Blog 3-Of Huts and Pigs-Jack's Journal

I crouch. Motionless, I wait. The forest is still, very still. Silence is all around me. A tendril of vine has crept down and brushes my back with little green fingers. I brush it aside and wait. The air is hot and humid. I breathe in slowly. Frustration clouds my vision. How can I hunt and kill when I am distracted by anger? Ralph and that ridiculous lieutenant of his, Piggy, stay back in the camp and play while I stalk my prey through the thick, lush forest. In the shadows I feel like I've been here forever, like I belong to the forest as much as my prey. The shadows around me encompass me and I feel as if I am melting into the island. I stealthily drop to hands and knees and sneak like a jaguar through the tropical jungle. The patches of light allow small bits of illumination on the forest floor. The world seems to be holding it's breath while I put being human on hold for a moment. The stick I hold trails behind me and leaves a trail in the dirt like a snake. I glance down at my spear. A disappointment. Even though it is five feet long without a barb it is useless. If only I had one. Then I would be able to be successful. We wounded a pig earlier but it fell out and we lost our prey, couldn't make a kill. The site of that blood was a stimulus. It kept me interested in the chase. To spill more blood, to see the pig fall dead. To revert to savagery and take it's life. The heat is oppressive and forces my mind back to the lagoon. Calm, cool water.
Furtively, I move and examine the traces. A sound catches my ear. Somewhere a pig moves on the track. I leap to my feet and spring into position. When it comes close enough I will spring and deliver the killing blow. As I wait I watch the glimmer of light that creeps through the trees to the forest floor. The vines festoon the trees. It's like the way my father, what did he look like, I can't even remember his face, decorated the tree at Christmas last year, or was it on Easter? Home in London, or was it in Cambridge, seems so far away. Unnecessary details like my old home, for the island is my home now, should be forgotten. Ralph's way of clinging to the hope of rescue bewilders me. His way of thinking is inscrutable to me. The sound of the pig gets louder. I put all thoughts of Ralph out of my head and lunge forward. The pig senses me and runs for cover. I throw my spear and miss. The pig's terrified footfalls die away in the once more quiet wood. I straighten up in disgust. My body is streaked with all the grime of a brutal day in the dirt, crawling and stalking. I must face Ralph eventually. It may as well be sooner rather than later. I will have to watch him flaunting his achievements. As I head for the camp I hear the sound of the little ones playing in the water. If I were leader they would be serving a purpose. They would have to work or else... I see Piggy sitting by them. The boy looks like the personification of stupid civilization. Or like a caricature of what would happen if you allowed your reflexes to dull. I hate the boy.
I walk into the camp to find Simon and Ralph working on a hut. Two shaky huts stand beside the one in progress, which looks like it is about to fall down. If I was in charge hut building would be mandatory for the little ones. Failure to do so would result in harsh punishment. Ralph looks absorbed in his task.
"Is there water anywhere?" I ask. He ignores me; whether from paying attention only to his job or from contempt I can't tell. "I say, is there any water? Hunting all day makes you thirsty." He turns at last.
"Coconuts under the tree. Should be some there." He remarks disinterestedly. I move to the tree and grab one. I drain it rapidly before moving back toward Simon and Ralph.
"Got a pig?" Ralph asks. Internally I scowl. He has to rub my nose in my sore spot.
"Not yet. But I will get one." I feel my blood boil at the exciting thought of making a kill at long last. He grunts and looks at my face. I try to calm down.
"I don't suppose that you feel like helping build huts." he paused. "Do you?" I shook my head. Since I've been hunting I feel like a creature of the woods, not a civilized person. The feeling of someone stalking me is frightening and almost exhilarating. To be tied down to building huts would be a torture.
"Hut building isn't my thing really." he shook his head.
"I didn't think so." I reflect on the best course of action. At this point, before I can show off a kill I cannot afford to alienate the leader. I must be diplomatic.
"Did the little ones help at all?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"At first. Then they wander off. It's only Simon and I left working. We've been working all day." I respond. He snaps back. In minutes we are fighting. Simon watches anxiously from inside the unfinished hut. All of the tensions between the free wild and stupid, caged "society" come to the front. Two leaders, on opposite sides. We calm down after a little while. We walk down along the shore of the lagoon. Although on the outside I am calm and collected on the inside I am thinking of what I would do to him if I were the leader. Visions of leadership fill my head. Punishing that fool Piggy for his officious advice, punishing any hunter who fails to assist in the killing, forcing the little ones to work. Ralph interrupts these pleasant musings with a remark about the fire.
"It's not high enough." I snarl slightly.
"What are you implying? It's my hunters who are keeping it going." He nods.
"How far away could you see it from?" He asks musingly. I look out over the glimmering, shining, and everlasting sea and wonder why we care how far away we could see it from.
"Miles. Why do we care?" He looks at me as if I've gone mad.
"Rescue." He repeats the word slowly. "A ship needs a signal for it to come here." I shrug.
"If only I could catch one." I say softly. He pays no attention.
"Look, more smoke! They put on green branches. They must see a ship!" I nod but my mind is elsewhere. Instead of soaring across the seas like Ralph's mind mine is climbing the mountain looking for prey.
"That's it" He looks up. "The pigs must rest up in the shade of the mountain when it gets hot. Maybe I could take some of my hunters, paint our faces, and ambush them." His face is angry.
"I thought you were thinking of the ship." I respond snippily.
"We need meat."
"We need to be rescued."
"I need to catch a pig."
"You and pigs. That's all you think about."
"And you only think of the ships and the huts. Go back to building your huts on the beach."
"You think I like that?" Suddenly he is yelling. "You think I like working all day with only Simon for help?"
"I've been working too!" I yell back.
"But you like hunting. I don't like working on huts." We think for a moment. If only I could catch a pig then I wouldn't have to deal with Ralph. If only. Do those pigs know that they hold my fate in their pink feet? Is that why they flee? I cut short these musings. United for the moment in the attempt to cool down we wonder back toward the lagoon. As we prepare to dive in Ralph says something. I cock my head to listen.
"Jack, I'm sorry. People are never what they seem. I'm losing patience." I nod. The confirmation that something is wrong and that he has an exploitable weakness is better than his apology.
"It's alright." Now all I need is how to use this opening. And when I make a kill and have meat to give out I know just the way to do it...