As Hurley started walking down the long pier, he was already making plans. The firm resolve which had been building in him since he learned of Libby's murder had matured not into anger but a determination to lose no more. It was time to turn a page, to acknowledge that he had passed the point of no return.
Good Time Hurley was dead.
He stepped from the pier to the beach and hustled up to the trees without a backward look. His body language radiated fear; he looked pathetic. But one look at his face showed that it was all a performance. The warrior in him had emerged. Twenty feet into the trees, Hugo took a sharp right and ran thirty feet. He was certain the trees had concealed his movement. Dropping to the ground, he crawled on knees and elbows, commando-like, to where he could spy on the pier. Henry had just directed that Jack, Kate and Sawyer be pulled to their feet. It was obvious that the time had come for the Others to take them to their home. A bee began to buzz around Hurley's face, then another and another, he was being stung! He had crawled right over the nest. He covered his face with his hands and rolled to the side 3 times, coming to a stop at a tree. They stopped stinging and he had never even cried out. He got resituated and looked again at the pier.
They were gone! No boat could have come for them, it would have been in view before. He crawled forward and looked down the beach. Some of the Others were headed his way, but there was no sign of the captives or Henry. He spent as long as he could spying for clues as to where they had headed, but as the patrol began to approach his position he had to rise and flee into the jungle.
He didn't stop until he was sure he had covered as much ground as he should have had he walked the entire time. There was a stream there and he bent down to drink. He was thinking, "I have no supplies, no knife, only a water bottle. He scooped up a handful of water and guzzled it down. When he was finished, he lifted his eyes to the sky, seeking the light as a symbol of the hope which he had lost. Hanging in the tree was a tool belt. A construction-type tool belt, with a walkie-talkie and a hammer visible was resting on a branch as though it had been dropped there. Hugo made it fall by jiggling the whole tree. He grabbed it and hustled on into the jungle. He didn't know exactly which direction to go. He did know that he must make a vow. A vow that he could not easily slide away from. A vow that would bind him and transform him and be a part of his very identity. When he stopped to rest again, he knew how to commemorate his vow. He looked in the tool belt. There was a knife. He hefted it, checked its edge, and then, began to cut off his hair.
Sawyer had just been jerked to his feet again when he felt the needle in his butt. He was out in 5 seconds. When he awoke again, he was in a pleasantly furnished, albeit impersonal room. Henry sat at the foot of his bed, Mona Lisa smile firmly in place.
"Mr. Ford, please make yourself at home. If you don't find everything you need, just pick up the phone and someone will help you. Tomorrow a flight has been arranged to take you back to the States. Since you don't have your passport, we'll get you past the border. Then you are free to go."
"Just like that, huh?" sneered Sawyer. "What, no goodbye kiss? You are just gonna put me on a plane and send me home? After screwing with me for two freakin' months? What the hell is goin' on here, Gomer?"
"Nothing that concerns you, Mr. Ford. It seems to me you should consider this a "Get Out of Jail Free" card."
"Yeah, thanks," he replied sarcastically, "Me and Freckles are so grateful to you for scarin' the crap out of us. So tomorrow, we just go home, huh?"
"You go home, Mr. Ford. Ms. Austen and Dr. Sheppard will remain our guests. Enjoy your evening." said Henry as he left.
Sawyer ran to the door, but when it had closed it latched. He pounded on the door, screaming "Open up! Open up!" After a few minutes, he turned away frustrated, then rounded on the door, kicking it with all his might. After checking the room thoroughly and seeing no way out, he decided to make the best of the situation. He ran the shower until the bathroom was more like a steam room. After a long luxurious shower and a shave with a brand new razor, he lounged on the bed wrapped in only a towel. Picking up the phone, he asked the operator "Hey, sweetheart, how about somethin' to eat?"
Forty minutes later, two gun-toting goons escorted the room-service cart in. They didn't speak and left immediately. Sawyer checked out the food: a thick steak, baked potato and salad. He popped the top off a coke and poured it over the ice. For a moment, he enjoyed the fizzling sound, the sight of the condensation on the glass, the feel of the cold in his hand. "Damned," he said, "if I didn't miss ice the most of anything civilization has to offer."
Kate had come to in a room with Jack. She immediately hit the shower when she saw the shampoo, conditioner, luxury soap and moisturizer. Afterwards, there were emery boards, a hair brush and deodorant. She felt vaguely ashamed that she wanted to enjoy all these sensual treats before figuring a way to get Jack out of this.
Jack, for his part, had completely checked out the room with no better results than Sawyer. He picked up the phone and was told, "Dr. Sheppard, someone will be in to see you directly."
He was not surprised that 'someone' was Henry. Henry brought bodyguards, so Jack had no chance to get past him.
"Dr. Sheppard, I know who you are. Your reputation as a surgeon and as a man are spotless. What's more, I know how you love a challenge. I'm here to invite you to join the most important work in history. It is the greatest challenge ever undertaken, and you can be a pivotal part of it."
"Why should I believe a word you say? You've done nothing but harass us, kidnap us and kill us since we came here."
"Your Hippocratic oath as a doctor says "first, do no harm" and yet doctors routinely do harm patients in order to cure them. Cutting off a gangrenous leg for instance; or administering chemotherapy."
Jack's eyes had narrowed at the mention of leg amputation. How much did these people know about the camp at the beach and the caves? "Certainly," said Jack in a nonchalant way, "but we rarely resort to kidnappings and forced caesarean sections."
"Touche," replied Henry, "our situation is a bit more exigent than that of a 21st century American doctor in a hospital. Tell me this: what do you think would be an acceptable price to pay for world peace? I am talking genuine peace: no war, no terrorism, no murders, no beatings, no shootings, no stabbings, absolutely no intentional infliction of death worldwide."
"That's not possible," temporized Jack.
"But what if it were? What if you could be a part of it? What price do you think mankind should be willing to pay to end the killing now and forever?" Henry knew he had Jack now. Jack's face showed an inward looking expression.
Henry said, "I'll leave you to think on it. Order dinner on the phone, have them send you a good bottle of wine. Relax, get cleaned up, get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll talk."
As the door clicked shut behind him, the bathroom door opened and Kate appeared wrapped in the towel sarong-style. Jack decided to let Henry's question wait.