Purging Benjamin
Purging Benjamin
Chapter One
Before Dawn
It had been merely hours since he thought of her. Even though it had been a many of years since he'd last laid eyes on her, the passing of time could never stop him from recalling that solitary moment in his life when he felt utterly accepted. It was a night like any other; he had just returned from the forest, crossed the boundary that was marked by an electro-magnetic fence, the pylons. He was just heading to the barracks, from a secretive meeting with those "petty hostiles", as his people liked to call them. His face was hard, but His cerulean irises revealed a weariness that he only wished he could hide. He'd let himself worry about the situation at hand for only tonight, but by morning, he'd be ready. He'd be ready to end this war between the Dharma Initiative and the indigenous "Hostiles". By mid-afternoon it would all be over. He'd no longer have to worry about these treasonous treks through the jungle, so that he could meet with the natives and hash out plans of action. More importantly, he wouldn't have to see his poor excuse for a father anymore.
He could see lights glinting off the shadowy trees as he approached the houses. The cool night air billowed through his coffee colored hair as he stepped out into the clearing. It was dead, as night that is… A screaming silence filled the winds as he peered around. All those scientists, teachers, workmen, and falsely happy families were all tucked away in their houses… "So this is what it will sound like," Ben pondered as he climbed the steps up to his bungalow, "…what it will sound like when they're all gone." He let out a sigh of relief. "Peaceful," he muttered under his breath as he opened the door and stepped inside. This was going to be the last time he would ever feel the gnawing tension in the house. Never again would simply coming home have to hurt so horribly. The lights were off, but he hardly expected anyone to leave them on for him. His eyes quickly fixed to the darkness. He strode passed the kitchen and ignored the beer cans on the table. He passed his father's bedroom door, without so much as a glance, as he went to his own room. With the lights on and the door closed he set down his messenger bag on the desk and took a seat in the rosewood chair.
His journal dauntingly stared at him as he positioned himself to do his writing for the night. He popped the silver clasp of the book open and pulled his fountain pen from his shirt pocket. With his hand eloquently arched over the book he began to scribe.
It's late and the sun is no hurry. It's strange how the night bewitches the mind into making one think on things they wouldn't otherwise during the day. I've been lying awake most nights seeing brief flashes of faces I've learned to suppress. I see him mostly... His breath rotten by his large amount of liquor consumption... His wicked words shrouded in a thick miasma of stench. Though, he is not the only one I see. The ones who have wronged me come in an impossibly thick antique photo album and as I thumb and reach the end of the portraits another becomes a resident in my book.
My eyes are swollen, scarlet and my head throbs, having periodic fits, however, my real pain resides in a face I should have long ago forgotten
I'm missing someone...But instead of lying awake and trying to recall this missing piece of me, I'll wish for sunlight to take mercy on me and come a few moments quicker. I' am certain I'll have plenty to write tomorrow. I want this done with…
-Benjamin Linus
He closed the book, quickly latched the clasp, and shoved the olive hued book into his desk draw. Rubbing his anguished face he let his fingers trail across his hair line and smooth his chocolate strands. He cleared the rasp from his throat and put on more determined eyes. His hands unhurriedly reached for his bag and poured its contents upon the desktop. A wooden carving of her and gas mask lied there looking up at him. He gazed at the two objects methodically. One of the two held his happiness and the other gave him a sad gnawing feeling in his stomach. He wasn't quite sure which object was which. Only Benjamin could make good and evil feel so closely related. He slung his glasses to the desk and rubbed the brim of his nose in an irritated fashion. He lifted himself from his chair, cut the lights, and fell into his bed.
Chapter 2
"Annie Waits"
"Once upon a time there was an island. It was so far away and so tiny that even the most efficient conquistador or Columbus couldn't find it. It didn't exist as far as any mapmaker was concerned. But it is clear that if a person placed the continent's puzzle pieces together there would be a large chunk missing…somewhere in the south pacific I believe. Even I can't pin point exactly where this island is, that is if even exists at all. I'm assuming that is does and that I am not beside myself. I can tell you that I've seen it. I've skimmed my fingers through the sand, felt the breeze on my face, and let the rush of the ocean cascade all about my hair. At the same time I haven't done any of these things. Does that make the thought of it any less real? I believe it was Descartes' notion that just by having the mere idea of something makes it real. But aside from philosophy, more important than the cool breeze, the clear blue ocean, and the silky sand, I can tell you about Benjamin, whether he's real or not…" The author read aloud as she looked around at her audience.
There were more then ten cameras focused on her as she read the words from the book in her lap. Her audience was captivated by her voice; their faces were pleading to hear more from the scholarly woman before them. Annie knew well that her voice was being fed to millions of households world wide. Wasn't globalization a nifty thing? At the moment she didn't think so…she was nervous, but continued all the same.
"Has there ever been a time in your life, aside from those awkward years of adolescence, when you didn't feel quite yourself? I feel this way most days; it's silly really, but I can't remember a time when I felt that I knew who I was. I mean…except when I think of the island. I see myself as a child, before the years of corruption consumed me. It was there on that island that I was ever truly Annie…with Ben…" She finished her excerpt and closed the book.
"Wow, now that's an interesting story!" The talk show host, Emily Smalls, enthused to the audience, though she hadn't been paying attention to a word of it. "So, tell us where did you get such an idea for a book?"
"To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure. It just sort of came to me, like anything worth putting on paper…" Annie replied with a forced smile.
Miss Smalls looked rather dissatisfied with the reply. "Well, this book has been placed in the Smalls book club," the overly joyous host said as she spoke to the camera. "I recommend this book to all of my viewers; to get a copy of The Boy Called Linus you can go to my website." She turned back to Annie, "Thank you so much for the reading. Everyone let's give her a round of applause."
The Meeting Before….
The others were long gone, but Richard insisted on keeping Ben with him afterward. His blue irises refused to sparkle at the moment as he turned his attention to the man across the tattered tabletop.
"Are you sure?" Richard asked as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.
Ben answered without hesitation, "Yes."
"You don't get to just say 'yes', Ben," Richard retorted.
Ben arched a brow at the man refusing to let it settle back down. "I'm sorry; you asked me to do this task…" He trailed off not fully understanding.
"Ben, I'm asking you to kill your father and lives of 39 others," Richard started as he laced his fingers together, "I've told you before that to join us, a person has to let go of all the ties that torment them in their previous life. I'm not letting you just say yes without weighing your options. Getting rid of those chains can not be an emotionless process, what would the gesture be worth otherwise." He paused for the reaction of the male opposite to him. Ben let his brows fall into a hard line, and gave Richard no other motion; it was enough. "Now, are you sure?"
Did he honestly think that it would be painless for him to kill his own father? Ben allowed himself a moment to reflect on his decision but his answer was the same as before. "Yes; why wouldn't I want to be rid of those torments?"
Richard let himself slide back in his chair, "Alright then, obviously the incentive I was planning to offer you won't be necessary."
Ben was hardly sure of the game that Richard was playing, though he couldn't help but inquire. "And what incentive would that be."
Richard etched a coy grin on his face and manifested a cream colored folder from beneath the table. "I asked Mikhail pulled these records for me."
"What records?" Ben was well aware that he wasn't the only Dharma member working for the other side.
"Whose records actually," Richard replied as he opened the folder and began to read aloud. "Annie Andrews, born April 19th in New Jersey…went to Clarksville High and graduated with a 3.5 GPA. She was voted most creative in the school superlatives. She graduated from Drake University and now teaches creative writing at a local high school."
Ben had all sorts of emotions running through him at that very moment. His childhood friend was alive in the world. His eyes were cast to the table in disbelief. Until that second he had no way of knowing if she were alive or not. Throughout the years he had wondered about her in intervals, never letting himself think on her for too long as not to drive him insane. He would find himself picturing her with the happy family she had mentioned one day while the two of them were swinging. Aside from memory lane, that record was incorrect.
"Let's see, she lives in a shabby apartment across town from her mother's house. She has a golden retriever named Felix and a tabby cat called Cicero. Oh and I can't forget to tell you that she's recently written a novel called The Boy Called Linus."
Ben looked up in a bewildered manner. He relished in the thought that few things in his life surprised him, but Richard was crossing the line into something entirely else. "She remembers me." The words passed his lips in an affirmative manner.
"Well, remembering in this case is loosely interpreted. She remembers the idea of you, rather she's starting to remember you," Richard replied with his teeth biting his lips as he searched for the words.
"I'm sorry, the idea…of me?"
"Well obviously you notice that this record has some error. You and I both know that Annie was born on this island and lived here until she was nine. The cause of this little mix up lies within her parents," Richard began as he closed the file, "I'm sure you remember the attacks we made on Dharma when you were younger, after all it's a war."
"And when the attacks got more frequent Annie's and many other families sought to leave." Ben stated, sadly knowing that at that time his father had no concern for the well being of his son. So what if it was war.
"That's right, when the Andrews family left they settled down in New Jersey, where they rid themselves of any ties to the island. Her parents went as far as paying a conman to alter information about Annie's birth. But like any nine year old, she remembered the island, even if her parents didn't want her to. After a car accident that killed her father and left her emotionally damaged, Annie repressed many of her memories, and that sick mother of hers seized the opportunity. She drained that girl until there was nothing left, but a joyous child, who lived in a happy little neighborhood all her life, far away from any island," Richard narrowed his eyes in disgust. "However, here's the upside. The fact of the matter is, is that she remembers all of it and very distinctly. Though, I'm sure that part of her thinks that she's crazy, because the only person that can validate her memories, her mother, continues to lie."
Ben felt the heat in his face and for the moment he didn't care if Richard noticed or not. It wasn't fair that Ben was able to think about her day after day and have the hope that somewhere out in the world she was thinking of him, while Annie was merely not allowed to think of him. He'd put his emotions sealed for the moment, after all this was still a business matter. "Fine Richard, but what's your reasoning in telling me this; I've already said yes."
"You still have a bit to learn about us, but you should already know that if someone is born on this island that makes them very special," He replied, "It gives the person a certain communion with the island… She doesn't belong in the world that she's in, and she most certainly doesn't fit in there. What she needs is to be brought home." He shook his head. "As for me telling you this, it was just a kind gesture between friends. I thought you'd like to know."
Of course he liked knowing. "I'll see you tomorrow…" Ben lifted himself from his chair, turned his back and headed for the door.
"Women…they're the cause of everything aren't they?" Richard said as burned his eyes in Ben's back.
"A woman, without her, man is nothing…" He walked out
Chapter 3
"Far Away"
"Ben, promise me we'll go to wonderland one day," her small child voice echoed.
"That's silly, Annie."
"Oh but it's not!" She pleaded as she clutched his arm.
His large sparkling eyes fixated on her smile, "Okay…I promise then."
Images of him flooded her as Annie drove to her mother's house. How could such vivid thoughts not be real? She knew how they couldn't be, because they simple weren't. Because everyone said they weren't…because she wasn't born in a fairytale place…she never met a boy named Benjamin. He was nothing more than an imaginary friend. If these images were nothing more then sporadically firing neurons, than why was this happening to her? Little did her mother know she was about to have a confrontation she has only hoped would never come.
Annie killed the engine of the car and confidently strolled to the sliding glass door at the side of the little rancher. She pulled the door open and stepped into the less than inviting house.
"Mom?" she called out over the empty kitchen.
"Annie?" A woman's voice questioned from across the house. In moments she entered the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face. "Why, Annie…I wasn't expecting you." It was clear by the tone in her mother's voice that their relationship had much to be desired.
"Did you see me?" Annie asked as she took a seat at the kitchen table.
"What do you mean?" the woman inquired as she walked to the stove and began warming the water in a tea kettle.
"On T.V., did you watch me?"
"No, I must have missed it; you really should have reminded me" She replied, refusing to look at her daughter.
"Somehow I doubt that you forgot." Annie refuted as she rubbed her forehead.
Her mother turned to her with an astonished looked plastered on her face. "Excuse me?" Her tone was almost hurt.
"You don't like my book. You didn't like the idea of it from the beginning. I want to know why." She pursed her lips.
"Annie, you know how I feel about fantasies…"
"It's not about fantasies," she interrupted, "all of it is real isn't it." It was statement rather then a question.
"Are you feeling okay?" Her eyes were worried now. They had that deer caught in the head lights look to them.
"I'm fine. Just tell me that the island is real…that the boy is real."
"Annie I really don't know what you're talking about."
After the Purge
The wind blew through the tall grass, sending dirt cascading over Ben's face as he lay looking up at the cloudy sky. He didn't react to the debris passing him. He just mindlessly stared at the blue canvas, no cloud picture making and no philosophical pondering, just two unblinking globes. He didn't hear the ocean only a few feet away, or the noises of the jungle behind him. He was in hiding, concealed by the grass knoll he made his own.
It was hard thinking about nothing, especially for Ben; that's why the silence in his head didn't last long. Like an atom bomb crashing, Ben jolted to his feet, suddenly made aware of his surroundings and what he'd done. He looked at the workman's uniform he had removed. He would no longer need such title anymore. Nor would he need the gas mask that was at his feet. He jumped back from it like it was a snake readying itself to strike him.
Ben felt terrified and it wasn't because he had just killed someone, but because he felt such satisfaction for doing it. He had taken an eraser and just eliminated a useless being from a place of paradise and it felt so very pleasing. And still, the happiness in him scared him a little, not that he'd ever let anyone know it. If he felt some sort of joy out of his killing did that make him psychotic? But he was free from the abusive words and the constant failures and it made it all worth it. While no one was around, for this one second, he had to relish in his victory, even if it made him a little insane. Soon this feeling would pass and he'd become more nonchalant toward the matter. However, right now he felt sick, a good kind of sick in the pit of his stomach, having anticipated these events for many years. Now they were playing out and it made him want to joyously vomit. However he showed restraint, like always.
Then there was Annie… how was he supposed to show restraint when it came to her? She had given him something to cling to and held it for all the years of her absence; it wasn't the doll she made for him, but the words they last exchange
"Are you gone for good?"
"You know I'll come back, Ben." She nudged at his arm.
"And how will you pull that off?" He playfully grinned.
"Hope that you're listed in the yellow pages," she said with a wink, "or I guess hire a blood hound."
He blinked, knowing too well that this moment with her was a serious one and there was no need for the ice breakers and banter. "Annie…I-I"
She cut him off. "Seriously, Ben, I'll never stop searching for you."
His great blue eyes glinted at her. "I don't suppose I'll stop searching either," he replied, knowing she liked the less serious comments. She embraced him around the neck like she'd never let go.
The only person to ever really hold him…
"Ben!" It was Richard. "What are you doing out here?"
He got his wits together before he turned and face Richard. "Just taking in the salt air…"
Richard looked toward the ocean and made note of the breeze that he hadn't noticed before. "It is nice, Ben."
They were both silent for a few more beats before Richard spoke up again. "We're taking the submarine to mainland in a few days. Ethan and I, we're going to find her." Richard paused and slightly smiled, "would you like to come?"
Ben hadn't realized that he going was an option, but his voice was less enthusiastic to better serve his outwardly persona, "I'd like that."
"Then it's settled."
"Almost…" Ben glanced back at the ocean before he strode away, leaving his mask behind him.
Chapter 4
Play a Memory
"Miss Andrews!" A voice yelled over a crowd. "Miss Andrews, wait up!" A young man pushed through the masses of people on the cobblestone steps of the lecture hall. "Hey!"
Annie quickly turned when she reached the bottom step and looked back toward the stairs, searching for her caller. He made himself known easily enough as he basically fell at her feet. "Why, hello Mr. Cummings, what can I do for you?"
The student was partially out of breath, but he continued speaking despite the inconvenience, "I was wondering if you'd sign my book." He held up a copy of her novel. "I thought it was great."
"Thank you." Was all she wanted to say about it as she scribed her name on the inside flap of the book.
"So who's the guy?" He raised his brows curiously.
"None of your business…" she answered as politely and playfully as she could.
He stuffed the book back in his bag, "A secret then?"
"Something like that…" she replied and left him there as she headed down the walkway.
School was out for the day and the feeling of freedom felt nice. There was nothing like raging teenage hormones to harden the day. The young woman went her usual way to the coffee house where she worked part time. She had gotten a job there, not because she needed the money, but she found that the people there were her muse for writing. She paid little mind to the people passing her on the streets or the cars rudely honking at one another, since no one knew how to drive. She did however, notice her face in the window of the bookstore conveniently located next to the coffee house. She rolled her eyes at the fake grin in the photo. "Ridiculous…" she muttered. She shook her head and headed for her mocha…
Entering the shop, the aroma hit her first, which was her favorite part. She peered around at the usual faces. Some of them sent her a few "how are you's and hello's" as she put her belongings behind the counter and slipped into a green apron. Momentarily her partner in crime came out from the back room with a load of baked goods.
"Paws off, gents!" she shouted with a grin. She began sliding the goods off the baking sheet and onto a glass platter. "Well, hey there, Annie-Bella, why the sour face?" she inquired.
"Wondering what it would feel like to ram a fork in my eye," she replied.
"Writer's block, then?"
"hmph…yes," she lied.
"You need to relax, hun," the big haired barista laughed.
"I would, but some guy is playing my piano…" she said glancing over at the man mindlessly skimming his fingers on the white keys of the old piano in the corner.
"He's been at it all day. Everyone's enjoyed him. Hasn't taken tips from anyone either. Just playing sipping coffee…"
"What's his poison?"
"Caffé Mocha extra whipped cream, like you."
"Ass-hole took my drink too," she said humorously.
Chase rolled her eyes, "it's a common drink, love. You're not exactly original."
"Well it sure doesn't say that in the critic's column of the paper," she toyed.
"I'm sure he wouldn't mind it if you played a while."
"Hey Piano Man!" Annie called over the customers.
Blue eyes met her glance. She had no idea who he was, and Ben liked it. He'd been watching her since she walked in the room, and had been finding it very difficult to let out a symphony in her presence. "Y-yes?" he asked, lifting his hands from the keys.
"Mind if I have a play?" She more demanded then asked. That piano was her baby after all.
"You're welcome to try…" he answered coyly as the regulars of shop let out a united "Ooooooh!"
She didn't even notice that they had fallen back into the antics of their youth. One of them challenging the other at something meaningless, where there was never a clear winner in the end.
"You're on!" when she said it she heard a quiet voice in her head. "I'll race you to the pylons!" It made her pause for a moment before hopping over the counter and walking proudly to her brain-child.
Ben smiled. It was his Annie and she hadn't changed a bit. Still brash and crude as ever, he could have stolen her right then and there. However, he couldn't resist their game first.
She slid onto the bench next to him and cracked her knuckles. "You know any jazz?"
"hmm..."Ben pursed his lips and let his fingers fall to the keys. He carried a few notes and then stopped to eye her.
"That it?" she mimicked his tune.
He extended it, letting his fingertips move more fluidly about the board.
She did the same adding a few extra notes here and there.
The customers watched earnestly as the two battled it out. It was the best sounding war zone ever. With ever flick of her finger he would match it flawlessly and with his every trill she'd mimic effortlessly. Two even match sets of hands cascading over one another's in a musical frenzy, until they finally collided and sent sour chords bouncing off the walls.
Annie leaned back and let out a cackle. Ben chuckled, feeling serious again. He knew he couldn't tell her yet. He'd have to wait 'til just a bit later. She already thought she was making up her whole past, island, boy and all. Serious drink or not some matters can't simply be talk over coffee. She'd know him soon enough. And though he wasn't sure what would happen after that, he believed it would come together as always. All the pieces would fall correctly, if for nothing else in his life but this.
"Thanks, I'd say your skills are far superior to mine," Ben said fleetingly as he stood from the bench.
Annie grinned, "Oh now you're just being modest…"
Ben picked his sweater off the bench a folded it across his arm.
"Gone for good, then? I guess I ran you out of here."
"I-I have an appointment," he said abruptly.
Annie looked a bit puzzled, "Well then, I'll look you up in the yellow pages, Mister…."
"Not listed…" He smirked and strode to the door.
When the door closed behind him Annie turned back to the crowd with her mouth hanging open. "Well…ass!" she laughed.
"Should've let him win," Chase chimed in from behind the counter.
Cheating Home
"Ben! Wake up!" It was Ethan and it was much too early for him to be in Ben's room.
Despite himself, Ben's eyes flashed open and he jolted upright.
"Ben, it's Annie!" His voice was earnest and troubled. Ethan was then out of the room with Ben quickly following. The sound of the T.V. pricked his ears.
"I just turned it on, cause I couldn't sleep and then…" Richard started and than looked down at the television screen.
It was then that Ben began listening to the newscaster.
"It's tragic, she had just published a bestselling novel that inspired so many. Ladies and Gentlemen It saddens me to report that Annie Andrews, was found dead this morning after her car went off the side of Windy Gap just early in the evening. The automobile and body were incinerated………………….."
Ben had lost the lady's words after "dead"…
"It's not real." He whispered without knowing it had passed his lips.
"I'm sorry…" Ethan said sorrowfully looking back and forth at Richard and Ben.
Ben bit his bottom lip. "We were bringing her home today."