Who: Sawyer and OTA What: Recon When: Late Afternoon, Day 19 Where: In the southern open lands to start Status: Complete
Look, it was fucking cold. Was being the operative word. It was warming up. Fuck. This place was starting to feel like the damned island.
By now most of the ocean water had dried up, leaving him feeling crusty - but, James had yet to find a suitable shirt and he was damned sure he wasn't going to find one outside of the damned walls.
Problem was, Sawyer wasn't too sure what he was going to find inside of the walls, either. In fact, he was pretty sure he was going to find a shit storm inside the walls. So, James did what any man who'd lived a life on an island filled with mystery and people who routinely tried to kill him did: he picked up the biggest stick he could find, and headed into what he'd come to think of as Fucked-Up Dharmaville.
With the branch slung up on his shoulder he moved slowly, crossing the western bridge near what looked like farmland before looking back at the river. Sawyer was attempting to decide: did he try and wash up now - or hope that those apartment buildings had fucking functional plumbing?