The Lady and the Flies

Chapter 15

"For you," Bill said suddenly. "And, uh, Simon-"

"-and the twins-"

"-and the littluns."

Clare breathed hard, and already, she could feel the venomous sting of tears at her eyes. First Jack, then Roger, and now the last two strongest boys, aside from Ralph. That rendered Ralph's allegiance practically useless. There was hardly any brawn now, no one to lift and move things when it counted. Despite their association with the team, Bill and Maurice were good boys. Kind boys. They'd never tried to hurt anyone, and they were always obedient to Ralph.

But that was because Jack had been obedient to Ralph. Now that his loyalty had been cut loose, his dutiful followers were quick to appease him once more.

Clare gulped. "So...you're leaving?"

Maurice cast his gaze towards the sea. "'Fraid so."

"Sorry, Clare."

"But...but..." The girl was speechless. What could she say? Betray the boy you've known your entire life? Choose Ralph instead? She could only try to meet their sad eyes. "You're not savages," she said firmly, pressing the matter. A snort escaped Bill, and Maurice looked more than amused.

"Savages?" He seemed astounded at such a word. "Clare, it'll still be us. And you and Ralph or whoever can come see us whenever you want."

"That's right," Bill agreed from beside his friend, nodding until his blonde hair waved over his forehead.

And then, the boys were gently pushing past Clare, muttering flustered flurries of goodbyes from behind their shoulders. Clare stood in the sand quivering, consumed with guilt and hate and confusion all at once. Desertion. It hurt worse than the fire that licked at the wind with its putrid veil of smoke. Bill and Maurice disappeared into the forest, someone unwilling to believe of the true demons that were hidden within its green depths. And with them, Clare traced her footsteps back to camp, counting each print that the waves hadn't yet washed away and erased.

She found the camp to barren of any activity, and Piggy wasn't in his usual spot beneath the great palm, so she wandered along the beach, examining the island's glory with speculative inquiry. Simon said that the beast dwelled inside of them, like some sort of inner monster clawing and snarling to be released.

Could it be the very same thing that Simon spoke of?

Was the beast a mere humane instinct, rogue with control and impulsive desire? Could it somberly lay hidden beneath the cleanly shaven morals of society, only to pulse with sudden sway when left to dawdle about? Was it fueled by sin or wrongdoing, as in the partaking of lust?

Clare shook her head.

Stupid thoughts. Her mother always had said that lust didn't count as a true sin anyway - it was only something to persuade young kids like themselves from making utterly stupid mistakes. But it seemed that despite all the church's hammering, Clare was drawn to the bittersweet offense nonetheless, partly because Jack made her feel it. What did it matter? He was long gone now, absorbed with the entrails of his new tribe. He didn't give a shit about her. But it could be worse.

She guessed the split wasn't too bad since there was no Roger. No Roger to watch her every step and motive around the clearing. This left room for good things, good things like Ralph and Piggy. Good things like Simon. Good things like fire.

Clare was suddenly filled to the brim with enamored strength. It was then that she noticed a faint sobbing from behind a throng of pale grey rocks. Frowning, the girl tentatively moved forward, unsure whether to dart away or progress towards the unnamed person. She foolishly assumed it to be a littlun crying over home once more, or perhaps one of the twins, but once she scaled across the great belly of the smooth, wet rock, she found it to be neither one.