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I'm alive. This is not happening. How? What? Why me? My arm. My chest. There's so much blood. I can't see! Everything's going to be okay. Oh God. Oh god. We're fucked.
Their thoughts, if you could even call them that, are achingly predictable. He's all too familiar with panic and at this stage there's barely enough coherency to distinguish the conscious from the comatose. Instead of wading in now, he'll be patient, wait until the numbness wears off and the personalities come into play. Then it'll be every man for himself, even for the few who will undoubtedly play hero, they'll just hide it better. That's when he'll sort them out.
Jacob lets the chaos echoing from the crash sites buzz around him while he performs his regular rotation. Of course, Linus is in a twitter, has been since he discovered the growth. And now the sky's falling. He addresses his flock, projecting calmness and confidence. Baa Baa, I've got this under control, he bleats. Once he's alone, he sheds his disguise. The wolf comes out, hungry, rabid with doubt, worry and jealously. Jacob?
Instead of answering, he'll let Linus stew for a few days.
Hume paces. Kelvin, what do you want for dinner? Pork and beans? Again? Okay, okay. The alarm sounds. Kelvin? Kelvin? Where are you? He notices the smudge of blood on the keyboard. Execute! He wrings his hands, rushes to the sink to scrub again. Out damn spot! Out I say!
He smiles, surprised that Hume is equally entertaining as a solo act.
Rousseau crouches in the corner, waits to see if the earth shudders again. She draws her knife along the fruit's leathery skin, divides the pomegranate. Half for Alex. Half for her. She eats both segments, the peel as well as the flesh. She spits the seeds into her hand and reads their message. Smoke and fire. Slings and arrows. A storm is coming. She reaches for her rifle.
Now all she needs is a fly to get tangled in her web. Perhaps he can be of service when the time comes.
After these visits, he rests. He grinds his teeth and forces the voices out which is almost as exhausting a task as listening. The pandemonium of the crash is a welcome change from the monotony of the recent Jacob-loves-you years. He'll aim for a different result this time. Worship is no longer a challenge. Dare he try kinship? But he's getting ahead of himself. Maybe they're not worthy of any attention.
Jacob waits until night to return to them. He flits over the first beach which thanks to Linus's grunts is going to pieces all over again. Amid the hysteria, two voices stand out, a man and a woman. They're used to answering violence with violence but when they reach for their guns, they only find real and figurative crosses to bear. The man makes do with a rock. The woman builds a shield of distrust. There are few words between them but inside they're simply hoarse from asking for strength.
It's much calmer at the other beach. The dark brings with it doubt but they're still clinging to hope, biding their time until the comforts of home return to their sticky grasps. They have faith in black boxes and search grids. They can't imagine a world without toilet paper let alone one where the sun is not guaranteed to rise in the east.
A few prepare for the worse. Hording. Planning. Weighing their companions' strengths and weaknesses. The soldier and the grifter are used to functioning under stress, assessing damages, improvising. They've stared death down and dealt it out themselves. They'll either be the last ones standing or the first to come to blows. They keep one eye on the future, one eye on each other.
Families fascinate Jacob. Fathers and sons. Brothers and sisters. Husbands and wives. All those obligations and expectations. Why do people bother when it's bound to disappoint? Loyalty is a sham when devotion to an object matters more than the merits of said object.
The father lets fall from his mouth obligatory words of comfort but his son is unconditioned to his voice and barely hears him. The boy closes his eyes and thinks of home but he can't summon an image of something that no longer exists. The brother hovers over his sister. It not even been a day and he's weary of her denial, not only of their present predicament but of their past. She won't admit it but she's pleased he's pissed at her—it makes this all feel more normal.
Their words are unfamiliar but suffering needs no translation. The husband builds a fort around himself and his wife, oblivious to the walls already separating them from each other. She wonders if being here is a punishment for straying or staying. Meanwhile it's only geography that divides the other husband and wife. His thumb rubs the space on his finger where his ring should be. She puts his ring to her lips, says a prayer. Jacob is almost moved by their bond. Almost.
The soon-to-be-mother clutches her fertile balloon. She's torn between hoping the baby stays inside, so she never has to choose, and wanting it out and away from her for good. She shouldn't fret; it's unlikely she'll ever get the chance to hold him in her arms.
The wounded writhe in agony. The doctor is left with only his hands to keep life from spilling out. He'll be a problem, Jacob thinks. Competition for their attention. They'll respect his gifts and consequently assume he'll know what's best in all realms. The island doesn't need another Linus. Luckily the doctor's already distracted by the woman. She'll remain the most enigmatic part of the island for him. He'll be too far gone before he realizes he can't heal her soul with his touch.
He nicknames the two boys tempted by all things unholy and unhealthy Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Both are desperate to be seen for who they are on the inside but they're so haunted by their flaws they deflect intimacy through jokes and trickery. Only they can't fool Jacob and they can't fool themselves. He thinks about putting them out of their misery right away but decides to give them a few days to prove they're more than a cartoon or a cliché.
He's saved the best for last: the one who's not praying for rescue, not weeping about what he's left behind and is unafraid to be himself. He wiggles his toes and thinks this is what home must feels like. Jacob is tempted to whisper, "You're welcome" but it would be selfish to take all the credit and he needs to study this man more, see where and how he stands, before revealing too much. So far he exudes gratefulness and a wiliness to learn. That's promising.
These are the handful that interest him. He senses they'll prove useful to the island or at the very least, their unravelling will be a delightful distraction. The rest bore him and are of no concern.
Jacob decides it's time for their first test, now while their vulnerabilities are all on the surface. He retreats to the tree line and goes still, silent, deaf to their cries. Then he lets go what he's absorbed all day. The ground shakes, the air howls, and the trees sways.
At first everyone's too stunned to move. Then a few crawl forward, more follow on their feet, not surprisingly the ones who step forward are from his select group. They're all terrified, there's no doubt about that, but they're also buoyed by the shared experience. Where most were afraid to acknowledge each other before, they now sneak glances and voice theories. They take comfort in their united ignorance. He hadn't expected that. Maybe they're tougher than he gave them credit. He stops the show. He'll need to conserve his strength for a stronger display tomorrow.
On the way home, Jacob's astounded to come across a dog. He swirls around the sniffing creature pawing a pile of wet leaves. He's reminded of his own pup long gone. He whispers an invitation to follow him home only to be snubbed. The beast has a one track mind. Walt. Walt. Walt. Man's best friend indeed and Jacob hasn't truly been a man in decades.
Even though it's his mind that's taken the journey, his body pays the price. He eases his aching bones into the rocking chair. He can't remember ever feeling this worn. It's moments like these he wishes for Richard's gifts. He's reluctant to admit the new people might be too much for him. He'll need to thin the herd at some point if he wants any peace. Linus will be useful in that, and he imagines it won't take much for them to turn on each other, especially if he gives them a push.
He closes his eyes and the day's energy swirls around him.
System Failure.Boone! I want lists in 3 days. Forgive me, Yemi. It's not Vincent. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket. You think they would have come by now. I'm Kate. Promise, we're going to get you home soon, okay. Dear Mr. Sawyer. Any more baby stuff? Because my wife, I can't find her. F.A.T.E.—
Suddenly, he's dragged out of his reverie by a disturbing notion. What if he is not meant to test them but the island means for them to test him?
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