Knowing LOST

A rustling of leaves to his left broke his concentration.

He leapt to his feet, his hand flying instinctively to his hip, where his holstered knife itched to be unsheathed and thrown. His hand rested on the hilt, and he waited, watching intently.

Ryan fell from the underbrush onto the beach sand, his face covered in a myriad of scratches and cuts. He sprawled on the beach sand, heaving for breath. He’d been running for a while.

“Ryan,” Locke said calmly, removing his hand from his knife but looking into the jungle behind Ryan to make sure he wasn’t being chased. “What’s the matter?”

Ryan gasped, holding a finger up to assure Locke that he intended to reply. He was really out of shape, the kid, and Locke waited with patience for him to speak.

“Ethan…” Ryan gasped out. “Took Kevin.”

Locke frowned. “What are you talking about, Ryan? You and I both saw Ethan die.”

Ryan shook his head, his breath slowing as he stood up. “We thought… we did. Not true. Alive.”

Locke glanced around incredulously. “Jack checked his pulse, Ryan. He was dead.”

Ryan swallowed, having caught his breath. “You and I both know that this Island can heal, John,” he said knowingly. Locke bit his lip.

“You said he took Kevin?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, “He was looking for Claire but for some reason he took Kevin. Left a hell of a lot of blood in the Pearl.”

“The Pearl?” Locke questioned, frowning again.

“Look,” said Ryan. “I’ll explain when we get there. Right now, we need to go. I’ve left Claire there.”

“Alone?” Locke asked quickly, already reaching down to grab his backpack.

“Armed,” Ryan confirmed, shrugging. “She couldn’t have made it back to the beach.”

Locke nodded, and gestured with a swing of his arm. “Lead the way.”

—-

Locke peered down at the doors into the earth, frowning contemplatively. “This is amazing,” he said quietly, dragging a finger along the dusty lip of the tunnel’s surface. He glanced over at Ryan, who was watching him with a grin of satisfaction.“You said there are more of these?”

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Ryan said quickly, wanting to show that he had some idea of how he was going to find Kevin and that he wasn’t just making it up as he went along. “Locke, I know you have some tracking experience.”

Locke nodded pensively. “Quite a bit.”

“Good. I need you to go after Kevin and Ethan — the trail shouldn’t be too hard to follow, except that it’s getting cold.”

Locke nodded, looking longingly down into the Pearl. The mystery had brought forth something within him. A sense of purpose. A sense of meaning.

“Okay,” he said. “What should I do when I find Ethan?”

“Whatever you have to,” Ryan said darkly. “He’s already died once. Might as well finish the job.”

—-

After Locke was gone, Ryan turned to the closed Pearl doors behind him, and dragged them open. They were opening more and more easily with each visit, and they opened with barely a squeak. Grinning at this small comfort, he began descending the ladder into the hatch.

As he neared the bottom, he was stricken with the sickening thought that he hadn’t hear Claire say anything. He stopped on the ladder, hanging there in space, and hoped to God that Claire wasn’t ready to shoot him as soon as he descended into view.

“Claire?” he said quietly, though his voice carried into the tunnel. “It’s just me, Ryan. I’m back.”

He took another step on the ladder, cautiously. Nothing happened. He could hear breathing behind him. Heavy, labored breathing.

Labored. Claire was probably having her baby. She was probably having her baby, and he’d left her all alone.

He jumped down the remaining stretch of ladder and turned to face down the corridor, his legs tensed up for a quick sprint. A gun cocked, and he froze.

Claire was sitting in one of the chairs down the hall, unconscious. Her mouth was slightly open, and a purple flower of a bruise was slowly beginning to bloom on her forehead.

A figure stood to her left, pointing a gun at Ryan unshakingly. Ryan’s hands went instinctively up, flying above his head. Startled, the figure shot.

A flash of light echoed through the tunnel.

—-

Locke moved through the jungle almost silently. The trail that Ethan had left was almost too easy to follow. There was blood smeared all over the ground from his mangled foot, and Locke marveled that Ethan could have lost that much blood and still been able to drag another human being at a fairly fast pace through the woods.

His hand was on his knife the entire time, and even the slightest rustle from a nearby bird made his hand itch with anticipation. He wasn’t looking forward to killing Ethan, but he knew it was a necessity if he wanted to protect the sanctity of the Island. If he wanted to keep the Island his.

The day had just begun to fade into night when he heard the rustling. He immediately stopped, dropping to a crouch, his muscles tightening as he waited to see what the noise had been.

“I know you’re there, old man,” echoed a voice, and Locke knew it was Ethan. “I see you following me. You want him back.”

“Yes,” Locke replied quickly, and a rustling confirmed to him that Ethan was trying to find his location.

“He’s too dangerous to be kept alive,” Ethan replied quickly. Locke, on his haunches in the tall grass, glanced around, moving quickly to a new location.

“The same could be said about you, Ethan,” he replied.

Ethan seemed to consider. “Fair enough,” he replied. “You can have him back.”

Locke didn’t know how to reply, so he remained silent. There was no further reply from Ethan, either, just silence.

After about fifteen minutes, Locke felt secure enough to stand up, though he did so very cautiously. He glanced around, searching for some sign that Ethan was ready to ambush him. There was nothing.

He stepped forward into a clearing of the grass, and jumped back in shock as he saw a crumpled form sprawled across the ground in front of him.
Kevin.