Jack's Fangtastic Adventure – Part Seven

Sam stepped out of the gate, and moved off the slightly raised platform. She scanned the area around her, ignoring the familiar tingling sensation up her backbone as the wormhole released each of its travellers with a small slurp. There was no change in the vista before her, it seemed that this area of the planet was locked in a permanent dry spell, the vegetation dry and the patches of green few and far between.

The sheering heat of the day, and the lack of shelter in the freezing temperatures at night would make it very hard, if not impossible for an injured man to survive. Her slight hope that the Colonel would be waiting at the gate had been dashed as soon as she saw the empty landscape.

"Which way, Major?" Colonel Johnson asked from behind her left shoulder. Sam turned, watching as SG-10 spread out, alert and ready.

"Our camp site was fifteen miles that way", she stated, pointing, "But the attack where the Colonel disappeared is much closer, only a mile or so. I suggest we start there, sir."

"Very well." The taciturn officer nodded in agreement. He glanced at the sky. "Alright, head out, it'll be dark in a few hours. Teal'c, take point."

The Jaffa inclined his head in acknowledgement of the order, and strode out. Sam fell in behind Colonel Johnson, Daniel alongside her and the rest of Johnson's team bringing up the rear.

Despite his rapid steps, Sam could see that Teal'c was as alert as ever. To anyone else the Jaffa would appear his usual unflappable self, but after so many years of serving together she could put herself in his position, and knew that he was feeling personally responsible for the Colonel's disappearance. He had been guarding them, responsible for the welfare of his teammates, and he took that responsibility extremely seriously. The fact that he had been brought down by creatures that seemed little more than animals would be doubly galling.

Her shirt, damp with perspiration, clung to her body under the heavy vest, and she took a second to move her shoulders in an attempt at loosening the hot material, but to no avail. A trickle of sweat ran down her back, released by the movement, and she couldn't help wondering if the Colonel was lying somewhere, slowly bleeding to death under the hot sun.

She pulled her mind back to the task at hand. It wouldn't do the Colonel any good speculating like this, and given the creatures ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, they all needed to keep as alert as possible.

Sam gripped her weapon, holding it ready, and scanned the ground for any sign of tracks.

He couldn't have just vanished. Colonel O'Neill had to be here somewhere.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Jack sucked the last morsel of marrow from the bone he held awkwardly in one hand, before turning it over, making sure that all the meat was gone. At first, the thought of raw meat from some unnamed animal had turned his stomach, but he had eaten worse, and who knew when he would be given more food. So he had swallowed it down, gagging a little at first, his sore throat making it all the harder.

Now, days later, he watched eagerly for the arrival of his irregular meals. As the hours passed, he regained some small part of his strength, and his days had settled into a sort of routine. He found the boundaries set for him by trial and error - he was allowed as far as the pool, and had merely been watched by his ever present guards when he dug himself a latrine in the corner as far from where he slept as he was allowed to go. How long he had been here he could only guess, but by his reckoning it was at least six days - six days of highs and lows that brought vivid memories of the seventies and some really awesome trips. He went from flying to drowning each time the pack took their fill of him. He had decided there must be something in the animals' saliva that not only sealed over wounds, but also had a drug like effect on him. Twice now the gap between feeds had been enough for his mind to clear, and for him to begin a plan to escape, but each time his weakness betrayed him, and he found himself lying on
the ground, drifting.

The one constant was the terrible thirst that assailed him, making him constantly expend his tiny reserves of energy on getting the short distance to the pool. When there, he couldn't help staring at his own reflection, hardly recognising the gaunt, pale ghost that looked back at him from its depths.

He knew that if he didn't get out of here soon, he never would.

He tossed the bone over into the scrap heap, and licked his blood-smeared fingers before wiping the moisture off on a handful of straw. Using his good arm, he eased himself down, pushing the dry grass into clumps to give his aching body as much cushioning as possible, and curling up, holding his left arm protected against his body, he slept.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

A wiggling movement against his stomach woke him, and a memory surged up – of lying in a tub filled with Goa'uld lava, wriggling and squirming across his skin, searching for the entrance to the pouch Hathor had cut into his stomach and he flinched, too tired to fling himself away from the possibility. Then the unmistakable feeling of small paws pressing into him made him wrench his eyes open and look down.

Curled up against his body was a tiny pup, sound asleep, legs twitching as it dreamed. Jack realised it was these twitches that had awoken him, and stared in bemusement at the sight. The pup was cocooned within the circle of Jack's body and arms, its silky soft fur tickling the skin.

Seeing his left arm, dirt encrusting the ruined flesh, had him blinking, the cobwebs of dreams falling away.

Careful not to disturb the sleeping pup, he sat and looked around him. All about the cave the females and young slept, legs and heads intertwined. The males had left some hours before, the fourth time in as many days, obviously hunting but returning with no prey that Jack had seen. He hoped this time that they would be more successful, instead of slaking their hunger on him.

The last time he had tried to refuse, fighting the compulsion to be a docile slave to these animals. Kneeling in front of the leader he kept his arm rigidly at his side, fingers hooked into the rough material of his BDU trousers. He had fixed his eyes on a small grey rock in front of him, refusing to look into the compelling orange eyes.

He had learnt his lesson.

They had taken him anyway, and this time the reward for disobedience had been excruciating agony as the leader had ripped into his arm, mangling the flesh and leaving visible scratches on the bone. There had been no euphoria, no drifting - he had been aware of every new set of teeth, every bite, as they sucked him dry. The whole pack had taken their turn this time, Jack falling when they were less than half way through.

The leader had taken a stand above him, feet on either side of Jack's chest, grinning down and making it more than clear that this was the sort of punishment he could expect if he disobeyed again.

When they had finally finished, the leader bit into Jack's right arm, sucking while Jack shook with the pain, before walking disdainfully away and firing a parting shot - urinating on Jack's carefully arranged bed of straw.

The message couldn't have been clearer if he had written in down.

Jack had been left bleeding on the floor for hours, until the leader had returned. When he saw the huge animal padding across the rocks towards him, Jack had struggled to his knees and extended his arms - waiting.

The pup whimpered, and Jack reached down to stroke it back to sleep. The motion tugged painfully at his arms, the two large holes in his previously uninjured one a warning of what was to come when the males got back from the hunt.

This might be his last chance to escape.

Jack stood.

The pack slept on.

Stooping, he picked up the pup, quieting it with a soft brush of his hand, and cuddled it to his chest.

Carrying it, he made his way cautiously between the sleeping forms, heading for
the entrance.

xoxoxoxoxoxo