Copyright © 2014 Touchstone Television
Lost: Endangered Species copyright © 2005 Touchstone Television
Lost: Secret Identity copyright © 2006 Touchstone Television
Lost: Signs of Life copyright © 2006 Touchstone Television
All rights reserved. Published by Kingswell, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
For information address Kingswell, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.
ISBN 978-1-4847-2378-4
Contents
Lost: The Novels Title Page
Lost: The Novels Copyright
Endangered Species Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Secret Identity Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Signs of Life Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
1
FAITH’S EYES FELT HEAVY, as if her lids had been glued shut while she slept. Full consciousness returned slowly and she lay perfectly still, keeping her eyes closed, frustrated by the fleeting sense that something terrible had just occurred. Why could she never seem to remember her dreams? They danced away the moment her eyes opened, remaining just beyond where she could catch them again, leaving behind only a mood or a confusing snippet.…Try as she would to recapture the details, they always remained lost.
Becoming aware that something sharp was poking her in the back, Faith shifted her weight. Instead of the creak of her ancient bedsprings, she heard the soft crunch of leaves and twigs beneath her.
Her eyes flew open. The first thing they took in was a flash of color—green, red, turquoise, glossy brown—feathers catching the sun and the whirring sound of a bird in flight.
Her heart jumped. Was she still dreaming? Or could that really have been a…?
Before she could finish the thought, a scream of terror assailed her eardrums. A split second later she heard the unmistakable sounds of distress—screams, cries, raw voices calling desperately for help—along with other sounds she didn’t recognize. For one disorienting moment her mind went blank, refusing to accept all the confusing input from her senses.
Where was she?
Then she remembered: the plane! She shuddered at the memories: the violent turbulence, the scream of the engines struggling to halt the sudden descent, the oxygen mask flopping down from the ceiling in front of her face like a plastic tentacle, the sickening feeling of the air dropping out from under her again and again as the plane plummeted earthward, sending her stomach into her throat like the world’s most horrifying roller coaster.
After that things had gone black. And now what?
Faith pushed herself upright, a rough-edged stone cutting into the soft flesh of her palm. Ignoring the pain, she staggered to her feet. Her whole body felt sore and creaky and uncoordinated. So did her mind, for that matter. Feeling so uncertain gave her a sensation close to vertigo, like her whole being was teetering on the edge of panic.
She was alone in a jungle glade splashed with dappled sunlight. Lush vines coiled up through the slender trunks of unfamiliar tropical trees. Tall palms reached toward the sky, their crowns swaying in the slight breeze cutting through the humid air. The scent of honey-sweet flowers led her eye to a cluster of riotous tropical blossoms, a bright gash of color against all the green.
The scene was beautiful—almost too beautiful, like a painting done in unnaturally gaudy hues, or a dream so vivid that even in the middle of it, it was obvious that it just couldn’t be true. Even the screams and the high, mechanical-sounding whining noise she guessed might be the plane’s engine were muffled enough by the foliage to make them sound distorted and unreal.
Leaning against a nearby tree trunk to support her shaky limbs, Faith took a few deep breaths. When she could remember to breathe—in, out, in, out—she could sometimes head off a full-blown panic before it really took hold.
She forced her lungs to take one deep breath after another, trying to calm herself. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw a two-foot-long, emerald-green snake crawling along a branch only inches from her face. Its forked tongue flickered in and out as it stared at her through elliptical reptilian pupils.
Morelia viridis, she thought, identifying the snake as its sinuous body moved gracefully along the branch.
Seeing the snake made her feel suddenly calmer and more confident, like spotting a friendly face in a room full of strangers. The snake disappeared into a cluster of leaves at the end of the branch, and Faith took a few more deep breaths, trying to figure out what to do next.
Feeling a throbbing pain in her leg, she looked down at herself. Her best skirt was ripped halfway up one seam, her faux-silk blouse was streaked with mud and grime, and both her shoes were missing. There were scratches on her arms, and the pain she’d felt was coming from an ugly-looking gash in her left shin. But otherwise she seemed to be in pretty good shape considering the circumstances.
Amazing, she thought, glancing up at the patch of blue sky visible between the fronds of the trees. Had the pilot made an emergency landing in this jungle? If so, how had she ended up here, all alone?
Thinking seemed inordinately difficult at the moment, and she soon gave up on the question. Instead she looked toward the source of most of the sounds. Her heart started pounding a little faster as she heard a woman’s voice shrieking in terror. As always when she saw or heard someone in distress, her first instinct was to rush forward and do anything she could to help make things better.
Still, she stood for a long moment frozen in place against the tree trunk. Her mind seemed to be moving as sluggishly as a snake being awakened from hibernation during cold weather. Deep inside, a small part of her recognized the sensation, one that struck during the most stressful times of her life. Her sister used to call them Faith’s “If only” moments. If only this weren’t happening. If only she cou
ld turn back time, make things happen differently. If only…
Somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a sharp cry. At the sound, Faith snapped out of her stupor. This was no time for one of those moments. They never did her any good at all; in fact, they usually made things worse. If she’d learned anything positive from her trip to Australia, it was that.
Once her mind was functioning again, the answer seemed obvious. She had to go toward the sounds of distress, find out what had happened, and try to help if needed. Quickly gauging the direction from which most of the screams and other noises seemed to be coming, she left the sheltered little glade and pushed her way through the surrounding foliage.
A twig snapped loudly behind her, sounding like a gunshot. Faith whirled around, startled. Standing in the dappled shade of a large tree a few yards away, her back to Faith, was a tall, slim woman with long, wavy chestnut-brown hair. She was wearing brown pants and a billowy white cotton shirt.
“Uh, hi,” Faith blurted out.
The woman glanced over her shoulder, seeming as startled to encounter Faith as Faith was to encounter her. She didn’t answer the greeting for a moment, standing frozen in place. Her face was smudged with dirt and her forehead dotted with sweat. She appeared to be about Faith’s age, with high cheekbones and intelligent eyes.
“Hi,” the stranger said at last, her voice trembling slightly.
Faith noticed that the other woman, whose back was still to her, was standing with her shoulders oddly hunched forward. She wondered if she might be clutching a broken arm against her stomach or holding a wound on her torso.
“Do you need help? Are you hurt?” Faith asked with concern.
“I’m okay.”
Faith took a step toward her, still waiting for her to turn around. But the woman kept her back to Faith, watching her warily over her shoulder. Normally Faith would have taken the hint and backed off. But nothing was normal about this situation.
“Where is everyone else?” Faith asked, taking another step toward the stranger. “The plane—were you on the plane?”
The second question sounded idiotic as soon as it left her mouth. Where else would the woman have come from?
But the stranger didn’t seem to notice. “The beach,” she answered simply. “The others are on the beach.” She jerked her head off toward the right.
Faith turned to peer that way, catching a glimpse of open sky and a distant, watery horizon through the screen of foliage. “Thanks,” she said. “Should we…”
Her voice trailed off as she turned back around. The woman was gone.
Faith blinked, for one dizzy moment wondering if the mysterious young woman had ever really been there at all. Why had she disappeared like that the first chance she got? Why had she seemed so reluctant to turn around and face Faith? What had that look on her face meant?
Deciding the answers to those questions and more might lie on the beach the woman had mentioned, Faith turned and hurried off in the direction she had indicated. She dodged prickly tree branches, ducked clouds of swarming gnats, and pushed her way through foliage dripping with condensation. It wasn’t easy going. By the time she reached the edge of the jungle, she was soaked with sweat and her feet were ripped and raw from stepping on sharp stones and other debris.
But she forgot all of that as she pushed aside one last leafy branch and stared at the scene before her.
Enormous chunks of metal were scattered in a wide swath across the broad beach—large portions of the body of the plane lying here and there in jagged pieces, as if torn end from end by an angry giant’s hands. Several of the pieces were on fire, burning with the sickening stench of fumes. Debris littered the white sand as far as she could see. The enormous sweep of one ruined wing jutted into the blue sky far overhead. Smoke and fumes and fire engulfed the scene, making Faith’s eyes water.
The plane had crashed. Not landed as she’d imagined, but smashed itself to bits right here on this beach. Faith just stared for a moment, trying to understand.
There were other people on the beach, too—lots of them. Staggering away from the fumes. Helping one another move to safety. Running around looking panicked. Sitting and sobbing. Frantically calling out names.
And then there were the ones who weren’t moving at all.
Faith swallowed hard, overwhelmed with emotion. It was like a stronger, starker version of how she’d felt during some of those wild demonstrations outside the convention center in Sydney…
2
“HEY HEY, HO HO! Tell the traitor no no no!”
Faith stopped short in surprise when she rounded the corner onto University Avenue and saw the protesters. About two dozen strong, they were clustered in front of the main science building waving signs and pumping their fists as they chanted. It was a beautiful, sunny Midwestern afternoon and there were lots of people on the street, though few spared the small demonstration more than a curious glance as they hurried past on their way to work or class. A couple of campus police officers were leaning against the bike rack in front of the building, lazily swinging their nightsticks as they watched the protest with obvious amusement.
Faith took a tentative half step forward, wondering what she’d missed. She had been so busy with the last round of experiments she was running for her dissertation that she hadn’t even had time to read the campus newspaper for the past couple of weeks.
Noticing that several of the protesters were wearing shirts or buttons sporting the logo for a campus environmental group, she felt a flash of curiosity. Faith had taken a passionate interest in environmental causes since childhood. But she was a little too shy—and, these days, too busy with her studies—ever to take to the streets like these people were doing.
In any case, whatever they were doing out there, she realized she didn’t have time to stand around trying to figure it out. It had taken her longer than expected to finish that day’s undergrad tutoring session, and she was late for her scheduled meeting with her faculty adviser, Dr. Luis Arreglo. She knew he wouldn’t mind, but she still hated to inconvenience him.
She headed for the science building’s front steps, planning to ignore the protesters as best she could. Several of them carried signs with the same message: “ARREGLO MUST GO!” On one of the signs someone had added a crude drawing of a skull and crossbones.
Faith blinked. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. After all, she was tired from long hours peering through a microscope. Because who would demonstrate against Dr. Arreglo? He was one of the most popular professors in the biology department and the main reason Faith had chosen to pursue her doctoral studies at this particular university. The brilliant biologist and celebrated environmental champion, one of her childhood idols, still seemed larger than life to her, even though she’d known him now for more than a year.
Clutching the books she was holding more tightly against her chest, Faith lowered her head and prepared to push on past the demonstrators. Whatever was going on, she was sure Dr. Arreglo could fill her in once she got inside.
She was almost at the foot of the front steps when a lean young man stepped directly in front of her. Stopping short just in time to avoid a crash, she glanced up.
He stared intently into her face. A few inches taller and maybe a year or two younger than she was, he had wild black hair and even wilder blue eyes. His pale face was dominated by a large, beaklike nose. A handmade sign rested casually over one shoulder. On it, Faith read the words “ARREGLO = DEATH.”
“Excuse me,” she murmured timidly, making a move to step around him and continue on her way.
He blocked her with his lanky body. “Hey,” he said. “Where do you think you’re going, beautiful?”
Torn between being confused by the unexpected compliment and irritated by the intrusion into her private business, she answered as politely as she could manage. “Inside,” she said. “At least I was trying to. I have a meeting.”
“You’re not meeting with the devil by any chance, are you?” The
young man cocked his head to one side and made little horns with his fingers, cradling his sign in the crook of his arm. “You look too smart for that, sweetheart.”
“I’m meeting with Dr. Arreglo,” Faith said. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Arreglo.” He spat out the name as if it were acid on his tongue. “So you’re one of them. A polluter. An earth-raper. An anti-green, corporate-loving establishment whore.”
Even though she was tempted to let it go and move on, Faith couldn’t resist defending herself. “Guess again,” she said. “I’m not any of those things. I’m as green as anyone around here. So is Dr. Arreglo—don’t you know anything about him? He’s been a really well-respected environmental advocate for thirty years.”
The young man shook his head sadly. “Ah, sweetheart,” he said. “All that has changed. Or haven’t you heard?”
Faith knew she should just push past him. Why should she believe anything some sign-wielding stranger on the street told her? Still, she couldn’t help being curious, and he obviously wanted to enlighten her.
Lost: The Novels Page 1
