Title: The Outsiders
Warning: This will be a Vincent Centric Fanfic; Some possible violence; Some potential spoilers relating to different episodes (for those who haven't seen all of them).
Status: WIP
Summary: Mysterious happenings in the middle of the night, along the beach get Vincent to act strangely. Outsiders stalk the camp.
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with anybody related to this Lost. Lost is the property of J.J. Abrams, ABC, et al. The opinions expressed here are solely mine and are in no way purposefully related to anything that might happen in any future episodes of Lost. Any relation to future episodes is purely coincidental.
The Outsiders Chapter 1
It was the middle of the night. The Moon slowly drifted behind the clouds, settling the camp into more of a darkness, as most of the fires burned down. Michael and Walt lay next to the fire, sleeping, with Vincent settled beside Walt. Nearly asleep, Vincent heard a sudden noise, far of in the distance, but just barely audible above the constant crashing of the nearby waves. Jerking his head up, he scanned the area, noticing an orangey glow, flickering several miles down the beach. He slowly put his head his head back down on his paws, and closed his eyes.
Not a moment later, he jerked awake again, upon hearing the same sound once more. He stared down the coast, watching the flickering light, until it abrubtly went out. Sensing, something, he began to whine softly.
"Quiet Vincent," muttered Michael in his sleep. Vincent heard the noise again, yet this time it seemed closer. They were like faint whispers in gibberish, but lasted for hardly a few seconds. Vincent quickly climbed to his feet, and began to weave throughout the sleeping bodies, padding slowly towards the source of the noise. As he made his way towards the edge of the camp he lifted his nose to the slight breeze, nostrils flaring, but really didn't detect anything…
FLASHBACK:
The runt of the litter waddled along with the other Yellow Labrador puppies, tumbling this way and that, trying to get to its mother. The pups were penned up in the basement, in something resembling a child's playpen, only for dogs. Footsteps were heard overhead as a woman with walked down the stairs carrying two crates, followed by a man carrying two more identical crates. Both people were unfamiliar, but that didn't matter as the curious runt squirmed his way to the edge of the pen, tail wagging in sloppy circles.
"Are these all of the dogs," asked the man.
"Yes. There are nine puppies: 4 male and 5 female, along with the mother," the woman replied. "Was it said how the owner died?"
"They said natural causes, I thought," the man returned.
"Okay. Well let's get going I suppose," she said as she reached down and scooped up the tiny puppy that had just waddled over there happily. "Hopefully the animal shelter will be able to find good homes for these little guys.
"It shouldn't be too hard," the man responded as he picked up a puppy. "Who wouldn't want a cute little guy like one of these?"
It only took them only a couple moments to round up the nine puppies, three to a crate, and get the mother into one of her own. Soon, the two were carrying the whining crates up the stairs, and outside to a van, stacking them two on the top, and two on the bottom.
As the van came to life, the little runt in an upper crate, turned to stare out the back window. Turning a corner, the van left behind the only place the puppies had known. But this didn't matter for the runt, seeing as by now he had already dosed off, untroubled by the cries of his fellow companions.
END FLASHBACK
As Vincent went farther, the glow of the dying fires gradually let on to the darkness of the night. At about one hundred feet past camp, he settled his butt down into the sand, ears cocked for any other strange noises. All of a sudden he heard a rustling in the dense jungle to his right. Twisting in that direction, his muscles tensed, poised to run at even the slightest hint of danger.
After several moments of silence passed, he settled back down on his haunches, staring once more back down the beach, like an on duty sentry. Upon hearing the rustling another time, Vincent leapt to all fours, and began barking loudly, at whatever was out there.
Back at camp, Walt awoke from his deep sleep at the sound of Vincent's deep woofing. For a yellow lab, Vincent sure had a loud voice, thought Walt to himself, as he clambered up from where he's been sleeping. He ran quickly but quietly through the camp, intent on reaching Vincent before anyone was awakened.
Upon nearing Vincent, he began to scold him for barking at the jungle again, in the middle of the night. He stared at the spot at which Vincent had been barking, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, and shivered.
"Stupid dog," he muttered to himself, "there's nothing there." Grabbing Vincent's collar, he started the dark walk back to camp, with the dog tugging resiliently at his side, neglecting to notice the shadowy figure, melting back into the deeper reaches of the forest.
Hope you enjoyed chapter one. If you read thisI would love it if you told me what you think. Another copy of this is on