Less Than a Minute (Part 2)
"Somebody, stop that damn ringing," Rodney cursed under his breath before trying a second time to get whatever it was laying across his right lower leg, off. Not having any success and totally clueless as to what caused his current predicament, he scowled ferociously. This was getting old fast. Cautiously, he reached out and patted about the slippery floor before his hand touched something sharp. He withdrew it quickly when a stabbing pain lanced deep into his index finger. Instantly sticking the damaged appendage in his mouth to stop the throbbing, he tasted blood and chemicals. "Ah!" he cried out, spitting the disgusting sensation away, then trying to wipe his tongue on his shirt sleeve only to discover the taste there also.
Swiping his undamaged hand across his eyes, he blinked several times, feeling dampness trickle down his forehead and across his cheeks. "Where the hell am I and why is it so damn dark in here?" he shouted into the emptiness surrounding him. "Sheppard, if you're out there having a good laugh at my expense, when I get out of here I will lace your hair gel with enough toxic chemicals to turn even your spiky haired mess into blonde locks that only Kavanagh could love."
He waited for a response but his threat went unanswered. "Can anybody hear me?" he shouted and then listened, straining his ears for even the slightest sound. "Hello," he shouted again and cocked his head sideways, when he realized that wherever he was had a hollow sound to it along with a slight echo. "Hell-o," he yelled once more. Yes, definitely someplace big. A familiar twinge of panic settled into his chest when the realization that this wasn't some sort of elaborate joke gripped his heart and squeezed slowly. "Oh, god," he whimpered, "Where am I?"
With his sticky hurting pointer finger tucked safely in his armpit, he shifted on his rump and tried to remember what happened. Wherever he was, was dark, and wet, and big, and messy, and sharp, and quiet, and, and, and…the squeeze got a little tighter… alone. His breath hitched at that thought, his eyes tracking his surroundings in hope of spying at least a little light in the darkness and coming up empty.
The sound of something moving behind him caused him to shift on his hip in an attempt at turning around. "Who's there?" he whispered into the darkness. "I can hear you, so speak up," he demanded with false bravado when his first query remained unanswered.
Another noise, the sound of something large slamming against the floor, caused him to jump. "Well, you don't have to get violent. I need a hand here, so whoever you are, can you get your ass over here and get my leg free?"
More silence, and then another voice permeated the darkness. "Rodn'y?" it gasped painfully.
He tipped his head sideways and attempted to identify the voice. It was familiar, slightly accented. Not Scottish. European, definitely European. His scrambled brain clicked with the answer. "Radek?"
"Rodn'y, help me," the Czech struggled to say from somewhere on the other side of the room.
"I'm stuck," he replied, carefully reaching down to reaffirm his tightly pinned limb. "There's something on my leg. Can you make it in this direction?" A painful coughing and then a wheeze came from where he judged Radek to be. "How bad are you hurt?" he called out.
"Can't breathe," came the gasped reply.
"Oh, damn it!" Rodney cursed in frustration at his current limitations. Using his left foot, he placed it against whatever was pinning his right, leaned back on both palms for support, and shoved with all his might. "AH!" he cried out, grinding his teeth together and panting through the pain when he felt the item shift substantially, but not completely off. Clenching his eyes tightly shut and bearing down with determination that would make Arnold Schwarzenegger proud, he pushed with all his might.
Pain seared up the injured tendons in his calf and shin muscles, igniting a firestorm that gripped his entire body until subsiding and leaving him breathless. Flopping bonelessly back onto the wet floor, he reached down with his good hand to inspect the damage. He whimpered when his hand touched torn flesh and something that had to be bone. Breathing through his mouth to quell the rising, pain induced nausea; he slowly rolled over onto his stomach. "Radek," he called out hoarsely.
"Here," the Czech gasped. "You…" he started to say something but began to cough uncontrollably.
"I'm coming," Rodney answered, painfully pulling his arms and undamaged leg up underneath him so that he could crawl and drag himself over to the injured scientist. Cautiously sweeping his hand out in front of himself, he made his agonizing way across the rubble-strewn floor towards the sound of the gasping breaths. Several times his hand intercepted sharp items, or his battered leg was jarred against an unseen object and he had to pause, trying to contain the pain in stifled whimpers. When he finally encountered a piece of material, attached to a body, he tapped slowly until he felt the Czech's face, his other hand resting on the man's chest.
"Where are you hurt?" he asked, trying to carefully check for injuries without causing anymore undue pain. Feeling a sharp intake under his hand, he lifted it quickly. "What, what did I do?"
Radek struggled to catch his breath as he stared into the unseeing eyes glancing back down at him. "Can you see?" he whispered between wheezes, hoping his fear was unfounded.
Rodney shook his head. "Too dark in here. Can't make out a thing." He was startled to feel a hand gently touch his face, and then he jerked back as a sharp pain throbbed against the side of his temple. "What?" he hissed, holding his breath until it subsided.
Radek waved his hand shakily in front of McKay's face and got no response. Judging by the blood freely flowing down the side of the Canadian's temple, he realized that the scientist didn't know how badly he was injured, and that he was blind. "Lights," he whispered.
"I know. Something must have happened to the back ups."
"No, they're on."
The words slowly sank through the fog in Rodney's brain before hitting him in the face like a glass of ice water. "I'm blind?" he squeaked. A hand patted his arm in an attempt at comfort.
"Head inj'ry. Beckett fix."
Rodney's chest heaved in fear while his hands touched his own face, confirming what Radek had told him. "I can't see," he mumbled to himself, lost in his own distress until the sound of harsh breathing broke into his misery. Fumbling, he awkwardly reached down and lifted Radek up to help him breathe easier.
"Th'nks."
"Don't mention it," McKay tried to quip.
"Rodn'y?"
"I said, don't mention it."
"You're bleeding," Radek said quietly, finally able to draw a decent breath.
"Don't worry about me. It's just a scrape."
Radek's mouth fell open as he stared at the torn pant leg, revealing a ragged gaping wound and exposed bone on the man holding him still. Rodney must be in shock. Feeling more confident now that he could breathe a little easier, he attempted to sit on his own only to find himself coughing harshly as pain stabbed him in the chest. Keeping his eyes shut to stop the invading tunnel vision, he clung to the blind scientist for support. "Need first aid kit," he finally panted.
"I don't know where one is."
"In jump'r."
Rodney blinked in confusion and shook his head. "I don't know where one is," he repeated.
"We're in jump'r bay."
Sightless blue eyes turned sharply in his direction. "We're on Atlantis?"
Radek nodded, forgetting momentarily that he couldn't be seen. "Explosion, 'memb'r?"
Rodney licked his lips, tasting the coppery taste of blood. "No… no, I don't." Feeling blindly about, his hand connected with something large on the floor behind them. "Can you lean against this while I find the jumper?"
The thought of moving was not high on his list of things to try at the moment, but Radek knew they needed the emergency kit and fearing his own injuries were actually worse than McKay's, he swallowed, "'kay."
"This is gonna hurt us both so don't think this is any fun for me," Rodney grunted. His teeth were beginning to ache from being so tightly clenched. With as little jostling as possible, he got the Czech propped against the chunk of equipment on the floor. "Which way to the jumper?" he hissed, his throbbing leg and head making his entire body pound with every heartbeat.
SG: A
Sheppard snapped his fingers to the nearest tech in the group with a laptop. "Can you connect with the visual from the control room on that thing?" She instantly nodded, stepping into the room opposite the bay and attaching her system to the room's circuitry. Within seconds, the team was surrounding her, staring at the blurry image on the small screen.
"Oh, dear lord," Carson breathed in horror, watching a figure in the center of the wreckage working to free himself from underneath a large piece of equipment. The individual tipped his head back while shoving in exertion, and they were able to make out Rodney's blood covered face as he silently screamed in agony at pulling his leg free. The group gasped, watching the scientist curl up in pain before dragging himself across the jumper bay floor, banging into pieces of scattered debris like he couldn't see what was in front of him. "He's blind," the Scot whispered, his eyes shooting up to meet Sheppard's shocked expression.
When Rodney began to disappear from the available camera angle, Weir's voice came over the headset, "We're trying to get another view of the bay but it appears that the majority of the cameras were damaged in the explosion. Colonel, are you having any luck getting the doors open?"
"That's a negative. We're going to have to go in through the overhead bay doors."
Elizabeth remained quiet for a brief moment before agreeing. "Gather a team of whomever you need and keep me informed. We'll see what else we can do from this end."
"Affirmative. Oh, and can you do something about that alarm. It's got to be driving them crazy in there." Seconds later, the blaring siren quieted.
Tearing his eyes from the screen, Sheppard poked the Scot in the arm to get his attention. "Get your gear and meet me at the transporter." Turning to the sergeant standing behind him, he ordered, "I need ropes and gear for six, the best rappelling team we have, and spotlights aimed as close as possible to the top of the outside bay doors." Grabbing the lead engineer, he dragged the man down the hallway with him as he made his way back towards the crew quarters. "We might need cutting devices, high octane torches. Do we have anything small enough that we can carry to the roof?"
"Nothing that can supply a long burn, but we do have a small portable that can be rigged to take with you."
Sheppard smacked the man on the back, "Good. Go get it and meet me at the transporter." Now alone, he allowed himself to think about the images he'd witnessed in the bay. It was a miracle anyone had survived the blast, but he wasn't surprised that the two scientists had. They just needed to hang on a little longer. Stepping into his quarters, he grabbed his offworld fatigues and dressed quickly, pulling on his fully equipped supply vest but leaving his sidearm, grateful it was one thing he didn't need to worry about.
His adrenaline pumping on high, he ran to catch Beckett and the remaining rescue team members at the transporter alcove.
TBC (It's only gonna get better, folks! Now, the next part will be up later tomorrow!)
