The Island, March 2002
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The noise came from deep inside the jungle, consistent in pacing and volume. It belonged to a white Beechcraft plane with two blue stripes running across the center, looking as though it had been painted over a decade ago. It was lodged in between a tree and a row of bushes on the ground, with dirt and grass piled up around it. One of the wings was completely gone, presumably having broken off midair and landing who-knows-where. One of the engines had stopped working completely, and the other was still spinning slowly, sucking nearby plants into its death trap. The tail of the plane was nearly separated from the rest of it, hanging off the back, almost as if it wanted to fall off but it had to keep holding on for reasons unexplained.
A loud cough came from inside the plane, filling the air with a noise other than the creaking plane and the sputtering engine. As the coughing continued, the situation became increasingly clear: Whoever had been flying the plane was alive.
From inside, a foot kicked at the window of the plane. While it had been built to withstand more than just the frantic kick of one person, the glass was already damaged from the crash, and whoever was in it only landed the final blow that caused it to give out.
From inside the cockpit emerged a young woman, covered in blood and scratches. She clawed her way out of the plane, managing to get past the broken window before rolling off and landing in the cold mud. Her dirty blond hair spilled out onto the ground as she laid there, attempting to catch her breath. It was clearly dyed, due to the dark roots, but dyed extremely well, making it look like it was her natural hair color. She had brown skin that was covered in blood and dirt, and dark brown eyes that quickly glanced around the jungle that surrounded her.
"Come on, get up," The woman muttered to herself. She had a typical Estuary English accent, although there was a hint of a Parisian tone as well.
Considering what had just occurred, the woman got out easily. She had no significant injuries or wounds, just a lot of bruises and scrapes. There were a few glass shards in her leg from when she broke the window, but other than that, she was fine.
Physically, at least.
It was the sound of rustling and footsteps that finally motivated her enough to stand. She had no weapons, nothing to defend herself besides a broken plane with a busted radio that wasn't going to get her anywhere.
"Who are you?" She called out. "I know you're out there! I just crashed here, I'm not going to hurt you." She wasn't stupid, however, and knew that whoever was coming towards her might want to do her harm, so she picked up the closest thing to a weapon she could find: a fallen tree branch with a sharp end that she held out in front of her, backing up towards the plane.
From the underbrush emerged a single man, wearing an odd jumpsuit, a cloth tied across the lower half of his face, and holding a rifle. The woman backed up instinctively, but the man put his hand out as if to signal that everything was okay.
"I'm not going to shoot," He reassured her in a Scottish accent. "I crashed here too, on a boat." For some reason, the Scottish man looked over his shoulder in between talking, as if someone was following him. Whatever it was, it had him worried.
"You live here?" She asked. "Is there a place I can stay too?"
"No! No, you can't come back to the hatch!" He exclaimed suddenly, causing the woman to nearly jump. "You'll be trapped down there too, pushing that bloody button-"
"I don't care what I have to do, if you have some kind of shelter, I'll take it," She interrupted. "I just crashed on an island, so excuse me if I'm a bit overwhelmed."
"Listen to me," He said urgently. "I need you to trust me. You have to hide, before Kelvin gets back. I'll come with supplies when I can. I know it's sudden, but you do not want to be in that hatch."
The woman wasn't sure what to do. Whatever the hatch was, the Scottish man clearly seemed to hate it, and whoever Kelvin was did not sound like someone she wanted to meet. On the other hand, there was shelter, maybe even food and water that she would have access to.
However, there was something about him that made the woman nervous to go to the hatch, something about the button he mentioned…
"Alright," She said. "Meet me back here, by the plane. If you leave me, I will find this hatch whether you like it or not. Do we have a deal?"
"Aye." He replied. The Scottish man nodded to her and began to walk away, about to leave the woman standing next to her broken plane, holding onto the hope that he was telling her the truth.
"Wait!" She called out. "What's your name?"
"Desmond Hume," The Scottish man said. "And you?"
"I'm Emilie," She replied. "Emilie Arquette."
The Kahana, December 2004
An old white jeep sat in the parking lot to a dock, facing the water and the ships in it. The engine was running, just for a few moments, before it went silent completely. Two of the doors open, both front doors on each side. From the one on the driver's side emerged a young woman with long, wavy brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, eyes a shade of brown just a touch lighter than her hair, and skin that seemed to be tanned from the sun.
The one who emerged from the passenger's side was a man, with features strikingly similar to the woman's. Twins, clearly, although he was much paler than her, and his hair was not nearly as long.
In the woman's eyes, there was clear worry, although what she was worried about was unclear. The man looked worried as well, although less so, and his nervousness seemed to be combined with some form of excitement.
"Are you sure about this?" She asked him. The woman sounded like she was from the east coast of the United States, although she had nowhere close to a strong accent. "We can still turn back."
"I remember," He replied quietly. "I remember why we're here, I remember everything. We can't turn back." The woman looked at her brother sadly, but she knew that he was right.
She hefted her large backpack over her shoulder and walked around the car, heading to the nearby docks. Her brother followed her, although there was really no need since their destination was clear: The giant freighter ship sitting in the water. It was bigger than either of them had ever seen. It was mostly black, although the paint was clear white above the upper deck, with the word Kahana written across it in gold. A woman with long dark hair was sitting at a table near the entrance and checking names off the list, which led the two siblings to believe that that's where they were supposed to check in. Well, the woman at least. The man was too busy studying the freighter intently, looking over every single detail.
"I'll go check us in, okay?" She said to her brother. He only nodded, not looking away from the looming ship. She sighed and paused for a moment before walking over to the table.
"Hi," She began awkwardly to the woman with the clipboard. "Maia and Daniel Faraday, checking in for the freighter?"
"You're the one with perfect memory, right?" The woman replied as she checked two things off her list, probably the names she had just heard.
"Hyperthymesia." She explained. "Yeah, that's me."
"I'm Naomi Dorrit," The dark haired woman said, reaching her hand out. "Welcome to the Kahana, Maia Faraday."