fourteen
lola-write-hand
14
It was a statue of a foot with four toes.
Annie looked puzzled, as she walked towards the massive pillar of stone carved craftfully into what probably had erected as a full-bodied figure at one point in time. The winds of the north beach were almost cold, nipping at her bare toes and moist wrinkled hands, and the sharp rocks of the beach served as a watery grave for all walks of life.
All that remained of the statue was the foot...lacking in the last practical alignment of the last toe.
Annie's swelling belly touched the edge of the pedestal, and she shifted back, stepping her pulsing painful foot into the rocks. High grasses bowed down to the statue, suddenly persuaded by the wind. The currents came at all directions- North, South, East, West, and shifted up towards the sky as soon as they hit the statue. Wincing, Annie slowly sat down, feeling her baby kick at the back of her abdomen. Stormy clouds congregated darkly to the west.
So the baby feels the eerie silence too. She whispered inaudibly to no one.
It had been 5 months since Annie had realized her pregnancy. Trying to escape the frequent hostile searches for her while carrying a baby had proved tremendous work. After so many grief stricken nights- when Annie cried for Ben, for her mother, her father- Annie could feel the baby also share her mother's sadness.
Now, almost unable to move, Annie had felt her mind slip from her. She felt as if a part of her mind had died with all those who had been slayed a mere 8 months ago. She had accepted Ben's death with astronomical reluctance, and had entertained the idea of ending it all with the spare twine in her back pocket, and some old tree in the jungle. It had almost seemed too easy.
And then there was the baby. It was a part of Annie, a part of Ben. And as soon as she realized she carried it, Annie knew death was not an option at the moment. She was sure Robert had been killed also, for he was the only one willing to take her and hide her away. Now, nothing stopped the hostiles from finding her and killing her. The last Dharma member on the island. Annie caressed the shell of her stomach that served as a sanctuary for the baby. She began to hum a familiar lullaby.
My baby, my baby, I give you lift,
Into this world that's beginning to shift,
I'm sorrowfully fleeting, and you'll take my stand,
To save my spirit, to save this native land.
It was a lullaby Annie's mother had learned from the hostiles and had often sung to her on occasion. Forced to be thier messenger, she had befriended some, who did not know her standing with Dharma. They taught her thier songs, true feelings of sadness weaved into them, and she picked up the song. She remembered the clean cotton curtains pinned up on the line, waving in the wind like flags over an immense blue sky, her mother's sweet voice and golden hair, her father's humor and awkwardness, the both of them in Dharma jumpsuits. Losing herself in her dreams of the past, Annie didn't hear the sudden footsteps on the beach. And then, a twig snapped somewhere behind her in the jungle. Snapping out of it, Annie gasped as she saw a congregation of people walking down the briny beach. Some were armed with rifles, while others carried transceivers. The cried orders into the phones, and some ran ahead of the others, and fired into the jungle as if going into battle.
But that wasn't what Annie was upset about. What made her heart flutter, what caused her eyes to twitch, her vision to blur, her hair to stand on end and her lungs to suffocate was not the fear of the hostiles a mere 20 feet from her. It was their leader, punching in numbers on the GPS and looking out to sea- laden in the simple clothes of the hostiles, no longer in his usual Dharma jumpsuit.
Ben.
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Quietly, Danielle Rousseau snuck into the Tokyo laboratory of Bioscience. Entering a code, she scanned an ID card.
4--8--1--5--1--6--2--3--4--2
A feminine, robotic voice spoke something in Japanese. At once, the pair of iron doors swept open to reveal a dark laboratory. Flickering on, the lab came to life. Danielle walked through rows of serried researched chemicals, through a nuclear test room and all the way to the freezer room. Entering another access code, she stepped in.
The room was frigid, with fog rising over it, making it almost unable to see. Two spherical containers sat at the far end of the freezer. Slipping into a vacuum safe suit, Danielle walked over to a file cabinet that sat next to the containers. Lugging with all her might, the cabinet finally popped open, inches of tabs held up. One read 'Smallpox- 6543' another 'Polio- 5488' , and "Bubonic Plague- 1222' and finally 'Animal to Sapien biobuffer 4815'. Taking a crowbar, Danielle opened the delicate container to reveal layers of frozen test tubes. It was here that smallpox, polio, and other horrible diseases lie in perfect seclusion, ready for a war that would unleash them into the population.
Looking at each neon tube, Danielle finally came across 4815. Her heart beat fast as she took the sample from its nest, and retrieved the file that was assigned to it. Her mission completed, Danielle turned to leave.
Charles Widmore stood behind her, his pale wrinkled face polite and deceptive.
"Hello, Danielle." He said plainly.
Danielle's shiny eyes widened like silver dollars as she turned around. She backed up, knocking over a stack of files placed behind her. "How do you know my name?" she asked, trying to stay calm.
Widmore smiled at her, like an old geezer trapping a young shoplifter in a store. He laughed. "Do you not know who I am?"
"I'm guessing you're zey bloke 'oo sent those men to kill Doctor Lawreence." Danielle spat, her tense shoulders straightening in eerie confidence. "You funded ze Dharma Initiative, so zat ve would develop a weapon zat vould kill us all off slowly."
"Oh?" Widmore raised his eyebrows.
"Infertility." Danielle stated, the test tube of biobuffer still in her back pocket along with the viroid sample. "Ze doom of mankind, no?"
"Yes. Very good. Continue, please."
"Why?" Danielle asked straightly. "You vill only kill me vhen I'm done."
"You reason quite well like your cousin, Danielle."
"Don't threaten me with thoughts of killing my relatives. My parents disassociated me with their families."
"So you know that you are related to Benjamin Linus?"
Danielle stepped back, feeling her eyes rise up into her head of brown waves. It couldn't be. She jogged her memory, back to before landing on the island.
"Where are ve from, Bapi?"
Alpert Rousseau smiled, hesitating as he scratched his balding brown head. "Portland, Oregon. We moved to France when you were three."
A young thirteen year old Danielle smiled, her shoulders glowing in the South Pacific sun. The schooner of her parents cruised on over the cool waves.
"Portland?" She questioned. "As in, Amereeca?"
"Yes. We took your mother's name." Her father said, smiling over to her mother, who waved behind her favorite French romance novella. Alpert and the captain hoisted up the sails, as Danielle glanced at him. "So I am, Amereecan?"
"Yes and no. You have French blood in you, Danielle. That will always make you French."
"Vell said, Alpert." Evey Rousseau cooed luxuriously. "My daughter, you vill alvays be French. N'importe ce que." She smiled, clinching her daughter's chin with loving pride.
The storm came quickly, without warning. It first was detected as gooseflesh trailed down the arms of Danielle. The humid, hot wind was replaced with cold, bitter winds. The water turned from crystal blue to almost black, and the storms overhead matched it. Lightning came, striking the sails and firing down through the linen sails in flames. It was if God Himself had punished the Rousseau family that day, and as they crashed into the sharp rocks, flailing out as the both sunk from under them, Danielle felt a parting of the waves. She felt as though a new chapter of her life was beginning. And it would start with the creation of her orphanhood.
"Mama. Mama!" She cried out, swimming over to her mother, who had crashed on the rocks a half-mile out from the rocky Northern shore. Her mother said nothing, chocolate curls spindled over her face like fair spider webs. A trail of blood dripped from her hair, and her limp arms cradled the sharp rocks that had killed her.
After a moments' silence, Danielle began to gasp hysterically as her mother's favorite novel floated by. In grief, she fainted, allowing the tempered waves to carry her to shore. Her father was never found. And thus, began her life.
"Something wrong, dear?" Widmore asked, inspecting the gun in his hands that he had retrieved from the back of his Burberry shirt, like some horrible, hiding beast. It had a handle carved from elephant's ivory, and a barrel that looked terribly accurate.
"N-no." Danielle whimpered. She stepped to the side, hoping to crouch down if Widmore were to shoot. She tried to stall him. "I assume you have the Tokyo police after me now?"
"Tokyo Police? You really are Ben's sister-"
"Cousin."
"Same difference." Widmore continued. "No. Me, myself and I. And one shot."
"For me?" Danielle asked, terrified.
"For Ben Linus and his group of followers, dear." Widmore addressed. "I want you to give him a message for me.."Widmore walked up to her and snatched her by the front of her shirt. "Tell him I'm coming for him- tell him there's no way for him to escape- I know exactly where the island is." He whispered. "Wish him good luck." With that, Widmore left, leaving a permanent stretch mark on Danielle's shirt. He began to walk out the door when he turned to her.
"Tell Ben I have a gift for him. I'll give it to you."
With that, Charles Widmore abruptly shot Danielle Rousseau in the chest. She fell to the ground as he climbed into his car and left, Tokyo's skyscraper lights serving as his makeshift navigators.
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"We're looking for a mad woman." Ben said aloud to the crowd of hostiles. They nodded, and searched in the flora of the North beach, glancing around large-waisted trees and behind ferns the size of minivans. "She's pregnant- her name is Danielle Rousseau." Ben lied, gazing north to the glittering ocean. "She knows some very important information that we need- and hopefully, we'll harvest it."
Patchy, one of the others, ran up to Ben, panting, from a small trail in the tall grass. "She's gone- I found a trail of footprints that leads into the jungle."
"Yes- and?"
"And they lead right into one of the estuaries." Patchy continued. "No other trails, nothing. It's like the woman just walked on water or something."
"Perhaps. Alright, back to camp." Ben ordered. Annie, who hid behind the four toed statue, shut her eyes with relief. Her baby began to kick again and she almost yelped in the pain- whispering gently to her baby.
"Don't kick now; what if your father hears us?" She asked, smiling. Suddenly, she gripped her stomach, realizing the situation. "What if he hears us?" she repeated, voice shaky and breathless with tears.