My dear, dear perseverant readers, this is for those of you who have hung on. Sometimes a story is a little like a roller coaster ride- maybe not exactly- maybe more like an unleashed funicular, the kind that only takes on one enormous incline. Going up can be torturously slow, and those who stay on need to hang on tight, because as the pinnacle is being approached, the ride will become fast and perhaps even a little furious. If I played my cards right there will be no disastrous crash and with that vague reassurance, I say:
Hang on honeys, here we go!
Kate found herself trudging through unfamiliar flora; it was distracting and difficult to be in such strangely familiar territory with utterly unfamiliar surroundings. The jungle trees were dense, there was a heaviness to them, they were hung with rich, lush foliage. The smell was ripe and moist, a musty odor that almost choked her throat. Nature reigned supreme here, she felt as if she were just a tiny speck, she had never felt so insignificant, not even in the center of the ocean.
There wasn't evidence of any kind of path, no person had trod here before, at least not in a very long time. This was virgin jungle, primordial and eerily silent. Kate looked at the sun again and estimated the direction of the sea. If her times were right it was late afternoon now, so she walked in the opposite direction of the sun's angle.
The sea was to the east of the grove, that is if the world had not completely changed.
Kate had been through wild island mysteries before, nothing quite this drastic though, nothing this terrifying and isolating. She had to stop, her body was screaming at her to rest. She placed her hand on her swollen abdomen and waited for the surefire response to her cessation of movement. Ahh, there it was, the quickening felt to Kate, like the flutters of a bird's wings. She remembered holding an injured sparrow once when she was young, it had been moving its wings franticly. The movements in her belly felt like that; irregular, ineffectual and eager to escape. Kate thought that it was ironic, finally she and the child or children (she closed her eyes at this thought and even prayed) that she bore were on the exact same wavelength. This jungle felt like a womb, it surrounded her, it felt like it was closing in and she was in desperation, the need to escape was overwhelming. Kate swallowed her panic again and began to forge her way towards the sea.
Panicking would not get her to Jack. Clear, deliberate steps, one foot in front of the other that is what would get her to him. Kate knew without a doubt that that was false. Jack was nowhere near this strange place that she found herself. This was Jacob's doing and the outcome here was not on her hands. At this reasonable conclusion of the completely unreasonable nature of her dilemma, Kate felt a new found freedom to concentrate on the safety of her own body and its precious cargo. Her internal compass shifted and she realized that her salvation was not in her own hands at this time but in Jack's. She would need to depend on him with his closer workings with this crazy, terrifying island to get to her.
She would concentrate on the task at hand, keeping her babies safe. When she got to the beach, if the ocean was still there, of course it had to be, didn't it? … Her mind comforted itself with the reasonable assumption that the sun was still in the sky therefore she should conclude that the ocean remained intact. If the ocean remained, she would find it and then sit down, rest and wait for rescue, she would wait for Jack.
Jack looked down at the little plane that had been so important to Kate that she had asked him to tell her where he had buried a dead body so that she could dig it up. When she asked him to tell her about the grave, he had had a profound need to know what she wanted and why. He had mistrusted her in those days. And when they had dug up the marshal's body he felt vindicated, angry and ultimately disappointed by the fact that she had lied to him about the key. But even then, Jack reminded himself, he should have known that she was lying not out of a desire to get guns or an opportunity to forge a corner of power, she had lied about a tiny little plane. Back then he had thought that the plane was just insignificant and it had stung his heart to think that she couldn't even give him that much. She couldn't even tell him about a damned little toy. Jack shook his head at himself as he spied the little object in his hand, the fact that she had lied about something that small and that personal had hurt him more than if she had wanted all the guns to take over the beach in some ridiculous revolution. He did not know Kate then as he did now. He had not known then that giving up the small choice secrets of her life was the hardest thing in the world for her to do. It reminded him once again that intimacy with Kate, the true intimacy of the heart that they shared was a rare thing, a gift given to few. He put the plane in his pocket, he would give it back to her, he would find her and put it back into her hand.
Jack forged his trail to the heart of the island. He remembered his direction from Bernard and Rose's fireside recounting of how Vincent had led them to him in the bamboo grove. Since his rescue and Kate's miraculous arrival he had come to be profoundly grateful for their intervention. Thanks to all of them, he had been given another chance at life, life with Kate. He would not let it go.
Jack raced through the jungle, his body surged with adrenaline as he passed through the trees and vines, the sight of them a blur in his haste. He tore through the vines with the bowey knife, cutting through the lush vegetation in a frenzy of vicious movement. The confining, grasping vines that blocked his path provided a perfect foil for his rage, which as the hours passed was becoming controlled and focused and deadly.
He began to see the first evidences of the bamboo grove. Hundreds of the straight knotted narrow trunks surrounded him and Jack stopped running. This was the place, the place where he thought that he would lie down for the last time. He had thought that his work was done, and indeed it had been but his life hadn't ended. What this grove symbolized to him now was the end of an era. It stood for the end of his obligation to this place. Now it was time for this place, this island to pay him back, to give him back what he wanted and needed. Kate.
Jack grabbed a narrow trunk of a bamboo tree and sat on his haunches and put his head down to rest, he took in great gulps of breath, he had been running at a steady pace for over two hours. The heart of the island was not far from here. Jack sincerely hoped that he would be able to find Hurley or even Ben. If the island had taken Kate, he hoped to god that they would be able to find out where. Jack decided to rest for just a moment, to restore his strength for the final leg of his search, he sat on the ground and with his back resting against the nearest trunk, he let his head sink back and he closed his eyes.
Hurley had been thinking deeply the last few days about how to break it to Ben that he wanted to check a few things out off of the island. He had not broached the subject yet because he felt that he still had a lot to learn about everything concerning his duties as Jacob. Before talking to Ben though, he wanted to collect his thoughts, Ben still intimidated him despite their close association and he really needed to be alone for a little while. With the advent of his new role he was learning to take joy in the beauty of the island now, something he had not really done in his time here before.
Hurley approached the bamboo grove without really noticing his surroundings, he was now thinking about Jack. He felt the strong wave of sadness that he always felt when he thought of him. Jack had been so alone at the end, so powerfully determined and convinced of the way forward. The world without Jack seemed a smaller place, less solid. Jack left a large hollow in Hurley's heart, one that no Jacob duties would fill.
"Hurley?" Jack instantly shot up to a standing position.
Hurley looked up and nearly fell over.
There was Jack, alive, standing in the middle of the little bamboo grove, as if he had never gone into the little grotto, as if he hadn't completely disappeared, as if he hadn't…died.
Hurley shook his head, well this wasn't a complete surprise, he was used to talking to dead people. But something felt a little different here, something wasn't quite the same. Jack just didn't look quite dead to him. Now that was a strange thought, since when did people who were dead give the impression while they were talking to him that they were dead. And since when did dead people like Jack start giving the impression that they were alive? God, this was confusing, Hurley was completely and totally flummoxed.
He let his mouth drop open and he stared, utterly unable to say a single word.
Kate fought her way through an opening in the trees to the beach. There was, the shore, the familiar ocean sounds provided her with a small modicum of comfort. She walked to the water's edge and peered into the sea. It was a relief to let her eyes focus farther than a branch a few inchs from her nose. She scanned the horizon and gasped in surprise.
A ship, a trireme.
Kate sank to the sand and closed her eyes, her mind refused to take in the sight, her body simply decided to shut down.