Charlie watched through the water as Desmond pounded on the small window. He could hear him shouting his name, but it was muffled, like a million miles away. The last of his breath escaped him and everything went black.
When he woke up, he was on the beach. Charlie sat up and immediatly threw up water. He coughed, trying to get the last of it from his lungs and stomach. "Bloody hell!" He looked around, but there was no one there. "Hello?" he called, wondering where his rescuer went.
"Charlie..." he heard in the distance, the voice faint and unrecognizable.
"Who's there?" he called out, standing up. He looked around some more. "This isn't my beach. Where am I?"
"Charlie..."
"Hello?!" he called back, starting to walk towards the voice. The water drenched him down still, slowing his walk. "You're not an other, are you?" He laughed to himself, as if they would tell him. Something compelled him to move ahead anyways.
As he reached the jungle, he began to pick up speed, his wet clothes not weighing him down any longer. He ran in the direction of the voice, determined to get to wherever it was.
"Charlie, stop."
He halted, turning around in a circle to see who had spoken. It sounded as if they were two feet from him. No one was there, but his eyes stopped on a cabin; small and broken down. "Where did this come from?" he asked himself aloud.
"Charlie," the voice came from inside.
His mind told him to run, that this couldn't be good; but his feet stepped forward and he reached for the door. Shaking like a leaf, he turned the knob.
"Help me."
"I'm here, mate," he said, stepping into the small cabin. He looked around and seen he was alone. A small lantern lit in the corner, and a few jars of dark substance were the only signs of life. "Where are you?"
He noticed the table and rocking chair beside it. The chair began to rock. "Help me."
He jumped, turning quickly back to the door, but it slammed shut in his face. "Let me out!" he called out. "This isn't funny!"
"Help me," the voice repeated from the empty chair. He turned back, his eyes wide with horror.
"Have I died," he asked sullenly.
"Yes," the voice answered. "But I brought you back."
As Charlie looked, a man appeared in the chair, the darkness masking his features. He jumped back again. "What the bloody hell is going on here? I'm not on..." he looked down, checking his pockets. "I haven't used in months."
"You're special now, Charlie."
"Who are you?" he asked, feeling like he was losing his mind.
"My name is Jacob."