Chapter 13
Rousseau did not return early that first night of captivity, and Lauren's body fought every waking minute. She tried to engrain every detail into her mind as she waited, but when her neck would swivel to notice the next shelf or crate, the ache coursed down her arms and her fingers would lose feeling. Closing her eyes in pain, Lauren ignored the temptation to sleep and forced them open and continued examining Rousseau's eclectic collection.
There were four batteries in the room, but they were heavily corroded. Lauren noticed a nearly empty container of a clear liquid sitting on the floor, next to a crate labeled "EXPLOSIVES!" Another rifle leaned against the corner of the hideout and Lauren considered grabbing it and using it against her captor. I've only ever held a .22… I have no idea how to use that thing… Lauren's only experience with guns was going deer hunting with her father once; when they found the deer her father shot and Lauren heard it wheezing, she vowed never to shoot a living creature unless she had to. That memory played through her mind as she stared at the rifle. Do I have to now?
As evening turned to night, Lauren's exhaustion finally won out. She dreamt of gunshots and squealing, dying animals. Early in the morning as Lauren continued to sleep, Rousseau returned with water and cleaned the girl's injured leg. The stitches Rousseau had sewn were surrounded by red, irritated flesh and the French woman stood at the end of the bed, debating. Finally, she turned and reached for the bottle of liquid that lay on the ground, poured it onto the cleanest cloth she could find, and dabbed it to the wound.
Lauren awoke instantly, grinding her teeth and moaning. The smell that emanated from her leg reeked of vinegar and infection, as the wound stung like a million wasps had descended on her. She fought the urge to thrash and scream. Rousseau held the cloth to the gash for a few moments longer, and then let go. Lauren sagged in relief, but the burning hadn't fully ceased, the wound still bubbled and fizzed. A tear slowly streamed down her face and she let out a slow ragged breath. The French woman began to wrap the leg back up in soiled rags, she had no fresh bandages or spare clothes to cut and use. After she finished the dressing, she sat at the edge of the bed next to Lauren and stared into her eyes. Slowly, the wild woman reached forward and wiped the tear from Lauren's face.
"Why are you helping me?" Lauren said after several moments of awkward silence. Rousseau looked away but stayed seated on the bed. She stared off at nothing, before finally saying.
"Adele's leg was injured before we ran aground… she didn't make it off the ship…"
"Is that how you got here? Your ship sank?" Rousseau looked as though the memory was too painful to describe, but she continued on.
"Our vessel was 3 days out of Tahiti when our instruments malfunctioned. It was night, a storm, the sounds. The ship slammed into rocks, ran aground, the hull breached beyond repair. So, we made camp, dug out this temporary shelter. Temporary. Nearly 2 months we survived here, 2 months before…"
"Your distress call said they were all dead? That something killed them?"
"We were coming back from the Black Rock…." She trailed off, then her eyes lit up, "It was them. They were the carriers."
"Who? Who were the carriers?"
"The Others," Rousseau whispered.
"Are there… other people on this island? You've seen them?" Lauren thought of Zane.
"No… but I hear them, out there in the jungle…" her voice was so quiet Lauren leaned forward to hear her better. "They whisper."
After a long pause, Rousseau finally looked at her, "You think I'm insane."
"No…" Lauren said quietly, "I think you've been alone for a long time."
The French woman gave her first sad smile.
"Is that why you're keeping me here? I have to go back to my group, they probably think I'm dead."
The smile faded and she looked away, "Go?"
For 16 years this woman had lived alone, Lauren could grasp why she wanted to keep her here, but her thoughts turned to Sayid, Jack, Kate and the baby. The group would likely look for her, and the jungle was full of danger. Someone could get hurt or worse trying to find her, only for Lauren to be tied up underground. The second rifle's presence sprung to Lauren's mind as a tool for escape, but could she use it against this desperately lonely castaway? No, she immediately thought, casting away the image of the gun. Besides… She helped me…
"It's not safe…" Rousseau finally said, "Your leg will get infected… Now get some rest, dawn is not for another hour."
The statement effectively ended the conversation and Lauren turned on her side, slowly shifting her injured leg. Once as comfortable as she could get, she closed her eyes and drifted into yet another fitful sleep.
When light once again shined through the crack above the stairs, Lauren's hazel eyes opened slowly. The French woman sat on a chair, her head limp against her shoulder, gun still in her lap, sleeping. Lauren quietly sat up and examined the binding on her wrists. It was a zip tie, tight against her arms. Lauren considered the sleeping woman for a moment before trying to get up. Her injured leg resisted the movement, but Lauren pushed through and stood up silently. She lowered herself to the ground, her hands meeting the floor first. Lauren painfully stretched out her weak leg behind her and positioned the knee of her good leg between her hands, resting atop the zip tie. Lauren pushed her knee to the floor and lifted her arms up. The restraints dug into her skin and she opened her mouth in a silent scream, but continued to push her knee against the tie. With all the leverage she could gain, she pushed her knee through the zip tie and freed her hands. Lauren rubbed the deep, red welts on her wrists and clumsily rose to her feet. She began to limp towards the exit, but passed the rifle on the way. A gun would be useful… I won't use it against her… but if I have to… No… I'll find another way. Lauren picked up the gun and put the strap around her chest. She hobbled up the stairs, wincing with every step, and attempted to raise the lid of the hut. The branches and vines that composed the roof, rustled and groaned from the movement, and Lauren looked back towards the chair that held the sleeping woman. She hadn't moved, so Lauren pushed the lid up just enough to slide out onto the jungle floor. She rested the roof back onto the enclosure and peered around.
Less than a hundred yards from where Lauren sat on the ground, hung the boar the Rousseau had shot the night before. Aside from that, the jungle was as ordinary as it could be on this island. Lauren managed to get up but as she continued to look around, she realized she was hopelessly lost. She had no idea how to even begin to get back to camp. The canopy hid the sky well, but Lauren could see that the sun was still rising, so she decided to go east. She didn't know if it was right, but it was a start.
****Passage of Time****
Lauren was walking along the beach when the first bullet whizzed past her arm. A second followed, hitting the sand inches from her feet. Lauren began to run, but her wounded leg slowed her down. She had made it several yards, when she fell to the ground.
Rousseau came up behind her, aiming her rifle. Lauren scrambled backwards, reaching around for her own gun. The two women aimed at each other before Lauren closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. Click. Lauren's eyes peeked open to see a shocked Rousseau.
"The firing pin has been removed…Robert didn't notice it was missing either, when I shot him."
"Why?" Lauren said, dropping the gun in the sand.
"He was infected," Rousseau pointed the gun at Lauren's leg. "You can't leave, you need me!"
"Please, Rousseau…. Let me go…"
"I can't let you go!" She gripped the gun tighter, "Don't you understand, to have someone to talk to, to touch…"
Lauren looked sadly at the woman threatening her life. She did understand… Lauren had spent so much time alone… Finally, she lowered her raised hands, and began to get up. Rousseau lifted her rifle but allowed it.
"Who is Alex?"
"Alex was my baby… my child."
With that admission, Lauren limped forward and Rousseau lowered the gun. The two turned back to where they had come, and walked together down the beach.
