Chapter 4- Wild dogs and Cigarettes

As the sun continued to travel across the sky, the Littlun's grew more and more restless and bored of the cafeteria. The title "Littluns" had been given to them by Ralph and the name was given to all those shorter or the same height as Simon. Their stomachs growled and their throats begged for water. But the Chief and the others had yet to return, so they were left to wait and groan and complain to the chubby boy who had been ordered to watch them. They only listened to Ralph because he seemed to be the closest thing to an adult as they could get. He also, unlike Jack and the dark haired boy perched by the collapsed entrance, was kind to them and promised food and water. Samneric were going back and forth from the court yard outside, gathering sticks and twigs. The oldest of the Littluns, a small boy named Henry removed a long twig from the pile and chased one of the other boys around with it. Three others watched and giggled, while another picked up a stick for himself and poked his friend with it. Piggy watched them while sitting on one of the long folding tables they once used for lunch.

"Hey, quit it you-!" he hollered when one of them jabbed him in the side with a sharpened stick. "Those are for the fire, put 'em back!" They laughed and ran off, still holding their 'weapons'. Piggy sighed and removed his specs from his nose and wiped them off with his uniform. The air was cold but the sun beat down on them making the air a` bit hot. His hair began to stick to his forehead from sweat. After about a fourth trip, Samneric returned, arms and hands turning black from the charcoal like sticks, and tossed a final pile into the pit. They dusted of their hands on their pants. Henry snuck up behind Piggy and poked him with his stick.

He giggled and ran off, whispers and more giggles coming from his friends that watched from a distance.

"Hey!" Piggy stood up this time. "What did I say?"

"You're not the Chief!" Henry had run behind one of the tables. He stuck out a pink tongue. Piggy couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"Don't make me come after you!" He threatened and the boy screeched and ran off, his small black cap falling from his head and rolling on the floor. Piggy had no intentions of going after the boy. All in account of his asthma, he knew. He folded his hands in his lap and overlooked the Littluns once again. Samneric were flipping the pages of one of the books someone had brought back. A few others were napping together under their coats. The boy with the mulberry birthmark was sitting with a small cluster of other boys. He was crying, shuddering with sobs. Most thought him batty except for three or four boys his age who still befriended him. Piggy heaved himself off the lunch table and went over to them.

"A-and it was big and black, his eyes were big, too, and he had wings-" Between sobs, Piggy could hear the frightening description he attempted to give the other boys who looked at each other then back at him with wide eyes.

"What are you all talking about?" Piggy asked slowly, crouched down to their level. His voice startled one of them and the small boy jumped. The boy with the mulberry mark rubbed his damp eyes and said, "I-I saw a monster last night…!"

"A beast!"

"With large wings-"

"-And talons!"

The other children around him quickly spoke, giving descriptions from what they had heard.

"I saw him, too!" One said, and the others nodded frantically. Piggy tut-tut'd.

"There's no Beast, Ralph and Jack wouldn't let there be." He said reassuringly, but the other boys shook their heads.

"I saw it!" The boy with the mulberry birthmark pushed. "I-it was big a-and scary, a-and-" He couldn't finish his sentence. His voice cracked and the lump in his throat became unbearable. He began to cry. Piggy reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "It's okay, you're just scared. There's no beast, I promise." The boy with the mulberry birthmark looked up at him skeptically. Piggy sighed and then poked and tickled the boy's side until he grinned and giggled.

Simon didn't move, he didn't breathe. His heart pounded in his ears and he feared it would beat right out of his chest. The large dog in front of him had light brown fur tinted with grey ash and dirt. Blood clotted and stained the fur around his neck. It growled , pulling back it's lips showing teeth. Simon inhaled sharply. He was so focused on the beast in front of him that he didn't hear the revolving doors open. Ralph, Jack, and Maurice stood still. Maurice clung tightly to Ralph's arm, peering around him.

"S-Simon-" Ralph spoke in a whisper. The dog suddenly roared, barking loudly, and lunged. "Simon!" Ralph screamed it this time as the dog tackled the smaller boy to the ground. He cried out, his fingers straining in its fur trying to hold it back. It snarled and its head moved frantically, jaws snapping for his neck and face.

"Ralph!" Simon screamed. Jack's fingers twitched, Come on, do something! He snagged his pistol from his belt. Come on, come on! You idiot, shoot it! He flicked the safety off, held up the gun- BLAM!

The large dog suddenly grew still. It was heavy against Simon and he stared back at it with large eyes as the light in its blue optics slowly faded. He pushed it off of him, breathing hard. Jack shook. A puddle of dark red began pooling around the canine.

"I-is It dead?" He stammered, trying to sound strong. The animal's leg twitched a final time before it grew stiff. Simon slowly got to his feet while Ralph breathed a sigh of relief- he hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.

"Are you alright?" He rushed over to Simon, grabbing his arms. The boy nodded, eyes drifting everywhere but on Ralph.

"Y-yes…"

"What were doing you out here?" Jack asked.

"I-" Simon glanced down. What had he been doing? Oh yes, the water. "I-I found water…" "Where?" Ralph's eyes lit up. Simon pointed to the water that still dripped. His canteen was lying on the floor now where he had dropped it. He scooped it up and placed it under the dripping ice once again, letting it fill up, then handed it to Ralph. "It's clean, I checked." Ralph poured it into his mouth and smiled, wiping the water that dribbled on his chin away.

"Lemme have some." Maurice chirped, and unstrapped his own canteen. The four boys took turns filling up their canteens halfway; for they weren't patient enough to wait for it fill entirely. For a good ten minutes they drank and smiled.

"We'll fill up our canteens all the way and bring them back to the others." Said Ralph once they had all quenched their thirst.

"Will four canteens be enough?" Jack examined his canteen ad thought. It wasn't small but four of these wouldn't last all twenty or so boys for long at all. Ralph knew this too. He searched the ground for other things that they could use to store water with.

"By tomorrow, the water may already be gone…" said Simon. Ralph chewed on his bottom lip. Finally his eyes spotted in one of the shattered windows of the refrigerators a gallon of milk. It had busted and white liquid poured over the shelf and into the fridge. The edges of the puddles turned yellow from where it had begun to evaporate. There was other gallons stacked side-by-side in the shelf in similar conditions. He grabbed the first one and dumped out its remaining and spoiled contents on the floor. Turning it upside down so that the lid was pointing to the floor, he placed it under the ice and the water that dripped slipped into the split in the plastic of the container. A victorious smile curled into his lips.
"Someone will have to hold these on the way back, but if he we hold them like this-" He displayed the gallon he held. "-Then the water stays inside. Two or three of these should last us at least two days."

"Then what?"

"We'll find more water. The bay is about a day's walk from here. We'll try that next time." He said as he finished filling the first gallon before handing it over to Simon.

The sun moved further in the sky, and soon it beat down over the collapsed entrance where Roger was posted. Despite the sun, he kept his black tog draped over his shoulders. His darkly coloured eyes scanned the war-torn landscape ahead of him. The bags under his eyes and jet-black hair seemed to suit his gloomy and mysterious personality. His antisocial ways gave off a vibe that was forbidding which was probably why not many of the others boys spoke to him. God, he was bored. But Jack said to stay put and Lord knows how much he listens to that boy. There really was no reason for that. He wanted him to Chief-not this Ralph kid. He ran a dry tongue over his lips and sighed, settling into the cement block he sat on. The sniper rifle he carried was still perched up on a block and he peered through its scope getting a farther view of the area. He could see the highway they traveled on the day before just ahead. The surrounding neighborhoods were mostly torn down and he could see beyond them. Mirages bubbled on the horizon.

Pulling away from the scope, he reached into his pocket and removed the small white box of cigarettes he had found the day before. The box was mostly white, with a red strip around the entire thing. The words Marlboro in thin black letters titled the front of it. Popping open the lid, he plucked out one of the long, slender cigarettes and examined it, then he reached into the same pocket again and pulled out a box of matches. Matches, lighters, and other similar objects weren't allowed at school- but he kept them anyway, hidden in his pockets and back-packs. Striking the match against the cement block that held his rifle, he watched the small flame that sparked on the thin stick held between his thumb and index finger. After lighting the cigarette, he plucked it in his mouth then slowly breathed in its smoke and taste. His mind recognized the smell… Roger never smoked before, but his mother had. A lot. She'd go through two whole packs a day and then walk to the local gas station to buy more. They rarely had enough money for food, clothes, or school supplies because of it and sometimes she had Roger follow her into the gas station and steal food into his backpack for her. He didn't like stealing- not at the time. Eventually, it became a normal thing to him, a way of life. He was stealing small, simple things from pencils and erasers to notebooks and text-books. He often found himself in trouble and spent a good six hours on a Saturday once for stealing money out of a teacher's desk. He chuckled lightly to himself, thinking back at all the things he had done before he arrived at this uptight, high-class school.

Now back to the smoking.

The smell of the smoke and the taste of the nicotine- the way the smoke puffed in small, white clouds when he blew reminded him of his mother- and had he not hated her, he would have smiled rather than grimaced at the nostalgia. He took in another draw. It fueled the hate, the anger, the rage. He could feel it fill up inside him the same way the smoke filled up his lungs. It was oddly addictive. And it felt good.

"Smoking's no good for you, you know." A thickly-accented voice made him turn and face Piggy who was at the base of the rubble. "My Auntie says it's bad for you- especially for me. 'Cause of my asthma." Roger looked Piggy over before sticking the cigarette back in his mouth and held in the smoke for a long time. Piggy shook his head. "That'll mess with your lungs, we read about in Health class. Don't you remember?" Roger didn't speak. This kid was annoying. He stared at him indifferently before pulling out the cigarette, holding it between his fingers, and puffing out a thick cloud that traveled up, up, up into the air. Piggy stepped back as if it would somehow travel down and mess with his crummy asthma.

"Where'd you get those cigarettes, anyways?" He asked, squinting up at Roger. His specs flashed but Roger didn't break eye-contact.

"Dead soldier." He replied in a low voice. He tapped the cigarette, a few small ashes falling from it. Piggy raised his brows.

"Was it one of our soldiers?"

"Don't know who it was." Roger stuck the cigarette back into his mouth, holding it between two fingers. He was done with the conversation. He turned back to the landscape. A moment later, he was standing.

Four figures appeared in the distance, distorted by the mirages. They walked along the highway, side-by-side, two of them pushing something. Roger let his left arm fall to his side while the other removed the cigarette and tapped it, ash falling again.

"They're here…" He muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Piggy was trying to climb up the rubble. Roger didn't speak. Instead, he dropped the cigarette onto the rubble, the last wisps of smoke dancing off his tongue and escaping out his lips. His throat burned now and part of him wished he had never smoked that cigarette. He was thirstier than ever. Using the toe of his laced-up boots, he stepped on the butt of the cigarette- it hissed as the spark died.

Once the four boys arrived, the Littluns flocked the collapsed entrance like dogs awaiting their masters return. Roger had taken a seat on the rubble away from them and watched, while Piggy pushed himself to the front. Jack and Maurice pushed two shopping carts that were somewhat full of canned food, while Simon carried three milk gallons full of water. He was barely balancing the third one.

"Stay still, stay still!" Ralph ordered when the Littluns got so close that they stepped on hs foot. "Go sit down and we'll brign everything to you!" The relunctant children sat down at the lunch tables as they did when school was in session. The boy with the mulberry birthmark and his friends had forgotten their talks of their nightmares and awaited with the other children for the treats the Chief and the others had brought back.

"Ralph?" Maurice whispered as he examined the cans in the shopping cart.

"Hm?" Ralph looked up to him.

"How are we gonna open these? We don't have any can-openers." Ralph pulled ne out of his cart and looked around until he spotted a cement block that had broken. He took the can and laid it on its side, then picked up another rock. Maurice stood behind him, watching over his shoulder.
"We'll just break 'em open. Like this-" He held the rock over his head and brought it down hard on the end of the can. The thin metal crunched. He brought it down a second time and it spilt. Juices from its contents (green beans) spilled out onto his hand and the rocks. He pulled open the split in the can just enough so that his fingers could reach in and pull out a few of the green vegetables. He plucked two in his mouth and chewed then looked to Maurice, who was dribbling over the sight of food. None of them had eaten in a day- the bomb had hit before lunch that day. Ralph reached up and handed it to him.

"Make sure the Littluns get food first before you tear into that like a wild animal."

It took thirty minutes to crack open enough cans for all the Littuns. While they waited, Simon gave them one gallon of the water to be passed around. It was finished once it hit the last boy. They ate wildly, food falling into their laps and making a sticky mess on their faces around their lips. Jack had given Roger the gallon to fill his canteen. Simon sat not far from Ralph, picking at his canned beans and eating slowly. Sure, it would have tasted better warmed up, but he was very hungry. Plus, the fire wasn't to be lit during daylight because Ralph was afraid that the Terrorist's would see the smoke. That night they could warm up their food by the fire.

"Like a bunch of kids." Piggy shook his head at the Littun's as they made a mess, the table they sat out became a revolting mess of dirt and discarded food. At least they were satisfied. For now. For someone his size, he ate rather peacefully. He didn't have any utensils but he picked up his food carefully with his plump fingers. Ralph chuckled.

"They are kids."

"They weren't taught to act like this..!" Piggy's voice rose a bit in pitch and he looked down at his food a bit shamefully, then went back to eating. The remaining cans were all thrown into one cart and the other was left empty to be used in the next trip. Ralph was already contemplating where they would search for food next. He wondered if the bay was still inhabited with fish. He didn't know how the bomb would have affected them- if it had affected them at all.

Jack sat below Roger. He wondered what they could do for food also. His mind wandered from the market, to the dog. That dog appeared too wild to be a domesticated house-dog. It could have been a wolf or a coyote. Maybe, he thought, maybe they could use it for meat.

AN: Because a smoking Roger is a best Roger. Welp, here's Chapter 4. Enjoy! Reviews are appreciated, as always!