“Pavor Nocturnus” Part Two
Title: “Pavor Nocturnus” Part Two
Rodney hands Miko over like she's a piece of equipment that he can't be bothered with anymore. “Watch her!”
Zelenka catches her as she stumbles as both of them try to gain their bearings. The guy they woke up is screaming now. “Maybe he's saying he can't stop the bombs?”
“Keep moving, sir...we need to get you to a safe distance,” Sergeant Brier orders.
Miko and Herrington go down the hall but stop, realizing they are the only two obeying the Marine's orders. Rodney still hovers in the doorway and Zelenka is torn between making sure his people are okay and finding out what is happening in the chamber room.
“What's going on?” Miko asks, walking back.
“Please madame, stay where you are.” Brier tries to usher her to safety.
“Just get out of there, Colonel!” Rodney shouts.
Now Zelenka is getting worried; the explosives could go off at any second and he goes over to grab McKay. “Rodney, come on!”
The colonel and the mad man are shouting at each other and he can't make out what's being said.
Miko and Herrington are agitated and the burly Sergeant is yelling at them to stay back. “I’m not telling you two again!”
Zelenka hurries over, grabbing Rodney's sleeve but the stubborn mule won't budge. “Do you want to get blown up!”
“No, of course not! But we're missing someone and this big jerk won't get out of the way for me to grab Sheppard!” Rodney snaps.
The giant Peppers blocks the entrance. “Get your asses back!” he snarls at them before hollering at Sheppard. “Sir, I have a shot!”
Sheppard yells something. Before he knows it, Sergeant Peppers is a steam train, grabbing Zelenka and Rodney by the shirt collars and shoving them down the hall.
“Move! Move! Move!”
The Marine hooks an arm around each of their middles and manhandles them down the hall like a rugby player. Rodney curses; Zelenka can barely keep from stumbling and in seconds they are at the end of the hall with everyone else.
Except for Sheppard.
“Where's the colonel?” Brier demands.
Zelenka sees a blur of a uniform in the doorway. “He's right---”
There's a flash followed by an explosion. By the time Zelenka's brain registers that he's alive, Rodney takes off like a shot. The two Marines are seconds behind him and Zelenka runs after them, wondering when his ears will stop ringing.
There is blood all over the door---a door that is currently on top of the colonel.
“Get it off of him!” Rodney yells.
Miko grabs Zelenka's elbow. “What’s going on?”
“Go back to the end of the hall....check on Dr. Herrington,” Zelenka tells her.
Peppers and Brier each take one end of the massive door and lift it away. The colonel is sprawled on the floor unconscious and Zelenka risks a look into the chamber, his stomach twisting at the human remains splattered all over the ground.
Sergeant Peppers glares at him and McKay. “We all need to move back, now! We could still have--”
This time the shock wave knocks them over.
Zelenka falls on his butt; Rodney and Peppers cover part of the colonel out of instinct. By the time he realizes the act of selflessness from the astrophysicist, the Marines are hollering again about retreating.
“He could have a spinal injury!” Rodney hisses.
The Marines grab their commanding officer; Peppers hauls Sheppard over his back in a fireman's carry and the soldiers hustle them to the end of the hall again.
Two more explosions rock the pod chamber.
Herrington almost falls down in the rush to find safety. “We're going to die!”
One of the Marines bellows. “Which way do we go?”
“The auxiliary power room,” Zelenka huffs.
“Lead the way.” He thinks that's Pepper's voice.
Miko is holding on to Zelenka's left arm and Herrington looks like he wants to hang on to McKay, but Rodney scowls at him as they keep running. They arrive in the room he'd just left before the whole mystery door fiasco. Sergeant Peppers lays the colonel down to the floor, wiping his brow.
Miko wraps her arms around herself, peering at the floor and then up at him. “I....I...lost my laptop.”
Zelenka doesn't know if he should laugh or just fall down. “It's okay, we'll get you a new one.” He pulls out a chair from one of the control panels and looks at Dr. Herrington. “Sit down.”
The young kid slumps in it, running his fingers through his curly locks. “Does this happen all the time?”
“Not all the time,” Zelenka replies tiredly. He feels bad for the kid-this is only the young man's third mission.
McKay is in a pissy mood, snapping at the Marines like they were children and pacing back and forth. “He probably has brain damage or a broken back thanks to your caveman tactics. You make Ronon look like Florence Nightingale.”
“Rodney, lets just figure out the quickest way to the jumper so we can leave,” Zelenka says, sighing.
“Yeah, yeah. Already on it....two steps ahead of you like usual.”
Zelenka is too fried to retort.
“What do you think happened? Why were there explosives in there?” Miko asks.
Herrington looks at him for an explanation. “All those people.....did they all die?”
Zelenka isn't used to these type of questions and is at a loss for a proper answer. Normally Rodney interrupts him any time he speaks up.
“I can't believe this.” McKay fiddles with the life sign's detector. “I don't understand.”
Zelenka does not like that high pitched tone. “What is it?”
“We're going to have company.”
Peppers walks over, readying his weapon. “Where?”
“Just a few feet from our position...right outside the door,” Rodney says.
“How many?” the sergeant demands.
“Um...” Rodney gulps. “Ten.”
The Marine swears under his breath.
Miko joins them. “Maybe they are survivors from the bomb.”
Brier checks on Sheppard before standing and hugs the wall in front of the door.
“Maybe we can ask them what happened here,” Zelenka suggests.
He isn't expecting the door to burst open at that exact moment or four men in scrubs to rush the unprepared Marines. The crazy men lunge before the soldiers can squeeze any triggers.
He's never heard the true sound of madness before. The screaming pierces his eardrums and the soldiers yell back, defending themselves from the rage.
Screeching-- the madmen are screeching-- going for throats and eyes.
One of the deranged men smacks Pepper's head hard against the wall and doesn't stop smashing the Marine's skull over and over again. Every time, Brier punches at one of his foes, there are more fists hitting him back.
The sounds of a hand gun snap Zelenka out of his shell shock. Rodney fires at the two closest bad guys, blood staining their scrub tops.
It's too bad that the room fills with six more men, the sounds of their insanity overwhelming the senses. McKay shoots point blank, yelling at the top of his lungs before he's overrun by rushing bodies.
Zelenka grabs the nearest chair and charges, whacking the first person on the head as hard as he can. He slams it onto the backs of those who are kicking McKay after knocking him down.
“Die!......Zkurvysyne!” he shouts.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Miko use another chair, swinging it awkwardly at those who descend upon her. Herrington stabs one of the zruda in the shoulder with a ball point pen.
Maybe the young scientist played American football because at a loss, the kid tackles another nameless man to the ground to defend Miko. Of course the nasty, hairy brutes use that opportunity to jump on top of him.
Zelenka knows they're all dead. One of the bad guys strikes him across the cheek and someone from behind whacks him on the head.
The sound of a P-90 is the most amazing thing. It drowns out the grunting, screaming and shouting. Blood drops spray his face as one of the lunatics gurgles before falling down from several chest wounds. Zelenka uses his chair like a shield as five long fingernails swipe at his neck; the murderous man is rewarded with a quick burst that cuts him down.
Amazingly, Sheppard is on his feet, his aim pinpoint and deadly. He shoots two more attacking people in the head. One of them goes for the colonel's throat and is rewarded with the butt end of the rifle. The colonel finishes him off with a couple more rounds.
The pilot doesn't waste time, pulling out his knife and stabbing one of the evil men who is still beating on Rodney in the back of the neck.
Sheppard sticks his Glock in Zelenka's hand. “Here!”
The colonel can't fire at those on the other side of the room with Miko and Herrington in the way. He's there in seconds, jabbing his knife in one body after another.
There's no time to realize how scary the colonel is before Zelenka turns, emptying the clip into the two goons behind him. His aim doesn't have to be good when all he's doing is targeting their chests.
The Glock clicks out of ammo, but he's still pulling the trigger for all its worth.
“Radek.”
Sheppard stands in a pile of bodies, one arm around Miko's shoulder, the poor dear still clutching the chair.
“Yes.”
“You're out of ammo.”
Zelenka blinks. “Okay.”
“We need to focus,” the colonel instructs.
“Yes... of course.”
“I'm assuming those are our pod people. We need to see if there are any others, then attend to the wounded.”
It's difficult to find the life signs detector with so many bodies and pools of blood. Zelenka goes over to Rodney who is groaning and he sighs in relief at the sound. He digs around, looking for the device, and finds it on the floor.
“Here,” he says, handing it over.
Sheppard clutches the life sign's detector, breathing heavily. “There's more on the move.”
“Where?” Miko asks, peering over.
“Everywhere, looks like they're just running around,” Sheppard growls. “There's more headed this way...we need to get outta of the path of the chamber.”
Zelenka rubs at his sore head. “Where? Can we get to the jumper?”
“Negative, that hall is filled with more of 'em.” The colonel studies the device. “We'll hole up at the mess hall, then take it from there.”
“Are the walking dead gone?” McKay asks, wiping away blood from his face.
Sheppard rushes over. “Are you injured?”
“I don't know.” Rodney wavers on his feet.
The colonel helps brace the scientist and checks him over, seeming satisfied. “We've got to help the others.”
Miko steadies Dr. Herrington whose face is puffy and bleeding. “Where are we?” the young man asks before almost falling down.
Zelenka runs over to help support Herrington. “Just take it easy; we're going to help you get out of here.” He slings the taller man's arm across his shoulder.
Sheppard helps Sergeant Brier to his feet; blood drips freely from the man's nose and mouth. “I'm good colonel.”
“You don't look it. What about your arm?”
Brier holds it close to his side. “It's broken. I'm missing a couple molars, but I can wait. We need to check on Peppers.”
The colonel looks at the detector. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!” The pilot grabs the unconscious Marine.
“Sir, let me.” Brier drapes one arm onto his uninjured side.
“Rodney, help the colonel, he needs both his hands,” Zelenka doesn't hesitate in instructing him.
McKay takes up the other side of the injured Marine without complaint, wincing from the extra weight.
“Let's go. Follow me,” Sheppard huffs, leading the way.
The battered group enters a hall. The colonel grips his P-90 in one hand and the life signs detector in the other. Rodney clasps his gun, pointing it in the dark while struggling with his heavy burden. Zelenka tries to shoulder most of the young Herrington, who sways badly on his feet, almost toppling Miko when he lists too far.
It takes forever to limp down the corridor; their collective shuffling is loud and unnerving. McKay grunts when he unexpectedly has to shift Pepper's weight. Herrington moans, clutching at his belly, and Zelenka wonders if the kid might get sick.
The colonel holds out his hand to stop the group. He flashes two fingers in the air, signaling the number of bad guys approaching. He pulls out his knife, rushes ahead and flattens his back against the wall.
Zelenka hears a high pitched growl; it doesn't even sound human. A figure pitches around the corner and lashes out blindly. The colonel grabs the attacking arm, twists it away and slashes the man's throat. By the time the next bad guy attacks, Sheppard adjusts the knife in his hand and buries it in the man's heart.
They are quick, quiet deaths....the pilot can't cause any noise and attract more trouble. The colonel gestures for them to move and they stop often, waiting for the all clear before going on. It's a game of cat and mouse. They move fast one moment then crouch in the darkness and hold their breaths to avoid detection.
Zelenka is bone weary; his jaw hurts, his head aches, but he plows on with the increasingly woozy Herrington. They arrive in a mess hall that looks like it’s already seen a terrible battle and he and Miko get the young man settled on the floor. Sheppard and Brier don't waste time grabbing tables and setting up barricades.
Rodney wanders over, looking frazzled with his hair sticking up and his right eye swelling shut. “How's Harrison?”
“Herrington,” Zelenka corrects. “He has a concussion for one.”
“His vision is blurry-- says he see two of me,” Miko chimes in, walking over.
“What about Sergeant Peppers?” Zelenka inquires.
McKay frowns, glancing back. “He's out for the count. I think I saw the dent in the wall that his head made,” he says, grimacing as he sits down.
“Are you okay?”
“My ribs are probably broken, my back is killing me, my shoulder hurts and I just got beat up by zombies. I'm just honky dory.”
“At least they were bare footed....those kicks could have been a lot worse,” Zelenka says.
The colonel hurries over to their little group. “McKay, how many clips of ammo do you have?”
“Um...” Rodney pats down his vest. “One?”
Sheppard grunts his displeasure, riffling through his own pockets. “I've got two more, plus two for my Glock.” The pilot pulls them out and hands the ammo for the handgun to Zelenka.
Brier comes over. “I grabbed Pepper's clips and his P-90,” as he looks around for a candidate to give them to.
“Give me your Glock, McKay,” the colonel orders. He takes the gun, walks over to Miko and gives it to her. “You ever use one of these?”
“Yes,” Miko squeaks. “During our weapons 101 training.”
“Good.”
Sergeant Brier tosses the P-90 to McKay who hisses in pain from catching it awkwardly. “Oh, gee, thanks. A little warning next time,” the scientist grouches.
The Marine shakes his head and turns towards Sheppard. “Sir, we still have the south exit to fortify. The door is off its hinges.”
The colonel turns quickly, losing his balance. Miko grabs his arm and he smiles at her before joining the circle. His face is pinched in pain and a fine sheen of sweat glistens over his brow.
“Are you alright, Colonel?” Zelenka asks.
“I'm fine.”
“Has anyone taken a look at you after that door exploded?” Zelenka expresses in concern.
“I hit my head, Radek,” Sheppard responds, glancing at his life signs detector. “And we still have to get this other exit taken care of.”
Miko pushes up her glasses. “What are we going to do?”
“We secure the room first while McKay checks the data he downloaded to see what the heck we're dealing with.” Sheppard turns towards the Sergeant. “Brier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Repair that door. Then set up some C-4 to cover the exit and make a barricade using the tables and chairs.”
“Yes, sir.”
The colonel clips his weapon to his vest and looks at Miko who awaits eagerly to be part of the plan to help out.
“Would you check on our injured?” the pilot asks.
She nods and he gestures at Zelenka to follow him.
The long tables are constructed out of metal parts and thick wood, making them heavier than they appear. They stack each one sideways against the door, the colonel propping them until they wedge in place. Zelenka squeezes his eyes closed, wishing his head would stop throbbing, and lifts his end of the piece of furniture with a little more vigor. Sheppard drops his end and stays hunched over, breathing in and out slowly.
“Colonel?” Zelenka checks to see if anyone has noticed and goes over to the pilot. “Is there something wrong?”
Sheppard takes a moment before straightening up. “Just sore.”
Zelenka fusses with his glasses. “Are you in pain?”
“That door landed on me pretty hard, I'm bruised. Now come on, I didn't like how close some of those dots are to our location.”
Zelenka redoubles his efforts to help, taking note that the colonel has been guarding his right side.
“Sir!”
Sergeant Brier is breathing heavily, looking worse than he did a few minutes ago and the pilot grabs the man's shoulder. “What?”
“You've....you've got to see what I found.”
“Sheppard!”
Zelenka sighs; only Rodney could make you hate your own name.
The colonel is on a short fuse and leads the Marine over towards the aggravated astrophysicist. “What is it Rodney!” he snaps.
“I think I've discovered what types of tests were being conducted here.”
“Okay, spill it.”
“Sleep deprivation.”
The colonel looks unconvinced. “We're being chased by a bunch of people who are grumpy because they didn't get a good night's sleep?”
Rodney glowers. “When these people were up and about before they were inside their little pods, they hadn't slept in weeks. Lack of proper REM sleep after more than three days can lead to delusional and sometimes violent behavior.”
“There's also sleep walking and REM disorders where people act out their violent dreams if they don't reach a proper dream state,” Zelenka adds. “There have been some studies linking psychosis and sleep deprivation.”
Sergeant Brier and Colonel Sheppard look at each other. “Alright,” the pilot says. “We have tests subjects who really need some Nyquil. How does that help us?”
Rodney rolls his eyes. “It doesn't. I don't know why they were conducting these experiments. I don't even know who these people are. I think the guy who blew himself up is the one who put all our zombies into those pods.”
“Great.” Sheppard turns to the Marine. “What is your helpful news?” he asks, checking the life signs detector. “Better make it quick, ‘cause we're about to have company.”
“I found the kitchen and the freezer is filled with the remains of many bodies. They all look like mummies,” the sergeant explains.
Sheppard's face remains neutral; his skin is pasty and Zelenka hopes it’s because of the terrible news.
“How many?” the pilot demands.
“It's a big freezer, sir. I think several hundred.”
“Colonel Sheppard!” Miko screams.
The pilot checks the detector. “They're coming..... both exits! Sergeant, wait until my signal to blow the doors.” Sheppard looks at the group. “Zelenka, you and Brier pick off any that get through. Rodney, you and Miko are with me. We'll hold the other end.”
McKay looks over at Zelenka. “We're so dead!”
“Optimism, Rodney,” the pilot scolds.
Zelenka checks his pistol, follows Sergeant Brier and hopes that the first person shooters he plays sometimes are enough practice for this.
“Kurva!” he swears.
-------------------------
They make a fort out of tables and chairs about twenty feet away from the doors. Sheppard grabs another piece of furniture and drags it across the floor to give them better cover.
He's huffs, out of breath, and guides Miko behind the bench. “Stay down. If you see one of them coming, just aim for the center of their chest. Got it?”
“Yes, like at the firing range.”
Sheppard smiles. “Just like that. Rodney and I will try to get them all before any of them get too close.”
“I think you seriously overestimate my scores on that House of the Dead game, Colonel,” McKay snaps. “And how come we don't get any C-4?”
“Don't have much left... and I want to save some for round two, plus we both have P-90s.”
“Oh, how reassuring. I'll just remind myself of that when....Oh, no...they're here!” McKay's voice quakes.
Fists pound outside the door. The noise gets louder, walls vibrate; the screaming is back and the relentless banging gets worse.
Sheppard studies the growing number of dots converging at the other entrance. Those doors are weaker and he checks on Brier and Zelenka, huddled behind their own makeshift barrier.
He aims carefully; his hands shake and he grits his teeth against an ache in his side and a growing burn in his belly. “Just wait.....wait…,” he warns.
The doors bust open. Two men trip and fall; the other test subjects trample on top of them in their madness. Sheppard pops up, firing....McKay's P-90 adds to the hail of lead.
Sheppard goes for precision, conserving ammo by taking head shots. One...two...three...four bodies drop. He doesn't think of them as human or innocent; he thinks of only those who he has to protect, pulling the trigger as more of the crazy bastards attack.
Too many try to enter in at once, getting stuck in the doorway and fighting each other to get inside. He takes the advantage, like shooting fish in a barrel.
Yet still more come.
“We've got contacts!” Brier shouts.
The doors at the other entrance burst open.
Sheppard checks the life signs detector, waiting for more and more dots to appear at the opposite entrance. Brier fires at the first few people that break through; Zelenka fires, backing him up.
The red dots merge into a single blob of color and Sheppard bellows over the weapons fire. “Blow it now!”
The room shakes from the explosion; the C-4 envelops the emerging horde in a fireball, earning Brier and Zelenka a short reprieve.
But more crazies flood through Sheppard's side of the mess hall.
“The door is acting like a funnel-- just concentrate on suppression fire!” he yells at Rodney.
“I'm trying. There's too many of 'em!”
One of the bad guys gets past the bullets, forcing Sheppard to shoot point blank. The mad man dies just inches away and seconds before another bad guy crashes into him, sending them both to the floor.
“I don't have a shot! You're in the way!” McKay's frantic voice reaches his ears.
Hands go for Sheppard's throat as he pulls out his knife and shoves it in the raging lunatic's side. “Don't stop shooting... at the door!” he screams.
It's too late. The interruption of constant fire is enough to break down their defenses. They're being overrun. Rodney tries to slam his rifle at the next pod person but another is on him.
Sheppard loses count of the number of time he stabs the guy trying to strangle him. By the time he wrestles the dead body off, another crazy replaces his buddy, this time swinging a chair at his head. He rolls out of the way barely in time; the chair breaks apart as it slams in the empty space next to him.
He franticly searches for the teether of his P-90 and rolls for cover from the sounds of gunfire. He counts three shots before a foot connects with his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He smells the odor of unwashed flesh and a mop of filthy hair looms over before its chest explodes, splattering blood all over his face.
Miko stands over him, the gun shaking in her hands. “Colonel?”
He stands, gasping through gritted teeth. “How's Rodney?”
There are two more dead bodies around McKay's feet, but the scientist groans. “I'm alive...barely.”
There's movement out of the corner of Sheppard's eye. “Bad guy's at two o'clock!”
He and Miko turn and open fire. Rodney gets to his knees, spraying more bullets from his automatic at the next onslaught of sleep deprived test subjects.
It's bullets and blood and the noises of death.
Then it's the sounds of collective rapid breathing.
Sheppard squints in the darkness, waiting for more, but nothing jumps out of the shambles of the door. He bends down to grab the life signs detector and suppresses a grunt as pain flares up his right side.
They're safe for now.
“Everyone okay?” he asks.
Rodney cradles his left hand to his side. “No.... Think my wrist's broken...probably crushed when zombie guy stepped on it.”
Brier and Zelenka wearily make their way over, looking ragged and exhausted. Sheppard pats Miko gently on the back and she looks at him meekly. “Good job,” he tells her.
“How many more bogies do we have, sir?” Brier asks.
Sheppard shakes his head. “Too many,” he says, scrubbing at his face. “We need another plan.”
All eyes shift to McKay. “Oh, of course, I'll just pull one out of my--”
“Just see if there's any information on how they stopped this before. There must be something,” Sheppard interrupts, wiping a test subject's blood from his face. He stares at his soiled uniform and rubs his hands over his BDUs to rid the death from his hands.
“I'll help,” Zelenka offers.
Sheppard studies the detector. “We're clear for now. Our happy friends are in another part of the complex.”
He goes over to where Herrington and Peppers lie on the floor, pressing his fingers to each neck for reassurance. The sergeant's silver hair is tinged red with dried blood and he struggles to retain his composure. He has to be the rock they can all count on.
“You know, Pops really respects you, sir.”
“He's only a few years older than me, Sergeant.”
The younger Marine shakes his head before growing serious. “You picked him for the expedition even after he got busted down. He's been an LT twice, but he just keeps finding ways to let them take his stripes.”
“The brass sees everything in black and white.”
“And you don't, sir?”
“Sometimes to survive you have to play in the gray.”
Sheppard bends over and pats Herrington on the shoulder while the keyed up Brier begins to pace.
“Don't fall asleep. Try to stay awake; you have a concussion,” he tells the kid.
“Tired.”
“I know.”
“Been...dreaming about...monsters. I...keep...hearing.....”
“Just take it easy and don't worry about all the noise; you're safe.”
“We goin'...home soon?”
“Yeah...just hang on.”
“'Kay.......Col'nl?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you...gonna save us?...That's......what you do,” the young man mutters.
Sheppard bites his lower lip and looks over at Sergeant Brier who's overheard the entire thing. He stands too quickly and lists to the left, his vision graying around the edges. A hand grabs his bicep and the room swims back into focus. “I'm good,” Sheppard says.
“Sir, are you--”
“I want you to inspect the kitchen; see if we can use it as our next base of defense. I'm going to see what the brain trust came up with.”
He lags a couple steps behind the hefty Marine, willing the Powerbar from hours ago to stay in his stomach. His bellyache twists his insides and he tries taking deep breaths to calm it.
Rodney sees him and launches into his findings while Zelenka holds the laptop for him. “They used a gas through the ventilation system to knock everyone out. Or should I say Commander Hellios, our mad bomber did.”
Sheppard nods. “Okay.....and can we--”
“The problem is that the controls for the gas are in another lab,” Zelenka points out.
“And it would knock us out, too....but that doesn't matter because there's not enough to spread through the complex. Most of it was used up the first time, according to these figures.”
Zelenka looks at McKay. “If we could even turn it on but.....”
Sheppard holds out his hands. “Is it possible that someone could get it back and working?”
Rodney shakes his head. “Doubt it.”
“Maybe,” the Czech retorts.
“Okay. Could we flood one area. Not the entire complex?” Sheppard asks, looking at them.
“I guess if we knew how to operate the controls.” Rodney looks at him. “Oh, no...what are you....”
“I'll go, you guide me how to fix it over the radio and I'll release it on our buddies. Then we can get outta here.”
Zelenka shakes his head. “How are you going to get them all in one location?”
Sheppard wipes at his sweaty brow. “I'll put it on a timer and then lure them over----”
“Oh, hell no! You think you can just play cat and mouse with a roaming band of freaks?” McKay shouts.
Miko steps closer, the men dwarfing her. “Um… Colonel Sheppard, wouldn't the gas affect you?”
“Yeah, what she said,” Rodney says, snapping his fingers.
“I'm sure the place that operates the gas has masks. I'll look for them first, set a timer, entice the bad guys and make them go nightie night.”
All three of them stare at Sheppard incredulously. “Look, we don't have many options.”
“The last time I checked, you can't read Ancient,” McKay barbs.
“We could load up a translation program. He could use the laptop,” Miko suggests.
“Do it,” Sheppard orders, glancing at the moving dots. “We don't have much time.”
He scouts the area in front of the kitchen for the best placement for the remaining C-4 and turns at the sound of approaching boots. Brier marches forward looking ready to argue about something.
“Sir, I heard about the plan. Why don't you let me go lure those people. You should--”
“I need you here Sergeant to protect the civilians; that's our number priority,” Sheppard cuts the man off.
“But, sir. I'm fast on my feet. Before joining the Corp, I ran track all through high school. After class, I was dodging the gang bangers on the street.”
“You're injured.”
“Broke my arm, not my legs. I could out run you.....sir.”
Sheppard shakes his head. “You don't have the gene to operate the lab. I'm the least banged up of all us and I'm not sending out Miko or Zelenka. Now let's take a look at the map and see what would be the most effective sector to gas our insomniacs.”
He takes a good look at his officer and knows the tough Marine is hurting and trying not to show it. “We can do this sitting down; it looks you could use a rest.” He doesn't mention that getting off his feet would do wonders for the growing twinge in his side.
Five minutes later the rest of his bone weary group take seats on the floor and they all look like victims of a mugging. Rodney's wrist is swollen, wrapped between pieces of cardboard and gauze. His animated movements are stiff, less energized and his teammate takes out all his pain on Zelenka. “I told you, there isn't enough power to re-route to activate the gas.”
“We're talking thirty seconds to fill an area ten by ten meters. It's doable,” the Czech retorts.
“And I bet the colonel has picked the worse possible place, not having a clue about how large a ventilation system we're dealing with.”
Sheppard digs his thumb and finger into his eyes to try to rid a growing headache. “I found a hallway far from the jumper and close enough to give me time to bait our friends into the trap.”
“The translation program is ready to go,” Miko tells him.
It's so odd to see the Glock rest on her lap like it was just a PDA or an everyday piece of lab equipment. He tries to ignore the surreal image of her and the gun from his head. “You have the program I need to operate the equipment?” he asks McKay.
“If those consoles haven't been destroyed like half the lab rooms in this place and if, and I say if ......you can even tap into them.”
“Bottom line!” Sheppard snaps.
Rodney shoves the laptop at him. “Yes, if every crazy variable to this doesn't blow up in your face then my program should work.”
“Thank you,” Sheppard growls.
“Colonel Sheppard, how many more tests subjects are out there?” Zelenka asks.
“About thirty give or take. The bombs in the chamber took out half. We've killed....” Sheppard squeezes his eyes closed, unable to think clearly about the numbers.
“Ten in the power room, another twenty five or so in here,” Brier answers.
Sheppard ignores the Sergeant's worried expression. “Yeah, so a piece of cake.”
Radek helps McKay up, letting the irritable crab apple lean on him on their way towards the kitchen.
Sheppard struggles to his feet and Miko offers him water from her canteen. “It's not very cold.”
His throat is parched and he tries not to gulp too much down. He returns it to her, but some of the water splashes out when his hand trembles. He offers a quick smile to counteract her anxious expression. “Thank you.”
Sergeant Brier doesn't say a word as they prep the last of their explosives just in case the kitchen becomes the Alamo in a last stand.
“Can you guys handle moving Peppers and Herrington?”
“We'll be fine, sir,” Brier responds.
Zelenka comes over with a handful of aspirin. “This is the last of it. I made Rodney take three and the rest of us have swallowed some.”
“No, thanks. Save it for the trip home or give more to the sergeant; he's got a lot of dentist appointments in his future.” Sheppard taps his com. “I'm about to head out, McKay.”
“Don't damage that laptop, Colonel.”
“I'll contact you when I arrive at the lab.”
“I can watch you on the life signs detector.”
Sheppard pulls his out, adjusts the back pack with the computer inside it and turns on the light on top of his weapon.
“Good luck, sir.”
He nods at the sergeant and Zelenka. “You too.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Sheppard becomes one with the corners, eyes flicking to the detector before dashing down darkened corridors. He scans, runs, darts and waits. There are a few stray test subjects roaming around and he does what he can to avoid them. He pulls his damp T-shirt away from his chest and wipes the beads of perspiration that roll down his face with his forearm. He exhales all the air from his lungs and takes off down another hall, ignoring the increased queasiness of his stomach.
Rodney's voice is loud in his ear. “You’re almost there.”
“I know that, McKay,” he hisses back.
There are no signs of trouble but he leads with the barrel of his P-90 into the lab, sweeping the room before searching for the right piece of equipment. Years of dust cover each panel and he rummages for a data port to plug the laptop into. It's frustrating not knowing which console is correct but things flash awake from his touch.
“Good, now we're getting somewhere.”
If the machines chirp and hum then they might be operational enough to pull this off. He spots a connection, inserts the cable and waits for the screen to light up. Lines of unreadable code scroll down in dizzying fashion, causing his gut to clinch.
“Not now,” he groans.
The laptop beeps and McKay's program begins to search for the right protocols. He takes the time to search for any type of protective mask. He'll complete the mission even if he doesn't find one. It's the only way and Rodney can still fly everyone back in the jumper. He rifles through the last cabinet and smiles at that Sheppard luck. There are two hanging on a hook and he snags one.
The life signs detector shows that the room is all clear but it doesn't make him less jumpy; his fight and flight alerts are buzzing. The blue glow from the screen flashes repeatedly with nonsense until he recognizes English and basic instructions.
Yes!
Sheppard's fingers dance over the keyboard and he taps his com. “Your program has found out how to activate the gas. I'm logging into the ventilation protocols now.”
It routes and re-routes, spits out data lightening fast, making him dizzy and he has to look away to keep from getting sick. He takes long deep breaths, the stitch in his side gnawing deeper.
“How much longer?”
“Almost done. I just have to find a way to set it on a timer,” he tells McKay.
He feels the hackles on his neck rise; his eyes dart to new red dot on the detector. Rodney's screaming in his ear as he rushes to the door, slamming his back against the wall. He waits, his heart banging against his ribcage.
The man's heavy breathing gives him away and Sheppard yanks on a handful of scrub top. He's rewarded with an elbow to the face and nails that miss clawing out his eyes. The test subject tries to grab his hair and Sheppard flips the wrist back, breaking it. The mad man howls and he silences the poor bastard by twisting his neck in a unnatural direction.
He stands back, staring at the body and shudders at what he is capable of sometimes.
“Sheppard! Sheppard!”
He taps his com. “Stop yelling.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
The laptop beeps, awaiting his next execution and he types in ten minutes into the timer.
He runs out of the room at full speed towards the largest group of pod people. “On my way now,” he says breathlessly into the com.
Down.
Right turn.
Down again.
Left turn.
He can hear them prowling for whatever will give them an outlet for the torment in their minds. He wonders if it’s instinct to roam in groups and why they haven't turned on each other. He enters the north wing, the part of the complex that leads to the jumper.
Why couldn't they just leave?
It's now or never, a quick five minute jog to an isolated area that'll put everyone to sleep. That's what they crave so badly, isn't it? Sheppard draws in a ragged breath and turns the corner.
“Hey! The auditions for Dawn of the Dead are over here!”
He’s just waved the red flag. It's one thing to be hunted down by hungry Wraith, but it's another to see that same type of hunger for violence in the disturbed eyes of humans.
Sheppard runs; a stampede of dozens of feet pound the tile floor right behind him. He ignores the wailing, the grunts and growling of those stripped of any humanity. Being chased by the stuff of nightmares is hard, especially when the pain in his side decides to blossom.
His chest hurts, it’s harder to draw oxygen from his lungs and the hallway dips and bobs like a boat. Running, he runs all the time, five miles a day, sometimes more. He blocks out the pain, only keeping track of where he is..... of the mob gaining on him.
Rodney's panicked voice is like a dagger through his skull. “Sheppard, move your ass faster! Do you want them to catch up!”
He can feel their collective breaths-hear their lumbering bodies. Timing is crucial. He has to be in place before the gas goes off...if it goes off.
He fumbles putting the mask on as he reaches the end of the hall. There's no place to hide, no place to go. The mask fogs up from his rapid inhalations; his heart is a buzz saw trying to cut through his sternum.
Sheppard raises his P-90 and pulls the trigger, spraying the crowd with bullets. They fall, one at a time but there are too many of them. There's not enough ammunition to kill an experiment all gone to hell.
They scream when the bullets pierce their chests. They yell, stomping over the dead bodies to get to him. This is a killing field. He sees their eyes, pupils large and dilated, bouncing side to side like marbles.
He backs away, still firing until he runs out of space, mortar and brick keeping him from going any further.
His wristwatch beeps. Hands lunge and claw at him while the hall fills with green smoke. Sheppard punches and kicks, fingers grapple at his mask but the gas is thick, all of it programmed to flush the hall quickly.
They all collapse, bodies twitch as the nerve agent sends them to dreamland. He's dizzy with relief, breathing so fast he just might hyperventilate. He avoids stepping on all the sprawled limbs, wading through the pea soup of the corridor.
“Did it work?”
“Yes, Rodney it worked.”
“Good, now hurry up so we can go home.”
The buzzing is back but this time it’s not his instincts. His stomach hurts with a sensation of nausea and fire. His whole right flank is alive with pain--- pressure and weight with sharp and dull.
He's walking when he should be running....stumbling instead of getting back to his team.
“Sheppard, what's going on? Why have you stopped?'
He gives his head a shake to clear it, pulling off the mask but ends up sliding to his knees, confused and light-headed.
“Sheppard! Colonel, answer me! What's wrong?”
McKay's voice sounds really far away and his stomach rebels and he throws up all over the floor.
“Tell us what’s going on!”
He pants, spitting to clear his mouth.
“Sheppard! Answer me!”
“Go...to the..... jumper...” he rasps into the radio.
“That's not the plan.”
“I'll meet...you there...now go.”
“Sheppard we're not---”
“Put Sergeant Brier on the com, now!”
There's arguing; his hand latches onto the wall to pull himself to his feet. He can't stand to full height and stays hunched over.
“Sir, it's Brier...Colonel Sheppard, please respond.”
“Get everyone...to the jumper....that's an order......I'll be there.”
He checks the life signs, noticing two more red dots coming his way. He takes two steps, and staggers. The hall spins before him while his P-90 dangles uselessly from his vest.
He moves though, blindly and slowly forward.
To Part Three
Rodney hands Miko over like she's a piece of equipment that he can't be bothered with anymore. “Watch her!”
Zelenka catches her as she stumbles as both of them try to gain their bearings. The guy they woke up is screaming now. “Maybe he's saying he can't stop the bombs?”
“Keep moving, sir...we need to get you to a safe distance,” Sergeant Brier orders.
Miko and Herrington go down the hall but stop, realizing they are the only two obeying the Marine's orders. Rodney still hovers in the doorway and Zelenka is torn between making sure his people are okay and finding out what is happening in the chamber room.
“What's going on?” Miko asks, walking back.
“Please madame, stay where you are.” Brier tries to usher her to safety.
“Just get out of there, Colonel!” Rodney shouts.
Now Zelenka is getting worried; the explosives could go off at any second and he goes over to grab McKay. “Rodney, come on!”
The colonel and the mad man are shouting at each other and he can't make out what's being said.
Miko and Herrington are agitated and the burly Sergeant is yelling at them to stay back. “I’m not telling you two again!”
Zelenka hurries over, grabbing Rodney's sleeve but the stubborn mule won't budge. “Do you want to get blown up!”
“No, of course not! But we're missing someone and this big jerk won't get out of the way for me to grab Sheppard!” Rodney snaps.
The giant Peppers blocks the entrance. “Get your asses back!” he snarls at them before hollering at Sheppard. “Sir, I have a shot!”
Sheppard yells something. Before he knows it, Sergeant Peppers is a steam train, grabbing Zelenka and Rodney by the shirt collars and shoving them down the hall.
“Move! Move! Move!”
The Marine hooks an arm around each of their middles and manhandles them down the hall like a rugby player. Rodney curses; Zelenka can barely keep from stumbling and in seconds they are at the end of the hall with everyone else.
Except for Sheppard.
“Where's the colonel?” Brier demands.
Zelenka sees a blur of a uniform in the doorway. “He's right---”
There's a flash followed by an explosion. By the time Zelenka's brain registers that he's alive, Rodney takes off like a shot. The two Marines are seconds behind him and Zelenka runs after them, wondering when his ears will stop ringing.
There is blood all over the door---a door that is currently on top of the colonel.
“Get it off of him!” Rodney yells.
Miko grabs Zelenka's elbow. “What’s going on?”
“Go back to the end of the hall....check on Dr. Herrington,” Zelenka tells her.
Peppers and Brier each take one end of the massive door and lift it away. The colonel is sprawled on the floor unconscious and Zelenka risks a look into the chamber, his stomach twisting at the human remains splattered all over the ground.
Sergeant Peppers glares at him and McKay. “We all need to move back, now! We could still have--”
This time the shock wave knocks them over.
Zelenka falls on his butt; Rodney and Peppers cover part of the colonel out of instinct. By the time he realizes the act of selflessness from the astrophysicist, the Marines are hollering again about retreating.
“He could have a spinal injury!” Rodney hisses.
The Marines grab their commanding officer; Peppers hauls Sheppard over his back in a fireman's carry and the soldiers hustle them to the end of the hall again.
Two more explosions rock the pod chamber.
Herrington almost falls down in the rush to find safety. “We're going to die!”
One of the Marines bellows. “Which way do we go?”
“The auxiliary power room,” Zelenka huffs.
“Lead the way.” He thinks that's Pepper's voice.
Miko is holding on to Zelenka's left arm and Herrington looks like he wants to hang on to McKay, but Rodney scowls at him as they keep running. They arrive in the room he'd just left before the whole mystery door fiasco. Sergeant Peppers lays the colonel down to the floor, wiping his brow.
Miko wraps her arms around herself, peering at the floor and then up at him. “I....I...lost my laptop.”
Zelenka doesn't know if he should laugh or just fall down. “It's okay, we'll get you a new one.” He pulls out a chair from one of the control panels and looks at Dr. Herrington. “Sit down.”
The young kid slumps in it, running his fingers through his curly locks. “Does this happen all the time?”
“Not all the time,” Zelenka replies tiredly. He feels bad for the kid-this is only the young man's third mission.
McKay is in a pissy mood, snapping at the Marines like they were children and pacing back and forth. “He probably has brain damage or a broken back thanks to your caveman tactics. You make Ronon look like Florence Nightingale.”
“Rodney, lets just figure out the quickest way to the jumper so we can leave,” Zelenka says, sighing.
“Yeah, yeah. Already on it....two steps ahead of you like usual.”
Zelenka is too fried to retort.
“What do you think happened? Why were there explosives in there?” Miko asks.
Herrington looks at him for an explanation. “All those people.....did they all die?”
Zelenka isn't used to these type of questions and is at a loss for a proper answer. Normally Rodney interrupts him any time he speaks up.
“I can't believe this.” McKay fiddles with the life sign's detector. “I don't understand.”
Zelenka does not like that high pitched tone. “What is it?”
“We're going to have company.”
Peppers walks over, readying his weapon. “Where?”
“Just a few feet from our position...right outside the door,” Rodney says.
“How many?” the sergeant demands.
“Um...” Rodney gulps. “Ten.”
The Marine swears under his breath.
Miko joins them. “Maybe they are survivors from the bomb.”
Brier checks on Sheppard before standing and hugs the wall in front of the door.
“Maybe we can ask them what happened here,” Zelenka suggests.
He isn't expecting the door to burst open at that exact moment or four men in scrubs to rush the unprepared Marines. The crazy men lunge before the soldiers can squeeze any triggers.
He's never heard the true sound of madness before. The screaming pierces his eardrums and the soldiers yell back, defending themselves from the rage.
Screeching-- the madmen are screeching-- going for throats and eyes.
One of the deranged men smacks Pepper's head hard against the wall and doesn't stop smashing the Marine's skull over and over again. Every time, Brier punches at one of his foes, there are more fists hitting him back.
The sounds of a hand gun snap Zelenka out of his shell shock. Rodney fires at the two closest bad guys, blood staining their scrub tops.
It's too bad that the room fills with six more men, the sounds of their insanity overwhelming the senses. McKay shoots point blank, yelling at the top of his lungs before he's overrun by rushing bodies.
Zelenka grabs the nearest chair and charges, whacking the first person on the head as hard as he can. He slams it onto the backs of those who are kicking McKay after knocking him down.
“Die!......Zkurvysyne!” he shouts.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Miko use another chair, swinging it awkwardly at those who descend upon her. Herrington stabs one of the zruda in the shoulder with a ball point pen.
Maybe the young scientist played American football because at a loss, the kid tackles another nameless man to the ground to defend Miko. Of course the nasty, hairy brutes use that opportunity to jump on top of him.
Zelenka knows they're all dead. One of the bad guys strikes him across the cheek and someone from behind whacks him on the head.
The sound of a P-90 is the most amazing thing. It drowns out the grunting, screaming and shouting. Blood drops spray his face as one of the lunatics gurgles before falling down from several chest wounds. Zelenka uses his chair like a shield as five long fingernails swipe at his neck; the murderous man is rewarded with a quick burst that cuts him down.
Amazingly, Sheppard is on his feet, his aim pinpoint and deadly. He shoots two more attacking people in the head. One of them goes for the colonel's throat and is rewarded with the butt end of the rifle. The colonel finishes him off with a couple more rounds.
The pilot doesn't waste time, pulling out his knife and stabbing one of the evil men who is still beating on Rodney in the back of the neck.
Sheppard sticks his Glock in Zelenka's hand. “Here!”
The colonel can't fire at those on the other side of the room with Miko and Herrington in the way. He's there in seconds, jabbing his knife in one body after another.
There's no time to realize how scary the colonel is before Zelenka turns, emptying the clip into the two goons behind him. His aim doesn't have to be good when all he's doing is targeting their chests.
The Glock clicks out of ammo, but he's still pulling the trigger for all its worth.
“Radek.”
Sheppard stands in a pile of bodies, one arm around Miko's shoulder, the poor dear still clutching the chair.
“Yes.”
“You're out of ammo.”
Zelenka blinks. “Okay.”
“We need to focus,” the colonel instructs.
“Yes... of course.”
“I'm assuming those are our pod people. We need to see if there are any others, then attend to the wounded.”
It's difficult to find the life signs detector with so many bodies and pools of blood. Zelenka goes over to Rodney who is groaning and he sighs in relief at the sound. He digs around, looking for the device, and finds it on the floor.
“Here,” he says, handing it over.
Sheppard clutches the life sign's detector, breathing heavily. “There's more on the move.”
“Where?” Miko asks, peering over.
“Everywhere, looks like they're just running around,” Sheppard growls. “There's more headed this way...we need to get outta of the path of the chamber.”
Zelenka rubs at his sore head. “Where? Can we get to the jumper?”
“Negative, that hall is filled with more of 'em.” The colonel studies the device. “We'll hole up at the mess hall, then take it from there.”
“Are the walking dead gone?” McKay asks, wiping away blood from his face.
Sheppard rushes over. “Are you injured?”
“I don't know.” Rodney wavers on his feet.
The colonel helps brace the scientist and checks him over, seeming satisfied. “We've got to help the others.”
Miko steadies Dr. Herrington whose face is puffy and bleeding. “Where are we?” the young man asks before almost falling down.
Zelenka runs over to help support Herrington. “Just take it easy; we're going to help you get out of here.” He slings the taller man's arm across his shoulder.
Sheppard helps Sergeant Brier to his feet; blood drips freely from the man's nose and mouth. “I'm good colonel.”
“You don't look it. What about your arm?”
Brier holds it close to his side. “It's broken. I'm missing a couple molars, but I can wait. We need to check on Peppers.”
The colonel looks at the detector. “We’ve got to get out of here. Now!” The pilot grabs the unconscious Marine.
“Sir, let me.” Brier drapes one arm onto his uninjured side.
“Rodney, help the colonel, he needs both his hands,” Zelenka doesn't hesitate in instructing him.
McKay takes up the other side of the injured Marine without complaint, wincing from the extra weight.
“Let's go. Follow me,” Sheppard huffs, leading the way.
The battered group enters a hall. The colonel grips his P-90 in one hand and the life signs detector in the other. Rodney clasps his gun, pointing it in the dark while struggling with his heavy burden. Zelenka tries to shoulder most of the young Herrington, who sways badly on his feet, almost toppling Miko when he lists too far.
It takes forever to limp down the corridor; their collective shuffling is loud and unnerving. McKay grunts when he unexpectedly has to shift Pepper's weight. Herrington moans, clutching at his belly, and Zelenka wonders if the kid might get sick.
The colonel holds out his hand to stop the group. He flashes two fingers in the air, signaling the number of bad guys approaching. He pulls out his knife, rushes ahead and flattens his back against the wall.
Zelenka hears a high pitched growl; it doesn't even sound human. A figure pitches around the corner and lashes out blindly. The colonel grabs the attacking arm, twists it away and slashes the man's throat. By the time the next bad guy attacks, Sheppard adjusts the knife in his hand and buries it in the man's heart.
They are quick, quiet deaths....the pilot can't cause any noise and attract more trouble. The colonel gestures for them to move and they stop often, waiting for the all clear before going on. It's a game of cat and mouse. They move fast one moment then crouch in the darkness and hold their breaths to avoid detection.
Zelenka is bone weary; his jaw hurts, his head aches, but he plows on with the increasingly woozy Herrington. They arrive in a mess hall that looks like it’s already seen a terrible battle and he and Miko get the young man settled on the floor. Sheppard and Brier don't waste time grabbing tables and setting up barricades.
Rodney wanders over, looking frazzled with his hair sticking up and his right eye swelling shut. “How's Harrison?”
“Herrington,” Zelenka corrects. “He has a concussion for one.”
“His vision is blurry-- says he see two of me,” Miko chimes in, walking over.
“What about Sergeant Peppers?” Zelenka inquires.
McKay frowns, glancing back. “He's out for the count. I think I saw the dent in the wall that his head made,” he says, grimacing as he sits down.
“Are you okay?”
“My ribs are probably broken, my back is killing me, my shoulder hurts and I just got beat up by zombies. I'm just honky dory.”
“At least they were bare footed....those kicks could have been a lot worse,” Zelenka says.
The colonel hurries over to their little group. “McKay, how many clips of ammo do you have?”
“Um...” Rodney pats down his vest. “One?”
Sheppard grunts his displeasure, riffling through his own pockets. “I've got two more, plus two for my Glock.” The pilot pulls them out and hands the ammo for the handgun to Zelenka.
Brier comes over. “I grabbed Pepper's clips and his P-90,” as he looks around for a candidate to give them to.
“Give me your Glock, McKay,” the colonel orders. He takes the gun, walks over to Miko and gives it to her. “You ever use one of these?”
“Yes,” Miko squeaks. “During our weapons 101 training.”
“Good.”
Sergeant Brier tosses the P-90 to McKay who hisses in pain from catching it awkwardly. “Oh, gee, thanks. A little warning next time,” the scientist grouches.
The Marine shakes his head and turns towards Sheppard. “Sir, we still have the south exit to fortify. The door is off its hinges.”
The colonel turns quickly, losing his balance. Miko grabs his arm and he smiles at her before joining the circle. His face is pinched in pain and a fine sheen of sweat glistens over his brow.
“Are you alright, Colonel?” Zelenka asks.
“I'm fine.”
“Has anyone taken a look at you after that door exploded?” Zelenka expresses in concern.
“I hit my head, Radek,” Sheppard responds, glancing at his life signs detector. “And we still have to get this other exit taken care of.”
Miko pushes up her glasses. “What are we going to do?”
“We secure the room first while McKay checks the data he downloaded to see what the heck we're dealing with.” Sheppard turns towards the Sergeant. “Brier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Repair that door. Then set up some C-4 to cover the exit and make a barricade using the tables and chairs.”
“Yes, sir.”
The colonel clips his weapon to his vest and looks at Miko who awaits eagerly to be part of the plan to help out.
“Would you check on our injured?” the pilot asks.
She nods and he gestures at Zelenka to follow him.
The long tables are constructed out of metal parts and thick wood, making them heavier than they appear. They stack each one sideways against the door, the colonel propping them until they wedge in place. Zelenka squeezes his eyes closed, wishing his head would stop throbbing, and lifts his end of the piece of furniture with a little more vigor. Sheppard drops his end and stays hunched over, breathing in and out slowly.
“Colonel?” Zelenka checks to see if anyone has noticed and goes over to the pilot. “Is there something wrong?”
Sheppard takes a moment before straightening up. “Just sore.”
Zelenka fusses with his glasses. “Are you in pain?”
“That door landed on me pretty hard, I'm bruised. Now come on, I didn't like how close some of those dots are to our location.”
Zelenka redoubles his efforts to help, taking note that the colonel has been guarding his right side.
“Sir!”
Sergeant Brier is breathing heavily, looking worse than he did a few minutes ago and the pilot grabs the man's shoulder. “What?”
“You've....you've got to see what I found.”
“Sheppard!”
Zelenka sighs; only Rodney could make you hate your own name.
The colonel is on a short fuse and leads the Marine over towards the aggravated astrophysicist. “What is it Rodney!” he snaps.
“I think I've discovered what types of tests were being conducted here.”
“Okay, spill it.”
“Sleep deprivation.”
The colonel looks unconvinced. “We're being chased by a bunch of people who are grumpy because they didn't get a good night's sleep?”
Rodney glowers. “When these people were up and about before they were inside their little pods, they hadn't slept in weeks. Lack of proper REM sleep after more than three days can lead to delusional and sometimes violent behavior.”
“There's also sleep walking and REM disorders where people act out their violent dreams if they don't reach a proper dream state,” Zelenka adds. “There have been some studies linking psychosis and sleep deprivation.”
Sergeant Brier and Colonel Sheppard look at each other. “Alright,” the pilot says. “We have tests subjects who really need some Nyquil. How does that help us?”
Rodney rolls his eyes. “It doesn't. I don't know why they were conducting these experiments. I don't even know who these people are. I think the guy who blew himself up is the one who put all our zombies into those pods.”
“Great.” Sheppard turns to the Marine. “What is your helpful news?” he asks, checking the life signs detector. “Better make it quick, ‘cause we're about to have company.”
“I found the kitchen and the freezer is filled with the remains of many bodies. They all look like mummies,” the sergeant explains.
Sheppard's face remains neutral; his skin is pasty and Zelenka hopes it’s because of the terrible news.
“How many?” the pilot demands.
“It's a big freezer, sir. I think several hundred.”
“Colonel Sheppard!” Miko screams.
The pilot checks the detector. “They're coming..... both exits! Sergeant, wait until my signal to blow the doors.” Sheppard looks at the group. “Zelenka, you and Brier pick off any that get through. Rodney, you and Miko are with me. We'll hold the other end.”
McKay looks over at Zelenka. “We're so dead!”
“Optimism, Rodney,” the pilot scolds.
Zelenka checks his pistol, follows Sergeant Brier and hopes that the first person shooters he plays sometimes are enough practice for this.
“Kurva!” he swears.
-------------------------
They make a fort out of tables and chairs about twenty feet away from the doors. Sheppard grabs another piece of furniture and drags it across the floor to give them better cover.
He's huffs, out of breath, and guides Miko behind the bench. “Stay down. If you see one of them coming, just aim for the center of their chest. Got it?”
“Yes, like at the firing range.”
Sheppard smiles. “Just like that. Rodney and I will try to get them all before any of them get too close.”
“I think you seriously overestimate my scores on that House of the Dead game, Colonel,” McKay snaps. “And how come we don't get any C-4?”
“Don't have much left... and I want to save some for round two, plus we both have P-90s.”
“Oh, how reassuring. I'll just remind myself of that when....Oh, no...they're here!” McKay's voice quakes.
Fists pound outside the door. The noise gets louder, walls vibrate; the screaming is back and the relentless banging gets worse.
Sheppard studies the growing number of dots converging at the other entrance. Those doors are weaker and he checks on Brier and Zelenka, huddled behind their own makeshift barrier.
He aims carefully; his hands shake and he grits his teeth against an ache in his side and a growing burn in his belly. “Just wait.....wait…,” he warns.
The doors bust open. Two men trip and fall; the other test subjects trample on top of them in their madness. Sheppard pops up, firing....McKay's P-90 adds to the hail of lead.
Sheppard goes for precision, conserving ammo by taking head shots. One...two...three...four bodies drop. He doesn't think of them as human or innocent; he thinks of only those who he has to protect, pulling the trigger as more of the crazy bastards attack.
Too many try to enter in at once, getting stuck in the doorway and fighting each other to get inside. He takes the advantage, like shooting fish in a barrel.
Yet still more come.
“We've got contacts!” Brier shouts.
The doors at the other entrance burst open.
Sheppard checks the life signs detector, waiting for more and more dots to appear at the opposite entrance. Brier fires at the first few people that break through; Zelenka fires, backing him up.
The red dots merge into a single blob of color and Sheppard bellows over the weapons fire. “Blow it now!”
The room shakes from the explosion; the C-4 envelops the emerging horde in a fireball, earning Brier and Zelenka a short reprieve.
But more crazies flood through Sheppard's side of the mess hall.
“The door is acting like a funnel-- just concentrate on suppression fire!” he yells at Rodney.
“I'm trying. There's too many of 'em!”
One of the bad guys gets past the bullets, forcing Sheppard to shoot point blank. The mad man dies just inches away and seconds before another bad guy crashes into him, sending them both to the floor.
“I don't have a shot! You're in the way!” McKay's frantic voice reaches his ears.
Hands go for Sheppard's throat as he pulls out his knife and shoves it in the raging lunatic's side. “Don't stop shooting... at the door!” he screams.
It's too late. The interruption of constant fire is enough to break down their defenses. They're being overrun. Rodney tries to slam his rifle at the next pod person but another is on him.
Sheppard loses count of the number of time he stabs the guy trying to strangle him. By the time he wrestles the dead body off, another crazy replaces his buddy, this time swinging a chair at his head. He rolls out of the way barely in time; the chair breaks apart as it slams in the empty space next to him.
He franticly searches for the teether of his P-90 and rolls for cover from the sounds of gunfire. He counts three shots before a foot connects with his gut, knocking the wind out of him. He smells the odor of unwashed flesh and a mop of filthy hair looms over before its chest explodes, splattering blood all over his face.
Miko stands over him, the gun shaking in her hands. “Colonel?”
He stands, gasping through gritted teeth. “How's Rodney?”
There are two more dead bodies around McKay's feet, but the scientist groans. “I'm alive...barely.”
There's movement out of the corner of Sheppard's eye. “Bad guy's at two o'clock!”
He and Miko turn and open fire. Rodney gets to his knees, spraying more bullets from his automatic at the next onslaught of sleep deprived test subjects.
It's bullets and blood and the noises of death.
Then it's the sounds of collective rapid breathing.
Sheppard squints in the darkness, waiting for more, but nothing jumps out of the shambles of the door. He bends down to grab the life signs detector and suppresses a grunt as pain flares up his right side.
They're safe for now.
“Everyone okay?” he asks.
Rodney cradles his left hand to his side. “No.... Think my wrist's broken...probably crushed when zombie guy stepped on it.”
Brier and Zelenka wearily make their way over, looking ragged and exhausted. Sheppard pats Miko gently on the back and she looks at him meekly. “Good job,” he tells her.
“How many more bogies do we have, sir?” Brier asks.
Sheppard shakes his head. “Too many,” he says, scrubbing at his face. “We need another plan.”
All eyes shift to McKay. “Oh, of course, I'll just pull one out of my--”
“Just see if there's any information on how they stopped this before. There must be something,” Sheppard interrupts, wiping a test subject's blood from his face. He stares at his soiled uniform and rubs his hands over his BDUs to rid the death from his hands.
“I'll help,” Zelenka offers.
Sheppard studies the detector. “We're clear for now. Our happy friends are in another part of the complex.”
He goes over to where Herrington and Peppers lie on the floor, pressing his fingers to each neck for reassurance. The sergeant's silver hair is tinged red with dried blood and he struggles to retain his composure. He has to be the rock they can all count on.
“You know, Pops really respects you, sir.”
“He's only a few years older than me, Sergeant.”
The younger Marine shakes his head before growing serious. “You picked him for the expedition even after he got busted down. He's been an LT twice, but he just keeps finding ways to let them take his stripes.”
“The brass sees everything in black and white.”
“And you don't, sir?”
“Sometimes to survive you have to play in the gray.”
Sheppard bends over and pats Herrington on the shoulder while the keyed up Brier begins to pace.
“Don't fall asleep. Try to stay awake; you have a concussion,” he tells the kid.
“Tired.”
“I know.”
“Been...dreaming about...monsters. I...keep...hearing.....”
“Just take it easy and don't worry about all the noise; you're safe.”
“We goin'...home soon?”
“Yeah...just hang on.”
“'Kay.......Col'nl?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you...gonna save us?...That's......what you do,” the young man mutters.
Sheppard bites his lower lip and looks over at Sergeant Brier who's overheard the entire thing. He stands too quickly and lists to the left, his vision graying around the edges. A hand grabs his bicep and the room swims back into focus. “I'm good,” Sheppard says.
“Sir, are you--”
“I want you to inspect the kitchen; see if we can use it as our next base of defense. I'm going to see what the brain trust came up with.”
He lags a couple steps behind the hefty Marine, willing the Powerbar from hours ago to stay in his stomach. His bellyache twists his insides and he tries taking deep breaths to calm it.
Rodney sees him and launches into his findings while Zelenka holds the laptop for him. “They used a gas through the ventilation system to knock everyone out. Or should I say Commander Hellios, our mad bomber did.”
Sheppard nods. “Okay.....and can we--”
“The problem is that the controls for the gas are in another lab,” Zelenka points out.
“And it would knock us out, too....but that doesn't matter because there's not enough to spread through the complex. Most of it was used up the first time, according to these figures.”
Zelenka looks at McKay. “If we could even turn it on but.....”
Sheppard holds out his hands. “Is it possible that someone could get it back and working?”
Rodney shakes his head. “Doubt it.”
“Maybe,” the Czech retorts.
“Okay. Could we flood one area. Not the entire complex?” Sheppard asks, looking at them.
“I guess if we knew how to operate the controls.” Rodney looks at him. “Oh, no...what are you....”
“I'll go, you guide me how to fix it over the radio and I'll release it on our buddies. Then we can get outta here.”
Zelenka shakes his head. “How are you going to get them all in one location?”
Sheppard wipes at his sweaty brow. “I'll put it on a timer and then lure them over----”
“Oh, hell no! You think you can just play cat and mouse with a roaming band of freaks?” McKay shouts.
Miko steps closer, the men dwarfing her. “Um… Colonel Sheppard, wouldn't the gas affect you?”
“Yeah, what she said,” Rodney says, snapping his fingers.
“I'm sure the place that operates the gas has masks. I'll look for them first, set a timer, entice the bad guys and make them go nightie night.”
All three of them stare at Sheppard incredulously. “Look, we don't have many options.”
“The last time I checked, you can't read Ancient,” McKay barbs.
“We could load up a translation program. He could use the laptop,” Miko suggests.
“Do it,” Sheppard orders, glancing at the moving dots. “We don't have much time.”
He scouts the area in front of the kitchen for the best placement for the remaining C-4 and turns at the sound of approaching boots. Brier marches forward looking ready to argue about something.
“Sir, I heard about the plan. Why don't you let me go lure those people. You should--”
“I need you here Sergeant to protect the civilians; that's our number priority,” Sheppard cuts the man off.
“But, sir. I'm fast on my feet. Before joining the Corp, I ran track all through high school. After class, I was dodging the gang bangers on the street.”
“You're injured.”
“Broke my arm, not my legs. I could out run you.....sir.”
Sheppard shakes his head. “You don't have the gene to operate the lab. I'm the least banged up of all us and I'm not sending out Miko or Zelenka. Now let's take a look at the map and see what would be the most effective sector to gas our insomniacs.”
He takes a good look at his officer and knows the tough Marine is hurting and trying not to show it. “We can do this sitting down; it looks you could use a rest.” He doesn't mention that getting off his feet would do wonders for the growing twinge in his side.
Five minutes later the rest of his bone weary group take seats on the floor and they all look like victims of a mugging. Rodney's wrist is swollen, wrapped between pieces of cardboard and gauze. His animated movements are stiff, less energized and his teammate takes out all his pain on Zelenka. “I told you, there isn't enough power to re-route to activate the gas.”
“We're talking thirty seconds to fill an area ten by ten meters. It's doable,” the Czech retorts.
“And I bet the colonel has picked the worse possible place, not having a clue about how large a ventilation system we're dealing with.”
Sheppard digs his thumb and finger into his eyes to try to rid a growing headache. “I found a hallway far from the jumper and close enough to give me time to bait our friends into the trap.”
“The translation program is ready to go,” Miko tells him.
It's so odd to see the Glock rest on her lap like it was just a PDA or an everyday piece of lab equipment. He tries to ignore the surreal image of her and the gun from his head. “You have the program I need to operate the equipment?” he asks McKay.
“If those consoles haven't been destroyed like half the lab rooms in this place and if, and I say if ......you can even tap into them.”
“Bottom line!” Sheppard snaps.
Rodney shoves the laptop at him. “Yes, if every crazy variable to this doesn't blow up in your face then my program should work.”
“Thank you,” Sheppard growls.
“Colonel Sheppard, how many more tests subjects are out there?” Zelenka asks.
“About thirty give or take. The bombs in the chamber took out half. We've killed....” Sheppard squeezes his eyes closed, unable to think clearly about the numbers.
“Ten in the power room, another twenty five or so in here,” Brier answers.
Sheppard ignores the Sergeant's worried expression. “Yeah, so a piece of cake.”
Radek helps McKay up, letting the irritable crab apple lean on him on their way towards the kitchen.
Sheppard struggles to his feet and Miko offers him water from her canteen. “It's not very cold.”
His throat is parched and he tries not to gulp too much down. He returns it to her, but some of the water splashes out when his hand trembles. He offers a quick smile to counteract her anxious expression. “Thank you.”
Sergeant Brier doesn't say a word as they prep the last of their explosives just in case the kitchen becomes the Alamo in a last stand.
“Can you guys handle moving Peppers and Herrington?”
“We'll be fine, sir,” Brier responds.
Zelenka comes over with a handful of aspirin. “This is the last of it. I made Rodney take three and the rest of us have swallowed some.”
“No, thanks. Save it for the trip home or give more to the sergeant; he's got a lot of dentist appointments in his future.” Sheppard taps his com. “I'm about to head out, McKay.”
“Don't damage that laptop, Colonel.”
“I'll contact you when I arrive at the lab.”
“I can watch you on the life signs detector.”
Sheppard pulls his out, adjusts the back pack with the computer inside it and turns on the light on top of his weapon.
“Good luck, sir.”
He nods at the sergeant and Zelenka. “You too.”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Sheppard becomes one with the corners, eyes flicking to the detector before dashing down darkened corridors. He scans, runs, darts and waits. There are a few stray test subjects roaming around and he does what he can to avoid them. He pulls his damp T-shirt away from his chest and wipes the beads of perspiration that roll down his face with his forearm. He exhales all the air from his lungs and takes off down another hall, ignoring the increased queasiness of his stomach.
Rodney's voice is loud in his ear. “You’re almost there.”
“I know that, McKay,” he hisses back.
There are no signs of trouble but he leads with the barrel of his P-90 into the lab, sweeping the room before searching for the right piece of equipment. Years of dust cover each panel and he rummages for a data port to plug the laptop into. It's frustrating not knowing which console is correct but things flash awake from his touch.
“Good, now we're getting somewhere.”
If the machines chirp and hum then they might be operational enough to pull this off. He spots a connection, inserts the cable and waits for the screen to light up. Lines of unreadable code scroll down in dizzying fashion, causing his gut to clinch.
“Not now,” he groans.
The laptop beeps and McKay's program begins to search for the right protocols. He takes the time to search for any type of protective mask. He'll complete the mission even if he doesn't find one. It's the only way and Rodney can still fly everyone back in the jumper. He rifles through the last cabinet and smiles at that Sheppard luck. There are two hanging on a hook and he snags one.
The life signs detector shows that the room is all clear but it doesn't make him less jumpy; his fight and flight alerts are buzzing. The blue glow from the screen flashes repeatedly with nonsense until he recognizes English and basic instructions.
Yes!
Sheppard's fingers dance over the keyboard and he taps his com. “Your program has found out how to activate the gas. I'm logging into the ventilation protocols now.”
It routes and re-routes, spits out data lightening fast, making him dizzy and he has to look away to keep from getting sick. He takes long deep breaths, the stitch in his side gnawing deeper.
“How much longer?”
“Almost done. I just have to find a way to set it on a timer,” he tells McKay.
He feels the hackles on his neck rise; his eyes dart to new red dot on the detector. Rodney's screaming in his ear as he rushes to the door, slamming his back against the wall. He waits, his heart banging against his ribcage.
The man's heavy breathing gives him away and Sheppard yanks on a handful of scrub top. He's rewarded with an elbow to the face and nails that miss clawing out his eyes. The test subject tries to grab his hair and Sheppard flips the wrist back, breaking it. The mad man howls and he silences the poor bastard by twisting his neck in a unnatural direction.
He stands back, staring at the body and shudders at what he is capable of sometimes.
“Sheppard! Sheppard!”
He taps his com. “Stop yelling.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
The laptop beeps, awaiting his next execution and he types in ten minutes into the timer.
He runs out of the room at full speed towards the largest group of pod people. “On my way now,” he says breathlessly into the com.
Down.
Right turn.
Down again.
Left turn.
He can hear them prowling for whatever will give them an outlet for the torment in their minds. He wonders if it’s instinct to roam in groups and why they haven't turned on each other. He enters the north wing, the part of the complex that leads to the jumper.
Why couldn't they just leave?
It's now or never, a quick five minute jog to an isolated area that'll put everyone to sleep. That's what they crave so badly, isn't it? Sheppard draws in a ragged breath and turns the corner.
“Hey! The auditions for Dawn of the Dead are over here!”
He’s just waved the red flag. It's one thing to be hunted down by hungry Wraith, but it's another to see that same type of hunger for violence in the disturbed eyes of humans.
Sheppard runs; a stampede of dozens of feet pound the tile floor right behind him. He ignores the wailing, the grunts and growling of those stripped of any humanity. Being chased by the stuff of nightmares is hard, especially when the pain in his side decides to blossom.
His chest hurts, it’s harder to draw oxygen from his lungs and the hallway dips and bobs like a boat. Running, he runs all the time, five miles a day, sometimes more. He blocks out the pain, only keeping track of where he is..... of the mob gaining on him.
Rodney's panicked voice is like a dagger through his skull. “Sheppard, move your ass faster! Do you want them to catch up!”
He can feel their collective breaths-hear their lumbering bodies. Timing is crucial. He has to be in place before the gas goes off...if it goes off.
He fumbles putting the mask on as he reaches the end of the hall. There's no place to hide, no place to go. The mask fogs up from his rapid inhalations; his heart is a buzz saw trying to cut through his sternum.
Sheppard raises his P-90 and pulls the trigger, spraying the crowd with bullets. They fall, one at a time but there are too many of them. There's not enough ammunition to kill an experiment all gone to hell.
They scream when the bullets pierce their chests. They yell, stomping over the dead bodies to get to him. This is a killing field. He sees their eyes, pupils large and dilated, bouncing side to side like marbles.
He backs away, still firing until he runs out of space, mortar and brick keeping him from going any further.
His wristwatch beeps. Hands lunge and claw at him while the hall fills with green smoke. Sheppard punches and kicks, fingers grapple at his mask but the gas is thick, all of it programmed to flush the hall quickly.
They all collapse, bodies twitch as the nerve agent sends them to dreamland. He's dizzy with relief, breathing so fast he just might hyperventilate. He avoids stepping on all the sprawled limbs, wading through the pea soup of the corridor.
“Did it work?”
“Yes, Rodney it worked.”
“Good, now hurry up so we can go home.”
The buzzing is back but this time it’s not his instincts. His stomach hurts with a sensation of nausea and fire. His whole right flank is alive with pain--- pressure and weight with sharp and dull.
He's walking when he should be running....stumbling instead of getting back to his team.
“Sheppard, what's going on? Why have you stopped?'
He gives his head a shake to clear it, pulling off the mask but ends up sliding to his knees, confused and light-headed.
“Sheppard! Colonel, answer me! What's wrong?”
McKay's voice sounds really far away and his stomach rebels and he throws up all over the floor.
“Tell us what’s going on!”
He pants, spitting to clear his mouth.
“Sheppard! Answer me!”
“Go...to the..... jumper...” he rasps into the radio.
“That's not the plan.”
“I'll meet...you there...now go.”
“Sheppard we're not---”
“Put Sergeant Brier on the com, now!”
There's arguing; his hand latches onto the wall to pull himself to his feet. He can't stand to full height and stays hunched over.
“Sir, it's Brier...Colonel Sheppard, please respond.”
“Get everyone...to the jumper....that's an order......I'll be there.”
He checks the life signs, noticing two more red dots coming his way. He takes two steps, and staggers. The hall spins before him while his P-90 dangles uselessly from his vest.
He moves though, blindly and slowly forward.
To Part Three