Chapter I- Old Familiar Things

Cadet First Lieutenant Jack Merridew tried not to smirk too much as he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door to Major Winters' office behind him. The Major was the Bunker Hill Military Academy's head psychologist, and even in Jack's opinion a very smart man. But the smug look on Jack's face had nothing to do with Winters' ability as a mental health expert. Instead, it had a lot more to do with how good Jack knew he was getting to be at sending up all the right signals. Painting the right picture. Being good, sharp-minded, adventurous Jack, who in no way could have possibly engineered the murder of two fellow cadets on an otherwise empty island, plus attempted- even ordered- the death of a third. No. That wasn't Jack Merridew. Jack Merridew was a good cadet.

Striding smartly down the hall, Jack executed a perfect left-face and stopped at the door. Placing his garrison cover on his head- the blue-and-black Class B's were the most common daily uniform at Bunker Hill- Jack couldn't help but smile as the gleam of those two silver dots caught his eye. Even after all that had happened, after everyone nearly finding out what Jack had done, what he almost did… he still was head of the Bunker Hill choir. And with all the rumours floating around among the 200-plus boys of the Corps, Jack had one change he definitely counted in his favour- he was now one of the most feared boys in the school. New cadets coming to Bunker Hill now heard of Jack Merridew within their first week; usually they saw him, one way or another, their first or second day. New boys wilted when they saw him; once, Jack had taken a new kid's trunk, talked with his parents just as nice as you please… then, just as soon as they were in the car and down the drive, back out Bunker Hill's gates, he'd thrown the trunk from the highest window in Ingleston Hall barracks and dared the boy to tell anyone about it. "Welcome to Bunker Hill!" Jack had crowed, reveling in his newfound power. Naturally the kid had complained to everyone he thought could help. And naturally, the ones who wanted to couldn't prove it, and the ones who didn't were never a problem in the first place.

It was an irony Jack had reflected on many times now; he'd been a rebel and a rule-breaker before he'd been sent to Bunker Hill. Now, after figuring out how to twist the rules and bend the system the way he wanted, Jack was a professional con artist and a lot more. Military school promised discipline, and discipline it delivered.

That this discipline was applied in completely the wrong way never once bothered Jack. Whenever this occurred to him, he'd respond with a mental- or physical- shrug. So what? He was just using the tools they gave him. Besides, a sadist always could find a place in the barracks. His greatest crime, in the eyes of most school officials and alumni, was doing too much. A pacifist- like Ralph, or Piggy- was actually disliked more, for not doing enough.

As Jack stepped outside the front doors of the administration building- he'd made sure to thank the secretary on his way out- Jack noticed someone else coming. Another cadet, and Jack's sharp eyes instantly discerned this other cadet's senior rank. Indignant anger pulsed in Jack's veins- he hated being outranked. Hated it completely, and blindly. Receiving salutes made him feel gratified, content that his status as one of Bunker Hill's greatest was understood and recognized. Giving salutes did just the opposite.

As Jack started to raise his arm in salute, he and the other cadet drew closer, and recognition set in. Beneath his grey cap and silvery-blonde hair, Jack's face twisted into a smile. It was Ralph.

"Afternoon, Colonel", Jack said, rendering his salute with a kind of military bearing a Marine colonel would have approved of. His voice was likewise polite and, as always, completely professional.

Only the grimacing smile, that grim look of knowing triumph was still in his hands, betrayed what Jack was really thinking as he greeted Cadet Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Meyer. Battalion exec still, but for how much longer? Along with going to great, poetic lengths to prove his own innocence, Jack was also starting to sow the seeds of doubt in the minds of Bunker Hill's administration. Poor Ralph, so traumatised, so disturbed… so unfit for command. And who better to replace him than the noble boy with the blonde hair, the singer whose cadences were adored by every parent and parade ground instructor?

Who better, indeed?

All this and more was communicated to Ralph in that one moment, that one instant where they locked eyes, traded salutes, and passed by one another. Ralph was deathly afraid of Jack, and Jack knew it and loved it… but he also hated Jack, too. Hated him for being so ready to throw civilization away; so ready to kill and pretend he'd never done it. Ralph knew what Jack was up to- he knew perfectly well. And Jack was sure that whatever he was coming up to Kovalchik Hall for today, odds are it had something to do with his latest efforts to unveil the truth at last.

Ralph's voice, hard and determined, called after him.

"Sooner or later they're gonna find out about you. Somebody's gonna know."

Jack stopped. For just an instant, his smile faltered. He'd heard this before- he'd heard it all before. But was this time somehow different? Ralph sounded so sure…

But when he turned around, Jack was all smugness and triumph again. He just smirked and tilted his head, the very picture of teenage arrogance. "Who's 'they'?" he echoed, mocking Ralph's words. "Colonel Anderson? Major Winters?"

Ralph's stare was frigid, and his words no warmer. "We both know what you did. They've found Piggy, and nobody's gonna be stupid enough to believe Simon stabbed himself with a spear… what was it… two dozen times?" Now Ralph was the one smiling. Taking a few steps towards Jack, who furiously made himself hold his ground, Ralph said quietly, "Or was it three, Jack? I just have such a hard time remembering. And you know what? I've just got this big mouth and I love to hear it run."

"Go fuck yourself, Ralph." Jack wasn't smiling anymore.

Ralph just grinned. "Oh, I enjoyed our time on the island too, Jack. I'll see you around."

With that, Ralph flashed Jack his best smirk- which turned out to be pretty damned good. Jack stood rooted to the spot, shaking with useless rage at something he could do nothing about.

For now.

Suddenly, jabbing a finger at Ralph as he reached for the door handle to go inside, Jack yelled, "I'm gonna find a way to get you this year, Meyer! That's a promise, stool pigeon!"

Ralph just grinned and walked inside. Jack stormed off in a rage, neither knowing nor caring if anyone else but Ralph had heard or seen him.