Part 4 of 10
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John groaned as the shaking, trembling tunnel finally fell silent again. "Damn that was big." He shifted in the darkness, slowly trying to access his situation. Feeling around him he exhaled slowly with relief. Nothing hurt...much. Okay that wasn't quite true either.
His head ached where he knew he'd been hit by something, but other than that he felt fine- just—a bit stuck. With his legs curled up beneath him, Sheppard realized the huge dresser he'd been trying so hard to move, had tipped over and was now wedged at an angle just above him. He was trapped in a tiny triangle of space, just large enough for him to shuffle around in. The dresser, rested against the wall just above his head. Feeling for a way to crawl out, John discovered more boxes and junk blocked his way.
"Damn it." They didn't have time for any of this.
"Carson?" He called out, his voice sounding strange in the stillness. Is this what it'd been like for Rodney? Was McKay trapped like this? "Beckett!" John yelled this time, his fear growing. Was Carson okay?
"'m here. I'm here."
"Oh, thank God." John tried to shift as he heard Carson's low moan but there was no room to move his legs. "Are you hurt? Can you move?"
"Aye," Beckett answered sluggishly bringing a new frown to John's face.
"Carson" He questioned with a hint of demand.
"I'm okay, just..." The Scot's voice drifted again.
"Doc!"
"No, no. I'm just a bit...stuck," Carson hurried to explain. "A pile of stuff buried me." John could hear Beckett moving now, shuffling and sliding items out of the way. "Are you alright?" There was obvious tension in Carson's voice. The doctor wasn't telling him everything.
"Bump on the head is all," John answered, honestly. "Its not that bad, but I'm stuck, too."
"Aye."
There was more shuffling and movement before a loud crash and sharp hiss.
"Carson?" John couldn't help the anxiety in his voice. Belatedly he remembered he was still wearing his vest.
"I'm good," Beckett answered immediately, but Sheppard could tell it was through clenched teeth.
"You're lying to me, Carson." Fumbling awkwardly, John managed to reach the pocket that held his flashlight. He pulled it out and turned it on, at once relieved as the darkness dissipated.
"Yeah," Carson mumbled again and went quiet.
"You're not doing a good job of reassuring me," John growled, flicking the light around. He could just make out Carson's legs through the jumble of debris. The doctor had managed to get to his knees.
"Yeah, well. You know that broken hand issue I was warning you about?"
John swallowed. "Yeah."
"I think I should have learned how to fall better."
"Your hand?"
"Or wrist, can't tell exactly, but I messed something up."
John closed his eyes with a mix of relief and renewed concern. Broken bones hurt like a bitch but would heal. A Doctor's hands though, a surgeon's... his hands were everything. He heard more shuffling and grunting. "What are you doing?"
Carson cursed under his breath. "Trying to reach...there."
"What?" John hated not being able to see what was going on.
"The life signs detector. Right before that last tremor..."
"I think it'ssafe to call that sucker a quake."
Carson chuckled. "Right before it hit, I thought I saw a couple of signals."
"Colonel Sheppard? Dr. Beckett?"
"Teyla!" John sat up, whacking his head on the dresser again. "Dang it!"
"Are you alright?" Teyla and Carson asked together.
"Yeah yeah. You and Ronon?"
"We are unharmed."
"Just hit the tunnel when the quake hit," Ronon added.
"Thank God. Get us out of here will you?"
As John watched through the wreckage, Ronon and Teyla's legs quickly came into view as they managed to dig Carson out and while Teyla helped the doctor, Ronon moved on to Sheppard.
"Think you can move it?" John asked when Ronon cleared the final large crate out of the way and peered down into John's tiny space.
Ronon rolled his eyes in a 'duh' expression and effortlessly shoved the armoireup and back against the opposite wall, freeing Sheppard and clearing the hallway.
"I hate when you do that." John accepted the hand offered to help him up.
"What? Rescue you?" Ronon grinned.
"No." John patted the Satedan's arm in thanks and moved past him. "Make it look so damn easy."
Teyla had just finished stablilzing Carson's left arm against his chest using field bandages. She immediately handed John the LSD.
"Take Carson and go back to the gate," John started.
"John."
"Don't even think it. You're not goin' without me," Carson cut Teyla's protest off, pushing away from the pile of crates he'd been sitting on. "You don't know what condition Rodney will be in when we find him. I'm going,too."
"But your..." Sheppard waved lazily at Carson's bound arm.
"What about you?" Carson pointed to John's head.
John reached up and touched his hairline, surprised to find it sticky with fresh blood. "Fine." He knew when he was on the losing side of an argument. Teyla picked up Carson's pack, dusting it off as Sheppard held up the LSD and smiled tightly. "Let's get moving then."
Rodney didn't want to open his eyes. He knew instinctively, it wouldn't make a difference. Reluctantly, he forced his eyes open anyway to find he'd been right.
Pitch blackness.
God, he hurt. Whatever that last jolt, tremor, quake from hell had been- it had not been pleasant.
Breathing deeply, Rodney choked and realized that wasn't the smartest plan. What all had happened? He tried to figure out if anything had changed. No, everything still hurt. Something big still pinned him to the ground,but he thought maybe it had shifted? He couldn't be certain. All he knew was that now, his head hurt...a lot. He tried to move his right arm but found it now pinned, outstretched beside him. He shifted his hand and felt Ergo's foot again. This time he didn't pull away.
How sad a state was he in that just gripping the worn boot of a dead man made him feel less alone? "Oh God," he whimpered into the dirt. "I'm gonna die."
He'd thought it before, feared it, rebelled against it, but now, buried and completely helpless...he pushed reality away and tried to raise his head. Pain seared through him, his temple throbbed. He felt the thick wet trickle down the side of his face, tracing his jaw line. Great. Of course he'd been whacked on the head. It fit well into the day and all, didn't it?
He was going to be sick. He battled his growing nausea. Do. Not. Puke. He commanded himself. You have no way to move away from it. You will not die lying in your own vomit!
Swallowing slowly, he closed his eyes and tried to picture wide open fields again, but it didn't work. What the hell was he going to do now?
"Stay warm. Stay breathing. Stay alive as long as you can. Give your team the biggest window of opportunity possible." Samantha Carter's voice echoed in his weary mind.
"Can't stay warm," he automatically argued, knowing not even her illusion was there now—just the memory of it.
"They're coming for you. They're going to get you out of here."
Damn, she was persistent.
"They don't have a clue where I am." McKay felt heavy. What was he arguing for? He didn't even know if the others were still alive.
"Please just give them a chance."
But if they were—McKay tried not to think about his aches and pains. He tired not to concentrate on anything else.
Stay breathing.
Stay alive.
A comforting confidence overwhelmed him. If John Sheppard was out there—he was searching. The knowledge washed over him as Carter's words resounded in his memory once more.
"They'll find a way."