“Don’t move.” The voice was low and rough, with a thick Mexican accent.

“Oh man…” MacGyver blinked in the glare, trying to see the face of the man holding the gun. “We have nothing you could possibly want. We’re just passing through here.” He started to lower his hands, but the gun barrel immediately came up and MacGyver gave up the attempt. The shadowy figure stepped forwards and grabbed MacGyver’s shoulder, turning him roughly and slamming him face first against the side of the minibus. He heard the bus doors open and Gloria screamed. A brief scuffle followed, the minibus rocking and squeaking on its springs, and then Gloria was shoved against the side of the bus next to MacGyver, indignant and still clutching her enormous handbag.

“What do you want with us?” Gloria was trembling with anger and fear.

MacGyver watched two other shadowy figures move to the back of the bus and climb inside. The minibus rocked gently as they investigated the contents, talking quietly in Spanish. MacGyver’s breath hitched as he felt the gun barrel press cold against the back of his neck.

“Where you go?”

“San… Santa Rosa.” Gloria answered for him. The figure turned, backhanding her across the face.

“Shut up.” The rough voice was level and emotionless. MacGyver felt the gun press harder against his neck.

“Where you go?”

“Santa Rosa, like the lady said. You didn’t need to do that, you know!” MacGyver couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“What for?”

“Aid for the landslide victims.” The pressure on MacGyver’s neck eased slightly and an exchange in fast Spanish followed. MacGyver listened, but only caught a few words. Beside him, Gloria tensed.

“They’re going to steal the bus and sell the supplies!” She whispered. She listened again. “They’re going to shoot you and take me with them! What do we DO?!”

The gun dug into MacGyver’s neck as the bandit returned his attention to his captives.

“Why you stop?”

“The bus broke down.” MacGyver shifted, the metal of the bus side painfully cold against his cheek. The bandit shouted back over his shoulder and another figure got out of the car. He switched on a flashlight and stooped to look under the bus.

There was a brief argument that MacGyver couldn’t follow, involving a lot of hand waving and head shaking, and the figure got back into the car.

“He says they can’t fix it here. He needs to go back to their place and get some tools.” Gloria’s whisper was quiet, her breath clouding in the cold air.

“Shut up.” Gloria flinched as the bandit raised his hand to strike her again

“Don’t hit her!” MacGyver clenched his fists and started to turn, but the click of the gun’s safety catch froze him in place. The minibus rocked again as two bandits got out. One carried an armful of stuff back to the car and the other pulled cable ties out of his pocket and fastened first MacGyver’s hands behind his back, then Gloria’s.

“Go front.” MacGyver felt the gun lift off his neck and a sharp push sent him stumbling forwards.

“Sit down.” The bandit grinned down at him, the flashlight showing brown teeth in a cruel face. MacGyver sat on the rough road next to Gloria, his back resting against the bus’s front wheel. He shifted as something inside Gloria’s giant handbag dug into his leg, watching as another bandit got back into the car and drove away.

Once the car had disappeared, the darkness seemed to close in on them. The night was still and bitterly cold, the stars sharp and bright above them. Mac flexed carefully at the ties holding his wrists, one eye on the gun-toting bandit watching over them. Beside him, he could feel Gloria doing the same. If only he could reach his knife… He shuffled his bottom forwards, trying to push the knife towards the top of his back pocket.

Gloria squirmed. There was just a bit of give in her bonds and she almost had her thumb free… If they could get loose, maybe they could overpower the guards and get the minibus going and escape… Somehow.

The first bandit switched his gun to his other hand and stretched his cold fingers. He stuck his free hand in his pocket and looked up the road, wondering how long it would take before his friends came back. The second remaining bandit hawked and spat on the ground, then walked around to the far side of the minibus.

Gloria wrinkled her nose as she heard the bandit unzip his trousers and a distinctive smell drifted around the bus. Beside her, MacGyver frowned in concentration, using one finger to hook his Swiss Army Knife out of his pocket. The sharp blade sliced easily through the cable ties and Gloria felt MacGyver nudge against her, passing her the knife while their guard looked up the road for his friends. He eased back to his original position, scooping up a handful of dirt and small stones behind himself. Attacking an armed man was a risky proposition, even worse when that man had a (probably also armed) friend just around the corner. But he had to do something…

Gloria felt MacGyver tense beside her. She sawed frantically at the cable ties with the knife, nicking her finger but feeling the plastic part. She gripped the strap of her handbag, moving as little as possible.

MacGyver launched himself up just as the first bandit turned towards them, flinging his handful of dirt straight into the bandit’s eyes. The bandit cursed and threw one arm across his face. He fired the gun but missed, the bullet slamming into the fender of the bus, the flash blindingly bright in the darkness. MacGyver tackled him and they crashed to the ground, the gun skidding off under the minibus.

There was a yell and the second bandit scrambled out of the sagebrush with one hand on his pants, the other fumbling his gun out of his belt. Gloria swung her heavy bag at knee height, tripping him up and sending him sprawling in the loose rocks and scrub at the side of the road. She scrambled up, ready to swing the bag again, but the bandit lay still, blood trickling down his neck and staining the rock he’d hit his head on in the wavering beam of Gloria’s flashlight.

MacGyver and the first bandit rolled over and over on the dark road, punching and gouging, each unable to see the other. MacGyver grabbed a handful of the bandit’s greasy hair and aimed a punch at his face. He connected with the bandit’s cheekbone and the man immediately went limp. MacGyver sat back on his heels, breathing hard and shaking out his punching hand.

“Ow. Gloria, are you OK?” The weak beam of the flashlight wavered towards him.

“MacGyver? Thank goodness! I tripped him up and now I think he’s DEAD!” The last word was a wail and MacGyver got to his feet, hurrying over to her. He held Gloria’s hand and steadied the flashlight as she pointed it at the bandit. He was clearly unconscious but his chest rose and fell steadily.

“He’s not dead, he’s just taking a nap.” MacGyver smiled reassuringly. “You did good.” Gloria took a shaky breath.

“OK. Now what do we do?”

“Well,” MacGyver turned back to the bus, shining the flashlight on the ground and picking up his knife, “Now we try to mend the bus and get out of here before these sleeping beauties wake up or their friends get back!”

“There’s something hanging down. I can see it.”

“Yeah, I know.” MacGyver lay down on the cold ground and squirmed under the bus. “It’s the prop shaft. I guess one of those rocks finished the job that old age and rust had started.”

“Can you mend it?”

“Maybe, if I can find something to replace the broken section. We’re missing a piece.” MacGyver shone his flashlight at the shaft, cleaning the dirt out of the broken ends with his fingers. “I need something about eight inches long and two inches thick.”

“OK…” Gloria climbed up into the bus and started looking around. “MacGyver, I just don’t think we have anything.” She looked in the cubbyhole under the dashboard. “MacGyver? They took our map…”

“Oh man…” MacGyver wiped falling dirt out of his face. “OK, one problem at a time.”

What could he use? He’d better come up with something fast – the rest of the bandits would be back soon, probably with reinforcements. He balanced the flashlight between his knees to free both hands to work on the bus, but the beam slid away as the flashlight slipped. Biting down on a curse, he tried holding the flashlight and one of the broken pieces in the same hand. His eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking from the flashlight to the broken shaft.

“Gloria? I’m going to need to borrow your flashlight!”

“Sure as I can be.” MacGyver jammed the end of the flashlight barrel into one end of the broken prop shaft and lined it up with the other piece. “Do we have any glue?”

“Glue?!” Gloria looked around helplessly. “I shouldn’t think so.” She stepped back, tripping over her heavy bag. The bag shot backwards and hit a rock, spilling its contents across the ground. Billy’s shoebox flew out, bounced off a cactus and split open. Gloria frowned, Billy’s words echoing in her head: ‘Good stuff that kids need’…

“MacGyver? My turn for the flashlight!”

* * * *

"So what else is in the box?” MacGyver carefully applied Crazy Glue to the flashlight handle and jammed it into the other end of the broken shaft, spreading more glue around the joins.

“Well… matches, elastic bands, a soda bottle filled with something green – that’s what had leaked, by the way – a broken watch, some duct tape and a firework.”

Under the bus, MacGyver chuckled.

“Good stuff that kids need… Remind me to buy him a milkshake when we get back, he’s definitely earned it!”

“Are you nearly done? I think they’re waking up.” Gloria glanced over her shoulder, hearing a moan.

“Oh, I’m not too worried about them.” MacGyver wriggled out from under the bus, brushing dust off his jeans. He frowned, seeing a light far down the road. “THEM, on the other hand…” The light resolved into a pair of headlights coming towards them.

“Is it them?” Gloria sounded panicked.

“Let’s not find out!” They ran to the front of the bus and climbed in. MacGyver screwed up his face and turned the key.

“Here goes nothing!”