Well, here I am again, trying to comply with Loth's demands to write faster.

Does Mac get out of his predicament? Read on to find out!

Waking the Dead Part Seven
Rated: R

Angela always hiked alone, despite the concerns of her friends who warned her that it was dangerous for a woman to enter the woods by herself, fearing she would either get lost or injured or attacked by a wild animal and would be unable to seek help. She always shrugged off their objections by telling them that the woods were her only refuge from people, the solitude and peace of nature providing her with the solace she needed to restore her senses. As she hiked late that afternoon, however, something disturbed the usual tranquility of the forest, interrupting it. She stopped when she heard the sound of metal scraping repeatedly against the earth.

Even though most of the time she was able to enjoy the woods alone, the occasional appearance of human activity—other hikers and campers—reminded her that she was in a national forest, and that there were others like her who sought the healing, restorative qualities of nature. She approached the sound cautiously, curious to see the source of it. It didn’t seem like the usual noise from a camper, and once she reached an area where she could see the man causing the sound, she remained hidden behind some trees, watching him, uncertain about what he was doing. He was filling a hole—a rather deep one. He didn’t look like a park ranger or someone enjoying a pleasant day outdoors, no other gear with him besides the shovel he was using. In fact, he seemed out of place. What was the purpose behind the hole? She wondered. What was he doing?

As she continued to watch him, she noticed that he had an intense, focused, and almost deranged expression on his face, as if he was taking great pride in his ritual. This expression made him frightening to look at, and Angela began to sense that what he was doing wasn’t normal. He had come to the woods to cover up something he had done, something unsavory. He looked like a criminal, one of those bogeymen her friends always told her to watch out for during her treks into the woods, taking the form of many miscreants—the rapist, the murderer, the brutal and violent attacker—all of them using the isolation of the forest to carry out their acts, hidden away from public view and scrutiny, free to do whatever they pleased without witnesses. What he was doing with the hole assumed a sinister intent, and she began to realize what he was doing. He was burying something—or someone, not wishing it to ever be found, far removed from civilization. Shuddering as she imagined all kinds of unspeakable crimes he could have committed, she backed away as quietly as possible so as not to be discovered by him and become his next victim. She took the trail back to town so she could inform the police.

***

The next morning, Pete sat in the kitchen of the safe house, which continued its drab white theme. He had a mug of coffee, but it had since grown cold as he stared at it, uninterested. His thoughts were preoccupied with finding MacGyver.

“Sir, we might have a lead,” his head security man said, entering the kitchen.

Stirring him awake as the caffeine in the coffee could never do, Pete looked at him, his eyes wide. “What is it, Jenkins?” He asked.

“A woman hiking in the nearby national forest yesterday reported to police a suspicious person in the woods…he was burying something.”

Pete swallowed hard. Buried? He tried not to imagine MacGyver buried alive in that paralyzed state, knowing how terrifying it would be. “We’re only hearing about it now?” He asked angrily.

“At first, there didn’t appear to be a connection between it, but now the police are certain it could have something to do with MacGyver’s disappearance.”

“Of course it does, damn it! Time is precious, here! We could already be too late!” Sighing in frustration, Pete rubbed his face. “All right, what else did this eyewitness have to say? Did she have a description of this man?”

“According to the police, she said he was hard to describe, that he was…an enigma.”

Memories of Murdoc flashed in Pete’s mind, how he could become anyone and blend into any situation, like a chameleon. He began to suspect that he was somehow behind what happened to MacGyver, but he reserved his thoughts for himself until they knew for sure.

“Jenkins, tell the police that we’re taking over this investigation and debrief them. This is our man, and we can handle it from here. Be sure to obtain all the information they gathered from this witness. We appreciate their cooperation, but this is a highly delicate matter and we’re dealing with sensitive government secrets here that we don’t wish to become public knowledge. We can’t afford a media circus, here. After you’re finished, assemble the best Phoenix security team together that you can so we can get to this location…and tell them to bring shovels.”

“Shovels, sir?”

“We’re going to be rescuing MacGyver. He’s the man who was buried out there, and we have to retrieve him. Heavy machinery would arouse too much attention, and it would be difficult to get it approved for use in time by the Forest Service on their land.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Also, put in a call to Dr. Carr for me to come out to the site. MacGyver’s going to need medical attention.”

“Sir, do you really think that MacGyver is still alive?”

“Damn right I do. Now, get going.”

***

Pete and his team traversed the forest, lugging their digging equipment with them. There was enough manpower that uncovering MacGyver and freeing him from the hole would not take much time. They approached the area where Angela had told the police she saw the man digging, a tree that had deformed during growth directly ahead of them, gnarled and bending unnaturally so that it almost touched the ground.

“Are you sure this is where the woman saw him?” Pete asked.

“The police told me she marked it by that tree,” Jenkins said. “This is the spot.”

Pete studied the tree. It was certainly unusual and rare enough that no one could forget it. He stopped, dropping his shovel and panting from the long walk, sweat trickling down his face and gathering around the collar of his sweater, soaking it.

“All right, everyone get out your shovels. We’re going to start digging right here,” he said. “We’ll cover the whole radius around the tree until we find something.”

Following his orders, his team got out their shovels and began digging near the misshapen tree, spreading out to cover the full area. Pete was the most eager, not allowing his exhaustion of his poor physical condition prevent him from finding his friend. He dug with energy he didn’t know he had, pushing hard, flinging the dirt with rage, imagining all kinds of revenge he would exact on the sick man who had done this to MacGyver. He hoped they weren’t too late. Digging the hole felt bizarre at the same time, as if they were desecrating a grave, but he reminded himself it was an unnatural grave, its occupant still alive and undeserving of such a place. He had never been witness to the exhumation of a living man, but just like everything else that had occurred since MacGyver was first injected with the poison, nothing had been typical or ordinary. The hole widened and deepened as they continued, but all they had found so far was more dirt to remove. Horror filled Pete as he realized how deep MacGyver was buried. This wasn’t a hurried, haphazard job. It was calculated and precise. Someone had taken their time to make sure he would be hidden well. It looked like Murdoc’s M.O. the further he dug, but it didn’t make full sense. How would he have such a sophisticated, unheard of poison in his possession? Once MacGyver was found and recovered, he could provide the answers, but Pete wasn’t as concerned about the details as he was about his friend at that moment, still digging unceasingly with ferocity and determination.

Hang on, Mac…we’re coming.

“I don’t see anything so far,” one of his men said.

“Keep digging!” Pete shouted. “He’s down there somewhere. He has to be!”

***

Lost to the world, locked away in silence and darkness, still unable to move, his heart and lungs stilled and hardened, MacGyver’s thoughts began to drift. He began to have auditory hallucinations, his desperation, fear, and wishful thinking making him believe that he heard something, that someone was trying to locate him beneath the layers of dirt covering him. As much as he hoped it was true, the more logical part of his mind reminded him that nobody was coming for him. Nobody ever would. How could they? They didn’t know where he was. They wouldn’t even begin to know where to look. The only person with knowledge of his location was Murdoc, and he certainly wasn’t about to have a change of heart or divulge his secret to anyone that could help. He was still dead. Nothing would change that this time. It was hopeless. It was only a matter of time before the poison released its grip on him, unfreezing his body, providing him with a brief moment of relief before he suffocated inside the cramped quarters of the coffin. He wasn’t ready for it, and didn’t think there was any technique he could try that would fully prepare him for such a painful, horrific death. All he could do was wait in fear for the inevitable.

Something banged on top of his coffin. He heard it clearly. As much as he wanted to believe someone had found him, he refused to allow himself to be fooled by the cruel trickery of his mind. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. The tapping repeated several times, and he began to wonder if the impossible had actually happened. Had they captured Murdoc and interrogated him until he revealed the location where he had been buried? It wasn’t possible, yet he kept hearing it. Someone had actually found him. He wanted to shout, to return the bangs with his fists on the lid of the coffin, but of course he was still immobile, and all he could do was express his feelings of elation internally, laughing inside his mind, overwhelmed with joy and disbelief. He knew that almost surely Pete was involved in the excavation somehow, indefatigable in his search, refusing to surrender until he was found.

Pete! Is that you? Pete, I’m down here! You found me! Oh, thank God! You found me! Get me out of here…please…come on…you’re so close…I hope you’re really up there…please let this be real…Pete…

***

“I’ve hit something!” Pete shouted. “Something solid. Over here!”

His team rushed over to the spot and began to help him dig quickly. As the dirt was removed, it revealed a coffin.

“Mac…” Pete sobbed, choking on his tears. “Hang in there, buddy. We’ve found you. We’ll get you out of there.” He looked up at his men. “Tell Dr. Carr to stand by and be ready to receive his patient,” he said. He began digging at an even more rapid pace. “Come on, Mac, don’t give up on me yet. We’re so close…”

***

MacGyver felt a jolt as the coffin was lifted. A blast of air hit him as the lid opened, and he heard voices. Some were shouting urgently, while others were speaking in hushed, amazed tones. He listened to them carefully, groping in the darkness, trying to see if he heard the familiar gruff yet worried sound of his best friend’s voice, his nightmare nearly and surprisingly over, released from his deep, claustrophobic prison, relieved to be surrounded by sounds again.
Pete! Pete, are you out there? Pete, where are you? I’m here! I’m alive! Thank God you found me! I was all set to give up! Oh Pete, I hope you’re out there…I hope you can see me…please…

“It’s all right now, Mac. We have you,” Pete said, trying to squeeze his arm in support but finding it was like trying to grip a marble statue, MacGyver’s flesh solid and unyielding. His body was stiffer than it had even been before, leading Pete to worry if he really had died this time. “Get Dr. Carr over here now!” He shouted.

I’m okay. I’ll be okay…now. I’m in here. I’m alive!

Pete noticed a single red rose had been placed on MacGyver’s still chest, now wilting. Angrily, he tossed it aside.

“Someone has a really wicked, sick sense of humor to do this,” he said, thinking of Murdoc again.

Pete, if only you could hear me…I know who did this to me. It was Murdoc. I wish I could tell you…

He felt fingers on him, pressing against his neck, feeling for a pulse. They moved to his eyelids, trying to pull them open, but they would not move. The fingers tried not to press too hard on his eyes, not wanting to damage the tender tissue that surrounded them.

“No pulse or respiration, just like the last time,” Dr. Carr said. “I can’t open his eyes to examine them. The eyelids are heavy and just too rigid. If I could open them, I’m sure his pupils would be non-reactive. From all external appearances, he’s D.O.A., just like last time.”

I’m not really dead, though. I’m still in here, still alive.

“But is he…is he actually dead, or is he still under the influence of the poison?” Pete asked, stroking MacGyver’s arm to comfort him. He began to panic when it seemed MacGyver wouldn’t revive, even slowly. “I mean, before by this time he would have come out of it and become mobile again. What’s changed?”

“He…he looks dead,” one of Pete’s men said, the shock evident on his face.

Pete glanced up at him. “He’s not dead,” he said firmly. “He can’t be—can he?”

No, I’m not! I may be in a coffin here, but I’m not dead! MacGyver shouted in his mind, frustrated that he couldn’t communicate with them and solve the mystery over his status.

Dr. Carr shook his head. “There’s only one way to determine that,” he said. “I have an idea. Let’s get MacGyver loaded up and taken to the hospital. I’m going to run some tests on him.”

***

Dr. Carr hooked MacGyver’s frozen body up to several machines, among them an EEG machine and a heart monitor, electrodes placed on his forehead and his chest.

“It’s going to be all right, MacGyver,” Pete said in a soothing tone, trying to take MacGyver’s firm hand in his but finding it difficult to hold, heavy and solid like brick. “Dr. Carr just wants to make sure you’re still alive.”

I am, Pete. Don’t worry. I’m here.

Pete smiled through his tears. “I’m sure you are. I’m sure you’re still inside that body somewhere. I’ve never doubted your abilities to survive. Look at all you’ve been through already. You managed to get through this before. I’m sure you can again,” he said.

“All right,” Dr. Carr said once he was finished setting up the machines. “First, we’ll try the heart monitor and see what readings we get.”

He turned it on, and instantly it squealed loudly. MacGyver got to hear his nonexistent heartbeat recorded on the machine, and it was an unreal experience. He shouldn’t have been able to hear it. Sitting beside him, Pete closed his eyes, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Dr. Carr shut off the machine and looked gravely at him.

“As you can tell, he’s coded,” he said, sympathy in his voice. “But, let’s not give up yet. I’ll try the EEG next and see what readings we get from it.”

They’ll have to know I’m alive when they see the readings from it, MacGyver thought. An EEG records brain activity. There wouldn’t be any if I was truly dead. Come on guys, you’re getting so close…you’ll know I’m here soon.

Once the EEG was operating, Pete and Dr. Carr anxiously watched it. The needles began moving, creating zigzagging patterns on the paper.

“There is significant brain activity,” Dr. Carr said, breaking out into a smile. “Pete, he’s alive! I still say it’s medically impossible, but he’s alive!”

“Oh, my God! I knew it! I just knew…he had to be in there…Mac!” Pete said, his voice trembling with tears and joy.

Yes, Pete. I’m here. I’ll be okay…eventually. He tried to move again, but still nothing happened. Murdoc had said he would remain that way for days, but how many?

“But, I don’t understand,” Pete said. “If he’s been poisoned again by that unknown substance, why hasn’t it released him yet?”

It was a stronger dose. I don’t know when I’ll get out of it this time, but at least I know you’re here for me. Once I get out of this, I’ll have to tell you. It was Murdoc who did this. We have to find him.

Dr. Carr shrugged. “Possibly it was administered to him in larger quantities this time,” he said. “Whoever did this probably wanted to make sure he wouldn’t revive so quickly so he could carry out his plans more effectively.”

“Well…will he ever fully recover? I mean, he can’t stay this way,” Pete said, looking down at MacGyver’s stiff body, wanting to cry, imagining the frightful experience he had already endured, being buried alive. Now, he was going to suffer being paralyzed in an unresponsive body for God knew how long? He couldn’t stand it. Hadn’t the poor man been through enough?

“I don’t have the answer to that, Pete,” Dr. Carr said. “I wish I knew. We don’t even know what the substance is or how it behaves.” He sighed. “The best you can do for him right now is be here for him. Talk to him, just as you would when he was in a coma. Let him know he’s not alone so that he’ll be less afraid. I know the outcome is uncertain right now, but all we can do is hope that he will revive as he did before at some point.”

I will. I just wish I knew when. Hang in there, Pete. I’ll be back again. I promise.

Sighing, wiping away his tears, Pete smiled and nodded at Dr. Carr. He sat down beside MacGyver’s body, finding it difficult to touch his skin and feel it so rigid.

“I guess you heard the doctor’s orders,” he said, sniffing. “Oh God, MacGyver, I can’t imagine what I would have done if I never found you…”

How did you find me, Pete? It seems like such a fortunate coincidence, MacGyver asked. He knew his question probably wouldn’t be answered until he awakened fully and could ask it himself. For now, all he could do was speculate.

“I’m just glad you’re all right, that you survived against the odds again. You’ll be safe, now. Once you can talk again, you’ll tell me who did this to you, and we’ll catch him, Mac. We’ll catch him so that you’ll be safe and never have to suffer such torment again. Once was enough. You shouldn’t have to be helpless like this again. Oh Mac, I’m so sorry…but you’re going to be all right. I know it. Just hang in there, pal. I’m here for you. You don’t have to be alone anymore, locked away in that dismal coffin. I won’t leave your side.”

Thanks, Pete. I know you won’t, and it means a lot to me.

Pete saw the response register as squiggly lines on the EEG, and he was satisfied. He knew MacGyver was still with him.

To be continued…

Whew!

Thanks for the quick update! That was a long time to be holding my breath!

Nice!