Chapter 22

Locke had left the caves late the previous evening, and despite still not feeling quite himself had spent a few hours sleeping rough on the jungle floor, tossing and turning in his discomfort.

He had been occupied hunting boar since before sunrise, tracking a large male – who had raided his camp sometime during the night – to a small clearing deep in the heat of the jungle.

Locke had been feeling increasingly nauseous all morning but the thrill of the chase had kept his mind off the sickness, which had left him confined to the caves. Now he lay silently in the undergrowth, his breathing shallow and not so great as he tried to suppress the growing pain in his abdomen. Keeping his eye on the large pig, a slight perspiration started to gather on his forehead as he waited for the appropriate moment to strike – his hunting knife raised and ready.

As the boar steadily moved a little closer to Locke's hiding place he steadied himself, and scrambled clumsily to his feet, before launching himself at the pig as it finally came to a halt a few feet in front of him. As he did so he recoiled in shock as a searing pain struck his abdomen making him cry out in pain – to Locke's horror alerting the boar to his position. He froze, doubled over in silence – it was all he could do to suppress the urge to shout out, as the animal's eyes met with his in a moment that made Locke feel as small inside as the tiniest ant, before in terror it disappeared. He has failed!

His frustrations at losing the opportunity for his first kill in weeks were quickly overridden by the growing fear that the pain in his gut was getting worse rather than better however, and as he tried to straighten up he fell to the floor unable to breathe. Tears of suppressed anger filled his eyes as he began to regret not telling Jack what had really been bothering him. Despite the pills Jack had given him he had only taken a couple for the pain, concealing the rest in his rucksack when the younger man wasn't looking, and inadvertently allowing the virus to take a tighter hold over his weakened immune system. Things had got so bad that he had almost had to give up on the pretence of feeling better.

He knew that if he could control the pain he was now in he would have a much better chance of making it back to the caves – as much as it frustrated him to know that he had probably set his recovery back a number of weeks – and he hurriedly ransacked his bag for the loose pain killers rattling around in the bottom.

He swallowed two of the white pills down in a single gulp, before settling down to wait for the medication to take effect.

Back at the caves Jack was growing increasingly concerned that Locke had not yet returned. After checking on Sawyer, who he was relieved to discover that despite being in a considerable amount of pain was recovering well from the surgery, and spending most of the morning down at the beach with Dexter – cleaning and adjusting his drip – he had hoped that Locke would have retuned sometime around mid-afternoon for his next dose of anti-biotics.

But it was nearly dark when he got back to the caves, and as he came up the path from the beach he was disheartened to see no sign of his return.

"Hey Hurley, you seen John?" He called, as he noticed the other man standing by the waterfall, washing clothes.

"Not since yesterday." Hurley replied. "Why?"

Jack didn't respond – it was then that he noticed Kate emerge from one of the nearby caves.

"What's going on?" She asked as she made her way over to him – an apprehensive frown spread across her face as she noticed Jack's concerned expression.

"Is Locke back yet?" He asked her.

"No… at least I don't think so." She faltered as she tried to recall whether or not she had seen Locke that afternoon – the look on Jack's face making her anxious. "Why? I thought you discharged him." She smiled nervously.

"He's still on anti-biotics." Jack explained. "He should be back by now… if he doesn't get his medication soon he could still become real sick really quickly."

"Then why did you let him go?" Hurley asked, as he approached them, but Jack chose not to respond immediately to the young man, and pulled Kate aside to speak with her more privately.

"This is all my fault." He told her, guiltily, as he guided her in the direction towards Locke's cave. Kate watched him with concern as he began to sort through the jumble of old airline cushions and blankets that had made up Locke's temporary bed. As he lifted a couple of the cushions he heard a subtle click, and looking down noticed a couple of small white pills at his feet.

"What are they?" Kate asked as he bent down to pick them up.

"Locke's painkillers." He sighed as he observed the medication gravely. "He obviously hasn't been taking them. Damn!" Jack slammed his fists down on the bed in frustration.

"We'll find him." Kate tried to reassure him. "Maybe he just lost track of time."

"I thought I was doing the right thing." Jack told her. "I just wanted to try and get him to open up to me. He seemed so much better yesterday. I saw no reason to keep him copped up in here any longer than he had to be."

Kate gave him a quizzical look, encouraging Jack to elaborate on what he meant.

"Locke's hiding something from me Kate, I'm sure of it!" He said.

"Like what?" She asked him.

"I'm not sure, but I'm convinced it's something to do with his condition." He told her.

"Right, well we'll organise a search party for him." She said as she wrapped her arms around Jack's waist and squeezed his ribs reassuringly.

"We will find him!" She told him.

"I know." Jack smiled as he turned to embrace her too. "I know…"

But he wished he felt as sure of this as he tried to sound. He had no doubt that, between them, they would find Locke – whether they would find him in time though was another matter.