Lost Shadow

by Chanda Hahn

  “Can she?” Dr. Barrie asked.

  Everyone waited for Wendy to answer but she remained silent.

  “Where is she?” Tootles asked. “She was just here.”

  John spoke up. “I think she’s in her room.”

  “I’ll check her room,” Slightly said, getting up from the couch and heading up the stairs and down the hall.

  “I was tasked with a team to bring her back to him, and when I failed, he decided to go after the others, the rest of the lost boys,” Jax explained.

  “Why?” John asked.

  “Because the lost boys have the strongest abilities. Think about it. Peter’s ability to fly and regenerate, Tootle’s teleportation ability, Ditto’s cloning. After Neverland was destroyed, and so many from the group were lost, Hook has been unable to reproduce the same results, at least with the same numbers or powers. But the new PX-3 drug doesn’t give the recruits special powers. It makes them more receptive when injected with our harvested DNA. It makes the transfer more likely to stick. He wanted our abilities to add to the Primes he already has. He already knew where the school was; he was just waiting for the next group of Dusters to be ready. But they weren’t ready, not really. There were still issues with burnout, so I don’t understand why he took them now.”

  “He had a deadline,” Dr. Barrie stated matter-of-factly. “There’s no other reason for him to produce an imperfect crop unless he needed to. I know all too well the deadlines of our benefactor.”

  “Who is . . . ?” Ditto asked.

  Dr. Barrie shrugged. “Even I don’t know. It was all very secret. I wasn’t paid to know, only to do my work.”

  Slightly came down the hall with a worried look and passed by them to head into the kitchen and then into the back halls. A few seconds later, he came back out of breath. “Guys, I can’t find Wendy.”

  “What do you mean?” John stood up and raced to the kitchen. “I saw her head toward her room only five minutes ago. We’ve been sitting here the whole time, no one left out the front door.”

  “I’m telling you, I checked all the rooms and Wendy is gone.”

  Chaos ensued as everyone got up and began to search. A few minutes later, it was obvious that she had disappeared.

  “She doesn’t have her bag, or any supplies. She didn’t leave out the front door. Where would she have gone?” Tink said anxiously, holding up Wendy’s backpack.

  Jax cursed as all eyes fell on him. “I told her not to do it. I told her it wasn’t safe.”

  John rushed to Jax, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket. “What, Jax? What aren’t you telling us?”

  “I think she went after him.”

  “Who, Peter?” Tink asked. “Without us?”

  “If you knew what she wanted to do, why didn’t you stop her!” John said angrily and slammed Jax against the wall.

  Jax had enough of being pushed around. He grabbed John’s wrists, twisted and in seconds had him in a double wristlock. John conceded and backed away rubbing them. Jax addressed the group. “She used the shadows. Must have used them to teleport her to where Peter was.”

  “Well, if she could do that, then she should have taken us all with her,” Ditto declared testily. Slightly and Michael nodded in agreement.

  “No, she would have gone into the shadow realm. I’ve been there. Passed through it once when Wendy took me from the hospital to Neverwood. It’s not for the living, I tell you. If you heard the sounds of the beasts and monsters on that side, then you wouldn’t travel through there either. I think it’s where the morphlings dwell, until called into our realm.”

  “You’re #@&%$@# kidding me, right?” Tink said, her censor band ringing loudly.

  “No, I told her to not go there again. It’s too dangerous. She must not have listened.”

  “Well, what do we do now?” John lashed out.

  Dr. Barrie gave Dr. Mee a curious look. “Do you suppose they went back?”

  Dr. Mee was pensive, and she began to pick at her fingers. “Seven years is a long time. They could have easily rebuilt somewhere else.”

  Dr. Barrie paced the room, rubbing the back of his head as he thought. “No, no. The island was always the endgame. Why else go to the trouble of hiding it? Why do you think there were so many areas of the island we weren’t given access to? I know we destroyed our research and Jax took care of the lab, but there was more to the island. It was selected for a reason.”

  He paused his pacing and stared off into the distance, lost in thought. He shook his head. “No, maybe it’s just the delusions of a desperate old man.”

  He turned toward the fireplace and his shoe caught the strap of John’s backpack and one of his Xbox games slid onto the floor.

  Dr. Barrie stooped to pick it up and his hand froze midair as he studied the case and the logo on the box. “What is this?” he asked urgently.

  John squinted at the case. “Warfare 8. It’s just one of the coolest, hottest games out right now. The newest season is supposed to be wicked.”

  Dr. Barrie’s hands trembled as he turned over the box and looked at the insignia. “It can’t be.”

  “What is it?” Dr. Mee asked, coming to look at the case.

  Dr. Barrie pointed to the logo of a heart with a crown around it. “Wonderland Games, a subdivision of Helix Corporation.” He opened the case, pulling out the advertising and pamphlet. “Does this place look familiar?” He held up the pamphlet, unfolding it into a map of an island.

  Dr. Mee stepped forward and spread out the map, her finger tracing along the edges, and she closed her eyes to think. “H—how can it be? It’s so accurate.”

  Dr. Barrie turned to John. “What is this game about?”

  “Well, it’s a battle royale. Winner takes all. Contestants pay to log in, get dropped on an island where they randomly control an avatar, and take out as many monsters or other players as they can in one hour. But the cool stuff like guns, weapons, and special powers cost extra. But that—what you’re holding—is an advertisement for the next update. It’s a huge price tag that only the best gamers with big pockets will be able to download.”

  “Show me,” Dr. Barrie demanded. He picked up a laptop and handed it to John, who with nimble fingers was able to bring up the game’s website, which displayed clips of previous games. They saw a city, and teams fighting against each other. Mass chaos and shooting, explosions, grenades and all the players wore black uniforms, which were similar to those worn by the Red Skulls and Dusters. But the link for the newest update took them to a black page with just a few words—

  * * *

  WARFARE 8 BETA TEST

  INVITATION ONLY

  19:05

  * * *

  —and a digital countdown to when the battle royale game would begin.

  “Can you hack it?” Dr. Barrie asked John.

  “What do you mean?” Tink asked.

  “I mean is there a way you can get an invitation to this elite game?”

  “Well,” John said, drawing out the word and garnering the group’s attention, “I’m sure I could do it, but it might take time.”

  “I’ll help him, Dad.” Tink came forward with her laptop and set it on the table. “I’m sure between the two of us, we can find the information we need.”

  “No, Tink, I need you to do something else.”

  “What?” she asked.

  He held up the pamphlet with his shaking hands. “Find me this island.”

  “Can’t you? I mean don’t you two know how to get there?”

  Both Dr. Mee and Dr. Barrie shook their heads. “I only knew that at a certain time of the year at night a bright star was visible from Neverland, and if you followed it, you could reach land. But it’s a lot easier to aim for the mainland than to aim for an island with no GPS coordinates. A few degrees off course traveling for an hour or two, and we could miss the island by miles. It’s just not the same.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Dad.”

  “What about the rest of us
?” Slightly asked.

  “Well, have you been to the garage yet?” Dr. Barrie asked.

  “Well, yeah, it’s where the four-wheelers are.”

  “No, I mean the lower garage.”

  “Lower garage?” Slightly asked, confused.

  Dr. Barrie stepped over to the counter and grabbed a set of keys out of the dish, and then moved to a panel in the wall and pressed it. With a hiss, the lock unfastened, and the panel slid away, revealing hidden stairs.

  “Whoa,” John said, surprised.

  “You like that, boy? Just wait till you see what I keep down here.” Dr. Barrie chuckled.

  “As long as it’s not chains or dead bodies,” John joked, though his face was serious.

  Dr. Barrie got really quiet, which made John step back warily, far away from the door.

  Tink flicked John on the back of the head, and he yelped.

  “It’s just the boat,” she cackled. “At the bottom of the falls.”

  John looked at Dr. Barrie’s grin and how it mirrored everyone’s in the room. Ditto had covered his mouth to try to keep his snorting to a whisper.

  Slightly hopped off a stool and went toward the door first, flicking a light switch on the wall, which illuminated a spiral staircase. He turned and gave John a thumbs-up, his eyes twinkling in mischief. “Hey, the decomp smell has worn off. You coming?”

  John vehemently shook his head, causing his glasses to almost wiggle off his nose. “Nope, nuh-uh, I’m going to stay here and help Tink.”

  “Big baby,” Slightly yelled and ran down the stairs. The others followed, while Tink and John stayed behind.

  John took his laptop and with determined actions sat down next to Tink and began trying to find a way to hack into the Warfare 8 site.

  “There’s a boat down there?” he asked after a while.

  Tink had gone into full hacker mode. Instead of sitting in the chair, she sat on the table, with the laptop cuddled in her lap. “Can’t talk, must hack. Need sugar.”

  She opened a bag of Skittles and separated out the green apple flavor ones and put them on the table. Taking a handful of the others, she popped them in her mouth.

  John reached for the abandoned green Skittles and Tink’s hand slapped his wrist, her bright blue eyes narrowed in warning. “Don’t. Those are for Peter.”

  Surprised at her slap, John pulled his hand back and studied the pile, wondering why she would go to the trouble of saving him skittles when he wasn’t even here. He sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, sensing that he would probably never be able to compete with Peter, because no matter how much he liked Tink, he wasn’t sure his feelings were truly reciprocated. Even though she hid it well, he believed that deep down Tink loved Peter, but Peter had always loved Wendy even after he lost her, and he was doomed to forever love Tink.

  Oh, what a tangled web, and now he was about to enter the dark web of the internet and try to save her friends. Yeah, sugar would have been nice. He removed his hand from his eyes and found Tink’s open palm under his nose.

  Cupped in the center was a small pile of yellow Skittles. Her gaze was still fixed on her computer screen and she shook her hand, waiting for him to accept her offering.

  “Lemon,” she explained. “It’s my second least favorite.”

  “I don’t understand,” he began.

  Tink sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes at him. “I hate the green ones and Peter didn’t. Just because I don’t like a certain flavor doesn’t mean I’ll throw it out. Not everyone’s tastes are the same. Just because one person doesn’t love green doesn’t mean someone else can’t learn to love it . . .” Her voice became choked up. “Just like some people don’t like really smart, sassy techno-geek girls.”

  Tink wiped her nose with her right sleeve, growing impatient with John and her open offering. He finally understood her hidden message and lunged for the yellow skittles, shoving them in his mouth before she could withdraw her offering.

  He chewed them earnestly, and then the flavor hit the back of his throat, surprising him, and he began to choke.

  Tink rolled her eyes and grinned. “Dork,” she whispered as she went back to her laptop.

  John swallowed the chewy candies and wiped at the corner of his mouth.

  “Nerd,” he challenged back.

  Grinning like a fool, she was about to put another Skittle in her mouth when she looked at the color, frowned, and flicked the yellow at him.

  Chapter 23

  Peter had lost track of how long they’d been in the back of the semitrailer, but it must have been hours because at some point he’d accidentally fallen asleep despite himself. When the semi finally stopped, the squealing of the brakes jarred him awake.

  The back doors of the trailer opened, letting in the sun and the undeniable scent of salt and fish. Then the ramp was dropped onto a loading dock, and one by one, the soldiers were ushered out of the semitrailers and slowly marched down an extended dock, toward an awaiting freighter ship. One moment Curly was right behind him, and the next, he’d managed to slip away. Maybe five minutes later, he reappeared again, just in time to follow Peter into the ship, wearing a uniform like the one Peter had on.

  “Where did you get that?”

  Curly grimaced. “Uh, there’s now a very naked soldier taking a swim.”

  “Nice.” Peter tried not to laugh.

  He fell in line with the other Dusters, continually scanning the crowds looking for the lost boys. It was starting to get to him that he didn’t recognize anyone.

  “You’re alive?” said a breathless voice from behind him.

  Peter turned in surprise. Brittney stood shaking before him, her skin pale, her hands wrapped around her stomach as if to quench a burning pain.

  “I’m so sorry for getting you in trouble. I didn’t know that he would hurt you like that.” Her voice began to rise in pitch and volume, her hands flailing about, and she didn’t seem to be aware of the attention she was drawing to them.

  “Shh, it’s okay Brittney. I’m fine.” Peter tried to calm her down.

  Curly stepped in, grabbing Brittney by her elbow and whispering quietly into her ear. She nodded and turned around, getting into line, not once looking back at them.

  “Even in Satan’s armpit you still attract the attention of pretty girls,” Curly bemoaned trying to lighten their situation.

  Peter scanned the guards to see it they had noticed the disturbance. “You’re welcome to take my place,” he said somberly.

  “Don’t think I haven’t tried. Heads up!” Curly motioned with his chin as they began to move again up the gangplank and across the deck. More guards lined the rails and hallways as they were taken down a flight of stairs and into a hall lined with doors.

  A guard opened a door and began to usher ten to twelve Dusters into each cabin before locking them in and moving on to the next room. When it came time for Peter and Curly to enter a room, Curly hung back and briefly touched the guard’s wrist, whispering to him as he closed the door.

  There was no visible reaction from the guard, and Peter wondered if it hadn’t worked this time, if Curly wasn’t able to influence the guard, but Curly winked at him and he knew it would all work out. The door slammed and everyone listened for the deadening sound of a key turning in the lock.

  A single flickering bulb in the cabin, illuminated exhausted and weary faces of the recruits.

  They were trapped on a ship, like prisoners and Peter could feel the gloom begin to set in.

  Wu Zan waved at Peter in surprise. “You’re back?”

  “I’m back,” Peter answered somberly.

  “Are you okay? You good?” Wu Zan asked, tapping his head, referring to his memories.

  “I’m good.” Peter smiled wanly as he was preoccupied with worrying.

  “This one’s yours,” Wu Zan patted the bunk across from him, while Leroy took the bottom. A young man with fish gills along his neck passed by them as the other recruits moved farther down among the
row of bunks. It was a tight squeeze but everyone settled in. Exhausted from the trip a few exchanged somber greetings.

  Twenty minutes later, they felt the ship undock and head out to sea. A few of the other Dusters in the room began to groan as the motion took its toll on them. Especially Leroy, who kept swearing that he was going to see his lunch again. Wu Zan kept running his mouth, threatening to dump him in the ocean if he so much as belched.

  “I’m gonna die, I tell ya!” Leroy groaned. “Tell my momma I love her.”

  “Relax. You’re not going to die,” Wu Zan grimaced, looking a little green himself.

  “I was not made for water. If I was meant to swim, I would have been born with gills and fins,” Leroy yowled, his face pale. Then he looked over at another of the duster farther down the row in a bunk and groaned, “No offense, Barbados.”

  Barbados, a kid with actual gills along his neck, waved back, showing off a fine set of thin skin between each of his fingers. “None taken, Leroy. I know it’s just the crazy talking.”

  “I’m going to be sick,” another voice called from the bunks.

  “Make the rocking stop,” someone groaned. It seemed quite a few were suffering from seasickness.

  “Ohh,” Leroy moaned and gestured for a bucket.

  Curly got up from his seat and walked over and touched Leroy’s forehead. “You’re not going to die. You feel fine. The motion sickness is only in your head,” he said gently.

  Seconds after Curly’s suggestive command, Leroy opened his eyes and grinned. “Man, that was some serious mojo you put on me.”

  “Do me next!” another seasick duster called out. Curly went to each one of them, curing them with the power of suggestion. Even the ones that weren’t sick, he briefly touched as well. Giving them encouragement, a pep talk waylaying their fears like a coach or a father figure. Unlike Neverwood, where the lost boys would never touch Curly, here, the recruits begged for his help.

  Peter began to feel sick. Not with the motion of the boat, but with a deep despair that sat in the pit of his stomach ever since he woke up. A foreboding of what was to come.