Chapter Four: Waking

It was funny, Kate thought, as she woke groggily from a restless slumber, that just when you thought you'd experienced the lowest of lows, life dealt you the next worst hand. Immediately after the crash, Kate was sure there couldn't nights any more closer to Hell than what they had gone through in those first few days. Sleeping unsheltered, dazed and hungry, near forty some strangers and a secret to die for in the middle of nowhere with an everpresent monster or the equivalent to what sounded like one, had, at the time, been the worst of the worst. But now, she realized sleepily, at least then she had been with other people and she had the decision of sleeping stretched lengthwise or curled in a ball. Both were now distinctly missing.

Steeling herself against the inevitable crack in her neck as she corrected its odd angle and the pins and needles feeling just below the burn in her thighs, Kate shifted as much as she could to relieve the numbness in her limbs. To her horror, the movement made painfully clear one of the most uncomfortable pressures of all—she needed to pee, and badly. She groaned softly in frustration. What she wouldn't give for a hundred more nights post plane-crash. That was heaven compared to this.

She glanced up at the doorway and noticed the faint glow around its edges that hadn't been there the last time she had woken. For a minute, she almost resigned herself to the fact that is was still night and one of the Others was patrolling by with their fiery torches just outside her hut. But that glow would have been orange and flickering, not the pale steady blue leaking through the cracks now. It had to be near sunrise.

Before Kate could congratulate herself on the observation, a shadow moved on front of the door, momentarily blocking the friendly light from view. The same young girl who had ungagged Kate earlier stepped cautiously through, her hands clutching a roughly hewn bowl and a poor excuse for a cup. She whispered a barely audible "Good morning," and set the meager offering before Kate. It smelled like mango and fried fish.

"I'm sorry it's not much," she said, moving to untie her captive's bound wrists. "But it's all they'd let me bring." She worked diligently at the knot, paused in her work, and then added as an afterthought, "Don't run okay? Or I'll have to shoot."

Only then did Kate notice the rifle slung across her back and the image of Rousseau blended frighteningly with the kneeling girl before her. Shaking off the uncanny resemblance, Kate could only nod her affirmation to the girl, who then quickly removed her bonds and stepped back to let her captive eat.

An awkward silence fell between them as Kate stretched luxuriously, rotating the stiffness out of all her joints. The other girl never once took her eyes off of her. That's okay, Kate mused, reaching for the fruit first and sinking her teeth into the cut mango. It's not like I've haven't ever had this "security" before.

The more she ate, the more aware Kate become as to how hungry she really was. She cleared out the bowl and the water in no time and found herself wishing there was more. Then a thought occurred to her. The other girl looked fidgety as if she wanted to ask something but wasn't quite sure of the words. Well, if they were going to keep her ungagged, she may as well try to find something out about… anything.

"Are you Alex?" Kate asked, taking a stab in the dark. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

At the sound of her name, her eyes widened and Kate noticed that she had been wrong before. Her eyes were a vivid blue, and the image of Rousseau came crawling back into the hut. It was amazing really, how a trait could be passed on like that. The only difference was the eyes staring at her now were devoid of that crazed paranoid look that had always made Kate suspicious of the woman; these eyes were inquisitive and trusting.

"Ummm…" she stammered, glancing nervously at the closed door. "Yeah, I'm Alex. How'd you know my name?"

A question for a question. Fair was only fair.

"Claire told me about a girl that helped her escape," Kate said slowly, gauging the girl's reaction.

"Claire?" Alex's voice changed noticeably at the mention of the Australian's name. "Is she okay? Did she have the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?"

The sudden flood of questions signalled a score for Kate. But like an experienced poker player, Kate knew to remain on guard even with this small victory.

"I'll answer your questions, if you answer mine," she offered, pushing the empty bowls towards Alex, as if pushing her bet across the velvet of a card table and waited for her opponent's response. Slow play it, Kate. Just like Jack with his kings wired.

Again, the nervous glance toward the door, the movement letting the light glare warningly off the barrel of the rifle. Kate winced slightly at the ugly reminder and forced herself to look away.

"Okay but not here," Alex whispered. She came forward and offered her hand to help Kate up and pulled her towards the door. "I have to take you out for ten minutes. We can talk by the stream."

She peeked out carefully, surveying the outside area and then turned back to Kate. "There are rules though."

Kate felt like sighing and rolling her eyes. Of course there were rules. There always were. But she nodded, feeling the pressure against her bladder screaming for cooperation.

"Don't look for them. They won't be out. Don't talk or yell. You'll lose your privilege. And if you run or do anything…" Alex paused. "I will shoot."

"I promise."

Alex stared at Kate hard and then said, "Okay, let's go."

Tom sat by the fire, holding a pan of filleted fish over the glowing embers and smiled as the meat sizzled and popped over the intense heat. Even though his back was turned to the hut, he could hear the whispers of the two captives inside, no doubt discussing their next move. He smiled and chuckled to himself. It wasn't really like those two had much of a choice. But who was he to ruin their fun? They'd find out soon enough just how out of their control this situation was.

Footsteps approaching made him look up and drop all thoughts of the two men inside. A weary looking Kate, rubbing at her wrists, and a watchful Alex, gun in hand, strolled by. Alex shot him the slightest nod of confirmation that she was indeed behaving, a nod he reciprocated. Good girl Alex, he thought, watching their backs retreating farther away. He kept his eyes on them a minute longer before their silhouettes merged with the early morning shadows of the towering rock formation over the camp.

Keep an eye on her, he reminded himself. But about which her he was referring to, even Tom couldn't really tell.