Way #9 -- The Entombment

There were birds on this planet, lots of them. The entire sky seemed to break out into an uncoordinated chorus as soon as the tiny sun peeked over the horizon. It brought Daniel slightly awake, but then he remembered they didn't have anywhere to be until 900 hours, and he could just roll over and go back to sleep. He did so, sighing into his warm sleeping-bag, feeling like he was in a cocoon he felt fit to remain in for a good while longer. The chatter of bird-song outside slowly garbled into background noise as he drifted back to sleep.

"Daniel."

When he woke again, somebody was poking him in the side, repeating his name in a slightly annoyed tone.

"Wake up already."

He opened his eyes to see the blurred checkered pattern on the inside of his sleeping-bag.

"Jack?"

"The one and only."

He felt inclined to settle back down and just ignore the Colonel, and started to do just that, but a thought struck him.

"Wait, you're just going to poke me awake? What happened to creative?"

He didn't get an answer and assumed he wasn't heard. He raised his head to look at him, getting the funny feeling the Colonel was standing threateningly over him with a water canteen or some dangerous object. But it seemed he had twisted his bag around, because he couldn't find the opening. He fumbled a bit with his hands for the flap.

"Jack, you better not be standing there with something."

"Relax, Daniel. You're paranoid. I'm just laying here."

It did sound like he was just next to him in his own bag. The Colonel carried on in his slightly annoyed tone,

"Would you hurry it up? We need to take off in a half-hour."

"I know-- I'm awake. You don't need to--"

Daniel stopped short and made a frustrated sound, unable to find the opening for his bag. He ran his hands searchingly along the edges once again, wondering why he always managed to mess his bag up to the point he trapped himself.

"Having trouble, Daniel?"

"I'm fine. Go ahead without me. I'll be there in a minute."

What the Hell? He had traced all the way to the bottom of his bag, and that side was closed too. Hurriedly he turned around inside the insulated bag and climbed back towards the top end, or at least what he thought was the top end, and tugged at it more forcefully.

"You sure? Looks to me like you might need a little help there."

He stopped, realization finally dawning. Damnit.

"Very funny, Jack."

"Well that's what I'm finding it, anyway. You happen to remember that cliché about people with a poor sense of direction?"

Daniel sighed and went slack, giving up on his fruitless search of the open flap.

"You can't find your way out of a paper-bag," Daniel recited, hearing Jack's amused chuckle from outside the sleeping-bag.

"That one. Exactly."

"Would you please unzip my sleeping-bag now, Jack?"

"What makes you think I did anything?" he replied innocently.

God, he was sure the Colonel could keep a conversation like this going for hours, if he wanted to. Daniel shifted in the bag, which was getting a little hot from all his struggles, feeling a little suffocated. Yet again. He frowned at the dark checkered pattern.

"Jack, you're going to kill me in here."

"Don't give me that claustrophobic bull. I know you archeologist types live for cramming yourself in itty bitty crannies for hours on end to study whatever."

"I'm not claustrophobic. But I do have to breathe."

He felt Jack patting his head from outside the bag,

"No worries. 100 breathable cotton."

Daniel had been picking at the zipper-track along the sides of his Army-issue bag in irritation.

"Who the heck designed these things to only have a zipper on the outside?"

"Brilliant military minds?" Jack answered in heavy-handed sarcasm.

"Ah. Of course."