The midday light played with the long, drooping leaves of tall trees, which shivered softly in the warm breeze. Glancing up at them briefly, Sarah Ng made her way with determination towards a place she had not seen for over two weeks, but which had become, for now, her refuge. Her feet shuffled over the sand as she left the forest and limped onto the beach, resting against a makeshift crutch Sayid had leant her. She paused for breath, and looked out over the beach. She frowned.
The camp was deserted. The tents – including hers – were gone. Most startling of all, the fuselage was now partly submerged in water, which lapped at its sides. But, she thought, confused, the tide never came up this far… She stood on the spot for perhaps twenty seconds, trying to make sense of what her eyes were seeing, then shook her head and turned right, hobbling along the edge of the beach. Presumably, the castaways had packed up and moved further on as the water moved in over their camp. She knew they had not moved to the caves, as she had just come from there.
After a short walk, she saw them in the distance, and stopped again, catching her breath. Limping her way from the caves to the beach had been a lot more tiring than she had expected it to be. Oh, but it was good to be out of her wheelchair! Jack had been amazed by the speed of her recovery. That alone had put a smile on her face for the whole morning. After this, she felt –silly as it might sound– that she could survive anything the island might fling at her. For days she had remained shaken, shocked and stunned at her narrow brush with death, but the bright, warm air today had dispelled –for a while at least– those gloomy thoughts.
She hobbled closer to the new camp, and smiled as Tom waved at her. He walked towards her, meeting her half-way there.
“Stand up, and walk!” he greeted her cheerily. “You’re a living miracle. On your feet again after… what? Nine days?”
“Don’t say that,” she chided, but smiled nonetheless. “Isn’t that what Jesus said to Lazarus? You’re going to make me feel like the walking dead.” She glanced past him. “We’ve moved camp?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “The tide came in… like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Out of the blue, these really big waves rushing up the beach. You had to see it to believe it. We grabbed what we could. Your stuff was nearer the trees already, so it’s all safe. Scott and I moved your tent for you.” He nodded behind him. “It’s right over there.”
She smiled warmly. “Thanks. I owe you, Tom.”
“Well, don’t get yourself shot again, and that’ll be a start.” He grinned. “By the way, word has it Claire’s back?”
“Yes, that… was weird, too,” Sarah told him, nodding quickly. “Boone and that strange bald guy found her last night, wandering around in the dark, bruises on her face… She fainted, and when she woke up… She can’t remember anything, Tom,” she said in a whisper, and swallowed. “She doesn’t remember any of us. Or the crash, what she’s doing on this island… I don’t know what Ethan did to her, but…” She trailed off, and turned her head away, a look of helpless anger in her eyes.
“Sarah…” Tom’s voice was gentle. “Hey, it’s OK. Jack’s with her. She’s safe now. And so are you.” He slipped his arm loosely round her shoulders, and gave her a friendly squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
A quick laugh escaped her. “Home… Yeah, I s’pose it is. D’you know how much I’ve been thinking, over the past few days, of just crawling back into my tent and sleeping on ‘my own bed’ again? ‘My bed’ of course being a crumpled blanket with holes in it, that makes me wake up with sand in my hair every morning.” She smiled. “One month we’ve been here, almost, and I’m starting to feel I could get used to it. Now that’s scary.”
Tom laughed. “Well, that’s the spirit!” He guided her back towards it, supporting her as she limped over the beach. As they drew nearer, Steve motioned for them to hurry.
“You’re going to want to hear this!” he called urgently. Sarah tried to hobble over faster. The castaways were gathering round in a loose circle, and she could hear one voice rising above the murmured whispers.
“… to know. Earlier today, Ethan re-appeared, and attacked Charlie and Jin. They’re both fine, too, but Ethan had threatened to come back.” Steven and others shifted to the side so they could see what was going on. The bald hunter –John– was standing in the centre of the circle, wearing one of his many knives on his belt. The crowd had fallen silent now. Sarah watched and listened with worried eyes. “We know he’s dangerous, and we also know what he wants,” John was saying. “Obviously we’re not going to hand Claire back over to him, and since we’re not going to, he’s going to try and carry out his threat. He says he’s going to kill one of us after sundown.”
There were gasps, murmurs of fear and dismay. Sarah turned and stared at Tom in alarm; after a brief flicker of fear, his face was set and grim. He edged a little closer to her, protectively.
“Now we’re not going to just wait and be idle!” John told them, raising his voice slightly to draw everyone’s attention back towards him. “There are about two dozen of us here, and there’s only one of him. We also know he’s coming. So when he does, we’ll be ready for him. We’re going to set up a perimetre, and several of us will be staying up, standing guard. If he can’t get into the camp without us seeing him, he can’t harm anyone. What I need you all to do now is simply: be cautious. Stay with everyone else. Don’t wander off on your own. Don’t become an easy target.”
Sarah shivered. “Here we go again…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We crash onto a nice desert island, and it turns out to be inhabited by murderous lunatics.”
“You heard John.” Tom turned, and walked away a few steps; she followed him. “There’s only one of him. All together, we’re safe.”
“Yeah? What makes us so sure he’s alone? For all we know, there’s as many of him as there are of us!”
Tom smiled slightly, reassuringly. “You make it sound as if we’re going to be swamped by an army of clones.” Despite herself, Sarah smiled briefly, then frowned at him reproachfully.
“I’m serious, Tom. We have no idea what’s out there. We’ve never been inland. Not really. Not much further than the caves. We already know there’s that crazy French woman, and Ethan who was here all along too. There may be some sort of… settlement. People who aren’t happy to see us intruding on their island.”
“Well, we didn’t choose to come here,” Tom pointed out. “And if it really is ‘their’ island, and they want us off, when don’t they just tell us politely, and actually provide us with some way of leaving? A boat or something.”
“You’re assuming they’re sane, reasonable people.” Sarah’s voice dropped almost to a whisper again. “Of the two people we know of, one hangs rock stars from trees by their neck, and the other one sets traps that shoot arrows at harmless passers-by.” Tom gave her a mildly curious look at that. Perhaps it had just occurred to him that she had still not told him why she had trekked off on her own into the jungle, so far from the camp. She ignored it and went on: “Maybe this island used to be some sort of… secluded mental institution. For the violently insane. The patients got free, every one else fled, and now they’re… roaming about.” She shivered again. Tom looked at her seriously, then shook his head slowly.
“Well, you’re the Australian. Have your people got an ‘Island of the Deranged’ hidden away somewhere in the Pacific? Or maybe it’s the Kiwis.” He gave her a quick smile, then, upon seeing the grave and even frightened look on her face, turned serious once more. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not making fun, I… It’s just that I can’t seem to make sense of this, either. That’s my way of coping, I suppose. Making jokes that aren’t funny.” A hesitant smile. “Sorry.”
Before she could reply, Steve joined them, a thoughtful, rather troubled expression on his face.
“Sorry to interrupt… I was thinking about what Locke said. Well, we all were, I guess. And I was wondering… Sarah, you’ve been further inland than most of us.” He looked at her questioningly. “Did you see any trace of these… other people? Any sign that the island is inhabited?”
“You mean, other than whatever contraption shot an arrow right through me?” She shook her head. “Nothing.”
Steve nodded. “What Locke was saying makes sense, sort of. But I’m not really happy with waiting here for that bastard to come and try and kill us. He knows exactly where we are, and we have no idea where he is.”
“What are you saying?” Tom asked curiously.
“Stop me if this sounds silly,” Steve said, “but shouldn’t we be out there trying to find out more about him? Him, and anyone else that’s… out there? Find out where they are, what their forces are? Instead of staying put and just saying: ‘Hey, Ethan! Your move’.”
Sarah frowned, considering it. “You heard John. If we leave the camp, we’re vulnerable.”
“We’re even more vulnerable here if Ethan comes back with friends,” Steve countered. “Besides, if he attacks tonight, those most at risk will be those who are still at the camp.”
“Are you saying we should move to the caves?” Tom asked. “He might–” Steve shook his head.
“No, I’m saying I don’t want to be around when he turns up. And I think it makes more sense to get to know who our enemies are.”
“O-ka-ay…” Tom sounded thoughtful. Sarah looked at him, concerned.
“You agree with him?”
“Well… It definitely makes sense not to be here when Ethan arrives,” her Canadian friend pointed out.
“Yes, but…” She frowned, trying to give some structure to her thoughts. “What if we come across him in the jungle?”
“We’ll be no worse off there than here,” Steve argued.
“Well… all right,” she said, with great hesitation. “I suppose we’ll all be better off if we can find out who Ethan’s people are. Assuming he’s not alone.” She looked at Steve more steadily now. “When do you want to set out? Way before nightfall, I hope?”
“You’re going inland?” The three of them turned, and found Paulo and Nikki standing a few metres away. Paulo gave an apologetic smile. He did not smile often, she had noticed, and it looked rather awkward when he did. “If you want to have a private conversation, don’t stand in the middle of the camp. So, you’re going to look for Ethan?”
“Yep.” Steve faced him. “Want to tag along?”
Paulo shrugged. “Suits me. Better than staying here and hoping I don’t get clobbered to death in my sleep.” Beside him, Nikki frowned, looking annoyed, and tugged at his shoulder, pulling him down so that she could whisper something into his ear. Paulo shook his head, and whispered something back. Nikki looked doubtful, but shrugged in turn, and looked at them. “We’re in,” she announced, with a smile.
“Great! Pack your bags; we may be gone several days,” Steve told them. “So we’ll need to stop by the caves on our way and get water. I’m going to see if anyone else wants to come along; we’ll meet up in half an hour outside my tent, and set out.”
Sarah smiled, and nodded. Her initial concerns were beginning to dissipate in the face of something constructive to work on. “See you in a mo’,” she told Tom with a quick grin, and hurried over to her tent.
It was only as she reached it that a sudden wave of emotion washed through her, just for a moment. She stopped, and looked it over slowly. Tom and Scott had done a good job of putting it together again after dismantling it. She lifted the flap slowly, gazing into the sparse interior. A few clothes, neatly folded on top of her tidly stretched out blanket. Her only possessions on this island. And yet, for some reason, she felt genuinely moved at the sight. It had been fifteen days now since she had last seen it; fifteen days since she had set out on her fateful trip in search of –
She shook her head. Part of the reason why she had just agreed to accompany Tom and Steve on what might well prove to be an equally reckless and hazardous trip into the wild was a glimmer of hope that she might see that woman again. She still did not want to think of her as her mother. It made no sense at all for her mother to be here, on this islandÂ… and not to talk to her if she was. But whatever it was she had seen, it had known what her mother looked like, and that made it a tantalising mystery. The more she thought about it, the more certain she felt it had appeared to her for a reason, and she needed very badly to find out what that reason was.
She only hoped that reason had not been to lead her right into RousseauÂ’s lethal trap.
Twenty-five minutes later, she was standing outside SteveÂ’s tent, trying to look inconspicuous as other survivors passed her by. Not that she really had anything to hide, but a part of her did feel as if they were sneaking out and leaving everyone else exposed to danger. The others soon joined her; Steve was accompanied by a fairly petite woman with frizzy hair and light-brown skin, that Sarah had met once or twice before.
“Jane is coming too,” he announced. “Is everyone ready?”
Sarah looked around. Tom, Paulo, Nikki, Jane, Steve and herself. They all nodded silently, their faces generally serious. Tom bit at his thumb, perhaps a sign of nervousness. Jane coughed. Paulo looked a little distracted. Steve clapped his hands, once, briefly. “Good! Then let’s get going. We’ll push on as far into the jungle as it takes.”
Sarah nodded again, and followed them, hobbling with the help of SayidÂ’s crutch. No-one had mentioned that she was going to slow them down, and she hoped they were not thinking it. Besides, they were in no particular hurry. They would not be back before nightfall, so whatever they ultimately found or achieved, it would not prevent Ethan from coming this night if he truly intended to. She shivered faintly, suddenly glad that she was about to put a significant distance between herself and her tent. Tom fell into step beside her, and they exchanged a quick, mutually reassuring smile.
Just outside the camp, John, Sayid and Boone were setting up what appeared to be some sort of trap, or perimeter alert. Her gaze shifted down to the wiring Boone was stretching between two trees, and she looked away quickly. That brought back too many unpleasant memories. She winced, as she could almost feel the arrow sinking once more into the flesh of her thigh, tearing through muscle, scraping boneÂ… Jack was right; it was a miracle that she was able to walk again so soon, even if she was limping.
Boone looked up, his gaze following them as they passed, mildly curious. John, however, had his back to them. Which was probably a good thing, she decided. She would not have enjoyed trying to explain why the six of them were leaving now, just after John had specifically recommended that they all stay close to one another. She turned her attention to the way ahead, as they left the beach and entered the forest. Steve was leading the way.
“Well,” he said, and Sarah took a deep, discreet breath. “Let’s see what’s out there…”
* * *
“So, Paulo, tell me… What did you do, back in your previous life?”
After a couple of hours or so, their search for Ethan and his hypothetical companions had become almost a leisurely stroll through the forest, although Steve, several metres ahead of the rest of them, still had a serious, intent look on his face. Sarah stepped over a root, and brushed a strand of dark hair from over her forehead, glancing at her fellow castaway. Tom glanced back over his shoulder at them, listening in.
“You make it sound as if it were an eternity ago,” Paulo remarked, almost pensively.
“Well…” Sarah brushed the comment aside. “You know what I mean. Before the plane blew up on us and… sort of put all our careers on pause?”
“Blew up?” Jane, who had been lagging behind a little, resetting the straps on her bag, caught up with them. “I passed out during the turbulence… Was there an explosion?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted. “I just… said the word that came to mind. We know the plane was ripped into at least three parts. I’m no engineer, I don’t know what caused it.” She looked at the other woman. “I assumed it was just bad turbulence. Atmospheric… pressure. Whatever.”
“Well, whatever it was… we were lucky to be flying over an island at that exact moment,” Jane said gravely. Sarah nodded. That thought had already occurred to her.
“Back on topic,” she said after a long moment of somewhat heavy silence. She made her voice deliberately cheerful. “Paulo! What were you, then?”
“He was a cook,” Nikki answered for him, she too looking back over her shoulder towards them. She had been talking with Tom. “The best cook I’ve ever known. Aren’t you?”
“Really?” Sarah’s attention, along with everyone else’s, had turned to focus on Paulo. “How come you’ve never demonstrated your culinary abilities in all the time we’ve been here?” she teased. “A cook is just what we need.”
Paulo shrugged. “The ingredients here are rather limited.” After a brief while, he gave a half-smile. “But perhaps I’ll see what I can do.”
“What were you, Sarah?” Nikki asked curiously.
“Me? I work – worked in a clothes shop. Sales assistant. In Sydney. But that’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. I’m studying for a PhD.”
“What in?” Tom asked, sounding genuinely interested.
“The evolution in business culture in China. Sort of a mix of economics and cultural studies. And language, of course.” She grinned. “It sounds awfully dry, I know, but with Australia’s increasing economic relations with Asia–”
“Shh.” Up ahead, Steve held up his hand, bringing the small procession to a halt. They fell quiet, gathering behind him. Sarah listened carefully. There was a rustle of leaves, as some small animal darted through the underbush nearby, then silence… until she heard the faint but definite trickle of running water. She smiled, partly out of relief. She had half-expected to hear whispers again, and was quietly glad to be faced with an entirely natural, benign phenomenon instead.
“How far do you think it is?” Nikki asked.
“No idea,” Steve said. “I’m not a tracker or anything. But it doesn’t sound as if it can be very far. Come on.”
They moved on, more cautiously now. It was as if the intrusion of an unexpected sound had reminded them all that the jungle was not, after all, entirely safe, and that they might well be venturing deeper into Ethan’s territory. In all likelihood, their mysterious, self-proclaimed enemy knew this entire forest far better than they did. It had also occurred to her that running water probably meant a river, which in turn suggested a potentially ideal spot for a settlement. They could well be approaching Ethan’s ‘base of operations’, assuming he had one. She glanced at the others, and wondered whether any of them had thought about that, too.
The sound grew more distinct as they came nearer, but it was still little more than a trickle. After several minutes, Steve stopped again, and appeared to be considering the situation. Sarah looked at him, then shrugged to herself, and began to move past him. He caught her arm, gently but firmly.
“There’s an open space up ahead.” She followed his gaze, and saw that there was indeed what seemed to be a fairly wide gap in the trees. “I’m going to check it out,” he announced. “Paulo, come with me? Tom, stay put with the ladies.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, but said nothing. The break was, truth be told, a welcome one. She leaned back against a tree, flexing her shoulder after having pressed it against her crutch for so long. Tom handed her a bottle of water, and she took a quick, grateful swallow. She looked up again as Paulo returned.
“It’s all right. You can come. There’s no-one there.”
They followed him silently to the point where the trees stopped, and SarahÂ’s gaze travelled slowly down. She blinked, while her mind took in the sight, and held on tight to her crutch for balance.
The gap was due to a chasm seperating them from the rest of the forest up ahead. Cliffs of red rock and soil descended steeply on either side, towards a bed of gravel where a narrow stream ran – the source of the sound they had heard. But most unexpected of all was the creaky-looking bridge which spanned the open space before them – a set of crudely carved planks strung together with partly frayed rope.
“Wow…” Nikki breathed, awed.
Paulo, for some reason, seemed mildly amused at his companionÂ’s reaction, but Sarah could understand how she felt. For several long seconds, the six of them stood a metre or so away from the end of the bridge, saying nothing, absorbing their discovery. Sarah wondered silently how long it had been here. The ropes looked as if they had weathered many a lashing of wind and rain.
“Well…” Tom said at last, his eyes on the bridge rather than on them. “I guess this proves Ethan isn’t alone. No-one could have built this on their own.” He paused, and swallowed. “Great. So there are several of them out there.”
“So what do we do now?” Jane asked hesitatingly. “I don’t trust that bridge. The wood may be rotten. The ropes too.”
“On the other hand,” Steve pointed out, “it may be our only way across.”
“Maybe there’s a way round…” Tom said tentatively. Sarah turned her head both ways. The chasm stretched out on either side, bending and winding its way back into the forest, bearing the stream with it.
“If there were a way round close by, why build a bridge?” Steven reasoned. “It has to be the only way across here.” He stopped, thinking.
“Are we sure we want to cross it?” Sarah asked. “This may be, I don’t know… the edge of Ethan-land.”
“Well there’s one way to find out.” Steven nodded across it. “It seems a shame to have come this far and turn back.”
“So…” Jane spoke up. “You think… this is the way Ethan comes and goes?”
“If he does,” Nikki said, eyeing the bridge, “he’s either brave or foolhardy.”
“What are you thinking, Jane?”
“I’m thinking,” she said seriously, “instead of crossing it, maybe we should cut it loose.”
Sarah looked at her, a little surprised that she had not thought of that herself. The others, however, did not look particularly enthused. “Whoah…” Tom said. “Let’s not be too hasty, shall we? We don’t know what’s on the other side.”
“No, but we can make a good guess,” Jane said pointedly. “This bridge has to have been built by Ethan’s people. If we’re lucky, they still rely on it to get to our beach. We wreck the bridge, we solve our problem.”
Steve thought for a moment, then shook his head. “We’re not destroying the bridge.”
“And who put you in charge?” Jane demanded.
“Nobody’s ‘in charge’. But it makes no sense to destroy it. It would slow Ethan down – if he intends to use it, and if he’s not already on this side –, nothing more. There are bound to be other ways round. On the other hand, we do need it to get across. I say we cross it, and see what else is” – he gestured – “out there.” He looked at them. “Do you want to vote?”
“Well, since it seems we have an impromptu direct democracy…” Tom said wryly. “I agree with Steve. I vote we cross it.”
“Are you volunteering to go first?” Jane shook her head. “I think this is a bad idea.”
Sarah chewed at her lip, and hesitated. Her gaze moved from her fellow survivors to the bridge, then across to the trees, and down to the bottom of the chasm far below. “I’m not sure I can make it.” She tapped her crutch.
“You’ll make it,” Steve said confidently.
“Yeah, well pardon me if I’m a bit wary of stuff that people have built on this island,” she reminded him. “Once burned…”
He nodded, and turned to Paulo and Nikki. “What do you think?” The two looked at each other, then back at him after a long moment.
“We cross,” Nikki said, tossing off any lingering hesitation. Steve smiled.
“Seems we have our majority.”
“If you think you can force me across that death trap–” Sarah began, her eyes narrowing dangerously, her hand clenching self-protectively on her crutch.
“No, no, no!” Tom intejected quickly. “Nobody’s going to force anyone. Sarah, Jane, if you really want to turn back… I’ll walk you back to the beach. We’re not here to take risks that we’re not comfortable taking. It’s up to you.”
Sarah and Jane looked at each other. Finally, Jane sighed.
“OK. Fine. Whatever. I’m just not going across that thing first.” Five pairs of eyes turned to Sarah. She grimaced.
“Yeah, all right. We’ve come this far already… I’m with you.” She gave a faint smile. “But I’m not going across first either.”
“I brought you all out here,” Steven said, and promptly walked the remaining metres to the edge of the bridge. “I’ll go first.” He placed one foot on the ageing planks.
Sarah bit her lip hard, adrenaline beginning to pump through her veins. Her breath caught in her chest, and she inhaled noisily, her gaze fixed on Steve. He had both feet on the bridge now, and was proceeding to cross it, step by cautious step. Her eyes locked on to his feet, as though mesmerised. He did not look at all confident, and she could not blame him. She tried not to think about going over herself. The very idea left her frozen to the spot in fear, her self-preservation instincts rooting her to ground, keeping her firmly away. Steve was about one sixth of the way across now, and had picked up his pace a littleÂ… The bridge swayed as his weight shifted, and she gasped, biting down on her lower lip hard.
“Has anyone thought what we’ll do if he falls?” Paulo muttered beside her. She did not answer. It was a rhetorical question; there would be nothing to do. Nobody could survive a fall from this height.
She held her breath without even realising it as Steve made it about a third of the way across, then half. She tried to swallow against the dryness in her throat. The bridge was still swaying ominously.
Steve hastened his step again, and finally made it to the other side. He took several steps away from the edge, and, even across the wide gap, she could see him catch his breath and lift his eyes to the heavens.
“All right,” Paulo said. “My turn.” He strode over to the bridge.
“Is it safe?” Tom called across anxiously. Steve nodded.
“It’s safe,” he shouted back. “Just be very careful where you put your feet. The planks aren’t properly parallel; there are holes. Don’t press too hard on the railing. The roping.”
“Got it,” Paulo acknowledged, as he began to cross in turn. Sarah watched, breathing a little more easily now, but still feeling very tense. He made it, although she could have sworn the bridge let out some very ominous creaks as he did so. Jane went next, with excruciating slowness, and then Nikki. Sarah found herself biting her dirty nails, and forced herself to stop.
Nikki had gone almost two thirds of the way when a sudden, loud bang ripped through the air, and the woman on the bridge screamed. SarahÂ’s heart hammered with fear in her chest. She stared at Nikki, wide-eyed. She had stopped suddenly on the bridge, frozen, not daring to move. Beside Sarah, Tom looked around wildly, as did those on the other side of the chasm.
“That was a gunshot!” Tom shouted. “That was a frikkin’ gunshot!”
“Nikki, get moving!” Paulo yelled. “Don’t stay there in the open!” Still she did not move. “Nikki!!”
Finally she was spurred into action, almost running over the final stretch; Sarah could hear her panting hard right from the opposite side. Paulo took her in his arms, holding her close, protectively. Sarah’s gaze panned anxiously over the thick, dark green jungle. Nothing. There was no sign of human presence in the vast tropical wilderness – but then the forest was so dense that it would be almost impossible to spot a human figure anyway. Only on the bridge did they become exposed, and highly visible. She backed a little further away, pressing against a tree.
“What now?” Tom shouted over towards the others. She could feel herself shivering, and tried to control herself. If she did end up on the bridge, she was going to need steady nerves. A useless leg was bad enough; she could not afford for her one good one to be trembling on top of it all.
“Better for you to come over than for us to come back!” Paulo shouted back.
Sarah sighed, the sigh emerging as a shudder. “Lovely,” she muttered. There had been no second gunshot –if that was what it had been– but they had no way of knowing on what side of the chasm the hypothetical shooter was. At this particular moment, nowhere felt ‘safe’.
“All right,” Tom said after a long moment’s silence. “We’re coming across.” He turned to her. “Can you do this?” he asked, gently. She nodded, wordlessly, and shivered again. Finally, she was able to say:
“You go. I’ll be right behind you. I just need to pull myself together.”
Tom looked at her for several seconds, then nodded, took her by the shoulders, and gave her a brief hug. He turned, and marched resolutely towards the bridge. “K-keep your head low!” she called after him, a feeble attempt at a joke. She watched, more anxious than ever, as he made it all the way across. She took a deep breath, released it slowly, and left the shelter of the trees, limping out into the open. She cast a nervous glance towards the distant trees, then focused on the bridge itself. It was generally considered good advice not to look down, she remembered, but in this particular case she had little choice. The planks were so unevenly placed that trying to cross without looking down would be madness. She did her best to focus narrowly on the planks of wood themselves, and not on the vertiginous drop to the stream so very far below.
Tentatively, with extreme caution, she shifted her crutch onto one of the planks, testing it, then pressed her left hand against the rope ‘railing’, rested most of her weight on her crutch, and pushed herself forward, her left foot landing on thin but solid wood again. She stopped, and closed her eyes, her breath coming to her in shudders. Warm sweat dampened her foreheard. The crutch’s narrow base meant that she was concentrating her whole weight at every step on a highly reduced surface, and she was acutely aware of the pressure this brought to bear on the structure of the bridge. She swallowed, painfully, and took another step.
“Come on!” Tom called to her encouragingly. She did not look up. “You’re doing great! Not far now…”
Liar, she thought. She had barely begun. An eternity stretched out in front of her. She took another step. Then another.
“You’re doing fine!” Tom called again.
“I’m warning you,” she shouted back, without lifting her head even for an instant, “we’ll be going the long way back! I’m not doing this tw– AH!!”
Her crutch, which she had pressed against another plank, had slipped as she rested her whole weight against it to move forwards. It skidded a few centimetres over the dry wood, and she felt herself leaning forward, losing her balance. She tried to grab it, push herself up, but the staff had reached the edge of the plank, and skidded over, into empty air. With nothing to rest on, she fell forward hard, and screamed. The bridge rushed up at her, and a plank slammed into the side of her face, the impact shuddering through her skull. The bridge rocked, tremors coursing through its half-rotten ropes, and swayed dangerously. She lay very still, trembling, her right fist still clutching her stick in an iron grip. Gasps reached her.
“Sarah!” Nikki called out, dismayed. Sarah remained perfectly motionless, forcing herself to breathe… in… out… in… The swaying very gradually subsided. The planks beneath her body appeared to be holding. But she was afraid to make even the faintest move.
“Sarah!” It was Tom now. “Sarah, can you hear me? You have to get up. Very… very slowly.” She lay still, stretching out her legs inch by inch, testing. Her left foot moved over empty air, and she withdrew it quickly. “Sarah!” Tom’s voice was more urgent now. “You have to get up. The longer you stay, the more you’re straining the bridge with your weight!”
She pushed herself up onto her knees, very cautiously, pulling her crutch back up and resting it atop the bridge. She grimaced. Kneeling caused the pain in her right leg to flare up again; it was agony. Retrieving her stick, she pushed herself into a standing position, the bridge wobbling ominously beneath and around her. For the first time, she looked over at the five tense, worried faces on the other side.
“Are you calling me fat?” she asked, with a forced smile. She had always been slightly below average weight for her height, but over the past month she had lost more weight than ever before. It had actually begun to worry her, but at this particular moment she had more pressing concerns. She took a careful step forward.
Another gunshot rang out, frighteningly loud. She froze. Then came a third, and she heard a whizzing not far behind her head. From her throat came a half-strangled gasp. Somebody was actually shooting at her!
“Sarah!!” Jane screamed. “Sarah!” Tom shouted. “You have to run! Run, now! Now!”
“I can’t run!!” she screamed back. A fourth shot tore through the air, unseen but echoing in her ears. She stumbled, and fell flat on her face once more. The bridge creaked loudly, and swayed. She closed her eyes again, gasping for breath. She could feel herself going into shock, and forced herself to move, to remain active, take the initiative. She pressed herself up on her arms, crawling, dragging herself, still holding her crutch. Up ahead, Nikki took a stride in her direction to help, but Paulo grabbed her and pulled her back. “No, no! No!” Sarah shouted. “Don’t come on! It won’t hold!”
Panting, gasping and trembling, she hauled herself over the remaining distance, and Tom and Steve reached over to catch her as she neared the end. They pulled her off, Tom helping her back up onto her good foot. She was shivering violently, and he held her close, leading her over to a tree a safe distance from the chasm. He helped her sit down, and took the bottle from his bag.
“Here,” he said gently. “Drink. It’ll help steady your nerves. We’ll stop here for now.”
“We can’t stop long,” Steve said grimly. “Whoever was firing at us knows exactly where we are.”
“Just a few minutes,” Tom insisted. “Give her a few minutes.”
Holding the bottle in two trembling hands, Sarah forced herself to drink, then looked up into her companionsÂ’ shaken, worried faces.
“Remind me whose idea it was,” she said in a weak voice, “to cross that bloody bridge?”
* * *
