Slipping Into The Airwaves

I own nothing except my OCs!

So, here I am with a cheeky, brand spanking new fic! It's kind of a crossover between Lord Of The Flies (William Golding) and IT (Stephen King) but I'm not going to put it as a crossover story because only the idea of the boys, who are now coming back as men, has anything in common with King's novel. This is also my first LOTF fic so no harsh reviews please? Remember, if you don't like don't read, but constructive reviews are always welcome! Enjoy ;D

Beast In Air, Beast In Water

"And you can paint your face here any colour you like, cuz there's a divide between this world and a weariness of our old one." – Snowmine

RALPH

"Ralph, it's nine thirty, you said you'd be out of there over an hour ago and probably an hour or two before that!" Stella, leaned against the door to the computer room, occasionally drumming her finger nails on it to be annoying. "I'm hungry," she whined, "dinner was ready half an hour ago!" A shuffling came from inside the room and an aggravated Ralph stepped out of it. "Okay, I'm here now," he said sarcastically.

Not to get you wrong, Ralph and Stella were very much in love and got married two years ago, after only dating for six months. But right now, as each other's careers were sky rocketing neither was sleeping, both were constantly agitated and the only form of entertainment was either watching funny man Maurice Taylor's comedy talk show or flicking through Bill Jay's piss taking column in Times Magazine.

Ralph and Stella sat in the dining room and started to swirl the spaghetti on their forks. "I was reading the changes to the screenplay, you know," Stella said, "and I have to say that it's so much better than the crummy lyrics I'm getting for my songs." Ralph smirked a little. "Well, it's not like your agent agrees," he said with a small mouthful of spaghetti.

"Actually," Stella began, with a hint of arrogance, "I suggested that the company should read your poems and things, you know the really dramatic emotive ones, to show that you should be writing the lyrics for the movie's soundtrack." Ralph put down his fork. "Yeah, but the thing is Stella, I'm not a lyricist; never have been, never will be. Certainly got no interest in becoming one," he huffed.

Stella just rolled her eyes. "Tsch! It's not like we need the money or anything but I'm just trying to portray you as the man with many talents – you never know when one of us may find ourselves out of work and needing a job." Ralph glared at his wife for bringing up the subject of potential unemployment.

"Ok then, Stella, tell me –" He was cut off by the persistent ringing of the landline phone. Stella cleared her throat, "I'm either asleep or not in, but if it's the agency I'm all ears." Ralph laughed. "Oh get you! The girl's got an agent!" he mocked as he strutted into the living room and picked up the phone. He was surprised to find himself on the receiving end of a police woman.

"Is this Ralph Remington?" she asked. "Yup, this is he," Ralph replied. "My name is Detective Lieutenant James," not police woman, but detective said, "and I have some news which may or may not greatly impact you." Ok, now Ralph was interested; his life may be one of turbulence, but he'd never really had a detective call him before. "I'm listening," Ralph said.

"Well, earlier this week, Costa Rican authorities got in touch with the Western authorities, which already in itself is a bit abnormal, but they said that a half decomposing body had been washed up on the beach. Holiday goers discovered it early one morning and needless to say were given quite a shock. All kinds of rumours are circulating, maybe the work of a killer or maybe some horrible accident."

Costa Rico. Ralph hadn't thought of that place in years, not that he'd have known it when he was a boy. They didn't know where they were really. He'd only heard a Naval Officer talking about it to a group of Littluns. Littluns. That was a word Ralph Remington hadn't thought of nor spoken in years either.

"Yeah, that sure does sound weird, but what's it got to do with me?" Ralph gulped; he knew certain things about that island, not all the memories clear, but enough to know some of the secrets. The detective continued, "Well, we have records of you and a group of boys having been on that island at an early point in your life and we have an account actually form you of two deaths, and one missing."

Ralph had to grip the phone tightly to prevent it slipping from his sweaty grip and practically fell into the sofa. Weird images of a boy with a painted face came to mind, a boy who held a pair of broken glasses in one hand and a spear in other. But even this was fairly foggy.

"uh huh, I understand," Ralph mumbled down the phone, "and yeah I do remember saying that. But what happens now?" He felt as if he may already have a sneaky suspicion of what was required of him. "Well," the detective woman began again, "it's going to be difficult to transport the body found, because well, when the authorities moved it into a private bay, the body was found in the same place that it had washed up. Crazy huh?"

Nothing could really surprise Ralph anymore, but he agreed it was crazy. "The best thing to do, because some of the locals are worried about this kind of happening, is to keep it on the island but get a confirmation of the identity of the body. I'm saying that it might be worth you coming over here to check it out for yourself."

Ralph felt sick and dizzy and fatigue all at once. He wasn't thinking straight and absentmindedly said, "Yeah, yeah, sure I'm already there." I needed a vacation at some point anyway, he thought cynically to himself. He then cursed himself mentally for thinking such a thing. He discussed a few transportation details with detective, said thanks and good bye before hanging up.

But then another thought hit him. This thought made him weak at the knees and queasy throughout his whole body. If the detective had told him about this, what if she'd tracked down the others? Ralph quickly put this thought to the back of his mind and ran upstairs to pack a suitcase. Once packed he stomped down the stairs with it and faced Stella at the dinner table.

"I have to go somewhere," he said bluntly. Stella stared at him and laughed a little. "Go? But your in the middle of writing a screenplay – Ralph, you look pale, are you OK?" She got up and tried to caress his cheek, but he pulled away – he didn't want to get attached to the idea of security and staying put at this moment. "Look, it's hard to explain but I really have to go," Ralph said. He strode away from Stella who had begun to work herself into a hysterical state at her husband's unease.

Ralph ignored Stella's pleas to stay put or her demands to where he was suddenly rushing off to, but he did kiss her, and then hugged her tightly. In that moment, she was the most beautiful thing to him ever. But what was strange was how she reminded him of a strange, dark haired boy. A strange boy who kept to himself, but still supported Ralph. Unfortunately, Ralph couldn't quite place his name, Sam or Simeon or something.

Ralph left the house in Los Angeles, got into his car and drove off, leaving Stella in a frantic mess at the front door of the house.