AN: Again, another edited version, no major changes, grammatical differences for hopefully a better story! Also, my thanks to Bastet and Gaffer for the wonderful job as a Beta.
Chapter Two
River Crossing
Sheppard stared at the opposite bank, hoping something would come to mind. A straight crossing was not an option. If they were lucky enough to not get pulled under, debris would probably hit them. He examined the shore upstream from their position looking for any natural landscape they could use to their advantage.
The water lapped against his boots reminding him of the need for urgency. He stepped towards an area of the forest to their right where a large tree stretched over halfway across the galloping river. They had rope; they could rig a line if he could get it to hook on the branch of the tree opposite the big one. He pursed his lips together, mentally checking supplies and the angle of the shot. Their packs included a small harpoon like gun. The military took a few lessons from Batman…or would that be Spiderman? Focus, John, Sheppard thought crossly, Spiderman, definitely.
"Major, as much as I enjoy the view, are you planning on something other than remaining still until the river washes away any chance of crossing for the next, oh, week?" McKay snapped, the thread of apprehension dancing in the air between them.
"Keep your pants on, McKay." Sheppard threw his arms around the massive trunk, and grabbed for a branch just above his head, pulling himself into the tree. "I've got a plan."
McKay bounced his head nervously. "He's got a plan," he mumbled to himself, "Relax…relaxing…see, I'm relaxed." He realized he was gripping his pack tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He released his hold and whispered, "Relaxed, right."
John was now too far up to notice McKay's anxiety. He reached for the next branch and brought his head up only to smack into another branch directly overhead that he hadn't seen. The water-laden leaves shook off their burden with the unexpected impact and soaked his shoulders. His black shirt oozed water where the pack pulled, the material having reached maximum saturation earlier. He brushed the leaves to the side impatiently and tried to steady his grip on the slippery bark, and heaved himself up. He wrapped his legs around the branch, clenching his knees tight to keep his balance, and tried to judge the height of the target on the other side. It looked about right.
"McKay!" he called. He saw Rodney look towards him, his eyes blinking against the rain falling on his face.
"What?"
"Tell me if the rope connects where it's supposed to, I can't see because of the leaves." Sheppard brushed another stream of water from his eyes. The verdant tree was draining water into him as efficiently as an aqueduct system, making it hard to keep his target in sight.
"Oh sure," McKay grouched. "Do I look like I've got windshield wipers for eyes?"
"Do it!" Sheppard hollered above the roaring river. Damn, he was wet. They had worn t-shirts and vests with their packs. The climate was warm, humid and looking back one could say tropical you know that thing about hindsight.
John steadied his arm and squinted through the driving rain, now was as good a time as any. He depressed the trigger and mentally offered a small prayer that the shot hit true, and would dig into the woody part of the branch, and would hold their weight. He felt the small recoil and held on as the miniscule spear shot across the width, thin nylon cord quickly unraveling. It must have hit because the cord stopped moving. He gave a tug and it held. "McKay?"
"It looked good," Rodney thought of adding that he couldn't tell if it hit the branch or something else. The sky had darkened to a post twilight gloom and he was having a hard time seeing his hand in front of his face. Visibility was approaching a level of only a few feet in front of them, and that river was stretching wider than a few feet at this point.
He heard Sheppard descending through the branches and managed to not flinch when he jumped down beside him, "You didn't see a thing." John said.
"No." McKay admitted. "Sorry."
Sheppard shook his head, "Don't worry about it." He peered across the turbulent water, "I can't see anything either."
"What now?"
"We go for it." Sheppard pulled his pack to the ground and started pulling items out.
"What are you doing?" McKay asked, shocked to see the Major unloading needed supplies.
John held two MRE's in his hand and seemed to judge their importance, then shoved them to the side, "That cord is made to hold weight but that branch over there might not be good enough. We've got to lighten our load."
McKay frowned at the thought. What if something happened and they needed the supplies? What if they couldn't gate out of here or couldn't find the way?
"McKay!"
Rodney sighed, and dropped his pack, lifting out his journal first. He tucked it into his shirt and realized Sheppard was staring at him with an amused grin. "It's for technical details," he said defensively.
Sheppard nodded, still smiling, and finished dumping all the items he had deemed unnecessary. Rodney looked at his pile to gauge what he should dump and didn't miss the fact that the Major had kept his ammo and med kit in his bag, priorities for a soldier. He'd keep his equipment, priorities for a scientist.
"Ready?"
McKay nodded, and slung his pack back on his shoulders, amazed at how much lighter it felt. When they had first begun expeditions he'd thought the weight of the pack was going to permanently cripple him. He'd made the mistake of making a wisecrack to that effect. The next trip out he'd realized Sheppard had doubled the weight. He'd accepted the Major's maneuver without complaint but had loaded Sheppard's pack with all the artifacts he had decided important to bring back to Atlantis. He'd enjoyed tossing each one over the balcony hours after gating home. He knew Sheppard suspected it was a set-up but he had let it go and an unspoken truce had been present since that day.
He realized John was all ready scaling the tree. He took a deep breath, relaxed. "Yeah, I'm ready."
It didn't take more than a few minutes for them to reach the cord Sheppard had secured on the main tree trunk. He could make out the first foot of the blue nylon before it tapered off into the haze of rain and steel gray sky. "Hand over hand." Rodney said, more for the comfort of hearing the instructions out loud then needing confirmation.
"Right, and whatever you do McKay, don't let go," Sheppard warned.
"I can assure you, Major, you would have to physically rip my fingers off this rope before I'd let it go." McKay took another steadying breath, and grabbed the cord with both hands, uncomfortably aware of how wet the cord had become. He felt the slick fibers taut against his palms. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and swung his legs up, latching his ankles around the rope and inching out from the minimal protection the tree provided.
He hadn't gone far when he realized how badly the weather had deteriorated. Gusts rocked his body like a stray leaf caught up in a fall storm. He tightened his fingers more than he thought possible and tried to steady the trembling in his legs. He arched his head back trying to see how much farther but couldn't see anything other than dark shapes in the upside down world ahead of him.
McKay's world soon narrowed to hand over hand…slide…hand over hand…slide. His arms trembled, his legs threatened to release and his palms burned from the friction. Water seeped into the crevices of his nostrils and blinded him. Hand over hand, and slide. He reached his hand again and met with a metal tip. Metal? He almost cried with the relief of knowing he had made it. It took almost more control than he had in his muscles, but he managed to right himself and perch in the branch. He swallowed, trying to gather strength and depressed the radio. "Major, I'm here, go."
Sheppard heard the static echo from his receiver and made out the word go amidst the steady drumming of the rain and growling of the river. He gave the cord a test pull, and depressed his radio, "I'm coming!" he shouted, trying to hear his own voice above the din.
A strong gust tugged the rope in his hands and he clung tighter and began the slow progression towards McKay. He remembered doing this in boot camp. Everyone had to tackle the confidence course, and one of the first water obstacles was a rope you had to cross, just like this. The guy in front of him had frozen and hung in the middle, leaving Sheppard stuck hanging behind him. He'd hollered for the guy to move, tried to encourage him, but after a few minutes his biceps had begun to burn and he started yelling at the guy to drop. The Training Instructors, (TI for short), had shouted obscenities and something about the guy being a girl before he'd eventually fallen into the water, the splash drenching Sheppard's back. He'd started inching his way towards the end of the rope and safety but the minutes of hanging had taken their toll and just inches before reaching his goal, he'd felt his fingers give, and down he went into the cold water. He'd come up spluttering from the shock, and pissed at having to complete the rest of the course soaked. He knew that having to complete the run with the extra weight of a waterlogged battle dress uniform was going to be tough.
He'd come up out of that water hazard and started to give the cadet a piece of his mind when the TI had separated them, and made him do push-ups. Later, the Sergeant had pulled him aside and told him the team was only as strong as their weakest link and he'd better make damn sure the next time his squad did the course the other cadet would make it across. John did. He'd learned a lesson that day, one of many to come, but it was the start of what ultimately gave him a black mark in the promotion ranks and shuffled out to McMurdo like yesterday's leftovers. He had gone back for that weakest link and he'd do it again.
Sheppard realized he was over halfway. He could hear McKay shouting support through the driving winds and rain. His muscles were burning. He knew Beckett would be furious if he knew this was the light duty he'd cleared John for. It was supposed to be a simple trip out and back, nothing strenuous. The cord seemed to slacken and John couldn't keep from shouting, "McKay!"
Rodney felt the cord slip also. He had one hand holding on, trying to steady the path for the Major. He turned, panicked, to find where the spear point was embedded in the branch. He felt the spot with dull fingers and realized it was pulling loose. "Hurry Major!" He hoped John heard him. He tried to wrap his body around the trunk, looping his arm around the cord. If the cord gave, Rodney hoped he could keep it from falling, at least long enough to help Sheppard.
John started again, faster now, knowing that the rigging was coming apart. He glanced down but couldn't see anything. Another gust blew into him and he felt the cord start to give. He could almost see McKay. "Let go!" He could see that McKay had looped his arm around in vain hopes of keeping him from going down. Damn it! Didn't he realize that was only going to succeed in taking them both into the raging water below?
McKay heard Sheppard but shook his head slowly, in resignation, if the Major was going down, then so was he. He felt it give, and his arm was yanked painfully forward and he felt himself falling. "Major!" he screamed.
"McKay!" John felt the cord give and felt his body falling, then the sharp jerk as McKay was dragged down with him. He felt the cold water envelop him. It felt like someone had submerged him in a frozen lake. He wondered at the frigidness of the water, before he realized it was dragging him downward instead of letting him bob up to the surface, and it was as strong of a current as he'd feared.
He was holding onto the rope and the knowledge sunk in dimly as his awareness began to fade to a pleasant blackness from the lack of oxygen. He pulled on the rope and prayed McKay was able to do the same. The water was slamming him back, tumbling him about like a pebble in a swift stream, and he felt something slam into his leg underneath the icy water. His fingers slipped and he knew that was it. He was dead. I'm sorry McKay, he thought, before he was dragged under for good.
