patch of Russian. Evalina looked back at Mac in the rearview mirror her eyes wide with worry. Mac tried to give a reassuring grin, but the car dipped into a pothole the size of Texas. Mac closed his eyes and groaned as his stomach churned and he hit his head against the metal frame of the door with bruising force.
"Sorry," Evalina called turning back to the road, although calling the dirt track they were on a 'road' was a bit generous. Mac gritted his teeth. He winced at the rocking crack of the shocks and possibly struts that this route had shattered under the Shelby. Sorry, Jack. Mac silently said. He cried out as his swollen knee cracked into the back of the front seat again. The car bounced up, tilted then fell fast enough Mac's gut seemed to slosh in his throat. Something under the Shelby scraped. Then the way was smooth. Mac blinked taking a minute to catch his breath. He glanced back and blinked in surprise. The dirt path they had been climbing up seemed to vanish at a cliff edge.
Mac took in the thick green forest and rolling wrinkled mountains around them. In the distance, he saw the white flaking skin of the Mojave desert.
"We're in the San Gabriel National Park?" He asked surprised. Pavlo looked at him.
"We are just over the edge of the park's boundary. This plateau is owned by the Refuge." Mac could see it was a small plateau no more than a city block wide. Trees sprouted from thick scrub at edges that ended in dizzying drops down the curvy mountains. Mac could see the zigzag road that the Shelby had carried them. In places, he could see where the path had been buried under mudslides and small stone avalanches. Mac admitted he was glad he'd slept through most of the narrow, steep trip. The road they were on now was worn but not pitted by weather because of the flattened grass along its track.
A small building sat barely visible through the scrub. Mac nodded impressed. It was a little old mission. Like most any schoolchild raised in California, he had learned about the missions monks had built along the El Camino Real. This building had the same arched cloister, the tan and grey aged stone showing under flaking white adobe, the square tower under the ladder of bells, and the dark wood carved double doors. The scrub bordered sprawling gardens of California berries, bougainvillea, tea roses, lavender and guava trees all exploding with color. Along the far side of the mission was a small graveyard. The grey markers looked like broken teeth sticking out from green grassy hair.
Around the front, the near side and, Mac guessed, the back was a broad swath of lush green lawn. Sitting, standing and playing groups of children and adults all froze to stare at them as the Shelby approached. As they pulled up to a small parking area big enough for four cars, Mac could see the skittishness of those on the lawn. They looked like deer ready to skitter off into the woods at the first sign of trouble. Mac felt bile crawl up his throat. Victims of trafficking. Among the frightened forms walked nuns in black, white or blue habits. Some wore their religious dress from head to toe; a few wore the head scarfs of novices. Mac could also see women in Saris, priests in black, a few men in turbans and monks wearing orange strewn with wooden beads. Pavlo smiled at Mac's smile.
"The Refuge is only one stop along a...underground railroad? like the slaves in the old war?" Mac sat back pushing his bangs back from his face.
"You have all kinds of cultures here; it's impressive." Pavlo's face turned grim.
"Everywhere is affected by this terrible thing, many from Abbeys and orders around the world come to volunteer, and we have many generous benefactors from around the world."
"I never knew this was up here," Mac said opening the door. He paused taking a deep breath. They were high enough out of the Los Angeles basin that the omnipresent background air pollution was gone.
Pavlo helped Mac out of the Shelby pausing while Mac waited for the world to stop tilting.
"That is the point. Many of those rescued from trafficking, especially in America are lucky enough to have family and homes that will take them back, and they can go on to live the best lives they can. Some, however, were 'owned' by rich and prestigious people. They have to flee because of the reach of these people's power. Some of our runners have been chased by the police to be arrested themselves because of charges made to protect actors, billionaires, senators...it's disgusting." Mac nodded almost collapsing as he tried to put weight on his swollen leg. Evalina took his arm over her shoulder. He shot her a faint smile.
"Worse, some have nowhere to return to because their family is the ones who sold them, or because of what they were made to do. In the middle east and Africa especially these victims are ostracized or sometimes outright killed. It is tragic." Mac nodded glancing at some of the faces as he stumbled past. Many were children with ancient eyes and missing teeth. Some kids who should be starting school looked like old crones, their eyes dead and hollow. It broke his heart. Mac looked up at the shrill song of bells. A third of those on the lawn rose and walked quickly into the open cloister and the double door. He blinked sweat out of his eyes.
"It is Vespers," Pavlo answered Mac's unasked question. Mac nodded. He knew monasteries prayed around the clock. He thought Vespers was around suppertime. The sky was hazy from the damp day, but Mac thought it was easing toward sundown. He frowned. How long had he been out? Remembering his meltdown that led to his exhaustion Mac felt himself age like those around him. He looked down unable to keep his body from shaking. Evalina said something. Mac looked over into her eyes. He was surprised at their dark violet-blue color. At least the bruising had faded, and she didn't ooze blood or terror. Mac frowned. Was that only two or three days ago? Evalina said something in a tone of voice Mac knew well. He swallowed and looked away. There was no need for Pavlo to translate. Taking a deep breath, Mac looked into her eyes and nodded. He looked down not wanting to see the pity. She squeezed his arm tighter. He nodded but didn't look up. They walked into the arched cloister in silence. Mac paused and closed his eyes. He felt like crap.
Pavlo and Evalina waited patiently. Mac took in the smooth stone of the wide hallway open on both sides. The Franciscans built in an imperfect rectangle. Cloister walks lined the four sides, and a fountain filled most of the space inside the courtyard. Mac smiled at a group of children who were jumping and splashing in a shallow koi pond. Floating lotus blossoms swayed with their splashes.
"Do not worry there are no fish in there, well except our human ones." Pavlo said laughing. Mac chuckled. They headed down the walkway to the back of the mission. Mac was surprised to see a corner of the building had collapsed into antique rubble, "Yes, it is very sad. This building is more than two hundred years old."
"I'm surprised it isn't a historical site or museum," Mac mumbled.
"It is too hard to reach. The Tongva once lived in these hills, and this originally held one of their mountain fortresses. Then the Franciscans came. We think this might have been an Asistencias mission, a helping church because of the difficulty reaching souls up here. All records of this place vanished. Some say the warriors who died here put a curse on the place." Pavlo shrugged, "Who knows? I say it's a gift from God and who are we to argue with that?" Mac chuckled then groaned as his right leg gave out. The priest and Evalina tried to slow his fall, but he was too heavy. Mac landed on his bad knee and yelled in pain rolling onto his back panting with agony. Everything went fuzzy, he heard Russian, and his heart broke into a sprint. For a second panic flowed through him like a fever.
"NO! NO!" He screamed backed away from the blurred figures above him, "Jack? Where's Jack? JACK?" He crawled fast as a spider until his back hit a cold stone. He shook his head trying to clear his vision.
"Mac?" The voice had an accent but was gentle, familiar. Mac felt small cool hands grip him, "Is ok...you...um...safe. You ok, Mac." Mac blinked Evalina's face slowly into focus. She knelt beside him her oddly colored eyes full of compassion. Mac let out a deep breath and wiped at his face with a shaking hand.
"Sorry, just lost it a minute there." Mac said with a sad smile.
"Is ok...I...lose it...a lot too." She leaned in and gave Mac a gentle hug. Mac closed his eyes taking comfort in the friendly gesture. She smelled of lavender. The smell reminded him of his mother; he felt himself slowly relax. Mac looked up and frowned.
"Where's Pavlo?" He asked. Evalina turned and sat beside him.
"He...get chair from hospital?" Mac nodded guessing she meant a wheelchair from a medic's office. Mac leaned his head back. The stone cooled the flames inside him, "Who, Jack?" Mac turned to Evalina with his first genuine smile. How to describe Jack for someone who didn't speak much English. Mac decided to explain him as he would to anyone else.
"He's my brother." Evalina nodded her eyes became moist.
"I have sister. She dead." Mac reached out and took her hand squeezing it gently.
"I know, I'm sorry." Evalina closed her eyes and leaned against Mac's shoulder.
"I'm sorry too."
By the time Pavlo returned with a wheelchair, Mac was barely conscious. He felt like a giant leech had wrapped around his knee and was eating him piece by piece. Mac was hot and shivered with cold. Mac was also pretty sure he stank. Mac opened his eyes when he felt a cold metal table under him. Mac sighed. The whole room was comfortably cool. He didn't know how they'd gotten them in here, but Mac assumed it was below ground if the cracking bricks surrounding him was any indication. His eyes were heavy, and his body screamed for rest. Evalina said something to Pavlo as she covered him with a thin blanket. Mac blinked awake at footsteps pounding into the room. Someone spoke in Spanish too fast for him to follow. It didn't take a genius to hear the urgency.
"What's wrong?" He slurred. Pavlo leaned over him his face stricken with fear.
"Your people have attacked the Grant mansion. The pridurki are coming up the road." Mac blinked. He didn't speak Russian, but he could tell from the older man's tone he wasn't talking about anyone from Phoenix. Mac arched his pain. His ribs screamed as he fished out his phone. He handed it to Pavlo almost dropping it.
"Call Jack Dalton, tell him we need reinforcements." Pavlo stared at the phone then grinned. Mac dropped his empty hand not having enough strength to hold it up. His eyes slid closed like broken curtains in a poorly built theater. Pavlo gently put Mac's arm under the covers and frowned. Taking a guess, he hit #1 figuring if anyone would be the first on speed dial it would be Mac's brother. Pavlo raised an eyebrow at the female voice that answered Jack's phone.
"Blondie? Where are you?"
"MacGyver needs some medical attention. He told me to call you and say send reinforcements." Pavlo felt his heart beat drag with fear. Would this woman believe him? Would they help them?
"Ok, first of all, who are you?" Pavlo let loose a long breath of relief and forced himself to speak slower in English as he answered everything the woman, Matty, asked. Evalina sat on a stool on the other side of Mac swabbing his face with a damp cloth. The girl watched hope in her eyes. Pavlo grinned as he turned the phone off.
"They are coming to help." He said in Russian. Evalina's eyes moistened.
"Thanks be to God." She murmured. They might survive tonight after all. As she swabbed sweat off the blond's hot red face, she again thanked the young man for saving her life.