A big big thank you to whoknowswhy for having a copy of this chapter.
chapter 3
Kate knew that they created an interesting trail as they paraded away from camp: Arzt stayed just behind, off her left shoulder; Sawyer drifted between walking by her side and dropping back to pepper Sayid with various 'limpy' or 'gimpy' remarks, while Sayid made a show of using the staff. She didn't hear any words exchanged between Sawyer and Arzt during Sawyer's travels, but she didn't expect him to: Sawyer wasn't one for niceties. Unless they amused him.
He was not amused when, after walking for about an hour, she told them the first lesson involved finding a tracking stick. Or, she suspected, it was because Sayid was exempt from the task, his staff-now-tracking-stick resting on his leg, leaving the southerner to deal with Arzt one on one.
Kate explained the need for tracking sticks: how when learning to track, the stick was a useful tool in training the eye. She briefly considered sharing the memory of the time her father disappeared over rocky terrain when berry picking in a new woods. He left her with a half-filled bucket of blueberries, the warning to look out for bears, and the knowledge of the implement from the previous day's lesson. Hours later she used the three-foot branch to beat on the fender of the car when she finally tracked it to its new parking spot, about fifty yards from the original.
She opted to keep the recollection to herself. Having Arzt along meant a lecture at the drop of a topic. She wasn't going to provide him with one about how people today didn't respect other's property, or that kids were lazy and soft.
Instead, she instructed Sawyer and Arzt to find branches with the proper dimensions. She agreed with Sawyer that maybe she should have mentioned the need this morning when they were near the signal fire woodpile, but she didn't and here they were. She pointed to the tree line: they would find their sticks there.
She was smart enough not to demonstrate the approximate size with her hand when Sawyer demanded just how the hell he was supposed to know when he came across the right sized branch, he wasn't supplied with a damn ruler. She waved her hand at Sayid's cane and told them it should be smaller, but not by much.
Sawyer stalked across the beach, Arzt struggling to keep up. Kate and Sayid followed at a more leisurely pace until they reached shade. She sat easily, curling her arms around her knees. Sayid sank awkwardly next to her, trying not to favor the injured leg.
"How's the leg?" asked Kate after a bit, as Sayid tucked his water bottle back into his backpack. "You seem to be favoring it a bit."
He slid a sideways glance with a small sly, smile. "I am striving to meet Arzt's lower expectations."
"Okay," Kate drew out the word. She smiled at him. "That's something new for you. What's next?"
"At this moment, I'm effectively avoiding Arzt."
The sound of angry male voices erupted from the growth behind them.
"It sounds like Sawyer isn't avoiding Arzt." Kate twisted at the waist, looking into the growth. "Hey, play nice!"
"Dammit, Freckles," sputtered Sawyer, exploding onto the beach, stout stick in hand. "I didn't sign up for this kind of boor." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We don't need to hunt for him – there he is!"
Arzt was fast on his heels. "My point is –"
"Buddy, the only point you have is on that head of yours," snarled Sawyer. "Freckles –"
"That's considerably bigger than three quarters inch," the science teacher plowed on. "She didn't say club. She said stick."
Kate sighed and climbed to her feet. "It doesn't matter. Lemme see." She eyeballed the bough that Sawyer presented and shrugged. "It's a bit on the big side but it'll work. Lemme see yours, Arzt."
The large man held the branch horizontally at chest level.
Kate sighed. It figured. "Pretty much perfect," she said, with grudging admiration.
"Of course it is," stated Arzt smugly. "I have an innate spatial ability. I can recognize dimensions that would amaze you. And I have 20/20 vision. I would make a great eye witness in robberies and car crashes."
"Well ain't you the star pupil?" sneered Sawyer. "Teach, give 'im a star, give 'im a kiss. Just get him to shut the hell up!"
"C'mon," said Kate. "Let's get going." She started back down the beach to the waves.
Sayid rose, staff at his side.
"Hey, mine is smaller than Mohammed's!" pointed Sawyer. He stopped, shaking his head. "I can't believe I said that."
"Me neither," giggled Kate. She tried to stop, biting her lip. Instead, she started laughing harder, her nose wrinkling in mirth.
The shaggy haired man glared at her, then rolled his eyes. "Oh hell," he began to laugh.
Sayid looked questioningly back and forth between the amused couple. He seemed to be replaying the conversation. His eyebrows rose as a look of comprehension crossed his face. A small smile tugged at his lips, then he broke into a quiet chuckle.
"Don't encourage him," scolded Arzt. "This is very puerile humor. Katie, I'm surprised at you. Women should not encourage men like him. You yell your head off about sexual harassment but you don't mean it. Let me make a vulgar remark like that and see what you do."
"Remember," Sawyer managed to utter between gasps for air. "His is the perfect size."
She sucked her lips into her mouth, trying to collect herself. It wasn't that funny. She couldn't look at Sawyer. She couldn't look at Sayid. She sure as hell couldn't look at Arzt. Not now. She peeked through her lashes at Sawyer anyway and burst into fresh gales of laughter.
"Them I understand," Arzt was now glaring at Sayid. "But I expect greater decorum from an ex-military man."
Sayid shrugged lightly. "Then you expect too much."
Kate lowered her gaze, biting the inside of her cheek. The giggles began to pass. Just in time. Her stomach hurt. "Okay," she cleared her throat. "Let's go. We got more to do."
Once again, the men trailed Kate as she walked to the shoreline. She tossed her bag to the dry sand as they reached the hard packed, damp beach. "Okay, take off your shoes."
"Our shoes," said Sawyer. "Teach, ya wanna head back there for a private lesson, just say so." He leered exaggeratedly.
"See!" Arzt chided. "You have no one but yourself to blame for this!"
"Your shoes, Sawyer," she rolled her eyes, her mouth tight. "Just your shoes."
Sayid eased carefully onto the sand and began to untie his footwear. He stood barefoot, staff next to the knapsack and discarded sneakers, and looked expectantly at Kate.
Kate yanked her hiking boots from her feet and lobbed them next to her bag. "C'mon you two. Shoes off."
"Just why is it so damn important for me to be barefoot, Freckles?" demanded Sawyer. "You got Hop-A-Long in his piggies over there. Ain't that enough?"
"Arzt?" Kate turned to the older man.
"Not gonna do it, sweetheart." Arzt crossed his arms over his chest. "I am well acquainted with my own bare foot. Are you aware that a bare foot is an invitation for fungus? I'm not going back with ringworm to make you happy."
She scowled between the two men. Neither lifted a foot; Sawyer's hands on his hips.
"Fine. Let's go, Sayid." Kate began to march across the wet sand, trying to enjoy the feel of the grainy clumps between her toes. Normally, that was a good thing. Sayid limped behind her. She slowed until he caught up and walked beside her.
"Where are we going?" asked Sayid.
"Nowhere. This is so you can get to know your own foot."
"So I can track myself home barefoot?"
"So you don't track yourself into circles," retorted Kate. Was Sawyer becoming contagious? The last thing that she needed right now was a Southern Iraqi. "And if others would cooperate, it gives you some idea how different feet can be. Next, we'll do the same with shoes. Maybe Arzt'll participate then."
"Alright, alright, wait up," Sawyer huffed as he joined them. "No fair leavin' me with Mr-Big-Bag-O-Wind."
She stopped walking, glancing at Sawyer with annoyance. "I didn't think you were coming."
"Well, I did. And shoe free. Now what?"
"Look behind you," she instructed, expanding her gaze to include Sayid. "Can you tell your prints apart?"
Sayid and Sawyer scanned the wet sand behind them, retracing their trail slowly. They directed their attention to their toes, each other's, then Kate's.
"These are mine. Those are yours, Kate," Sayid pointed to the sand. "Those must be Sawyer's."
"No, Sayid, you can't do it by knowing who was standing next to who." Why did everyone want a shortcut? And how come that didn't occur to her? "Look at the prints!"
"Hell Freckles, he don't got six toes and a flat foot and I still see they're different. Does this make me a natural?"
Sayid was studying the sand, his eyes narrow with concentration. "You have a large foot, Sawyer."
"Ya know what they say about a man's hands and feet," smirked Sawyer.
Kate bit a smile back. "That they can reflect his IQ?" she smiled prettily and batted her eyelashes at him.
Sawyer eased a lazy smile across his mouth, "Just gotta be smart enough to know how to please a woman." He ducked his head, then looked up through his bangs.
A rush of heat swept through her. Just one more kiss. That would be all it would take. One more kiss. Then he could fade back into the stereotype he liked to play. "So do you think you could pick your own footprint out?" quizzed Kate, breaking eye contact and swinging her attention to Sayid.
Sayid frowned, dropping onto a knee for a closer look. He lifted his head, and nodded at Kate. "Yes. Yours is narrow and long. Sawyer is long and wider. My toes curl under, making a distinctive mark."
"And MUCH smaller than mine," Sawyer grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Don't worry, Mohammad, the waves'll wash 'em away."
She grinned in spite of herself, then pulled it from her face. "I think you got the point. Now, let's put on shoes and try it again," ordered Kate.
"Girl, I'm beginnin' to think this ain't nothin' but a way for you to boss us all over the island," said Sawyer. "You couldn'ta just told me to bring the damned things 'fore I trotted all the way down here?"
"You weren't cooperating," replied Kate primly.
"Omar was and ya didn't tell him."
Kate sighed. "Okay, Sawyer, I'm bad at organizing. Go get your damned shoes." She thought a moment, "And bring along your stick."
The three returned for their shoes. While they put them on, she described the meaning of stride, and how to measure it with the stick. The old man had taught her to measure from heel to heel, notching the distance, so this was how she coached the three men. She explained that from there, it was possible to determine where the next track should fall by putting the measure on the ground. It wasn't so important here in the sand, she acknowledged to Arzt's remark, but when the tracks weren't so clear, it could mean the difference between finding the prey and losing the trail.
With shoes on, sticks in hands, and Arzt part of the group, they walked the opposite direction as the last. Kate brought to their attention the deeper and generally clearer impact that their heels were making, waiting for them to notch their sticks with the foot size, then stride lengths before weaving them in and out the surf. She stood back and let her students practice finding the next set of prints where the waves cleared the sand.
She next led them from the wet sand to the dry, in and out of the surf, up and down the beach. There was a lot of protesting at this, but she insisted on the repetition. It would drive the concepts home, she told them, ignoring Sawyer's comment that she was the type of woman who needed to let the man drive on occasion. First, they followed their own tracks and when this proved to be too easy, she assigned Arzt to track Sayid, Sawyer to Arzt, and Sayid to Sawyer.
It was amusing to sit on the sand and watch the three men. There were great hoots of laughter from Sawyer when Arzt unwittingly followed his own tracks and bumped into Sayid. The Iraqi, one knee in the wet sand, a hand splayed close for balance, was intently studying a print, and tumbled clownlike to the ground as Arzt struck. His glower was short lived as he joined Sawyer's laughter. Arzt stood to the side, frowning.
It was too early for styles to emerge, but her money was on Sayid as the next Locke. Sawyer might contribute now and again – he seemed to have an aptitude she was sure he'd claim was growing up southern, and Arzt would talk up his adventures in tracking.
Kate glanced at her watch, and decided they had spent enough nonproductive time today. Now to sing for their supper. Picking fruit could provide the added bonus of demonstrating the difference of tracking in firm wet, sand and the dry dirt of the jungle. Tomorrow was soon enough for how to read plants and terrain. It was getting late, they were clearly getting punchy.
She climbed to her feet, calling for the end of the lesson. No one asked for extra time; all seemed willing, if not eager, to stop for the day.
They headed back towards camp, venturing into the jungle about halfway home. No one seemed too enthusiastic about finding his own prints off the sand, so she let it go. Tomorrow was soon enough.
There was a papaya copse not too far in, Kate recalled, and given the distance from the encampment, wasn't a common destination for harvesters. She lead the men through the high growth, resisting the memory of following the old man, wanting to go home but knowing there was more to be done.
Sawyer complained of hunger when they first entered the grove, so they plucked a few low hanging, bright yellow papaya to eat. They sat in a semi-circle, peeling their lunch.
"You know, these are better tasting than the Mexican variety," announced Arzt, talking through a bite of the juicy flesh.
"Mexican?" Sawyer paused, mid bite. "Just how the hell do you know these are…. what are these if they ain't Mexican?"
"Hawaiian," said Arzt with certainty. "Mexican papaya isn't as sweet as Hawaiian. Plus the Mexican variety weighs considerably more than Hawaiian. Up to ten pounds, to be precise."
"Can't have ya bein' any less than that," muttered Sawyer, sharing an exasperated look with Kate.
"So you believe that we are near Hawaii?" asked Sayid, scraping the fruit from the peel with his knife.
"I didn't say that. I said that there are two varieties of papaya." Arzt shook his head. "Papayas are really herbs. They're one of the few plants that bear fruit their first year." He gestured towards the foliage surrounding them. "The seeds can be used as a vermifuge. That's good for us to know here."
"Both or just Hawaiian?" Sayid couldn't seem to help himself. Sawyer glowered at the dark man.
"What's a vermifuge?" asked Kate. Oh great, now she was infected with questions. She avoided looking at Sawyer; she didn't need to see his eyes to feel the heat of his look.
"A vermifuge, little lady, is a drug that expels parasitic worms. Both varieties have the properties." Arzt was in full lecture mode. "Papaya has been around as long as history has been recorded. They're great sources of vitamin C." He pointed to the discarded skins. "Lots of vitamin A in those."
"It feels like we've been talkin' about papaya since history started recordin'," said Sawyer. "Does anyone sit by you durin' meal times in the school cafeteria? On the off chance the answer's yes, try not discussin' the nutritional makeup of the food."
Arzt drew back his shoulders and looked coldly down his nose. "And I should listen to your social advice because people are just lining up to spend time with you." He waited a moment, savoring the audience. "When food is as limited as it is here, it's important to know what fruit provides what nutrients to avoid vitamin deficiencies." He took another bite, then after chewing added slyly, "Unless you happen to be hoarding a multi-vitamin supply that you should be sharing with others."
Kate sighed. Was this how Jack felt? Dealing with clashing personalities got old fast. "That's why we're out here. I'd like to get boar back on the menu."
Arzt turned to Sayid, "I'm surprised that you're not out with the Korean fishing instead. Isn't boar off the Muslim menu?"
"That is the third conclusion today you've drawn concerning me," said Sayid. "This surprises me since you are an educated man."
"C'mon," Kate stood, brushing the sand from her jeans. It proved the day was long if Sayid was getting into it with Arzt. "Let's pick dinner."
She shimmied up the most promising looking trunk while the men stayed on the ground. Conversation was light to none. Everybody worked steadily, focused on filling his or her bags. It was late afternoon when hands were tired and sticky, carrying capacity attained, and consensus reached that they had done their share for the camp for the day.
The trudge back felt much longer, even if it was half the distance. Kate sighed, feeling the weight of her bag on her shoulders. Maybe it was because the sun was in the eyes: she kept her eyes down and watched her feet. Maybe it was because the water was gone, and she was trying to ignore her thirst.
At this point, it would be great to know that when they reached camp, dinner would be on the spit, and the mangos and kiwi sliced. The probable reality of having to peel their dinner by torchlight didn't lighten her step. It was almost discouraging to consider that they would be heading back out in the morning. She glanced around the men's faces in the darkening light. Their lack of conversation was as telling as Sayid's pronounced limp. It has been a long day and they were tired.
A delightful aroma was in the air as they approached the camp.
"Smells like somethin' other than papaya," announced Sawyer. "Maybe fish camp has a better teacher than boar camp."
Kate felt heat creep up the back of her neck. She wasn't exactly in the mood to be criticized again and this time unjustly. Sawyer knew their limitations – they weren't hunting yet. "Maybe the students are quicker to pick things up," she snapped.
"Lighten up, Billy Bob," said Arzt. "You learned more than you know today. Katie's doing a fine job."
She blinked. Oh no. Arzt was defending her. Now she noticed her legs aching.
"I'll be happy if they are sharing their class assignments," said Sayid, absently rubbing his healing thigh. "But I am not complaining to Jack about the work load. Nor the professor." He smiled wearily at Kate.
As they entered camp, Shannon jumped up from the sand and hurried over to them. "Did you see my brother out there?" Her voice was prickly, with a trace of worry just beneath its surface. She scanned their faces. She fell along side of Kate. "Or that freak date of his?"
Kate shook her head, smiling wearily, lips tight. "Sorry. I don't think we went out far enough to catch up with them. I take it they're not back yet?"
Shannon frowned, shaking her head. "No. But lucky for us, Steve and Tracey went crabbing and hit it big. There's fish tonight, too. Go figure Hurley as the fishing wizard of Craphole Island."
The tall blonde stopped, her lips twisted, hands tightly clasped, as she watched Kate and the men continue on to the food area.
Sayid dropped from the queue. "Shannon," Kate heard him say behind her. "Has Boone indicated if he and Locke are hunting?"
Kate shook her head. Sayid was wasting his time. Unless he wanted tanning tips. But he covered his bases better than Shannon's bikini covered her.
People were swarming around with fruit and fish. There was almost a festive air permeating the camp. The tight looks of the night before were gone. One night of plenty seemed to erase many fears.
"See, Sawyer, students," snipped Kate as she began to unload her portion. The smell of roasted fish wafted deliciously around her. Her stomach rumbled and her throat was dry. Despite the relief at the feast, she felt a foolish disappointment that there was no meat from her team. She frowned, and squelched it. She was told no hunting.
"See, Teach," snorted Sawyer. "Instructor." He turned his bag upside down and dumped the contents.
End chp 3