Teyla wasn't sure what to make of Halloween. It was her third year with the Lanteans, so she was now accustomed to watching them celebrate the peculiar holiday, but the concept was difficult to grasp. Why people would go out of their way to scare themselves once a year was a foreign idea at best. Perhaps, she supposed, it came from a lack of fear in their everyday lives. On Earth—the mystical place that was a far away home for so many of them—they did not have the Wraith to keep that fear alive day after day. So the people created one special night to let their own fears fuel them. It was odd, yes, but perhaps understandable when seen in that light.
The year previous, John had set up what they called a haunted house within Atlantis itself. Ronon was given the honor of playing in the grand finale, guaranteed to scare anyone within a ten-mile radius. That was how John explained it at any rate. To be fair, many of the Athosian children did scream, but for Teyla, well, the most Zombie Sheppard managed to get from her was a raised eyebrow and a shake of the head.
It was hard to believe that this current planet was not another of John's haunted houses. The dense fog stopped just meters from the gate, and in the distance she could barely make out a castle sitting atop a hillside. Even from here she could see that the windows were crooked and that the house sat on a slight slant beside a few leafless trees. There was a set of winding stairs outside the house, beside which a flaming torch sent streams of smoke into the opaque night. And it wasn't just the house that seemed to share in the Halloween theme. Silhouettes of large birds winged before a perfectly round moon. Beside her, an entourage of spiders scurried across the mud to some unknown destination.
"Creepy place Rodney managed to land himself in." Carson hoisted his pack further up his back, his gaze lost in the castle up ahead. "I suppose we should be heading up there."
"Probably. It's about the only lead we have to go on. Don't worry, doc, we'll have your back." Lorne offered an encouraging smile, which Teyla backed up with her own silent nod.
"Aye, I trust that you will. Let's get up there then. The sooner we get to Rodney, the sooner we can get out of here." Beckett's eyes were downcast, and though Teyla knew he would say nothing aloud, she could see that the physician felt they were probably too late.
"You're sure this is a good idea?" Deschutes asked. She stared at the castle as though seeing through it. She bit down on her lip in a nervous way that Teyla was not sure she liked seeing on one of the Marines. Soldiers were human, it was true, but distraction and fear too often led to death.
Teyla offered her a warm smile. "No, I am not sure it is a good idea, but it may help lead us to Dr. McKay."
Teyla took the lead, leaving Lorne and Deschutes to cover the rear. Each breath that she took came with a cold cloud that quickly melded with the fading fog. Her hands stung despite the gloves covering them, and it was awkward trying to move in the heavy clothing. Athos was never this cold.
"Colonel?" Teyla touched her radio, her gaze never leaving the endless trail of spiders. "Colonel Sheppard, this is Teyla, please respond."
No response. It wasn't completely unexpected seeing as how she had received the same results five minutes previously, but it did not hurt to try again.
Behind her, she could hear Lorne trying his own radio to no avail. She had been on many missions where contact had been lost and none of them had turned out well. She shoved her fears aside, keeping on a leader's mask of serene calm. Rodney was somewhere on this planet in need of their help, and she would render him assistance at all costs.
"We should continue on." She prayed silently to the Ancestors for protection and guidance.
"I'm still not reading any life signs. Not even our own." Lorne held the detector with his left hand, but still managed to keep his weapon level. After the third sweep, he shook the equipment hard before shoving it back his pocket. Teyla could see that he was also shivering. Perhaps it did not get this cold on Earth, either.
"Maybe we should return to Atlantis and get backup," Deschutes replied, her eyes jumping from the spiders to the moon and then back to the mansion.
It was common, Teyla realized, for the new Marines to react with trepidation to off-world missions, as though convinced that their first mission would also be their last. The hardest part for Teyla was knowing that such fears were warranted.
That was why, when she did reply to the Marine, she made sure her voice was calm and patient. "No, we will continue on. Rodney is in need of our help. We will not rest until we find him."
The mansion was farther away than it first appeared. Carson struggled with the rocky terrain, his climbs not made any easier by the heavy clothing and packs. He was not Rodney, though, and he took most of it in stride, not complaining. He was the good doctor, focused entirely on getting to his patient in need.
They could not have been more than twenty meters away—when had she started thinking in Earth measurements?—when she heard a twig break. Were it not for the fact that she was in the lead and the sound came from up ahead, she might never have separated it from the sounds of her own team. As it was, she raised her hand in the air, listening careful for any further movement.
She didn't have to wait long. It sounded like subdued sniffles and maybe even a repressed hiccup or two. "Hello?" she called softly. "Is someone here?" There was nothing in her light's beam, but she could still hear silent cries. "It's okay. You can come out. We won't hurt you."
There was the sound of ice crushing beneath something, before a face appeared. It belonged to a boy, who wiped his sleeve against his eyes.
"Hello," Teyla repeated.
"Who are you?" The child took a step back when Teyla took one forward. He held his arms close to his chest, surveying everyone else with wide, blue eyes.
"My name is Teyla. What is yours?"
The kid didn't answer, just shaking, looking behind him as though ready to bolt at a moments notice. There was something familiar about the boy, and Teyla was sure it came down to his eyes, though she couldn't place them. He was trembling, and she didn't think it was just because of the cold. He wore a black cloak and strange make-up—much like the ones used for John's haunted house.
"What's wrong, lad?" Carson stepped forward, taking in the kid's appearance with skilled eyes.
The kid shook his head frantically, his voice breaking as he spoke. "Help. I…I…need help. She's hurt and it's cold out and I'm scared that she might die and it would all be my fault." The child spoke fast, faster than she had even heard Rodney speak before.
"Who's hurt?"
"My sister. Please, there's no time!"
Teyla was torn as she stared at the child. She did want to help, but the child was right in more ways that one. Rodney didn't have time for this. They needed to get to him soon or he would die. But it went against all of her instincts to leave this young one alone, especially when he was so clearly terrified.
"Where is she?" Carson asked, making some of the decision for her if only because he was caught in the moment.
"Just over there, I think. I lost track. We were supposed to go home, but we didn't because mom and dad were arguing again. We got lost and now I don't know where we are exactly. Please, help! You have to help."
"We will do what we can." Teyla stepped closer, and this time the child dint' back up. She knelt down to his height, brushing his tears away with a sweep of her hand. "But we too are looking for someone. A man that is seriously hurt. We must find him soon."
The child bit down on his lip, backing away from her. "There was a man here. He was bleeding so they took him away."
"Who took him away?" Teyla asked.
"They did. The ones from the house. You don't want to go there, though; once someone enters they never ever leave. You know that, right? Listen, please, hurry and help my sister. I need to find her now before it's too late."
"I'll go with him," Deschutes offered, stepping forward. She gulped, hugged her P-90 closer, but then raised her head with a new found determination.
Under normal circumstances, Teyla would never agree with splitting the team up more, especially given their current lack of radio communication, but she could not leave the kid alone and she could not sacrifice McKay. There was only one choice to be made then. Teyla nodded.
"Emily will help you find your sister, okay?"
The boy seemed unsure for a moment, but he agreed in the end. He walked over to Deschutes and grabbed her hand. "We should hurry." The boy raised his chin into the air as he spoke.
"Okay, Teyla and Beckett, head to the creepy house then," Lorne ordered. "Deschutes and I will go with the kid. We'll try to meet up with you at the house, but if anything goes wrong, we'll meet at the gate at the specified time."
"Understood. Good luck on your endeavors." Teyla bowed her head slightly as she spoke.
The marines and child disappeared behind the trees and fog.
"That boy remind you of anyone?" Carson asked as they made their way back up the winding path.
Zombies. John was in a graveyard fighting…zombies—or at least a close approximation thereof. After the first hand had popped through the ground, and John's team made a valiant effort at backing far away, more hands had made an appearance, followed by full-fledged bodies.
There was no way to escape since zombies surrounded them on all sides. Although the bullets firing from his P-90 were doing a good job of taking off their arms, legs, heads and otherwise, most of the creatures just flinched back and kept coming. Once one zombie appeared from a grave and stepped aside, another zombie emerged from the same location.
There were hundreds of them.
They mumbled "grrr" as they moved and much to John's amazement—or not—they even mumbled "Brains. We want brains." It was one horrible cliché and the simple fact that this was really happening just made John's brain want to break.
To be fair, it was hard to hear over all the weapons fire, and maybe all the mumbling was just his imagination anyway. Perhaps Rodney was right; Halloween wasn't the best holiday. Speaking of Rodney, John really didn't have the time to battle hunched-over creepy beings with skin peeling from their faces. Their dark, glassy eyes stared at him as they continued to move closer.
Zelenka and Grimes didn't have a P-90s, just a 9-mil each and that wasn't going to provide near enough firepower for the battle. Sheppard made his way toward them, and Rodriguez was smart enough to do the same. Making a decided effort not to trip on burning pieces of severed limbs, Sheppard and team moved into a circle, their backs facing the center.
"I am now convinced that this is some very bad dream." Zelenka reloaded his weapon as he spoke, his hands trembling.
This was one of those rare fights where the enemy didn't actually have any weapons to fire at them. Still, John didn't want to know what happened if any of the creatures managed to get too close. His P-90 wasn't going to keep firing forever, so it was only a matter of time before he would find out.
"I don't suppose anyone has a plan?" he shouted.
"I was hoping you had one, Sir."
"This is not my area of expertise," Zelenka responded.
"Don't let them near us?"
Sheppard released a small chuckle at Dr. Grimes' comment. "Yeah, I'd say that's a good idea."
A howl echoed through the night once more. Not a second later, the zombies all stopped in place. The howl came again, followed by another and then another. They came in quick succession, and then many at once. They were getting closer.
The zombies weren't even mumbling anymore. They just stood there, and John could swear their eyes had gone wide with terror.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, John reloaded his P-90 and listened as everyone else did the same. "All right folks, we're making a break for it."
"Where exactly, Sir? They're all around us."
"Right through them, while they're…"
Another howl and the zombies began to move once more, but no longer toward their group. They lunged toward the graves, fighting one another for the chance to return to the Earth.
Another howl was followed by a scream. It was a strange, mumbled and startled scream, and Sheppard knew it came from a zombie. He saw multiple figures, large and covered in fur, leap into the air, each pouncing a zombie or two. Wolves. They were giant wolves indulging in a feast.
"Move it, people!" Sheppard pushed Zelenka and Grimes forward for emphasis. The pair didn't hesitate, running away at a pace that would make a Marine proud. Sheppard covered their backs, P-90 poised. He knew running away meant catching the wolves' attention, but it was the only option he could see.
The first monster wolf to leap toward them was met with a barrage of weapons fire. It fell quickly. Another one tried where the first failed, but met the same fate. The next time, two came at once. The power of the P-90 was just what he needed, but one of the wolves fell literally at his feet, and it wasn't dead. Its sharp teeth gleamed in the moon's beam as the creature's claw swept into the air, contacting his leg with a painful slice.
John killed it without hesitation. After that, the wolves seemed happy enough to just feast on the zombies.
What was this place?
Confident that another wouldn't follow, Sheppard turned to run and catch up with his team. It was difficult work with this new wound on his calf. It hurt. Layers of his flesh had been torn and he didn't even want to think about how much blood might be oozing out of him. The pain told him one thing—this wasn't a dream. He never felt pain in dreams.
Zelenka managed to find a cave, and he motioned for John to follow him inside. "You are hurt?" he asked, offering a shoulder for support.
"It's not as bad as it could be. Everyone else okay?"
"Dr. Grimes hurt her ankle while running. She is unable to stand on it."
The cave was a tight fit, especially for four. Zelenka lowered John to the concrete floor right beside Dr. Grimes.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?" The doctor grabbed for her bag, shifting through its contents and emerging with a few bandages and disinfectant. Her forehead was tight with pain as she moved.
"No. Look, we don't have time for this. We have to get to Rodney."
"You won't get far on that leg. And I'm not going anywhere on this ankle. I know you don't want to hear this, Colonel, but it's going to be a miracle if Rodney's not already dead from the stab wound. We have no idea what is out there, but our injuries aren't going to help us protect ourselves."
Sheppard grimaced as she applied the treatment, his teeth clamped tightly together. When she was finished, he glared at her. "We are not giving up Rodney for dead. Do I make myself clear?"
He stared into her blue, stern eyes, wondering if he was imagining the coldness within them. She blinked away, holding her head down.
"I respect your convictions, Colonel, but I'm trying to be realistic here."
Zelenka cleared his throat, stepping forward while taking a deep breath. There was something in the way he hung his head that screamed resignation, but there was something else there as well—determination. The same kind of determination that Sheppard felt.
"I will not allow Rodney to be left behind, either," Zelenka said. "Rodriguez and I can go ahead while you two stay here."
Rodriguez didn't flinch at the suggestion, though his eyes lowered. He raised them again, his military face impassive. "It would make the most sense, Sir."
Grimes pulled out a needle, supposedly for the pain, so Sheppard shook his head in answer to all of them. "No. No drugs and," he turned to stare at Zelenka, "Not a good idea."
Zelenka clenched his fist, glaring back at Sheppard. "Rodney is seriously injured, I cannot believe that you would have us leave him."
John lifted his hand into the air, silencing the scientist. "I'm not saying we shouldn't go after Rodney. I'm just saying that I'm going with you."
It was Rodriguez who answered. "With all due respect, Sir, I don't know if that's a good idea."
"I've fought with a lot worse injuries than this, Lieutenant. McKay is my teammate and I'm not going to let a low-level injury keep me from saving his life."
"I understand that, Sir. However, we could move quicker without you and time is of the essence. Dr. Grimes' injury makes it impossible for her to move, and I don't think it's a good idea to leave her alone, given everything we are facing right now. I'm sorry, Sir, but I do think it would be best if you helped Dr. Grimes return to Atlantis. At the very least you can tell Dr. Weir what is happening here and see if anyone over there has any ideas on how to help us search this terrain."
Sheppard shook his head again. Rodney did need time, but Sheppard wouldn't slow the search down. He wasn't lying. He'd fought a few battles before with worse injuries, and even then he had managed to be quick. Still, he hesitated. He looked toward Grimes, if he left her here and she died…well, everyone who went off world knew what they were getting into.
"Go," Grimes whispered. "I won't be going anywhere." She closed her doctor's bag, handing it over to Zelenka. Sheppard locked eyes with her for but a moment before she spoke again. "Go on, move it. He doesn't have much time. Don't stay on account of me."
Sheppard gave a short nod, one with respect and admiration despite the words she had said earlier. He really did work with the best, and that didn't mean just the Marines.
TBC