I'm walking with Kate and Sawyer to the hatch. I don't have a shift today, but I do have some laundry I'd like to do. My pack is stuffed with tank-tops and socks.
When we enter through the front door Sawyer says "This place still creeps me out."
"You'll get used to it," I say.
"Where is everybody?" Kate asks, running into the room. "Jack? John?" she calls.
"Maybe they went out for ice cream," Sawyer jokes.
I hear some muffled yelling from the living area and Kate tells Sawyer to shhh. "Jack?" I call, confused.
"In here, in the armory. Michael locked us in here," Jack shouts from behind the door.
"What'd he say?" Sawyer asks.
The button starts beeping and Kate says "I got it," and runs back into the computer room.
I start turning the combination knob on the armory door. "No, no, Tia." Locke calls from the inside. "I changed it."
This surprises me. "Why'd you do that, John? I thought I was in charge of the guns."
"You were in charge of inventory, which you finished. Now, right two times to twenty-five."
"Okay," I say, following his instruction.
"Left two times to twenty-nine. Right once to forty."
I hear the click of the door's lock and I open it. "Howdy, boys," Sawyer says to them.
Jack is finishing loading a gun and hands it to Locke. "What are you doing, Jack?" Kate asks, coming back into the room.
"Going after him," he says, grabbing a rifle.
"What happened?" Sawyer asks, confused.
"Michael went after Walt," Locke tells us.
"Went after Walt?"
"Pulled a gun on me, put us both in there, and went after Walt," Jack says, stuffing water bottles into his pack. Sawyer walks into the vault. He starts loading a handgun. "Hey, what are you doing?" Jack asks.
"What does it look like? I'm coming with you."
"You're still on antibiotics," Jack protests.
"It's a good thing I'm traveling with my doctor, then."
"You're not going without me," I say, going into the armory and grabbing my own glock and an extra clip.
"No, no, you're not coming," Jack says, reaching for my gun.
"Jack, I don't know how many times we need to have this conversation, but you are not the boss of me. I'm an adult. I'm a war veteran. I do what I want."
"Fine," he concedes. "Let's go."
We all exit the hatch, with Kate on our tails. Outside Locke points at the ground. "Well, I can't tell you it's definitely Michael's, but it looks like his boot print."
"There's one over here, too," Kate says, pointing.
"That sounds like a trail," I say, walking towards her.
"You got a gun for me?" she asks Jack.
"You're not coming."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not coming. Someone has to be here to take care of the button."
"So why should that person be me? I can track, carry a gun—,"
"You're not coming!" Jack yells. "You're staying. Alright?" Kate stares at him, pissed. "Let's go," Jack says, leading the way down the trail.
I give Kate an apologetic look. Jack doesn't care about me, that's why he conceded so easily when I said I was coming. He just doesn't want her to get hurt.
On the other hand, if she really wants to come, she needs to grow a pair and do it anyway.
Jack and Sawyer bicker about the Kate Thing, but I don't pay much attention. I just follow Locke up a hill through a giant clearing. Locke stops walking.
"What?" I ask.
"Does any of this look familiar from when you were coming back?" Locke asks Sawyer.
"Well, yeah, there's my favorite leaf. How could I forget this place?" he says, sarcastically.
"What's wrong?" Jack asks Locke.
"When you came across the island what side was the ocean on?" Sawyer looks around for a minute, then points to his right. "You came from the east, Michael's heading north."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Sawyer asks.
"It means he's not headed back to where you came from. He's going in a different direction," I clarify.
"He's heading somewhere else," Jack agrees.
We make it to a small cliff. Locke grabs a vine and we start to climb it. My right hand slips about halfway up and Sawyer grabs my foot, helping me keep balance. "Careful, Brown Eyes!" He says, grunting to hold may weight.
"Don't worry about me, worry about your shoulder," I tell him, grabbing the vine and pulling myself up to Locke whose already made it to the top.
"Are you sure Mike went this way?" Sawyer says.
"Why do you ask?" counters Locke.
"Oh, I don't know, Mr. Clean, I probably would have gone around Mt. Vesuvius."
"Why'd you pick that name?" Locke asks, giving Sawyer his hand and helping him up.
"Ain't it obvious? All you need's an earring and a mop."
"No, your name. Why'd you pick Sawyer?"
"What do you mean, pick?"
"After the census Hurley gave me the flight manifest. Your name is James, right? James Ford."
"What's it to you?" Sawyer asks, peeved with Locke's probing.
"Just an interesting name to choose, is all. Who'd you get it from?"
"Who says I got it from anybody?"
BOOM! There's a distant gunfire a distance from us towards where we're headed.
"Michael!" Jack yells.
"Jack, get down," I say, crouching in the dirt. At least seven more gunshots fire.
Jack ignores me and starts running towards the gunfire, yelling Michael's name.
"Jack! Jack!" Locke yells at him. We all get up and take off after him.
We run for about a quarter mile in the direction of the gunfire sounds, Jack continuing to call out Michael's name. We make it to a clearing and stop to catch our breaths. "Michael!" Jack shouts again, but this time Locke stops him.
"Jack," he says, waving us over to a tree.
"What?" Jack says, approaching. We look at the trunk of the tree and see a bullet has grazed the side. "He's close," Jack says, turning back around.
"Yeah, and if he was shooting at someone you want them coming back?" Locke counters.
"Personally, hell, yeah," says Sawyer.
"You said these people were two days across the island," I say to him.
"Yeah, and they took Cindy less than a mile from our camp," he says.
"Over here," Locke calls, beckoning us over. There's some small things on the ground.
"Shell casings," I note. "How many?"
"Three, Michael's," Locke says.
"You three deaf? I heard at least seven shots." Sawyer says to us and turns to Locke. "You heard it, Daniel Boone, what's your count?"
"Yeah, seven sounds about right."
"It's getting dark. Which way did Mike go?" Sawyer asks.
Locke heads to the tree line to look for the trail. "What?" I hear Sawyer ask. He's looking Jack, who's staring at him.
"You out here for Michael, or is this pay back for getting shot?" Jack asks him.
"Why are you out here, Doc?" Sawyer counters. "You got your reasons and I got mine."
Jack ignores his quip. Locke picks up the trail and we head out again.
Eventually night falls and Locke loses the trail again. Jack and I stop to make some torches.
"What do you mean you lost it?" Sawyer asks Locke.
"He's a man, not a boar. The sign's more subtle. I need light to follow it."
Jack hands them both torches. "Here, light."
"I think we'd better head back," Locke says.
"What?" I ask, surprised.
"Just find the trail, John," Jack tells him.
"I've lost the trail."
"You don't just lose a trail! You just don't want to find him."
"Yeah, that's right, Jack," Locke says. "I've been running in the jungle toward the sound of gunfire because I don't care about Michael." Locke starts to walk back toward camp.
"Don't turn around on me, John," Jack says.
"You're not going to get him to come back and you know it."
"You know what happens if we just turn around and go back?" Jack says. "We're never going to see him again. And that's going to be on us, on you, and on me."
"You're exactly right, Jack!" a new voice says behind us. I turn toward it, fast holding up my gun, clicking off the safety. "But if I were you, I'd listen to Mr. Locke."
A man stands at a distance, his face shielded from our torches. "Who are you?" Jack asks him. Our guns are all pointed at our new acquaintance.
"He's the son-of-a-bitch that shot me on the raft," Sawyer tells us, moving forward and cocking him gun.
"Why don't you point the gun down?" Mr. Friendly says.
A gunshot sounds and Sawyer jolts back, his free and moving to the side of his face. The bullet must have grazed his ear. I look around the tree line, using my peripheries. There are more of them out there.
"It'd probably be best if we just keep our hands at our sides, gentlemen. Lady," he says, nodding to the boys, then me.
"Where's Michael?" I ask him.
"Don't worry about Michael. He's not going to find us."
"What do you want?" Jack asks.
"Why don't you build us a fire, John? I think it's time we all had a talk."
We all exchange looks. Mr. Friendly bends down and grabs something beside him and walks it toward us, dropping it. It's a pile of firewood. Locke puts his torch into it and it lights instantly. I can see Mr. Friendly clearly now. He has a long beard that's covered in dirt, as is his clothes, which look like brown rags sewn together haphazardly to fit his heavy-set figure.
Lock sits down on a fallen tree log. "Why don't we let the lady sit first, John," Mr. Friendly says. "Tia, please sit down." He gestures to the log beside Locke and I sit, with my gun still in my hand. Sawyer remains standing and Jack paces the circle. "Just sit down, Jack. Nobody's going to hurt you. I come in peace," Mr. Friendly jokes.
"How do you know our names?" Jack asks him, but he just smiles. "You took Walt," Jack continues.
"Walt's fine," says Mr. Friendly. "He's a very special boy."
"Look, you said you wanted to talk. So talk," Jack says.
"Let me ask you something. How long you been here on the Island?"
"Fifty days," Jack answers.
"Ooh, fifty days. That's what? Almost two whole months, huh? Tell me, you go over a man's house for the first time, do you take off your shoes? Do you put your feet up on his coffee table? Do you walk in the kitchen, eat food that doesn't belong to you? Open the door to rooms you got no business opening? You know, somebody a whole lot smarter than anybody here once said: 'Since the dawn of our species man's been blessed with curiosity.' You know the other one about curiosity don't you, Jack?
"This is not your island. This is our island. And the only reason you're living on it is because we let you live on it."
Jack smiles. "I don't believe you."
"You don't believe what?"
"I think you've got one guy up there with a gun. I think there's more of us than there are of you. I think if you had any real strength, you wouldn't have had to send a spy. Ethan?" Jack says, reminding him.
"That's an interesting theory," says Mr. Friendly. Then he yells, raising his hands "Light 'em up!"
All around us, torches are lit. People stand beside every single one, but they're hidden by the leaves in the trees. I stand up with surprise.
"We've got a misunderstanding, Jack," Mr. Friendly says. "Your people, my people. So listen carefully. Right here, there's a line. You cross that line, we go from misunderstanding to something else. Now, give me your weapons, turn around, go home."
"No," Jack says.
"I hoped it wouldn't come to this," says Mr. Friendly. "Bring her out, Alex!" One of the Others brings Kate out of the tree line, a bag over her head. "She was following you. Like I said, curiosity." He pulls the bag off of Kate's head. Her mouth is gagged.
Sawyer starts to move toward Kate, but Mr. Friendly pulls out a gun and holds it to Kate's neck. "Don't," he warns. "Jack, the decision you gotta make right now is this: can you live with the fact that I shot this woman right in front of you when you could have saved her life by giving up and going home? Or are you going to give me your guns, turn around and walk away. It's your call, Jack." There goes out little bit of leverage.
"You touch a hair on her head," Sawyer threatens. "I'll—,"
"Shut up!" Mr. Friendly commands, not so friendly anymore. "I'm going to count to three. One, two," he cocks the gun.
"Stop," Jack says, dropping his rifle onto a blanket in front of Mr. Friendly. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a glock, dropping that too.
"Now them," Mr. Friendly says to Locke, Sawyer and I. I drop my glock. It's the only weapon I brought. Locke drops his pistol and starts to walk away.
"Give me the other one, too," Mr. Friendly smiles and Locke pulls out a second gun, droppin it on the growing pile.
Sawyer moves forward. "You and me ain't done, Zeke," he says, dropping his glock.
Mr. Friendly reaches down and grabs the blanket and the guns, pushing Kate into Sawyer's arms as the torches around us go out.
"Jack, I—," Kate starts.
"You alright?" Jack asks her coldly.
"Yep."
We decide to camp for the night and head back in the morning as Locke isn't sure he can get us back in the dark.
I wish someone had suggested we move to a different spot.