Peter and the Secret of Rundoon

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  Two of the sailors grabbed Peter and hoisted him roughly onto their shoulders. The others herded James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted out the door. Carrying Peter and shoving the other boys along, the pirates, led by Hook, ran down the path to the beach, which was lined in both directions with war canoes pulled high up on the sand, out of the reach of the waves. Hook quickly selected one of the larger ones, noting with pleasure that it was well equipped for a long journey, with water gourds, fishing line, and even an auxiliary sail. He ordered the men to drag it down to the surf. He then directed the boys into the canoe; Peter was placed on the floor, near the bow. Hook then climbed in himself, taking a seat right next to Peter so he could make sure the boy made no attempt to flee. When Hook was comfortable, he shouted, “Shove off!”

  The men pushed the canoe into the surf and clambered aboard; the last to make it was Smee, who avoided being left behind thanks to a desperate heave of his round body.

  “Grab them paddles, men!” bellowed Hook, who did not grab one himself.

  The pirates, happy to get away from the island, responded eagerly, and the canoe shot briskly through the waves. Within minutes, they were in the open sea, Mollusk Island growing smaller behind them.

  Hook was nearly delirious with joy. His fondest hopes had been realized: he had gotten off the cursed island and he had the cursed boy! What’s more, the savages’ canoe was superbly crafted—fast and stable. It would take Hook to civilization, he was sure of that. The boys would not make it—certainly the flying boy would not—and some of the men might have to be sacrificed as well. But he, Captain Hook, would make it. Of that he was certain.

  Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted huddled glumly at the stern of the canoe. Peter lay on the floor near Hook’s black boots. James sat next to Peter, looking worriedly at his friend, who lay with his eyes closed, his face pale as paper.

  “Peter, are you all right?” James whispered.

  “Yes,” Peter mumbled, barely mustering the strength to speak. “I’m fine.”

  In fact, Peter was far from fine. His body still throbbed with pain from the Scorpion poison, and he was weak from hunger, having been able to swallow nothing other than the horrid Mollusk medicine. Almost worse than the physical pain was his feeling of helplessness. He, who had always looked after his mates, was now unable to lift a finger, let alone fly, as Hook carried them off to sea, to an unknown—and almost certainly unpleasant—fate. He had no idea where Tinker Bell was, and he knew that would worry her even more than it did him. And beneath all these woes and worries, Peter felt something else—a sense of dread, of something evil nearby, and getting nearer….

  “Cap’n!” shouted one of the men. “Something ahead!”

  “What? Where?” said Hook, scanning the horizon.

  “The water, Cap’n! Dead ahead!”

  Hook looked down at the waves and saw it: a strange patch of sea, boiling and roiling, with huge bubbles breaking the surface.

  “What is it, Cap’n?” said Smee, his voice trembling with a fear that all of the men felt.

  “It ain’t nothin’ but a little sea gas,” said Hook. “You idjits never heard of sea gas?” Hook himself had never heard of sea gas, but he didn’t mention this. “Steer clear,” he ordered the paddlers. “Leave it to starboard.”

  The men complied, turning the canoe to the left so the odd patch of sea would be off to the right side. But they turned too late. The patch moved toward them and grew in size, putting the canoe right in the middle of the turbulence, which was fast becoming more violent.

  “What’s happening?” screamed Prentiss. “Are we going to sink?”

  “Shut your hatch, boy, or I throw you over now!” bellowed Hook. “We ain’t sinking! This here is just a…”

  Hook never finished the sentence, as the canoe suddenly rose straight up, and then, as if grasped by some force from below, tilted sideways, sending men and boys flying into the boiling, roiling sea. They struggled, gasping, to the surface, flailing their arms, looking for something to hold on to.

  James, a decent swimmer, whipped his head desperately around, looking for the other boys, especially Peter, who was far too weak to swim. He saw Thomas, who began swimming toward James but then froze, his face twisted in terror.

  “My leg!” he screamed. “My…”

  Before he could say another word, he was gone, pulled straight down into the bubbling sea. James swam to the spot where Thomas had been and was about to dive when he felt something wrap around his right leg. He kicked at it with his left, but the grip tightened painfully. He reached down and felt something thick and slippery….

  And then he, too, was gone.

  For another minute, the sea continued to bubble and boil, as one by one, other desperate swimmers were suddenly sucked below. Then, at once, the sea quieted, becoming as flat as a country pond. The Scorpion canoe floated peacefully upside down. One by one, the survivors swam to it and clung, panting, to its sleek hull. There were seven of them: Smee and the six other men who’d been with Hook. But Hook himself was gone.

  And so were all of the boys.

  CHAPTER 18

  TINK’S SEARCH

  TINKER BELL SHOT ACROSS the surface of the sea, a streak of golden light, flying faster than any bird ever had.

  But not fast enough.

  She had kept her promise to Peter: she had observed the brutal, one-sided battle; she had watched as the Mollusks were driven back to their village and forced to surrender. Then she had flown back to the boys’ hut to discover—to her horror—that Peter and the other boys were gone.

  She flew up high, frantically searching for them, but the jungle canopy blocked her view. She then flew lower and darted from tree to tree, asking the birds and monkeys where the boys had gone. The birds, as usual, were useless—idiot birds!—but the monkeys told her that the pirates had come and taken the boys in the direction of the beach.

  Tink zoomed to the beach and saw a mark in the sand where one of the Scorpion war canoes had been dragged back into the water. Soaring high into the sky for a better view, she quickly spotted it: a dark shape on the blue water, already growing small in the distance. In an instant she was flying toward it, and in the next instant she saw that something was wrong. The canoe suddenly veered to the left, then rose straight into the air. Then, in a sickening moment, it turned sideways, spilling its occupants into the sea.

  Tink was almost there now, swooping low, skimming the water. Her heart leapt when she saw figures flailing in the water—Peter?—but then ached when, zipping from head to head, she saw that they were all pirates.

  Where was he?

  Tink zigzagged frantically above the overturned canoe and the pirates, searching for the familiar head of tousled red hair. Back and forth she shot, again and again and again, until finally, with an anguished burst of bells, she accepted the horrible truth.

  Peter was gone.

  CHAPTER 19

  HELPLESS

  FIGHTING PRAWN LAY FACE DOWN in the dirt, a Scorpion warrior standing over him, spear point just touching his hack. Around him, the rest of the Mollusk warriors were also lying on the ground, disarmed, powerless. They could do nothing but watch with growing rage and frustration as the Scorpions herded the tribe’s terrified women and children into the clearing in front of the compound.

  The fright turned to horror when, one by one, the Scorpions began separating the mothers from their children, the mothers wailing as scowling, red-painted men yanked their screaming children from their arms.

  Fighting Prawn looked up in fury at the chief of the Scorpions, who was standing a few feet away, supervising. He was a man of about Fighting Prawn’s age, with graying hair and a necklace of shark’s teeth.

  “What kind of warriors are you who take children?” Fighting Prawn shouted.

  The Scorpion chief did not understand the Mollusk language, but he understood Fighting Prawn’s tone. He grunted and spat a gob of saliva that landed on Fighting Prawn’s bare back. Fighting Prawn
, enraged, started to rise, but stopped when he felt the spear tip cut into his flesh. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the warrior standing over him would be more than happy to impale him. In despair, he sank back to the dirt.

  The Scorpions, having separated the children, were now tying them together at the waist by ropes made from vines, forming a long line. Fighting Prawn’s heart sank as he spotted his own daughters in the line.

  When the children were all tied, the Scorpions began shouting at them, in words they did not understand, to move. Some of the children tried to run to their mothers, only to be struck by the Scorpions and shoved roughly back into line. Prodded by their captors, the children began to move into the jungle.

  Fighting Prawn heard a shout behind him and twisted around to look. One of his warriors, unable to bear the sight of his children being led away, was getting to his feet. Two Scorpion guards were moving toward him, spears drawn, clearly intending to kill him.

  “Get down!” Fighting Prawn shouted at the warrior. “You must stay alive to fight for your children when the time comes!”

  Reluctantly, the warrior lay back down. But the look he gave Fighting Prawn made it clear that he doubted he would get a chance to fight.

  Is he right? Fighting Prawn wondered. Have I betrayed my people? His mind raced, searching for a plan, something that would give him hope. But there were so many Scorpions, and they were such skilled fighters….

  His mind swirled with horrible thoughts as he watched the last of the children disappear into the jungle. Helpless, and very nearly hopeless, he pressed his face into the dirt so his people would not see his tears.

  CHAPTER 20

  PETER’S PROMISE

  PETER,” SAID JAMES. “Wake up. Please, Peter. Please wake up.”

  Peter moaned. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. Above him hovered the anxious faces of James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted.

  “He’s alive!” said Prentiss.

  Peter shivered. He was lying on something hard that felt like metal. He was cold and soaking wet. The air was dank, smelling of the sea and human sweat. He heard water rushing nearby. He tried to sit up, but he was too weak.

  “Where are we?” he said.

  “It’s some kind of ship,” said James.

  Peter strained to lift his head. He was in a long, low-ceilinged room with curved walls; it was quite dim, illuminated by a lone lantern swaying in the distance. He saw a row of metal bars—he and his mates were in a cell at one end of the long room. Toward the center, beneath the lantern, he could make out the figures of men in red uniforms. He looked for portholes and saw none. He tapped the floor—it was metal. This was like no ship he’d ever been on.

  “But how…how did we get here?” he said.

  “There were these things,” said Thomas.

  “Like giant snakes,” said Prentiss, shuddering. “With suckers!”

  “When the boat went over, they grabbed us, pulled us down, and put us in here,” said James.

  “I thought I was going to drown,” said Thomas. “I was underwater and getting sucked deeper and deeper. Nothing but water and more water…”

  “Then a door shut,” said James, “and the water went away somehow, and those men put us in here.”

  “What about the pirates?” said Peter.

  “I don’t know what happened to them,” said James, “except for…” He nodded nervously to his right. Peter looked that way and saw that there was another cell next door. Sitting on the floor of that cell, glaring balefully back at him, not eight feet away, was Hook, although his name no longer fit him. Someone had taken the bent sword off his left arm, leaving an empty sleeve tied in a knot at the end.

  The two locked eyes for a moment, then Peter turned back to James. Lowering his voice, he said, “Has he said anything?”

  “No,” whispered James, glancing at Hook. “He just sits there staring at you.”

  “And Tink?” said Peter, a trace of hope in his voice.

  “Haven’t seen her,” said James. “Sorry.”

  “What about them?” Peter whispered, nodding toward the men in the distance.

  “I tried to talk to them,” said James, “but they don’t answer.”

  “They’ve given us nothing to eat,” said Ted.

  “Help me up,” said Peter, struggling to rise.

  “Peter, no,” said James. “You shouldn’t…”

  “Help me up.”

  “All right,” said James, taking Peter’s arm and helping his friend to his feet. Peter clung to the bars of the cell door, fighting off a wave of dizziness. Then he called out to the men sitting under the lantern.

  “Hello!” he said. “Hello! May I speak with you, please?”

  The men looked over. One of them, thin, with a full beard and dark, piercing eyes, stood and took a few steps toward the cell, squinting and frowning into the gloom. When he realized that it was Peter calling, his eyes widened and he shouted something in a strange language. One of the other men stood and walked to a metal door at the far end of the room. He rapped twice, then walked hastily back to the group under the lantern, clearly eager to get away from the door. The door swung open. The men turned away and looked down. A dark shape oozed into the room.

  Peter gasped. Impossible! He felt the other boys moving close to him.

  “What’s that?” whispered Prentiss.

  Peter felt his skin crawl, understanding now what had caused the dread he’d experienced in the canoe.

  “It’s all right,” he said quietly.

  “But what is it?” said James.

  Peter had no quick answer for that, so he remained silent, feeling his mates crowd even closer to him as Ombra glided toward the cell. The dark shape passed the uniformed men, paused, and with a voice that Peter had hoped he’d never hear again—a voice like a dying moan from a deep well—said something in a language Peter did not understand.

  One of the men, shoved forward by the others, unhooked the lantern with a trembling hand and reluctantly followed the dark shape. Ombra stopped at the boys’ cell, directly in front of Peter, who took an involuntary step back, the other boys crowding behind him. Ombra stood still, presumably looking at Peter, though there was no face visible in the capelike form, just the two dimly glowing red orbs. Then he spoke, in a hideous groan that made Peter flinch despite himself.

  “You hoped you were rid of me.”

  Peter said nothing.

  “You were never rid of me, Peter.” Ombra turned to the man with the lantern. “Bring it closer,” he ordered.

  The man brought the lantern forward. Flickering yellow light spread through the cell. Ombra—half-turned away from the light—glided toward the cell’s bars. Peter stepped back and opened his arms to push the boys away from Ombra.

  “Don’t let him touch your shadow!” he said.

  Too late. Swiftly, like ink flowing, Ombra oozed through a gap in the bars and into the cell. Peter stumbled backward with Prentiss clinging to him; Thomas and Tubby Ted ran to the far corners of the cell, cowering, their backs to the bars.

  James did not move. Peter looked down and saw that his friend’s shadow was gone. He had been Ombra’s prey.

  James stood alongside the dark shape, his expression vacant. He turned to look at Peter with lifeless eyes. Then he spoke, not in his own voice, but in Ombra’s wheezing groan.

  “Your friend is very loyal to you,” said Ombra/James.

  “Let him go,” said Peter. “He’s done nothing to you.”

  “He has not,” said Ombra/James. “But you have. So this is a warning to you, Peter. If you disobey me on this voyage, if you make trouble, if you seek to escape, your friends will suffer. You know I can make them suffer.”

  As he spoke, Ombra/James raised his right hand, dug his fingernails viciously into his own cheek, and raked his face. Parallel trails of blood began to ooze from the wounds.

  “Stop!” shouted Peter, grabbing at James’s arm. “Please, stop!”

  Ombra/
James put his bloody hand down and regarded Peter impassively.

  “So there will be no trouble?” he groaned.

  “No,” said Peter.

  There was a flicker of movement on the floor; Peter looked down and saw the dark shape of a shifting shadow slither the two feet from the base of Ombra’s capelike form to James’s feet. James groaned and collapsed to the floor, where he slapped his hand to his wounded cheek and cried out in pain. Ombra’s voice groaned again, this time coming from the cape.

  “We have an understanding,” he said. He turned and seeped back through the bars. Peter approached James, but as he did, he felt an odd tugging sensation at his feet. He looked down to see his own shadow, which should have been slanting away from the light of the lantern, bending and curving, as if trying to reach toward it—or, Peter realized, toward Ombra. A moment later, the dark thing was gone, gliding back to the far end of the vessel. As the man with the lantern turned to follow him, Peter’s shadow returned to normal.

  Peter dropped to his knees next to James, who was covering his bleeding face with his hand. James looked at Peter, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

  “What happened?” he said.

  “It’s all right,” said Peter. “You’re all right now.” He glanced over his shoulder at Hook’s cell. The pirate was standing against the far wall, his eyes following the dark form of Ombra as it disappeared into the distant gloom. Hook’s eyes flickered to Peter, and in the instant before he looked away again, Peter saw that the once-fearsome pirate was quite terrified.

  Kneeling over James, Peter struggled to sort out the troubling questions swarming through his mind. How could Ombra still exist when he had been shattered into a thousand pieces of shadow? Why had that not killed him? Where was Ombra taking him and his mates? What would happen to them? And—most puzzling of all—why had Ombra used James to threaten him? Why had he not simply taken his shadow, as he easily could have? Peter recalled his struggle with Ombra at Stonehenge and wondered—was it possible that Ombra was afraid of him? And what had caused the odd behavior of his own shadow?