Remember that warning I gave before the last part? Nasty stuff ahead.
Jack's Fangtastic Adventure – Part Six
Jack had no idea how much time had passed. His lips were dry and cracked, the taste of blood on his tongue, and it was his need for water that finally brought him out of the stupor into which he had fallen.
Was it yesterday when he had found himself here? Or the day before? Time had stopped for him sometime in those first hours. All he knew was that he had a thirst that overpowered all other needs. He was on his back, near the back wall of the cave, seemingly in the same spot in which he had awoken before. Carefully, he lifted his head, listening and trying to see.
Maybe this was his chance.
With an effort of will, his arms trembling, he managed to get into a sitting position. He thought himself alone, but vague memories of watchers had made him cautious, so before moving further he stayed leaning against the wall, and peered around carefully. Finding nothing but shadows, he took a chance, pushing upwards, using his back to gain purchase on the hard surface behind him.
It was useless. Try as he might, he was unable to gain his feet, the weakness in his limbs betraying him. So Jack did what he had to do, crawling off into the darkness, because the unknown was better than his current circumstances. Dry grass cracked under him, sounding loud in the silence, and he paused often to listen and try to penetrate the gloom, all his senses waking as his sluggish brain began to function properly once more.
As his mind cleared, he realised he had two goals, finding water was the most imperative, but finding his team came a very close second.
He discovered his first objective only a few feet from where he had lain. A small pool of water gleamed in front of him on a clear patch of rock, fed by a trickle running down the wall. He pulled himself up onto his knees, holding his weight with one hand, and scooped the liquid into his mouth, savouring the coolness as it ran down his parched throat. He did not allow himself to take too much, the temptation to duck his head under and swallow until he burst almost overwhelming.
His thirst sated at last, Jack sat, finding his limbs more able to take the strain. Ignoring the pain behind his eyes, he looked around, flashes of memory filling in the gaps.
He shook his head at the images his mind dredged up. It couldn't have happened like that – he was remembering a dream.
He must be.
He looked down into the pool, the dull light enough to show his reflection shimmering below him. He choked back a gasp. The face that stared up at him was pale almost to the point of translucence, smears of dirt the only colour, with eyes sunken and dull.
Standing at last, Jack staggered into a patch of blackness, finding a corner between two looming shoulders of stone. Pressing himself into the space, he wedged himself against the rock, in as defensible a position as he could manage under the circumstances.
He clearly remembered waking here, but … he reached up and touched his neck, feeling along the ragged gash he found there. It had stopped bleeding, but how long ago he couldn't be sure.
The animal had done that, grabbing him by the throat – he was certain of that. It was what happened after that he couldn't recall. He had thought himself back in the infirmary, but that was obviously wrong.
He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, knocking his left arm against the wall in the process. The burst of agony set his senses reeling once more, and he almost fell – almost – but he knew that once he fell he may not be able to get up again, so he steadied his legs, locking his knees and holding himself as straight as possible, riding out the pain.
It was long minutes before Jack opened eyes he hadn't realised he had closed and looked down. Running along the length of his forearm was a wound, a long deep gash reaching from wrist to the inside of his elbow. In parts the gleam of white bone showed through, muscles and veins exposed where the skin was pulled back, hanging loose.
This time Jack couldn't help it – he was on his knees, his right hand gripping the wounded arm as if by holding it, the pieces would stay in place. All his attention was fixed on the throbbing of his blood running unhindered through veins and arteries impossibly whole.
God!
Jack pulled his eyes from the sight, his situation even more desperate than before. He had to get out of here. This could be his only chance to escape and find the others.
He had to take it.
His stumbling run took him to the entrance of the cave within minutes. He held a hand up, protecting his eyes from the blinding light, and looked around. In the background, the vast plain stretched out in front of him, as featureless as he remembered, stunted trees and thorny scrubs the only vegetation.
The foreground was another story entirely.
Jack reached for the gun he no longer had.
The pack stared back at him from where they sat.
Then the leader stood, stretching. He moved from the middle of the group of females that surrounded him, and slowly approached. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, saliva dripping in long thick strands from his jowls.
From all sides the other males began to advance, until Jack was surrounded by a semi circle of orange eyes and sharp, gleaming fangs. His only recourse was retreat, back into the cave – find a corner and make a stand. How long he could hold out was debatable, but Jack O'Neill had no intention of going down without a fight. He bent, searching in the dust for a rock, a stick – anything with which to defend himself, cursing his own stupidity for not thinking of it before he left the cavern.
His groping hand found nothing but dry soil and pebbles.
The leader took a step closer, and Jack dropped into a half crouch, ready for his attack, his eyes locked on the creature.
Orange eyes met brown ones.
The brown ones blinked.
Jack did something he swore never to do by choice, not for any enemy. He dropped to his knees, his gaze fixed on the flames within the strange eyes.
And extended his left arm.
It was as if the leader smiled, his teeth showing in a wide grin. The animal shook itself, dirt and dust rising to be taken away by the slight breeze that swept the plain, and took four deliberate paces forward. His eyes still holding those of his prey, he lowered his head and bit, fangs piercing the exposed vein.
For long moments the leader sucked the precious fluid, before stepping back, his tongue catching the last drops that fell upon his chin. Then the other males came, each taking their turn. The day before the females and young had fed, but this time the males needed to build their strength.
They were hunting this night.
Jack knelt, arm out.
He was floating, the euphoria such as he had never before experienced. Each time the blood was sucked from his vein, his whole being pulsed with pleasure, until he was riding a wave of ecstasy. His whole body shuddered, tremors that only caused to add to the exhilaration.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
When his pack mates were done, the leader led the prey back inside to its spot against the far wall. He took one long, last drink, then licked across the wound, closing off the vein. This one was strong, and would sustain the pack for weeks if carefully handled. He padded away, returning almost immediately with a large piece of meat from the kill he had made that day, dropping it beside the prey. He waited for a moment, but the creature made no move to eat, merely sitting, its odd eyes unfocused.
The leader gave a soft growl and turned away. If the prey was hungry, it would eat. If not, it would die.
Such was the way of things.
xoxoxoxoxoxo