WORST CASE SCENARIO - by NotTasha
Your feedback is so wonderful! You're so darn kind. Thank you! I hope you like the next bit. It's mayhem mayhem mayhem!
CHAPTER 6: HOW TO BLOCKADE A DOOR THAT OPENS IN
They came at him – the lobster creatures that looked far too much like bugs. They charged in a rush of feelers and legs, and claws that nipped at the air. One of the sons-of-bitches must have had a rocket up its tail because it almost flew across the room at him.
Sheppard slammed the door shut, startled to find it spring back at him, following a sickening crunching sound as the lobster met its end. He shined his flashlight down at the nestucca's cracked body that writhed in the doorway, blocking it. Its exoskeleton was busted down the center, revealing oozy white flesh and greenish goop within. Legs flailed ghoulishly. Bits of brain were mashed in the doorway.
He stepped back as the creature's brethren flowed in. The chittering creatures enveloped the dying one, setting in to dine before the death throes finished, forming a huge clot in the doorway as others simply surged onward – their little insect minds set on another dainty dish.
The door swung wide and John spun, savagely kicking at the nearest spidery-things as they scrabbled at his feet. Persistent as hell, they weren't to be dissuaded by a simple smashing. He stepped away, coming down on the tail of one of them. Lobster goo spurted across his leg.
He nearly slipped and fought for his footing on the spilled spooge as more the lobster creatures scurried after him – clicking and clattering. As he swung the flashlight about, it illuminated ghoulish moments – bobbing eyestalks, snapping pinchers snapped, nattering legs, flapping tail parts. Their movements made a horrible sound, like typewriters, like chicken-bones breaking, like cartoon rabbits chewing at carrots.
"Colonel?" Rodney's alarmed voice called from a couple of rooms away. "Colonel?"
They were damn fast, and swarming all around him, grabbing at his pants legs. The flashlight only provided iffy light, leaving too much in shadow. Sheppard let out a shout as little legs poked him, as mandibles clattered, and pinchers clung. One of them dove at him, somehow gaining enough altitude to strike him in the stomach. It dug its weird legs into the fabric of his jacket and attempted to climb.
With a gasp of disgust, Sheppard grasped it with one hand and flung the creature into a wall others tried to clamber up his leg.
Ferociously, Sheppard kicked, freeing himself from most of them instantly. But even as he wrenched one free, another took its place. He slung the P90 over his shoulder, diverting the light unhelpfully upward. Using both hands, he grabbed at the creatures, pitching them in any direction, smacking the foul things into the walls. One of the more of the adventurous creatures hung on, getting a bit of a ride on his foot before it slipped a bit and got stomped.
The sensation of giant bug squishing under one's foot was not the sort of thing John relished. He struggled away, slipping in the goo, stumbling, trying to keep moving without falling, for he knew, if he were to go down in this mob, he would never see the light of day again.
And it wouldn't help his aching ass any.
"I'm trying…" McKay was saying in the next room, but Sheppard had no time to listen. "I'm coming…but… I…"
Finally finding his footing, Sheppard took flight, running with the insect-like things right behind him. He caught the chair with one hand and swung it at the marauding nestuccas, flinging them helter-skelter, smashing, and braining, and de-legging those who dared wiggle anything in his direction.
"You bastards!" he shouted. "Die! Die! Die!"
"Colonel? What's happening?"
"I'm killing them!"
"Oh."
He killed them, but he couldn't stop them. Even as he crowned and slaughtered and split dozens of the creatures, dozens rushed forward to replace them. They swarmed, looking like a wave in a horrible, buggy sea. Some would stop to feast on the dead, but that left all the others hungry – jealous and angry!
"Sheppard?" Rodney called again, his voice tight, as if he spoke through clenched teeth.
There was no time for explaining, no time for reassuring or offering advice. The flashlight caught freakish images. Eyestalks baubled and seemed to wink at him. Pinchers gnashed in his direction. Little creepy feet crept and skittered. They kept coming, moving like freaks, climbing over the tops of each other in their haste to suck out his eyeballs.
Still swiping the chair around, he snapped off a few of those weirdo eyes, bent legs backwards and smashed off heads. Sheppard moved backward, making it to the next door with a little buffer-space behind him, and slammed the door. With a grunt, he rammed his shoulder against it for good measure. It didn't latch. The door would not stay shut.
Crap… oh crap.
In the next room, he could hear Rodney's plaintive question, "What's happening? What's going on?"
"Bugs!" Sheppard got out. "Lots and lots of bugs!" He could hear them on the other side of the door, clattering and chittering, colliding with the door. Beneath his shoulder, the door shuddered with the force of their impacts. He pulled his head back, realizing that he could hear them almost at his head level – were they climbing the door? Were they building a mountain out of their own bodies to get higher?
Oh God, what a freak show!
Sheppard let out a groan. They were going to break the door down! He glanced at the brain-bedecked chair, still clutched in his hand, and quickly jammed it under the doorknob. For good measure, he gave it a kick to ensure that it was wedged tightly between the knob and the floor.
OW! Damn… damn… butt bone. He'd almost forgotten. He staggered backward, the muscles of his gluteus maximus clenched tight in hopes that would help. It didn't. OW…
As he stepped away, slipping and sliding, the door shimmied and the lobsters kept up their attack. He turned, catching sight of Rodney in the next room. Illuminated in the light of his own flashlight, the man had managed to struggle partially upright. He was on one knee, in the classic 'genuflection' position, slumped forward, one arm clenched to his stomach so that he looked as if he were praying. He gasped, continuing his attempt to get to his feet. His face was sweaty with the effort this had taken.
Sheppard waddled the few unbalanced steps to the final doorway, careful of the guts stuck to his feet, and once he was in, he kicked the door shut with enough force to make his ass want to smack him.
Goddamn, that hurt.
Just to spite him, the door wobbled open. With a despairing groan, Sheppard tried it again, with a little less force. No, the door would not stay shut.
"Bugs? What kind of bugs?" McKay asked, a note of terror in his voice.
"Remember those lobster things that Teyla told us about?" Sheppard mentioned as he reached Rodney.
"Yeah."
"They can survive out of water," Sheppard spat.
"Oh…" Rodney looked toward the door, his expression uncertain. He blinked, and then stated, "I think we figured out what moved up the food chain to replace the rats."
With a dissatisfied sound, Sheppard muttered, "I would have preferred rats, I think." He lowered his light from the door. "Damn it, McKay! Why didn't they show up on your scanner?"
McKay felt about and groaned. "Lost it," he mumbled.
"Lost what?"
With an ashamed expression, McKay explained, "The life signs detector. Must have dropped it in the fall."
Sheppard had not time to search for it. "We got to go."
"Yeah, figured as much."
"Think you can get moving? I mean, because if you'd rather stay here … you're not allergic to seafood, are you?" He nodded toward the shut door. "'Cause that'll put a rash on you that you'd never forget."
McKay looked up at Sheppard. "You're walking awful funny," he stated.
With a scowl, Sheppard scraped one boot bottom across the mat, and then the other. "It's bad enough I gotta try to run when my butt should be in a sling, the least I can hope for is to keep from falling on it again." Satisfied that he was relatively safe from sliding, he asked, "You ready to get out of here?"
McKay looked disgusted as he gazed at the mess Sheppard had left on the mat. "Do you know how you're going to get out?"
"No." Sheppard glanced back to the shut door, listening to the sound of thousands of lobsters trying to chew through a wooden door in the next room. How long would it take for them to get through the first one? And then through the one after that? "I just know we're not going THAT way."
"Seems like a reasonable plan," McKay responded.
With a wince and a grimace, Sheppard tugged at the physicist, feeling the pull in rather uncomfortable places.
Rodney tottered dangerously once he was upright, leaning on Sheppard and uttering a quiet, "Oh." He slumped, his face going a little slack. "I think I need to lie down."
For a moment, Sheppard held up Rodney's weight. "Not now, McKay," Sheppard gritted through his teeth as he held up his friend. If they only had a few minutes, he could give the scientist a moment to get his bearings. "We're going. Now. Come on, don't be a pain in my ass. I can't stand another one right now."
"Might not… might not have a choice." Rodney licked his lips, and held tightly to his hurt arm. "Oh God, I don't feel so good." He continued to lean against Sheppard, squeezing his eyes shut.
Sheppard held the dizzy physicist steady, wishing he could do something more to help him. "We have to move, now," he stated, keeping any sympathy from his voice. "And I need the mat."
Rodney nodded, wincing at the movement. "Okay," he agreed quietly, as he stumbled a step or two away from John to carry his own weight and to step clear of the mat. He blinked, confused.
Sheppard made the painful journey to bend down and reach one corner of the mat. He set down the P90 and let it illuminate his work from that angle.
"That's the last door," McKay stated, and Sheppard looked over his shoulder to see what Rodney was talking about. The light showed that they would be going through one more doorway and after that, a long hallway opened up.
"Yeah, so I'd better get this one secured." Sheppard tugged at the mat, doing his best not to groan in pain as he attempted to pull it toward the door. Oh God, this wasn't going to work.
"Might work better if you roll it… like a carpet," McKay suggested, standing unsteadily to one side.
"Yeah, right," Sheppard responded, moving to the other side of the mat. He started moving it, bringing up one end and rolling the thing toward the door. McKay offered what help he could by lighting the way. Sheppard had it shoved against the door relatively quickly.
Not satisfied, but knowing he had no other means of locking out the creatures, Sheppard turned and made his way back to McKay. He leaned, without bending too much, to pick up Rodney's pack, and slung it onto his back.
He led, grasping McKay by the elbow of his good arm. Rodney tottered valiantly alongside, closing his eyes as he fought to keep upright.
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TBC - that was weird.