“That’s what I just said, right?” Walt sounded a little impatient with her this time. “Charlie went, and that lady Kate, and what’s-his-name, the doctor guy.”
“You mean Jack?” Faith wasn’t sure who Charlie and Kate were—she only knew the names of a handful of her fellow survivors—but she felt somewhat alarmed to hear that Jack might have gone off searching for more wreckage. After what they’d heard last night, was it really a good idea for their only doctor to go gallivanting off through the jungle? What if he didn’t make it back? Where would that leave the guy with half the skin and flesh scraped off his leg, or hugely pregnant Claire, or that unconscious man with the shrapnel in his side, or any of at least half a dozen others who desperately needed the doctor’s care and expertise?
“Yeah, right. Jack.” Walt was clearly losing interest in the conversation. “Okay, well, I’m going to go keep looking for Vincent.”
“Okay.” Faith barely noticed as the boy wandered off. She’d just heard the low rumble of thunder—real thunder, not the mysterious clanging, crunching, echoing kind from last night—rolling toward the beach from out over the ocean. She glanced that way and saw heavy clouds gathering just over the horizon. The sea breeze picked up, sending the clouds scudding toward the beach.
Moments later the rain came sheeting down as if someone had abruptly turned on a faucet. All over the beach, people shrieked and scurried for cover under bits of wreckage or anywhere else they could find shelter.
“Faith! Over here!”
Turning and squinting through the raindrops pelting her face, Faith saw George gesturing at her from beneath a large, overhanging shard of metal. She shielded her face with her hands and ran toward him.
Just as she reached the makeshift shelter, she heard George curse under his breath and breathe in sharply. “What’s wrong?” she asked breathlessly.
George was staring across the beach toward the tree line. “Just what we need,” he muttered.
Faith’s heart skipped a beat. Following George’s gaze, she saw that once again the trees were swaying and bending. The mysterious sounds were back, too. Faith thought of Jack and the others wandering around out there somewhere and shivered with dread.
“What kind of a place is this?” she whispered, so quietly that the words were lost in the sound of the pounding rain.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there staring toward the jungle even after the sounds faded. But eventually the rain tapered off, then finally stopped just as abruptly as it started.
Within minutes the last of the clouds rolled off over the horizon, leaving behind a breezy, beautiful day. Bright sunshine quickly warmed the damp air and began to dry the puddles dotting the beach.
Faith finished wringing the rainwater out of the hem of her blouse, then glanced around the beach looking for something to do. People were milling around, mostly in twos and threes. The exception was a middle-aged balding man sitting at the edge of the surf staring out over the sea. She’d noticed him a couple of times before because he always seemed to be alone, a little apart from the group, just like her.
Leaving him to his solitary contemplation, she wandered up the beach. A pair of young women were strolling and chatting. A man hurried off carrying a suitcase. Sayid was adding more wood to one of the signal fires, while the cigarette-smoking guy from the previous night—Claire had told Faith his name was Sawyer—lay in the shade nearby watching him. Claire was sitting in the sun on the flattest part of the beach, her pregnant belly looking round and uncomfortable. Right beside her, clad in a skimpy bikini, was the other blonde—the one the pen guy, Boone, had referred to as Shannon the night before at the fire.
As she turned away from the two women, Faith noticed George and Boone and a couple of people she didn’t know digging through George’s luggage collection, which they’d moved down to the middle of the beach. She stared at George as he pulled out a nylon windbreaker and hung it on a handy piece of wreckage. After a night’s sleep, she felt a bit guilty about the way she’d been thinking about him. Maybe she’d overreacted to the spider thing yesterday—not everyone treated spiders as friends the way Gayle had taught her to do. A lot of people were scared to death of them. Perhaps George deserved the benefit of the doubt, even after what he’d done. Because despite everything, he still felt like the closest thing she had to a friend in this strange, scary place.
She wandered over to him. “Hey,” she spoke up shyly. “Um, do you guys need some help?”
George straightened up, squinting at her as he mopped the sweat off his brow with one arm. “Sure, sweetheart,” he said. “This young fella and I and those folks over there are just sorting through some of the luggage we’ve been collecting.”
Boone glanced up from going through a leather duffel bag and nodded. “We’re looking for anything that might be useful,” he added. “Clothes, shoes, medicine…”
Faith nodded. “Good idea.” She scanned the pile of bags, hoping to spot her own green canvas suitcase. But it was nowhere in sight.
“Here.” One of the other helpers, an older woman with reddish brown hair, held out a pair of white Keds. “It looks like you need these. They should be about your size, I think.”
For a second Faith recoiled, wondering if the shoes belonged to someone on the beach—or to one of the bodies in the fuselage. But the woman was smiling and shoving them toward her, clearly expecting her to take them. Reluctantly, Faith accepted the shoes. The stranger was right—she needed them. Her bare feet were blistered and cut, and every step she took on the debris-littered beach risked a nasty puncture wound.
She sat down on the sand and pulled on the sneakers. They were about half a size too big, but she figured that was close enough.
“Thanks,” she told the woman.
“Yo, guys!” Hurley jogged over to join them, huffing and puffing from the exertion. “Hey, Faith, there you are. I was looking for you.”
“For me?” Faith was surprised as she glanced up from tying the sneakers.
“Yeah. I heard you’re into, like, tree-hugging and stuff. Right?”
Faith was surprised by the question. She had spoken to Hurley several times since meeting him after the explosion the day before, but they hadn’t discussed much beyond their current situation.
“Yep, she’s the one for that stuff,” George spoke up, pausing as he walked by with an armful of shirts.
Faith blushed, belatedly realizing who must have told Hurley about her. The afternoon before, soon after they’d started gathering luggage together, George had asked about her PhD and Faith had told him a little more about her background. He’d also made that joke about her at the fire last night when Hurley was standing nearby.
“I guess you could say that,” she replied cautiously to Hurley’s question as George moved on. It made her feel funny to know that people might be talking about her behind her back. “Um, why?”
“Well, you probably know, like, which plants in the jungle are safe to eat and stuff, right?” Hurley shrugged. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but our food supply is already looking kind of, you know, pathetic. I figured someone like you could help us find more stuff to eat.”
“Sure, I guess. My specialty is reptiles and amphibians, though, not plants.” Seeing Hurley’s face fall, she quickly added, “But I know a little about botany, too. I’ll definitely do what I can. You know, if it becomes necessary.” She was sure they would be rescued long before they had to resort to subsisting on the local vegetation. Probably today. But she was glad to be able to make Hurley feel a little better in the meantime.
“Cool,” Hurley said, his smile lighting up his whole face.
“Hey, guys!” a new voice interrupted them. Glancing over her shoulder, Faith saw Walt’s father hurrying over to them. He quickly introduced himself as Michael. “Have any of you seen my boy?” he asked anxiously. “Name’s Walt, he’s about yea high…” He held up one hand to indicate the boy’s height.
“Sorry, dude, haven�
��t seen him,” Hurley said, as Boone and George wandered over and shrugged.
“I saw Walt a while ago,” Faith spoke up. “Before it rained. He was looking for his dog.”
Michael sighed. “Shoot, he still hasn’t given up on that?” he grumbled. “Well, he hasn’t been missing quite that long—he was with me during the rainstorm. Guess I must have lost track of him afterward.”
As Michael moved on, Faith glanced at the others, feeling concerned. “I hope Walt didn’t go into the jungle looking for his dog,” she said. “If he did…”
“Dude.” Hurley shook his head slowly. “Don’t even think that.”
Faith could tell he was thinking about those mysterious sounds, too. “Do you think we should help him search for a while? We could check in the jungle…”
Hurley shrugged uncertainly. But George gave a brisk nod.
“Faith’s right,” he said. “If young Walt is wandering around out in the jungle, we should help his father track him down and bring him back.” Catching Faith’s surprised look, he smiled briefly. “I’m a father, too,” he said. “Besides, we can look for more luggage while we’re in there. Two birds with one stone and all that.”
While the red-haired woman and a couple of others stayed behind to continue sorting through the luggage, Faith, George, Boone, and Hurley headed for the tree line. “Michael was heading thataway, down toward the water,” George said briskly. “So let’s us go this way.” He pointed across the beach to a spot where tall, slender bamboo stalks nodded out over the sand.
The shade of the bamboo grove felt refreshing after the blazing sun on the beach. Faith followed the men as they tromped along some kind of animal trail, calling out Walt’s name every few yards.
They’d been searching for about ten minutes when Faith spotted a small red suitcase half-hidden in the leaf litter a few yards off the path. She hurried over to grab it. As she straightened up with the bag in one hand, she barely caught a flutter of movement just above. Glancing up, she gasped so loudly that the others heard her and stopped.
“What is it?” George asked worriedly, pushing his way through the limber bamboo stalks toward her. “Faith? Are you okay?”
Faith whirled around, trying to follow the bird’s motion. But it was just a little too quick for her as it darted into the treetops and disappeared. “That bird,” she exclaimed, still searching vainly for another glimpse. “I think I saw it yesterday…”
By this time the others had joined them. “Dude,” Hurley commented. “Did you just see a rescue plane or something? You look way excited.”
“No, nothing like that,” Faith said, slightly breathless with wonder. “Even better! I think I just spotted a Psephotus pulcherrimus—a Paradise Parrot!”
The three men traded dubious glances. “Um, okay,” Hurley said. “And that’s exciting exactly why?”
Faith giggled at the confused expression on his face, feeling rather giddy. “Paradise Parrots have been considered extinct since the 1920s,” she explained. “If there’s really one living here—well, this is huge news!”
“Yeah,” Boone said slowly. “If you say so, I guess. Um, no offense though, but are you sure? There must be thousands of kinds of parrots, and a lot of them probably look a lot alike…”
“I’m sure,” Faith assured him. “Well, pretty sure. I mean, I only got a quick look at it. But my sister collected old prints of extinct species. She had a framed picture of a Paradise Parrot on her bathroom wall for years; I know every feather on its body. If I could get a better look, I know I could identify it for certain.”
Every inch of her body was quivering with excitement. Could there really be living Paradise Parrots here? “I guess this proves we must definitely be on an island, like someone was saying last night,” she said distractedly, once again searching the treetops for another sighting. “That’s the only way it could stay here undiscovered for so long. I think I saw which direction it went—maybe if I hurry, I can catch up and get a better look…”
“Wait.” Boone put a hand on her shoulder as she was about to take off through the grove. “I’m not sure that’s such a hot idea.”
Hurley nodded vigorously. “Yeah,” he said with a shudder. “You don’t want to run into—you know.”
“Besides, who cares about some stupid bird?” George added, sounding impatient. “We have more important things to think about right now.”
Still lost in her own wonder at what she’d just seen, Faith could only stare at him in astonishment. Hadn’t George heard a word she’d said? Despite all their current problems, nothing could be more important than finding out if that was really a Paradise Parrot she’d seen.
“You don’t understand,” she said urgently. “Everyone thinks this species has been gone for years. Don’t you realize what it means if we actually find one living here?” She searched her mind for the words to explain it to him. “It’s like a chance to recover something everyone thought was lost forever, something special…”
“Get real.” George rolled his eyes. “Pretty birds are nice and all. But people come first.”
“Whatever.” Boone sounded impatient. “This really isn’t worth arguing about right now, guys. The most important thing is staying alive until we get rescued, right?” He shot Faith a slightly apologetic smile. “Otherwise nobody will ever know about your rare bird anyway.”
George was glaring at Faith, hardly seeming to notice what Boone had said. “You know, if tree-huggers like you spent a little less time worrying about saving every last bird, bug, and lizard, maybe you could help solve a few of the world’s real problems instead.”
“Listen, guys,” Hurley broke in tentatively. “Maybe we should—”
Faith barely heard him. “Are you kidding?” she cried, astounded by George’s attitude. “Most of the world’s ‘real’ problems have everything to do with tree-hugging. We’re all part of this planet, you know, and—”
He didn’t let her finish. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, kicking at a small bamboo sapling. “One big green world; I’ve heard it all before, and I ain’t convinced. Didn’t you people ever hear of a little thing called survival of the fittest? Huh? Why should we waste everyone’s time and money protecting critters that can’t make it on their own? That’s going against nature’s way, if you ask me.”
Faith’s hands flew up to her cheeks as she struggled to find the words to respond. She had heard similar arguments before, and she always found herself bewildered and frustrated by them. Did George really believe what he’d just said? Could he really think it was all that simple?
Survival of the fittest? she thought, tears threatening behind her eyes as Gayle’s face popped into her head. I suppose he also thinks the same way about sick people…
“Anyway, gotta say I’m disappointed.” George seemed unaware of just how upset she was getting. “I never would’ve pegged you as a radical. You seem too damn smart for that, sweetheart.”
“I’m not a radical,” Faith protested, but her voice was weak and she knew there was no point in arguing any longer. George didn’t really know anything about her, and she was starting to think he wasn’t interested in learning. “Okay, fine. Let’s just keep looking for Walt then, all right?”
“That’s more like it.” George sounded satisfied. “Come on, this way. Walt! Walt? You out there, buddy?” He tromped off through the grove.
The others didn’t say much as they followed. Faith drifted after them, alternating between euphoria at what she’d seen and guilt for giving up on it so quickly in the face of George’s arguments. Hadn’t she learned her lesson about that by now?
But it was no use. She’d never been much of a debater; under pressure, her emotions were far too quick to take over her brain. That was one reason she’d always shied away from confrontation…
8
“DR. ARREGLO WILL NOW take a few questions.”
“I’ve got a question for the bastard!”
Faith winced as she recognized Mo’s gruf
f voice. He was leaping up and down nearby, shouting out and waving his arms.
“How can he live with himself?” he yelled. “That’s my question!”
All throughout the sizable crowd that had gathered to watch Dr. Arreglo’s first public press conference in Australia, people were craning their necks to catch a glimpse of Mo. Faith could almost feel the curious eyes latching onto her little group of weirdos. Embarrassed to be seen with them, she sidled over to hide herself behind Oscar, glad that the two of them had been temporarily separated from the others by a couple of overweight men in business suits. Of course, it didn’t help that Oscar was now jabbing both index fingers toward the stage and shouting, “Arrest that man for crimes against nature!”
Faith glanced up toward the steps of the convention center, which were serving as the stage for this press event. From this distance Dr. Arreglo looked like a speck up there, surrounded by convention sponsors, security guards, and media types. Even so, Faith found herself unreasonably worried that he would glance out into the crowd gathered in the street below and recognize her. She was starting to wish she could just go back in time and figure out a way to avoid this whole trip.
“Arreglo sucks!” someone shouted closer to the back of the crowd.
There were a few ragged cheers. Rune, who was perched rather precariously on Junior’s broad shoulders, pumped her fist. “Right on!” she screamed with all of her considerable lung power. “Fight the power!”
Faith glanced around, feeling anxious. Clearly her companions weren’t the only protesters at the press conference. The crowd murmured, the noise swelling as people reacted to the confrontational comments being shouted out here and there. All of a sudden it was as if clouds had rolled in abruptly on a formerly bright, sunny day. The air felt dangerous, as if something was about to explode.
“Stop the traitor!” Rune howled.
Faith glanced up at Oscar. “Are you sure we’re safe here?” she asked him, her words almost lost in the noise.
Lost: The Novels Page 6
