WORST CASE SCENARIO - by NotTasha
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CHAPTER 13: COPACABANA
Sheppard sat on his haunches in the dark, his back pressed against the wall as he listened. Realizing that the light from the P90 wouldn't last forever, he'd opted to save it until McKay was awake again. It was no good to waste power as he sat around. The light would be better used when McKay was awake and maybe thinking clearer. They'd have a chance to form a plan.
Didn't mean he actually liked sitting in the dark.
Earlier, John had examined the room, finding little that could help. There were several sets of shackles, welded quite firmly into the wall. He considered that the metal pieces might be of some use. Maybe they could figure out a way to remove the metal constraints and use them to pry open the door. He'd considered shooting the damn things off the wall and start work but it looked not-too-promising, and he'd prefer that McKay offer up that idea so that, if it failed, he could blame the scientist.
The door had sealed tightly, but there were vents of some sort near the ceiling on the opposite wall. Shining a light into the space revealed only a long shaft that disappeared into darkness. Air came in to them through this. He tried the grating over the vents – but the passageway was far too narrow to even attempt a crawling escape. He checked to ensure that the grates would stay in place if certain pillaging lobsters decided to enter through another corridor. It looked like they'd be safe from that particular invasion.
At least they had air. Fresh and breathing Wraith-feed is so much more tempting to life-suckers than asphyxiated leftovers, Sheppard realized, and he rankled as he came to terms with what the people of Nehalem had done.
They had invited newcomers onto their planet, keeping those that would suit their purpose and had sent the others away. As he sat in the darkness, feeling miserable with his butt ache and his lobster bites, Sheppard wondered what determined the worthiness that turned some people into Wraith kibble. He wondered what flaw let the visitors go on their way, thinking that they'd lost their one chance at sanctuary, yet winning the lottery.
And the darkness seemed more dense and unwelcoming as he contemplated.
Nehalems sucked, he decided. The whole planet sucked – with its stupid fog and its stupid hills and stupid trapdoors and its stupid lobsters of death.
He sighed, and wished that stupid Lorne would show up with a stupid search party and find them in this stupid room in this stupid tunnel. He hoped that they showed up soon because McKay wasn't going to get any better with his stupid broken arm.
Hunching his shoulders, Sheppard sighed, thinking of Ronon and Teyla and remembered that wall of fire that had come down the tunnel. There was little hope for their teammates, but just the same, he had to believe that they were fine.
He let out a slow breath, listening intently for any sound in the hallway beyond the room. The iron-hot door had cooled and the oppressive heat in the room had finally dissipated. It left the air tasting strangely metallic. He listened to Rodney's breathing, listening to it hitch from time to time. He'd call out to see of the scientist was waking, but the breathing would deepen, so Sheppard waited.
He whistled a tune, but the echo of the room annoyed him. Then, with some alarm, he realized that he'd been whistling "Copacabana". He'd called out Rodney's name once to ensure that the scientist was too out of it to pay attention. McKay didn't respond, and for once, Sheppard was glad about it.
After another few minutes in the dark, he tried a new tune, and ended up humming "Kung Fu Fighting" but discovered that song was rather pathetic in the dark.
Finally, bored, he turned on the light again. He figured that he'd better check on McKay's arm and see if there was anything to be done about it.
Rodney hadn't moved, he just kept breathing in that uneven manner that spoke of pain.
Sheppard determined to rig up some sort of a sling for the rest of the journey – for certainly they were getting out of this – whether it was with the help of others or by using their own intelligence. They'd might as well be ready.
Rodney's jacket and shirtsleeves were already rent, so they were the most likely candidates for the sling. Picking up his knife again, Sheppard repositioned himself to get at the sleeves easily.
The moment he leaned over McKay and grasped hold of the fabric, Rodney's breathing came to a sudden halt, followed by a tight and tremulous, "Colonel?"
"What?" Sheppard answered, his grip still on the fabric as he clenched the knife with his other. McKay looked up at him, startled.
"You're not making a… tourniquet?"
"Not right now," Sheppard responded, using the knife to cut loose the sleeves as quickly and as mercifully as possible. "Making a sling."
Rodney watched. "Oh, good," he replied, not sounding terribly enthused. He blinked lethargically.
"We'll get you fixed up and then we'll be able to figure something out."
McKay said nothing, and watched Sheppard with weary and wary eyes in the sharp light of the P90. Sheppard worked at getting the hunks of fabric into a usable shape.
"Yeah," John went on. "We'll get your arm all tied up, then you can go through your bag and find something we can use to open up the door. You have something like that, right? Some sort of universal remote for opening locked doors? Sonic screwdriver, maybe?"
"What?" McKay replied softly. He scrunched up his face for a moment before asking, "You know about Doctor Who?"
"Hey, I've watched a few crappy TV shows in my day."
"Wasn't crappy. It has… a certain wit…a great sense of humor ... and charm…"
"Well, the special effects stunk, you got to admit that."
"That was the charm." McKay took a breath, "…and part of the humor." He continued in the same dreamy tone. "Just because it wasn't up to… Star Trek standards of special effects…" There was sarcasm in his tone.
"Star Trek rocked! Kirk got all the girls."
"Yes… but Doctor Who had companions…"
Sheppard snorted at that, and satisfied that he'd figured out how to secure a sling to do the best job of immobilizing the arm, he returned his attention to McKay. The scientist was staring off toward the door, looking disconcerted – lost.
"Come on," Sheppard said. "Let's get you fixed up. Then we can start figuring our way out of here. It's gotta start getting better now."
"Can't think of too many things worse," McKay muttered.
"I'm sure you could, given a few minutes," Sheppard prompted.
Rodney was quiet a moment, a perplexed look on his face.
"Do not," Sheppard ordered, "try to think of ways of making this worse!"
But Rodney looked beyond him, his gaze fixed on the door. "Do you hear that?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"Listen! Something's out there!"
Sheppard dropped the sling and brought up the weapon, pointing the light at the door. Oh yes, there was definitely something moving. "Lobsters?" John asked, hoping his voice didn't tremble.
"It's big," McKay replied, his voice dropping even lower. "Big, big lobster!"
Sheppard tried not to feel ill at the thought of giant lobsters coming after them. He could hear the noise, now. The thud of feet -- the galumph of something big. Oh God, the nestucca must be huge! The great grandfather of them all. The Lobster King!
He remained in place, keeping himself between the door and Rodney, swallowing down his fears as the thudding came closer. He aimed at the crack in the door, ready to blow the creature into crab cakes if it tried getting through. He waited, alert, ready…
"Do you think it only has four legs?" McKay whispered. "Four… definitely four. Maybe it lost some feet in battle or something…That could be bad, right? Means it's been in a fight or two."
"SHHH!" Sheppard silenced, then paused as he considered this. Four legs? He listened again, realizing that the footfalls outside the door sounded nothing like the freak-show lobsters.
He smiled and opened his mouth to speak.
Before he could get a word out, a voice bellowed, "SHEPPARD!" muffled by the door.
Almost at the same time, a softer, yet equally strong voice called out for, "Doctor McKay!"
Letting out a breath of relief, Sheppard answered, "We're behind the damn door! Get us out of here!"
The door shuddered, then creaked, and finally was pulled open. Sheppard couldn't have been happier to see the faces of his two battered and missing teammates. He grinned at them, and before they could move too far, stated, "Whatever you do, do NOT close that door behind you. It locks."
Ronon made a soft sound as if he found Sheppard's comment to be a little to obvious. "Where've you been?" he asked bluntly as he peered into the room, his voice a little too loud. He held one hand across his chest as he regarded them.
"Oh," Sheppard responded. "Around. You?"
"Yeah, same here." Ronon snorted and shook his head. He looked like hell, battered and filthy, bloodied. Teyla looked little better, but at least her hair didn't hang down in wet dreads like Ronon's did.
Sheppard staggered to his feet to meet them, as Teyla peered in, worriedly, at McKay. Ronon just stared at the space around his feet, with a curious expression as he asked, "What's with the nestucca bake?"
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TBC - It's nearly done. One more section tomorrow!