Island-Post Detonation
Darkness.
The absolute contradiction to light was a contradiction in of itself. Darkness is and will always be the absence of light. However, to her, the darkness held searing secrets, memories that were to be obliterated. Her body ached. Her lower half felt heavy as if the world, literally collapsed upon her. Haggard, splintering breaths reeked havoc on her lungs. She sucked in dusty stale air and coughed. The metallic taste of copper laced her tongue. She tried to move her fingers, to wake them from the nightmare she was trapped in, but they hardly moved; trembling tensely awake, she forced herself to bring one hand to her mouth.
It connected; flesh to flesh, bone, to…syrup. Not the sweet, maple, liquid she'd pour on pancakes, but the thick, amber, syrup of disaster and pain.
Blood.
She knew that she had it on her, she could taste it, but she couldn't remember why.
A sound, small, frail, and even, stirred to her side. She craned her neck to gain a better angle but the pain ricocheted down her spinal column. Again, she heard it, echoing off her own cries of anguish, but this time it gravitated towards her as a bitter moan.
She tried to turn her head again, but the pain was inevitable. She pinched her eyes closed and when she opened them she saw it; a bicycle.
A red bicycle.
Blinking, she forced her eyelids open, and stared at it. That wasn't there when she fell.
But all she could see above her was darkness. No shaft, no light, nothing, but concrete. Was that a ceiling?
She focused her eyes on the bicycle. It was rusty around the spokes, its handles were dull, and the rear tire was flat. As beautiful as it was, it was just as sad. The color, the vibrant red, stood out amongst the other debris, like a beacon. Calling her home.
Something moved from behind the bicycle, small, movements, almost as if someone's hand was waving towards her. Or were they reaching for something? She strained her eyes and saw the pale fingers and somehow this stirred her so, that she called out to the hand, desperate and delusional.
"H…hello?" her voice was raspy like a swarm of bees. The air stilled around her as she waited and then the heaviness of the anticipation rose from her chest as a voice answered back in the darkness.
"Elle?" a short, labored breath escaped, "Elle?"
The voice called her by name; it was familiar, yet painstakingly unfamiliar all the same. She swam through the pictures in her mind and settled on a face she recognized as her own.
"Yea…yes," she answered and whispered to herself, "that's me."
"Can you move?" the voice beckoned her but Elle shook her head and stopped. She couldn't see her but she knew she needed to. It hurt so much to talk but she forced herself.
"I…I think something's pinning me down," she felt around her waist and connected with the smooth edges of something wooden, something large. Perhaps a table? She felt along the edges and ran her fingers to the top and wrapped a few fingers around the net. It was a ping-pong table.
"Dude, if I win," he raised an eyebrow in all seriousness, skimming over her head to the person to her left. If only she could see them, she tried to remember, but the man's words lingered, "you don't use nicknames for a week."
"Jules?" she called her friend's name out and the darkness began to dissipate.
"What happened?" the panic in her voice frightened her and she began to tremble as the table began to become heavier, the tightness of the space, tunneling in around her, confining her to such terror caused her to scream out,
"Where are we?" her words reverberated off the enclosure.
Juliet waited for Elle to catch her breath, to calm down, before she took all she had to mumble,
"Not the airport."
Elle grimaced at the retort and a tearful, choked, laugh, escaped her throat.
"The bomb," she swallowed the disappointment, "I watched you set it off."
"Yeah," Juliet sighed from behind the bicycle, "what good did that do?"
Elle scanned her surroundings, looking at the fallen debris that was eye level. She saw a computer, shattered, a mattress torn to pieces, books charred and pages dismembered, and she closed her eyes as she concluded,
"It's the Swan," she remembered the blast, one that Juliet had not been around for, one that wasn't Juliet's doing.
She saw the Dharma logo, the charred Swan, and growled,
"It didn't work."
Her brain kicked into overdrive, as memories flashed from behind closed eyelids. She saw Sawyer's stricken face, screaming at her to hold on. She saw Juliet fall, her blue eyes fading into the belly of the shaft. She saw the bomb. She recalled the metallic clashing as Juliet banged it, repeatedly.
"Oh…my…God," Elle exhaled as she saw her children, their peaceful sleeping faces on the submarine and with them in mind she garnered all her energy, all of her anger, pain, and disbelief into her muscles and pushed at the load on her legs.
"C'mon," she spat, as she pushed at the ping-pong table, "you son of a bitch," she grit her teeth. It hardly budged. The pain in her wrist was unbearable. She couldn't muster enough strength in both limbs to push the table off; she was going to have to push, regardless of the pain. She inhaled, held her breath, and forced her hands to do the pushing while her legs did the lifting.
"Come," she pushed with all her strength, "on!"
The table screeched as she pushed it, the sound amped her adrenaline, and she struggled to push it further. Lifting it, barely inches from her waist, Elle sent it toppling over, as she slammed her hands into it, causing it to collapse only inches from her body. The power she had felt in her legs, what she had used to prop the table up from beneath it, lessened and a wave of pins and needles rushed over her.
"Elle?" Juliet's voice wavered, "What was that?"
"Stupidity," Elle slammed her head back on the cool concrete floor of the hatch and unclenched her jaw. She lifted her left arm towards her chest and held it close. She could feel that it was swollen.
"Jules," Elle spoke to her from behind closed eyelids, "can you make it over to me, follow my voice?"
"I don't think that's possible," Juliet's voice cracked, and a harrowing laugh escaped her lips,
"I can't feel my legs."
"Oh, Jules," Elle cringed, knowing Juliet had known all along that regardless of what happened, she wasn't going to walk again.
"It could be temporary," Juliet coaxed her, almost reading her thoughts, "but I," her voice faltered, "I don't think so."
"Alright," Elle bit her lower lip and tried to sit up, "give me a few minutes," she began to massage the sensation back into her legs, "and I'll come to you."
"No," Juliet's voice rose in frustration, "if you can find your way over to me, you can find a way out of here."
"That's what you're going to do."
"Juliet," Elle meant to sound condescending, "you're in no position to tell me what to do."
"I may not be in the right position, Elizabeth," Juliet was wounding, "but this…all of this…I did for you and you followed me down the rabbit's hole like some sort of lemur."
"So forgive me for being a bit officious, but what in the hell were you thinking?"
"Officious?" Elle laughed, "Who the hell uses 'officious'?"
"The same person who is about to make you swear on your own life that you leave me here and find a way out of this goddamned hatch."
"I won't do that, Jules," Elle turned herself over, sat back on her haunches, and scanned the room, looking for some sort of light. She could make it to Juliet, she just had to barrel through some wreckage. The first thing she had to do was move that damn bicycle which appeared to be wedged between the remnants of the counter and sink. She began the trying task of hefting objects and winced at the pain in her abdomen. It was taking long, using one hand to push and pull. She forced herself to use both hands, but fighting the pain was causing her to become lightheaded. She tore off the bottom of her shirt and made a makeshift sling, using her teeth to tie off the knot.
"Damn it," she coughed and wiped her hand across her forehead, and something dark caught her eye. She brought her hand closer to her face and scrutinized it, lifting her hand to her nose, she inhaled the scent of pennies.
Blood. She was coughing up blood.
"What is it," Juliet asked but Elle ignored her and fought through the rubble.
"Save your breath," Elle swallowed knowing it was she who should be conserving her energy.
"Elle," Juliet was concerned, "tell me."
"There's blood," she made sure, where she tossed the books and boxes were in the direction of an inaccessible exit. From what she could gather, it was the bunker of the Swan, where they kept Ben hostage. She knew there would be an air duct, but she wasn't going to risk climbing up and over, only to be stuck in-between.
"Nothing I can't handle," Elle lied as she threw another piece of scrap metal to the side.
"I can't see you, but I know you're lying," Juliet fired back and Elle stopped short. A small smile spread across her lips and she retorted,
"You know what I'm hearing?" Elle sucked in a breath to regain her composure, "Blah, blah, blah."
"Why do you sound closer, Elle," Juliet let out a frustrated sigh, "when we both know I told you to find a way out?"
She found what appeared to be a broken chair leg and wedged it between the bicycle and the counter top. Using all her upper strength, she felt the two burdensome objects begin to sway. The bicycle keeled over, she dragged it towards her, and pushed it to the side, the broken bell atop the handlebars, created an ominous sound. She wedged herself in between the countertop and the wall and found Juliet.
"Jules," Elle wiped the sweat from her brow, "when have you ever known me to take any of your advice?" Elle's chest felt heavy as she took a moment to catch her breath. She realized it was getting more difficult to inhale and she fought the pounding in her ears to make it towards Juliet.
Elle's snarky demeanor paled in comparison when she saw her friend in dire straights. Her lower torso was crushed beneath the countertop and all Elle could see was the upper half of her friend, bloodied and dusty.
"Hey," Elle rushed to her side, "hey, it's okay, I'm here, I got you." Juliet closed her eyes and shook her head, a single tear slid down her cheek and she opened her eyes. She was angry, that was clear.
"I told you to leave me," she choked on a laugh, "there's no happy ending for me."
"And there is for me?" Elle shouted, raising her uninjured hand in defeat.
What light there was, shone on her and Juliet saw the crimson blood that had caked onto her skin.
"You have a chance to get out of here, Elle," Juliet begged her, "please, just let go."
Elle took her hand and held onto it, squeezing her friends hand as she spoke. "I can't do that."
Juliet squeezed her hand back and then forced herself from Elle's grip,
"You have to."
Elle closed her eyes as she slouched to her knees. Silent tears fell from her eyes as the face of Sawyer glimmered past her eyelids. That look in his eyes, of pure fear, the way his eyes dilated in shock when she wriggled from his grasp, begging him to let her go. The way his voice croaked her name. She shuddered. It was as if he was there with her now. She looked to the ceiling and screamed,
"No!"
Her voice echoed down the abandoned hatch and in the silence she heard him and for a moment all was calm. She felt Juliet tug on her arm and shout for her to listen.
"Did you hear that?" they both strained their ears to listen.
"It was just the hatch," Elle shook her head, "old pipes, rusted metal."
"No," Juliet pulled her closer and she put her lips to Elle's ear and whispered, her breathing becoming more shallow,
"It's Sawyer."
Elle's eyes, wide in shock, held herself close to her friend's face and stroked the side of it. Juliet sighed, a small smile graced her face, and she mumbled,
"It worked."
"What worked, Jules," Elle shook her friend, but Juliet was lost to her, her words incoherent, her thoughts somewhere else.
"Maybe we'll meet for a cup of coffee," Juliet smiled and Elle fought back tears, nodding a silent yes.
"Sure, Jules," Elle caressed her face as she pulled her friend into her lap, "it'll be like old times."
"Yeah," Juliet's life escaped her body with one last breath and she opened her eyes, looking at Elle.
"He's here."
"Jules?" Elle shook her friend, but her lifeless eyes stared back at her and as she struggled with her death, she couldn't stomach those blue eyes, and closed them over with a wave of her hand.
"Why?" Elle screamed out, repeating her question, pounding her fists into the hatch's walls. She screamed until her throat ached and her stomach turned into knots. She let her head fall back against the steel enclosure and exasperated,
"Help me!"
She lost consciousness for a bit but something stirred her awake; a voice, familiar, calling out to her from the darkness.
"Elle!" his voice was raspy and desperate but she would have known it anywhere.
"Sawyer?" she called out to him and screamed for help again.
"Elle!" She could hear scuffling above her and she thought she was imagining things. She looked down at her deceased friend and repeated her chilling last words in awe,
"He's here."
