A Prologue for "Lord of the Flies"

Ben rolled onto his side and glanced at the alarm clock, it’s obnoxious ring echoing in his brain. He hesitated a moment, his eyes adjusting to the dimness around him. Already seven o’ clock.

The blankets were warm, his bed comfy. He groaned as he sat up, shivering at the cold touch of air against his bare torso. Balling his hand into a fist, he slammed it down against the "off" button of his alarm and leaned back. Seven o’ clock. That meant ten minutes to shower, five to dress, fifteen to eat, and then of course the twenty minute ride to the academy. His stomach already churned with dread at the thought.

Ben sighed, and reluctantly swept the covers from his legs, swinging them over the side of the bed. He glanced at the bedside table, and plucked a pair of large, round spectacles from their place next to the lamp. He gently perched them on the tip of his nose, and pushed them up against his eyes. He blinked as the once blurred world around him cleared instantly.

Satisfied, Ben gathered up his towel and robe, and hurried to the shower.

***

Wasting no time, Ben emerged from the steamy washroom, madly drying his short hair with the towel. He glanced at the alarm clock again. Seven o’ nine. That was one extra minute for breakfast and conversation with Aunt Lou if he kept up the pace.

He tossed his robe on the bed and quickly began sifting through his closet for his school uniform. The deep blue jacket and matching tie finally revealed themselves. Ben carefully took them off their hanger and laid them out on the dresser next to a pair of freshly ironed qakis Aunt Lou had left for him. Shaking his head grimly, he turned away from the cruel garments and went off to find his shoes, seizing his inhaler as he went.

Aunt Lou was waiting for him downstairs, seated across the kitchen table reading her book. Ben scurried to his seat and eyed his plate. Aunt Lou glanced up from her reading for a moment, smiling at Ben as he began to devour the eggs she’d prepared for him. Chuckling to herself, she turned back to her book.

After a few mouthfuls, Ben began to slow down, taking smaller forkfuls. He was ahead of schedule, no need to rush. He glanced expectantly at Aunt Lou, who only continued reading silently. She always began the conversation on the first day back. But she wouldn't look up from her book.

As if she sensed his dismay, she finally glanced up from her book a second time, eyeing her nephew skeptically. He looked tired and worried, and that worried her. But as she took in his face—his chubby cheeks, his innocent smile—her eyes softened.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night. I thought I told you no comics past eight? Goodness, you’re gone for nearly a month visiting your grandparents and already you’ve forgotten our little start-of-semester routine here. Today is very important, the first day is always important. You know that.”

Ben shrugged, and looked down at his half-eaten plate. He couldn’t believe the summer was over. Only twenty four minutes from now, he’d be back behind those insufferable walls again, lined up for morning roll call and pledge. He’d be back in his dorm, his feeble bunk shoved in one corner, and his limited belongings shoved away in another. He’d be back with all of those wild, senseless boys who delighted in beating on him. They beat him for his asthma, they beat him for his size, they beat him for his specks. There was no avoiding their cruelty nor the cruel nickname they had given him the first time they encountered him. A name that constantly haunted Ben’s plump figure—Piggy.

Aunt Lou sensed Ben’s troubled thoughts and perked up.

“Now you listen to me, Benjamin, don’t let those boys pick on you anymore. You have to learn to stand up for yourself.”

Ben cringed at his Aunt calling him "Benjamin." That was a name reserved for times he was in trouble. No one else he knew ever called him by his full name, and Aunt Lou certainly knew how to get his attention with it.

Aunt Lou clicked her tongue and settled back in her chair. Her voice was gentle, but firm.

“We aren’t going to see each other for a while. Now you have to promise me you’ll learn to defend yourself, Ben. You can’t let those boys walk all over you.”

“It’s only until spring, Aunty,” Ben answered quietly. “I’ll survive.”

Aunt Lou closed her book with a thud, and got up from her chair. She frowned at Ben, her eyes heavy with what he thought was disappointment. She then turned towards the sink and began washing her empty plate without another word.

Ben set down his fork carefully as he studied his Aunt’s strange behavior. It wasn’t like her to simply get up silently from the table. Besides, it was always Ben who was first to leave the table on these kinds of mornings—he needed the extra time to get a head start on tying his shoes.

“Aunty?” he asked cautiously.

Aunt Lou lifted her head slightly, but didn’t answer. Instead she turned off the running water, rinsing her soapy hands as she did so. She leaned against the sink, her empty plate clutched in one hand, a damp towel in the other. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, knowing her nephew was watching her every move. She was not disappointed in him. She could never be. The look she held in her eyes now, blurred by forming tears, was not even close to disappoint.

It was guilt.

Without warning, Aunt Lou screamed. She flung the plate across the room. Ben jumped, startled as he watched the dish shatter against the wall. The damp surface of the broken porcelain bled onto the walls, causing Aunt Lou's ancient sunflower-patterned wallpaper to start to peel.

Ben looked to Aunt Lou in alarm. Hot tears now streamed down her face, her cheeks red and puffy with heartbreak. Her knees buckled and she crumpled to the floor below the countertop, sobbing. Ben tripped, clumsily trying to free his legs from the beneath the table as he got up from his chair and made his way toward her.

“Lou!” He shrieked, shoving the table away from him. The smell of coffee filled the room as his jerky movements against the table cause Lou's fresh pot to spill over onto the tablecloth.

Aunt Lou only continued to sob, her hoarse cries ringing in Ben’s ears. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down beside her, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

“Ben,” she choked out in between sobs, “why would they do this? Take you away? I know it’s to protect you, but I can't do this.”

Her voice trailed off, as she wiped her cheeks with the dirty towel. Ben only held her tighter, shaking his head as she cried.

“Lou, no! No one’s taking me away," he cried, "I swear! I’m gonna go to school, and I’m gonna stand up for myself, just like you want! It’s only until spring, I’ll see you again before you know it!”

Aunt Lou’s sobs turned to painful moans that made Ben shudder. What was wrong with her? No one was taking him away. He was going back to school. Twenty two minutes from now, he’d be marching in perfect synchronization on the athletic field. He'd be eating gross cafeteria food, making his bed, starting his classes. More than anything, he’d be proving to those boys he was no push-over. He had made up his mind he would take a stand—just like his Aunt wanted.

Aunt Lou’s moaning began to cease, her cries becoming short, choked sniffles. Nearly pushed to tears himself, Ben refused to cry. He had never seen his Aunt like this, and the last thing he would do was make it worse by crying himself.

“Why would they do this?” Aunt Lou repeated softly. “Why my only nephew? There wasn't enough time, I can't let you do this alone.”

Ben couldn’t answer her—he had no answer for her. He hated the world for what it had done to his family. He hated how its brokenness had in turn left his home broken. He hated that time with his precious Aunt Lou was over. Now, his freedom was over till the end of the semester. It was only a temporary situation, yet the way Aunt Lou was acting bothered him tremendously. Would he ever have his freedom again?

***

The car ride was silent as his Aunt drove him to the academy. Ben watched the streets and buildings pass by in blurred images. The sidewalks were mostly bare, but there were still people out and about. An older man smoked a pipe as he flipped through this morning's newspaper on a bench, a young girl ran down the street with her pet dog, giggly as the mutt raced her. Ben watched and wondered away. Why were they out there, free to do whatever they pleased, when he was headed to the one place he'd pay good money to escape from?

Ben sighed with envy and looked away from the window, glancing at the review mirror. His Aunt made eye contact with him for just a second before her focus snapped back to the road. What was going through her mind? Would he ever see her again?

Ben flinched at these odd new thoughts that peppered his brain. Would he ever see her again? Such an awful thought stung, yet her words from breakfast distracted him. Would he really be taken away? And if so, where?

Aunt Lou caught his gaze in the mirror a second time, quickly glancing away again. Perhaps she feared she might relay an unspoken but terrifying message to her nephew if she held his gaze for too long. She wouldn’t let him worry. She wouldn’t let him worry about how bad things really were. The constant radio calls, the bombings in neighboring cities that had become impossible to ignore, the incessant threat of an attack on her own doorstep. Things were bad. Really bad. And despite her fear of the unknown, Aunt Lou knew this was the only way she could protect him—even if it meant never seeing him again.

A single tear rolled down Aunt Lou’s cheek, and a weak smile spread across her face. She was heartbroken, but finally at peace with the decision to let him go. She realized that what she was doing, albeit excruciatingly painful, was right.

She looked up again at the mirror, at her beloved nephew. There he sat, oblivious to her thoughts in the back seat. He’d be safe, and that’s all that mattered.

“I love you, Ben,” Aunt Lou stammered.

Ben stiffened at the weight of those words, but forced a smile.

“I love you too.”

***

The large gates to the academy opened menacingly. As their car pulled into the courtyard, the tires churning up small, insignificant little pebbles and gravel, Ben braced himself for the worst.

As he glanced out the window, he gasped.

Boys were lined up in their uniforms, standing shoulder to shoulder in perfect rows. They each carried one small bag with them. The boys he could see clearly looked anxious, and seemed to cling to their bags fiercely. Some were crying, others stood completely still and resolved. Behind the lines of students, there stood a frenzied mass of parents. Guards held them at bay as they looked on, waving and crying out to the boys from afar.

“Let me through,” cried one mother, “he forgot his bear! He can’t sleep without his bear, let me give him his bear!” The woman threw herself against the wall of guards between her and her son, but was pushed back time and time again.

Ben swallowed forcefully, suddenly feeling sick as he then noticed the giant machine that stood before the rows of boys.

The plane was grey, its metal surface slick. Ben finally realized what was happening. Its wings were massive, and seemed to stretch for miles—they were going far away. Its wide open door gaped at him like a hungry mouth—unwelcoming and savage, yet it beckoned him inside.

Ben felt his chest ache, his asthma beginning to act up as he watched his Aunt, his dear sweet Aunty Lou, step outside the car. She closed the door gently behind her, walked around to his side, and then opened his door as he took a puff from his inhaler.

Ben looked up at Aunt Lou, seeing the glimpses of pain, sadness, regret, and fear all pass through her beautiful face one after another in a matter of seconds. Aunt Lou looked away as Ben stepped out of the car, his legs wobbly and palms sweaty. He moved robotically, his mind cut off from all of his actions. He barely noticed when Aunt Lou stepped away for a minute, immediately returning to her place beside him holding a small bag. Was it for him?

Ben nodded to her, a motion that wasn’t even his own. He looked down at the bag, his mind barely comprehending its meaning. After handing the small duffel to him, Aunt Lou leaned down, looking at him directly for the first time since breakfast. Her eyes were glazed with tears, yet none fell.

“You are all grown up, Benjamin,” she said as gently as she could. “It’s amazing how fast you grew. I know you can do this. You're going to do this. Be strong.”

Aunt Lou smiled painfully, and then kissed him on the forehead.

“Go now, they’re waiting for you.”

Ben blinked at her in disbelief, but slowly nodded. He took a deep, strangled breath, and then began the agonizing walk to the rows of boys who stood before the giant plane.

***

As the door closed firmly behind him, Ben didn’t dare look back. He couldn’t. It would mean looking back at his life, his home, for the last time. It was too much.

Instead, as a steward took his bag, Ben sat down in his seat. The rest of the boys were already seated, some talked with one another, others stared at the floor.

Ben sighed, and dug his inhaler out of his pocket. After a few puffs, he finally settled back, finding some relief as he listened to plane turbines hum to life. The plane began to move, inching towards the runway. The chatter amongst the boys settled as the engines revved. The boys looked at one another, panic stricken, as the plane then lurched forward like a slingshot. Ben strained in his seat as several of the boys began to wail, some covering their ears as the massive hunk of metal finally managed to lift itself from the earth. They were flying.

Realizing the worst was over, the boys calmed down, an air of excitement even sinking in. Ben tried to ignore them, pitying the fact that the successful takeoff had made most of them forget the fact that they had all just left their families behind.

One voice rang out over the rest. Ben recognized it immediately—Jack Merridew. In response, Ben sunk lower in his seat, hoping to become invisible.

To his hard luck, he noticed a head poke up above the seats, looking around the cabin. Ben tried his best to make himself as tiny as possible. Perhaps Jack wouldn’t see him.

“Say, where’s that Pig kid?” Jack Merridew scoffed. "This is gonna be a long plane ride."

Ben took another puff from his inhaler, and crossed his arms against his chest in an effort to silence his breathing.

Jack glanced across the seats, and grinned once he finally spotted Ben.

“Hey Piggy! How’s it goin’?”

Snickers of suppressed laughter followed this one, simple question. Jack laughed, motivated by the enthusiastic response from his audience.

“Piggy! You’re lookin’ a little pale, didn’t you hear the news? The world’s ending!” He shrieked, the others cheering him on while a lump rose in Ben’s throat. How could Jack act like that? How could he pretend that he was absolutely fine with the way things were?

Ben snorted in disgust, and then quickly covered his mouth—he hadn’t meant to snort so loudly. But Jack had heard.

“What’d you say, Pig? Was that an ‘oink’?” Jack sneered.

Ben opened his mouth, about to say something back at him, but promptly decided against it. It wouldn't do any good to rile Jack Merridew. Instead of speaking, Ben lowered his head to stare at the floor, hoping this gesture of defeat would be enough for Jack to leave him be. It wasn't.

“Hey! Pig! I’m talkin’ to you!” Jack spat. “Are you gonna answer, or am I gonna have to make you answer?”

Ben continued to stare at the floor.

Jack grinned, balling one hand into a fist.

“Have it your way then,” he said, venomously.

With that, Jack leapt over the seat into the aisle, and began storming his way towards Ben. Expecting the worst, Ben squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting the first blow.

But before Jack could make it to Ben’s seat, the plane gave a sudden, powerful lurch. Ben watched in astonishment as Jack Merridew’s legs were swept out from under him, and he was sent careening down the aisle. The overhead storage bins burst open, luggage spilling out onto the heads of screaming young men now crying out for the families they'd left behind only an hour earlier.

Ben could feel his breathing growing strained, his panic fueling an asthma attack amidst the chaos. Jack shrieked as one of the other boys landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"What the hell," Jack hissed between gritted teeth. "What was that?"

Ben puffed his inhaler, gripping the seat in front of him to steady himself. He could feel the fabric beneath is hand rattling as if the entire metal body of the plain was shuddering.

“What’s happening?” Ben cried, peering out the window next to his seat. To his horror, smoke billowed out from one of the engines, and the ocean below was approaching way too fast.