Author's notes: Carolyn, you're right, I meant for Walt make another grass skirt before bringing Danielle back, but ... just picture him however you want; it isn't important. All4jesus, thank you for helping me realize there was more of a parallel between Walt and Locke than I had realized. You've both given me ideas for this continuation.
On his walkabout, Walt's survival skills are tested as he encounters island artifacts no one had told him about.
Walt slept late the next morning, but woke up refreshed. He clambered up the trunks to where he had stashed the bananas, and ate a couple of them. Then he searched for the opening from which he had descended the evening before. Finding the way back through the twisted branches wasn't obvious. After several false starts he found himself back standing on the ground in the middle of the trunks. Ha. It's like I jailed myself. Fortunately, he found his situation more humorous than threatening, and laughed it off. Upon trying a different opening, narrower than some others at the start, he found a path back to a point high enough where the trunks diverged sufficiently for him to get through and climb down on the outside. Before doing so he ate another pair of bananas, reaching down this time to get at the bunch he had stored.
The next order of business was to find water. Walt wasn't sure where the stream he had encountered the day before was, so he made a systematic search, dropping banana peels at certain points so he could find his way back. He paused from time to time to listen, and while he never heard any animals, he did eventually hear the trickle of the stream. He collected the banana peels and set them down again in a direct path from his tree to the stream. Like the day before, he drank a good amount of water, and took a good, long soak. While the water was quite warm, it was still a few degrees cooler than the tropical air, and provided a nice refreshing experience. By the time he got up, the sun was quite close to the western horizon. He calmly made his way back to his tree home, eating more bananas on the way in. On this occasion he paid more attention to his path down among the branches, so he would be able to get out easily the next morning and not be so much of a prisoner in his own house. He lay down on his back with his head, now covered in a large mass of unkempt, disheveled hair that was practically a pillow, in his hands, and reflected on his day.
Kind of boring, but I can handle this. Much better than being in handcuffs or chains all the time. Tomorrow I got to find some other kind of food. Forty more days and this will be over.
However, that night Walt's sleep would not go undisturbed. A vision of a bald man in a wheelchair came to him, and engaged him in conversation.
"Walter! This is not how you go on a walkabout!"
"Wh-what? Mr. Locke? What do you mean?"
"You do not stay in one place all the time. You must explore, get to know this Island as well as possible."
"But it's dangerous. Why can't I just hang around here, where it's safer than anywhere else?"
"You must prove yourself to Jacob. It will be more dangerous for you, and everyone else, if you don't perform your walkabout to the best of your ability."
"Why? How can I make such a difference?"
"You are special. You have some connection with Jacob, and he is extremely powerful. Should you displease him, terrible events will befall the world. There will be catastrophic earthquakes and tsunamis, unchecked epidemics of AIDS and bird flu, widespread nuclear fallout, and a re-emergence of the bubonic plague. All life on the planet could vanish in a few years."
"What? That's crazy. I can't control all that."
"Yes you can, Walt. I must go now."
"Wait, can't you tell me more …" but the image of Locke had vanished. Walt tossed and turned, and soon found himself in another setting. He was standing near a fire in a primitive village. All the inhabitants wore only dull red or brown loincloths, as was he. This was an Aboriginal settlement deep in the heart of the Australian Outback, perhaps two hundred years in the past.
The occasion was Walt's fourteenth birthday, and in this tribe this was when a child was required to go on his or her walkabout. They had to live alone for six months, taking all they needed to survive from the environment. Upon their return they would be considered adults. While the ritual may have seemed harsh, it kept the tribe strong, and by that age children were highly adept in survival skills so there was a very high success rate.
According to the local custom, Walt stripped off his loincloth and tossed it in the fire. A quick and voluminous burst of black smoke erupted, and just as quickly dissipated. Without a word, he turned around and strode away into the adjoining forest. To make it a true test the participants had to start off with absolutely nothing. They had to use their abilities and wits to obtain any food, clothing, and shelter they needed. Clothing was by far the least important, due to both the interminable heat and the expected lack of human contact. Besides, with the growth spurts common at that age only a new, larger loincloth would be needed at the end of the journey.
After walking several kilometers without ever looking back, Walt came to a location he sensed was right. He felt some connection with the animals, knowing instinctively which were friendly, and which were hostile and might be considered sources of food. He knew from which plants he could extract water, and which plants bore edible fruits and bulbs. Building a solid, sturdy shelter out of branches was no problem for him, and he settled in for the night.
Then Walt woke up, for real. He was not in the seventeenth or eighteenth century Outback, but he was on the Island, somewhere in the equatorial Pacific, on the dawn of August 8, 2004. Had he kept track of the days and been in the outside world, he would have realized he had turned fourteen three weeks previously. But the relative times on and off the Island were not important now. Walt was alert and imbued with a strong sense of purpose. He stretched, and climbed up to eat some of the last remaining ripe bananas. Then he efficiently made his way through the branches and to the outside of the banyan tree. He went to the stream to get a good drink of water, and returned to the tree.
Having no clue as to in which direction he should proceed, he closed his eyes and spun around a few times and selected the direction he was facing. The stream would be a few decameters to his right, and using the sun as a guide he knew he could turn in that direction and reach the source of water if necessary. As he walked along, he practiced not making a sound, and became quite adept at that. There were enough trees along the way bearing fruit such as mangoes and papayas that he had no trouble getting enough nourishment. More banyan trees occasionally dotted the landscape, and Walt realized he had been too concerned with shelter as well. There was plenty of it out there if one knew what to look for, and Walt was definitely in that category by now.
He had been walking for eight hours when he spotted a large object that was definitely out of place. Approaching cautiously, he found it hard to believe he was looking at a ship. How did this get to the middle of the island? Maybe a tidal wave? Keeping still, there was no noise around like usual, not even birds or insects chirping. Walt got close enough to see faded letters on the bow spelling out the ship's name: the "Black Rock." Why didn't anybody tell me about this? Or did anyone else find this? There was a large hole in the hull, and Walt carefully approached that. As he touched the wooden vessel, a cold chill ran through his body. Despite the heat he shivered for a few seconds. Withdrawing his hand, he peeked inside. The sunlight shone through enough for Walt to see some boxed labeled "dynamite," and then several shackles set into the bulkhead. Alarmed, Walt backed off.
What kind of ship was this? Pirate? Slave?
Shuddering, Walt knew he wanted to get out of there. He kept going in roughly the same direction for another hour, and then turned right to the east. As expected, after another bit of a hike he encountered water, which he guessed was the same stream as before. He collected another meal of fruit and water, and found his way back to a banyan tree not too far away that he had seen on the way, and settled in the for the night.
With no strange dreams that night, Walt concluded he was on the right track. He continued his trek, calmly and without urgency. Two days went by without him finding anything of interest, yet he remain unconcerned. When the Island wanted to reveal something to him, it would. In good sprits, Walt wondered why it had been so hard for the passengers to survive in the days following the crash of Oceanic 815. He reasoned that for some reason he had remained in good health, and way up here there were plenty of resources for one person, while feeding forty-odd people could put a big strain on those resources.
The next day Walt encountered another object that appeared quite out of place. He blinked to make sure he wasn't imagining things, but there it was – a giant statue of a lower leg. Why is this here? Who would have built such a thing? There was something odd about it, and as Walt got closer, he realized that the foot had only four toes. Reflexively he looked at his own bare feet, but they were normal with the full complement of five toes apiece. Well, perhaps not completely normal as his soles had grown exceptionally tough due to so much walking the past few months, but that was not a problem. Next, he cautiously touched the base of the statue, and felt a tingle throughout his body, but not as strong as the one when he touched the Black Rock.
There was nothing more to do at the statue. Maybe someone will explain it to me one day. Walt continued his walkabout, developing a map in his mind and trying to cover as much of the island as practical. Three more days passed with nothing unusual, and then Walt came across a lake he would have to cross or go around to make more progress. He waded a short ways in, and marveled at how clear it was. The lake was about fifty meters wide and two hundred meters long, with Walt near the middle of the long edge. He was debating what to do when he noticed a vine hanging from a tree branch a short distance away. The vine hung almost directly over the edge of a steep embankment about three meters wide. A mischievous smile broke over Walt's face.
No one said I couldn't have some fun on my walkabout.
Walt went over to the vine, and tested it by pulling on it with all his weight. The vine held, so Walt stepped back as far as he could while holding onto it, then raced out over the edge, letting go when the vine had swung as far as it could. He hit the water with a big splash. That was awesome! He paddled back toward the tree. The embankment was too steep to climb, so he had to go a few meters to the side to scamper back up. He repeated the procedure.
"Cannonball!"
Walt took about another twenty jumps into the lake before deciding it was time to swim across. On the opposite was another steep muddy bank, this one closer to ten meters wide with a slope of forty-five degrees. Walt paddled to the side of this embankment, and it required some effort to climb up. Still, he was drawn to the top of the steep slope. He sat down on the edge, looking back from where he had come. Then he looked down. The slope looked very smooth and slick. He shifted forward, as if compelled to test how far he could lean over without falling.
His weight caused the ground to give way on one side. As he body slid down, he swung around, grasping the edge with both hands and flailing his feet, trying to get a foothold on the muddy slope. But no foothold was possible, and in a few seconds Walt was hanging his full length by his hands with his stomach on the bank. He should have been able to find the strength to pull himself up – but he didn't want to. Instead, he slowly loosened his grip until …
"WHHHEEEEE!"
The slide was exhilarating. Walt surfaced and paddled to the edge, and climbed up again. He discovered his front side was rather muddy. Oops, guess I have to clean up. His method of cleaning up was to slide down on his back. He made a half-hearted effort to wash himself off, and came out of the lake again. Drawn to the top of the slope like a magnet, this time he lay face down with his waist at the edge. I wonder how far I can lean over without falling. Uh-oh. Walt "accidentally" leaned over too far, and slid head-first down the bank. He couldn't keep a grin off his face. I need some exercise. I think I'll do some inclined sit-ups. With that excuse, Walt lay face up with his waist at the edge. He leaned way back, and actually managed four steeply inclined sit-ups before his butt slid back off the edge, sending him down head-first on his back.
Walt continued this for some time, making up silly excuses as to why he had to keep going to the top of his slide. He also repeatedly "forgot" to wash himself off, and as the mud accumulated all over his body it make the ensuing slides slipperier and quicker. He made at least another twenty slides in all positions, including spinning like a wheel on his way down, before deciding that enough was enough. He washed himself off good for real, and set about for another part of the island.
His diversion had left Walt in high spirits, so much that it overcame his loneliness. Another week passed with no major discoveries, and he whiled away some of that time by swinging on vines. If anything looked familiar, he veered off in another direction in order to cover more ground. He got used to sleeping in trees, and had no problems on a few occasions where he wrapped himself with vines, as he made sure to keep any loose ends out of reach. But no animals were around, as if they had been scared off by hunting expeditions, and taken refuge in the mountains far to the north.
As the next day wound down, Walt climbed a large mango tree for an evening meal. He scooted out along a thick branch, no more than two meters above the ground, moving along underneath it with his ankles crossed above it. He got within reach of several mangoes, when without warning the branch broke off. Walt twisted so that the branch wouldn't hit him in the head, and as a result the branch landed across his hips as he landed on his back. It could have been worse, but Walt's massive amount of hair cushioned the blow to his head.
Walt needed a minute to get his thoughts in order and regain his breath. It felt like the branch pinning him to the ground weighed a hundred kilograms. He couldn't sit up very far, and couldn't get much leverage to budge the branch in any direction, up or away from him. He wiggled his toes, relieved to find there was no damage to his legs. However, for all his squirming he couldn't make any progress in escaping from under the heavy branch. He looked around for any objects that might help him. Unfortunately, the smaller branches that broke off in the fall were all out of reach. To add insult to injury, so were the many mangoes that fell off.
Realizing he was stuck, he tried an old idea. "Uh, Jacob? I could really use some help now." There was no answer, no wind, no whispers, no anything. Am I being punished for fooling around in that lake? "Hey, I'm sorry if I messed up in that lake. I really needed something fun for a change. Just please help me, and let me know what I have to do."
All that happened was that the sun went down. Unable to do anything useful in the dark, Walt resigned himself to sleeping in his current position. Fortunately his breathing was unhindered, which hadn't been the case when he got pinned by the barbell while alone in Desmond's hatch. That seems so long ago. How different would things have been if I remembered to tell him the right bearing to get back to this island? I hope Jacob tells me when I'm done with this walkabout. Exhausted from the effort in trying to extricate himself, Walt managed to fall asleep fairly quickly despite the heavy branch.