I kind of don't like this chapter as much, it took so long to write. I just had so much stuff I needed to cover, to explain things before and after. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.
I also made edits to the book cover, and plan on editing past chapters. I found a lot of typos and mistakes that just make this piece lower quality than I can tolerate.
All reviews are appreciated :)
Chapter Ten
Mallory hit palm leaves about fifteen feet down. They probably saved her life.
After the rush of free fall, the air was knocked out of her as she fell through the jungle canopy. Her shoulder hit a branch and another giant palm leaf the size of a surfboard snapped underneath her, slightly cushioning her fall as she hit the steep slope below.
Expecting to come to a stop, Mallory gasped what little breath she managed to suck in when she started to slide. Like skis on snow, the leaf underneath her slipped across the smooth rock and thin dirt, little friction to stop her.
In less than two seconds she was already racing down the side of the cliff, clinging to the edges of the palm leaf as she hit another drop-off and picked up speed.
She tried to stop her descent, but when Mallory tried to catch onto something, she only hurt her hands in the process, and went by too fast to get a good grip. Instead, she grabbed onto the edges of the giant leaf, inadvertently avoiding a tree trunk when she jerked to the side. It rushed by her in a flash of bark and leaves, taking her breath away.
Whoa! That was too close!
The branches whipped by her face, leaving her skin burning and pulling out a bit of her hair. Mallory quickly realized that she was not coming to a stop until she reached the bottom. So she held on tight, her nerves on end as she maneuvered through the trees and branches and the odd rock or two.
The sloping ground was slick with moss and wet grass and dirt, speeding her along until suddenly the ground dropped out beneath her once more.
She uttered one final cry before her trip came to a sudden end.
Sploosh!
The cold water hit her like a brick wall. The impact stunned Mallory and she quickly sunk, before the lack of air sent a jolt to her brain and kickstarted her limbs. The leaf floating away, Mallory burst to the surface, gasping for air and treading water, looking around every which way to see where she had ended up.
She seemed to have landed in a pond, surrounded by a small clearing. No animals lurked about, and the trees were devoid of bird sounds. It was very much night here, and she seemed to be making too much noise in the water.
Two seconds later, there came a whooping cry and something landed in the water beside her. Mallory yelped, bringing up her arms to shield her eyes from the onslaught of waves, before looking up to see Peter Pan's head bobbing up in the water.
"Wasn't that fun?" he asked her, a gigantic grin on his face.
Mallory stared at him for a second, spluttering. "F-f-fun?! You call that fun? I nearly died!"
"Well, that's what makes it so exciting!" Pan replied, swimming towards the shore. He pulled himself out, Mallory close behind. As she flopped onto the ground, exhausted, Pan just jumped right up with his hands on his hips, as lively as ever. "I have to say, I've never seen anything quite like that, what you did back there. It was almost...inspiring."
Mallory picked her head up off the ground to glare at Pan, who was busy wringing his shirt of water. "Those cannibals were going to eat me! And you were going to let them!"
"Well, maybe," Peter Pan shrugged, making a face. He seemed entirely nonplussed by the accusation, or the idea that Mallory might have been the main course. "I hadn't quite decided whether or not I wanted to save you. But you decided for me, thanks for that. Makes my job easier."
"I hate you," she muttered, finally picking herself up off the ground. Mallory tried putting weight on her right foot before wincing and leaning on her other one. Nope, definitely sprained. She didn't have much of a choice now - she'd have to follow Pan. There was no way she could survive on her own, hungry and incapacitated like this.
She hadn't been paying too much attention when the Polekele were chasing her, if only because that if she didn't run, Mallory would most certainly have died. A combination of priorities and adrenalin had kept her ankle from slowing her down.
But now that the rush was over, Mallory felt drained and sagged on her own legs. Her muscles were stiff and protested to every movement. Her entire left leg wanted to crumple beneath her weight. The new pain brought tears to her eyes and Mallory had to choked them back, lest Pan see and make fun of her.
She took an experimental step forward, dropping heavily on her uninjured foot. Well, a limp was better than not being able to walk at all, she supposed. Mallory just had to look on the bright side.
Such as... her shirt front was covered in dirt and dried grass. All her clothes were ruined. When Mallory touched her face, her hand came back bloody. Oh, good, she had wounds and there wasn't a First Aid kit in sight. "Just great. This is going to get infected, I just know it."
"What? That little scratch?" Pan snorted, casting the wound a passing glance before turning towards the woods. "I've seen worse. But if you're going to be a baby about it, I suppose I could let you into my camp. Maybe one of the Lost Boys can treat it, they're good at taking care of themselves."
Somehow, Mallory doubted that a group of pre-pubescent boys would be experts in maintenance and organization. She liked even less the idea of going in Pan's camp, which sounded like another trap. "Yeah, and how do I know no one's going to kill me once I'm there? Those Lost Boys of yours certainly seemed determined to put an arrow through my skull yesterday."
"Don't be daft, they weren't going to kill you." Peter Pan scoffed, tossing his head and ruffling his unusually healthy hair – come on, how did he get it to look so nice? There was no way he was using shampoo/conditioner. Mallory's hair was wet, frizzy, and split in various spaces, not to mention the plaits that Cecily had braided in a couple days ago. She looked like hell next to Pan.
He flashed a grin at her. "They'd just poke you around for a bit. Fight with you, test your mettle. You would've gotten no worse than a couple bruises, maybe a broken nose."
"I like my nose the way it is, thanks," Mallory glared at the back of Pan's head. She wished that a coconut would just drop and knock him out cold. But nothing happened.
Ahead of her, Pan suddenly laughed. He glanced at the startled Mallory over his shoulder, saying, "That's not going to work on me, girl. Nothing on this island happens without my say so."
Mallory paused, alarmed. "You can read my thoughts?"
But Pan just shook his head and kept going, merry as could be. "What? No, of course not. But I know the island, and I know it grants any wish you desire. They just have to go by me first."
"Oh." Dread filled Mallory's stomach when she realized that her meals, the food that was otherwise impossible to find in a jungle, had all been Pan's doing. If he wanted this to be hard on her, why would Pan allow Mallory the luxury of pizza and fresh fruit? Did he just not care, or was it his idea of mercy?
She shuddered at the thought. Mercy did not fit the image of the boy in front of her.
Mallory hated the way he strutted about the forest, like a preening rooster, without a care in the world. He took great strides, not caring for stealth, and for a boy who had proven himself quite good at sneaking up on people, this attitude was clearly a sign that he wasn't concerned about who (or what) saw him. Animals darted away as he passed, the trees grew silent, the branches shivered at his touch, and even the very moonlight seemed to bend, casting Pan in a spotlight as he traveled. It turned his blond hair white and cast him in an almost divine aura. The sight was eerie to witness and Mallory wondered why she was even following him in the first place.
She supposed she didn't have to. It wasn't like Peter Pan had told her to – he just seemed to expect Mallory to do so, which bugged her even more. Arrogant son of a…
But what choice did she have, anyways? Mallory was injured, and she really did need some care, Lost Boy medics or not.
Then another realization occurred to her, and she thought aloud, "Wait, so if you're in control, why are the Polekele here, if they seem to be a problem? How am I walking into their territory if your, like, the King of Neverland?"
Pan stopped at a large tree, leaning against it as though taking a break. Somehow, Mallory doubted he was very tired. Perhaps Pan was just humoring her, in his own way.
There was that irritating impish smirk on his face, one that said he liked being called King. "Well, I guess 'territory' is a strong word for it. It's more like a lease…"
Mallory eyebrows shot up, although her mouth remained in a firm line. "I'm surprised you even know what that word means."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises, just you wait," Pan said, winking at her. Mallory blushed in spite of herself and turned away so he wouldn't see; still in the shadows, she hoped he wouldn't.
Mallory didn't flirt with boys. Most of the ones she knew were Matt's friends, and whatever attractiveness they had to their name (because they didn't have much else besides money, which for all intents and purposes, Mallory already had) was gone by the third beer. Rarely, if ever, did boys ever flirt with her, and Mallory could never be too sure if they were actually interested in her or whatever fame and glory her name got them. While not a celebrity, Mallory was still prey to its inherent dangers.
And Pan was not unpleasant to look at, despite his many personality flaws. While Mallory considered his features to be too boyish to be put in the same category as handsome (like George Clooney or what's-his-face from those Captain America movies), he had a certain charming appeal. Pan stood several inches taller than her, was fit from an active and dangerous lifestyle. Green eyes that would make girls weak at the knees – had they not known better to stay away. And that smile could do wonders in the real world; Pan would have people falling over themselves just to have him star in a commercial, audition for movies, or have a spot on a late-night talk show.
And life on a jungle island had given Pan a messy, wild appearance that somehow didn't detract from him at all. His hair, not too long, fell just in the right places. Bright white teeth that defied hygiene. And although he was dirty, he did not reek of B.O. (which was a major deal-breaker for just about anyone living in the 21st century, Mallory figured).
But Mallory just shrugged this all off. She knew better than to be smitten by mere appearance. She was not some fangirl chasing after boy bands like a lovesick puppy-dog. Pan's cruel nature alone was enough to turn her off, and Mallory forced her blush away. And Pan did not act his age anyways; so immature, so vain. Like so many others she knew. Stupid boys and their stupid antics.
Pan continued to say: "But that's what I meant. When the Polekele start to get boring, whenever that happens, that's when they go. Simple as that."
"Go where?" Mallory asked, although she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. She got one anyways.
"Away," Pan said with a shrug, waving a hand like it didn't really matter. "Disappear. Gone. Never to be seen again."
That was a strange way to put it, and somewhat less gruesome than what Mallory was expecting. She had noticed that Pan had never put an 'if' in that statement, only a 'when'; like the end of the Polekele was inevitable, and based entirely on the whims of a boy. What a dreadful existence.
"And who would replace them? Pirates?" Mallory asked, having assumed from her most recent encounter with them ending badly. "I'm sure Captain Flint would love to finally set foot on land again."
As soon as she mentioned the name, Mallory regretted it. The glimmer in Pan's eyes, that playful smile immediately vanished, to be replaced with a scowl. For a split second, another emotion flashed across his face, but it was too quick for Mallory to catch. Pan growled, "No, not him. He's no fun – he just wants his treasure back. Not that I'm going to let him have it."
Treasure…another buzzword that had Mallory feeling déjà vu. Once more, she was sure she had heard Captain Flint's name before, but could not recall where. The name was on the tip of her tongue, yet too far out of reach. It was frustrating, and she didn't count on Peter Pan to tell her what was going on. "He buried treasure here?"
"Yes. Somewhere." Pan looked away. Although he added nothing to that statement, Mallory had the sneaking suspicion that he didn't know exactly where the treasure was, or how to find it.
She smiled, relishing the moment of having something, a weakness, to tease him with. "Sounds like the King doesn't know everything about his land, does he?"
"Shut up." Pan shot a dangerous look in her direction that had Mallory concentrating on her feet. Still, once he got up and stalked away, she couldn't help but smother a laugh. Apparently, Pan didn't always have a good comeback, either. What joy.
They continued their journey in silence, Pan's mood somewhat soured by the mention of Captain Flint and his mysterious treasure. Maybe that's why the pirate was capturing mermaids, looking for the Lagoon of Whatever. He needed a way on the island, to find his treasure and make off with it. Where, Mallory didn't know – as fearsome as that man and his crew, they were small bananas to the metal warships and submarines that would be found upon leaving Neverland.
His little wooden sailboat would be blown to smithereens with a single missile strike. Boom! Done.
Mallory giggled, delighted by the thought of a pirate ship being so out of their depths in the face of 21st century technology. Here, isolated in a magical land, Captain Flint and his band of murderous men were threats to be wary of – but at home, they would be laughed at. Scorned. Even modern day pirates would see them as a joke.
Still, that idea did not dull the pride Mallory felt for taking Flint's sword. That was an accomplishment. She gripped the leather hilt, felt it starting to mold to her hand. It's strength, its power. She had never felt that way before. Mallory could get used to carrying a weapon.
"Why are you walking so slow?" Pan called over his shoulder, looking annoyed. Mallory was more than ten feet behind him, struggling over the roots and steep hills as he went ahead. Her ankle was hurting even more than before.
"Because," Mallory deliberated for a second, wondering if it was really a good idea to tell Pan that she was injured. Would he make the game harder? Would he leave her behind to suffer and die alone? Mallory hoped not - she believed Pan wanted her alive, because she provided entertainment that was apparently hard to find elsewhere. "My ankle hurts. I think it snapped when I got caught in the Polekele's snare."
"Oh," was all Pan said. No remarks, no snide comments, nothing that might have suggested he thought her weak or girly (because let's be honest, his comebacks weren't that sophisticated.) He turned back around and kept walking without another word.
Mallory didn't complain. She didn't demand Pan to help her. She knew better than to tread on whatever lines had been set in this game - Pan was in power, he was practically a god here; he didn't have to do anything she said, and pushing it would certainly get Mallory into more trouble and pain. So no, she didn't speak and hoped that perhaps Pan might give her a break, out of the kindness of his heart.
If he even had one.
"Hey," she said, trying to be heard over her own panting and deep crunching noises of their footsteps. "Why did my phone work? It shouldn't have been even on, never mind able to receive calls. I've been in the water three times since I got here, that thing should've been bricked a long time ago."
"Your phone?" Pan stopped to try out this alien word, giving her a raised eyebrow. It took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about. "Oh! Right, your little magic box. I just felt like you could use the help. And the tiny person inside was very funny. Not much of a singing voice, though."
Mallory was sure Cecily had been half-drunk (or high as a kite, it didn't really matter) when she called Mallory's phone, so didn't argue the point. Still, she was a little put out by this information - her phone could work, if Peter Pan wanted it to, defying all logic and reason. Yet, just when she could really use it, she had to lose the phone.
Maybe Cecily could entertain the Polekele. Maybe they would revere the phone as some sort of almighty deity.
Or maybe they'd just smash it against the rock and forget about it the next day. Mallory had no idea.
"Are you done with the stupid questions now?" Pan asked with a scathing tone. Clearly, Mallory was getting too nosy for his liking. She peeked around Pan's head, wondering if maybe his ears were pointed, like the evil little gremlin he was. But no, all she saw were normal boy ears. Hm, too bad.
He waved a hand in the air, saying, "Rule of thumb is that if something happens on this island, then I have something to do with it. Easy enough?"
"Right," Mallory grumbled, shrugging her shoulders. Attributing every odd occurrence or chance to Peter Pan's will could be understood – but it still didn't give her a lot of answers. Such as the how and the why. Pan seemed to be keeping these to himself. "Got it."
"Good," he said, raising his arm and pushing away a leaf frond, revealing a golden light behind. Pan threw her a sharp-toothed smile. "Because we're here."