Lost Shadow

by Chanda Hahn

  “They call me Slip.” She grinned.

  “Because . . . ?”

  “I slip my skin so easily.”

  Hook made a notation on his clipboard and gestured for her to take the spot on the other side of the room with the Primes. “Welcome.”

  Slip took Amber’s vacated spot, and with it her title.

  The room hushed and Wu Zan was vibrating in place. It looked like Pilot was about to step forward onto the mat, but one of the new recruits on the other side of the gym pushed through the ranks and stepped up to the line.

  Hook motioned for Pilot to step back, then gave the eager recruit a rare smile. “So soon? You think you’re ready, Jeremy?”

  “Yes,” Jeremy answered, his fists clenched. “I need this.”

  Snapping his pocket open, Hook pulled out an injector. “You mean this, this drug?”

  “No, I need to prove myself to you, that I belong here.” Jeremy stared at Hook, and the captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the crowd before coming to rest on Peter.

  Peter’s mouth ran dry.

  “You.” Hook pointed right to him and beckoned.

  He didn’t move. Couldn’t.

  Hook’s lip curled in impatience, and he beckoned a second time.

  Leroy shoved him forward onto the mat. “Don’t blow it, man,” his bunkmate whispered.

  Peter stood facing the young recruit and was unsure what to do. The fights were supposed to be between a recruit and a Prime. Oh, wait. Candace had said he was one of the originals. Did that make him a Prime?

  The once sure and cocky recruit paled as Peter stepped forward. “No way.” Jeremy’s hands shook, and he took a step back. “No, you’re dead. I killed you myself.” Jeremy looked to Hook for confirmation, but the Captain only shrugged his shoulders. This momentarily deflated the teen, but he recovered, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenched. “Doesn’t matter. I will kill you now.”

  Jeremy didn’t wait, but rushed Peter, his fist aiming for his jaw— and stumbled when his fist went flying through dead air. Peter hadn’t waited for the man to punch him but rather floated out of the way.

  “Wha—?” He was surprised, but not for long. He aimed a roundhouse kick at Peter, but Peter caught his foot midair, and gripping it tightly, he lifted him into the air. The recruit was now being dangled upside down in midair as Peter flew him higher and higher to the ceiling of the warehouse thirty feet in the air.

  Peter grinned as the cocky recruit squirmed like a fish on a hook. He was about to bring him down to the mat again when he felt a sharp pain in his leg that made him cry out. He looked down at Jeremy’s evil grin, then at Jeremy’s hand wrapped around an empty injector; he had thrust a needle deep into his leg. Jeremy wrenched it out and stabbed him two more times. Instinctively, Peter let go to grab at the painful needle in his leg and inadvertently dropped the recruit, who fell to the mat thirty feet down and didn’t move.

  Peter grunted as he pulled the bloody needle and let it slip through his fingers. He slowly descended to the ground but couldn’t look at the mangled body on the mat. He didn’t wait for Hook to congratulate him or to pat him on the shoulder, just limped through the crowd and headed toward the exit.

  As he pushed the door open, he heard Hook announce behind him, “Now that, recruits, is a Prime example of a perfect kill.”

  Jeremy blinked, pain rushing through his body. His brain was on fire. Groaning, he stretched his leg, which was bent at a weird angle, and slowly pulled himself off the floor.

  Audible gasps came from around the room. Jeremy looked up into the shocked faces of the other recruits. He turned his head, his neck aching, and heard a snap as something popped back into place. A few recruits looked squeamish, and one ran for the garbage can. He didn’t care. He searched the gym ceiling for Peter, then scanned the room, but he didn’t see him anywhere. A low growl came from his throat and he stood up, ready to continue the fight. It wasn’t over. He wasn’t going to lose like that.

  “Whoa, there.” Hook grabbed his shoulder, and Jeremy spun around, ready throw a punch until he realized who stood before him. “Looks like you’ve acclimated to your treatments. Unbelievable you picked up his power, and so quick too.” Hook took Jeremy aside.

  “What power?” Jeremy said. He was angry and frustrated at losing in front of so many. “I couldn’t fly.”

  “No, you didn’t. You died.”

  “Died?” Jeremy scoffed.

  “Your PX injections came from Peter’s DNA strain. It seemed almost poetic in the way you obeyed my order to kill him when you were the first to receive the injections made from his DNA. Like a son killing his father. You can thank him later.”

  “Thank him, but why? I lost.”

  “Did you? Not the way I see it. You’re both still alive. Your recovery time was remarkable, and you don’t seem to have the same side effect as him either. You know who I am?”

  “Captain Hook, sir,” Jeremy answered.

  Hook’s grin widened, displaying his molars. “Excellent.” He waved away the recruits. “That will be all for today. No more matches until I have some time to talk with this young man.” Hook rested a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

  Grumbles filled the air.

  Pilot glared, his jaw clenching, as he watched Hook lead Jeremy into the hall.

  Brittney trembled near the back, holding onto a pillar for support, her eyes skirting the room and landing on the door that Peter had left through.

  Chapter 11

  “I killed him.” Peter gazed at his reflection, wishing his own image was familiar. Lifting his hands, he stared at his palms, imagining blood covering them. “I’m a murderer.”

  Is this who he was? Is this what his future entailed? He hadn’t meant to drop the recruit, but he was unprepared for the painful attack and he instinctively released his grip. The memory of him falling to his death would haunt him.

  He sighed, closed his locker, and moved over to his bunk. Leaning against the top, he pressed his forehead into his arm. “You are better than this,” he mumbled to himself. “Don’t become something you hate.”

  The door burst open and his roommates stormed in. Wu Zan kicked over a trash can before plopping down on the lower bunk, forcing Peter to step aside. Leroy closed the door and leaned against it.

  “You all right?” Leroy asked, nodding to Peter. “You cut out of there pretty fast.”

  Peter shook his head. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting to kill someone so soon.”

  “You didn’t,” Wu Zan mumbled from below, resentment filling his voice as he tossed a red ball against the underside of his bunk. “He’s like you. He’s got multiple lives.”

  “Really?” A rush of relief passed through Peter. He hadn’t killed anyone. At least not permanently.

  “Don’t be like that, Wu Zan,” Leroy soothed with a calm voice. “You’ll get your chance against Pilot soon. You can look at this as an opportunity—now you get more time to prepare.

  As Wu Zan’s anger rose, the ball bounced faster and faster against the bunk.

  “I have to stay here. There’s nothing for me out there.”

  “You will,” Leroy said.

  “Not if I can’t beat Pilot. You heard Hook. They only want the best, and you—” Wu Zan leaned up and his expression changed to one of shocked realization. “Hook paired you with a new recruit. Why would he do that, unless . . . ?”

  A streak like lighting shot from the bed, and then Wu Zan was pulling on Peter’s collar, looking at the mark, the small white brand with his subject number 1-00.

  “You’re a Prime? Man, why didn’t you tell us? Not only that. You’re the first.”

  Peter sighed. “I don’t know. I only just put it together myself. I don’t remember everything.”

  With a huff, Wu Zan let loose of Peter and backed away, looking sheepish.

  “Remember, every time I’m killed”—Peter gestured to his head—“I forget.”

 
; “That sucks,” Wu Zan admitted. “Maybe I don’t want to be like you.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it.” Peter chuckled.

  There was a soft knock at their door, and Peter answered it. A girl with long brown hair, eyes red from crying, stood before him, her hands clasped to her chest.

  “Peter?” she whispered. “You’re Peter, right?” She stepped into the room.

  Peter moved back. “Yeah?”

  “I’m Brittney. You came to my school. We met in the gym.” She pressed on with her interrogation, and Peter tripped over the overturned garbage can.

  “No, I didn’t. What school? Where?”

  His answer didn’t persuade her. “I saw you, and you weren’t alone—you had friends. You were looking for my best friend Wendy.”

  “Wendy?” An image of a smiling girl flittered across his mind and disappeared as fast as it came.

  Brittney’s hopeful face fell. “Please”—she grasped the front of his uniform—“You have to help me escape from here. You can fly. You can get me far away.”

  A quick intake of breath came from Leroy, and Peter glanced his way. Both Leroy and Wu Zan were shaking their heads, a subtle warning.

  His view of the program was drastically changing by the minute. He didn’t like having killed someone after being forced to fight. Then here was Brittney begging to escape, and he was now reconsidering what he had been told about Dr. Barrie and Wendy being killed by his enemies.

  He gently pried Brittney’s hands off, and was surprised by the feel of them. They seemed so slim, so fragile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you.” He pressed his hand into the small of her back and escorted her out the room, closing the door behind them.

  Her shoulders shook and small sobs escaped her lips.

  “Shh, just give me time and I’ll help you escape,” he whispered.

  Her teary eyes brightened and her lips trembled as a smile came to her face. “Oh, thank you, thank you.”

  “But don’t tell anyone and don’t approach me in public. I’ll find you when I have a plan. Do you understand?”

  Brittney nodded and scurried away, her footsteps a little lighter than before. Peter sighed and stepped back into his room.

  “Man, that girl is bad news,” Wu Zan said, deciding to weigh in.

  “What do you mean?” Peter asked.

  “She’s going to get you killed,” he finished. “If you try to escape, the Red Skulls shoot you on sight.”

  Peter wasn’t worried about dying. That seemed like a chance he was willing to take if he could help someone.

  “She’s a wild card. I can tell from the way she was shaking. She’s either going to adjust to the injections or she’ll burn out,” Wu Zan said.

  “Burn out?” Peter hadn’t been forced to take any injections yet.

  “Die,” Leroy said sadly. “It happens to some.”

  “How long does she have?” Peter asked worriedly.

  “With how bad she’s jonesing? Days at most,” Wu Zan answered.

  Peter’s lips pinched into a thin line, and he hid his balled fist in his pocket.

  He would only have days to find a way to escape the D.U.S.T program. But he would find a way.

  Hook sat behind his desk in his office, staring at his inbox. He frowned and scrolled down the messages, refusing to open most and sending them to his trash bin. They all said the same thing from Helix. Helix was the man behind the curtain, the one who had the most shares in the corporation, the one currently holding the reins—and the noose around Hook’s neck

  When will they be ready?

  Buyers are getting anxious.

  The launch date is here.

  He’d always thought it had been about training soldiers for hire. It wasn't until they were two years in that he’d learned the true vision behind Helix's plan. All because his investors saw money to be made. Money that would line his own pockets. Everyone wanted to have their hands on the next big thing, and Helix was going to bring it to them. His only regret was not getting his hands on Wendy. There was something about her, he could tell, but he was out of time.

  Hook stretched his arms above his head and leaned back in his chair, placing one large boot on the desk. He had gotten ahold of Peter, which was a feat in itself, and now the test results from Peter’s DNA sample had been surprising to say the least. After only a few days, a recruit receiving injections made from Peter’s DNA had been able to come back to life. Remarkable.

  Hook opened a drawer and fingered the colored vials—one, a cure for morphling poison, and another, for wiping memories. He wondered if it was because they’d used these memory suppression drugs on the kids during the experiments when they were younger that Peter developed the undesirable side effect of memory loss.

  Closing the top drawer back, Hook then pulled out the second drawer and looked at the other vials of PX drugs, each recently created from the stock of new boys brought in from Neverwood. Hook pulled out the one vials made from Peter DNA and held it up to the light. It sparkled softly, catching the light from his desk lamp.

  “Immortality in a bottle.” He smiled, loading it into the injector gun, and rolled up his sleeve. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he pulled the trigger and felt the prick and then the coolness of the serum entering his bloodstream.

  No sooner had the rush begun to fade when his computer screen beeped, warning him of an incoming video call.

  He pushed the answer button, being careful to stow away the injector out of sight.

  “Hook!” a voice barked on the screen. A man in his fifties with short white hair and a fitted suit sat behind a desk.

  “Yes, President Helix,” he answered, keeping his face neutral to hide his secret from the caller.

  “You’re avoiding me,” President Helix accused.

  “No, I just don’t have anything new to report.”

  “Nothing at all? That seems suspicious considering our last report was that your mission was a success.”

  “And like I said, we retrieved them, and they’re undergoing harvesting, but we haven’t tested the newest serum,” Hook lied, not ready to share the secret of immortality… yet. “When I have something more to report, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “What about adults? Have you found a way for the serum to work on full-grown adults?”

  “No, but I have high hopes for one,” Hook said, meaning himself.

  “Was this in your report?”

  “No,” Hook answered uncomfortably. “So far it’s only speculation.”

  “I can’t sell speculation. I need cold hard facts, and I need it for the announcement.”

  His teeth were grinding, and he used all of his control to not curse at the president of the Neverland Corp. “We will get you the results you want.”

  “Do it. Because you are replaceable. The D.U.S.T program isn’t.”

  The screen went blank, and Hook slammed the laptop closed.

  He sighed. It was time to launch with what they had. Make as much serum as they could from the new boys and then get them ready to leave. It didn’t leave them much room for error. They would have to start shipment soon. He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number.

  “Yeah, it’s a go. We need to go mobile again. This site is done. Sweep it. Leave no trace.”

  He hung up the phone with a click and pulled out his tactical knife, searching the map attached to the wall. His keen eyes scanned the massive blue area and with aim that only came from years of practice, he flung the knife and it sunk an inch into the wall, the point perforating the map at the exact location of the launch.

  A mass of blue in the middle of nowhere.

  His mind traveled back twenty years ago to when he was younger, a helicopter pilot in the military. After he was discharged, he ran a private business chartering flights for entertainment and corporate purposes. Currently, he was chartered to fly two rich investors into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The older investor had his own private yacht with a
heli pad and he was searching for something. Each day the older investor would demand Hook fly him out to coordinates his friend had mapped out. Most days the coordinates were a bust, just miles of blue ocean.

  “What you searching for, Atlantis?” Hook had joked at one point to the man he mentally nicknamed Polo, as he crossed off another line of coordinates in his book. He never made it his affair to try and learn his client’s names.

  “Something like that,” Polo mumbled absently and circled another set of latitude and longitude coordinates and held the book up to Hook. “Can you take me here?”

  Hook looked at his instruments and did the calculations in his head. “Negative, not without refueling. It’s just past our point of no return. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Polo crumpled up the paper and tossed his book on the ground. “I had a good feeling about this one.” Leaning back in the seat, he looked up at the pilot and adjusted his headset. “Just like I have a good feeling about you.”

  Hook looked over his shoulder. Polo slipped his Rolex off his wrist and leaned forward, dangling the timepiece like a carrot. “Take me there and this is yours.”

  Hook grinned, snatching the Rolex from the air and slipped it into his uniform pocket. “We will arrive at those coordinates at nineteen hundred hours.”

  When they flew near the location, Polo kept shifting in his seat funny, craning his neck, searching the horizon.

  There wasn’t anything there. Hook knew it was a wild-goose chase because there was nothing on the map. He had lied about the fuel levels, because he wasn’t about to tell the man that he was getting bored spending every day flying him around the ocean. At least at the yacht, he had his own room, plenty of alcohol, and food. But then he had to offer him a Rolex, which was too good to pass up.

  But now that they were out here, he knew they couldn’t stick around much longer. He was close to the point of no return, and he didn’t want to be crashing into the water anytime soon.

  “There!” the Polo yelled excitedly. “Go there!”

  Hook turned his head and saw just north of their location a speck of black. “What is it?”