Chapter 4/6
It was much cooler the next morning when Kate left her shelter. The shoreline seemed closer still, the waves slamming with such force that white plume was flung well beyond the damp sand. The sun had yet to break the horizon as she loaded her backpack with water bottles and fruit. So, she mused as she settled the pack on her shoulders, were the seasons changing here on the island? She hoped there were some cool weather clothes in the luggage reserves at the caves.
She looked up and down the beach, making note of its continual evolution. What had started out as definite spaces claimed for blankets after the crash that grew to haphazard shelters randomly scattered about the beach was now a tight stretch of tents and shanties, most within a stone's throw of one another. The perimeter was definitely smaller since Claire's abduction. Sawyer was now at the far northern edge of the camp; Kate's tent was now at the far southern edge.
She studied her tent: a simple and neat tarp and pole structure. It began as a small bit of tarp stretched between two small sticks, providing cover for her head. It now resembled a two-person tent; complete with a narrow vestibule for shoes and wet clothes. It was tall enough to sit up comfortably, and could sleep one who flopped in her sleep. Her eyes darted end to end of the tarp and she realized little could be discerned about her by viewing this space. It reflected her camping background and little else.
She frowned and narrowed her eyes, not pleased with this insight, and turned her attention to what she thought of as the frat house.
Initially it was a large tarp stretched over branches, forming only a canopy. It brought to mind a picnic shelter. A group of young men slept here, their blankets left in disarray, clothing scattered around the area at all times. The boys suffered when it rained with wind, and the numbers staying there fluctuated, though the size of piled garments did not. It now had sides, was co-ed, and its population stable. The blankets were hung neatly during the daylight hours and men's attire no longer adorned its property lines.
Kate started towards the northern end of camp, veering to Arzt's hut at the last minute. As she roused the high school teacher, she decided that his building resembled its resident: decent framework with materials awkwardly applied. The fabric was not completely secured to the poles and flapped in the wind. His clothes were stacked against an outside corner draped with plastic sheets, weighted down with heavy pieces of driftwood. No nameplate was necessary here.
The large man joined her, tying his ubiquitous bandana around his neck as he yawned. Having him with her when she awakened Sawyer was an instinctual move. She and Sawyer hadn't spoken last night after their snips at each other. She wasn't annoyed now, but on the chance the island trader was, it would be better to have Arzt to toss to the southern bear.
As they hiked to Sawyer's place, Kate noted with an ironic twist of her lips that Sawyer started out on the fringes of camp and he was there again, despite the earlier move deep into the camp. Like a hermit crab, he had climbed into someone else's shell, disregarding the population surrounding Jack's building, trading privacy for sturdiness. As people moved closer together, the structure was now the edge of camp. There was the air of a permanent flea market about it despite the lack of items piled or primitively painted signs. Perhaps it was the occasional uncomfortable looking person hovering near the entryway.
She was glad to have Arzt with her when Sawyer responded to her summons, never mind how the evening ended. Sawyer was not a morning person, especially not this early a morning person. He scowled as he pushed the tarpaulin aside, jeans resting low on his hips, shirtless, his eyes heavy, his hair mussed. "I didn't leave word for no damn wake up call." He scratched his stomach.
"C'mon Sawyer, grab a shirt. Time to go," said Kate, handing him a mango. "We got things to do."
He stared at the oddly shaped fruit in his palm. "Well, I didn't expect room service but next time how 'bout lettin' me order from the menu?" He scrubbed his face with his other hand. "Damn it, Freckles. Aren'tcha offerin' afternoon classes?" He stretched his neck and shoulders slowly.
Kate swallowed, then glanced at Arzt. "Well, maybe some someone could be talked into leading a later session."
Sawyer followed the look and frowned. He arched his eyebrows in question. Kate nodded.
Arzt scowled first at Sawyer, then Kate.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," sputtered Sawyer, disappearing behind the canvas.
"You know, young lady," said Arzt stiffly, facing her. "I know that I'm older than you, and don't look like him," He pointed to Sawyer's shelter. "But that doesn't mean that I don't have feelings. You pretty people don't know what it's like for the rest of us. I don't appreciate you two and your comments. I'm not stupid. I know you feel stuck with me. But sooner or later, sweetheart, you might find that I can actually help you out."
Kate dropped her gaze to the sand, guilt spreading slowly through her. Despite what the older man thought, it didn't always come down to looks. They helped, but she was too much Diane and Patrick's little girl to think that being attractive was enough.
There were all those times that she was grounded for missed curfews that her smile did not ameliorate, phone privileges revoked that sweet cajoling did not return. The male teachers accepted these offerings and made allowances for missed deadlines and cut classes. Not her parents. They weren't fooled. How many times had Diane told her brunette baby girl that she had the face of an angel and the cunning of the devil?
Pretty is, but unless Arzt understood as pretty does, he could be Sawyer's twin and it wouldn't matter. The know-it-all demeanor was just too much for most people. And in her own case, she didn't know how much pretty was left inside to be as pretty does.
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Arzt," she met his stare, and rolled her lips together, the nice warring with the honest.
He gazed balefully at her. "Yeah. I see that."
The sheeting flapped as Sawyer stepped onto the beach, buttoning a denim shirt. "Okay, let's go." He took a quick role. "Hey, where's Muhammad? You let him sleep longer 'an me?"
"We all have our crosses," said Kate to both men.
She strode across the beach, her class at her heels, shoving Diane's voice about being nice to the fat boys away from her consciousness. It bounced another of her mother's maxims – handle a man with subtle machinations – to take its place. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Go away!
She concentrated instead on Sayid's neat shelter. She was regularly amused that it grew from the spot he first repaired the transceiver. She wondered now and again if the Iraqi looked up one day from wires and transistors to see a camp had formed around him, so built a place to keep his workspace defined. The tarp and poles were combined to provide a snug living space when the fabric walls were down, or a bright working area by securing a wall to a cleverly propped branch.
The old man would approve.
She rolled her eyes and stepped up to the walled version of the hut. One of her father's sayings – talk drowns out thought - was about to be applied. "Sayid?" Kate called quietly through a gap in the tarp. "It's time to go."
There was no response from the shelter. She frowned and stepped closer to the tarp wall. Lifting a corner to waist level, she repeated her greeting.
"Maybe he's sick," said Sawyer with a yawn. "Sassafras, if Aladdin is sick, is school cancelled for the day? Can't rightly have lessons without teacher's pet."
"Don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?" demanded Arzt. He had forgotten to smooth his hair, and tufts randomly stood at attention. "How can you go on and on every waking hour?"
Sawyer took a step back and glared at the older man in the gray light. He blinked, and smiled lazily. "Practice," he said slowly. He looked Arzt up and down. "Like you." He shook his head, then lifted his gaze to the heavens.
"What type of animal do teachers make pets?" asked Sayid, rounding the corner of the shanty. His eyes reflected amusement as they slid slyly at Kate.
"The early birds," retorted Kate. "Are you ready to go? I'd like to get to the valley before the dew evaporates."
They watched as the dark man slipped into his tent. He emerged moments later, his knapsack on his back, staff in his hand. He fell into step with Kate as they left the camp, leaving Sawyer and Arzt to bring up the rear.
They weren't far from the camp when Sawyer stopped to tie his boot. Kate could hear him complaining about sand in his footwear, then hurry to catch up with the trio. "Ya know, Naji," he said to Sayid, pushing past Arzt. "Ya could do everyone a favor and build us a car. Make it run on coconuts."
Sayid's voice was amused. "Coconuts?"
"Hey I was in a bar and heard about this car that runs on vegetable oil!" Sawyer bent at the waist to make eye contact with Kate, then straightened and continued to Sayid. "The coconut has oil –"
"It's a fruit," offered Arzt. "The fruit of a coconut palm. Family Arecaceae. Name for the tree is kalpa vriksha in Sanskrit. It means 'the tree which provides all of life's necessities'."
Sawyer glanced over his shoulder and picked up his pace so that he was a step ahead of Kate and Sayid. "Whatever. It has oil, right? Coconut oil?"
"The source of coconut oil is the dried meat of the seed. The copra," added Arzt, moving quicker.
"Vegetable, fruit. Oil is oil, right? So, we have the fuel. Now you build the car," Sawyer finished smugly. "My dogs are tired of walkin' this damn beach."
"Cars that run on alternative fuels aren't using petroleum," said Arzt with a tone that Kate recognized as full teacher mode. She exchanged looks with the two men at her side, rolling her eyes. She tried to find a thought that she wanted to follow, anything rather than listening to Arzt. That was too much like high school chemistry all over again without the windows framing cute boys. She glanced at the two in stride with her. She smiled impishly. Well. There were some cute boys.
"The majority are electric with hydrogen fuel cells," the teacher continued. "But as was previously stated, there are some other, more interesting alternatives out there. Let's start with the wind up car."
Arzt droned on with no feedback from the others until he asked a question about someone named Tesla that no one acknowledged. When he grew quiet, Kate stole a peek over her shoulder. Arzt glared at her, a heavy frown on his face.
The rest of the walk was quiet.
The full orb of the sun was above the horizon when they reached the meadow. Kate took a breath and began to explain the objectives for the day: learning to read the landscape. This was noticing all the conditions of an area and combining them to see more than a field. The cover used by animals to hide or escape, the commonly used travel route, the once used escape route – pushdown, provided Arzt – were all parts of the tracking story.
She described, with occasional and uninvited contributions from Arzt, how to locate these: look for crushed or bruised leaves or plants; use the sun to highlight the trail made by this damaged plants; use the sun to spot the trail of either as shiny or dull patches of plants wet with dew or dusty from the afternoon heat made when animals passed through. Arzt expounded that experienced trackers had their own jargon, spouted a seemingly never ending list of oddly paired words, and smiled beneficently, as though he saved them embarrassment of using the wrong terminology at the next tracker's gathering.
She instructed the men to turn their backs to her, preferably with eyes closed. She marched a short distance through the waist high grasses in overlapping circles, then returned to the small group. Kate had them face her again, feeling very much like a kindergarten teacher when Sawyer made the hokey pokey gestures and mouthing 'turn yourself around'. She asked if anyone could see her trail. Sawyer glanced at her damp shirt and jeans, and tossed his hand towards the general area in front of them. Sayid also took in the dampness of her attire but studied the damp flora. He pointed out the lines of plants by their dry, darker appearance, her route. Arzt nodded along with every word.
They moved to a fresh section of meadow, and this time Sayid zigzagged through the damp growth. Arzt grew excited as he jabbered 'north, south, then north, east, south, north', drawing an odd but similar shape as Sayid's path with his hand. Sawyer's brow furrowed as he tried to follow the hand and words, deepening into a scowl as he realized he wasn't seeing what Arzt did.
Kate suggested to Sayid that he and Arzt meander to more fresh meadow and let Arzt make the path. She could sense she was losing Sawyer if he didn't make the connection soon. She was also losing the glint of dew as the sun climbed the sky.
With Arzt leading, the two men moved away. Kate turned to a wary and amused Sawyer. She frowned, then smiled winningly at the man. Her first teaching assignment was not going to have a drop out.
"Okay, Sawyer. Look again. Keep in mind what I said. Use the sun. Get it on top. See how it makes the top of the grass look shiny? Sparkly? See it? See where Sayid went – not shiny. The dew has been rubbed off. It's flat. "
"Yeah. Flat ain't shiny. Got that," Sawyer's voice betrayed his exasperation. "I heard ya the first time and I heard it when Mr. Science said it, too. Maybe I just don't wanna find Omar. Even if I could." He sighed and looked her full in the face. "Freckles, I ain't seein' it. I see the grass. Then I see the grass."
Kate dropped into a crouch, pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth. "C'mon, Sawyer, squat. You're too tall. You have to keep the trail between you and the sun."
"Never wanted to be no great white hunter," Sawyer rolled his eyes and dropped onto his heels. "Happy? Here I am, in short land. Lookin' out and seein' glints ---- hey. Over there?" He extended his index finger to indicate the area before them.
She tried to follow his finger. "Where? Describe it."
"The grass is bent … looks like a forty five degree angle, bruised where he stepped heavy, and I think I see a strand of hair – no! It's a beard hair! Muhammad is sheddin'."
She pushed his shoulder with playful disgust. "Damn it, Sawyer! Be serious!"
He allowed himself to topple to the ground. "Do I get points for listenin' close?" His dimples were dazzling.
She extended a hand, resisted the urge to touch his hair, and helped him to stand. "No. Unless you can listen your way to a boar." She held up her palm. "And don't say Arzt. I got that one already."
"Listen Freckles, what ya say you n' me skip the rest of class today?" Sawyer stepped close to her. "Mr. Chips can talk the talk, and Hossam can play his sidekick, the intrepid boar detective. Let's give 'em some real practice." He lowered his voice. "Let's see if they can track us. Consider it a pop quiz."
The back of her neck tingled as he moved close enough for her to feel his breath. She lowered her eyes and felt his hand slide around hers. His skin was warm, his palm scratchy. He slid it up to her elbow, his fingers caressing the inner bend.
"C'mon. Ya know ya want to." He whispered in her ear.
Goose bumps raced up and down her arms. She closed her eyes and savored the moment. She wanted to. Oh yes, she wanted to. She would never disclose the number of times she closed her eyes at night to the image of being held, and stroked, and kissed by this man. Nor the mornings she bolted upright, her heart pounding, the image Sawyer dissipating, her lips pursed for a kiss.
She could have him, if that was what she was after. She had never been as sure of anything as that fact. It wasn't ego – the same was probably true for any female on the island under thirty-five without a mustache. In Sawyer's eyes, she just happened to have the added bonus of getting Jack's goat. The southerner might as well have 'one night stand only' tattooed on his ass, he was so obvious. But she wasn't after that. It would be fun, she had complete faith in that fact, but the fun would go and take Jack with it.
She opened her eyes, taking a step back and removing her hand from his grasp, "Nice try, cowboy. Next time bring an apple."
Sawyer shrugged lightly, fighting a frown. He lost. "Your loss, sweetheart."
She took a deep breath, turning back to face the vegetation. Back to business, she told herself. "So do you see-"
"No." He was sullen now, his face closed. If he had a cigarette, he'd be lighting it up. As it was, he was looking everywhere but at her or the field in front of them.
"Kate!" A male voice called.
She spun to her left, where Sayid and Arzt were working. Sayid was standing, resting both hands on his staff, Arzt to his left obviously elucidating some fine point. Neither was shouting.
"Kate!"
She and Sawyer turned together to see Charlie galloping towards them from the direction of the beach, arms flapping. He stopped running as he reached them, and dropped his hands to his knees, his chest heaving.
"Charlie?" Kate put her hand on the small man's shoulder. His hooded sweatshirt was soaked with sweat. He must have been hurrying for some time. "What's wrong? Is it Jack?"
Sawyer rolled his eyes. "For the love of Mike - Jack." He turned in the direction of Sayid and Arzt. The two were quickly making their way back to them. "Here comes the Calvary, Kate. Just hang on a li'l bit longer. No wait, they're not Jack either." He returned his attention to the musician. "Ya gonna be okay, banjo boy?"
Charlie swallowed, shaking his head, his breath easing. "Nothin's wrong, Kate. Just came… came to join in." He straightened and grinned toothily at her.
"What?" Kate tilted her head, eyes narrowed. She dropped her hand. She glanced at Sawyer, her brow creased, puzzled.
He shrugged and waved the approaching men no rush. "What the hell you goin' on 'bout, boy?"
"Jack said Kate's teaching. Here I am, in time for the A levels," said Charlie, glancing between the two, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
"We ain't takin' fish camp rejects," snorted Sawyer.
"Charlie," Kate glared at Sawyer, then looked back to the expectant brown eyes. "Did Jack send you here?"
"No," the scruffy Englishman shook his head. "Locke showed me the direction you took. It wasn't hard from there. You stuck to the beach then came straight up this way."
"Why did Locke send you?" She found herself speaking slowly. She wasn't sure if it was because she was confused or if she thought Charlie was. Ever since Charlie's chilling statements that he could recall nothing of his ordeal with Ethan, Kate was not certain of the slight man's mental state. Whenever she considered it, she pictured Jack pounding, harrowingly pounding, on the thin musician's chest. She blinked to clear the image.
Arzt and Sayid drew behind Sawyer, Arzt peering over Sawyer's shoulder.
"What's he doing here?" Arzt wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement.
"I believe it was a plane crash," said Sayid mildly. He raised eyebrows to Kate who shrugged while Arzt stared malignantly at the Arab's profile.
"Locke didn't send me," The friendly pitch was starting to slide from the Englishman's voice. He picked at the bandage on his right hand, then met her gaze. "I was looking for you. I found you." He extended his arms. "I want to be a tracker."
"He's already done better than Sawyer," observed Arzt. "I have no problem with him coming along."
"Hey now," objected Sawyer. "You ain't givin' away my spot."
"It's not like you're catching on," began the large man, untying the bandana about his neck.
"Students who initially have the greatest trouble assimilating the lesson often apply it in the practical with amazing ease," said Sayid, and received his second glare of the morning, his first from two directions.
"Are ya standin' up for me or insultin' me, Falafel?" Sawyer stepped back, brow creased, eyes snakelike.
"Hey," Kate cut in sharply, her mouth pulled tight. "Who said the class size is limited to three? And this is no democracy. Stop voting."
She stepped back, scanning their faces, her mind whirling. She considered the morning's progress, and quickly came up with a plan of action: She would work with Charlie and Sawyer while Sayid and Arzt slogged on their own. The condensation was off the weeds and clouds were rolling in, but the "trails" would serve as pushdowns, albeit slight ones. Knowing roughly where the walks had taken place would make it easier to spot the brush that was 'pushed down', the trail. She shared the lesson plan, sending Sayid and Arzt away from her original trail. They could pick from the other two created.
Too late, she realized that the teams were made up of the two that successfully completed the morning exercise and two who, either due to absence or application, had not. Damn. She briefly considered calling Sayid and Arzt back and changing the dance cards, but calculated the grief she would receive and left things as they stood, watching Arzt and Sayid move away.
Kate crossed to the beginning of the path she created earlier, explaining what was to be found, how to find it, emphasizing again to keep the track between line of sight and the sun. Sawyer's face wasn't as blank as Charlie's but she realized she would have to go about describing the skills differently than with her ingrained vocabulary. She half regretted not possessing the old bastard's steely eyes and the ever-threatening air of punishment at his displeasure. She bit her bottom lip, seeking the words, then launched again the point and purpose of the lesson.
Comprehension crept into Sawyer's eyes but he downplayed it. She had to repeat Charlie's name numerous times and tried to drive home the lesson repeatedly to the Englishman.
They broke for lunch, forming a small circle, mango for everyone. Kate was delighted to sit after thoroughly working the meadow with her team of men. Arzt and Sayid were practiced enough to be bored. She was pleased with Sawyer's improvement and puzzled with Charlie. The musician was distracted, not listening, not looking. After being so gung-ho, his lack of attention made no sense. She glanced over at the scruffy blonde man, noting the fingers tapping his knees, while Sayid and Arzt played trump-this with boar facts. Sawyer stretched out, eyes closed: the southerner was at recess. Too bad the sun had retreated behind clouds to make incomplete the image of his rangy frame sunbathing.
Sayid began with the fact that he spoke to Locke as the older man returned to the camp early in this morning. Locke had shared that he and Boone were indeed hunting feral pigs, but the presence of the human camps had disrupted the nesting matriarch's habitats, causing the wily mammals to move out of the immediate area. Arzt disagreed with this assessment. He first cited the animal's complete scientific classification, then stated with great authority that since sus scrofa were nocturnal, the survivors weren't about when the pigs were, so there wasn't any conflict. Sayid returned that the new hunters should concentrate on finding a different water source. The caves were too populated, regardless of sleeping patterns, for any animal to utilize it as a watering hole and that fact would cause a shift in patterns.
Charlie worked his lips in and out of his mouth, his eyes darting about the faces around him. He didn't eat any of the mango, juggling it from hand to hand. He suddenly dashed it to the ground and jumped to his feet, shouting, "Right! Why aren't we in there looking for Claire?" He shook his hand at the thick brush of the jungle. "That's why you're really out here, right? I don't get what you're playing at." He turned to Kate. "Why are you doing this? She's still out there!"
"Charlie," Kate stood. "What are you talking about?"
"Claire! You're out here to find Claire, yeah? You've been looking for Claire and you won't let me help. You have to let me help. Now let's stop this and get on with it." He grabbed Kate's shoulder and started to shake her. "Kate!" Charlie beseeched. "Claire!"
With a sharp twist, Kate broke his hold. "Stop that!"
Sawyer was on his feet seconds before Arzt and Sayid. The tall shaggy man pulled Charlie an arm's length from the woman.
"What's the matter with you, boy?" Sawyer demanded, keeping his hand wrapped around the younger man's bicep.
"You're the only ones still looking!" gulped Charlie, his eyes filling with tears. He angrily swiped them with the back of his hands. "You're the only ones still looking for Claire. You have to let me help. I have to find her!" He yanked himself free of Sawyer, unbalancing himself in the process and falling to the grass.
"Charlie," Kate moved to kneel beside the downed man.
Sawyer took a menacing step towards them.
Kate shook her head minutely and spoke kindly. "Charlie, no one here is trying to exclude you. We really aren't looking for Claire. Sweetie, if Locke can't find her trail, there isn't one."
"The old codger isn't looking!"
She sighed and touched his hand. "If we were looking, you could come with us. But I'm really just trying to teach how to find boar."
"There isn't any boar! Locke said so this morning!" cried Charlie, his face anguished.
"Your hand is bleeding," Kate pointed to the darkening bandage, almost happy to have this as a distraction. "You need Jack to take a look at that."
"It's a cut. He's already tended to it," Charlie pulled his knees under his chin and glowered.
"It's bleeding again," said Kate patiently. "You can't stay out here with an open wound. You need to go back." She looked to the standing men. "He needs to go back."
"I'll accompany him," stated Sayid calmly. "Come, Charlie. You can join Kate's class with the next group."
"Wait a minute," declared Arzt. "It makes more sense for me to go back with Mr. Music. This is a refresher course for me, remember? I can miss half a day and not be behind. You two need the instruction and the practice. Remember, theory and practice provides proficiency."
He stooped beside the huddled figure. "C'mon, Charlie. Let's go. You can show me how you found us. I can see that you're a lot better at this than Sawyer."
Charlie sighed heavily, resignation etched in his sagging form. He wearily climbed to his feet. "Somebody has to look," his voice shook, his eyes downcast. "She's still out there."
Arzt nodded to the small knot and started across the field, his arm around Charlie's stooped shoulders. Charlie was cradling the bandaged hand in the other. They headed in the direction of the beach, Arzt's hand waving in lecture mode.
"Poor Charlie," said Kate, mouth twisted sympathetically, watching them go. "He's so lost."
"Yeah, well ain't we all?" replied Sawyer. He looked to Kate. "So now what, teach?"
She took a breath, turning to face the heavy growth yards beyond them. "Time to hit the jungle," Kate declared, meeting Sayid's gaze. She glanced to Sawyer with a pert smirk. "Sooey sooey."
They walked in tandem, silent, for a time. The trees cut a lot of the sun but seemed to double the humidity. Kate smoothed her hair back with both hands and lifted it off her neck. She forgotten anything with which to tie it back or up, and now regretted it. Not only was it sticky against her neck, the clamminess was causing it to frizz.
They wouldn't stay out much longer, she mused. Charlie's outburst reminded her that covering the survival fundamentals wasn't enough on the island. Water, food, shelter, the great luck to have a doctor among their number, they weren't sufficient to keep Claire safe. The girl did nothing to endanger herself and yet was missing. The pilot did little more than stretch after surviving the crash, and the move proved to be fatal.
She shuddered, the image of that tattered body in the trees chilling her. Suddenly, she wanted to huddle close to Jack and pretend to be safe. She wanted to be back in high school, running with Tom. She wanted to back in the woods with a half empty bucket of berries. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere.
Nothing else bad had happened since Claire's disappearance, she reminded herself. The island was as dangerous at this moment as it had been two days ago, she told herself sternly. She could take care of herself. She always took care of herself. She always had. Eat, drink, sleep. Keep to the basics; that included thoughts. Don't dwell on what couldn't be changed. Don't wonder for a minute what was happening to Claire, if anything still could.
Eat, drink, sleep. Don't think about the Thing. It was the sensible thing to do. She was sensible. She kept her head. She had a practical streak so strong that her mother called it ruthlessness, insisting it was frightening. Not that it took much to frighten Diane. The old bastard terrified her mother. So, when her daughter decided to do something, the daughter did it, and when this scared her mother, it was the natural order of things.
Not that it didn't sting to see Diane cower: no daughter wanted her mother to think her a psychopath. Kate knew right from wrong. Patrick and Diane's little girl had it beat into her on a regular basis. Sayid torturing Sawyer, that was wrong. Boone hiding the last of the water was stupid, but not wrong. Not telling everyone about the radio transmission that was blocking the transceiver, that was wrong. But it wasn't completely wrong. See, she said to her absent parent, she could see shades of grey.
But the Thing on the island wasn't grey. It wasn't confronting her at this moment.
Neither was Ethan.
Right now, it wasn't time to count to five. Five was for emergencies. This wasn't an emergency. This was being justifiably aware of danger. Then ignoring the fear that came with it. She couldn't fall to the ground and cry in terror. It would serve no purpose. It wasn't practical. So, Charlie's outburst hadn't spooked her at all.
"Hey school marm," called Sawyer from behind her. "I don't mind followin' ya into the heart of the jungle." He considered his words. "Ya know I do mind followin' ya into the heart of jungle. You got a destination in mind?"
She stopped walking, glad of the interruption. It stopped the noise in her head. She turned. "Um. The best case, I'd like to find a nest or some signs of feeding, regular or patched."
"Yeah. Think ya'll be doin' that soon?" He made a quizzical face. "Either it's cloudin' up out there, or it's later than I think. Should we be headin' back?"
"I'd really like to find a feeding run. You know, clues the beast is around," she replied. "Let's go a bit more, then call it a day."
"If it rains enough, runoff could provide a direction to find a water source," said Sayid, stepping closer to Sawyer's back. "That would give us a better starting point to finding the boar's habitat."
"Runoff?" Frowning, Sawyer twisted to face the Iraqi. "We should hang around in the rain in case there's runoff? Omar, that's some of the stupidest reasonin' I've heard in a long time."
"If we start back now and it rains, we will get wet. If we stay here and it rains, we will get wet. I do not see the difference."
"We have a sayin' ya probably don't know bein' from the desert 'n all. It goes along the lines of 'smart enough to get out of the rain'. Think about it."
Sayid said nothing, his eyes holding Sawyer's levelly.
"Ooookay. Lemme spell it out then: the difference is we're closer to camp when the rain hits if we leave now. That means we're wet for a shorter bit a time. What are we – three – four hours away?" Sawyer looked to Kate with the question.
Sayid's neutral expression did not change.
"More like three. Let's just go a little farther," repeated Kate, putting her words to action.
As she walked, she swept the area with her eyes, looking for spots open enough to spot a tusk rub or rooting. Locke was able to point to scored trees with clumps of bristly hair of the boar on the first hunting trip. Right now, she wasn't sure if that was because they had some idea of the direction of the animals, following the trotted prints from the beach or Locke was amazingly good. This hunting party was running blind. It would take dumb luck to trip over a good sign.
She mulled over Sayid's idea of finding a watering hole. Or was it Locke's?
She had no idea if and when it would rain, and if it did, if it would be hard enough to cause the water to run on the surface. It sounded feasible. Would it be worth the wait and discomfort to test it out? It was always possible they were nowhere near a water source, but then they could rule out this area and try another. She wished she had talked to Locke herself. It was possible he and Boone were in the same position, and could at least inform her of the parts of the island the pair had eliminated from their search.
"Fine," snorted Sawyer. "Ignore the voice of reason. Let's walk until we find somethin' to eat us."
Kate twisted to face the disgruntled man. "It would help if you'd look down, Sawyer. Like you said, it's a three-hour walk back. Do you want to walk three hours tomorrow this way to pick it up -"
"The French woman must be near some kinda food supply to make it sixteen years. Why don't we head in her direction?" demanded Sawyer of Sayid.
Kate heaved a sigh of frustration and returned her attention to the ground in front of her.
"That area is very dangerous," replied Sayid, his voice tight. It matched the controlled tone he used when he met she in the fruit grove days back. "You do not want to go there."
"Is it dangerous it, chief? Or are ya scared of her?" snorted Sawyer
Kate swallowed the sigh this time and turned completely around. Sawyer was facing Sayid who was using his tracking stick to push away growth.
"Sawyer - "
"A print!" called Sayid excitedly, pointing down. He dropped on one knee. "It's a print! It looks a shoe print!"
The heavens opened and rain pummeled them with fury.
End chp 4