Flood

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As Rodney worked on cutting the power to the light fixtures, Sheppard put his boots back on, got up and looked out over the stormy scene.

The balcony was set into the tower, which afforded some slight protection, but still the noise of the by now roaring wind and towering waves was tremendous. The walkway below was flooded, water washing over its length with ever-increasing force. 

John looked in vain for an accessible route above the rising sea, holding his hands up to shield his face against the pelting rain. 

"That should do it!" Rodney shouted above the roar of the storm, packing away his tools.

"Will that open?" John gestured towards the door at the back of the platform.

"Yes, there should be some residual power," said Rodney, fiddling with the door controls.  It slid open in a series of reluctant jerks.

With the door shut and locked behind them the relief from the clamour and buffeting of the storm was immediate.  Sheppard switched on the light on his P90 and checked up and down the stairs.

"It looks like these go down a few storeys" he said.

"That'll be below sea level," said Rodney. "Is that safe?"

"We'll have a look," said John. "If it's flooded we'll have to think of something else."

"Well, I think it's high time for something to eat," said Rodney, sitting on the floor and rummaging in his pack. "Mango tropical or salty peanut?"

"Oh, mango, thanks," said John, sitting down beside him.  "So, you watched Sesame Street?" he asked, tearing the wrapper off his power bar.

"Jeannie liked it," said Rodney defensively. "She liked the Cookie Monster."

John smirked. "Did it remind her of someone?"

Rodney mumbled something through his power bar.

John grinned at him. "McKay?"

Rodney stopped eating.  "OK, yes, she would call me the Cookie Monster, and chase me round trying to get me to say 'Me want cookie!' Happy now?"

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Say it. 'Me want cookie!'" said John, in a passable imitation of the Cookie Monster.

"I said it if she had a cookie," said Rodney, "Otherwise, what would have been the point?"

John laughed. "I bet you loved that game!"

"Maybe," Rodney admitted.

************************************

When the weather had begun to change the beach party had relocated to the mess hall.  Sam, who had been thoroughly enjoying herself, decided she'd better get back to her paperwork.

She was in her office when sensors picked up weapons fire in the lower city and was not much reassured to hear that Sheppard and McKay were out carrying out 'repairs' and didn't require backup.  Repairs meant that damage had been caused somewhere along the way.

Sam decided she would give it another hour then have her military commander and chief scientist called to the control tower.

**********************************

Sheppard and McKay had found a route that seemed to lead in the right direction but they were both uneasy about being below sea level in a damaged section of the city.  It looked like the corridor had spent some time flooded completely before Atlantis had been raised to the surface when the expedition had first arrived.  In the thin beam of light from John's P90 they could see that the walls were stained with salt and marked by barnacle-like creatures and in places had been warped by the high water pressure.  They could hear the waves crashing above them and there was the occasional ominous creak.

McKay had slipped twice in the sandy, muddy, sludge which covered the floor and made walking treacherous.  The second to time, Sheppard had flung out an arm in an attempt to save him with the result that they had both fallen and were now both covered virtually head-to-toe in mud.

"Keller is going to lock you away when she gets hold of you," said Rodney, complacently.  "An alien bird with its alien beak that's been heaven knows where and now ancient sludge getting in those cuts. You're in for a night of IV antibiotics, for sure!"

John grunted, knowing it to be true, but said, "Let's just concentrate on getting back first."

There came yet another menacing groan of metal to underline his words and they both became aware that their footsteps were no longer squelching but splashing through shallow water.

They looked behind them and could see a line of ripples in the water that was flooding the corridor, the level rising swiftly.

"Go!" said John, sharply, grabbing Rodney's arm and pulling him into a run.

They ran as fast as they could, slipping and skidding through the rapidly rising water until they heard a  roaring, rushing sound behind them and suddenly their feet were swept from under them and they were hurtled along the corridor by a deluge of seawater.

John had the presence of mind to grab hold of Rodney's tac vest and he clung tightly to it as they were swept along, choking and gasping, water going over their heads as they frantically kicked to try to stay on the surface.

The beam of John's torch swung wildly from side to side so that they couldn't see what was coming, but they felt the corridor turn a sharp corner as they were slammed into a wall.  Rodney hit the wall first and John felt him stop struggling and go limp.  He tried to reach round and hold Rodney's head out of the water but could barely breathe himself, often swallowing great gulps of burning brine.

In the turmoil, John realised there was a shaft of light rapidly approaching.  With a split second's thought he knew it was probably their only chance.  He desperately tried to orient himself in the direction they were going, gave up trying to keep Rodney's head out of the water and reached out with his free arm to try to catch hold of anything that would stop their headlong flight.

He saw the light came from a stairwell and kicked hard to try to get as close to it as he could.  He could see the stair-railings approaching at frightened speed, reached out his arm, couldn't grasp with his hand, but managed to hook his elbow round an upright and felt an agonising wrench in his shoulder and elbow as he came to an abrupt halt and was forced round onto the stairs by the flow of the water.

John struggled to get his feet under him while holding onto Rodney and anchoring them both with his other arm.  His flailing feet eventually found purchase and he pushed down as hard as he could with rapidly waning strength, forcing himself and McKay out of the furiously rushing water.  He grasped Rodney under his arms, dragged him up the stairs to a landing safely above the flow and set him down on his back.  He put his hand on Rodney's chest and his face next to his mouth. He wasn't breathing.  John tipped his head back, pinched his nose and began giving rescue breaths.  After three breaths Rodney convulsed, choked and water gushed from his mouth. John turned him on his side, and patted him on his back as he lay, taking deep shuddering breaths and choking out more salt water.

"Hey, McKay!"

Rodney didn't respond.

"McKay!" he said, louder, tapping Rodney's cheek.

Rodney's bloodshot eyes rolled up to meet his and he groaned a response.

John grinned back at him. "Guess who's joining me in the infirmary tonight?"

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