Fire. No one ever chooses to be a prophet. No one truly understands the cost counted, the true price to speak to the divine and have it speak back. Look at the bible-beaten, stoned, crucified. The world is not kind to those who it measures outside its accepted limits, you have to leave those limits behind to reach the divine, no matter what the cost. I once lived surrounded by society. Like the wood sticks and drywall I lived in, I thought I was untouchable, safe, secure. I had three lilies, three stars, three angels live with me. My wife, a beautiful cataily strong, elegant...my oldest, a fragrant Easter lily easily welcomed wherever she went, and my tigerlily, bursting with color and energy like fireworks. My family, my castle, my life-but how you took them. I hated you, faster than the eye could follow your firebrands hit the roof, the lawn, our whole neighborhood was clawed apart, chewed to ash. My beautiful lilies melted before me, the horrible barbeque smell, the plastic melting, explosions as propane tanks cooked. It was all smoke, ember and ash. Why didn't you take me? I hated you then. But then I felt the call. I heard your voice inside my bone marrow. When you are not angry, when you don't lose yourself in your chaos, your hunger, I hear my lilies, I see their faces dancing inside your dancing brilliant flame, calling to me, promising eternal life... I understand your speech now. I know what you have called me to do, and why. I will gladly bring others into you, into immortality. I am your prophet, no matter the cost I hear and I obey.
Bozer hated the "great" outdoors. He woke up shivering in his sleeping bag. He felt bruised and beaten from top to bottom. Bozer was pretty sure Jack told him to sleep in that spot because every sharp stone for miles was concentrated in that one six by three rectangle. He stretched yawning and scratched his arm. Vampire bugs had sucked liters out of him last night, Bozer was sure he'd seen mosquitoes that were big enough to be Cali's state bird. What was Cali's state bird? Bozer yawned and blinked. The circle of stones Jack had put around the small camp fire was out, the ashes cold. More frightening was the absence of one Jack Dalton. Bozer swallowed.
"That's cool. It's ok, he went to do his business." Bozer said softly. He looked around him. The woods suddenly seemed full of scary shadows and menace. Bozer shook his head. "Pull yourself together." He told himself. He saw a small sack on Jack's side of the fire. With a cold log in his stomach he bent and opened it. A folded up note sat nestled in with a small hatchet, a rope and a map. Bozer closed his eyes and slowly unfolded the note.
Morning Boze, glad you slept so well last night, got a big day planned today. On the map you'll see an x, that marks the spot I'll meet you. Have fun. Don't die, Jack
"Oh, C'mon you have to be frickin' kidding me!" Bozer yelled to the woods around him. He crushed the note threw it on the ground, stomped it, picked it up ripped it into pieces and then the pieces into pieces. "Don't die...would serve you right...you hillbilly redneck mother…" Bozer howled. He then sat down panting, wanting to cry. He took a deep breath. "Ok, ok I can do this. I watched almost all 34 years of Survivor...except that one in Borneo too many snakes…" Bozer looked around him nervously. Did they have snakes like Borneo in California? He closed his eyes. There are no snakes, there are no snakes...Bozer thought of Mac. He opened his eyes and squared his shoulders. He'd be damned if some redneck or some snakes, some huge, hungry, poison-spitting-sneaky snakes were going to make him let his friend down. He just had to think like MacGyver, right? Right?
As far as self-pep talks went, it wasn't his best, but it got him up. He rolled up his sleeping bag. It was the only thing they had let him bring, not even toilet paper-which he thought was unnecessarily cruel. Out in the field there'd be TP, Bozer was sure. He unrolled the map. The X, and Jack had made it a huge red one, looked like it was near a river to the north? Bozer realized he had no idea where he was on the map. He took another deep breath, he was not in Blair Witch, he was not in Blair Witch...Besides they wouldn't let him die, right? Bozer swallowed and picked up the bag. A hatchet and rope? What the hell was he going to do with a hatchet and a rope? He went to take a sip from his bottle only to realize it was empty. Bozer almost burst into tears. It had been full last night, hadn't it? He really couldn't remember but figured he'd blame it on Jack anyway.
"You are so going to be in trouble when I tell Mac how you're tryin' to kill me!" Bozer yelled. The forest around him seemed to hold its breath then burst out laughing with the eerie calls of crows, or ravens. Bozer felt himself shiver. He didn't know what the difference between a crow and a raven was, but he'd seen The Birds. Bozer closed his eyes, for once wishing he didn't like movies so much. Most movies that started out in the bright pretty day woods ended with terrified runs in the dark where you fell and...got murdered, dragged to a witches broken ass hut, or eaten...Bozer scanned the woods. The crows...or ravens...laughed at him, telling him to wait…
"Oh shut up!" Bozer yelled at him shaking his head. Yelling at birds, great. Creepy ass, flesh eating, nasty ass birds… Bozer's stomach rolled. Bozer winced. No food. He looked around him. A squirrel jumped across a branch above him. Did it taste like chicken? Chicken, hmmm...Bozer shook his head. What the hell? He'd only been in the forest a day and he already was thinking about the cute, furry creatures as food. Probably the only creature in the forest that didn't want to eat him. Bozer shook away the image of a giant zombie squirrel. He shuddered and turned back to the map.
He squinted up at the sun. This early it would be in the east...he couldn't see it through the thick canopy overhead...of course not! Bozer walked up to a tree. Yep, moss grew on the north side of the tree, and the east, and the west, and the south..great. He froze at the snap of a branch. I am not in The Blair Witch...I am not in The Blair Witch...He crouched low. He didn't know if it would help in an evil witch's attack, but it seemed like the thing to do. He pulled out the hatchet and waited.
Two huge deer with stately trees of horn growing from their heads, slowly stepped through the woods.
"Oh, wow." Bozer breathed his eyes widening with wonder. Two smaller deer and a fawn followed. It was the fawn who made the small noises. He...she?...didn't have the swing of moving silently through the woods yet. Bozer smiled. Right there with you, baby deer. He said to himself. He watched them slowly move out of sight and breathed a sigh of contentment. Maybe the woods weren't so bad after all. He licked his lips, his dry lips. Bozer jumped to his feet remembering something he'd seen on Animal Planet some dudes who lived in the jungle would go out hunting. When asked how they tracked the animals they said they followed them to water. Deer drank water. If Bozer kept an eye on them, they had to go to water eventually, right?
"Baby deer, deer..." He called softly. After the silent passage of the deer his voice and his footsteps seemed like gunshots. He tried to avoid breaking twigs or making noise as he walked, but it felt like the twigs were part of the conspiracy against him. The crows croaked in amusement. Bozer shot them a glare. He decided he'd blame it all on Jack, and oh would he get what was coming to him, Bozer promised as he slowly made his way after the deer.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
The girl at the front desk called her supervisor, he called his supervisor, she called the convention center manager on duty. Riley pleaded her case, getting more and more frustrated as they shut her down. She turned in a huff looking at all the kids and their families. She bit her lip, then smiled. Riley went over to a corner out of the desk's view and pulled out her rig. It took Riley all of a minute to hack the fire system. Careful to make sure the sprinklers didn't come on, she didn't want to destroy all the kids work in the exhibit hall-if they didn't get blown up. The blare of the fire alarm was painfully loud. She put away her laptop and crept around the heavy flow of traffic coming out from the main exhibit hall.
Some in the crowd looked worried, but most were calm, laughing and joking assuming it was just an alarm test. Riley hoped that was all it would end up being. She shoved her way through the crowd as gently as she could and breathed a sigh when she reached the less crowded hallway. She paused looking at the elevator. Riley suspected that Mac wouldn't have taken the elevator as it made that annoying ding when it arrived and someone who was going to blow up a huge convention hall in downtown Seattle would not be someone you would want to see you coming. She found the stairs and slowly made her way down checking up and below for any other people. Fear floated up her throat making her want to gag or puke. For once, she wished Jack was here. He would dive in gun drawn kicking ass taking names. Riley took a breath, as she turned to go down from the first to the second basement. She paused, hearing the soft murmur of voices. She couldn't tell what they were saying, but she recognized one as MacGyver. She continued down wiping her sweaty palms on her leggings. Like it or not, she was the only backup Mac had.
Mac had followed the guy like a ghost. He frowned as he came out into the second basement. It was dim, almost dark. It smelled like every other basement he'd been in before-a combination of mold, dust and grease. Mac ducked under a cobweb draped over a cord that had fallen from the cement roof. Mac paused breathing through his mouth so he could hear better. He heard the man mumbling to himself off to Mac's right. Mac slowly crept that way every sense honed for any minute change. The basement above was the true basement, this was only a fraction basement put in to house the combustible fuel system the building used. Mac thought about how much propane it would take to power the building and computed the damage it would do. Even factoring the cement barriers in the walls surrounding them, it would still take out at least half of the building. Visions of 911 floated through his mind. No, that wasn't going to happen, not while he could stop it. He stopped just outside a small pool of yellow light.
The man knelt beside the middle of three huge white tanks of propane. He had electronic devices on each tank that fed back to the chemicals he had in the bucket. It was a smart system Mac had never seen before, but it wasn't a professional job. The idea was the man would pull the rope knocking a bottle of Ajax into the bucket causing an exothermic reaction, when the fluid in the bucket became hot enough it would trigger the devices. A simple but effective timer. The man stepped back, checked his handiwork. It would be simple to diffuse, just toss the bucket contents on the floor. Mac braced himself, the reaction would take time to build. The man had allowed for time to get out of the building. Mac would have plenty of time…
Mac was lifted off the ground and throw toward the man. He landed hard and looked up. One of Derick's bodyguards stood over him. The man looked bored. He didn't make any other move toward Mac. Mac stood and looked around him. In the dimly lit circle, he couldn't make out much around him, but he knew there was at least one other out there, maybe more.
"Wh...wh...who the hell are you?" The man setting the bomb said in a high screech. Mac turned. The man was terrified, but not of him. Mac frowned. There was something going on here more than just the bomb. Mac glanced at the muscle who took a step forward and crossed his arms. Mac straightened and looked at the bomber.
"My name is Angus MacGyver. I can't let you set that bomb." The man looked at him, his eyes begging for...for what? To be stopped? To let him finish blowing up the building?
"I'm sorry, sorry...they have my family…" The man chirped.
"Oh shut up, Samson." A familiar voice said. Mac turned letting out a breath, somehow not surprised.
"Derick." He said. Derick smiled as he stepped into the light. He brandished a baretta. Mac ignored that for a minute focusing on the delight in Derick's face. For the first time, Mac understood what Jack meant when he said someone had a punch-face. Mac would probably have given his last two paychecks to punch the man.
"Ah, Mac. Always trying to outshine me, aren't you? This is too perfect. I can blow up the building and have you as a patsy. I don't know what you've been doing, but I know you did always have a knack for blowing things up, and going to jail." Mac shook his head. Is that what the kid had heard? Mac must have had quite a rep for it to reach Seattle. Mac narrowed his eyes. Unless he'd heard it from someone else. Mac suddenly felt like a fly realizing the tip of it's wing was caught on a spider's web. Had it all been a trap? Mac shoved those questions aside for later, if there was a later.
"Why do you want to blow up the building? Insurance? You said you are a sponsor…"
"You are so droll." Derick said with a wave. He crossed and looked into the bucket and nodded his head. "Well done, Samson. Very clever."
"Please, Mr. Trever let my family go...please, kill me if you want to but spare them…" Derick shrugged.
"I can't help your family, their fate is sealed. But kill you? Ok." Derick leveled and pulled the trigger in one neat move. Samson's head exploded. Mac winced at the hot splatter that covered his face. He looked up at Derick feeling anger boiling inside. He had never liked the blowhard bully. Mac had no proof but he had always suspected Derick of setting him up to be disqualified. Seeing the monster before him, Mac could see the same nasty kid watching him, looking for respect, or fear. Mac casually wiped his face with his sleeve.
"So why, Derick?" Mac asked. His voice was soft as if he was casually asking about what games were coming on TV. Inside blew a tornado. Derick's eyes widened. His lips pursed and Mac thought the large man was about to throw himself on the ground and have a mighty three-year=old tantrum. Mac glanced back at muscles, he looked bored. Oddly Mac almost felt sorry for the man imagining what Derick must be like to work for. Mac tured as Derick sucked in a breath that sounded like a bear's rumble.
"I'm going to make a name for myself, you hear me? I'm going to be the hero this time. The building is going to go up and all those first responders are going to come and need gear…"
"Which you just happen to have on hand." Mac finished. He shook his head staring at Derick. "That's one of the…"
"Most brilliant!" Derick crowed.
"...Dumbest plans I've ever heard of." Mack said. "And all those people, for what? Your vanity?" Mac did his best not to flinch when the black tunnel of the beretta faced him. Derick's hand was visibly shaking. Mac's eyes scrubbed the basement around him trying to find something, anything...Derick smiled and Mac could see the muscles of his hand tightening. A beefy hand came out and snatched the gun with the speed of the viper. Mac blinked as the other bodyguard stepped into the light and looked at Derick with a scowl. Derick's face was hot pink as he turned to beat down the man. The man held up a phone.
Mac watched curiously as Derick seemed to blanch, he shuffled and looked down at the floor.
"What?" He asked. Mac got the impression of a teenager arguing with his dad because he wanted to take the car out but had already smashed it the last three times he'd taken it out. His eyes rose to meet Mac's face with surprise, and hatred. "No, no! Why him…? Why is it always…" Derick closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. Mac noticed no one was really looking at him. He began to inch around Samson's body toward the bucket. "What? No. Of course not, as you say." Derick said handing the phone back to the bodyguard without looking at him. "It seems to be your lucky day, again."
Mac felt the two body guards come in toward him. He jumped forward, grabbed the bucket and threw its contents into Derick's face. He turned and ran for the door. He tripped over Samson's leg. He jumped to his feet but not fast enough. A hand grabbed him around his neck and body slammed him to concrete. Mac huffed in pain shaking away the stars and trying to suck in air. He reached up to the man still bent over him, holding him by the neck almost gently. Mac frowned. They wanted him alive. Why? He ignored the question reached up to grab the man's shirt and pulled him down planting his foot in the man's groin kicking up at the same time. The man gave a surprised yelp before sliding across the concrete into Derick's legs knocking him to the ground.
Mac didn't waste time he sprung to his feet and punched the remaining body guard hard enough to hurt all the way to his elbow. The man returned the favor and Mac fell on his ass dazed. He glanced up and saw Riley looking at him wide eyed, wondering what she could do to help.
"Run!" Mac yelled. He heard a metallic sound and pivoted. Derick raised the beretta aiming it at Riley. He paused to glare at Mac as if he was finally winning some sort of contest. That pause is what saved Riley. It gave Mac time to turn and tackle the man. They went down in a rolling pile of arms and legs. Mac tried to get a grip on the gun, but he couldn't. The roar of it firing was muted, but the pain ripping into MacGyver's side wasn't. He cried out and rolled over on his back trying to suck in air around the shock of agony. He looked up and saw Derick covered in Mac's blood grinning in delight as he pointed the gun at Mac's head. Once again Mac's life was saved by one of the bodyguards.
"No, Derick. The boss wants us to bring him back, alive." The man sounded completely unfazed by the violence. Derick began to shake with rage. Red-faced he glared at Mac. Mac thought he was going to pull the trigger anyway. He snarled and handed the gun to the bigger man.
"Fine." Derick pouted. Mac would have laughed, if he could have taken in enough air. He curled up on his side and scanned for Riley. He smiled in relief. She crouched behind some abandoned machinery looking at him and the others trying to figure out what to do. She held a pipe in her hand. Mac shook his head and mouthed the word "later". Riley glared back and shook her head pointing to the pipe. Mac rolled his eyes and glanced at the others who were gathering themselves. He mouthed the word "Go" and "Now." She waved the pipe frustrated. As the bodyguards came over to Mac she nodded, pointed at the pipe, and at Mac. Mac managed a weak smile and nodded. He would be delighted to see Riley when she came to rescue him. Riley faded back into the shadows as the two men bent and lifted Mac. A cry escaped his mouth and he closed his eyes being dragged into darkness by the tornado of dizziness.
Bozer was sweaty and sore and tired. He was too tired to worry about the woods, which by the afternoon sun was looking a lot friendlier. He paused wiping his head with his forearm. He was thirsty and hungry and really rethinking his career at Phoenix. Then he heard it, he looked up grinning. Distantly he heard the call of water pouring over stone. He'd found the river. He crashed through the woods until he came out on a low pool at the bottom of high stepping stones which water-fresh, clean, water came down in a steady stream. Bozer didn't stop, he ran to the water and plunged his head in drinking deeply. He came up, grinned. It crossed his mind to wonder what chemicals he was drinking, but he really didn't care. He cupped the water in his hand several times until he felt it slosh through his entire body. He knelt back and looked up. More blue sky was visible above him. He let out a breath. He was going to live after all. He wiped his wet face and went to get out the map. At least he had a landmark to find his way by. A low growl froze his hand. He slowly turned and looked directly into the very, very pissed eyes of a mountain lion. Behind her, it had to be a her, were three fluffy cubs poking out between her legs. Evidently she'd had the same idea as the deer.
Bozer looked around. No deer. He didn't mean to throw the beautiful creatures under the bus, but if it was him or them...Bozer slowly moved into a crouch. The panther hissed and growled louder. Bozer froze. He knew that sound. He'd heard it out of the throat of Agnes, his aunt's cat usually before she clawed the shit out of his hand. Bozer gulped. Every instinct told him to run, run fast and climb a tree. Visions of Agnes pawing mice until they ran then chasing them so she could paw them again until she grew bored and snapped their spines ran through his head. He did not want to be played to death with so he mentally nailed his feet where they were. Besides, what about the cat's claw tree? Would a real tree stop this kitty any more than that one did Agnes? What was he going to do? The panther's side seemed to flare out, all of her fur up. Oh hell, Bozer thought straightening. Arched back, puffy tail...This was all Jack's fault, Bozer thought as the panther leapt the same time as Bozer dove for the water.