Disclaimer: AH! I don't own Lost!
Thanks for the Reviews: To everyone who reviewed me, I extend to you a notion of sincere gratitude. Thank you so very, very much. No, you don't get a present, but my thankfulness should be enough, right? -tugs at shirt collar nervously- Right?
A/N: So, as you can guess, after viewing the season finale, this story is toe-tally not following anything than could possibly be called the 'Lost' storyline. And I already have an ending picked out which will defy everything that was explained in it. But believe me, after you read what I got for ya, you'll think it's even cooler than what that joke J.J Abrams had for you.
Anywho, yeah, this is the eighth chapter of "The Pilgrimage". Enjoy!
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"So, how're we going to go about this?" Locke peered through the wild masses of undergrowth, straining with everything he could muster to see exactly what they were up against. Jack, the fool, had been more than anxious to leap out of the foliage, gun cocked, at the random stray of Others, and it had actually been Freddy who grabbed a handful of shoulder and yanked him back. Freddy, like Locke, knew that this was nothing to take lightly.
Battle was never to be taken lightly.
If studying for years the origin of the native Aborigine Walkabout had taught Locke anything, it was that caution was to be held in the most highest of importance. True, confidence in battle was a good thing, but too much confidence could get a poor sap like Jack killed. The key to victory against any foe was patience; to wait for the precise moment, and when that moment comes...pounce.
And right now the four of them sat hunched in silence, waiting for that moment. Zeke was currently hovered over Charlie, whom Locke guessed (with brutal honesty to himself) had either passed out or passed away. He didn't like thinking so negatively, but the sheer terror in Zeke's voice...a man wouldn't shout like that if Charlie was merely taking a nap out in the middle of the path. For Claire's sake, he was keeping quiet about those odds, but he figured she was a smart enough woman to have figured it out herself. But at least she was clinging to hope. It may be the only thing that gets her through these next five minutes alive, he thought silently.
Locke forced himself to stop thinking about emotional matters and face all of his attention on the group of dirty travelers before them. Now was not the time to get distracted.
He knew that right now the only one in complete vulnerability was Zeke, as well as the strange yet beautiful female who was balling her eyes out, throwing herself on top of Charlie's still body. But there were about four other nomads standing behind them, looking somewhat distracted by the scene in front of them, but still for the most part attentive, looking absolutely grim with their guns cocked to the side. They were the main target.
Suddenly Locke became aware of Jack and Claire's eyes on him, waiting for his command. Locke had to admit, he had never seen Jack step down from the leadership role like this before, and he couldn't deny that it was wonderful to finally be in charge. Meanwhile, Freddy didn't seem to be in the moment at all, being completely transfixed on the stooped form of Zeke. Locke reasoned that Freddy didn't deserve to be included in this, so he let him carry on with the staring as he quietly addressed Claire and Jack.
"We need to wait until those four get distracted," he whispered, pointing fervently at the scatter of Others standing behind Zeke. "Then we'll have most of the control."
Claire groaned and bit her lip anxiously. "How long is that going to take, John?" Locke could notice the slightest traces of tears on the brims of her eyes.
"Hopefully not too long," he murmured, clutching his gun. He tried his best to express to her with his eyes that now was not the time to let your emotions run rampant...letting them do so could be the distinguishing factor between life and death.
That's when Claire did the stupidest thing ever. At least in Locke's book. "Charlie can't afford to wait that long," she said, picking up a rock. "Look, I'm going to go over there." Locke followed her finger, which was shaking in the direction of another patch of bushes to the left of them. "I'll throw the rock, get them distracted, and-"
"Claire, don't even finish that thought. The answer is no," he said levelly.
She flashed him a spiteful glare and tightened her grip on the rock. "I wasn't exactly asking you." And like that, before anyone could get in a word, she edged toward the other group of bushes stealthily, like a snake in the grass.
"Claire!" Locke whispered to her passionately, trying his hardest not to burst into a cursing fit. "Claire, come back!"
Jack quietly put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Locke harrumphed.
"She's gonna get us all killed, you know that Jack?"
The doctor shook his head. "No she's not, Locke. Can't you see, she's sacrificing herself for us all."
Locke reasoned, and suddenly found himself impressed with how far Claire had come. True, the Great Rock Throwing Technique had been attempted numerous times, but it usually either ended in chaos or the death of the rock thrower. This was quite a leap of faith, and John was a big fan of faith. He frowned at Jack. "I just really hope she knows what she's getting into."
Jack grinned and laughed softly, although no traces of happiness reached his eyes. "Don't worry, she doesn't."
Locke shook his head and clasped his gun. Waging war sure is a bitch.
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Zeke didn't know what to think. Right now he figured he was on the very edge of insanity, and thinking in any positive or coherent manner was nearly impossible, considering the fact that right now his dreams were all tumbling down and amounting to nothing more than a shitty pile of nothingness.
Right now it was all slipping through his fingers.
"How's he lookin', Boss?"
Like shit, he thought angrily, trying to find something in his frazzled mind to go off of. Any past experiences that could perhaps assist him or tell him what to do. I mean, he'd been a hunting man all his life...right in the middle of the action. In the thick of everything. He'd strangled a wild boar with his bear hands. He'd roughed it out here on this hellhole longer than anybody else could've possibly imagined (with the exception of the Big Boss, of course). He whimpered silently to himself as he focused on Charlie's low and shallow breathing. Still alive, he thought, hope beginning to flare up in him like a wildfire.
He took Charlie's filthy, limp hand in his own and used the other to fish out the small lump of heroine in his pocket. I've built myself a life on this Godforsaken patch of land, and dammit, the last thing I'm going to do is let it all come tumbling down.
"Boss, how's he lookin'?"
In a frightening and sudden movement, Zeke bolted his head around and looked at Mark, a red-headed, freckle faced comrade, and shouted in fury, eyes red and bloodshot; veins pulsing madly on his temples. "How's he look like he's doing?" Surveying the taken aback look on young Mark's face with contentment, Zeke reasoned he'd scared him enough to shut him up, and turned back to face the dying man on the ground- the purpose of this whole expedition.
Oh Charlie, you've ruined me. You've damned ruined me.
With the deepest sense of foreboding he had ever experienced in his long, long life, the bearded man gazed down upon the young, blonde-haired man who lay almost motionless directly below him, still alive but fading fast. His blue, alert eyes were opened sickeningly wide, staring straight up at Zeke but not really looking at him at all. Zeke reasoned that if he got out of this scrape alive (without being by killed by Big Boss for his failure), that face would no doubt haunt him for eternity. I've failed you Charlie, he thought as he dropped the small bag of drugs in his haste.The weary old man could feel a single wet tear working it's way down his worn and lined face as he scrambled to pick up the heroine; his only hope for avoiding complete and utter failure. He was literally standing on the brink of destruction, he thought as he fiddled with tiny bag, and if Charlie was going to die on him now...well...it was over. All of it.
He was roused from his wallow of sadness when a rock cracked him squarely in the skull
"What the-!"
The scraggly band of Others looked at Zeke in unison, befuddlement written all over their faces. One of the four gun-toting travelers approached Zeke hesitantly, somewhat baffled by the comical yet livid look on his Boss's face. "Sir, what's the prob-"
Another gray stone rocketed towards the Others, this one hitting Mark directly in his shin. He cursed loudly and shot a hand down towards the wound, which was bulbous and trickling ribbons of crimson underneath his shaking fingers. He looked up. "Did you guys see that?"
Bette sniveled and pointed her finger towards a random patch of bushes in the distance. "I think it came from over there-"
She was cut short as yet another rock hurled itself towards her, whizzing past her and missing her ear by inches. She shrieked like a crazy banshee.
Mitch, a black-haired, mysterious-looking Other, silently stalked up on the bushes, wordlessly directing everyone else to creep along with him. Zeke was the only exception, for he was still hovering over Charlie like a hawk, fidgeting with the tiny bag of heroine. Mitch could make out a small mound of beige powder stacked up nicely in the middle of Zeke's outstretched palm. He smiled inwardly. If Zeke could get the heroine to Charlie in time, true- he'd probably be delusional and damn-near immobile- but he would still be alive, and that's what mattered most. Alive, he could still point them to Aaron.
Alive, the mission could still be accomplished. All he had to worry about now was whoever was pelting rocks at them, and he figured it wasn't anything to be taken direly serious. Maybe a monkey or an islander easily overtaken. And with five of his companions behind him, the majority with guns; things were looking good.
Silently, they approached the bushes. And they didn't suspect a thing.
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Claire was ready to hurl another rock at the buffoons before she realized that they were heading straight for her.
In-between the shady undergrowth she could make them out completely, and a part of her actually willed them to continue creeping in her direction. True, her mission had been accomplished- the mission to draw their attention away from Charlie- but some strange part of her wanted them to keep coming towards her and she hardly knew why. Maybe it was this trip into the jungle, which had already made her ten times more daring than she could've ever imagined being that had brought about this strange desire. The rock gripped firmly in her hand gave her this savage, monstrous yearning to leap from the bushes like a wild lemur and beat all of their heads in.
Not only has this journey made me courageous, she thought as they approached, but it has also made me terribly violent. Claire smirked to herself. And I think I like it.
There was the smallest gap between the approaching Others in which Claire could clearly see Charlie, sprawled out on the ground like an animal; discarded like some piece of trash. Her blood boiled in fury. How these monsters had stolen him from her...
They were going to pay.
Self-consciously, she ducked further down into the mass of shrubbery and turned her attention towards her two fellow companions in the distance as the forthcoming Others started to cast a long, distorted shadow upon her. Claire wondered quietly to herself why they hadn't leaped out in her defense yet, but reasoned that there would be no better time than now. Now was the time to act.
Praying silently to herself, she gripped her rock and leaped out blindly.
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Jack nudged Locke soundlessly, nodding his head towards the Others who were currently approaching Claire with devilish smirks scrawled wickedly on their dirty faces. It was in this moment of time that Jack realized how much he hated these people...how long he had spent with nothing on his mind other than the appealing image of Zeke begging for mercy from him, pleading him to spare his life.
Oh, and how wonderful it had felt to deny him, be it all a dream.
The countless number of sleepless nights Jack had spent in cunning preparation was astounding, for he often found himself obsessed with the idea of eliminating them all. Sometimes it was more enjoyable than he could imagine, plotting out their demise. It completely consumed his thoughts, and he was fine with that. It brought a smile to his face.
But sometimes, especially when he was around Kate, he found himself completely disgusted with those awful lingering thoughts of violence and revenge. When he was around Kate, he wanted nothing more than to protect her...be the good guy.
But right now he was farther away from Kate than he could've possibly conceived, and the vengeful, blood-thirsty thoughts came to him without measure or warning. It made him feel dirty; unclean even...but he could not deny the fact that he had been waiting for this moment to arrive since he first encountered the Others. And right now, with Claire's life hanging in the balance, he had the best excuse in the world to destroy them all, one by one, and he was ready to take full advantage of it.
The Others continued to creep towards the young mother slowly, and Jack assumed that they had little more than ten seconds to act. He turned to face Locke, whose eyes looked farther away than ever. "Locke," he said quietly, "I think we should-"
"Shhh!" The old hunter moved his hand out in caution in front of Jack's chest. "Not until I tell you to."
Jack bit his tongue and pulled his gun closer to him, trying his hardest not to lash out at John. Who does he think he is, the doctor thought angrily. Nothing more than an old loon with a gun.
Come to think of it, how could Jack even be sure of Locke's assumed expertise at this endeavor? Was hunting wild boars anything compared to live, human combat? Jack groaned to himself and turned to face Freddy, whom he had momentarily forgot was still hunched behind him silently. He looked troubled.
"Freddy, how're you-"
"Don't talk to him," Locke snapped, bolting his bald head towards Jack.
He gaped at the old man incredulously and, mustering up all the resistance he had left in him, bit his tongue once more. Now was not the time to lash out. Maybe later. Definitely later, he thought, flashing Locke the evil-eye.
They sat in silence for another five or so seconds (which seemed like an eternity to Jack) before he started to become seriously concerned. The Others were merely feet away from Claire, and were it Jack's decision, he would've already revealed himself and commenced battle. "Locke," he whispered. "They're too close."
"No they're not," he whispered back fervently, gun cocked and knees wobbling anxiously in the dirt. "Just a little longer, Jack."
"Do you see them, John? They're way too close." Jack started to hesitantly stand up, eyes glued on the situation folding out before him .
Locke shot a firm hand out towards him and brought him back down with the force of a man who knows what he's doing (and knows the other man doesn't). "Jack, you don't know what you're doing."
"Look Locke, do you want them to murder Claire?" He spoke with emphasis, raising up once more.
Locke raised his voice dangerously high, staring at Jack with vengeance and complete, utter rage. "No, you're not. Just a little-"
They were both silenced by the distinctive noise of Claire screaming and leaping from her spot in the bushes brandishing a small, round rock in her palm as if it were a deadly weapon. Locke turned to Jack with a deadly look on his face. "Look what you did!"
"What I did?"
They sat there for a nanosecond, glaring at each other, before they both realized that Claire's life was currently hanging in the balance, and if they didn't come to her aid now, she would surely be dead before they had time to think about it. Nodding at one another (with a common hatred still bellowing below the surface), they stood up and revealed themselves among the foliage, guns in their hands. Not one of the Others looked at the two of them. This was perfect.
That's when Freddy screamed.
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Everyone turned to face the two of them, pale-faced with guns held steadfastly in their hands. Even Claire stared at them, with a clueless look on her face that read, "What the hell are you two doing?"
Jack shifted in his spot and nervously shot a look back at Freddy, who was still huddled in the undergrowth, blubbering like a madman with tears in his eyes Way to go there, Freddy, he thought to himself, rage gradually building inside of him. With trepidation, he turned his attention back to the enemies, and, gripping his gun with white knuckles, he steadily built up the courage to speak first He slowly raised his weapon. "Back away from the girl."
A black-haired man covered in mud laughed at him. It momentarily frightened Jack, but once more the solid feel of the gun in his hands felt very reassuring. "You're not the only one with the gun, mate." And as if the Others had had years of practice in this sort of situation, they all raised their guns in unison, pointing them directly at Jack and Locke. "How's about you drop the gun?"
Locke spoke next. "How's about you back away from the girl and we'll reach an agreement, huh?" He squinted at the black-haired man with his gun raised as well.
"Reach an agreement? We've got you outnumbered, old man."
It was true; all four of the gun-equipped Others had their guns raised in attention, and somewhere in Jack's mind he had a feeling that they were much more experienced marksmen than either he or Locke.
No one spoke for what seemed like an eternity.
It was in this time that Jack's rage grew beyond measure; as he stared at the filthy crew assembled before him, he was reminded of those countless dreams he had experienced back at the beach, snuggled safely under the tarpaulin. How those dreams had revisited him time and time again, ultimately building up an untamable desire in Jack to do nothing more than stand on the edges of life and death, staring the monsters in the eyes.
It was in this time that Jack no longer cared if he was killed or not. He nodded his head and tensed up on the trigger.
Locke spoke to him softly, alarm in his eyes. "Jack, what're you doing?"
"What I should've done a long time ago."
The black-haired Other stirred in his spot, eyes furrowed in suspicion at Jack. "Hey, what's he doing?" He asked, worry showing itself slightly in his calm and composed voice to Locke.
"Nothing," Locke responded hurriedly, dropping his gun slightly and turning to face Jack. He whispered to him gently. "Jack, drop the gun. We're outnumbered."
"I don't care if we're outnumbered," he responded, throwing all caution to the wind. "This is what I was meant to do."
"No it's not, Jack. Please, if you do this, they'll kill us all!" And with hesitation in his shaking hands, Locke reached out towards Jack's gun. "Drop the gun, Jack."
They stood there in absolute silence, the two of them, before Jack eased up on the gun. A sigh of relief rushed over the Others and Locke like a calming wind, and everyone dropped their guns slightly, as if ready to talk.
That's when, faster than any eye could follow, Jack raised his gun once more and shot Mitch in the chest.
Time seemed to stand still as the filthy, nameless man stared straight at his shooter, dark eyes welling up in tears of pain, confusion, and what looked like to be a deep, deep hatred. Jack felt surprisingly blank...a terrible, empty sort of blank. Not the joy or triumph that he had yearned for- expected. And the longer he looked at the nondescript man who started to fall on his knees before him, the more Jack started to feel disgusted. Frozen with fear, he thought he was going to be sick.
The dark-haired man was now on his knees, a trembling hand placed neatly atop the bleeding wound which streamed what seemed like endless amounts of crimson red. A tiny, thin stream of bloodescaped the corner of his lips, slowly cascading off of his chin.
He stared at Jack. Then he slowly fell on his stomach among the endless amount of jungle leaves. He was gone.
Chaos ensued.
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Next time: Who will escape with their life? Who will be disposed of? And will Charlie and Claire finally be reunited before it's too late? Find out in the next installment of "The Pilgrimage"!
A/N: Oh...my...gosh! Things are happening, aren't they? Just like I promised! I don't want to spoil the surprise, but the next chapter will definitely be the climax of the story. And some people will die. I won't tell you who, but there will be some deaths, perhaps of some characters you've grown to love. So, mentally prepare yourself before the next chapter, ok?
By the way, R&R. I will be forever indebted to you.
-Counterspark