The Bridge to Never Land

by Dave Barry

  They squatted in the undergrowth watching the fort, swatting at insects, waiting for daylight. They were hot, tired, and thirsty. And afraid.

  To the east, the sky began to turn from black to gray.

  “Where’s the weapon?” the Twins asked Nibs, for the dozenth time.

  “It will be here,” he answered, also for the dozenth time, although he sounded less confident than he had.

  The sky grew lighter. The fort was quiet.

  Then Tink arrived, chiming at Nibs with quiet urgency.

  Then they saw what was behind her.

  Sarah, stifling a scream, turned to run.

  “It’s all right,” whispered Nibs, grabbing her arm.

  “How do you know it’s all right?” she asked.

  “Because Tink says so,” said Nibs.

  “And you believe her?”

  “I have to,” said Nibs. “Come on.”

  Hook was the only pirate still awake. Smee and the others sprawled in the dirt all around him, drooling and snoring, exhausted from the night of revelry. But Hook was too elated to sleep. He stood amid the slumbering men, holding the gold box—the reason for his joy, the source of the power that had enabled him, at long last, to defeat the savages.

  And capture the boy.

  Hook ambled over to the center of the compound, where a stout post was embedded firmly in the ground. There was an iron ring bolted to the post. Attached to this ring was a short, heavy, iron chain that ran to another iron ring fitted snugly around Peter’s neck. The ring on the post was positioned just high enough so that Peter could not sit on the ground, but also just low enough so that he could not stand fully upright. He was forced to remain in an uncomfortable crouch; if he dozed and allowed his body to sag, the choking pressure of the neck ring jerked him painfully awake. To make matters worse, his hands were bound tightly behind his back. He had spent the night in hideous discomfort.

  Hook had never been happier.

  Peter’s eyes were closed, but Hook knew he could not be sleeping. He gave Peter a sharp kick in the shin, which caused Peter’s head to jerk upright until the chain stopped it violently. Peter glared at Hook with eyes reddened from exhaustion and pain.

  “Been crying, have we?” said Hook.

  Peter said nothing.

  “You know,” said Hook, conversationally, “I had intended to kill you as soon as I captured you. But it has been so much fun seeing you this way…I hate to see it end.”

  He touched his hook to Peter’s neck. Peter drew back, but only a few inches before the chain stopped him. The hook found his neck again, its point just brushing Peter’s skin.

  “But know this, boy,” said Hook. “You will die. And soon.”

  He twitched the hook slightly. A bead of blood appeared on Peter’s neck. Hook saw pain in Peter’s eyes, and fear. This pleased him.

  Then he saw something else, just for a flickering instant, before Peter masked it. The boy had seen something. Hook whirled, and he saw it, too: a small, agile figure climbing over the wall near the fort’s heavy gate. The boy dropped to the ground, followed quickly by a second boy.

  “Intruders!” Hook bellowed, kicking the sleeping men around him. “Get them!”

  The pirates were staggering to their feet, blinking.

  “What is it, Cap’n?” said Smee.

  “Intruders!”

  Smee blinked. “Where, Cap’n?”

  “There, you idjit!” yelled Hook, shoving Smee. “By the gate!”

  As Smee and the others stumbled across the compound, Hook saw that the intruders were two of the Lost Boys. They ran to the gate, quickly slid aside the heavy plank that held it shut, then began opening the gate. Through the opening dashed three more Lost Boys.

  “Get them!” Hook yelled again, but he was feeling less concerned now. If the Mollusks were attacking, he would have cause for worry. But the Mollusks were beaten. These were just children making a pathetic attempt to rescue their captured leader. They were no match for Hook and his men. Nobody was a match for Hook, as long as he had the gold box.

  The gate was wide open now. The pirates were stumbling around chasing after the boys, who were so far eluding them. But the boys were making no effort to get to Peter. Hook frowned. What kind of rescue attempt was this?

  Suddenly, it occurred to him: the scampering boys were a diversion.

  “Close the gate!” he bellowed. “Close the gate!”

  It was several seconds before the pirates heard him. Abandoning their pursuit of the boys, they headed for the gate.

  Then they stopped.

  Then they turned and ran back into the compound directly toward Hook, their faces white with fear.

  Hook opened his mouth to order them back to the gate. But before he could emit a sound, he heard the sound he feared most in all the world—the steady ticking of a clock. It was the only clock on Mollusk Island; it had been infused long ago with starstuff, and since then it had never stopped, despite its strange location—inside the stomach of Mister Grin.

  The gigantic crocodile lumbered into view, heading for the gate opening, its massive jaws gaping to reveal rows of jagged, spear-size teeth. For a few moments Hook was paralyzed with terror, and in those frozen moments he saw something that seemed impossible: there were three people riding on the crocodile’s back.

  “Hang on,” said Nibs, from the front.

  “Hang on to what?” said J.D., looking for something to grab on the giant croc’s scaly back.

  “I really, really don’t want to fall off and get eaten by this thing,” said Sarah, who was sitting between the other two.

  “You won’t,” said Nibs. “I told you, Tink made a bargain with Mister Grin. We give him Hook, and he doesn’t eat us.”

  “But he’s a crocodile,” said Sarah. “How do you make a bargain with a crocodile?”

  “Tink speaks crocodile,” said Nibs.

  Ahead, through the open fort gate, Sarah saw pirates running away; beyond them, she saw Hook, who was holding the gold box and standing near Peter, who was chained to a post.

  “Hang on!” shouted Nibs.

  They clung as best they could to the broad back of the giant creature as it lumbered, with surprising speed, into the gate opening.

  And then, with a thundering crash, Mister Grin stopped. Nibs, Sarah, and J.D. were hurled forward, just managing not to fly off the croc’s giant snout.

  “What happened?” shouted Sarah.

  “The croc’s too wide!” answered J.D. It was true: although Mister Grin’s snout fit through the opening, his massive midsection was too wide. He had become wedged between the stout logs on both sides. Tink was a bright blur, zipping around the croc’s enormous head, chiming furiously. Roaring in fury, Mister Grin swept his tail back and forth, shaking his monstrous body. The logs creaked and swayed, but the fort—including the narrow gate opening—had been designed specifically to repel Mister Grin; for the moment, the logs held.

  Hook watched Mister Grin’s struggle to get through the gate, and he knew two things. One was that eventually the giant croc would succeed. The other was that there would be only one way to escape the fort, and Hook held it in his hand. His men might not be so fortunate. But Hook had never been one to worry about his men.

  There was a loud crack as one of the logs began to give way to the massive weight and strength of the croc. Hook gripped the gold box tight. He would use it in a moment. But there was one piece of business he had to take care of first.

  He turned toward Peter.

  Nibs and J.D. were both focused on Mister Grin’s efforts to get through the gate. But Sarah kept her eyes on the gold box. Whatever else happened, they had to get the box back. Her fear was that Hook would simply fly away with it. The plan had been to catch him sleeping, but now they had lost the element of surprise. She expected him to use the starstuff at any moment. But so far he hadn’t. As she watched, Hook began walking toward Peter, chained to the post, helpless.

  Hook was raising his hook
hand.

  “Oh, no,” said Sarah softly. And then she was scrambling forward on the croc’s back, past Nibs.

  “Sarah!” called J.D.

  She didn’t look back. On her feet now, she ran straight down the middle of Mister Grin’s snout and leaped off the tip. She fell onto the dirt, rolling.

  J.D. rose to follow her, but a sudden violent twist by Mister Grin sent him flying sideways. Sarah was on her feet now, running as fast as she could.

  Hook stood with his hook hand held high. His final triumph over the boy was going to be more rushed than he had planned, but he intended to savor, as best he could, this moment.

  “Look at me, boy!” he said. “I want my face to be the last thing you see.”

  Peter looked at him, his face defiant.

  Hook pulled his arm back for the final strike. He began an arcing swing, its target Peter’s neck.

  Sarah’s flying karate kick caught Hook in his midsection. As he fell, spinning, his hook missed Peter by half an inch and kept going around his body.

  It plunged into Sarah’s chest, just below her collarbone.

  Together they fell to the dirt. Sarah seemed unaware that she had been wounded until she saw Hook pull his hook, dripping red with her blood, from her body. She looked down and tried to scream, but what came out was more of a hideous gurgle.

  Hook scrambled to his feet. With barely a glance at Sarah on the ground he turned back toward Peter, determined to finish the job.

  “Get away!” shouted a voice. Hook turned and saw J.D. advancing on him cautiously, his eyes on the dripping red hook. He had no weapon. Hook swung the hook at him, and he jumped back.

  Hook turned back toward Peter, but as he did he heard a roar and a crash. He spun back toward the gate: the beast had forced its way through and was coming fast. Hook made a quick calculation: there was no time for the boy. In one swift motion he raised the gold box, put the point of his hook on the wheel, and gave it a quarter turn as he tilted the opening toward his chest. During the night he’d had to tilt it farther and farther; there was no telling how much starstuff was left.

  But there was enough for now; even with Mister Grin charging at him, Hook felt the now-familiar sense of elation as the starstuff lifted him in spirit as well as body.

  Clutching the gold box, he began to rise. The croc roared, and Hook laughed: the beast would not reach him. His feet were four feet off the ground, now five, now six…

  Suddenly, he stopped rising. He looked down and saw hands gripping his ankles; then he looked down farther and saw J.D. clinging to him desperately. Hook swore an oath and swung his hook downward, but it was difficult to reach with the gold box in his other hand.

  The croc was almost to him.

  He kicked his feet violently and at the same time strained to rise.

  Somehow J.D. held on. And somehow Hook made them both rise another few feet. Hook’s boots were ten feet up in the air now, J.D. dangling down, hanging on desperately as Hook thrashed his legs while still fighting to rise. They ascended another foot, but that was it; in the next moment, Hook sensed with horror that J.D. was dragging him down to the enormous croc’s waiting jaws.

  Hook knew he had to get rid of J.D. or die. With a desperate lunge he leaned over and swung his hook down as far as he could. But J.D. had been anticipating this. At the last second he released his right hand from Hook’s ankle, and as the hook went by, he snatched Hook’s wrist. Now he had Hook by a foot and a hand; more important, he had neutralized the hook, at least for now. Hook tried to kick J.D. with his free foot, but his position was too awkward to get any force behind it.

  They were starting to descend. Mister Grin was waiting.

  Hook had one weapon left. He had to use it now, or be eaten.

  With a roar of utter fury he hurled the gold box. J.D. saw it coming and moved his head just enough so that it did not hit him square. But a sharp corner caught his skull and he lost his grip on Hook’s ankle. He now had Hook’s wrist with only one hand. Hook gave a violent yank and pulled free. Freed of the weight, he shot upward.

  J.D. fell to the ground, landing hard on his back. He couldn’t breathe and blood was pouring from a wound in his scalp. He tried to rise but he was losing consciousness. The last thing he realized before he blacked out was that he was gripping something in his right hand.

  It was his watch.

  Hook, now drifting over the wall, looked back and saw a chaotic scene: his men, fleeing Mister Grin, had run out through the gate and were racing across the clearing toward the jungle. Cowards, thought Hook. The girl he had stabbed was lying on the ground, her face paper-white, her blood drenching her clothes. Peter, still chained to the post, was shouting urgent orders at the Lost Boys. One of them ran and picked up the gold box, then ran to the fallen girl and knelt next to her.

  Hook didn’t see what happened next; he had drifted too far away to see over the wall. He turned his attention toward his ship, anchored in Pirate Cove. Then he heard a roar and looked back. The crocodile had emerged from the fort and was coming after him again.

  Hook strained to rise and aimed for the ship, praying he’d used enough starstuff to make it. From back inside the fort he heard a loud cry. Whether it was a cry of joy or a cry of anguish he could not tell.

  CHAPTER 39

  READY FOR ANYTHING

  “NIBS! GET THE BOX!” peter shouted, straining against the chain holding him to the post.

  Nibs stared wide-eyed at the motionless, blood-covered form of Sarah.

  “Nibs!” repeated Peter. “Get the gold box!”

  Shaken from his trance, Nibs looked around frantically.

  “Over there!” said Peter, pointing. “The rest of you, find the key!” Peter rattled his chains. “Hook put it in his hut, I think. It’s the one over there.”

  Slightly, Curly, and the Twins took off at a run toward Hook’s hut.

  Nibs had the box now. “What do I do?” he asked.

  “Listen carefully,” said Peter. “Set it on the ground next to Sarah. Now, twist the wheel on top. Just a little…good! Now, you mustn’t look directly at the starstuff. Turn it ’round the other way…good. Now tip the box so the starstuff flows into the wound.”

  Nibs turned the box and lifted it over Sarah, his hands shaking badly. J.D., who had just regained consciousness, rose and stumbled over.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he called to Peter.

  “I’ve seen it work before,” Peter answered, remembering the time, long ago, when he had used starstuff to save the life of Fighting Prawn.

  “All right,” said J.D., reaching out his hands to steady Nibs’s. Together they tilted the gold box, farther and farther, until finally there was a brilliant flash and the sound of bells as starstuff began to flow into the horrible wound just below Sarah’s neck. Some spilled on Nibs’s and J.D.’s hands. Nibs, unaccustomed to its effects, became elated and began to hum and giggle. J.D. concentrated, forcing himself to focus, through squinted eyes, on the box. The stream of starstuff was abating. He tilted the box farther, until it was almost vertical, but only the barest trickle came out.

  Afraid of what he would see, he forced himself to look at Sarah’s wound. His eyes opened wide.

  “I don’t believe it,” J.D. whispered.

  “Oh, my,” said Nibs.

  The wound had healed. Where there had been a deep gash in Sarah’s skin, there was now only a faint redness—not even a scar. Only the hole in Sarah’s bloody shirt indicated what had happened. Sarah’s body was floating a foot off the ground; gently, J.D. pushed her back down.

  Sarah’s eyes blinked open. She coughed, then cried out as a searing pain shot through her chest. She was afraid to look down; her eyes shone with fear.

  “You’re gonna be okay,” said J.D.

  Sarah didn’t believe him. She remembered the horrible sight of the red-smeared hook, her spurting blood…“I’m going to die,” she whispered.

  “No,” said Nibs. He held up the gold box. “Y
ou’re going to be fine.” As he spoke, Sarah became aware of the warmth spreading through her.

  Still, she didn’t dare look down. Her eyes met J.D.’s. “Is it really okay?” she said.

  He nodded. “As a physicist,” he said, “I’m very reluctant to use the word miracle. But this was a miracle.”

  Sarah turned toward Nibs. “Thank you,” she said.

  “It was Peter’s idea,” said Nibs. “And I couldn’t have done it without your friend.”

  “Well, then, thank you all,” said Sarah. She frowned. “You didn’t use up all the starstuff?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said J.D. “Just rest.”

  “But—”

  “Just rest.”

  She lay back in the dirt and closed her eyes. They brought her some water in a coconut shell and wadded up some big leaves to form a crude pillow. The Twins found the key in Hook’s hut and brought it to Peter, who, with their help, finally freed himself from the ring around his neck. Sarah heard him walk over and felt his shadow as he stood over her. She opened her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he said. He himself had a raw, ugly, red line around his neck.

  “I think so,” she said.

  “I think so, too,” said Peter.

  There was a moment of awkward silence, and then he said, “You saved my life. Hook would have killed me. I…well…thank you.”

  “And you saved my life, from what I hear,” said Sarah. “I’d say we’re even.”

  “No,” said Peter. “You risked your life for me.”

  “I just…reacted,” said Sarah.

  “But why?” said Peter. “Why risk your life?”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. You were helpless there, chained to the post…it just seemed wrong.”

  Peter nodded again. He was silent for a few moments, then said, “You told me your brother is in trouble. With Ombra.”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Then I’m going back with you,” said Peter. “To help.”

  Tink chimed something.

  “Tink, too,” he said. “We’ve fought Ombra before. More than once. We can help.”