Chapter 12
The last thing Rodney remembered, before the world ended in the stairwell, was shoving Carson against the railing, seeing Stackhouse do the same to Radek in front of them: then terrible noise, darkness, and pain. No one had ever told him that Hell would be humid and silent. Memories of his brief exposure to religion always portrayed flames and moaning, something about sinners wanting ice water; not drowning in a sauna, buried under a building, unable to move, or call out, or even draw a decent breath. All he knew was that time had stopped and he was in Hell.
Trying to move proved futile, his pack pressed tightly into his back as he lay pushed against a bulky unrecognizable shape, his legs pinned at an odd angle behind him. Miraculously, he was able to flex his left hand, sliding it up to touch his damp, gritty face and know that 'yes' he was still living.
Further exploration revealed that beneath the lumpy bulk pinned under his chest was a soft materiel, with something else under it. Carefully trailing his fingers up, he connected with a patch of warmth and rested his hand against the comforting contact, blinking back a tear of relief when he felt a steady twitch that brought hope to his torment: a slow persistent tapping against his fingertips that should mean something. But,what? He couldn't think, his million dollar brain was useless. What would Sheppard say?
Sheppard.
Sheppard.
Something he should remember.
Something about Sheppard and Beckett…Oh my god!
Focusing on the twitch, Rodney tried to calm his own racing heart. "Carson?" he wheezed, settling dust continuing to make breathing and talking difficult. "Radek? Stackhouse?" The twitch increased in speed before he heard small moan.
"Rodney?" The Scottish doctor answered, sounding confused and began to struggle beneath the scientist's grasp.
Biting the inside of his cheeks to stop from crying out when physician's elbow connected with an extremely painful rib, he grunted, "Easy Carson. I'm right behind you." His voice startled the doctor more and the struggling to be free intensified. Agony tore through Rodney's entire body when nerve endings that had been dormant due to shock came alive. "Carson, please stop," he gasped, stars dancing before his eyes in the darkness.
Instantly the struggling subsided, "Rodney?"
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
"The building collapsed before we got out."
"Oh." The Scot shifted a small amount, tying to stifle a cough building in his chest. "Can you move?" he puffed, working a hand free from under his pinned chest to feel McKay pressed against his back.
Rodney closed his eyes, concentrating on what he could feel, "I don't think so."
Carson groped about, plucking items from his heavy coat pocket, locating his small flashlight. With a flick of the switch, the remains of the stairwell were illuminated and their predicament became even more dire.
They were inside a small pocket, approximately a meter high by a little over a meter long, framed in broken girders and stone. Water from the condensed steam dripped to form a gritty grey paste, covering both men, making them look like something from a horror movie. There was no way to go up or back down the stairs. They were trapped.
A shift in the loose rubble ahead of them made both men cringe, before they spotted a boot attached to a leg disappear under the rubble. By the size of the print, it had to have been Sgt. Stackhouse. Where was Zelenka?
Carson must have been thinking the same thing. "I need to check on you and see if we can reach the others, Rodney, so I'm gonna try to slide out from under you. Do you think you can brace yourself up a wee bit to give me some room?"
He desperately wanted to say 'no' and beg the doctor not to move, knowing whatever was wrong with him was about to intensify tenfold. Instead, he sucked in as deep a breath as he could and pushed up with his left arm, giving Carson mere inches to squirm free. Pain spiked across his back as the tiny space swam before his eyes and the doctor's voice disappeared into a vacuum. Grayness filled his vision before he passed out.
When the scientist collapsed after Carson wiggled out from underneath the Canadian, the doctor reached out one-handed to catch the limp figure before his friend's head smacked against the stair. Fumbling with his right hand to unclip Rodney's pack, he held his own fractured left wrist tightly against his chest; now was not the time to fuss over himself. One quick tug and the heavy pack slipped off sideways, revealing nothing but Rodney's utility vest overtop his heavy jacket. Raising his small light higher, he scanned for any traces of blood or injuries and came up empty. Pulse weak and rapid, skin cool and clammy, pupils reacted sluggish to light; all signs of shock, "What's wrong with you, lad?"
Shoving debris aside, Carson made his way to his knees and peered down to Rodney's pinned legs underneath several chunks of mortar. "Well, lad, I hope you don't mind laying on your face a wee bit longer." One skilled hand traced over muscle and bone, causing a stifled moan when he touched the lower rib cage. With great care, he pushed aside the vest and coat to reveal swelling and bruising above his belt line
"Oh, Rodney, you can never do somethin' the easy way. Looks like you fractured a couple ribs; maybe busted somethin' inside." Stethoscope in place, he listened for the telltale signs of wheezing from a punctured lung and was relieved to hear shallow but normal breath sounds. The shifting of bone beneath the skin made the scientist moan again. "Sorry, lad," Carson grimaced, palpating the area as gently as possible.
His examination complete, and finding no sign of head trauma or extreme difficulty in breathing, he plunged a syringe of morphine deftly into Rodney's side. Within moments, the pain-filled lines across the injured man's face eased, sleep successfully capturing him.
With Rodney taken care of as much as possible, Carson wrestled out of his jacket and removed a roll of bandage from his bag, grimacing in discomfort as he wrapped his wrist. After a quick swallow of three acetaminophen tablets and shoving back more debris, he scoured through the packs, looking for anything that might be useful.
It was the crackle and hiss of static from his radio tucked securely in his vest pocket that made him jump. Grabbing it, he pressed the call button, "Major Sheppard? Anyone? Can you hear me?"
More broken static hissed before Zelenka's accent cut in and out, "…Kay…Beckett…help…injured?"
"Radek? Can you hear me? Rodney's trapped and he's hurt. We need help. How are you and Sgt. Stackhouse?"
"…entranceway…brok'n …nkle…try…help…"
Carson shook his head in frustration. The two other members of their team were so close, yet half the damn building seemed to be separating them. Not able to remove any more debris from his side, he would have to sit and wait. 'Come on,' he silently urged, tipping his head back against the wall, his good hand resting on Rodney's back. Was it just him or was the air growing thinner? Wiping sweat off his face, he blinked around the inside of the small tomb, watching rivulets of water trace patterns through the grey dust
When he was young, his grandmother had scared him with stories of men caught in local mine collapses that occurred when she was a girl. How bodies were dug out after days of search, giving the boy nightmares for years to come. Now, here he was living one of his greatest fears.
"I need to think of somethin' else." Shifting so that once again he was seated near Rodney's legs, he began to work on the debris while talking to his friend. "Did I ever tell you the story, Rodney, about my cousin Kenny? He always wanted to be in the circus. One day he decided to run off to Canada and join the Cirque de Soleil." Deep into his tale, he eventually freed McKay's right leg and began to work on the other when an ominous rumble shook the stair, causing a small cascade of dust and rubble.
Throwing himself over his friend to protect him from further injury, he was surprised to see the scientist's pale blue eyes slit open and watching him.
"Tell me more 'bout Kenny," Rodney whispered, once the aftershock quieted.
Carefully dusting off the newest fragments from the injured man, Carson returned to his task and story. "Well, you see now, there's not a lot for a large Scottish lad with no talent to be doin' in such a show, but he was persistent." His voice droned on quietly, filling the small space with a false sense of security. They just needed to hold on a little longer.
SG: A
Sheppard and his team forced their way through throngs of terrified people shivering in the cold night air. He knew something terribly wrong had happened at the power station and was unable to raise any of Rodney's crew over the radio.
Another powerful shock ripped across the ground, knocking the Colonel and his son down. "Go!" the alien commander shouted, waving for the others to continue. "We'll meet you there. Find your people, Major." His science officer dropped down beside him, offering assistance before she shot a look back up toward her rescuers and nodded.
"Maintain radio contact, Grose. I don't want to have to come looking for you," Sheppard instructed before racing after Teyla and Ford's disappearing figures. Closing in on the edge of the city, they picked their way over rubble of downed buildings and bodies. Fires sprang up unheeded; burning brightly to light up the moonless night. None of them had ever been witness to such destruction.
"What do you think caused this, Major?" Ford asked, giving Teyla a hand over a pile of shattered glass.
"McKay said whatever the Pennatrocan's were doing at the plant could cause such an event." Stopping a moment to survey their surroundings, he shook his head. "To think someone killed the one person capable of possibly stopping this."
"Major Sheppard, come in please. Major Sheppard." Dr. Zelenka's static filled voice crackled over the radio.
Ripping his radio from his vest, he hit the call switch, "Zelenka! Where the hell are you? What happened?"
"Dr. McKay discovered the epicenter located directly below the plant. We were making our way out when the structure exploded and collapsed."
"Is McKay with you?"
"No, only Sgt. Stackhouse. Doctors Beckett and McKay got cut off from us on the stairwell."
Sheppard closed his eyes as he felt a brief sharp pain tighten across his chest. Opening back up to see the concerned faces of Teyla and Ford, he nodded. "Radek, have you been able to contact them?"
"Yes, very briefly. Dr. Beckett stated that Dr. McKay is trapped and injured. Sgt. Stackhouse is trying to dig them out now."
"We're not too far away from the plant. What's your position?"
"Stairwell on the northeast corner."
The team hurried along the backside of the plant, relieved to hear from Zelenka but now even more worried about the others. "Doctor, are you or the sergeant injured?"
"Sergeant Stackhouse has a broken ankle and possible concussion."
"And you?"
There was a pause before the Czech scientist replied. "I have a problem with my shoulder."
"We're almost there, Doctor. Hang on." Shoving his radio away, he stopped beside what originally had been the rear entranceway, only now it was filled with rubble. "Let's get to work, people," he instructed, pulling free a large sheet of roofing material.
Ford and Teyla followed suit, and within minutes, they cleared a passage large enough to get into the building.
The major was the first in, crawling on his hands and knees, passing debris back out behind him. Working towards Zelenka's position, he was surprised when he practically bumped into the man. The doctor sat propped against the wall looking haggard with a jagged piece of metal jutting through his shoulder. "Doctor."
Glazed pale blue eyes turned to meet him, before recognition set in. "Major, it's good to see you."
Sheppard smiled encouragingly, "You too, doctor." Carefully peeling back Radek's coat, he got a better glimpse at the injury, and gritted his teeth. "Teyla, can you give him a hand?"
The Athosian woman took up his spot as he moved forward towards the sound of Stackhouse digging through the rubble. "Like some help?"
The sergeant wearily turned towards his voice, squinting in the brightness of the flashlight. "I was wondering when you were going to join the party, Major."
Sheppard took in the man's swollen black eye and dried blood on the right side of his forehead. Also, a crude splint covered his left foot. If Zelenka and Stackhouse looked so rough, he could only imagine how Beckett and McKay had fared. "Take a break, Sergeant. Ford and I will spell you for a bit."
"The three of us can reach them faster, sir. They can't be much further down."
"Not if we have to take time to haul you out of here. Go back and see Teyla." Watching the man's retreating form, the major called over his shoulder, "You've done a great job, Sergeant."
Ford worked his way next to Sheppard and grimaced at the sight of blood on the floor. "It looks like it's been pretty rough, sir."
"Yeah." Pulling out his radio, he flipped the switch, "Beckett? McKay? Can you read me?"
Static filled the line.
"Major?"
"Carson?"
TBC
A/N Thank you for all of your great reviews and notes! RL has been hanging on like a ball and chain, letting very little writing get done these last few weeks. I greatly appreciate your patience as I chug along with this story. (I never realized this was going to be so long.) Oh, and don't worry, I'm not done with Noda, yet. Hope you're ready for more! Jen