A/N: This is the very last part of "You'll Get Back", folks. The last part. Enjoy it, please, and drop me some suggestions about... well, just read this first.

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EPILOGUE

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A stiff sea breeze pounded into Ralph's face, blowing his tangles of fair hair wildly about his head. The air tasted salty, but it seemed clean, too; not as humid and as heavy like he was used to. Keeping his hand on the railing, Ralph walked to the bow of the ship. The ocean was rough and angry; the waves appeared as if they were intent on sinking the vessel. The boy steadied has balance and sighed, pulling the wool blanket tightly around himself. There was a brief lull in the rainstorm, and for a cherished moment, the sky was a brilliant, bright blue, something Ralph had not witnessed in weeks.

But, ironically enough, it was the storm itself that had brought about the rescue. It had been the morning after Roger had died, and Ralph and Jack had been walking along the beach, in the blowing rain, reflecting on what had happened in the past half-year. It had been edging closer to noon, and both boys were tiring. Jack had suggested turning around, but Ralph, with a newfound sense of logic, had grown smarter since Piggy had died, and had decided that it would take less time if the two of them just kept walking. In short, they were to travel around the entire coastline of the island.

As the two boys had turned around a small, rocky peninsula of land, there it was: the end-all to their months and months of problems, their rescuer, their savior. It was a small, cargo-carrying ocean liner, its gray, steel hull something that, at first, neither boy had recognized. But slowly, it had come back to them, in distant, faded shapes and forms in their memories. The smokestack, the railing, the American flag, the portholes… And then, all of a sudden, both boys had cried at once, "Ship!"

That had been a day ago, and now, Ralph and Jack and all the rest of the boys were aboard a ship that was manned by American sailors, all of whom seemed very mystified by the idea of finding a group of kids stranded on an island. It hadn't been a search party that was sent to rescue the them. In fact, no one on board had known there had been a plane crash, an airplane carrying British schoolboys. The only reason the ship had weighed anchor in the sheltered cove of the island was because the storm had drove them there. The rationale for the sailors' arrival, however, didn't matter to Ralph. What was done was done, and at last, they were being taken away from the island.

Ralph leaned over the edge of the railing and took in a deep breath of the cool ocean air. He wasn't sure where they were headed; the sailors hadn't been very communicative with any of the boys, and seemed to be more bewildered and distressed than anything else. Many of the younger children were still in the medic's room, undergoing a series of tests to make sure they could be exposed to healthier individuals. Ralph looked over his shoulder, wondering where the devil Jack had gone to. The other boy had made himself scarce ever since they had started to sail away from the island. Ralph sighed again and turned quickly on his heel, deciding he would go in search for the red-haired boy.

The men on board the ship had been kind. The boys, all of whom had been reduced down to wearing tattered shorts during their lengthy stay on the island, had been given new clothes. They were oversized, and Ralph was having a hard time running in pants that were several sizes too large for him. His bare feet thumped across the hard, steel plates of the deck, and up ahead there was an open door. Ralph slowed down, and paused outside of the cabin. There were men talking, and the hushed conversation peaked the boy's interest.

"It's risky, you know, to dock at an American port," said a gruff voice, which Ralph recognized as belonging to the captain of the ship. "With the war that's been going on, Miami could be under attack any day now."

"But we must go to port, sir," another voice insisted. "We're running low on supplies and food, plus we've got all these kids on board."

"You're right, Johnson…" The captain's voice trailed off, then he added more gravely, "These boys come from London, or at least most of them do. One of the younger ones told the nurse he couldn't wait until he saw his parents again."

"Like that's ever gonna happen."

"Exactly. How can we tell them that London doesn't exist anymore? That was probably the reason why they were evacuated to get out of there before the nukes struck." He sighed, and in this pause, Ralph began to grow more irritated and worried. "They can't go back to London, or to Britain. Just a few A-bombs can really wipe out an entire island."

"The war could end any day now, sir."

The captain hesitated before replying, as if he was considering that the announcement of peace was a feasible answer. "That's true, but it'll be years before they can reconstruct Britain. Years."

Ralph bit his lip, trying very hard not to cry. He had survived through many things while living on the island amongst a tribe of savages. He had walked out of a plane crash, unscathed. He had managed to escape death, in several instances, whether it was from a fire or from Jack. He had witnessed the murder of young children many times over. He had managed to live off of eating nothing but unripe fruit and undercooked pork; he had managed to dwell in a cold, damp cave while rain fell night and day. But Ralph could not handle this.

Suppressing a wail, he dashed on, in search of Jack. It didn't take him very long to find the red-haired boy. Jack was leaning over the railing near the tail end of the ship, finding great fascination in the angry waves that slapped the metal hull of the vessel. He heard Ralph coming, and turned to him, a smile brightening his features. "Hey," Jack said.

"Hey," Ralph replied. He didn't know what else he could say. Somewhere else on the ship, the littluns were playing; he could hear their yells and screams of delight. They were probably chasing something or someone, oblivious to the fact that they would never return home, Ralph thought glumly.

Jack gave Ralph a confused look, breathed in the clean ocean air, and said, "I can't wait until we get home."

"We won't," Ralph grumbled, although he hadn't meant to say it so blatantly. "I mean… Jack…"

"What do you mean we won't go home?" the other boy asked, crossing his arms and frowning worriedly.

Ralph shook his head. "We won't be going home. I… I was walking past a cabin, and there was a man talking to the captain, and…" He couldn't finish his sentence. Ralph began to sob, crumpling to the deck and making no attempt to get back up. His body shivered with tears, until he finally cried, "London's been bombed, Jack! You remember, that's why we left in the first place. No one's alive. They said that there's nothing left of it."

"What!" Jack sank to the floor beside Ralph, and stared directly at the other boy. "Bombed!"

"There's a big war going on, Jack. London got… nuked right after we left." Ralph shook his head sadly, the tears forming dirty streaks down his face. "We can't go back, and we won't go back. We're sailing to Miami."

"America?" Jack shuddered, beginning to cry. At first, it was only sniffling, but it turned to sobbing, something that Ralph had never seen before, not in all the time they had been stranded on the island. The older boy took Jack in his arms, and together, both boys cried, their tears contrasting violently to the sound of young children playing.

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The ship steamed on, gliding across the ocean, and the sun was beginning to set. The sky, as wide and as infinite as the sea, turned a golden orange, and faraway clouds began to darken to a deep, rich, purple. Soon, night would spread its giant sheet across the sky, and points of light would shine through, innocent, forever a beacon. And as they sobbed, Jack and Ralph could only wonder…

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END

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Alright, end! I'd like to thank ALL of my readers and reviewers. You guys are the best. You've helped me through the first quality fanfiction that I've actually finished. All the feedback, all the compliments... it's been so great and I thank you. Second, I am thinking of writing a sequel to this because a lot of you seem to be really pointing me in that direction. And, of course, because I want to. (That's the one thing that I don't like about The Lord of the Flies book. Too many lose ends when the story is finished.) So, anyways, if you have any ideas about what should be in the sequel, from relationships to a plot to a title, it would be welcomed. And I thank you again.

-mo