The Grown Ups' Crusade

by Audrey Greathouse

  “And they've got this as well,” Jay said, heaving the thick document into his hands. Peter paged through it with a listless lack of attention as Jay explained, “This is the CAO's contract with reality. It's all the laws of physics and nature that they want to enforce. They've just sent ashore a team of experts to argue it into existence.”

  Since Peter wasn't making any use of the contract, Gwen took it out of his hands and paged through it for herself.

  * * *

  Section 6, Subsection A, Article D: Flight shall be a physical impossibility on the grounds that gravity is a superseding force.

  * * *

  Section 18, Subsection C, Clause A: All three-dimensional surfaces are mappable, including every and all islands of this world.

  * * *

  Every page had a dozen different requirements of reality, many too bogged down by the style of legal prose for Gwen to comprehend. It only took a moment of flipping through the document before she realized how it would work to the adults' advantage.

  The entire contract represented an extensive permutation of I don't believe in fairies. It was all things adults said, but more importantly, it was all things adults believed. Neverland bended to the will of its believers, and if the Anomalous Activity officers had sent some arrogant, rule-entrenched lawyers ashore, they would have the capacity to overwrite the rules of magical reality that the creatures and children of Neverland lived by.

  “Now you really need to get out of here before the CAO shows up, dude,” Jay told him. “There are a few unlaunched boats left, if you can get a hold of one, you'll be able to get back to shore. If you head out that door to the deck and follow it down—”

  He gave directions, too numerous and detailed to remember, either for Peter or Gwen. What's more, she knew their chance of making it all the way to the beach landers on the other side of the ship without getting spotted was no chance at all. If they didn't fly, they were as good as captured.

  Peter was testing his flight and finding out what Gwen already knew. Amazingly, he was not completely devoid of his flight. He could manage wobbly bursts—perhaps she should have expected such resilience from the famed Peter Pan—but he was not steady on air enough to make it all the way back to shore.

  They had to fly, and if Gwen was the only one who could fly, she would have to be strong and brave and whimsical enough for the both of them.

  “I can carry you,” Gwen told him, shoving the contract with reality into her satchel with one hand and fishing her pouch of emergency pixie-dust out with the other. She didn't need instructions for how to escape the ship, so long as she knew how to get outside. The door to the deck stood at the other end of the room. Their escape didn't have to be complicated to be effective.

  Gwen dumped the entirety of her pixie dust bag on him. If that managed to help him, it would be an emergency stash well spent. It helped, but only a little. “It'll kick in soon enough,” Gwen asserted, not letting doubt creep into her thoughts or voice. “It takes a few minutes to shake off the effects of that magic repellent.”

  Peter shuddered as his skin absorbed the glittering green magic, and he paced over to the intercom system to retrieve his dagger.

  “If it only takes a few minutes, we can hide him until he can fly again,” Jay suggested.

  “We can't risk that,” Gwen countered. “I can support him. We'll be okay. We need to leave now.”

  Jay reached out for her, and the gold trimmed sleeve of his sharp uniform brushed against her arm as he took her hand. “You've got immunity. You can stay here and talk to the CAO. Surely there's a way to negotiate with him. He's a businessman. Isn't there always a way to negotiate with businessmen?”

  “Not this time, Jay,” Gwen told him. She remembered the lab out by Lake Agana, and how much fear and contempt the researchers and black coats alike had for the CAO. They had spoken of him with the sort of threatening reverence that only truly dangerous men could command.

  To her surprise, Jay responded, “Please don't leave.”

  Thinking outside of her immediate problems, Gwen imagined herself in Jay's position. This boy had come halfway around the world or more—who knew how to gauge such a distance—for the sake of rescuing her. Although he was relieved to see she was not being held captive Neverland, he still had in his heart the driving motive to bring her home. She couldn't blame him for dismissing her ability to take care of herself; Lasiandra had deceived him. She remembered this boy driving all the way out to Lake Agana just to stay up and talk with her. For as much as he cared for her, he had still trusted her and let her fly away.

  She didn't want to hurt him again.

  “My little sister is still out there,” she stammered, trying to rationalize why she should go back into that jungle of youth she had no control over. What good could she do on land, really? If the stars had promised Lasiandra and Jay that Gwen would go home, fighting that destiny could only rack up collateral damage. Maybe surrendering was the best thing she could do for Neverland.

  Their conversation cut to nothing as the door into the room swung open, its un-oiled hinges squeaking like a scream as a man entered.

  Chapter 34

  Gwen knew, from all that had been said, that she now faced the CAO. He seemed alarmed by the presence of Peter and Gwen, but she just felt unimpressed.

  His receding hairline and the smattering of grey in his thin hair should have belonged to a much older man, but he didn't seem older than Gwen's own father. The dull grey suit he wore seemed startlingly normal and drab in comparison to the black coats' naval uniforms and tactical suits. His tiny glasses, rimmed with grey wire, contributed to his diminutive presence as much as his short stature. He couldn't have been more than three inches taller than Peter.

  “This is certainly a surprise,” he announced. His meek voice suited him.

  “You're the Chief Anomalous Officer,” Gwen said, marveling at this underwhelming man.

  “And you're Hoffman's daughter,” he replied. He looked to Peter. “And you're—”

  “I'm Peter Pan!” he exclaimed, “The most dangerous boy and daring soul to ever set foot on Neverland, and the boy who will defend it to the death! Who are you?”

  “I'm Howard Templeton,” he answered.

  Peter looked disturbed by the simplicity of this answer.

  “Captain,” the CAO said, “alert the crew that we have intruders.

  Jay saluted him. “Yes sir.” He went to the console where, from the CAO's vantage point, he began to relay a the message. He did not expect and could not see the slender cut Peter's knife had made in the system, rendering it useless. Jay pressed the ineffective intercom button as he made an announcement about the intruders and their location.

  “Officers will be here momentarily,” the CAO announced, unaware he intimidated them with an empty threat. “I suggest you cooperate with us during this transitional period.”

  “You mean you want us to stay put while you destroy Neverland,” Gwen replied.

  He shook his head—the motion looked like a jittery tick. “No, no—we're not destroying anything, only re-purposing its resources.”

  “You're here to kill the fairies, the redskins, and the mermaids,” Peter accused.

  This offensive charge did not faze the CAO. It didn't even seem to register with him as an insult. “But they're not real,” he replied. “How can you kill something that's not real?”

  A sudden wave of pity struck Gwen. She could not imagine being so blind to the beauty, the truth, and the life of these unreal creatures that had taught and loved her so much.

  “Who put you in charge of deciding what's real?” Peter demanded. “Your reality hasn't got any color, any adventure, any spirit in it… it isn't half as real as ours, and if you don't understand that you're destroying it, you must have less brains in your head than the fairies have in their toes.”

  “Nothing needs be destroyed that doesn't want to be destroyed,” the CAO promised. “We have systems in place to transition ever
ything into reality. We've had great success relocating other anomalous individuals. We can make Neverland's inhabitants real.”

  “You mean ugly,” Peter told him. The CAO had struck a sore spot in Peter's heart. “You can make their existences ugly enough that they count as people in your record books. You can do to them what you did to Tiger Lily—stick them somewhere ugly and sad and make them live in a little corner of your world you wouldn't even like.” A tear rolled down Peter's cheek, but he didn't pay it any attention, so neither did anyone else.

  “We're helping,” the CAO insisted. “We're helping everyone who is willing to accept our help. You must understand that you won't be punished or hurt. We'll help all reality-born children acclimate to living with a much more sustainable level of Anomalous Activity.”

  “Are you really so numb to think that wouldn't hurt?” Gwen asked him. The short little man didn't even seem to understand where the conflict of interests rested. He kept talking like he thought the logic of his argument couldn't help but convince the young people.

  He had no conception of his evil, no understanding of the pain he was inflicting. No wonder Jay had been under the impression this was a simple operation to claim a single tree. The Chief Anomalous Officer himself didn't understand the implications of his mission.

  “You're not malevolent, you're just inept,” Gwen announced. Unraveling her feelings as she spoke, she realized the pitiful truth of this man's existence. “You're evil, and its not even out of malice or passion. You're not trying to cheat us out of anything, and yet you're destroying everything. The Never Tree won't be any use to you. You made a deal with a mermaid for it, and she'll make all your efforts worthless. You can't storm into paradise, yank a tree up by the roots and expect it to solve all your real problems. This place is an escape, an ideal, and so what if it isn't real? Even those who will never lay eyes on Neverland need to know it is out here—but you would dissolve it. You want to take something beautiful from the people who made it and mangle it just to squeeze a few drops of profit or technical advancement out of it.”

  This seemed to trouble the CAO, but not in any way he could understand. He could follow her words, but the accusation rang too true for his clouded mind to process.

  “But we're already ashore,” he defended. “We have our best lawyers, anomaly-trained soldiers, the mermaid woman, and anomalous weapons of our own. We're going to capture the tree and use it to do good things.” He looked sad and confused. The man wore a pathetic expression that matched his pathetic sense of justice.

  Peter finally seemed to comprehend the nature of his enemy and the motives behind this assault on his home. No glory or adventure lay in fighting such a pitiable adversary. He sheathed his dagger. Looking at the unfortunate man, he told him, “I would run you through for what you've done—but it would be a dishonor to my dagger.”

  He took Gwen's hand, and squeezed it to tell her, let's go.

  The CAO watched them go, unequipped to stop them—unequipped to do anything. His reinforcements had never been called and had never arrived. As Peter and Gwen ran out the door, he could only muster a squeak of a shout, “Captain, stop them!”

  Jay was already in pursuit though, and followed them out to the deck. “Wait, Gwen!” he called.

  The wind on the deck almost blew his words away before they could reach her ears. She jerked out of Peter's hold long enough to address him. “I've got to do my best to save Neverland, Jay. If you came here for me, it's my fault this is even happening. I need to fix this.”

  “I'm sorry,” Jay apologized before reminding her, “You promised you would come back.”

  She nodded, and told him, “Someday.”

  She was not done with Neverland. Even her shadow came with her, its reluctant darkness clinging to her again, even if it did mirror her motions with sluggish contempt for her decisions. Although she suspected someday would come far too soon, she had to keep fighting for her dreams and ideals until the last moment she had in this paradise.

  If she'd been thinking, she probably would have given him a kiss goodbye, but Gwen had greater thoughts on her mind, outweighing the romantic flutters that tickled her heart in less pressing moments. Peter waited for her, crouching on the edge of the deck's metal railing. She took a running leap over the rail and flying with uncorrectable confidence beside the deck so that Peter could climb onto her back. Flying shouldn't have been possible anyways—what did it matter whether she had to fly with her weight alone or Peter's too? He wrapped his arms around her and used his unsteady flight to at least partially support his own weight. They made the motion seem so seamless, it felt practiced. With simple efficiency, they started for shore.

  Jay chased after her, but could go no farther than the edge of the deck. Bound by gravity, Jay could not evade his contract with reality. Sometime in the past few years he'd traded the ability to fly after Gwen for the ability to love her.

  She could not look back while Peter piggybacked on her, and she had no desire to either. She didn't want to know what a broken heart looked like. She suspected she would have an intimate understanding of that for herself soon enough.

  Chapter 35

  “Hurry up, Gwenny!” Peter cried, almost as loud as the wind in her ear. “We've got to get to the Never Tree before those lawyers do!”

  Soaring over the sea, Gwen and Peter made haste to get away from the battleship and out of its weapons' range. Jay had never alerted the crew to their presence, so what few adults spotted the two flying children were not prepared to react. Once she felt a safe distance away, Gwen stopped trying to shoot paranoid glances over her shoulder and focused on flying fast enough to appease Peter.

  No one could fly enough to satisfy Peter except Peter himself. His frustration found a productive outlet as he attempted to regain his own power. He wriggled off of Gwen's back, but kept an arm wrapped around her shoulders like a limping man. She steadied him and tried to correct for the lopsided flight that resulted from this imbalance. They didn't fly any faster, but at least Peter was recovering.

  Feeling a little more confident in his safety, her worries turned to others. She yanked the tin can phone out of her overstuffed satchel—making sure not to let the heavy contract with reality flop out.

  Shouting over the ocean's aggressive wind, she yelled into the can, “Rosemary, are you there? Are you okay?” She pressed the can to her ear and waited with her heart in her throat until her little sister picked up.

  “Yeppers!” Rosemary answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “Guarding the Never Tree. Jam brought flashlights to help fight shadows!”

  “Listen closely,” Gwen told her. “The adults are getting ready to send more things ashore.”

  “Really? More? Like what?”

  “Like lawyers, and a will-o-the-wisp.”

  “What's that?”

  “I'm not sure. It will catch you and give you to the grown-ups,” or worse, if it gets out of control. Gwen didn't know how to explain the gaseous trap to Rosemary when she hadn't even seen it for herself yet. “Don't chase any weird clouds or lights, and if you see any strange adults, stay away from them.”

  “I don't get into cars with strange adults!” Rosemary declared.

  “Right. Just stay away from them altogether, and tell the other kids. Peter and I will be there soon.”

  “Okay, good! I was starting to miss you,” her little sister replied.

  “Stay safe,” Gwen told her. “I'll see you soon.”

  “Yeppers!”

  The tin can line went dead, and Gwen considered the reality that she would never forgive herself if anything happened to Rosemary.

  She realized Peter was steering them off course, pulling her slightly away from the island and starting to circumnavigate it. She didn't fight his pull, but she did question it. “Why don't we fly straight to the Never Tree?” Gwen shouted to him.

  “We can't,” Peter shouted back. “There's only one way left to get to it, and it's t
he longest and most secret.”

  Gwen had to trust Rosemary would stay safe until they reached her. The little girl had proved an admirable soldier so far. It wasn't unreasonable to think she could take care of herself a few minutes more.

  Like dragonflies on the wind, Gwen and Peter moved faster than any ship could. They outpaced the Anomalous Activity flagship and, in short order, caught up to the Grammarian, halfway to the other side of the island.

  Starkey's ship veered away from Neverland, however, making it clear he'd charted a course away from these dangerous waters. Gwen powered them forward without complaint as Peter swerved them toward the pirate ship.

  “Hey ho!” Peter shouted at the crew. “Look at all you ugly codfish—where's your captain?”

  Twill pushed past Hangnail and Lacroix, skirting between their legs and running over to see Peter.

  “He's at the helm!” Twill announced. “That means he's driving the ship! He's teaching me to drive too. I can show you!”

  Gwen and Peter hovered after the tiniest pirate. Committed to a life of piracy, Twill did not fly and seemed to have no compulsion to violate the laws of physics now that the laws of man no longer constrained him.

  Starkey saw them coming and hailed them with a friendly wave. “This is where I leave you, Pan,” he told him. “We've all the prisoners this poor boat can carry, and I want to make good time getting them back. It's a pleasure doing such dastardly business with you, but I suspect we'll be at odds next I return.”

  “If I ever see you again, I'll send the crocodile after you—hand and all!” Peter threatened.

  Starkey smiled, his mustache curling with his lips. “We'll see about that,” he answered. With a nod and a wink to Gwen he told her, “I see you've made it out and back into the fray. You're as slippery as an eel in oil, Miss Hoffman. It becomes you.”

  “Begone, you old shrimp-faced fiend,” Peter cursed.