Shadows of Neverland (Second Star Book 3)

by Josh Hayes

  "Damn," Carter said, angling himself back and forth at the crack in the boards, trying to get a better view outside. "They really are calling in the cavalry, aren't they? Makes you wonder who the hell they were fighting back there, doesn't it?"

  "Mmmhmmm," Peter murmured. He lifted his chin and spoke to the stranger, "You know anything about that?"

  "How would I know anything about that?"

  "You're a cop."

  "Not anymore."

  "What then, you kill one and take his jacket?" Peter asked. "Not a very smart move, my friend."

  "This is my jacket."

  "So, you're—"

  "I'm not a cop," the stranger repeated, glaring at Peter. They held each other's gaze for a time, then the man's face seemed to soften and he looked away. "Not anymore."

  Carter moved away from the window. "Quit, huh? Job too much for you?"

  An almost frightening hardness crept back over the man's face as he turned to consider the younger boy. The tension in the room was so thick Wendy imagined she could reach out and grab it. But there was something else there, Wendy thought, something more than anger on the man's face. Was that hatred? She couldn't tell.

  "And what the hell were you thinking chasing after an entire Enforcer squad like that? Good way to get yourself killed," Peter said.

  The stranger looked away. "There's worse things than death."

  Peter and Carter exchanged looks.

  Another explosion echoed in the distance. Everyone looked up, then exchanged knowing glances.

  "This place is going to be crawling with Enforcement troops before too long," Carter said. "Might need to think about vacating sooner than later."

  Peter sighed. "Agreed."

  "Back to the hideout?" Carter asked.

  "Only to get Ace and the other two, then we need to find someplace new. Someplace far away from here."

  "What about him?" Carter asked.

  Peter eyed him for a second, chewing on his bottom lip. After a moment, he sighed and said, "Well?"

  "I'll be fine," the stranger said, waving a hand.

  "There, see, he'll be okay," Peter said. "Don't bother mentioning the fact that we saved your life or anything. You're welcome, by the way."

  The stranger didn't respond.

  Peter huffed in frustration. "Look, just don't follow us, all right? You've caused us enough trouble for today. Feel free to head that way, or stay here for all I care, just don't follow us.

  "Wait," Wendy said, confused. "He's coming with us, right?"

  Peter turned to her. "He just said—"

  "Hey, we already talked about this," Wendy said, cutting him off. "Did you already forget about rule number one?"

  "Wendy…"

  "No, I don't want to hear about it. We decided already, and the rules are the rules, no exceptions."

  She stepped forward, and after adjusting the rifle slung over her shoulder, extended her hand. "I'm Wendy."

  The man hesitated for a moment, then shook the offered hand. "I'm Michael."

  Chapter Eight

  Now

  John looked up from inspecting the welds on the skiff's fuselage as some unseen creature trumpeted in the distance. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was an elephant."

  "Does it sound like they're getting closer to you?" Michael asked, setting down another crate, adding to the small collection underneath one of the engine turbines.

  "No telling."

  They'd set up camp in a small clearing, within walking distance of the small tributaries that cut through the seemingly endless jungle. After ten hours of flying, it hadn't taken much to convince Wendy a break was in everyone's best interests.

  John had spent twenty minutes working the soreness from his muscles and stretching the stiffness out of his back. The evening was cool, and the aroma of searing meat from the steaks Wendy was grilling filled the air. He'd been slightly apprehensive at their orangish color, but Wendy had assured him their taste was above par.

  "Best-tasting meat in Neverland," she'd told him.

  One of the small sentry-bots flew an arc around their perimeter, light glinting off its round metallic body. It disappeared into the tall slim trees surrounding them, heading off into the jungle. John hoped the little bots were good at their job; he didn't have any wish to meet whatever beast was out there.

  They were surrounded by jungle on three sides, the slim trunks reaching forty to fifty feet into the air. Near the tops, long slender branches reached out, intertwining with those from the trees around them. Their wide teardrop leaves formed an almost solid canopy above the jungle floor.

  John finished his inspection and took a seat on one of the crates around the fire. "It's too bad it's not cold enough to really enjoy that."

  Wendy gave him a questioning look as the fire popped and snapped.

  "You know," John added, "sweatshirts, blankets, marshmallows, s'mores." Her face remained passive, obviously not understanding. "Never mind."

  Michael sat down across from John. "Those about ready? I'm starving."

  "Just about," Wendy said. "Hand me a plate."

  Michael held one out. The steak she offered hung over the edge of the plate, juices dripping on the grass. John's stomach growled, the smell and sight of the charred steak making his mouth water.

  He sliced off a piece, examined the orange color, then took a bite.

  "Oh, wow," he said between bites. "That's amazing."

  "I told you," Wendy said, pulling her own slab off the fire.

  "Sure beats Ace's sandwiches," Michael said.

  Wendy coughed, almost spitting out a chunk of meat. She managed to wash the bite down and said, "That's the truth. He'd be all over these."

  Michael nodded, chewing another large piece.

  They finished eating in silence. Despite the questions growing in the back of his mind, John decided he was grateful for the quiet meal. The sun dropped behind the jungle canopy as they finished, turning the sky above into a majestic canvas of purple and red.

  "It's beautiful out here," John said.

  Michael collected their plates, dropping them into a tub of water for cleaning.

  "You know," John said, "I never would have pegged you for a cop."

  "I'm not," Michael said. "Not anymore. Not for a long time."

  "You miss it?"

  Michael paused, gazing down at the dirty dishes as if they held some truth the others couldn't see. "No," he said, finally. "Even if I'd stayed on, I wouldn't have stayed long. Black disbanded the local Enforcement precincts as soon as they took control of the CAC. Once the Committee was gone, there was nothing to hold him back."

  John raised an eyebrow. "Not the Regency? What about Hook?"

  "The Regency wasn't even a thing back then," Wendy said. "Hook didn't come to power until much later. In fact, no one even knew who he was back then. Even Black was relatively unknown until he started his movement. Most clans back then were fighting small territorial battles; nobody had dared war against the Committee."

  "So where'd he come from?" John asked. "What was so different about Black?"

  "Weapons," Michael said.

  "Well, it wasn't just that," Wendy said. "Granted, that gave him the edge, but people identified with Black, especially back then. With all the confusion after the Graft left, there was a lot of uncertainty and downright fear. People naturally gravitate to strong, charismatic leaders. Black gave the people something they'd never had before. Purpose.

  "When the Committee decided that whatever drove the Graft away might still be present, they started the Cleansing and--" Wendy cut herself off, eyes darting to Michael. "Oh, Michael, I didn't mean…"

  He held up a hand. "It's okay."

  "Your wife was…" John started.

  Michael nodded, staring into the fire.

  They all sat there in silence for a time, watching the fire, listening to the flames snap and pop. In the darkness of the jungle, the stars above shone more brilliantly than John had ever seen.
He tried to connect the dots to form his own constellations, but gave up after several tries.

  Another high-pitched blast sounded in the distance, and they all looked up.

  Wendy checked a small display screen next to her. "Nothing."

  "Well, I'm going to turn in," John said, stretching. "Wake me up when it's my turn for watch."

  "Michael and I will take care of it."

  "Hey, don't leave me out. I'll do my fair share."

  "Trust me," Michael said. "You've done more than enough. And besides, you're the pilot of this little outfit. If there's one of us that needs to be one hundred percent, it's you."

  "He's right," Wendy added. "Get some sleep. We can sleep through the flight."

  John nodded. "All right. Just don't let me sleep through the apocalypse."

  "Oh, we'll wake you up for that for sure," Michael said.

  In the morning, John was convinced the knots in his back were worse, not better. In fact, his whole body felt like he'd slept on a rock. He sat up in the skiff's passenger compartment and tried to stretch the tightness out of his body. The jacket he'd used as a pillow when he'd gone to sleep was hanging almost completely out of the compartment several feet away.

  Figures, John thought.

  The morning air was cool, a welcome change from the tropical heat of most days. A bird called out in the distance as rays from the morning sun started to stretch across the sky. The morning was surprisingly still, almost serene. John found himself wishing they could stay here and enjoy the wilderness, instead of heading off on a mission to save the world from destruction.

  John scooted to the edge of the skiff, yawning. He stretched and looked over their campsite. Thin trails of smoke curled up from the smoldering embers of their campfire. A few feet away, Michael lay curled up in a blanket. A second blanket lay opposite the fire, empty.

  Movement to his right caught John's attention, and he turned to see Wendy walking up the hill from the stream. She'd changed her clothes and was toweling her hair dry.

  "Morning," John said, stretching.

  Wendy tossed the towel on the floor of the skiff. "Morning."

  "Feel better?"

  "I haven't had a swim like that in a long time. Water was fantastic, a little cold, but not bad."

  John turned back to the sunrise. "It's beautiful out here."

  "Morning is my favorite time of day," Wendy said, tucking in her shirt. "It's like a fresh start, like everything that happened yesterday doesn't matter. That's what my father used to say, anyway."

  "Smart man."

  Wendy bent down to lace her boots. "Yeah."

  "My dad loved camping," John said. "We used to go all the time when I was a kid. He loved getting away out of the city and away from being connected to everything all the time."

  "Where are you from?"

  "Wyoming."

  "America?"

  "Got it in one," John said, pulling his shirt over his head and wiping his face.

  Wendy looked at Michael, still asleep on the ground by the campfire. "What year is it?"

  John flipped the shirt over his shoulder. "Back home?"

  She nodded.

  "2053."

  If Wendy was surprised by the revelation, she didn't show it. Her face remained passive. She nodded her head, silently processing the information. She finished tying her boots and stood and walked away without a word.

  John let her go. He didn't know exactly what she'd been through, but from what she'd shared so far, it was far more than anyone should've had to live through at that age. He knew how much he wanted to get home; he could only imagine how she felt. For her, though, returning home to a world where everyone she left behind had passed on, and everything she knew was gone, John couldn't imagine that. Didn't want to imagine that.

  He decided a swim might be just what his stiff muscles needed. The water was more than a little cold, and after about five minutes John decided that he'd had enough and got out. He pulled some fresh clothes from their stash and got dressed. The brown cargo pants were a tad big, but that was better than the alternative. The old plain grey t-shirt was worn and had a hole just below the collar, but it fit and it was clean.

  After lacing up his boots, he moved on to the task of inspecting the skiff. He went about it just as he would have with one of his own fighters back home, checking welds, rivets, cables and panels. As he finished inspecting one of the engines, Michael appeared, bringing up one of the crates from their campsite.

  "She going to make it?"

  John closed the maintenance hatch on the turbine and wiped his hands on a rag. "There's a little wear and tear on the compressor, but it's nothing that a little duct tape and bubble gum won't fix."

  Michael lifted the crate into the back of the skiff. "That's encouraging."

  "She'll hold together all right. Your guys did a hell of a job piecing her together."

  "That's what they're good at."

  "So let me ask you something," John said, checking their surroundings. When he was sure Wendy wasn't within earshot, he said, "You think we're actually going to find these people? I mean, this whole thing isn't just some wild goose chase, is it?"

  "Honestly?"

  "Yeah."

  "I don't know."

  "Then why come all the way out here?"

  Michael laughed. "It sounds dumb, I know, but I trust her."

  John gave the ex-cop an unconvinced frown. "Trust is one thing, blindly following someone into the unknown with little chance of success, that's… something else entirely."

  "She's brought us through worse. Trust me."

  "You mean Pan?"

  Michael's eyes darted toward Wendy. "Right."

  "What happened?"

  Michael shook his head.

  Despite himself, John let out an exasperated sigh. "Why doesn't anyone talk about it?"

  "You have to understand, Pan was the glue that held everything together. When he was taken, we almost fell apart. Wendy held us together. A lot of grief and pain was just pushed to the side and never dealt with. There wasn't any time to deal with it, we had a war to fight. It was easier for us to pretend he'd never been our friend, to go on like he'd never existed as one of us."

  They both turned as Wendy crossed the camp, carrying one of the crates.

  "You boys just going to stand around and gossip all morning and let me do all the heavy lifting?"

  Michael jabbed a thumb at his box. "I carried the food."

  "I fixed the engine," John said.

  "Besides," Michael said, stepping out of her way, "looks like you're doing just fine without us."

  Wendy slammed the crate down into the skiff and glared at them. "I haven't had any coffee and my back feels like someone stomped all over it. I'm not sure if this morning is the morning you want to get cute."

  Michael threw up his hands in surrender. "I'll get the rest."

  John laughed. "Who made the list for this trip, anyway? Coffee should have been number one."

  Chapter Nine

  Now

  They reached the foothills to the mountains two hours later. Random rock formations reminded John of the Needles in Utah: towers of multi-colored rock, sprouting out of the lush green jungle. Some reached hundreds of feet tall, while others just barely broke through the canopy.

  Off to port, two massive towers rose out of the jungle, each roughly a hundred feet in diameter. The jungle began to split as it neared the formation, and John could see blue water below the opening canopy. A column of mist rose into the air on the far side.

  "Oh, wow," Michael said as they made a wide turn around the tall formation.

  A wide column of water split two large rock faces, spilling into a large pool below. Rock and brush lined the bank, which formed a half-circle around the pool. A stream stretched out from the pool, disappearing into the jungle.

  "Holy shit," Michael said, pointing.

  John had just seen them, too. He brought the skiff to a hover, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Now that's the brightest elephant I've ever seen."

  In the clearing, a herd of large sage-green animals, which bore a close resemblance to terrestrial elephants, mingled together. They stood almost ten feet tall at the shoulders, with large barrel-shaped midsections supported by four muscular legs. Instead of having long trunks, however, these creatures' heads were situated at the ends of long thick necks, like brontosaurs. Two large eyes sat above a short snout, which was flanked by two long tusks. A mane of sage-green fur ringed the animals' heads. Black and grey spots speckled the sage-green fur covering the rest of their bodies, disappearing completely at the knees, revealing dark grey skin underneath.

  "Ele-what?" Michael said.

  "Elephants," Wendy said with a chuckle. "Well, not quite. Then again, it has been a long time since I've seen one."

  Two of the creatures looked up at the new arrivals. One opened its wide mouth, showing off a double row of molars and large incisors that looked like they could slice a man clean in half. It let out a bellowing high-pitched call, and hundreds of birds alighted from the trees surrounding the pool, cawing and screeching as they rose into the air. Several more looked up, seemingly curious to see what their herd mate was causing such a ruckus about. Another bellowed an answering call. After a few moments, all but the first turned away, returning their attention to munching on the grass at their feet.

  "Well, whatever they are," John said, "they don't seem to be that worried about us."

  Michael laughed. "Look at them, it's not like they have any reason to be. They've got to be at the top of the food chain out here."

  John frowned. "Wait, you mean you don't know anything about them?"

  Michael shrugged. "Not exactly a tourist attraction out here."

  "Yeah, but look at this." John motioned to the falls and serene pool beneath. "This is a paradise. It's beautiful. Why would no one want to come out here and experience it?"

  "Yeah, but there isn't any protection out here," Michael added. "Those things don't look too terribly frightening, but I know there are other things out here that are much worse. Hell, most people in Barreen have probably never even thought about coming out here. Their entire world is the city, they don't have any reason to leave. Even if they managed to evade the Regency, which most don't have the skills to do, they wouldn't be prepared at all to live out here with no support. The wilderness isn't the safest place in the world, you know."