I can't find my bags. Everyone is going through the bags trying to sort out what belonged to the dead, and if theirs is in the giant pile. So far, no luck for me. I grab another possibility and open it. Nope, no luck. I sigh and put it back in the pile. A young boy walks up to me. Is he holding a dog leash?
"Have you seen Vincent?" he asks me.
"Um, maybe. What does he look like?"
"He's my dog. I can't find him."
"Oh, well I haven't seen a dog. I'm sorry," Poor kid. I doubt a dog could have survived yesterday.
The boy leaves without a comment.
I grab another possibility bag and open it. That's it! My stuff, all there, neatly folded like they hadn't witnessed yesterday's ordeal. I grab a clean tank top. It still smells like Gran's house. I soak in the comforting sent as much as I can.
"Find your bag?" It's the guy from last night. The big one with the curly hair.
"Yeah, just lucky I guess."
"Ha, yeah, you're really lucky," he's sarcastic as he looks over the beach. "I'm Hurley by the way,"
"I'm Tia. Good to meet you,"
Hurley sits down beside me "You're lucky you found your bag, dude. Still looking for mine."
"You'll find it. Everything will get sorted through eventually. It'll come up."
"Yeah, I guess. So how was dinner?"
I laugh "Disgusting, but bearable. Thanks for that, by the way. I doubt there was enough for everyone. It was nice of you to bring me some,"
"You looked like you were going to pass out. I thought you could use some food. Always settles my stomach," and he patted his large belly.
Most of the day passed by smoothly. I met a lot of the survivors. There's a headcount of forty-seven. Forty-seven of the some odd three hundred that were on the flight. Three others went out this morning looking for the cockpit in the jungle. No one can find the tail section of the plane. Some people are guessing it landed in the water on the other side of the island. Word spread around quickly that I have medical training, so I had been treating small wounds with a limited supply. Apparently one of the survivors that went into the jungle this morning is a doctor. I keep telling everyone that there's not much I can do without medical supplies.
The woman Boone pointed out to me last night handed me a medical kit she found in the wreckage. It hasn't been much help, but there was some burn cream in there that I used to sooth my arm. My head stopped bleeding and the cut isn't deep, so I left it alone and did what I could to help the others.
Afternoon fell on the camp and the three that went looking for the cockpit still hadn't returned. Many were worried about what they saw in the jungle last night. I've heard a lot of speculation, but no one can come up with a realistic answer.
"Hey guys, come on!" someone shouts.
I walk over to the gathered crowd. Two men are fighting and it takes a minute for me to figure out who. It's the Arab man who's been tending the signal fire and the tall brooding man, who sits on the edge of camp, smoking. And they're going at it hard. Out of nowhere, a guy in a white tee-shirt and a black man in a blue button down grab one of the men, breaking up the fight.
The guy in the tee shirt yells "Hey. Break it up. Break it up! Come on! That's it! It's over! That's it!" He has the taller man, and is pulling him away. He lets go and the taller man yells "Son of a bitch!"
"I'm sick of this redneck!" the Arab yells
"You want some more of me, boy?" and he makes a move to continue the fight, but Tee Shirt holds him back.
"Tell everyone what you told me!" the Arab says. "Tell them that I crashed the plane! Go on! Tell them I made the plane crash!"
"The shoe fits, buddy!" and, frankly I'm inclined to agree with the redneck.
"What is going on?" the guy in the tee shirt ask.
The other guy that broke up the fight enters now holding something shiny in his hand. "Look, my kid found these in the jungle." He must be the black boy's father.
The redneck ignores him. "And this guy was sitting in the back row of business class, the whole flight, never got up. Hands folded underneath the blanket. And for some reason - just pointin' this out - the guy sittin' next to him didn't make it."
"Thank you so much for observing my behavior," the Arab says sarcastically.
"You don't think I saw them pull you out of line before we boarded?" the redneck asks. Now the Arab makes a move to attack him, but the redneck, held back again by the black man, just yells "Come on, bring it!"
Then a woman yells "Stop!" and the two break their fight. "We found the transceiver," she says. "But it's not working. Can anybody help?"
The Arab man interjects, "Yes. I might be able to."
"Oh great. Perfect! Let's trust this guy!" says the redneck.
Now Hurley interjects, "Hey! We're all this together, man. Let's treat each other with a little respect."
"Shut up, Lardo." Wow, I think. That was uncalled for. Hurley is one of the nicest guys here. What a dick.
"Hey! Give it a break." says Tee Shirt. And he hands the Arab a walkie-talkie looking device.
The redneck rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say, doc. You're the hero." Oh. Tee Shirt must be the doctor who went looking for the cockpit. What did Hurley say his name was? Jack.
"You guys found the cockpit?" asked Boone and Jack nods. "Any survivors?"
"No."
The Arab fiddles with the walkie-talkie, which must be the plane's transceiver. "It's dual band, military spec. Chances are, the battery is good, but - the radio is dead."
"Can you fix it?" a woman asks.
"I need some time."
I want to meet the doctor. I've been helping people all day, but I'm just a nurse and there's only so much I can do. I ask around and people tell me he's with the air marshal who has a piece of shrapnel in his abdomen. There's nothing I could do to help him.
I walk up to Jack and the marshal. "Hi,"
"Hey, you're the nurse, right?"
"Paramedic," I correct. "I'm Tia."
"Jack. Thanks for holding down the fort here at camp. Did this guy do anything while I was gone?"
"No, but his temperature spiked to a fever around mid-day. He's been mumbling nonsense, something about finding 'her'. I guess he was on the plane with someone. Is there anything you can do?"
"I'm taking out the shrapnel." He says, and I can tell he's dreading it. "I thought he'd be in a hospital by now. So where'd you get your training?"
"The Army. I've been in Afghanistan for the last year. 91-Bravo."
"Wow." He looks impressed. There's no reason to be. It's not like I've done anything special.
"So did that guy get the transceiver working?"
"Yeah he did, but apparently the signal is too weak here on the beach. He and Kate are hiking into the jungle looking for higher ground,"
"Really?" I've been dying to get into the jungle since the incident with the trees. "Do you think I could go with them?"
"They could probably use a medic, but do you think you could stay here and help me with this guy?" he motions to the marshal. I would help, but I've been tending wounds all day. I didn't leave a war zone last month to get sucked right back into another one. Also, I'm dying to get into that jungle. I need to know what's out there.
"I'm sure you can find somebody to help. I kind of need a break." He looks pissed but that's not really my problem.
I walk up to the Arab guy. Having been in Afghanistan, I'm very hesitant with Arabs. But I've also learned that the vast majority are not Taliban or terrorists. Plus, after 9/11, airlines are super strict and, even in Australia, they wouldn't just let a potential terrorist on the plane. He's been victimized enough today, and he offered to help with the transceiver. He doesn't strike me as a terrorist.
"Hey there," I say, approaching him.
"Hello," he's hesitant and confused.
"I heard about your hike. Need another hand? I could use a change of scenery right now."
"I suppose," he offers me his hand. "Sayid."
"Tia," we shake. "When do we leave?"
"Ten minutes at the edge of the jungle,"
I go back to the baggage and grab a mostly empty backpack that's been thrown aside. I grab a water bottle from the table of food and a chocolate bar. I grab a light jacket from my luggage and I head over the jungle.
Sayid is there with the woman who brought the transceiver back with Jack and the English guy, Charlie. He went to the cockpit too. Boone is there with his sister Shannon, and they're arguing.
"You don't know what the hell I do!" Shannon yells at Boone.
"She makes really bad decisions to upset her family, which, at the moment, is me."
"Shut up, and stop trying to be charming," she moves to the woman and Sayid. "I'm coming with you."
"I don't... know if that's such a good idea." The woman says. Kate, I remember from my conversation with Jack. Her name is Kate.
"What are you? Two years older than me? Please." Shannon says. She turns to Charlie. "You're going, aren't you?"
"Yeah, are you?" he says.
"Yup."
"Yeah, I'm definitely going." I roll my eyes. Tall, leggy blondes turn guys into such meat loafs.
"Look, everybody can come." Kate says. She's irritated. "But we're leaving now."
"You couldn't tell from that, but she's actually really nice." Charlie says to Shannon. I find that hard to believe. She seems like such a hard-ass.
We start walking into the jungle and the ground turns into an incline. In the back of the group, the tall redneck from the fight earlier has joined our group.
"You decided to join us," Kate says to him, without turning her back.
"I'm a complex guy, sweetheart."
The hike starts off easy, but soon gets rough. We end up climbing the side of a mountain, but with seven people, it's not too hard. Everyone stays mostly silent. Boone and I exchange a couple of looks and I can tell he's not happy Shannon decided to come. We've made it to a field, but we haven't make too much progress on elevation and there's trees everywhere. The redneck, who's name I've learned is Sawyer breaks the silence "Okay! Wide open space! You should check the radio, see if we're good."
"We're not going to have any reception here." says Sayid.
"Just try it."
"I don't want to waste the batteries."
"I'm not asking you to keep it on all day."
"We're still blocked by the mountain." The two are getting frustrated. I have no clue why Sawyer decided to come if being around Sayid is just going to piss him off.
"Just check the damn radio!" Sawyer yells.
Now Sayid is yelling. "If I just check, we might not have any juice left when we get to—,"
He's cut off by a sound deep in the jungle. There it is! The thing knocking down the trees! My mom wouldn't believe where I am now! I have to know what it is! Everyone is worried. Next thing I know, Kate is saying "Come on, let's move."
"I shouldn't have come." Shannon whimpers as Boone grabs her to make her run.
"Go! Go!" Sayid yells. I'm still staring at the jungle and Charlie grabs my wrist.
"We need to move," he says, and he's terrified.
I start running with him but I look back and Sawyer is still facing the jungle. Kate turns around and yells his name, but Sayid keeps her running forward.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Seven gun shots. It was Sawyer. How did he get a gun? It's almost impossible to get a gun on a plane since 9/11. Is he an air marshal like that guy back at camp? We make our way back to Sawyer. A giant white lump of fur is barely breathing in front of him.
"That's... that's a big bear." says Shannon.
"You think that's what killed the pilot?" Boone asks.
"No," says Charlie. "No, that's a tiny, teeny version compared to that." Now I'm lost. Something killed the pilot? I thought the pilot was dead. There were no survivors at the cockpit. Did Kate, Jack, and Charlie keep a secret?
"Guys," says Kate. "This isn't just a bear. That's a polar bear."
She's right. A large polar bear here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. And it can't be what was tearing down the trees last night. It's big, but not that big.
"That can't be a polar bear." says Boone.
Kate and Sayid say at the same time, "It's a polar bear."
"Yeah, but... Polar bears don't usually live in the jungle." says Shannon. Wow, great job, princess.
"Polar bears can't live this far south," I say. "It's too warm."
"This one does." Boone says.
Kate turns to Sawyer. "Where did that come from?"
"Probably Bear Village. How the hell do I know?"
"Not the bear." she says. "The gun."
"I got if off one of the bodies."
"People don't carry guns on planes," Shannon says.
"They do if they're a US Marshal, sweet cheeks. There was one on the plane."
"How do you know that?" Kate asks.
Sawyer is getting irritated, but Kate makes a point. He must have grabbed the gun from the marshal with the shrapnel. "I saw a guy lying there with an ankle holster, so I took the gun. I thought it might come in handy. Guess what? I just shot a bear!"
"So why do you think he's a Marshal?" Kate asks.
"Because he had a clip-on badge. I took that too. Thought it was cool." He shows us the badge from inside his pocket. I can't believe I thought this guy could have been a marshal. He's just a thief.
"I know who you are," Sayid says. "You're the prisoner."
Whoa, what? Prisoner? What's going on?
"You found a gun on a US Marshal. Yes, I believe you did. You knew where it was, because you were the one he was bringing back to the States. Those handcuffs were on you. That's how you knew there was a gun."
"Piss off." Sawyer says.
"That's who you are, you son of a bitch."
"Fine!" says Sawyer. "I'm the criminal. You're the terrorist. We can all play a part," he turns to Shannon. "Who do you want to be?"
The next thing I know, Kate has the gun and she's pointing it at Sawyer.
"Does anybody know how to use a gun?" she sounds worried.
"I think you just pull the trigger." says Charlie. Moron.
"Don't use the gun." Sayid says matter-of-factly.
"I want to take it apart."
"There's a button on the grip." I say. "Push that, it will eject the magazine." She follows my instruction. "There's still a round in the chamber. Hold the grip, pull the top part of the gun." She does this without any hesitation. She lied. The way she gripped the handle to pull the chamber, I can tell she knows how to use a gun.
Everyone is looking at me. Charlie's mouth is hanging open.
"How do you know how to use a gun?" Boone asks.
"I was in the Army."
"I thought you were a nurse?"
"No, I'm a paramedic, in the Army." I pull out my jacket. The US Army coat of arms is on the right breast and below that, a caduceus.
Kate hands me the clip and goes to give the gun to Sawyer, who pulls her in and whispers something to her. Sayid is eying me carefully and I start to wonder how he knows to configure complicated communications equipment like a transceiver. I don't want any distrust in the group right now. I'm already suspicious of Charlie and Kate, because they said the pilot was killed by something. Something bigger than the polar bear. I hand Sayid the clip, knowing he can't do much without the gun and there's no way Sawyer would give it to him. He hesitantly takes it from me. "We should keep moving," he says to the group.
We've made it to a large field. It's very clear and we've walked over the mountain. Sayid starts fumbling with his pack and he brings out the transceiver. He fiddles with some knobs.
"Oh! Now's a good time to check the radio! Not before, but now!" It's Sawyer.
Sayid, irritated says "We're up higher."
"Yes, we are!"
"Bar. Hey! We've got a bar!" Sayid yells. The group makes its way over to him and Kate. There's a lot of feedback coming out of the speaker. Sayid presses the talk button "Mayday! Mayday!" There's a loud screech.
"What is that?" Kate askes.
"Feedback." He answers.
"Feedback from what? What would do that?"
"I don't know."
"I'll tell you what would do that." says Sawyer. "This guy not fixing the radio. This thing doesn't even work."
"No. No, no, no, no, it's not broken." Sayid says. "We can't transmit because something else is already transmitting."
"Transmitting from where?" I ask.
"Somewhere close. The signal's strong."
"Somewhere close?" asks Charlie. "You mean on the Island? That's great!"
"Maybe it's other survivors." Boone suggests.
"From our plane? How would they even—," Shannon is cut off by Sawyer.
"What kind of transmission is it?"
Sayid answers, "Could be a sat phone, maybe a radio signal,"
"Can we listen to it?" Kate asks.
"Let me get the frequency first. Hold on."
Sawyer bickers more but Kate tells him to shut up as Sayid fiddles with the knob on top. Slowly we start to hear a female voice through the static.
"The rescue party. It has to be." says Charlie. Faintly we can make out words. "It's French! The French are coming! I've never been so happy to hear the French!" I'm being hugged by him, but I don't mind, because we might have found our way off the island!
"I never took French. What does she say?" I ask. "Does anybody speak French?"
Boone points to his sister, "She does."
Shannon looks taken aback by the sudden attention on her. "No, I don't. What?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" says Boone. "You spent a year in Paris!"
"Drinking, not studying!" she says frustrated.
The French voice disappears and we hear a deep male voice take over the woman's. "Iteration 7294531."
"Okay. What's that?" Charlie asks.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no." Sayid struggles to maintain the frequency. "The batteries are dying!"
"How much time do we have?" says Kate.
"Not much."
Boone continues to argue with Shannon. "I've heard you speak French! Just listen to this! Listen to it!"
"I can't!"
Sawyer is getting frustrated and he interjects, "You speak French or not? Because that would be nice."
Again the deep male voice replaces the French woman's, "Iteration 17294532."
"Come on. Come on, Shannon!" Boone encourages her.
The female voice is back and Shannon says "It's…it's repeating."
"She's right," says Sayid. "It's a loop. 'Iteration'—it's repeating the same message. It's a counter. The next number will end... '533'."
The voice is back, "Iteration 17294533."
"Does anyone know what the hell he's talking about?" says Sawyer.
"It's a running count of the number of times the message has repeated. It's roughly thirty seconds long, so... how long." He begins to do the math in his head.
"Don't forget to carry the one, chief," says Sawyer. Wow, what a prick. Doesn't he want to get rescued?
Sayid hands the transceiver over to Shannon, who holds it up to her ear. She concentrates hard. "She's saying, 'Please'. She's saying, 'Please help me. Please, come get me.'"
"Or she's not! You don't even speak French!" says Sawyer and we all yell at him to shut up.
"Iteration 17294535."
Shannon keeps translating, "'I'm alone now. On the Island alone. Please, someone come. The others, they're... they're dead. I-it killed them. I-it killed them all.'"
"That was good." says Boone.
"Sixteen years." says Sayid. "Sixteen years and five months. That's the count. The iterations. It's a distress call. A plea for help. A mayday. If the count is right... It's been playing over... and over... for sixteen years."
"Someone else? Was stranded here?" says Boone.
"Maybe they came for them." I suggest.
"If someone came, why is it still playing?" Sawyer condescends.
Charlie intervenes, "Guys. Where are we?"
We've started back to camp, but we hiked a long way and didn't start until the afternoon. The sun was beginning to set.
"It's getting dark." Boone says.
"Then pick up the pace," says Sawyer.
"We should make camp." Sayid interjects. We're in a clearing, not nearly as big as the one on the mountain. Everyone bickers about whether to camp or not.
"I'm not stopping." Sawyer says. "Ya'll have a nice cookout."
"Excellent, walk through the jungle in the dark," says Sayid.
"Oooo, afraid the trees are going to get us?"
"No, what is knocking down the trees will get you."
Sawyer pulls out the marshal's gun. "Well, if you're so worried about me, how about you give me the clip back?"
"Put the gun back in your pants, Sawyer," Kate says. "Sayid's right, if you keep walking you're not going to make it to the beach." She and Charlie exchange a look. What happened to the pilot out there?
"Yeah, why's that?" Sawyer asks.
"Trust me."
Night soon fell and we set up camp. I got a fire going with some matches I found in a stray suitcase. It didn't take long for everyone to get settled.
Sayid grabs a rock from the edge of the clearing and walks it back over to the fire. He throws it on the ground and grabs a stick at the edge of the fire. The end is hot with flame.
"This is Australia," he says, indicating the rock he threw on the ground. "This is us," he waves the torch, meaning the plane.
"Nice stick," Sawyer says, but we ignore him.
Sayid continues, "Two days ago we take off from Sydney. We fly along the same north east route every commercial airliner bound for Los Angeles does. Now the pilot, he said he lost communication with the ground, correct?"
"Yeah," says Kate. "Six hours in. He turned around and headed for Fiji."
"So, we changed course," continues Sayid. "Regrettably, no one knew we changed course. The turbulence hit. We know the rest," and he smothers the end of the torch in the grass.
"The pilot said we were over a thousand miles off course," says Kate.
Charlie says something about satellites and my mind drifts. So, not only did Kate, and presumably Charlie and Jack, witness the pilot's death, but they also talked to him and in detail about the flight. The more Kate opens her mouth, the less inclined I am to believe her, and it seems like I'm the only one in the group that has no idea about what happened on the expedition to the cockpit. No one looks confused. Sawyer looks irritated, Shannon looks bored, and Boone looks tired.
"Okay, really enjoyed the puppet show," says Sawyer. "Fantastic. But we're stuck in the middle of damn nowhere. How about we talk about that other thing? You know that transmission Abdul picked up on his little radio? The French chick that said, 'They're all dead.' The transmission's been on a loop for … how long was it, Freckles?"
He motions to Kate, "Sixteen years," she answers.
"Right. Let's talk about that."
"Well, we have to tell the others when we get back," says Boone.
"Tell them what, exactly?" Shannon asks. "You didn't hear anything. I'm not a stupid translator."
"No one's going to tell them anything," Sayid decides. "To relay what we heard without fully understanding it will cause a panic. If we tell them what we know we take away their hope. And hope is a very dangerous thing to lose."
"So we lie,' says Kate. No wonder she caught on that fast. She's been lying this whole time.
Everyone settles down. I see Boone get up from the group and start to move towards the edge of the clearing. I decide to follow him. He's the only on in this group I trust even a little, partially because he tried to help me during the chaos. He quickly notices me following him, but continues towards the jungle.
When we get to the edge I ask him, "What happened to the pilot?"
"What do you mean?"
"Kate and Charlie keep looking at each other. I didn't know the pilot was killed. Jack said there were no survivors at the cockpit. He didn't mention anything about the pilot dying, let alone getting killed,"
"Well, you're not behind on much," said Boone. "Basically they went out to the cockpit and the pilot was alive, told them everything Sayid said at the campfire and was picked up by something they didn't see. It ripped his guts out."
"Why didn't they tell the camp?"
"Same reason we're not telling them about the French transmission, I guess."
I look at Boone. "Okay then. I guess I'm gonna go to sleep."
"Night," he says and resumes to what I assume is him taking a leak.
It all made sense. It was killing me to find out what this creature was that can lift full grown men out of cockpits and tear them limb from limb. I really wish my mom was here. She'd kill for a study like this.
I lay back down on my patch of grass. I've slept in worse. I stare at the stars, the constellations so different from the ones I've become accustomed to and slowly drift off into sleep.
"What are you doing?"
Sayid's voice wakes me instantly and I see Boone's standing figure in the light of the fire. He's holding the gun.
"I was standing guard. You heard what they said is out there." He says
Sawyer is pissed. "You took my gun off me, boy?"
Now Shannon is there. "Please, you've never even held a gun. He doesn't believe in guns. He's goes on marches."
"You go on marches?" I ask.
"I don't go on marches," he denies.
"Give it back to me." Sayid demands.
"Yeah, give it to Al Jazeera, he'll protect us," says Sawyer.
"Al Jazeera is a network," Charlie interjects.
"I'll keep the damn gun," says Boone.
Then Shannon says, "We should give it to her," and she points to Kate.
"Yeah," agrees Charlie. "Kate should hold the gun,"
"Fine with me," says Sayid.
The whole camp is looking at me, waiting for my confirmation that this is a good idea. But I don't want Kate holding that gun. There's something about her. I don't know why she would lie about knowing how to use one. But I'm not raising any heads in my direction.
"Yeah. Yeah, she should,"
Boone looks hurt by my decision by hands it over reluctantly after a pestering "Well," from Sayid.
