Banished Chapter 2
John stretched and yawned, listening to the sounds of morning. He was chilly, but not as cold as he'd have been in the forest. And Neran's mat was a lot easier on his back than sleeping in tree hollows. He was getting too old for crap like that. He snorted at the probability that the rest of his life didn't hold the promise of anything better.
Shaking off the depressing thoughts, he sat up and noticed that Neran was also waking up. Since the cave didn't come equipped with indoor plumbing, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered outside and through the trees to answer the call of nature, almost blundering into one of the traps. When he returned a few minutes later, Neran was up and trying to resurrect the fire.
John rubbed his hands together, trying to knock off the chill. A light coating of frost sporadically coated the leaf litter on the forest floor. He had scouted around the perimeter on his way back, but had not seen any sign of stalkers, which was a relief. Possibly Edan wasn't concerned about his missing men after all.
Neran had the fire going within a few minutes, so they reheated the leftover meat from the night before, which the older man had stored in a clay pot. John was hoping it had been cool enough that it hadn't spoiled because he did not relish the idea of food poisoning under these conditions. They ate the meat with a yellow fruit that tasted a bit like really sweet peaches.
After breakfast, John helped clean up and then refilled his water bottle. Neran gave him some fruit and roots to eat on his journey since he had no idea how available food would be. Neran stood with his hands on his hips.
"You are a good man, John Sheppard. You are welcome to stay here if you want. I have enjoyed the company."
"No, I'm still not sure if Edan's coming after me or not and I don't want to bring you trouble. I thank you for the food, the shelter, and the company. If some time goes by and my people don't come, I may come back and take you up on that offer. If you get to wanting a change in scenery, you'll always be welcome to come see me on the other side," John said.
Neran nodded. "I understand. Good fortune to you in your journey. I hope you find a good place to stay in your quest."
With a nod, John headed out, taking a path parallel to the rocky wall. He weaved in and out and around the trees for the next several hours before he found a place where he could start his journey over the mountain. The path was steep and narrow for most of the afternoon, sometimes making him climb more than walk. By the time evening was beginning to settle in, John had worked his way up high enough there was snow and the temperature was quite a bit colder.
He realized he was going to have to bed down for the night. If he tried stumbling around in the dark, he might walk off a cliff, an idea he was not fond of. The problem was, this area was mostly just bare rock. He'd freeze before morning.
Suddenly a man almost as tall as Ronon stepped out from behind a boulder. The guy was built like a linebacker and had long hair pulled back and tied in a ponytail. Interestingly enough, his face reminded John of Kavanaugh. He was grinning as he flashed a huge serrated knife.
"You just need to stop right there, mister."
John sighed. Just when he'd finally begun to relax. "What do you want?" he asked, trying to look unconcerned as he studied the man's movements.
"You. Edan wasn't happy that you killed two of his men. Sent me to make sure you either came back to make amends or . . . " He brandished the knife dramatically, making John roll his eyes.
"Let me guess, come back with you to suffer through some sort of mindless punishment or die, right? You know, you'd think you bad guys would get tired of being so predictable. Is there like a cliché school for criminals or something?" John put his hands on his hips and slowly began sliding one hand back to the knife tucked into his belt, thankful that he'd moved it out of his boot.
The big guy's expression had slowly transformed into a scowl and he rubbed his beard with his free hand. "You should show more respect to someone who holds your life in his hand," said the man.
John smiled and bowed his head a second as he positioned the knife. He went through the motions Ronon had taught him in his head and took in a few deep, slow breaths. The guy was babbling on about something, but John had shut him out, focusing on what he needed to do. When he made his move, it was so quick the guy never saw it coming. One second he was droning on about how everyone who came through the gate should be honored to serve on one of Edan's little thieving crews and the next he was gurgling around a knife in his throat.
John watched him drop to the ground and jerk a couple of times before he went still. Making his way to the guy carefully, he checked for a pulse. Finding none, he retrieved his knife, wiping the blood on the man's pants. He grabbed up the guy's knife and water bottle. A check of the man's pockets didn't yield anything worth taking, but John stood a moment looking at the man's coat. It was made of thick cloth and was much longer than his current one. It looked a lot warmer too.
As much as John hated to do it, it was a matter of survival. He rolled the guy around as he pulled his coat off. After a few moments of guilt, he figured he might as well go for broke and took the guy's shirt too. Dead men didn't need clothes or coats. He spent another hour dragging the body to a deep crevice and pushing it inside. He then covered the body with rocks until it just looked like part of the landscape.
The bad news was that Edan was still pissed and sending people after him. Hopefully he'd decide it wasn't worth loosing anyone else. He wished he knew if Neran was okay, but no way could he go back. He looked up at the ever darkening sky, some bright stars beginning to peek out. He'd have to continue on in the dark, just in case there was someone else out there. At least Shiana's crew could have let him keep his flashlight.
Looking around the night sky, he noticed the rising moon seemed bright tonight, the clouds having finally moved on to torment someone else. He'd just have to be careful. He should be over this small mountain or big hill or whatever it was by tomorrow and then maybe he could find a place to hole up and sleep for a while. And then he could dream sweet dreams about being rescued and bringing Shiana here to take his place. He'd love for the witch to have to deal with Edan and sleeping in hollow trees in the cold.
That thought made him smile and he used the energy from it to push onward. The going was slow, hard, and treacherous in the dark, but he managed to keep going without breaking anything until morning. He stood looking at the last part of his descent in the gray light of dawn. He was cold, but walking all night had least kept him from freezing. He was exhausted and hungry and almost out of water.
Several hours later and fifteen feet from the bottom, the long night caught up with him. Making his way down a particularly steep part, his shaking legs gave out and he slipped, tumbling the rest of the way to the flatlands below. Sharp pain in his lower right leg made it obvious he was in trouble. He rolled onto his side, fists clenched against the pain just below his knee.
After a few minutes, the pain had dulled enough he felt like he could breathe again, so he sat up. The bone just below his knee, which if memory served him correctly would be the top part of the tibia, hurt like a son of a gun. It radiated out making the whole area throb relentlessly. He didn't know if he'd broken it, but if not, it was a close thing.
It was several minutes later before he could even think about getting up. Careful examination didn't find any sign the bone was broken so he used the large rocks at the base of the hill to help him maneuver to his feet, or rather his foot. He found he couldn't put much weight at all on his right leg, so he leaned back against one of the boulders while he got his bearings. He needed to get moving.
The bottom part of the hill had begun to have a few trees again and here at the bottom, the forest seemed to have taken back up. He looked around until he spotted a stick he thought would work as a walking stick. He hopped over to it, which jarred his already aching leg. When he stopped to pick it up, he ended up skidding in the leaves and falling. Fortunately, he managed to twist and land on his hip so as not to further injure his already damaged leg.
He lay there for a few minutes, thinking about how the bed of dead leaves actually felt pretty good, if a little damp. He was just so tired and his leg really hurt. He dozed a few seconds and then snapped awake, realizing what was going on. Sitting up, he looked around. He was hidden from the main pathway if anyone followed him down. He didn't see anything around that looked like signs of giant predators.
It probably wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but he rolled the dead guy's shirt up and used it as a pillow, blood side down. Nestling down into the leaves, he threw the long coat over him like a blanket and lay down. He had time to hope he didn't wake up to being eaten by the Pegasus version of a bear or to find himself lying on an anthill or something, but he was so tired and sore, he honestly couldn't find enough energy to care. He drifted off to sleep wondering what his team was doing.
oOo
Woolsey stared at the gate as the vortex swooshed out over the embarkation floor. Sheppard's team practically surrounded him, their tension almost a visible presence in the room. He glanced over at the control room tech and nodded. "Open a channel to the Genii, Chip."
Chip glared at him and Ronon snorted. He sighed, knowing that meant he'd messed the poor boy's name up again.
"Channel is open, sir."
Woolsey nodded and smiled briefly as the man's name suddenly came to him. "Thank you, Chuck."
Chuck gave him a half smile that radiated finally, but Woolsey didn't care. He sobered and cleared his throat. "This is Richard Woolsey of the Atlantis expedition. I need to speak with Ladon Radim."
There was a pause that went on several minutes, making him wonder if the transmission had reached its target. He was preparing to repeat his greeting when Ladon's voice came over the radio.
"This is Ladon Radim of the Genii. I must confess to being surprised to hear from you Mr. Woolsey. What can the Genii do for you?"
Woolsey glanced at the tense faces of Sheppard's team. "I am sure you are aware of the kidnapping and . . . trial Colonel Sheppard's team was put through by the Coalition. We believe the verdict against the colonel was contrived as vengeance for atrocities committed by the Wraith and the replicators against one member of the leadership. I am sure the Genii would not be involved in any underhanded, behind the scenes manipulation of the verdict that was rendered."
Rodney snorted and mumbled under his breath until Woolsey shot him a stern, threatening look.
"Of course not," said Ladon. "The Genii are an honorable people."
Woolsey had to fight the urge to snort at that one and Sheppard's team made all kinds of faces trying to keep from commenting. Even Teyla struggled to remain quiet. Woolsey cleared his throat to bring himself back to focus. "Colonel Sheppard was banished to a supposedly uninhabited planet. I was wondering if the Genii were aware of any generally uninhabited planets without a DHD where some civilizations send their criminals or anyone else they want to punish? We have heard this is relatively commonplace in the Pegasus Galaxy."
There were some muffled voices and shuffling noises on the other end before Ladon spoke again. "I have also heard such things but I do not know of any specific examples. I am afraid I cannot help you."
Rodney was red-faced with anger that spilled over at the obvious lie. "You're telling us that the Genii don't send their unwanted people, aka anyone who does not practically worship the person currently in power, to some planet without a DHD to be banished and die. Because we've talked to several people from different worlds who are sure that that is exactly what you do."
Ladon sighed audibly. "What can I tell you, Dr. McKay, they were mistaken. And to be honest, I find this whole conversation to be inappropriate. The Genii are members in good standing with the Coalition and how would it look if we gave you information that allowed you to go against their ruling. I'm afraid we cannot help you."
"You better hope I don't run into any Genii in the future," said Ronon. "I have a habit of stomping slimy, parasitic bugs I come across."
"Ronon, I assume. Threatening the official forces of the Coalition is not good, my friend."
"Make no mistake, we are not your friends," said Ronon with a snarl.
"Although I might have voiced the thought differently, Ronon is correct," said Woolsey. "We are not friends or allies with any member of the Coalition forces. Their tactics are questionable at best. We cannot support kidnapping innocent people or rigged trials that only serve the purpose of letting those in power act out their personal grudges. We find those actions . . . inappropriate."
After a moment of silence, Ladon said, "You must do what you feel is right as the leader of your people. I do not agree with your assessment, so I must also do what is right for my people."
"You mean the Genii are on another power trip. Hoping to become the dominant military force so you can run roughshod over more planets? Let me guess – this gives you an excuse to march in and take over their resources, all in the name of the mighty coalition," said Rodney.
Woolsey ignored Rodney's outburst and leaned forward, spreading his hands on the end of the console. "Ladon, it doesn't have to be this way. If our people could truly work together, we could accomplish so much in the war with the Wraith. It is wasting resources to fight each other. Can we not put our differences aside and work together in this?"
"I do not believe that is possible. Once perhaps, but not now."
Woolsey sighed and let his chin drop for a moment. "Then I am afraid Dr. McKay's assessment might not be that far off. We will of course remember this lack of cooperation in the future," said Woolsey as he turned to Chuck. "Shut it down."
oOo
John limped heavily along, using his walking stick to help him balance. He'd awoken after a two hour nap feeling marginally better. He had actually gotten almost warm and he no longer felt like he was about to drop in his tracks. His stomach was growling ferociously though and it felt like it was actively seeking food. He'd polished off the small amount Neran had given him during the night.
The bony area just below his knee still ached, but the pain wasn't quite as sharp as before. He was grateful his leg wasn't broken, but he'd apparently bruised the bone. It was slightly swollen and kneeling was going to be out of the question for a while. He could barely bend it and any pressure at all on it was agony.
On the bright side, the sun was out and the forest was thin enough here that it was doing a good job of warming him. His progress was slow, but steady. The ground was also fairly flat and the leaf litter had thinned out, making the going easier. Mid-afternoon he spent some time looking around for food. He found a couple of yellow fruits that had recently fallen off a vine. They were not in good condition, but they looked like the ones Neran had served him, so he cleaned them up as best he could and cut off the bad spots. When he tasted a small piece, it tasted the same, so he ate both of them fairly quickly. It wasn't filling, but the gnawing hunger was at least set back a little.
He spent most of the afternoon trying not to fall and to ignore how hungry he was and the fact that he was out of water. At some point he realized he'd been following what looked like an old path or maybe an extra wide animal trail. He picked up the pace, realizing there was a fairly good chance it could lead to water.
He was surprised when the trail led to a village. He approached slowly, moving from tree to tree to scout it out before blundering in and getting mobbed. The closer he got, he noticed a few things. No smoke coming from the chimneys. No people in the streets, no sounds of people or animals. As he stepped out into what seemed to be the middle street through the small town, he noticed that the buildings, originally made of rock or wood with thatched roofs, were falling apart and in some cases, completely caved in.
No one had lived here in a very long time. On the bad side, no people to talk to or help him or feed him. On the plus side, he could probably salvage enough of one to have a warm place to stay. And If he was not mistaken, he could see a good sized river beyond the other end of the village. He smiled. Things were beginning to look up.
He spent the next hour hobbling around from house to house, looking for the most stable one to settle down in. At the other end of town, he decided to take a break and refill his water bottles. Turning down a side path, he almost missed the house nestled back in a thicket of trees, right up against the side of a hill.
It was made of large rocks that had been painstakingly put together so that their shapes fit. Mud had been used between them as mortar. The house not only looked like it was still pretty stable, it showed very little sign of decay. Mosses and vines had spread from the hillside to cover a lot of the surface and make it almost invisible from the path, a quality John appreciated.
With the water forgotten, he made his way up to the stone house. It was tricky to do while limping since the ground was uneven and rocky. If there had once been a path, it had grown over long ago. Once there, he had to search for the door. The trees were thick here, blocking out most of the sun, and the way the house set up next to the rocky hillside made it seem even darker. Once he found the wooden door, he had to jiggle the handle for a few seconds to persuade it to open.
As expected, the house was extremely dark and cool. There were two small windows that let in enough sun he could just make out where he was going. He looked around long enough to determine the place seemed pretty stable and unlikely to fall in on him and then went outside to gather a few things. He returned about ten minutes later with a torch and took it in so he could check the place out. Chances are this would be his home for the foreseeable future.
The front room was relatively large and seemed to have a living area at one end and a kitchen at the other. Several chairs formed a semicircle around a fireplace. There was a cot in the back corner behind the chairs. At the other end was a counter and some cabinets. A huge bowl sat in a depression looking like a makeshift sink. A table with a couple of chairs was midway between the two areas, no doubt providing a place to eat meals.
Everything was covered in dust or mildew or a combination of the two. John shivered, realizing he'd need to get a fire started soon or it was going to be a long, cold night . . . again. He went back outside, leaving his walking stick against the wall. He still limped to take some of the pressure off his sore leg, but he felt much more steady that he had earlier.
Since he didn't have an axe, he gathered fallen wood and carried it in. He was able to carry in several loads and pile it against the wall by the fireplace without having to go too far. Fortunately, no one had gathered wood here in a while so it was abundant. Maybe he could find some of the things he needed, but Shiana and her council friends had neglected to give him, from the abandoned homes.
The torturous job of cleaning out the chimney came next. He found a really long branch that was fairly strong but flexible and worked it up into the chimney, scraping it around as he went. All manner of old ash, creosote, dirt and even an old bird's nest fell down, much of it all over John. When he thought the chimney seemed open enough, he cleaned out the fireplace and started a fire. The light and the heat were welcome.
Looking outside, he noticed that it was almost dark and he still didn't have any water. He would have to boil water for drinking since he had no idea how safe the river water was. Neran had been drinking water from his river for several years without ill effects, so John hadn't been concerned, but this was a different situation entirely. He didn't need some intestinal parasite since he hadn't found so much as an outhouse yet.
He scrabbled around in the kitchen until he found a bucket and then headed down the path to the river. The fast moving river was pretty broad, probably forty feet across. John had to look for several minutes before finding a way down that wouldn't end up dumping him in.
Once down by the water, he found a small, flattened area where he could stand without sinking in the mud. He cleaned out and filled the bucket almost to the rim. He quickly rinsed the worst of the grime from his arms and face in the cold water, shivering in the cooling air. Getting back up the fairly steep bank without dumping all his water took some effort, but he finally made it to the top. He even managed to keep most of the water in the bucket. His knee was throbbing from the pressure he'd put on it climbing up and down the river bank, so he was anxious to get back to the house.
Arriving back in the cabin, John cleaned off the sturdiest looking chair and sat down, propping his leg on another chair. He was exhausted and cold and hungry and filthy. He now had water, but no food. He needed to finish getting cleaned up, but he had no clean clothes, not enough water for a bath, and it was too cold for that anyway. Sighing, he decided he was just too tired to do a whole lot tonight.
He hadn't noticed any fruit near the village, probably because it was nearing winter. He'd have to check the area for food sources tomorrow. The river was pretty big so it was likely full of fish. Either way there would be no supper tonight.
Gathering his energy, John rummaged around and found the remainder of a set up to boil his water. He'd noticed notches in the wall of the fireplace earlier and some searching unearthed a pole that fit perfectly in the grooves, allowing him to suspend a large pot over the fire. While the water was heating, John cleaned off the bed in the corner and then cleaned himself up as best he could.
After setting the pot of boiled water on the floor to cool, he searched the kitchen cabinets for something to put it in. He discovered some partially burned candles, which he quickly lit so he could better see what he was doing. Shortly after that he found a large clay jar, which he cleaned using a small amount of the hot water. When the water was cool enough he drank a little and poured the rest in the clay pot, loaded up the fireplace with wood and went to bed.
The house was warming up nicely and the stone seemed to absorb the heat and keep the temperature even. John covered up with the long coat from the man who'd attacked him and found he was relatively comfortable. As usual, the last thing on his mind before sleep were thoughts of his team. He wondered how they were doing and if they were any closer to finding him.
When morning came, John felt well rested for a change. His leg was still sore and he had to be careful not to bend it too much or put pressure against it, but he could get around better than he had the day before. His first order of business after he got all the kinks stretched out was to find food. He searched the surrounding forest for any sign of edible roots or fruits.
He finally found a patch of cassa root. It looked like someone had been growing it in a garden in their yard. Fortunately cassa root was one of those plants that once it got started, it tended to spread via an underground stem, so there was quite a bit of it. The biggest problem was crawling around without putting his right knee to the ground. John harvested what he thought he could eat in the next few days and took it back to the house. Chances are he would find it in several yards, so at least he wouldn't starve.
Another trip to the river provided the water he needed for cooking. Back at the house, he hung the pot over the fire and boiled the water for a few minutes while he prepared the roots. Half an hour later, he sat down to a plate of boiled cassa root. It had almost no taste, but his stomach was mighty happy to have food in it.
The rest of the day was spent cleaning out the cabin and investigating what was in the cabinets. He had dishes, cookware, and utensils. He even found a tiny closet with an axe and some garden tools. His morale went up as his prospects for survival got better and better. It was his guess that the village had been here before the DHD was taken or destroyed and pretty much no one had been here since. Apparently no one wanted to climb that mountain. Why the village had been abandoned in the first place was anyone's guess.
In the afternoon he investigated other houses that hadn't completely fallen in. He discovered blankets, some clothes he thought would fit him, rags, towels, and a host of other things. He rigged a fishing pole in the evening and decided he'd go fishing first thing in the morning. It was late in the afternoon when he discovered the back room.
He'd found what appeared to be a hand-made broom and was sweeping the floor in the back when he discovered the back wall of wooden planks had a door in it. He opened it to find another room that was deep in the rock. After examining it for several minutes, he snorted. "It's a cave. They built the house on the front side of a cave and used the cave as a secret spare room."
There were some crates stacked against one wall, probably emergency supplies. After retrieving a candle from the front of the house, he followed the rock wall around to the back of the cave. There was a small opening near the floor that he got down on his hands and his good knee to see into. It went farther back into the hill, but John couldn't tell how far.
"Back door?" he asked himself. That would give him something to explore in the coming days. No way could he crawl around on his knee yet.
He checked the crates and he'd been right about emergency supplies. Some had blankets and clothes and other cloth goods. Some had dried meat and fruit that had been there long enough to look mummified. He shook out and cleaned what was usable and got rid of the old food. Extra blankets were a nice addition to the bed.
Over the next week, he perfected his fishing technique and found his perfect spot. He also discovered it was pretty easy to trap a small squirrel like animal that hung around the trees and tasted a lot like rabbit. He finished cleaning the house and scavenging from the others. By the end of the first week in the abandoned village, he had everything set up like he wanted and a bit of a routine established. He'd even found an old outhouse and persevered to get it back into shape.
Food was bland cassa root, some small green leafy stuff Teyla had showed him one time but he couldn't remember the name of, fish, and not-squirrel. It wasn't going to win any cook offs but it kept his stomach semi-full and his energy up. There was no sign of Edan or his men, but there was no sign of a rescue either. John settled in for the long haul.
oOo
Rodney typed furiously, his eyes searching the database as he scrolled through the descriptions of planets, not one hundred percent sure what he was looking for. He just knew that he had to be doing something. He could feel the anger building again, making him type faster and harder until he was pounding the keys so hard it made his fingertips tingle.
"McKay, you're going to kill that computer if you keep typing like that," said Ronon from behind him.
"Yes, well, I have to vent my anger somehow since I can't wrap my hands around Shiana's spindly throat. I wasn't sure Woolsey would appreciate me trashing the lab." His concentration broke as he thought about Sheppard abandoned on that stupid planet and his fingers skidded across the keyboard, pouring out a line of gibberish on the screen. With a long sigh, he dropped his hands to his lap.
"We'll find him," Ronon said.
The statement was made to cheer him up but it only made him feel angrier and more desperate. He spun around in his chair. "And just how are we going to do that, Conan? Do you have some magic ball I don't know about, because I'm not seeing how it's going to happen. He's out there maybe starving or dying of exposure or injured and we have no way of telling what part of the galaxy he's in, much less what planet he's on. This makes looking for a needle in a haystack look like child's play."
Ronon crossed his arms and stared at him. "You finished?"
Rodney slumped in his chair, the energy flowing out of him. "Yes. For now anyway."
Ronon nodded. "Good. Teyla sent me to fetch you for lunch. She said you need to eat to keep the food in your blood up so you don't get grouchy and pass out. I think you might already be to the grouchy stage."
Rodney stared at the big man. "That's probably the longest speech you've ever made in my presence. I guess I should be honored. And I think she meant I need to keep my blood sugar up. In case you never noticed, I'm pretty much always grouchy. It comes from spending my days working with a bunch of idiots."
Ronon cocked his head. "Are you calling me an idiot?"
Rodney sighed again and massaged the bridge of his nose. "I meant the idiots in the lab. Let's go meet Teyla." He slid off the chair and hoped Ronon didn't notice that the wording left it open for Ronon to be an idiot as well. Right now the only thing he really cared about was finding the colonel before he starved or got eaten by some predator or died of old age waiting on them.
Sheppard had been gone for three weeks and they had exhausted every possible source of information on his whereabouts. Either no one but the three stooges of the Coalition knew where the man was or they were all really good liars. Rodney was starting to get a really bad feeling about their chances of finding the colonel.
oOo
John scratched another mark on the flat stone in the wall beside his cot. Setting the sooty chunk of wood from the fireplace down, he counted the marks. "Four weeks. I've been here four weeks, a month." He sighed. "Come on Rodney, you can find me. I know you can. I need you guys to come get me."
Shaking his head, he pushed the emotions back, shoving down the feelings of abandonment he was so familiar with. No, his team would not quit. He dropped to his bed. His team wouldn't want to quit, but IOA was in charge and they weren't quite so fond of him. The IOA had forced John to stop looking for Elizabeth, to abandon her to the replicators. They would force the expedition to stop looking for him when they decided it was hopeless. Had they already been shut down? How long would they let them look? Leaning over, he put his face in his hands as despair washed over him.
He allowed himself a few minutes to wallow in self pity, and then he mentally slapped himself. Buck up, John. You can't just lie down and die. You keep going and you keep hoping. It's what you do. If Ronon can run from the Wraith for seven years, you can fend for yourself without giving up. At least there are no Wraith here.
That made him wonder if Wraith ever came here. Shaking his head, he got up. If they came here very often, there wouldn't be all these people trapped here. No sense worrying about it. He stood there a moment, trying to decide what to do today. He was bored with the daily rituals of water hauling and food gathering and generally rummaging around.
The tunnel. His knee was better. Not great, but better. It was time to check out the tunnel and see if it led to a back door that could come in handy later on. John got one of his candles and took it to what he had dubbed the cave room. Clearing the entry, he got down on the ground and army crawled his way into the tunnel. Once inside, he found he could stand as long as he hunched over at the waist.
The passage was narrow and winding so that he could never see more than a few feet in front of him. He prayed he didn't stumble upon a nest of iratus bugs or something equally dangerous. After walking for several minutes, his back was beginning to complain when the tunnel ended in a larger room that allowed him to stand upright. He stretched the kinks out of his back as he waved the candle around to examine the space.
The room was about the size of his cottage front room. The ceiling was barely tall enough for him to stand in except over by the far wall, where it suddenly arched up to almost fifteen feet. Near the top was an opening about the size of the one he had just crawled through to enter the passage. Although the tunnel had been clear up to now, there were several large rocks against the wall that formed a sort of stairway. He crawled up them and found when he was standing on the highest rock, the opening was even with his lower chest.
Looking out, he first saw only trees and brush, but he could hear the river. Sticking his head out and looking down, he found the opening was in the side of a rocky cliff with scattered spindly trees and the river running along the base. He could see flatter land on the other side of the river with forest coming near the edge of the land. He was upstream from his normal watering hole.
Pulling himself up, he sat on the edge of the opening, hanging out to see if he could use this as an escape route if needed. When he looked up, he found the opening was pretty close to the top of the cliff. He grabbed hold of one of the small trees growing out of the side of the cliff and hoisted himself up to the top, using trees and irregularities in the rock surface as handholds.
After a minute or so of scrabbling, he found himself lying on the top of the hill in a sparsely forested glade. The air was cool on his skin, but the sun felt good on his face. The cold ground began seeping into his backside, so he made himself roll over and push to his feet. He spent almost an hour exploring the area since he had little else to do. Eventually he got cold though and began looking for a way off the hill.
The first two ways he tried ended in steep drop offs that sent him back the way he came. It took another hour to find a safe way off the hill and back to his little home. That was actually a good thing though. He had an emergency exit if he needed it and as long as he didn't leave a huge trail, the way off the hill would not be apparent to anyone pursuing him. He, however, knew exactly what to do to escape. If he was going to be stuck here by himself for a long time, it could definitely be a lot worse.
He thought about going back for Neran. This was a lot more comfortable than that cave and probably a lot warmer since the winter had decided to set in. The problem would be traversing that mountain. It was undoubtedly a lot more dangerous in the colder weather and probably had more snow. Neran had been okay here for almost three years. He'd be okay for a little longer. If John was still here in the spring, he'd go fetch Neran and bring him back. By then, Edan would have forgotten him and there would be little chance of them following.
When he reached the cottage, he went straight to the cave room and covered the entrance with a stack of crates. He felt safer with it closed off, especially now that he knew he led to the outside. He didn't want any mountain lions or such finding their way in, although he had yet to see any big predators. He'd seen a couple of animals about the size of a bobcat either capturing or eating the same squirrel like animals he'd been dining on before the big temperature drop, but that was it.
John grabbed leftover fish and vegetables from the night before, donned the heavy coat he'd procured from one of the huts, and made his way down the path to flat rock overlooking the river. He ate the cold food, watching the water rush past the reeds at the edge. He'd found a wooden box and sealed it with some tree sap that seemed to dry almost like a sheet of rubber or plastic. It was cold enough now that the temperature hovered just above or below freezing most of the time, allowing John to safely store leftovers for short periods. He just had to store them outside in such a way they didn't attract animals.
He sat there for a long time, watching the river and trying not to think of spending the rest of his life here. What would they tell Dave? Would they tell him anything? Would they say he was missing or KIA? Who would command Atlantis? Caldwell was his bet, even though the man had stopped circling like a vulture a couple of years ago. The colonel had mellowed a bit over the years and seen some of the crazy stuff Pegasus could throw at you. He'd probably be more qualified than anyone unless someone got behind Lorne to promote him. He knew Lorne would do an excellent job and found himself rooting for the major.
Shaking himself out of his fugue for the second time in one day, John decided he needed a project. He'd seen some places where they smoked meat to preserve it and had thought once or twice he needed a change in the food selection. Maybe he could build something to smoke or dehydrate the meat. That would preserve as well as change the flavor.
Standing, he brushed himself off and shivered. He needed to start gathering materials. He found himself looking forward to the project, just to have something different to do and occupy his mind. Plus, there would come a time when the weather took a turn for the worse and he couldn't go out and gather food. He needed an emergency supply. Clapping his hands together, he grabbed his homemade lunch box and headed back to the cabin, sketching out blueprints for what he needed in his mind.
oOo
It was early one morning when John got careless. He was going down to the river to fish. The weather was cool, but not as cold as it had been. The slick patch on the side of the bank caught him by surprise and he fell, tumbling into the fast moving river.
Brushing by some sticks and tree stumps, his felt his arm catch and the fabric of his shirt tear, but he was more worried about not getting swept downstream. He grabbed and lurched until he caught hold of a log. After several minutes he was able to haul himself out of the water. Lying on the bank, he was panting and shivering and his leg was throbbing all over again.
John pulled himself up and noted a huge tear that had taken out most of his left sleeve. It seemed to be stuck to a branch sticking up out of the water, but John didn't care. He figured getting hung on that stick had slowed him enough that he could grab onto the log. With a sigh, he hauled himself up the bank and limped back to the house. It was warm inside, so he changed out of the wet clothes and put on some of the dry ones he'd procured. It had taken him several minutes to get back to the house, so he ended up wrapping himself in a blanket and sitting in front of the fire to try to knock the chill out. He shivered for a while, not quite able to get warm. At some point he dozed off.
When he woke, the fire was almost out and the cabin was getting cold. He untangled himself from the blanket and stretched, his joints feeling like they had fused together. His head ached and sound was muffled, indicating he must have gotten his ears full of water. Swaying, he rubbed his face and lurched toward the fireplace to rebuild the fire. He stirred the embers around, wishing he'd brought wood in earlier because he was cold and he felt like crap.
Pushing to his feet, he opened the door to discover it was pouring down rain outside. He stood there, staring at the downpour, trying to wrap his head around how badly he'd messed up. He had no food other than a few roots and some dried almost squirrel. His wood was soaking wet. The plan had been to restock food and wood stores this afternoon. He'd let them run low because the temperature had been brutally cold last week and today had been the first non-frigid day for a while. His unplanned swim in the river had thrown his schedule off and now everything was soaking wet.
Slamming the door, he went back to his chair and wrapped up in the blanket. The candles were almost out and the house was dark. John sat there for a while, trying to formulate a plan. His brain felt like it was in neutral and he couldn't seem to get it going again. The next thing he knew, he woke up coughing to find it was dark and the fire was completely out.
"Great. This day gets better and better," he muttered, scratching his beard. He stumbled to his feet and went to the door to check outside. Night had fallen and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. It had gotten even warmer during the day and he guessed the temperature to be a balmy forty or maybe forty-five. At least he wouldn't freeze to death. He had plenty of blankets to layer over him for the night. Maybe the rain would stop and he could dig around for some dry wood tomorrow. The wind had been howling all afternoon, at least it had during the part he'd been awake for. Maybe it would help dry things out a little faster.
Closing the door, he had dried meat and some left over boiled cassa root for supper. He spent several minutes trying to work the water out of his ears, but to no avail. Giving up, he spread some extra blankets on the bed and turned in for the night. Maybe he'd feel better in the morning.
oOo
John slept hard the first part of the night. Mid-way through, however, a coughing fit woke him up. He got up long enough to get a drink of water and then huddled back under the blanket. His head felt detached from the rest of his body, a weird feeling that always heralded being sick as a dog the next day. His throat was scratchy and he kept getting chilled. The rest of the night was spent dozing in and out until he finally just ended up wishing it was morning already.
He opened his eyes to realize he had finally gone to sleep and slivers of light from the cracks around the shutters were announcing morning. He could still hear the swaying trees scratching against the little house from the wind, but no sound of rain. Hopefully that meant it had let up. Better still if the sun would pop out and help warm and dry things up.
Shivering, he made himself get out of bed. He was glad he'd worn some of the thick socks he'd found to bed because he could feel the coolness of the wood floor even through the fabric. Resting one hand against the rock wall to steady himself, he made his daily mark once the room had stopped shifting around. His head felt full and stuffy and achy. His scratchy throat was sore on top of everything else. He was well and truly sick.
"Standing here isn't going to get me anywhere," he muttered to himself, clearing his throat. He staggered over to the door and pulled it open. It was still early, but what he could see of the sky looked at least partially clear. Time to get to work.
Shaking off the lethargy, he got dressed and headed out to gather wood. The sun was out and felt warm against his skin when the wind wasn't blowing. He took the cart he'd cobbled together from random parts and pulled it far enough into the woods where there were dead branches and limbs littering the ground. He'd cut some wood a few weeks ago, but it needed to season some more. He dug around to gather wood that had been somewhat sheltered from the rain and therefore wasn't as wet.
Once he was back at the cabin, he laid his wood out on some rocks in the sun so that hopefully they would be dry enough by evening to light. He had to sit down then, as he was gasping for breath and coughing so much he was getting dizzy. He remained there, soaking up the sun until the wind picked back up, making him cold.
Food. He didn't think he could fish right now, so opted for the easier harvesting of cassa roots and some greens if he could find them. Limping across the village, he didn't realize he'd zoned out until suddenly he heard voices. He froze and listened, frowning in concentration.
There were two or three different ones and he didn't recognize any of them. They were coming down the main road through town, so John immediately slipped back down the side road he was on, hiding behind a cluster of trees near the caved in home facing the main road. As they got closer, the voices became more distinct.
". . . no idea there was a whole town here." The voice was deep, sort of like Ronon but with a different accent.
"Hey, if any of these are still in decent shape, maybe we can get some supplies from them," said a second voice.
John leaned around the tree and watched until four men came into his field of view. Peering through a myriad of branches, he watched them walking down the road toward him. They were all of medium height and build, dressed much like the band he'd encountered at the gate in rough clothing that looked as though it had seen better days. They all had long hair and beards, typical of men living in a world without simple things like razors and scissors.
They stopped, turning as they studied the houses around them. The guy with the longest beard and the best coat seemed to be in charge of the little group. John ducked back behind his tree before they saw him.
"You think that Sheppard guy is here?"
"It'd be a good bet. I know if I hiked over that mountain and then came across a cushy place like this, that's where I'd set myself up. The houses all look like they're falling in, but I'll bet there's one or two that could be made livable."
"What'd ya think we should do?"
"Let's split up into two groups. Yahrin, you go with me. We'll take the buildings on this side of the road and you two take the other side. If you find anything useful, set it outside the house and we'll round everything up later. Nothing heavy cause we've got to haul it over that mountain. If you come across that Sheppard fellow, hold him and give a yell."
"Hold him? He's killed everyone that's ever come after him. I don't know why Edan sent us in the first place or why it had to be done now. Wherever he is, he ain't bothering any of us. I say let's just grab what we can and go back, tell him we couldn't find him."
That suggestion was followed by the sound of someone getting knocked down, so there was no doubt what bearded guy thought of that even before he vocalized it. "We care because he killed Mantsu. You know Edan and him went way back, even before they were sent here. It took three tries for anyone to find his body so we knew he was dead. We either kill Sheppard or we haul him back so Edan can kill him slowly. If we can't find him, it would probably be best we don't go back."
John slid a look around the tree. The youngest of the three was picking himself up from the road and wiping blood from his chin, scowling at the older man. "Maybe staying here isn't such a bad thing. At least we'd have decent shelter and access to water."
The balding man standing next to him crossed his arms. "And what would you eat? Our shelter may not be constructed as well as these are, provided some of them haven't completely caved in, but I haven't seen much to eat. Would you rather have better shelter or a steady food supply?"
The younger guy hung his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Food I guess," he mumbled.
Old guy with the beard laughed and slapped him across the shoulder. "I knew there was a brain in there somewhere. Now get to work and watch your back. Holler if you see any sign Sheppard's been here."
John waited until they had split up and each pair had entered a house before slipping off. They would know he was here in the next few minutes because he'd meticulously ransacked every dwelling for anything he thought might be useful over the last few weeks. Since his cottage was at the other end of the village, he figured he had an hour or so before they got there. With only twenty or so homes in the whole village and most of them looted of anything useful, it wasn't going to take them long.
When he reached the cottage, he went in and closed the door, opening the shutters to provide enough light he could see. The place was obviously occupied and he didn't have time to change that. His best bet was to make it look like he'd left a while ago so maybe they wouldn't look too hard for him, at least not around here.
Glancing at the fireplace, he found himself thankful that the fire had gone out the day before so that it was cold. The place was too neat. He rounded up everything he didn't want the bandits to make off with and hauled it to the back room. Pushing crates out of the way, he put everything in the cave.
Going back to the front room, he tried to mess things up a little, to look like he'd gathered what he could carry and left. Two of his threadbare blankets remained on the bed. He took some of the fine ashes from the fireplace and went around the room blowing them off his hand to make it look like dust had settled on all the surfaces.
When he thought he heard their voices carrying on the wind, he silently closed the shutters and crept into the back room, shutting and bolting the door from the inside. Setting up a way to lock the door from the inside had been one of his smarter moves. He slid into the cave and pulled the stack of empty crates over to block and hide the entrance, just in case they broke through the door. Then he waited.
It was several minutes before he heard them enter the cabin. The voices were muffled, but they were talking loud enough he could pick out most of what they were saying. It sounded like the older bearded guy and one other.
"Looks like he's been living here. Makes sense. It's in the best shape."
"Yeah, but it doesn't look like he's been here recently. No fire and hasn't been for at least a day. Even the ashes are cold."
He could hear them clumping around for several minutes, probably checking out the cabinets. They were talking, but not loud enough for him to understand. It got quiet for several minutes and then there was a loud banging noise. It was closer than the other noises had been and made him jump in response. Crap, it sounded like they were banging on the door to the back room. It was time to leave just in case they found it.
He slipped down the cave tunnel to the opening at the other end. Pulling himself up to the top of the hill, he carefully made his way around and down until he was just behind where the roof of the cottage attached the hill. Fortunately there was a slight rise here, and he lay flat in the depression just past the rise so he couldn't be seen. Peering carefully over the hill, he could see the other two men coming up the path from the river, talking between them.
Bearded guy and his companion came out of the house to meet them. "He's been living here," said bearded guy. "But it looks like he's been gone for a few days."
The young guy from earlier practically beamed as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "We know where he went."
John's heart rate jumped up as he crouched down. Had he let them see him? He got ready to make a run for it. It would take them several minutes to figure out how to get up there and that would give him a head start.
"Well, where is he?" asked bearded guy's companion impatiently.
"He drowned."
What? No he didn't. John let out a breath and peeked over the hill again. Bearded guy looked skeptical. "What makes you think that?"
Young guy grinned as he rocked back and forth. "We can see where he's been going down to the river to get water. Looks like he slipped." He held up a piece of wet fabric. "We found this clinging to a branch several feet out in the water. It's part of a sleeve and it hasn't been there but a few days, maybe a week. It's in too good a shape. We scouted around and didn't find any sign he made it back to shore. The water is high and moving really fast where we found this. Either he got washed way downstream or he drowned."
The older guy stroked his beard. "Even if he made it ashore downstream, he'd probably be too cold to make it back in this weather. Either way, it's a good bet he's dead and we have no way to track the body."
"Will Edan take our word he's dead?" asked the young guy hopefully.
Bearded guy looked at the fabric a moment and then nodded. "He'll take my word. We're done here."
Young guy nodded. "We heading back now?"
The older guy looked at the sky, and frowned. "No, it's late and looks like some more weather moving in. We'd better wait til morning. We get trapped up on that mountain in a snowstorm and we'll probably freeze to death." He waved one hand toward the cabin. "We can stay in Sheppard's old place tonight and leave in the morning as long as we don't get too much ice or snow."
"What if we get a lot of snow?" asked the kid.
"Then we stay here until it clears enough we can make it up that mountain to the pass through the rocks. Once we get that far, we'll be sheltered from the weather and we shouldn't have any trouble."
There's a sheltered pass? John chewed his lip. That would have made the trip a lot easier. That would also explain how that man he killed had seemed to pop up out of nowhere. He'd probably come out of this pass they were talking about.
Shaking off his thoughts, he looked back down to find the quartet breaking up. Tuning back in, he concentrated on hearing what they were saying.
The bearded old guy was talking. " . . . but it seems to just be part of the wall. I was hoping it would lead to a storage room of stuff we could use, but it was too solid to be a door. So let's separate and find some kind of food. He had to be surviving off something." With a quick nod, they headed different directions and were soon out of sight.
John lay back against the ground. Now that the adrenaline rush was gone, he was exhausted and thirsty. He'd never crawled back down into the cave, but he was going to need to at some point. He wasn't sure if he wanted to sleep there, in case they decided to try the door again. Once they got back, it would probably be better if he slept somewhere else in the village. He was pretty hidden hunkered down in the little ravine, so he thought maybe he should lay low while they looked around.
The next thing John knew, it was dark and he was so cold he was shivering. The temperature had dropped several degrees. He rubbed his face, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He lifted up to look over the rise, but couldn't see anything in the dark. He listened, straining to hear voices. He thought he picked up muffled voices coming from below. Glancing up, he sighed. Smoke drifted out of the chimney, confirming that were probably inside, nice and warm and dry.
Pushing up, he limped and hobbled around for several moments, feeling every bit of his age and the damage his body had taken over the years. He headed back up the hill, trying to decide whether to climb back down to his cave in the dark. The temperature continued to fall and as he reached the summit, it began to snow. By the time he found where he'd climbed up out of his cave tunnel, the trees and rocks were slick with ice and snow. It would be stupid to attempt the descent under these conditions.
He had an emergency hideout set up across town. It looked like he'd be using it tonight. He couldn't go down the hill the way he normally did; it came out too close to the cottage and he couldn't take a chance of being seen. He wandered around in the dark over an hour before he found a route that got him close enough to the bottom of the hill he thought he could make it.
The problem was that the last ten feet was really steep. Probably not a problem if he had light or even if it hadn't decided to snow. The temperature had been steadily dropping and ice was beginning to cover all the rock faces. John stared at the hill and decided he was just going to have to risk it. He was headed toward hypothermia if he didn't get inside soon. Turning around, he found a couple of good hand holds and began his descent. And immediately slipped and fell, hurtling off the rocks to the ground below.
He landed partially on his side, ramming his sore leg into the rock-strewn ground and whiting out his brain with pain. He didn't know how long he lay there, gasping and moaning. Time had no meaning for a while. As the pain subsided, his shivering grew worse. Cursing under his breath, he pushed himself up and used the huge rock he'd almost bashed his head on to get to his feet. "Idiot," he muttered to himself.
He stood for a few moments, getting his balance set and his bearings. With a deep breath, he began staggering toward the opposite end of the village. The ground was slick in places. Between the icy ground, his throbbing leg, and the wind that had decided to blow like a screaming banshee, he almost didn't make it.
Finally arriving at his emergency shelter, he stepped into the partially collapsed house. It was off the main road through town, which was a plus. He'd picked this one because even though the roof was partially caved in, it had fallen in such a way that it was securely braced and formed a little cave like area in the corner. John had arranged debris around it so that the opening was hidden unless you were trying to climb into it.
It took a few minutes for John to crawl behind the collapsed roof into what he called his emergency cave. The space was narrow, but almost nine feet long. John had put down a layer of the tough grass the villagers had covered their roof with. He had several blankets stored there, along with a clay pot of drinking water and another with dried fish. He changed them out every few days in case he ever had to use it. He was grateful for it now since he hadn't had anything to eat all day.
When he reached for the water pot, something furry jumped out and ran past him, brushing against his arm. John jumped and yelped. He had no idea what it was. All he'd seen was a flash of fur in the darkness. The lids were still on the clay pots, so he was okay there. Apparently his reasoning for putting the food and water in animal-proof containers had been sound. The water was a little stale, but cool and felt good in his dry mouth and scratchy throat.
When he spread the blanket out, he found a couple of holes where his furry friend had been trying to make a nest. He hoped the guy didn't come back in the middle of the night to reclaim his territory. For a moment he could hear Rodney in his head, rambling about alien parasites and diseases he was likely to catch from the critter, making him smile.
Then John got himself settled, wrapped in the blankets and sheltered by the hanging roof and was almost warm. He felt horrible. His throat was scratchy and sore, his leg throbbed along with his head, and congestion was building in his chest.
"Come on, Rodney," he whispered. "Find me. Please, find me."
TBC