Chapter 21
"Mulligans and Holes"
The twelfth chapter of Hard Contact proved to be just as excellent as the previous eleven. The tale of the squad of clone commandos, trapped behind enemy lines after a crash landing, stuck with me. Maybe I could appreciate the situation after having survived a plane crash myself. Hurley had loaned me his discman and the soothing music from Nightwish filled my ears. How I'd missed it.
It was a funny thing: you didn't really realize just how much of the little stuff you missed until it was back with you again. I doubted I'd ever be able to experience this feeling with a Pillsbury pizza pocket, but hey, one could dream.
Crashing into the caves puffing slightly, his green shirt stained with sweat, Hurley approached me with something in his hands. A pair of shovels, I realized after some close examination.
"Hey, man? Want your disc player back?" I asked, moving the headphones away from my ears.
"Nope! Come with me right now! I'll explain on the way!" Hurley seemed pretty excited about this, so I turned off the discman and put a bookmark in my story.
As we exited the caves, Hurley pointed to a suitcase and a golf bag. Clubs were sticking out of it. "Take those, dude. We're going to need them!"
Slinging the golf bag over my shoulder and grabbing the suitcase handle, I put my curiosity into words. "What for?"
Smiling casually, Hurley answered, "You'll see."
We were trudging through the jungle, the sun high in the sky. "How long?"
"Dude, it's morning. You were reading your book and passed out."
"Really? I only closed my eyes for a moment . . ."
"You were snoring, but that's besides the point. Last night," Hurley explained, "Jack was treating a dude with hives. This man was panicking, thinking he'd got some sort of killer disease." I nodded, letting the big man continue with his story. "The doc told him 'not to think about it'. What else has this dude got to think about but his killer hives?"
"Nothing, I guess, our lives aren't exactly rich with entertainment options right now."
Hurley nodded, his curly hair bouncing happily as if it had a mind of its own. "Jack tells me he's too busy keeping us alive to worry about entertainment. I understand that and respect that. So I figured, I'd take care of our other problem myself."
"So you've solved our entertainment issue?" I probed.
"Partially." Hurley pointed to a clearing. "We're here, dude!"
The area he'd led me to was a rolling field between the jungle and the ocean, the grass a rich green and the sky a sparkling blue. The mountains in the distance provided a magnificent backdrop.
I could see Claire and myself standing by the ocean, looking into her blue eyes, wrapping my hand in her golden locks, bringing those rosy lips to my own...
"Dude?" Hurley snapped me out of that line of thought. I shook the images of Claire from my mind, pleasant though they may be. "You okay? You kinda just started staring out into nowhere."
"I'm fine, just got distracted," I told the big man, not wanting to draw more attention to it. "What do you want me to do?"
Handing me a shovel as he explained, Hurley pointed out his plan. "Take this shovel over to that bluff and dig a hole about the size of my fist. Can you do that?"
I took a squinting look at Hurley's fist, mentally calculating the size. "Yeah, I think I can. Why?"
Hurley just smiled cryptically. "It'll make sense when you do it. After you dig that hole head over near that bluff." He pointed his finger at the lump in the distance. "And dig a similar hole."
"What'll you be doing?" I asked Hurley casually, leaning on the shovel; not minding the opportunity to stretch my legs.
The big man jacked a thumb at the golf bag and the suitcase. "Something else," he told me in a tone that implied I'd have to find out on my own.
Shrugging, I began the trudge out to the first marked location, shovel slung lazily over my shoulder. The crude, lumpy wood would have bruised my hands, if they hadn't been calloused from the work I'd already done. The sun beat down on my face, adding more to the sunburns I'd already started to acquire. I didn't have any sunscreen—not that I'd have used it if I did, I hated sunscreen. The grass around my ankles was so high that my feet left footprints.
Someone needs to take a lawn mower to this patch.
I glanced over my shoulder at Hurley, jabbing the ground with my shovel to ask if I was far enough. I didn't want to waste my breath. He gave me a nod and thumbs up, then went back to whatever he was doing. I couldn't tell from this distance, but he had a long stick on his lap and something bright in his hand. Turning back to my own task, I tried to figure out how I was going to dig a hole small enough to match Hurley's description. With extreme caution I jabbed the shovel into the dirt. The jagged metal head released the fresh smell of damp earth, filling my nostrils with its pleasant musk. I carefully scooped out half a shovel full, depositing it in a pile next to the new hole. A glance convinced me it wasn't enough so I took another half scoop. The hole was wide and deep enough but I spent five more minutes edging it so it looked like a proper hole for whatever it was I was contributing to.
Satisfied that this new hole wasn't going to implode as soon as I turned my back, I began my little journey to the other place Hurley had marked. It took me longer than I had expected.
Wondering what Hurley could possibly want with two tiny holes a few kilos or so apart I bent my back and started digging. Knowing what to do this time, I had this new hole dug in about half the time. Leaning back I wiped a hand across my brow, wishing I'd had the foresight to pack a water bottle.
"Hey, dude, nice job."
I spun around in a hurry. "How'd you get over here so stealthily?" I demanded, feeling a little annoyed with myself for letting him get to me.
"I'm spry." With that Hurley stabbed what he'd made into my hole. It was in fact a long wooden pole with a bright orange Hawaiian shirt tied to the end of it. The shirt fluttered in the wind like a little flag.
A glance back at my other hole proved that Hurley had planted another of his flag shirts in it too. My gaze went back to where he'd been sitting to see the upright bag of golf clubs, the tee set in place, a ball onto of it.
"It's a golf course," I said my brain finally connecting the dots.
"Got it in one, dude," Hurley congratulated. "I figured, hey, we need something to do, right? Or we go nutso waiting for the next load of crap to fall on our heads."
I nodded in agreement. "Dead on, Hurley. People like the hive-guy have to do something to take their minds off of the situation."
The big man seemed happy that I'd agreed with his assessment.
"Hey, guys, what's going on?" a familiar British voice asked, arriving out of the jungle.
"Well, Charlie . . ." I began.
Hurley cut me off. "Dude! Get Jack! He's got to see this!"
"Hurley . . ."
"He's got to!"
Charlie sighed and began tromping back though the woods, muttering under his breath about running through the jungle for nothing.
"How do you think Jack's gonna react?" I asked my friend cautiously.
"He's gonna love it. Now come on!" Hurley told me, grabbing onto one of the makeshift flags in a jaunty pose. "Let's make a grand entrance."
Charlie brought Jack and Michael back a while later, Hurley certainly made his entrance. "Welcome," his voice boomed as the trio entered, "to the first, and hopefully last, Island open!"
The three of them just stared at us, like we were crazy or something, "What?" Michael asked after a brief pause.
"It's two holes for now, three par, and no waiting!" He added that last part with an elaborate hand gesture, showcasing the course.
"Hurley," Jack asked, sounding a bit unsure, "you built a golf course?"
"Rich idiots pay thousands to fly to tropical islands all the time to whack balls around," Hurley informed them, sounding like a salesman pitching a car.
"Why not take advantage of our predicament for something?" I added. "I've never played golf, so why not try?"
"With all the stuff we have to deal with, man," Michael reprimanded, pointing angrily at the flag, "and this is what you've been wasting your time on?"
"Dudes, listen, our lives suck," Hurley announced without fanfare.
With monsters, boars, criminals and lack of hygiene I can't really disagree with that statement.
"Everyone's nerves are stretched to the max," Hurley went on. "I mean, we're lost on an island, running from boars and monsters! Freaking polar bears!"
"Polar bears?" Michael asked incredulously.
"You didn't hear about the polar bear?" Charlie asked him, sounding a tad bit shocked.
"All I'm saying is," Hurley made a gesture, "if we're stuck here, then just surviving's not gonna cut it. We need some kind of relief, some way we can . . ." He trailed off, waving his hands around as if he could pluck the words he needed out of thin air. "You know? Have fun!" Everyone looked at him like he was nuts. "That's right, fun! Or else we're gonna go crazy just waiting for the next bad thing to happen."
Everyone looked on for a while. "Come on, Jack, he worked hard on this," I told the doc.
He looked up and down the course. "Three par, huh?" Then he stated with full confidence. "I can take that."
"Whoa! It's on!" Charlie announced with a laugh.
"Hey man, you and me?" Michael asked Jack pointing between the two of them. "Against those three?"
"Don't those odds seem a little uneven?" the Brit inquired.
"I've never played and he's a doctor."
"Dudes, Alec's right. Him Charlie and me against you, dudes!"
Jack pulled a coin from his pack pocket, a battered but still readable quarter. "Heads or tails?"
"We get to pick?" I asked, a little pleased by that.
"Well, I am a doctor."
"Dude! Heads!"
Jack tossed the coin, the sunlight gleamed off it as it turned a few times and plummeted. Judging by Jack's expression we'd won the toss.
"Huddle!" Charlie announced and the three of us formed a ring.
"Who's going first?" Hurley asked in a whisper.
"I'm the weakest link," I stated.
"You first," Charlie stated, pointing at me. "If you screw up too badly, me and Hurley can get you out. Sound good?"
"Yep." Hurley nodded a yes as well.
"Alec takes first swing!" Charlie announced to our opponents. "Use the twelve iron," he whispered to me.
Hurley handed me one of the golf clubs, honestly it looked the same to me as all the others. I was no good at mini-golf so I doubted I'd be any better at the larger version.
"Bend your knees and hold the club with both hands. Swing all the way through," Jack advised, making the motions with his hands.
I nodded my thanks and looked at the ball, gazed at it. I shifted once, sniffed, then swung. I kept the momentum all the way though like Jack instructed, hitting the ball with a satisfying smack. I watched the ball sail through the air, landing in the grass a few meters from the first hole, orange shirt fluttering.
Everyone clapped. "Nice job, man, " Michael congratulated.
The game was on.
I'm not trying to sound full of myself, but we did a good job. We got the first hole in three, par for the hole. Jack and Michael had hit a bit of a rut, so naturally we were trying to distract them. Standing next to the hole gave us the perfect location to do so.
"Yo, dude! Polar bear!" Hurley shouted, jabbing his club in the direction of the jungle.
Charlie started playing air guitar on his, singing 'You All Everybody' as loud as he could. I waved the club around my head like a propeller, making general catcalls but nothing actually coherent. Jack and Michael ignored us, deep in hidden conversation over the ball.
"Maybe it'll move if you ask?" I suggested loudly as I waved the club around, surprised I hadn't hit myself in the face.
Jack turned to face us, pointing a finger in our direction as Michael handed him a club. "Hey!" he shouted. Hurley proceeded to rotate his torso and Charlie danced around with his club, I rode mine like a horse. "Heads up over there!"
"No, Jack! You won't get anywhere near us!" Charlie shouted back.
"Don't blow it!" Hurley added.
"Mind your aim!" I chimed in.
Jack leaned back, planted both his feet firmly on the ground, wound up. "Hey! Doc!" A voice chimed in. Jack threw his head back in frustration, then signaled for us to wait. "Hey, there you are!" The voice continued, a looked to see a gangly man in circular glasses striding over. Hives guy, I assumed. "The others said you went this way. Listen," he droned on, sounding like an irritating gnat, "that rash of mine, it's starting to spread. It's like the size of a grape . . ." He trailed off as the realization of what we were doing struck him. He glanced and Michael and Jack then me, Hurley and Charlie. "Are you playing golf?" He asked indignantly, sounding very peeved. I looked down at my feet, I didn't want to meet his gaze.
"Yeah," Jack answered after a bit of a pause.
"Can I play?"
"Yeah! Of course you can!" Jack answered hastily, sounding relived by the man's statement. "Michael, get him a club."
Hives guy leaned back confidently, taking the club handed to him with barely contained swagger. He sized the ball up once and then took a swing. The smack resounded crisply as the ball soared through the air, landing right at my feet.
I looked down at the ball with surprise.
"Oh, bollocks," Charlie groaned, smacking his forehead. "Looks like our new friend can play."
Michael picked his club as the opposing team came towards the hole. "Where'd you learn to play like that?" I asked Hives guy, leaning against my golf club absently.
He smiled. "My name's Oscar Fiebich. I'm a pro. These are my clubs actually, I was coming back from a tournament." He nodded at the club in his hand fondly. "I don't mind you guys using them though."
"We're screwed," Hurley muttered next to me. "A doctor and a pro?"
Michael putted the ball down hole one with ease, getting their team on par.
"I don't doubt that," I groaned without optimism.
"Alright guys," Jack told us, tossing a ball at Charlie, "you're up."
"Bloody brilliant," Charlie grumbled under his breath.
"Golfing, huh?" Ethan announced making his entrance, followed by several others. "When I heard that Hurley'd built a golf course, I didn't believe it. Room for one more?"
Hurley shook his head. "Sorry, dude, team's full, other people can play after we're done."
Ethan nodded understandingly, as the crowd formed a semi-circle around me. I felt the pressure, the back of my neck tingling as I felt the crowd's anticipation. It didn't help as even more arrived from the beach. I made the Catholic cross over my head and chest for luck. I'm not Catholic, actually, I'm Baptist, but I'd been doing this sign since I'd been a little kid. My sweat covered the club's handle, the knife sitting at my waist feeling just a tad heavier. I made three practice swings and finally hit the ball.
Shielding my eyes from the sun with a hand, I observed the plastic sphere arching through the sky before landing easily on the grass. Not a good shot, not a terrible one either.
Oscar picked his club up with far more confidence, barely looking at the ball before smacking it casually, putting it a good few meters closer to the hole than mine. "Not a bad shot," He acknowledged towards me, giving me a friendly smile. I nodded my thanks before moving aside for Hurley.
The big man squared up, took a swing, and nailed a big clump of grass. "Crap! Do over!" He announced, adjusting his stance.
"Keep your eye on the ball," Oscar advised, squinting from behind his wire rimmed glasses, "Don't let it out of your sight!"
"It's a mulligan, not a do-over," Charlie corrected. "It's a gentleman's sport, you've got to get the words right. Mulligan." He walked towards Hurley putting his hands on his arms, "Here, let me . . ."
"Dude! Get away from me! Let me focus!" Hurley shouted forcing Charlie back. He breathed out through his nose and took another swing, punting the grass away from his ball. Everyone laughed. "Bah! Come on!" Hurley growled in frustration striking the ball again. This time it connected giving another couple of hops closer to the final hole. We had one more shot to make par.
"Michael, you're up!" Charlie announced to him. The man looked pleased, wrapping up a conversation with Walt I didn't even know he had been having.
"Get us in place, Michael," Jock ordered casually, standing back arms folded.
"Don't worry, man, I got this," Michael stated confidently, squaring up to the ball. He gave it a nice gentle tap, rolling almost right next to my team's ball.
There was applause from the crowd, which sadly didn't include Claire. Not that I felt like showing off or anything . . .
"Alright, Charlie, it's up to you," Hurley proclaimed, pulling the flag free from hole. "The honor of the team rests on your shoulders!"
Charlie knelt in the grass, moving aside a few twigs and in general trying to get his eye line to match with the hole. Michael chuckled. "Guys, please," Charlie implored. "Never made par on a course before."
He breathed out once and took the shot. The ball trailed lovingly towards the hole and for a moment I thought we'd won. Then the ball shifted away, missing it by mere centimeters. A groan went up from the crowd, none louder than Charlie's own.
"Dude, we were robbed," Hurley announced sadly.
"Our victory snatched away by the cruel hand of fate," I lamented. Ah well, not bad for a first time.
"Okay, Jack," Michael stated confidently, rubbing his hands together, "it's up to you. Sink this and we bring home the blazer."
"No pressure," Kate commented snidely from the sidelines.
"Yeah, no pressure Charlie grumbled bitterly.
He squared up silently, taking careful stance.
"Five bucks says he sinks it." Hurley's words broke the tranquility of the bird songs. Jack smiled fondly.
"Mate, you're betting against us!" Charlie cried out, gesturing between himself and me.
"Sorry, dude, but we're all duffers on this team."
"Make it ten and you're on," Boone announced.
"I don't have any cash, but I'll bet my dinner on the Doc," Oscar told us, pointing his finger confidently at his choice. A general 'ooo' arose from the crowd at that proclamation. Jack pointed back at his teammate with equal confidence, getting ready to make the shot.
"I've got two tubes of sunscreen and a flash light says he chocks," Sawyer announced making his dramatic entrance. Everyone looked at him silently, no one overly pleased with him at the moment. He smiled sadly.
"I'll take that action," Kate piped in, beaming.
She's got the hots for him.
"Yeah," Boone looked at Sawyer, "Yeah, me too."
"You just bet on Jack, dummy," Shannon reprimanded him.
"We need the sunscreen, princess."
Jack looked at everyone, back down to the ball and then up again. He breathed out slowly and putted. The ball rolled along casually, almost leisurely up to the hole, teetered on the brink and then fell in. Jack's team had made par.
I applauded, everyone did. It was a great shot. Jack bowed. "Thank you!"
"The winner of the First Island Open is Jack and his team!" Hurley proclaimed for all to hear, raising Jack's fist up in the air.
"You owe Boone some sunscreen," I told Sawyer, not too disappointed in his loss.
"Alright, Shaq, I'll get on with it," Sawyer told me. His face had a peculiar smile on it, as if he was happy just to be included in the activities of the camp.
"Alright, I'm leading a team now," Ethan announced, picking up a club, "Who's with me?"
Kate, the Korean guy—Jin, I think his name was—Scott and a couple others took him up on the offer, but I'd had more than enough golf for one day. I fetched a bottle of water, sharpened my knife and watched the game. Ethan proved to have amazing strength and accuracy making shots that seemed almost impossible. My respect for this man grew despite my unshakable suspicion something wasn't right with him.
Unsurprisingly his team took home the victory. A third game would've started up but unfortunately the night was fast coming and we had to hike back to the caves or the beach. I missed Sayid. Knowing the Arab man, he really would have enjoyed himself. Sending all the best thoughts I could his way, I just hoped he was alright.
The caves became full of the gentle murmuring of people in various states of alertness. At least I lasted longer than Hurley; in his defense he'd had a big day, it was late and the sound of the mini waterfall proved to be soothing in the extreme.
I decided to get a good night's sleep, turning in before too long. My head nestled against the sleeping bag's pillow, I slept peacefully.
Until the screaming started.