Chapter 15

Stalked by the Beast


"This looks drinkable," Beckett conceded. They had located the river, not far from where they'd stopped after escaping the snake. You'd have thought the water would've been clouded with algae, but it was remarkably clear.

Sheppard ruffled his hair, as much to get out some tension, as to work the sticky clumps loose, and scratch the itch that the sweat was creating. "I don't suppose we've any of those water purifier pills?"

Beckett shook his head, and John's face fell. "I didn't think so." He pondered the blue green water, knowing there was nothing to be done for it. "We'll have to risk it. Dying from dehydration will get us before any bacteria will."

"I have a problem with this," McKay stated. "Purposefully ingesting something potentially harmful goes against my sense of preservation."

"McKay, it goes against everyone's sense of preservation, but there's not a lot of choice, so shut up, and drink." Sheppard lifted his cupped hands to his face, and drank. It was cooler than he'd thought, and it tasted even better than he'd hoped. Might as well enjoy it, even if it might kill you later, he thought ruefully. "I'm going to scout for some shelter, you two stay here."

"I don't think we should split up." Rodney had finally caved in, and drunk some water. He stopped when Sheppard mentioned his plan, tiny rivulets still running down his chin, sparkling in the thin sunlight; what little managed to filter through the treetops, and what was left of the remaining daylight.

"We probably shouldn't," Sheppard conceded. "But, you may have noticed, there's only three of us. You can't split three into two equal halves, so, stay put, I'll be right back."

McKay looked like he was going to keep arguing but Beckett pulled him to the ground beside the riverbank. "Sit," Carson said. Before McKay could find another reason that it was a bad idea, Sheppard had faded into the jungle.

John looked for possible shelters that could be defended, and at the same time, allow them a retreat. He found an odd sight. There was a large tree, similar to a Sequoia, with a man-sized crack sundered into the base. He glanced inside, and discovered it was just wide enough for them all to fit. The downside, there was no escape route. He was hard pressed to find anything better, and he could just make out the small pinpricks of stars beginning to twinkle in the sky. Time's up, and this would have to do.


"You know, this is creepy," McKay complained. "It isn't natural to be inside a tree."

"Would you rather be out there?" Beckett snapped crossly.

John agreed with Beckett. McKay's whining was wearing thin. "Go to sleep. You won't be creeped out if you're asleep."

Rodney shuffled his back against the stiff wood. "I can't. This tree isn't exactly a four-star establishment."

Sheppard grimaced; his irritation was reaching new levels. "I've got some kind of alien leech stuck on my leg, we've spent the day hiking through a hot, humid jungle, we escaped a snake that was of mythic proportions, and yet I managed to find water and shelter. I swear, if you complain one more time, I'm not going to be liable for what I do."

"Fine," McKay turned his back to the Major.

John let out a mouthful of air. His point had been made but it didn't make him any happier. He did understand where McKay was coming from. This situation was lousy. Rodney handled situations like this by complaining, vociferously, while the rest of them tried to endure stoically, and the surprising thing was Beckett. He had remained solid; taking each new twist with asteadfastness that was impressive.

"It'll be okay," Sheppard whispered low, more to himself than anything.

McKay startled him by whispering back. "I hope so, Major."

Sheppard drifted off to dreams of massive leeches sucking him dry, and McKay beating manically at a snake that was opening its mouth wide enough to swallow him whole.


John woke to birds screeching. He could hear the insect chatter nattering away in the distance, and the sound of a soft rain falling amongst the leaves. He peered out the hollowed shelter and could see the steady drizzle of rain, and knew it was going to be even more miserable today than it was yesterday.

"It's raining," Rodney stated the obvious from behind him.

"Yeah." Sheppard shifted back over so he could look at McKay in the gloaming light. "You get any sleep?"

"No," McKay said, and his voice was tired. "You?"

"Between the killer snakes and leeches?" Sheppard joked, "No."

"Speaking of leeches," McKay pushed himself up. "Is it still there?"

Sheppard had a momentary flood of panic as he realized, he'd forgotten the bug. He yanked up his pant leg, and stared, "Oh yeah. It's getting big," he said, worried.

"How big?"

"Big, McKay, do I look like I have a ruler handy?" Sheppard grouched, with a bit more of an edge than he normally used.

They both turned their attention to a noise in the corner. Beckett was stirring. The doctor tossed, and turned, before growing still, and Sheppard could see the whites of his eyes when he finally opened them. "Morning, Doc."

Beckett scratched behind his head, absentmindedly, "How can you tell?"

McKay and Sheppard shared a confused look. "Tell what?" Rodney asked for them both.

"That it's morning," Beckett clarified, and he was slowly pushing himself upright, which wasn't easy in the cramped space.

"Trust me," Sheppard said, and left it at that.

Beckett noticed John's pant leg was rolled up, and he remembered the leech bug from yesterday. "Is it gone?" he asked, hoping it was, because he really didn't know if it was better leaving it on, or trying to pull it off.

"Not exactly."

The way Sheppard answered him caused Beckett to frown harder than he was. "Let me see," he scooted closer, squinting in the low light, but it wasn't hard to see. The fingertip size bug was now easily the size of a walnut. He whistled, "That's easily tripled since yesterday."

"Look, this thing is starting to give me the heebie jeebies," Sheppard admitted. "Could we at least try and get it off?" He really didn't relish the thought of marching another day through the forest with it growing even bigger, and he would know it was down there, sucking him dry.

Beckett shook his head. "It's against my advice, Major."

"So, what, you're going to wait till it eats my leg?"

"Don't be ridiculous, just until it eats half your leg," Rodney joked.

Beckett didn't seem to appreciate their humor. "Let's wait and see, Major."

Sheppard regarded the leech, but rolled the pants down over it thinking he'd only give Beckett's idea the rest of today, after that, the bug was coming off. No matter what it did, or didn't, do. He crept out the natural opening in their shelter, and was surprised to see a heavy mist lying thick over the jungle, an ethereal dampening blanket. "It's beautiful," he murmured, wishing it wasn't as equally deadly.

"Aye," Beckett agreed softly. He'd crawled out behind Sheppard, and McKay had followed. "Are we ready?"

John nodded, reluctant. If circumstances had been different, he wouldn't have minded just sitting and savoring the wild beauty. "I'm going to keep to the river, at least that way we'll have water. It has to empty out somewhere."

Rodney tightened his belt. "Do you think Ford will find us?"

Sheppard cupped a hand over his eyes, squinting upwards. Though it was foggy and drizzly in the forest, the sunlight was glaring bright overhead the dense cloud cover, and the resultant glare was painful. "I'm sure he's looking," he said evasively. What he didn't want to say is Ford wouldn't be able to find them as long as they were stuck in this jungle, and if Gigno had his way, he definitely wouldn't find them. Whatever the old man's plan, they'd have to follow this through the best they could.

There wasn't much to be said after that, and the three set out, forging a way back to the riverside. The faint rainfall had stopped soon after the morning had waned, but the damage was done. If they hadn't been wet before, they were now. They'd walked for probably three hours, when Sheppard signaled a stop. John cupped some water to his mouth, and kicked back against a log, pulling up his pant leg. It wasn't all that much bigger than earlier, but it was starting to hurt, and tug at his skin. The urge to grab a stick, and scrape it off, was almost more than he could resist.

Beckett knelt down after drinking. "Not much bigger, hopefully that means it's about done."

"It's starting to hurt," Sheppard informed Beckett, adding maybe just a small amount of whininess, hoping to encourage Carson in wanting to remove it from his leg.

His statement had the desired affect. Beckett's gaze narrowed at his leg. "Since when?"

McKay was used to Sheppard's tactics. "Since now," he supplied for John.

Sheppard idly considered throwing McKay into the river, but figured it wasn't worth listening to him bitch about it for the next few hours. "Since," he exaggerated, "an hour or so ago."

Beckett was uneasy, and Sheppard almost felt bad for adding to the Doctor's misfortune, but damn it, he wanted that thing off his leg. He was trying to listen to Beckett's advice, but it'd been enough. Just then, he was distracted by a snapping sound behind them. He stilled, and listened, the others freezing as well.

Sheppard waited, but there wasn't another sound. Yet, he knew, something was there, watching, and waiting. He'd felt a hint of an itch on the back of his body all morning. It was like someone was staring at him across the room at a party, and every time he looked back, the offender would look away. It was just like that. The hairs on his neck raised, and he wondered if it was the crazy Ancient or some other predator on the hunt.

"Let's go," he said. The bug would wait. If something was trailing them, sitting here would be like laying the bird out to be dressed. They needed to get moving.

McKay stood up, but he was looking out past Sheppard, from where the noise had come from. "There's something there."

Sheppard grabbed McKay, pushing him forward. "Yes, there's something there, now move."

Beckett started moving without any help, and they quickly left the riverside, trudging inland slightly, but keeping sight of the riverbank. "What was it?" Carson asked, after they'd been walking again for a few minutes.

Sheppard had a hunch. From the sound of the crack, it was heavy. Snakes, they slithered, and wouldn't normally break a branch like that. Monkeys? Too light, plus they hadn't really seen a lot of monkeys around here. The birds they'd heard were probably not the culprit either. John was pretty sure it was a cougar. They stalked their prey, and they did so with a cunning prowl, and would hunt them on ground or in the trees. Which presented a problem; there wasn't any safe place from the animal, except maybe on the river itself. Cougars would swim if they had to, but they didn't like the water.

"I'd bet my last bag of popcorn, it's a cougar," Sheppard said. Probably best to let them know what he suspected.

McKay's eyes darted around nervously, as if he could seek it out by luck or will. "Are you sure?"

Sheppard rounded on McKay. "Would you quit asking me that?" He was frustrated with the entire situation, and Rodney wasn't helping. "I'm not sure of anything. Reasonably certain, yes, but no, I'm not sure."

Rodney opened his mouth to say something, but shut it. Tried a second time, and failed again. Finally, he just turned away. Sheppard had a minute of guilt. This was hard on everyone, but damn, he still had a bug stuck to him, he deserved some leeway for being a bastard.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, anyway, whether he deserved the leeway or not.

McKay waved an impatient hand his way, and turned back to shoving a path through the jungle. "Forget it," he tossed over his shoulder.

John rubbed a tired hand over his face. He really was acting like a jerk, but the problem was, this was his fault. All of it. They had came here because McKay was trying to mend Sheppard's screwed up mind after the events with the Wraith ship, and lingering issues from past missions that went so far south you'd might as well get comfortable with the penguins (relatively speaking). Then, he'd made the mistake to ask Weir to send supplies and allowed her to know that he and McKay were sick, and then there were three. Then, the Jumper, which probably saved their lives, but now there was five pulled into this screwed up disaster.

At the very least, he'd gotten Ford and Teyla to a temporarily safe situation. But, as he stared at the backs of Beckett and McKay, it pissed him off that it wasn't enough. It wasn't everyone. He wondered if telling McKay the next time Rodney thought he needed help, to recommend Heightmeyer. It would've been a lot easier than this. Of course, he wouldn't have actually talked to her, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"Are you coming?"

The question shook him from his reverie. He saw McKay and Beckett, paused, and waiting for him. "I'm coming," Sheppard replied, shaking off the emotional toll that was getting thicker than a ski jacket on a Colorado slope. He jogged to catch up, and they moved out as one, each lost in their own thoughts.


They had stopped for a midday break, again skirting back to the riverbank, and drinking heavily. If there was anything harmful, they were certainly done in for. The feeling of being watched had carried over, and after a short break, they had set out again. Sheppard's leg was starting to ache to a degree that had grown beyond uncomfortable, and edged into the painful.

"We need to think about shelter," McKay said, as they continued to wind through the forest.

They were soaked to the skin, sweaty, tired and hungry. Sheppard had found a candy bar in one of his pockets, and he'd let McKay eat it, knowing Rodney was the one that needed it most. McKay's blood sugar thing wasn't just something he rolled out to release stress, but one candy bar wasn't going to help, and when his body finished processing it, those blood sugars were going to drop dangerously low.

"We need food," John said. "Has anyone seen anything that might be edible?"

Beckett wished he had, but he shook his head, glum, and hungry. "Do you think we could catch a fish?" he asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "Doubt it, not without expending a lot of energy."

McKay was staring off into the woods, and he had that look on his face. "Major, you've got your knife, right?"

John felt under his pants to the strap. "Yeah, it's still there."

Rodney was nodding, satisfied. "How good can you throw a spear?"

"A spear?" Sheppard asked. "Good, I guess, why?"

But McKay was in his thought process, and wasn't listening. "You think that cougar is still out there?"

Sheppard got it, and he didn't like it. Beckett must have caught on also, because he was shaking his head like McKay was crazy. "That's too dangerous, Rodney, one misstep and that'll be it. I've seen what they can do."

"Do we have a lot of choice?" McKay confronted them, eyes blazing. The beast was corning them, and everyone knew it. "You have a better idea, let's hear it, otherwise, shut up." McKay reached over and grabbed a thick branch, yanking it down. "I'll be the bait, the Major, he can handle the killing, and Carson, you can…"

"Patch you up," Beckett supplied, not happy with the idea, but also with a fatalism that comes from knowing the cards are loaded, and it's time to ante up.

Sheppard's initial impression of Rodney's idea was that it was a bad one, but the more he considered it, the more he realized McKay was solving their two problems with one stone. They'd go on the offense against the stalking predator, and solve the food issue. "Okay, but on one condition," Sheppard said finally.

McKay and Beckett regarded him with curiosity. "Condition?" McKay asked.

"Tell me one of you has a lighter?"


Rodney did, in fact, have a lighter. He had shrugged and told Sheppard that he'd be surprised how often you needed one when running experiments, and that was why he always kept a small lighter in his pocket wherever he went. Sheppard had thought about asking why Rodney hadn't mentioned it last night, when they shivered in the tree, but with everything that's happened, he could understand how it probably slipped McKay's mind.

While McKay worked on cutting the spear, Beckett dealt with the bug on John's leg. "Is it off?" Sheppard asked. He was trying not to watch, and all he could feel were stabs of pain intermixed with a tugging sensation.

Beckett had his teeth against his lip, and was crouched low, using two thin twigs that he'd fashioned into a pair of tweezers. He gently wiggled one direction, then the next, working it back and forth, and the sinking feeling as he realized that the outside size may have stayed the same, but the bug had grown inside the Major's leg, and as it was coming out from his pulling, it was leaving a nice sized hole. Being a Doctor, he wasn't normally squeamish, but this was one of the nastier critters he'd seen. "Almost there, Major." He said a quick prayer that it was true, and, that it wasn't doing any permanent injury in its wake.

John felt a hot flash of pain, one that surpassed everything he'd ever felt, except that tic-wraith, and then Beckett was tossing something into the water. "It's off," he told Sheppard, and John was surprised to see how badly Beckett was sweating.

"Do I have a leg left?" Sheppard asked, and the joke didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked down, and was awed by how normal it looked. "That doesn't look so bad."

Carson wasn't going to point out the massive hole underneath the skin. "Aye, you'll live," he said instead. He didn't have anything to use as a bandage, so he tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, the cleanest he could find, and tied it over the injury, giving it one last touch, before pulling Sheppard's pant leg over the improvised fix. "That should hold it for a while. Let me know at the first sign of it getting worse."

"Thanks, Doc," Sheppard was relieved to have it gone, and the pain had faded to a slow, dull throb.

John was surprised to see how dark it had gotten. The sun was down below the horizon, and twilight had arrived uninvited. "Ready, McKay?"

The cougar would be getting braver now that it could move more freely with less fear of being seen, and they needed to be set. McKay tossed the spear to Sheppard. "Ready, but Major," he twisted his neck, trying to get prepared, although there wasn't much to do that could prepare you for facing down a wild animal that probably weighed as much as a full grown adult, "Don't miss."

"Wouldn't think of it," John said.

McKay got into position, a clear area just to the side of a heavy tree. The cougar could come in the air, or on the land, and either way, Sheppard would have a few moments in time to strike first. There was a good chance it would still take Rodney down, the momentum carrying it forward, even if he had a kill shot. If he didn't, well, he wasn't going to think about it.

They settled in, everyone quiet. Beckett was behind Sheppard, and they had their backs to the river. Twilight fought a losing battle to the stars, and turned over its reign of dominion till the sun would begin to make its return inevitable. Still, the three men remained motionless, muscles cramping and fatigue working against them.

Just when Sheppard was beginning to think they'd been had, he heard it. A soft whisper of a leaf out of place where it shouldn't have been, followed by a bowing of a branch just to the rear of McKay. God, he swallowed, if you really exist, let this shot be true, and he thrust the spear forward towards the bowing branch, with every ounce of strength he had.

McKay jumped towards him, and the cougar began its fall forward, the spear sticking straight out of its head. Rodney didn't quite get free of the animal, and it rolled into his legs, sending him sprawling to the ground. The haft of the spear rolled too, coming around and over, striking him hard on the back of his head.

John yanked the dead cougar off McKay, and rolled him, checking to see if he was bleeding, and breathing. He wasn't, and he was, respectively, so he waved to Beckett. "I think the handle of the spear knocked him out." Rodney was a deadweight, which bothered John. He hoped the hit hadn't been hard enough to do any serious head injury, but deep down, he knew it could be a false hope. The cougar had fallen from at least twenty feet. A twenty-foot drop could garner a pretty good velocity by the time it reached the ground.

Sheppard turned the dead animal over, and realized it was even larger than he'd accounted for. Easily outweighed any of them, and was about twice as large as a cougar back on Earth. If McKay hadn't come up with the idea to turn the tables, and attack it, they might have suffered far worse than McKay's injury. This thing could've sent them flying with one swipe of a paw, which were the size of his head, at least.

While Carson tended to McKay, Sheppard skinned it, and worked on cutting some meat. They had been given a break, finally, in that the rain had stayed away for the remainder of the day, and John was able to find some deadfall that he could get lit. It wouldn't last long, but all it had to do was last enough to sear the meat. It wouldn't be well done, but it wouldn't be quite as bad as eating it raw.

The weak fire he got started gave off enough light that he could search out some more tinder. As he scavenged around their impromptu camp, he saw silver eyes reflecting from the water. He had a momentary pang of relief that he had opted to not toss McKay in earlier. He dropped the collected armful down, and looked at Rodney who was still out. It'd been at least an hour or two. "Doc?" he didn't say anything else. He didn't need to say anything else.

Beckett was shaking his head. "I'm worried, Major. We've done all we can. It could be the hit, or low blood sugar, maybe both."

John was surprised at the anger that rose up. "God damn it!" he snarled, and kicked a log that was near.

Carson understood Sheppard's frustrations, and if he wasn't down cradling McKay's head to keep it off the jungle floor, he'd probably be indulging in some ranting and raving also. But he wasn't, so he didn't, and he kept doing what he could, and that was keeping Rodney's face clear of the insects that were all around, especially now that darkness had snuck in with it's deliberate disorder. The nocturnal creatures scurried about, hungry and awake.

Sheppard grew quiet after his outburst, and prepared two steaks, trying to cover the carcass with leaf fronds, limiting what could get to it. He ate and watched the firelight dance across the still face of McKay, looking very childlike and carefree. After they had eaten, John offered to switch with Beckett, giving him a chance to stretch his legs, and take care of other necessities.

John cradled McKay's head, and was shocked at the dent he could feel in the back of Rodney's head. He knew what that meant, and he knew at that moment what Carson wasn't saying. What he didn't want to say. McKay had suffered a head injury that was probably killing him as they sat here waiting for Rodney to wake up. For a moment, he felt the bile rise into his throat, and he swallowed rapidly, trying to maintain a hold on his stomach. It didn't help that the half-cooked meat was sitting like a lead weight in his belly.

"We aren't getting out of this alive."

Beckett was poking a stick half-heartedly into the dwindling fire. "I know."

"You knew he was dying," John accused, but there wasn't any anger in his voice, just a weariness that sucked the soul out of him. Carson was quiet. Sheppard didn't say anything else. He held his friend, and watched the light fade, one from the fire, and one from McKay, and the night grew cold.


AN: Thank you for hanging with me. I believe this is going to end with 18 chapters, so approaching the final stages, might be one less, depends on how I feel the story is flowing. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get updates out, but I hope the rest will come a little faster, and also, as to this cliffhanger, all I can say is that this isn't a deathfic, so don't get too upset, okay?