As MacGyver leaned down to attack the booby trap, he chided himself mentally for not thinking about the seat before. It had been foolish to simply think it would deactivate when he took out the autopilot, and now that had come back to haunt him.

He grabbed the overhead oxygen mask and slid it on before trying to work. He would be good to no one if he hit the deck from hypoxia.

Tracing the wires from the pilot’s seat, Mac, realized he had no idea what they were wired into. He could simply cut them and hope for the best, but was that another trap in itself?

A picture of Mariotte’s grinning face filled his head as he worked, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t push it away.

Mac glanced at Sheckley as he tussled with the yoke, readjusting the throttles as he attempted to get the Boeing to an optimum airspeed to reserve fuel.

There was no time to worry about another trick from Mariotte. Pulling out his knife, he sliced through the power feed and then dropped his knife against the metal frame of the chair, looking for any signs of sparks or current in case their bad guy had a backup.

The seat appeared to be safe.

Mac clambered back up and grabbed the pilot’s body, prying the dead man from where he’d fallen and gently placing him on the floor behind.

His mind screamed that this could be Sam soon, but he wouldn’t think like that.

Sam’s gonna make it.

He dropped into the now empty seat and examined the controls in front of him.

MacGyver had flown an air force jet over Afghanistan and a Cessna with no front wheel, but this was far from either of them, and frankly, if he’d had time, he’d have been intimidated.

Instead, he looked across to Sheckley. “Okay, what do we do?”

Sheckley pointed to the altimeter. It was reading 35,000 feet. “We need to maintain as much height as we can. The more altitude we put between us and the ground, the better if we have to glide her in.”

“But if we stay at this height, we can’t come off oxygen, either,” Mac concluded. “What about fuel?”

Sheckley shook his head. “I don’t know. We have a tail wind which is helping, but at the rate we’re dumping it, added to the actual burn rate…it’s going to be close.” He nodded towards the switch for the landing gear. “Do you think it’s worth even trying once we get closer?”

Mac considered it. The thing was, once again, Mariotte could have added another little surprise for them if they hit the button. “Honestly,” he admitted. “I don’t know…”

As if to taunt them further, the overhead lights flickered, and for a second, all the dials and clocks in the cockpit dimmed.

MacGyver held his breath, waiting for something to happen.

“What was that?” he eventually asked, hoping the co-pilot had some rational explanation. “Some kind of power surge?”

Sheckley shook his head and tapped the fuel gauges as if he thought they might be malfunctioning. “The rate we’re dumping fuel just increased,” he said glumly.

Mac’s eyes moved to the gauges and seemed transfixed by them as the Boeing moved on through the night. Everything hinged on that one factor now, and for once, there was no miracle up his sleeve to improve their odds.

He moved his gaze to look out across the heavens. They were flying above a cloud bank that seemed to ripple innocently below like a white carpet in the darkness.

On any other night, it would have been beautiful, but tonight it was a reminder of just how far they could all fall.

MacGyver checked his watch and realized he’d been staring at the sky for almost twenty minutes. Funny, how time played tricks on the mind in situations like this.

A sudden beeping brought the troubleshooter back to the moment, and his eyes locked onto the console section creating the sound. It was the low fuel warning indicator.

Instinctively he took the yoke in front of him, knowing that he’d soon be needed by the co-pilot to hold the plane in position.

“How long until we reach the strip?” Mac dared to ask.

Sheckley appeared to do a mental calculation. “I’d guess another twenty minutes…”

“And the fuel?”

The co-pilot looked at the gauges one last time as if he could magic them to read higher. “We’ll lose the engines in about ten.”

That meant they had several thousand feet of gliding and praying.

The warning continued to wail as two red lights illuminated on the flight deck until the inevitable happened.

One at a time, the four Rolls Royce turbines began to shutdown.

“We just lost number four…” Sheckley made the announcement, even though Mac was well aware of what was going on.

The controls became heavy in MacGyver’s hands, the altimeter began to show a decent, and worse still, the onboard systems started to shutdown.

The plane’s engines were also its generators. They provided the power for all of the systems including hydraulics, the cockpit controls – basically everything.

Without them, the Boeing was dead.

MacGyver closed his eyes, just for a second, and was relieved when he finally felt the emergency generator kick in. It was designed for situations just like theirs, but until it had fired up, there was always the possibility that too had been sabotaged.

The dull glow from the instrument clusters grew bright again, and they were at least in some kind of control.

Mac checked the altimeter, 25,000 feet and dropping. They weren’t exactly going down like a stone, but it wasn’t a pretty decent, either.

The Boeing hit a bank of thin cirrus cloud and instantly began to shake as it dropped into a pocket of turbulence.

That was all they needed with so little control.

The yoke started to tremble in Mac’s hands, and as he glanced over, he could see Sheckley struggling with his controls too.

They had to keep the nose up and the plane on course, but nature wasn’t making it easy.

The cabin felt like it belonged on a rollercoaster as the Boeing bucked in the rapidly moving pockets of air.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, they were through the turbulence, and through the last of the clouds.

Below, was a simple blackness that was as frightening as looking into the maw of Hell.

They were over an uninhabited section of the Mojave Desert – no lights, no traffic, just a blank nothingness that seemed to beckon the plane into the ground.

“How long until we reach the strip?” MacGyver was pulling back on the controls until his arms ached and sweat dripped from his brow. But it wasn’t his strength giving up that was worrying him. If Pete had actually had time to get help out here, then shouldn’t they be seeing the landing site by now?

Sheckley’s answer echoed his thoughts. “We should see it, if they’ve managed to get out here. And if they haven’t, there isn’t a hope in hell we’ll get down without lights to guide us.”

MacGyver instantly began scanning the fast approaching ground from his side window as well as ahead. If they were a little out with course calculations, they needed to know now in time to make some corrections.

Sheckley did much the same from his side of the flight deck.

Seconds ticked by, and the plane lost even more altitude while they searched.

“There!” Finally MacGyver spotted what they were looking for. At this height, it was impossible to tell what Pete Thornton had managed to get jury-rigged to guide them in, but something was lighting up the ground ahead and to their left.

Sheckley instantly made a course correction, which Mac followed to the letter. Then, once they were lined up for the impromptu runway, the co-pilot yanked off his oxygen mask, allowing the intensity of his expression to finally be seen.

Mac checked the altimeter again. They were below 10,000 feet now, so perfectly safe to lose his mask too. He dared to let a hand leave the controls for just a second to remove it, and then focused back on the juddering yoke and the fast approaching earth.

Sheckley adjusted the flaps, and stared longingly at the landing gear controls. He looked over to MacGyver, his eyes apologizing for what he was about to do, and then he hit the button that should have brought the gear down and lock it.

Mac’s heart leapt as he waited for an explosion or loss of another system, but nothing happened.

Including the landing gear lowering.

The co-pilot shrugged. “I had to try…”

The move could have been disastrous, but there was no time to argue about that now.

They were low enough now for MacGyver to see the huge search lights guiding them down. He could see a white river of foam that fire crews had spread across the ancient strip to try and stop any sparks igniting either fuel, or their bomb.

And somehow, even though his mind was concentrating on a million other things, Mac’s eyes spotted a LifeFlight air ambulance sitting at the very far edge of the strip.

Sam…

It looked like Pete had thought of everything, and more.

As long as the Boeing didn’t break up or explode on impact.

And that was what they were about to find out.

“We need to get the nose up!” Sheckley yelped as he realized they still had too much airspeed considering their angle of decent.

Both men yanked back hard on the controls, but the Boeing didn’t want to play ball. It stubbornly held its course until the last possible second before leveling out just as it hit the ground.

The dead engines hit the concrete first, sliding on the recently laid foam just enough not to cause sparks.

Mac felt the sensation of metal grinding as the Boeing bounced slightly, its momentum pushing it forwards towards the end of the runway at alarming speed.

And without wheels, that meant no brakes.

There was nothing MacGyver or Sheckley could do now, and yet both bizarrely felt compelled to keep hold of the controls as if they could will the plane to a halt.

Mac saw the blur of emergency vehicle lights racing after them, some attempting to douse the jet in more fire suppressing foam even as it slid.

A metallic groan from the left side made MacGyver stare from the window, only to see the outboard engine begin to split from the wing. They were lucky there wasn’t a drop of fuel left, or the foam may not have been enough to stop a fireball.

Ahead, the runway was petering out into a mass of brush, and beyond that simple desert sand. They were out of concrete.

Instinctively, Mac and the co-pilot finally let go of the yokes and raised their hands in front of their faces, fully expecting the Boeing to come to a stop with a nasty jolt, possibly showering them with shattered glass.

The plane seemed to bounce again as it left the strip, and then abruptly it was over.

They weren’t moving anymore.

MacGyver shook himself. He felt dazed, but was surprisingly in one piece, as was the cockpit screen.

He unbuckled himself, noting his hands were shaking. After all the situations he’d been in, that didn’t happen too often.

Sheckley was out of his seat first and was popping the emergency exit and inflatable chutes to get people off.

As the huge “balloon” expanded and rolled to the ground, MacGyver could already see fire crews and E.M.T.’s waiting to grab the first of the escaping passengers.

Apart from the noise from outside and the odd comment from the flight crew the Boeing was eerily silent. It was like some weird portent that even now they were not safe.

Mac carefully pushed past the fleeing crowd and into the rear of the plane. His priority now was Sam.

Dana was still with him, but as she saw Mac approach she rose to leave and help Sheckley with the other passengers.

Sam was as still as ever, but MacGyver noted the slow rise and fall of his chest and knew he was still in the land of the living. Being cautious not to jostle his son, he gently lifted Sam from the seat, and then paused.

In everyone’s haste to get off the plane, they’d completely forgotten Mariotte. He was still tied up in his seat, and he was still as calm as ever.

But then, why wouldn’t the passengers and crew leave him behind? There was still the possibility of a bomb on the aircraft – a bomb Mariotte had planted.

MacGyver considered getting Sam to the chute and safety and then returning to free Mariotte, but then the expression on Mariotte’s face made him pause.

Mariotte was grinning wildly, his eyes locked to MacGyver’s. “I still win,” he whispered cryptically.

Is he nuts? The plane is down; the cops are outside, how the heck does he still win?

Then Mac realized he could hear something.

Something he shouldn’t expect to hear right here, right now.

The Airfone in the back of Mariotte’s seat was ringing.

Normally, Airfones couldn’t take incoming calls, but MacGyver had been reading an article earlier in his tech magazine about a new system being trialed called Genstar – and that was capable of incoming calls and more. It wasn’t scheduled to go public until ’93, but the system on this flight was obviously part of the trial.

This is why Mariotte didn’t disable the phones. He needed them…

Mariotte saw the look on the troubleshooter’s face and seemed to realize the penny had dropped. He laughed. “I was never going to go to all this trouble and not have a backup trigger for my device.”

Mac’s eyes shot to the ringing Airfone as his mind fathomed out exactly what was happening.

The incoming call was most likely set on a timer. If the Boeing hadn’t already been destroyed, then the call would trigger the bomb. It was Mariotte’s own little failsafe to make sure that by a given time, Flight LA4177 was wiped from the planet.

And that’s exactly what’s about to happen!

There was no time to try and disarm anything, probably not even enough time to escape, but for Sam’s sake, he had to try.

Spinning around with Sam, MacGyver was relieved to see the emergency exit now empty. That meant everyone else was off.

He made a dive for the doorway, virtually dragging Sam’s unconscious form. It felt cruel and unfair, and his mind screamed that he was probably hurting Sam even more by the crude handling.

But it was better than the alternative.

Seconds seemed to last minutes, but eventually he felt the cold rush of air from outside on his face as he stood in front of the chute.

There was no time to be graceful, and no time to be gentle. Mac lowered Sam onto the huge inflatable and just pushed.

He turned then, just for a split second. Should he try to save Mariotte?

But there simply was no time left.

The Airfone suddenly stopped ringing. It clicked as if someone had lifted the receiver on the carefully rigged phone.

And then, all hell broke loose.

An explosion erupted from somewhere in avionics that ripped up the metal plate floor above it, and then tore straight on through into the upper first class level.

The 747 rocked with the severity of the blast, and windows burst from their sealed units to shower the desert with thousands of crystalline particles.

MacGyver jumped then, just as a second detonation shredded parts of the fuselage.

He was pushed forwards with the release of energy, and instead of sliding down the chute he flew outwards from the plane, only landing on the tube halfway down.

Mac grunted as the air was knocked from his lungs, and he came to a halt in a disheveled heap as the whole area was showered with debris.

He lay there for a moment, dazed, before being hauled to his feet and yanked to safety by a grateful passenger.

It was Marvin, eyes wide with both relief, and disbelief at what he’d just been through.

“Thanks,” Mac managed to mutter as he was ushered behind a safety cordon by a young police officer.

“I think I owe you more than just a helping hand off the ground,” Marvin insisted. “We all do…”

Mac wanted to say more, to tell everyone they owed him nothing, and that he’d done nothing special. But right now, his mind was screaming for something else.

Sam.

He looked around, but there were people everywhere. It was complete chaos.

Throngs of passengers, medics, cops and people in suits he could only assume were from Phoenix, or were feds.

Fire crews were trying to put out the blazing Boeing, and siren after siren wailed through the night air like yelping banshees.

It was like a scene from a “Die Hard” movie, complete with Christmas setting.

And somewhere, amongst this mess, was Sam.

“MacGyver!”

Mac’s eyes searched through the mayhem until he pinpointed the voice. It was Nikki, and she had Pete Thornton at her side.

She waved when she realized he’d spotted her, and Mac jogged over, hoping the pair had news about his son.

Please tell me the medics are working on him…

“Sam?” MacGyver could think of nothing else.

“They’re loading him onto the chopper,” Pete explained. “I’ve already made sure the local hospital are informed and have all his medical records.”

“I need to go be with him.”

Pete nodded, and from his expression it was obvious he could feel MacGyver’s pain, even if he couldn’t see it. “I have a car waiting to take us. The feds will probably want to debrief you, but that can wait.”

Dang straight it can wait…

Nikki appeared to read MacGyver’s mind and gestured through the crowds beyond a yellow police tape. “C’mon, the car’s this way.”

Mac was through the barricade and into the limo before anyone could say more.

* * * *

Antelope Valley Hospital
Lancaster
California

The journey in the car had been unbearable. Pete and Nikki had been as supportive as they knew how, but it wasn’t enough. Time had seemed to stand still until MacGyver felt like he’d traveled to another dimension.

Now, sitting in the hospital waiting room, things hadn’t improved any.

A huge Christmas tree complete with trimmings reminded him that this should be a joyous time, and instead every minute was agony.

Mac glanced at his watch for the fifteenth time and then began to get up to go to the duty station.

Pete called him back. “You do realize you’ve pestered that nurse eight times already?”

MacGyver knew he had, and flopped back onto the rather uncomfortable orange plastic chair. “Pete, this is taking too long. Something is wrong, I just know it.”

Pete patted Mac’s arm. “You’re just thinking like a father. And I guess, that’s pretty new to you. You have to give them time. I’m sure the doctors are doing their best. But they can’t just wave a magic wand. You of all people should know that – the amount of bumps, scrapes and bullets you’ve taken.”

Of course, Pete was right. MacGyver knew he was right.

That didn’t make the knot in his stomach go away, though, did it?

A doctor still in green scrubs pushed through the double doors that led to the E.R. and ventured up to the duty station. She was talking pretty low, but Mac’s ears had pricked the minute she’d entered, and he heard every word.

“We lost him in the O.R. the family will have to be informed…”

MacGyver was on his feet in an instant, but then he suddenly found he was lost for words. His mouth opened and he knew he should be approaching the doctor for answers. But he just couldn’t make a sound.

He was numb.

The doctor appeared not to see him and scooted back through the doors where she’d entered before he could compose himself.

“Mac, it might not be Sam. She didn’t give any details.” Apparently, Pete had overheard the conversation too.

Before either could say more, another doctor entered from the E.R. and this time she approached MacGyver directly. It was crunch time.

“Mr. MacGyver?”

“That’s me.” Mac nodded, feeling the knot in his stomach suddenly come alive and do back-flips.

The brunette smiled reassuringly. “Your son, Sean is in recovery. Once we’d gotten him stabilized we had to take him down for emergency surgery. We needed to remove some bone fragments and take a look at some nerve damage caused by the bullet.”

MacGyver was hearing the good news, but he wasn’t taking it in. “He’s..?”

“Going to be fine,” the doctor concluded for him. “We don’t expect any permanent problems, but he will need physical therapy once he’s healed sufficiently.”

Mac blinked. It was what he’d wanted to hear – had prayed for, and now he couldn’t believe it. “Can I see him?”

“Once we move him to a room, yes. But we’re not expecting him to be awake tonight.” She smiled again and turned to leave. Then, on an apparent whim, she turned back and looked at MacGyver with a small flash of concern in her eyes. “You know, it’s none of my business, but you look like hell. Why don’t you go home, or to a motel? Get a shower, get some sleep, and come back in the morning. I promise you’ll both look better by then.”

And with that she was gone, padding back into the E.R. before MacGyver could argue.

“She’s right, you know?” Pete offered. “I’m blind, and even I know you look like hell. I’ve sent Nikki to find a hotel. Why don’t you come back and get cleaned up with us?”

Mac shook his head. “I wasn’t there for him all his childhood. The least I can do is be here now.”

Pete sighed. “He’d want you get some sleep, is what Sam would want.”

A phone at the duty station began to ring and the nurse seated there picked it up. After a brief conversation she glanced over to both men. “Is there a Pete Thornton here?”

Pete frowned as if he wasn’t expecting any messages, but headed towards the sound of the nurse’s voice anyway. When he reached the counter, she passed the handset over to him.

Pete put it to his ear. “Hello.” There was a brief silence while someone spoke the other end. “And you’re absolutely sure?” His brow furrowed. “Your men have searched twice?” Pete bobbed his head and hung up.

When he turned to face MacGyver, he didn’t look happy.

“What’s up?” Mac knew his old friend too well to think this wasn’t bad news.

“That was the feds,” Pete admitted. “The fire crews have managed to put out the Boeing, but there’s no sign of Mariotte’s body. They’ve redone the search twice, still nothing.”

“But he couldn’t have lived through that!” Mac couldn’t believe his ears. “I was lucky to get off myself. He has to be dead.”

“Yeah, well that’s what we used to say about Murdoc. Now we know better.” Pete sat back down on one of the waiting room chairs. “Don’t worry, once things are quieter and he thinks he’s safe, he’ll surface. Then we’ll get him.”

MacGyver wasn’t happy. He anxiously paced back and forth needing answers. “What if he surfaces here tonight to finish off what he started? Sam can’t exactly defend himself.”

“I already have Atkins on it. He’s outside recovery, and he’ll be posted outside Sam’s room once he’s moved. He’s our best man…at least, after you left.” Pete seemed to stare at MacGyver, even though his eyes saw nothing. “We miss you, you know? I miss you.”

Mac couldn’t resist a small smile. Truth be told, he’d missed Pete and the foundation more than he cared to admit. Life was a little “average” without Phoenix assignments to spice it up. “I’ve kinda missed you too.”

Pete feigned offence. “Kinda? Is that all you can say?” He chuckled and then grew a little more serious. “I don’t suppose there’s anyway I could tempt you back? Even just the odd freelance job now and again?”

“I’m starting fresh, Pete, you know that. I have a son to think about now.”

“A grown son who has a life and job of his own,” Pete pointed out. “And besides, if you’re working for Phoenix, that means all our resources are at your fingertips. Resources that might help you find one Roger Mariotte…”

“That’s blackmail, Pete, you know that, right?” Mac flopped down onto the seat next to his old friend with a smirk. “You’re starting to sound as devious as Jack Dalton, and that’s saying something.”

Pete couldn’t resist another chuckle. “And is my cunning plan working?”

MacGyver considered it.

Once Sam was well again he’d be off reporting, and that would leave Mac looking for something to do with his life.

Yes, he’d originally planned on going it alone, doing conservation work and generally enjoying life now he was getting older.

But, he had to admit he’d missed Phoenix and all his friends there already.

“I’ll come and see you tomorrow, after I’ve cleaned up and we can discuss it.” Mac eventually conceded.

“What about tonight? Can’t I talk you into coming back with me and Nikki to the hotel?” Pete sighed as if he already knew the answer. “Atkins is watching Sam…”

“I’ll be staying,” MacGyver offered.

“Why?” Pete was obviously exasperated, but also resigned to the fact Mac wasn’t leaving.

“Because,” MacGyver teased. “You’ve already admitted Atkins is your second best.”

“Is that your warped way of accepting a job offer?”

MacGyver’s mouth ticked up at the edges, but he resisted a full-on smile. “We’ll see,” he said cryptically. “We’ll see…”

The End