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Irrevocable Decision Part 11

He yelled as jagged spikes tore into his lower calf and tumbling to the white ground, he was dimly aware that bright crimson blood had splattered the virgin snow as his trembling hands settled on the offending metal trying desperately to prize it open.

Sobs of agony filled the night air as he strove to escape the agonizing trap which was sending bolts of agony shooting up his leg before returning down to his toes.

'Shit. Shit, SHIT!'

Feeling rivulets of blood pouring down his leg into the heel of his boot from each of the punctures made in his skin, he tried to move his leg into a position that would afford him a better hold of the brutal trap, but the pain intensified until he felt his vision tunnelling and knew consciousness was fading.

He stilled, realizing his chances of survival in these treacherous elements were dangerously diminished if he were to fall unconscious.

'Easy...O'Neill...Easy. Breathe, damn you!' He squeezed his eyes shut, biting down on his lip as the agony rose in increasing waves that he desperately attempted to ride. 'Suck it up, airman; you've had f-cking worse.'

Unsure what would get him first – the loss of blood or the below freezing temperatures – he aimed to prevent both if he could help it. Feeling beads of sweat forming on his forehead, he returned to the agonizing chore of escaping from the bloody grip, unaware of the sweat and tears dripping off his chin, joining the red stain of his life. The tightening in his chest threatened a coughing spasm which he knew would exacerbate his agony and send him over the edge.

Moaning aloud, unable to smother the sounds, he managed to take a hold on either side of the merciless teeth groaning as he prized them apart. Millimetre by millimetre he pulled, but the spring's resistance could not be held back by his shivering effort and it snapped back excruciatingly, enfolding his calf in a grisly embrace. He screamed out to the waiting night, grateful when the blackness enveloped him in its own merciful hold.

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When she skidded to a halt outside his cabin she was on a mission. She noted with grim resolve that Jack's vehicle was parked out front; the lights blazing from the cabin another testament to him being home. She hadn't expected him to have returned so soon but it suited her just fine. Strike while the iron was hot her father had always advised. Well, her former CO was about to see just how hot her iron was. At the back of her mind she was aware she knew of no one, except perhaps General Hammond and Master Bra'tac, who could put Jack O'Neill in his place, but after what Olivia had told her, she was way beyond logic and reasonableness. She had every intention of kicking O'Neill's ass big time.

Slamming her car door with far more force than was necessary, she bounded up the steps of the cabin's deck oblivious to the dangers of the slippery snow coating the wood.

'The bastard lied to me, bullshitted me par excellence and, fool that I am, I took it all in, sucked it up good and proper like the perfect little second-in-command that I am – was!' she corrected herself darkly.

She thumped her fist hard against his door, bouncing from one foot to the other as the adrenaline coursed through her veins.

'Just try ignoring me – this time you've bitten off more than you can chew.' "Colonel! Let me in." As she shouted her demand her hand reached out and opened the door on its well-oiled hinges.

Silence met her.

'Hell, where are you.' "Dad?" Hadn't he said he would return with O'Neill? She scowled, prowling through the cabin, moving from room to room, pausing outside what she presumed was his open bedroom door. She hesitated, then cursed herself and entered, her eyes falling to his bedside table and the closed book, the hint of a photograph sticking out as a bookmark.

Wasn't that...? Her inquisitive nature could not be deterred and reaching out, she flipped open the book and froze.

When she returned to her car for the whining Oscar, she couldn't honestly make up her mind whether she was more angry or not, but as she raised the boot of the vehicle she was giving serious thought as to her mode of attack. Subtle or brutal? Decisions, decisions.

And as Oscar leaped into the snow, nose instantly to the ground sniffing furiously as he wheeled one way and then the other, a slight curl to Sam's lips attested to the fact that she had made up her mind and she was looking forward to the ensuing fight. Except...just where the hell was the blasted man?

Returning to the warmth of the cabin she rubbed cold hands together, blowing on them.

"Come on, Oscar. No point freezing our butts out here……" She peered back outside and frowned irritably. "Oscar? Oscar!" 'Damnation. Where the hell is that dog now?' Her exasperation was giving her a serious sense of humour failure. 'Damn, damn, damn. That dog is going to drive me insane, unless,' she admitted, 'Jack O'Neill beats him to it!'

Sam cast her eyes around the cabin noticing for the first time the brightly coloured rugs thrown haphazardly on the buffed pine floor, aware that they were of excellent quality, possibly Turkish. She'd spent a couple of years in that country and had fallen in love with the warm, vibrant people and learned a lot about the classic oriental designs predominant there. She hadn't realized O'Neill was such a connoisseur, but there again, nothing, she had to admit, would surprise her about the man. Decorated in the minimalist style, she had to admit grudgingly that everything in the cabin had been tastefully chosen if just a little too 'male' for her liking.

She spied the chess set to one side, noting that there was a game in progress. How did the man manage to enjoy playing against himself? It was unnatural and so unnecessary! And as her train of thought ran along those lines, she could feel her annoyance with the canine transfer to the former leader of SG1, as if she wasn't furious enough with the man. She wouldn't, she promised, allow herself to think of the reasons behind why a picture of her taken at one of the SGC's barbecues last year should be kept in a book on Jack O'Neill's bedside. She had to admit it was at least a halfway to decent pictureof her, as her memory recalled, laughing at something the colonel had said just as Daniel had clicked away. It couldn't possibly have any significance, could it?

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It was no good. She was incapable of sitting back and waiting.

'The damned mutt will more than likely end up in Canada if I don't go out looking for him!'

Having prowled the house a little longer, hoping against hope that an excited barking would assail her auditory senses, she left the warm comfort of the cabin, aware of the utter silence of the white night which gave back nothing. All too aware of how heavily the snow was now falling, she was loath to admit that it wouldn't be too long before she was a prisoner. These had to be blizzard conditions. She could barely see a yard in front of her.

'Drat the dog!' If she wasn't careful she'd be holed up here, and after speaking her mind to O'Neill, she had a funny feeling this wouldn't be the ideal spot to be in. Rolling her eyes, she admitted that was an absolute understatement. She was so not going to be flavour of the month – make that year.

She wouldn't mind, but the reason the wretched dog was now off exploring the wilds of Minnesota was all Jack's fault – if he hadn't gone and moved to this part of the world full time, Jacob wouldn't have come here, Daniel wouldn't have gotten the phone call, and she wouldn't have gotten Daniel's call. Furthermore, she wouldn't have broken every speeding law in three states getting to Jack's cabin worried sick that her father had done something terrible to the colonel. Hah,how ironic considering how much she would like to lay into the man at this very moment!

She peered out at the land beyond, white the only dominant colour – all else erased from the landscape. She shivered, feeling eeriness in the calm, the silence now appearing sinister. Shaking her head, Sam wondered at her own overwrought imagination. What was wrong with her for God's sake? Renowned for her coolness under fire, she couldn't quite shake the disquiet she felt. And for what reason? Is this what she had been reduced to when she came in contact with Jack O'Neill? Damn the man!

"You're pathetic, Sam Carter," she taunted herself sharply. "Five minutes in his company and you get the jitters. Pull yourself together!"

She grimaced, appalled with herself. She had come here with the firm resolve to put one tall, grey haired ex-colonel with attitude, firmly in his place and if it hadn't been for one loony dog she would, she was sure, have been practicing her bawling out routine to perfection.

'And where is the mutt, anyway?' she asked herself, glancing at her watch, alarmed at the passing time. If she didn't set off soon she wouldn't be going anywhere.

"Oscar!" She bawled the name to the heavens and just as she was about to chance entering the trees, she saw him loping out of the woods covered in a layer of snow, long tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. He stopped when he saw Sam and began to race back to the trees.

"Oh no you don't. Oscar! Here boy, come on fella. Come here, Oscar, let's go find Mark."

It was with immense relief she saw him stop, look back and then turn towards her.

She'd opened the rear door of her car and whistled for good measure and it seemed to do the trick, for the animal hurtled back and bounded into the back. Just at that moment she saw the dark marks on his hind quarters and she groaned.

"Hell. I hope that's mud and not crap." The thought of a wet dog in a warm, confined space stinking of animal faeces was not a happy thought. As Oscar turned and tried to lick her face, she grabbed the spare towel for just such occasions and started to wipe off the dirt, sniffing suspiciously.

In the dim light of the vehicle she almost missed it, but it was the stickiness that alerted her to the fact that it wasn't crap or mud. And as her heart sank, she speedily examined her brother's dog dreading that it had been injured. He certainly hadn't appeared hurt as he raced back to her and, as she finished her examination, she started to wonder, if the dog wasn't injured, just whose blood was it?

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(Go to Chapter 12