The Bridge to Never Land

by Dave Barry

  Without a word, Tim climbed the conveyor belt and disappeared inside the plane.

  The driver shrugged and started the conveyor belt. In ten minutes the baggage was loaded. As Tim, on his knees near the entrance to the hold, stowed the last bag, a dark shape swooped past, brushing against him. With a groan he fell over sideways. From the bottom of the conveyor belt, the driver shouted, “Tim! You all right, mate?”

  Tim sat up, blinking, dazed. He looked down at the driver.

  “How’d I get up here?” he said.

  “What? You climbed up there! We just loaded the bags.”

  Tim looked around and saw the loaded bags. He shook his head, confused. Gingerly, he climbed down the conveyor belt.

  “Are you okay, Timmy?” said the driver.

  “I dunno,” said Tim, frowning. “I thought…did you see any birds around?”

  “Birds? A few, maybe. Why?”

  Tim thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “It was…only birds.”

  The driver climbed back onto the tug. As he started the engine, he called, “Get some rest, Timmy boy. You’re looking like a zombie today.”

  Sarah, having just taken her seat next to Aidan, looked out the window.

  Toward the back of the plane she saw two airport workers talking. One of them drove away. The other stood for a moment, rubbing his head, then turned and looked at the plane. Sarah got a good look at his face; he looked troubled. After a few moments he shook his head, turned, and walked away.

  The pilot announced that all the bags had been loaded and the preflight checks were complete. “We’ll be on our way shortly,” he said.

  Sarah turned to Aidan, and he spoke for them both: “I am so glad to be getting out of here.”

  CHAPTER 13

  MRS. TREMAINE

  WHEN, FINALLY, THEY GOT HOME, Sarah and Aidan went straight to their rooms, enjoying the luxury of once again having their own space and their own stuff. They kept themselves busy—Sarah with Facebook, Aidan with video games—while the hot, humid summer afternoon turned to dusk. They ate a quick supper with their parents, then drifted back to their rooms as darkness fell.

  Just after nine p.m. Sarah tapped on Aidan’s door. “Come in,” he said, not taking his eyes off the TV screen.

  “Can I talk to you a second?” said Sarah, entering his room.

  Reluctantly, Aidan paused Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. “What?” he said.

  “You know what,” she said.

  “Oh. That. Where’d you put it?”

  “In my closet, under a bunch of junk. But we need to figure out what to do with it.”

  “Which is why we should have left it in England.”

  Sarah sighed. “Let’s not go over that again, okay? It’s here now.”

  “Thanks to you.”

  Sarah moved a step closer and said, “I’ve been thinking.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Aidan, listen. I think we need to find the Starcatchers.”

  “What?”

  “We have to find them and give them the box. They’re the only ones who can protect it. That’s what they do.”

  “What makes you think there even are Starcatchers?”

  “There have to be. The starstuff’s real. And Ombra’s real.”

  “Definitely.”

  “So the Starcatchers must be, too.”

  “Sarah. The stories in those books, that was like a hundred years ago. Even if those Starcatcher people were real, they’re all dead now.”

  “Unless they had children. They’d teach them to be Starcatchers. That’s what they always did. They kept the Starcatchers going for hundreds of years. I bet they’re out there, somewhere. We just have to find them.”

  “Okay, let’s just say we did. The books were set in England. Where would their descendants live?”

  “People move all over the place. Besides, we won’t know until we find them.”

  “How come you keep saying we? You told me I didn’t have to be part of this anymore.”

  “If you don’t want to help,” Sarah said quietly, “you don’t have to.”

  Aidan looked away, toward his window. “I also thought you said we’d be safe once we left England.”

  “I think we are safe. But I also think we have to—”

  “What was that?” Aidan was on his feet.

  “What was what?”

  Aidan moved quickly to the window. “I saw something,” he said.

  “What?” said Sarah, joining him.

  “It was outside the window,” said Aidan, his voice tight. “It was moving. And it was black.”

  Sarah peered out. The night sky was overcast; a light over the kitchen door provided what little illumination there was in the backyard, revealing only a ghostly outline of a big oak, its twisted branches perfectly still on this windless night.

  “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  “Well, I did.”

  “Okay, maybe you saw a bird.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “But there’s always birds here, Aidan. Just because one goes by the window, that doesn’t mean—”

  She was interrupted by the doorbell chime echoing in the foyer. She and Aidan looked at each other, saying nothing.

  From downstairs came the sound of the door opening, then their parents’ voices, followed by another, unfamiliar voice. A minute later there were footsteps on the stairs.

  “Sarah?” said Natalie’s voice.

  “In here,” called Sarah.

  Natalie opened the door. She looked worried.

  “Mrs. Tremaine is here,” she said to Sarah. “She wants to speak to you.”

  Mrs. Tremaine was their longtime next-door neighbor, a woman in her early eighties whose children were grown and whose husband had died two years earlier. She was friendly enough, but had little contact with the Coopers, and virtually none with Sarah.

  “With me?” said Sarah.

  “Yes, and I’m worried about her. She’s acting a bit…strange.”

  “Strange how?” said Sarah.

  “Well, for one thing, she’s wearing sunglasses, and it’s pitch-black out. I suppose she could be having eye problems. But her behavior is…it’s just strange. And her voice sounds very odd.”

  Sarah and Aidan exchanged a look.

  “Please come down,” said Natalie. “She’s quite insistent that she wants to talk to you. Let’s find out what this is all about, okay?”

  Sarah hesitated.

  “Sarah, come on.” Natalie turned and headed for the stairs. Sarah followed reluctantly, with Aidan behind. As they descended the stairs they saw their father first, standing at the edge of the foyer, looking uncomfortable.

  Then they saw what he was looking at. Mrs. Tremaine was a tall, rail-thin woman with a narrow face, her hair dyed an unnaturally dark shade of brown, with gray peeking through on top. She wore a loose-fitting, light-blue housedress and, as Natalie had said, sunglasses. She stood beneath the chandelier in the center of the foyer.

  Aidan tapped Sarah’s shoulder and pointed furtively to the floor. Sarah’s eyes widened; Mrs. Tremaine cast no shadow.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs. Mrs. Tremaine stood perfectly still as her head swiveled slowly to face Sarah. Her mouth came open, but the voice wasn’t hers. It didn’t sound like a voice at all. It sounded like the moan of a winter wind.

  “Give it to me,” the voice said.

  Sarah took an involuntary step back; Natalie put her arm around her daughter.

  “Give what to you, Mrs. Tremaine?” Natalie asked. “Are you all right?”

  Without giving any indication that she had heard, Mrs. Tremaine took a step toward Natalie and Sarah. Her upper body remained rigid; she moved as though she were gliding.

  The awful voice came again: “Give…it…to…me.”

  Aidan looked down. Mrs. Tremaine’s shoe was only a few inches from Natalie’s shadow.

  “Mom!”
he said. “Move!”

  “What?” said Natalie. “Why are—unnnhh!” She stopped, mid-sentence, her eyes fluttering shut, as Mrs. Tremaine’s right foot brushed against her shadow.

  In a flash Aidan darted forward, hands out. He shoved his mother hard, knocking her shadow away from Mrs. Tremaine. Natalie, her eyes still closed, stumbled across the foyer. Tom leaped forward to grab her just as she fell.

  “Aidan!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

  “Stay away from her!” said Aidan, pointing toward Mrs. Tremaine. Sarah jumped back. Mrs. Tremaine’s head swiveled toward her, and she began to move. Sarah screamed.

  Aidan dove for the light switches. There were four of them on the panel, and he slammed them all down with one swipe of his hand. The foyer was plunged into pitch-black darkness, as were the porch and living room.

  “Aidan!” shouted Tom. “Turn the lights back on right now!”

  “No, Dad, we can’t,” said Aidan.

  “We most certainly can, and you will!” said Tom. “I want to see if your mother’s okay. I want those lights on now!”

  In the darkness Sarah felt Aidan brush past her as he whispered, “I’m gonna go turn off the circuit breaker.” A moment later she heard him in the kitchen, opening then closing the door to the basement and flicking on the stairway light. His footsteps raced down the stairs.

  “Aidan? Sarah?” said Tom. “The lights! Now!”

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” said Sarah.

  “What is wrong with you kids?” shouted Tom. “Stay here, Nat. I’ll find the lights.” Sarah heard Tom fumbling along the wall.

  “This is outrageous behavior,” he muttered, reaching the switches.

  The lights came on. Tom was by the light switches, blinking; Natalie sat slumped against the wall, dazed.

  Mrs. Tremaine was directly in front of Sarah, facing her. The sunglasses were gone. Her eyes were two huge black voids.

  Sarah screamed.

  Mrs. Tremaine moved forward; Sarah felt the awful cold.

  And then the lights went out again.

  “What the—?” bellowed Tom. “Who did that?”

  Sarah stumbled backward. The cold was gone, but she was disoriented and almost too weak to stand. She heard Aidan run up the stairs and open the basement door.

  “Sarah?” he called.

  “You turn those lights back on now!”

  “Here!” Sarah answered her brother. “All right,” said Tom, his voice furious. “I’m going to go turn the lights back on. And then you are both in major trouble.”

  She heard him bumping into things as he worked his way toward the kitchen in the darkness. A moment later she jumped as she felt a hand on her arm.

  “It’s me,” said Aidan.

  “Upstairs,” said Sarah. “Now.”

  They felt their way to the stairs and began climbing.

  From below came the awful sound, the grotesque cold moan.

  “You will give it to me,” it said.

  The front door cried on its hinges. Aidan and Sarah looked back as street light seeped through the open doorway. In the dim light, they saw the silhouette of Mrs. Tremaine glide down their front walk, turn left, and disappear.

  They ran the rest of the way up the stairs.

  “We have to leave,” said Sarah.

  “I know.”

  “Right now, before Dad finds the circuit breaker.”

  “I know.”

  “Grab your phone and whatever money you have. I’ll get the box and my phone and…money. We’ll go out the back.”

  “What if that thing is out there?”

  “We have no choice. We can’t let it come back in here. It’ll get Mom and Dad.”

  A pause, then Aidan said, “Yeah. Okay.”

  From the basement came sounds of a collision—possibly with the paint shelf. Their father cursed.

  They were gone before the lights came back on.

  CHAPTER 14

  INTO THE DARKNESS

  THEY RAN THROUGH THE DARKNESS, ran until their lungs burned and their breath came in hoarse gasps, and still they ran. They stuck to side roads, avoiding illumination, keeping away from streetlights. From time to time they stopped to look back and listen, straining to hear over the ear-pounding sound of their own frantic heartbeats. But they heard nothing unusual and saw only blackness.

  Their phones began ringing. The caller ID showed their home number; obviously their parents had discovered they were missing. They didn’t answer, and eventually turned off their phones to stop the incessant ringtones.

  After an hour on the move they ventured cautiously toward a main highway. They followed it for another mile until they came to a strip shopping center. It was largely deserted; most of the stores were closed for the night. At the far end glowed a familiar green sign.

  “Let’s go to the Starbucks,” said Sarah.

  “Do you think it’s safe?” said Aidan.

  “We won’t stay long. I need to plug in my iPad. The battery’s almost dead, and I want to do some stuff on the Internet.”

  “What stuff?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  They made their way along the row of stores, heads swiveling; nobody appeared to be following them. Reaching the Starbucks, they peered through the window. There were two workers behind the counter; the only customers were two young men and a young woman sitting at a corner table, drinking coffee and talking. Sarah and Aidan went inside, Sarah heading for a table near an electrical outlet at the far corner from the other customers.

  “Get me a grande skinny caramel macchiato,” she said to Aidan.

  “Get you a what?”

  Sarah sighed. “Just get me a medium coffee,” she said.

  Aidan went to the counter; Sarah took the iPad out of her backpack, plugged it in, turned it on, and began tapping on the screen. A few minutes later Aidan returned with her coffee and a hot chocolate for himself.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “Writing an e-mail to Mom and Dad. Take a look.”

  She handed the iPad to Aidan, who read:

  Mom and Dad—

  Please don’t be mad at us. We have to do this, and we can’t tell you why, at least not now. Please don’t try to find us. We’re totally safe, and we promise to stay in touch. We’re really really sorry, and we love you.

  xoxo

  Sarah and Aidan

  “I would never write ‘xoxo,’” said Aidan, handing the iPad back. “I hate ‘xoxo.’”

  “Too bad,” said Sarah, sending the e-mail.

  “Why’d you say we’re safe? We’re not safe.”

  “I know. I’m just trying to keep them from worrying.”

  “They’re going to worry anyway. A lot.”

  “I know. They’re going to look for us. And call the police.”

  “Maybe we should go to the police.”

  Sarah shook her head. “We have the same problem here we had in London. We don’t know where, or who, Ombra is. He can become anybody. If we go to the police, he can become the police. Then he’s got the starstuff. And us.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Sarah was tapping on the screen again. “We find the Starcatchers.”

  “But how? I mean, even if they’re still around, how do we find them?”

  Sarah turned the iPad screen toward Aidan. “This is how,” she said.

  Aidan looked at the screen and laughed.

  “Facebook?” he said. “Are you serious?”

  “If they’re still around,” she said, “they have the same technology we do.”

  “And you think they have a Facebook page. Like, ‘Hi, there! We’re the Starcatchers! Want to be our friend?’”

  “No, idiot. They wouldn’t do that. But they could be monitoring the Internet, looking for some situation like this, where there’s starstuff that needs protecting. They could be looking for certain names or keywords.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

&nb
sp; Sarah, tapping again, said, “I’m going to make a Facebook page for Molly Aster.”

  “I don’t believe this.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  That shut him up. For ten minutes they sat in silence, Aidan sipping his hot chocolate, Sarah leaving her coffee untouched as she tapped on the screen. When she was done she turned it toward Aidan again, showing him the simple Facebook page she’d created for “Molly Aster.” In the profile, she had written, “I found Mister Magill’s box. It’s full of the stuff, but now I’m being shadowed. Can you help me?”

  Aidan looked up at Sarah. “So this is it?” he said. “This is our plan?”

  “No,” said Sarah, taking the iPad back. “I’m also going on Twitter.”

  Aidan rolled his eyes; Sarah resumed tapping.

  The young men and woman left. One of the workers told Sarah and Aidan that the Starbucks would close in ten minutes. Sarah was still tapping.

  “What are you doing?” said Aidan.

  “Craigslist.”

  Aidan sighed and slumped in his chair.

  Then he sat upright and touched Sarah’s arm. She looked up and he nodded toward the door. A dark figure stood outside, silhouetted by the bright outdoor lights.

  “Oh, no,” Sarah said softly.

  “Maybe there’s a back way out,” said Aidan.

  They stood quickly. Sarah unplugged the iPad and shoved it into her backpack. They walked toward the counter. One of the workers, a middle-aged woman, said, “Can I help you?”

  “Is there a back way out?” said Aidan.

  “What?”

  “We’re wondering if we can leave by the—” Aidan stopped at the sound of the door opening. He and Sarah turned. A tall man entered. He wore a long overcoat and a baseball cap pulled low, shielding his eyes.

  The man started toward Sarah and Aidan. They stood frozen; there was nowhere to go except toward the dark figure, now six feet away, now four, now…

  “Hey, Bob,” said the woman behind the counter. “Thought you weren’t gonna make it tonight. We’re about to close.”

  The tall man raised his head, revealing blue eyes in a broad, friendly face.