Red (short story)

Ralph was on high alert. He was sprinting through the jungle, the rest of the boys on his heels. The smell of smoke seeped into his nostrils. What could he do? Where could he go? He blundered deeper into the forest, trying to find a safe place to hide. He cocked his head to the side, listening quietly, holding his breath. He could hear the boys gaining on him. He could feel the smoke slowly rising around him. He needed a plan. He looked both directions but there was no way out but straight ahead. 

    Ralph inhaled sharply and sprinted straight ahead. 'It's a death sentence,' he thought. 'But still a better chance than being savagely attacked.' With his eyes locked straight ahead, he ran, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins.  He heard every twig snap, every bird whistle, every rage filled rush of the ocean.

    The fire was building. The red hue would engulf him soon, he knew it would. He stopped and looked around him, trying to catch his breath. Sweat poured down his forehead. His heart was beating in his chest faster than a horse's hooves at the Kentucky Derby. His hands, his arms, whole body was shaking. 

    He looked down at his feet. They had been carrying him through the jungle without his knowledge. It was nothing but pure instinct driving Ralph through the wild unknown. Suddenly, he fell to his knees. His eyes were watering, his lungs were slowly filling up with smoke. 

    "I don't want to die like this," he yelled up to the sky.

     His body quivered. His even breathing turned into quick gasps for air. His vision blurred and his throat felt tight. He was dying, and he knew it.

     He accepted his fate as his vision blackened. The smoke engulfed him, his head lulled to the side and his legs gave out beneath him. The last thing he heard as the flames surrounded him was the thunder of an oncoming storm.

     

As the rain poured down from the sky above, the rest of the boys made their way through the forest. Doing their best to stamp out any small flames the fire had left behind, they pushed through the forest to Ralph's final resting place.

 "Is he dead?" a voice asked from the group. 

     They all stared at him in disbelief; that quickly faded once they began rejoicing.  A spear flashed out and hit Ralph. His face remained expressionless, his body motionless.

      The boys were bombarded with hunger; they were ravenous.

     "There are no more pigs. All the fruit trees have burned and we have no water to drink. This may be our only meal for a long time."

      Ralph's body, already burned to a crisp and charred, was attacked by the hungry savages.

    

      The only one in the group that seemed at all disgusted by this whole ordeal was Jack. As the rest of the gang began to consume their mate , Jack slowly backed away from the group. He was close to the edge of the jungle when he collapsed. His hands dug into the earth beneath him. His shoulders began shaking, and his arms gave out. He was on the ground, in a fetal position. The only thing he could do now was weep. His tears led him to a restless slumber.

      

When Jack rose the next day, waking on the edge of the forest, he jumped to his feet. He looked up at the red morning sky; his eyes turned to the forest. His ears perked up for a sound, but all he heard was silence. Not a single bird cry, or crash of the ocean. For a moment, he felt completely and utterly alone.

    He began slowly making his way toward the forest. His foot crashed to the ground and landed on something hard. He picked his foot up and saw Piggy's glasses. He bent down to pick them up and continued his way toward the forest.

    Once he was several yards into the wild, he felt the air change. His heart felt heavy. He continued walking, and his eyes glanced to his left. Laying there, in the underbrush, covered in blood, staring wide eyed at the sky, was Samneric. Jack kept walking. He found the littluns, huddled in a pile, dead. A short distance away lay Roger, mauled the worst, lying in a huge pool of blood. The missing boys were probably also dead. The thought of the forest immediately made him think of Ralph: who had tried to keep them tied to civilization and their morals. Simon, the boy who basked in the beauty of nature , who only wished to be good, dead. Piggy, the rational, caring, boy also dead.

    Jack began to shake. He knew he had been the one to do this. He killed them, in a fit of blind rage. What had he become? He knew he was no longer the Jack he once was. Jack found wood from the forest and piled it on the beach. He lowered himself to the ground with Piggy's glasses and caught it on a ray of light. Immediately, the wood burst into flames. He knew what he had to do. With grief in his heart and no longer feeling a need to live, he stabbed himself with the spear. As he died, the fire spread from body to body like a chain reaction. Erasing man's mark on the once uninhabited island.