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Wandering Blind Part Six
Rated: R
Something was crushing his throat, causing him to slowly asphyxiate. As MacGyver struggled to breathe, he awakened abruptly and saw Murdoc standing over him in his bedroom, pressing a cord tightly across his neck, strangling him. He tried to resist him, but he couldn’t move. His ankles and wrists were tied to the posts of his bed, and he was completely helpless.
“This isn’t a dream this time, MacGyver, and you can’t shoot me,” Murdoc said, whispering viciously. “There is nothing you can do. You can’t stop me. I will win at last.”
Panicked and desperate, MacGyver fought as best as he could, tugging and straining against the ropes that restrained him, trying to loosen them, but they held him tightly and refused to slacken, even slightly. Murdoc watched as his body squirmed and jerked, his limbs pulling tautly against the ropes, his face turning redder from the lack of oxygen, contorted in dying agony, his eyes rolling back, his back arching, his mouth gaping open in a useless, airless gasp, fighting for air but not receiving any. He laughed, finding the scene amusing and incredibly beautiful to behold, almost thrilling.
“You know, MacGyver, I just discovered how easy it is to kill you if one applies oneself,” he said, listening to the gurgles and rattling sounds coming from MacGyver’s constricted throat, feeling his body writhe beneath him. “It turns out I don’t need to plan something elaborate, although I admit that is much more fun. All I need to do is something basic, almost crude, and use it on you when you’re at your most vulnerable, and then you’ll die. It may not be as much of a challenge, but it does get the job done, neatly and efficiently.”
MacGyver’s movements lessened and grew feebler, his struggles ceasing, his body losing the fight to get oxygen. He felt himself fading, growing weaker, blackness beginning to gather around the corners of his eyes, his exertions and efforts to free himself all in vain. He was slowly beginning to die.
“Let him go,” A man said.
MacGyver vaguely heard him, his voice low, distorted, and echoing around him.
Looking up from his murderous task, Murdoc recognized the brawny man from the cabin pointing his hunting rifle at him. Grinning, he pressed even harder on MacGyver’s throat. MacGyver’s limbs jerked and flailed, pulling tightly against the ropes binding him.
“I said, let him go!” D.B. shouted, his voice loud, deep, and booming, showing he was serious, pressing his finger harder on the trigger.
Sneering arrogantly, Murdoc reluctantly released the cord from around MacGyver’s neck.
“Now, step back away from him,” D.B. said. “Come on, do as I say.”
Murdoc stepped away, raising his hands in surrender.
Gasping, wheezing, and coughing, greedily inhaling as much oxygen as he could, MacGyver opened his eyes and tried to see his savior, but all he could see was a blurred shadow, outlined in an aura of light, spinning rapidly and dizzily before his field of vision. Gradually, the form came into focus, and he recognized D.B. He tried to speak, but he was still out of breath, panting laboriously, his throat still feeling painfully crushed. He wondered if Murdoc had permanently damaged it.
“It looks like you need me, after all,” D.B. said, smiling down at him. He looked up at Murdoc, pointing his rifle at him. “You, stay where you are. Don’t move, or I will shoot.” He returned to MacGyver, pulling out his hunting knife and cutting the ropes, freeing him. “It’s going to be okay now, Handy,” he said. “We’ll take care of this guy. You’re going to be all right.”
Seeing an opportunity to strike while D.B. was preoccupied with cutting MacGyver’s ropes, Murdoc lunged at him, knocking the bulky man to the floor. Despite their differences in size and strength, Murdoc was smaller and therefore moved quicker, managing to wrestle the rifle from D.B.’s meaty, calloused hands, pointing it at him.
“I do grow so tired of you meddling in my business affairs,” he said, aiming the rifle at D.B.’s chest, prepared to pull the trigger.
Still not fully recovered but gradually feeling his strength returning, MacGyver leapt at him, knocking him to the floor, the rifle sliding out of his hands. D.B. regained control of it and pointed it but didn’t know where to aim or if he should fire, the two men rolling around on the floor, engaged in a brutal struggle for dominance and survival, clawing and punching at each other like wild beasts, growling, grunting, and snarling, their bodies coiling and twisting around each other, a tangle of limbs and muscle pushed to the highest levels of endurance, their faces twisted in determined grimaces.
“Get him, Handy! That’s it, you can do it!” D.B. shouted.
Murdoc managed to find the hunting knife with its long blade on the floor near him, and he grabbed it, lunging at MacGyver. MacGyver rolled out of the way just before the blade stabbed him and stood, backing away from Murdoc as he also stood and advanced towards him, slashing through the air with the blade. MacGyver grabbed Murdoc’s hands and struggled to get him to release the knife, knocking his tightly clenched fists hard against the bedpost. Murdoc howled in pain but refused to relent, renewing his attack, stabbing at the air as MacGyver twisted his hands, struggling to get control of the weapon. They tossed each other across the room, careening into furniture and knocking over shelves. Crashing to the floor again, they rolled around, Murdoc on top of MacGyver with the knife at one moment, and MacGyver on top of Murdoc the next, the blade inches between them. All D.B. could do was watch in amazement at the sheer brute physicality on display between the two men. Under different circumstances, it would have almost seemed beautiful to him, like a well-choreographed fight, except this fight was to the death. Both of them were in tatters, their clothing shredded, their skin ripped open, bruised and bleeding. Their struggle for the knife was intense, neither of them willing to surrender, battling for control. As they continued to roll around on the floor, Murdoc’s grip on the knife began to slip, and soon it was in MacGyver’s hands. Unaware of this, Murdoc rolled on top of MacGyver again, prepared to pin him down when he felt the blade pierce his side. Dazed, his face swollen and badly beaten, Murdoc stood, staggering backward, examining the wound and the blood flowing from it. MacGyver also stood, watching him. There was an awkward pause between them, a brief truce, both of them momentarily confused over what had happened. Everything had happened so fast, yet it felt as if time had slowed. Despite his stab wound, Murdoc recovered first, grinning and lunging at MacGyver. MacGyver pushed him back, slamming him against the walls. They continued their violent dance until MacGyver pushed Murdoc against his windows, shattering the glass. Losing his balance, Murdoc began to fall backward through the newly created opening. MacGyver tried to steady him and hold onto him, but he slipped and fell, screaming as he dropped into the water two floors below.
“MacGyverrrrr!”
Both MacGyver and D.B. rushed to the open window, looking down into the water. They saw blood swirling around in the current, along with oxygen bubbles, indicating that Murdoc’s body had sunk below the surface. Gradually, the bubbles dispersed, and the surface was calm and silent again. Looking around, they saw no further trace of him.
“He’s dead,” D.B. said. “You got him.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” MacGyver said, his voice sounding hoarse and raspy, still recovering from strangulation.
Sirens blared moments later, police cars swarming around the houseboat. MacGyver heard shouting and the stomping of feet as they surrounded the property.
“I called them,” D.B. said. “I just had this feeling that you were in danger.”
“But how did you know for sure?”
D.B. shrugged. “I didn’t, I guess,” he said. “I just wanted to be there once again for my friend, you know, make sure he was safe.” He smiled.
“MacGyver! MacGyver, are you all right?” A familiar voice called from downstairs.
“Yeah Pete, I’m up here,” MacGyver said, his voice still strained.
Pete rushed up the spiral staircase along with Roger. When they found the chaotic scene in the bedroom—furniture overturned, dents, scratches, and blood on the walls, broken glass—they stared at it, stunned.
“What happened here?” Roger asked.
“Murdoc was here,” D.B. said. “He tried to kill MacGyver again. They got into a fight, Murdoc was accidentally stabbed with my hunting knife, and he fell out the window into the water.”
Pete turned to Roger. “Have your men search the premises,” he said. “See if they can find him.”
Roger nodded and left the room to lead his team of men.
“He couldn’t have gone too far,” D.B. said. “He was stabbed, and it looked like he drowned. I saw it.”
“Well, when it comes to Murdoc, that doesn’t mean anything,” Pete said. “He could still be alive. Roger and his men will conduct a thorough sweep of the area, just to be safe.”
MacGyver leaned against the wall, clutching at his throat. A fresh, red mark stretched across it, adjacent to the older, faded one, burning and throbbing painfully. His face was cut, bloodied, and bruised, his clothing torn and ragged, ripped into ribbons.
“Are you all right?” Pete asked him.
MacGyver nodded. “He tried to strangle me again, Pete,” he said. “I…I can’t believe it. I was completely helpless. He had tied me up in my sleep…I couldn’t defend myself…” he looked at Pete, pain in his eyes. “You were right. I should never have tried to take him on alone. Sometimes, I do need help I guess.”
Pete and D.B. exchanged glances, smiling. “Well, it’s a good thing we realized that,” he said. “D.B. refused to let you do this alone, and Roger and I agreed. We’ve been not far away this whole time, monitoring the situation.”
“I was not about to allow you to get killed,” D.B. said. “None of us were. I’m sorry if that put a crimp in your style, but…”
“No, it’s okay,” MacGyver said. “It’s nice to know I have friends who would risk their lives for mine.”
“Just don’t make it a habit, Handy,” D.B. said, smiling. “I’d like to get to know you better and spend more time with you doing other things besides saving your life all the time.”
“Thank you,” MacGyver said, looking at D.B. and then Pete. “All of you. I would have died…if only I had listened to you…”
“It’s over now, Mac,” Pete said, hugging him. “We’re here. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“My men couldn’t find him anywhere,” Roger said, entering the room. “Either he escaped, or he’s still in the water somewhere. We’ll send in dive teams to dredge the water for his body and see if we can find it.”
“You won’t,” MacGyver said, releasing himself from Pete’s embrace. “You won’t find anything. He’s gone.”
“How can you be so sure?” Roger asked.
“Because I know Murdoc. He didn’t die. He’ll never die. He always comes back,” MacGyver said, his voice eerily monotone, his face expressionless. “He’ll keep coming back until he succeeds in killing me, or I kill him.”
“Well, what do we do about it?” D.B. asked. “We can’t protect him 24 hours a day, can we?”
“I’m afraid not,” Pete said. “We’ll have to be on our guard, of course, but there’s not much else any of us can do, I’m afraid. All we can do now is wait and see if he returns. Since several of his attempts on MacGyver’s life have been thwarted, he might be getting frustrated and discouraged and will probably want to lie low for awhile before he strikes again.”
“For how long?” Roger asked.
Pete looked at him and shrugged. “Days, sometimes weeks or months,” he said. “He has even been gone for a few years before, licking his wounds and his hurt pride somewhere before restoring his courage and confidence and reappearing in MacGyver’s life to wreck havoc on it once again.”
“It seems so unfair and undeserved,” D.B. said, looking at MacGyver. “Handy shouldn’t have to live that way, in fear, worrying about the next time that maniac decides to try to kill him.”
“I know, but there’s little we can do,” Pete said. “Murdoc is a cunning and elusive enemy. All we can do is try to stay a step ahead of him.”
“Meanwhile, my men will work with yours at Phoenix and do all we can to try to bring him down,” Roger said.
“We can also support Handy, be his friend,” D.B. said, “let him know that he doesn’t have to face this guy alone.”
MacGyver looked at him and smiled in appreciation.
“He should also reconsider relocating somewhere else maybe,” D.B. added, “start a new life someplace.”
“Apparently I’ve already tried that when I was at your cabin,” MacGyver said, looking at him knowingly. “I assumed a new identity, not out of choice, but out of necessity, because I didn’t know what else to do, because I couldn’t clearly remember who I was. He still found me. He will always be able to find me, no matter what I do. I can’t live my life running in fear of him. I can’t let him ruin my life. I have to continue on in spite of him. It’s who I am, who I always will be. With the support of people like you, it should make it much easier.”
D.B. smiled at him. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “It’s time to stop running from who you are.”
“In the meantime, at least let us keep watch over this place for now,” Roger said. “We’ll help you clean it up and get everything back in order.”
MacGyver nodded. “I appreciate that,” he said.
***
Later the next evening, despite the excitement and turmoil that had occurred and the knowledge that Murdoc was still out there, patiently waiting to make his next move, MacGyver slept peacefully for the first time, undisturbed by nightmares, grateful for his network of friends.
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
Life without internet is NO life at all 
My brother is gonna kick me. I'm pretty sure 
