Marooned with the Savage or Dulce Bellum Inexpertis

"War does not determine who is right, war determines who is left."

Chapter One

Helena felt the rumble before she heard the siren. She forced her eyes open.

The ground shook, the walls shuddered and some dust trickled down over her bed. And then the warning siren rang out throughout the city of London. Grabbing her duvet, she threw it onto the floor, put on her pair of shoes waiting for her by the bed, grabbed her coat from the back of the door and ran into the hallway.

"JAMES!" she screamed as she felt a bomb impact with the ground. She almost lost her balance, and grabbed the banister for support. "MUM!"

Almost out of nowhere, her brother James grabbed her and together they flew down the stairs. Their house, a big one to show off her parents' wealth, shook as if it were scared too. Helena yelled out as shelves came tumbling down, antiques smashing all over the floor; her brother James took a blow to the head and Helena winced at the sight of his blood as it trickled down his face.

"Are you okay James?" she asked breathlessly, as they stopped for a moment.

He nodded. "Come on, we need to get to the back garden and into the shelter—"

"What are you standing there for?" screamed a voice from the top of the stairs. It was their mother. "Go, kids!"

Before she could say or do anymore, a bomb exploded near their house and the impact destroyed the front of their home. Helena screamed as they were completely blown backwards. Helena and James collided with a wall and crumpled to the floor. She gingerly touched her head and felt blood; her vision was blurred, but she felt James touch her hand. Her heart fluttered with relief.

All she could hear for a moment was the crashing and the banging noises as her house was torn apart, but James was helping her to her feet. Her legs wobbled but the sight in front of her was more horrifying.

"NO!" Helena cried, staring at the body of her mother. Her fine nightgown was shredded and her mangled body was trapped beneath a large part of what was the ceiling.

"Come on Helena," muttered her brother. "We have to get out of here."

Helena looked up at her brother's bloodied and bruised face and saw tears in his eyes. I can't believe this is happening. She took James' hand and together they ran through the house, through the kitchen and out into the back garden, all the while dust, debris, glass falling down on them as the rumbles got louder and louder—

James wrenched the door of the Anderson Shelter open and almost threw Helena inside, throwing himself in and shutting the door; he blocked out the flashing sky. Helena heard the loudest bomb yet and realised that this one had hit her house. Her home. Everything they owned destroyed in one second.

James rubbed his eyes and scrunched them to see Helena. The shelter was dark and damp and did not keep the noise of the bombing out. Helena was shaking on the makeshift bed, a sign she was crying. James crawled over to her, and held her close.

A few hours later, the noise finally stopped. Helena removed her hands from her ears and sighed in exhaustion and grief. She was tired, emotionally and physically. She was covered in cuts and bruises and her head ached. She longed for her mother to comfort them; she was gone. Helena looked to the side of the little bed and saw the black and white photo of her father in his uniform. He was a Captain in the army, and fighting the Germans in who knows where. If he was even still alive.

And tomorrow—or today, as it was the early hours of the morning now—James was being conscripted into the army. Her mother and James taken from her in the space of just a few hours? Who would look after her? Where would she go? Would her father know of the situation?

"Please don't go tomorrow James," Helena whispered, tearing up once more. "I'll be on my own."

"I have to, Helena," he said solemnly back in the darkness as they cuddled on the tiny bed. "It wasn't quite the eighteenth birthday present I wanted..."

"You could say you're a Humanist, or a Conscientious Objector, or anything just...please, stay."

"I'm not a coward Helena," he told her sternly. He then sighed. "I'll explain my situation in the morning when the Officers pick me up and see what they say...I can't promise anything. But, look at me Helena, I promise you that I'll make sure you're safe and settled before I go anywhere."

She smiled. "Thank you Jamie."

"You haven't called me that since you were little," he chuckled.

Helena shrugged. "Shall we go outside? Is it safe yet?"

"Well, it's quiet now. But we'll wait for the morning."

Hours later, Helena sat on the ruins of what was her home. She was holding a doll that had somehow made it, a childhood favourite. The sunlight almost made it seem impossible that the night time bought with it bombings and other such horrors. With another rummage around the rubble, Helena finally found what she was really looking for—the necklace from her parents for her thirteenth birthday two years ago. It had a little rose charm on the end of it. She put it on and clasped it tight in her hand.

They took her mother away that morning too. In a body bag.

Looking around, she saw the other neighbourhood children playing in the rubble. Addison Avenue was completely destroyed. What stood magnificent houses and nice cars was now nothing but dust and dirt. The other children didn't look too badly injured, but the little boy called Tom across from Helena's house was now orphaned. His father was a rich banker, too.

She felt the back of her head, which still pained her. Her wound had been treated by some medical volunteers who were doing the rounds of the victims of the latest bombings. It was April 1941 now, and they had, before now, survived the bombings since September of last year. Across the way, her brother James was talking to an Officer by an army truck which was parked down the road. They had come to take him away, to serve in the Patriotic War—maybe James will even be in father's Company. They sometimes put family and friends together.

She even missed school. Headington School in Oxford, where she had been boarding frequently since she was five years old. It was bombed and heavily damaged a few weeks ago, and Helena has received some home tutoring on the wishes of her parents.

James then returned from talking with the Officer. He looked glum, so Helena prepared for bad news.

He sighed and sat on some rubble next to Helena. "Listen, I'm allowed to stay with you for a couple more days. We'll stay in a little place in the countryside until—" He paused.

"Until what?" Helena demanded.

"It is, apparently, the will of our parents that if either one of us was left on our own (before I turned eighteen, that is) that we were to be flown to America, to live with our relatives. And that's where it is decided you will stay, until either me or father returns."

"What?" Helena asked, her voice trembling. "No, no, I can't go to America! I want to stay here! And what if you and father don't come back? We've all heard stories from the first Great War—what are the chances of you coming back alive?" She held her face in her hands. "I hate this!" She cried, standing up and kicking the stones around her. "I hate the War! I hate the Germans! I hate..." She began to cry and wrapped her arms around her brother for comfort.

He kissed her forehead. "Come on, let's go and see if we can save anything from all this rubble."

Helena sighed, clutched her necklace and her childhood doll and searched around for more of her belongings. None of her fine clothes were able to be saved, but some more personal possessions survived. Even some of her mother and father's things, too.

The day was spent sorting out the destroyed street with their neighbours, with the police, the army, social workers, paperwork, more paperwork, searching through the rubble, comforting little children who are now orphans...it seemed that everyone on Addison Avenue was preparing for a new life.

Author's Note:

Ok, I'm back! (This chapter was originally posted on another fanfiction page as start of a new story but I decided to revert back to my old account and join this chapter with my old story.)

So it's been a few years...I'm older, hopefully wiser, and I wanted to give all of my stories another shot.

The second title is Latin for war is sweet to those who have never experienced it.

Well, how was it? I know there is a girl in this version, but hopefully I'll do William Golding justice. I've read the book lots of times and I've seen the 1963 film version, so the Ralph, Jack, etc in my head are based on their appearances in that. Romance in the works? Most likely, but it won't be too annoying, cliché and in your face. Hopefully. I'm working hard on it! It is set during World War Two of course, starting in April 1941. It's an adventure story of course, with drama, some horror, friendship and a little romance (realistically speaking).

Oh, and for those who are unsure—Helena's father is a Captain in the British Armed Forces and in charge of a "Company" of men, various Platoons, which is what she was referring to.

And (do we really need to do this?) of course Lord of the Flies belongs to Sir William Golding. So leave a review or send me a message and let me know what you think—I would love to read some feedback!

Lauren.