Top of Form

Chapter 13

Revenge

20 years off the island and it was only filled with nightmares and disdain for humanity. Society had expected perfectly behaved English boys to come back and with time, return to normal and continue on as if all of it was a game that little boy's play. Instead society was reunited with its greatest fear; boys who had seen each other resort to the very thing society had tried so hard to make them forget they were.

The thunder was deafening as Ralph walked down the almost empty hallway. The lights over head flickered from the storm outside and it only fully shined enough light to see the dull white walls when the lightening lit the sky and shown through the few windows he passed. The emotionless expression he wore never fell as he walked by a room with a man playing a haunting tune on his piano nor did his steps falter on the tile floor beneath him as a man wearing a white coat ran by, not paying attention to the tall blonde haired man walking with his hands deep in his coat pockets. He reminisced about the others as he looked at the numbers above the doors with glazed over eyes.

Most tried hard to regain some sense of what life was before those long days on the island. The littluns learned to forget, though much therapy and medications had been the cure. He did catch word of one becoming a butcher, most likely too familiarized with blood to turn his back on it and start another frightening journey into a world he didn't know. Roger, not surprisingly, couldn't comprehend the fact that rules and regulation was now once again the very thing that decided action. Last Ralph heard he was on death row in prison for something else stupid he did. Sam and Eric, guilt seeming to decide everything for them, became morticians. Though he was certain they never told a soul what they had witnessed and even taken part of so long ago, their smiles seemed less forced and strained then when they first were when they returned.

Ralph himself became a firefighter. The heat of the fire was soothing and the raging flames engulfing a building only calmed him. Watching the water drown the flames was like each time watching his hope die for rescue all over again. That played a part in what he decided to do when he learned of what happened to the one person Ralph wanted to see the most.

Revenge was the puppet master and Ralph walked along as his strings were pulled toward room 62 as the sullen nurse directed him to go. Turning a corner, Ralph looked up to see in bold black font the exact numbers he was looking for. In the small window on the door he caught a glimpse of his reflection as more lightening entered the sky. He closed his eyes at the sight and patted his pocket, assuring himself what he had brought was still with him, before reaching out and grabbing the silver door handle. Notes from the man's song echoed through the halls as he turned the knob. Numb he walked in without knocking and closed the door silently behind him.

Looking at the bed, Ralph saw nothing but disheveled thin white sheets. The room was as white as the halls and the only things making it seem as though someone lived there was the bed and the bed side table that held a glass full of water and a small plate filled with untaken pills on top. The only light besides what was given from the window was hanging down from the ceiling, swinging back and forth slowly, only covering half the room with light at a time. With unfeeling eyes he scanned the bare room until he spotted the reason for his coming sitting in the corner on the floor.

There sat Jack in all his glory. Dressed in a hospital gown, sitting with his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth with wide unblinking eyes staring down at the ground. Lighting lit the room as the sound of thunder drowned out the sound of the muffled piano music. Slowly Jack's lifeless eyes lifted up and looked into the eyes of the man who stood in the doorway, trying to gather up courage.

"Ralph?" Lightening and thunder went unnoticed as the eyes of the man who came to kill him stared back. "Ralph! It is you!"

Ralph watched with shock as Jack smiled as if glad to see him. He didn't make a move as Jack scrambled to his feet and ran to the table next to his bed. Opening the drawer, he pulled out pieces of paper and held them out for Ralph to see. Ralph looked down at the childish drawings of pigs and other things Ralph would give anything to forget. Jack's eyes softened as he turned around and sat on the edge of his unmade bed, his back turned to Ralph, looking at his creations.

Taking the opportunity, Ralph reached for the gun in his pocket and slowly pulled it out with a shaking hand. His once emotionless face began to twist into one of remorse. Taking great care, he placed his index finger on the trigger and with a great breath held it up and aimed at the back of Jack's head. His heart was beating hard against his ribs, a reminder of the conscious he was so sure the man in front of him didn't have.

"I made them for Piggy and Simon!"

Thunder crashed and lightening illuminated the room once more making Ralph's shadow taller while Jack's still stayed the small casting on the wall. Second thoughts made his head spin as he caught sight of the stranger's shadow aiming a gun at what seemed to be a little boy. He felt something fall from his cheek. In surprise he used his unoccupied hand to reach up and using his fingertips felt wet tear stained cheeks.

"Do you think they'll forgive me Ralph?" Jack asked in a whisper as he outlined the drawing of the pig with his finger, the gun and torment of the man behind him still going unnoticed. "It was just a game after all. Right?"

Silently a rush of tears fell faster down his face. The chin of a man quivered as his raised arm dropped to his side and he looked through blurry vision at the boy on the bed.

Not a savage.

Not a man.

But a boy.

A boy who was sorry for what he did long ago, but will never be able to find forgiveness from the ones he sought it from.

Thinking quickly, Ralph made a decision. Not even bothering to wipe away the fallen tears, he placed his hands back in his pockets. With a final glance toward the red head, he walked out of the room and back down the hall; the delicate sound the keys from the man's piano becoming louder and louder as he walked down the dull white hallway.

Ralph got his revenge. 20 years off the island and it was only filled with nightmares and disdain for humanity. What gave Ralph comfort was the knowledge that Jack had nightmares, he disdained humanity, and best of all, he was alive to feel and experience them every minute of everyday.

Bottom of Form