WORST CASE SCENARIO - by NotTasha
A/N: Squeee! Your reviews fill me with glee!
CHAPTER 4: BUTT BONE
He landed with a bone-jarring WHUMP and before he could clear his head, there was a thump and a click above him, and then just darkness -- utter darkness.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. What the hell just happened? It'd all been so damn quick, his mind wasn't quite ready to deal with it. He was sitting up – that was one plus. But ow… he wasn't sure if it was such a good idea at the moment. With a groan, Sheppard tipped back his head and stared up the darkness above him. Ow…
He was sore. He ached. His butt hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and his teeth rang from the fall. Must have gone straight down on his ass. Damn, damn, damn. He blinked in the blackness, and without really thinking about it, called, "Rodney?"
The lack of immediate response got Sheppard moving. He shifted, and pain went through him. Damn. Aw crap! He tried to ignore it as he felt about, his hands quickly coming in contact with his companion's jacket. "McKay!" he called again, giving the man a bit of a shake.
"Huh?" was the intelligent response. "What…?" and the voice trailed off.
Grasping hold of his P90, John unhooked it from his jacket and turned on the light. Instantly, the space was bathed in light – revealing what looked like long room with open doorways on either end. McKay was sprawled out on his back, squinting in the light. Beneath them, a flimsy little mat apparently had tried to break their fall.
"Hey, McKay, you okay?" Sheppard asked again, not liking the disoriented expression that met him.
"Fell," Rodney responded quietly. "Fell through a hole." He brought up one hand to touch his forehead and grimaced at the movement. "Crap."
"Yeah, crap is right," John replied, glad to have gotten something out of the man. Since McKay was, at least, talking, he raised the light to examine the ceiling. Directly above them, in the wood plank ceiling, a rectangular section was hinged and set with some sort of spring-loaded device. Trapdoor. Damn. They'd fallen through a trapdoor!
Why the hell did stuff like this always have to happen to them?
He studied it, trying to figure out how the thing had functioned, how had it opened, and how were they were going to get back through it.
A shuddering breath drew his attention from the deadfall and back to McKay. The Canadian's eyes were pinched shut, and his face held taut.
"So, what's wrong?" Sheppard asked, trying to sound casual. When McKay didn't answer immediately, he went on, "Me, I think I busted my butt. I came down right on my ass." He shuffled back and forth uncomfortably. "Yeah, that smarts. I probably busted my butt bone or something."
"Coccyx," McKay correct.
"No, that's fine. And aren't you getting a bit personal?"
"What?" McKay blinked at him, looking muddled.
Sheppard realized that the joke had been lost on the otherwise quick-witted scientist. "What hurts?" he asked, his voice firm.
It took a moment for McKay to form a reply, as he apparently attempted to locate the source of his discomfort. "My shoulder." He moved slightly, stopping with a hiss. "Yeah, oh yeah. That really hurts. I can't… I don't think I can move my arm. Maybe I can…" He tried, but his left arm only made a small and pathetic jerking movement. McKay sucked in air. "God, it hurts when I do that."
"So, don't do it," Sheppard told him, quietly laying a hand on the arm to gently put it into a more comfortable position. It didn't 'look' broken, but there was no telling what was going on just yet. "Probably just bruised it," he tried to assure himself.
McKay looked distraught. "It hurts all down my arm," he said softly.
"Yeah, you just whacked your funny bone or something."
"Not funny at all," McKay grumbled. "I think I hit my head. I think…" And he reached for the back of his head with his good hand, his face scrunched up with pain.
Sheppard grimaced, knowing that his expression was hidden from the light. Damn. "Leave it alone," Sheppard ordered, bringing the light away from Rodney to shine it at the ceiling again. It would be a hell of a thing to get back up there with McKay's injured shoulder. They'd need help.
He touched his radio. "Teyla. Ronon, come in." He waited a moment and called again. "Ronon? Teyla? We have a situation. Come in." With a frown, Sheppard turned to McKay and asked him, "Did you read me on your radio?"
Rodney responded with an attempt at a nod. He sucked in a breath and stopped the movement almost immediately. "You're coming in loud and clear."
"Ronon. Teyla. Respond." The colonel waited a moment longer before he cursed. With more effort than it should have taken, John struggled to his feet. God, he'd never make fun of anyone who'd busted their butt bone. It hurt like crazy. He heard McKay try his radio as well, calling out for Teyla and Ronon, but there was no response.
"Great," Sheppard grumbled, shifting from foot to foot. Ow and ow. He reached one arm, finding the ceiling a good foot beyond his reach. Even that stretch hurt. "Great," he said again.
Unable to go up, he turned the light in one direction and then another. He frowned as he gazed through a doorway. There was a room on the other side, and beyond that, another doorway with another room. It seemed to go on and on, like some sort of mirrored illusion.
There was another mat in the next room – and the next – probably under other trap doors. One of those might be easier to reach than this one, because, if he had to be honest with himself, Sheppard really didn't want to try climbing at that moment, not without the help of Ronon and Teyla on the other side.
"Think they're okay?" McKay asked. Sheppard looked down at his feet, taking in Rodney's anxious expression. "They could have fallen into something, too. Might be in trouble. We should probably…" He made a movement as if to sit up. "Gah!"
"Just keep quiet a minute," Sheppard said calmly, knowing that if McKay was seriously injured, time was at a premium. "I'm going to check things out. See if I can't find another way out. There's got to be something. Maybe the structure of this place is blocking transmission. Possible?"
"Yeah, possible."
"You got a flashlight, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, I think." McKay answered, making a feeble attempt with his right hand to reach a pocket on the left side of his jacket.
With a sigh, Sheppard made the valiant journey to one knee and fussed around with McKay's jacket pockets until he came up with a flashlight. He turned it on and put it in Rodney's good hand. "So you're gonna be okay for a minute, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure."
Sheppard nodded reassuringly. "I'll be right back."
"Okay, sure," McKay agreed, clutching the flashlight. "I'll be fine, here ... alone."
With a struggle, John made it to his feet again, doing his darnedest to stifle any groans. Broken… definitely snapped his butt bone in two. It had jiggered his whole spine. He walked stiffly to the next door without looking back. "Just keep still until I get back."
"Colonel!"
"What?"
"Be careful, but, you know, find something. Okay?"
"Yeah." He paused at the next doorway and shone the light inside, to reveal another room exactly like the one they were in: a mat on the floor, a door on both ends, and a trap door above. He stepped slowly into the room, cautious, hopeful that he wasn't going to fall through another trap and into a lower level. That'd be just his luck.
When he reached the mat, he toed it, finding it just as hard and unforgiving as the one that had been their cushion.
"Probably used to be a lot more soft," McKay said from the other room, obviously watching him. "I'm thinking that, over time, they… ow…." He gasped, and Sheppard could hear Rodney fussing about behind him. "Okay… the … straw or … ah… whatever is…ow… oh… oh… not so good. Okay."
Sheppard turned and looked back toward McKay. The physicist had managed to sit himself upright and was clinging to his left arm, trying to hold it close to him and juggle the flashlight at the same time.
"Why don't they make flashlights easier to hold!" McKay bitched breathlessly. "Especially when one of your arms are broken."
"Come on, McKay. You probably just dislocated something. I'll pop it back in place if you want. Just means I'll have to wrench your arm about a bit. I'd just have to find the socket and jam it into place. It makes this really weird popping sound. Sometimes it takes a while to get forced into the joint correctly."
McKay became quiet at that comment. Sheppard could hear a soft muttering coming from him. "It's okay," he finally uttered. "I'm fine."
"Great. Now, stop moving around, you idiot."
"We shouldn't get separated," McKay told him.
Sheppard sighed as he regarded his friend. McKay certainly didn't look good. Damn, he'd better find help fast. "I'm going to be coming back! Just let me look around a bit, okay? Stay there. Keep quiet."
"Yeah, yeah," McKay responded. "It was just hard laying on my back, you know? It hurt. I thought it might be better sitting up, but… oooo!"
"Keep quiet!" Sheppard hissed as he moved forward, feeling the ache of every step. He could find no other exit and saw no means of reaching the trap door above them. He moved onward, hoping that the next room might prove more accommodating.
"Colonel," McKay called again as he made it to the next door.
"I'm just checking it out!" Sheppard snapped as he pressed a hand to the open door. He swung it back and forth thoughtfully, wondering. And he smiled. "Hey! I think I got an idea." He glanced back through the rooms to McKay. "We get enough doors off their hinges and we can build something that could reach the trapdoor.
"What? Without a hammer or nails or anything?"
"Build it like a house of cards. It'll be easy," Sheppard decided.
"Yeah, right," McKay responded sulkily as he held onto his hurt arm. "House of cards? Those things come down, you know."
"We'll manage it," Sheppard said, grinning, damn glad he'd come up with an answer regarding their escape. He was feeling better almost immediately. Maybe his ass wasn't broken. "Hey, and there's a chair in this room. Cool. We can use that."
"Oh great, a chair. You can't even sit down with your broken butt."
"Yeah, but we can stand on it to get out," And he frowned as he noted the state of the seat. He rather doubted it would hold any weight. "Look, we get this put together and we can find out what happened with Teyla and Ronon, okay?"
"Okay, okay, okay." There was a pause as the scientist pondered. "We could use the mats to brace the structure a bit, keep it from collapsing. It might work," McKay conceded. "I think I can engineer something."
"Good," Sheppard responded.
"Don't know how safe it would be though."
"It'll be safe enough! I'm going to check a bit further."
"Don't go too far!" McKay called.
"I'm not! You can still see me, for Christ' sake. Don't get all unglued!" Sheppard remarked, finding yet another room exactly like the others. No chair though. No way out either. Damn.
"You're getting too far."
"McKay! Just calm down. Come on, wouldn't you rather go out a door instead of climbing up on top of a bunch of … doors?"
"Yeah, well…"
"Hang on," Sheppard said having to shout now. "I'll check out one more, then come back and check the other way, okay?"
"Okay," McKay answered quietly, sitting alone in the first room.
"What the hell was going on in here?" John asked, his voice raised. "Was this how they got rid of the Wraith? Dropped them on their asses and kicked them off the planet?"
"Most likely these were Shanghai Tunnels," McKay called back.
"What?"
"Portland, Oregon, turn of the century, ah previous century," McKay explained. "They used to have a thriving market in slave labor. An able-bodied man would enter a tavern, have a drink or two. The next thing he knew, he'd be dropped through the floor and toted through tunnels to the waterfront and conscripted to a ship for a journey to Asia. Went on for decades. Probably one of these trap doors in each of the businesses on the main drag."
"You think that's what they did that here?" Sheppard asked as he looked through the narrow room for any hope of help.
"To work on their fishing fleet?" McKay returned. "That seems, odd, doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't want to work on a fishing boat," Sheppard told him, "I mean, first there's the seasickness, but then you have to deal with all the… fish." He paused, listening.
"Yeah, who'd want that?"
"Shhh!" Sheppard uttered and flung up a hand for silence.
"There are worse jobs in the world," McKay went on, oblivious. "Okay, they say that Alaskan Crab Fishermen have the deadliest jobs on Earth, but they have nothing on us, do they? When do they start rating jobs on other planets?"
"McKay!"
"I think coal mining is right up there too for deadliest occupation. That would totally suck. I mean, underground…in the cold… the dark with only a little flashlight…" his voice became a little hollow.
"McKay! Quiet! Now!"
"I'm just sayin', because I'm alone here and…"
"Shut your…"
"Look, you really should come back this way because I think it would be better for both of us."
"SHUT UP!" Sheppard snapped. In the silence that followed, John listened. There was a strange scratching sound, a chattering, scrabbling that made his hair stand up on end.
Slowly, he approached the doorway and shone the light into the next room and felt the pit of his stomach drop as he stared into the scene. The room was filled with spidery lobster-creatures, greenish, bluish things, with beady black eyes. Not stoats, they moved too much like insects, shuttling across the floor, turning, clattering about on too many legs, heading like an army in his direction.
And suddenly McKay's last comment didn't seem like such a bad idea.
--
TBC - Hoo boy... Lobsters creep me out a bit.