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stefanie_beanChapter 3: Flight of the Phoenix
Pairings: Hurley/Claire, Kate/Sawyer
Characters: Hugo "Hurley" Reyes, Benjamin Linus, Desmond Hume, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, James "Sawyer" Ford, Rose Nadler, Bernard Nadler, Carole Littleton, Aaron Littleton, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Non-Human Characters
Rating: M
Length: 2799 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley begins to heal and rebuild the Island, while Claire, Kate, and Sawyer head back to our world. But when it comes to love, the Island gets you where you need to be.
Chapter 3: Flight of the Phoenix
Every time a plane takes off, it feels like a miracle.
Sure, the computer-wielding pencil-necked boys in the short-sleeve shirts can calculate every inch of wingspan, every yard of runway, every kilogram of mass, every pound of jet fuel required to make the magic happen. But whether it's the first flight or the thousandth, there's nothing in life, and maybe not even in death either, to compare with how the heart soars when those wheels finally leave the runway, when tons of metal defy the bonds of gravity, and claim a place among the birds and the angels.
So thought Frank Lapidus, hand on full throttle as Ajira 316 thundered off the cracked and broken Hydra Island runway to become airborne. And while he knew in his head that gravity still ruled, and any pilot who forgot that was a dead one, in his heart he rejoiced and was glad, because he was damned sure that this flight was the exception.
* * * * * * * *
Kate sat forward in her wide, comfortable leather seat, feeling the sharp, oddly high-pitched whine of the 737's engines. She had to admit, this was a hell of a way to get into first-class.
When Frank started to circle around the Island, Kate gripped Claire's hand tightly as jungle-covered cliffs swung terrifyingly close to the plane. Lava from the erupting volcano hit the ocean and billowed up into clouds of steam. A piece of cliff-side broke off easily as a chunk of cake before falling into the sea.
What the hell was Frank doing? Across the aisle from Kate, Miles sat with eyes closed and a self-satisfied grin. She strained to get a glimpse of Sawyer, but couldn't see him. The first-class seats were wide, and she didn't want to let go of Claire's hand.
Frank bellowed into the intercom,“Miles! Get your ass up here, now!” before changing to a more relaxed tone. “Nothing to worry about, folks. I just need another pair of eyes.”
Miles stirred, but didn't move until Kate gave him a sharp poke. “You heard him. Get on up there.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Miles said with a smirk. When he got to the cockpit he exclaimed, “Holy crap,” but Frank shushed him. Whatever it was, Kate sure as hell couldn't do anything about it.
“He saw something, didn't he?” Claire said.
“We're still flying. I guess that's what matters.”
Sawyer scooted into Miles's empty seat. “I think ol' Chesty just wants some company up there. Maybe one of you ladies could tie on your stewardess apron and bring him a tall cold drink. I sure know I could use one.” He grinned, flashing his dimples and trying to project relaxed charm, but his voice shook and his eyes were wet.
It wasn't worth getting indignant, but Kate rolled her eyes anyway. “Sawyer, you never stop, do you?”
“Never, Shortcake." He sounded better, farther from tears than before.
The plane dropped a few feet, sending Kate's stomach straight to the roof of her mouth. When it plummeted again, the engine whine grew louder, drowning out Frank's voice on the intercom with engine noise. If what he said was meant to be reassuring, it wasn't.
Outside, dark clouds surrounded the plane in a thick cocoon of gloom. Lighting flashes played off the distant clouds, teasing the plane with occasional sparks. Frank cut the lights, plunging the cabin into darkness.
Then the engines cut out.
The deafening silence held them all suspended. No more choppy vibrations of the fuselage, no more engine whines and rattles, no more whoosh of wind against wings. It wasn't until Ajira 316 was blanketed in complete and total silence that Kate realized how noisy the plane had been.
She didn't reflect for very long, because the plane went into a nosedive.
It was worse than any state fair roller-coaster, or the Oceanic 815 crash itself. She braced herself against the spiraling fall as gravity pressed the breath from her lungs. Claire gripped her so tightly that her hand went numb. Kate was convinced that these were the last seconds of her life.
Oh my God this is it, bye Aaron baby, bye Mom, I'm sorry, so sorry for all of it.
She hoped someone out there could hear her. If she was lucky, death would just come quick and get it over with.
All at once, airplane sounds broke over them like waves as the engines cut back in. Kate and Claire both screamed, but the plane was louder. Just like a roller-coaster when it hits its lowest point and rises once again, the plane's nose lifted.
The plane continued to climb, turbulence flinging it around like a child's toy. In the faint glow of the running lights, Kate could see Claire cowering in her seat with eyes screwed shut, tears running down her cheeks.
Gradually the clanking, crashing noises stopped, and the plane evened out. As the clouds outside brightened up, Kate relaxed her death-grip on Claire. Sawyer sat white and shaking, and Kate reached across the aisle for his hand.
Sawyer clung to Kate as he muttered, “Thought we bought the farm for sure.”
From the cockpit Frank said, “Everybody okay back there?” His pilot mask slipped for an instant when he added in a low voice, “Son of a bitch, Miles, that was a damn miracle. We should have hit the drink by now.” Recovering himself, he went on, “Looks like smooth sailing for the next three, four hours from here till Fiji. Can't give you folks an ETA 'cause I don't really know what time it is.” His laugh had the jagged tone of borderline hysteria. Then the intercom squealed and fell silent.
The plane flew on smoothly and evenly, held aloft on a cushion of air. Sun poured through the windows and the sky shone with a pure, seamless blue. Claire leaned back with closed eyes, while Kate stretched over her to stare at tiny ripples sprinkled across the vast ocean. Far away, a ship cut a thin white-threaded path across the blue sea.
For the first time since they'd climbed aboard Ajira 316, Kate felt sure that she was actually going to live. She took a few long deep breaths, then wrinkled her nose at the smell. It wasn't Claire's fault, but she was more than a bit ripe. Her tattered plaid shirt and dark jeans were so stiff that the dirt might have been woven into the fabric.
Kate was no prize either, with her soggy jeans and t-shirt still saturated with her own blood. Maybe she should look through the carry-on luggage, find something clean for herself and Claire both.
As Kate stepped into the aisle, Sawyer raised his eyebrows in a question.
“Ladies' room,” Kate answered.
Sawyer glanced over at Claire. “She okay?”
“I think so.”
“She's probably really pissed at me,” he said, rueful.
“We'll find out, won't we? At least she came with us. That's something.”
Kate rummaged above the flight attendant's seat until she found the small white box with a red cross on it. In the botom were antiseptic wipes and a small pair of surgical scissors. In the tiny lavatory, she pulled her wet, bloodstained tee down over her shoulder and braced herself to look.
There it was to the left of her collarbone, a thin red line of healed skin, with eight tiny loops of thread. As Jack had sewn her up, his voice had droned on as the needle burned through her skin, “I have to do this, Kate, or it'll get infected.”
“Oh, my God,” Kate said. She touched the well-healed scar experimentally, ready to snatch her hand back at the slightest twinge, but there was nothing except a faint itch where the threads dangled.
So flummoxed by the wound, she didn't hear Sawyer until his tall frame filled the tiny bathroom mirror. When he didn't make any wisecracks about her standing there in her bra, she decided not to yell at him for sneaking up on her.
He stared at the scar. “Yesterday that was quite a hole, as I recall.”
“I know. How can this be?”
All concern, he asked, “How's your arm? You sure were favorin' it earlier.”
She rolled her left shoulder forward and back, extended her arm outward and in. There was no pain at all. “It's fine. Like it never happened.”
He pointed to her stitches. “'Cept for the souvenirs. Want me to take 'em out? 'Course, maybe you'd rather do the honors yourself.”
Kate stared at the dangling black threads and reeled, suddenly lightheaded. Shaking, she leaned up against the tiny sink and told herself sternly not to faint.
When she started to reel anyway, he steered her to the closest row of seats. She flopped back, eyes closed, body shaking. For one crazy second she wanted to fight Sawyer off, because these tiny thread-loops were all that connected her to Jack, and once they were cut, everything would be severed for good.
Not entirely, because she had the living proof of his final gift to her. “Now you're like me,” Jacob had told Jack, and at the time that made no sense. But somehow, maybe during that final cliff-side kiss (it had to be during that kiss, like no other kiss she'd ever experienced, like holding wind and fire and light in her arms all at once) it had happened.
How else would she have been able to leap off that high cliff, swim like a seal through rough surf, pull herself hand-over-hand up the Elizabeth's tow rope, then swim to Hydra Island? She'd wanted Jack to give it back, to just let the Island sink. How wrong she was.
When Sawyer sat down beside her, scissors in hand, she jumped.
“Hey, relax, I ain't even touched you yet.”
“Jack did this, you know.”
“I know, Kate. I watched him.”
“No, not the stitches. It was only yesterday morning. Now look at it.”
Sawyer stared at the healed scar as if suddenly afraid to touch it. “That's some mojo.” With a pain-wracked face he added, “If the doc was able to do that, maybe he could, y'know, fix hisself.”
She hadn't dared to think it, but Sawyer saying it made it feel almost real. In a small voice she said, “Maybe.”
“So, can I start now?”
“Uh, huh.” The antiseptic he poured out wet her bra, but she didn't care. When he inserted the scissor blade into the first loop and gently drew the thread out with tweezers, she gave a little sob.
“Damn it, Freckles, did I hurt you?”
“No,” she sniffled. “I barely felt it.”
“Don't scare me like that again. I ain't exactly an expert.”
She sat quiet, still grieving inside as Sawyer drew the remaining seven loops from her skin, and each one seemed to pull directly out of her heart.
* * * * * * * *
As Kate headed back to her seat, Richard was deep in conversation with Lapidus in the cockpit. With a timid smile, Claire handed her an Ajira water bottle.
Sawyer had already guzzled his, but he lifted the empty as a kind of toast. “Somebody around here knows how to strap on a pair of stewardess pumps.”
“Thanks, Claire.” Kate drank deeply, suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. “Stop showing your age, Sawyer. They're flight attendants now, and they haven't worn high heels in years.”
Claire gestured towards the aisle. “Don't sit, Kate. I'm headed for the lav.”
“Good, I'll go with you. I want to look in the carry-on bags, find some clothes.”
When Claire came out of the lavatory, Kate had already exchanged her bloody shirt and mud-smeared jeans. But when Kate handed Claire some clean clothes, Claire backed away, clutching her own ragged shirt tightly across her chest. “No thanks."
“Oh, sorry, if you wanted something else. I didn't mean to pick for you. Look, that black wheel-y suitcase over there's full of stuff in our size. Just take what you want.”
But Claire still stood planted herself like a stubborn statue in the aisle. “I'm fine, really.”
Kate had little time to argue with her, because Richard and Sawyer came up, their faces long and serious.
“This is the situation, ladies,” Richard said in a tight, tense voice. “We're losing fuel, and we're not going to make it to Fiji.”
“Here we go again,” said Sawyer.
Kate leaned up against a seat, reeling. They were going to die. Or they weren't going to die right away, but when they broke through that puffy sea of white clouds, below them would be the Island, and this time it would suck them in like a vortex. Death in the ocean, death in the jungle, take your pick. She managed to squeak out, “My God, Richard, how long?”
“About thirty minutes, maybe an hour if Frank Lapidus is as good a pilot as he says he is. But we've got to buckle in before he reduces altitude.”
“What about sending some kind of distress call?”
“Radio's down, Kate. Navigational instruments, too. Frank's doin' it the old-fashioned way, with eyeballs and the sun.”
Claire perched on the opposite seat's armrest, a faint smile on her face. “So, he got what he wanted after all. He always does.”
Kate knew exactly who, or what Claire was talking about, and it wasn't the pilot. “He's not getting a goddamn thing anymore, Claire. Because I shot him dead, and good riddance.”
Eyes wide, Claire looked to Sawyer, who said, “Dead as a polecat nailed to the barn door.”
“Dead?” For the moment, Richard set aside his mission of delivering some very bad news. “How?”
Through clenched teeth Kate said, “With a bullet right through the chest. Then Jack kicked him over the cliff.”
Claire stood silent as tears started in her eyes. “But that doesn't work. I know, I tried. Twice.” Her face twisted in fear, sorrow, Kate couldn't tell which.
“Well, third time's a charm,” Sawyer said. “But we got a more immediate problem than a dead smoke monster.”
Richard said, “Frank's trying to find someplace for us to land. So we get back to our seats, strap in, and pray.” In afterthought he said, “And we keep our mouths shut, because there are going to be questions. A lot of them, but there's only one answer.”
“I've gotta talk to my lawyer,” Sawyer volunteered.
“That's right. If we get out of this,” said Richard.
“Why are you telling us this now, Richard?” Kate asked.
“Because I don't know what's going to happen in the next half-hour. We could crash. We could get split up. And if we do, there's only one sentence that comes out of your mouth, and that's I want to talk to my lawyer, Daniel Norton of Agostino and Norton, Los Angeles.”
“Good Lord,” said Kate. “I know him.”
“We got it, Richard,” Sawyer said. “Name, rank, and serial number. Come on, gals, let's pack it in.”
Richard said, “I'm going to join Frank in the jump seat. He's going to need all the eyes he can get up there.”
Sawyer slid into a middle section row, right up to the window. “If I'm gonna smack down in the ocean, I want to see its face before I go.”
Claire slid into the middle seat, next to Sawyer, which left Kate nothing to do but join them. Kate and Sawyer each took one of Claire's hands, then grasped each others' as well, forming a circle with Claire at the center. The plane vibrated and bounced, and it was too noisy to speak.
When the cloud cover finally broke, Kate peered over Sawyer and Claire at a blue ocean which looked awfully close.
The plane swooped down into a banking maneuver, as if approaching an airport. As it settled into its low approach, a small bit of land appeared in the window. An island, yes, but a strange-looking one, thin and curved almost like a fish-hook.
The intercom crackled, and the joy in Frank's voice pierced the static. “Something, or someone just saved our bacon.”
Right at the curve of the fish-hook was a pale-brown airstrip.
“Stay buckled in, folks. Since there's no radio, I'm swinging around a few times to let them know we're here. The grin in Frank's voice was unmistakable. “Welcome, friends, to Bonriki International Airport on the Tarawa Atoll, in the Republic of Kiribati.”
“Kir-i-bass?” Sawyer repeated, staring at Claire and Kate. “Where the hell's that?”
“I don't know,” Kate said. “And I don't care. Because anyplace is better than going down into the ocean.”
A touch of grimness laced Sawyer's smile. “Just remember, Freckles, and you too, Claire. Name, rank, and serial number.”
(continued)
Pairings: Hurley/Claire, Kate/Sawyer
Characters: Hugo "Hurley" Reyes, Benjamin Linus, Desmond Hume, Claire Littleton, Kate Austen, James "Sawyer" Ford, Rose Nadler, Bernard Nadler, Carole Littleton, Aaron Littleton, Background & Cameo Characters, Original Non-Human Characters
Rating: M
Length: 2799 words
Status: Complete
Notes: Fantasy and supernatural elements. Think American Gods on the Island.
Summary: Hurley begins to heal and rebuild the Island, while Claire, Kate, and Sawyer head back to our world. But when it comes to love, the Island gets you where you need to be.
Chapter 3: Flight of the Phoenix
Every time a plane takes off, it feels like a miracle.
Sure, the computer-wielding pencil-necked boys in the short-sleeve shirts can calculate every inch of wingspan, every yard of runway, every kilogram of mass, every pound of jet fuel required to make the magic happen. But whether it's the first flight or the thousandth, there's nothing in life, and maybe not even in death either, to compare with how the heart soars when those wheels finally leave the runway, when tons of metal defy the bonds of gravity, and claim a place among the birds and the angels.
So thought Frank Lapidus, hand on full throttle as Ajira 316 thundered off the cracked and broken Hydra Island runway to become airborne. And while he knew in his head that gravity still ruled, and any pilot who forgot that was a dead one, in his heart he rejoiced and was glad, because he was damned sure that this flight was the exception.
Kate sat forward in her wide, comfortable leather seat, feeling the sharp, oddly high-pitched whine of the 737's engines. She had to admit, this was a hell of a way to get into first-class.
When Frank started to circle around the Island, Kate gripped Claire's hand tightly as jungle-covered cliffs swung terrifyingly close to the plane. Lava from the erupting volcano hit the ocean and billowed up into clouds of steam. A piece of cliff-side broke off easily as a chunk of cake before falling into the sea.
What the hell was Frank doing? Across the aisle from Kate, Miles sat with eyes closed and a self-satisfied grin. She strained to get a glimpse of Sawyer, but couldn't see him. The first-class seats were wide, and she didn't want to let go of Claire's hand.
Frank bellowed into the intercom,“Miles! Get your ass up here, now!” before changing to a more relaxed tone. “Nothing to worry about, folks. I just need another pair of eyes.”
Miles stirred, but didn't move until Kate gave him a sharp poke. “You heard him. Get on up there.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Miles said with a smirk. When he got to the cockpit he exclaimed, “Holy crap,” but Frank shushed him. Whatever it was, Kate sure as hell couldn't do anything about it.
“He saw something, didn't he?” Claire said.
“We're still flying. I guess that's what matters.”
Sawyer scooted into Miles's empty seat. “I think ol' Chesty just wants some company up there. Maybe one of you ladies could tie on your stewardess apron and bring him a tall cold drink. I sure know I could use one.” He grinned, flashing his dimples and trying to project relaxed charm, but his voice shook and his eyes were wet.
It wasn't worth getting indignant, but Kate rolled her eyes anyway. “Sawyer, you never stop, do you?”
“Never, Shortcake." He sounded better, farther from tears than before.
The plane dropped a few feet, sending Kate's stomach straight to the roof of her mouth. When it plummeted again, the engine whine grew louder, drowning out Frank's voice on the intercom with engine noise. If what he said was meant to be reassuring, it wasn't.
Outside, dark clouds surrounded the plane in a thick cocoon of gloom. Lighting flashes played off the distant clouds, teasing the plane with occasional sparks. Frank cut the lights, plunging the cabin into darkness.
Then the engines cut out.
The deafening silence held them all suspended. No more choppy vibrations of the fuselage, no more engine whines and rattles, no more whoosh of wind against wings. It wasn't until Ajira 316 was blanketed in complete and total silence that Kate realized how noisy the plane had been.
She didn't reflect for very long, because the plane went into a nosedive.
It was worse than any state fair roller-coaster, or the Oceanic 815 crash itself. She braced herself against the spiraling fall as gravity pressed the breath from her lungs. Claire gripped her so tightly that her hand went numb. Kate was convinced that these were the last seconds of her life.
Oh my God this is it, bye Aaron baby, bye Mom, I'm sorry, so sorry for all of it.
She hoped someone out there could hear her. If she was lucky, death would just come quick and get it over with.
All at once, airplane sounds broke over them like waves as the engines cut back in. Kate and Claire both screamed, but the plane was louder. Just like a roller-coaster when it hits its lowest point and rises once again, the plane's nose lifted.
The plane continued to climb, turbulence flinging it around like a child's toy. In the faint glow of the running lights, Kate could see Claire cowering in her seat with eyes screwed shut, tears running down her cheeks.
Gradually the clanking, crashing noises stopped, and the plane evened out. As the clouds outside brightened up, Kate relaxed her death-grip on Claire. Sawyer sat white and shaking, and Kate reached across the aisle for his hand.
Sawyer clung to Kate as he muttered, “Thought we bought the farm for sure.”
From the cockpit Frank said, “Everybody okay back there?” His pilot mask slipped for an instant when he added in a low voice, “Son of a bitch, Miles, that was a damn miracle. We should have hit the drink by now.” Recovering himself, he went on, “Looks like smooth sailing for the next three, four hours from here till Fiji. Can't give you folks an ETA 'cause I don't really know what time it is.” His laugh had the jagged tone of borderline hysteria. Then the intercom squealed and fell silent.
The plane flew on smoothly and evenly, held aloft on a cushion of air. Sun poured through the windows and the sky shone with a pure, seamless blue. Claire leaned back with closed eyes, while Kate stretched over her to stare at tiny ripples sprinkled across the vast ocean. Far away, a ship cut a thin white-threaded path across the blue sea.
For the first time since they'd climbed aboard Ajira 316, Kate felt sure that she was actually going to live. She took a few long deep breaths, then wrinkled her nose at the smell. It wasn't Claire's fault, but she was more than a bit ripe. Her tattered plaid shirt and dark jeans were so stiff that the dirt might have been woven into the fabric.
Kate was no prize either, with her soggy jeans and t-shirt still saturated with her own blood. Maybe she should look through the carry-on luggage, find something clean for herself and Claire both.
As Kate stepped into the aisle, Sawyer raised his eyebrows in a question.
“Ladies' room,” Kate answered.
Sawyer glanced over at Claire. “She okay?”
“I think so.”
“She's probably really pissed at me,” he said, rueful.
“We'll find out, won't we? At least she came with us. That's something.”
Kate rummaged above the flight attendant's seat until she found the small white box with a red cross on it. In the botom were antiseptic wipes and a small pair of surgical scissors. In the tiny lavatory, she pulled her wet, bloodstained tee down over her shoulder and braced herself to look.
There it was to the left of her collarbone, a thin red line of healed skin, with eight tiny loops of thread. As Jack had sewn her up, his voice had droned on as the needle burned through her skin, “I have to do this, Kate, or it'll get infected.”
“Oh, my God,” Kate said. She touched the well-healed scar experimentally, ready to snatch her hand back at the slightest twinge, but there was nothing except a faint itch where the threads dangled.
So flummoxed by the wound, she didn't hear Sawyer until his tall frame filled the tiny bathroom mirror. When he didn't make any wisecracks about her standing there in her bra, she decided not to yell at him for sneaking up on her.
He stared at the scar. “Yesterday that was quite a hole, as I recall.”
“I know. How can this be?”
All concern, he asked, “How's your arm? You sure were favorin' it earlier.”
She rolled her left shoulder forward and back, extended her arm outward and in. There was no pain at all. “It's fine. Like it never happened.”
He pointed to her stitches. “'Cept for the souvenirs. Want me to take 'em out? 'Course, maybe you'd rather do the honors yourself.”
Kate stared at the dangling black threads and reeled, suddenly lightheaded. Shaking, she leaned up against the tiny sink and told herself sternly not to faint.
When she started to reel anyway, he steered her to the closest row of seats. She flopped back, eyes closed, body shaking. For one crazy second she wanted to fight Sawyer off, because these tiny thread-loops were all that connected her to Jack, and once they were cut, everything would be severed for good.
Not entirely, because she had the living proof of his final gift to her. “Now you're like me,” Jacob had told Jack, and at the time that made no sense. But somehow, maybe during that final cliff-side kiss (it had to be during that kiss, like no other kiss she'd ever experienced, like holding wind and fire and light in her arms all at once) it had happened.
How else would she have been able to leap off that high cliff, swim like a seal through rough surf, pull herself hand-over-hand up the Elizabeth's tow rope, then swim to Hydra Island? She'd wanted Jack to give it back, to just let the Island sink. How wrong she was.
When Sawyer sat down beside her, scissors in hand, she jumped.
“Hey, relax, I ain't even touched you yet.”
“Jack did this, you know.”
“I know, Kate. I watched him.”
“No, not the stitches. It was only yesterday morning. Now look at it.”
Sawyer stared at the healed scar as if suddenly afraid to touch it. “That's some mojo.” With a pain-wracked face he added, “If the doc was able to do that, maybe he could, y'know, fix hisself.”
She hadn't dared to think it, but Sawyer saying it made it feel almost real. In a small voice she said, “Maybe.”
“So, can I start now?”
“Uh, huh.” The antiseptic he poured out wet her bra, but she didn't care. When he inserted the scissor blade into the first loop and gently drew the thread out with tweezers, she gave a little sob.
“Damn it, Freckles, did I hurt you?”
“No,” she sniffled. “I barely felt it.”
“Don't scare me like that again. I ain't exactly an expert.”
She sat quiet, still grieving inside as Sawyer drew the remaining seven loops from her skin, and each one seemed to pull directly out of her heart.
As Kate headed back to her seat, Richard was deep in conversation with Lapidus in the cockpit. With a timid smile, Claire handed her an Ajira water bottle.
Sawyer had already guzzled his, but he lifted the empty as a kind of toast. “Somebody around here knows how to strap on a pair of stewardess pumps.”
“Thanks, Claire.” Kate drank deeply, suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. “Stop showing your age, Sawyer. They're flight attendants now, and they haven't worn high heels in years.”
Claire gestured towards the aisle. “Don't sit, Kate. I'm headed for the lav.”
“Good, I'll go with you. I want to look in the carry-on bags, find some clothes.”
When Claire came out of the lavatory, Kate had already exchanged her bloody shirt and mud-smeared jeans. But when Kate handed Claire some clean clothes, Claire backed away, clutching her own ragged shirt tightly across her chest. “No thanks."
“Oh, sorry, if you wanted something else. I didn't mean to pick for you. Look, that black wheel-y suitcase over there's full of stuff in our size. Just take what you want.”
But Claire still stood planted herself like a stubborn statue in the aisle. “I'm fine, really.”
Kate had little time to argue with her, because Richard and Sawyer came up, their faces long and serious.
“This is the situation, ladies,” Richard said in a tight, tense voice. “We're losing fuel, and we're not going to make it to Fiji.”
“Here we go again,” said Sawyer.
Kate leaned up against a seat, reeling. They were going to die. Or they weren't going to die right away, but when they broke through that puffy sea of white clouds, below them would be the Island, and this time it would suck them in like a vortex. Death in the ocean, death in the jungle, take your pick. She managed to squeak out, “My God, Richard, how long?”
“About thirty minutes, maybe an hour if Frank Lapidus is as good a pilot as he says he is. But we've got to buckle in before he reduces altitude.”
“What about sending some kind of distress call?”
“Radio's down, Kate. Navigational instruments, too. Frank's doin' it the old-fashioned way, with eyeballs and the sun.”
Claire perched on the opposite seat's armrest, a faint smile on her face. “So, he got what he wanted after all. He always does.”
Kate knew exactly who, or what Claire was talking about, and it wasn't the pilot. “He's not getting a goddamn thing anymore, Claire. Because I shot him dead, and good riddance.”
Eyes wide, Claire looked to Sawyer, who said, “Dead as a polecat nailed to the barn door.”
“Dead?” For the moment, Richard set aside his mission of delivering some very bad news. “How?”
Through clenched teeth Kate said, “With a bullet right through the chest. Then Jack kicked him over the cliff.”
Claire stood silent as tears started in her eyes. “But that doesn't work. I know, I tried. Twice.” Her face twisted in fear, sorrow, Kate couldn't tell which.
“Well, third time's a charm,” Sawyer said. “But we got a more immediate problem than a dead smoke monster.”
Richard said, “Frank's trying to find someplace for us to land. So we get back to our seats, strap in, and pray.” In afterthought he said, “And we keep our mouths shut, because there are going to be questions. A lot of them, but there's only one answer.”
“I've gotta talk to my lawyer,” Sawyer volunteered.
“That's right. If we get out of this,” said Richard.
“Why are you telling us this now, Richard?” Kate asked.
“Because I don't know what's going to happen in the next half-hour. We could crash. We could get split up. And if we do, there's only one sentence that comes out of your mouth, and that's I want to talk to my lawyer, Daniel Norton of Agostino and Norton, Los Angeles.”
“Good Lord,” said Kate. “I know him.”
“We got it, Richard,” Sawyer said. “Name, rank, and serial number. Come on, gals, let's pack it in.”
Richard said, “I'm going to join Frank in the jump seat. He's going to need all the eyes he can get up there.”
Sawyer slid into a middle section row, right up to the window. “If I'm gonna smack down in the ocean, I want to see its face before I go.”
Claire slid into the middle seat, next to Sawyer, which left Kate nothing to do but join them. Kate and Sawyer each took one of Claire's hands, then grasped each others' as well, forming a circle with Claire at the center. The plane vibrated and bounced, and it was too noisy to speak.
When the cloud cover finally broke, Kate peered over Sawyer and Claire at a blue ocean which looked awfully close.
The plane swooped down into a banking maneuver, as if approaching an airport. As it settled into its low approach, a small bit of land appeared in the window. An island, yes, but a strange-looking one, thin and curved almost like a fish-hook.
The intercom crackled, and the joy in Frank's voice pierced the static. “Something, or someone just saved our bacon.”
Right at the curve of the fish-hook was a pale-brown airstrip.
“Stay buckled in, folks. Since there's no radio, I'm swinging around a few times to let them know we're here. The grin in Frank's voice was unmistakable. “Welcome, friends, to Bonriki International Airport on the Tarawa Atoll, in the Republic of Kiribati.”
“Kir-i-bass?” Sawyer repeated, staring at Claire and Kate. “Where the hell's that?”
“I don't know,” Kate said. “And I don't care. Because anyplace is better than going down into the ocean.”
A touch of grimness laced Sawyer's smile. “Just remember, Freckles, and you too, Claire. Name, rank, and serial number.”
(continued)