Chapter 25: The Hatch Obsession
POV: Locke
Boone's death wasn't meaningless. It couldn't be. John Locke stood over the hatch in the pre-dawn darkness, his hands raw and bleeding from hours of futile digging, but his faith burned brighter than ever. The Island demanded sacrifice to show them the next step, to reveal the path forward through suffering and revelation.
The hatch had to open. Everything depended on it.
Locke attacked the metal surface with manic energy, using every tool he could find—prying bars, rocks, his own fingernails when everything else failed. The "QUARANTINE" warning stenciled on the metal surface meant nothing compared to his certainty that destiny lay beneath their feet.
Boone had died for this. That death had to mean something, had to serve the Island's greater purpose. The alternative—that a young man had died for nothing, that Locke's faith had led to meaningless tragedy—was unthinkable.
"Help me open it or get out of my way!"
Mac Kerby's voice cut through Locke's obsession like ice water. The young builder stood at the edge of the clearing, his expression carrying the kind of cold fury that had emerged when he'd killed Ethan.
"Boone died for this obsession," Mac said, his voice dropping to dangerous levels. "Don't make it mean something by chasing it further."
Locke's eyes blazed with religious fervor as he rounded on Mac. "You feel it too—the hatch is important! The Island led us here! Why do you fight your purpose?"
POV: Mac
Mac's voice dropped to barely above a whisper, but it carried more menace than any shout could have managed.
"Because my purpose is keeping people alive. Not feeding them to whatever hungers this island serves."
The confrontation between them crackled with philosophical opposition that went deeper than mere disagreement. Locke saw Mac as a fellow chosen one refusing to embrace his destiny. Mac saw Locke as a fanatic whose faith would destroy anyone who got in the way of his revelation.
"The Island doesn't make mistakes," Locke insisted, his calm certainty more disturbing than any rage. "Boone's sacrifice was necessary to bring us to this moment."
Mac wanted to grab Locke and shake him until some semblance of rational thought returned, but he knew it would be futile. The older man's faith was impenetrable, interpreting every tragedy as divine plan and every coincidence as mystical guidance.
Later that morning, Locke presented his plan to the assembled group with the enthusiasm of someone revealing a brilliant solution to an impossible problem.
"We use dynamite from the Black Rock to blow the hatch open," Locke announced. "The explosives Rousseau mentioned can give us access to whatever's inside."
Mac's construction sense screamed warnings that made his head pound with their intensity. Wrong application of force, wrong angle of attack, wrong assumptions about what lay beneath that metal surface. Using dynamite on the hatch was like performing surgery with a sledgehammer—destructive, unpredictable, and likely to trigger whatever containment systems the original builders had put in place.
"That's insane," Mac said flatly. "You don't blow open something marked 'QUARANTINE' unless you want to release whatever it was built to contain."
But Jack surprised him by siding with Locke, his medical curiosity overriding his usual caution.
"We need answers," Jack said. "Resources. Medical supplies, maybe communications equipment. Whatever's down there could be our salvation."
Mac realized with growing horror that he was being outvoted by people who couldn't sense the danger he felt radiating from the hatch like heat from a forge. Kate caught his eye, reading the desperation in his expression.
"What aren't you telling us?" Kate asked privately after the meeting dissolved into planning discussions.
Mac's frustration boiled over. "I know opening it wrong is dangerous, but I can't explain how I know. It's like... construction instinct mixed with something else. Every sense I have screams that we're about to make a catastrophic mistake."
Kate studied his face, seeing the torment of someone carrying knowledge he couldn't share.
"Then help us do it right," Kate said quietly. "If we're going to open it anyway, make sure we survive the process."
Mac realized she was offering him the only compromise available—he couldn't stop the plan, but he could try to control its execution. If Locke was determined to open Pandora's box, Mac could at least build safeguards around the disaster.
He threw himself into damage control with Phase Two intensity, calculating exact dynamite placement to minimize collateral destruction. His hands worked overtime, constructing blast barriers from salvaged materials, creating evacuation routes that would channel explosive force away from populated areas, designing safety measures that nobody had asked for but everyone accepted.
Sayid worked alongside him, the Iraqi's technical expertise recognizing professional-grade preparation when he saw it. Together they built protective structures that transformed Locke's reckless plan into something approaching controlled demolition.
"You're preparing for this to go very wrong," Sayid observed as they reinforced another blast barrier.
"I'm preparing for everything to go wrong," Mac replied grimly. "Because when you use explosives on something you don't understand, wrong is the most likely outcome."
"I can't prevent this disaster, but I can try to contain it," Mac realized as he worked. "Locke's faith will open that hatch regardless of any rational arguments I make. Jack's curiosity supports him. The group's desperation for answers overrides their caution. So my only choice is to build safeguards around their terrible decision and hope it's enough to keep the casualties minimal when everything inevitably goes to hell."
That night, Mac sat with Kate on the beach, watching stars that seemed impossibly distant from their island prison. The dynamite was ready, positioned with mathematical precision around the hatch. The blast barriers ringed the site like a fortress designed to contain an explosion that might tear holes in reality itself.
"When this hatch opens," Mac said quietly, "everything changes. I don't know how I know that, but I'm certain."
Kate took his hand, her grip warm and solid against the growing certainty that they were about to cross a threshold they couldn't return from.
"Then we'll face whatever comes," Kate said simply. "Together."
Mac wanted to believe her, but his fragmentary memories whispered warnings about electromagnetic energy and countdown timers and forces that would test every relationship they'd built. Tomorrow they would use Rousseau's dynamite to open a door that had been sealed for reasons none of them understood.
The future was rushing toward them like a wave they couldn't escape, and Mac had done everything in his power to prepare for the impact. Whether it would be enough remained to be seen.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
Can't wait for the next chapter of [ Lost: The Ultimate Survivor ]?
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them (20+ chapters ahead!). No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1