I feel like such a trendsetter, what with all these other more-than-one-girl on the island stories popping up, and they're all so good, too!
Anyway, rambling time (feel free to skip this bit). A bit ago I had a crazy Lord of the Flies experience. I was on a bus with the grade 7s (long story) and at first it really wasn't much different from the grade 12s, though rather louder. But then as time passed, the kids started getting rowdier and rowdier, until I see this one boy standing up on his seat, aiming something at another boy on the bus, while in plain view of the teacher. These kids can't have been more than 12, and from a private school (like in LOTF) and just being semi-unsupervised they started going ballistic.
But that's enough of me. Thanks again for all the reviews, you're all super-dee-duper, and though this chapter is a bit shorter, I'll make up for it by posting the next one quickly.
Cry "havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war.
Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, (III, i, 273)
Before Genevieve could receive her reply, Ralph called for silence. There was a tense pause before he began; he was choosing his words carefully.
"The reason I called this meeting is things are starting to break up," his voice was tremulous as he continued, "Things went well for a while, but then…I don't know what happened. We need to fix this, is what I mean,"
The group sat in silence, letting the gravity of his words sink in. One of the little'uns began to cry, and the others joined him. Ralph did nothing to silence them. He seemed stunned, his thoughts clouded by a fog that made perception impossible.
Everyone seemed a bit shocked, but it was Margaret who first recovered, and went to sooth the little'uns with gentle words. After a time they were calmed, and after a brief silence, Ralph began again.
"I mean, everything went so well. I don't know what went wrong, but the only way we'll get rescued is if we get things right again. We can't keep…keep…" he fumbled for words, "Fighting," he mumbled something about civil war that was barely audible.
The wind took the silence that followed as a cue to moan through the creaking trees, sending shivers down everyone's spine. It was late, the little'uns were overtired. Margaret knew about overtiredness well, she had had three younger brothers back home, and when overtired, they were scared more easily, and more overcome by moodiness. She knew this meeting would only serve to augment their already-fearful state. She wanted to stop Ralph before he terrified them more, but the words died in her throat.
"…we ought to do something about this," Piggy was speaking now. The girls noticed that one of the lenses on his glasses had been shattered.
The meeting continued in this fearful, quiet way until finally Jack, who had been peculiarly silent called for the shell. Piggy hesitated, watching the hunter with fearful eye, before lovingly passing it to Ralph, who handed it solemnly to Jack.
He didn't speak right away. He seemed to be savouring the power the conch gave him. When he did speak, it wasn't in the same reverently fearful way the others had, there was no uncertainty in his voice, only the calm force of a natural leader, "I know I'm not the only one who's sick of this," he began, "I know I'm not, and that's why I'm leaving," he paused to let his words resonate, "I'm leaving, and anyone who likes can come with me,"
He watched the crowd watch him. He expected a revolution, a surge of people rising to join him, but he was met with blank stares. He caught Mary's eye, entreating her to join him, but she lowered her eyes. The other girls looked at her, and she shook her head. They didn't get up.
The calm force was replaced by mortification, indignation, anger. He gritted his teeth, gripped his spear so fiercely his knuckles turned white. With a final, hurt look, he turned to leave. The lack of followers was painfully apparent as he made his way down the beach, trying desperately to look noble, but failing miserably.
The crowd watched him leave, Mary with a desperately mournful look that she hoped no one saw, and the others with an apparent lack of understand of what had just happened.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Piggy muttered, and Ralph took the conch. Before he could begin, a soft noise, fearfully akin to the one the hunters made, came from Roger's lips.
"Aiaiaioo, aiaiaioo"
The call was echoed from somewhere down the beach,
"Aiaiaioo," and Roger melted into the shadows, followed, one by one, by each of the hunters.
The crowd watched this display in awe, and finally, with a gasp of sudden realization, Clara got up, looked around, and ran off after them, shouting,
"Jack! Jack! I'm coming!"
Had the mood not been so sombre, surely they would have laughed, but as it was, her desperate love only served to shoot more unease into their already uneasy hearts.
The meeting ended in silence, and those that remained dissipated quietly, the true meaning of Jack's actions sinking in.
The girls made their way back to their camp, but Genevieve stayed back, waiting for Ralph to be done his quiet conversation with Piggy. Some minutes later, Piggy went off to his shelter and Ralph was left watching the sea.
"Where's Simon?" She asked him, her voice solemn.
Ralph didn't seem to see her; he was watching the black horizon. He answered distantly, "He never came back,"
Genevieve watched him for a moment, but he didn't seem to be paying any attention, so she went back to camp.
The girls went to sleep silently, nobody was in the mood for talking, they seemed to know Jack's actions would affect them, too. The night was silent and thick, weighing down heavily on those that had stayed behind. The hot air seemed to be pushing them deeper into the ground.
The mood was quite the opposite in Jack's lot. The air was light and cool, flapping around them like a gay reveller. They stood atop a hill with the carcass of a pig. With blood and reverent, savage cries, they christened their hill Castle Rock, and to celebrate, capitalized on willing Clara's presence.
*
Morning came too soon for all. The night had been restless, and fear had been twisting in both Mary and Genevieve's stomachs, for similar, but unmentionably personal, reasons. In spite of all that had happened, the girls spent a comparatively cheerful day.
The air that had been so oppressive at night billowed optimistically under the happy blue sky. Other than Genevieve, the girls spent the day in the water, coming in only when necessary. The cool water soothed them, and in no time they were like children, playing happily again.
But the promise of fun was not strong enough to soothe Genevieve's shattered nerves. She ventured into the jungle again, feeling the light air being replaced almost instantly by a thick, damp, hot one.
"Simon?" she called, "Simon? Simon!"
She received no response as she crashed erratically through the underbrush. Finally, through what must have been dumb luck, she stumbled over a rock, down a slight hill, and onto a warm, sleeping body, curled up before a bloody head, crawling with flies.
