Chapter 11: The First Sabotage
Day fifteen. Mac woke to shouting that cut through the pre-dawn darkness like broken glass. He rolled out of Fort Probably-Won't-Collapse and stumbled toward the commotion, sleep-fogged mind trying to process what could have gone wrong now.
The water filtration system lay in ruins.
Mac stopped dead, staring at the wreckage of his carefully constructed masterpiece. The bamboo framework had collapsed completely, spilling purified water into the sand and leaving the camp without their primary source of clean drinking water. Survivors stood around the debris looking lost and angry, their voices rising in frustration and fear.
But something was wrong. Deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Mac knelt beside the wreckage, his Master Builder senses analyzing the destruction with growing cold fury. This wasn't structural failure or natural collapse. The support ropes had been cut cleanly, not frayed by wear or weather. Weight-bearing poles had been deliberately removed, not broken by stress or storm. Someone with understanding of engineering weak points had systematically destroyed his work.
This was sabotage.
"Damn thing just fell apart," complained one of the survivors, a middle-aged man whose name Mac couldn't remember. "Guess it wasn't built as well as we thought."
Mac's jaw clenched. The filtration system had been perfect—overengineered if anything, designed to handle loads far beyond normal usage. He'd tested every joint, calculated every stress point, built redundancies into redundancies. It couldn't have failed naturally.
Someone who understood construction had taken it apart piece by piece in the darkness while the camp slept. Someone with technical knowledge and deliberate malice had destroyed the infrastructure that kept forty-eight people alive.
Mac's hands shook with adrenaline and something darker—his Master Builder abilities surging with need to rebuild, to reinforce, to prevent future sabotage. The power flowed through him like electricity, showing him exactly how to reconstruct the system with improvements the saboteur hadn't anticipated.
His mind raced through survivors with technical knowledge. Sayid had electronics expertise. Jack understood mechanics from medical equipment. Sawyer was clever enough to learn construction techniques by observation.
But his instincts said no. This felt like outside work, like someone who didn't belong to their group but understood their vulnerabilities intimately.
Mac began rebuilding immediately, his hands moving with Phase Two efficiency that cut construction time in half. The new filtration system incorporated hidden redundancies—backup supports that weren't visible to casual inspection, alternative flow paths that would maintain function even if primary components were removed, and small tell-tales that would alert him to future tampering.
"How are you building so fast?" Kate asked, appearing beside him with coffee substitute and concerned expression.
Mac paused in his work, realizing he'd been moving with inhuman speed and precision. The Phase Two abilities flowing through him made construction feel effortless, but they also made him stand out in ways he couldn't afford.
"Adrenaline," Mac said, forcing his hands to slow to more human rhythms. "And I'm pissed off. Someone destroyed this deliberately."
Kate's expression sharpened. "You're sure it wasn't just structural failure?"
Mac showed her the cut rope ends, the precisely removed support poles, the careful dismantling that spoke of engineering knowledge rather than random vandalism.
"This was planned," Mac said grimly. "Someone wanted our water system to fail."
Before Kate could respond, Sawyer approached with his usual swagger, but Mac caught the calculating look in his eyes.
"Heard your fancy plumbing broke," Sawyer said, his tone carrying false sympathy. "Shame about that."
Mac turned to face him directly, his builder's instincts reading Sawyer's body language for signs of guilt or knowledge. But Sawyer's poker face was professionally maintained, revealing nothing beyond casual interest.
"You think I sabotaged my own work for attention?" Mac asked bluntly.
Sawyer's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You got plenty of attention already, Houdini. Everyone trusts you, relies on you. Convenient how things keep breaking down and you're the only one who can fix them."
Mac's jaw tightened with anger that had nothing to do with Sawyer's accusations. The con man was testing him, probing for reactions that would reveal guilt or innocence. But the implication that Mac would endanger people's water supply for personal gain hit deeper than it should have.
"I don't want attention, Sawyer," Mac said, his voice low and dangerous. "I want clean water and people staying alive. If you have proof I'm doing something wrong, bring it. Otherwise, help or get out of my way."
They stared at each other for a long moment, two men with secrets measuring each other's trustworthiness. Finally, Sawyer laughed and backed away.
"Touchy," Sawyer said, but his tone carried grudging respect. "I'll keep my eyes open, Magic Man. Real open."
Mac watched him walk away, unsure whether Sawyer was now an ally or enemy in his hunt for the saboteur. The con man's paranoia might be useful, but it could just as easily turn destructive if aimed in the wrong direction.
That evening, Kate found Mac setting up hidden markers around the camp—tiny constructions that looked decorative but would function as early warning systems. Anyone moving through the area at night would disturb the arrangements in ways that would tell Mac exactly where they'd been and what they'd done.
Kate watched him work for several minutes before speaking.
"You think someone in camp did this," she said. Not a question.
Mac tensed, his paranoia flaring at being observed so closely. But Kate's expression held curiosity rather than accusation, and her fugitive instincts probably recognized surveillance preparations when she saw them.
"Someone with construction knowledge," Mac admitted. "Someone who understood exactly how to bring down the filtration system without making noise."
Kate sat beside him in the sand, her presence somehow comforting despite the dangerous conversation they were having.
"I've been noticing things too," Kate said quietly. "Supplies going missing. People acting strange when they think no one's watching. I thought it was just island stress, but..."
She trailed off, uncertainty flickering across her features.
Mac met her eyes, seeing someone else who'd learned to survive by reading people and situations that didn't add up to safe conclusions.
"You want to help me figure out who?" Mac asked.
Kate nodded slowly. "But we keep this between us. Start throwing around sabotage accusations without proof, and the camp tears itself apart with paranoia."
Mac extended his hand. "Partners?"
Kate shook it, her grip strong and sure. For the first time since arriving on the island, Mac felt less alone with his secrets and suspicions. Having an ally who accepted his strangeness without demanding full explanations felt like finding water in a desert.
"But what happens when she finds out what I really am?" Mac wondered as they planned their investigation strategy. "When she discovers that all my impossible knowledge comes from transmigration memories that shouldn't exist? Will she still want to be partners when she realizes I'm not just strange, but fundamentally wrong for this reality?"
The relief of alliance was tempered by the certainty that it couldn't last. Every relationship Mac built was founded on lies and half-truths that would eventually surface. The question wasn't whether his secrets would be exposed, but whether he could do enough good before that happened to justify the inevitable betrayal of trust.
Mac lay awake in Fort Probably-Won't-Collapse that night, listening for sounds of movement that would trigger his hidden tell-tales. His construction sense remained alert for disturbances while his mind wrestled with growing paranoia.
Someone was working against them. Someone with knowledge and access and malicious intent was systematically undermining their survival infrastructure. Whether they were working alone or representing some larger threat, Mac didn't yet know.
But he would find out. He had to find out.
Because the alternative—allowing someone to destroy their fragile civilization piece by piece while people died from preventable failures—was unacceptable to someone whose borrowed memories insisted that protecting others was worth any personal cost.
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