chapter 5/6
Kate instinctively glanced at the sky but the lashing drops forced her to lower her gaze. What was it that Charlie had called the cloudburst that day when looking for the cockpit? End of the world type weather? The sky poured water as if trying to wash them away.
"What is it?" she started towards the men, tripping over a clump of grass in her haste. She struggled to keep her balance. Already the rain made footing tricky – things were slick, it was hard to see.
It brought to mind the horrible dash through the jungle when Claire and Charlie were taken. She half expected to see Jack, prone in the mud, muttering about Ethan. She still wasn't sure if guilt and exhaustion had been the culprits for Jack's battering or if Ethan had actually been there. There had been no sign of Ethan when she found Jack. She struggled yet with the idea of Claire and Charlie waiting patiently while Ethan took the time to pummel Jack. Or that Ethan had stashed the pair without leaving sign of it.
Sayid was kneeling, trying to protect his find from the pounding downpour. He watched Kate's progress. "Here," he said when she was by Sawyer's side. He leaned back, using the staff for balance.
Sawyer towered over him. "It's mine," he said with disgust, peering down at the indentation in the now crumbling sandy soil over Sayid's shoulder.
"Is it Sawyer's?" she asked, dropping to her knees, shoulder to shoulder with Sayid.
"No." Sayid pulled back to let her view the print, his hair dripping spirals. "His boot heel is different from this. This is a distinct heel. Separate from the shoe. Or it was." He frowned deeply, watching the print melt into a small indentation.
She squinted. The light was reduced and the curtain of rain was not helping visibility. If there hadn't been the sand content, it would have been a puddle of mud. As it was, she could just discern the shape.
"Then it's his," persisted Sawyer.
"I am wearing track shoes." Sayid slid his eyes up to meet Sawyer's.
"Then it's hers!" Sawyer pointed at Kate. "And what makes you the expert, Arzt Junior? There's not a wire or a battery on the damn thing."
"No. No, it's not mine, Sawyer," replied Kate, shaking her soaking head. "It's getting hard to see but it's too wide for me. Plus I was walking over there."
"You told Dan'l Boone not to use position," Sawyer protested.
"Practice and practical sound alike but they're not," she snapped. Arghh. She was quoting her father. She fruitlessly pushed her bangs to the side in a vain attempt to reduce the water cascading down her face. She met Sayid's gaze. "You're right. It's a footprint. Could be a boot."
She straightened, sighing. Sayid rose next to her. She scanned the area ahead. There were enough broad leaves that it was possible to find some continuation of the mark. With a lot of dumb luck. But it took luck to find this in the first place.
"It seems to be heading that way," Sayid gestured deeper into the forest.
She nodded, her lips twisted wryly. Of course it was. It wouldn't make sense for them to head back to the beach, back towards their camp, no matter how much she'd like that right now. "Let's go." She took a small stride directly ahead of the print and stooped to examine the ground. "The average stride isn't so big. If he's moving in a straight line, we should be able to find -"
"Hold on a minute," sputtered Sawyer. "It's gettin' dark. This is actin' like an all night soaker and you two wanna keep goin'?" He took a breath and added dramatically. "Lord, save me from heroes."
"Sawyer, it's a human print," said Kate, peering at the sandy soil as she pushed foliage aside.
"It's a boot print. If it ain't you and ain't me and ain't him, then it's gotta be Locke," argued Sawyer. "You're gonna track yourself right back to camp." He paused. "So why am I arguin' about that?"
"Rousseau said that there are others on the island," stated Sayid, the excitement in his voice edged with a note Kate couldn't quite place. She wished she could study his face. He stepped ahead of her and kneeled. He used his stick to push aside the vegetation as he scoured the area.
"Ya look like you're lookin' for a contact lens." Sawyer spun slowly about in a tight circle, palms up. He stopped as he faced the two again. "You can barely see two feet in front of ya and you two-"
Kate rose and shifted her search to the right. Sayid did the same to the left. If there was a print to be found to match this one, this was the way to find it, she mulled. Never had she worked in such a hard rain, and couldn't imagine having any success, yet she couldn't squelch the hope for another find.
"You two are ignorin' me. Fine," spat Sawyer.
Kate stood, and watched as Sawyer straightened his back, his jaw sliding from side to side. "You could help," she stated irritability. "You know how."
"Here!" cried Sayid.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. She glared at him and joined the kneeling man, sharing a look of excitement. She inspected the find carefully.
Again, a large leaf had both protected and hidden the sign of passing. Pressed into earth was a much sharper shape of a heel, the rounded edges softening as the rain, impossible to deflect entirely, reached them. Either more force was exerted on this step or the medium was softer. Kate examined the leaf. In full light, she might have noticed the bruising. Then again, she was no Locke. Luck was still with them.
She fumed with the frustration of this happening now, in this weather, at this time of day. This could be so much easier and so much faster! Without the driving rain, she could try to age the print. With the sun, she could sight up the trail of the bruised flora. She pushed the irritation away. There were bigger considerations here: was it Ethan? Could it lead to Claire? Was it the French woman's others?
"Well?" demanded Sawyer impatiently.
"Good!" she grinned at the dark-haired man in front of her.
Despite the heavy rain, she could see his brown eyes dance in response.
She turned her face to Sawyer. "It's a boot." She climbed to her feet, Sayid mirroring her movement. "Now we can get his stride," she said with satisfaction. Circumstances be damned. They were making progress. Under more normal conditions, she would forego the tracking stick, but now the tool was a big help.
Sayid stepped around Sawyer, and returned to the original print. The Iraqi placed the tracking stick at the heel of the track and angled it so that it reached the second. He fumbled with the knife as he pulled it from his belt. It slipped from his grasp and bounced, handle first, to the ground and disappeared under the foliage.
Kate cursed the passing time as Sayid scrambled to find the loose blade. They were working against the wrong side of the light clock.
"Here," Sawyer offered his hunting knife to Sayid. "If you two gonna insist on followin' this, let's get the followin' done. I'll find yours."
Sayid nodded, taking the implement. He moved to the second print, quickly notched the staff with the stride's length, then pulled it to place it from this heel. Kate covered the maximum distance it indicated, sweeping aside plants with her hand. This could speed things up. Sayid, knife returned to sheath, worked just behind her and to her left.
"Got it!" she announced, feeling satisfaction deep in her chest. This was good.
Sayid peered over her shoulder and met her small smile. "It is the same size."
"Could it be Locke's?" she asked lowly, not wanting Sawyer to hear.
"When I spoke to him this morning, I looked at his feet. The boots that he wore are similar to yours and Sawyer's," said Sayid in kind. He cast his eyes down, considering. He met her gaze. "I was attempting to study the prints about his camp when he returned with Boone. It was not fully light and my skill level is very basic, but I do not believe that these match ones near Locke's lodging."
Kate nodded, satisfied. "Good. Let's keep going." She stood. Sawyer was not behind them. She scanned the area. "Sawyer!" she called, feeling a flicker of exasperation. It was replaced by fear, as there was no sign of the man.
Sayid positioned the tracking stick and straightened to full height. He turned, brow furrowed.
"Sawyer's missing," said Kate glanced over her shoulder at the Iraqi, her forehead creased with worry. "Dammit." She huffed a sigh. "Keep going. I'll find him."
"It would not be wise-" argued Sayid, closing the distance between them.
"Lay some wisdom on us, Balthazar," Sawyer emerged from the curtain of flora and rain to make his way to them.
"Here." Sawyer offered the recovered knife to the former military man. Sayid shrugged and while the knives were traded, Sawyer said, "Don't stop on account of me. Just checkin' out the neighborhood." He smiled at Kate with a full dimple effect.
She closed her eyes. The day was catching up with her: her legs were tired, and being wet was irritating, and she was chilled, and Sawyer's smile was warm, inviting. "Just stick with us, please." He was so aggravating and worrying and adorable.
"Ya don't have much light left, sweetheart." Sawyer winked. "I suggest ya make hay."
Kate cocked her head, holding his blue eyes with hers, her mouth narrowed. Some day she would thnk about why at times she found him amusing and others annoying. That wouldn't be today. "C'mon Sayid, let's keep going." She returned to the task at hand.
The two continued working the trail. Procedure and luck prevailed. Each stride had left a mark. Kate was pleased: an unbroken trail was highly unusual. Given the conditions, her bag of tricks wouldn't be of much use if a print was missing. They relied more and more heavily on the tracking stick as the light grew dimmer. With each track found, Kate wondered how much longer the light would hold out. With each stoop, she wondered how much longer her knees would hold out. As she watched Sayid stand and kneel, she could see he was trying to ignore the stiffness of his leg. He was losing the battle.
Sawyer kept pace with them, making short forays out of Kate's sight. She didn't like it, but wasn't going to take the time to run him down and herd him back. The errant student made certain that she was aware when he caught up so she wasn't completely unhappy. She had to acknowledge that she and Sayid didn't really need him right now and that Sawyer was not a fan of playing the fifth wheel.
"Kate." Sayid's voice curled with irritation. She suspected it was not the first time that he spoke.
She shook her head to clear it. "Sorry." She made her way to his indistinct form. "Found one?" She bent at the waist, hands on her knees.
"No." Sayid sat back on his heels. "As we thought before, it's too -"
"Hey Scully," called Sawyer. He drew close enough to be seen as a blob. "Grab Mulder there and c'mon."
"What?" She peered into the rain, trying to see the man's face clearly.
"Time to call it a night, Freckles. Grab the boar wonder and c'mon. I found a drier spot," Sawyer took her hand and tugged her up. His fingers were cold, like hers.
"I'm going to mark the last print," said Sayid. "So we can find it in the morning."
"Whatever. Just make it quick like." Sawyer gave her hand a pull and began to lead her away. She was tired enough to drift with him.
Kate didn't see or hear a response from Sayid but the sound of ripping cloth could be heard under the rain. The pale blur that was Sayid floated like a ghost away from them. She fought a yawn, allowing the hand holding hers to act as a tether to the hope of the day ending.
"It's done." Sayid's voice, by her left, was unmistakable.
Kate reached out with her free hand, touched a muscled arm and slid her fingers to a long fingered hand. They were now a human chain of three. "Home, James."
Sawyer grunted and they moved slowly what felt west of their path. There was the odd color of the surreal about the adventure now. All that was concrete were her jarring steps on the slick ground, the two hands in hers, the constant pull from Sawyer, the irregular gait of Sayid. She had no sense of time or place.
It brought to mind being a child roused from sleep, carried in her father's arms to the car. There was nothing to separate the dreams from the images passing the car window as they drove through the dark to whatever adventure the old man had planned for them next.
Sawyer led them to a thick copse of trees with leaves that stopped the constant rain on her shoulders. There was no conversation. They were too tired. Although sleeping close made sense in the sharing of body heat, no one, not even Sawyer, suggested it. Within arm's length was tacitly understood and executed for safety purposes. They curled in close proximity of one another and slept.
Kate woke with Sawyer pressed against her back, his elbow resting on her hip and his hand resting lightly on her breast. Sayid's hair was ticklish near her chin as he curled close, his breath soft on her skin, her hand on his side. The ground was hard under her but she was warm and only faintly damp. She closed her eyes and enjoyed for a little while longer the sensation of being safe, the muscled bodies surrounding her.
Sayid's breathing changed and he eased away slowly.
Kate opened her eyes, meeting the brown ones. "Good morning," she said quietly with a small smile.
Sawyer stirred behind her. His hand was withdrawn quickly. "The last time I woke up with this many people, the ladies were twins, and I had one hell of a hangover."
Sayid considered Sawyer, skepticism evident in his creased brow. Sawyer shrugged, satisfied grin covering his face. Kate shook her head. Truth or lie, either was likely with Sawyer.
The self-proclaimed debaucher propped himself onto his elbows as Sayid sat up. Kate flexed her shoulders, tugged her shirt smooth, and climbed to her feet. Waking in clothes was never her favorite thing to do - the connotations were never happy ones - and the waistband and seams of her jeans were still damp. She touched her hair tentatively, freeing a few small twigs and leaves. She tried to comb it with her fingers, doubting her success to tame its wiry response to yesterday's humidity. She pulled back the thick tresses with both hands, rolled up the length, and wrapped a few hairs about it as a tie. It would have to serve.
Appearance attended, she looked around, appreciating being able to see more than two feet in front of her. She was pleased with what she saw.
The small knot of trees that had protected them from the rain last night with their broad leaves, was also hosting the woody vine of kiwi fruit. Room with a roof and a snack machine too. She studied the trunks of the trees. Where was the easiest access?
"Anyone want breakfast?" she asked, following the vine with her eyes until spotting a cluster of brown orbs.
"Got bacon 'n eggs?" asked Sawyer lazily. "Like mine sunny side up."
She disregarded the comment, instead selected a multi-branched tree and scrambled up. She tugged on a fruit. It resisted. Not exactly ripe. She didn't care. Her stomach was growling and she was going to put something in it. She tried another. Same resistance. She yanked.
"So," Sawyer sat up, wrists on bent knees, watching her. "Once we're done eatin', ready to head back to the camp for reinforcements?"
She looked from the kiwi in her hand to Sawyer, then launched it at the man. It glanced off his shoulder.
"Hey!" Sawyer jumped to his feet, hand rubbing the spot. "That hurts!"
"Sorry." She plucked a small ovoid with a snap of her wrist. "Sayid!" She gently lobbed this one to the
dark-haired man who deftly caught it. "They're a little on the hard side but I'm not being picky."
"At this moment I believe that I could eat the vine," replied Sayid, dropping the fruit and pulling plant debris from his hair. He pulled it away from his face and off his neck, then released it with a look of regret. The rain had done nothing to calm his curls.
She collected about a dozen pieces, pitching them to Sayid one by one. Sawyer glared and stomped about the entire time. Provisions collected, Kate descended nimbly.
"C'mon, Sawyer. I know you're hungry. Let's eat," she coaxed as the tall man scowled and moved an exaggerated distance from her, massaging his shoulder.
She sank next to Sayid who was peeling the thickish hairy skin from the green flesh with a knife. He speared a denuded fruit with the blade and offered the handle to her.
"Do you have any water in your knapsack?" he asked as she hungrily bit into the tough kiwi, taking care to avoid the knife's edge.
"I think I'm out," she mumbled, mouth full of very sharp tasting fruit. "Ummm. You might want the vine. That's …" she swallowed, widened her watering eyes and pursed her lips. "Tart. Wow."
"Didn't ya pack for an overnighter, scooter?" Sawyer plopped next to Sayid, extending a half full bottle. "Another reason to head back, Freckles. When the overage boy scout ain't prepared, no one is."
Sayid accepted the bottle and drank.
"What is your hurry to get back to camp?" she said with exasperation. "We have all day. You have a library book due today?"
"I'd like to change my clothes," Sawyer retorted. He plucked a kiwi from the pile by Sayid, eyeing it skeptically. "'Sides, we gotta be missin' some meals worth eatin'." He pulled his knife from its holster and began to saw slices. As a jagged slice plopped onto his leg, he shook his head. "Didn't think ya could cook."
Kate handed Sayid his knife and selected the largest kiwi. She'd try it with the skin, she told Sayid. It couldn't hurt the taste. She bit into it tentatively, decided that choking was a better risk than tasting, and swallowed as quickly as possible, taking as big a bite as she thought safe.
Since she was making decisions, Kate proposed that they return to the site of the last print. At Sawyer's less than thrilled expression, she considered and offered that at noon they would turn around to head back to the beach. She caught Sayid's surprised then irritated countenance in the corner of her eye, but chose not to address it. He didn't squawk like Sawyer did every five minutes, and who knew where they'd be or what they'd have found by noon.
They ate what they could of the morning fruit. It was not the most satisfying meal, she and Sayid agreed but it stilled the stomach pangs. Sawyer interjected the pangs weren't stilled so much as pickled. This did not stop them from dropping the remaining uncut pieces into Sayid's backpack. With luck, they wouldn't need it. But the Irish in her always cottoned to the notion that if she left something behind, need for it would bite her on the ass four blocks away.
The quick scan over her shoulder of the night camp as they departed was an ingrained habit. Too many hotel rooms, boarding house stays. Of course, there was nothing to retrieve. She turned her head as Sawyer and Sayid left their stand of trees, and hurried to catch up.
Sawyer led them through the rain and dew soaked foliage for short distance. "Here we are, children. Go find your pretty tracks. Ya have until noon." He spotted a large hump of rock and sauntered to clamber onto its mossy top. "I'll be here."
Sayid peered to the left then right. He frowned deeply. "This is the proper location?"
"What?" Sawyer's voice was peeved. "It might not be the exact spot, skippy, I'm not the star pupil 'n all but I'm pretty sure this is where we were."
"I don't see my mark," murmured Sayid with frustration.
"What did you use?" asked Kate, scanning the area and when nothing caught her eye looked back to Sayid.
"My tracking stick. I pushed it into the ground as deeply as I could and –"
"Way to go, genius. I'm sure a stick is gonna jump right out at us here in the jungle, with such a shortage of 'em around," scoffed Sawyer on his perch. "Poor Hansel. Birds eat your bread crumbs?"
"I fastened material from my shirt as a tie. It should be visible." He scowled deeply at Sawyer. "If we are in the right place."
"If we're not, guess you're gonna have to get yourself back there. But over there," Sawyer gestured with his left hand. "Is where I took Miss Kate's hand." He grinned, straightened his legs, and dropped his pack. "Better get movin'. Ya only got until high noon."
"I don't remember a rock of that size anywhere near us," argued Sayid.
"Of course not, Dan'l. It didn't have a track on it." Sawyer smiled slowly and leaned back. "Tick. Tock."
"You go that way," Kate pointed to her right, trying to circumvent the explosion that was brewing as Sayid's temper frayed and Sawyer taunted. "I'll go this way. Let's look. I'm not recognizing much either, but he was the one that was going back and forth. I think we have to trust him on this."
She watched as Sayid considered, words rising to his lips to be swallowed. He nodded and tramped slowly in the direction that Kate indicated, examining the area low and high.
She shook her head at Sawyer, and searched the area before her on the off chance they somehow left evidence of their passing. She didn't think there was much of a possibility the rain hadn't washed most away but maybe something –
"Here!" shouted Sayid. "Over here!"
Kate spun and ran. She suddenly felt lighter. She hadn't realized how much she wanted to return to Jack with a proof of her worth. Locke couldn't find Claire. Not alone. Maybe with Kate's help, they could bring the pregnant girl home.
Sayid was kneeling, studying the land. Déjà vu, smiled Kate.
He shook his head, frowning, as she joined him. He pointed to the ground. "It's the strip of cloth that I had tied. It's here. But the stick is missing."
"The stick is missin'," drawled Sawyer as he strolled over. "Maybe ya didn't tie it tight enough. Maybe your flag turned into a kite and flew away."
Sayid lifted the bit of fabric. It was muddied but a loop was much in evidence.
Sawyer shrugged. "Don't mean it didn't fly off."
"No, it does not," Sayid stood, frustration evident, his hands opening and closing into fists. "Neither does it mean that it did."
Kate pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked up and down the area, feeling the enormity of the odds of finding the tracks again. She sighed. It had been too good to be true. Now her luck had flipped back to its standard state. All hands lost. Abandon ship.
Except she couldn't. The stubborn in her reared its head.
She had a deadline, one she knew Sawyer would enforce, so she couldn't waste too much time hunting for the grail. She should look. Sayid should look. Sawyer should look. He wouldn't but he should. They should try to find some print, some path of broken or bruised plants, some bit of fabric in the tip of a sharp branch. Yesterday's gift had to be repaid even if it was only in time.
Even wet, the fabric didn't weigh much. If tossed with manly might, it wouldn't go far. So, she concluded, dropping her arms to her side, start close to where the material was found. Fan out. Maybe it wasn't her luck this time. Maybe it was Claire's.
"Okay," she said slowly. "It's highly unlikely it was dropped where you found it, but I'm starting here. Sayid, take about ten paces that way and see if you find anything," she stressed the word. "That could be one of our tracks from yesterday. Mine, yours, Sawyer's, our mystery guest, your tracking stick, anything from yesterday. Sawyer, ten more paces that way. Same drill. We have to try."
Sayid nodded and marched in the direction she had pointed. Sawyer worked his jaw back and forth, sighed, and ambled to his assignment.
She crouched, getting the sun on top of the foliage. No expectations should mean no disappointment, but her mouth twisted anyway when the field lacked sign of passage. She studied the clumpy damp dirt, working not to push hopes into seeing forms where none existed. She straightened, moved a few feet, and repeated her process.
She was intently studying what might be the rim of a print or just a small ridge of soil when Sawyer called: "Freckles, would ya settle for a path?"
"What?" She stood and scanned to locate him.
Sayid rose from tall grasses and watched.
"In the story that is this landscape, quote the Arzt, I think I found a bookmark," Sawyer all but preened.
"A bookmark?" she couldn't stop the smile. Sawyer had actually listened to the teacher's ramblings? She hadn't.
"A path, a trail, an animal highway, a boar freeway," listed Sawyer.
Kate made her way to stand at his elbow. He pointed ahead to a narrow strip of land that lacked vegetation. It wended its way out of sight. She twisted to look over her shoulder. It did the same behind them.
"I'd say some li'l piggy went to the market on this route," the southerner drawled.
She turned to him, nodding. "Good job. Hey Sayid, come see what Sawyer found!"
It was a trail. Trail meant steady traffic. Steady traffic on this part of the island meant four legs. It was almost enough to make up for losing the single human tracks. She ignored the lingering sense of disappointment that it wouldn't help Claire. That hadn't been the objective of this incursion, she reminded herself. The prints they found may have meant nothing.
How did someone's presence this deep in the jungle mean nothing?
"Do you think it parallels the tracks that we were following?" mused Sayid as he gazed at Sawyer's find.
"How the hell would I know?" retorted Sawyer.
"Worth following, don't you think?" suggested Kate, arms akimbo, pointing her chin as her eyes met Sayid's.
"I am not certain that we should abandon our first find," replied Sayid, his jaw setting to stubborn. "It's possible that we can locate-"
"Tick tock, Mohammad," interrupted Sawyer. "I might agree to stroll down that path past the noon hour, but your tracks in a haystack are gonna be playin' by the agreed to rules. Give it up, man, they're gone."
How many times had she seen that stubborn expression on Sayid's face? When the fuselage burned, when Jack moved to the caves, when she demanded to know where he and Jack were dragging Sawyer? The man answered his own conscience, logic be damned.
Kate sighed. She took a step closer to Sayid, locking eyes with Sawyer for a moment, then lowered her voice for the dark-haired man's ears. "Sayid, let's take this path. You can straggle all you want on the way back. If you find anything, we'll send Sawyer on his way and stay on it to the end. One way or another."
His eyes searched hers, his face a mask of neutrality.
"What are you two up to over there?" demanded Sawyer.
"Let's go," agreed Sayid with a small nod.
She could tell he wasn't happy with the compromise but logic won out. She'd have to tell Jack. "C'mon Sawyer," she called. "Let's see if this little piggy went whee whee whee all the way home."
End Chp 5