Part 240: Salvage
McKay took a deep breath, happy to be alive. He looked into the distance of the woods, seeing the group making their way back toward the caves. McKay waved goodbye to Taylor and Mandy. Both of his favorite blondes blew him kisses into the wind. The Australian smiled at them both, lets his eyes fall onto Taylor’s rear and then within seconds, it fell onto Mandy’s. For a fleeting thought, McKay wondered what it would be like to have both Mandy and Taylor in bed together. The bald man then slapped his face with his hand. “Get that out of your head, you dirty old man.” He chuckled to himself.
McKay chuckled as his temporary sexual loneliness and proceeded to walk toward the mess hall. He was eager to see what goodies the Liberation left behind. As he walked in, he saw Sawyer sitting alone at one of the many picnic tables that adorned the eating area. Sawyer had his feet up, and he was sipping on a brown bottle that resembled a Budweiser emblem. Judging from the collection of bottles next to his side, the bottle was his third one. McKay walked over to him, and crossed his arms. “You drunk yet?” he asked.
“The night is still young,” Sawyer smirked, sipping on the beer. He then gently pushed an un-opened bottle to his friend.
McKay sat down and twisted the cap off, tossing it to the side. He tilted the bottle back, letting the burning liquid collide down his throat. He swallowed with a delight he had almost forgotten. “Oh, that’s good.” He whispered.
“It’s amazing how much you can do without the necessities of life, provided you have the luxuries.” The redneck toasted his friend.
“How you holding up, Sawyer?” McKay asked.
“If you are referring to my wound, partner, I never felt better,” he sipped his beer, “If you are referring to my mood, it’s slowly getting better.”
“You still think we should execute those prisoners?”
“You don’t?” Sawyer asked, flabbergasted.
“I think . . . .hell, I don’t know what I think.” McKay sipped his beer.
“You’re worried about being executioners, . . .MONSTERS . . .like the flat-foot and little miss can’t-be-wrong mentioned?”
“Yeah, I am,” his friend looked at him dead in the eye, “Can you honestly admit to me you’d have no problem putting a bullet in someone’s head, who is just sitting there, tied up?”
“We killed while we were getting them out of the bunker, hypocrite.” Sawyer retorted.
“That’s different! That’s not murder, that is combat! We were fighting back.”
“You say Tomato . . .” the redneck finished his beer.
“It’s a decision we can’t make spur of the moment, Sawyer. We’re going to have to think about it.”
“Whatever,” Sawyer said, standing up, “You and the rest of the CSPAN team can think about it. I got salvaging to do.”
“Salvaging?” McKay raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I ain’t gonna be the only one,” he said, walking toward the exit door, “So I have to grab the good stuff and continue my franchise back on the beach.”
“Haven’t you ever thought of doing something good?” the Australian asked with a chuckle.
Sawyer slowly turned around and offered his friend that sly smile he was near famous for. “Have you ever thought of doing something bad?” he countered.
McKay finished his beer and proceeded out the way he came in. As he did, he looked around, noticing his friends were also “salvaging” as Sawyer put it. They were looking in and out of cabins as they could, bringing out things like jackets, shirts and pants. Perhaps the salvage was necessary; after all, they were still unsure when and if they would be rescued. McKay decided to join Sawyer in his salvage attempts. Then he noticed something from behind one of the cabins. He was hearing someone speaking in French.
McKay slowly walked behind the cabin. The sight before him made him gag slightly. It was the bodies of the Red Faction. They had all been piled high in a row of three on three. Andra was throwing flowers onto them one at a time. Then McKay noticed that Alexander was saying a prayer over the dead body of Danielle. When he was done, Andra came back and gently placed flowers in her mother’s hands, then kissed her on the forehead. Alexander then picked up Danielle and placed her on the pile of bodies on the teenagers. “Hello, Master McKay,” Alexander said in French.
“Hello, children,” McKay told him in French, “You could have asked for assistance in honoring your dead.”
“They were my tribe,” tears flowed from the blonde boy’s face, “Thus it was my responsibility.”
“I respect that but we are here to help you should you need it.”
“Thank you, Master McKay.” Alexander bowed before them.
Andra slowly picked up a torch from a nearby bonfire and then threw it on the bodies. Due to the straw and wood debris they quickly lit up like candles. Alexander then grasped his fists together and held them in front of him, turning his teary gaze toward the sky. “Cloud Father,” he whimpered, “Watch over the light of my brethren. I know their light no long shines on Earth but I know they shine in your kingdom. Give me and Andra the strength to go on. And let my tribe know we will join them one day.”
“Praise be unto he.” Andra sniffed.
“It’s just you and I now, Andra. Our tribe will live on through us.” Alexander mentioned.
“And Flower.” McKay mentioned.
“Flower lives?” Andra gasped, with a smiled, “I found her sister’s body but I didn’t see her. Where is she?”
“At the caves. She is safe.” The Australian smiled.
“It is good that some one else live,” Alexander wiped his tears, “At least two of my sisters will continue on.”
“We should be with Flower, Alexander,” Andra told him, “I will ask Sayid if I may join her. Will you come with me?”
“You can join Flower if you must and give her my love but no, I am staying here.” The blonde young man grunted as he kneeled before the raging funeral pyre.
“Why must you stay, Alexander?” McKay whispered, “There is nothing left for you here. You should be with your remaining sisters.”
“Nay, Master McKay. I will not leave until the remaining soldiers are killed.”
A chill ran down the spine of the older man. After that massive discussion about the stay of execution, it never donned on him how Alexander would feel. He, of course, never discussed his opinion cause he doesn’t speak a word of English. “Alexander, those men will not be killed yet.” McKay told him.
“Why?” the boy turned to him; his face suddenly filled with rage.
“Because if we murder them, we are just like them. And I know full well you are not like them, Alexander. You do not murder.”
“MY TRIBE DESERVES JUSTICE!!!!” he screamed in French at the top of his lungs, “How . . .how can I rest if I know that even a single soldier yet lives? They killed them like they were nothing . . .less than nothing. I can not forgive such an act, Master McKay.”
“Nor do I expect you too,” he whispered, “But their fate is not yet decided. When and if we decide to kill them . . .. would you like to be the one to do it?”
Alexander took a deep breath, tears running down his cheeks. “YES.” He whispered coldly.
“I will let the others know. In the meantime, I want you to promise me that you will not go near those men.”
“I so promise, Master McKay.” The young blonde ran his fingers through his hair.
Andra understood why Alexander was so upset. She gently hugged her arms and proceeded to go talk to Sayid about leaving. McKay watched the boy closely. He knew Alexander was not normal. He had heightened strength, heightened reflexes and everything else. Could he even stop him if he decided to kill the remaining soldiers? The Australian turned to leave Alexander to his funeral pyre. “Master McKay?” the boy called to him in French.
“Yes?” he responded.
“Mandy . . .did she return with the others?” Alexander asked.
“Yes, she did.” McKay blinked, “Why do you ask?”
“I . . .I simply wished to know her location, so that I may see her again.”
“Oh?” McKay felt that was a little vague.
“She saved my life.” The young man smiled, remembering she managed to get the crate off the well for him to escape.
McKay smirked. It almost sounded like the young wild boy was attracted to the blonde Californian mall rat.
He chuckled as he started to get fleeting images of Tarzan and Jane into his head.
McKay chuckled as his temporary sexual loneliness and proceeded to walk toward the mess hall. He was eager to see what goodies the Liberation left behind. As he walked in, he saw Sawyer sitting alone at one of the many picnic tables that adorned the eating area. Sawyer had his feet up, and he was sipping on a brown bottle that resembled a Budweiser emblem. Judging from the collection of bottles next to his side, the bottle was his third one. McKay walked over to him, and crossed his arms. “You drunk yet?” he asked.
“The night is still young,” Sawyer smirked, sipping on the beer. He then gently pushed an un-opened bottle to his friend.
McKay sat down and twisted the cap off, tossing it to the side. He tilted the bottle back, letting the burning liquid collide down his throat. He swallowed with a delight he had almost forgotten. “Oh, that’s good.” He whispered.
“It’s amazing how much you can do without the necessities of life, provided you have the luxuries.” The redneck toasted his friend.
“How you holding up, Sawyer?” McKay asked.
“If you are referring to my wound, partner, I never felt better,” he sipped his beer, “If you are referring to my mood, it’s slowly getting better.”
“You still think we should execute those prisoners?”
“You don’t?” Sawyer asked, flabbergasted.
“I think . . . .hell, I don’t know what I think.” McKay sipped his beer.
“You’re worried about being executioners, . . .MONSTERS . . .like the flat-foot and little miss can’t-be-wrong mentioned?”
“Yeah, I am,” his friend looked at him dead in the eye, “Can you honestly admit to me you’d have no problem putting a bullet in someone’s head, who is just sitting there, tied up?”
“We killed while we were getting them out of the bunker, hypocrite.” Sawyer retorted.
“That’s different! That’s not murder, that is combat! We were fighting back.”
“You say Tomato . . .” the redneck finished his beer.
“It’s a decision we can’t make spur of the moment, Sawyer. We’re going to have to think about it.”
“Whatever,” Sawyer said, standing up, “You and the rest of the CSPAN team can think about it. I got salvaging to do.”
“Salvaging?” McKay raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure I ain’t gonna be the only one,” he said, walking toward the exit door, “So I have to grab the good stuff and continue my franchise back on the beach.”
“Haven’t you ever thought of doing something good?” the Australian asked with a chuckle.
Sawyer slowly turned around and offered his friend that sly smile he was near famous for. “Have you ever thought of doing something bad?” he countered.
McKay finished his beer and proceeded out the way he came in. As he did, he looked around, noticing his friends were also “salvaging” as Sawyer put it. They were looking in and out of cabins as they could, bringing out things like jackets, shirts and pants. Perhaps the salvage was necessary; after all, they were still unsure when and if they would be rescued. McKay decided to join Sawyer in his salvage attempts. Then he noticed something from behind one of the cabins. He was hearing someone speaking in French.
McKay slowly walked behind the cabin. The sight before him made him gag slightly. It was the bodies of the Red Faction. They had all been piled high in a row of three on three. Andra was throwing flowers onto them one at a time. Then McKay noticed that Alexander was saying a prayer over the dead body of Danielle. When he was done, Andra came back and gently placed flowers in her mother’s hands, then kissed her on the forehead. Alexander then picked up Danielle and placed her on the pile of bodies on the teenagers. “Hello, Master McKay,” Alexander said in French.
“Hello, children,” McKay told him in French, “You could have asked for assistance in honoring your dead.”
“They were my tribe,” tears flowed from the blonde boy’s face, “Thus it was my responsibility.”
“I respect that but we are here to help you should you need it.”
“Thank you, Master McKay.” Alexander bowed before them.
Andra slowly picked up a torch from a nearby bonfire and then threw it on the bodies. Due to the straw and wood debris they quickly lit up like candles. Alexander then grasped his fists together and held them in front of him, turning his teary gaze toward the sky. “Cloud Father,” he whimpered, “Watch over the light of my brethren. I know their light no long shines on Earth but I know they shine in your kingdom. Give me and Andra the strength to go on. And let my tribe know we will join them one day.”
“Praise be unto he.” Andra sniffed.
“It’s just you and I now, Andra. Our tribe will live on through us.” Alexander mentioned.
“And Flower.” McKay mentioned.
“Flower lives?” Andra gasped, with a smiled, “I found her sister’s body but I didn’t see her. Where is she?”
“At the caves. She is safe.” The Australian smiled.
“It is good that some one else live,” Alexander wiped his tears, “At least two of my sisters will continue on.”
“We should be with Flower, Alexander,” Andra told him, “I will ask Sayid if I may join her. Will you come with me?”
“You can join Flower if you must and give her my love but no, I am staying here.” The blonde young man grunted as he kneeled before the raging funeral pyre.
“Why must you stay, Alexander?” McKay whispered, “There is nothing left for you here. You should be with your remaining sisters.”
“Nay, Master McKay. I will not leave until the remaining soldiers are killed.”
A chill ran down the spine of the older man. After that massive discussion about the stay of execution, it never donned on him how Alexander would feel. He, of course, never discussed his opinion cause he doesn’t speak a word of English. “Alexander, those men will not be killed yet.” McKay told him.
“Why?” the boy turned to him; his face suddenly filled with rage.
“Because if we murder them, we are just like them. And I know full well you are not like them, Alexander. You do not murder.”
“MY TRIBE DESERVES JUSTICE!!!!” he screamed in French at the top of his lungs, “How . . .how can I rest if I know that even a single soldier yet lives? They killed them like they were nothing . . .less than nothing. I can not forgive such an act, Master McKay.”
“Nor do I expect you too,” he whispered, “But their fate is not yet decided. When and if we decide to kill them . . .. would you like to be the one to do it?”
Alexander took a deep breath, tears running down his cheeks. “YES.” He whispered coldly.
“I will let the others know. In the meantime, I want you to promise me that you will not go near those men.”
“I so promise, Master McKay.” The young blonde ran his fingers through his hair.
Andra understood why Alexander was so upset. She gently hugged her arms and proceeded to go talk to Sayid about leaving. McKay watched the boy closely. He knew Alexander was not normal. He had heightened strength, heightened reflexes and everything else. Could he even stop him if he decided to kill the remaining soldiers? The Australian turned to leave Alexander to his funeral pyre. “Master McKay?” the boy called to him in French.
“Yes?” he responded.
“Mandy . . .did she return with the others?” Alexander asked.
“Yes, she did.” McKay blinked, “Why do you ask?”
“I . . .I simply wished to know her location, so that I may see her again.”
“Oh?” McKay felt that was a little vague.
“She saved my life.” The young man smiled, remembering she managed to get the crate off the well for him to escape.
McKay smirked. It almost sounded like the young wild boy was attracted to the blonde Californian mall rat.
He chuckled as he started to get fleeting images of Tarzan and Jane into his head.
posted by Jason | 1:49 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home