Lost Shadow

by Chanda Hahn

  “You’re in for some competition then.” Wendy bit her bottom lip, trying to contain the smile that was building, relieved that what she read in his tone wasn’t anger but worry. “Because I am the queen of recklessness. I don’t save receipts. I frequently lose my car keys and my phone. Goodness knows where that is half the time.”

  Peter tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh, Wendy. I think I have you beat. I squeeze the toothpaste in the middle, and put the new roll of toilet paper on top of the old one instead of changing it.”

  “Oh, the horror!” Wendy mocked, putting her hand on her forehead.

  “And I tear the warning labels off of mattresses and pillows.” Peter’s grin was full-blown.

  “Okay, you rebel!” She leaned forward, and he met her with a sweet and gentle kiss. The pain from her chapped lips was minimal.

  He leaned back and frowned. “We need to take care of you.”

  Peter stood and offered her his hands, helping her up, but instead of letting her go, he pulled her into an embrace, resting his chin comfortably on the top of her head, and sighed. “You know, I could get used to this. Maybe we should build our home on an island like this and put the new Neverwood school on, say, a different island?”

  Wendy laughed. “Marooned with you? Sounds good.”

  He gave her a long, heated look and Wendy’s cheeks burned in response. He kissed each of her blushing cheeks, and she knew he must feel the heat radiating off of them from embarrassment. But then he pressed his cheek to her forehead and his brows furrowed. “Wendy, I think you have a fever.”

  “Oh?” She pressed her own palms to her cheeks and felt the same heat. Maybe she wasn’t feeling as great as she’d thought.

  He turned, holding her hand, and began to walk along the small sandy beach. When they’d first landed on the island, high tide had brought the water up to within a few feet of where they had sought shelter by the fallen palm. But when they woke the water had receded, revealing a wider length of beach. They decided to explore, with the hope of finding something to eat, but the tide began to come in, more swiftly than seemed possible, quickly narrowing the beach so that they found themselves clambering over the rocks and boulders to stay dry. When they turned back to face the sea, the beach was gone and only water remained.

  “Peter, this place gives me the creeps.” There didn’t seem to be anything alive on the island, except for the few birds and trees.

  “It’s just an island, Wendy.” He kept pacing, looking back up at the cliff and then back out at sea. He motioned for her to come to him.

  Wendy came. His arms wrapped around her waist and he whispered, “Ready?”

  “For what?”

  “We need to know where we are.” He took off into the air.

  “It’s an island,” Wendy answered. “A deserted one.”

  It couldn’t be the same island, could it? Wendy scanned the island looking for some sort of clues, but how do you tell islands apart?

  Peter’s face turned to stone, unreadable and pale. He gradually flew them upward, staying close to the cliff’s edge, slowly building her apprehension.

  His grip tightened around her waist, and Wendy’s stomach dropped the higher they flew until gradually they crested the top of the cliff and she let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing there, just trees and shrubs. No visible structures were present, so it couldn’t have been the same island where they had been held captive. This wasn’t the same cliff that he had jumped off of years ago and flown for the first time.

  Her sigh of relief must have eased Peter’s tension because his grip lessened.

  “It’s just an island,” Wendy reiterated. “It doesn’t mean it’s the same island.”

  Peter continued their ascent beyond the top of the cliff. He wanted to see more of the island, get a scope of the land.

  “Just an island,” he repeated with a sigh.

  They abruptly stopped midflight, and Wendy squeaked in surprise. They held absolutely still as movement rustled in the bushes below them.

  Hugging Peter tightly to her, all her muscles clenched with foreboding, Wendy peered down to the cliff’s edge, nearly twenty feet, and inhaled a sharp breath at the sight. A Red Skull now stood looking over the edge of the cliff, his AK-47 strapped to his back. He walked directly below them as he scanned the cliff’s edge, looking over to where they were only minutes ago. What if he had seen them? He would have shot them out of the sky, like clay targets.

  Flying slowly, Peter backed them away and out of sight until they were well hidden behind the palm branches.

  “Red Skulls,” Wendy whispered. “Why are they here?”

  “I don’t think this is just an island, Wendy.”

  “What?” she whispered, terror rushing through her body as horrible memories of her childhood came flooding back to her. The locked rooms, the experiments, the Red Skulls taking kids away only to never return.

  “We’re back.”

  “No, no, no, no, no!” she chanted over and over, her voice rising in uncontrolled panic, followed by a relentless trembling. She could feel her body break out in sweat, and she began to flail, alerting the Red Skull to their presence.

  “Shh, Wendy,” Peter warned gently, trying to keep her still and quiet.

  But quiet was the last thing her brain wanted. She had stayed silent for so long, hiding the deep, dark secrets and repressing the feelings, and now she was face-to-face with their abuser. The island that started it all. Her frantic cries became louder and the Red Skull began to rush toward them.

  He burst through the underbrush, a look of surprise on his face, then aimed the gun on them.

  A grim look covered Peter’s face, he set Wendy down on the ground, turned and flew straight at the Red Skull, knocking him in the chest. Swinging the strap around to his back so that he couldn’t immediately reach the rifle. Peter grabbed his uniform and flew right to the cliff’s edge and out of view.

  A series of gunshots echoed over the edge of the cliff. Birds scattered into the air, their black bodies looking like pepper sprayed across the table. They cawed and twittered in warning, but Wendy didn’t hear anything. As soon as the shots went off, her world went silent. Her mouth opened in a scream of terror, but no sound came forth. She rushed through the brush, tripping over vines and sliding on rocks as she dropped to her knees at the edge and looked over, expecting to see two bodies splayed across the rocks below. One form clad in black was bent at an odd angle, unmoving.

  Her breathing was ragged, and she worked to control the panic. One. There’s only one body. Not two. One. And it was too big to be Peter. Sound returned in a flash, overwhelming her—the noise of the water crashing against the rocks, the wind in the trees, the birds and the ocean—it was all too loud. The birds and the ocean became too loud. Her own frantic breathing drowned her senses.

  “Wendy,” said a voice from behind her, and she spun around on her knees, the rocks scratching through her jeans. He alit right behind her, his feet touching down, his eyes not meeting hers. He wasn’t going anywhere near the cliff. He didn’t want to see what he’d had to do.

  Her face scrunched up with emotion, and he held out his arms. Wendy stood up, and with three long purposeful steps, she threw herself into his embrace and let the fear out.

  “I know,” he soothed. “I never expected this. Never thought we would ever set foot here again. It’s changed so much, I barely recognized it.”

  “I don’t want to be here, Peter. We need to go,” she begged.

  “We can’t go, Wendy,” he explained. “I saw them. Hook is here. The boys are here.”

  “Oh, Peter,” she hiccupped, and tried to swallow her fear. She knew she would have to face Hook again, wanted to get the boys back, but she never expected in a million years to walk back onto the set of her childhood nightmare. The final battle would take place where her trauma began.

  “Well, we’re here. Let’s go ring the doorbell,” Peter said with a grin.

  Chapter 27
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  The waves were choppy, but the motor yacht cut through the surf with ease as they followed the river out to the ocean. John seemed thrilled to be at the helm next to Dr. Barrie, who was steering. His look of contentment and joy mirrored that of a dog with his head out the window.

  Tootles and Michael were sitting next to Tink, who kept checking to see that neither boy loosened nor removed their life jackets. Every time she would turn her head, she would catch one of the boys taking a turn pretending to undo a strap or loosening it. She would whip her head around so fast, and the impish boys would turn into angels, their halos glowing so bright that one would need glasses. Tink continued the game to keep them occupied and to distract them from the fact they were chasing down an army of Red Skulls, powerful Dusters, and their lost boys. The odds weren’t in their favor, and this after they had barely survived the attack on Neverwood on their own turf, with home field advantage. How would they survive on Neverland’s death trap?

  That’s what Jax referred to the island as—a death trap. John had hacked the website and found a backdoor to a second hidden website not accessible to the public. He traced that IP address and was able to get a location. Everyone had gathered around his computer at the house when he did a reverse trace. When the location was found. Jax looked up at Dr. Barrie, and shook his head in disbelief.

  The boys slowly turned to each other, understanding dawning on their surprised faces.

  “No way,” Ditto said.

  “Can’t be,” Slightly chewed on his thumb nervously.

  It happened to be the exact coordinates of Tink’s non-island.

  Dr. Barrie solemnly confirmed. “Looks like we’re going back, boys. Back to Neverland.”

  They had loaded the motor yacht and set off an hour later.

  Jax cursed and punched the bench seat before heading below deck to speak with Ditto and Slightly. Their somber faces mirrored his own. Nana was sprawled on the floor sleeping, oblivious to the world.

  “Are you sure it’s the same place?” Ditto asked nervously, his hand subconsciously going to his midsection, covering his wound. Whether from pain, or an intuitive motion to protect that, which is vulnerable, he didn’t know.

  “Positive,” Jax stated.

  “But didn’t you destroy it?” Ditto continued.

  “Fire doesn’t destroy stone, not unless it’s hot enough, and since we never went back, who knows what’s hiding there, or what they’ve built over the years.”

  Slightly had taken to chewing on the side of his thumb, something he only did when he was under severe stress. Jax knew this was definitely one of those times. Neverland was the epitome of all of their nightmares combined. He had a right to be stressed. They all were.

  “What do you think is there?” Slightly took his thumb out of his mouth to ask.

  “Monsters,” Jax answered. Ditto scoffed and Jax glared his way. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. What do you think they’ve been doing all of these years? Creating super soldiers and what else? Morphlings. Do you really think that after getting their hands on morphlings that they stopped and only focused on the D.U.S.T program? No, they continued their work, and I’m fearful of what else they’ve done. Look what they’ve done to us.” Jax flicked his hand and a ball of flame danced in his palm.

  “You know this for sure, Jax?” Ditto asked, crossing his arms to hide the slight tremor, but Jax saw it.

  “Not exactly. I’ve seen what they do, how they train their Dusters and how they treat the Primes, their strongest soldiers. They pit each of them against each other, not encouraging comradery, their futures hanging in the balance each day. I always thought we would end up sold as mercenaries. But now I’m not so sure.” He stood up and moved to look out the porthole, shoving his hands in his pants pockets.

  “There’s this girl,” Jax said.

  “Wooo,” Ditto singsonged. “Did you get her number—”

  Jax’s glare cut him off and he never finished his sentence. “I don’t know where she came from. Beautiful, angelic, but her mind is a broken and fragile thing.”

  “Isn’t that all girls?” Ditto started but cowered a second time at Jax’s threatening glare.

  “This is why you’ll forever be single, Ditto.” Jax said.

  “Okay, I get it.” Ditto waved his hands in defeat.

  “You know he only jokes when he’s nervous,” Slightly defended Ditto.

  “Hey, I don’t need you to explain,” Ditto added.

  “Stop!” Jax barked at both of them. Both boys calmed down and looked his way. “You don’t understand. This girl is special.”

  Ditto opened his mouth for another retort and Slightly’s hand promptly muffled it.

  “She is Neverland’s greatest weapon. She’s kept in a pod, though not a harvesting pod. Hers is constructed different. I . . . I believe that Alice creates the morphlings.”

  “Whoa!” Slightly said aloud.

  “Mmoh,” Ditto muttered through Slightly’s hand.

  “How is that possible?” Slightly’s scientific mind began to work, and he moved away from Ditto, releasing his mouth, and then Ditto stretched his jaw comically. Slightly opened a drawer, grabbed a pad and pencil, and began to write down calculations. “The morphlings are not from our world. I’ve been able to break down their genetic material, and it is unlike anything anywhere. How is she able to?”

  “I don’t think she is from our world either,” Jax muttered and immediately regretted it. He had been thinking it for months, but to finally voice his own thoughts aloud suddenly solidified them, cementing them into his mind.

  “Jax has the hots for E.T.,” Ditto snickered and immediately yelped as Jax launched himself across the table, knocking Ditto to the floor of the boat. Both boys began to spar mercilessly. Slightly, ignored the commotion as he began to scribble out formulas.

  “Uncle!” Ditto cried out, and Jax finally stood up, releasing him from the headlock.

  “Jax, you’ve described the harvesting pods to me before, and how they are used to extract our DNA to turn into a serum. Can you describe her pod to me? I think I’d like to try to figure out the mechanics of it.”

  Jax felt a surge of relief. If anyone could figure out how to get Alice out of the pod, it would be Slightly. Maybe Candace was wrong. Maybe there was a way for her to survive outside the machine. He diligently began to describe every inch of her containment unit. The size, switches, levers, even the static screens that showed images of her dreams. Slightly’s mouth would drop open in awe at the detail Jax was able to provide.

  “You’ve seen her a lot,” he said quietly so Ditto couldn’t overhear and chime in with another diatribe.

  “Almost every night. My friend Candace would let me in to see her, but only for a few moments.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want her to feel alone in a place like that. She needed a friend. Even one that isn’t a good friend is better than none.” Jax lowered his eyes.

  Slightly tapped his pencil against his lip and didn’t say anything else but continued to write. “We’re going to be traveling through the night. We’ll get there in the morning. Hopefully by then we will have a plan.”

  Jax was relieved that someone else was thinking of how to take down Neverland beside himself. He placed a lot of pressure on himself, now that Peter wasn’t here. He was worried the last few remaining lost boys wouldn’t follow him into battle after he betrayed them and worked for Neverland. They might never understand why he did it. Or maybe they would, if he would take the time to explain. He sighed, sat back on the bench in the galley, and leaned his head back against the wall.

  Rest sounded good. He didn’t know when he’d last had a peaceful night’s sleep. It might have been years ago. Jax left Slightly to his doodling and Ditto to his shenanigans as he spun a quarter on the table, and closed his eyes.

  Whhhrrrrrr . . . clatter.

  Whhhrrrr . . . clatter.

  Ditto picked up the quarter again and spun it. Ja
x followed the sound with his ears as the coin moved across the table.

  Whhrrrrrrr.

  His hand shot out and slapped the quarter flat on the table, never even opening his eyes. Jax picked up the quarter, the heat intensifying in his hands, until he felt the metal melt into a pool in his palm. He uncurled his pinky, then ring finger, letting the melted quarter drip onto the table.

  “Hey!” Ditto whined. “You smelted my quarter.” He snorted at his own pun.

  “Better than your brain,” he warned and tried to stifle the smile from his lips as he imagined Ditto’s discouraged face.

  Silence filled the cabin, and Jax breathed out in relief.

  Then he heard it again.

  Double whhhirrrrss.

  He opened one eye and saw Ditto had replicated into two, and now each one sat on either side of him, flipping and spinning the coins as loud as they could, their impish grins identical. Jax swore under his breath and reached for the coins, but both Dittos moved out of his reach. Seconds later, more coins began spinning on the table, and Jax opened his eyes to see that Slightly had joined in as well. Three coins were spinning, taunting and clattering to the table.

  Jax groaned and began to wish he had melted Ditto’s brain instead. But he was glad they were momentarily distracted from the fear of what’s to come when they reach the island.

  Chapter 28

  “This doesn’t look good,” Peter said. They had begun walking away from the cliff and discovered the ruins of the old Neverland facility. Wendy gazed upon the torn-down brick and half walls—all that remained of the building. They didn’t immediately recognize it, because the six-story building was now only one, the heat from the blaze made the brick walls cave in. The whole building had collapsed in on itself, and Wendy marveled at the damage done by a simple fire.

  “Dr. Barrie did this?” Wendy asked. “To destroy his work?”

  Peter shook his head and hopped over a wall, turning to help Wendy over. “No, this was done by someone else.”

  “Hook?” she asked.