Part 195: The Morning After
Michael felt the stinging sensation in his lungs. After the day he told his son not to drink the sea-water, Walt asked him why. At the time he didn’t have a good answer. At the moment from the burning sensation in his lungs, he all the reason in the world.
Don’t drink the ocean water, Walt. It burns.
“Walt,” Michael moaned.
The black man felt two strong hands drag him against the sand. He was then laid gently down and felt the people walk away. Michael struggled to get up but his strength had left him. His brain hurt, and his muscles ached. How long did he swim? Hours, minutes, he didn’t know. He wanted his son back and he would go through Hell to get to him. The strange men who they though were their saviors had come for his boy. It made no sense but Michael was beyond making sense of it at his present condition. Then he felt a soft hand touch his cheek and the tip of a canteen pour cool, clean water into his mouth. The black man choked a little but drank what he could. He closed his eyes and drank a little more. “Thank you,” he coughed.
“Vous êtes l'accueil,” a young girl whispered.
Michael finally opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, so he strained to get up while the girl moved away from him. He looked up to see the teenage girl pouring water into Yolanda’s mouth. The black woman choked a little and then leaned up. She then turned around abruptly. “MICHEAL!” she screamed, “WALT!”
“Yolanda, I am here.” He said, taking her hand.
“Mike . .where . .how did we . . “ the black woman turned around and looked at the girl who helped her.
It was a familiar girl to her, even if they only met once. The brown haired girl slowly removed her red bandana over her mouth, letting it rest on her neck. “Yolanda,” the girl whispered.
“Flower?” the black woman replied.
“You know her?” Michael asked.
“She’s part of the group of kids that were . . .did she rescue us?”
Michael looked around and saw how the girl did rescue them. She was in a boat, an old fishing boat. It had severe amount of gun on it and it looked like the engine had been removed quite some time ago. Michael then looked to his side and saw his friend Jin face down in the sand. He quickly crawled over to him, and grabbing his shoulder; shaking him. “JIN!” the black man screamed
The Korean man then leaned up and coughed. He gagged a little bit and then wiped the sand from his face. “Jin, you okay?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” he replied, in the only English word he was sure he knew.
Yolanda then looked past them. Flower was not only. Another boy from the Red Faction was with her, and he was pouring water into Sawyer’s mouth. Then it clicked into the black woman’s head; the southern man had been shot!
She quickly got up and ran to him, only to find him laying on the ground and his shirt had been canabalized into a field dressing. The boy was checking it and then grabbed it by two straps, and then pulled it tighter. “OW!” Sawyer yelped, “Watch it, you little bastard!”
“Sawyer, he saved your life.” Yolanda hit him on the stomach.
“Remind me to send him English for Dummies for Christmas.” He leaned up, holding his shoulder.
“Vivra-t-il, Andre ?” Flower asked.
“Je pense ainsi,” he replied, “La blessure doit être fermée ou il deviendra infecté.”
“Andre, is that your name?” Sawyer extended his hand, “Merci for saying me, boy but look me up when you speak English.”
“Sawyer,” Andre shook his hand.
“They don’t speak English?” Michael was alarmed.
“No, Michael, “Yolanda stood up, “They only speak French. McKay translated for us last time.”
“McKay speaks French?” The southern man laughed, standing up, “We couldn’t used him when we heard the transmission. Better than Butter Legs, that is for sure.”
“Look screw the transmission, and screw these kids!” Michael grunted, “I got to go get my boy!”
Michael then took off into the distance running. Yolanda then quickly ran after him. “MICAEL, WAIT!!” she screamed.
“I CAN’T WAIT!!!” he screamed back, “I GOT TO GET WALT!!”
“Michael, please, “ she stopped running, “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE HE IS!!!”
The black man then stopped. The words of the black woman stuck in his brain and it collided with the truth; he really didn’t know where Walt was. He could be lost in the jungle for days and not have a clue how to get his son back. The black man then collapsed on his knees and started crying. Yolanda ran to him and embraced him from behind. He turned and buried his head in her chest, crying. “My boy,” he wept, “My boy,”
“We’ll get him back, Michael, “ she cried with him, “I promise you but don’t leave us now. We need to get to Jack and Tony and then we’ll go after Walt.”
Jin and Sawyer joined him. Jin held onto Sawyer to help him walk. The southern man grunted with every footstep. He looked at the black couple, embracing in the sand. “We’ll get your boy back, Mike,” he said, “But you need to cowboy up and not go off half cocked.”
“Why . . why are you so interested all of sudden?” the black man grunted back.
“First off, what they did was unforgivable and two, “Sawyer winced from his shoulder, “They freaking shot me! And those sons a’ bitches will pay.”
Michael slowly stood up. Yolanda held onto him and he held onto her; almost like an emotional lifeline. The black man tried his tears. He didn’t like the fact that he got shown up by the redneck; he would have to be thinking rationally to get his boy back. And the first person who could help him would be Locke. He always cared for his son, even before he realized it was genuine. Plus, he seemed to have a unique tracking ability. But how could they track a boat? They could be . . . .
“The boat.” Michael whispered.
“What?” Yolanda asked.
“The boat those bastards took my boy in, “ he said, “You remember it’s size?”
Jin said something in Korean. Sawyer massaged his face, “We ain’t got time for twenty questions or freaky trivia, Mike.”
“The boat was small!” Michael remembered, “It was a short range boat.”
“This means they must be on the Island.” Yolanda said with clarity.
“All right, let’s get back to the cave, get Sawyer fixed and then get Locke to track these bastards.”
“Yeah, let’s get Sawyer fixed,” the southern man said with sarcasm.
Michael walked over and helped Sawyer with his other arm as they began to head back to the caves. Yolanda then looked on the beach seeing Andre and Flower just standing there. The two teenagers were not sure what to do. The black woman realized they saved their lives and she was curious how they got out there or why. She also knew that McKay would be on the only one to communicate with them. Yolanda then thought long and hard, remembering the word follow from her French tour. She hoped she said it correctly. “FLOWER! ANDRE!” she motioned for him to come to her, “SUIVRE!”
The kids looked at her and then began to run toward her. Yolanda laughed, realizing she had gotten the word correctly. One they arrived, she held out her hands and each teenager took it. Then the three of them ran into the jungle to catch up with Michael and the others. The sun began to slowly creep from the horizon. As the group ran off into the jungle, a shadowy figure watched them from the trees above. His hands were covered in black gloves and he wore army fatigues. A grey burlap bag cover his head, tied to a fit. He watched the others run to join their friends.
All he made was a strange chirping sound.
Don’t drink the ocean water, Walt. It burns.
“Walt,” Michael moaned.
The black man felt two strong hands drag him against the sand. He was then laid gently down and felt the people walk away. Michael struggled to get up but his strength had left him. His brain hurt, and his muscles ached. How long did he swim? Hours, minutes, he didn’t know. He wanted his son back and he would go through Hell to get to him. The strange men who they though were their saviors had come for his boy. It made no sense but Michael was beyond making sense of it at his present condition. Then he felt a soft hand touch his cheek and the tip of a canteen pour cool, clean water into his mouth. The black man choked a little but drank what he could. He closed his eyes and drank a little more. “Thank you,” he coughed.
“Vous êtes l'accueil,” a young girl whispered.
Michael finally opened his eyes. His vision was blurry, so he strained to get up while the girl moved away from him. He looked up to see the teenage girl pouring water into Yolanda’s mouth. The black woman choked a little and then leaned up. She then turned around abruptly. “MICHEAL!” she screamed, “WALT!”
“Yolanda, I am here.” He said, taking her hand.
“Mike . .where . .how did we . . “ the black woman turned around and looked at the girl who helped her.
It was a familiar girl to her, even if they only met once. The brown haired girl slowly removed her red bandana over her mouth, letting it rest on her neck. “Yolanda,” the girl whispered.
“Flower?” the black woman replied.
“You know her?” Michael asked.
“She’s part of the group of kids that were . . .did she rescue us?”
Michael looked around and saw how the girl did rescue them. She was in a boat, an old fishing boat. It had severe amount of gun on it and it looked like the engine had been removed quite some time ago. Michael then looked to his side and saw his friend Jin face down in the sand. He quickly crawled over to him, and grabbing his shoulder; shaking him. “JIN!” the black man screamed
The Korean man then leaned up and coughed. He gagged a little bit and then wiped the sand from his face. “Jin, you okay?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” he replied, in the only English word he was sure he knew.
Yolanda then looked past them. Flower was not only. Another boy from the Red Faction was with her, and he was pouring water into Sawyer’s mouth. Then it clicked into the black woman’s head; the southern man had been shot!
She quickly got up and ran to him, only to find him laying on the ground and his shirt had been canabalized into a field dressing. The boy was checking it and then grabbed it by two straps, and then pulled it tighter. “OW!” Sawyer yelped, “Watch it, you little bastard!”
“Sawyer, he saved your life.” Yolanda hit him on the stomach.
“Remind me to send him English for Dummies for Christmas.” He leaned up, holding his shoulder.
“Vivra-t-il, Andre ?” Flower asked.
“Je pense ainsi,” he replied, “La blessure doit être fermée ou il deviendra infecté.”
“Andre, is that your name?” Sawyer extended his hand, “Merci for saying me, boy but look me up when you speak English.”
“Sawyer,” Andre shook his hand.
“They don’t speak English?” Michael was alarmed.
“No, Michael, “Yolanda stood up, “They only speak French. McKay translated for us last time.”
“McKay speaks French?” The southern man laughed, standing up, “We couldn’t used him when we heard the transmission. Better than Butter Legs, that is for sure.”
“Look screw the transmission, and screw these kids!” Michael grunted, “I got to go get my boy!”
Michael then took off into the distance running. Yolanda then quickly ran after him. “MICAEL, WAIT!!” she screamed.
“I CAN’T WAIT!!!” he screamed back, “I GOT TO GET WALT!!”
“Michael, please, “ she stopped running, “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE HE IS!!!”
The black man then stopped. The words of the black woman stuck in his brain and it collided with the truth; he really didn’t know where Walt was. He could be lost in the jungle for days and not have a clue how to get his son back. The black man then collapsed on his knees and started crying. Yolanda ran to him and embraced him from behind. He turned and buried his head in her chest, crying. “My boy,” he wept, “My boy,”
“We’ll get him back, Michael, “ she cried with him, “I promise you but don’t leave us now. We need to get to Jack and Tony and then we’ll go after Walt.”
Jin and Sawyer joined him. Jin held onto Sawyer to help him walk. The southern man grunted with every footstep. He looked at the black couple, embracing in the sand. “We’ll get your boy back, Mike,” he said, “But you need to cowboy up and not go off half cocked.”
“Why . . why are you so interested all of sudden?” the black man grunted back.
“First off, what they did was unforgivable and two, “Sawyer winced from his shoulder, “They freaking shot me! And those sons a’ bitches will pay.”
Michael slowly stood up. Yolanda held onto him and he held onto her; almost like an emotional lifeline. The black man tried his tears. He didn’t like the fact that he got shown up by the redneck; he would have to be thinking rationally to get his boy back. And the first person who could help him would be Locke. He always cared for his son, even before he realized it was genuine. Plus, he seemed to have a unique tracking ability. But how could they track a boat? They could be . . . .
“The boat.” Michael whispered.
“What?” Yolanda asked.
“The boat those bastards took my boy in, “ he said, “You remember it’s size?”
Jin said something in Korean. Sawyer massaged his face, “We ain’t got time for twenty questions or freaky trivia, Mike.”
“The boat was small!” Michael remembered, “It was a short range boat.”
“This means they must be on the Island.” Yolanda said with clarity.
“All right, let’s get back to the cave, get Sawyer fixed and then get Locke to track these bastards.”
“Yeah, let’s get Sawyer fixed,” the southern man said with sarcasm.
Michael walked over and helped Sawyer with his other arm as they began to head back to the caves. Yolanda then looked on the beach seeing Andre and Flower just standing there. The two teenagers were not sure what to do. The black woman realized they saved their lives and she was curious how they got out there or why. She also knew that McKay would be on the only one to communicate with them. Yolanda then thought long and hard, remembering the word follow from her French tour. She hoped she said it correctly. “FLOWER! ANDRE!” she motioned for him to come to her, “SUIVRE!”
The kids looked at her and then began to run toward her. Yolanda laughed, realizing she had gotten the word correctly. One they arrived, she held out her hands and each teenager took it. Then the three of them ran into the jungle to catch up with Michael and the others. The sun began to slowly creep from the horizon. As the group ran off into the jungle, a shadowy figure watched them from the trees above. His hands were covered in black gloves and he wore army fatigues. A grey burlap bag cover his head, tied to a fit. He watched the others run to join their friends.
All he made was a strange chirping sound.
posted by Jason | 11:15 AM
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