Disclaimer

I do not own 'The Lord of the Flies' – William Golding does.

THE SPECS & THE KNIFE

The raft bobbed slowly to the rhythm of the sea as it made it's way towards the trim cruiser in the distance. The occupants stared at each other listlessly, bedraggled and filthy, under the watchful eyes of the Naval officer and his men. Soon the huge silver mass of gleaming metal that was the USS Irony was upon them. Many of the boys stared in awe, not because of its size, but because it was the first metal object any of them had seen for…

Ralph looked away from the great warship. He didn't know how long it had been since the first day on the now scorched island. How it had been then. No hunting, no tribe, no beast and no killing. He looked around the raft and saw most of the "tribe", all painted and wild. Among them he recognised Maurice, Robert, Bill, Harold, Sam'n'Eric…

Something about Sam'n'Eric made Ralph pause. They were painted, yes, but not nearly as much as the others. It was as if they had only painted themselves half-heartedly. All of a sudden, Ralph remembered the words of Samneric on Castle Rock only a few hours before.

" – they made us. They hurt us – "

" – it's a tribe – "

" – they made us – "

" – we couldn't help it – "

The boy beside Sam'n'Eric also made Ralph pause. Roger, the tribe's second-in-command, was sitting there completely still. At first Ralph thought he was asleep but when he clearly saw Roger blink, he knew different. It was strange seeing him now, so still and silent when only a day ago, he had been Jack's right hand man, dishing out abuse to whomever displeased either of them. This was the boy who had caused the death of Piggy and yet, where Ralph had expected hate, he found pity. Roger had been used, whether he realised it or not, to enforce Jack's rule over their little gang of savages. Sooner or later Roger would realise that. When he did, Ralph thought, he'll do what he feels he needs to. Until then, he should be left to his own thoughts. Piggy had, at one point, called him the loner of the group. Perhaps he was right.

Ralph found himself thinking about Piggy, remembering when they first crossed paths. Piggy had just managed to untangle himself from the creepers when he'd started asking all these questions, where were they, were there any adults around, what's your name….

Ralph froze in mid-thought. Piggy had asked Ralph his name almost straight away whereas Ralph had never asked Piggy's name once. That just made everything worse. This sensible, intelligent, friendly boy was dead but no one even knew his name. At that point, someone threw up over the side of the raft. Ralph looked up to see who'd just hurled with mild interest. That mild interest quickly turned to mild surprise when he realised it was Jack.

Jack Merridew, more brightly painted than the others had just thrown up – a sight that only a few hours ago would have been impossible to imagine. Jack looked up and saw Ralph looking. Their eyes briefly met before Jack turned away. This surprised Ralph greatly. He had expected there to be a stare down between the two of them, just like always. But Jack Merridew had no reason to anymore. On the island he had been a leader wielding authority, even before the tribe came into being, but now he was nothing. As soon as they got aboard that ship, he would be completely powerless and possibly facing punishment of some kind. Ralph remembered what he had been told about Navy discipline and began to wonder if Jack was going to be keel hauled.

-x-x-x-

Jack Merridew was worried – very worried. He knew that in a few moments, they would all be on board the metal hulk that had just cast it's shadow upon them. When they were, he would no longer be an all-powerful chief. He would be a boy again, subordinate to any and all adults as well as the likes of Ralph. He glanced over at Ralph, no doubt feeling pleased with himself. The little twerp had won. The uniformed officers would listen to him wouldn't they, after all he was "chief", he had the conch, he didn't hunt…

"He didn't set fire to the whole island, did he now?" said a harsh voice inside Jacks head. "He didn't play tribesman and slaughter pigs. He didn't stick pig's heads on spears. He didn't get people killed. He didn't steal other people's fire and specs now did he? Of course they're going to listen to what Ralph has to say but as for Jack the savage? Well I don't think they'll be too interested in what the chief of the tribe says now will they?"

Jack nodded in agreement. The voice was right, what hope was there for him now? After all, he had been the chief of the tribe. He had organised the pig hunts as well as the Ralph hunt. Not to mention the raid on Ralph's camp. Then for some reason, he found himself thinking about Piggy, that useless, lazy tub of lard with the glasses. The fatty whose death had been celebrated only the night before at the fort. Then came another thought – the glasses.

Jack looked down at the glasses hanging from his belt. He unhooked them and started looking at them. One lens was missing a large chunk of glass – his doing – and the other badly cracked. They were no use to anyone anymore. However, just as Jack was about to toss them into the sea, he noticed some marks on one of the arms. It took a while but after a few minutes, he realised that the strange markings were in fact writing. A name…

KEITH ANDREWS

It took a few moments for Jack to catch on but he eventually realised whose name it was. Piggy had a name, he was Keith Andrews – Jack paused – and he was now dead. For the first time, Piggy had a name and was a person just like everyone else. But that didn't matter now. Piggy was dead and gone.

-x-x-x-

The raft came to an abrupt halt and the Naval officer stood up.

"Everyone, please disembark." he said with absolute authority. For a moment, no one moved but after a few seconds Ralph got up. Everyone else then followed suit. Soon they were all up on the deck. The officers began to lead and the boys followed – all, except Jack. Jack hung behind, leaned against a railing and looked out to sea towards the island, now only visible because of the black smoke hanging over it.

"Jack?"

Jack turned to see who it was, even though he recognised the voice. It was Ralph. Jack didn't speak, but instead looked out toward the island again.

"I really screwed things up, didn't I?" he said blankly, after a long pause.

Ralph put his hand on Jack's shoulder and sighed.

"We all screwed up." he said. "All of us." he added.

There was a moment's silence before either of them spoke

"His name was Keith." said Jack, holding out the glasses. Ralph sighed; understanding whom Jack was referring to.

"Here, take them," said Jack "You should have them."

Ralph took the glasses and attempted to pocket them before he realised how ragged his shorts really were. Instead, Ralph held on to the glasses.

"They'll be wondering where we've gone." muttered Ralph after a while, "You coming?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he unhooked his hunting knife and unsheaved it. Ralph shuddered with mild horror. The knife was covered with dried blood, mostly pig's blood, but deep down, both Ralph and Jack knew there was probably human blood on that knife too. The blood of one of Jack's former choirboys, Simon. The boy who had been trampled and torn apart little over a week ago by a rampaging bunch of savages. – them.

Jack held out the knife for a second. Then, without warning, he summoned all his strength and hurled it into the ocean. And with the knife went all the inherent rage in Jack's heart, gone forever into the depths of the deep blue ocean. A minute passed before either of them spoke.

"Let's go." was all that Jack said.

And so they went to join the others as the USS Irony sailed out into the high seas