Okay, finally as promised, I have a new story for everyone!
I appreciate your patience as I weathered the technological storms of difficulty and have finally overcome them to bring this to you. It's the sequel to Shake Hands with the Devil, my last story before my computer melted down for awhile. If you haven't read that story yet, I recommend you do before you read this one. I make some references to it in this story that might not make sense unless you do. This part is rather shorter than I expected, but I guess it doesn't have to be long to be good, you know, that whole quality/quantity thing.
Anyway...enjoy! It feels good to be back in full capacity!
Shattered Survivor Part One (Sequel to Shake Hands with the Devil)
Rated: PG
Red Dunes, Arizona
“What, are you lost, MacGyver? I know it’s been several years since I’ve seen you in this town, but didn’t you tell me you would never consider renting a horse to ride because it was…oh, I don’t know…too touristy?”
MacGyver smiled at the attractive young woman who addressed him, her long auburn hair blowing gently in the hot, dry breeze and shining beautifully in the desert sun.
“Well, a guy can change his mind, you know Kay,” he said.
Kay watched him as he nuzzled the dark brown horse that was the center of his attention and affection. He was as handsome, pleasant, and charming as she remembered him, but he seemed slightly more reserved, a haunted, sad look in his deep brown eyes.
“You seem to have quite the bond with Sadie,” she said. “Is she the one you want?”
“Sure,” MacGyver said, rubbing and patting the horse on the nose. “I do have one stipulation, though.”
“Oh boy, here we go,” Kay said, sighing and grinning. “I can’t wait to hear what it is.”
“If I’m going to take this fine animal for a ride, you’re gonna have to let me take her off the designated trails. I’m an expert rider, I promise, and I’ll return her in good condition. She may even enjoy the variety of straying from the path.”
Kay studied MacGyver’s tall, athletic form in admiration. He certainly seemed capable of handling himself in the rough, rugged terrain. “All right, I’ll trust you,” she said.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” MacGyver said, climbing into the saddle and pulling himself astride the large, magnificent horse. “I’ll be back soon.”
Kay shielded her eyes from the sun to look up at him. He looked like a mythical centaur on the horse, and she felt another shiver of desire for him tingle through her body, hoping that during his current visit she would get to know him as more than just a mere casual acquaintance.
“Have fun,” she said.
MacGyver grinned and saluted, gently kicking the horse and grabbing the reins, steering her towards the vast, open desert.
***
MacGyver was glad Kay consented to his solo journey. He needed to be as far away from crowds as possible to think, reflect, and relax. Since the days of the early settlers to the region, the clear, warm desert air was recommended as a curative for numerous ailments, most notably tuberculosis. As he rode through the canyons, the sun blazing down on him, he began to feel his senses restore, the unpleasantness and chaos of the past few weeks and years fading into insignificance, becoming nothing but a distant memory. It was as if he had traveled back to the period of his favorite western films, assuming the role of the lone cowboy traversing the frontier as yet undisturbed by man, relying on no one except himself, relishing his unrestricted freedom. He marveled at the geologic forces it had taken to carve the canyons and gorges that surrounded him, wind and other erosion shaping the bright orange and red rocks into spectacular, unusual forms. Natural, twisted spires and jagged peaks pointed towards the vivid turquoise sky as if aspiring to reach it, their blood red stone contrasting sharply with the deep blue, the stark, barren, yet beautiful landscape looking mystical and otherworldly, a place that held many mysteries and had yet to reveal them.
Although he had been all over the world and had seen many wondrous landscapes, he ranked the Arizona desert as among his favorites. While many considered the desert hostile and forbidding, he loved being surrounded by it, the isolation and openness of it comforting to him. There was something about harsh territories that kept out the influence of man that appealed to him, not that he despised mankind. He simply liked the idea that he could find a place where he knew he would truly be alone and separate, a place where he could lose himself, where his voice could echo for miles and yet no one would hear him. After all he had been through, his faith in humanity had been shaken. Being removed from others was one of the few therapeutic methods he knew to rebuild his trust in his fellow members of the human species. Pete often disapproved of his quest for solitude when he was hurting, telling him that he needed support during those dark moments from others more than ever, but MacGyver was tired of support. After five years, it had exhausted him. Now, the only companionship he desired was with the horse beneath him, feeling the most basic, primitive connection to the animal as they cooperated with each other to travel through the dusty, uneven ground, and dry sagebrush.
The horse’s steady pace became disturbed as it released a frightened, high-pitched whinny and began bucking onto its hind legs.
“Whoa, steady now,” MacGyver said in a soothing voice, trying to calm it, rubbing its sturdy, muscular neck. “Take it easy now.”
The horse’s agitated movements increased despite MacGyver’s best efforts, causing him to hold on tightly to make sure the horse wouldn’t throw him. As he was jostled around violently in the saddle, he remembered his days working on a ranch and how he had foolishly decided to participate in a rodeo, the horse bucking him off within seconds of the competition, leaving him with a battered body and sore head to remember his experience.
“What’s the matter, huh?” He asked the horse, trying to remain calm himself. “What is it?”
The distinct rattling sound he heard next answered his question. The terrified horse saw a rattlesnake, causing it to panic, forgetting any control of its rider and instinctually wanting nothing more than to flee the source of danger. MacGyver stared at it. It was coiled, its brownish, leathery skin blending in with the desert floor, the sound of the rattle and its raised head with its predatory, gleaming dark eyes betraying its camouflage and making them aware of its presence. It was warning them, threatening to strike and unleash its venom with lethal accuracy and precision. MacGyver never considered himself afraid of snakes, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t wish to avoid being bitten by one if at all possible, especially a snake as poisonous as a rattler.
“It’s okay,” he whispered to the horse. “I don’t like them either, but we’ll get out of here.”
The horse refused to listen to his reassuring words or his attempts to steer her away from the snake and ride in a different direction. She was wild and irrational, primal fear guiding her. Releasing another horrified shriek, its eyes so wide the whites were visible, the horse bucked again. This time, the force was too great and MacGyver lost his grip, tumbling roughly to the ground. As he fell, the back of his head struck a rock, knocking him unconscious. Liberated from her excess weight that was preventing her from escaping, the horse galloped away in a frenzied state, deserting her rider and leaving him defenseless in the brutal heat of the desert wilderness, no civilization for miles. Unsatisfied with its failed attempt to bite the horse as it fled, the rattlesnake lunged and bit MacGyver on the ankle instead, adding to his already perilous situation. Knocked unconscious and bit by a venomous snake, exposed to the unforgiving elements of the desert, and with no one aware of his exact whereabouts, the prospects for his rescue and survival grew increasingly doubtful and grim.
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
omg! Poor Mac! 
Oh! Poor Mac! He never seems to get a break.. 
