Sawyer whistled in appreciation as his pert little Asian interrogator opened the metal door to allow a metal food cart to be pushed into the room. The smell alone sent a shiver of extasy down his back. It made his belly growl and his mouth salivate. Food truly was the way to a man's heart, especially when the man was on a strict diet of runny protein mush and couldn't remember past the island's usual fare of fruit and fish. The Asian, Brenda, popped a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. Sawyer gave Brenda his sexiest smile as she turned to hand the stem wear to Sawyer's free hand. Sawyer raised the glass in salute before taking a long sip. Brenda blushed and turned back to the cart to retrieve a large covered plate.
Henry burst through the metal door stopping abruptly to avoid colliding with Brenda and the food cart. Henry frowned then stepped around Brenda to sit across from Sawyer. Sawyer sat back in his chair studying Henry's slightly ruffled appearance. Brenda set heaping plates of real mashed potatos, steak, and french cut green beans in front of both of them.
Sawyer held up his other arm as far as the handcuff would allow. "Don't this come off now that I've seen the light and joined your little following?"
Henry gave him a wane smile. "Not until you deliver what you say you can." Henry picked up his fork and knife. "We wouldn't want to develop any habits that might tip off your mark and blow your cover." He pulled Sawyer's plate toward him and quickly cut the steak like a parent does for a small child. "And signing an afidavit on Jack's actions since coming to the island is only half of what we need from you." Sawyer frowned as his plate was shoved back in front of him. His steak chopped and prodded and cut into ridiculously small sized bites. Henry took a sip of wine. "How about we discuss how you think you can get Jack to act for the good of the group against his own emotional needs." Sawyer sighed and picked up his fork. It was still better than the runny stuff they were serving back in the holding room.
Meg lingered at the supply cabinet as her assistant left to check out the woman waiting in exam room #3. Slowly she turned to study the profile of the man lying sedated on the exam table. Two cracked ribs seemed to be the worst of it. She had wrapped his chest to give his ribcage some extra support. There wasn't much more she could do. Meg double-checked that the room had cleared before stepping to his side.
Nude from the waist up there was no mistaking him for Christian. Christian would never have gotten a tattoo. She brushed her fingertips lightly across Jack's skin, tracing the Asian characters tattooed on his shoulder. She wondered what they meant. Were they a form of rebellion? A bid for attention? Christian was quite verbal about his feelings on tattoos and peircings. A thinly veiled act of self mutilation were the words he had used. He was the kind of surgeon that marveled at the balance and form of a healthy human body. Any artists attempt to mark that ideal form came off as clumsy in comparison. She knew because she had once brought the subject up to him.
The sound of the exam room door opening made Meg turn. Her assistant dragged subject 510 into the room. "Can you watch her? Tom's late and I'm desprate to use the bathroom." Quickly flipping a key from his pocket Meg's assistant loosed one of Kate's wrists from the handcuffs and snapped the free cuff around a handicap rail bolted on the wall beside the door. Thanks he called as he rushed from the room.
Kate glanced quickly around the room before settling on the exam table. She watched the blond doctor turn her attention back to Jack. Kate allowed herself a few frightened seconds staring at Jack's motionless hand strapped down against the table. She figured she didn't have time for a full five count so she cut it short at three and turned to study the handrail she was cuffed to. Using her free hand to muffle the metal against metal she slid the cuff over to study how the handrail was attached to the wall.
Kate had begun to test the bolts when Meg's voice caught her attention. "Do you know what these mean?" Kate looked up quickly but was relieved to find the doctor's attention still on Jack. Meg stepped to the side so Kate could see the tattoos she was asking about. Meg glanced at her but Kate shook her head no in answer. Meg smiled to herself and turned back to address Jack. "Your father's going to have a heart attack when he finds out about these tattoos."
Kate frowned. There was something rather unprofessional about the way the doctor's fingers seemed to linger on Jack's shoulder. She wasn't sure what was really going on but she had an urge to disrupt the woman's focus. So Kate responded, "I don't think a heart attack is going to be a problem."
"Hmm?" Meg responded dreamily, lost in a memory.
So Kate tried again, "His father is dead."
Meg turned at that and studdied Kate before glancing back down at Jack. "That bastrd," She said softly. "His own son." Meg sighed then stepped away to face Kate. She motioned towards Jack, "Cracked ribs, painful, but not terribly life threatening on their own. He'll be out for another half hour." Kate nodded and waited. Meg smiled hopefully, "I was hoping you could tell me something about a woman named Libby. Um, petite, blond…" Meg stopped at the look on Kate's face. "What? Is she ok?"
The mention of Libby blind sided Kate. An image of Hurley's distraught face seemed to lodge itself in front of her. The shock of his loss worn openly on his face for all to see. She remembered what that felt like as freshly as that last moment when Tom had lain dead beside her. The feeling of his warmth slowly dissipating. Kate looked away blinking back tears. The crippling mind numbing fear quickly swelling up, threatening to drown her. Instinctively she looked at Jack, marking the slow rise and fall of his breathing. She couldn't seem to find her way clear on most issues between the two of them. But then her issues clouded most things in life. Instead she clung to the one truth that had proven itself time and again. Regardless of the situation, if Jack was ok, she would be too. So she watched his bandaged chest and it's rythm calmed her. "Libby was shot when Henry escaped."
Meg went pale. "What happened?" she whispered.
Kate looked away. "You should ask Henry. He was there."
Flashback
It was dusk. The sun had dipped behind the closest mountain ridge highlighting the sky in golden hues, casting a diffused light into the valley. The heat index was so high the air hissed with steam. The heavy rain forest vegetation drooped like cooked greens and everything dripped from the high humidity. Jack wiped his face against the sleeve on his upper arm then held his hand out. A smaller weathered brown hand slapped a wrench into the waiting palm. Jack nodded and dug into the oily innards of the old truck. Aung leaned forward to watch Jack fight a corroded bolt. Giving the wrench one last frustrated groan Jack gave up on finesse. Holding his hand out for another wrench Jack used it to start hammering at the first wrench.
Aung tutted nervously at the clanging noise giving the dark jungle a worried glance. He shook his head and grabbed Jack's arm to stop him. Aung knew the jungle was unsafe. A family had been found dead a few miles east of the clinic. He was eager to get the truck running again but the noise was sure to bring unwanted attention.
Jack sighed and let Aung wave him away. He pulled his canteen out of the cabin of the truck and watched Aung climb beneath the hood into the engine compartment. Aung's English wasn't very good but he had an uncanny knack to understand what Jack needed done. The reverberating drone of insects was quickly gaining strength. Jack swatted at the cloud of mosquitoes that had begun to collect around him. Twighlight was the worst time to be caught outside. Jack leaned into the truck to roll up the windows before too many insects could collect.
Glancing into the trees he caught a glimpse of jade and the sparkle of light reflecting off water. Walking to the back of the truck he rummaged through the crates of new medical supplies until he found a plastic sample cup and lid still sealed in plastic. He checked on Aung, pointing to communicate that he intended to get a water sample from the river.
Timber bamboo crowded the rivers edge. It creaked and rattled like a huge wind chime. Its tiny leaves flashing in the breeze like schools of minnows. Jack waded out between the huge poles until he could feel the current begin to pull at his pant legs. He tore open the plastic wrapper and dipped the cup into the cool water. He tucked away the wrapping, snapped the cap on, and held the cup of water up so he could watch the sediment begin to drop.
Something large and dark moving in the current caught Jack's attention. He pushed the water sample into a pocket, grabbed a bamboo trunk, and moved to get a better look. The riverbed dropped abruptly. The bamboo roots no longer capable of holding soil against the pull of the water. Jack braced himself and watched the dark object rush away. A stump, Jack guessed.
He was about to turn when another dark lump breached. It bobbed and twisted a few times before disappearing in an under current. Jack turned to find a third one racing toward him from upstream. It collided with a bamboo trunk, caught, and began to flutter in the current like a flag. Jack climbed through the bamboo poles towards it. He was almost on top of it before he made out the pale shape of three human fingers beneath the water surface.
Beneath the hood Aung braced his short legs against the engine compartment and heaved against the wrench. The bolt gave suddenly with a soft pop sending Aung and the wrench headfirst out of the truck into the soft peat. Aung cursed and took his frustration out on the huge mosquito that settled somewhere just above his ear. The bloodsuckers were so huge he didn't need to see it to kill it. He got back to his feet and peered into the gloom under the hood. He had done it! He smiled to himself in accomplishment.
At a shout he turned to find the doctor pushing out of the underbrush carrying something dark, an ill omen. Aung frowned and quickly scanned the tree line on both sides of the jeep trail for movement. His scowl depended when it turned out to be a body the doctor clutched in his arms. Aung jumped to pull open the truck door. The sooner they were on their way the better. Climbing behind the wheel Aung shuddered to hear a raspy breath that didn't belong to he or the doctor.
It took three tries before the truck engine turned over. Each time the engine died Aung swore it was the spirits of the dead that clung to the man the doctor had pulled from the jungle. He quickly popped the clutch when the truck finally coughed to life. It lurched forward and Aung risked a glance at Jack. He was both fascinated and horrified by the battle the doctor waged to pull a life back from the world of the dead.
Night had fallen by the time they pulled up to the low cinderblock building that served as the medical clinic just outside of Beeree. Jack carried the man he had pulled from the river in and settled him on the last available cot in the main room. He checked the bandages he had applied where a finger and thumb had been missing. Cut cleanly through the joints, Jack worried about blood loss and infection from the river. He crossed to a cabinet for a pair of scissors to help him remove the man's river sodden clothing.
By the time Aung had pulled the first crate of supplies in off the truck Jack had the man cleaned and bundled in white to match the occupants of the other cots. Aung hesitated to watch until he felt the listless eyes of a patient shift his direction. He made a warding gesture and quickly slipped out the door to get another crate.
Jack sighed. He could feel the gritty salt of his own sweat chaffing his back and at the bend of his knees. His upper arms were smudged black from the grease of the truck and he could smell himself without even trying. He pushed himself up from the crate of medical supplies that he was cataloging to stretch. He was working his way through the last crate and it looked like the shipment was going to come up short by 50 units. Unfortunately, discrepancies between the shipping manifest and the actual contents was typical. Jack had learned to work with fewer resources and lower standards than he had taken for granted at St. Sabastian hospital.
The sound of an engine caught Jack's attention. He glanced around the over crowded main room. It must have been approaching midnight but the generator kept the room fairly lit. All of the cots were occupied. Many of them surrounded by family members asleep on the cement. Jack wondered where he would fit another patient.
The double screen doors burst open. Three armed men rushed in carrying a forth body. They spoke too quickly for Jack to understand. One of them rushed forward, yelling, to drag Jack toward the closest medical cot. The ill woman occupying the bed went hysterical dragging herself half off the bedding so she could clutch at Jack's hand. Jack eased her back onto the cot. He looked back at the man and struggled to use the small local vocabulary he had acquired. "Mai ao Khrap"
The man grabbed Jack by the shoulder and jerked him back leveled his gun and shot into the cot. Children began to wail. Patients meweled as their family members scrambled to help them out of their cots. The two men carrying the wounded man rushed forward. Jack could only stand in shock as the bloody carcass of the woman was kicked over the side to make room for their own man.
Jack could smell his own burning hair as the group's leader put the hot rifle muzzle to his head. He still couldn't catch any of the words the man was saying, but he understood the shove to his knees beside a wounded man. Hesitantly he reached toward the blood soaked wad of material clutched to the man's gut.
Jack moved the limp hands and bloody bundle aside and gently peeled back the torn jacket to see what looked like a couple hacks from a machete. Jack jumped at the sound of gun shots. The two men who had carried the body stood over a cot across the room watching a body gurgle and twitch. "Hey!" Jack yelled. They glanced at him then turned to the little girl huddled crying at the head of the man they had just killed. Jack didn't hear the warning from the man behind him. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the automatic weapons swung to point at the child. "No!" Jack yelled. He lunged to his feet. Pain exploded in his head. Jack collapsed, his weight catching the edge of the cot. A bed leg snapped and everything toppled sideways into a heap.
Screaming, gunshots, Jack could hear before he could see. He concentrated on suppressing the gag reflex that rushed forward as his sight began to pick up shapes. He swallowed and kept his breathing short. He floundered caught beneath a tangle of bedding and the cot's frame. In front of him was the bloody bundle he had pulled off an injured man. It had unraveled and the dull plastic of a pistol grip jutted out from the folds. Pain left no room for thought. Jack inched himself forward and wrapped his fingers around the gun. He concentrated on keeping his arm perfectly steady; blocking out the red that marred his clean white clinic.