FIGURATIVE HELL AND LITERAL HIGH WATER

By TIPPER


CHAPTER FIVE: FALLING DOWN

How she stayed conscious, she didn't know, since she always imagined that, when something like that happened to her, she'd either whack her head and lose consciousness or, well, die.

She didn't die.

For about a minute, though, she was certain she would. Absolutely deadly certain. Everything was spinning and whirling around her as she tumbled down the side of the mountain, carried along on a mudslide that sucked her down as often as it spat her out. Rocks pelted her, trees and branches scratched at her and stabbed her gut, thorny bushes ripped her trousers and the mud…the mud tried to drown her.

She was probably screaming—she couldn't tell. She just kept trying to stop moving, to stand up, to quit this stomach churning rolling and tumbling. She hit things—sometimes boulders, sometimes trees—and then she was spirited away with the wave of earth pulling her along.

And through it all—she held onto the medical case. She couldn't let go, as if her fingers were stuck to it with glue. It rolled with her, and, in the end…it was what saved her life.

Sort of.

At some point, she'd felt herself thrown airborne, perhaps over a shallow cliff edge or she'd just been tossed upwards by the force of the mudslide. She knew she screamed then—putting everything she could into her voice, certain that it was the last thing she'd know, sure that she was falling to her death.

Then her right arm was snagged, nearly wrenching it out of the socket…and she was hanging, almost ten feet off the ground.

Her left arm swung up, her left hand scrambling to join the death grip her right hand had on the medical case suspending her. She looked up, marveling at how the case had gotten stuck between two nearly hugging pine trees, the trunks bowed at an acute angle to the mountainside. They hung over a large rock shelf, around which the mudslide was split in half like an island in a stream. She didn't know if the two pines had been pushed into this angled position by the landslide or if, by some insane quirk, they'd actually grown that way over the rock shelf, but, provided they didn't move…she didn't care.

And for a moment, hanging by the handle of the medical case, she dangled…

And breathed.

Mud and earth continued to roll down below her, rushing past her feet about ten feet below, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. She watched it with a sort of disbelieving awe. Other trees were swept down, splintered and broken in half as they were carried along. Rocks and boulders tumbled and fell, spinning and bouncing as if they were as light as beach balls. And the dirt and mud just kept going and going and going…

Until finally, finally…it came to a stop.

She blinked, watching as the ground settled, slowing down and building up on itself. Trees created a sort of natural dam, and rocks locked themselves into the gaps. Mud poured on and over them until it stopped coming.

The deep rumbling roar ended, leaving nothing but the screaming wind and pouring rain behind to fill up the silence.

Jennifer closed her eyes, feeling the wind push her around like a windsock. Water ran down inside the sleeves covering her arms, freezing her straining muscles. The trees holding her up creaked a little, and she shivered.

"Keller!"

She opened her eyes, and tried to twist around, to look in the direction of the shout. It was uphill of her. She couldn't see anything, though, but mud and smashed trees in every direction. She couldn't even discern if it was coming from the right or the left.

"Keller! Where are you? Keller, can you hear me?"

"Rodney?" she squeaked. It was no louder than a mouse, and she had to swallow back the fear choking her.

"Jennifer Keller! Answer me, god damn it! KELLER!"

She drew in a shuddering breath. "RODNEY!" she shouted, and that was better. "McKay! Help!"

"Keller! Oh thank god." Rodney's relief poured through his disembodied voice. "Where are you?"

"Down here!" she shouted back. "I'm stuck!"

"Down where?"

"HERE!" she screamed back. "How the hell am I supposed to know where here is?"

"Okay, okay, good point! Keep yelling. I'll find you!"

"I'm here!" she shouted again. "Here, here, here! Help!" She tried to twist more, to see where he might be coming from. Below her, the ground shifted again and her eyes widened. "Watch out for the ground, it's unstable!"

"You think?" he shouted back. "Gee, I never would have noticed!"

"I'm hanging over a chunk of the landslide, you jerk!" she snapped back. Had she been jealous of Katie Brown? What had she been thinking? "I'm just trying to warn you!"

"Hanging? What do you mean, hanging?"

"I mean, hanging! Stop questioning and get down here!"

"Calm down! I'm coming!"

"Calm down?" she shrieked. "Are you kidding me? After that? Help me!"

"It's not easy navigating this! Just give me a minute!"

"Hurry!" she said, and she twisted again, better able to pinpoint his location now based on the source of his voice. "I can't hold on forever!"

"I still don't know what you mean by…oh…"

She turned her head, and there he was standing on the edge of the landslide, covered head to toe in mud. Bits of dirt and tiny twigs stuck off of his clothing and out of his hair—he looked a little like Pig Pen from Peanuts. He was staring up at her, his mouth agape.

"How the hell did you manage that?" he demanded, his eyes wide. "You're…you're like ten feet off the ground up there!"

"You think?" she snarled, hissing as a harsh gust of air pushed at her again, twisting her away from her view of Rodney. "Help me!"

When nothing happened immediately, she twisted back when the wind allowed.

Rodney was grimacing, his gaze clearly examining the landscape around her. He studied the trees she was hanging from, and the ground beneath her feet. He looked up at the landslide above her, and below her. And then he put his hands on his hips.

"Any day now," she growled, reeling from another gust of air.

"I'm thinking," he said.

"Think faster!"

"You're not helping!"

"I'm hanging over a LANDSLIDE, Rodney! I can't help! You have to get me down from here!"

"Technically," he noted, pointing a finger in the air, "the landslide has stopped. And you're damned lucky that you and I only caught the edge of it. I was spat out further up, missing the brunt of it. And you…" he studied her, ignoring the death glare she was currently favoring him with, "well, maybe you weren't so lucky. Though, damn," he stepped a little closer, careful where he put his feet, peering up at what she was actually holding onto, "you were right about that medical case. I need to get me one of those."

"I'll see what I can do when we get back," she answered through gritted teeth. "Now, use that big brain of yours and get me DOWN!"

He gave her a half smile, and then pulled off the medical backpack he was still wearing. Dropping it to the ground, he stepped a little closer. The ground trembled under him, but, for the most part, stayed still.

"Okay," he said, moving carefully, stepping over the most unstable looking parts. "There's really only one way to do this."

Keller's heart stopped beating for a second. Oh dear God, no…

He was closer now, practically right under her. Directly below her feet, the ground was solid—spared being coated by the mud from the landslide because of the large rock shelf the trees were resting on. He stopped there, shifting as if he was bracing his feet on the ground, and lifted up his arms. "You're going to have to let go."

"No," she said. "No, no, no, no. Not happening."

He frowned. "I'll catch you. You'll be fine."

"I'm not letting go!" she said, feeling her arms shake. "It's too far."

"I'm right here," he snapped. "Now stop being a baby and let go!"

"I'll crush you!" she whined.

"What? You weigh like half of me! You won't crush me. Now drop!"

"I don't! I weigh exactly fifty-two pounds less than you, but combined with the weight of the drop, it'll be too much! You'll drop me and I'll hurt you!"

"Keller, as far as I know, the only one of us around here with a physics degree is me, so stop trying to sound like you know what you're talking about! Let go!"

"No!"

"LET GO!"

"NO!"

He dropped his arms and placed them on his hips again. "You're being an idiot."

She swallowed thickly. "I'm not being an idiot," she defended, wishing it didn't sound so much like a whine.

"Not only are you being an idiot," McKay pressed, "but you're wasting time. Time, if you remember, we don't have. I know you're scared but, frankly, I don't give a rat's ass right now. You have to trust me. You have to let go—I will catch you. Now," he lifted his arms again, "suck it up and let the hell GO!"

Keller sniffed. She looked up at her hands, then down at Rodney.

"Okay," she said shakily. "Don't…don't drop me."

He gave a small smile. "I won't. I need you too much."

She nodded, then closed her eyes…and let go.

She hit him square in the chest, bringing them both down even as he wrapped his arms around her, and they rolled down the incline in a mess of limbs.

When they finally stopped sliding, he let her go, and she fell to the side, rolling away from him and just lying still on her back, looking up at the leaden sky. Fat drops of rain were slapping her forehead and cheeks, but she didn't care.

She wasn't hurt.

Much.

Next to her, McKay groaned—the painful sort of groan a really old man makes when he's trying to stand up after sitting in a lazy-boy for too long. She turned her head to look at him and watched as he covered his face with his hands. Like her, he was on his back, but he had one leg up bent.

"Rodney," she called, feeling herself about fifty years older than she was, "you okay?"

"Mostly," he replied unhappily. "God…," he sighed, "you are heavy."

She laughed, and tipped her head back into the rain.

"So," she said, closing her eyes, "how do we get the case down?"


He used rocks. The triple doctorate, self-proclaimed genius of two galaxies threw rocks at her medical case until it fell out of the tree. As she bent to pick it up, she had to admit—it was effective.

Every muscle ached and cramped as she stumbled after Rodney, following him back to where he'd left the backpack. When he leaned over to pick it up, a hand went to his back and he ended up on one knee, groaning in agony. Keller jogged the last couple of steps and dropped the case, pressing her hands to his side and back.

"What is it?"

"I think I…" he hissed in pain, and let out a harsh breath, "Damn it, I think I wrenched my back."

Oh, that wasn't good. "Can you move?" she asked. He turned a glare on her.

"I'm going to have to," he snarled, "so don't ask." Then his eyes shut in pain again and he stood, using her as a crutch. When he straightened, she could see that his face was deathly pale beneath all the mud and grime.

"You need rest," she said. "If you really strained it, which, considering everything we've just been through, is incredibly likely, you should—"

"Keller," he said, interrupting her, his voice low, "let's just keep going, shall we?"

She grimaced. She knew how painful a wrenched back can be. "But—"

He closed his eyes, "After all this, you're not seriously going to argue that I stop moving because of a bad back, are you?"

She frowned, then shook her head. Of course not. "No, but, at the very least…" She knelt down next to the backpack and opened it. Within moments, she had the bottle of ibuprofen out and had poured two into her hand. Without a word, she held them up to Rodney.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, but he took the medicine, dry swallowing the pills as she watched. Then she poured out two more pills and took them herself—her right arm was throbbing with a pain she didn't want to diagnose just yet. With the chalky taste still on her tongue—she hated dry swallowing pills—she quickly recapped the small bottle, then replaced it back on the pack. A moment later, she was pulling it on her own back, adjusting the straps. He watched her with a rueful gaze, saying nothing as she then picked up the medical case.

"You know," she said, passing the grip to her left hand, because her right arm wasn't feeling up to holding anything at the moment, "if you're faking the bad back thing just so you don't have to carry the backpack, I'm going to tell Ronon to punch you." She gave him a wry smile. "Just saying."

He gave her a dark look, then sighed and looked out at the woods. Everything was in shambles over here, and there was no real guarantee that there wouldn't be another landslide. The rain was still heavy, and the wind still fierce.

She reached up, tucking a mud-slicked piece of hair behind her ear. "So, um…" she lifted her eyebrows, "do you know where you are?"

"No," he said, sighing heavily. "But that's okay. I think we're close enough now." And with that cryptic statement, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the little Ancient scanner. "In case I got lost," he said, "I did adjust the life signs detector to pick up the others' subcutaneous transmitters. The problem was range—until we were close enough, I couldn't…ah. There." He grinned, showing her the screen, on which three dots blinked. "There they are."

Jennifer smiled, but it was forced. Three dots on the screen—but where were those dots in relation to here?

"So," she asked, "that means they're…where, exactly?"

He frowned at her, drawing the scanner back and looking down at it. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "They're that way." He pointed vaguely up and to the right. Jennifer nodded.

"Okay. How far?"

"I've got the scanner set to its fullest range."

"Uh huh," she said, nodding again. "Which means…what?"

"Oh you're kidding?" he demanded suddenly. "You should know this stuff! It's Ancient tech 101! In fact, I actually remember teaching you and a class of about twenty others this when you first got here. Weren't you paying attention?"

She blushed, trying to remember exactly what she'd been thinking about that day. It might have been Ronon. That man turned heads, he was so pretty.

"Look," she said, clearing her throat, "I just don't have a head for what you do, okay? I know I should know, but I don't, so how about telling me, huh? Is it really that hard?"

He gave her a look that suggested that, yes, it really was that hard, but, after a moment, he sighed heavily and put the scanner away.

"They're about two miles up that way," he said. "We lost about half a mile of distance in the fall. We have to make that up." He turned and started walking, wincing slightly as it obviously pulled on his back, "And we don't have time to waste anymore with stupid questions!"

Jennifer stuck her tongue out at his back, and jogged to catch up with him.


Rodney became increasingly morose as they climbed up through the trees, winding around walls of thorn bushes, felled trees and something that Keller was absolutely certain was poison ivy. They were so close to their goal now, she began to grow worried. Shouldn't he be glad they were almost there?

He pulled out the Ancient scanner every ten steps or so, and adjusted their direction—with all the zigzagging they were doing inside the woods, it was easy to get turned around. Before, they'd been following paths, now it was pure cross country—not even a goat track to follow. Apparently, even the animals of this world didn't come to this depressing patch of mountain.

The wind, which had died down with their return to the woods after the landslide, was growing strong again, and she found herself shivering more and more with each blast of cold air against her side.

A rumble erupted overhead, and Keller froze, turning terrified eyes to her left, where the sound emanated from. Rodney glanced in the same direction, but didn't stop moving.

When she realized he was leaving her behind again, she ran to catch up.

She pulled up alongside, and glanced at his face. It was set into a scowl, as if he felt like the whole world was against him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, taking a few jogging steps as he pulled ahead. "Is it your back?"

"No," he said sourly.

When he didn't elaborate…she really began to worry.

"Then what is it?" she asked, determined now to figure this out.

"Nothing," he snapped, and she saw him skip a step forward, as if to get away from her. She frowned, and caught up again.

"It's not nothing," she said, "clearly. Are you hurt?"

He didn't answer, and increased his pace again.

She was getting annoyed now.

"Rodney…"

"Stop worrying about me!" he snapped suddenly. "I don't matter!" He was taking impossibly long strides now, pulling himself up over a rock fall without stopping. "We need to move faster," he snarled, sliding some rocks down behind him in his rush. Jennifer shifted out of the way, then grimaced.

Once again using the medical case as a sort of crutch, she pulled herself up after him, wincing a little at the strain on her own legs.

When she got up to the top, he was a good ten feet away from her. Releasing a pained breath, she spat out the adrenalin generated saliva in her mouth and ran to catch up to him. She was breathing hard again as she finally got close.

But at least she figured out what was wrong. Wasn't hard when someone insisted they' didn't matter'. It meant others mattered more. Three dots on a screen.

"We're going to get to them in time," she said, hoping it was true. For his sake as much as theirs.

He gave a harsh headshake. "We've taken too long."

"It's only been an hour or so since you found me…"

"Try almost two." As he walked, he pulled out the scanner again, staring at the dots as if they might wink out at any minute. "What if…what if Ronon and Sheppard are already dead?"

Jennifer had no answer for that. The transmitters weren't tied to life signs—they just emitted a pulse, regardless of whether the bodies containing them were alive or dead.

She just shook her head. "You can't think that way," she said. "We're going to make it. And there was no way we could have gone faster than we did."

He just pinched his eyes shut, then opened them again, and started walking even faster.

Jennifer's shoulders slumped, knowing there really was nothing she could say to help him right now. It was what it was. He was trapped inside his despair, and until they got to the hovel where the others were…

A harsh gust of wind tripped her up, and she skidded sideways, landing hard on one knee.

"Shit," she hissed, shakily getting back to her feet and frowning down at her skinned knee. Her trousers had long ago lost most of their cohesion—showing rips and cuts up and down, and her knee was bared to the elements now. It was bleeding, skinned.

As Rodney says, she told herself, suck it up.

Breathing out heavily, she pulled on remaining reserves and jogged after him again.

As they rounded a thick set of trees, the wind cut at her again, shoving her around even more brutally than before, and she realized it was because the trees were thinning—and quickly. She blinked at the increase in rain as well, drops hitting her face more persistently with each step. With her right hand, she wiped at her face and peered through the gloom. Ahead of her, the world seemed to be glowing white through the few remaining trees.

Still well in front of her, Rodney was bent over with a hand in front of his face, walking forward steadily and quickly. It looked like he was walking into pure white fog.

Or a cloud.

The ridge.

She ran to catch up, afraid to lose him in the dense white. Especially if the weather up here was anything like it'd been down in the town, where like here, there was no protection from the forest.

"Wait!" she called, stretching out her right hand to him. "Please!"

He stopped, looking back at her.

Then he nodded and held out a hand. A few more steps, and she grabbed it—then let him pull her into the fog.

White water vapor encircled them as the trees fell away completely, and the ground turned to almost solid rock. The granite surface was flat and slippery, and she was having a hard time keeping her footing.

Rodney's grip on her hand grew tighter, almost dragging her along, much like he had in town. Each step he took was solid and sure, and she had to wonder at his control over this landscape.

He slowed when he reached a point where he could go either left or right. Pulling out his scanner again, he studied it for a second, then tugged her to the right. His eyes were focused on his destination, his jaw set in rock hard determination.

There was her answer. The world was meaningless in the face of his need to get to his team. However he might be normally, right now he was so hell bent on getting to the others that nothing was going to get in his way.

Jennifer lowered her head, stepping wherever he stepped.

Finally, she took her first step downwards. And then another. And another. They were heading down off the ridge…

They were headed downhill.

She almost cried in relief, unbelievably grateful at the sensation. Her legs had long ago felt like they had muscles in them, she was sure they were pure jelly at this point. It amazed her she had even kept moving. Stepping downhill brought tiny shocks of pain to her knees and hips, but she didn't care. Her quads were finally going to get a rest. Thank God.

The fog started to dissipate, and they met their first tree. The pine swayed, as if greeting her. She smiled at it, part of her almost wanting to say hello and thank it for coming.

She giggled.

Rodney glanced back at her, looking slightly startled, and she stifled the sound, schooling her face. Yes. She might be going a little crazy. Just a little. A wee bit. Teensy weensy.

She giggled again.

She cleared her throat, knowing it was a punch-drunk sensation. Calm down, she commanded herself. Stay focused, stay in control.

Rodney gripped her hand again, and she realized it was more a gesture of comfort than of stability. She might have fallen in love with him a little for that.

She needed to focus. In moments, she'd been dealing with a very sick, very injured set of people…

It was enough to kill her humor. It also reminded her that she could probably use a little more information about what had happened. Rodney hadn't told her much.

"Rodney," she said, looking up as more trees appeared through the fog, "what really happened?"

His grip tensed on her fingers. "What?"

"You told me that the others were hurt—arrow wounds, head wound, and twisted, possibly broken ankle. What actually happened? During the attack?"

He drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

"Why?"

"It'll give me some warning, so that I will be better prepared," she replied. It'll also help me get my focus back, she silently added.

He sighed. "Fine. Well," he shrugged, "like I said, we were attacked on the way back from the ruins. They came out of nowhere—out of the trees. The Helenans with us called them Auggies. It, uh," his eyes squinted a little, as if he were having trouble remembering, "it gets a bit blurry after that. I just remember this rain of arrows mixing in with the heavy rain, almost like a dark cloud. One of the Auggies got Ronon in the shoulder. Up here," he tapped his upper left shoulder. "Normally, that's not enough to even slow him down, but then this bolas like weapon comes out of nowhere and Sheppard goes down with it around his legs, cracked his head on a rock. Ronon runs over to cover Sheppard, who's now out cold, and takes another arrow to the right leg. From there, it just got worse. "

Jennifer nodded, not letting his hand go when she felt him shudder. "Go on."

"Well," he smiled slightly, as if proud, "Teyla basically saved us all. She tossed a couple of grenades, scared off the Auggies, and ordered me to carry the colonel, so I picked him and put him over my shoulder. She's kind of amazing, you know?" He glanced at Keller, and Jennifer nodded. It was only a few weeks ago she'd seen Telya in action on new Athos. She knew exactly how amazing the other woman was—and how much Jennifer wished she could be more like her. Rodney shrugged, continuing his story.

"Teyla led us off the trail and up the mountain, saying she had seen some abandoned looking structures high up on the mountain on our walk to the ruins. She's half carrying Ronon at that point—who is still on his feet despite sporting three arrows in his hide, because he's a freak of nature—and she's pointing me towards the ridge. You could still see it clearly then—that fog wasn't there when I crossed it the first time." He sighed. "Anyway, we're climbing up as fast as we can up the mountain, when Teyla hears something, or sees something—I'm not sure which." He gave a headshake. "She leaves me with both the colonel and Ronon, with orders to keep moving forward with them. I do. When I see her again, about fifteen minutes later, she's half covered in blood and limping. She takes Ronon from me and leads the way again. Sometime after that, we find these hovels. She picks one, puts Ronon down on a straw pallet thingy, then helps me put Sheppard on another. She's still limping—and when she went outside to get some more wood, I hear her cry out." He gave a short laugh. "She'd been gathering wood for a fire, and she slipped on the mud. After everything she went through—she gets taken down by mud." He shook his head. "She can't put any weight on her ankle now—the same one she'd been limping on before." He closed his eyes. "There was no way we'd make it back, and Ronon…" He looked at Keller, "He needs you. They all need you. So," his eyes took on a desperate quality again, "I came to get you. And Lorne. And help." He stared off into the woods. "But Lorne wasn't there, and the hurricane…"

He didn't need to finish. She knew the rest.

"Brent will have gotten through," she promised. "He'll have informed Atlantis that we need help."

He just grimaced, and turned his face to look up at the sky through the trees surrounding them again.

She knows what he's thinking—the weather will continue to isolate them until it's over. And they have no idea how long it was going to last. All they knew right now, was that it didn't seem to be getting better. It only seemed to be getting worse.

He was still holding her hand, and she didn't want him to let go.

They were still moving steadily downhill, though not quickly. Rodney pulled out his scanner, studying it for a second, then he looked up. A tiny smile touched his lips, and he looked forward. He pointed generally straight ahead, to where there was a stream rolling down in their path.

"I remember that stream. We can't be more than a half a mile from them now. We're almost there."

Jennifer smiled with him.

And then the ground rumbled again. Rodney slowed, letting her hand go and looking behind him towards the source of the noise.

Jennifer jumped when she heard another crack in the distance like the one that had heralded the landslide that had caught them. She stuttered in her step, getting a little in front of Rodney, who was now walking backwards, his eyes on the area of forest they'd just come from. The rumbling grew louder…but it didn't sound like it was getting closer.

"Pretty sure we're okay on this side of the ridge," he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. "Landslides, by description, need land to slide, and, if I remember right, the only thing above us here is sheet rock. We're okay."

"You sure?" she asked. For a moment, he seemed uncertain, then he nodded with assurance.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

She nodded. "Okay then." Turning again, she locked her eyes on the stream in the distance—less than half a mile from that. Almost there.

Then the wind blew straight through her, nearly knocking her down again. At almost the same time, something loud fractured and splintered in the near distance.

"Oh shit," Rodney whispered behind her.

She looked over her shoulder, only to feel Rodney push her forward. "Run!" he shouted, and she saw why.

Trees were falling, crashing into each other like dominos. The landslide must have caused a chain reaction on this side of the ridge somehow—the wind must have blown unearthed trees across the stone. She turned and started to run, but she was hampered by her exhaustion and the heavy pack and case. Rodney ran next to her, moving faster than she was, and grabbed her hand to urge her to greater speed.

The ground shook, and more and more cracks of splintering wood resounded in her ears, getting closer and closer. They were side by side now, Rodney pushing as much as pulling, trying to keep her moving even as she felt ready to collapse.

They were almost to the stream.

Suddenly, she felt Rodney shove her hard and strong, throwing her off her feet and sending her rolling. Her left wrist bent awkwardly and she let go of the medical case with a yelp of pain as she tumbled. Finally, she hit what had to be a tree and landed on her stomach, skidding on her front for a couple of feet, landing with one leg into the icy stream.

Shaking like a leaf, she covered her head, expecting at any moment to feel the crush of a tree landing on her back and squashing the life from her.

But nothing happened.

In fact, the forest was oddly quiet.

Her jaw trembling, she lifted her hands and risked raising her head.

And her eyes widened.

The destruction was impossible. A good twenty or so tall pine trees were down, smashed into each other. Some of them were leaning against other trees, others were down fully, including one huge one just a few feet from her. She could tell by the near lack of pine needles that this one had been dead, or nearly dead. No wonder it had fallen so easily.

But it had missed her—barely.

She let out a relieved breath, and pushed herself to her feet, looking around for Rodney. She had no doubt that he had just saved her life. Where was he? On the other side of the tree?

"Rodney!" she called, when she didn't see him immediately. "Rodney!"

She climbed up the small incline, feet slipping a little on the mud, and cupped her hands around her mouth. "McKay!"

She looked down at the felled tree, spotting the medical case she'd dropped partially hidden inside the maze of branches at the edge. Kneeling down, she reached into the spiny limbs to grab it.

And stopped.

She'd found Rodney.


TBC