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CONTENTS |
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Jack and Sayid walked past the storage room's open door, the only words Hurley and I heard was Sayid deliberately and calmly mentioning "geo-thermal generators" and "electromagnetic". Back in the hole, Sawyer held his arm tight to his chest, his bullet wound looked like it was getting infected. Jin wanted to take a closer look and started to roll up Sawyer's sleeve. "Back off Hirohito! None of your eastern philosophizing is gonna fix this bullethole!" Michael looked worried, as he saw the tensions between an ailing Sawyer and a powerless Jin rise on the other side of their hole, but all he could do was scream out, "THEY TOOK MY BOY!!!" After I snaked my way through the reptile cages, I met up with my mom outside the warthog cages. She hates snakes passionately, whereas I'm OK looking at them through glass. The warthogs are ugly, ugly creatures, with a lot more hair than you'd ever imagine a pig having. I told my mom I would never want to see one of those things in the wild. She
laughed, and asked when I plan on being lost in the woods where pigs like that roam. I looked back and said, "Well, you never know." The computer was beeping - it was down to its last few minutes - when Jack cursed under his breath and typed the numbers in. He stood, kicked the chair out away from himself, and started to lean against the computer with his left arm, but his glare kept alternating back and forth between Sayid and the floor. "What do you think of this place?", he finally asked, fixing his slouch by standing up straight, with a petulant look on his face as he crossed his arms. "What do I think of it?" Sayid chose his words carefully, thinking, "Jack, that is the question, isn't it?" Jack was beside himself, but he still had his arms crossed as he started to bob his head up and down, anger seething through his veins - "Yeah Sayid, that is it, isn't it? That is the question!" He stiffened up, pounded his fist on the table next to the computer, only to stiffen back up and resume biting his lower lip. Back in the storage room, Hurley and I were stacking up the cans of Dharma tuna that we knocked over when we started to wrestle over the supply of Dharma-nella, the generic Nutella when Locke stopped in. He looked around the room with a bemused look on his face. Holding up a can of green peanuts, he laughed and told us we looked like we were ready for the apocalypse. Hurley laughed and said, "Dude, if it's the apocalypse, I think I'm gonna need more food." Locke smiled back, putting his head down as he gently laughed, he quickly composed himself and softly uttered, "Well, if that's the case, I have a freshly killed boar waiting to be served outside." Without missing a beat, I tossed Locke a can of pineapple slices, he caught it and held it at arms length, examining it like an expert tracker checks his prey. "Are you always this prepared?", he asked, with that wry grin continuing to beam back at me. I looked back at Locke and told him, "Well, you never know."
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