Second on the Right (42 page)

Was that it? Was it possible the soul of
this creature now inhabited the knife?
James was unsure, but he
wasn’t going to take the chance of direct contact.

"At last!" James shouted. The cursed creature
was no more and could finally be disposed of. Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw Robbie go for the knife and cried out, "No! Stop,
please! Listen to me, please!" Extending his right arm, as if palm
up, he brought his left hand down sharply over the hook in a
chopping motion, the sign for “stop”. He had hoped the familiarity
of it would remind Robbie of who James was: his father.

Robbie paused for a moment, his fist clenched
around a cloth that slowed the bleeding of the superficial cut on
his hand. "Why should I listen to you?" he asked.

"Don’t you remember me? I'm your father.
Robbie, I only want what's best for you," James said, imploring him
to listen.

"My father is dead," Robbie replied, looking
down at the once lively Peter Pan.

"Dead? What? Wait, no! I'm your father. Don't
you remember? Your mother, Eileen, my wife. You were both taken
from me, by
him
!" James fell to his knees. So passionate
were his pleas, he was using up all of his remaining strength.

Robbie shook his head and glared at James.
"My father told me you would say this. It's all lies."

"No, son, please listen. Don't you remember
our home on the Sound? Don't you remember your mother?" At the last
question, Robbie's eyes temporarily glazed. Looking around the
ship, he pointed, "She is my mother now."

James looked over to see Wendy, hiding near
the railing. He realized it was too late. His son was truly lost.
While he was distracted, Robbie rushed forward. Sliding on his
knees, the cloth fell from his wounded hand. He grasped the knife
and lifted it towards Hook.

Robbie's demeanor immediately changed. His
eyes flashed red the moment he touched the weapon, the creature's
soul possessing him. With a wicked grin, he pulled the bag of dust
from Peter's belt and rubbed some inside his mouth. His eyes
briefly rolled back. Then, picking up Peter’s body, he tossed it
overboard.

"Robbie no! Please!" James cried out.

Robbie had no expression of recognition. He
held his blade up to James in challenge. "Codfish! Let's end this
tonight!"

"Robbie," James whispered mournfully.

“Robbie doesn’t exist anymore. Haven’t you
figured it out by now? I’m Pan, old man," Pan replied.

James searched Robbie’s face, hoping for some
sign his son was still there. He saw nothing, but Pan. Wendy, who
had heard James' pleas, rushed to his aid. Pan, knife in hand, had
Captain Hook on his knees and at his mercy.

"No!" Wendy cried, running in front of
James.

James, knowing he had to end it, reached for
his sword. He stood and moved in close with his iron hook. But the
new Pan doubled under, lunging fiercely around Wendy and piercing
James in the ribs. James fell back onto his knees.

"No!" Wendy screamed, holding James as he
fell onto his back, pain searing through his body.

All of the boys cried, "Now!”

With a pained look on his face, James forced
himself to get up. He picked up his sword. "Robert," he said
quietly and was answered with a growl.

"Pan. Robert’s blessedly quiet at the
moment,” the boy said with a sneer.

All right then
. “Pan,” James said. The
boy just stood and stared at him. "Who and what are you?" he cried
huskily, hoping Robbie would recall his true name and nature.

“You wouldn’t be able to comprehend,” he
began, then ended with a whisper. “I am the air.”

This is nonsense,
James thought to
himself.
The boy has no idea what has happened. He has no idea
who he truly is: the son of a pirate.

Desperately, James pulled from deep down,
finding inner strength. He fought, though his wounds made him
sloppy. Sweeping his sword about, James’ eyes stung with tears.
Everything Benedict had taught him, control of emotions and the
sword, was no longer in his mind. Pan easily navigated away from
each swipe, each blow. And every time James pulled back to swing
again, Pan jabbed him in the side with the tip of his sword. James
was fighting with every ounce of strength he had left, but the
multiple stab wounds began to take their toll.

The other boys circled teasing, mocking, and
shouting. James staggered about the deck, swinging his sword wildly
to keep them away, his mind no longer on the fight. He could see
Pan slowly advancing upon him through the air, his knife poised.
James moved on to the bulwark. Wendy shouted. She ran over to
James, who dared not remove his eyes from Pan.

"My dear, it would be best if you were out of
harm's way," he said courteously.

She took hold of his pant leg and whispered,
"Take me with you. I love you!"

Surprised to hear this, James looked down at
her. Her eyes were desperate and pleading. "What has he done to
you," James asked, but was stopped as he lost his footing. In bad
form, Pan had kicked the bulwark, sending James flying over the
ship and into the sea.

James' last words before falling over board
were, "I’m sorry, Eileen." Hearing the familiar hiss and tick from
below, he let out an ear-piercing scream.

The sun rose, streaks of light stretching
over the island of Neverland. Birds and other diurnal animals began
to chatter. The island was alive.

In contrast, on the waters of Pirate Cove the
anchored
Jolly Roger
was quiet and lifeless. Rocking back
and forth, the ship loomed within a dark shadow. Though shaded from
the tip of the island’s lone mountain, the mood of the crew might
have easily contributed to its gloom. The day grew bright but was
anything other than cheerful. While the lost boys continued to
celebrate the demise of Captain James Hook, Wendy and the pirates
were melancholy. She had asked Pan to take them home, but he had
refused. He had grown bored with the pirate ship now that Captain
Hook was gone. Though he had no quarrel with the others, he still
had them locked away in the brig for his needs later.

Wendy stood at the bow. She was lost in her
thoughts, which remained on Captain Hook. With a tear-streaked
face, she wrapped her arms tightly about her. She had lost her
brothers, who were now corrupted by Pan, and she had lost her only
way home. She recalled those few weeks back when the captain fell.
She had heard the tick of the crocodile and the screams coming from
the captain, but she hoped deep down he had survived. She wanted to
see him again. This desire for his survival matured her heart and
added bitterness towards Pan.

The pirates had been locked up in the brig
and, having to rely on the boys for food, were becoming rail thin.
Worst yet were the nights of Pan’s visits, where he would choose
one man to feed on. Weapons gone, the crew had little to defend
themselves. Every one of the men appeared much older than they
truly were as Pan’s kiss of death slowly sucked the life out of
them.

Wendy, who had been allowed to remain on
board the
Jolly Roger
, grieved the loss of her first crush.
This now well-developed woman, by day, was safe. By night was
another matter. While the boys slept, Wendy would try her best to
sleep in Captain Hook’s cabin, but couldn’t. For nearly every
night, when Pan was in Neverland, she would be harassed by him. He
seemed to hold more hatred for her than any other aboard the
Jolly Roger
. She assumed it was her close association with
Hook. The distant sound of a crow would create a tremble so great
she couldn’t walk. Wendy felt like a slave. Pan asserted his
dominance over her. He would physically abuse her and somehow
manage to bring in Hook’s fate to figuratively twist the knife. He
knew she was in love with the captain and the more pain he could
cause her, the more excited he seemed to become. By morning, she
would be left in the captain’s quarters, beaten and bruised.

Wendy had shown the signs of abuse. She was
fearful, startled easily at the slightest touch, cried almost
constantly and was losing weight. Unfortunately, the boys were
inexperienced and couldn’t recognize the symptoms as anything other
than her missing the captain.

On that particular morning, Wendy had
remained in the captain’s quarters. She sighed deeply, closed her
eyes for a moment, and silently made a wish. A scrap and a creak
from behind alerted her that someone was entering the cabin from
the window. She scrambled to stand at the ready. Though from the
same direction, Pan usually came at night. Whoever it was made an
extreme effort to be stealthy. Stealing herself for the worst, her
jaw dropped when the figure of a man pushed the window open,
climbed over the frame and fell into the room. At once she realized
who it was. She sprinted until she was on top of him.

He scurried to his feet. He had a beard and
his hair was unkempt. The clothes on his body were torn, ragged,
and loose. He had lost weight. The hook, however, was the same.
There was a slight smile on his face, though most likely due to
squinting from change in light.

She didn’t care. "Captain!" she squealed,
running over and wrapping her arms around him.

"Shhhh!" James snapped, followed by a quick
wink and a smile. He pointed towards the door.

"Your crew survived that night. They were
spared and are in the brig. Most of the boys, including him, are in
the hideout, sleeping or eating," she said in an excited whisper.
"Are you going to take the ship? Are you going to leave?"

He nodded.

“How on Earth did you survive?” she asked,
amazed he was standing next to her, alive and well. “What about the
crocodile?”

“Dead.” He gave a wry smile. He turned to
gather a clean set of clothes, his spare sword and pistol. “I need
to free my crew.”

"Please, let me help you!" she begged,
grabbing his hook. "I'll do anything, anything."

He stopped, his eyebrow raised.
What had
Pan done to her? What horrors had she endured?

James made a point to ask her, if ever there
was time, but for now, he needed to focus. It was clear he couldn’t
dispatch Pan at present. Physically, he felt too weak and
unprepared. He would need to return to El Tiburón for additional
crewmen, locate Benedict for help and return to finish the
task.

Wendy slipped her arm around his, which he in
turn untangled from her. “A little privacy, if you don’t mind.” He
shooed her to face the door and dressed, donning his familiar
attire, complete with sword, chest belt and pistol. “How many on
guard?”

“Ten. Three usually stay below deck.”

“My men haven’t fought to leave?” he asked,
some surprise in his voice.

“They had hoped you were still alive,” she
said, the excitement brimming in her voice.

“Quietly, now.” James tiptoed to the door,
cracking it to peer outside. Just as she had said, most of the
boys, seven in fact, lazed about the upper deck. “If you truly want
to help, I need you to go below deck. Subtly, alert the crew to my
presence. Go, quickly now!” James watched as Wendy strolled across
deck, taking the stairs and disappearing below. Wanting to give her
time, James counted seconds to minutes, until he saw her reappear.
She moved about the ship, hardly attracting the attention of the
boys. James noticed some of them appeared to avoid close contact
with her.

Wendy slipped back into the captain’s
quarters. As soon as she was safely inside, James unsheathed his
sword and spoke low, “Stay here. Don’t come out until I give the
all clear. Understand?”

She nodded.

Striding out on deck, the door slammed shut.
Wendy leaned against the wood, listening to the sounds of metal
clanging against metal. Grunts and cries of pain were soon
silenced. Her hand lay on the latch, but she feared to open it.
What if he hadn’t survived? It was seven against one. Ten, if the
others heard the fighting, which was a certainty with all of the
noise. Her body trembled at the thought of losing her captain for
the second time.

“Clear!” the familiar tenor voice
shouted.

Wendy smiled as she bounded onto the deck,
only to have it fade away. Bodies were strewn about, but the
captain was nowhere to be seen. She spun in place until it hit her.
He had gone to the brig. She could hear the rise of cheers and
stomping of feet as his crew were freed

Though extremely difficult to manage a brig
with a smaller crew, James was desperate to sail the
Jolly
Roger
and gather reinforcements for his return. The crew having
taken their respective places, the ship sailed away from Neverland
and towards El Tiburón.

Deep underground, a meager fire burned in the
fireplace. The walls were made of packed dirt. The room was
outlined with cribs, each for a child, from infant to toddler. The
room was sparse, save for a rocking chair before the fire. There
were two adjoining rooms, no larger than the first. One room held a
small kitchen, the other held a small bed.