Mac coughed and spat up blood on the snow. The red looked strikingly bright against the vast white landscape.
"That doesn't look good," Jack said, crinkling his nose at the red splatter.
"Yeah, and neither does that graze on your arm. We gotta find shelter," Mac replied.
The two agents were stranded in the middle of a wintry landscape. Only 4 hours earlier, they were cozy and warm, comfortable at a mountain ski resort for the rich and famous hidden deep in the Alps. They'd sipped hot-chocolate from wine glasses, slept in silk bedding, and everything else in between. But then, like every other mission, it went south. The past 2 weeks suddenly turned into a fast paced ski chase, ending in a bullet graze a broken ribs. Not only that, but to add to the chaos was an on-foot getaway through the hip deep snow.
Mac had made snow-shoes from some tree bark and twigs; although they weren't top notch, they definitely made the trek through the snow a whole lot easier. It was only in the past half hour that Mac began to show serious signs of fatigue. Obviously, after the chase, he was bound to be tired. But the way he was panting, coughing and spitting up blood, wasn't normal. Jack knew those signs all too well and they weren't good.
"Any bright ideas? Right now finding shelter seems like finding a needle in a haystack— impossible," Jack said, scanning over the landscape.
"Actually, if you want to find a needle in a haystack, you just set the stack on fire. Poof: you'll have your needle," Mac replied.
Jack gave Mac a long glare. "Oh, so what are you saying? We just set the snow on fire? Great idea! Let me just find my matches."
"Okay, okay. Forget that. Look, there's got to be some sort of hunting shelter out here."
Jack shrugged despondently. "Oh, you know, there might not be."
"Way to be optimistic."
"Just stating the facts." Jack adjusted the bandage around his arm, checking if the bleeding had stopped. Fortunately, it was down to a sluggish standstill. "Why don't we just burrow into the snow? Like an animal or whatever."
"Actually," Mac paused to cough, spitting up more blood. He avoided Jack's eyes once he was done, and instead scanned the wintry landscape. "That's not a bad idea. In theory, if we dig into a deep drift of snow, we can make ourselves a burrow to keep warm and get out of the wind."
Jack stomped down on the snow, watching as some of the flakes were whipped away in the freezing wind. "In theory.. why in theory?"
Mac rubbed his chest. Jack didn't say anything but watched him carefully, taking in the way the blond grimaced. He didn't like how pale Mac was getting. His cheeks were still rosy from the cold, but the rest of his face was almost as white as the snow. His lips were also taking on a bluish tinge—or maybe that was Jack's imagination. He always tended to assume the worst in these scenarios.
Mac cleared his throat. "In theory, because digging into the snow isn't exactly easy. And we don't have any sort of tools with us to do it. We didn't even take our skis with us. I probably could have used those…"
Jack shook his head. "Well, running around with skis wasn't exactly ideal."
Mac nodded, then began to cough again, curling over and spitting out another wad of blood and saliva. He stayed curled around himself for a few extra minutes once he was done.
Jack couldn't help himself anymore. "I don't like the look of that at all," he repeated. "Something's not right there Mac. I think you did more than break your ribs."
Mac finally managed to stand up straight again. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself, then said, "ya, well, we don't really have time to figure that out right now do we?"
Jack grumbled in response. He hated when Mac shrugged off his injuries, but it was even worse when the kid had a good reason to do it. Mac was right this time. Jack couldn't look him over in the freezing cold. They had to find shelter first. No matter how much Jack made his concerns verbal, the only thing it was going to do was make him feel a bit better for saying it out loud.
Mac scanned the horizon. They really didn't have much to work with. Sure, there could be a hunting shelter beyond the tree line, or maybe over the next hill. But then, like Jack said, there might not be one. And if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure how much farther he could make it. It was getting harder and harder to breath.
"Mac?"
Mac snapped out of his daze, turning to Jack. He'd been staring at the snow a lot longer than he had intended.
"Ya.. uh.. sorry," Mac started. He shook his head. "We have to find a large drift. Tall enough that we can dig a hole into. We're going to make something called a snow cave."
"Snow cave? So we're going to be like caveman?"
Mac chuckled. "Ya. I guess so."
Jack grinned and pointed to the tree line where a pile of snow was built up. "You think that will be high enough?"
Mac opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when a sharp pain jolted through his chest. He curled over himself, then completely fell into the snow.
"Mac! Mac, you okay? What's going on?" Jack crouched down next to his partner who was holding the fabric of the ski jacket with white knuckles.
Mac shook his head. "I don't know if I can make it to the tree line."
It was a short and quiet statement, but Jack knew it held a lot more weight to it. If Mac was willing to admit that he couldn't do something, that meant things had just progressed to a whole new level—and quickly.
A cold wind whipped by and Jack looked up, seeing the storm clouds approaching. They really had to get out of the open. A blizzard was coming.
"What's going on, hoss? Besides a few cracked ribs. Because I know it's a little more serious than that by now."
Mac finally began to loosen his grip on the fabric of his jacket. His body was nestled in the fluffy snow where he had fallen and his legs were partly covered in the flakes. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut before opening them again.
"I think I've got a pneumothorax. Or hemothorax. Or a hemopneumothorax," Mac replied.
"English please?"
"I've got a bunch of blood and air in my chest that's not supposed to be there."
"Right," Jack replied. He suspected it was something along those lines. "And how are we supposed to fix that?"
"You have to cut a hole in my chest to let it out."
Jack grimaced. "You always liked to go big or go home, man."
Mac gave a weak smile. He'd had his suspicions that something was wrong, but he was hoping it could hold off until they found shelter. Right now, that option wasn't looking promising. But then, neither was the idea of cutting him open in the middle of the snow.
"How's your arm?" Mac asked, bringing his hand up to shield his face from the onslaught of the snowflakes that were stirred around by the wind.
"It's good enough to carry you if I have to," Jack replied.
Mac let out a wet huff of air. Jack always knew what he was getting at, even if he wasn't trying to imply it.
"Well, hopefully it won't come to that but…" Mac trailed off, taking in the distance that they had to reach in order to find a suitable drift.
Jack shook his head. "Nah man, it's already down to that. C'mon, let's get you out of the snow and into my arms, like the damsel you are." Mac gave Jack a long glare, prompting Jack to hold out his arms. "You know you want to."
"Alright, alright," Mac replied, holding up his arm. Jack carefully swung his partners arm around his shoulder and pulled Mac to his feet. Mac coughed up another wad of blood on the way up, spattering his ski suit. Jack pretended not to notice. He'd rather keep the situation lighthearted for as long as he could.
"Okay, on the count of three," Jack began, getting ready to lift Mac bridal style. "One...two...three!"
Jack grunted and lifted Mac into his arms. Mac let out groan with the sudden movement, grabbing his chest again. It took a few moments for the two men to get situated. Once Mac was securely held by Jack, and Jack was sure his injured arm wasn't going to give out on him, Jack began to make his way down the hill and into the valley.
"So, how exactly do you make this man cave?" Jack asked. Mac's head was leaning against Jack's chest, and this time, Jack was sure he wasn't imagining the bluish tinge of Mac's lips. He was going to keep the kid talking. He wasn't about to have Mac passing out.
"It a snow cave, and it's something you dig into a snow drift. It's the easiest shelter to make on the fly with limited tools," Mac replied. His voice was quieter, muffled against the material of Jack's ski suit.
"So you just hollow out a hole in the snow?"
Mac weakly shook his head. A wad of sweaty hair clumped up against his face with the movement. "Kind of, but you have to do it the right way or else it will collapse on you. You dig into the snow, making a tunnel, then dig upward in a T-formation. Also, you have to be sure not to make the ceiling too thin."
Jack nodded, then glanced down at his passenger. Mac's fingers were curled around the fabric on his chest again. It was getting worse by the second. Jack paused, shaking off his snowshoes and adjusting his hold on Mac. His arm was a bit more sore than he cared to admit.
"Jack, you okay?" The blond asked, noticing the way his partner shifted his grip.
"Ya, hoss, we're doing just fine. It's you I'm worried about."
Mac twisted his head away from Jack, checking their progress. He let out a hiss when Jack stumbled slightly and jostled him.
"Sorry. Sorry, man. Snow isn't the easiest thing to be trekking through," Jack said.
Mac nodded in response. A few minutes of silence passed, Jack was panting heavily while Mac examined the landscape.
"There…" Mac started, holding out a shaking hand to a large drift to the left. "That one should do…"
That's when Mac broke out in a coughing fit, unexpectedly jackknifing in Jack's arms. Jack stumbled, sending both him and Mac into the snow bank. Mac was the first to hit the snow, back first, and let out a cry as Jack landed directly on top.
"Shit, sorry. Sorry Mac.." Jack said as he quickly pulled himself off his partner. Mac tried to respond but all that came out was a gargle. The blond instinctively shot his arm out, reaching for something to help him up.
Jack twisted around to help Mac. His face was pale and lips blue, reaching up while still half buried in the snow. He was choking. Immediately, Jack grabbed hold of Mac, yanking him probably harder than he should have.
Mac flew forward when Jack grabbed him. As he did, he brought up another wad of blood. It trickled from the corner of his mouth and dribbled down his chin, staining his teeth. He coughed again, spattering more on his ski suit.
It took at least 5 minutes for the fit to die down. Once he was done, there was a puddle of mucus and blood in the snow. Jack didn't say anything. He just stared. Mac wasn't doing so well, and if he passed out, Jack was in trouble. Sure, he knew he had to cut a hole in the kid's chest, but he didn't know where. He needed Mac to walk him through it. Suddenly, that didn't seem like a viable option if they didn't get out of the snow soon.
Mac was staring down at the puddle in the snow. Slowly, he brought his arm up to wipe the blood from his mouth. It was a clumsy attempt, ending with the blood smeared across his chin and cheeks rather than cleaning it off. Then, even more slowly, Mac lifted his face to meet Jack' gaze. The blond gave a weak smile, revealing his blood spattered teeth.
Jack's heart flipped. At first he couldn't even talk. Then his training kicked in. "Ok man, you need to tell me exactly what to do. Right now," Jack demanded.
Mac flinched at the abruptness of Jack's words. The Delta shook his head, trying to compose himself. He reached over and placed a hand on Mac's shoulder.
"Look hoss, you need to start walking me through things because if you pass out I won't know what to do. Does that make sense?" Jack said in a softer tone.
Mac nodded, his eyes glassy and dazed.
"Okay…" Mac began, his voice much weaker this time. "You need to start digging into the drift. Make the T-formation like I said. I can help too…" Mac grunted and leaned forward
Jack stopped him by holding up his hand. "No. You sit and rest, I'm doing all the heavy lifting here." Jack paused to take off his snowshoes. "T-formation. Okay, I got it. You just tell me if I start doing anything wrong."
Mac nodded and Jack began to dig. A growing pile of snow began to form behind him.
"Okay, while I'm digging, you tell me where in the chest I'm supposed to stab you," Jack panted. The tunnel was beginning to take shape, long enough that Jack could actually crawl inside.
There was a pause—no response from Mac. Jack stopped digging, whipping around to make sure Mac hadn't passed out. Thankfully he was still conscious—just thinking.
He rubbed his chest again, leaning back against the drift. "We don't have a chest tube…" he murmured.
Jack furrowed his brow. "A what?"
"A chest tube… that's what you're supposed to use to get the air and blood out." Mac blinked slowly, staring at the snow. Though he was answering Jack's questions, he seemed barely aware Jack was even there.
"Okay hoss. Then what can we use instead? C'mon, use that problem solving brain of yours," Jack prompted.
Mac nodded slowly. His movements were sluggish now, his blinking slow and his breathing even slower.
"Do you have a pen?"
Jack pulled himself out of the nearly finished tunnel. He patted his pockets, then unzipped his coat and began to dig through his inside pockets and pant pockets.
"No… I got nothing."
Mac closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and grunting.
"Hey, hey, hey! C'mon.. What else can we use. There's got to be something else," Jack protested.
"Wait…" Mac began. He let out a short, wet couch. Then he began to pat his own pockets, his movements slow and heavy. Unsatisfied, he unzipped his coat and dug his hand inside. He winced a few times before finally pulling out a long plastic tube. A small smile crept onto Mac's face.
"Good thing I finished that giant lollipop at the resort before we left," Mac wheezed.
Jack laughed, a short episode of relief passed over him. Then he pushed it aside and began to dig again. "Okay, okay. Now that we got the tube thingy, you gotta tell me what to do with it."
Mac wrapped his fingers around his zipper and pulled it back up to his chin. The sheer effort of it made him wince again and sputter. Something curled at his mouth, probably another wad of blood.
"You have to…" Mac started. He closed his eyes. Even talking was exhausting.
"I gotta what? C'mon Mac, don't hold out on me now."
Mac swore and rested his head in his hands. His whole body felt like it was putting all its energy into breathing. It hurt. "Cute a hole. Then, shove the tube in… the second intercostal space, midcavic—"
"Woah, woah… inter-what? Coastal? Mac, you gotta speak English to me. I'm not a nerd like you. I don't know those terms."
Mac snorted at the joke but then began coughing again. Each cough was slow and accompanied by a whimper. Finally Mac paused, his head lolling up and down. Jack could tell he was barely hanging on.
"Okay, no more jokes." Jack grimaced.
"S'rry… do it about the third rib down…"
"From the top?"
Mac nodded.
"Okay, then what?"
"You j'st… shove it in and it sh'ld f'x 'self," Mac finished. His speech was beginning to slur slurred. Suddenly his head lolled down, his chin resting against his chest which was barely rising at this point.
"No, no, no, no Mac. C'mon hoss, stay with me." Jack skittered over to Mac, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a slight shake. Mac groaned, his eyes fluttering but unable to stay open.
"Okay, okay," Jack whispered to himself. He carefully adjusted Mac in the snow, being sure he could breath and wouldn't choke again. Then he crawled back over to his tunnel and started to dig like mad.
He began to ramble nonsense to Mac, complaining how the blond had racked up the bill too high at the resort, or how Matty was going to be pissed when she heard their op. was cut short. Then he went on about how great the hot chocolate was, and how the amount he drank was going to give him serious withdrawal symptoms in the next few days.
"In fact, I can already feel it now," Jack said. "I'm shaking from sugar withdrawal." He laughed nervously, knowing full well that he was shaking for a whole other reason.
The interior of the cave was almost done. Or at least, Jack thought it was. He didn't really know what it was supposed to look like, but Mac wasn't responding anymore. He'd just have to hope it didn't collapse on them. Scooting back out, Jack grabbed Mac under the arms and began to drag him towards the tunnel. It was just in time, too— the snow was starting to fall faster and the wind was picking up.
Mac groaned as Jack pulled him, sometimes twitching, but nothing substantial enough to do any harm. Jack grunted as his heels dug into the snow. His arm was really throbbing now, and it was starting to bleed again, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He would patch it up later, as soon as he took care of Mac.
There was little light inside the snow cave. Jack fished in his pocket, pulling out his phone and flipping on the flashlight. He just hoped his phone didn't die soon— the cold was seriously sucking his battery. Placing the phone inside a small divot of snow, Jack carefully laid Mac down on his back and began to rip off the layers of clothing covering Mac's torso.
He winced at what he saw. Mac's chest was sorely bruised in multiple areas, blue and purple blobs covering his torso and stomach. On the right side was the largest bruise of all, an ugly discolouration, stretching down and around to his back. It was a red and green in colour, tiny blotches of blood from an abrasion. That side of his chest was also enlarged, probably due to the hemopneumo— or whatever type of thorax he had.
Jack took off his gloves, carefully running his hands over Mac's chest to get a feel for the tender areas. Mac coughed in response and Jack carefully turned him so another trickle of blood could exit his mouth. Then. laying him back down, Jack grabbed the hallowed lollipop stick from Mac's pocket and scrubbed it down with a hunk of snow. It wasn't exactly ideal, but they didn't have much to work with. Jack just hoped the Phoenix team would find them before Mac got any sort of infection.
The flashlight blinked and Jack flinched. "C'mon, not now," he grumbled. As if it was listening, the light turned back on at full got to work.
He quickly felt Mac's ribs, counting to the third rib down. Mac jerked as Jack prodded the skin, arching his back just the slightest before falling limply back to the ground. Jack mumbled and apology that he was sure Mac couldn't hear, then shoved his hand in Mac's pocket, pulling out his Swiss army knife. Jack flipped the blade out and the knife glinted in the bit of light that lit the space. The blade was always sharp; Jack was pretty sure Mac sharpened if after every op, just in case. Unfortunately, it was one of those cases now.
"Okay, okay, you can do this," Jack whispered to himself. He wasn't sure about any of it, but then, he didn't have a choice. Mac wasn't responding anymore. It was now or never. Jack let out a breath, then placed the blade of the knife against Mac's skin. "Okay, here we go."
Mac jerked.
He grunted and tried to pull away but Jack grabbed his shoulders, holding him down. A small whimper escaped his mouth. Jack mumbled another apology, then shoved Mac's knife into the snow. He grabbed the plastic tube, holding it over the now bleeding hole in Mac's chest. It was going to hurt.
"I'm so sorry, hoss," Jack said. Then he shoved the tube into Mac's chest.
Mac let out a guttural scream, pulling away, then pushing against Jack. Jack pushed him down, being careful to avoid any tender areas on Mac's chest. Mac kept thrashing, grabbing Jacks arm and tightly gripping his ski jacket.
Nothing was coming out of the tube. Jack panicked. Did he miss? Or was the tube not long enough? He swore, giving the lollipop stick a bit of a jiggle and another good push so it slid further into Mac's chest. Mac yelped again, then went completely silent as a hiss of air came up the tube along with a steady stream of blood.
That's when Mac's eyes cracked open. At first, it was a dazed expression. He stared at Jack for a moment, confused, then jerked to look at the tube in his chest. Jack held him down carefully, making sure the blond didn't jostle himself too much.
"That hurt," Mac mumbled, letting his head fall back against the ground while closing his eyes.
Jack smiled. "Glad to have you back."
Mac's lips twitched in response. "Ya, me too." The blond took a deeper breath, wincing but also savouring the feeling of being able to breathe again. "Is Phoenix on their way?"
As if on cue, the sound of helicopter blades echoed in the distance. Mac cleared his throat, and scrubbed his face.
"Don't worry hoss, you'll be patched up and in your favourite place in no time: the hospital," Jack joked.
Mac groaned, then glanced at Jack's bloody arm. "Well, at least you'll be joining me, right?"
Mac smiled as Jack huffed and stuck out his lower lip like a sad puppy dog.
"It's just a graze," he protested.
Mac nodded. "Don't worry Jack, I'll be sure to tell them how much blood you lost so they keep you an extra night."
"Like hell you will!"
Suddenly a head popped into the snow cave. It was Riley. "Hey guys, you ready to get out of here before the blizzard hits?"