Chapter Text
The loading of the cutter was cramped. Bits of clay rubbed against others and broke off of the skin, dried by the heat and all that running about. First, and perhaps fittingly, came the biggest of them, Ralph, Roger and Jack. Ralph chose to look down at the sea, into the shallow, crystalline depths and then further into an infinitely white and deep blue, where many important things lay. The boat was the only obstruction, which was far off. There was nothing else to look at. The others staggered on in no particular order, the officer’s orders drowned out by the sloshing of his own mind. He could still feel his heart pounding, and at the first chance he got, he collapsed and sat down against the border. The edge pressed into his skin, but he found that he was suddenly exhausted and his body was so tense he thought he would explode.
The howls and ululations had stopped, perhaps not to disturb the presence of authority, which they had likely forgotten about until that point. Yet years of conditioning and politeness came back to the boys, even the littluns. The smell of smoke and ash faded. Ralph was careful not to touch any of them, even if their spears were dropped to be forgotten on the sand.
Despite it all, the first thing he thought of was what to do now. They would wash up. Him, yes, but the others would need it more. There would be clothes, maybe soon, maybe much later. Their current garb was ripped and stiff with dirt, or completely tossed aside. His first instinct was to go back and get anything he had left behind, but he remembered quickly that he hadn’t left anything necessary behind. Nothing that he could get back, even if he could go back. Ralph only looked behind him to catch a glimpse of the fading, slowly shrinking plume of black. He saw the others in his vision but pretended they weren’t there.
Soon they were moved to that bigger ship in the distance, where they were ushered to be washed and handed blankets. The littluns were dealt with first and the older boys stood around, silent like schoolboys after a harsh reprimand. That was what they were, wasn’t it? Schoolboys who had made a mistake, and were to be punished for it. Ralph stewed in his thoughts, looking at his scraped and calloused feet. There he found that he couldn’t figure out what to think about, except what would happen now and what would happen later. He thought of the best of them, for just a moment. He pushed it down and wiped his tears instead, raising his head and waiting for his turn to get cleaned.
The relief and exhaustion crashed down on him and he simply sat against the metal wall, breathing hard yet steady. Now, he would get clean, and there would be no more hunting. Later, he would see his father again and go back to that cottage, away from all the howls and spilt pig blood.
He felt better already, to be sheltered under a place of humanity. Built by man, men who understood, or maybe men who were just as terrible as they were. No matter, the rigid walls were straighter and smoother than anything on that island, and they were being rescued. That was what they wanted. Ralph put his head down and waited.
It wasn’t long before an officer brought him up, his wounded and bruised legs burning with effort just to stand. He walked away from the rest of the boys, where they gave him a quick rinse with water and soap in a cramped, utilitarian little room. The smell of soap was nearly overwhelming in comparison to the stench he had unknowingly gotten used to, and while he still preferred the natural water of the lagoon and ocean, he didn’t mind the dirt and gunk rinsing off his skin in flocks. There were medical supplies and bandages for all his wounds once he toweled off, hair no longer hanging down his face in oily lines and instead combed back with his fingers. The officer tried to speak to him, and Ralph knew he should entertain that kindness, but he didn’t feel like speaking much.
Roger was after him, stalking off to snoop around wherever he was allowed. He didn’t look particularly keen on being rescued. The blanket around his shoulders looked similar to his cloak, which was a far cry from the paint and overall nakedness. Ralph wished he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye again.
Jack was last and emerged freckled, ugly and somehow the state of his hair made him look uglier. Ralph sat in the quarters with the others who had washed off and were now solemn, looking out the window, sitting or laying down where they could. It was cramped and looking out the window showed nothing but a deep blue, stretching on and on. Ralph took a seat by the window, next to Samneric.
Samneric looked to him, waiting to see if he would give them a reason to speak. They looked to each other, then decided to leave it be. Ralph fidgeted and thought about everything and nothing at the same time. He thought about how nice it felt to not run and to sit on something artificial, and he also thought about the deep, blunt thump of rock against bone, or what looking Jack Merridew in the eye would feel like.
He sat there and looked for a long while until the blue deepened from aqua into navy.
There would be questions for them asked later. Some boys, after laying around and gathering themselves, shedding a few more tears, dispersed to ask the important things. Where was food, when would they see their parents again, and when/where would they arrive in England? Most of the littluns went in their groups, and so did Samneric. Some stayed and were sound asleep, embracing the feel of soft sheets and a solid cushion to sleep on.
Ralph didn’t feel particularly hungry, and even the thought of food made him nauseous. He did lay down for a little, focusing on the feeling of the boat rocking for as long as he could before his mind drifted back.
He thinks Piggy and Simon would have liked this a lot more than the others, especially the littluns who didn’t quite understand what they had been rescued from. Piggy would have been asleep, and they would’ve given him that thing they give to people with ass-mar. Simon would have liked the sense of—
“Ralph,” said Jack.
Ralph looked up and they locked eyes. Jack’s held something he couldn’t decipher. Ralph looked at him with pure fear, sitting up quickly before he found his sense again.
“What is it?” Ralph replied.
Jack was speechless, opening his mouth just for nothing to come out. He sat down on the bed across from him, wrapping the blanket provided to him like that familiar cloak. He wondered how long it had been since he’d taken it off. He doesn’t remember what he did to his choir clothing.
“Roger wanted to behead you,” he began. His face scrunched unpleasantly like he was repulsed at the idea of speaking to Ralph.
Ralph glanced at him. “Thanks. I really wanted to know that,” he said simply, then looked up at the frame of the bunk above him.
Jack looked out the window. It was almost entirely dark. “I wouldn’t let him do that,” he said. In the moment, maybe, but he couldn’t know what he would’ve done then, among all the howling and spearing. He decided not to dwell on it. They were here now, listening to the rocking and sleepy waves they were nestled within. “Not the beheading part, at very least.”
Ralph glanced at him. “Doesn’t matter now,” he looked away like it burned his retinas.
Jack stared at him, throat bobbing with tautness and many words unable to come out of
him, trapped in a tight, stuck knot. It all felt like a game, really. The dancing, singing, running about and chasing things. Pigs. People. Friends, if he was daring. He had been pulled out of the hot water into the shockingly cold air, and now had to look upon the burns it left on his skin. Quite literally, he supposed, picking at a peeling sunburn on his shoulder.
“Yeah. You’re right. It doesn’t matter now.” Jack looked away from Ralph. He felt it was a lie, because it was all coming down on him. Looking at that navy officer confused him, and stepping onto this boat and getting clean confused him, now that there was a moment of organized silence within these walls of cleanliness and rules.
Ralph didn’t speak any longer. He curled in on himself like he was cold, or like he was cornered and had nothing else to defend himself except to become small. Jack did the same. He brought his knees to his chest and sat against the bedframe.
“I’m a murderer, aren’t I?” asked Jack, suddenly, bluntly bridging a gap between them with a simple admission.
Ralph’s nostrils flared. “What else would you be?” He hadn’t done it directly. It was an effort of all of them the first time, and Roger the second time. “It’s your fault. You didn’t have to do those things.”
“I know that,” he bit, and Ralph shifted away at the way his word clipped. Jack took a deep breath.
He was sick to his stomach. He had been telling himself that it was just sea-sickness and how much the boat swayed, or that he was just hungry. Those things. Kinder faces, innocent faces plagued his mind. It happened on the island, too, but at least when he was running about or screaming, he could focus on that instead. He was not chief anymore. The rules were out of his hands and now they beat him over the head, made him ache.
“He should be here,” Jack said. “He would’ve been happy. To rub it in my face that he finally knew better than I did.”
Ralph turned onto his side, the movement heavy. “So?”
“I’m not a demon. That’s all I’m saying,” Jack said, a faint scowl coming onto his face.
“Really?” Ralph turned back, finally meeting his gaze.
Jack's exhale caught in his throat before he barely shook his head. When that made him feel pathetic, he shook it harder. “No. I’m just saying. I..”
Jack couldn’t find his words. What was he saying? Wishing Simon was here was illogical, and now was the time to start thinking logically again. No more savagery or urges, because there was no space for that here. His stomach turned and he felt nauseous again, listening to the waves crashing. They had long left any remains, but he felt they were still together, connected by the large ocean.
“Are we going to tell them?”
“Tell them what?” Ralph already knew the answer. He paused for a little, closing his eyes. “No. No, we don’t have to. Whatever happened there can stay there.”
Jack nodded. Simon would stay there. They would ask questions, ask about where the three missing children were and if they knew what happened. Piggy would stay there, too. Simon’s bed would be empty forever and Piggy’s aunt would be much lonelier without him. He went quiet, listening to the sound of faint footsteps and talking, officers and the biguns who were ready to say at least something. Ralph thought they should’ve been brought to justice, because that was the right thing to do. They had a structure for punishment. But what if he wanted to forget all about it? The last months have brought much more trouble than it was worth.
“I think you should be punished,” Ralph said, less as a judgment and more as fact.
Jack didn’t respond. Then, he nodded again, looking at nothing. He listened to the noises from outside. There were voices missing. He hadn’t thought much of how it would be after, because he had gotten used to it over months. Simon was there, and then he wasn’t, but there were other boys. But Simon was always there. Even when no one else was, Simon was always there. And Piggy was never there, but he was at the beginning, with the rest of them, where he should be.
Before he knew it, Jack started to cry, just as Ralph had hours before. The sobs wracked his entire body and he trembled, quietly at first and then growing loud enough that he sounded like he would retch. It wasn’t right. On the island, anything he said goes. If he said that it didn’t matter and they would keep moving, they would do that. That was on the island. Everything that happened there stayed there. The loss should have stayed there, because it played by the rules of the island. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair, because the island was different.
Jack sobbed into his knees, his cries shrill and young like a sow being speared. Many of the boys were crying, and still were, especially the littluns who were confused and wanted to know if they had done wrong. The captains must have been annoyed with it, and Jack’s sobs were just another high whine to be ignored and given time to ease up. His sobs became so intense he started to cough and choke on them, shuddering like he was trying to force out all of the cruelty from his small, bony body.
“I-I didn’t — I didn’t —” he began after a while, voice nasally from his tears. Ralph couldn’t bring himself to look, but he figured he looked uglier than he usually did.
“I didn’t want that to happen. I don’t want them to… sniff…” Jack sobbed again, his entire body flush with red. “It wasn’t supposed to… get like that,” he choked. “I didn’t know it was him! I didn’t…”
Jack started to babble, the blanket falling around his hips as he continued to cry. “expect him… to do that… to him. But… But I…” His voice faltered as he ran out of excuses.
By then, other boys started to walk in. Some paused and stared at Jack, crying and babbling like a baby, pressing forward in awkward silence and avoiding Ralph’s gaze. Others were spooked and left the room to avoid the sight, or cried too. By now he was far too embarrassed to look up at them, and continuing to cry with no point was the easier option.
Ralph wanted to cry too. He did, shedding a few tears onto the flat pillow. He didn’t exactly know why he was crying, because he had already been thinking for too long without having to cry. Jack’s tears and stupid mumbling were disturbing, just like how his howling and barking were disturbing.
“I’m sorry!” Jack said, back bowed and head buried in his knees. It slipped out against his will, but whenever he tried to save himself and spout another excuse, nothing came out except another useless apology.
Ralph covered his ears, sniffling. How in the world was he supposed to get sleep like this? He didn’t know how late it was, and all this sobbing was starting to tire him out more. The aches started to get worse, and he was aware of all the scrapes and cuts he got while stumbling through branches and thorns. The bruises hurt without him disturbing them. He closed his eyes and let his tears fall freely.
The boys knew better than to talk to Jack. Better as in they didn’t know what to do, so they just left him alone. Jack eventually settled onto his side, back shaking as his sobs whittled into hiccuping and sniffles. The rest of the room seemed to shrink from a low rumble of cries, then followed Jack’s lead into a chorus of a few sniffles here and there.
Ralph fell asleep. Jack fell asleep shortly after, hiding his face and not bothering to get under the covers.
Ralph stirred long after the sun had rose. He awoke in a panic, then was confused for a brief moment before he remembered where he was, wiping his exhausted eyes. His entire body ached as he sat up. One or two bodies were missing, probably getting breakfast or talking with officers. He almost went back to sleep, but when he laid back down, he couldn’t.
He stood up, his entire body aching from his head to his feet, but he was well-rested. It was light outside. The other boys looked exhausted and likely wouldn’t wake up for a long while. His stomach cramped with hunger, as he was primarily surviving off the same fruit for months. The thought of real food, even if it was just bread or boiled vegetables made him realize just how terrible of a condition he’d been in. His hair was ratty, he could see his ribs through his torso, and his own body hated him just for standing up and daring to see another day.
Food was being prepared not so far away. He salivated at the thought and had to stop himself from running in and tearing up the whole kitchen. He was so hungry he didn’t hear the door open and footsteps descend slowly down the hall until they were right behind him. He turned quickly, ready to run or attack.
Jack stood a few feet before him, eyes red rimmed, cheeks sunken and now bare-faced. The sight was almost revolting in its familiarity. He looked his age without all that clay on. He now had on a simple button-up and shorts that were issued to him. Ralph stepped back like the sight was threatening. Jack didn’t move.
“This is your fault. You could’ve come with me,” he said, spitting. His voice was hoarse with sleep. Ralph took another step toward the mess deck, ready to walk past and pretend he never saw him. He would go sit with Piggy, even if he was a messy eater. But Piggy was not here anymore.
His big mouth opened without his permission. “I didn’t do anything. We would all have been okay if you listened to us.”
Jack’s eyes went wild with a rage that made Ralph take another step back. For once, his better judgment won over and he averted his eyes. “... But you can come with me now,” he said, almost a mumble. “And we don’t need to fight anymore. I don’t care if you’re mad.”
Ralph thought back to last night and how the other boys completely ignored Jack, even if they were at his every beck and call just hours before. Ralph thought about the feeling of tripping over his own feet because they would not run fast enough. He thought of splashing around in the lagoon.
He stood there and looked at him like he was going batty.
“I don’t want to fight. I’m tired of putting up with your nonsense. Let’s eat. I’m hungry,” he said, pushing past Ralph and expecting him to follow. When he didn’t, his face scrunched up in contempt. “Forget it. Go eat by yourself.”
Ralph continued to stand there like a fool. Jack stormed off, his eyes still sore and his hunger barely winning over the empty, sickening pit in his stomach. The look of meat was enough to make him twitch. The other boys started to rouse, and whoever came through while Ralph stood in the hall pretended he wasn’t there, walking right past him or looking away when they walked by. He could hear the sound of the littluns starting to cause a racket in the quarters.
Eventually, his hunger won over and he finally stepped forward. Jack sat in the corner, brooding and digging into a plate served to him by a sympathetic worker with a shaking, ravenous hunger that was almost grotesque. Ralph could feel it in himself, too, and he saw it in the other boys who were eating. They looked away from him.
Ralph looked down and pretended he was the only one there. He remembered the pitiful sight and sound of Jack’s sobbing.
Ralph sat down across from him, bitter.
“We shouldn’t fight,” he agreed simply. “That’s all done now.”
Jack stopped, even in his voracity, just to look at him. Despite Ralph’s relenting, he was still unhappy. But he remembered himself, and started to eat slower.
“... Good to see you’ve finally got some sense,” he muttered.
Ralph only nodded his head. “I’ve had sense.”
Jack nodded. They couldn’t afford to fight, not now, not when exhaustion seeped deep into their bones. And he couldn’t fight anyway, only now, he couldn’t do anything but accept it. His rules were gone. Many important things were gone now.
Jack Merridew accepted that, too, and almost started to cry again.