I would like to say that the ride through the outback was a breeze and that I had never experienced anything more relaxing in my life... but I can't.

The roads were incredibly bumpy and there were times I was fighting to stay in my seat, even with the seat belt. The scenery was nothing to be sneezed at, but it's kinda hard to focus on the beauty of the outdoors when there's dust blowing into your eyes a mile a minute. Windshields, I was quickly discovering, only work to a certain extent, and are at their best when it's raining or you're driving through a swarm of bugs.

I was about as far as I could get from anything civilized, which I honestly wouldn't have a problem with but for one thing: the engine stalled. A cough and a splutter later, I was sitting in a dead Jeep, and after examining the gauges in front of me, I quickly discovered that the problem was really quite simple.

There wasn't a drop of gas in the tank. The thing was bone dry.

I groaned and leaned back in my seat, shoving my foot hopefully against the gas pedal for good measure. Picking up the map that lay on the seat next to me, I looked at the odometer that was mounted into the dashboard.

I examined the map and the distance I had driven from Perth before locating the last town I had driven by. Doing some quick math, I came up with an estimate for where I was.

One hundred and twelve kilometers...roughly translated: 70 miles. Thirty miles from where I needed to be and more than twice that far from a gas pump.

I opened the door and stepped down onto the dusty road. It looked like no one had driven on it for a long time-understandable, since it was 70 miles from the civilized world and in the middle of a desert.

As I walked around the car, looking for a solution, I spotted something that surprised me. A set of footprints were neatly placed in the dirt, leading somewhere east of the road.

After a moment's thought, I grabbed my pack and threw it onto my back, following the footprints and hoping they would lead me somewhere with gas... and if fuel was scarce, any human with a ride out of the area would be welcome.

The footprints were growing more difficult to see with the wind blowing the loose sand wherever it pleased. Vegetation was sparse, but present, and I could see a few animals scurrying here and there through the intense heat of the blazing sun.

I had been walking for some time when I decided to take a break beneath one of the trees that somehow managed to survive in the desert.

Don't get me wrong, I still think that Australia is a beautiful place, but somehow when you're alone in a desert with the sun scorching your face and shade near impossible to find, it kinda puts a damper on the enthusiasm you might have been feeling.

As I planted myself in the short shadow of a tree with a thin layer of leaves plastered over the top, I opened my pack and pulled out one of the water bottles and the knife I had placed inside and put it in my pocket before unscrewing the lid capping the water.

I poured the liquid down my throat before pooling a small portion into my cupped palm and splashing the back of my neck, trying to speed up the cooling process.

I stood a moment later, keeping the water bottle outside of my backpack and flipping it idly as I continued to follow the footprints.

The trail led beneath the shadow of another tree, but when I followed it, I felt a jerk beneath me as a rope tightened around my foot and pulled it straight up into the air. Unfortunately, the rest of me had to follow. Gravity acted very predictably; the water bottle I had been tossing came down, hitting the back of my head firmly as though protesting the fact that I had been tossing it at all.

I grunted, my hand reaching to massage the back of my head just after my pack fell to the ground with a thud. My other hand reached automatically for the knife that was in my pocket, but when I moved, whatever force had been holding it there dropped it, leaving it on the ground next to my bottle of water.

Stretching out my fingers, I attempted to grab the knife, but it had fallen just out of reach. This wasn't going to work.

Slowly, I began to swing my body like a pendulum, and when I was going far enough, my fingers snatched up the knife. I stopped swinging and then snapped out the blade, reaching upwards in an attempt to cut the rope that held me in a suspended position.

"Allow me, MacGyver." A smooth voice sounded and suddenly gravity won the tug-a-war as the rope fell slack.

"Ow!" I hit the hard ground with a thud, my knife slipping in my hand and slicing the tip of my finger. I scrambled into a sitting position as a man stepped into view, wearing casual khaki shorts and a white shirt that buttoned up the front. The brim of his hat put his face in shadow, but I'd heard that voice enough times to recognize it.

"You got a band-aid, Murdoc? Preferably one with Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny." I winced as I started to stand, placing my wounded finger in my mouth for a moment in hopes of sucking away the sting as well as the blood.

Murdoc pulled off his hat, letting it hang against his back by the string. "Very cute, MacGyver. I notice that you are not surprised by my appearance."

I shrugged, keeping my expression slightly bored. "Well, after the first few times you've shown up after being blown up, drowned, or buried, it's started to lose its surprise. Now it's comparable to a family reunion. You know how people feel about those."

"I'm flattered that you think of me as family, MacGyver. Granted, I may be the member you dread to see, but still, the thought is nice. Much more generous than how I view you."

"Yeah, I think your previous actions made your thoughts towards me pretty clear," I said calmly, though in my mind I was preparing myself for whatever he would throw at me.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to speak, but Murdoc just watched me with a serene expression. My forehead wrinkled slightly as I watched him, slightly unnerved.

Finally, I couldn't take the silence any longer. I took a deep breath and clapped my hands together, clasping them tight. "Well, Murdoc, it was... interesting seeing you again, but I really should get going." I pointed a thumb behind me in the direction I had come from, taking a few steps back. To my surprise, he didn't try to stop me.

I turned my back on him, wincing as I waited for a blow or a shot to strike my back.

"How is Pete, MacGyver?"

The question brought me up short. I felt my heart begin to beat a little faster and suddenly felt very cold in the blazing heat.

I spun around and glimpsed him leaning against the tree, casually picking his fingernails. "I do hope that he is well. I hear there is a nasty flu going around..." His eyes flashed up from his hand and met with mine, a knowing smirk slowly growing on his face.

I was feeling worried, but disguised it in an attempt to appear laid-back and calm. "What did you do to him, Murdoc?"

Drat. I just knew my words had given away what I was trying to hide.

"Well, let it suffice us to say that I have friends who deal in a slightly more... refined aspect of assassination. Poisons are so easy to slip into a vaccine, and when I saw that there was one that rather conveniently had initial flu-like systems…" Murdoc trailed off, his voice and appearance lazy and relaxed despite the meaning of his words.

Honestly, I had never felt more of an urge to hit someone in my life, but I struggled against the desire. Murdoc, after all, knew where I could find an antidote.

"So what do you want, Murdoc? Pointless revenge?"

He sighed. "You make it sound so petty when you put it like that, MacGyver. This is incredibly personal to me-and to you, at this point."

"You know, I'm starting to get curious. Is there really a Roy Matthews, and are there really problems in Australia?" One of the predictable things about Murdoc was his inclination to monologue. I just had to ask the right question and he'd be off like a rocket, attempting to expand my perspective of his own cleverness.

"To the first question one, yes, and to the second, no. I knew that your Phoenix Foundation would be operating with someone other than Pete, and I also knew that they would check the story I presented, so I made it as plausible as I knew how. Looks like it worked quite well."

"Yeah, you're quite the evil genius."

"Yes, well, getting you to this spot took quite some work. I had to calculate the amount of gas needed to make your jeep quit here. Oh, really, MacGyver, did you really think that there would only be one jeep at that well stocked rental? I didn't want to waste my time tampering with all the fuel tanks, so I had to remove a few variables."

"Ah, I see. So, what about Pete? I'd prefer if you didn't remove him, too."

Murdoc chuckled. "If you want to save your friend, I suggest you follow in my footsteps." He suddenly turned and walked out into the desert. After a few steps, he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and I do mean in my footsteps. You never know what's hidden off the path."

He continued forward, casually reaching into his pocket and pulling out what looked like a small rock. It hit the ground, bouncing once after striking something that began to beep after it was touched. As the slow beep gradually built up speed, I dived behind the tree, covering my ears as a small, yet powerful explosion threw dust up into the air.

Surprise, surprise. Looked like Murdoc had mined the path.

I could still feel the vibrations in the soles of my shoes as I peered around the tree. Murdoc walked out of the dust cloud without a backwards glance.

My instinct screamed at me not to follow, but how could I not? Following Murdoc might be suicidal, but it was also the only way to save Pete. I walked around the tree and grabbed my pack.

Letting out a long breath, I trudged forward, stepping in the footprints of the man who wanted nothing more than me dead.

Australia. The land of beautiful nature, wondrous creatures... and obsessed assassins. This was going to be a long trip.