Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters to Stargate Atlantis, nor am I making any type of profit from this story. It is a work of fan fiction, for enjoyment only.
Puzzles
By KerrAvon
Chapter 6 - Help Yourself"Carson, where the heck are you?" John awakened this time to the sound of McKay having a hysterical fit on the radio. "I can't keep the Major awake for more than a few minutes at a time!"
"Keep your shirt on, Rodney. We've got more help from Atlantis, and we're working as fast as we can, but it's slow going, what with shoring up the walls against the cave-ins and all. It would go a lot faster if we could stay off the radio." Beckett was not a particularly subtle man when under stress.
"Fine. I'll shut up…for now. Just…hurry. McKay out." The scientist hung his head in defeat and closed his eyes.
Sheppard decided that it was time to speak up. "Hey, Rodney. You worried about me?" He shot the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
McKay wasn't in the mood for joking. "As a matter of fact, yes." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Beckett doesn't seem any closer to getting us out of here than he did four hours ago."
Sheppard silently considered their situation. Swinging his flashlight about the chamber, he went over its details. They were in a roughly square room, thirty by twenty feet, which seemed to have been carved from a preexisting cave. The roof was about 18 feet above them, and irregularly textured. The 'floor' was littered with rocks and boulders of varying sizes, and appeared to slope away from the now-obliterated entrance tunnel through which they came. The walls were literally covered with engravings, like on Athos, depicting Wraith ships, cullings, and methods used by the natives to try and survive. However, nothing about any ZPMs.
"What are you doing?" McKay tiredly sighed.
"Well," John winced and lowered his voice, "if Beckett is having such trouble getting to us, maybe we should try to reach him."
"Hello? Entrance sealed up?"
"Yeah, but this place looks like it existed before people did; they just enlarged a cave that was already here." He began to struggle to his feet.
"Beckett said that you were supposed to stay still!" Rodney was at his side in a heartbeat, putting a supportive arm around his shoulders.
"That was when he thought he'd be here quickly." He blinked rapidly several times to clear the spots from his eyes, and intentionally ignored the way the drumming in his head had crescendoed. "Come on. You and I both know that the sooner we get medical care, the better off we'll be."
Rodney grimaced in assent. At this rate, 'God helps those who help themselves' certainly seemed to apply. "What do you suggest?" he muttered.
John thought furiously. "Well, natural caves frequently have side-tunnels." He gingerly made his way over to the nearest wall. "Given that this was probably a shelter from the Wraith, I suspect the natives might have hidden any such passageways as back-up shelters in case this place were discovered. With any luck, they might even have an emergency exit." He began to feel along the wall from as far up as he could reach to just about knee level.
Rodney found himself agreeing mentally. 'Makes sense. But how do we find it?' he mused. He moved up to stand beside the pilot, shining his flashlight on the areas that John was examining.
John continued as if reading Rodney's mind, "Well, first off, try to think like they would. If I were hiding an exit…I'd make it where it wasn't obvious, but could be reached quickly…and I sure wouldn't put it at Wraith eye-level."
Despite the pounding in his own skull, Rodney dropped to his hands and knees. Crawling behind Sheppard, he examined the wall from the floor to just above where the soldier had checked, making certain to overlap search patterns.
John suddenly stopped. "Do you feel that?" he asked urgently.
McKay was confused, but ready to act. "What, is it another aftershock?" He looked nervously around for the nearest shelter.
"No, no…there it is again." He spat on his index finger and held it up. "I definitely felt a draft…and it seems to be coming…from that direction." He pointed further to their left, in the direction they had been heading.
"Here, I have a lighter." Using a nearby boulder for support, Rodney managed to push himself to his feet. He then dug around in a pocket for a few moments before producing a Bic disposable.
"Thanks." John took it and flicked it on. Holding it first at shoulder height, thy both noted a gentle intermittent wavering of the fire. Slowly he moved it, first down, then up. Moving in the direction that seemed to produce the greatest deflection of the flame, the men soon reached the adjacent wall.
"The breeze seems to be stronger as one moves higher," commented McKay.
"I agree," John said, staring up at the wall they had reached. Flicking off the lighter, he turned on his flashlight again and directed it into the crevasses above his head.
"There!" exclaimed Rodney. "Go back." As John complied, he added, "A little more to your left…that's it. Can you see anything right there?"
Sheppard peered at the spot Rodney indicated. "I think so…it seems blacker there than on the surrounding cave wall."
"I'll bet that's the source of your draft. Whether or not it's a way out remains to be seen."
"Give me a boost," demanded Sheppard.
"You sure you're up to this?" asked McKay dubiously.
John pursed his lips grimly. "I don't think either one of us is up to this, but we can't just sit here without trying something." He pointed to a nearby boulder that stood about shoulder height. "If I can get to the top of that, I should be able to make it the rest of the way without any problem. If nothing else, I should be able to see if there's a tunnel or something."
McKay nodded unhappily and linked his fingertips. "All right, but take it easy. Remember my bruised ribs!" Truth be told, he was more concerned about Sheppard falling and hitting his head again, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that aloud.
"No problem." It was rather awkward, but after a few minutes Sheppard managed to reach the top of the boulder. He paused to catch his breath and let the gray edges recede from his vision, then shined his flashlight at the darker spot they had noticed from the ground. "Bingo," he mumbled, then turned to look down at McKay's anxious visage.
"Looks like we have a winner. It isn't very wide, but I can't see to the back of it. Give me your hand and I'll help you up."
Rodney jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go get the packs."
It was an indication of the severity of his head injury that John had forgotten the rucksacks. Considering it, he didn't think they'd be able to drag them along given the shape they were in. "Nah, leave 'em. Just grab the canteens, some rope, and a couple of Power Bars. We can send Ford or somebody back for our stuff after we get out."
Rodney was relieved. He wasn't sure he could get up onto the boulder himself, much less hoist up their equipment. He hurried to get the requested items, rummaged about for a bit, then returned.
"OK, I'm ready," he called out. John lay on his stomach and reached out both hands, grasping Rodney's and pulling. For his own part, McKay gasped as his ribs reminded him of their status as 'broken', but stubbornly hung on, scrabbling with his feet for purchase as he slowly inched up. The rock his right foot had rested on suddenly gave way, slamming him against the boulder with an 'Oomph'. Stars exploded in his skull as his ribs once again protested their abuse, grinding jaggedly against each other. Somehow he managed to keep his grip as he wheezed desperately for breath. He slowly became aware of Sheppard calling his name, and asking if he were all right.
"Still here," he groaned. Miraculously, he had managed to not slip back down the side; it wasn't very far to the cave floor, but it would have been incredibly disheartening. "Let's…try again…shall we?"
A few minutes later, he and John lay side-by-side on top, panting. As they slowly recovered, Rodney groaned, sat up, and stared at the tunnel just ahead. It was a tunnel, and there was a definite breeze coming from its opening. He stood and clambered up the more gentle slope to its mouth. If they crawled on their hands and knees single-file, they could get through.
Calling back over his shoulder, he asked, "Shall we call Beckett and tell him what we're doing?"
So close it made him jump, John's voice replied, "Of course not. Remember? 'It's easier to ask forgiveness..'"
"Than ask permission." Rodney, staring straight ahead, gulped. "Right. Do you want to go first, or shall I?"
He turned to find the Major tying one end of the rope around his waist. "Let me. I've had more experience climbing."
John handed the other end of the rope to Rodney, who secured it around his own waist. The pilot next latched his flashlight to his LBE so that both hands were free, and shouldered his way into the tunnel. McKay followed closely behind.
The tunnel sloped slowly upwards for about twenty-five yards, then widened to where the two men could stand again without difficulty. Clambering to their feet, both men sighed in relief.
"Thank God," muttered Rodney. Beaming his flashlight further down the corridor, he unconsciously lowered his voice. "It's still sloping up. What do you think?"
"I think…it's still sloping up. That's a good sign…"
Rodney swung his flashlight around; something in the sound of John's voice was…wrong. He found the man leaning forward, hands braced on knees, panting. His face was covered in sweat and looked two shades too pale.
"Hey, you want to take a break?" he asked solicitously. Heaven knew he could use one himself.
"Actually, I think I…" He broke off the sentence to whirl around and vomit onto the floor of the crawlspace they just emerged from. Rodney, unsure as to how to help, settled on steadying the man's shoulders as he lost whatever little his stomach contained, and then dry heaved for a few minutes. When he finally finished, McKay silently handed him a canteen. Sheppard gratefully rinsed his mouth thoroughly and spat it onto the floor as well.
Staring down at the mess, Rodney commented, "Well, let's hope we don't have to go back that way." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Even he knew that vomiting was not a good sign with a head injury, but there was nothing to be done for it. John seemed set against contacting the Atlantis physician. Still, Rodney was more anxious than ever to suffer Beckett's disapproving glare.
TBC…
AN: Hope you don't mind a little cliffie….