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Exile Part One
Rated: PG
“MacGyver, don’t you know me? Don’t you remember me at all?” A voice asked.
MacGyver glared with hatred and mistrust at the balding, heavyset man standing before him, pointing a gun at him, aiming for his chest. Someone he should have recognized immediately as his best friend Pete Thornton had become nothing but a stranger, an enemy that had to be eliminated.
“You have to listen to me. You don’t know who you are. I don’t know what they told you about me, but it isn’t true. We’re friends. They want to take advantage of you and destroy that friendship, but you can’t let them divide us like that. Don’t let them do this to us, please! Put the gun down and listen to me! I can prove that you know me, only if you’ll let me. I promise you your memory will return. Somewhere deep inside that confused mind of yours, I know you know the truth. You don’t want to do this. That gun feels unnatural in your hands. Just…put the gun down, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Please, Mac…”
His emotional pleas did little to persuade MacGyver to relinquish his weapon, his aim remaining steady, his grip on the gun firm. He knew the man was stalling, trying to deceive him, to confuse him and distract him from his mission so he could lure him into a trap and capture him, and he wouldn’t allow it to happen. No matter what the man said, no matter what he claimed or how convincing his tearful words were, MacGyver refused to listen to him, remaining intensely focused. Without another moment’s hesitation or further delay, he made sure he had a clear aim at Pete’s chest and fired.***
Five years later…
“Some of the local folks are convinced he’s a little mad,” an elderly man said, leading Nikki Carpenter up a steep, treacherous, winding path that narrowed as it snaked deeper into the dense forest lush with foliage, the trees overhead creating a thick canopy that blocked out the sunlight and created an eerie, mysterious, and forbidding atmosphere. “He doesn’t say much, if at all, and speaks to no one, keeping mainly to himself, living like a hermit, a complete recluse. Actually, I’m surprised that you were able to find him at all.”
“Well, it wasn’t easy,” Nikki said, puffing from her exertions, surprised that the older man was performing better physically on the trail than she was, his grizzled, wiry frame well suited to the harsh terrain of the mountainous environment. “We had to do a lot of research and it took an extraordinary amount of effort to locate him, but we had to conduct the search for him. It was important. He’s been missing from our lives for five long years.”
“Why is it so important that you find him?” The old man asked. “Why not just leave him in peace?”
“Because, it’s time for him to come home,” Nikki said. “He’s suffered enough. He feels guilty for something that he did, so he’s been punishing himself all this time. I think five years is enough penance, don’t you?”
The old man shrugged. “I suppose,” he said. “What if he doesn’t want to go home? What if he just wants to be left alone?”
“Alone in his misery, you mean? He needs to stop torturing himself for something that he can’t change. It isn’t a healthy way to live. It’s time for him to move on, to realize that he’s been forgiven, to stop looking back and dwelling on the past.”
“Sure, but I’m just saying that just because something ain’t healthy doesn’t mean it’s gonna stop someone from doing it,” the old man said. “You can’t force him to come back, ma’am. He has to make up his own mind about that.”
“I know, but I want to help him,” Nikki said. “I want to at least try.”
“Well, there’s no harm in that, I ‘spose,” the old man said. He stopped walking and pointed down the trail. “The cabin is just a little ways farther down there,” he said. “You’ll see it as you get closer. It’s a simple little place, kind of rickety—not much, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
The old man smiled. “I’m afraid you’re on your own from here,” he said. “I don’t meddle in anyone’s business more than I have to. It’s up to you what you do from here. Besides, some folks around here are a little afraid of him. He’s a strange fellow, know what I mean?”
“But you’re not afraid of him,” Nikki said, smiling.
The old man waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, he’s harmless. Just a little odd, that’s all,” he said. “Still, I like to keep my distance just in case, know what I mean? I wish you luck. From what I hear he can get pretty hostile and aggressive if anyone comes too close, kind of like an angry bear. He doesn’t like anyone invading his space.”
“Well, he knows me, so I don’t think he’ll see me as any kind of threat,” Nikki said.
“It’s your choice. Still, I’m warning you, he might not be happy to see you, even if he does know you—perhaps especially if he knows you.”
Nikki considered the wisdom of his words. “You’re probably right about that,” she said. “It could bring up some painful memories for him, memories he probably wants to keep buried.”
“If you want to turn back, now’s your chance.”
“No, I’m not afraid. I’m doing this out of concern for him. I need to talk to him. He needs to come out of hiding. It’s time. I went through all this trouble to find him, so it’s the least I can do.”
The old man looked her directly in the eyes. “Look, I don’t know what happened to him or what he did,” he said. “It’s none of my business. I will tell you though that he has to deal with his pain the best way he knows how. He has to figure it out for himself. Don’t think that you can force him.”
Nikki laughed slightly. “He’s so stubborn that I could never force him to do anything,” she said. “I just want to talk to him, that’s all. I want to see him.”
The old man sighed. “Then go see him,” he said. “I won’t stop you. He might, though.”
“I’m prepared for that,” Nikki said. “I’m also not going to back down. He needs me, whether he wants to admit it or not.”
The old man chuckled. “Sounds like you’re just as stubborn as he is,” he said.
“Damn right I am.”
“Well, then maybe you are exactly what he needs. I wish you luck. It isn’t going to be easy. A man gets used to one way of thinking, and it isn’t easy to change that.”
“I know.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve come all this way,” Nikki said. “Of course I’m sure. I can handle it.” She smiled slightly. “Thanks again for all your help.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Nikki waved at him and continued down the trail alone. The old man watched her until she disappeared behind the trees.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said.
***
The humble, old, dilapidated cabin looked lonely and sad in that remote, secluded area, isolated, disconnected from the rest of the world, trees surrounding it like prison bars. It saddened Nikki to think that someone would actually choose to impose such a harsh sentence on themselves, living such an ascetic existence. Normally, she liked cabins, finding their rustic charm quaint and comfortable. As she looked at this cabin, she found nothing pleasant, charming, or comfortable about it. It looked uninviting and neglected, almost frightening like an evil witch’s abode in a children’s story, leaning on its support beams, looking as if it would collapse at any minute should a stiff breeze blow through the woods. With some trepidation, she approached it, wondering if her feet would fall through the creaky boards on the deck, about to knock on the door when it opened as if the occupant inside had expected her visit.
She barely recognized the man standing in front of her, his dirty hair long and wild, a beard growing on his face. He wore ragged, faded clothing that no longer fit him properly, hanging loosely on his sinewy frame, and it was scented with the pungent, sour odor of smoke from numerous campfires and woodstoves. His fingernails were black with dirt and his skin was smudged with filth, soot, and grime, as if he never bathed. He looked like the mad woodsmen the old man had warned her about, a vagabond, a tramp. He glared at her fiercely, his dark eyes smoldering and intense. For a moment she was stunned, taken aback by the transformation, trying to remember the man she knew, trying to see if he was still somewhere inside that unkempt, gaunt stranger that now stood in front of her, his rage seething, threatening to boil over and express itself violently. She flinched, almost thinking he would lunge at her and strike her, the angry, wounded bear defending his territory, his behavior unpredictable, irrational, and erratic.
“MacGyver, don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Nikki. I’ve come to talk to you…”
MacGyver snorted and growled like a wild animal, grunting inarticulately before turning away from her and slamming the door.
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
