Chapter 2
Upon returning to the beach, Sayid's already dark mood was not aided by the sight of the twisted and burnt-out wreckage of the downed plane's fuselage in the early evening firelight of the camp. He didn't see Boone or Kate there. He knew he would eventually have to share the news of his disheartening failure.
The survivors that had chosen to remain here on the beach seemed especially restless this evening, Sayid noted with some concern, as he neared the fire.
One of them carefully approached Sayid and said with a worried voice, "They say that doctor, Jack, is buried in a cave-in,"
Fool Jack, Sayid thought angrily, shooting a look into the jungle, as if he would somehow be able to see through the dense jungle and view this latest mishap. I told him it was not a good idea to make camp there. And he's the only doctor here, too!
Sayid considered heading in the direction of the caves, but was unsure of how much help he himself would be with the head injury. He could be concussed, for all he knew. He would do himself and Jack no favors if he collapsed. Already, enough members of the camp had made their way to the caves to lend their assistance; an extra body probably wouldn't make sense in a collapsed cave – especially an injured one.
Truthfully, Sayid respected Jack. He was doing what he thought was necessary for the survival of the others. Sayid didn't necessarily agree with Jack, but that was no reason to dislike the man outright.
And now with Jack trapped in the caves, that obviously let him off the hook as his possible attacker. That was good. Sayid didn't want to think that Jack would be malicious enough to destroy his plans just to make it plain to the others that hoping for rescue was futile; therefore the caves were the only hope for prolonged survival.
Who, then? Sayid swept his eyes over the beach, taking in each person who had remained there. How many were left? 46 now? Well, it wasn't Kate, Boone or Jack. Sayid was 100 per cent certain of that. Good-natured Hurley, though a little ignorant, was totally harmless. The child, Walt, was another obvious 'no'. Not Claire, who was getting very close to her due date and was getting the closest possible thing to 'bed rest' as one can get on an island with no beds...Boone's sister, the self-absorbed Shannon was another no. Charlie, that musician who was always trying to curry favour with the others by playing his 'I'm famous!' card...he was another no.
The puzzling and mysterious Mr. Locke...he had taken to this island quite well. In fact, he actually seemed to be enjoying himself! How unusual. Locke looked the picture of the average middle-aged, soft, pampered office-worker totally disinclined to survival tactics and the 'hunter-gatherer' lifestyle. Sayid was reminded that how one appears might not necessarily be a reflection of that person's personality and skills set.
Most of the survivors were content to leave Locke to his own devices, especially since hunting the wild boar was such perilous, messy work. That, and having that vast collection of knives was somewhat off-putting for most. Sayid knew that didn't mean people were ungrateful for Locke's contributions; they just didn't see how they could ever really be of any assistance to him.
Even though Locke was absent from the camp a great deal, he was still keenly observant. Sayid was determined to pick his brains about this latest setback. Locke's thinking pattern was almost like a soldier's. He planned his moves methodically. Perhaps between the two of them, Sayid reasoned, they could come up with a reason why someone would want to initiate a covert attack on him - especially at that most crucial moment...That, and possibly eliminate Locke as his assailant.
As Sayid sat down in the cooling sand to rest, he did not notice a pair of eyes watching him. They belonged to a person secretly seething inside, nursing a hatred that could not be eliminated.