Of Love and Lords
Author's Note: Hello there everyone! I know it's been a long time coming, but here it is! Chapter Seven of 'Of Love and Lords'! OKAY so I am super excited I remembered my email address and password and I am back on here! I was using a seperate account for some time and forgot about this one and this story then saw all my reviews and thought I needed to continue this story!
Disclaimer: I do not own 'Lord of the Flies' nor do I own any of William Golding's marvelous characters.
Summary: A girl's uncle offers to take her flying as a present for her fifteenth birthday. Though her uncle would be on the job, and would be transporting an umpteen amount of boys to their destination, nothing could shatter Emma's dream of finally being able to fly. During the flight, the plane encounters a horrible tropical storm, sending the fiery plane, crashing down into the ocean. Emma Sinclair awakes on the sandy beach, only to be surprised at having two boys confusedly starring at her. And so the battles of love and lords begin.
Chapter Seven: When Lightning Strikes
Emma stared intently into the fire, a small piece of cooked boar resting in her lap. She had been offered the smallest piece of meat because according to Roger a.) the men needed more food because "we do all the work around here", b.) he wasn't sure that an appetite could be worked up by washing clothes, and c.) that she was due to lose a few pounds anyways. If men like Jack and Roger were the soldiers defending all of Europe from the likes of Hitler, Britain was simply doomed.
Emma, the only girl in a sea of males had been stranded for two weeks now, so it was possible that the war was already over for all they knew. It simply didn't make a difference to her if the war waged on or didn't. Being trapped on this island, she would likely never see her Father again or her younger brother Michael, and the only friend and form of protection she had, had been missing for the past three hours.
Emma allowed her thoughts to drift towards the cave where Ralph had passionately kissed her.
He loves me. She could assume as much from Ralph's confession. He had said so right after the two of them discovered markings on the walls of the cave. However, like all men tend to do in a scenario where the possbility of commitment is on the table, he ran-out of the cave off into the woods and she hadn't seem him since, causing her to doubt her hearing and grow deeply worried about Ralph's whereabouts and also his sanity.
He should be done sulking by now! Emma thought angrily. If he wasn't back by nightfall she'd have to go looking for him even though the possibility of encountering a boar during the night was quite high.
Absentmindedly picking at her boar, it took Emma a moment to notice Jack standing over her. She detested the ginger haired boy and his cohort Roger, the both of them having threatended her with rape and murder numerous times. Emma acted like it didn't phase her, but beneath their proper accents the pair of them truly were monsters, and it was only a matter of time before they acted upon their urges, a thought that frightened her to no end. She knew she couldn't expect Ralph to protect her always, especially if that meant putting himself in danger, which made her wonder how much longer her virtue would be guaranteed?
"Enjoying your supper?" Jack asked her, a twisted smile appearing on his lips. His eyes lingering on Emma's legs for far too long.
"Oh yes, I simply adore dining like a savage," Emma scoffed, her voice heavily drenched in sarcasm. "And I suppose we have tea and biscuits following this?"
In a flash, Jack held her by her hair, snapping her neck back roughly. Emma cried out in pain and her eyes pricked with tears. She was determined not to scream, she wouldn't give Jack the satisfaction. Breathing evenly, she looked at him in loathing. If only she had a gun.
"Be grateful you even get to eat you filthy whore," Jack hissed through clenched teeth, throwing her down onto the beach floor, sending her dinner flying. "If it were up to me, we'd all stick our cocks in you and then shortly after," he paused menacingly, a crazed look appearing on his face "We'd slit your fucking throat."
Emma let out a sob as Jack sauntered off towards the other boys, none of them bothering to intervene on her behalf. They were all younger and weaker then Jack so she really couldn't blame them for not trying, not to mention the fact that his goon Roger had his back at all times. Emma struggled to get herself into a sitting position, the back of her neck and side of her ribs sore and wondered what she had ever done to deserve her predicament.
"Emmarrr, did Jack hurt you?" squeaked Radley, appearing beside Emma once Jack had left, his small mouth quivering.
She would not have Radley crying on her account, the poor boy had enough to deal with.
"No, not at all my luv," Emma said hurriedly, pausing to stroke the littlun's birthmark covered cheek affectionately. "Now run along, Percy must be waiting for you." She smiled warmly at Radley, not wanting to let her facade slip, showing the small boy how much pain she was in. At five and a quarter, even Radley knew that the way Jack treated her was wrong, so all hope was not entirely lost.
Emma continued to lay in the place where Jack had pushed her over, attempting to regain her strength.
"Need a hand?" murmured a soft voice after a few moments of silence. Emma looked up to see Simon standing above her, his dark hair falling haphazardly into his cold eyes.
"Yes," Emma said, reaching her arm upwards expecting Simon to offer her his hand. Instead, Simon ducked underneath her, putting his hands on her waist and helping her up.
Emma's side was aching all over again once she was standing. "Thank-you, Simon." She sighed, still in pain from Jack's abuse. She hoped she wouldn't end up bruising.
"We really should find him," Simon spoke, his bright eyes traveling to where Emma clenched her side in pain. "Ralph." Simon clarified.
Emma's eye twitched at the mention of Ralph.
"That's not necessary Simon," Emma huffed stubbornly, "He's made it quite clear that it's not his responsibility to protect me."
Emma's eyes began to water to she quickly turned towards the ocean. She refused to cry in front of Simon, he seemed far too judgmental to be weak in front of. All of them judged her, just because she was a girl. So she wouldn't cry, like they all expected a girl to do.
"I think he'd say otherwise if he was here." Simon said with all the earnest he could muster.
"Simon, it quite obviously doesn't matter to Ralph if Jack throws me around like a rag doll," Emma's voice raised in anger "If it did he would bloody well be here right now!" she screamed.
An awkward silence passed between the two of them, Emma rubbing her throbbing temples.
"I'm sorry," Emma said to Simon, letting her eyes meet his "I shouldn't have yelled at you, it's not your fault." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze; it was so cold to the touch that it caused her to gasp.
Simon ripped his hand from hers and tucked it into the pocket of his shorts, his eyes unreadable.
"If you want to find Ralph, meet me here once everyone is asleep." Simon said quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the crashing tide.
And with that he was off, heading into the dark of the forest, leaving Emma wondering about the strange boy and his cold hands.
A cool breeze blew off of the ocean, leaving a trail of gooseflesh on Emma's arms. She needed something more substantial to wear then her flimsy camisole, and she knew just what she'd use. Emma looked over to the group of boys still huddled by the fire, making sure that Jack and Roger were still there and not in the forest, where she would be frolicking alone and of course, without Ralph. Jack appeared to be telling his choir a story (most likely fabricated), his arms stretched out before him as if he was wielding his spear. No one would be the wiser to her disappearance, and so Emma set off into the darkness of the forest as well.
The German boy still stared out into the distance, his unseeing blue eyes looking right into Emma's. Crouching down, Emma hesitantly raised her hand to his cheek, stroking it and then letting her hand fall over his eyes, shutting them. He could sleep now. Emma knew that this essentially was the face of her enemy; Britain's enemy. But before that, he was a boy, eighteen at the most with a long life still ahead of him. Emma wondered if the boy's family knew what had become of their son, of their brother. She knew loss all too well and sincerely wished it upon no one.
Suddenly a curious idea occurred to her. Perhaps the soldier had some sort of form of identification on him? There was nothing on his uniform that stood out to her aside from the black swastika, placed in the center of a white circle and sewn onto red fabric which was tied tightly around his left arm. Emma patted down his pockets and felt a solid square, most likely his wallet. She had found what she had been looking for.
Reaching into his pocket, she pulled out not only a worn brown wallet, but also a few accompanying documents. Sifting through them, the sharp face of the German boy caught her eye. There in front of her was the identification of a Nazi soldier, his name Paul Müller. And although in his photograph, Paul Müller appeared to look almost menacing, even in the black and white photo, the ice blue of his eyes was unmistakable while his blonde hair was slicked back away from his face, his cheekbones sharp and his lips set in a cruel grimace. However, the young man beside her did not appear that way at all. Looking at him, Emma decided that he looked peaceful, almost serene.
She continued to look through the documents, all written in German, a language she certainly did not know. Putting the papers aside, Emma examined the boy's wallet. It was leather and dyed brown, probably quite expensive, most likely a gift. Opening it Emma sighed in awe. She looked upon another photo, but this time of a grinning Paul Müller with the arms of his beautiful girlfriend wrapped around his neck. The both of them were likely at a dance; clad in their finest clothes, Paul in a tuxedo and his girlfriend in an enchanting white floor length gown. Turning the photo around, as Emma suspected, a note was written to Paul, scribbled in faded ink.
Paul, ich wünsche Ihnen viel Glück in den Krieg. Meine Arme warten auf Sie.
Mit Liebe,
Katja
Paul and Katja, Emma thought wistfully. If Emma made it off the island, she swore to herself that she would write Paul's Katja and tell her that he carried her photo with him until the very end. She would also write his family, and tell them what had become of their son, of their brother. Setting down Paul's belongings, Emma decided to set to work on what she had really come all this way for. She picked up Paul's parachute, which Ralph and she had stowed away beside him. Unfolding the parachute, she examined it, unsure of how exactly she planned on making herself a garment out of it.
Stretching it out to its full size, the parachute covered much of the forest floor, an enormous black swastika in the very middle of it. Thinking it was not the best idea to parade about with a gigantic swastika on her, Emma instead began to tear the fabric around the emblem. Not to mention, it would certainly raise the suspicions of both Jack and Roger. Emma decided she would lie and tell them that the fabric simply washed up on shore, most likely from the wreckage of the plane crash, and she certainly would have to explain herself since the boys certainly noticed everything to do with how much, and especially how little she was wearing in recent days.
Once she was finished, Emma had a couple yards of reasonably clean white fabric to use. She began to wrap it around her, starting from just below her armpits. The motion reminded her of the saris she saw the women back in India wrap around their waists. Emma had visited there with her family when she was eleven, and had always been captivated by the beautiful fabrics in shocking red or deep blue that the women there adorned themselves with.
She hid the remainder of the parachute behind Paul. Standing back she examined him to make sure he was still obscured from being seen when something caught her eye; an unmistakable glint. Crouching down, Emma patted the area from which she had seen the flash. Feeling something solid, she secured it from under his shirt. Emma's eyes grew wide at what she held in her hands, so shocked she almost dropped it. In her hands, she cradled a pistol. A pistol.
Emma sat by the shore, listening contentedly to the waves out in the distance. It had turned out to be a cooler than average night on their island, and she was faring well with the temperature thanks to the German soldier's parachute. Not to mention his pistol. Holding it in her hands, Emma weighed her options heavily before hiding it far from where Paul lay, along with his documents and wallet. Emma thought about shooting Jack in the head, shortly followed by Roger. But then, she thought of Jack or Roger overpowering her and taking possession of the weapon, a far worse fate then anything this island had in store for them. She decided to tell no one until she spoke to Ralph, and certainly would not tell Simon, the strange boy with black hair and intense blue eyes.
"Emma," Simon appeared from behind her, holding something in his arms.
"Hello Simon," Emma said calmly, Simon's 'out of thin air' appearances no longer surprising her.
There was just enough moonlight for her to see him clearly and Emma noticed that he had a bundle of something clutched close to his chest.
"What do you have there?" Emma asked him curiously.
Sitting down next to her, Simon wordlessly unraveled the blue jacket of his Military Academy uniform. Inside it, Emma could make out a large pile of berries. Her stomach growled as if of cue.
"I thought you might be hungry after Jack ruined your dinner," Simon smiled at her. "I also picked some for the littluns; for their breakfast."
Emma couldn't believe she had ever written off Simon as strange, or even untrustworthy. She decided she would tell him about the pistol, but when the time was right.
"That's very kind of you Simon," Emma thanked him gently. "I'll make sure the littluns have the berries before the other boys get at them."
"Good," Simon nodded, "I have one last thing to show you."
Emma began to munch on the berries as Simon reached into his pocket, pulling out some sort of strange clear cylinder.
"What on Earth is that?" Emma asked in confusion. She had never seen anything like it before.
"Just watch," Simon said, taking the cylinder between his two hands and cracking it.
It was then that the most intriguing thing happened; the strange cylinder began to emit light. It glowed a greenish/yellow that she had never quite seen before and couldn't describe for the life of her.
"It's called a glow stick," Simon revealed. "They were created by the US navy, and they gave some to the British to sample. There were extras so they shipped them out to the Military Academies for us future officers to test."
"It's amazing," Emma said in awe, almost hypnotized by the eerie light. "Where did you find it?"
"I brought them with me," Simon began. "For night reading." He admitted bashfully.
"Oh Simon, you really are something," Emma laughed, hugging him. Simon's hands stayed intertwined with one another on his lap. "We certainly wouldn't be able to go searching for Ralph without them. We'd be running around blindly in the forest if it wasn't for you." Emma smiled rising to her feet.
Simon followed suit, turning towards the forest with Emma in tow.
Being in the forest during the daytime was difficult as it was, but trying to maneuver through the vines and tree roots with only a minimal amount of light was nearly impossible. Simon had stayed relatively silent during the past hour as they trudged through the moist leaves and bushes. Every so often, they would hear the rustling of wildlife, most likely a boar. They would whisper Ralph's name to make sure it wasn't him, sincerely hoping it wasn't Jack or Roger.
Emma decided to strike up a conversation with Simon to pass the time.
"So Simon, what's your story?" Emma asked inquisitively.
"Story?" Simon asked distractedly, turning around to shoot her a puzzled look.
"I mean, I know how you ended up on this island, but how did you end up on that particular plane?" Emma asked, her mind briefly traveling back to the beautiful day she went flying with her Uncle Charles, beautiful until tragedy struck that is.
"My parents sent me to the Academy; just like everyone else," Simon answered abruptly, but then continued. "My Father had wanted me to follow in his footsteps, and my older brother's; to become war heroes like they are."
"You and Ralph have a lot more in common then you know." Emma informed Simon.
Simon held back a branch to let Emma pass in front of him.
"I wouldn't doubt that," Simon reasoned "But I bet Ralph believes in the war, whereas I don't." Simon revealed.
Momentarily shocked, Emma glanced back at Simon, but then she realized that perhaps the vision of Paul Müller, the Nazi soldier of eighteen stayed with Simon as well as herself. Emma was about to tell Simon all about Paul and his girlfriend Katja when a distant roar of thunder reached her ears.
"You think it will rain?" Emma asked Simon, certain that Ralph had found shelter for the night. She chose not to think of any other possibilities aside from that one. She could picture him curled up in the cave where they had found the ancient tribal markings, the small fire which he had built warming him, his blonde hair illuminated by the flames.
Emma was drawn from her thoughts when suddenly, a flash of lightning lit up the forest. Within seconds, two things happened. Simon was on the ground violently shaking, seizing, and just beyond where Simon lay was a painted white face peering deviously at Emma from the bushes.
Author's Note: Hello once again everybody! I know it's been a long time since you last heard of Emma, but she is back and here to stay! I have decided to continue my abandoned fanfic after coming across old chapters on my computer. I had lost access to my account, forgetting my email address and password which prevented me from signing on, and it turns out the email address I used was deleted after a long period of inactivity. Anyways, enough of my blabbering since I ended up remembering my email address so yippie!
Two final notes. For those of you who caught on that glow sticks were certainly not invented during the time of World War II, I decided to use my poetic license and stick them into the story anyways regardless of historical inaccuracy. I hope this doesn't bother people too much!
Lastly, if any of you are wondering about the translation regarding Katja's note to Paul, here is the translation: Paul, I wish you luck in the war. Please return home safely. My arms await you. With love, Katja. I realize this may be incorrect as I don't speak German, but I did use an online translator, so I apologize if it isn't correct and if someone can provide me with a correct translation I will certainly use it.
Wishing all of you well and hope you enjoyed this highly anticipated installment of 'Of Love and Lords' and please review! - Jam2008