Missing Reel: Heading on Back

This is the first of several Missing Pieces-like segments I've written.

Doug's eye opened, and he looked around. He must have fallen asleep, the thought, and sat up in his chair. The room around him was buzzing with life. Over to his left, Jerome and the blonde woman were busy looking through the many vinyl records that lined the shelves of their new home in the Barracks. The only other person in the room, Neil, sat in a chair, staring blankly at a painting of a ship that hung on the wall.

Doug looked around at the scarce amount of people that were around him. "It's funny," he said, "How so many people stayed with Jack. I mean, even though Jack's pretty much the leader of us survivors, after all Charlie did for us...even dying to protect would have thought there would be more to come with us."

Jerome glanced up, his glasses slipping down his pudgy nose. "Yeah, man. I thought Steve was gonna come with us. But, he stayed with Jack. Bad move, I think. With their luck, they'll all be killed."

Neil stood up, looking around slowly. "You're wrong, Jerry," he said snidely.

"Oh yeah?" Doug said, looking up. "Well what do you know, Frogurt?"

"Don't call me that," Neil snapped, and continued. "I think going with Locke was wrong. I mean, after all, with that Ben guy now walking around, I don't think anyone in this camp are being too bright by sticking around. I think going with Jack would have been the better guys are idiots."

Doug chuckled. "We're idiots? You came with Locke, too. But you know what? I don't think that you have any legitimate fears. No, the only reason you want to leave is because Hurley came with Locke, and you can't stand him."

Frogurt ignored this. "You know, you guys can stay here, and hang out with Ben. Gather your little logs, listen to your old, crappy records, and stay here, on this island, forever. Me, on the other hand...I'm getting off. I'm leaving this island for good. Besides," he added after a second. "I think that Juliet chick totally digs me."

The blonde woman snickered. "In your dreams," she laughed.

Ten minutes later, Frogurt was packed and ready to leave. As he started out the door, he offered one last chance to those sticking around. "You'll be sorry you stayed," he warned. Jerome laughed back. "You're the one that's going to be sorry."

Frogurt stepped out the door, slamming it behind him, and walked off into the night. The pylons were off; he'd have no problem getting past them. As he reached the last house in the cul-de-sac, the door opened, and Rousseau, Alex, and Karl stepped out.

"Where are you going?" he asked them.

"Somewhere safer," Karl replied quickly.

"I'm going back to the beach," Frogurt said. "Wanna come with?"

"No," Alex said softly. "Where we're going is much safer."

Frogurt shrugged. "Whatever, man," he said, and walked off into the night, back to the beach camp, alone. He had no idea that by the end of the next day, the last six people he had just talked to would be dead.

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