Life Interrupted
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One: Different
Her eyes bore into his, bleeding tears of desperation. Arms thrown around the chair, wrist bound tightly, hands red, sweating. She could have spoken if she wanted, but she silently pleaded for his help; perhaps she was sympathetic. But all he could do was sit, his own wrist were locked in handcuffs attached to the sides of the chair he sat in. The room was empty, for all he knew the door wasn't locked. The computer station was vacant, the piano in the corner abandoned, wincing at the sounds of Juliet's frantic attempts to escape. He was supposed to help her. Somehow.
He had to help her.
He had to help her.
His eyes locked into hers, falling into a trance without Jack himself realizing. Not until it was all over. He concentrated, somehow knowing what he had to do.
He had to help her.
Suddenly one of Juliet's hands fell to her side. She gasped, shocked, shaken, staring at him. Then both their eyes traveled to her side as her hands fell, limp and swollen. His fist clenched, the bones so tense it felt as though his hand might be broken. And he realized: the handcuffs had fallen.
The door to the building open. Zander, Dr. Campbell, and Alex walked in. Alex looked away, looked to the floor, did anything she could to avoid his eyes.
"Nice job, Jack," Zander announced, as he headed towards the computer station. Alex walked towards Jack, eyes still glued to the ground. "About five minutes faster than I thought you would take."
When Alex helped him stand she was shaking more then he would; and Juliet, in the hands of Dr. Campbell as he helped her stand, shook more violently then Alex. Her frantic, stunned, breaths could be heard from across the room.
He jerked himself away from the dream, as though his conscious could take no more of it. The sound of something pounding to the ground around him echoed in his mind, in the mist of the memory that haunted him. It was raining. A distant sunrise tried to break through the thin walls of his tent, but darkness surrounded him. The silence of early morning welcomed him back to reality. But that was what wasn't fair about his dreams: they weren't just dreams. They were reality. Dreaming had become relieving nightmares of memory, experiences so unbelievably terrifying, so far from the world of normalcy he had lived all his life, that he was certain they were nightmares. But they were memories.
His skin trembled as he stepped out into the cool rain. Shades of gray and purple danced across the sky before him, and all around him were closed tents, protecting sleeping castaways from the storm. His eyes scanning the beach, expecting to find the shore empty, to convince himself that he should go back inside now. Everything was fine. But he couldn't shake away the memories, he wasn't even sure what he saw. The one person who could give him answers sat on the shore nearby, letting the rain fall around her.
"I hope you're sleepwalking," Jack said, approaching her, "if not we're going to have a serious talk about why you shouldn't be standing outside in freezing rain."
Juliet smile, pushing away the rain sliding down her face.
"And who's going to talk to you?" She replied, grinning as he sat down next to her. The sand below shifted, melting and muddy. Suddenly he yearned to be inside, where there was at least some warmth, and dry.
"What are you doing out here?" He asked.
Juliet shrugged. She wore sweatpants and a tank-top; her shoulders were shivering and blue.
"Really, you should go back inside," he said, "get some sleep."
She looked at him, smile gone.
"Only if you tell me why you're out here."
His eyes drifted to avoid her gaze, like Alex in his memory. The image of Juliet trapped, tied up and afraid, plagued his mind. And all for an experiment. All because of him.
"I remembered something," he began quietly, eyes staring into the sand in front of him, tinted by the rain that still fell around them until he was as drenched as Juliet. His shoulders shook, cold, his lips trembled in the freezing rain as he struggled with what he needed to say. "They had you tied up, across from me. I was tied up too. And then...we weren't. I needed to help you, to get us out of there. The binds just fell. Then...then they came in and told me that took less time then they expected."
He was afraid to look at her, afraid to see just how real the memory was.
"Did you ever consider," Juliet began, quietly, as though taking care of the struggle he was having in dealing with these memories, "that sometimes dreams are just dreams? Maybe not all of what you remember is true."
He wanted to be hopeful, to believe her, but he didn't. He felt sick. He was disgusted, disturbed, by what he had seen and even more so at the fact that Juliet felt the need to lie about it.
"It's not true."
Eyes drifting towards her, Jack scarcely allowed himself to have hope, still reluctant to believe even when he saw the sympathetic smile softly spreading across her face.
"That never happened, I swear," Juliet continued. Her eyes searched his, as though looking for what would make him believe her. "I promise you Jack, nothing like that ever happened. And just...don't blame yourself for what we went through. It wasn't your fault."
Even hearing this from someone who was there with him didn't make him want to believe her. But he didn't say this. He needed to figure out what was going on. Wait and see if Juliet was lying...maybe similar memories would come, and not in dreams. He hoped they wouldn't.
Juliet's eyes, focused on the scenery behind him, danced around as she made the shift to change the subject, to move forward.
"While we're up, do you want to get something to eat?"
----
They ate in silence, both unsure of what to say, two friends afraid to communicate after one just admitted their deepest, darkest secret. Leaning against the makeshift tables on the beach, they simply stared at their food, Jack watching his spoon push the dry cereal around in his bowl. His clothes rest on his body in a stiff heap, rain having engulfed the fabric so much the water was stuck, clinging to him in attempts to complete its fall from the heavens to the earth. His eyes fell forward; he shook himself, determined to stay awake. He knew too many days of suffering from lack of sleep couldn't be made up in a dozen hours, but he felt the need to stay awake, because doing so could earn him more answers. He could talk to Juliet- if he could ever find the words to say- or she could convince herself to talk to him. Or he could remember something. Maybe something that could confirm that his dream was actually just a dream. All that came to him was cloudy dust of conscience begging him to return to sleep.
"You two are up early."
He looked up at Kate's voice and was surprised by how unaffected he was by her sudden presence: not happy to see her, not amused by the bright smile she wore despite the weather and his and Juliet's despondent moods.
"What, has a storm cloud been following you around all day?" Kate teased.
When Jack didn't answer, Juliet replied:
"That would have been funnier if it were sunny," she offered Kate a smile and received a grin in returned.
Then Kate looked to him, obviously able to see his detached appearance.
"What's going on?" She asked him, amusement gone from her voice.
"Nothing."
Jack looked back down at the dry cereal. It couldn't have been past six thirty in the morning; he couldn't help but to wonder why Kate was at the beach as well.
"I just told him that sometimes his dreams are just dreams," he looked up, surprised, even betrayed, at Juliet's response. Juliet's eyes met his, telling him this was the right thing to do. He didn't agree. "I told him that everything he's seeing might not be true."
"What have you been seeing?" Kate inquired, now more concerned then ever, eyes staring at him in desperation for the truth. "What have you been dreaming?"
Jack looked away from Juliet, meeting Kate's eyes.
"Nothing."
She must have been shocked by his lack of response, the lack of comic relief and the complete seriousness, the darkness of his emotions. Maybe this was how he would be. Things may never be the same between them; maybe they would be more distant than before. What he hated was knowing this was happening and not having the energy to change. He couldn't bring himself to change what he was feeling, not when his most recent memory was still so clear in his minds. He glanced back to Juliet, curious as to what she was thinking, what she was hiding. All he received was a flash of memory, of the desperate, silent, pleads for his help. The tears and sweet running down her face. Jack looked back down to the dry cereal and forced himself to take a bite of food, if not to just convince Kate he was alright. He felt like he might throw up.
"Good morning."
Jack sighed as Sayid stepped into the conversation; another person to interrogate him.
"What's wrong?" The good mood that Sayid was apparently in was gone. He realized he was slowly bringing darkness to all the light that managed to creep into the camp, person by person ruining the day before when it had barely begun. His day was already ruined; now all he had to think of was how he would deal with this, what he was supposed to do wrong.
Kate shrugged.
"He hates the rain," she replied, smiling as she glanced towards Jack.
Sayid returned the smile, amused, and continued his conversation with Kate despite the presence of Jack and Juliet.
"What are you doing down here so early?" He asked as he reached for one of the boxes of Dharma food. "We've rarely been seeing you down here."
"I actually came to talk to Jack." The mention of his name caught his attention; he looked up to her. "Sawyer wants to know when he can come back to the beach. He said you mentioned maybe today."
He couldn't help but to be a little amused. Above them, a tiny ray of sunlight broke against the stormclouds, singing a single strand of light bouncing across the sand.
"Don't tell me he sent you all the way to the beach this early?" He said. Kate grinned. "He really woke up for that?"
"Like a child on Christmas morning."
She grabbed an orange from a bowl of fruit.
"So," she said as she began to peal the skin of the fruit away, "what do you think?"
Jack shrugged, staring at the dry cereal and wondering if it would be considered a waste to throw away what was left. Only a tiny handful of food was left, and he knew he would be sick if he tried to eat again.
"I'll have to see," he looked to Juliet, "I guess I'm going to the hatch."
She nodded, sitting her own silverware in the pile of dirty dishes.
"Don't sound so excited," Kate said as she led him into the jungle. He looked back at Juliet, who was already talking to Sayid. "So tell me, what's really going on?"
Soon thick jungle blocked the view of the beach. Kate stopped and turned to him. He remained silent.
"Whatever," she muttered. Turning away, she made it clear how hurt she was.
The sickness inside his stomach grew into knots and double-knots, twisting into guilt and a cry for rest. Attaching his eyes to the ground, Jack decided to reply.
"I've just..." again he was struggling to speak; it felt as though he might explode from how tight his stomach felt, how much all of this was effecting him, "I've been seeing somethings and...I hope they're not true."
Kate shot him a sideways glance, sympathetic, concerned.
"Juliet's right," she said, "everything you're seeing might not be real."
"Then how do I know what's real and what's not?" Jack inquired, shooting the reply at her with unnecessary frustration- at least unnecessary frustration to be thrown directly at her. "I would love for these...dreams to not be real."
"Well..." Kate began, running a hand through the wet strands of hair that hung past her shoulders, "was this like your memories? Was it more disbelieving then them?"
"It's hard to believe any of it," Jack muttered, already knowing his answer, "and it was like the rest of them...snapshots of memories. Sometimes there's dialogue. Everything looks so real. I know what's happening. I'm remembering what's happened. It's just like remembering what I just ate for breakfast. It's that clear. It's like the memory never went away. It's when I wake up, when I come out of the memory- then the confusion hits."
Kate nodded, though her eyes were staring distantly in front of her, lost in contemplation of what he was telling her.
"I don't guess you're going to tell me what you saw," Kate said hopefully, smiling a little because she already knew the answer.
Jack shook his head. He wouldn't until he knew for certain the memory was real, and even then...he had already confessed to Kate a lot of what he knew. Did he have the right to keep somethings secret? She would never understand what they went through, telling her would only worry her, maybe even frighten her into staying away from him. She began walking forward again. He watched her solemn steps, listened to the silence that settled in. Was it so wrong to not tell her? He couldn't help but to remind himself that she still had her fair share of secrets too. He still didn't know what she did...
A flash hit him as his hand fell on the hatch door.
He was being led into a small room: four faded white walls that seemed to disappear under the dim light; a cool draft that he soon realized would never go away.
"You'll be staying here for awhile."
He couldn't see who was speaking to him. The door shut with difficulty; two slight pulls to get the lock to latch right. Jack's eyes fell on the far corner of the room where two residents set. Children. Two kids. They couldn't have been older than ten. A boy with dirty dark blonde hair and gray-blue eyes that looked away as Jack stared at them. And a girl. Her hair matched the color of the boy, pulled back into a ponytail that fell down her back. Both of their faces were equally as pale, their eyes distant and helpless.
Jack came out of his memory finding himself staring at the hatch door, victim to Kate's confused, concerned, gaze.
"Jack?" She asked, placing a hand on the door and opening the hatch herself.
He shook his head and followed her inside. He wished he could still feel like he did moments ago, instead of having to stay true what he told to Kate: understanding and then not understanding, as quickly as snapping his eyes open.
"So what's the verdict?"
Sawyer was sitting up on the couch, fully dressed, shoes included. Kate rolled her eyes and followed Jack to him. He noticed right away that Sawyer wasn't holding his injured arm or giving any sign that he was in pain, but when Jack lifted the cuff of the arm of his shirt he gave a noticeable wince.
"A bullet went through my arm," Sawyer said, glaring at Jack as he noticed the wince, "it's gonna hurt. Besides, what the hell's the difference between sitting here and doing nothing and sitting at the beach and doing nothing?"
"For one, it's raining."
After carefully pulling back the bandages the healing bullet wound was now exposed on Sawyer's arm; what had once been a bloody mess was now simply bruises and scarred skin.
"No kidding," Sawyer remarked, "you look like hell."
"Thanks."
He only let him mind stray shortly from the task at hand, shoving aside the images of those kids, their drained faces and the bones that seemed to be cutting into their skin. Without realizing it he shook his head.
"What?" Jack looked up, confused at the worried expression so clearly etched on Sawyer's face.
Swallowing, Jack looked away, taking a final attempt at blocking out the memories.
"Nothing," he lied.
Slowly, carefully, he began to lift Sawyer's injured arm in tiny inches. It felt like he was holding the weight of what holding two arms at the same time should feel like; Sawyer tensed, Kate instantly reached for his hand.
"I'm fine," Sawyer shot, glaring at her as she backed away.
He began to lower Sawyer's arm again.
"You're okay to go back, but it is raining, Not exactly the best conditions for your first trip back to the beach," Jack said, instinctively glancing towards the door of the hatch. He searched for the sounds of the distant rain but realized there was only silence.
"The rain comes and goes here like a pregnant woman's emotions change," Sawyer said, "and trust me, you weren't here for the worst of Sun's pregnancy."
A smile escaped him, clashing horribly with the image of the dreary room the kids were locked in. The smile faded as quickly as it came.
"Fine," Sawyer was right, the rain probably had stopped by now, "Kate, can you handle this?"
She nodded.
"I think the important thing is to explain to him the importance of not getting himself fatally injured," she said with a smile.
"I wasn't going to die," Sawyer protested, "stop stalling. I've been in here so long I've realized why Radzinsky wanted to kill himself."
"I'm sure Desmond would love your theory," Kate replied. She smiled at Jack. Taken aback, he managed a forced smile before it was too late.
A stash of antibiotics had formed on a table near the couch, including what little was left of the familiar medicine he had prescribed to Sawyer eleven months ago.
"Make sure he takes these," he said, handing her the bottle of pills.
"I know," Kate said with a smile.
"It's dejavu, ain't it?" Sawyer retorted.
Shaking his head, Jack struggled to see the humor in Sawyer's comment.
"Let's just make sure it doesn't happen again."
He left as Kate began to help Sawyer stand, leaving them to the long-awaited moment they'd been awaiting for days. Since the night the Others came they had been trapped in here, unable to move on like everyone else. But they weren't the only ones. He couldn't let go, not from the memories recently plaguing his mind, not from the murder that still dwelled in the back of his thoughts, though he scarcely let the memory come to surface.
When he entered the laundry room it was obvious there was little management over the appearance of the hatch. Jeans, t-shirts, and various other clothing had originally been separated into piles that now spilled over one another, mixing together a once-organized separation of sizes. But as he selected items that looked to be close to his side Jack noticed one particular outfit that hadn't been touched in weeks: torn jeans and a Dharma t-shirt thrown in the back of the room, shoved into a corner as though hoping to be forgotten.
"What's that?" He asked the girl, nodding towards the book she held in her hands.
She showed him the title without speaking: Megan's Island by Willo Davis Roberts.
"Looks like you're almost finished," he said. A finger held the rest of the book back as her eyes stayed glue to the last couple of pages. Silence answered him as the girl continued to refused to speak to him. Her brother slept beside her; the silence drew on.
Another flash of memory hit him. Strong sunlight poured into the environment around him. His feet pounded against the jungle floor as he ran. Harsh, rapid breaths seemed to haunt him with every step. And then a scream...
Jack's hand hovered over the jeans and t-shirt, the clothes he had been wearing when he returned to the castaway's camp for the first time in nine months. Suddenly the memory was gone from his mind, replaced by shock. And fear. He snatched his hand away, fighting off the urge to delve further in search of the end of the memory and fear of knowing what happened, in both cases. Where were the kids? Why had Juliet screamed? Was it his fault that he was able to get away, and not her?
"Jack?" He turned, surprised to hear Kate's voice. "I just wanted to let you know that it did stop raining. We're going to the beach now." She studied him when he didn't reply; he realized a moment too late that he hadn't spoke. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said, swallowing the dry fluid surfacing in his throat.
She nodded, clearly not convinced.
"Okay," she said anyway, glancing around the room, "see you later then."
She smiled, sympathetic, aware that he was hiding something, and left the room.
----
The last of the rain stood in slippery, wet, brown grass of the jungle, sliding beneath their feet as she and Sawyer struggled to walk the simple path back to the beach. Both breathing hard, stumbling with every step, her arm constantly slipped from where her arm rested on his shoulders, trying to help him walk
"Okay, I need a break," Sawyer announced, pushing her arm away as he lowered himself to the ground.
Silently grateful for the break herself, Kate didn't protest, nearly collapsing to the ground beside him.
"You sure you ain't lost?"
If she hadn't known his constant need to tease and make fun she would have thought he was serious: injured arm resting in his good hand, sweat slipping down his face, skin a shade paler than when they left the hatch...maybe he was serious.
"Stop complaining, I told you you should've waited a couple of more days," she retorted.
But her smile faded as she noticed an object stashed away beneath nearby bushes, hugging the ground for comfort from the storm.
"What're you doing?" Sawyer demanded as she cautiously stepped towards the object, pushing away drenched tree limbs for a better look.
Hands pushing away drying dirt, she was finally able to see the object clearly: it was a book. Megan's Island, by Willo Davis Roberts. The book was folded, as though it had been stored away and neglected. Drops of rain tinted the tan pages of the book's interior, and as she flipped through the pages she saw that the words were slightly blended together, some of the ink was swimming off the pages. Until she reached the back of the book. Running her fingers along the crisp, sharp edges of the bind of the interior, her eyes landed on where the last few pages of the book had been torn out.
"Let me see that," Sawyer said, instantly snatching the book away like a jealous child as she stumbled back to her spot beside him, "this ain't from around here."
"Well it couldn't have migrated to the island itself," she said, taking the book back, "where do you think it came from?"
"Do we really want to know the answer?"
Their eyes met; she knew he was right.
"Let me see that," Sawyer said, holding his hand out for her to give him the book, breaking the silence, "maybe Walt will want it."
Kate rolled her eyes.
"He's a ten year old boy, not a nine year old girl," she said, but threw the book at him anyway, "come on, let's go."
Wrapping his arm around his shoulder once more she prepared herself for the rest of the walk to the beach. The slow pace they started out with would be as fast as they would reach; they would be lucky if it didn't start raining again before they reached the beach.
"So what's with Jack?" Sawyer inquired, not even three feet away from where they had rested.
Kate paused. She didn't know what was wrong with Jack. With his game of only letting her know just as much as she needed to know, she was slowly becoming as detached from him as before.
"He hates the rain," she muttered in reply, quickly, hoping they would drop the subject as they continued their walk to the beach.
----
He found Alex sitting by the ocean, an obviously measured distance away from her mother's camp. The end of the rain brought a cool breeze that settled over the island, but Sayid knew it was only momentarily; in less than a half an hour a new rainstorm would start. Or perhaps just a continuation of the last, as though this pause for serene atmosphere was a planned break, a warning.
"Do you mind if I have a seat?" He asked. She shook her head 'no', and he sat down, eyes instantly drawn to the distant stormclouds Alex stared at. He then stole a glance in her direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of her eyes, see what was inside. Suddenly her eye twitched; she caught him staring at her.
"Sometimes I want to get off this island as much as you do," she began quietly, already blending in well by the peaceful world Alex had built around her.
"'Sometimes'?" Sayid repeated.
"Just to see what's out there..." her eyes trailed back to the sea, suddenly dark, defensive, "look, I know what you think of me. You think I'm one of them. But really, I hardly know them."
"But what do you know about them?" He said, quickly taking advantage as Alex's eyes seemed to darken at the thought of 'her people'. She shook her head, frustrated and angry.
"I know that they did something to him- Jack." She looked at him, eyes wide as she awaited his reaction.
But he knew she had to know more. Alex was quiet, secretive, uncertain of her past and the people around her, but with growing up with the Others, she had to be observant.
"What did they do to him?" He inquired, pressing softly on his voice in attempts to be more gentle with his words, not demanding like his curiosity wanted him to be.
Again her eyes were locked on the sea, twitching, squinting against the gray clouds looming above them in attempts to see through the cloudy vision that was her understanding of the Others.
"They did something to him," she said again, slowly and careful, "something to make him different."
Eyes narrowing, his tone slipped, curiosity rising as he grew closer to answers that would surely change everything.
"Different how?"
His answer was a single look, Alex's eyes connecting with him as she turned to him, warning him of the water he was treading. Her piercing eyes, the sharp depth of the glare told him she knew exactly what was going on with the Others.
----
He wasn't sure how long he'd been down there. There was no longer an alarm constantly reminded them of just that. The hatch and all of its purpose had disappeared, and if he wanted, he could leave now and never think of the place again. Instead he sat in the booth serving as a kitchen table, losing himself in his desperate search for answers. He remembered the dream he had the night before; he closed his eyes, blocking the image out in hopes that it wouldn't trigger further memory. And instead...
She was finally talking to him. Not making eye contact, but he was finally learning more about her, the quiet girl whose voice struggled to reach louder than a whisper. Her brother was gone, leaving only herself and Jack in the small room.
"They take him more than me," she was telling him.
"Why?"
She shrugged.
"Maybe they have the information they want," she suggested. Her fingertips ran over the edges of the book Megan's Island, her eyes gazed longingly at its pages. "Maybe they want to see if he's like me."
"What do you mean, 'like me'?" He inquired, eyes following her fingertips as she opened the book slightly, hiding the contents of its pages from his vision. He sighed, casually leaning his head against the wall in the hopes that he might catch a glimpse of what was on the last few pages that had grasped her interest so fiercely. But she concealed the story from him well, opening the book only slightly enough for her eyes to see.
She shrugged again.
"I'm different."
She left him with that, falling back into silence. Her eyes drifted from the book to the locked door leading to the hallways that would help her find her brother, and safety. But her eyes simply fell back to her book.
When had 'different' become such a strong word in his vocabulary? It was a special code that only a select few were supposed to understand; all of those who had been with him in captivity at the Others' camp. Something happened to them, something that made them different...
And deep down, he knew what 'different' meant. But it was so absurd, so unrealitic...but true. He had been playing around with the idea in his mind, noticing the paranormal happenings that recently haunted his life. Maybe it wasn't so absurd.
A bag of Dharma Chocolate Chip Cookies still sat on the other end of the table, leftover from his dinner with Kate the night before. His eyes fell on the bag, not exactly sure what he was supposed to feel or think. But he knew what he wanted to accomplish; he wanted to see if it would work.
It happened without him feeling anything. Without him being aware of thinking of anything particular. In mere seconds of coming up with the idea, a single chocolate chip cookie appeared in his hands. He hadn't picked it out of the bag; he hadn't even noticed it flying through the air.
----
Sayid volunteered a shift in the Pearl Station that afternoon soon after his conversation with Alex. Alone underground, his eyes focused on the security camera videos in front of him, on the blank videos of hatches elsewhere on the island. Only static filled those screens; they knew he was watching. But a single set of screens hadn't been turned off: those of the Swan Station. They remained there, allowing the castaways to spy on one another, allowing the Others a clear view into their daily lives.
A single shot of a camera sat on the kitchen, unmoving, not having to move to find the most interesting happenings of the room. Jack sat at the kitchen table, alone. Head in his hands, eyes closing and then reopening. Silence.
Sayid blinked, convinced his eyes had been playing tricks on him. Now Jack was eating, the food having appeared literally out of nowhere. He watched as he ate, the food too miniscule to be identified, but single servings soon appeared in Jack's hand, one by one, out of nowhere, until Jack closed his eyes again. Held his head in his hands. Unaware that someone had just seen what had happened, what made Jack 'different'.
----
The challenge of having to help Sawyer walk mixed with the inconvenient muddy conditions of the jungle brought them walking at an almost non-exsistentent pace. Sawyer had long-since dropped the book, thrown it back into the jungle. Unfortuently his frustration hadn't been thrown out with it.
Suddenly cold liquid began to pound against their bodies, spreading so quickly across the jungle that in seconds they were unable to see clearly through the rain. Sawyer cursed; she didn't have the energy to yell at him for it. Blinded from the path to the beach that had at least been somewhat clear moments before, Kate came to a halt, displaced by the rainstorm. And the certainty that someone was yelling, calling for them. Wiping the rain away from her eyes she stopped, looked around. Sawyer stared at her, blinking in the rain as he waited for an explanation.
Her feet gave out before her, stumbling back. A hand grabbed her arm, shaking, unstable. Their eyes didn't meet, the almost fall was shaken off as they focused on the two kids that came staggering out of the bushes. A boy and a girl. Young; ten years old at the most. Blond hair wrapped around the girl's shoulders and back in long, messy strands; the little boys eyes were almost covered by the bangs that were glued to his eyes by the rain.
"What the hell-"
"Jack!" The little girl exclaimed, cutting Sawyer off. She nearly stumbled to the ground herself, too overcome with tears and desperation to be heard by the rain to control her balance. Her hand was latched with the boy's palm. "We need to find Jack!"
Author's Notes: Does anyone else think it's funny that I chose chocolate chip cookies to express this new ability Jack has? Yes! Jack has the ability to mentally make as many cookies appear out of nowhere as he wants! How awesome is that?
Thanks for the reviews!
Until next time...
October Sky