MAD MEN OF MUC-MUC - Part 2
By NotTasha...
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CHAPTER 2: SMALL PLACES
"No, no, no, no," McKay chanted quietly as he was plunged into darkness. Above him, light filtered through the narrow cracks within the wall, but at the bottom of the pit, it was dark and cold. Leaning heavily against the pit wall, he tried to keep the weight off his right leg, which hurt -- a lot. "Oh God, no…" he murmured. "Please, open it up again… come on…"
He reached for his radio, ready to read Sheppard the Riot Act for doing this, but his hand clasped at the shattered remains and he groaned in disbelief. No… not that… I can't even talk to them….
His head buzzed where he'd whacked it on his descent, and his left arm felt numb from the elbow to the tips of his fingers. His knee hurt so badly, he could hardly remain upright. He'd landed badly – was there any other way to land when falling 20 feet into a pit?
Reaching out his right hand, he tried to find a handhold – any way to get out of here. Maybe, if I just could have climbed out, they wouldn't have left me here. "Please," he whispered. "I can make it…."
But the boards weren't lifted and the others didn't return. His hand failed and he stumbled back, frustrated. He couldn't climb out. He knew that. Not today… not with one arm not working right and his leg about to give out. Hell, he couldn't even manage that feat on a good day.
This is bad. This is so bad! Do you have any idea how vulnerable I am here? He wasn't carrying a P90, but his Beretta was holstered at his side. He fumbled for it in the darkness, and brought it out to point it above his head. With a groan he realized that he'd probably manage to just bury a bullet into his own skull if he tried to shoot straight up. This is not good... not good.
Pressing his aching head against the cold stone, he waited, looking straight up, hearing the horrible cry of the Muc-mucs as they reached the ruin, and he held his breath, waiting for them to descend upon him.
He shuddered miserably. Please, he thought, ignore the man beneath the planks... just move on. Oh God, this is a bad bad idea.
CHAPTER 3: POLITICAL RALLY
Cloaked and safe at the jumper, Sheppard turned, standing in the open doorway and watched as the tribe of wildmen ran willy-nilly toward him. God help them if any of them went directly toward the jumper. And, if any made a movement toward the hastily covered pit, there'd be hell to pay.
Holding his P90 ready, John watched as they came at them. They were terrible to look at: skin smeared with mud, hair oiled and coiled into chunky dreadlocks, wearing little pieces of cloth around their waists to hide their wherewithal. They grimaced. They jumped and jostled, yelling insanely, and then they all paused and gazed about themselves in wonder.
The rushing group stopped, eyeing the ruins about them, and started to search. Several of the men came together. Sheppard recognized one of them as the man he'd spotted first. Close up, Sheppard realized, that the man looked a little like John Kerry -- he had the long face at least. He ascribed the name to him, to keep them straight.
Two others looked like brothers, and after squinting a moment, Sheppard decided that they might have passed for filthy young Kennedys. Another man huddled in with them -- a tiny little man who may as well have been Perot -- since Sheppard was taking a political direction. A dull-looking Muc-muc earned the name Quayle just because he needed a Republican in the mix.
They pointed and muttered to each other. There was a general shaking of spears and a shrill cry went up from them.
The Kennedys gestured to a few other men and after some more spear-shaking, the brothers ran off. Perot went into the ruin with a couple of older looking fellows – Bushes maybe? Jeb and G.W? Sure. Why not. Kerry crossed his arms over his bare, mud-streak chest and glared angrily at the surrounding area.
"Dammit," John breathed out.
"Why don't they move on?" Ford whispered, keeping his P90 ready as he watched the weird political rally unfolding just beyond their reach.
"They do not know where we have gone," Teyla said softly. "They seek our location."
A guy who didn't look anything like Nader (but Sheppard decided to call him that anyway) sidled up to Kerry and spoke to him in a quiet, confidential manner and the two stalked off together, meandering about in the ruins, looking for clues – no doubt – to where their quarry may have gone.
John kept his eye on the pit where Rodney had disappeared, watching as the guy who didn't look like Nader angled toward it with his friend Kerry. If either of them touched that lid… Sheppard watched them with a stony expression, wishing them away from where his friend was secreted -- ready to defend the place if called for.
The two made no further movement toward the pit. Instead, they sat on the low wall, leaning together intimately as they talked.
Sheppard let out a breath of relief. "Keep quiet, Rodney… keep quiet," he hissed. "Don't do anything stupid. Just trust us and keep quiet for a minute."
CHAPTER 4: A BAD IDEA
Beneath the ground, Rodney shut his eyes and tried to block out the realization that he was … underground. He reached out, pressing hands against opposite walls, and worked at convincing himself that the walls weren't closing in on him, that nothing was about to fall down on his head. Oh God, he hated close places.
Damn them! How could they leave me here? What were they thinking? Didn't they realize how BAD an idea this was? They're leaving me as easy prey to anyone. Those Muc-mucs undoubtedly built this trap with the idea of catching unsuspecting passer-bys! I'll be fricasseed by nightfall!
Sheppard will pay for this! Oh, I'll make him pay! How could he do this to me? Rodney knew he was trembling, that he was panting with fear. It was ridiculous to be claustrophobic! He knew that. He knew that his reaction was irrational. Bad memories weren't reason enough! He shouldn't fear a sudden collapse, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it – didn't stop him from remembering.
He drew in a breath, trying to calm down. I'm going to kill them, he decided. When they come to get me out – please… get me out! I can't do this. I can't…
He was ready to shout for John and the others, when heard voices – they were coming back! They haven't left me! Thank God! Thank God! He yearned upward, ready for them to draw off that horrid lid – planning what he'd say to them: something clever and biting.
Oh, I'll give them a piece of my mind for doing this! Think it was funny, do you? Oh, they'll never hear the end of it! How could they just LEAVE ME IN A PIT!
Damn it, he was going to make a ruckus about this one!
But as he listened, McKay stiffened, realizing that the voices were unfamiliar. He held his breath, his head still humming, as he tried to listen – the voices were hard to catch, but he was almost sure he heard someone say, "They're gone."
Someone else might have responded, "It worked."
The hiss in his head seemed to be getting louder and his right leg wasn't going to hold him any longer. He lowered himself until he was sitting at the bottom of the hole again and he rested his forehead on his knees with his pack tucked up on his lap. He felt sick and hurt, and abandoned. The Muc-mucs will get me. They'll find me and cook me up on a spit tonight.
The voices continued above him, but they were becoming indistinct. "Where do you think they went?" "Dunno… maybe they…" "Good… just got to get…" or maybe the voice had said… "just got to eat…" McKay chose to believe in the former.
Dejected and feeling woozy, Rodney leaned back, pressing his weight against the wall. His sigh turned into a frightened, stifled little 'eep' and the seemingly-solid surface behind him suddenly gave way, dropping him again.
CHAPTER 5: A FINE IDEA
Sheppard had watched as Kerry and Nader suddenly looked around, as if they'd heard something. They stood and puzzled a moment as Sheppard kept careful watch on them. What… what had they heard? But finally, they then wandered off. Sheppard didn't allow himself to relax.
Nader went to hang with the Bushes, but Kerry seemed disgusted with them and moved off. The Kennedy boys hadn't returned and were probably searching. Fine... as long as they didn't get near the pit. John kept his weapon ready, and hoped these sons-of-bitches got tired of this and moved on -- soon.
No such luck... more men arrived – bringing their total to about twenty-five. Among them was an older guy – looking like Clint Eastwood during his Unforgiven phase – if William Munny didn't wear pants. Kerry and Nader rushed to meet him, making obsequious gestures.
Sheppard's attention was drawn away from the meeting, and he gripped his weapon tightly as one of the savages investigated the tumbled shack with the missing wall. Eyes tracked to where that wall had ended up, and the team within the jumper stood ready in case the examination went any further.
Instead, the man who looked like Gopher from Love Boat (in a loincloth and dreadlocks) ambled away from the wreckage and found a place to guard the perimeter.
They weren't leaving. Damn it! They weren't going away! In fact, they seemed pretty damn excited about the ruins and were puttering around in them. Hell, can't anyone keep their hands off some tumbled down rocks?
Seeing that no one was in the immediate vicinity of the pit, Sheppard eased himself further into the jumper, leaving Teyla and Ford to keep an eye on things at the open rear hatch. Once within, he keyed the radio, and spoke softly, "McKay, respond, but keep it quiet." He waited a moment. "Rodney," he tried again – but nothing was returned. With a grimace, he left the device on, hoping that McKay was only being huffy and would respond in his own good time. "Don't be an ass." Nothing. Minutes passed.
"McKay," he tried again. "Look, I don't know if you can respond, but if you can hear me, I need you to stay quiet for a while yet, okay? They're still out there. We're right here. We're not going to let them get near you, but it'd probably be best if we all just sit tight for a bit. This is a FINE idea," he assured, knowing what he should be hearing in response.
And nothing. Damn it! Was Rodney's gear damaged? It was a pretty healthy drop to the bottom of that pit. Something probably was broken in that fall. Sheppard remembered seeing McKay look up at him – staggering, hardly able to stand. He'd looked terrified. How badly had McKay been hurt in that fall? Damn, we didn't even bother to find out. Didn't ask. Probably pretty crappy down there. And he grimaced, remembering a remark McKay had made about claustrophobia.
Damn… Is he okay down there?
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Sheppard watched through the jumper's window as the Muc-mucs meandered. They didn't look particularly like savages when viewed close up. They weren't as thin or well-muscled as one might expect for tribesmen living in the wilderness. Sheppard expected cat-like grace from wild-men. Instead, they trouped around like a bunch of guys at a car show.
Something about this just wasn't adding up – but they were in no position to start messing about. Sheppard watched as Gopher stood and walked close to the pit, glancing at the broken covering suspiciously. He paused, striking a pose as he gazed at the misplaced wall, but Kerry called to him and he trotted off to join the other, his butt cheeks flapping most unbecomingly as he jogged.
"It's a fine idea," he repeated to the radio. "Stick with it. We never could have pulled you out in time. Just got to wait them out," Sheppard explained, hoping that Rodney could hear him. "They can't hang out here for too long. It looks like we got about twenty-five of them. We're just going to wait until they go, and then we'll get you out of there, okay? You'll be okay, I promise. Just don't think about it too much. You'll be fine."
But there was only silence in response. Disheartened, Sheppard cut his mic, but left the channel open, hoping to catch some sort of response… eventually. "Fine idea," he muttered to himself, wishing it was.
CHAPTER 6: WONDERFUL NEW USES FOR ANCIENT TECHNOLOGY
Startled by the sudden, backward drop, McKay flung his arms over his head, expecting everything to come down on him – expecting another plummet. Instead he fell flat on his back. He'd lost the light that filtered into the pit – it was all blackness now. Agh! Agh! What? What? What… happened?
Panicked, he shuddered and closed his eyes. His heart thudded. His breaths came in noisy gasps, echoed by walls that were far too close to him. Oh God, what happened? Where am I? What….
Calm down… calm down… He tried to slow his breath, to keep his heart from galloping out of his chest. He had to see… had to find something…had to figure out what… where… how…. But it was all black -- totally black.
He needed light. God, how he needed light!
He fiddled around with his pack, unzipping it and reaching within. He felt about for a moment, then his hand closed on the scanner. As he drew it out, the device powered up. Thank God, I didn't break it! In the blackness, the glow of the screen was enough to illuminate his surroundings. LIGHT!
Gasping, McKay looked around, finding himself lying on his back in a narrow tunnel. At his feet, there was an opening. He'd fallen through a doorway at the bottom of the pit -- fallen flat onto his back into a hidden tunnel.
Great. Breathing heavily, he leveraged himself up until he was half-sitting in the narrow space and twisted, to look down the tunnel. The soft glow of the scanner's display didn't reach far – but it seemed that the tunnel went on for some distance. Why did it have to be so damn tight in here?
Could be anything down there, he considered – could go deeper into the earth – could drop out into a deeper pit -- could be some sort of creature down there. SPIDERS! Gah! Not spiders… no… not spiders. He shivered at the thought, and had to swallow down that new fear. Spiders are always in dark deep places, aren't they?
It was bad enough to be stuck underground in a space far too small for intelligent humans… but if there were spiders, too…. He felt his heart speed up again, and he couldn't help but tremble.
Calm down… calm down. McKay… you have to calm down. It's illogical. It's all illogical. Get a grip! Damn it! What would the Major do?
He wouldn't be freaked out just because he's in a tunnel, that's for sure. He'd probably love this. He probably envisions me having a ball. Think. You have to think. How are you going to get out of here?
Taking a fortifying breath, McKay tried to focus, to figure out his next steps. The tunnel around him was smooth – obviously man-made – or perhaps…made by the Ancients? Ancients... and he calmed a bit with that thought. Wait a minute… He clutched the scanner, realizing something and smiled as the power signature showed itself again. "There you are," he muttered, holding the device out in front of himself, seeing the definite sign that he was getting closer to it – finally.
He could go investigate it… see what the Ancients were hiding here, see what the power source was. It would be better than waiting here for the Muc-mucs to drop on his head.
The possibility resolved him. McKay turned himself onto his stomach to crawl toward the unknown. Think of what might be there! And his heart seemed to calm.
"Better not be spiders," he murmured as he shuffled his way onward, realizing he could always use the scanner to smash them.
CHAPTER 7: OOH-OOH AHH-AHH
The attitude of the Muc-muc seemed to change as the Kennedy clan returned. The apparent leaders – Kerry and Clint, came together with the Kennedys, muttering, looking annoyed. "Guess they don't like how we just disappeared," Sheppard commented.
"They seem intent on examining this area," Teyla remarked.
"They got a lot of guys just looking around at the ruins," Ford added. "You'd think, if they were so interested in finding us, they'd have more of them out looking in the woods."
"Maybe they're searching for us – thinking we're hiding nearby," Sheppard tried. "Well, we are."
Teyla shook her head. "They are examining the walls in a similar manner to Dr. McKay. They are interested in the ruins themselves."
Sheppard watched the savages mill about, and he realized that Teyla was right. They were searching the ruins as if they'd never seen them before – as if they were damn excited about finding them. Curious behavior for natives of this world. I mean, shouldn't they know this is in their own backyard?
He watched the Muc-muc that looked like Perot sit and pick at his feet with a woeful expression on his face.
"This just ain't adding up," Sheppard declared. He checked his watch. It had been over an hour since McKay fell into that hole – frightened, hurt and scared. God, what must he be thinking by now? Knowing McKay, he's either worked himself into a full-blown panic attack or... well, shooting shit at us for abandoning him down there. Probably both. Bet he feels like crap in any case.
The Muc-mucs weren't moving off and they'd wasted enough time in waiting.
Sheppard looked to the others, then strode into the ship to locate the descender. He found it in the storage compartment, and rested the folded device on his shoulder as he stepped out of the jumper. "We're getting him out," he commented as he moved to the edge of the shield. Ford and Teyla, without hesitation, were right behind him.
They walked, seemingly out of nowhere, toward the pit – and for a moment, the muddy Muc-mucs were oblivious to their appearance. Suddenly, Gopher spun about, and shouted out an explosive –"OOOOO!"
The camp was in turmoil as the Muc-mucs leapt to their feet. Perot limped unhappily. They bunched together and hoisted their spears at them. It was like watching a B movie about natives gone bad. Sheppard kept moving, with Teyla and Ford flanking him, all holding their weapons low but ready.
"All right, all right," Sheppard uttered, calming his voice. "Everyone remain calm… everyone remain calm."
The Muc-mucs shuffled about, still looking shocked at the abrupt reappearance of the strangers. The one Sheppard had named Quayle started hooting, and soon the whole passel of them were chanting in some language that seemed mostly composed of 'ooh ooh' and 'ahh ahh'. They made wild faces and pointed their pointy sticks pointedly.
"Look," Sheppard started, easing toward them. "I know you're all upset about us trespassing here or something, but we got to come to some sort of agreement, okay?"
More hooting followed. The group remained bunched, sounding like a parliament of owls as they bobbed about.
"Hey," Sheppard started again. "We just need to go look under that board there – we got a friend that fell down a hole – deep son-of-a-bitch hole." He displayed descender, hoping that didn't view the device as a weapon. "We'll get him out and then we'll go. Won't bother you anymore, okay?"
Most of the savage group looked in the direction Sheppard had indicated. Then, several of them conferred while the others continued to shake their sticks. Nader itched at his head while another picked at the peeling skin on his shoulders. Perot started messing with his feet again. Teyla, Ford and Sheppard kept their weapons ready – waiting to see what the Muc-mucs did next.
Finally, the weathered-looking member of the group worked his way toward them, taking an Eastwood gait. He paused when he'd crossed half the distance and spoke in a gravelly voice, "What did you say about a deep son-of-a-bitch hole?"
From behind the man, the others stopped their nattering, dropped their spears, and drew more effective looking weapons.
TBC - ah... this could be trouble...
