Word
Count: 2,049
Rating:
PG
Category:
Angst
Story Status:
Complete
Summary:
For anyone
faced with a wilderness emergency survival situation, fear is a normal
reaction...
Author's Notes:
This is a remix of Rise
Up and Fight by jadesfire2808 that I wrote for the 2008 gateverse_remix
(please not that this LJ community is multi-genre not Gen only).
You really need to read jadesfire2808's story first.
The section titles and quotes come from this
site.
WARNING: Contains claustrophobic situation.
Beta:
Thank you to Jayne Perry for the beta-reading.
Survival 101
By Leesa Perrie
1: Fear
- For anyone faced with
a wilderness emergency survival situation, fear is a normal reaction.
The world exploded, or at least it seemed to, as debris rained down on
him and he ducked beneath the work station, narrowly avoiding a beam
that crashed down to the right of him. Too close, too damned
close, he thought as fear and panic welled inside of him.
The whole room shuddered, the ceiling collapsing at one end, trapping
him inside the bunker.
No way out, no way out, trapped like a rat in a cage, a dark, cold,
deep under the ground cage…oh crap, buried alive, he was
buried
alive!
Well, okay, not literally buried, he could still move about, but if he
couldn’t get out…
The shuddering seemed to go on forever, but eventually it stopped and
he was left listening to the noise of settling rubble.
Trapped in a dark dungeon, a tomb, a crypt…
Propelled by the desperate need to get out, get out, get out, now, now,
now, he blindly felt his way over the where the entrance had been.
Blindly, because it was dark. He hoped it was dark. Not that
he
was blind…but no, no, he hadn’t hit his head, so
he
couldn’t be blind. Bruised by falling debris, but
nothing
serious, nothing really bad. He’d been lucky.
He gave a sharp laugh at that, edged with hysteria. Lucky
would
have been two bombs far away from the bunker exploding, not one of them
right next to the place, burying him alive.
Reaching the pile of rubble where the door had been, he started
digging. Scraping away, panic coursing through him.
He had
to get out, now, right now, he couldn’t do this,
couldn’t
stay down here…
He dug until his hands were painful; torn and bleeding from the sharp
edges. Futile digging, each handful removed replaced by more
dirt
and rocks. His breathing ragged, hope fading…panic
slowly
fading as despair crept in.
He couldn’t get himself out of this.
Eyes closed, he slumped to the ground, trying to quell the fear and
trying to hang onto that slender hope; they’d come back for
him.
But part of him still found it hard to believe.
2: Pain
- Pain may often be
ignored in a panic situation.
As he lay there, leaning against a pile of rubble trapping him, the
pain started to make itself known. His hands throbbed with
the
abuse he had subjected them to, his shoulders ached from the bruises
sustained from falling rocks, his left ankle screamed at him from when
he had twisted it trying to hide under the work station. Was
it
broken? No, no, he didn’t think it was broken, but
badly
sprained maybe.
Another slightly hysterical laugh escaped him, that he should be able
to tell the difference between a broken bone and a sprain by experience
alone. It hadn’t always been that way, back on
Earth, back
in the labs, safe from physical harm. Well, safe unless the
canteen tried to kill him by putting citrus in the food and forgetting
to label it. Or a bee stung him far from
help. Or he
got knocked down by a speeding car…
But at least no one had tried to kill him purposely back
then. At least, he didn’t think so.
Moaning, wincing, he reached into his tac vest and fumbled out some
Tylenol, dry swallowing two of them.
He should be doing something, but right now, all he felt able to do was
sit here and try not to whimper too much.
Not that there was anyone to hear him if he did.
3: Cold
- Cold lowers
the ability to think, numbing the body and reducing the will to survive.
Shivering, he realised it was the temperature was quickly dropping.
Heat.
He slowly worked his way over to the environmental control unit, which
wasn’t that far away, just to one side of the work station
he’d hidden under.
The area he was trapped in was small, too small, the debris encroaching
and closing in on him…
What had he been doing?
Oh right, heat. If some of the systems were still
working…maybe he could get some heat in here.
It hurt, crawling the short distance over the rubble strewn floor, but
he couldn’t let that stop him. Hypothermia was not
the way
to go here, and he knew the longer he left it the worse it would get,
affecting his ability to think, to survive.
Reaching the control unit, he mentally slapped himself upside the head
and reached into his tac vest again, pulling out the life signs
detector and switching it on.
Light! Well, a soft glow, but better than the
darkness. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?
Using the detector as a feeble flashlight, he studied the control unit,
finding the systems he needed. A few not-so-deft twists of a
couple of wires and the heating came back on.
He closed his eyes in relief. Strike one for him.
Yay.
4: Thirst
- Dehydration
is a common enemy in an emergency situation and must not be ignored.
As the place started to warm up, his thoughts turned to
water.
The dust in the air was settling, but had left him drier than a desert.
So, water.
Using the flashlight-cum-detector, he worked his way slowly away from
the control unit and around what was left of the work station, finding
a sink with a tap less than a metre away, and yes, running water.
He wasted no time in rinsing out his mouth and drinking thirstily from
the tap.
The water had a slight metallic taste, but seemed fresh other than
that. Hopefully it wasn’t full of dangerous metals
or
toxins. It seemed unlikely, this presumably being meant for the Genii
stationed here.
Then again, they hadn’t been too worried about radioactive
bunkers until it had proved too late for some.
He decided in a moment of Sheppard-like optimism to assume it was safe.
Not like he had much choice about it anyway.
5: Hunger
- Hunger is
dangerous but seldom deadly.
Thirst satisfied, hunger reared its head. To be honest, he
was
surprised it hadn’t raised its head earlier; he usually ate
when
he got nervous, though maybe not so much when he was in a full blown
panic.
So, food. He had a PowerBar in his tac vest and he knew he
had a
couple more in his pack, along with several MREs. He just had
to
find his pack…and see if the Genii had left anything as well.
Searching was hard on his hands and his ankle. Wincing and
muttering about mad Genii and their bombs and Wraith devices that blew
places up, he staggered and crawled his way around the small, too small
place, finding his pack next to the work station. It was
damaged
but the MREs looked okay.
There was a hoard of Genii rations not too far away as well.
In
the interests of making sure the rations were edible, he gingerly
tasted one.
Oh yuck.
And now he felt a twinge of sympathy for the Genii who’d
worked here if this was what they’d had to live on.
Still, it was edible.
Just.
Counting how many rations and MREs he had, he worked out a meal regime
that would keep him alive for two weeks, all the while fervently hoping
he wouldn’t be there anywhere near that long.
6: Fatigue
- Fatigue is
unavoidable in any situation so it is best to keep in mind that it can
and will lower your mental ability.
Tiredness was pulling at him, but he couldn’t stop
yet. He
needed to do something to help Sheppard and the others to find him.
If they were looking.
No, no, of course they were looking. He had to believe that
or else he was screwed. And dead.
So, they were looking. What could he do to help them?
A distress beacon, obviously.
Sighing, he started to dismantle a part of the environmental control
unit, careful not to touch the heating system. Resigning
himself
to darkness, he used the power source in the detector for the newly
assembled, ramshackle beacon, needing to save the Genii power for the
heat.
Pity the lighting system was beyond repair.
So, great, a beacon.
Not so great, a dark lonely and possibly radioactive bunker.
Closing his eyes, he tried to fight the tiredness pulling at him,
wanting to worry about the radiation, to give in to the panic inside
him, but finally he gave in, lying down to sleep a restless,
pain-filled slumber.
7: Boredom &
Loneliness
- These
enemies are quite often unanticipated and may lower the mind's ability
to deal with the situation.
Days had passed and he was truly, utterly, totally bored. His
laptop hadn’t survived the bunker’s collapsing
masonry, and
without a light source he couldn’t write; not that he carried
paper and pen anyway, something he should consider for future missions.
As well as a penlight.
Most of his possessions had been damaged, though a few items had
survived. Food mainly, as well as the Tylenol and the
detector,
whose energy cell was powering the distress beacon, and a few bits and
pieces.
Nothing he could use to make light or use to amuse himself.
So he was bored, bored and, oh, bored.
And lonely.
And worried about his team, mostly Sheppard, who he knew, just knew,
was beating himself up over this.
Yes, the Colonel had given the order to stay, like he’d any
intention of running. Sure, there might have been time for
them
to all get out safely if he had left the program running, but the
chances were high that there wouldn’t be. Really,
there’d been no other option. At least, none that
would
have ensured the safety of this planet’s people; of his
team.
He wasn’t a hero, but he couldn’t have lived with
himself if he’d left too soon and people had died.
Sheppard gave the order to stay, but he would have stayed if Sheppard
had ordered him to leave. It was as simple as
that.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop the Colonel, stop John, from
blaming himself, especially if they believed he was dead.
Crap, he hoped they didn’t think that, but he knew if the
circumstances were reversed, he wouldn’t have much hope that
whoever stayed behind had survived the bombs.
He wished he could tell them that he was alive. Tell them not
to mourn. Tell John not to beat himself up over this.
Tell them to come get him.
The fact no one had come yet worried him. If they thought he
was dead, would they bother to come?
Of course they would. No one got left behind.
Perhaps they couldn’t get to him and were having to wait for
the Daedalus?
That must be it.
But a part of him doubted it. Still doubted it after
everything
that he’d been through; the times he’d thought they
wouldn’t come but they did.
He wasn’t pessimistic by nature…just a
realist. If
that made him seem pessimistic, well, he couldn’t help that,
could he? Realistically, they most likely thought he was
dead,
but they’d brought back bodies before now, so long as the
risk
wasn’t too great, and it wouldn’t be, not with the
Daedalus
to beam him out.
No, they were coming.
They had to be.
Dying from hunger was not a fun way to go, so no, they were coming.
And when he got back, when he got home, he would kick
Sheppard’s
ass and tell him to stop blaming himself. Well, not
literally,
but verbally. Verbally, oh yeah, he’d sort that
guilt
complex right out. The Colonel wouldn’t know what
had hit
him.
Well, maybe.
Though maybe he’d play dumb and let John come to
him…and then let rip.
Or not.
If they came.
If he got home.
Lights and noise and people suddenly assaulted his sense, and he curled
up, blocking it out, especially the brightness.
Hands on his arms.
“Dr McKay.”
He groaned.
“It’s okay. I’m Dr
Wright. You’re on the Daedalus.”
Daedalus. Rescue.
“About time,” he muttered ungraciously, as he felt
an IV needle piercing his arm.
Rescue.
He smiled to himself.
Atlantis next.
Home.
The End