This is my first attempt at something like this. If it is terrible, please try not to kill me. Just... Tell me how to fix it. So long as you're polite, I'll try my best to work out any kinks you pick up :)

I should probably explain the set up here...

It's set in the modern day, but there's a war going on. It's probably about two years into it now, and, well, as you'll see in a moment, they've just started to evacuate kids in their school groups. The boys all come from England, and the school system used corresponds with that. This is mostly because I wanted to stick with that part of the book, and partly because I have a better understanding of British education than I do any other country's, since I live and go to school there.

Also, the boys are all a little bit older. Just by a few years.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies, nor do I own the boys we all know and love (Or hate- each to their own). I will, however, take this oppurtunity to say that Anna and Sally are my characters *pats them both on head fondly*

" A few weeks ago, Allied spies behind enemy lines deciphered a previously unknown code, alerting us to the fact that the enemy possess better weaponry than previously anticpated, including the atomic bomb. Government have had chance to discuss the matter. With more, we have the lovely Joe Blake. Joe, can you hear me?"

"Thanks, Jane. I'm here outside the Houses of Parliament, where the government have recently finished discussing a proper plan of action. They've come to the conclusion that we should get the children out of the line of fire. If there is to be a nuclear war, and that seems a likely possibilty right now, I'm sure everyone watching will agree that the children play no part in it.

"A small country in South America, which shall remain nameless for security reasons, has agreed to house Britain's children until it's safe for their return. Parents are urged to talk this through with their children, help them pack, spend a few days with them. Because within the next few weeks, schools are going to be boarding planes and boats alike and getting the hell outta here. Back to you, Jane."

"Thank you, Joe. Now for the weather with Lizzie McKenzie."

Someone knocks on the door and I jump out of my skin. My fear is short-lived, however, when the voice of my best friend rings out from the other side

"Sally, are you done yet?"

"Nearly!" I reply, finally spotting the 'chain' (aka silver button) that makes this toilet flush and pressing it. "Just washing my hands!"

There's a groan from the other side, presumably Anna, and I fight the urge to giggle. She never has been patient. With a flick of my wrist, I hold my hands under the warm running water for a moment before squirting a bit of strange smelling soap into my palms. Rubbing them against each-other and grinning at the vast amount of foamy white bubbles I've created, it's with great reluctance that I put them back under the water and wash them away again.

Turning the tap off, I look around the tiny cupboard of a room and feel my heart sink.

"Anna," I call hesitantly.

There's another groan from the other side of the door; definitely her. "Yes?"

"They don't have a towel." My nose wrinkles in disgust of its own accord. "And they don't even have one of those hand dryer thingies."

"Well wipe your hands on your skirt, then." She suggests bluntly.

My blue eyes flit down to my grey school skirt, which hangs to a point just below my knees. "I can't do that!" I insist. "It'll get soggy, and I'll have to sit down in it. Does that sound very comfortable to you?"

"You asked for my advice and I'm giving it to you." She grumbles from outside, in the passenger tube of the plane. "Now, are you coming out any time soon? 'Cos I'm getting bored, and if need be I will go back without you."

Hastily rubbing my hands against my thighs, and mentally cursing the fact that these stupid skirts are so rubbish at soaking up water, I lunge for the door handle and pull it, yanking the stiff door open.

Anna stands on the other side, arms folded, her fingers drumming against her forearm impatiently.

"Well," She huffs. "It's about time."

"I'm sorry." I apologise. "I just really had to go."

Rolling her eyes, she turns to set off down the plane. And promptly stumbles back a few steps as the floor shakes.

"What was that?" I ask her timidly.

She shrugs her shoulders, turning to face me. "I have no-" The plane shakes again, "Idea."

"Someone's shooting at us!" One of the boys from another school shouts excitedly. There are three schools packed into this plane: a seemingly strict all-boys school sit at the back, closest to the toilet; a primary school in the middle, with a load of small, crying kids; and ours, St. Helena's, a mixed gender secondary school up at the front of the plane.

The boys back here start climbing over each other in an attempt to get to the windows and see what's going on.

Anna and I make eye contact just the plane shakes again. One of the windows explodes in a little boy's face, impaling him with little flecks of glass. He starts to scream as a boy who must be from the Catholic school, as I certainly don't recognise him, hurries over and tries to help him.

Apparently, no-one on this end of the plane notice the poor little kid, as they continue to scrabble in an attempt to look out the windows anyway.

"What do we do?" I shout to Anna over the excited racket.

"Are there any windows in there?" My best friend nods her head towards the toilet. I shake my head. Anna turns and stares down the plane, in the direction of our seats. Sighing, she heads towards the toilet, grabbing my hand and dragging me with her. "I'm giving up my pot of pasta for this. Be grateful."

I'm still not entirely sure what I'm supposed to be grateful for as my best friend shuts the door and pulls the bolt, sealing us inside the tiny room. She releases my hands and groans.

"This room is tiny." She complains.

I nod. "I know."

"Still, it's better than being shot at."

Again, I nod in agreement. Anna opens her mouth to say something else, but she doesn't have chance. There's a loud bang, someone on the other side of the door screams, and then Anna and I collide with it. The whole tiny room has tipped sideways.

My hand moves along the door until I find the handle, at which point I grip it as tightly as I can, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I think the plane's gonna crash." I mumble, eyes still shut tight.

I hear Anna's sigh from beside me. "No shit, Sherlock."

Hesitantly, I open one eye in curiosity and find myself staring at the back of Anna's dark-haired head. Which means she's also been forced up against the door by gravity. I hastily shut my eye again.

I'm aware of it all. My cheek pressed against the white-washed wood of the door as we plummet downwards. The way we bounce a little once we hit the earth. The following silence. I keep my eyes squeezed shut.

"Sally," Anna's voice whispers. Someone grips my shoulders tight, shaking them roughly. "I know you're awake."

Opening my eyes, I take a step away from the door. I can do so now, as the room is more or less the right way up again. At least, my feet are firmly planted upon the ground again, rather than the door.

Speaking of which, Anna pulls the bolt across and looks over at me. "You ready?" I nod and she opens the door.

With the unbridled confidence that I'm sure only Anna can possess, my best friend exits the tiny cupboard of a toilet. I tiptoe after her.

The damage is evident immediately; the front half of the plane must've bee blown off blown off, and the seats remaining are either empty or bare the corpse of an anonymous fellow human. I stifle a sob.

Everyone in our school... If we hadn't left our seats, we'd be... I don't let myself finish that thought.

Without the front of the plane intact, there's an enormous opening, through which I can see what appears to be the sea… Yes, those ripples, the way the light dances across the water… That's the sea, I'm certain of it.

"Come on," Anna instructs, heading to the end of our half of the plane and jumping. Hesitantly, I follow after her.

When I land seconds later, it's on something solid; not seawater at all. However, it's definitely something soggy. Glancing down, I notice it's wet sand and, if I look up, we're only a few steps away from the sea I saw just now.

"Where do you think we are?" I ask Anna. She shrugs, tromping off down the beach in her heavy black shoes. I glance at my own shoes, wrinkle my nose in distaste, and rise to my feet. It's not long before I'm sprinting after her. "Anna, wait up!"

Sorry for the lack of the boys. There are several references, if you look for them. I promise they will feature much more next chapter, which will be uploaded... Probably next weekend, I think.