Chapter 10 : Question Mark
Drawn up into the far corner, Sarah hardly noticed the door unlatch. Locke peered from behind it and then slowly made his way in, presenting a plate of food along with a bottle of water. She did not respond. She lie motionless on her side with her knees drawn up to her chin. This was her world now. One filled with nightmares and confusing images.
"So," Jack said squatting down in front of her. "You're goin on a hunger strike?"
She uttered not even a whimper. Her eyes were focused somewhere far away. The anger and sense of betrayal had faded in the night. What remained was beyond the numbing which over took her hours ago. It was the emptiness that filled her even into the deep corners of her mind. This place was darker than any unlit room. Darker than any night. She was beyond caring what was done to her. If only she had just let that thing in the jungle take her. Just given herself to it and not run away from it. Maybe it would have been quick and none of this would be happening. Jack and Locke murmured something between themselves, took a last glance and then left her brooding in her solitude.
She had drifted into a disturbing sleep when a sound began to stir her. A high-pitched noise sharply pierced the muffled sounds of music blaring somewhere in the hatch. She jerked awake, staring at the door.
Afterwards, a voice. A woman's voice over an intercom. It was counting. She lifted her head for a moment listening. She sat up but kept still, eyeing the door. Locke and Henry were calling to each other. There was a series of clanging and other sounds she did not recognize. Then a boom and the lights flickered. She jumped to her feet. Pressing back into the corner, her eyes were fixed on the door. Locke began yelling outside. She realized whatever was happening; it was beyond his control. He was just as shocked as she was.
"What's going on?" She yelled. "What's happening? Locke! "
She began pacing the room, trying to clear her head. She could hear Locke and Henry both yelling between each other. This worried her more than the event itself. She found herself pounding on the door, yelling out to Locke. Warning alarms sounded off. Instinct kicked in and her pulse began to race as her heart beat wildly. She beat the door until no longer tolerate the pain and then she stood facing it with her palm stretched across the smooth metal. Her cheek pressed against the cold surface. She wanted it to open. Needed it to open. She pictured the lock sliding back.
She jumped back when she heard the lock unlatch. She waited, but the door did not open. She pondered if maybe she had fantasized the sound. She wrapped her fingers around the knob and turned. Then she pushed and the door creaked as it opened. Cool air rushed in. She stood in the doorway. Glancing to the left and right, she feared this could be another trick. She trembled, pondering her course of action. She heard a crash and then a cry of pain. Locke was yelling out. He was yelling about numbers and pushing buttons. She followed his voice. She reached the all too familiar area. It was dark. The blast doors were down.
Following the doors with her eyes, she shrieked at the site of Locke pinned underneath them. He turned his head upwards and called her. "Sarah!"
She rushed to his side, and leaned over him helplessly. "What happened? Oh My God, are you hurt? "
She reached down grabbing his shoulders and attempted to drag him out. "No ... " he protested. " No, it has my leg. Forget about me for now. The button on the computer. "
" You have to enter these numbers ... Four ...eight...fifteen...sixteen...twenty- three... forty-two. Can you remember them? "
She stared at him. "What … numbers? What are you talking about? "
He grabbed her wrist. "Sarah! Do you have the numbers? Can you remember them? One of you has to push the button. Sarah! "
She scanned the area and saw that Henry's door was open. Another open room revealed Henry passed out face down on the floor. She was also aware of a continual blipping of which she could not determine the origin. Locke had her wrist " Sarah, do you have the numbers? "
She turned to him and answered hesitantly. "Y... Yes, I've got it! "
" Four…eight...fifteen...sixteen...twenty-three...forty-two. " "
He pushed her away with a free arm. "You've got to go ... Now! Henry is down over there. Hurry, you don't have much time! "
She stood up. Locke's instructions were as such - There was a computer room. In this room was a computer in which the numbers she had been given had to be typed in and then executed and if not, the entire hatch and possibly the island could be destroyed. This seemed drastic and very farfetched, and had not everything happened so quickly, she would have thought better of it. What would be higher on the priority list? Trying to salvage a man's leg from under a huge metal door or punching numbers in a computer? Unfortunately, Locke would not let her do otherwise and she had not the time or strength to argue. She would have to get past Henry. There were empty shelves on either side, but she did not like the way they looked. She grabbed a couple of buckets from the corner and stacked them. She pulled the chair from the booth. Climbing onto the chair, she placed a foot on the buckets and lifted herself up. They started to give way. She lifted her face up into the air duct. She grabbed the edge as the buckets tumbled onto each other. She hung a few seconds hearing Locke yelling somewhere behind her. " Don't forget to press execute. Enter the numbers and then press execute. "
"I've got it!" She yelled back. She hoped.
What did this doomsday button do anyway? Here he was pinned under these metal doors, which she did not want to think about the weight of, Henry lying passed out on the floor, and he wanted her to push a button? A mouthful of air broke out when she pulled herself into the air duct. She crawled until she found the exit and then pulled the screen back. Lowering her head through the opening, she saw the computer. The doors were down between the computer room and the living area. The computer was where Locke said it would be, complete with all the equipment around it. She was distracted by a red neon sign, which contained panels that were flipping over sporadically at increasing speeds. Then she realized - it was a timer counting down. She fumbled with the keyboard trying to enter the numbers. Four…eight...fifteen...twenty-three... No, something was missing. Four…eight...fifteen...sixteen... Yes! Sixteen...twenty-three...
She heard a clicking noise and when she looked up, she caught sight of a string of symbols flashing on the screen. She gawked at them for a moment, and then quickly entered the last number. Oh God. Oh God. She muttered as she typed forty-two and pressed execute. The symbols disappeared and were replaced by the number 108. She sighed relief. She thought it was over, when suddenly the lights flickered. The main lights had switched off and the only one that remained was a purplish violet glow. She froze. What was happening ? She abandoned the keyboard, eyeing the blast doors, wishing them open. She started to run back to the air duct when a warm body stopped her abruptly.
"Hello Laren" The voice sent tremors through her. She found herself looking up at Henry who was peering back at her. "You have to go now."
She backed away from him and stared. He focused a steady gaze on her which would be nearly enigmatic - had they been under different circumstances. How did he get in there? Could he have somehow slid through the air duct undetected ? She had turned her back a few times, but heard nothing. How could he have gotten past her so quietly?
He stared curiously, brows turned in. "You really don't know who I am, do you? You don't recognize me. "
He reached out to her and she flinched, taking a step back. He balked. "Laren, what happened to you? My God! What have they done do to you? "
Though instinct told her to run, she could not move. She stood there, feeling as though someone had sucked her mouth dry of words as he spoke. "They are looking for scapegoats, Laren. They don't care, they need someone to blame for their problems. "
"Listen to me." He said softer, stepping forwards and placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're not safe here. You've got to run. Listen to your father. "
She ran her hand through her hair as her eyes flicked across his face. "Laren. Focus. Let's focus here. We've got moments before they know we're missing. I told them we crashed in the balloon. That your mother died and we buried her. They're not buying it. They're going to come back and kill us both. They don't care if it's right or not. Look at you. Look what they've done to you already! "
He grabbed her hand. He placed something cold and hard in it. "Take it and run. Go now before it's too late! "
She broke out of her trance and stared at the gun resting in her grasp. "Where did you get this?"
"It doesn't matter. I have it, and I've given it to you. " He shook his head. " I took it off Locke. Ok? Now let's go. "
She took a few steps back and then blinked. " What about you? "
"I'll be right behind you." he assured. "Just turn around and run Laren. I'm right here behind you. "
She turned and darted forwards until she came to an exit. She somehow instinctively knew where to turn. It was as easy as breathing. She pushed open the door and warm fresh air hit her face. She took it in as the sun warmed the top of her head. She heard his voice "Run Laren. Just run! "
She did not look back. She kept running. She beat back bamboo and shrubs with her arms. She ran until her legs gave out. She looked behind her at the thick bamboo and trees that seemed to stretch on forever. Her chest heaved in deep breaths. The hard metal gun clenched in her hand, she brought it to her face and stared at it. Henry - her father? - Was nowhere behind her. Had she run that fast? Had something happened to him? What just happened? Hours ago, she was locked in a six by six foot room. Now she was wandering the jungle again. Still alone. Still just as confused and baffled. She leaned her back against a tree and slid down to the trunk, closing her eyes.
She woke up to wet drops splattering on her face. Brushing the back of her hand across her cheek revealed a yellowish - green and white glob. Her eyes followed the gravelly, squawking noise to a large branch - some ten or fifteen feet above her. Crap! She rolled away just in time to avoid the next round of parrot poo
She rose to her feet, wiping her face with her shirt. What a predicament! She had come full circle, lost ... in the jungle ... and alone. If she had not been so afraid, so confused ... she could have paid more attention to where she was going. That map, the one on the wall, marked a stream or river of some kind. If she knew how far she had run and which direction, maybe if she could just clear her head she might...
Her thoughts were caught short by the sharp screeching as the parrot bolted. Massive, bright green, wings beat the air throwing hot puffs into her face. She stood in awe of this bird. It was an impressive animal. It looked to be about a foot and a half, maybe two feet long with a wingspan of almost twice that.
As it passed overhead, she thought she had heard … well … she was probably hearing things. The name "Hurley " did not have any particular meaning to her anyway. Debating this, she soon became aware of the very real fact that something had frightened that bird. She would come face to face with that something if she did not start moving soon.
She took a step forwards, and then froze hearing whispers all around her. Chills went through her. Instinctively she darted between a tightly clustered bunch of tall bamboo. There she crouched low... and waited.
One by one, bare legs and feet crossed under the tree where she had slept. Sporting tattered, dirty clothes, they passed over the splay of branches and leaves with an eerie silence. She wondered at the sight of them. They moved effortlessly, not even a twig snapping beneath their feet. Were these the "others? "
She watched them; thinking about her own ragged clothes and bare feet, replaced by faded jeans, tennis shoes and a tank top. She had certainly looked like one of them. She pushed the thought out of her mind.
She waited for several minutes after they were gone before she rose.
She resumed walking. The clean fresh smell was inviting. She followed it to a thicker grove of trees mixed with bamboo. She pressed through hoping for a payoff. Two streams meeting each other at a crossing was her sweet reward. The mother stream ran from the north east into the second flowing across from the east, and turning southwards, probably out into the ocean at its mouth.
Eagerly, she stepped out towards it. The cold, sweet water filled her mouth and was a welcomed relief to her parched throat. She gulped handfuls of it until she was satiated. Then she rested on a stump, warming in the sun.
She studied the streams for some time. She could almost recognize something about them. She had seen this before ... somewhere. It was in the hatch. These streams were the ones drawn on the blast door map. The Swan had to be south of her and slightly west. That meant that whatever was in the center of that map, was due northwest ahead. She found a low place in the stream, and waded through knee-deep water to the north bank. From there, she continued through in a Northwest direction. She stepped into a clearing. The grass was thicker here. A towering cliff shadowed the ground. A little farther and she saw something shining up ahead. Reflecting the sunlight. Closer now, she could make out a substantially massive, white hunk of metal.
It was a plane!
She quickened her pace as she moved towards it. It had blotches of dirt on it. Perhaps it too had crashed some time ago. She looked it over refraining from the contemplation of venturing in. She had her fill of decay, stench and boar lunch.
She need not bother retrieving a second helping.
She made her way around the plane. It was small. She ducked under a wing, and then followed around to the tail. Discontented, she made a second pass. Rounding the nose, she looked down and noticed a yellow patch of dead grass. She traced it with her feet, along the side of the plane. It went up and beyond the tail section. It curved until it turned her around and she was facing the tail.
She lifted her head up to the cliff. A gargantuan tree perched out from its tip, and over the edge. Frowning she turned her attention to the ground, tracing the mark with her mind. Perhaps if she were to put a little space between them. She backed a half a yard or so away, then viewed it from a distance. There was a pattern. It ran along the side of the plane, and straight out a while, and then curved into a hook. A hook.
Well, that didn't really make any...Wait, it curved around ... if it started at the nose, then she would be looking at the bottom now. Turn the bottom up.
A look of surprise and shock spread across her face as a flash of the map flitted before her eyes. The dry grass surrounding the plane, or rather that the plane rested inside of, was a question mark! Her heart flipped inside her. At least it felt like it did. She had found the question mark. Was the plane a clue? Well, that made sense. She mocked herself. What sort of clue was that? It seemed like the plane was pointing to the question mark itself.
Pointing.
She paced around the plane again, until she ran across a spread of ground with no grass. There was a slight thud when her feet went across here. She halted, staring down, dropped to her knees and began pushing loose dirt away, then firmer earth as she dug deeper. She did not stop until she felt a sharp pain in the side of her hand. She had hit a sharp piece of metal. After digging away the rest of the Earth, she stood and looked down at the large metal circle embedded into the ground, with satisfaction. This was indeed the question mark.