Lost Shadow

by Chanda Hahn

  “No. Jax. That night long ago.”

  Wendy looked around at the damage with new eyes. Most of the walls had collapsed because the heat had been too much for the structure, but there were parts where it had melted, like lava, and the fauna overgrowth took care of the rest.

  “He was that powerful, even as a child?”

  “Yes, this was done by his hatred,” Peter said softly. “He’s never been the same since that night. He murdered Red Skulls to save us, and who knows how many more he killed destroying this place. At a very young age, he was forced to become a murderer. No one should have to endure something like that, especially so young.

  “He didn’t have a choice. Neverland did this to him. And to us,” she added.

  Peter nodded, agreeing. “Jax’s anger never fully receded. It’s always there just beneath the surface, waiting to bubble over and burn someone. He swore to never use his gift again, and hadn’t until you came along. That’s why he was so good at fighting and weapons—he had to be so he wouldn’t have to use his special power. It’s why he was able to stay under the radar at Neverland. He made them think he didn’t have any gifts. That he was immune to the treatments, but was still genetically viable. So Hook kept trying to treat him with new PX drugs, but Jax’s immune system would burn it off.”

  “Hook never suspected?”

  “Who knows what Hook thought? I’m not sure how much he actually knew about him.”

  Wendy stopped when she came to the remains of the stairwell. Here was the place where she had chased the shadow up the stairs seven years ago. She had thought she was going crazy, seeing things. Seeing shadows. No one knew then what she knew now, that she was seeing souls of those that died on the island.

  She shivered.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I will be when we save the boys and never step foot on this island again.”

  “Really? I was thinking we could put the couch over there.” He gestured to a fake wall. “The kitchen could go over here, and the espresso machine right here.” He went over to a dilapidated half wall and pretended to make her a shot of espresso. Turning to her, he took a sip with his pinky up in the air.

  Wendy laughed. He was doing it. Being the Boy again, keeping her spirits high and her fears at bay with his antics. Her joy was coming back.

  “And the crib over here,” she teased, pointing right next to the imaginary espresso machine. Knowing that the thought of bringing up children should wake anyone up from their daydream.

  But Peter knew how to play along. “Of course, that’s why we have the espresso machine, because we have sooo many kids,” he said dramatically, swinging his hands out wide.

  “And a puppy,” she giggled.

  “Of course.”

  “But not for a while,” Wendy corrected, her heart soaring at his admission.

  “No, not for a while. We already have a lot of kids we have to watch over and make sure are grown before we have our own.” He paused and became really still. “That is, if you think we should have kids. What with our uniqueness and all, is it something we would really want to pass down to them?” Peter cleared his throat and leaned against the half wall, looking down at his feet. “Yes, flying is great. What boy wouldn’t want to grow up and fly?”

  He pulled his heavy gaze from the ground and looked up into her eyes, and she saw him truly—he wasn’t hiding behind his sarcasm and boyish charm. She saw his fear—and the contempt he held for himself.

  “But our other gift is really more of a curse, and I’m not sure we should play God with those odds,” he said softly.

  Wendy had never thought of her future in those terms because she only recently relearned that she was unique. She always assumed she would go to college, get married, have kids. But she remembered what it was like growing up in an out of psychiatric wards and hospitals because she saw the dead, and how much medication she was on, to keep the visions at bay. But now with the knowledge of their DNA, and what their kids could be like, they would all have to make that decision. Her heart ached at her own lost future, and she could see the same heartache in Peter’s face.

  She lifted her hands, and he reached for them. Clasping them between hers, she looked into Peter’s wet, glistening eyes. “Peter, what if we can’t even have kids? What if what they did to us makes it impossible? We don’t even know. . . But I know that what I saw at Neverwood was a family. Boys of all backgrounds, gifts, and talents. Shapeshifters, teleporters, all of them unique in their own way, and all of them loved by you. I would be proud to have any of them as our kids . . . except I don’t want any—”

  “Dittos!” Peter cut in and Wendy laughed.

  “Yes, I’m not sure I could handle a child that can replicate and run circles around me and cry in stereo.”

  “He was a handful growing up, but still he was a great kid.”

  “They all are, Peter, all the Neverwood boys. I love them and would love to raise any of them. There should be more like them in the world.”

  Peter sucked in his breath at her admission, caught off guard. He looked up at the sky, his eyes tearing up again, and he pulled her into his arms, whispering into her hair. “Thank you. You don’t understand how much I needed to hear that. That someone could love me, love us, despite our defects. That’s it, Wendy, it is our duty to get married and to create more defects to love.”

  “Peter, you’re not a defect,” Wendy laughed, pulling away from him and slapping him playfully on the arm.

  “Just wait, I don’t clean toilets.” He winked and pulled her closer so he could brush his lips against her.

  “That’s it. You are defective,” she whispered back, giving him another peck.

  The cocking of a gun pulled them out of their bubble. They looked up into the dark eyes of another Red Skull.

  Chapter 29

  “Don’t move,” the Red Skull growled. He was scruffier than any of the other soldiers they had seen on the mainland. His uniform was snug, stained, and did little to hide his beer belly. He must have been stationed on this island for a long time to be so slovenly.

  Peter and Wendy raised their hands above their heads.

  “How did you get here?” he asked. “No one is supposed to be on the island. It’s off-limits.”

  “We were given a day pass,” Peter said.

  “They don’t give out those.” His face scrunched up, and rapidly blinked his eyes. They were bloodshot, and he seemed to be a bit inebriated. “How’d you get here?”

  Peter coughed. “We flew.” He gave Wendy a wink.

  “Don’t get cocky with me, boy,” the soldier said.

  “No, never. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Wendy’s nerves were getting the better of her, as Peter was not taking their situation seriously. She met his gaze and he tilted his head and gestured. Oh, he was distracting the guard, so she could escape.

  “I’ll ask you again, and you answer me straight this time, or—”

  “You’ll buy me a present,” Peter interrupted, completely throwing their captor off guard.

  “What? No.”

  Wendy took a tentative step to the side, but the Red Skull zeroed in on her movement and she stepped back closer to Peter.

  “Phew, I’m glad, because it would be really awkward to get a gift from you. I mean, we only just met.”

  “What’s wrong with you, boy?” The soldier slurred his words.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Peter answered and stood up tall, puffing out his chest. “I’m supposed to be here. Was given orders to run this Prime to the cliff as punishment.” His voice was clipped, filled with authority.

  The Red Skull swayed, his eyes blinking fast as he focused on Peter’s uniform, his flushed face turning even redder as he realized his blunder.

  “S—sorry. My mistake. Must not have heard the radio call. Dearborn hasn’t been answering his radio.”

  Peter stepped in front of Wendy, blocking her with his body. “Yeah, that sounds like Dearborn, blowing
off his work. Probably out sunbathing on the rocks or something.”

  Wendy elbowed Peter, and she heard his silent guffaw. That was below the belt for his humor.

  Peter took a step backward, pushing Wendy even farther away. “Well”—he leaned forward to read the Red Skull’s name—“Biers, if you decide to take a break, I will cover for you with the others.”

  Biers had already sat down on the half wall and was reaching for his flask. “Why, thank you, that is mighty fine of y’all. I may just take you up on that.” He gave Peter a salute with the silver flask and lifted it to his lips, drinking greedily, a dribble of the contents trailing down his unshaved chin.

  Peter turned, pulling Wendy by her arm, and hastened into the woods. “We need to hurry. I don’t want to be anywhere near here if he decides to look over the cliff,” he whispered.

  “He looks like he’s been here a long time,” Wendy murmured. “There’s bound to be others, but why would there be any soldiers guarding ruins? Just a pile of rubble unless . . .” She trailed off, and Peter nodded his head.

  “There’s more than just ruins. There’s something else hidden here.”

  They traveled farther inland, the trees and undergrowth becoming denser and harder to navigate a straight path. They kept getting turned around, finding themselves inadvertently returning to the same vine-covered wall, only to turn back the way they came. Wendy heard a soft underlying hum but wrote it off as her imagination. Flying would make it easier to scope out the island but they feared that someone would see them, and would sound the alarm and shoot them down. Even if it were possible that they could be mistaken for a large bird high up in the sky, the tree canopy was too thick to be able to see any Red Skulls down below with any real advance warning.

  After another hour of traipsing through the underbrush, Wendy heard the sound again.

  “Do you hear that noise? A humming sound?”

  Peter shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t hear anything.”

  Wendy became frustrated at her obvious hallucinations and lack of direction. “We aren’t making any headway. I don’t remember this being here before.”

  “We were in the main facility on the south side of the island. I briefly had flown around the island, but that was years ago. A lot of the landscape is different. It’s changed, grown, and feels darker.”

  Wendy shuddered. “The sun’s rays don’t reach the forest floor. I have a bad feeling about this place. Listen, even the birds have stopped singing. As if they, too, know what lies beyond is perilous.” Wendy turned to Peter and pointed up. “You need to fly.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” Peter responded.

  “I’m fine, but we can make better headway if you just find out where we’re going. We’re so deep in the undergrowth, we don’t even know if we’re heading north.” She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ll stay here. Look—” She plopped down on a large rock. “I’ll sit here till you return.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but Wendy was exhausted and hungry and knew that time was of the essence. “Go! I will be right here.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in five minutes. I promise.”

  “Good, I need the rest,” she lied. Wendy wanted to go with him as well but knew he would probably balk at the idea. She watched his lithe form fly up through the trees, silent as a mouse, and then he was gone. Promises were meant to be kept, but Wendy had no intention of sitting on the rock and waiting uselessly. She hopped up and went over to a sheer cliff that they had been skirting for the last few minutes. There was something about its location and shape that wasn’t sitting right with her.

  From a distance, the jagged rock looked real, overgrown and covered with vines. Some areas of the cliff even had rivulets of water running down it. She wouldn’t have given it a second thought if it weren’t for the silence of the birds—or rather, what had taken the place of their singing.

  While they had gone conspicuously silent, the forest wasn’t completely devoid of sound. She heard it again and this time didn’t dismiss it. It was not her imagination. Then the hum became louder, though still masked by the sound of the wind and trees.

  It wasn’t her imagination. She turned her head, and moved to another outcropping, knowing the sound grew louder the closer she drew. Grasping the vines and testing her weight, she decided to climb the cliff. It wasn’t that steep, maybe thirty feet, and she had been rock climbing with her brother and friends loads of times. She would just have to focus on using the rock outcroppings for her support and use the vines as backup. A few minutes later, Wendy had crested the cliff. She wanted to cheer and scream but instead pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around. Ten feet in front of her the ground dropped suddenly down into a valley, so Wendy tried to stay away from the edge as she explored.

  The humming was definitely louder and was coming from an overgrown bush. Wendy scanned the sky for Peter, but she didn’t see him, or anyone else patrolling. She approached the overgrown bush and began to pull at the branches, until she could see that there was some sort of metal object underneath A few more minutes of breaking and pulling off branches, and then the hair on the back of her arms rose as she felt an adrenaline rush at the discovery. It was a satellite dish, and it wasn’t the only one. A hundred paces over was another satellite dish hidden under bushes.

  What in the world is going on?

  Wendy went to investigate the other dish when her path narrowed to only a few feet wide and was loose beneath her sneakers. She was about to give up and turn back, when the ground caved in beneath her causing a landslide. Wendy stumbled unable to get her footing as the earth gave way, and she slid along the cascading dirt and rock on her belly. A yelp of surprise escaped her lips, and she desperately tried to grab hold of branches, roots, and trees to slow her descent. She rolled, tumbled, and landed face up in the bottom of the valley and looked up at the cliff she had just fallen from. She had only climbed thirty feet but had fallen down close to a hundred. Scratches littered her arms and neck and her pants were torn. Wendy tasted blood in the corner of her mouth. She must have bitten her lip. Her head was pounding and she touched her forehead and her fingers came away sticky with blood. Sitting up, she grimaced in pain. She must have bruised a rib or two. Squinting, she looked back up at the top of the cliff and could easily spot the dish she uncovered. Turning full circle, Wendy realized that she was in a dirt filled basin of sorts, with nothing more than a large hill and palm fronds. The satellite dishes were situated around the lip of the basin.

  Her back and joints ached as she stood up and dusted the debris from her pants and hair, knocking a pebble to the ground, which clinked when it encountered . . . glass?

  Confused at the sound, Wendy kneeled brushing away the dirt on the hill, revealing a glass panel. Grabbing a few palm fronds, Wendy constructed a makeshift broom and dusted off an area, revealing more glass panels. But they were sloped like a dome and when she had fallen in the landslide, she’d tumbled onto the edge of a dome.

  Cupping her hands around her eyes, she looked into the dome and was surprised to see a small town, with buildings, a park, billboards, restaurants and cafés and even the glistening reflection of a lake. It had to encompass most of the rocky island. How could this be real?

  Wendy searched the city for movement, but while the streetlights worked, no cars passed through any of the intersections. The flag on the flag pole didn’t wave in the wind. It was a ghost town.

  Why would Neverland go to all the trouble to create another city hidden within an island?

  From the corner of her eye, she caught some movement within the dome. Wendy pressed her face to the glass again, looking for the source of the movement, thinking she’d seen it down an alley behind a brick building. She held her breath, trying to discern if anyone down there was alive. Friend or foe? Red Skull or a lost boy?

  It was neither.

  Wendy shook in fear and her breath caught in her throat as the unmistakable shape of a morphling gl
ided through the city and slipped into the sewer.

  “No,” she whispered and leaned back to stare at the dome in thought. She moved to a cleaner side of the dome unscathed by the landslide, then kneeled down to scan the city below. Lights kicked on from inside and the city came to life. Projectors lit up the sky, with a fake display of a sunny afternoon. Wendy understood then she was looking in through a two-way glass and the inside of the dome must be covered with a projection screen.

  What terrified her most was the number of morphlings that scattered into the shadows, scrambling for cover against the light. There must have been twenty or more. Was this where they kept their monsters? Why did they need to be in a city? Why the multi-million-dollar movie studio setup?

  After the morphlings had scattered, Wendy saw someone come out of a gray cement building near the center. Wonderland Games was lettered on the marquee, and it didn’t take her long to recognize the uniform, or gait, of her hated nemesis—Hook. And he wasn’t alone.

  Following beside Hook as he made his way through the city was another man in a business suit talking on a cell phone. Hook pointed at the various buildings and landmarks, and his partner only nodded his head. After a few minutes of a guided tour, a morphling decided to try to come out of hiding to attack Hook and his partner.

  Hook nudged his companion as if to get him to watch, and then pulled out his gun and emptied his clip into the morphling, until it collapsed to the ground. The man’s mouth dropped, and his phone slipped from his fingers and clattered on the road.

  They spoke, and the man loosened his tie, clearly uncomfortable from being so near the morphling. After a few moments of discussion, they shook hands.

  Then with a renewed fervor, the man in the suit grabbed his phone and began to text. Hook grinned, placed his hand on the guy’s back, and led him back into the building.

  A black form slapped against the glass, and Wendy jumped back in surprise as a morphling had braved the light—it must have seen or sensed her on the other side of the dome. Teeth gnashed at the glass, and claws scrabbled along trying to tear through it to reach her. With each slash, more of the screen was ripped away on the inner side of the dome, and she knew in a few moments, the whole world below would be able to see her.