Chapter 7
"Hey! You. Redneck man! Halt!"
The yell travelled across the plains, causing him to roll his eyes, and he waited for the other member of his patrol party to catch up with him. "I told you, Genghis, name's Sawyer."
"And I told you, it's Miles," he retorted. "So we're both racist. That settles it. We're on equal footing now."
"Oh, great. God created an Asian version of me," he muttered, striding on.
"Don't flatter yourself," Miles remarked dryly, trying to keep up with him. "I was here long before you arrived, so in terms of seniority, I rank above you."
He had to give him that one. He had just met the man yesterday and discovered that he was full of snark and dry humour. He appreciated that in a person, so if he had to have company while patrolling, he was rather glad it was him. "Anyway," he said after they'd trekked for a while. "This fence is for keepin' out the dangerous animals, right? Not for keepin' people in."
"Keeps out the smoke monster. That's the most important." At the receiving end of Sawyer's stare of perplexity, he continued, "Well, and all other things we don't want roaming in our town. Like polar bears."
"Yeah, right, polar bears," he snorted in disbelief. "Like I was born yesterday. Next thing you'd be sayin' is the runway's for aliens, and you think I'm gonna believe you."
"What aliens?" Miles stared at him like he'd grown another head. "There aren't any aliens here, unless you're talking about foreign ones like you and that blond chick."
"Juliet."
"What?" He startled, scanning the landscape for the doctor. "Where?"
"Juliet," he said impatiently. "That's her name."
"Oh." Miles stopped his searching, looking rather sheepish. "I knew that."
They resumed walking. He felt sweat trickle down his back. It was either patrolling or building the runway today. He had opted for patrol duty. He'd get heat stroke working under the hot sun, and if he had Danny snapping at him today as well, he was sure to blow a blood vessel.
"How big is this island anyway," he asked shortly.
"Big," Miles offered.
"Well, thanks for the very detailed and incredibly helpful information, Mr. Island Local," he said sarcastically. "So, everyone," he bellowed to a fake tour group, filling the air with his projected voice. "Look to your left, there are lots of trees, and on your right, a large grassy plain and, surprise, more trees. And to the front, rollin' hills with more green!" He broke loudly into song. "Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo rooooam!" He chuckled to himself.
"I am greatly impressed by your ability to self-entertain." Miles said dryly. "Anyway, back to the blond chick…sorry, I mean Juliet," he corrected hastily when Sawyer shot a pointed look at him. "What's the deal with her?"
"Why? You interested?" He cocked an eyebrow, smirking. "Sorry, she's taken."
"Please," he scoffed. "I have no need to steal your chick. I have no lack of suitors."
"Sure, sure, whatever you say, Astro Boy. You get your pick on this island." He stopped to peer at a bunch of yellow wildflowers. "So, why the inquisitiveness?"
Miles shrugged. "Just because. She's a mini celebrity on this island and doesn't even know it. She's so quiet sometimes, you can't get a peep outta that chick."
"Some people just ain't the kind to talk a lot," he said, bending over to pluck a couple of the flowers from the ground. "She's not much of a talker, but she's one in a million."
"Well," he said, squinting against the sun, and waited for Sawyer to straighten up. "I'm glad you got her. You seem like a smart man, so as one born and bred here, there are some things that I feel I should tell you." He shaded his eyes with a hand. "Some of us don't accept outsiders very well. They get very selective on who joins them, and there's no telling what they'd do to get their way. My best advice to you is to stick to the rules, my friend, and don't ask too many questions." He turned his back to the intruding sun, concluding that particular conversation. "Join me for a Coke?"
The sky was a deep purple with brilliant shades of blue showing through. In the far distance, all that was left of the sun was a fiery dark orange glow, fading with each second that the earth spun on its axis. They stood on the shore of the beach as the waves washed up to their bare feet that they had dug into the sand.
For once, he wasn't compelled to speak. When the colours of dusk had melted away to darkness, they found a patch of sand, still warm from the sun, and settled in it.
For a few moments, they sat in silence. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them. She hugged her knees to herself. He stared at the full moon taking precedence in the skies, she at the waves that would never cease their rolling.
"Did you ever love him?"
His words hung in the air, a raincloud in clear skies. The burning question had been stewing in his heart for a while now, but he had been reluctant to probe since the accident. He turned his face towards her, profile outlined against the beach.
Her words were punctuated with hesitations, revealing her struggle with trying to keep her emotions in check. In a low voice, she told him, "Nobody gets into a marriage believing it's going to fall into chaos." She bit her lip. "For a while, I thought he was the one. Thought he could lead me."
He turned his face away, dropping his gaze to the flotsam and jetsam that the waves had washed ashore. "So you loved him." He rubbed his nail with his thumb. "Did you think he loved you?"
"I don't know," she finally said. "It's a little too late to ask now."
He wanted to tell her no loving husband in their right mind would manipulate their wife into doing things they didn't want or cause them physical or emotional harm, but he didn't. She was right. It was too late now anyway.
She added nothing more, but pointed up into the darkness. "Look. First star of the night."
They watched it twinkle with untold secrets. As the night slowly darkened the earth, more points of light showed up against the velvet sky.
"Think you'll miss the city?"
"Some parts of it…" She stared up at the night sky. "But I won't miss the noise and the traffic that comes with the city."
Or the memories.
"Favourite song?"
The expression on her face was one of bewilderment.
He shrugged. Randomness was just a part of him, and he wanted to change the subject to lift her spirits.
"It depends on my mood, really. I don't have a particular favourite." She glanced over at him with a shadow of a smile. "You?"
"Bob Marley, Dylan. Denver. I'm into the oldies. Sometimes, Bon Jovi hits the spot. Not the trash they play nowadays." He stared into the distant horizon, where one could no longer tell where the ocean ended and where the sky started. "I used to play the guitar. When I was younger, I wanted to be a rock star," he gave a soft laugh that sounded more wistful than anything else. "Guess that all changed."
She seemed to realize he was struggling because she pressed no further.
Then he almost wished she did, because he was tired of the masquerade. For a long time, he had hoped none of her questions invaded the deepest, rawest part in of his heart because he didn't wish to keep lying. Maybe it was time to release the memories that fought to escape the chest that he'd kept under lock and key.
"Juliet?"
The words seemed to stick in his throat. Her eyes told him that she had all the time in the world. In the silence of their conversation, she waited patiently. He tore his gaze away and focused it on the placid moon, his heart constricting. Perhaps it would help to pretend he was talking to it instead.
In the end, after a struggle with indecisiveness, he chickened out, choosing to teeter on the fence, settling for a truth that would not hurt either of them.
"People ain't always who they say they are."
It was a fact, wasn't it? She had to be warned that the people on the island weren't as innocuous as she thought they were. He was aware that this particular sentence was of no reference to them, however. His conscience twitched, and he blinked, staring hard at the unresponsive satellite.
"Though…sometimes they want to be," he faltered and stumbled to a stop.
His words didn't even make sense to him. He didn't dare look at her, afraid just by doing so, he would give the secret away. She wouldn't understand what he meant, but she would someday. When fate determined the time to rip the mask off, he would stand there like the empty soul that he was, naked and in shame of all his deeds. She would run, or accept him as he was.
In time, he would know.
He felt a hand slip into his, and he realized with a start that she was holding on to him. She was offering comfort the best way she knew how, and he clung on to that knowledge like a life buoy.
And for a long time, they sat with their fingers entwined, connecting, two lost souls keeping themselves afloat under the watchful eyes of the heavens.
There was a little bounce to her step as she stepped into the laboratory. It was a little before five, but she'd be knocking off earlier today. It was a special occasion, and she wanted to be home before he was, to celebrate his birthday with him.
The people here were generally pretty relaxed regarding rules related to time. Certain ones, however, could not be broken, and she had heard about the severe consequences. Sometimes the stories that went around intimidated her a little, but so far, she had seen no one capable of performing the deeds that she had heard.
As she opened the door to the office, she nearly crashed into Goodwin.
"Hey, Jules," he greeted cheerfully. "Haven't seen you at all today. You're quite the popular newbie."
She chuckled modestly. "I left at about two to visit Sabine. She's still doing well. Her blood pressure's a little above normal. If it doesn't go down, I might consider changing her medication. Other than that, all seems to be normal." She held up a beige folder. "I'm just about to leave my report on the table before I leave."
"That's great news. Hey, listen, before you leave, there're some files that I left on the desk for you to look through. They're from previous cases. Read up on them, and we can do some discussion maybe tomorrow." He winked at her before he left.
She placed Sabine's folder in the cabinet. The office was neat, seemingly without a single piece of paper out of place. Even the waste paper basket was emptied for the day. She wondered if there was a specific person who did all the filing and organizing in the lab. Her reports were always placed in the right files the next day. She slipped her coat off and hung it up on the rack, then leaned over the desk to pick up the stack of files.
She scanned through the names, mentally reading through them. She had heard that many of these women volunteered to be impregnated. She wasn't sure if she thought them brave or merely foolish. Mice were one thing. Humans, on the other hand...it didn't sit right with her. These were two lives they were involving, not just one, and to have so many of them failed didn't seem right. Her eye caught sight of a name she recognized. She abruptly stopped, frowning at the label of a file that certainly did not fit the category of dead pregnant women.
James "Sawyer" Ford, it read.
She set the other files back down, holding the one with his name on it. They must have made a mistake. His name was in parentheses. He had never mentioned being in possession of another name.
She flipped the cover to find his picture and his details. He really was two years older than her, she saw. At first, she thought that it must be his resume, but some of the information didn't seem to mesh with what he had told her. She turned to the next page, curiosity an urge that she could not stifle, which was a tragedy because it appeared that what she was reading was an accusation against him.
Each page presented incriminating evidence that built an unarguable case against him, each a brick that weighed on her heart. The more she read, the tighter her chest felt until it became impossible to breathe. One sentence rolled into another, blurring into a black mess on the white sheets. The four walls that surrounded her suddenly felt suffocating. She let the file drop and stumbled out blindly, unable to see through the tears that had already started to fall.
Then she ran.
Where, she didn't know. She found herself in the brush, branches, thorns, and overgrown sharp-edged leaves cutting, stinging, pricking, and whipping, but she felt none of that. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she staggered to a tree, retching and heaving until there was nothing left.
Memories mocked her. She heard their voices in her head, laughing, and her legs gave way. She curled up into a fetal position on the cold, hard ground, shaking, and pressed her face to the soil, hands gripping dirt. Was she dying? Each breath she struggled to take caused an excruciating pain in her chest.
It felt so.
Contrary to popular belief, death wasn't quick. Death wasn't painless. It wasn't peaceful.
Death was hell.
When the sun had set, she was still breathing, but barely. She stumbled home in the dark, cuts stinging, muscles aching, but entirely numb within. The pain was gone.
Maybe death did come and get her. This was just an empty shell that had been left behind.
Such were the thoughts that ran through her mind as she stepped into the house and saw him pacing around, arms crossed, head bent.
She never prepared herself for the onset of hurt, fury, and bitterness that attacked her once again.
"Juliet!" He caught sight of her, and he rushed over, a mixture of relief, anger, and exasperation crossing his face at once. "What happened? I thought…" He didn't finish, taking in her disheveled look, the cuts on her arms, the standoffish way she held herself from him.
And the look in her eyes.
She saw him flinch as though burnt, and he looked away. That moment, she knew. The way his arms dropped limply to his sides, no longer trying to embrace her, sent the final blow to her heart, shattering it to fragments.
So it was true.
Any shred of hope that she had tried to grasp dissolved into thin air. There were no words to be said. She steeled her resolve, trying to salvage what was left of her heart and dignity, if there was any of that left.
And she walked away.
From behind a shuttered window, tarsier-like eyes watched within the darkness.
