Ralph walked down the sand, past the wet, smooth plain exposed by low tide, stepping carefully over the tiny, wriggling creatures that occupied the area. He sighed involuntarily as the cool seawater engulfed his ankles, chasing away the heat the relentless sunshine had burned into his skin. Ralph walked steadily until the water reached his slim hips. Listening to the murmur of waves against the shoreline, looking out to the flashing of sunlight on the rippling distance, Ralph allowed himself to be lulled into a sleepy sort of trance.
The deep water was inviting. The urge to keep walking, to start swimming, to keep going and going was powerful. Seductive. The muscles of Ralph's legs were tense with the desire to move forward, and the swell of sudden, painful, desperate hopelessness filling his chest made him long for a warm embrace of salt water. Ralph gnashed his teeth against his bottom lip, caught in the throes of a now-familiar agony. When he turned to return to shore, it was because an inexplicable, purely animal attachment to life rose, as it always did, more powerful than the misery that had taken up residence in his veins.
He plunged into the trees, beginning the familiar trek through the jungle. He heard voices up ahead and stopped short, listening. They were growing closer, and Ralph hesitated for a moment before dodging aside, off the path and into the thick vegetation. The voices passed, one raised in distinctive anger, the others murmuring in counterpoint. Ralph moved on quietly.
The sun burst through the trees in staccato patches, dancing wetly across the scenery. Ralph stopped short, entranced by the picture. Even now, there were times when the sheer beauty of the island made his chest ache with a bewildered, helpless sort of pleasure.
A rough hand on his shoulder made him cry out instinctively. The low chuckle that rose behind him confirmed the identity of the boy before Ralph had a chance to turn around. Jack could amuse himself endlessly with his silent hunter's tread. Ralph shot him a reproachful look, and Jack smirked in response.
"Oh, sorry, did I startle you?"
"Not at all, Jack," he replied dryly. A dark look came over Jack's face, and he glanced back at the few boys who were milling about behind him. "Not at all, chief," Ralph amended in a tone that was close to indulgence. Jack snorted, but didn't seem inclined to press the point. He seized Ralph's arm and ushered him along the path, back towards camp.
"I have to ask you something," he murmured when the boys were left out of earshot. Ralph looked at him curiously. It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Jack to seek him out for advice, as bewildering as it was at first. He was learning to take confusion as an established part of his life now, considering he was essentially at the mercy of Jack, who was almost comically volatile. After some reflection, though, he understood that it was the same phenomenon he had previously observed - in spite of everything that had happened on the island, it seemed the basic relations among the boys had stayed the same. Jack still clearly preferred his company above that of any of the other boys.
Years of this strange camaraderie had softened them both. Jack grew to be inexplicably genteel at times, often lulled by Ralph's quiet dignity and natural good nature into forgetting to treat him as a vanquished foe.
Jack practically shoved Ralph through the leaves that formed the entrance to his cave. Ralph settled himself on the ground as Jack paced, halted, paced a bit more, and then knelt down by Ralph. "The truth is," Jack shifted, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to express, "I think the boys homesick, the lot of them."
"Homesick?" Ralph demanded incredulously, "How can they be homesick now? They abandoned the chance for rescue three years ago. They chose this." Ralph's bitterness was all too obvious. Jack shot him a warning glance, and Ralph scoffed and looked away, willing the torrent of fire ship navy glasses Piggy hunted stick back into a dark corner of his mind. "Anyway," he continued presently, in a carefully controlled tone, "it doesn't make much sense, does it?"
"I'm only telling you what I reckon." Jack said sullenly, raking a hand through his long, disheveled hair. Ralph pressed the palms of his hands together absently, considering.
"I suppose they could be sick of the island now that they know what it's about," Ralph said slowly after a long, thoughtful silence. "It must have been fun for them, for a bit, while it was strange and new. But now, it's life before the island that seems strange, isn't it? Very far away and unreal." Jack was watching him, an oddly flat look in his eyes. Ralph flushed instinctively. "What?" The expression faded as Jack's natural belligerence took over again.
"I know what you think about it," Jack said in a particularly uncharitable tone, "but what makes you think that my hunters want to abandon the island? We're happy here. We can do what we want." Ralph was laughing, his face pressed into one splayed hand, shoulders shaking helplessly. Jack bristled. "What?"
"What makes me think your hunters want to abandon the island? You make me think so, half-wit! That's exactly what you just told me." Ralph's eyes glistened in the poor light of the cave. "You know it's the truth, you just hate to hear it from me. For god's sake, Jack, when are you going to stop denying the obvious just because you don't fancy it?" Ralph's amusement faded swiftly, and he turned his face away to hide his annoyance.
"Look who's calling the kettle black," Jack hissed, "you know that we're never going to be rescued! There's been no sign of a ship in three years -"
"There was one," Ralph interjected wearily.
"Oh, right, one. But I let the fire out, and it's gone now!" Jack laughed harshly. "It's not coming back, either!" Ralph's hands curled into tight fists.
"Which is just how you want it. So it's turned out nicely for you." Ralph commented in a careful, mild voice. Jack's jaw muscles worked jerkily as he fought to get his ire under control.
"You always make it sound as if you could just fix everything, Ralph. You can't make things happen just because you want them to."
"Brilliant," Ralph spat sardonically, "but I always knew that we had to work together if we wanted to live at all decently. It's no good unless everyone wants it," Ralph continued softly, more to himself than Jack.
"What's wrong with how we're living now?" Jack snapped.
We're a pack of lawless animals, poisoned with bloodlust.
"You know what I think about it. And anyhow, we're talking in circles, Jack." Ralph gave him a tired look. Jack pressed his back against the cave wall and exhaled through his teeth.
"What should I do about this, then?" Ralph blinked at the frank admission of need on Jack's part, appreciating how heavily the question must have been weighing on him.
"Well, you haven't even told me why you think they're so dissatisfied all of a sudden." Ralph recalled the angry voices in the woods. "Jack...doesn't everyone get along well?" Jack jerked his head up, shocked.
"How did y'know?"
"How did I know what?" Ralph asked, although he could already guess.
"Everyone's started to fight. Not everyone, but..." Jack scratched his head, frowning. "Most everyone. And they don't forget about it, either." Jack cracked his knuckles absently. "They won't hunt together anymore."
"You could try speaking with them individually. Maybe the problem isn't as general as you think." Ralph looked at him appraisingly through his fair hair. "Then again, maybe they're all just unhappy with the way things are. Maybe there's something important that needs to be changed." Jack narrowed his eyes at him.
"Like what?" Ralph shrugged.
"Let's just stop arguing," Ralph said quietly, rubbing at the ache that had developed across his forehead. The righteous anger that Jack had sparked had faded into exhaustion, as it always did.
Ralph knew that he was merely echoing sentiments from a distant past. His fine feelings had been rusting over for years, leaving him with more cold, dull indifference than moral purpose. Jack was the only thing that could infuriate him back into some animation, some semblance of his old self. Jack's always arguing with a ghost, and he doesn't even realize it. I wonder what he would think if he knew. When he looked up, he saw that Jack was grinning at him.
"What?" Ralph asked nervously, suddenly, ridiculously afraid that Jack had somehow penetrated his thoughts.
"'Let's stop arguing'? What will we do with each other if we stop arguing?" Ralph relaxed, laughing in spite of himself. It was a rare occasion when the quality of Jack's amusement did not border on vicious, or at least mean-spirited, although Ralph had to admit these moments were growing less rare than they used to be.
"Stare, unless a pack of cards washes up here. Or I suppose we could take to playing twenty questions." Jack snorted.
"That's not much fun in here, is it? It would be "a rock" every round." Jack leaned forward, peering at Ralph with an unguardedly curious expression. "Why do you stay in here so much, anyway? No one's going to bother you if they see you outside." Ralph turned his head away, thinking of the way he had weaved through the jungle vegetation earlier to avoid the other boys. Old habits die hard.
"I know that. I'm not afraid." It was not pleasant to be gaped at, to see some be apologetic, some be defensive, some be contemptful, some be sad, some be almost ridiculously reverent. But it was nothing Ralph feared, for the most part. "It's just that there's no need," Ralph said hesitantly, seeing that Jack still seemed to press for an answer.
"What do you mean?"
"There's...there just isn't much need to go outside. Is there?" Ralph tried to affect a casual tone. The conversation was veering too close, much too close to his ghosts, his rusting. Jack gave him a hard, appraising look that Ralph met in what he hoped was an innocent fashion, hoping Jack would lose interest.
He didn't. Instead he moved forward swiftly across the cave floor, so swiftly that Ralph jerked backwards, contacting rather painfully with the rough rock of the cave.
"Don't do that," Ralph snapped irritably, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. Jack was inches away from him, still staring intently. It was one of his favorite intimidation tactics; there was something oddly feline about it that made Ralph want to smile in spite of his inevitable nervousness in the face of Jack's games.
"Tell me the truth."
"What do you mean?" Jack's eyes were so close Ralph could see the individual flecks of color that formed the flaming blue of his eyes.
"Oh, don't play stupid." Jack said impatiently. Ralph had a sudden, desperate longing to explain the seductive promise of the ocean to Jack, to explain his exhaustion, to explain the pull of the cold water.
He began, stammering, "I'm tired, Jack..." He smirked, and Ralph froze, retreating. I am crazy. How could I think that Jack would understand? Ralph groped for something, anything to say, frantic to divert the conversation. "I'm not a part of your tribe," he heard himself saying coldly. Jack's face went blank as he digested this answer.
He pulled back, and Ralph felt surprisingly bereft.
"Of course you aren't," Jack's tone was venomous, and Ralph avoided eye contact. "You're a prisoner here, remember?"
Ralph said nothing, felt nothing. Jack spun on his heel and left with a crisp crackle of leaves.
The deep water was inviting. The urge to keep walking, to start swimming, to keep going and going was powerful. Seductive. The muscles of Ralph's legs were tense with the desire to move forward, and the swell of sudden, painful, desperate hopelessness filling his chest made him long for a warm embrace of salt water. Ralph gnashed his teeth against his bottom lip, caught in the throes of a now-familiar agony. When he turned to return to shore, it was because an inexplicable, purely animal attachment to life rose, as it always did, more powerful than the misery that had taken up residence in his veins.
He plunged into the trees, beginning the familiar trek through the jungle. He heard voices up ahead and stopped short, listening. They were growing closer, and Ralph hesitated for a moment before dodging aside, off the path and into the thick vegetation. The voices passed, one raised in distinctive anger, the others murmuring in counterpoint. Ralph moved on quietly.
The sun burst through the trees in staccato patches, dancing wetly across the scenery. Ralph stopped short, entranced by the picture. Even now, there were times when the sheer beauty of the island made his chest ache with a bewildered, helpless sort of pleasure.
A rough hand on his shoulder made him cry out instinctively. The low chuckle that rose behind him confirmed the identity of the boy before Ralph had a chance to turn around. Jack could amuse himself endlessly with his silent hunter's tread. Ralph shot him a reproachful look, and Jack smirked in response.
"Oh, sorry, did I startle you?"
"Not at all, Jack," he replied dryly. A dark look came over Jack's face, and he glanced back at the few boys who were milling about behind him. "Not at all, chief," Ralph amended in a tone that was close to indulgence. Jack snorted, but didn't seem inclined to press the point. He seized Ralph's arm and ushered him along the path, back towards camp.
"I have to ask you something," he murmured when the boys were left out of earshot. Ralph looked at him curiously. It wasn't an unusual occurrence for Jack to seek him out for advice, as bewildering as it was at first. He was learning to take confusion as an established part of his life now, considering he was essentially at the mercy of Jack, who was almost comically volatile. After some reflection, though, he understood that it was the same phenomenon he had previously observed - in spite of everything that had happened on the island, it seemed the basic relations among the boys had stayed the same. Jack still clearly preferred his company above that of any of the other boys.
Years of this strange camaraderie had softened them both. Jack grew to be inexplicably genteel at times, often lulled by Ralph's quiet dignity and natural good nature into forgetting to treat him as a vanquished foe.
Jack practically shoved Ralph through the leaves that formed the entrance to his cave. Ralph settled himself on the ground as Jack paced, halted, paced a bit more, and then knelt down by Ralph. "The truth is," Jack shifted, obviously uncomfortable with what he was about to express, "I think the boys homesick, the lot of them."
"Homesick?" Ralph demanded incredulously, "How can they be homesick now? They abandoned the chance for rescue three years ago. They chose this." Ralph's bitterness was all too obvious. Jack shot him a warning glance, and Ralph scoffed and looked away, willing the torrent of fire ship navy glasses Piggy hunted stick back into a dark corner of his mind. "Anyway," he continued presently, in a carefully controlled tone, "it doesn't make much sense, does it?"
"I'm only telling you what I reckon." Jack said sullenly, raking a hand through his long, disheveled hair. Ralph pressed the palms of his hands together absently, considering.
"I suppose they could be sick of the island now that they know what it's about," Ralph said slowly after a long, thoughtful silence. "It must have been fun for them, for a bit, while it was strange and new. But now, it's life before the island that seems strange, isn't it? Very far away and unreal." Jack was watching him, an oddly flat look in his eyes. Ralph flushed instinctively. "What?" The expression faded as Jack's natural belligerence took over again.
"I know what you think about it," Jack said in a particularly uncharitable tone, "but what makes you think that my hunters want to abandon the island? We're happy here. We can do what we want." Ralph was laughing, his face pressed into one splayed hand, shoulders shaking helplessly. Jack bristled. "What?"
"What makes me think your hunters want to abandon the island? You make me think so, half-wit! That's exactly what you just told me." Ralph's eyes glistened in the poor light of the cave. "You know it's the truth, you just hate to hear it from me. For god's sake, Jack, when are you going to stop denying the obvious just because you don't fancy it?" Ralph's amusement faded swiftly, and he turned his face away to hide his annoyance.
"Look who's calling the kettle black," Jack hissed, "you know that we're never going to be rescued! There's been no sign of a ship in three years -"
"There was one," Ralph interjected wearily.
"Oh, right, one. But I let the fire out, and it's gone now!" Jack laughed harshly. "It's not coming back, either!" Ralph's hands curled into tight fists.
"Which is just how you want it. So it's turned out nicely for you." Ralph commented in a careful, mild voice. Jack's jaw muscles worked jerkily as he fought to get his ire under control.
"You always make it sound as if you could just fix everything, Ralph. You can't make things happen just because you want them to."
"Brilliant," Ralph spat sardonically, "but I always knew that we had to work together if we wanted to live at all decently. It's no good unless everyone wants it," Ralph continued softly, more to himself than Jack.
"What's wrong with how we're living now?" Jack snapped.
We're a pack of lawless animals, poisoned with bloodlust.
"You know what I think about it. And anyhow, we're talking in circles, Jack." Ralph gave him a tired look. Jack pressed his back against the cave wall and exhaled through his teeth.
"What should I do about this, then?" Ralph blinked at the frank admission of need on Jack's part, appreciating how heavily the question must have been weighing on him.
"Well, you haven't even told me why you think they're so dissatisfied all of a sudden." Ralph recalled the angry voices in the woods. "Jack...doesn't everyone get along well?" Jack jerked his head up, shocked.
"How did y'know?"
"How did I know what?" Ralph asked, although he could already guess.
"Everyone's started to fight. Not everyone, but..." Jack scratched his head, frowning. "Most everyone. And they don't forget about it, either." Jack cracked his knuckles absently. "They won't hunt together anymore."
"You could try speaking with them individually. Maybe the problem isn't as general as you think." Ralph looked at him appraisingly through his fair hair. "Then again, maybe they're all just unhappy with the way things are. Maybe there's something important that needs to be changed." Jack narrowed his eyes at him.
"Like what?" Ralph shrugged.
"Let's just stop arguing," Ralph said quietly, rubbing at the ache that had developed across his forehead. The righteous anger that Jack had sparked had faded into exhaustion, as it always did.
Ralph knew that he was merely echoing sentiments from a distant past. His fine feelings had been rusting over for years, leaving him with more cold, dull indifference than moral purpose. Jack was the only thing that could infuriate him back into some animation, some semblance of his old self. Jack's always arguing with a ghost, and he doesn't even realize it. I wonder what he would think if he knew. When he looked up, he saw that Jack was grinning at him.
"What?" Ralph asked nervously, suddenly, ridiculously afraid that Jack had somehow penetrated his thoughts.
"'Let's stop arguing'? What will we do with each other if we stop arguing?" Ralph relaxed, laughing in spite of himself. It was a rare occasion when the quality of Jack's amusement did not border on vicious, or at least mean-spirited, although Ralph had to admit these moments were growing less rare than they used to be.
"Stare, unless a pack of cards washes up here. Or I suppose we could take to playing twenty questions." Jack snorted.
"That's not much fun in here, is it? It would be "a rock" every round." Jack leaned forward, peering at Ralph with an unguardedly curious expression. "Why do you stay in here so much, anyway? No one's going to bother you if they see you outside." Ralph turned his head away, thinking of the way he had weaved through the jungle vegetation earlier to avoid the other boys. Old habits die hard.
"I know that. I'm not afraid." It was not pleasant to be gaped at, to see some be apologetic, some be defensive, some be contemptful, some be sad, some be almost ridiculously reverent. But it was nothing Ralph feared, for the most part. "It's just that there's no need," Ralph said hesitantly, seeing that Jack still seemed to press for an answer.
"What do you mean?"
"There's...there just isn't much need to go outside. Is there?" Ralph tried to affect a casual tone. The conversation was veering too close, much too close to his ghosts, his rusting. Jack gave him a hard, appraising look that Ralph met in what he hoped was an innocent fashion, hoping Jack would lose interest.
He didn't. Instead he moved forward swiftly across the cave floor, so swiftly that Ralph jerked backwards, contacting rather painfully with the rough rock of the cave.
"Don't do that," Ralph snapped irritably, willing his heartbeat to return to normal. Jack was inches away from him, still staring intently. It was one of his favorite intimidation tactics; there was something oddly feline about it that made Ralph want to smile in spite of his inevitable nervousness in the face of Jack's games.
"Tell me the truth."
"What do you mean?" Jack's eyes were so close Ralph could see the individual flecks of color that formed the flaming blue of his eyes.
"Oh, don't play stupid." Jack said impatiently. Ralph had a sudden, desperate longing to explain the seductive promise of the ocean to Jack, to explain his exhaustion, to explain the pull of the cold water.
He began, stammering, "I'm tired, Jack..." He smirked, and Ralph froze, retreating. I am crazy. How could I think that Jack would understand? Ralph groped for something, anything to say, frantic to divert the conversation. "I'm not a part of your tribe," he heard himself saying coldly. Jack's face went blank as he digested this answer.
He pulled back, and Ralph felt surprisingly bereft.
"Of course you aren't," Jack's tone was venomous, and Ralph avoided eye contact. "You're a prisoner here, remember?"
Ralph said nothing, felt nothing. Jack spun on his heel and left with a crisp crackle of leaves.