[ScreamingBansheila]

Alright everyone. Here's the next part. Sorry for the wait, but I hope you will enjoy it.
Once again, a great thanks to MacsChick and her beta reading. *hugs*


Previously....

Jack turned his head and stared up into the sky, chocolate eyes widening in horror as he recognized enemy bombers. Just then the sirens signaling an attack started up and all thoughts of relaxing quietly vanished as he rushed to the nearest armory as the voice of some soldier rose over the din through a bull horn.
“INCOMING!”
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Mac looked up from the broken radio he had disassembled in front of him as the door opened. No one walked in, but he frowned when the action allowed the deep rumbling sound into the room. His eyes widened when the raid alarm sounded. He abandoned the scattered pieces of machinery and had just reached the door when the loud voice of a soldier hollering over a bull horn rang out.

“INCOMING!”


And now...

Aevum Carmen Chapter Two, Part Two: Encounters…

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Mac dove behind the relative cover of an overturned jeep, curling into a ball as the piercing whistle of a falling bomb rang, and then exploded as it hit the ground not far from him. Ears now ringing, Mac looked up and around, panic welling inside of him, even as he tamped it down mercilessly. He poked his head over the side of the jeep, seeing the fighting soldiers, seeing men he considered friends falling under a hail of enemy bullets. Panic turned to anger when Mac saw the incoming enemy soldiers as they quickly overran the base caught unprepared. Mac scanned the area around him and took in everything, pursing his lips in determination as he formulated a plan in his mind. There was a small group of soldiers pinned down by snipers, unable to evacuate. Mac took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and then bolted out from behind his cover. He ran, fast as he could to the ammo shed, full of things he knew he could use to his advantage.

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Jack hefted the automatic rifle in his hands, taking aim and pulling the trigger. His aim went way off, not even coming close to hitting the target he wanted to.

‘Dammit, Jack! Squeeze the trigger! SQUEEZE the trigger, don’t jerk it!’

Clenching his teeth, Jack took aim again, this time pulling back gently on the trigger, squeezing it gently.

Direct hit. Target down.

Jack closed his eyes briefly before moving on to the next target. Any remorse for his action was ruthlessly crushed as he continued to fight for his life and that of his fellow soldiers.

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‘Alright, this should work.’ Hands moving deftly, Mac compiled a good amount of ammunition. He carefully packed each modified item into a pack, filling it almost halfway.

‘Okay, let’s get moving.’ Mac tugged the pack over his shoulder before ducking out the door, flinching at the impact of each bullet on the side of the shed. He’d just made it to the first barricade of sandbags when the shed behind him exploded.

‘Too close!’ He winced.
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He saw it coming.

“Crap!” Jack swore heavily, ducking behind a pile of sandbags. The grenade dropped about twenty feet from the cover, blowing dirt and debris over the barricade, and leaving his ears ringing. He scrambled back to his feet and poked his head out, a little disconcerted to see all the action of battle and the only sound he heard was the muffled ringing in his ears from the explosion.

Because of that now severe handicap, Jack didn’t see the enemy soldier sidling up behind him. A shadow on the ground alerted Jack to the danger, almost too late. He only had time to turn around to see the butt end of a rifle aimed for his face come flying at him. He jerked out of the way, but not fast enough. The rifle caught him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him.

He fell to the ground gasping, a choked cry of pain bursting from his mouth. He’d barely drawn in one breath before the soldier swung at him again. Jack rolled out of the way, and then kicked the feet out from under the enemy. Not giving the other man a chance to recover, Jack pounced. He gripped the rifle, trying to snatch it away from the other man. In his struggle, he didn’t notice the other enemy soldier sneaking up on them. The second foe drew back his rifle and swung the butt down onto the back of Jack’s head.

Jack fell to the ground, out cold.
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“Damn!” Mac cursed. “Last one.” He pulled the last of his ‘home-made’ artillery out of his pack. Looking out into the battle and how heavily outnumbered they were, he knew he had to make this one count. He stuffed the explosive back in his pack, and then crept slowly along the tree line, heading for an enemy caravan that had parked just out of eye line from. After watching it for a few minutes, he knew that it held a lot of artillery. He’d seen many men head to and from the truck, each one leaving more heavily armed then when they came. If he could just get to it, maybe he could make an irreparable hole in the enemies attack on the base, giving his comrades a chance to get them to retreat. Crawling on his belly through the overgrowth of the jungle, Mac watched as soldier after soldier stomped passed him on their way to add to the attack on the base. Seeing the scuffed black boots of those enemy soldiers, and the distant retort of gunfire, only made him scurry faster on his way to the caravan. It took longer then he had wanted, but he finally made it. The giant tractor tire of the convoy truck was mere feet from his face, and from there it was simply a matter of getting under the truck and planting the device on the fuel tank. Simple. Yeah, right. Only thing was, the ‘mere feet’ was about a five foot span of open ground, in plain sight of the two guards facing in his direction, right next to the truck. He’d never make it without being seen.

But he had to try.

Slowly, Mac got his feet under him, and rose to crouch. Careful not to draw attention to himself, he looked around for anything he could use to distract the guards. It didn’t take long. A fist sized rock, only a foot away should be distraction enough. He hefted it, sharp eyes looking for a good target. He whipped the rock a good thirty feet in front of the guards.

Success!

The guards turned, one of them running off to investigate the sound, the other facing away from Mac, eyes trained on the jungle. MacGyver didn’t hesitate. He quickly darted across the opening, and was under the truck and out of site within seconds. Chest heaving from adrenaline and a spike of nervous fear, Mac removed the artillery from his pack, and began attaching it to the fuel tank.
Now he just needed something to delay the detonation. He cast his eyes to the ground, looking for a good thick piece of straw or something similar. He grabbed a couple scraps of semi dried vines, braiding the long, thin pieces together.

Perfect.

He pulled the pin from the detonation device, stopping it with his finger, before carefully looping the vine through. That done, he gathered up his things, make sure that he was ready to run, and then pulled a packet of matches from his pocket. He quickly lit the vine, then scurried out from under the truck and made to dash for cover. He figured he had about two minutes before the vine burnt through and the pin triggered. He had plenty of time to get to good hiding spot before the truck went off.

Or he would have, had he not run right into an enemy soldier, a gun pointed right at his face.

“Uh, hi there!” Mac said, heart leaping into his throat, pasting a jovial smile playing on his lips as he fought to hide his fear. “What’s up? Whoa, hey!” He exclaimed as two more soldiers grabbed him from behind. “Easy, easy.” The man in front of him drew back his rifle, and Mac squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the pain.

‘Oh, crap, this is soo going to hurt!’

The rifle connected with a sickening crunch against his face. Mac slumped in the grips of the soldiers, semi-conscious. He was right. It did hurt. He could feel the warm flow of blood down his chin as the soldiers began to drag him away; to where he didn’t know, but it couldn’t be good.

*KA-BLAAM*

The explosion rocked the ground as the truck went up in a ball of flame. Mac was flung to the ground, the soldiers landing with brutal force on top of him, the blast concussion flinging them into his back with crushing force. With that final blow, Mac was sent spinning into the darkness of unconsciousness.
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Pain.

That was the first thing that registered in his mind as he woke. Then came the voices; disembodied sounds hovering over him. He opened his eyes. It was dark. He blinked. Nothing. Darkness surrounded him. He blinked again. Still nothing. A moment of irrational fear and panic rose up in him.

‘Oh, god. I’m blind!’

He shifted, ready to reach up and scrub at his eyes, do anything to return the sight to them.

The movement tore a ragged breath from his chest, his choked cry echoing loudly.
The voices stopped.

They returned, louder this time. Hands grabbed at him, pulling him up, gibbering at him.

Light suddenly flooded his vision as the hood he didn’t realize was over his head was yanked off. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to bring up his hands to block the light. He cried out again, as raw wrists pulled against the rope that bound him.

Through the blinding light, he saw a blurred shadow above him.

It blurred towards him, and then agonizing pain flared through his head and darkness fell over his vision again.

MacGyver’s bruised body fell to the floor, unconscious.
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He’d always hated the dark. He remembered as a kid, lying in his room after bedtime, staring into the infinite blackness, afraid of what was in it. But now…. Now it was worse. It was one thing to be a kid and scared of what was in the dark of your bedroom, still knowing that your parents were at the end of the hall. Your mother was there to hug you and assure you that, no, there wasn’t a monster under the bed. Your father was there to check in the closet, just in case, and chase away the scary shadows.

But, it was a whole n’other ball game to be tied up in a cold, damp cell, with nothing around you but complete and utter darkness, where monsters were real and they lurked in those shadows with automatic weapons and God knows what else. Mom and dad weren’t there to chase the monsters away and no one was there to soothe away the fear.

No; this was a completely different level of terrifying.

He shifted, groaning as the movement pulled at the ropes binding his arms behind his back, stretching the sore muscles in his aching chest, shooting searing pain through his pounding head. He let his head fall back onto the dirt floor of his cell, feeling the fuzziness of unconsciousness creeping up on him again.

‘I am so screwed.’ Jack thought, and then blacked out again.

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To be continued…

[MacsChick]

It reads well the second time around, too! I'm glad you finally had a chance to post it! I look forward to more!