A/N: Here's chapter three. Many thanks to the one person who's bothered to review this story—don't know what's wrong with ya'll, but whatever. Hope you enjoy!
To the blind, all things are sudden.
-Old saying
Chapter Three: The Sound of Death
Fiona sat on the beach, idly swirling designs in the sand with her finger, bored out of her mind. She wasn't used to being still for so long. In Australia, she was always going somewhere or doing something, and sitting around feeling useless was not something that she enjoyed. John was off doing something or another; she hadn't bothered to ask. It was none of her concern.
Someone was approaching her hesitantly, taking a few steps and then stopping, as though afraid to continue. Their shuffling dance continued a few yards from her left, weaving up and down the beach. Fiona smiled when she identified the gait and held her hand out to the newcomer.
"It's alright, Walt. I'm not going to bite you," she called. The boy froze in his tracks and after a moment's hesitation, sat down next to the young woman on the sand. Mr. Locke had asked him to keep her company for a little while, assuring him that she was as interesting as anyone else on the island. After seeing the young woman kick butt earlier, he was eager to learn more.
"What're you doing?" he asked, ignoring her unusual identification of him. Fiona smiled grimly.
"Attempting to prevent myself from going mad in boredom," she answered. "Have you had any luck in finding your dog?"
Walt looked down sadly. "No. Mr. Locke said that he would keep an eye out for him though."
Fiona nodded. "Well, I'm sure that if anyone can find your dog, Mr. Locke can."
"Yeah." The two sat in silence for a few moments, before Walt asked the question that had been on his mind since Mr. Locke had told him about the woman. "What's it like being blind?"
Somehow, Fiona had been expecting that question from the boy. "It's not as bad as you may think. I merely…see the world in a different way."
"What do you mean?"
At this Fiona paused, taking a deep breath, and searching for the right words. "Well…close your eyes." Walt hesitated for a moment, then did as he was told. "Are they closed?"
"Yes."
"Can you still see me?" Walt peaked open one eye, wondering if she was serious, but quickly closed it again.
"No," he answered, sounding a little sarcastic.
"Of course not. So how do you know that I am still here?"
"Well…I can hear you."
"Exactly. If I were to get up and walk away, you would be able to hear me leaving. If you kept your eyes closed long enough, you would realize that you not only hear me, but smell me and…sense me as well. Does that answer your question?"
Walt opened his eyes and looked up at the woman, impressed at his new knowledge. "Yeah."
"Good." Fiona faced towards the sea again and sighed.
"So, what kind of stuff did you do in Australia?"
Fiona smiled at Walt's endless array of questions. "Oh, I did all sorts of things."
"Like what?"
Fiona raised her head, facing the sky, and tapped her chin with her finger. "Well…I went to work, and I volunteered at a center that trained people who were newly blind. My particular favorite pastime, however, was my martial arts class."
Walt's eyes widened. "Really?" He sounded impressed.
Fiona laughed. "Yes. I'm really quite good, or at least that's what my instructor has told me. Even he has reached the point that he is hesitant to fight me."
"Wow." Walt looked with new respect at the young woman. He knew she was good, but he hadn't thought she was that good. Fiona thought for a moment, before "looking" down at the boy next to her.
"Walt, tell me about the jungle."
He looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Describe it to me. What do you see?"
Walt peered behind them to the outskirts of the jungle. "I don't know. There's trees, and all kinds of different plants. It's just…jungle."
Fiona smiled patiently. "Do you see any plants that have…long, thin leaves on them? Perhaps curved slightly, like a banana?" She waved her hands out in front of her, as though trying to sculpt a picture out of the air. Walt turned again and peered harder at the jungle.
"Yeah. I guess so."
The woman nodded and smiled. "Good. Now tell me, do you think you could find us a small bag or satchel that no one is using?"
Walt thought for a moment. "I think I could find one."
Fiona's smile blossomed full force. "Excellent. Would you like to help me with a little project?"
An hour or so later, Fiona sat contently on a log, thrilled that she was now doing something productive. With Walt's help, they had gathered up a bunch of leaves like the ones that she had described, and she was now weaving them together into mats. Walt had sat by her side for awhile, but as she completed mats, he would take them and distribute them to anyone who wanted one. After awhile, his father had collected him, and Fiona was left on her own. John had joined her at some point, as well as the young musician Charlie she'd met earlier.
Fiona sat working on her mats as John whittled on his stick, which he was attempting to work into a whistle. Charlie was doing something with a permanent marker; she didn't know what it was, but it stunk to high heaven. As John blew off a few shavings, he looked his finished project over before testing it.
To his surprise, the blind woman at his side winced and rubbed her ear as though the noise had pained her. John looked at her, puzzled. The whistle was not as high-pitched as normal dog whistles, and it was still within the range of human hearing, but it wasn't high enough to hurt someone.
"I would thank you most kindly to not do that ever again," she said, ever so slightly annoyed. Charlie pushed back his hood and looked at her.
"What's the matter? It wasn't that loud."
Fiona 'looked' in Charlie's direction. "My hearing is more sensitive than most peoples," she answered simply. "It's much sharper. It has to be, to compensate for my sight."
"Oh," Charlie said, before turning his attention back to his fingers. To be honest, the blind woman unnerved him a bit.
John looked at Fiona apologetically. "Sorry," he said.
She smiled patiently. "It's alright. Just…don't do it again. At least not around me." John nodded.
"Deal."
The beach resounded with the screams of the dying marshal. Many of the other survivors were quiet, unnerved by the sound of a slow, agonizing death. Fiona stood alone several paces away from the wreckage. She was doing what she always did when she was distressed—her martial arts form. In class, she practiced with another person. But over the years she'd developed a practice form that was a combination of Tai Chi and her judo exercises.
Eyes closed, Fiona moved slowly and gracefully, utilizing her cane as a part of her form. She tried to remove herself from her surroundings, and block out the painful noises that were bringing equally painful memories to the forefront of her mind. Without meaning to, her movements became sharper, more focused, as long forgotten events struck her in full force.
A young Fiona opened her eyes, the very act of breathing a painful trial. Confused, she blinked several times, but the result was the same—she couldn't make out anything around her. She swallowed hard and trying not to panic. Something was moving near her. "Papa?" she called roughly. Her only answer was a painful scream. "Mum?"
"Stay there, Fiona," her father said. "Don't move." She couldn't think of why she would move. She wasn't even sure that she could move, until she wiggled her fingers and toes just to make sure that she could. Her right leg hurt, but other than that, and her sight, she didn't think she was hurt anywhere else. Another agonizing scream tore through the brush, and Fiona could hear her father murmuring softly to someone. It must be her mother.
"Papa?" she called again. "What's happening?"
Fiona breathed heavily through her nose as she continued to move; the marshal's screams sounding eerily like her mother's all those years before. She couldn't help but fear that his fate would be the same as Amile Harper's had been. For now she could only hope that his agony would end soon.
