WINTER WONDERLAND
By NotTasha
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White – everything was white. It had come at him – white. A wall of white – flying at him like a cannon ball – a great white cannon ball – but as wide as the world. He vaguely remembered hitting it – slamming into it – harder than any white should allow. Something had fallen with him – white again.
He rolled through it – seeing white white and white, and fell again.
He landed hard and it'd momentarily knocked the wind out of him. He rolled and turned, tossing over the white – aware of nothing but the whiteness of it – he was dizzy with it. He fought to stop, but laws of gravity and motion were pissed off at him, and he was at their mercy.
It hurt. Goddamn it, it hurt. He slammed into something – and fell, he tossed, he turned, over and over again -- from the white of the ground to the white of the sky, the white that seemed to go to powder-white all around him, and white again as he fell, unable to do a thing to stop it. It all spun past him so quickly, he had no way of discerning anything – nothing outside of the white.
He fell, and kept spinning, and impacting, and fell again, plummeting to crash once more, to land on his side in the white.
Pooofff
Then stillness.
His mind seemed to go white for a while – just a great white openness where nothing existed.
Slowly he began to differentiate one form of white from another -- the white yawning emptiness of his consciousness – the cold cold whiteness around him. He blinked. One eye was dark – the other light. From the light eye, he saw snow crystals caked in his lashes.
He stared at the ice, fascinated with the way the white shown like jewels. There were colors in that crystal. All the colors of the rainbow – and for a moment he focused only on those colors – the colors that played through the ice – creating rainbows -- a meteorological phenomenon -- the spectrum of light.
White light holds all the colors of the rainbow, and can be easily differentiated when properly refracted.
Light. There was light. He tried to twist his head toward it, but pain ratcheted through him and he stilled. Light… light and white – it was all he could see.
Except – one eye was dark – dark and light and white.
Time passed. He tried to move, but felt encompassed by the whiteness, as if it contained him, as if it had swallowed him up. He couldn't escape. He felt so tired. It would be so easy to just relax into the white, to sleep in the white, to become the white.
White… he let himself drift into it…. So much easier to just drift. White… he remembered white. He saw white. Everything was white.
White – a white creature – snapping and yipping and laughing.
Oh God… he remembered… he remembered the white… the white dogs that turned pink in the sun…They'd come at him … they'd come at him again.
Again…
Oh God!
And he threw up an arm, trying to turn, to get away, and the white overcame him again.
White.
CHAPTER 9: RED
"Red!" Ford shouted at the same moment that Sheppard had seen the flash. Red – for a moment the color had shown in the distance, below them, in the empty white expanse of the valley floor.
"Thank God," Sheppard breathed out as he gunned the engine. The skid came down the steep hillside, skittering one way and then the other in a loosy-goosy gyration. "Keep an eye on him!" Sheppard ordered.
Ford's gaze tried to stay on that point in the snow where he'd seen the momentary red flag. The snowmobile went this way and that as Sheppard fought to keep control of it on the too steep terrain.
Thank God, Sheppard repeated to himself. Thank God for pig-headed Canadians that want to wear their damn red jackets on a white planet. God, I love that jacket!
He half-stood as he tried to keep control of the machine, careening toward the bottom of the mountain, keeping an eye on that spot in the snow. If it hadn't been for that jacket…
Jerking the controls, John narrowly missed a stump, spinning the machine about and ducking it down again. There'd been no sign of Akhiok and Karluk. If they'd followed – they were far behind. Somehow, Sheppard figured those two had kept on their original course – damn them! For people known as hunters, the Ekukians were downright timid.
"See him?" Sheppard called as he steered sharply again, nearly running into a tree. The skid handled relatively well, all things considered – a little adjustment here and there and it might run like a dream. "Any sign?"
"I haven't… uff… seen anything," Ford responded, his focus on the distance, looking out into the white snowfield. "Come on, Doc. Do it again…"
Their rear whacked a tree as the major turned sharply again and kept going. He lifted his eyes, to gaze off into that whiteness, hoping for red. The snowmobile skittered, and he fought to keep it on course as it took another downward dive. "Oh crap…" Sheppard hissed as the world went out from beneath them, and he faced a drop that was far too steep this time. "Hang on!" he shouted, as the vehicle went almost vertical, slamming hard on its nose.
Ford fell forward onto Sheppard's seatback as the skid stayed upright for a moment, then twisted sideways.
Sheppard closed his eyes, preparing for impact as he clutched at the handles and the engine roared. He slammed down on his side, whumping into the snow. His sunglasses had disappeared, and for a second, he was still, feeling the machine's vibration as he lay half in a snow bank, yet still straddling the skid's seat – catching his breath.
"Ford?" he twisted, trying to find the lieutenant, but was pressed too deeply into the snow by the weight of the skid. The engine was racing uselessly, and he quickly killed it, to at least rid himself of the constant noise.
And suddenly, everything was silent – the kind of silence that only comes with snow. He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to find no one behind him, and before he could shout out again, he found Aiden standing beside him.
"Major?" the lieutenant called. "Are you all right, sir?"
"How'd you…?" Sheppard started, glancing up at the young man. "How'd you get out from under it?"
"I jumped," Aiden said with a smile, brushing at the snow that covered him. "You okay, sir?"
"Yeah, fine," John answered quickly. And he pressed against the toppled machine that pinned him. "Get this off of me!"
The snow had taken the impact, molding around his leg and the skid. It took some effort, but Ford was able to lift the cocooned machine with some help from his CO. As soon as the weight was removed, Sheppard scuttled out from under the thing, and Ford let it fall back into position.
Huffing as he stood, Sheppard tested his leg. He glared at the wreck. The front rails were twisted from the awkward collision. "Son of a bitch," he growled, kicking the thing with his booted foot, and wincing as his knee told him it wasn't quite as sound as it had been this morning.
"It'll never go straight again," Ford muttered as he took in the sight. "Not without a trip to the shop. Figure they got one handy?"
"Great…" Sheppard groaned, and then stepped around the thing. "How far?"
Pointing, Ford showed the way. "That way," he said. "Not sure about the distance, but it shouldn't be too bad now."
"Grab our packs," Sheppard called. "We're going."
Ford drew back and rooted around the skid a moment. "Ah, sir," he said resignedly, "I hate to say this… but…" He paused as if dreading what he had to say. "We got on the wrong snow-skid."
"What?" Sheppard shot back.
"I don't think it belongs to Karluk. I left my pack with his." Ford sounded resigned and apologetic. "Didn't look at which one I grabbed. Thought it was his. Yours and Dr. McKay's packs are with Akhiok's?"
"You've gotta be kidding." Sheppard strode to the vehicle and grimaced. Damn it to hell! Why'd Ford have to steal some other yahoo's snowmobile? "We got nothing?" Sheppard asked, irritated.
Chagrinned, Ford responded, "Just what we have on us."
"Great," Sheppard ground out again. He started moving, and the snow collapsing beneath his step. He went halfway up to his calf as his foot plunged through the top layer. "Crap," he muttered, taking another step and finding the same result. "Let me guess, whoever owned this thing didn't keep any snowshoes with it, did he?"
"No sir," Ford responded, coming alongside. "I figure we have to make do. He can't be far."
"Fall in behind me," Sheppard directed. "I'll blaze the trail." And they worked their way through the white to the red.
A/N: I hope you've been enjoying it so far! See, they're close now. It's only a matter of time!