There were, and had been for quite some time, a number of questions swirling around in my head, many of which I would have liked nothing better than to shout out to the unresponsive forest, the continually oblivious waves, perhaps even theoretical "beastie" would have listened, more so at least, than anyone else attempted to on this over-run, godforsaken island. But that was only the first step, and, as always, the second was by far the most important; answers. Why were we here? Why us? I was undoubtedly sure that none of us, not even Jack, had done anything quite so terrible as to deserve this. Well, at least that had been the case before everything had swirled out of our control. Perhaps, if we ever got rescued, we would become famous, so much so that everyone would know of us, our story, how the miraculous plane load of school boys survived alone on an island, for who knows how long. The island might even be named by then, "Merridew Island". It did have a ring to it.
And that, I decided, digging my fingers into the dirt beside me, almost impulsively, at the mere thought of his name, was how it looked to be already. The way I saw it, everything was now totally and completely under his control, whether they wanted it that way or not, all he had to do was push the right buttons, a not so far off feat with the control panel directly at hand. I pulled up a handful of dirt, marveling at the smoothness of it running through my fingers, just as everything else seemed to be these days, both literally and figuratively.
There were very few people whom I felt I could still really trust. Piggy, for one, as much as I hated to admit it, was probably my most loyal "adviser", or so he could be thought of. Yet another addition to my steadily growing list of reasons to just give up and turn myself in to the darkness, ever pushing around the edges of my mind. But whenever one contemplates suicide, there directly follows, for those still not completely certain, the idea of what would happen were they really to leave, from immediate to broad, at times the entire world filling ones head at a time. And in my case, it was the immediate affect that brought the train of thought to a stop, in fact, himself included. The by now almost silent footsteps came to a halt, a few paces behind me, the familiar presence making it unnecessary for me to even glance up, instead the standard, ingrained ritual of greeting was the first thing out of my mouth.
"Hello."
"Hello..." His voice was quieter, almost hesitant, but that didn't bother me anymore. You never could tell with Simon, absolutely nothing at all. I finally looked up as he sat down, one hand still clutching the fistful of dirt. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, the course tips having grown so long that they flopped down over his eyes, masking them almost completely from view. It gave him even more of a drawn back, hidden appearance than usual, which somehow seemed to suit him. True to form, he made no move to continue the conversation any further, so I too remained silent, glancing away again as he dropped to the ground beside me, glancing out between the tree trunks with a faraway, slightly haunted expression.
It took me a minute to realize that it was all building up inside of me, the pressure, the heat, being beaten at my enforced upon task by mere choir boy, the entire goddamn island in the first place, it was getting to be and already was. However, it really seemed to be in no hurry to stop, and at that, I really did feel as if I would explode, and such was the way of life that it be in front of one of the only people who had very little to nothing to do with it altogether.
It began much the way all rants to, "I can't stand it anymore!" And Simon, being who he was, showed no real reaction at my outburst, merely turned slightly to look at me, an expression of polite interest crossing his face, and by now oblivious to all but my pain, I continued, "I really can't do this. I didn't ask to be made chief, they forced the bloody title on me in the first place! All I did was blow a shell that some random fat kid forced on me, they all came running and demanded that I lead them, and then when I tried to do just that they ran off to join those sodding, brainless idiots who spend more time killing and worrying about looking their part then they do about ever getting home!" I broke off, panting slightly as if i had just run the entire length of the beach without pause, staring down at my clenched fists in the dirt beside me, as if by twisting the life out of each individual clump I could somehow turn things right again. "I...I don't know what to do. They're all just running off to get killed, and no one's gonna be able to keep the fire going, i'm just...we're not going to get out of here..." My voice got softer with each word, until I finally gave up, trailing off altogether as I let my head drop against my knees, squeezing my eyes shut against the all too real images dancing before my eyes.
For a moment neither of us moved, my slightly ragged breathing the only sound save for the late afternoon calls of the roosting birds. I had begun to think that perhaps it would be a good idea to just stay like that, forever, allow myself to waste away, become yet another in the steadily rising death count of this new found necropolis. And that perhaps my suicidal ideas had indeed been pointing me in the right direction, but I was once again, startled out of my thoughts as a hand landed lightly on top of my own, still balled into a fist at my side. Jumping slightly, I raised my head once more to study the boy beside me, his underlying emotions still seemingly impossible to make out. A small smile passed across his face, and for a moment his eyes seemed to speak for him, their gray depths holding a sort of calm knowing. It was the strangest sort of comfort I had ever been offered, only three words, but at this point I was so desperate that it would have to suffice, and besides, had I wanted something more normal, I most definitely would not have searched for it in Simon.
"I'm with you." He said simply, his voice quiet as always, and a deep sense of calm seemed to wash over me, if only for a moment. The knowledge that, when everything else failed, as it was only a step away from doing, I did have something to fall back on, something that, despite its seemingly fragile nature was, in fact unbelievably strong. So I merely studied him, squeezing his hand slightly, and hoping that my expression would speak for me, as I was not quite sure if at the moment I could put my thoughts into words. For Merridew island or not, we were still here, and that at least, had to count for something.