#loft ralph

Ralph sat mutely on the boat, staring back out to the island.  Engulfed in the blazing inferno the savages had set, it hardly looked like the verdant paradise it had once been.  Scarred and desolated, the island was now a foreboding brown slab rising from the ultramarine waves.

To the left of Ralph was Jack, and to his right was Roger, both boys' faces still caked with warpaint.  While still on the island, the littluns were evacuated first, sitting in the front near the officer, and the older boys brought up the rear.  This was how Ralph found himself wedged between the two people he hated most.

Did he hate them? Ralph glanced at Jack, and noticed twin streaks of relatively clean skin originating from his eyes.  Without a spear to hold, his spindly freckled arms were wrapped around his midsection.  Though hidden behind cracked red and white clay, Jack's face was screwed in worry and his blue eyes large with fright.  Ralph could hardly believe that the vulnerable-looking boy next to him had been threatening to kill him only hours earlier.

Roger, painted green and black, looked much the same as ever.  His face stoic and eyes gleaming dully, he was slumped forward, seemingly lost in thought.  He had not cried with the other boys, and his mask had only been slightly damaged by the smoke from the fire.

Ralph shuddered.  Did he hate the boys he sat between?  He wanted to.

Ralph turned to look towards the cruiser floating serenely on the water.  He was reminded of his father then, and a pang of homesickness hit him in the gut.  So close to civilization, Ralph was eager to see his father.

If he’s still alive, a voice whispered in his head.  Ralph knew the war was still being fought, and the possibility that his remaining parent was dead existed.  He curled a little more into himself at the thought.

The cutter halted on the side of the ship, and Ralph lurched a bit with the stopping motion.  A ladder spilled from the side, and the officer and the ratings began lifting the littluns to help them climb up to the deck of the warship.

The bigger boys followed, and as Ralph reached to grab the first rung of the ladder, he felt the officer clasp his shoulder.

"Boy, you said you were the leader, correct?"

Ralph nodded.  "Yes, sir," he said quietly.  He felt a shove, and out of the corner of his eye saw Roger climb the ladder.

"What was your name, lad?"  The officer asked.

"Ralph, sir."

The officer looked at him curiously.  "No last name?" He grinned wryly.

"I-I-"  Ralph could not find his voice.  He sighed and shook his head a bit.

"Tomorrow, then.  I'll ask you again.  I'm also going to need you as well some of the older boys to tell me what happened on the island."

Ralph paled, feeling his heart leap into his throat.  He nodded dumbly, and scampered up the rope.

Hauling himself onto the deck of the ship, Ralph noticed that the boys were being led down under deck by adults wearing nurse uniforms, presumably to the sick bay.  He hurried to catch up with the group.

Below deck, wearing hardly anything other than the remnants of a pair of grey shorts, Ralph was shivering.  He drew his arms close to himself to keep warm.

With so many people, the boys were sent in two's and three's to different rooms for their wounds to be treated.  Ralph was led the same room as Samneric, thankful not be with Jack or Roger.

The twins clung together, in their odd but usual way, sticking as close as they could without actually becoming one person.  Ralph sat next to them, looking straight ahead.

A nurse came in for a preliminary look over the boys before leaving, announcing that the doctor would be in to see them shortly.  Alone again,Samneric whispered between themselves, occasionally looking towards Ralph and whispering even more fervently.

Ralph ignored them, or tried to, at least.  He caught the words "apology" and "home" and, for a moment, thought he heard "murder" being said before the twins fell silent.  Ralph edged a bit farther away from them.

The doctor examined the boys for broken bones and checked their sight and hearing.  Sufficiently satisfied, he told them to visit him after they had bathed and eaten so he could treat their cuts.

"Hope no one was injured too badly in the war, eh?"  The doctor laughed good-naturedly as he left.  Ralph grimaced at the remark before following out to go to the showers.

An adult handed Ralph a bar of soap and a towel as he stepped into the showers, and the steam and sound of running water broke him out of his thoughts.  Ralph nearly ran to the first open stall he could find, and fiddled with the knobs harshly, impatient for water.  As hot water hit him in the face, Ralph smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.  He laughed softly, combing his fingers through his long hair.  He rubbed himself with the soap vigorously, cleaning every part of his body he could reach, and repeated the process two more times.

The towel wrapped around his waist, Ralph noticed Jack on his way out.  The redhead scrubbed at his face, intent on removing his warpaint.  The freckles stood out prominently on his tanned, wiry frame, and his hair, a dark hue of scarlet now that it was wet, clung to his head.

Ralph did not think he was staring long, but Jack must have felt something, since he turned around and looked Ralph in the eye.

Ralph jumped a bit and turned away quickly.  He hurried out of the showers and to the room he had been assigned to while he and the other boys went to the sick bay.

Small and low-ceilinged, the steel door shut behind Ralph with a clang.  Two bunk beds stood on opposite sides of the room, with a desk between them.  A footlocker rested below the bottom beds and at the ends.  Only one set of clothing remained on any of the beds, the right bottom bunk, and Ralph accepted it as a message that he would be sleeping there.  Slipping on the clean shirt and pants, he sighed in delight at the sensation.

Ralph, feeling better than he had in weeks, made his way to the mess hall with a relatively light heart.  He found that the boys were clustered in one corner, and, after getting his meal, sat with them.

The stew and hard bread were hardly appetizing, but Ralph was ravenous and ate very quickly.  So intent on his meal, Ralph hardly noticed the boy who sat next to him until he went to take a drink.

Jack, clean and wearing clothing instead of paint, looked a lot like the first day he and Ralph had met.  His hair hung in his eyes, and bent over his food, Jack seemed very small.

Ralph felt a twist of nerves inside being close to Jack, but shook it off.  He felt compelled to say something, anything, to break the silence between them.

"What room were you assigned to?"  Jack appeared shocked at being spoken to by Ralph.  He blinked his pale blue eyes before muttering his reply.

"Dorm 11."

Ralph felt his eyes widen.  "Same as me," he said immediately.  He felt the blood rush to his cheeks when he realized what he had said.

Both boys stared at each other before returning to their respective meals.  Neither said a word for the rest of supper.

Ralph was the first to arrive to his room after visiting the doctor for ointment for his cuts.  He brushed his teeth as he looked at his reflection.  Clean and fed, Ralph felt a lot better about his appearance than he had in days.  He brushed his bangs back, annoyed at the length.  He found that, despite his tan and his skinny frame, he looked a lot like how he had the last time he had used a mirror.

Except his eyes.  Ralph found that his eyes seemed deeper and darker.  There was a tiredness to them that could not be cured with a night of rest.

Hearing footsteps approaching his room, Ralph spat out his toothpaste and sprinted to his cot.  He dove under the covers and curled up, feigning sleep, just as the door opened.  He heard the faucet running, and glanced over his shoulder to check who had come into the room.

The scarlet hair and wiry frame told Ralph it was Jack.  Ralph curled back up and waited for Jack to finish so he could lie on his back.  He heard the door open again, as well as soft whispers between two very similar voices, and concluded he was sharing a room with Samneric as well as Jack.

Better Samneric than Roger or someone who had sided with Jack from the beginning, Ralph thought.  Before long, the light in their room had gone out, being replaced with a dim red glow from the lights outside.  Lying in bed, Ralph realized how tired he was, and fell asleep almost instantaneously.

Running, running, he was running.  Ralph felt the branches scrape against his skin, but ignored the pain.  He heard screaming and shouting and awful, awful cries.  Reaching the beach, he fell to catch his breath and felt the tide wash against his knees.  Something else brushed against his legs, and he opened his eyes to see the body of Simon washed up next to him.  His eyes were open and glazed, and his wounds still bled afresh.  Ralph stumbled back at the sight of his dead friend, and scrambled to his feet.  He turned to see if the hunters were still following him, but felt something clammy grab his ankles.  Looking down, Ralph found that Simon was holding onto him, dead eyes staring at him.  He tried to pull away, but felt more hands clench his calves.  Piggy, lying next to Simon, brains leaking out of the back of his head, dug his nails into Ralph’s legs.  Ralph screamed as he was pulled into the ocean just as the hunters arrived.  Jack, painted and terrible, shouted the infernal, familiar chant, “Kill the beast!  Cut his throat!  Spill his blood!” before taking aim with his spear and throwing it directly at Ralph.  Ralph watched as the weapon headed for his eyes…

Ralph sat up in his cot, panting heavily.  He looked around wildly, the nightmare still keeping him in its thrall.  He fell back and rubbed at his face, sighing shakily.  He noticed there were tears streaked down his cheeks.

“Ralph.  Ralph.  Ralph!”

Ralph looked upwards and saw the upper half of Jack’s face hanging down from above.  His light eyes shone dimly in the low light, and his red curls hung away from his face.

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”  He whispered.  Ralph nodded, and Jack jumped down from his cot nimbly.  He moved to sit at the end of Ralph’s cot.

“Will you tell me about it?”  Ralph was confused and rather annoyed at Jack’s sudden concern, but, still reeling from terror of the dream, relented, sat up, and told Jack about his terrible visions.

Jack nodded throughout the explanation, slowly drawing himself further onto Ralph’s bed.  By the time Ralph was finished, he was sitting with his knees folded to his chest and looking at Ralph.

“Did you have a dream, too?”  Jack nodded again, but did not seem keen to talk about it.  Ralph scooted as close as he dared to.

“I’m afraid, Ralph,” Jack said after a moment of silence.  “I’m afraid of what we have to do tomorrow.  What are we going to tell them?”  His voice rose in pitch due to nerves.

“I don’t know, Jack, but we can’t tell them the truth.  Who knows what would happen to us?”

“They already know that Simon and Fatty-”

“Piggy, don’t call him Fatty.”

“Bollocks to his name!”  Jack cried as loud as he dared.  “They know people died, and that’s all they’re going to be asking us about.”

“We killed our friends, of course they’d be interested in that.”

“But they don’t know we killed them.  You’re chief, think of something.”

Ralph smiled humorlessly.  “So I’m chief again, eh?  You’re finally letting me be the leader now that we may or may not be sent to jail for murder.”

“Sod off, you know what I mean.”  Jack glared at Ralph.  “You told the officer you were leader, and nothing’s going to change that now.”

Ralph sighed.  “You’re right about that.  Well… of course I’m going to say it was an accident and there was nothing we could do, but I haven’t thought of the details yet.”

“What if… Simon drowned and Piggy fell off a cliff?  That makes sense, right?”

“Yes, I suppose it does.  But they’ll want more.”

Jack groaned and cupped his face in his hands.  “I don’t want to talk them.  I just want to be left alone until… until we get to wherever we’re going.”  He gave a great shuddering sigh and sniffled.

Ralph nodded in agreement.  He moved a bit closer and touched Jack’s shoulder, who flinched at the sensation.  He rubbed his eyes, trying to keep his tears from flowing down his face again.

“I’m sorry, Ralph,” he muttered.  “I’m sorry for everything that happened on that stupid island.”

Ralph wanted to be angry at Jack, wanted to hit and kick and push him away and tell him he deserved to be locked away for an eternity and a half.  He wanted to hate him with every fiber in his being.

But, seeing Jack crying and scared and nearly broken, Ralph could only feel sorry for him.  He wrapped his arms around Jack and hugged him.

“It’ll be all right,” he whispered.  “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Jack sniffled loudly and settled into the embrace.  His back shuddered with silent sobs, and Ralph held him, trying to comfort him how he remembered his mother doing.

After what seemed liked hours, Ralph realized that Jack had stopped crying and fell asleep in his arms.  Not wanting to wake him up, Ralph maneuvered the dead weight until both of them were lying down.  It was a tight fit, and they could only share the bed if Ralph continued holding Jack.

Lying down, Ralph caught whispering from the other side of the room, and assumed he and Jack had woken the twins up with their talking.  He could just make out their silhouette across the way.

Ralph never would have thought his day would end like this.  From running away from Jack, to comforting and holding him, it had been strange, but Ralph found that he did not mind.  At the end of the day, he could not hate Jack.  Jack Merridew was still a boy who had seen and done terrible things, and was just beginning to grasp the extent of the darkness within him.  He needed someone to hold him and tell him everything would turn out okay.