THE TRENCH
PART FIVE: IT POURS….
The gunfire exploded in their ears the moment they came in sight of what looked like civilization. It came without warning or provocation from at least ten different guns—revolvers and semi-automatics from the sounds of it.
Thank God for bad aim and fast reflexes.
Bullets buzzing like wasps past his head, Sheppard dove to the side behind the trees, knowing that Ford would do the same, and sighted down the P90. Gritting his teeth, he fired upon the positions of people he couldn't see, aiming based on the direction of the gunshots. At least it was bullets and not wraith stunners. That at least meant humans instead of Wraith, which was something he'd been worried about since they saw that bridge.
He tried a couple of times to shout out to the faceless combatants, but it only seemed to make them madder. Plus, it gave away his position, causing him to wince as their bullets made mincemeat out of the tree he was hiding behind, bits of bark and wood flying everywhere. Ford distracted them long enough with a grenade to allow the major to get behind slightly better cover—i.e. a thicker tree—but it was no use. They were outnumbered and outgunned by people in more defensible positions.
Sheppard looked at Ford, arched an eyebrow, and caught the lieutenant's unhappy nod.
With a sigh, Sheppard yelled out that they would surrender.
It didn't help. Bullets just started hammering into his new tree.
"What the hell is wrong with these people!" he demanded angrily of the air. With a tap of the radio, he called to McKay and Teyla, letting them know they were under attack. McKay replied, saying something about knowing already, but Sheppard couldn't hear the response clearly over the transmission.
He looked over at Ford. The lieutenant caught his eye, looking nearly as confused and nervous as the major felt. Sheppard, however, didn't let any of his own emotions show as he jerked his head back the way they came.
They had to make a run for it. And if they were going to have any chance at all…they'd have to go off the path.
"I'll cover you," Sheppard gasped into the radio. "You go first, dodge left, find a good position…maybe that set of rocks over there, and then cover me. Got it?"
"Yes sir," the lieutenant replied, gearing himself up to run, literally, for his life. "Just say when."
Sheppard nodded, took a deep breath, and stood up a little higher behind his shoulder.
"When," he growled, setting a spray of bullets into the woods, at every shadow and shift of color he could see. He didn't stop until a familiar chirrup touched his ear from the radio a few seconds later.
"Ford?"
"Yes sir. At the rocks, as ordered. Get ready to run sir."
"Excellent." He smiled grimly, "As you said, just say when."
A short pause, then, Ford's P90 was up and firing. "Go."
Sheppard didn't wait. He was up and running, booking it down the edge of the path, then winding between the trees to the left, just outside of Ford's range. He passed Ford's position, aiming for another point about the same distance farther, deeper into the woods. A larger tree, with stout branches and plenty of smaller branches to hide him better.
And so it went. They moved as well as they could, farther and farther away from the onslaught. He radioed to Teyla and McKay to meet them back at the bridge. McKay's response was garbled again, but it sounded like an affirmative. So he and Ford continued to move deeper into the woods, in what he hoped was generally a parallel direction to the path.
And it was working…until one of them got Ford.
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Two grenades and two smoke bombs later, he was running after his staggering lieutenant, covering his back. He couldn't see how badly hurt the young man was, only that he was hurt. He'd only seen Ford hit out of the corner of his eye—one moment, his lieutenant had been covering him, then…a grunt, and Ford's P90 had stopped firing. Sheppard had instantly changed tactics, moving to defend his now hurt teammate. Getting as close to him as he could, Sheppard took up the role of defender, firing into the woods at anything that moved. To his right, he could see Ford on his hands and knees, shakily pushing himself up, one already red stained hand pressed to his side. Sheppard had called to him, demanded to know how badly he was hurt. Ford's response was annoyingly cryptic.
"I can keep going, sir," he replied stoically.
Sheppard grimaced at that response, but took it for what it was. He was forced to use the limited ordinance they each carried to create a large enough distraction to buy him the time to get to his lieutenant and propel him up and away from their still faceless attackers.
Now he watched as his lieutenant half ran, half stumbled ahead of him, one hand still pressed hard against his stomach. Neither of them even considered the fact that they had no idea where they were going. At this point, they were just trying to gain time and distance.
And then the sun suddenly vanished again, dropping everything into shadow, leeching the color from the landscape. Sheppard swore, looking up as the clouds roiled and condensed overhead, almost from nowhere. Damn it!
The ordinance had helped. The sounds of their attackers, whoever they were, had died down. But it was also probably because the rain had started again. The locals were not stupid enough to stay out in the corrosive downpour.
But he and Ford didn't have that luxury because, suddenly, the world opened up. The woods fell away, and Ford was staggering out into the open. The rain pelted him afresh, tiny tendrils of smoke rising up from parts of his uniform, and he yelped a little in pain as droplets hit his exposed hands and the back of his neck.
Sheppard was still a ways behind him, and thus too far away to stop him. Ford was simply no longer really aware of his surroundings. Between the wound, the disorienting weather, and the sickly smell of the sulfur, the young man was moving blind.
Sheppard shouted, trying to halt his lieutenant, but he might as well have been yelling at the wind, for all the good it did. Ford was beyond hearing.
The young man just walked straight into the open, vaguely aiming for the woods on the far side of the cleared area…and promptly fell straight into the trench.
"FORD!"
Checking the woods one more time, then the state of the sky, the major cursed, then ran to the spot where Ford had disappeared.
Aw crap.
Sheppard slid down the muddy embankment after his lieutenant, all his weight on his right leg, feeling his motion come to a jarring halt as he his foot slammed against the floor of the ditch below. The rain continued to pour, drowning everything, the slightly acidic quality of the drenching liquid still eating through their clothes. He was on his knees in a moment, rolling the face down Ford onto his back, using his own body to shield the younger man and checking the messy gash along the young man's stomach, just below the vest. Ford was breathing harshly, his eyes blinking up at the major leaning over him.
"Mu…Maj…." His voice shook with the pain. He'd been running with the wound for too long.
"It's nothing, kid," Sheppard said, quickly pulling out a bandage from Ford's vest. "Just a scratch." He gave a small smile, and Ford tried to smile back. Then the major was pressing the bandage against the ugly wound, and Ford hissed, arching his back a little, his eyes shutting tightly against the pain.
"I know, I know," Sheppard muttered through gritted teeth, "Hang on, lieutenant." He wrapped the bandage around the boy's waist, tied it off, then patted Ford on the shoulder as the lieutenant came back to his senses. Sitting up, the major hit his radio as he glared at the rain clouds. This rain had to stop now, damn it!
Almost as if in response, the cloud cover lightened a little. The rain started to slow—small favors. Grateful for at least that, he hit the radio again, since the first time had failed to get a answering chirrup.
"Teyla, McKay, what's your status?" he called over the comm.
"Major!" McKay practically shouted over the radio, his voice in full panic mode. Sheppard was instantly on alert again—at least the transmission was clear.
"McKay, where's—"
"The people on this planet aren't very friendly, Major!" McKay shouted again, and this time Sheppard was able to hear the sound of weapons fire in the background….
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TBC and so it begins...
