by Chanda Hahn
“A phantom island. My island,” he said smugly.
Hook had heard of phantom islands, but he’d never seen one. They were islands of lore, and myths. Islands that had over the centuries, slowly sunk into the ocean, never to be seen or heard from again.
“I’ve been documenting these islands for years. My father’s research had pinpointed the most famous of these mythical sunken islands and it stood to reason that if they could disappear like magic, then one day they might just as easily reappear. And if an island were to reappear without the government having any record of it, then all the more reason to try and find it?”
Hook could understand now why the investor had chosen to do his search out here. They were nowhere near any shipping or plane routes. If something would appear and be undocumented, it would be here.
In a few minutes the rocky island came into view. The palm trees and vegetation were young but abundant, the beach almost nonexistent along the rocky shoreline. From their altitude, Hook could see the coral reefs that made it almost impossible for a ship to come near the shore, except for one small slip.
“Can you land?” the investor yelled.
“Are you kidding me?” Hook spoke into the com. “This bird will never land. The island is too rocky.”
“Twenty thousand!” he eagerly offered. “If you can get us down.”
Hook quickly scanned the island, then nodded his agreement. His eagle eye had spotted a cliff clear enough to land, but there was a chance the blades would skim the trees. He was going to try. Approaching at an impossible angle, he swung the chopper and landed with barely a foot to spare. He powered down the engine, and his investor was out of the chopper like a hound after a jackrabbit. Hook stepped out and the investor whooped and laughed.
“Never land?” he scoffed. “You said it couldn’t be done. It’s because you’re small-minded; you have no vision. But me, I have a vision. That’s it.” He waved his hand in an arc. “You, Hook—you refuse to live on the edge, so you can’t see what’s possible.”
The whole time he was spouting off at Hook, he was dancing on the edge of the cliff. Oblivious to the bluff.
“Not until you were properly motivated did you even attempt the impossi—whoa!” The man lost his footing on the edge and slid down the side of the cliff.
Hook rushed to the side and kneeled down, looking down as the investor was clinging to the edge. “Help me!” he cried out.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Hook replied. “For you see, I’m not properly motivated to help. It must be because of my small mind, you see.” Hook tapped the side of his skull.
“Fifty thousand!” the investor screamed.
Hook leaned forward. “Come on, live on the edge. Take a chance.”
“What do you want?” he whimpered.
“I want in on your vision.” Hook grinned, then glanced toward the back seat of the chopper, ignoring the man hanging over the cliff.
“Okay!” the dangling man screamed.
Hook reached down to pull the investor up by the jacket. Just as he lifted the man’s body over the edge and his foot found purchase, Polo swung wildly with a pocketknife, slicing just under Hook’s chin.
“I will never work with scum like you,” Polo bellowed.
Warm blood spilled down his neck, but Hook didn’t have time for petty grievances. With a quick twist of his wrist, he trapped the man’s arm in a wristlock, disarmed him, tossed the knife down the cliff, and with another crack, broke his neck. He took the man’s cell phone and wallet out of his pockets and dumped his body over the cliff.
He turned back to the second passenger, the silent investor who was sitting in the helicopter, ankle crossed over his knee, watching him with interest.
“I’ll give you the same offer, and I want it in writing,” Hook demanded. “Or I’ll leave your corpse to rot next to his. Because only two of us know where the island is, and only one knows how to fly a helicopter.”
The man with silver-touched hair nodded slowly. “How did you know?”
“That you’re the one calling the shots? Nobody talks this freely about a top-secret project. He was a loose end. You were going to cut him loose anyway as soon as you had what you wanted. The island. Am I correct? What are you planning on hiding here?”
The second investor’s eyes narrowed. “You are very perceptive. I could use someone like you in my company.”
“How deep are your pockets?” Hook asked.
“Very.” The man pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and began to write out a contract. Hook’s eyes gleamed with greed.
“I’m yours,” Hook answered truthfully and eyed the man’s name, Thomas Helix. “So what is your company exactly?”
President Helix’s eyes glinted mischievously. “I've got my fingers in many ventures. Heard of Wonderland games? No? We haven’t quite decided on a name for our new venture to be built here, on this island. But I have one now, based on your conversation actually.”
“All right” Hook nodded, distracted, focusing on stopping the bleeding on his face with a handkerchief.
President Helix looked out along the rocky coastline. “Neverland.”
Hook fingered the years’ old hidden scar under his chin that had developed from that fateful incident. Helix had given him his own Red Skull army, made him a rich man in his own right, but there was something missing. He still wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more power. And he knew just what he needed to do to get it.
Chapter 12
Wendy listened to the rushing of the waterfall, lost in her thoughts. She wandered the halls, staring into each room, searching for Peter even though she knew he wouldn’t be there. She was becoming restless from waiting. She’d thought that once they made it to the new hideout, they would immediately head out and go after the boys that were taken. Instead, they were licking their wounds. Well, not literally, but lying low while Ditto recuperated. To go after Hook, they would need every able body available.
John and Tink had become inseparable, brought together by the tragedies of the last few days. The normally abrasive girl had started to show her softer side to her brother, and John was smitten. Tink had set up her laptop on the kitchen table and, under the fluorescent light, was furiously working on something.
Wendy paused, curious and maybe a little leery, when she noticed John hunch over the table as well, pulling a lamp over so Tink could see better as she soldered wires together. He gave her a shove to move over. She shoved him playfully back, giggling. Tink’s censor box activated, its bells tinkling softly, drowning out her cuss. She must have called him a name, though it was obvious from the look on her face she was just teasing him.
A flash of anger hit Wendy in the stomach like a rock when she saw them flirting. There wasn’t time for games. They should be preparing to attack Neverland. She stormed over to the table and was about to snap at them, but as she neared them, a small spiral of smoke floated through the air and Tink leaned back on her stool. John handed her a towel, and she wiped the sweat off her brow.
“Do you think that did it?” he asked.
“Think?” Tink scoffed. “If Neverland can do it, I can too.”
“Do what?” Wendy asked, leaning over John’s shoulder to look at what lay upon the table. She was expecting weapons, a newfangled bracer. She frowned. It was just a pair of specs, the goggles they used to see the shadows. They were messing around.
John must have read the disappointment in her expression because he held them up. “They’re for Michael. Tink’s genius idea, actually.”
Tink blushed and tucked a strand of her white-blonde hair behind her ear. Normally her hair was pulled back in a messy bun or multiple braids in a stodgy no-nonsense style, but today she wore it down and it flowed over her shoulder like silk. She looked pretty and young. Wendy had forgotten how young she was, how young they all were.
“I don’t think it’s right to keep him imprisoned in the dark, so I came up with a plan. Er, uh—we came up
with a plan.” She smiled at John, who straightened his shoulders. “Neverland was using Michael as a Trojan horse to infect our systems and spy on us. I’ve altered a pair of specs that we used to see the shadows to work on a different signal. Michael can see with them, but when the specs detect any outside signal trying to access his brain, it will send a stronger signal, bypassing Michael’s, supplanting it to show an infinite loop of a Sesame Street episode.
“That was my idea,” John said.
“That is genius.” Wendy grinned, trying to show her excitement, but inwardly she was berating herself for having thought that they were wasting time, when they were using it to try to better the quality of life for her real brother. Her heart folded in on itself and tears began to gather at the corner of her eyes.
She was hurting, from burying the death of her adoptive parents and Fox, from hiding her misery at Peter’s disappearance, from knowing that she had seen an angel in the form of her real mother at the lake. She kept pushing it all down, but it was always there, waiting to bubble up and run out.
“Good job.” Wendy’s lips curled although the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “He’ll like it.”
She turned abruptly and headed out of the kitchen passing Jax in the hall. Then she made her way to the front door and out. Following the chain-link path, she exited from under the waterfall to the top of the cliff. Running farther into the woods, she stopped when she came to a clearing and collapsed to her knees.
She didn’t cry, just screamed in anger at herself, at the world. She could feel power building around her and the wind began to pick up. Shadows swirled around her fingers and she could feel them waiting for her to call them. She would go, without them. Use the shadows to pass through the realm where the monsters lived and find Neverland. Once there, she would . . . she would . . . save them.
“Don’t,” Jax’s voice came from behind.
Wendy spun in place, the smoky shadows dissipating into nothingness, her arms free from their murky bands. Jax stood by a tree farther up the path, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
“I know what you’re thinking. Hell, even I’m thinking it, but rushing headlong into the enemies’ camp without a plan is suicide.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Worked real well for Ditto.” His voice tapered off as he slowly made his way down the path to where she was. “Unless that’s your goal . . . suicide. That’d be a real shame then, because when Peter comes back, I’d have to explain to him how I let his girl run headlong into danger. But of course I couldn’t do that, so I’d have to go with you and then we’d both probably be dead, so there really wouldn’t be anyone to explain our stupidity to Peter. Except for Tink, and then she’d probably get the story all wrong, cause she hates me, and then we would live forever in utter infamy. And that’s not how I would want Tootles to remember me.”
“You sure know how to wreck a revenge plot.”
“I’ve spent years scheming my own. Trying to figure out how to get out of there with Alice.”
“Jax.” Wendy stood next to him, looking up into his face, and saw the worry in his gray eyes and the stubble across his face. “We’ll find a way to save her. We’ll save them all.”
His mouth moved, forming a small smile. “You’re unbelievable.”
She was taken aback. “What?”
“I don’t expect my own words to come back at me. It’s my job to reassure you, but here you are, being a good friend to me. We’re both messed up.”
“Pardon me?” She was becoming indignant.
“We’re both in love with someone else. And are obviously only enduring each day on the slim chance that we can find them again.” He turned and gave her a pat on the head. “Too bad we can’t learn to tolerate each other. We’d have a better chance of a happy ending that way.”
Wendy’s brows rose and she elbowed Jax in the stomach playfully.
“There you go!” he wheezed out, grabbing his gut. He stood to leave. “That’s the Wendy I know. But take some advice—your anger will work as armor for only so long. You’ll need to address the deeper issues before facing your enemy.” Jax’s voice grew distant as he stepped away. “Otherwise, your vulnerability will be our downfall.”
His boots crunched along the leaves as he left her staring into the woods alone. Her only solace came from the chattering of the birds, and cool breeze that soothed her.
She hated that he’d called her out. That he could see past her exterior to the struggles beneath. That even though she was putting on a brave front, she felt as brittle as a dry leaf. Ready to crumble at the slightest breeze of adversity.
“Oh, Peter,” Wendy whispered. “Come back to me. I need to know if you’re okay.”
Chapter 13
Peter was eating dinner with his bunkmates when he heard the two of them talking about sneaking into the freezer.
“Freezer?” Peter asked, pushing the food around on his plate. He didn’t have an appetite since he was too worried about trying to break out of the facility. Red Skulls heavily guarded most of the hallways he had been in, but maybe this freezer room had another exit.
Wu Zan’s legs were bouncing under the table with excitement. “Yeah, it’s where they brought in the others from the raid. They’re in containment pods down the restricted hall. We’re thinking about taking a look. You in?” He raised his eyebrow expectantly at Peter.
“Yeah, count me in,” he readily agreed, knowing he would have to check every crevice and cranny if he was going to help Brittney escape. Peter stood to clear his tray, but on his way to the trash bin, he could feel someone watching him. Keeping his focus on dumping his food, he looked out across the table and saw Brittney, her own food untouched, her face pale, body tense. Was she waiting for a signal? He slowly shook his head, and she picked up her fork, her face turning down in disappointment.
He exhaled in relief. She was very high-strung and he half expected her to run over to him.
Peter slapped the tray once in the bin and was laying it on a cart waiting to head back to the kitchen when he could feel a smack of resentment through the air, directed his way. He didn’t have to look to know that it came from the one named Jeremy. Having spotted him earlier, he’d made sure to sit with his back facing the unstable teen. No good would ever come from any encounter with him, he was sure of that.
Leroy and Wu Zan were huddled together as they whispered excitedly. Peter pulled his chair over and listened.
“We go at night, when the girl in the wheelchair—”
“Candace,” Peter interrupted, seeming pleased he knew her name and could contribute.
“Candace, right,” Wu Zan wasn’t fazed, “is not on duty. I haven’t seen her late at night when I’ve done my runs.” At Peter’s confused look, Wu Zan added, “I’ve been sneaking out and running around the facility. Relax, I’m so fast no one sees anything, unless they have reason to pause a security camera.”
Leroy pointed to Peter. “You’ll fly up and shift the cameras to the left. Not enough to alert the watchers.”
“Watchers?” Peter felt like a child needing to be retaught everything.
Wu Zan rolled his eyes. “You don’t expect them to give us full run of a facility. We’re walking weapons. They have people assigned to watch treatment facilities, including ours, to make sure we don’t escape. Why else do you think there are so many cameras?”
Peter didn’t answer but kept his composure chill. “What about the keypad?” he added.
“Got the password already. I timed a run just right and caught the last three digits.”
“You need four,” Leroy spoke softly.
“Yeah, but we will just have to guess. I mean, there’s only nine numbers.” Wu Zan didn’t seem worried.
“And how many incorrect code entries before we set off the alarm?” Leroy chuckled.
“Bah!” Wu Zan waved him off. “They won’t catch me. I’ll be nowhere near the lab when the guards come. Can’t help it if you are b
oth slow.”
With a plan in place, they headed to their mandatory class. Each day there was one class taught by a different Red Skull, on fighting techniques, weapons, and working as a team. Wu Zan, Leroy, and Peter took seats near the back so they could talk quietly and hash out the rest of their plans. It seemed that the boys had no other agenda than to just break in and look at the teens in the pods to ease their curiosity, because they knew that from them, their next set of gifts would originate, and that one day on the mat, they may very well meet them in combat.
An older instructor in a lab coat came in and told the room to hush. He flipped the lights off and turned on a projector, and the room full of teenagers chattered in excitement at a film lesson. Peter was only halfway paying attention when a scientist on screen began to drone on about different planes and what exists on the physical plane. His mind was tuning it out until he heard the scientist say one word that made every muscle in his body seize. Morphling.
Shadow monsters were controlled by Neverland and were used to hunt down those with the gene Neverland favored. Peter watched on the screen as the creature pulled its body out from a shadow of a tree and then launched itself at an unsuspecting jogger. The scream of terror from the jogger echoed in the room, and a few of the boys clapped and hollered at the attack, but not Peter or his roommates. Peter knew he had fought this beast before. His wrist flicked out, and he instinctively stood, knocking his chair over, readying to fight the monster.
Heads turned his way. Peter’s blood was pumping and his breathing was coming hard. He didn’t notice Leroy trying to help him until he physically pulled him back down into an empty seat.
Coming out of his fog, Peter realized that he had acted out of instinct, and that most of the recruits in the room hadn’t had an encounter with one before. It took a few more minutes before Peter and his roommates returned their focus to the projector and the scientist on the screen, describing the morphling’s deadly venom and that a scratch would give them horrible hallucinations; a deeper cut could kill them without the antidote that each of them will be carrying. He held up a gold vial and showed them how to load the injector gun.