A/N: Well, now would be as good a time as any to point out I own nothing. I wish I did, darn it, but I don't. Tear Anyway, thanks to Freckles-101, FlyingMonkeys007, lj, Evermore, Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown, ljae, and Wildjinx. You guys are awesome!
A/N #2: Whoops, this morning I just realized I uploaded the wrong one. It's almost exactly the same, just a couple changes and one or two lines are missing, but I think it's clearer, so I re-uploaded this chapter.
Sayid moved into the beach camp, his follower stopping at the edge of the jungle. Looking over the stretch of sand, he found Michael, Hurley, and to his continued surprise, Sawyer, along with a small group of others working on what appeared to be five slightly decrepit looking, hollow logs with triangular platform-like structures attacked to one side, causing them to slope up into the air, almost cannon-like. Walking up the assembly, he nodded a greeting.
"Hello," He said, going to Michael specifically, "How is the progress?"
Wiping the grime from his hands onto his pants, he straightened up from the log he and two others were currently working on and shrugged, "It could be better, but I'm not complaining. At this pace," He looked up at the last tendrils of sun sinking over the ocean, "We can move these babies in an hour and have them ready to use half an hour after that."
"Why do they need to be moved?" Sayid asked curiously, surveying them the way anyone but an art connoisseur would survey a can of tomato soup in a gallery, understanding that there was probably greater depth than what met the eye, but not quite grasping it.
Or better yet, what are they? He thought, but refrained from asking until his first question was answered.
Michael shook his head, "I don't know. Jack just left the instructions, he didn't explain them. I'm just following what it says to do right here." He pulled out a piece of folded legal paper from his pocket and passed it to Sayid.
Unfolding it, he looked it over. On it was a crude pen sketch of something that looked vaguely similar to the contraptions in front of him and some very clear notes.
Tonight. Five of these stationed at various distances away from the beach and caves, the further spread out, the better. One person to each, wait for the light, then yell as loud as possible through the bottom end of the log for as long as possible, pausing only to breathe. Five must be prepared for possible danger, but at first sign should wait as long as possible before running to regroup at the caves.
"So he means to use the logs as some sort of… amplifying device?" Sayid asked, handing the paper back to Michael.
"Your guess is as good as mine."
Sayid paused as Michael went back down to work and took one look back at the forest before returning his gaze back to Michael.
"Have you gotten the 'five' yet?"
"Almost, I've got one left." He glanced up at Sayid, "Interested?"
Sayid nodded and Michael exhaled with relief, "Thanks man, for a little while I was wondering if I'd get a fifth. Any more questions, cause if you don't I'd like to get back to work…"
Shaking his head, Sayid started towards one of the logs two from the edge.
"Hello, Sawyer." He said placidly. It was not the time for rivalries; he could deal with that later. As of now they seemed to be working as a team of sorts.
Sawyer glanced up out of the corner of his eye and then went back to shaping the inside of the log with a fist sized piece of plane metal, "You're back faster than I expected. So?"
"She agreed." Sayid squatted down and added in a hushed voice, "Or, well, it doesn't matter. She's out at the edge of the trees. What's next?"
"Next?" Sawyer's eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced over again, "I didn't say I knew what we'd do next."
Sayid's brow wrinkled and he hissed, "What? I thought you had a plan…"
"Keep your shirt on, Iraqi, I'll think of something." He muttered and went back to working on the log. Grumbling, Sayid stood and walked away.
They had two, maybe three hours left before Michael said they'd have to be in position for the signal. If Sawyer had nothing by then, he'd take it into his own hands.
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Shannon was completely lost. The trail washed away in the rain, if they'd ever been following one to begin with, so from the beginning she figured she'd start from the beach and hopefully follow in the same direction. Heck, it was an island; they'd meet up eventually…
Or so she hoped.
But now she was very doubtful as to whether or not she was even going the right way anymore. The forest wasn't like the city; it didn't have street names or maps or taxi drivers to get directions from, it had a bunch of trees and bushes that all looked exactly the same to her.
Which isn't my fault, She thought to herself as she walked around yet another rock, I mean, girls from the city just aren't supposed to know these things. How could I guess I'd ever need to learn outdoor survival or whatever? That's just stupid…
It was all Boone's fault anyway for going off tracking in the first place. He wasn't her boyfriend; he didn't have to listen to her to keep their relationship "together". She couldn't dump her brother, so they'd have to talk eventually.
She passed another rock, the same one?
They all look the same, stupid, it's a jungle.
Shannon paused and glanced around. Why hadn't she been paying attention the first time around? Now she couldn't tell left from right or forward from backward, it was all just one green jumble.
The bushes behind Shannon quivered slightly and she jumped. Turning around in a full circle, she eyed the plants around her. Someone… something was out there.
"Boone?" She asked tentatively from where the rustling came from.
More noises followed as leaves began to shake from first one, then three, then six of the ferns now in front of her. Shannon stepped back, searching for a rock or a stick, anything she could use for defense as something finally moved into view.
Shannon screamed.
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Grabbing one of the red tatters of shirt he'd been using to mark trees, he whipped his hands off on it. The torch had died down considerably and Locke had decided to call it a night on their progress.
Boon watched the skies above the canopy quietly as he twisted the red shred in his hand. It was so peaceful. It was hard to imagine that something was lurking out there ready to slaughter them all at the drop of a hat. There were mild bird noises of some kind and the sound of a nearby creek they'd passed earlier that day, but other than that it was dead silent. Locke had been carving silently the whole time while Boone had spent his time in a cross between thought, worry, and dread.
Suddenly a hand was on Boone's shoulder. Locke stood behind him and searched the line of palms ahead of them.
"What?" Boone asked quietly, immediately alert and trying to find whatever Locke saw.
"Shh," Locke held his hand in front of Boone, a signal for him to stay put as Locke stepped forward, "Did you hear that?"
"No, wha-?" Boone began to ask, but a piercing scream split the sky before he could finish.
Both feet were in the clearing now and the cloudy vision around his eyes cleared like a lifting fog. As soon as he'd seen it, he wished he could be as far away from it as possible.
Blood splattered the ground and leaves like rain, dripping from ferns and pooling in the dirt. A limp, torn form lay against a rock on the far side. Boone moved towards it carefully. Why was it so recognizable?
Now he was as close to it as he could without standing in the red puddle it lay in. His heart was racing, but he didn't know why. He couldn't bring himself to look down at the human form, if it was even still identifiable as that. He was about to turn around when something inside him willed his eyes to look at the face, the only part untouched by the carnage that had passed. Boone paused and then gazed down.
Boone tried to leap towards the jungle, forgetting Locke's grip on his shoulder. He stopped short and tried again, but now Locke was holding his arm as well.
"Let me go!" Boone yelled, straining against his grip.
"I'm afraid I can't do that." Locke stated, his grip firming on Boone, although it was unnecessary as he stopped struggling the moment he spoke.
"What?" He froze, "Locke, that was Shannon, I know it was! She's in trouble; we've got to help her!" Why did he have to explain this to him? He'd heard the scream. That person needed their help! Even if Locke didn't know who it was, Boone did.
He'd seen her in the clearing.
"I know." Locke stated bluntly, "Everything is going as it should."
"Going as it should?" Boone repeated in shock, "What the hell do you mean by that?"
Locke didn't answer, but he didn't need to. Boone knew. He'd been against him the whole time…he was working for Them. He was a traitor…
And now he was going to keep Boone here while Shannon died.
"I'm sorry." Locke said quietly and his grip released the smallest of a fraction.
Boone was gone and nearly into the trees before Locke had even had time to think. Sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, Boone fled towards the scream, leaving Locke far behind in his wake.
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Kate hit the earth hard, skidding back on her side almost a foot before she stopped, but before she could even take another breath, he had her shoulder again.
The advantage she'd held against Ethan from the surprise of her attack had lasted about half a minute before he'd gained the upper hand. Now he was toying with her like a boy with a bee, poking her and agitating her until he finally decided to rip her wings off and leave her for dead. Her arms were bruised and she guessed her face didn't look much better, cut and bleeding.
Ethan spun her so her back hit the tree. Kate jumped away, cursing herself for being so stupid as to start a fight against him in the first place. Now she was as good as dead.
"Kate, all this dodging is just going to prolong the inevitable." He chastened in a falsely serious tone, "Not that I won't enjoy every extra moment, but you really should start thinking of yourself."
She rolled to the side and kicked out towards his legs, catching one and causing his knees to buckle, but he recovered too quickly and sent a kick at her side. Rolling again, she managed to get the brunt of the blow on the sole of her shoe. She'd tried to attack him, but now she worked on defense with only the hope of wearing him down.
"That was better." He commented lightly as he half circled her and then moved back again, making sure to block any possibility of escape with the tree behind her and him in front, "But not good enough, unfortunately. If you'd co-operate with me, neither of us would have to waste our time here."
"Co-operate how?" Kate spat.
"You're part of the camp, there has to be something you know. You could be a great help to us," Ethan persuaded, "or you can face a slow, agonizing death out here. What do you have to say?"
Kate paused, looking at the ground. Ethan smiled slightly. He knew Kate was a convict, just as he knew the past of all the other survivors, and was prepared to manipulate it to his advantage. It wasn't as if anyone would find them there, anyway, he had all the time in the world now that the package was delivered. It was the perfect condition for his next means of attack, silent with just the few annoying rustles of plants here and there.
He knelt down, and began to weave the lies that were his specialty, "I know about you, Kate, I know everything." He paused, savoring the startled glance he got from her.
"They'll never accept you at the camps when they find out and you know they're going to know soon. A secret like yours cannot lay buried forever. You'll be alone, completely and utterly alone just like before only thousands of times worse. You can't run away this time, Kate." He stopped again to look at her. Her eyes were boring distant holes into the ground.
It was working; she was soaking in his words like a sponge. He was delighted and began focusing his energy in the direction of mental destruction. The surroundings didn't matter; no one would find them there. He'd left some meaningless, meandering trail for that doctor while Locke watched the other man. Heck, if he had time later he'd go back and repeat the process with both of them. But now was not the time to think of the future; now was the time to concentrate.
Someone watching them breathed a sigh or relief.