Piggy glanced back at the beach, where Ralph was sitting with the body lying on his shoulder. He appeared to be speaking to it, but from such a great distance he couldn't be sure.

Jack sighed and rubbed the conch nervously. Several of the littluns sniffled. Finally Jack stood again.

"All right...meeting over. I just wanted to say that." He lay the conch down and left. Slowly, the assembly broke up, leaving behind only Piggy, Maurice, and Samneric.

"Do you—"

"—think that—"

"—maybe—" The twins looked at each other and fell silent.

Maurice, usually energetic and smiling, had now become quiet and tired. "Piggy, is Ralph ever going to be chief again?"

"I dunno," Piggy admitted. "For now, we all got to stick together. Perhaps we can talk sense into him." He looked at the twins. "Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know about you—"

"—but he's really giving me the creeps."

"Me too," Maurice said. "Sorry, Piggy, but sitting here like this isn't going to solve anything. I think Jack might know what to do." Just like the others, he got up and left. Samneric soon lost interest and followed him. Piggy was alone.

"Why couldn't you be here, Simon?" he wondered aloud. "If you were here, Ralph might still be chief. He wouldn't be batty." With dismay, he realized his thoughts were repeating themselves. It was a big circle of despair and guilt, and he wondered if he'd be feeling it for the rest of his life. The notion terrified him. Why, he was only eleven. How many more years would he live to regret this? To re-experience the horror of seeing Simon's mutilated body on the beach?

Tears were fighting their way to the surface. Piggy didn't want to cry; crying was undignified. But now, it all seemed hopeless. The possibility of rescue seemed about as likely as Simon returning to life. Perhaps Ralph thinks we're on a ship heading home, too, he thought.

Now that the assembly had ended, Ralph was dragging the body toward the platform. They left a trail of dark red blood. Piggy made up his mind that he didn't want to be around when Ralph finally got there. He stood, preparing to walk away as quickly as possible, when Ralph suddenly called to him.

"Don't go, Piggy! Say hello to Simon! He misses you..."

A shudder ran down Piggy's spine, and he turned away, shaking his head furiously. "I'm sorry, Ralph," he whispered. "I'm sorry." Then he ran back to the shelters and sat among the leaves, trembling.

00000000000

That night, Piggy slept fitfully. In truth, he wasn't sure if he slept at all. The sound of Ralph chatting with "Simon" in the shelter next to him kept him shivering all night. The little sleep he got was full of vivid and frightening dreams. There was one in particular that he doubted was even a dream.

The moon was high overhead, sending eerie white light through the entrance of the shelter. Piggy, lying half-awake, heard leaves moving and suddenly Simon was standing outside his shelter. He didn't look dead or injured, though; it was the same old Simon he knew before the dance: the one who fainted often, said strange things, and disappeared at mysterious hours.

"I need to talk to you," he said in his familiar quiet voice. "There's something you ought to know..." He glanced around to check that they were alone and beckoned urgently.

"What?" Piggy asked. "What could possibly be so important? I haven't got a wink of sleep tonight. Besides, you're dead. This is just a dream. You can't tell me anything I don't already know."

Simon looked hurt. "Sorry," he said. "I don't want to waste your time." Just as he turned around to leave, Piggy realized how hungry he'd become for sanity. Simon was the only one he could possibly have an intelligent conversation with, and besides—if this was a dream, he was already asleep and wouldn't be missing out on any.

"Wait! What d' you want to tell me?" Piggy struggled out of the shelter and faced the smaller boy. "Is it important?"

"It's important enough for me to bother you in your sleep," Simon said. "And, you know, I normally can't bring myself to wake up people." He glanced up at Piggy with wide eyes.

"Well?" Piggy adjusted his spectacles.

Simon rubbed his upper arms. "Um, well...Piggy, I want you to be careful. You could be in danger soon."

"What d'you mean?" Piggy asked quizzically. The two children had unconsciously started walking down to the beach, to where the dance was.

"I'm not quite sure," said Simon, "but just be careful, okay?"

"Okay. C'n I ask you a question?"

"You just did." The small boy grinned.

"All right. What 'bout Ralph? He's gone batty, and I don't know what to do with 'im."

Simon cocked his head. "Batty? What's going on?"

Piggy wondered whether he should try and relate the disturbing events of the day to Simon. If this was a dream, it wouldn't do any harm. Maybe his own subconscious would be helpful.

"Simon, you're dead," Piggy said, "and Ralph is trying to be friends with your body." There it was. Simple.

The small boy looked away, toward the ocean. "I know," he said finally.

"Why'd you ask me to tell you 'bout Ralph, then?" Piggy asked.

"I wanted you to admit it was happening," said Simon. "I know about everything that happened since...the dance." The children flinched at those two words.

"How? You're dead. How're you even talking to me?"

Simon shook his head. "I don't know that, either. But that doesn't matter. I told you all I want you to know...you can go back to sleep now."

"But you didn't even have no advice on what to do 'bout Ralph!" Piggy cried.

Simon shrugged. "Sorry. Ralph's just going to have to figure it out."

Piggy, frustrated with Simon—or his subconscious, he wasn't sure which—walked back to the shelters and wormed his way back inside. Before he knew it, he was asleep. Or maybe his dream just ended.

000000000000

The next day, Ralph was no better. He refused to let go of the body and took it everywhere—to the shelters, to the lagoon, up the mountain to keep the fire, even. Except for being infatuated with Simon's corpse, however, Ralph was utterly normal. He made the fire just as much of a priority and even tried to call a few assemblies. But no one showed up. No one, that is, except for Piggy.

He had sort of guilted himself into it. Of all the people on the island, Piggy was the only one with any chance of talking sense into Ralph, and he knew that avoiding the fair-haired boy was going to cause even more problems. It wasn't easy, though. Dealing with Ralph and trying not to be disturbed by what used to be Simon proved to be just as difficult as avoiding them.

And now, Ralph seemed depressed. He lay the conch on the ground at his feet and stared at it forlornly. "I'm chief," he said. "Why won't they listen?"

He answered himself in Simon's voice: "Um, well, I don't know...maybe it's the beast?"

"You know the beast isn't real," he said in his normal voice.

Piggy sighed. "Ralph, p'rhaps it's not them. Could be you. Why, you're sitting here making a dead boy talk!"

"He's not dead, Piggy!" said Ralph defensively. "What has gotten into you? He's alive, plain as day!"

"And you're bonkers, plain as day," Piggy said, exasperated.

"Come on, say hello," said Ralph. He grabbed the body again and shoved it into Piggy's face.

Immediately Piggy backed away from the empty eye sockets, which were now lined with dried blood. He shook his head furiously. "No, Ralph! You got to snap out of it! What if I was a grown-up? Then would you listen?"

"But you're not a grown-up," Ralph said matter-of-factly, "and if you were, you wouldn't be so rude to Simon!" He pulled the corpse back and sat it up so it leaned heavily on his shoulder. "It's okay, Piggy; I don't mind if you're rude," he said, once again talking for his dead friend.

With a wave of hopelessness, he realized that his tactics weren't working. He couldn't talk sense into Ralph by telling him the same thing over and over again. Wasn't that the real definition of insanity? Trying the same thing repeatedly, and expecting different results? He supposed that Ralph would be okay as chief still, but no one wanted to be around him so long as Simon was there.

Just then, Bill emerged from the forest and sat down next to Ralph. "So...could we have Simon over for just a bit? The chief wants to...talk to him."

"But I'm chief," Ralph protested weakly, "and I don't want Jack near him."

"It's okay," Ralph said for Simon. "I'll be okay, Ralph. It's just Jack Merridew."

"But it isn't!" Ralph argued with himself. "They hurt you last time. You're part of my tribe, and I won't let them hurt a member of my tribe." The back-and-forth dialogue between the two—who were really the same person—would have been funny if it wasn't so disturbing. Piggy and Bill looked at each other despondently.

Ralph turned to Bill. "Fine—what do you want him for?"

"I already said the chief wants to talk to him," said Bill.

"About what?"

"Just...things. Like...oh, I don't know...hunting and stuff."

"It'll be fine. We'll be fine," said Ralph for Simon. "Don't worry; Piggy can come, too. Let's go." He turned Simon's head in Piggy's direction.

Ralph, already worn down by being rejected as chief, gave in to himself. "All right. You can go. Just be careful, okay?" He let go of the body, and it flopped onto the ground. Bill gestured to Piggy with his head.

"I can't. My asthma—"

"Fine," Bill grumbled, and dragged it into the forest. Piggy followed.

"What're you gonna do wit' it?" Piggy asked.

"Jack wants to burn it. He said that might bring Ralph back to his senses."

"Don't!" Piggy cried. "That'll jus' upset him. He'll think you actually did hurt him."

"Well, do you have any ideas?" Bill dropped the body and wiped his hands on his shorts—or rather, what was left of them.

"I don't got none right now," Piggy admitted, "but p'rhaps we could all come up with something."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but all right. I'll listen to you, Fatty."

Piggy, who was excited for this much recognition, didn't even notice the degrading nickname. "Well, we ought to stick together for now. We could talk to Jack, maybe, and—" He babbled all the way back to Jack's camp. "We might even invent a plan to get rescued if we all work on this!"

Bill sighed as they approached the camp. Piggy realized that this was the clearing where the pig's head was. No one had moved it from its original spot, and the guts were still lying there.

The chief stood, looking calmer than Piggy had ever seen him. "Why is Fatty here?"

"Ralph wouldn't let me take Simon unless Piggy came with."

"All right then." Jack pointed to Piggy. "We can use your glasses to start a fire and burn it."

"Piggy said not to do that," Bill said.

"Why not?"

"Ralph'ud be real upset," Piggy said. "You'd have to talk to him yourself."

"Well, I'll have to take your word for it, then. Let's come up with another plan." He called everyone over, and soon they were sitting in a circle with the body lying beneath the Lord of the Flies. They started to brainstorm.