And here is part three! The plot thickens a little bit, and hey! Maybe we will get to see what the real deal with Farrah is, soon!
Hope you like this!
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Part Three The man hurled himself on MacGyver, thinking that the immobilized arm, the spots of blood where his wounds had bled through and his general pallor were guarantees that he would be the winner in the fight against the troubleshooter. He was wrong.
In Mac’s good hand there was the flask of water, since he’d made it a point to sip small mouthfuls each time they paused to check for a compass read, or reassure each other, or simply for him to catch his breath. It was uncorked now, as he’d been preparing to drink while Farrah was being a skeptic about approaching the cabin. As the man in the checkered shirt raised the hoe to bring it down to Mac’s head, MacGyver threw his hand forward and whatever water was left inside flew in a sharp brilliant arc and splashed across the man’s face and eyes. The man spluttered but had no time to react. MacGyver shoved the hard flask forward in quick succession, striking the man squarely on his nose. It blossomed in crimson, and it only took one more blow for the attacker to crumple to the ground and be still.
But every victory comes at a price.
MacGyver moaned, the water flask dropping from his fingers. Bright spots were blotting out his vision, his breath was burned through his throat as if he’d run the marathon, his ears were thundering at the quickened pace of his erratic heart and any dulled effect Farrah had managed to afford him with her ministrations on his shot up, mangled arm was now completely shattered- he had no scream able to contain such massive, comprehensive waves of pain. Though the victor in his scuffle with the man, he knew he was sinking to his knees and would soon join him on the ground.
Hands grabbed him gently.
“C’mon MacGyver. Let’s get ye to rest,” the voice was coming from far away, sounding as if through water.
He replied something. He was sure of it. But he couldn’t hear his own voice. Nor feel his feet dragging on the ground, or which way was the little cabin of a house, or whether the sun had suddenly winked out. He could feel nothing, nothing at all except those horrible white spots dancing gaily before his eyes. It was centuries past before the pain let upand the white spots faded into real vision.
Did I pass out? How much time has passed? He groaned, trying to force his eyes to focus faster and free him from this frustrating prison of blurriness. He realized that he was that he was reclining on a bed, and something cool was dabbing at his forehead. Neither was offering real relief, but there was comfort, and it was helping the blurriness clear up.
Slowly, draggingly, his eyes finally focused again. Farrah was at his bedside, and at his feet was an old-looking man, probably in his seventies or eighties, with a thick bandage around his head and a frown on his face. He was chewing on something, sitting in a chair, obviously unwilling to get up and test his balance if he didn’t have to. MacGyver was certain he was the real owner of the cabin, and the blood on the attacker’s hoe had been his. The man- clearly a farmer- was silent. His whole demeanor reminded MacGyver of Harry in more ways than one.
“MacGyver?” Farrah was trying to get his attention. He carefully turned his head to look at her. She smiled thinly, but sincerely. “Ye gave me a scare there. But ye sure did beat that man with one arm tied behind yer back! Yer amazing!”
Mac grinned thinly.
“It was tied in front of me, actually,” he tried to jest. He tentatively tried to wiggle. His body was heavy, but it wasn’t protesting too much. Looking further down, he saw real bandages swathing his arm and snugly supporting his shoulder and the straps securing his arm still against his torso were wider, sturdier and cleaner, made of some sort of thickly woven linen. He frowned. “How much time was I out?”
“Quite a bit. Aboot 2 hours, actually,” Farrah said with a small smile. “But mr. Kostas here, he gave me what I needed te patch ye up a little better, and he says he’ll give us a ride with his donkey to the refuge in the morning.”
“That’s great. Thank you-
efharisto, ” MacGyver told the man, who smiled and nodded, then started speaking in a rapid flat staccato that was by far beyond Mac’s tourist-level Greek. But Farrah was nodding, patiently and attentively listening to the man, then she turned to Mac.
“He says you are welcome, and that anyone who is against those people who trampled on his personal crops and nearly killed him is by default his friend. He also says that he doesn’t want to know what we are up to, but he’d appreciate it if we told him if he needs to call the police for help.”
“No, no,” MacGyver said quickly. “Tell him that once we are gone, he’ll be left alone. Where… where is the man who attacked us?”
Farrah bit her lip. “He escaped. By the time I got ye in the house, he was gone. I didn’t see where he went, or when. It’s my fault, really. I’m sorry, MacGyver.”
“That’s okay,” Mac said, though it certainly was not. How much of a head start had he gotten in alerting whoever had sent him to wait for them there? And how could he have predicted they would be reaching the cabin? “Just tell him he need go to no trouble to involve the authorities, we are on a secret state business- strictly need to know.”
Farrah nodded and turned to say as much. MacGyver sat up carefully. The pain was much dulled, he wondered if the man had more medical supplies than just a good first aid kit. “Farrah? Also tell him we need to get moving now.”
“Now?? But it’s gonna be dark soon!” Farrah protested.
“If mr. Kostas knows any ways that only indigenous people know about getting to the refuge, now is the time to go. The man who attacked us has buddies, remember? I don’t know why they haven’t already stormed the place.”
Farrah swallowed and looked away. Then she nodded and relayed Mac’s message to the farmer. MacGyver frowned. There was that alarming look of hers again. What was she hiding? What wasn’t she telling? MacGyver was certain that whatever it was, it was making his life somehow harder. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to think of the petite doctor as hostile to him. She had done more than would be expected of her to keep him strong and able, and she had been very responsive to anything he told her to do. He wasn’t exactly certain how to go about getting answers from her. In truth, though she was friendly and helpful, she was masterfully closed to anything that could give MacGyver a leverage to open her up, to make her relax and confide in him. Or at least, that she’d pick a fight with him, and offer him an opening that way.
But no. Farrah was helpful, cooperative, and closed like a clam.
The old-looking Greek was already on the wireless, a clunky but apparently sturdy machine installed on a small table with a white lace doily under it, as all items in what seemed to be the living room were if they were set on tables and such surfaces. In fact, there were lace doilies of various sizes scattered on every surface, even on the hovel mantel. It struck the troubleshooter as perversely funny.
“He says we can leave in a quarter of an hour. He’s called his brother from the village. He will take us to the refuge unseen, he knows his way in the dark through the forest. They both served in two different wars, they say they know how to evade snipers, especially in this forest.” Farrah’s eyes were still stormy, troubled. MacGyver smiled for her when she dared to look in his eyes.
“That’s great,” he nodded. He pointed to the wireless. “Do you think mr. Kostas would let me use that thing to get a message in to Pete?”
Farrah almost gasped, but then she caught herself, forcing a casual look of calm that didn’t convince Mac one bit.
“The Pheonix Fou-- …Pete’s yer friend, right? The one who sent ye?”
“The one and only,” MacGyver grinned purposefully. “I trust him with my life.”
Farrah just turned and spoke to the farmer. He nodded and gestured to the wireless. MacGyver got up very carefully. The room threatened to spin for a moment, but then it settled, and he took the few steps required to the stool next to the wireless. Farrah was watching him the entire time. What was it about the Phoenix Foundation that agitated her? It was the Foundation that had sent him to free her before she was disposed of or even worked on to reveal whatever secret it was she was carrying.
In fact, MacGyver frowned as he was tuning in to the frequency he wanted, it occurred to him that he had no idea exactly what it was the doctor was carrying, and in what way. Was it a biohazard? When Mac found her cooped up in her office and literally chained to her desk, she took nothing with her that would warrant data transfer of any sort, even after he asked her if she would want to.
The radio drew his attention.
“Hello, hello? Pete?”
“MacGyver, where
are you? You missed your meet with the chopper!”
“Sorry, Pete; I got sidetracked.”
“Are you all right? Are you hurt? Is Dr. Wallace with you?” Pete’s voice was frantic, slightly frazzled. Mac nodded into the speaker as if Pete would be able to see him.
“I’m fine, Pete. Listen, we got jumped by some unknowns. Snipers. I’m about…” MacGyver glanced at Farrah who mouthed the answer to him, “yeah, I’m three hours away from the refuge and I’ll probably be bringin’ them with me. Got any info on what I’m grappling with here?”
“Mac, I can’t talk here. I’ll be waiting for you when they fly you in, and I’ll tell you everything then. Be careful- I am sending in someone you can trust for the pick up.”
Static indicated that Pete had signed off abruptly. MacGyver frowned to himself as he switched off the device.
“That’s not promising,” he muttered.
“MacGyver,” Farrah said as she helped him up and made a show of checking the bandaging of his arm. She swallowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“The reason they haven’t followed us… the reason they found us so far away from the city and tried to shoot ye dead… and the reason they will just wait to jump us before we reach the refuge no matter how good the Greek is in the forest… is me. It’s
me!” she broke into tears.
“Well, Farrah, you know that it’s sort of part of the deal, since I spirited you away from your lab--"
“No!” Farrah cut him off, gesturing dramatically. “You don’t understand! They are
tracking me!”
MacGyver sighed dejectedly.
Nope, not promising at all. -----
And that's it for now! Part four reveals what the doc is transferring, and what's at stake.
Hope you stay tuned!
Intelligence is the one variable everyone believes to be constant.
You assume that Farrah doesn't (or didn't) have an agenda of her own OR that she knew it beforehand. XD
