Lost in the Never Woods

by Aiden Thomas

  Wendy threw herself forward and snatched at the retreating shadow. It was melting into a thick taffy. She plunged her fingers into the ooze as it tried to slip away. Wendy looped it around her hand, reeling it in as it let out another screech.

  Ashley yelped and all five of them sprang back, giving Wendy room.

  She wrestled the shadow to Peter’s side. Gradually, it was becoming weaker, fighting against Wendy less and less as it pooled at Peter’s feet.

  “Peter?” With one hand holding on to the shadow, Wendy dug her other hand into her pocket, pulling out the small sewing kit. “Peter, hold on— It’s okay, I’ve almost got it—” With trembling hands, she pulled out a needle already threaded with white floss.

  There wasn’t enough time to think, she just had to do it.

  Quickly, Wendy pierced the dirty sole of Peter’s foot with the needle before looping it through the slippery shadow. She worked as fast as she could, stitching the quickly fading shadow to one foot before starting on the other.

  This was going to work. It had to work.

  When Wendy bit off the end of the thread, Peter still remained motionless. Her own erratic heartbeat thudded in her ears as she waited, looking from Peter’s ghostly pale face to the quickly fading shadow.

  It continued to weaken, becoming less and less solid until it was truly just a shadow on the dirt.

  “Please, please, please—” Wendy begged.

  The shadow stirred and began to retreat under Peter. It disappeared, leaving nothing but the crooked stitches on the soles of his feet.

  “Peter?” She reached for his arm, but he didn’t move.

  Tears clung to Wendy’s lashes. “Peter—please,” she choked. He needed to make it through this night, too. Wendy needed him to. Not just for the sake of her brothers, trapped back in Neverland, but for her, too.

  Cupping his cheeks in her shaky hands, Wendy searched his face for any sign of life.

  Peter’s skin was so pale, his freckles nothing but specks of ash. His silvery hair framed his face in a cold glow.

  Wendy leaned over him. “Peter!” She’d held up her end of the deal. She gripped his shoulders and gave him a rough shake. “Peter Pan, you wake up, this instant!” She’d reattached his shadow, now he needed to—“WAKE UP!”

  Wendy felt it first: warmth slowly growing under her fingertips. She jolted upright, eyes frantic as she searched for more signs. Slowly, color started to return to Peter’s skin. It practically glowed, sun-kissed and radiant in the darkness of the woods. Pink bloomed in his cheeks. The cuts on his lips and the dark circles under his splayed lashes faded away. His hair darkened back to shades of red and brown.

  Peter gasped, sucking air back into his lungs. His eyes shot wide open, darting around the clearing before locking onto Wendy’s. They danced with their luster of starlike pinpricks in a sea of deep, dreamy blue. “Wendy?” he breathed, reaching a hand for her. “You…” He squinted as if trying to decide if she was a dream.

  Relief knocked the air out of her.

  Peter plucked a twig from her hair. “You look awful,” he told her, laughter already bubbling in his throat.

  Wendy shoved his face. “You—!”

  Peter caught her hand and stood up. He scooped her into his arms and spun her around in the air. Wendy gripped his shoulders, scared that she might fall, but then Peter was kissing her and all she could do was melt into it.

  Shaky laughs shook through her tears. She wrapped her arms around his neck, savoring the tightness of his arms around her waist, the warmth of his skin, and the softness of his lips.

  Peter leaned his forehead against hers. “Hey, no explosion this time,” he said quietly. His wide smile was unabashed and cut deep dimples into his cheeks.

  Wendy grinned. “So help me, Peter Pan,” she said, gently shaking her head, “if you start this whole thing all over again, I will kill you myself.”

  He laughed and it sounded like music. “Noted,” he said.

  They landed on solid ground. When Peter leaned back to look her in the face, it was hard not to chase after him, to burrow back into his warmth.

  “You did it!” Peter beamed.

  Wendy could only nod and laugh, rubbing her blurry eyes with the heel of her palm.

  Peter’s head tipped to the side. “But how?”

  Sniffling, her shoulders bunched up in a shrug. “It tried to take you—”

  “Wendy?” The quiet, trembling voice came from behind her.

  Alex stood there, knees wobbling under the hem of his hoodie. His fists, knotted into the long sleeves, covered his mouth as he stared up at Wendy with worried brown eyes. Behind him, Matthew and Joel still huddled close, their heads swiveling as they looked around the clearing. Ashley stood erect and tense, the muscles in her throat taut. Off to the side, Benjamin openly gaped at Peter.

  “It tried to take you,” Wendy repeated, “but we didn’t let it.”

  “Are you all right?” Matthew asked, worry pinching his expression.

  Wendy nodded, a relieved laugh escaping her.

  Peter stooped down in front of Alex. “Everything is all right!” he said cheerily, placing a hand on the boy’s small shoulder. “You were incredibly brave,” he said, beaming at each of them in turn. “That shadow didn’t stand a chance!”

  “Is it going to come back?” Ashley asked, her voice tight.

  Peter stood, his fists resting on his hips. Automatically, Wendy’s eyes went to the ground beneath Peter—but, of course, it was nighttime and they were standing in the middle of the woods. There wasn’t enough light to check for his shadow. Wendy’s stomach gave an uneasy twist, but Peter’s expression was confident.

  “After what you did to it?” He waved a hand dismissively. “That shadow is too cowardly to try messing with you again.”

  The air shifted, the tension easing with relieved sighs and slumping shoulders.

  Benjamin, however, still had the same bug-eyed look of astonishment on his face as he stared at Peter.

  “Ben—?”

  “Are you Peter Pan?” he blurted out.

  Wendy froze. She looked at Peter.

  “Who?” He glanced around, pointing a finger at himself. “Me?” His head tipped back and he let out a sharp laugh. “Of course not!” Slowly, he lifted off the ground, hovering in mid-air. Hands on his hips, head cocked, and eyebrows raised. “Everyone knows fairy tales aren’t real.”

  Benjamin stumbled back, eyes bulging.

  Sounds of shock and amazement went through the group. Their faces lit up with smiles.

  Peter threw Wendy a wink. A slow smile curved her lips.

  “Hello?” A distant voice rang out, causing everyone to jump. Alex was suddenly latched to Wendy’s leg.

  Far off, beams of light cut back and forth among the densely crowded trees. Voices bounced around the woods, accompanied by the soft thuds of footfalls and rustling underbrush.

  “Is anybody out there?” another voice echoed.

  “The search parties,” Wendy breathed with a sigh of relief.

  Peter landed soundlessly at her side. “I can’t let them see me,” he told her.

  “No—you need to go,” she told him, already pressing her hands to his chest.

  Peter hesitated, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face.

  Wendy felt it, too—the unwillingness to leave his side—but it was going to be a very long and complicated night, and Peter’s involvement would just make matters worse. Wendy gave him another gentle push. “Find me after,” Wendy told him firmly, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt.

  It took another moment, but Peter sucked his lips between his teeth and gave a curt nod. His T-shirt slipped between her fingers, and he flew off into trees.

  The flashlights got brighter, joined by more voices and footsteps.

  “We’re over here!” Wendy called, waving her arm and squinting into the lights.

  CHAPTER 22

  Found

  It seemed like only
minutes before the entire clearing was filled with people. Their vehicles couldn’t make it all the way in because of the dense trees, but they pulled up to the nearest logging road. Paramedics and cops swarmed Wendy and the children, asking questions and checking to be sure they were all right.

  Wendy was worried they’d say something about Peter. She kept getting distracted from what the medic was asking her, cutting glances over to the kids being questioned by the cops. But every snippet of conversation she caught was distinctly absent of Peter. They exchanged looks and caught glances from one another between the cops and paramedics. They were all nervous, maybe even a little scared, but under that Wendy could feel the pulse of excitement and triumph. She felt it in her own veins and caught a glimpse of it in the smiles that flickered over their faces.

  Even Alex was exceptionally brave, although he refused to let go of Wendy’s leg. He was just a tiny form practically swallowed up by a blanket, but Wendy could see the longing in his large eyes. The same look as when she’d seen him holding the origami shark at the hospital.

  One by one, their parents arrived, and they were loaded into cars to be taken to the hospital and further assessed.

  Matthew and Joel spoke urgently to their mom about monsters as they were loaded into a police car. Ashley put on a brave face, but she was nearly silent, her whole body trembling as she reunited with her parents. Benjamin had a grin plastered across his face, which did little to soothe his mom. She kept touching his face, convinced he had a fever and was delirious.

  Alex remained attached to Wendy until his father came trudging through the woods. Alex’s father was a giant. He scooped up his crying son in his large arms, gently rocking Alex back and forth. From sheer exhaustion, Alex fell asleep with his head against his father’s broad chest while Mr. Forestay spoke with an officer.

  Wendy heaved a large sigh. The children were safe, and that was the important part. Even if they did tell the police what really happened, she knew no one would believe their stories.

  The paramedics led Wendy away from the clearing and to one of the ambulances on the logging road.

  Detective James wasted little time jumping right into his questions. It grated on her already raw nerves.

  “So, you were taking out the trash,” Detective James repeated, reading over his scratchy notes on a bright yellow pad. He wore a sleek black windbreaker with the sheriff department’s seal on the back. Detective Rowan stood to the side in a matching jacket, speaking to one of the crime-scene investigators. “You saw someone in the woods behind your house, and just decided to follow him instead of calling the police?” He raised his scarred eyebrow critically.

  “Yes,” Wendy said curtly with a nod. “Ouch!” She jerked her elbow away from Dallas the Paramedic as he dabbed at a cut.

  “And then you heard the kids crying for help,” he went on.

  “Like I said, I lost track of the guy, but I just followed their voices,” Wendy explained. She sounded confident. At least, she thought she did. She was getting better at this lying thing.

  “And you didn’t think to call anyone for help?”

  “There’s no reception all the way out here,” Wendy told him, which was true.

  Detective James hummed, his eyes roving over his notes again. “And you just found them in the clearing?”

  “They were lost, obviously.”

  “And the kidnapper ran off?”

  Wendy shrugged. “It’s dark in the middle of the woods at night. I couldn’t keep track of him.” She’d heard Benjamin, Ashley, Joel, and Matthew give a similar story. Alex had only given nods and shakes of his head. They couldn’t see their kidnapper properly. Joel said they’d been forced to wear blindfolds, to which the others quickly agreed. It was a flawed explanation, but the Astoria police officers seemed too relieved that the children had all been found safe and sound to start poking holes in their stories yet.

  Except for Detective James.

  He clicked his pen. “How did you get so banged up?”

  “Running through the woods,” Wendy told him, wincing as Dallas moved to a cut on her temple. “I fell a few times. It was dark, and I was scared.”

  Detective James observed her. Wendy sat there, staring back, afraid to move or blink under his watchful gaze.

  “Wendy!” Her father’s voice boomed in the distance, echoing off the trees. She started so hard, she nearly fell off the back of the ambulance. “Where’s my daughter?”

  Wendy jumped down. “Dad?” she called, trying to look between the people standing around, squinting in the bright headlights of the cars.

  Mr. Darling came barreling into view, pushing people out of his way. “Wendy!” Mr. Darling took her by the shoulders, practically lifting her off the ground. Dallas quickly moved out of the way. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his wide eyes showing the whites as he looked her over. His hands clasped the sides of her head, her arms, her hands, taking inventory. “Are you hurt? What happened?” He stood over her protectively and everyone backed up to give them space.

  “Dad, it’s okay, I’m fine,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  In her father’s wake, Wendy saw Donald Davies jog up, looking pale and frazzled. His eyes darted around to all the cops and detectives.

  Instinctively, Wendy shrank closer to her father.

  Detective Rowan’s attention swept to Wendy. She looked at Wendy, then over to Mr. Davies before her gaze settled back on Wendy. Almost imperceptibly, Detective Rowan shifted closer. Her hand moved to rest casually on her duty belt.

  “Where’s Matthew and Joel?” Mr. Davies asked, sweat glistening on his forehead.

  “They’re with your wife en route to the hospital,” Detective James told him.

  “I came as soon as they called me,” Mr. Darling said. “We were on the other side of the woods, looking for the kids—but you found them?” His words spilled over one another. “I told you to stay inside when your mother and I weren’t home!” he barked angrily, but Wendy could feel the way his hands trembled.

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Wendy said.

  “Mr. Darling.” Detective James stepped forward. “We—”

  “I know where John and Michael are, Dad,” Wendy said quietly. All eyes swung to her.

  Her father froze, and she rushed on before he could get his hopes too high.

  “They’re buried under the big tree in the clearing,” Wendy told him. Maybe if she said it softly, it would hurt a little less.

  Mr. Darling’s hands dropped to his sides. He stumbled back a step as if she had slapped him. His breaths sawed in and out.

  She glanced at Detectives James. “I remembered,” she told him, “when I saw the tree.”

  Detective James cut a look at Detective Rowan. Immediately, she called over two CSI agents and murmured an order. They headed for the clearing, but Detective Rowan stayed where she was.

  Wendy’s words hung in the air for a moment. Everyone was quiet.

  Mr. Darling was rattled, but not surprised. Maybe he already knew and had just been waiting five years for someone to confirm it. He opened his eyes again.

  Mr. Darling turned to Detective James. His face tried to pinch into the angry expression Wendy had grown to know well, but his chin wobbled and his eyes glistened. “What happened to them? Who did it? Was it the man who took the other kids?” he demanded, his voice thick.

  “It was Mr. Davies.”

  All the eyes that had been glued to Wendy swung over to Mr. Davies.

  Wendy braced herself, expecting him to immediately deny it, to argue and push back. Maybe he would even start shouting about his innocence.

  Instead, Mr. Davies took on a sickly pallor. His eyes fell to the ground. He bent forward and buried his face in his hands.

  “What?” Wendy’s father was the first to break the silence, his attention bouncing between Wendy and his friend. His face scrunched up, sharp lines of confusion digging into his brow.

  “Are you sure?” Detective James aske
d carefully, stony and serious. Detective Rowan silently slipped behind Mr. Davies. Wendy nodded, her fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt. “How do you know that, Wendy?”

  Her hand found the acorn tied around her neck. “I remembered.” The gunshots echoing through the snowy woods. Her brothers crumpling to the ground. Splotches of red on white snow. The glint of the rifle. Mr. Davies’s signature red plaid. They were seared into her memory now, not soon to be forgotten. Probably never. A new set of nightmares to relive over and over.

  Wendy wished Peter were by her side.

  “She’s telling the truth,” Mr. Davies almost moaned, dropping his hands from his face. His eyebrows gathered in, his mouth twisted and miserable. “It was me.” His eyes darted nervously among Mr. Darling, Wendy, and Detective James.

  Wendy saw Detective James’s hand go to his waist. Her father didn’t move a muscle.

  Mr. Davies swallowed hard. “I did it—it-it was an accident,” he stammered. “I was hunting out of season—I had been drinking—I thought they were deer!” He spoke so fast Wendy could barely keep up. Mr. Davies buried his hands in his hair. “I panicked! I got a shovel from my truck and I—I—” He let out a groan like a wounded animal. “I wanted to confess,” he said pleadingly to Mr. Darling. Wendy’s father continued to stare. Deep red blotches bloomed on his cheeks. “But I had my two little boys at home, and my wife—”

  Wendy felt no sympathy for Mr. Davies. She wasn’t fooled by his words. He had thought only of himself. By not coming clean, he’d let her family suffer for years. Because he kept his secret to save his own skin, she and her parents had gone through years of mourning with no closure. He hadn’t just taken John and Michael, he’d tortured her family. He’d let it happen. He’d watched as they’d borne the weight of losing John and Michael, and fell apart under it.

  Saliva flooded Wendy’s mouth like she was about to vomit.

  Detective James stepped forward. “Did you kidnap Wendy and the rest of those kids?” he asked. His eyes were sharp, his expression severe.

  “No! No, that wasn’t me!” Mr. Davies said. Panic rose steadily in his voice. “I never laid a hand on Wendy or those kids! When she went missing, I didn’t know what to think! I started second guessing myself. I thought maybe I had killed her, too, but I hadn’t seen her body,” he tried to explain.