Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland (10 page)

“Find the plant with almond leaves.
 
Nothing more,” I said.
 
Smee and Cecco headed left.
 
Noodler and I worked our way around to the right.
 

We followed the border until we found an opening.
 
We pushed through and stepped onto a sprawl of brown sand, roughly twenty paces across.
 
Along the inside perimeter, a row of tall and flat leaves were held upright against the trunks of their trees by taut vines.
 

We walked past these until we found a pod laying in the center.
 
There was a faint movement that I first dismissed as the shifting sand.
 
It moved a second time and I put a hand on Noodler’s shoulder.
 
A short moment later, the pod writhed and whined softly.
 

At the base of the pod, I saw a small swatch of growth.
 
Out of tall stems, almond shaped leaves upturned their bristly faces to the sun.
 
I pointed Noodler’s attention to the plant and the man with backwards hands nodded his understanding.
 

I stepped to the center, but tripped and fell face down into the sand.
 
I cursed and pushed myself up onto my knees.
 
I stepped one leg up and fell again.
 
I turned over and saw that my ankles were bound by vines.
 
The thorns dug into the leather of my boots as they crept higher up my legs, winding around my calves and up toward my knees.
 

I cut through the thick skin with my hook.
 
One vine recoiled and two more lunged for my wrists.
 
I yanked my left hand away in time, but one tendril wrapped my right arm and pulled it straight.
 
This time, a thorn bit into me.
 
A chill ran up my arm like iced fire and I went numb up to my shoulder.
 
With my free hand, I drew my sword and brought it down hard on the vine that held my wrist.
 
The vine severed and slid away into the sand.
 

I jabbed my sword into the ground and rolled up my sleeve.
 
Red and white blotches rose beneath my skin, peaking where the thorn pierced me.
 
Yellow fluid mixed with thick blood oozed from the opening.
 
I unstrapped my hook and latched it to my belt.
 
I pulled my sleeve over my arm and cradled it as I looked back at Noodler.
 

No one was there.
 

I let my arm drop and gripped my sword.
 

“Noodler.”
 

I scanned the row of trees for any sign of my men.
 

“Cecco.”
 

The same silence greeted me.
 

Underneath the rustling leaves and the subtle wind, a faint whine rose to meet my ears.
 
I looked back at the pod and watched it rock from side to side in a slow rhythm.
 

“It’s a lure,” I said to myself.
 
“So you want me to come to you, do you?”
 
I sheathed my sword, pulled my pistol, and shot.
 
Acrid smoke from the gunpowder kicked into the air.
 
As it cleared, I watched the pod rear up and shake, spurting white and red fluid onto the sand.
 
It howled and twitched, then slumped still.
 

I checked the sand for vines, then reloaded my pistol, tucked it into my belt, and drew my sword.
 
I stepped to the center of the desert patch as the pod burst open at the tip, spilling more fluid.
 
I poked at it with my sword, but it didn’t move.
 

I peeled back a layer of green skin.
 
The stench of bile and flesh assaulted me and I backed off a few paces.
 
The taste of it settled in my throat and I spent valuable seconds gagging.
 

I pulled my shirt over my mouth and turned back to the pod.
 
I cut into the layers of the plant’s red flesh and rolled it back to uncover a bone, white and fresh.
 
I dug further and found more bones, connected at the ribcage between a long narrow skull and foreleg.
 

One of the vines in the pod caught my eye.
 
Its green hue ran the length of the beast’s spine.
 
I also discovered that, while some parts of the body were rotted through, others were fresh and pink.
 
As puzzled as I was, I concluded that, aside from it clearly not being human, this beast was alive in some form until I shot it.
 
Veins, both thin and thick, wound through the carcass and down into the stem of the pod.
 
Some were attached to the meatier areas, while others reached into the beast’s ribcage and throat.
 
I pressed on the mass of veins and the corpse let out a soft whine.
 

I cut a line down the side of the pod and found that the veins bundled together into a cable at the neck of the stem.
 
In one swipe, I severed it from the pod.
 
Blood spilled onto the sand and the stem writhed for a moment before going limp.
 

I tore one of the plants with furry almond leaves out by the root and stuffed it into the bag that was slung over my shoulder.
 
I uprooted two more and tucked them away as well.
 

A muffled cry rose behind me.
 
I listened and again I heard it, this time to my right.
 
A third cry sang out to my left and I sprinted to greet it.
 

I cut through the branches and found Cecco prone on the grass, face up and flushed red.
 
Around his ankles was a coil of vines that led to an open pod.
 
Its green skin bloomed pink as it pulled the man closer.
 
Cecco’s eyes fixed on me and spittle dribbled out of his mouth as he tried to speak.
 

I severed the vine holding my crew mate, and two more sprang out at me.
 
I stepped on one and sliced the other in the air.
 
I then cut the one I stepped on and drove my sword into the mouth of the blooming pod.
 
It seized and pulled back into the trees.
 

I sheathed my sword and dragged Cecco to the grass several yards away.
 
I laid the man on his side, then ran back to where I heard the other cries.
 

Noodler was bound in the same way.
 
I cut the vines and readied myself for a counter attack that never came.
 
I raised my sword to thrust at the pod, but it closed and withdrew before I could strike it.
 
Once I dragged Noodler to safety, I went back for Smee.
 

The Irishman was prone and bound as well, but as I approached, the vines loosened and slinked away.
 

By the time I gathered the three men together, the feeling started to return in my right arm. I reattached my hook and tightened its straps around the familiar sore ache.
 
A small part of me missed feeling so numb.
 

The men laid for several minutes as dark clouds gathered in the distance.
 
I heard running water only yards away and made a decision.
 
“Stay here,” I told them.
 
“I’ll return in a moment with water.”

I passed through the last line of trees and stopped dead.
 
There, in the clearing beyond the broad leaves and thick vines, a woman bathed in a grotto.
 
She raised her hands above her head and water streaked down her bare back.
 
Her long red hair whipped around and she looked at me with coal black eyes.
 

I approached.
 

I walked through the brush and waded into the pond until I was waist deep.
 
I stopped inches from her and she smiled at me.
 

She dove and took her trance with her.
 
I shook my head to clear my mind and searched for her in the water.
 
Laughter came from behind me and I found her with a fair haired woman, watching me from behind a large rock.
 
They embraced one another and the new woman called to me with her pitch black eyes.

Again, I obeyed.

They dove and I found myself neck-deep at the center of the cove.
 
Something moved below my feet and I treaded water to say afloat.
 
The two women circled me and cackled.
 
Their eyes rolled white.
 
They pinched me.
 
They pulled at my feet.
 
They smiled and their teeth arched forward like needles.
 

I flailed my fists and my blades at them.
 
They splashed me and bit my legs.
 
They dragged me underwater, but released me after a few moments.
 
Thick blood rose to the surface of the water around me, ringing me in widening circles.
 
They dragged me under again, this time for longer.
 
I kicked and swiped at them as the world darkened around me.

Then a shriek screeched across the sky and the women disappeared into the red and black water.
 
I swam for the bank and coughed up blood onto the rocks.
 

“I am sorry about them,” a voice said.
 
“They should know not to do that with you.”
 

“Oh?” I said.
 
I turned and saw the same slick black hair and stunning, angled face of the mermaid from the bay.
 
Her eyes were a rich blue and, although beautiful, didn’t enthrall or terrify me.
 
“And what makes me so special?”
 

“You’re mine,” she said.
 

“Am I?”

“Oh yes,” she said.
 
“All that you are, and, more importantly, all that you were.”

I coughed more blood onto the beach, then wiped my mouth with the sleeve beneath my hook.
 

“Dear, dear,” the mermaid said.
 
“You’re just going all to pieces around here aren’t you?”
 

I looked down at my hook and scowled.
 
The thought reminded me why I came out this way and only then did I realize that I no longer had my bag.
 
Panic gripped me.
 
I searched the beach for it and found it washed up some yards away.
 
I reached into it and my fingers slipped out the bottom.
 
I turned it inside out and found nothing.
 

“Stop looking,” the mermaid laughed.
 
She reached behind her and held up the thin stems and leaves.
 
“This is what you want?”

“Yes,” I said.
 
“How do you know?”
 

“It is what the men of this world always come for,” she smiled.
 
“In Neverland a man can live forever as long as he doesn’t die.”

“That sounds ridiculous.”

“It is as ridiculous as it is true,” she said.
 
She handed me the herbs with a grin.

“And you want nothing in return?”

“You’ve already given me so much,” she said.
 
“You don’t feel it?”
 

“The
Forgetting
,” I said.
 
“I’ve seen it in my crew.
 
They lose themselves.
 
Their memories.”

“Oh, but you’ve given just as much.”
 
She examined me for a moment.
 
“Maybe more.”

“How is that possible?”

“Currency is currency,” she said.
 
“We hear that you men trade in pretty rocks and metals.”
 

“Again, why me?”

“The others squabble over the children,” she said.
 
“But I have first rights to the men of my choice.”

“I’m honored,” I said, mockingly.

“You should be.
 
I am royal blood and you are a prize.
 
You have worked so hard for what you have that a day of your story is worth a dozen common lifetimes.”
 

“I’d trade it all to have never known him.”

“No you wouldn’t,” she said.
 
“And that’s the most valued secret I’ll take from you.
 
Your hatred is so beautiful.
 
You cherish it.
 
You nurture it as you would a child.
 
I’ll have it.
 
All of it, in time.
 
Then you can die.
 
Not a day sooner.”
 
She smiled her needle teeth at me and disappeared into the water.
 

I stood at the banks for several silent moments.
 

I knelt down to my reflection and collected my memories, mouthing every word carefully.
 

“My name is Captain Hook.
 
I was born James Hoodkins to Jonathan and Elizabeth.
 
My father was the captain of the
Jolly Roger
back when it was called the
Britannia
.
 
William Jukes is my oldest friend.
 
He and I grew up together in Port Royal.
 
His father was Harrison Jukes, a great man who served as first officer to my father.
 
Emily Jukes was his sister and the only woman who had ever truly seen me and still chose to love me.
 
Save for William, they are all dead because Peter Pan came into our lives through me.”

I concentrated on their faces as I spoke their names.
 
I stared hard into my reflection’s eyes and recited my memories again, this time with greater certainty in the wording.