Jack couldn't get the image of seeing something fall from

the plane out of his head. He had searched most of the island,

but hadn't seen anything unusual or out of place. It was possible

that it had fallen into the water, but it had sparked his

curiosity, nonetheless. Whoever was piloting that plane HAD

to have seen he and the others, but how odd was it that instead

of landing or radioing for a rescue, he just tossed something

off the plane? It was beyond weird. But then again, when had

anything dealing with this island ever been normal?

"Hey, Doc; you might want to check Hurley's temperature;

guy thinks his mom's on the island," Sawyer's voice called out

to him.

Jack rolled his eyes at Sawyer. "Grow up, will ya?"

"It's true; ask Charlie."

"What's going on?" Locke asked, walking towards them.

"Hurley thinks his mama's on the island or something. Woke

Charlie up last night saying some lady sang a lullaby to him,"

Sawyer guffawed.

Locke walked away without saying anything, obviously not

wanting to talk about anything but island routes and hidden

mysteries.

"I'll find Hurley later, Sawyer. Why don't you do us a

favor and actually find something productive to do?"

"What, and be a humdrum like you? No thanks," Sawyer scoffed

before walking off.

"Do you miss your parents, Hurley?" Ten-year-old Walt asked

as the two of them walked with Walt's Labrador, Vincent.

"Why are you asking me that, little man?"

"Because everyone on the island says that you had a dream

about your Mom or something," Walt shrugged.

"Dude, I didn't dream about my mom, okay? It was something

else. Man, that's the last time I talk to anybody!"

"I was just asking. Sometimes I dream about my mom. I wish

she was here. She'd let me hang out with Locke and Boone. She'd

think they were cool. My dad just doesn't get it."

"Hey, he's trying, you know. You just gotta listen to him."

Suddenly, there was high-pitched whistle that rang out

in the morning air and Vincent barked.

"What is it, boy?" Walt asked. As soon as the question

left his mouth, Vincent took off, barking wildly. "Vincent!"

"Stay here. I'll go get him," Hurley offered, not wanting

Walt to get too far away from his dad Michael.

As Hurley walked and followed the sound of Vincent's

barking, he mentally regretted telling Charlie his dream of

the strange woman. It might have been just a dream, but he didn't

want to become a laughingstock.

Finally, he caught up to Vincent and saw that he was barking

at something up a tree. "What is it, Vincent? Are you chasing

birds now?"

Suddenly, a human head swooped down from the leaves and

laughed. "Nope. Just me."

Hurley jumped and saw that it was a woman's head-and that

she was hanging upside-down from a high branch.

"YOU!" he cried.

A few seconds later, she jumped down from the tree and

stood face-to-face with him. "You were shivering last night.

I couldn't let you freeze to death."

Hurley smiled as he took a good look at her. She looked

about his age, she was wearing a denim jumpsuit and she had

shoulder-blade length white hair-yep, that's right-white as

snow hair. "So, why didn't you wake me up? The other guys here

think I'm an idiot, you know."

The woman laughed and shook her head. "I didn't want to

wake you and make small talk. I'm Atlanta, by the way."

"As in the city?"

"That's the one."

"I'm Hurley. Actually, my name's Hugo; Hurley's just a

nickname. So, anyway, are you going to tell me how you got here?"

Hurley listened patiently as Atlanta told the amazing story

of how she was flying in the plane that the survivors saw a

few days ago.

"I saw you guys and mentioned something to the pilot and

my friend. I wanted to rescue you. They gave me a parachute

and told me to jump down and let you know that help was on the

way," she explained. "That's when they opened the door of the

plane and literally kicked me off. Turns out, they gave me a

faulty parachute. The same people I trusted for years tried

to kill me! Somehow, I managed to curl up into a ball and land

in a bunch of bushes. I'm still not sure how, but I managed

to only come out with a few cuts and bruises."

"Oh, my God!"

"Hurley, who are you talking to?" another voice suddenly

asked from behind the trees.

"Hey, Jack; I want you to meet Atlanta. Did you know she

was kicked off that plane we saw?" Hurley asked.

"That was you?" he asked, gaping at the white-haired female.

"Yep. That first step was a doozy," she grinned sheepishly.

"It's good to know you aren't just a figment of Hurley's

imagination, I guess," Jack replied. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm in the entertainment industry," she replied. When

she looked at Hurley and Jack's faces, however, she rolled her

eyes. "And, no, it has nothing to do with singing, dancing,

stripping, or acting. Let's just get that clear."

Sayid was once again, concentrating on his maps, when he

heard Vincent barking nearby. Assuming Walt was playing with

the lab, he turned back to his work. Let the kid and his dog

play. It would be nice to hear some joyful sounds for a change.

But as Sayid looked in the direction of where Vincent was

barking, he could see that the dog was dragging something heavy

through the woods and towards Sayid.

"What is that?" he wondered out loud, standing up and

walking towards Vincent. It was then that he saw it was someone's

carry-on bag. But why was Vincent dragging one of the crew's

bag through the jungle? Sayid reached down and looked at the

bright green tag that was attached to the handle.

"Atlanta Grey? Who is Atlanta Grey?" he asked the dog.

Suddenly, Sayid forgot all about his maps and began

searching for Atlanta Grey-whether she or he were dead or alive.

Jack, Hurley, and Atlanta slowly walked along the beach,

listening as Atlanta joked about her near-death experience as

if it was something that happened everyday. Jack had to admit

she seemed okay with her situation and almost happy to be away

from her so-called friends. In fact, her personality almost

reflected that of Hurley. Easy-going, free-spirited, a little

strange, but seemingly a nice enough person. Pretty harmless,

really.

"So, do you have any brothers or sisters?" Hurley asked

her.

"I did. I had one of each, but they both died years ago.

My little sister fell down twenty flights of stairs when she

was five and my brother...I sort of shot him when I was twelve,"

she replied slowly.

"You shot your brother when you were twelve?" Hurley

repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, in the thigh. I feel bad, but I didn't know he was

such a wimp," she shrugged.

Jack scoffed. "Did you shoot him with a pellet gun or

something?"

"No. It was a .9 millimeter," she replied casually, causing

both Jack and Hurley to drop their jaws.

"You had a .9 millimeter?" Hurley choked.

"It was my parents'."

"You mean, you STOLE your parents gun?" Jack cried.

"Stealing is such a harsh word. I prefer 'taking it with

some slight intentions of giving it back'," she joshed.

Suddenly, Jack felt a chill go up his spine. A few minutes ago,

he was believing she was a female carbon copy of Hurley. Now,

however, he was beginning to wonder if she was more like a cross

between Sawyer and Ethan.