Chapter One: The Problems with Pirates

Dylan Foley dreamed of being a pirate. When his father offered a chance to visit the costume store at the mall he knew exactly what he wanted to be for Halloween. Vikings battled armored warriors with laser blasters from a time long ago and far, far away. Roswell Greys chased Elvis as she waddled around the corner. Red Riding Hood assisted the medium-sized werewolf slip into his claws. The tragically hip teenaged vampire with the wicked cowlick tickled the bouncy raccoon girl. The ancient blood-feud between the ninjas and the pirates raged unabated.

He ignored the chaos in the aisles, concentrating only on his intended target. He dashed past the over-sized cowboy hats, the plaster shields, plastic swords, and the rainbow colored wigs. Dylan paused briefly only to puff out his chest and stoically salute a live-sized cardboard cutout of Ty Conrad, his favorite action hero. "Dad! We have to find the perfect costume. This is the last year I can go trick or treating."

Travis Foley lackadaisically trailed behind his son with his hands in his pockets, occasionally pausing to examine a severed hand or x-ray glasses. The crazy and colorful displays contrasted vividly against the dull grey walls of the store. "Dylan, you're only twelve. You still have years to be a kid. Enjoy the moment. You won't ever be a kid again. Believe me I know."

Dylan groaned. "Dad! You haven't been a kid in years." He shrugged his shoulders. "You just don't understand. Things have changed. Next year, I'll be old enough to go to parties. With girls!"

"Alas, when I was your age I raced dinosaurs and fought giant snakes in the snow. However will I understand the needs of the modern boy?" Travis winked mischievously forcing just a hint of a smile from his son. He continued at a slow pace, soaking in all of the garish color of the costume store. "We're going to the Haunted House party next weekend at work."

"That's not the same thing."

"Life's not just waiting for parties. It's a series of moments, each beautiful and special if you let it." Travis caught up to his son and ruffled Dylan's spiky brown hair. "Just don't get too old to spend time with the Old Man. I won't have anyone but the sparrows to tell my stories to."

"The sparrows?" Dylan eyed his father suspiciously. This sounded an awful lot like the beginning to one of his nonsensical tall tales. "You mean the birds on the deck?"

"You know that's why the sparrows used to nest near our windows in the old house right? They like hearing stories," Travis said, in a conspiratorial tone. He glanced side to side as though to make sure no one was listening to this important secret. "But don't tell anyone. Sparrows know everyone's business, but they hate it when people know they're listening."

Dylan snickered. "I thought it was Mom's birdfeeder." His laughter dropped dead. His ears turned pink and suddenly Dylan found the tips of his sneakers very interesting. "I'm sorry, Dad. I forgot."

Travis forced an uncomfortable smile. "It's OK to talk about her, Dylan. Every time we laugh, she hears it."

He nodded, acknowledging his words, but couldn't quite meet his father's eyes. Dylan desperately needed something, anything, to change the subject. Every smile and laugh felt like a betrayal after the funeral. Six month later, he just wanted to stop thinking about it. "I know, Dad."

A golden glitter caught his attention down the aisle. It was the perfect excuse. Dylan raced to his target, stopping at a large black flag with a white grinning skull and crossbones emblazed upon it. He hit the treasure lode of pirate gear; LED flashing eye-patches, fake gold teeth, ancient looking coins, plastic blunderbusses, and fierce cutlasses. Dylan flipped a daring cavalier hat with a blue feather onto his head, struck a heroic pose, and turned grinning to his father. "Dad, I have to be a pirate this year."

Travis frowned thoughtfully. "How about a cowboy?"

Dylan scoffed. He adjusted the hat and looked into a mirror. "No one wants to be a cowboy. I want to be a pirate. Kevin and I are gonna pretend we're going after treasure all night. You can be one too."

Travis pointed at a scaly green alien mask with bulbous eyes that glowed in the dark. "You can be aliens and pretend you're hiding from the government."

"Who wants to be aliens?" Dylan tried on the flashing eye patch and turned his gaze to the mirror. "Pirates are cool."

"Pirates are not cool!"

Dylan blinked and looked up at his father surprised at the harsh tone in his voice. He had never seen him look so old with a wrinkled forehead, flushed face, and scowling frown. Dylan meekly slipped off the hat and the eye-patch. "Dad?"

Travis sucked in his breath. "Dylan, pirates are murderers and lazy thieves."

Dylan folded his arms across his chest skeptically. Was this a joke? "Dad! It's just pretend. I know that."

The blush of anger faded from his face, but the scowl remained. Travis spoke in calm, measured tones. "No son of mine is going to be a pirate."

Travis tried to hide his fear, but his eyes widened with dilated pupils. Dylan hadn't seen his father like this since the funeral. Confused, Dylan glanced around the aisle. "Dad? Is something wrong?"

Travis rubbed his temple as though fighting off a headache. "Sorry. Just feeling a bit tired. Can you pick something other than a pirate please? Anything?"

Dylan had daydreamed for weeks about Halloween with his best friend Kevin. They planned to start the night in costume, pretend to pillage the entire neighborhood, and then end the evening watching They Sailed By Night staring Ty Conrad. Why would this be any different than any other adventure that his father had previously encouraged? He began to open his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. He knew his father felt horrible since they had to sell the house to pay off the medical bills. Were they still having money problems? "I guess."

He glanced over the selection of costumes, noting for the first time how expensive they were and how reluctant his father had been to come in the first place. "Hey, you know what? You have lots of Captain Splatterpunk stuff right? There should be a mask or two we can use, right?"

Travis nodded, grateful that Dylan was changing the subject. "The studio dropped off a bunch of promotional stuff at work. I don't think we can use them until we ship. I could get fired if any of it gets out before the marketing campaign hits full swing."

"Must be exciting to work on real video games."

"You'd be surprised. I did twenty different renderings for the tower level. Bit of a pain, really. The entire company is working extra hours getting ready for the drop."

Dylan grinned a bit, glad the mood was improving. "It must be horrible getting old."

"There are worse things than getting old, Dylan." His voice dripped with regret. "Just enjoy being a kid."

Dylan thought of his mother and nodded grimly. "I will. I promise."

Travis hugged his son. "I know you miss Mom. I do too."

"She was so fun during Halloween." He also knew that she would have let him dress like a pirate. "She loved decorating and giving out candy."

"I met her on Halloween, you know."

It never occurred to Dylan to consider a time when his parents didn't know each other. It barely seemed possible. Or so distant that it might as well have been the dawn of time. "You did?"

"She was working at a little place called the Pit Stop, putting herself through school. I was new in town and didn't have any family or friends. I was just walking around, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. And then I heard a horrible scream. I followed that scream and it was coming out of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

Dylan tilted his head and remembered his mother's infamous temper fondly. "Why was she screaming?"

"It was on Halloween, remember? They were selling pumpkins. A couple of kids thought it would be funny to prank her by smashing a couple of the pumpkins." Travis chuckled, caught in the memory. "My first sight of your mother was her chasing these three boys, about your age, with an old broom."

It had never occurred to Dylan to ask how his parents met. "And then what happened?"

"I helped her chase them off."

"Really?"

Travis smiled wistfully. "Heh! The kids dropped the pumpkins; I slipped and fell on my backside. Your mother stopped to help me and slipped too. And then after we were done laughing, I helped her clean up."

Dylan laughed. "Mom always believed in standing up for yourself."

"We found out that we had a lot in common and went to lunch together. And that is as they say that."

The pair turned the corner and at the end of the row there were plastic throwing stars, foam nunchucks, and toy katanas. "If I can't be a pirate, how about a ninja?"

Travis smiled thoughtfully as though remembering a forgotten joke. He hugged his son. "We can pick up a pair of black sweats on the way home, but I'm not shaving my head." He ran his fingers through his brown, slightly thinning hair. "I'm afraid of losing what I have. You'll understand eventually."

He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at his father. Looking at him was like looking into one of those distorted funhouse mirrors, Dylan thought. They shared the same face, the same high cheekbones, and the same dimpled chin. He grinned mischievously. "I'll never get old like you. I'm going to be a kid forever."

Travis bit his lip and turned towards the cash register. "We should hurry up so I can start on dinner. I promised Stephanie I'd drop you off around eight, already fed. Did you finish your history essay?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Who did you pick?"

Dylan resisted the urge to groan. Since the funeral, there had been unspoken tension between them. His father wanted to fill the void left in their lives, which translated into severe interest in every aspect of his life. The fastest way out was to give details. "Benjamin Franklin. He was a cool inventor. And he's on the hundred dollar bill."

"Good. Homework is important. You need to keep up on it." Travis put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you and the way you've been handling everything."

It didn't feel like he had handled anything since the funeral particularly well. His teachers treated him as though he was made of glass and any accident might shatter them. "Yeah, I know, Dad."

"I know things have been hard for us this year. I've been working non-stop. As soon as Captain Splatterpunk drops, I'll be working less and we'll spend some time together. I owe the Berons a lot. They helped us when we really needed it."

Dylan remembered Mrs. Beron taking care of the funeral arrangements and helping with the insurance. "Mrs. Beron brought me cupcakes with strawberries.

Travis grinned a bit at his son. "She's very pretty."

The boy scowled not quite ready to admit that he could have a crush on a girl. "Dad! She's old."

"I'm working hard to finish this game so I can pay them back the advance. We have to hang together or surely we'll hang separately. Franklin said that, you know."

Travis hugged his son and led him towards the register. Confused, Dylan followed without protest. Dinner was unusually quiet, without the usual story or laughing. Travis ate his spaghetti thoughtfully. There was an unspoken dark cloud over them that Dylan didn't quite understand. It had something to do with pirates and he was determined to find out why.

Stephanie smiled brightly when she answered the door and warmly hugged Dylan. Her blond hair smelled of vanilla and peaches. It was universally acknowledged by the other boys in school that she was the prettiest mother, usually at a fair distance from Kevin. "Dylan! I'm so glad that you are staying the night. Where is your dad?"

Dylan turned and gestured towards the street. Travis waved from on top of his ten-speed. He wore his flame colored helmet with tiny side mirrors and a red rain-resistant jacket. Travis nodded and then started to peddle. "He's late going into work, Mrs. Messer," Dylan explained. "He's had to stay really late the last couple of weeks."

She pouted her lips. Dylan hated disappointing Kevin's mother. She had been a big part of his life since the funeral. She occasionally brought food to the apartment and helped with chores. "My name is Stephanie. Mrs. Messer makes me sound old. You tell your dad to not be a stranger."

He thought of the night that Stephanie and Miriam took turns packing his mother's clothing and taking care of them. "I will. Promise."

Stephanie patted Dylan's back, released him, and then stepped back. "See if you can drag Kevin off the computer. I swear he's been doing nothing else for weeks. Maybe spending some time with you outside will improve his mood."

"We're going to the skate park tomorrow and then the movies."

Dylan slipped off his shoes and set them on his skate board. Stephanie forbid anything in her apartment that could stain her carpets. "I'm going to go see Kevin now, Mrs. Messer, err Stephanie."

Dylan made a quick exit to Kevin's room. Since the divorce, Mrs. Messer sometimes cried at random. Kevin didn't ever mention his father, except when Dylan noticed something new or expensive.

Kevin's bedroom smelled of sour milk and dirty socks. Dylan tip-toed around a sour smelling mound of dirty clothes and crusted-laden dishes. Pushing aside a broken remote control airplane, he plopped on the edge of the unmade bed. He pulled the blinds and opened the window. "Wow, you reek!"

A low dismissive grunt from behind the computer and desk was the only response. Dylan glanced at the massive Kill and Kill Again movie poster hanging loosely by one tack and saluted his favorite movie star.

Ty Conrad scowled at him through his mangy auburn goatee. A pile of bodies lay at his feet and an attractive raven haired woman in a tattered black dress clutched his muscular arms for protection.

"What would Ty Conrad do?"

Sniffing derisively, Dylan plucked a dirty sock from the bed, rolled it into a ball, and flung it at Kevin's head. The sock landed on top of his curly, blond mop of hair. "Gross!"

Dylan snickered. "This whole room is gross. I don't think even Ty Conrad could sleep here."

Kevin popped his head out from behind the monitor. His skin looked a bit pale and there were large bags under his eyes. "Ty Conrad could sleep here, but the bed would make itself."

Dylan kept his nose close to breeze from the window. The sound of the rain was soothing. "Ty Conrad might be immune to all toxins, but I'm not. We need to clean this mess."

"As soon as I'm done with this level."

Dylan flipped back on the bed and started looking through Kevin's comics. "I can't be a pirate for Halloween. It freaked out my Dad. He's been acting weird all week."

Kevin Messer grunted, wiped the dirty sock from his hair, but didn't turn from his monitor. "I don't see why he'd care about pirates. He took us to the Saturday Creature Feature with Vincent Price."

Dylan stood on the bed, keeping himself eye-level with Ty Conrad. "Yeah, he took us to see the Doctor Phibes movies. There were buckets of blood in that. And, he took us to Kill'em All. Twice!"

Kevin chuckled and continued furiously moving his mouse. "No kidding. Speaking of which, did you know Ty Conrad doesn't do push-ups? He pushes the earth down."

Dylan snorted and then hopped on the bed. "Did you know there is no theory of evolution? Just a list of creatures Ty Conrad allowed to live."

"Did you know Ty Conrad's tears can cure cancer? Too bad he never cries."

Dylan didn't reply; it was although all of the energy of the room had been sucked out like air leaking from a punctured balloon. He balled his fingers into a fist and kept jumping. More than anything else, he wanted to punch something as though the pain would remind him of the loss of his mother. How could he forget her so soon?

Kevin rotated the computer chair from the desk. His eyes were wide open. "I'm SO SORRY."

Dylan kept jumping, ignoring the comment. "When the Boogeyman goes to sleep, he checks the closet for Ty Conrad."

"Hey, did you know you have to kill the Boogieman in Level 3 of Captain Splatterpunk?"

"What?" Dylan leapt across the room and pulled Kevin from his computer. The monitor was filled with images of horrified faces encased in stone walls. In the forefront of the monitor a heavily gloved hand held a gigantic gun shooting lasers. The speakers let forth a dastardly laugh as an alien was splattered by the lasers. "That's Captain Splatterpunk! Where'd you get this?"

Kevin smiled uneasy. "I borrowed the CD from your Dad's laptop when I stayed over last weekend."

Dylan groaned, terrified of the answer. The consequences could be horrible for his father. He hated the thought of another financial setback just after they got their heads above water. "You didn't share this with anyone, did you?"

Kevin stood and shook his head innocently, trying not to show any shame. "Nah, I wouldn't do that."

Dylan angrily pushed Kevin back into his chair. "My dad could be fired just for you having this! Do you know what that would mean for us?"

Kevin held up his hands, pleading. "No one will know. I promise. Besides, there's plenty of spoilers out there already. I hear there's gonna be protests and everything."

Dylan closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He felt a rage headache building and didn't want to take it out on his best friend. "It's been hard on him. Hospital bills, dealing with the funeral. Losing the house. He can't lose his job."

"I've been too busy playing to talk to anyone. Swear!"

Dylan relaxed a bit and then grinned. If Kevin was telling the truth, then he could return the disk without his father knowing it and then it wouldn't be a problem. "How is it? I haven't even gotten to play yet."

"I can't quit playing."

"That good, huh?"

"It gets in your head. I dreamed I was Captain Splatterpunk last night. Some of the colors and shapes burn into your brain."

"I can't wait to play!"

"Some of the levels are broken. Had to use god-mode to skip ahead," Kevin explained.

"Yeah, Dad's working with the testers all weekend," Dylan complained.

Kevin raised an eyebrow and then glanced around the room as though to check to see if someone was spying on them. "How's he going to know if you do go as a pirate?"

Dylan scoffed. "We're going to the work haunted house remember?"

"Sure, but then you're coming out with me remember? We can stash your pirate stuff here and then change."

Dylan's face turned a bit red. "I can't afford a new costume."

"I'll help you get what you need. I still need that set of fake teeth. We can skate over to the costume shop in the morning."

"I don't know. My dad was really against it."

"Well, do ya want to be a pirate, or not?"

The next morning, Dylan and Kevin slurped their bowls of Ty Conrad's Chocolate O's cereal, grabbed their skateboards next to the door, and snuck out before Stephanie could inquire about their plans for the day. The sidewalks were slick from the rain the night before, but the air felt fresh and invigorating. Dylan felt free, dangerous. Like he could do anything in the world.

"Where are we going?"

"Keep up and you'll find out." Kevin hopped on his board, waved to his friend, and began skidding through the puddles.

The water splashed over Dylan. He wiped the wet hair from his eyes and ollied over the water. Kevin turned onto a street with a steep hill. He followed, tightly taking the corner, barely avoiding a wipeout. The board picked up speed as he past the crest of the hill and started to descend. His stomach tensed as though he were falling.

He swerved to avoid potholes and pebbles, determined to make the run last. Ahead, Kevin had stopped at the entrance to the park. Dylan skid to a stop and flipped his skateboard into his hand. "What's going on?"

Kevin gestured to the converted swimming pool now used as a skate park. "New kids. They're pretty good."

Curious, Dylan hopped over the cement barrier, walked across the grass, and sat down on the bench adjacent to the sunken cement park. The large boy with blue hair ollied over a small barrier, landed on a rail, and then ground his way across it. He wore a pair of worn overalls, a black sweatshirt, and a leather jacket. A long white scarf was wrapped around his neck. "Beat that, Pip!" he crowed.

In response, his short and skinny friend with green layered hair, performed the same trick but added a 360 spin to the end before landing. Pip skidded next to his friend and laughed. He wore an odd, worn leather vest and white t-shirt with goggles over his head. "Aces! Pure aces, Knox!"

Pip yanked Knox to the side. "Watch out for Spoken!"

A lanky kid with a tightly trimmed dark afro rolled down the ramp. He flipped forward, completing an entire rotation, and then skid down the rail. He grinned at his friends and dusted off his brown vest. He wore a ruffled white dress shirt, a bowler cap, and brown leather boots. "That was the Cat's Meow!"

They hopped over the cement barriers and joined the new boys. "That was cool!" Dylan said, holding his board.

The short skinny kid named Pip giggled. "It helps that we can fly."

"No fool'n people, Pip." Knox cuffed him in the back of the head and then glared so hard that his nostrils flared. "Not nice to make up stories!

"Heh! Heh! Don't fret!" Pip smiled widely. It was so animated that Dylan imaged the boy as a cartoon getting caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Well, it feels like we're flying."

"I'm still learning." Dylan nodded enthusiastically. "That was some awesome foot work. You guys should turn pro."

Kevin took the initiative and shook their hands. "I'm Kevin, this is Dylan."

The tallest boy dressed in the fancy clothing accepted the handshake awkwardly. He introduced his friends. "I am called Spoken. This is Knox and Pip."

"Weird names. Were your parents hippies?" Kevin asked.

He adjusted his glasses and then glanced at his companions for a moment and then nodded. "The hippest. Speaking of which, we're looking for our friend. Heard of anyone named Trouble?"

Dylan bumped shoulders with Kevin. "Kevin's always in trouble. Half the time taking me with him. Does that count?"

"We're really worried about him." Pip swallowed nervously. "He's our best friend."

"Do you guys live around here?" Dylan understood how they felt. He imagined Kevin getting in trouble. "Do you know where he lives?"

Spoken paused for a moment as though trying to remember where he lived. "No. No. We're visiting for school."

"Our friend might be in trouble," Pip blurted.

"Trouble might be in trouble?" Dylan asked, amused.

"Aw, he can't help us," Knox said, worried. His face was turning red.

"Our gambit failed. We hoped that playing tricks would attract him," Spoken admitted.

Kevin rolled his eyes suspiciously. "Ah, they're just giving us the business. Screwing with us."

"Don't you guys smell it?" Pip sniffed. There was no joy in his voice. "The Taint?"

"Trouble's around here somewhere," Knox said nervously. "We really need to talk to him."

"Let us not forget that Trouble might himself be forgetful." Spoken stepped between his friends and Dylan. "We should wait for him."

"Look at Shakespeare here!" Kevin snickered.

Pip glanced over Spoken's shoulder as though he wanted to say something to Dylan. Knox sighed and nodded. Dylan ignored his friend. "Hey, if you guys need help, we'll help you put up flyers or something."

"We have to get to the costume store to get our pirate's flag." Kevin tugged on Dylan's arm. "We don't want to miss out on the good stuff."

Knox growled. "Why'd you want something gutter like that?"

"We're going to dress up like pirates for Halloween," Dylan said, uneasy.

"Why would ya want to be a cowardly pirate?" Pip asked, puffing up his chest.

"Pirates are cool!" Kevin scowled, clearly offended. "Ty Conrad was a pirate in They Sailed By Night."

Knox and Pip exchanged confused glances. "Who's Ty Conrad?"

"Just the baddest man on the planet." Kevin gestured to his black t-shirt. The scowling face of his favorite action hero seemed to glare at then. "Everyone's afraid of him."

"This man is a pirate?" Spoken asked, concerned. "We have certainly never heard of his existence."

"You've never heard of Ty Conrad?" Dylan asked.

They shook their heads. It seemed impossible with all of the billboards, commercials, and cereal boxes that someone wouldn't know who Ty Conrad was. "Have you guys been living under a rock? Or do your hippy parents never let you watch TV or see movies?" Kevin asked in disbelief.

The boys exchanged guilty glances. Spoken answered for them. "We're from up North."

"Oh, Canada!" Pip chimed in singing the national anthem.

"Why do you hate pirates so much? Dylan asked.

Pip ground his teeth. "They steal everything that's not nailed down. They drink and bully us."

"Bully you?" Dylan scratched his head. "Where do you live that you have to deal with pirates? Somalia?"

"Right. True right." Knox laughed awkwardly. Pip and Spoken followed suit. "Pip's just having a bit of fun. He's daft anyway. Pulling your leg, see?"

"We'll see ya around, we should hit the store, Dylan." Kevin was clearly not a fan of the new boys in the neighborhood. "See ya laters!"

Dylan wanted to make his friend happy, but there was something intriguing about these boys. "Yeah. Sorry guys. It's been a weird day for us. My Dad just told me I couldn't be a pirate for Halloween for no reason."

"He's a weird one." Kevin shrugged his shoulders. "Telling stories about birds listening to stories."

Spoken's eyes grew very wide. "What is your father's name?"

"Travis. Why?"

The disappointment was clear in their faces. "We were hoping that maybe he knew our friend Trouble. You kind of look like him."

"I'll ask him tonight," Dylan promised.

"We'll be around for a while, but we have to go back North soon."

"Been great meeting ya!" Kevin waved at them and started dragging Dylan towards the costume store. "Gotta go. Bye!"

The boys looked very disappointed, but quickly returned to skating. Dylan pulled Kevin's hand off his shirt. "What are you doing? We don't need to burn them."

"Look at the way they were dressed. Street kids. And they stink."

Dylan resisted the urge to comment about Kevin's bathing habits. "That's not like you. Why be mean?"

"We just need to go into the store first thing, before they get more employees," Kevin said as he crossed the street.

He followed Kevin into the Costume Shop. Something wasn't quite right. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Kevin promised.

Dylan tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Quiet, you dumbnut! Want to get us caught?"

He stepped back, surprised. "Kevin, this isn't like you. What's going on?"

"If we're gonna be pirates then let's act like pirates."

Kevin peeked around the aisle and glanced at the cash register and gave the all clear signal. Would it really hurt anything if he took just one thing? Did life owe him a pass? The clerk was ringing up a set of troll masks. He whipped back and started stuffing pirate eye-patches, fake pirate gold, and a scar makeup kit into his pockets.

"Dylan!"

Two clerks tapped them on the shoulders. Dylan hadn't noticed them before. "Finally caught you!"

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Not yet, you little snot," the clerk said, gripping onto Dylan's shoulder.

Dylan twisted out of his grasp and kicked him the shin. "Run!"

The clerks chased them around the aisles while they tried to escape. A tall mean looking clerk from the register blocked the front door. "The back alley!" Dylan cried.

Dylan and Kevin hopped over a set of boxes, knocking down a display of a wizard selling wands. The clerks separated. One of them tackled Kevin. Dylan opened an employee's-only door and raced into the back of the store. He wormed his way through the boxes and darted out the backdoor setting off an emergency alarm. He looked around frantically in the small gated alley.

The clerk stopped at the door and laughed. "There's no way out."

Dylan ran to the end of the alley and started to climb.

He glanced over his shoulder at the advancing clerk. "I didn't do anything."

"You did if I say you did."

Dylan tried to climb faster, but the chain link fence cut into his fingers. Half way up the fence, he heard a scream. He turned to discover the clerk lying prone on the wet concrete floor. Dylan dropped down from the fence and crouched next to the clerk. There was a small, empty leather pouch upon the clerk's chest. "You OK?" Dylan asked in a hushed voice.

A voice above him answered. "He's copasetic. Just sleeping a bit."

Confused, Dylan looked up. Knox, Pip, and Spoken were hovering above the fence-line, grinning Cheshire-cat style. "We knew you were Trouble. You were just faking it because of the fellow with the Taint!"

"How are you flying?"

"You can fly too Trouble, you've just forgotten," Pip said.

"We'll help you remember," Knox added.

"We need your help, Trouble. Red-Handed Jack has returned," Spoken said, gently landing on the ground next to him.

"I'm not Trouble. I don't understand," Dylan protested.

There were footsteps and noise coming from the store. "No time to chat," Pip said, cheerfully.

"We'll explain on the way," Knox added.

"There's a problem on the Island. The pirates have come back. You're the only one that can help us," Spoken explained.

Knox and Spoken each looped one of their arms around Dylan and lifted him up. Dylan felt lightheaded and dizzy. His feet lifted from the ground. He felt himself pulled upwards.

He was flying.