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Cowardice	By : saucyminion Category: G through L > Lord of the Flies Views: 17460 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Part Three—Docking

    That evening, things were different on the ship. Following the emotional turmoil came an eerie sense of calm across everyone. It was the sense of awareness afterwards that their apologies had really meant nothing. How could words ever compensate for what had happened on the island? Everyone wanted to acknowledge that they had said sorry and had made it all better by confessing their mistakes, though they were all completely aware of something darker, heavier, more important that was still hanging over their heads. They ignored it; pretended that it had never happened, or at least tried their best to. After all, that was so much easier.
    It was just like when Simon was…     Ralph sat with his head in his hands on his cot, thinking these thoughts, secluded from the rest of the boys who were making some peculiar attempt to once again become nothing but fine British youth. Ralph knew that there was no sense in this. None of them would ever be the same, maybe not even the littluns. He had desired to see peace and friendship between them again, of course, but having wandered around the ship until sunset and having observed all the interactions between the boys he had become almost sickened by the pathetic display.
    He continued to return to his cabin again and again after leaving it, to achieve the peace of solitude, and to reflect on what he had learned that day. From the Naval officers he had learned that there was no means of knowing where his father was at the time, and that the boys were all being taken back to England, to the country somewhere, where they would be safe.
    Ralph thought about how if only they had just gone to the countryside in the first place, and never have had taken that horrible plane; they never would have crashed on the cursed island.
    But then you never would have met Jack.
    Ralph furrowed his brow in a series of staggered thoughts.
    And then you never would have had to deal with that hideous Jack, Ralph corrected himself in his head.
    His earlier goal to think nothing of Jack had proved fruitless. If concerning himself with Jack any longer meant that Jack was winning, than Ralph was defeated, but he didn’t care now; he just lay there and wondered. Was Jack feeling as guilty as he looked? Was he afraid, like Ralph had been? Why wasn’t he acting like a horrible brat anymore? That was the most eerie part about it—Ralph didn’t see any more of that smug arrogance he’d so admired when they’d first met.
    Stop it! Stop thinking about him!
    Ralph allowed himself one final thought, and it was an assurance to his self that Jack was the same murderous, filthy boy that he had been on the island, and that once they got off that cruiser, he would never have to look at his ugly face again.
    He’s not that ugly, really.
    Ralph squeezed his eyes shut and slapped his hands over his face. He wanted to smother himself in his pillow and make himself disappear. He wanted to go to sleep so the next day would come sooner; so he could get off of the ship and never have to see any of the other boys again; Namely Jack-‘I can sing C sharp’-Merridew.

    Jack sat impatiently as he watched the docking harbor gradually appear on the foggy horizon. As it grew larger and closer, an apprehensive anxiousness built in him, making him feel somewhat ill when combined with the stench of sea salt and some kind of oil used for an unknown purpose on the cruiser. The boys were to be split into two groups where they would then be transported to two separate countryside manors by train, where they could be safe. They would likely never see or hear from one another again. For one thing he was glad that he would have that many less of the boys to face every day. For another, he knew that if Ralph were to be taken to the other house, this would be his last chance to say anything to him that could be said. It would be the last chance he could try to explain himself, and to free himself of just a little guilt. It wasn’t as though he could justify anything that he’d done, but maybe if he could just say something… how would he feel years from then if he never had tried to give anything to Ralph? They could have been such good friends; they really had something together… some unspoken common understanding and connection. They’d both sensed it when they’d arrived on the island, he was certain of that. Numbers of lazy, humid hours together, splashing in the water under the sun, talking, laughing…
    “Oi! I’d not sit so close to the edge if I were you, there,” called one of the younger officers from across the deck. It took a moment for Jack to realize that he was the one being spoken to. Was it his imagination, or did he feel guilty?
    “Why?” Jack asked after a few moments, not moving from his position, though casually clutching the rail a little tighter.
    The officer stepped a little closer, looking at Jack with a hint of annoyance. “Because,” he said slowly, “it’s dangerous. Now come on, lets go get you brushed up, we’ll be docking soon.”
    “What do you know about danger?” Jack piped. He only realized the foolishness of the question the instant he’d finished asking it, but he held his ground stubbornly.
    The officer looked insulted and frustrated. “A lot more than you, I’m sure!” He took a few steps closer to Jack, but the red-haired boy only defiantly pulled himself up to sit closer to the edge of the rail.
    “Why are you doing that?” the officer demanded in complete frustration. “You do what I tell you and get down this instant.” He came closer and grabbed onto Jack’s upper arm, pulling him onto the deck before he tried to struggle.
    “Get your hands offa me!” Jack hollered in the man’s face, eyes blazing furiously, shaking his arm free. He noticed some of the other boys now gathering on the deck in curiosity of the ruckus, and it gave him a touch of adrenaline when he knew he was being watched. He pulled his chin up, wondering if there was some way he could earn back the respect of the others now that their eyes were on him. “I do what I like, and you can’t tell me a thing—“
    “You are out of line, young man!” hollered the officer, grabbing Jack’s shoulder firmly, trying to direct him to the right, but Jack would not go, despite the pang of shame he felt when being scolded.
    “No, it’s you who is out of line! When my father and mother hear about how you’ve been treating me—“
    “Your father and mother?” said the officer with a funny sort of look on his face. “Haven’t your parents…” Suddenly the officer’s expression dropped to a blank, and his arm fell away from Jack’s shoulder. “That is…” his eyes wandered for a moment.
    Jack felt as though he had swallowed a block of ice, and a cold tension spread from his chest through his limbs. “What are you talking about?” he asked, all hostility forgotten. “Did you contact my parents like you said you would?”
    The officer stared down into Jack’s round, hopeful eyes. “No,” he murmured. He turned to walk from the deck and shouted behind him; “And you could show a little more respect to the people who are trying to help you.”
    Jack stood there feeling oddly betrayed. Not only had the officer walked away from him like that after speaking about his parents in such a peculiar way, but that fact that the young man hadn’t even bothered to challenge Jack’s stubbornness to a point of any resolution made him feel rather useless.
    I want my mum.
    Jack flinched when he felt something hot and wet trickle down his cheek, and when he wiped it away, he found that it was a tear. “What is happening?” he whispered aloud, voice shaking, not entirely sure of anything anymore. Nobody would talk with him, nobody would fight with him; nobody cared. He had no home and possibly not even a mother and father as far as he knew, and now he was crying without even knowing why. He had nothing—no value or ownership. He was worthless.
    “Jack, are you all right?” a familiar voice called.
    When Jack turned around, the ice in his chest melted within a second.

    Ralph had been apprehensive to say anything, but he couldn’t simply stand there and watch Jack cry while nobody did a thing but observe. He knew he was far more responsible than that. At the same time, a tiny part of him was shouting inside; see how you like it, Jack. Logically, he also knew that Jack would likely suffer from a lot of painful emotions, then and later on, due to what had been happening. Feeling satisfied with this, he felt he might as well do what he could to comfort him for the time being. At least a little.
    The fair boy walked timidly to where Jack was standing and put a hand on his shoulder; the same shoulder that the young officer had gripped, but Ralph’s hand was gentle. “I asked, are you all right? I mean, what’s wrong with you—this isn’t like you at all. I expect a lot more of you, you know.” Ralph bit his lip to quiet himself, but he knew that a lot worse could have come out of his mouth. Things like: ‘You’re crying? Good—I would be crying, too, if I was a filthy murderer.’ But he didn’t say those things. He was proper, and not at all like the boy standing across from him. Another flicker of satisfied triumph over evil. Strength over weakness.
    Jack wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, I’m really not,” he whispered glancing up at Ralph. “I’m crying for no reason and everyone’s looking at me and I may not see my mum and father again and I bleeding killed your friends.” He sobbed and squeezed his eyes shut rubbing his face with his hands, his words muffled, his tiny body shaking. “I killed them, Ralph, and now I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do… are they going to put me in prison?”
    Anger bubbled up in Ralph but he clenched his teeth and tried to think about what to do or say. I hope you do get put into prison for a very long time, and I hope you shatter your teeth trying to gnaw your way out through the prison bars when they tie your arms up into a straightjacket. Ralph knew he hadn’t spoken the words out loud, but he placed a hand over his mouth and shuddered anyhow, feeling ashamed of himself.
    “Hey, you two break it up now,” said a somewhat recognizable officer. It was another tall black man, Ralph saw, who looked similar to Luther, who obviously though that Ralph had been bullying Jack. “Jack and Ralph, isn’t it? You two don’t want to stay on this big boat, do you?”
  Ralph looked around and saw that they had docked, and he could see in the near distance that the boys were being ushered down a ramp onto a dock in the foggy mist of the shore. How had he not noticed before? He glanced back into Jack’s reddened, wet eyes and felt as though he could drown in them. How long had they been standing there? It had seemed like only a minute or two, but apparently it had been much longer. This baffled Ralph even further.
    “Come on now, you two,” said the man, “we’ve got to get you down on the dock with the others.”
    After a few seconds had passed Ralph numbly registered the pressure on his bare feet as they padded along the deck—he felt himself walking, being carried by his legs, but he was in a daze. Why was he walking, and where would walking take him? There was no salvation, no freedom. No matter how many times he had told himself that it was over, he was safe, and he had the grown-ups, he knew that there was nothing he could do to unlearn and unlive everything he’d experienced. Walking was just a pathetic mean of physical escapism… so was driving away, and hiding from the war in some crummy house. He wanted to walk right out of his mind, forget Jack, and forget everything else.
    When he glanced over his shoulder at the red-haired boy behind him, however, their eyes met for a painful moment. With a throb of his veins, his heart, and his brain, he knew that there was nothing he could do to forget that boy called Jack Merridew—even if he truly wanted to.
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Cowardice