The Bridge to Never Land

by Dave Barry

  “Get me them trousers!” he bellowed.

  Immediately, two sailors grabbed J.D. and turned him upside down; two others yanked his jeans off. He was returned to his feet in his boxer shorts.

  Hook turned his back and, shielded by his coat, exchanged his torn leggings for J.D.’s blue jeans. He played with the zipper repeatedly, then shouted “Owww!” and bent over.

  “What happened, Cap’n?” said Smee.

  “Never mind what happened!” roared Hook, turning back around, his face beet-red. He pointed at the backpack and snarled. “Open it!”

  Sarah and J.D. exchanged helpless looks as Smee gingerly opened all the zippers, then tipped over the backpack. Sarah’s iPad and cell phone tumbled onto the deck, followed by the golden box. The pirates were in an uproar now, gathered around these strange objects.

  “Stand back!” bellowed Hook.

  The men parted. Hook leaned down and picked up the iPad. He studied the black glass screen. “It’s a mirror,” he declared. He held up the iPad and, using the reflection, combed some debris from his beard with his hook. Shifting his grip on the iPad, he pressed the power button. He jerked his head back in alarm as the screen came to life, displaying Sarah’s wallpaper: a pristine, white-sand, Caribbean island in a sea of turquoise water. Hook nearly dropped the device.

  “Smee!”

  Smee waddled over, looked at the screen, and gasped. “As fine a painting as I’ve seen, Cap’n!”

  “It wasn’t there a second ago,” said Hook. He glared at J.D. “Where did this painting come from?” he demanded.

  “It’s, um…” J.D. hesitated, not sure where to begin.

  “It’s magic,” said Sarah.

  The pirates muttered nervously.

  “What did you say, girl?” said Hook.

  “It’s a magic…picture thing,” said Sarah.

  Hook frowned. On the one hand, he could not appear to be afraid of this girl, especially in front of his men. On the other hand, he was a bit afraid of this girl, and this thing he was holding did appear to be magical. Perhaps even dangerous.

  “Hold this, Smee,” he said, handing the iPad to his first mate, who took it nervously.

  “You can have the magic picture thing,” said Sarah. She pointed toward the cell phone. “You can also have that. It’s a magic, um, talking thing. Very magical. You can talk to people far away. And send magical texts. I’ll show you how to use these things. All I ask is that you let us go, and let us keep this.” She pointed to the golden box. “It’s just an old family…thing.”

  She bent to pick up the box. She was stopped by the hook on her arm, its point pressing painfully into her skin. “And old family thing, eh?” said Hook, his dark eyes glittering. “Yes.”

  Hook bent and picked up the box. He found the little golden wheel, and touched it with his hook.

  “Don’t!” said Sarah.

  “Why not?” said Hook.

  “It’s dangerous,” she said.

  “Very dangerous,” said J.D.

  Hook looked at Sarah, then J.D., then the box.

  “Smee,” he said.

  “Aye, Cap’n.”

  “Take this box.”

  “What do I do with the magical picture thing?” said Smee.

  “Put it down, you sponge-brained idjit,” said Hook, “and take the box.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” said Smee, putting down the iPad and taking the box from Hook.

  “Now,” said Hook, “turn the wheel.”

  “But they said it was dang—”

  “i know what they said, you idjit. They’re lying.”

  “They are?”

  “Of course they are,” said Hook, taking a step back. “Turn the wheel.”

  “You’re making a big mistake,” said Sarah.

  “Silence, girl!” said Hook. “Turn the wheel, Smee.”

  With great reluctance, Smee put his hand on the wheel. Beads of sweat appeared on his broad forehead. He looked at J.D. and Sarah, who both shook their heads. Then he looked pleadingly at Hook.

  “Turn the wheel!” Hook roared.

  His whole body trembling, Smee turned the wheel. The deck instantly filled with sound and a light far brighter than the sun overhead.

  “Shut it off now!” yelled Sarah. “Right now!”

  Somehow, through the blaze of light and sound, Smee heard her, and obeyed. The light began to dim immediately, but it was thirty seconds or so before the pirates could see anything. What they saw, as their vision returned, was that they were no longer on the deck; they were floating, every one of them, up into the ship’s rigging. And yet they were not afraid—in fact, they were delighted, even Hook, who smiled hugely beneath his flamboyant moustache, revealing his foul teeth in all their mismatched hideousness. Floating above the rest of the pirates, like an overinflated balloon, was Smee, grinning blissfully, still clutching the golden box.

  Sarah and J.D. were also floating, but being starstuff veterans, they were not surprised. They had both closed their eyes when Smee turned the wheel, so their vision came back more quickly than the pirates’. J.D. spotted Sarah in the midst of the floating pirates, angling her body upward, trying to get to Smee. But she was having trouble gaining altitude, as was J.D.; they both could sense that the small amount of starstuff Smee had released was already wearing off.

  J.D. grabbed a mainmast stay and used it to propel himself toward Sarah. “We need to get out of here,” he said, catching hold of her arm.

  “We need to get the box,” she answered, still struggling to rise.

  “We can’t reach it,” he said, looking up at the giggling Smee, now floating near the crow’s nest, with Hook about ten feet below him. “And when Hook comes down, we need to be gone.”

  Sarah continued to strain, but she and J.D. were both starting to sink. Around them, the other pirates were also slowly descending.

  “Sarah, come on,” said J.D.

  Seeing that her efforts were hopeless, Sarah reluctantly gave up. She followed J.D. as he veered away from the ship and out over the open water, pointing toward the mountainous island in the distance.

  From above, Hook saw them leaving, but he was untroubled. In part, this was because of the unaccustomed mellowness he was feeling. But mostly it was because of the golden box. Hook knew what was in that box; he’d had dealings with it long ago. He knew it was, indeed, magical—and very powerful.

  And now, he thought, as he drifted back toward the deck, with Smee and the box descending lazily after him, that power is mine.

  CHAPTER 32

  THE WELCOMING PARTY

  “WE’RE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT!” Sarah called over her shoulder.

  J.D., flying just behind and below her, knew she was right; the island was still well in the distance, and they were almost in the water.

  “We’ll have to swim for it,” he shouted. “Keep flying as long as you can. I’ll catch up. I’m a good swimmer.”

  Seconds later, his toes brushed the water; seconds after that, his legs were dragging, and the rest of him was dragged in. Sarah heard the splash and glanced back to see J.D. waving at her to keep going. She did; she was not a strong swimmer, and wanted to fly every foot she could. She made herself as horizontal as possible as the water came closer and closer until she was skimming along hardly a foot above the surface.

  When the plunge came, it happened more suddenly than she expected, and caught her with her mouth open, her velocity forcing salt water into her throat as it drove her body underwater. She panicked, twisting her body frantically, looking for the surface, thrashing her arms and legs. She realized to her horror that she wasn’t rising; she was sinking deeper into the blue-green water. She redoubled her efforts to swim but found she had no strength left in her limbs. Her vision was dimming, her lungs were on fire, and the air she craved so desperately was receding above her, farther and farther…

  And then, suddenly, somehow, she was rising—gripped from behind by powerful arms, the water rushing past her face as s
he shot upward. Her head broke the surface and she gasped and coughed and heaved, trying to simultaneously take air in and vomit seawater out. It was more than a minute before she had regained some control, her breath coming in harsh rasps.

  “Th—thank you,” she said, turning her head, expecting to see J.D. She jerked in surprise when she saw that the face only inches from hers was that of a woman—a stunningly beautiful woman, with long blond hair and huge, brilliant green eyes.

  “Who are you?” said Sarah.

  The woman smiled at her, but said nothing. Her teeth were small and very white, ending in sharp points. Her breath smelled like seaweed.

  “There was someone with me,” Sarah said. “He must be in the water somewhere. I have to find him.” Sarah twisted her head around, looking for J.D., but saw only empty water. She turned back to her rescuer. “Please,” she said. “I need to find him. He could be drowning.” She struggled, trying to break free of the woman’s grasp, but could not; the woman was incredibly strong.

  “Please,” said Sarah again. “I…hey!”

  She was suddenly being propelled through the water toward the island with impossible speed, still in the grip of the woman. No human could swim that fast, Sarah realized, and in that moment she also realized what her rescuer was. She looked back and saw, in the foaming wake behind them, a flash of glistening green, sun reflecting from a long, graceful, and very powerful tail.

  “You’re a mermaid,” she said, over the rush of the water. Her rescuer flashed her a quick sideways smile. Sarah frowned, trying to remember the name of the head mermaid in the stories she’d read. “Are you Teacher?” she said. This got a bigger smile.

  “Teacher,” said Sarah, “I need to find my friend.”

  The mermaid nodded ahead. Sarah looked, squinting against the sun and sea spray, and saw a long, curved beach, its bright, white sand ringed with palms. Beyond that rose a steep mountainside covered with dense vegetation in a thousand shades of green. As they drew nearer she saw figures in the shallow water next to the beach. One was standing.

  “J.D.!” she shouted, her voice breaking with relief.

  J.D. spotted her and waved. She could see now that the figures in the water around him were mermaids, a half dozen of them, smiling radiantly.

  “I see you got a ride, too,” J.D. called, as Teacher, with a few more sweeps of her powerful tail, brought Sarah to him. Sarah stood and waded to him on shaky legs.

  Seeing the look on her face, he said, “You okay?”

  She intended to answer, but what came out was a sob.

  J.D. stepped forward and gave her an awkward hug, patting her back. She held him tightly for a moment. This displeased the mermaids who’d been surrounding J.D.; several of them snarled and hissed until a look from Teacher quieted them.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sarah, wiping her eyes. “I had a little trouble out there.”

  “I’m sorry,” said J.D. “I shouldn’t have told you to go ahead. But you’re okay now.”

  “Except for losing the starstuff to Hook and Ombra getting Aidan.”

  “Except for that,” agreed J.D. “On the other hand, we’re here,” he said, looking around at the beach and the jungle-covered mountainside beyond. “So this is Never Land.”

  “Yes,” said Sarah. “Where nobody ever grows old.” “Do you really believe that?” “Do you believe in Captain Hook? Mermaids?”

  J.D. smiled. “Good point. So remind me how that works, the whole never-grow-old thing.”

  “According to the books,” said Sarah, “there’s starstuff in the water supply, way underground somewhere.”

  “And it’s still working, after all these years?”

  “I guess so. A little seems to go a long way. And there was a lot here.”

  J.D. was about to ask another question when he saw movement up the beach at the edge of the jungle.

  “Looks like we have a welcoming party,” he said.

  Five muscular men were walking down the beach toward them. They were barefoot, wearing only loincloths and necklaces made of shells. All five carried spears. “I think those are the Mollusks,” said Sarah.

  There was a splashing sound. J.D. and Sarah looked around to find that the mermaids had disappeared.

  “Are the Mollusks friendly?” said J.D.

  “Sort of,” said Sarah.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t think they’re crazy about visitors.”

  “Swell.”

  The five men stopped at the water’s edge and spread out, watching J.D. and Sarah with unreadable expressions.

  “Hello,” said J.D., raising his hand in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture, then feeling stupid and putting it back down.

  The Mollusk in the middle, the tallest one, stepped forward, his eyes on J.D. “Who are you,” he said, “and how did you come here?” He spoke in British-accented English.

  “I’m J.D. Aster.”

  “An Aster,” said the Mollusk.

  “Yes.”

  “I see. And the way you came here?”

  “It’s…complicated,” said J.D.

  “Too complicated for a savage such as myself to comprehend?”

  Sarah smirked. J.D. reddened.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “It’s just that the way we got here, it’s a very—”

  “We came on the bridge,” said Sarah.

  The Mollusk smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said. “I suspected as much. It’s been quite a while since anyone used the bridge.”

  Sarah was studying him. “Are you the chief’s son…Bold Abalone?” she said.

  The Mollusk smiled again. “I am. And you are…”

  “Sarah. Sarah Cooper.”

  “You’re not an Aster.”

  “No. But I’m…I’m sort of working with the Starcatchers.”

  Bold Abalone nodded. “Perhaps, Sarah Cooper, you can explain to me why you and Mister Aster came to our island.”

  “Okay,” said Sarah. “But that part really is complicated.”

  “In that case,” said Bold Abalone, “it would be best if you explained it to my father.”

  CHAPTER 33

  ANOTHER PROBLEM

  THEY TOOK A PACKED-DIRT PATH through the jungle, Bold Abalone leading, followed by two Mollusk warriors, then Sarah and J.D., then two more Mollusks bringing up the rear. The jungle crowded close on both sides, the vegetation overhead so thick that the sunlight was reduced to a dim green glow. From all around came the buzzing of insects and the cries of exotic birds flitting through the trees. Occasionally, from the mountainside, came a deeper, muffled sound, apparently emitted by a larger animal—though what kind it was, Sarah and J.D. couldn’t tell.

  They followed the coastline, the water somewhere through the jungle off to their left, the mountainside rising steeply to their right. In about a half hour they came to a large clearing, at the far side of which was a tall log fence with a gate standing open. From inside the fence rose plumes of gray smoke. The air now carried the aroma of something cooking; Sarah and J.D. both became aware of how hungry they were.

  As they approached the gate, children’s heads appeared, poking out from both sides of the opening, staring at them. Passing through the gate, they found themselves in a large compound with several dozen thatch-roofed huts arranged around cooking fires. There were at least a hundred Mollusks inside, adults and children, every one of them staring at the new arrivals.

  Bold Abalone led them through the crowd to the middle of the compound, where a group of warriors was gathered in front of a large hut. Emerging from the hut was a tall, gray-haired man, older than the others, but still lean and muscular. He studied Sarah and J.D. with dark, intense eyes.

  “Fighting Prawn,” whispered Sarah to J.D.

  “What?” said J.D.

  “He’s the chief. Bold Abalone’s father.”

  “He doesn’t look thrilled to see us.”

  Bold Abalone stopped in front of his father and spoke to him
in a language consisting of odd-sounding grunts and clicks; the only word Sarah and J.D. understood was “Aster.” When he was done, Fighting Prawn nodded and looked at J.D.

  “You are an Aster?” he said. He spoke with the same accent as his son.

  “I am,” said J.D.

  “A relative of Leonard Aster?”

  “He was the uncle of my great-grandfather.”

  “So you are a Starcatcher?”

  “Um…sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s, uh…it’s kind of complicated.”

  “But it is the reason you have come.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you,” said Fighting Prawn, turning to Sarah. “Are you a Starcatcher?”

  “Not by birth,” said Sarah. “But I’ve become, um, involved with them. I’m really the reason we’re here. I did something really, really stupid.”

  Fighting Prawn’s expression softened just a bit.

  “You can explain it to me after dinner,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”

  J.D. and Sarah accepted eagerly. The Mollusks ate in circles, sitting cross-legged on the ground. Sarah and J.D. sat with the chief and his family. They were given bowls made from what appeared to be large clamshells, filled with grain and chunks of a cooked meat neither recognized, but both ate ravenously. They drank water from coconut shells; both were struck by how sweet and pure it tasted and how energized it made them feel.

  When the meal was finished, they thanked Fighting Prawn for his hospitality.

  “That was delicious,” said J.D. “What kind of meat is that?”

  “The Mollusk word for it,” said Fighting Prawn, “is…” Here he made a low-pitched nasal sound.

  “What does that mean in English?” asked Sarah.

  “Giant tree spider,” said Fighting Prawn.

  “I need some more water,” said Sarah.

  The Mollusks smiled with amusement as she and J.D. gulped from their coconuts.

  “Now,” said Fighting Prawn when they were done. “Please explain your presence here.”

  Sarah started at the beginning, leaving out nothing. She spoke for nearly a half hour uninterrupted. At that point J.D. picked up the story—the locket, Molly Aster’s diary, and the realization that Einstein had built the bridge. At the mention of the scientist’s name, Fighting Prawn smiled for the first time.