Disclaimer: I do not own LOST. If I did, Ben would not have killed Locke last week! (What was up with that??)
Author's Note: Okay, so I know it's been two weeks since my last update, but because the site had been down for three days I didn't want to post this chapter as everyone else was frenzying to put up their stories as well. So I figured I'd wait a week. Thanks for your patience. Enjoy!
I am half awake and half asleep, that much is certain. But which half of me is hearing those whispers that are always just out of reach? So loud, yet so silent they are. All around me, enclosing me, enveloping me, drowning me. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating!
"Wake up."
My eyes snap open, and I am suddenly aware of my surroundings. I'm in my tent, and all is quiet. No whispers. His voice, however, still rings in my ears, influencing me to wake up. My heart pounds. Who is He? He must be watching me! I need to find him, to talk to him.
I quickly scramble out of my tent to see that it's dark, the moon still high in the sky. My eyes gaze around the sleeping camp, intent on any sign of movement. I am determined to find out who this man is. Is He watching me now? How does He know who I am? Where is He? After a few minutes, I reluctantly give up my search. It's too dark to see anything. He could be standing at the treeline staring at me, and I would never know it.
I take a deep breath of the fresh, cool night air and turn back to my tent to resume my sleep. Before I can crawl inside, however, I hear barking among the camp. I glance over to see Walt's dog, Vincent, trying to pull free of Walt's grip on the leash.
"Walt, you gotta keep that dog quiet," Michael tells his son, sitting up.
"I don't know what's wrong with him," Walt explains. He practically has to scream over the dog's barks. "Come on, Vincent. Cut that out!"
Slowly, everyone begins to stir, drowsy and confused, waking up and looking around them. That's when we hear the growling coming from the plane. Everyone's attention is immediately diverted to the fuselage - where all of the bodies are. We can hear glass breaking, and the sound of metal hitting metal as various items crash to the cabin floor. The entire camp is now on their feet, completely absorbed in the ruckus. Walt is still attempting to settle Vincent.
Someone or something is in the plane.
Unexpectedly, I feel someone come up behind me, and I jump as I feel their hand on my shoulder. I gasp as I whip around, only to see that it is Ethan. Relief floods through me.
"Sorry," he apologizes, seeing the frightened look on my face.
"It's okay," I smile. Crash! More items fall within the fuselage. "What is it?" I ask, knowing he won't have the answer.
"I don't know," he says, staring at the hole in the plane. It's too dark to make out any kind of shapes, but something is definitely moving in there. "Come on." He moves off to join the rest of the camp huddled in front of the plane, and I follow.
"What is it?" Kate poses the question to no one in particular. Everyone is standing in a giant clump, hovering just in front of the massive fuselage.
"Somebody's in there," Claire responds from beside me, her voice shaking.
"Everybody in there is dead," counters Sayid from behind us.
A chill creeps up my spine. Then what is in there? A polar bear?
"Sawyer," deduces Jack matter-of-factly
"Right behind ya, jackass," says Sawyer in disgust.
Jack ignores the comment and pulls out a small flashlight from within his shirt pocket. He turns it on as he cautiously approaches the plane. Sawyer is right on his heels, holding a much more powerful flashlight. They, along with Kate and Charlie, inch closer. Ethan and I follow, equally as curious as the four of them.
20 feet away. Ten feet. Five. We are right at the mouth of Oceanic 815, waiting with bated breath. Jack shines his weak light into the fuselage, and if I squint, I can just make out a breathing mound of matted hair. Whatever it is, it's rooting through one of the beverage carts, completely unaware of our presence.
"I'm gonna shed some light on this thing," announces Sawyer as he shines his massive light directly onto the animal.
Jack quickly knocks away Sawyer's arm, but not before the beast has caught sight of the beam. In one fluid movement, the creature turns around and charges straight toward us.
"Run!" Jack shouts.
I hear the grunting of the beast behind me as I flee in the opposite direction. Blood pounds in my ears as I attempt to outrun the animal, avoid colliding with other people and find a safe place to hide. Pandemonium breaks out; people scream and shout, diving under any kind of wreckage to protect themselves, making sure their loved ones are safe, fleeing in every direction.
There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to protect myself. I'm the easiest target for the animals; the slowest, the weakest of the group. I can feel the exhaust in my legs; I'm tiring. But I'm still out in the open. If I stop now, it'll pick me off first. I gotta keep moving.
Without warning, I feel someone grab me by the arm and drag me behind a giant piece of debris. They put themselves in front of me, shielding me from danger. I look up at my defender, only to be shocked to see a rugged-looking Sawyer still gripping my arm protectively. I breathe out a sight of relief. I am safe.
I survey the scene before me. Almost everyone has found some means of protection from the beasts, and my racing heart begins to slow. That's when I see Charlie being pursued by three animals. He glances behind him at his attackers, and I can see the terror in his eyes as the gap closes between him and the quadrupeds. And as horror floods through him, he loses his focus, stumbles and falls.
He's close enough that I know I can reach him, and without thinking, I start forward, determined to get to him before the brown-haired creatures do. Sawyer pulls me back however, and refuses to relinquish his hold on me. Thank goodness Jack jumps in and pulls Charlie to his feet in time. The animals keep running, past Sawyer and I, past Charlie and Jack, into the treeline and away from camp.
"They've gone," Sayid announces, and everyone scrambles out of their hiding places.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Charlie asks.
"Boars." I look over to see Locke half-smiling. He's got this look of ravenous longing in his eyes, and I find myself looking away from him.
The grip Sawyer has on my arm disappears. I look up at him, wanting to say something, but he beats me to it.
"You alright, Sassafras?"
"I'm good, yeah," I say, panting. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," he says in that Southern accent. I could be mistaken, but I think I see the ghost of a smile flicker across his face. I smile back, and he walks away.
Slowly, everyone starts to trickle back to his or her various tents and sleeping places. I, on the other hand, am wide-awake. I walk around camp, trying to calm my nerves, until I run into Charlie.
"You okay, Charlie?" I ask. "You scared the crap outta me back there."
"You?" he asks incredulously. "I thought I was done for! Never had three boars chasing me before."
I give a small chuckle, and he smiles back. That's when the wet stain on the side of his shirt catches my eye.
"Are you bleeding?" I ask, concerned.
He follows my gaze to his shirt and pulls back the fabric to expose the oozing scrape.
"Oh, bollocks!" he exclaims.
"Come on," I say, leading him toward Jack's tent. "You need to see Jack. That could get infected out here."
As we walk into Jack's tent, I hear three distinct voices discussing what to do about the boars in quiet whispers, and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see Jack, Kate and Sayid straighten up and cease all conversation at the sight of us. Charlie shows Jack his wound, and Jack - being the heroic doctor he is - quickly begins to take out various medical supplies from within his luggage bag. Before he dresses the rockstar's injury, he looks at me.
"Lenny, I'll take care of him. You should get some sleep."
"I'm not tired," I respond honestly. Who could be tired after a boar attack?
Jack doesn't push the subject and continues to tend to Charlie's injury. After a few moments, he addresses the group. "Those boars were looking to feed. We have to get rid of the bodies."
"Burry them?" Charlie pipes up. "There's a whole bunch in there."
"More than 20," Sayid chimes in. "Digging will be difficult without shovels."
"Not burry," Jack corrects them. "We need to burn them."
A silence falls over us. Sayid looks taken aback. Nonplused, Jack continues to clean Charlie's wound.
I am the first to speak. "They're people."
"I know they're people, Lenny," Jack says calmly.
"Burning the remains? They deserve better than that," Sayid counters, disgust filling his voice.
"Better than what?" Jack asks. "Being eaten by wild animals? Because that's what's going to happen. Any bodies we burry are not gonna say buried for very long. Look, I know this seems harsh, but that fuselage in the sun… It's not about what they deserve. They're gone, and… we're not."
"What you say may be true," Sayid concedes, "but for us to decide how these people are laid to rest, it's not right. No regard for their wishes? Their religions?
"We don't have time to sort out everybody's god," Jack states.
"Really?" Charlie interjects. "Last I heard, we were positively made of time."
Jack ignores him. "Look, I'm not happy about it either. But we crashed a thousand miles off course. They're looking for us in the wrong place. It's been four days, no one's come. Tomorrow morning we need everyone to start gathering wood and dried brush. We'll turn that fuselage into a furnace. Wait until the sun goes down tomorrow night before we set the fire." His words have a certain finality about them, and we don't question what he says.
By the time Jack is done with his little speech, Charlie's wound as been cleaned and bandaged, and with one last glance at us, Jack stands up and exits the tent. Charlie waits until he's out of earshot before turning back to us and asking, "If he's so eager to burn the bodies, why are we waiting until sundown?"
"He's hoping someone will see it," Kate explains, her eyes weary.
We all sit in silence for a few moments before Sayid lets out a sigh of mingled frustration and exhaustion and exits the tent. Kate exchanges a look of hopelessness with Charlie and I and follows Sayid out of the tent. When it is just Charlie and I left, he takes a deep breath and says, "Time for bed, I suppose." And although I am not tired, I nod my head in agreement.
As we make our way into the open night air, we part ways with a quiet "good-night" and I make my way back to my tent. I climb under the covers and lay there with my eyes open, just staring at the roof of my shelter, all weariness devoid of my body. After ten minutes, I sit up and rummage through my bag until I locate my cards. Six games of solitaire later, I lay down and close my eyes to a restless sleep.
Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews and for sticking with this story. It will get better, I promise. I never really found season 1 as interesting as the rest of the seasons anyway. Please keep reading, reviews are appreciated, and don't forget to watch LOST tomorrow!! Bye-bye!!