Chapter 2: Startling Discoveries
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Sometimes, Eric felt almost guilty. For the lighter he had hidden that as a result had gotten wet and stopped working. But I fixed it. For the stuff he had borrowed from the camp in secret, when he had planned to take off to find the others. I put those back. For helping Taylor to turn Melissa's secret crush to a very public one. It was a good joke - and in the end we helped her to spill the beans. And now, he almost felt guilty about the white plastic bag he had found from the bunker and had took without telling the others. But really, what any of them would do with money on the island anyways? It wasn't as they could buy food or clothes or plane tickets out of here. So what if he had a little secret of his own? Everyone else as sure as hell had theirs.
It was a whole lot of money. Eric had never seen so much money in one place, except in television. He hadn't attempted to count it yet. That would actually mean doing something with the several neat rolls of American dollars, and he wasn't quite ready for that. For the moment, he just wanted to look at the bills. It was still hard to believe, what he had found. Who could have guessed that under the soldier's helmet, in a shallow grave, was a fortune? Well, the drugs they had found, had kind of hinted that the place was much more than a rusty old memory from war, but still, a buried plastic bag full of money?
Eric grinned; he felt like laughing out loud.
It was good luck that Lex had took that helmet; if he hadn't moved it, Eric wouldn't had noticed the slight lump in the ground. He didn't really know why he hadn't said anything to the others at the time. After all, it had been just a lump in the ground. But everyone had been marvelling Lex, as if the kid had found the bunker on his own, when in fact it had been Eric himself, who had sighted the structure first. And then Lex had pointed the door, and then they had found the drugs, which had really took his mind of from everything else. Now he was glad he hadn't said anything, for when a view days ago the others had started to bitch about a thing or another, and he had escaped from the camp, his feet had took him to the bunker, where the treasure had waited him. A just reward for all he had had to suffer. And didn't they say a finder was a keeper?
He had took the bag from it's original hiding place, for although he doubted that others would come back to the bunker, he really didn't want to take a risk that by some miracle they would find his treasure. Of course the most stupidest thing would have been to take it back to camp, so he had searched hard for a good place, which would be near enough for him to walk, but out of the way of their daily routines. He had had to settle to a small clearing near the bunker, surrounded by the thick jungle. Classic really, but he had buried the bag under a crooked dead tree, certain he could find the place with his eyes closed if he had to.
Eric once again looked inside the bag and admired the green bills. He could have everything he had ever wanted with this money. His family could move to a better house; his father could stop working so hard and could spend more time at home. They could go to some fancy holiday, all of them together. Maybe to Greece or Italy or to some really exotic place in South America. Definitely no trips to Hawaii or anywhere near where he was now, wherever that was. Of course, first he had to get off this damned island, but he was certain that it would happen soon enough. It really had to happen soon, for as the days - weeks! - went by, everything became less certain, less real, and he felt a little nearer to a day, when he couldn't take it anymore, but would wreaking swim out of this place, if he had to.
A sudden noise threw him out of his thoughts, and hastily he moved to cover the bag. Had someone found him? Eric stilled and listened, heart beating a little faster, his mind already making out excuses for his presence in the clearing. Nothing moved in the jungle, but the wind, which really was tearing the leaves with a vengeance. For the first time Eric noticed that the weather had worsened. He looked one last time longingly at his money and then swiftly but the bag back to its hole, carefully covering it up with soil.
What WAS that?
Eric was on full alert now; he had definitely heard a human voice from the jungle, but strangely it didn't sound like anyone from their group.
Again! Definitely a yell. Heart bounding, he started to head into the direction of the sound, forgetting his treasure, the weather, all he had thought of before, his mind racing with only one thought, God, let it be rescue!
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What a mess! Jackson felt tired, although he hadn't really done anything else for the past hour, but had tried to avoid both Melissa and Taylor. He was smart enough to recognise that that was the problem. He was tired of looking anywhere but towards them, all the time conscious of the silent wall of hurt and confusion between them.
And who's fault is that?
Somehow, everything had spiralled to this point so fast, and all he had managed to do had been to watch in amazement as the calm acceptance and tentative friendships he had had with the girls had mutated to something much more complicated. Unfortunately, that something with Taylor had been in straight crash course with the something he had with Melissa.
And who's fault is that?
He tried to construct the events into some kind of sequence, examining his own actions. First, there had been Mel, who had tried really hard to get to know him, and had even gotten him to this amazing trip to Palau that had gotten a little sidetracked from the actual trip plan. He had appreciated the effort, he really had, but not enough to break the carefully constructed walls around him and to make an effort to be friends with her. The crash had of course changed all that; he had had to interact with the others, and once again Melissa had been the one to make the first steps towards his direction. Then had come the revelation he had already guessed; Mel had a crush on him. By that point he had already liked her, had seen her as his only friend on the island, and he hadn't wanted to mess that up, or drive her away. Thus game the no-relationships-on-the-island-rule, which was how realistic really? He had just wanted to keep things simple, the way they were, between them. And that had really worked so well - but who's fault is that?
He was not sure when it had happened; in truth there had been no one moment, but gradually, as time went by, he had been thrown together with Taylor more often. He had always suspected that there was more to the blonde girl than her rich bitch front, and he had been right: Taylor had revealed surprising new aspects of herself, and had gotten Jackson to open up hesitantly. He figured that at first it had been a quest for a little security on her part; Taylor really hadn't anyone on the island that she could turn to, who could assure her that things were going to be alright, without dismissing her fears as self-centred and silly. He had first tolerated her company, then he had felt comfortable in it; finally he had considered them to be friends. And then came the guilt.
Melissa had apparently seen the two of them together, although it had been mostly, if not perfectly, innocent. Their mood had been down, they had wondered if the rescue would ever come, and somehow Taylor's head had come to rest on his shoulder, and his forehead had come to touch hers. Mel had confronted Jackson later, and things had heated up. He had acted like he didn't know what she was talking about, only to get the scathing "I'm not stupid" response from her. Denial had clearly been out of the question, so he had tried to act the thing down. After all, it wasn't a big deal; it was nothing. She hadn't bought that. Lastly, he had resorted to the This is not fair - line, which she had counteracted with simple honesty.
I'm not telling you how to feel; I'm asking you to be honest, she had said. He had left her without a word.
Since then, there had been nothing but silence and avoided looks, and it was seriously starting to frustrate the hell out of him. He had had all the time to brood over the whole issue, to think and rethink, and to feel all the guilt and shame descent upon him. He knew his response to Mel's honesty had been shoddy, and that she had deserved much more from him. She had defended him, when no one else had, she had even took care of him, when he had been sick from the unboiled water; she had done as he had asked, and had pushed her crush to the side, agreeing to be just a friend to him. And for all her troubles she had gotten to watch as he grew close to someone else.
I'm asking you to be honest. I'm not telling you how to feel.
But the trouble was, he didn't know how he felt; and it was making it hard to be fully honest even with himself. Why he felt closeness with Taylor? What did he really feel for Mel? And what did he want with either of the girls? Jackson knew he had to find the answers to these questions and soon, or he risked losing both of his friends.
He finished his task of securing the tent and looked around the camp. They had done good job of preparing it for the coming storm, but it didn't make him feel any better. Dark clouds were visible in the distance, far above the sea, and moving closer to the island every second, but Melissa and Eric hadn't still come back. He knew they had some time before the worst of the storm would hit, and Mel hadn't left that long ago, so she was probably still looking for their missing black sheep, but still the worry swirled inside him. Even more pressing was the knowledge that he had to resolve their argument somehow, to say something to her to make it all better. Jackson wasn't a talkative guy, but suddenly he couldn't bare the thought of another day of silence between them. And really, what the hell he was doing here in the camp, feeling sorry for himself? He had to find her.
Jackson left the camp with a single short announcement of where he was going, ignoring Daley's protests. He would find Mel, and he would make whatever was between them alright again. For it really was all his fault.
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Jin had lived long enough to learn that things rarely went according to plan, and that when they didn't, it was generally futile to rage against the fate that wanted to step from the marked path. All one could do, was to go with the flow, adapting oneself to the new situation and then turn to the first exit out as soon as possible. That is, if there were any exits.
The storm hadn't surprised him; he had smelled it in the air the moment he had woken up that morning. There hadn't been any reason to tell that to Cole though, and try to change their plan; Jin was fairly certain that the man would have left anyway. People, who had that kind of desperate look in their eyes, usually went straight ahead, blindly towards their goal. No, nothing short of a hurricane warning wouldn't have stopped Cole from leaving the port. Jin hadn't been worried; storms he could handle, evade, ride through. Luck and skill had been on his side, and he had steered his fishing boat safely to the little bay before the storm could catch them. He had secured the boat carefully, confident that it would weather the storm without any major damages. So far, everything had gone according to the plan; even Larry had done his share of the work without trying to backstab them.
They had walked to the bunker; the drugs had been where Cole had left them. For a brief moment Jin had felt that everything would be fine; he would get his share, and he could finally give his family what they so desperately needed. That feeling of relief had been totally premature, and Jin grimaced for his own stupidity: he should know better than to tempt the fate! For of course, nothing had since gone according to the plan.
First, Cole's mood had changed rapidly from content to worry and downright anger. Reason for that had been the fact that someone had clearly been in the bunker; Cole claimed that things had been touched, and a fuel oil canister was missing. They couldn't figure why anyone had left the drugs in place; maybe they had gone to alert the authorities? But if that were so, why take the canister? For the first time Jin had actually agreed with Larry, when the man had acclaimed, Who cares why? The most important thing was that the drugs where still there, and they would have to move them quickly out of the island. Cole's mood had not improved, but he had agreed with them. They had quickly moved back towards the boat, determined to get as much done as possible before the storm would hit with full force.
Nothing had gone according to that new plan either.
Fate really had a twisted sense of humour, for they had discovered that the intruder of the bunker was still in the island; and he certainly was nothing they had expected to see.
"HEY!" The shout had caught them unawares and had badly startled them; they had all turned towards the sound ready to fight or to run. Cole's and Larry's hands had went to their concealed handguns, but Jin had kept his hands away from his; he preferred not to get shot by cops, who usually shot armed men first and asked questions later.
It hadn't been cops, or any kind of authorities, though. It had been a boy. A white teenager, speaking clear English, or more accurately, yelling and stumbling over words, in English.
"Hey! Hey! Help! We need help- don't leave!" The boy had desperately stumbled towards them; they had watched him still amazed, but a lot less alarmed. He was just a kid, and clearly in distress.
"Our plane crashed - the flight 29 DWN - but we survived and there's no one here on this island but us and no one has come looking for us - thank God you're here." The words had given them some kind of picture of the situation, making them feel they were back on control.
Cole had taken the lead. "Slow down kid. How many of you are there?"
"Do you have a boat? A plane? Some kind of radio that we can call for help?" The kid had reached them, breathless and exited.
"Are you alone?" Cole's question had finally gotten through the boy, who had nodded his head vigorously. "The other's are back on our camp. They will not believe this - man, I can't believe this!"
"And you are stranded, and you have no radio or other communication systems?"
"We had, but there was this storm and it took our plane - actually we got it back later, but the radio was smashed - not that it had worked earlier, but we tried-"
"And the plane's captain?"
"He left with three students to search the island, but that was almost three weeks ago, and we are kind of desperate-"
"With students? So the rest of the adults stayed in the camp?"
"No, there's just us, we are all students from the Hartwell School of Los Angeles." By that time, the kid had calmed down and had started to ask questions. "What are you doing here? Are there more people somewhere? You are going to get us out of here, right?"
Cole had smiled that cold smile of his, saying almost apologetically, "I'm afraid that is not part of our plan."
"But - but you have to help us!"
"Sorry kid. We are not the local charity." The poor kid had finally understood what they were, when he had caught sight of Cole's weapon under the man's shirt. All colour had drained from his face; he had started to back away from them, when Cole had drawn the gun, pointing it towards the kid.
"Running away isn't an option. I suggest you do as I say, and I don't have to fire this thing."
"Ok, I'll do as you say, just…no shooting alright?"
"Good boy. I think we'll meet the rest of the unfortunate band of survivors. Lead the way." The boy had paled even more, if possible, when he had heard Cole's words, but he had started to walk without protest.
And here we are. Jin followed behind the others, feeling uneasy about the sudden new direction this odd situation had taken them. He hoped things would go smoothly, without any violence. What are the odds for that? Jin shook his head; he didn't want to know.
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What is going to happen? Will the thugs get to the camp? Is Jackson going to find Melissa? And what is he going to say to her when he does?
All this in next chapter! Please review, your opinions are appreciated!