Warning: this story is going to take a dark turn and will have some disturbing (but not graphic) scenes including assault. Please do not read if that bothers you.
He hadn't been sure what direction to go at first, but after discovering the markings of some small native animals, he'd followed them until he'd come to a stream. He kept his fingers crossed that this would eventually – hopefully sooner rather than later – lead to civilization.
Of course, he had no idea if the natives were friendly, or whether they were advanced enough to help Sam. She needed surgery – and fast. Infection and gangrene could set in quickly.
He'd walked for hours without seeing any sign of civilization. He didn't know at what point he'd return to her if he couldn't find anything. If worse came to worse, he'd have to try and do something with her leg. The thought terrified him.
He began to get hungry and thirsty. He'd taken a small cup from one of the canteens and a few purification tablets. He grabbed some of the river water and plopped in a tablet. While he waited for it to dissolve, he grabbed a protein bar and took a bite.
He had to believe they could get help although as time went on, he grew more and more worried. He couldn't let anything happen to Sam. She was his responsibility – but more than that, she was his friend, and he knew he would never forgive himself if something happened to her. They had to get off this planet and back home to Earth – and to Janet.
He was so deep in thought that it took him a moment to realize that there was a road ahead of him. It was a dirt road but was definitely human (or alien) made. He felt a moment of relief, although he knew he shouldn't count his chickens too soon.
He began to walk along the road, hoping for a vehicle or sign of life.
He'd been walking for over an hour when he heard the sound of voices. He was pretty sure they sounded human, but to be cautious he walked off the side and into the bushes which lined the road.
A moment later three men appeared. They all looked completely human and almost as if they had come from Earth of the 19th century. One of the men was riding a horse – or something that looked horse-like but was slightly bigger and definitely uglier. Another man was driving a cart, with a companion seated beside him. The cart was being pulled by another one of the large beasts.
The site of the wagon was a relief. If he could get them to help, there would be a way to carry Carter to civilization and hopefully a local doctor.
He cautiously moved out from the trees and towards the road. He tried to look as harmless as possible, although he knew he must look pretty beat up from the crash.
"Hi," he called. "I'm wondering if I could get some help."
The men stopped and stared at him, no expressions on their faces. He went to speak again, when he saw one of the men start to grin – and it was not a friendly grin.
One of the men on the cart leaned over and grabbed something. Before he had a chance to react, he heard a sound, felt a sharp pain – and as he fell to the ground thought one last word before losing consciousness.
"Shit!"
He didn't know how long he'd been out, but when he awoke, he was trussed like a proverbial chicken. He tried to look around, but he was lying on his stomach, his hands behind his back and his ankles bound together. He forced himself to flip over, but it was difficult and hard on his hands, which were now squashed underneath him.
It was late evening, almost sundown, so he had to have been out for a few hours. He felt groggy, but not in pain so hoped he hadn't been severely injured by whatever weapon has been used on him. He suspected it might have been a tranquilizer or something like a Zat – but with longer effects.
He could hear the soft murmur of voices and a small fire. The men hadn't noticed he was awake, but unfortunately that didn't mean much if he couldn't get away.
He tried to loosen the ropes binding his wrists and ankles, but they were tied tightly and carefully. He swore silently. He didn't know what the men wanted because he certainly didn't have anything valuable on him. What worried him more, however, was Sam. She needed him and he had to get back to her.
"Hey – looks like someone's awake!" One of the men who had captured him – he thought it was the one who had been riding the horse thingy – came up to him and kicked him in the side.
He grunted but didn't say anything, waiting to find out what was going on.
The man kicked him again, just for fun it seemed, and he tried to roll away. Unfortunately, one of the other men had moved behind him and kicked him on that side. Great, he thought – he was now a literal kicking bag.
For the next few minutes, the men took turns kicking him and laughing. They acted as if it was some kind of game, and they were clearly having a great time. It was painful, and Jack knew he'd have lots of bruises, but they weren't kicking hard enough to do real damage.
"Ooph", he gasped since the last kick was hard, and landed right in his stomach. "Hey," he finally said, "why are you doing this?"
"He can talk!" the tallest of the three men laughed and then asked. "What's your name? Who are you?"
"Uh – name's Jack and I was just walking, hurting no one. Why did you attack me?"
That earned him another kick – this time right in the crotch. He gasped and started to gag. He tried to curl up with the pain but was grabbed by the feet and dragged towards the fire. He prayed that no permanent damage had been done, but the pain was excruciating.
"I think we're gonna have some fun, Donar," the man who had kicked him said to one of his friends. "You ready for some fun, Sulach?" This last was addressed to Jack. He was pretty sure that Sulach didn't mean anything good.
Jack knew he was in trouble – big trouble. He thought once more of Sam and felt sick. She needed him, but he couldn't tell these guys about her. He could only imagine what they would do to her.
A moment later he didn't need to imagine, as they started in on him.
He woke up shaking and in pain. He was naked and bleeding but the worst part wasn't the physical, but the mental and emotional anguish he was in.
He'd been tortured before, but never had he had to deal with – that. He was full of anger and hatred toward the men who had hurt him, but even worse was the shame. He wanted to crawl into a hole and close out the world.
He began to retch and forced himself on his side as he repeatedly threw up until nothing was left in his stomach. He continued to shake, not just from cold, but from shock. He wondered briefly if they were going to kill him, which, at the moment, sounded almost hopeful.
He lay there for a long time, unable to really move as they'd re-tied him after they were done with him. It was early morning, with the sky just starting to get light and the men asleep around the fire. After abusing him for hours, they'd all collapsed and were snoring away as if they didn't have a care in the world. Jack spent the next few moments fantasizing about the most painful ways he could kill them.
It was long after sunrise when they finally began to wake up. He heard groaning and some cursing and figured that they were probably experiencing hangovers after they'd all started drinking part-way into their "fun". He himself was dying of thirst, especially after vomiting. He also knew he was shocky and desperately needed water.
The men slowly got up and moved around their campsite as they got things together for the day. None of them paid any attention to him, which was a relief on the one hand, but on the other made him wonder if they planned to just leave him here to die.
A few minutes later he found out that that wasn't their plan at all.
The man Donar came up to him and looked down, a smirk on his face. "Mornin' Sulach! Did you enjoy yourself last night? We sure did. I'm lookin' forward to more later."
Jack closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed and hopeless. He was terrified of the men, but the worst was knowing there was nothing he could do to help Sam.
"Open your eyes and look at me!" Donar shouted, kicking him hard on the thigh. "Don't you ever ignore me!"
Jack blinked his eyes open and stared at the man, hoping he'd see the hatred in his eyes. He made a promise to himself that one day he'd have his revenge on Donar and the others.
Alid, the youngest of the three men, walked over and stood looking down at Jack as well. "I wonder what we should do today? Want some more fun, Sulach?"
He received more kicks when he refused to speak. He was past the point of being able to think or even dream of revenge. He was a mass of pain and anguish and wanted nothing more than to pass out.
"Come on you two," their third companion, Meron, called to them. "We have to get moving. Throw him in the wagon and cover him and let's get going. Oh, I'd gag him so he doesn't make any noise."
"Water – please," he finally managed to ask as he was dragged towards the wagon. He didn't know how much longer he could go on without a drink.
At first he thought the men would ignore him and let him suffer, but Alid must have realized that if they wanted to keep him alive they would need to at least let him drink. He went and got a cup and held it up to Jack, who drank as much as he could before the man pulled the cup away.
"Enough," Alid told him. A moment later he had a dirty piece of cloth forced into his mouth and a rag tied around his head to keep it there. He was dragged into the back of the wagon and a tarp was thrown over him. There was nothing he could do but lie there and hope for an opportunity to get away.
Sam was in agony and knew she had to take another shot of morphine. There were only two left, but she was confident the Colonel would return before they ran out. She took a sip of water, which cooled her parched throat. She had developed a fever and just prayed that he would be back for her soon.
She trusted the Colonel and knew he wouldn't leave her. It might be taking him longer than they'd hoped to find some help – but he would find it, of that she was sure.
If there was anyone she could trust, it was Jack O'Neill.