Some of you might be familiar with this story. It's a re-write of a story I posted here a long time ago that was lost in the forum crash and I couldn't recover it again because it was on my old hard drive, which also crashed.
Anyway, I'm attempting to write it again, because it's one of my favorite stories I've done so far (besides Dark Visions), and I think you'll enjoy it.
Summary: Jack Dalton gets MacGyver in trouble again, but this time the stakes may be too high.
Read on, dear friends!
Jungle Paradise Part One
Rated: PG
A sharp, jarring movement stirred MacGyver awake. As he adjusted his sleep blurred eyes to his surroundings, he discovered that he was inside a plane. Its scattered contents and the aged, deteriorating, rusted appearance indicated that it was Jack Dalton’s plane. Another sickening drop caused the rickety cabin to rock violently, knocking him back. Confused and groping for something to brace himself, he knew the plane was flying. What he couldn’t understand was how it was flying. Jack had called him to work on it, and he reluctantly accepted, considering he had nothing better to do and Jack wasn’t trying to involve him in another scheme—for once. The last thing he remembered was looking at the pathetic wreck, wondering how it ever flew and if he could ever restore it to any condition resembling what it had been before neglect had turned it into a mere shell of an aircraft, withered by time. Now somehow, miraculously, it had come to life, its engines whining and roaring in a loud, choking death rattle, struggling to maintain altitude.
“Jack,” he said, stumbling towards the cockpit as the plane lurched again.
Sitting proudly in the pilot’s seat, wearing his father’s cap and his leather bomber jacket, grinning broadly as if he were flying a state of the art piece of machinery and leading an elite squadron, Jack Dalton turned to look at his friend.
“Hey, MacGyver! It’s about time you woke up,” he said.
Glaring at Jack and sliding into the co-pilot’s seat, MacGyver looked around, trying to make out the scenery through the mud-caked windows. It was a vague, cloudy blur, much like his memory after agreeing to work on Jack’s plane.
“What the hell is going on, here?” He asked, his voice laced with obvious anger, sounding like a disapproving parent. “You’re flying this thing?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, after you worked on this baby for a few hours you kind of dozed off inside it, so I figured I’d give her a try and see if she ran. You see, I couldn’t wait.”
MacGyver raised his eyebrows. “You couldn’t wait?” He asked, raising his voice. “You couldn’t wait? I was nowhere near done working on this thing! Do you know how dangerous this is?”
Jack laughed slightly. “Aw, come on, you worry too much,” he said. “This thing runs like a dream, thanks to you. Anyway, I didn’t need a major overhaul. I just needed you to get it running, and you did that. Congrats.”
“Great,” MacGyver said, rolling his eyes. “Well, the test flight is over. What do you say about dropping me off and getting me out of this deathtrap?”
Jack looked at MacGyver, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No can do partner,” he said.
MacGyver winced. “Why?” He asked, dreading the answer.
“I’m about to let you in on the treasure find of the century.”
His gleeful, childlike grin signaled certain doom, and MacGyver groaned. “No, not again,” he said, burying his face in his hands.
“What’s the matter? I thought you would be excited. Remember how we used to treasure hunt when we were kids? Well, this is the real deal! Think about it!”
“I don’t want to hear this…”
“There’s a legend about a chest of gold buried somewhere in the Amazon rainforest.”
“Amazon? We’re going to the Amazon in this?” MacGyver asked, gesturing wildly around the failing structural integrity of the plane. “We’re lucky it even flies at all!” He balled his hands into fists and pounded them on his seat to lessen the urge to punch Jack, sending clouds of dust into the cockpit. His hard, dark eyes sliced like daggers as he stared at Jack. “I can’t believe you did this to me again! You suckered me by luring me into thinking all I had to do was fix your plane. God, how could I be so naïve? I knew there had to be an angle to it! Now you’re taking me to the Amazon? No, Jack. You’re gonna fly this poor excuse for aircraft back to your hangar and take me home—now!”
“Hey, easy Mac! Jeez!” Jack said, shrinking away from the intensity of his friend’s anger. “We can’t turn around now! We’ve come so far! Anyway, I thought you loved these quests.”
“Well, I don’t love being taken against my will. So, either you turn the plane around now, or I’ll prosecute you for kidnapping!”
“Kidnapping? Come on, MacGyver…”
MacGyver pushed himself up and staggered through the maze of junk in the back of Jack’s plane. He began rummaging around, angrily throwing cargo out of his way, searching for a parachute. Jack heard the ruckus and tried to turn his head to see what was going on, but the seat impeded his vision.
“What are you doing” He asked, yelling over the roar of the plane’s engines.
“Looking for a parachute!” MacGyver shouted back.
“Why?”
“The reason should be obvious! Look, either you take me home, or I’m gonna bail out myself and find my own way home!”
“There’s a problem…”
“Yeah? What? The only problem I see is that you didn’t ask me to come along on your crazy trip! A slight oversight, don’tcha think?”
“No Mac…there isn’t a parachute,” Jack said, wincing in embarrassment.
MacGyver tripped over the bundles to reach Jack, leveling another icy glare at him. “What do you mean, there isn’t a parachute?” He asked.
Jack blushed. “Well…it’s just as I said…”
MacGyver’s eyes widened. “How could you not carry a parachute?” He asked, his voice cracking with rage.
“I…I don’t know…I got this baby as a bargain…”
MacGyver groaned and slumped back against one of the bundles, rubbing his face with his hands. “God, I don’t believe this,” he muttered. “I’m trapped in a nightmare.”
“Oh Mac, it’s not that bad,” Jack said. “We’ll be fine.”
As if to contradict him, a loud explosion followed by thick, black smoke erupted outside.
“What was that?”
Jack tightly gripped the controls, panic showing on his face for the first time. “Uh…we’ve lost an engine,” he said.
Another explosion followed. Before Jack could speak, MacGyver raised his hand. “Lemme guess…we’ve lost the other engine too?” He asked.
Jack nodded, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Oh, man…”
“I could use your help! I…I think we’re going to have a major problem…”
MacGyver leapt into the co-pilot’s seat. “Gee, do ‘ya think so?” He asked, not hiding his sarcasm.
“Just help me, Mac, please! I can’t control her!”
The plane began to dive rapidly, MacGyver and Jack fighting the controls.
“Pull it up, Jack!”
“I can’t!”
“Pull it up!”
As the plane continued its descent, it grew louder and whined until they could barely hear each other, the metal groaning and shuddering as if it was about to break apart. Everything streaked by them in blurs, but after clearing a bank of clouds, MacGyver could clearly see the ground for the first time. It was lush and filled with dense foliage, which didn’t bode well for their crash landing prospects. In the distance a body of greenish water appeared. He pointed at it.
“Jack, there’s swampland ahead,” he said, shouting over the noise of the plane. “We have to try to land it there. Do you see it?”
Squinting, Jack focused ahead on the only clear spot in the entire jungle below. It grew closer with each second.
“Yeah,” he said. “But there’s not enough room to land in that! It’s not long enough and there’s not enough clearance!”
“It’s the best we can do!”
Normally, Jack didn’t consider himself a nervous man, but he swallowed hard when he considered their chances for surviving such a rough landing. He gripped the controls tighter.
“All right, hold on!” He shouted. “Prepare yourself! This isn’t going to be easy!”
“Since when is anything easy with you?” MacGyver shot back, managing a smile through his own fear.
“Right,” Jack said, returning the smile. He sighed deeply and prepared himself. “Okay, get ready…this could be interesting!”
“Yeah,” MacGyver said.
They strapped themselves in as best as they could, and MacGyver held his arms over his face, shielding it and his body from impact. The cockpit grew eerily silent, the sounds of the plane moaning and twisting and the rush of air streaking past it outside overtaking their conversation. The roar grew louder, and soon they heard the body of the plane smacking and slashing against trees, slicing into them. Some of them penetrated the windshield, shattering the glass around them. MacGyver felt the shards shower over his body and the rush of air into the cockpit. The plane rolled and continued to be battered by trees, causing jerky movements that made it feel as if they were driving over a nearly impassible, uneven road filled with giant ruts, but at least it seemed to be slowing their approach.
It hit the swamp with a powerful blow, propelling their bodies forward. MacGyver hit his forehead on the controls, a jagged piece of glass from the broken windshield cutting him near his hairline. He could feel the warm blood flowing from the cut, but he ignored it, remaining coiled in on himself as the plane continued to slide through the swamp uncontrollably, the sound of tearing, creaking, and warping metal signaling the plane’s final death knell. It spun dramatically, nearly flopping to its side as they lost complete control over the landing and it continued to make painful, animal-like groans, the body of the plane twisting and folding in on itself, crushing and rupturing in spots, allowing the foul swamp water to leak inside. Unable to stop it, they waited until the plane slid out of the swamp and onto drier land, smashing into a bank of trees and bringing them to an abrupt, jolting stop.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
But yes, you're right about that part. 
