Personal Log: Adrian Rodd

Sarah had returned to her tent for the night, despite the attractive prospect of a real bunk bed to sleep in at what the others still called “the hatch”. The place remained a little too strange to her, compared to her familiar tent, and something about Jack, Kate and Hurley’s overall behaviour was making her feel strangely nervous. She could not quite put her finger on it. It was as if they had finally entered a world of their own, separate from that still inhabited by Sarah and the other survivors. She could not decide whether she wanted to be part of it, force her way in if necessary, or whether, on the contrary, she wanted to distance herself from it at all costs. Jack was confiding entirely too much in Locke and Kate, and those were two people she did not want to get close to. . . even if they allowed her.

Besides, she thought as she lay on her worn blanket, snuggling close to a cushion she had taken from the Swan, who could get any sleep with that eerie alarm going off every hundred and four minutes? Saving the world, Hurley had said… A figure of speech, surely. But what did happen when they entered that same series of numbers into the antique computer over and over again?

She had looked through the notebook again that evening. Was this the same ‘Swan’ that had been under observation two decades ago? Why had someone been watching it – and, more puzzling still, why had someone written down all the irrelevant, every day acts of its occupants? Subject four chopping fruit… What could possibly be meaningful about that? Had Desmond, the man Jack had found in the Swan, been one of those subjects? Or possibly one of the observers? And where was he now? Why had he run off when Jack and the others had arrived?

So many questions… She held distinct pieces of a same puzzle –the notebooks, the Swan– but had no way to make them fit. It was a genuine mystery, and incredibly frustrating.

What about the other places that were being watched? she wondered. The Flame, the Hydra, the tantalisingly-named Looking Glass… If the Swan was here, on this island, then were those other places here too? If so, it suggested that there were many mysteries still to be uncovered out in the jungle – hidden places, just like the Swan with its computer and modern conveniances concealed on a deserted island. But where to start looking?

She was drawn abruptly from her musings by a woman’s scream from outside. Sitting up quickly, she listened, nervous, but there was no further sound. All was still…

She hesitated a long while, then emerged from her tent cautiously, looking round. The camp fire was still burning. A few of the castaways had come out of their shelters, but were not straying far. A hushed silence had fallen on them all. There were a few worried whispers.

“It came from over there, I think,” she heard Jane say in a low voice to someone half-concealed by shadows, pointing. They had all learnt to be careful. Sarah shook her head.

Someone could be hurt, she told herself. Before she could talk herself out of it, she set out across the sand, in the direction Jane had pointed. She could hear murmurs from those wondering what she was doing, but she ignored them. Moving round a cluster of tents towards an open stretch of sand, she saw two figures standing fairly close. In the dim light of the camp fires, she was able to make out Charlie and Claire as she drew nearer. Charlie was holding Claire’s baby, talking to him softly, fussing him while the child’s young mother watched on.

“Sorry…” Sarah said awkwardly as she approached. “Am I intruding?” She felt suddenly a little foolish, but the fact that she was not alone in having left her tent told her she had not imagined the scream.

“No, no, not at all.” Charlie glanced over at her, before turning his attention back to the baby. “If you’re wondering what the noise was all about, Shannon had a bad dream, apparently.”

Sarah looked around. They appeared to be alone.
“Where is Shannon?”

“Oh, Sayid’s with her,” Claire told her, seeming a little distracted. “Just a nightmare, he said. Not that I’m surprised, on Monster Island.”

Sarah smiled slightly, relieved. “Monster Island. Hurley was calling it that earlier today.” There was no reply. Claire and Charlie seemed entirely absorbed with each other… or rather with the baby. Was it her imagination, or did Claire look distinctly uncomfortable?

That’s none of your business, she told herself firmly. “Well…” she said, a little awkwardly, and managed a brief laugh. “I just wanted to make sure. If everything’s ok… I’ll get back to bed. Good night!”

“Good night,” Charlie said absently, without looking up. Claire echoed him belatedly as Sarah was already turning to walk away.

When it’s not alarms waking you up to push buttons, it’s screaming neighbours with nightmares, she thought, sighing, as she lay back down in her tent a few moments later. She yawned, and pressed her head against her new pillow, closing her eyes.

* * *

Sarah lifted up the flap to Tom’s tent, pretending to knock as she did so. She found him inside, reading. He looked up with a smile.

“Have you got any clothes to wash?” she asked cheerfully.

“Clothes?” He stood, and joined her outside. “I’ve always got clothes that need washing. Damn sand… Are you offering to do my washing?”

She laughed. “No, I’m offering to take you to a couple of real washing machines. Since they’re there, it seems a shame not to use them. Especially since hardly anyone knows about them yet.”

“At the Swan, you mean?” When she nodded, Tom looked thoughtful. “Well… It’s an excuse to go there, I suppose. Does Jack know you’ve told me?”

“I’m sure he knew I would,” she said lightly. “It’s not his hatch, anyway. And we agreed I could let you in on the ‘Big Secret’.” She spoke the latter words with sarcasm, then smiled again. “C’mon. You can’t believe that place until you’ve seen it. And the computer room is like something out of 1950s sci-fi.”

Tom hesitated only briefly. “All right, then. Give me a moment to find all my socks…” Sarah giggled. “It does seem weird, doesn’t it?” her friend said, rummaging round his tent. “Knowing that there’s actually a computer within walking distance from here.”

“Forget the computer,” she told him cheerily. “It’s the waching machines I’m after today!”

Tom chuckled. “Didn’t you say there was a shower, too?” When she did not immediately reply, however, he looked back over his shoulder. “Sarah?”

Sarah had been distracted by people starting to move down the beach, off to the right. She frowned a little, wondering what was going on. They looked excited. She motioned for Tom to come out of his tent.

“Something’s happening…”

Together, they joined the small flow of people, leaving the camp itself and hurrying down the beach. There was a gathering occuring up ahead, around… She stared.

“Jin?” she exclaimed, startled.

“Where?” Tom asked, surprised. She pointed. He was being greeted by the other castaways, Manuel shaking his hand warmly, Nikki hugging him. “Oh. But…”

But Jin was on the raft, Sarah completed his thought silently. He should have been far out at sea by now. He could definitely not have found help and come back; he had left only four days ago. It was only as she hurried over to him, a few moments later, that she noticed he was not alone. A man and a woman accompanied him, standing back a little, out of the way. Tom saw them, and looked at them curiously.

“Rescuers?” he asked, dubiously. Sarah shook her head.

“No. Look at their clothes. They’re in a worse state than ours are.” The woman, a blond in her thirties, wore a flowing beige garment that seemed to have been cut out of a bag; she held a makeshift walking stick, as did her male, middle-aged, ill-shaven companion. The latter’s clothes were badly torn, particularly his trousers. Both carried several bags, and seemed geared up for a long hike. The woman was smiling tentatively at a few of the castaways, speaking only a few words.

“Jin!” Sarah grinned when she reached him at last; he smiled, and gave her a brief but warm hug. “Good to see you, mate! What happened out there?” She looked around quickly. “Where are Michael and Walt? And Sawyer?”

Jin’s smile faltered a little, his face taking on a far more serious expression. The others pressed round, anxious for information. His sudden appearance, reaching the beach from the jungle and not from the sea, without his raft-mates but with two strangers, was raising a great number of questions.

“Michael… OK,” he reassured them, in his hesitant English.

“And Walt?” Sarah asked, concerned. “Where’s Walt? What happened to you, Jin?”

“Walt…” Jin repeated slowly. A grim shadow seemed to cast itself across his face, and he turned to his travel companions. The blond woman stepped forward.

“It’s a long story,” she told them, her voice equally grave.

“Well, tell us!” Nikki demanded, even as Manuel asked, almost suspiciously, “Who are you?”

“If Michael’s OK, where is he?” Charlie added, worried.

“Michael should be getting back to you any moment,” the woman assured them. “He’s fine. I’m Libby, by the way, and this is Bernard. We’re survivors from the crash. Just like you.”

The man identified as Bernard was looking over them, shaking his head in apparent amazement. “My god, there are a lot of you… You all look so healthy.”

“Survivors from the crash?” Nikki echoed, confused. “No, that’s…” There were murmurs from the assembled crowd.

“We were in the tail section of the plane,” Libby explained quickly. “We’ve come from the other side of the island. We thought we were the only ones, too. When we found Jin here, on our beach, we were as surprised as you are now.”

“How many are there of you?” Manuel asked. “Just the two of you?”

“Four,” she answered promptly. “Bernard, me, Ana and Eko.”

“Never mind that,” Tom cut in impatiently. “Where are Walt and Sawyer?” Jin was already moving off, towards the camp, as was Bernard. Sarah considered stopping him, until they knew what was going on, but Libby, her face grim, seemed willing to stay and cope with their barrage of questions.

“Walt…” She inhaled slowly, and looked at them all with what seemed like genuine sorrow. “Walt was taken by the Others. Or so your people have told us. Taken from the raft you built. Sawyer was shot–”

Sarah let out a gasp of horror, lifting her hands over her mouth and staring at the woman in numb shock. She heard cries of dismay and disbelief from those around her.

“He was shot, but he’s alive!” Libby went on hurriedly. “Eko took him to your doctor. You have a doctor, yes? He’s… he’s in a bad state, but I think he’ll be ok.” She turned her head, looking over towards Jin, who had found his wife and was embracing her. Those who had not yet heard Libby’s words were still celebrating their Korean friend’s return.

“So you… what, carried Sawyer all the way across the island, to get him to Jack?” Sarah said, in a whisper, barely able to speak. She shook her head. This was all too much to take in. They had all believed –all wanted to believe– that the raft and its crew were out there, a long way away, safe, that nothing could happen to them… “My god, who would kidnap a child?”

“There were two children with us,” Libby said gravely. “The Others took them, too, a long while ago now. I don’t… I don’t know where they took them. We haven’t heard… never seen them again since.”

“The Others…” Charlie sounded as if he were trying hard not to panic. “We have a baby here. Could they have followed you? Could they be coming here?”

“They… they were close, yes… I don’t know.”

“They could be coming for Aaron, for the baby! You led them right back here to us!” Charlie accused, furiously.

“Hey!” Manuel turned to him. “Calm down.”

“But you heard what she–”

“The Others know where we are already,” Manuel reminded him. “There’s no reason for them to come now rather than at any other time.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie snapped, “but somehow I don’t find that very reassuring! You can all do what you want; I’m going to make sure Claire is all right.”

Sarah watched him run off. The others were beginning to drift back towards the camp, following him. Some distance away, near the tents, Michael had just appeared. She shook her head, and swallowed, still shocked and very uneasy. She could barely begin to imagine what Michael had to be feeling…

She turned to Libby. She and Tom were almost alone with her now. There was a long moment’s silence.

“I’m sorry about Charlie shouting at you,” Sarah said, at last, uncomfortably. “He’s just upset, and worried. We all are.”

Libby nodded. “Sawyer said one of the Others kidnapped a pregnant woman from you once. But you’ve only seen that one man. We… The Others have attacked us several times.” She paused. “There’s more.” She looked each of them in the eyes, briefly. “And I’m sorry, but it’s bad.” Another pause, barely an instant, for them to brace themselves. “One of your people… The blond girl, early twenties… Shannon.”

Sarah closed her eyes, slowly. Please, no… Surely it couldn’t get worse. Surely –

“She’s dead.”

* * *

They stood round the open grave, most of the survivors gathered yet again to bury one of their own. Sarah stood next to Tom, who had his arm round her shoulder, comfortingly. Nikki stood nearby, sniffling, trying not to cry, while Paulo whispered something to her gently. Sayid was closest to the grave, standing apart from the others. For once, the Iraqi soldier’s calm, impassive face was distraught, filled with emotion. And as the breeze played gently with her hair, Sarah could not help but think how meaningless this all was. Shannon’s death… Sudden. Absurd. A split-second accident that had left yet another one of them dead.

“Shannon and I were strangers,” Sayid began, his calm voice tense with restrained grief. “We never would have met if– We wouldn't even have spoken if– But we did meet and we did speak. At least– I loved her.”

Sarah swallowed, hard, her eyes stinging with warm, painful tears. She had not even known Shannon herself. They had hardly ever spoken. A brief ‘good morning’, now and then, a few words of casual conversation, time fillers when they happened to cross paths. . . Meaningless, too. Yet it was all she could remember of the young woman.

And she can’t have been much more than twenty, she thought, the first tears trickling down her cheeks. Younger than me, even.

Jack had walked up to the grave, and Sarah forced herself to watch, drying her eyes. Their doctor let a trickle of earth fall over the young woman’s body, wrapped in tarpaulin… a poor substitute for a coffin.

“May she rest in peace,” he said simply.

Others began to file forward slowly, silently, following the one ritual, together, which could restore some measure of meaning to this tragedy. Libby had explained everything. Shannon and Sayid had come across the survivors from the tail end of the plane, and their leader, Ana, had been armed, expecting the Others to appear any moment. A gun in the hands of a frightened woman. Shannon’s unfamiliar face, appearing from between the trees… It had all happened in a moment.

Manuel was pouring a trickle of earth into the grave, Michael following him. Sarah watched, moving silently into the file of mourners paying their last, ritual respects. Tom squeezed her shoulder gently, comfortingly, and walked with her. No-one spoke.

She looked round. Libby and Bernard were both there, joining in with their little community – their new home. So was another of the tail section survivors, a tall, broad-shouldered man with very dark skin: Eko. Sarah’s gaze lingered on him. There was something about him that had been nagging at the back of her mind, although she had barely had the opportunity to see him yet. It clicked as she picked up a handful of earth, moving round the grave with the quiet, solemn procession. She had seen him before, at the airport in Sydney. They had bumped into each other, quite literally. She remembered he had seemed familiar then, which was why she remembered him now. His face had been familiar, and his voice… She shook her head, almost imperceptibly. She still could not place it, and now was not the time to worry about it.

Ana, the woman who had shot Shannon by accident, had not joined them. Not that Sarah could blame her. It was going to be incredibly difficult for her to be accepted among the survivors on the beach camp, and showing up at the funeral would only have made things worse. So far, Sarah had only caught a glimpse of her, from a distance. The woman had isolated herself, for now at least.

Sarah reached the side of Shannon’s grave, and looked down sombrely at the motionless figure wrapped in tarpaulin. She averted her eyes quickly, feeling tears well up in them once more. “Rest in peace,” she whispered, very quietly, as she let the earth trickle down from the palm of her hand. Then she moved on, trying her best to hold in her tears, and stopped a few metres from what had become, tragically, the community’s graveyard.

She sat down on the sand, without quite knowing why, biting the tips of her fingers and gazing out absently at the campsite, barely seeing it.

She was joined by Libby before Tom could reach her. The woman sat down beside her, quietly for a few seconds. Sarah turned her head slowly to look at her.

“I didn’t know her,” she said, feeling a sudden need to say something. “I didn’t know her, really… She was a face, a name… an impression. I didn’t even like her, at first. I never made the effort…” She stopped, and swallowed, hard. Tears ran down her cheeks slowly. Tom joined them silently, sitting on the other side of her, and taking her gently in his arms. Sarah kept her eyes on the blond woman, Libby. “I didn’t know her brother, either.”

“Her brother?” Libby asked, softly.

“Boone. Did nobody tell you? He died in an accident… it must have been a week ago today. I talked to him, once or twice… But in the end, he was still a stranger.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I remember that frightened me…”

“Being buried as a stranger?”

She nodded, the faintest of nods. “Horribly selfish of me…” she whispered, and wiped at her eyes. Tom gave her a quick hug.

“No it wasn’t,” he said. “You cared. You cared for him. And for Shannon. That’s what counts.”

“But it seems… empty, doesn’t it?” Libby said. “Meaningless.”

“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly it. To survive the crash, start to build a new life here, and then…” She trailed off, biting her lip hard so as not to cry. She looked at Libby almost fixedly. “How did you cope? Just the four of you. All those weeks, with the Others knowing you were there.”

“There were over twenty of us at first.” Libby glanced back towards the jungle, then looked at her and Tom again. “A few died of injury, illness… But mostly, they were taken by the Others. Just before we met you… just before Shannon died… there were still five of us. The Others took Cindy, so fast we never saw them. She was just… gone. Like that. That’s when Ana got the gun out, and we… we were panicking. The danger was so close, so real…”

Sarah nodded, slowly. “How many are there?” she asked softly. “The Others?”

“I don’t know.” Libby looked down at the sand between her feet. “We never see them. They move without a sound, without leaving a trace. Ana… was under more strain than you can imagine. Everything she did, she did to try and keep us safe.”

“I’m not accusing her…” Sarah whispered. Libby gave her a faint, grateful smile.

“Didn’t you try to hide?” Tom asked. “When your group was small. You could have stayed mobile. Eluded them.”

“We did, eventually. We moved off the beach. Eventually we found a… I’m not sure how to describe it. A sort of bunker. Deserted. Empty. It was shelter, and the Others never came to us there.”

“A bunker?” Tom exchanged a glance with Sarah. A slow, curious expression came over the latter’s face, edging out her raw emotion at the funeral at least for a moment.

“Was there a door?” she could not help but ask. “With… some sort of logo?”

Libby gazed into her face, and Sarah could have sworn she was searching, questioning, trying to read her eyes…

“There was what you might call a logo,” she said at last. “On the wall. Quite large, in black paint… An octogon, I think. With the word ‘Dharma’, and an arrow in the middle.”

“An arrow?” Sarah echoed, intrigued. In spite of what they had just been through, she experienced a brief thrill of excitement. “Was there… anything else? Anything at all in the bunker?”

“No. As I said, it was deserted.”

“No computer, then?” she pressed, despite herself. “Even if it didn’t work?”

“A computer?” Libby sounded genuinely surprised. “No, no, nothing at all like that.” She watched her curiously. “Why? Don’t tell me you’ve got a computer here?”

“Sarah will keep on asking questions as long as you can answer them.” Jack crouched down to face them, and nodded at each in turn. “Yes, we’ve got a computer, in our own bunker. Not that it’s of much use per se; its functions are… well, ‘rather limited’ would be putting it mildly. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“Actually, Jack, since you’re here,” Sarah told him, “I’d like to talk about it now.” She got to her feet, drying the remainder of her tears, and the others stood with her.

“What is it you want to talk about?” Jack asked patiently. “Now may not be the most appropriate time.” He glanced back towards the graveyard.

“Yeah, well it rarely is the appropriate time. But actually, this time it really is.” She paused, trying to bring some order to her thoughts. “I’d like to help out, as a matter of fact. You know, take another shift saving the world. Or two, or three, or more… Keeping everything hushed up is going to leave you a bit short-handed, so I’m offering to help.”

“That’s very good of you.” His voice was neutral, making it impossible for her to tell what he might be thinking. “Feel free to come round and push the button whenever you want, Sarah.” Libby looked from one to the other, obviously lost.

“Look, if you’re discussing something I shouldn’t know about…”

“No, that’s OK.” Jack kept his eyes on Sarah’s face.

“Great, then,” Sarah said, trying to make her tone equally neutral. “I’ll be round later today.”

“Anything else?”

Libby shook her head. “Listen, I don’t think this concerns me. I’m going to go and see Ana. She’s going to be in need of a friendly face.”

Sarah nodded almost absently while the woman walked off. Her attention was on Jack. “Yes, Jack, something else… I’ve been thinking of moving into the Swan. As in, you know, settling there.” She glanced at Tom, feeling just a little guilty at the look of surprise on his face. “It was designed to be lived in, so why not use it properly? And if I’m there, I can take as many shifts as necessary. Ease a bit of the burden off the rest of you.”

Jack gave what sounded like a brief laugh. “Well… That’s very generous of you. I think. But right now, Sarah, that really wouldn’t be convenient. I’ve got a patient in there, Sawyer, and I don’t need more people just hanging around. I need the bed for Sawyer, he needs a lot of rest, and I don’t want people crowding in on him. That’s my order as a doctor.”

Sarah held his gaze for a long moment, then grimaced briefly, and nodded. “All right.” She paused. “How is Sawyer, anyway?”

“Very weak. The wound was infected… He’ll live, but…”

“Yes,” Sarah said quickly. “I understand.” Another pause. She moistened her lips, hesitating briefly. “The Swan… the bunker. Once you’re no longer using it as a hospital. Have you considered that it’s pretty much designed to be… well, almost a fortress?”

Jack observed her face carefully. “I’d ask what you’re getting at, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“I’m thinking,” Sarah told him firmly, “we should start seriously considering how to use that place as a fortified base. You heard Libby. If we had any doubts at all, we know now how dangerous these ‘Others’ are. They can strike us at any time. We can move people in there, the most vulnerable at least, keep them safe. Claire, the baby… We have to start using our ressources intelligently, think ahead. Libby said the Others were very close yesterday. They may still be close by, watching us. They have a thing about kidnapping people, it seems; if we–” She stopped. Jack was shaking his head. “What?” she asked, frowning.

“Look. Maybe it’ll come to that. I don’t know. And now that we’ve got the hatch, Sarah, yes, we’re going to be thinking about what to do with it. Don’t think I haven’t considered all this already. Just… What I need you to do for now is… just give us time to think things through. I’m not going to start frightening people by telling them to move to the hatch. Especially not while I have a patient in there.”

“A patient who was shot by the Others,” Sarah reminded him pointedly. “We know they’re armed now.”

“And so are we. And they know it.”

“Yeah, see, that’s not reassuring me. Jack, most of the people here” –she swept her arm out towards the camp– “don’t know anything about what’s going on. That makes them vulnerable, defenceless. I know you don’t want to cause a panic, but maybe it’s time we started getting people concerned about our safety, when we know there is something to be concerned about. I know you’re doing your best, but if we could make sure everyone stays informed–”

Jack sighed, lifted his gaze briefly towards the skies before looking at her again. “OK, Sarah,” he said, and she could hear his patience begin to slip. “I hear what you’re saying. Again, you’re not telling me anything I haven’t asked myself already. But I have to start wondering about all your questions. What you think you’re trying to do here.”

“I’m sorry… what?” she gave a brief, incredulous laugh.

“Are you trying to be group leader, Sarah?” he asked, very seriously. She shook her head, amazed.

“No, Jack. I’m not trying to–”

“Because it strikes me it’s easy to criticise. And you’re becoming very good at that. Now if you have suggestions to make, I’m always glad to hear them. But unless you’re willing to actually try and look after everyone yourself, take on some responsibility for your words…” He stopped when he saw Sarah shake her head wordlessly, a look of irritation on her face. “Right,” he said. “I thought not. Well, if you’ve finished with your questions for today, Sawyer needs me. And that’s something I can actually do. So if you’ll excuse me.”

She said nothing as he turned and walked away. Everyone else had made their way back to the camp by now. She sensed Tom looking at her, and turned to face him.

“What?” she asked, irritably. He shook his head in turn.

“Nothing. Come on; let’s get back to the tents.”

* * *