MacGyver groaned, pulled his arms from over his head, and stretched. Apart from a cut to his arm from the screen glass, he’d somehow come away in one piece. He blinked, then remembered Jack, and the fact that he probably hadn’t gotten his harness on in time.

Jack seemed to appreciate the concern, and groaned as MacGyver clambered over to him and started checking him over.

“Oh, baby, was there really any need to get that rough with me?” Dalton groaned half-consciously. “I swear I never met that other gal before…”

“Jack!” Mac gently shook his friend’s shoulder. “Talk to me!”

Dalton blinked, squinted up at MacGyver and given his expression probably realized he wasn’t talking to a girl. “Err…oops…again.”

“You alright?” MacGyver asked, and then realized it was a dumb question. “Well, as alright as you can be?”

Jack put a hand to his bleeding temple and winced. “I think my brains are still inside. Somewhere, at least,” he chuckled.

Mac nodded, satisfied and then peered out through the smashed screen. It was only now he understood what they’d crashed into.

It was a tank, or rather the rusting hulk of a long-dead one.

He didn’t know why, but that somehow bothered him, although he kept the thought to himself.

“So now what, Mac?”

MacGyver noted a first aid box on the wall at the back of the cabin and plucked it down. He opened it up, found a pack of antiseptic wipes and offered one up to Jack for his head. “We wait,” he suggested. “There’s no fuel, so no danger of an explosion. I’m thinkin’ we’re safer here, for tonight at least.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Huh? You know I beg to differ Kemo Sabe! We should go find a nice safe village or something. I mean, there might be wild animals out here! As in, wild and hungry! As in, eat US!”

Mac took a wipe and swabbed at the cut to his arm whilst eyeing Dalton suspiciously. As hair-brained as Jack could be, he had to know staying inside the wrecked Learjet was the best and safest option.

“C’mon Jack; is there something you’re not telling me?”

Jack’s eye ticked, just the once. “Absolutely not! I mean, can’t a guy want to get back to civilization without being suspected of foul play?”

MacGyver’s eyes narrowed. “When it’s you? Probably not.” He screwed up the bloodied wipe and stood up, looking around the wrecked cockpit for anything useful. Apart from the first aid kit, pickings were slim, so he moved aft into the rear cabin leaving Jack to cogitate.

Somehow, the water hadn’t been spilled, and there were snacks packed into a small cupboard at the back. Food and drink weren’t going to be an issue.

Scavenging further in a locker meant for crew use only, he found emergency equipment including flashlights, a flare gun, and a carefully packed inflatable dingy.

Mac smiled, that was one thing they wouldn’t be using – at least not in the way it had been originally intended.

He tucked the flare gun into his belt and took both flashlights, intending to give one to Jack.

As he moved back towards the cockpit with his finds, Dalton emerged, and he wasn’t looking happy. Something was definitely going on in that head of his.

“We should probably try radioing for help,” Mac suggested casually.

“Already tried, and it’s kaput – even too kaput for you to fix, my friend.” Jack magically produced his flying cap and stuck it on instead of the helmet MacGyver had cannibalized earlier. “And with that in mind, I’m off to find help! I’m like Captain Oates to your Scott!” He pushed on the door and it groaned open. “I may be some time!”

Seconds later, Jack had bounded out into the night.

“Yeah, well look how well that ended!” Mac called after him. “Do you even know what you’re quoting?!”

Dalton didn’t answer, and for a few short moments MacGyver pretended he didn’t care. Jack was a grown man; he could look after himself…

Except Mac knew that wasn’t true. Jack mostly had the mental age of a school kid and almost always got himself into the worst kinds of trouble imaginable – which right now could be anything from being eaten by a wild animal to walking into a desert. He didn’t seem to have taken any charts, a compass, or any provisions, and it was far too cloudy to navigate by the stars.

Mac sighed, rolled his eyes and clambered out into the darkness after his friend.

“Jack, will you just hold up?”

Jack didn’t answer. At least, not what MacGyver would have called a normal answer.

Instead, he began screaming at the top of his voice from some unseen location, and he sounded terrified. “Please don’t eat me! I’m not the right flavor, honest! Heck, you’ll get indigestion, or heartburn, or something….MAC! Over here! Hurry, this thing wants to chow down on me like I’m some kinda t-bone! Maaac!”

MacGyver cautiously followed Jack’s harried cries. It was obvious he’d been cornered by something, and Mac didn’t intend being the dessert. He paused, listening rather than using the flashlight he held. Sometimes in these situations, you had to use stealth, rather than brute force.

Jack whimpered from somewhere to the right, now possibly even too scared to yell for help.

Mac licked his lips and followed the sound until the clouds overhead gave way, allowing the moon to illuminate the scene.

Dalton was backed up to a tree and a large and very angry looking lion was eyeing him as if he might be supper. It roared as he moved just an inch, warning that next time he dared to move, it may just pounce.

Mac took a few steps from the grass he’d taken cover in and put a finger to his lips for Jack to keep quiet. It was an impossible thing to ask.

“Mac! It’s gonna eat me!”

The lion sensed the second presence and spun its head, a long, golden mane whirling in the moonlight. Its eyes narrowed, and it snarled just enough to show its huge front teeth.

MacGyver tensed, but didn’t move. Not just yet. “It’s a male, Jack…its primary job is to defend the territory of the pride while the females hunt.”

“So the big fella only wants to eat me half as much as his girlfriends?” Jack scowled. “Somehow that won’t be very consoling when he’s using my leg as jungle jerky.”

We’re on its turf,” Mac almost whispered. “Just don’t panic. All we need to do is spook him and get back to the plane.”

Jack mouthed “Spook him? Are you serious?” And his eyes grew even wider, but for now he seemed to have suddenly lost his voice.

The idea amused MacGyver, even in the current situation, but there was no time to savor seeing Jack at his mercy.

Careful not to anger the lion by any abrupt movement, he slowly drew the flare gun from the Learjet from his belt. He had no intention of hurting the big cat, but he needed to get his aim just right so that it ran in fear, rather than charged in temper.

Apparently finding MacGyver somewhat boring, the lion turned it enormous head back to stare at Dalton. Jack’s bottom lip quivered and his eyes pleaded with Mac to make his move.

Using the lack of attention to his advantage, Mac did just that. Aiming with the skill of a sniper, despite his hatred of guns, MacGyver fired the flare between the animal and his friend and watched as it ignited in a wild scarlet glory that lit up the grasslands around them.

The lion’s reflex action was as expected – it roared and bolted to the left with a sudden but brief burst of speed. How long it would keep away was anyone’s guess, but Mac was betting once the flare died down they’d be at its mercy again.

Wanting to avoid that option, he dived across the ground with almost as much grace as the beast he’d vanquished. Grabbing Jack’s arm, he yanked down hard on it, waking Dalton from his daze. “C’mon, will ya! He won’t stay away all night!”

Jack shook his head and broke out into a run, following MacGyver like a kid following its mom around shopping mall. Eventually, Mac slowed, checking if the lion was pursuing them – for now, it wasn’t, and he dared to catch his breath.

“Just what were you thinking?” He puffed out, waving his arms in exasperation.

“I was thinking I was on Clarence there’s menu!”

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose. He was sure he was getting one of his Dalton-induced headaches. “I meant, what were you thinking racing off into the night when we had the plane to keep cover in until morning?”

Jack looked away. Was that so he couldn’t be caught out lying yet again with that twitch if his? “I thought we could get to a village…I told you. And now that we’re out here anyway…”

MacGyver shook his head. “Oh no, we’re going right back to the Learjet until morning, or next time I leave you to the lion.”

Jack scowled, but when Mac plucked a flashlight from his belt and headed back to the crashed jet, he reluctantly dropped into step behind him.

* * * *

The Next Morning…

MacGyver slept lightly, occasionally stirring to open one eye and check that Jack was still under a blanket in one of the Learjet’s plush rear seats. Something was eating at the pilot, and there would be no rest until Mac had pried the problem out of his friend.

As the sun emerged over the dusty landscape, MacGyver rose first, taking a measured drink of their water supply before checking out the plane.

Brand new aircraft just didn’t crash for no reason, and Mac intended to find out just what had gone wrong with this one. His first question, was where had the fuel gone, if Jack had really had the jet fuelled as he’d promised.

MacGyver started with the wing that hadn’t disintegrated as they’d impacted the ground. Normally, it would have held a portion of their fuel supply in a tank, and that was what he wanted to check out.

Rolling underneath the wing as far he could, Mac wriggled until he reached the section that held the tank. He ran a hand over the skin of the plane until he reached something that shouldn’t be there. There was a small puncture in the aluminum that ran from the outer to the inner frame, and probably the tank itself.

Damaged in the crash maybe?

But MacGyver knew otherwise, this was not only man-made, it had been caused by a very small, and very neat charge of explosives. He ran his hand inside and felt the remnants of wires. Gently tugging at them, he was able to retrieve what was left of a tiny digital timer.

The Learjet had been booby-trapped both with the fuel tank, and the fire suppression system. But why? Was someone after Jack?

Mariotte is the one who likes to bring down planes…

MacGyver was instantly assaulted by memories of Flight 4177, and of Sam lying in his own blood. Maybe Mariotte had hoped Sam had gone with them?

Mac shook himself and scrambled from under the jet back into the early morning African sun. No, this wasn’t about Mariotte because Jack had been spooked the instant they’d crashed.

This was something Dalton related, as ever.

I should’ve known not to fly with him again! But then if I hadn’t been here, Jack might be dead right now…

MacGyver toyed with the remnants of the timer before setting them down on a rock. First they’d eat, then they’d find a village, and then, why then he was going to get the truth out of Jack if he had to squeeze it out of him with his bare hands.

Jack seemed to be one step ahead.

“MacGyver! What a glorious morning for a magical mystery tour of the African bush!” Jack jumped down from the jet’s exit and headed off with Mac’s backpack over his shoulder. It was bulging – probably with their food and water rations. “Did I ever tell you I thought about doing airborne mystery tours? Of course I couldn’t get the funding; people with lots a cashola are just so narrow-minded about spending it…”

“Jack, where do ya think you’re going?”

“To find the lost valley of the Amazons?” Jack teased with a twinkle in his eye. “Where’d you think I’m going? I’m heading for the nearest village…”

MacGyver jerked his thumb in the opposite direction and then held out his other hand to reveal his trusty compass. “I uh, think you’ll find it’s that way.” He couldn’t resist a smile as Jack made a harrumphing noise and turned tail.

* * * *

MacGyver and Jack had been walking for about twenty minutes when Mac realized what was wrong – Dalton was silent, and that never happened. That meant he was still hiding something, or he was sulking, and Mac suspected it was the former, as Jack was usually too upbeat to sulk.

“So what’s eating at you?” He prodded. “I would say cat got your tongue, but then it very nearly did last night…” Mac tried the jovial approach.

“Ha ha!” Jack feigned a half-hearted laugh. “There I was trying to save the day and…” He stopped mid-sentence as a small boy in a ragged t-shirt, homemade shorts and bare feet stepped out in front of them. “Say, Mac, we got company.”

MacGyver had already noticed. “Hey there!” He flashed the youngster a broad and friendly smile and kneeled so that he was the same height as the boy. “Name’s Mac, and this is my buddy Jack.” He nodded to Dalton. “We’re kinda in trouble and could sure do with your help.”

The kid, who Mac guessed was about seven, or maybe eight-years-old eyed them with huge brown orbs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Eventually, he cocked his head in apparent amusement and held out a hand to be shaken, like he was a tribal elder. “I’m Ayo,” he announced stoically. “It means joy, although my mother says she made a mistake giving me that name.”

Jack chuckled. “Little guy full of a whole lot of mischief, huh?”

Ayo’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Instead he looked back to MacGyver. “Why are you in trouble?” He asked innocently.

“Well, see me and Jack were delivering an airplane to its new owner, except we never got there. We crashed a ways back there last night.” Mac pointed back towards the grasslands. “Now we need to find help, maybe a telephone, or the local police?”

Jack flinched. “Did you have to mention the word police? You know it gives me the chills.” He shivered to prove his point.

Ayo shrugged. “We could go to my village, it’s just over the next hill, but I don’t think we have what you need.” He took MacGyver’s hand anyway and began to tug.

Mac capitulated with a shrug of his own. “Guess we’re going to his village,” he told Jack. “Although I doubt there are any half-clad Amazons there…”

Jack scowled, but once again followed.

* * * *

The village was much smaller than MacGyver had imagined. For the most part it was still very traditional with wooden and straw huts for homes. There were a couple of white, more western styled buildings on the far edge, and one was possibly a small school house, but there were no vehicles to be seen anywhere, or any phone lines.

Ayo led them to a hut nearest the school and then stopped, waiting patiently for some unknown event to happen. Eventually, a very tall, thin woman appeared from the dwelling as if she’d sensed them.

It didn’t take a genius to realize she was Ayo’s mother.

“Can I help you?” She asked, looking both men over with an air of apparent suspicion.

“Their plane crashed, and they need our help!” Ayo offered obligingly. “They’re Americans!”

“I’m MacGyver, and this is Jack,” Mac introduced them both once again. “We’re just looking for somewhere to clean up, then we need to find a phone or some transport to report our aircraft is down.”

“I’m Ayo’s mother, Ife. You can clean up in our home.” She gestured to the hut doorway. “But there are no phones or vehicles here. You will need to walk to the next village for those.” Her eyes looked them over again, pausing at the bump on Jack’s head, and the cut to Mac’s arm. “There is a doctor there too, if you need one.”

MacGyver nodded his thanks and was promptly led inside by Ayo.

The hut was surprisingly spacious, and there was a large bowl of water waiting for them to wash up. In just a few minutes, MacGyver felt half-human again, although rubbing a hand across his face he realized he really needed a shave.

Once Jack had cleaned himself up, they reemerged from the hut to find Ayo waiting for them.

“I can take you to the next village if you like?” Ayo appeared excited by the prospect, but MacGyver noted that other children were now making their way towards the building he’d assessed as a school.

“Shouldn’t you be going to class with everyone else?” He hunkered down to look the boy in the eye.

Ayo slid his hands behind his back and abruptly looked sheepish. “They won’t miss me just for today…”

Mac rubbed a hand affectionately across Ayo’s hair and smiled. “Nope, Jack and me can make our way just fine. Education is important; you shouldn’t miss one tiny bit of it.”

Ayo let out a deep sigh, but skittered off to join the other kids milling around the white painted building.

“Boy, I’d give anything to be his age again,” Jack offered his eyes almost glassy.

“I thought you still were most of the time!” Mac couldn’t help the jibe. “C’mon, let’s go find that phone.”

Jack nodded, but as they walked away onto a small dusty path, he couldn’t help but look back at the children playing.

MacGyver noticed. Maybe Jack was wondering what it would be like to be a dad again. He’d come close once, but in the end it had turned out not to be his son. Back then, Mac had almost been jealous, but now he actually knew what it was like to be a parent, and Jack didn’t.

“Maybe you should actually think of settling down some day?” He offered as they walked. “Get a regular job, a house…”

Jack scowled. “Do you have to use that kind of language in front of me? I can’t settle down, it’s not in my nature. You know that.”

Mac shrugged. “I thought like that once, but now I have Sam…”

“Kids mean a whole lot of responsibility, and a whole life of worry.” Jack stopped to think about it, mopping his brow as the heat of the sun grew as midday approached. “I don’t think I’ve grown up enough for either of those yet.”

MacGyver was ready to agree when a burst of staccato gunfire made him pause. Both men spun around in the direction of the shots. They were coming from Ayo’s village.

The sound of shouting and screaming erupted in the distance, galvanizing Mac and Dalton into a sprint back the way they had just come.

More gunfire ensued, and as they reached the brow of a small rise, MacGyver realized that some of the huts they’d seen earlier were now ablaze, the flames and smoke licking up into the haze from the sun like eerie demonic sentinels.

Spattered about the village were soldiers of some unknown army, dragging people, some children even, from their homes. By the school, two more men in olive drab were ushering the kids from the building with their AK47’s.

“We have to get down there!” Mac picked up speed, but they were still a good ten minutes away, and just exactly what could they achieve when they arrived?

Why? Why is this happening now?

As he ran, the thought hit him that this was since they’d arrived. Could there be a connection? Had the soldiers found the plane and made some wrong conclusions about its passengers?

All kinds of scenarios flicked through Mac’s brain, but in the end, the answer always came back with one name.

“Jack, just who were we delivering that Learjet to?” He asked as he continued to sprint along the path.

Jack’s eye twitched uncontrollably as he ran. “Ugh, his name’s Ademola…”

MacGyver almost stopped dead in his tracks – almost, but he had to get to those kids and their families. All the same, his stomach lurched at the name.

“Ademola, as in President Ademola of the state of East Zambula?” Mac was incredulous. “The guy is a power mad dictator who punishes his people for just looking the wrong way! How the heck did you get involved with him?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known…that’s why you wanted to get away from the plane last night, wasn’t it? You knew he’d be mad about the crash.”

“Hey, I didn’t know who this run was for – not until it was too late and Ademola’s agent had paid me. By then I daren’t back out!”

“And that’s why you suckered me in! Jack, there’s a good chance that Learjet was sabotaged by one of Ademola’s enemies, and there’s also a dang good chance Ademola is taking his anger out on this village because they helped you and me, and he blames us for losing his plane!”

Jack grew silent and he stayed that way as they finally entered the village.

In just fifteen minutes the place had gone from a thriving community to a burnt out hulk with people hurt and crying in what was the “main street” of the settlement.

Luckily, Ademola’s private guard appeared to have had their fun and left already, but what they had done here would be remembered for decades.

MacGyver felt sick, but there was no time for that, he had to do something to help, to put right what had been brought down on these innocent people.

A familiar, and yet different voice crying in native Yoruba made Mac stop in his tracks and hone in on the accent. He didn’t know these people, and yet he knew this person.

Mac whirled to see Ife standing by a river that ran behind the school. He had totally missed it earlier due to how low the embankment was to the south of the structure.

He ran to the crying mother with Jack in tow, and took her by the forearms, holding her tight to reassure her. She continued to sob in Yoruba.

“Slow down,” MacGyver soothed. “We don’t understand…”

Ife rubbed the tears from her eyes and gestured to the water below in despair. “The soldiers, Ayo tried to stop them damaging the school. One of them hit him on the head with his rifle…” She crumpled to the ground, more tears flowing freely when words could not.

Mac looked to the river and his own heart sank.

Ayo’s motionless form was bobbing on the current, face down in the water, his arms splayed out and his skin as pale as a ghost.

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