Part II
Chapter Seven
"A splash, this time." He smiled benevolently at Wendy. "This time, there is no Peter to save you."
"That's what you said last time." Though she tried to sound defiant, as Peter had been right to the end, she couldn't quite manage it.
"Yes, but this time, I have made doubly sure." He tapped the glass lantern that held Tinkerbell with his golden hook. The glass, caught within a wooden case, rang clearly. Tinkerbell had been caught as surely as the rest of them. There was no hope, then, for Peter was dead and Ray was gone.
Somehow, though, the tears would not come. It was a complete numbness that pervaded her, making it all seem somehow not real. Peter could not be dead. No one died in Neverland. That was why it was called Neverland… wasn't it? Maybe Ray would find Peter, save him in time. Maybe…
"Please sign the book." Hook indicated the book in front of him, spread wide so its clean white pages shone in the sunlight of her now ruined perfect day. Black ink covered one page, fading from jet at the bottom to a pale grey at the top, where sun and weather had done their work on the page.
Wendy took the quill in one numb hand, marvelling at how long it had
been since she had written anything. She stared blankly at the page, unsure
that she could do this even after Peter's death. It would be betrayal.
The other option was the plank…
But that was betrayal in a way, too. Peter had fought for years to
keep them alive and safe. Throwing it all away now would be terrible. And
she didn't want to die. Not yet. She might still make it back to England
and her family.
Her eyes stared, uncomprehending, at the names on the first page. There were so many, far more than there were pirates. Was it possible, then, that they could die. Near the top, perhaps a fifth of the way down, a few lines caught her eye. Two had been crossed out so heavily, so angrily, that they was now completely obscured, and the page had ripped slightly behind them. Below these, again crossed out heavily but still legible, a name glared back at her. All she could see was the name, burning into her eyes. With a scream she threw down the quill and ran to the deck where Peter had been thrown over. Now the tears came, pouring out in raucous sobs. Traitor. Traitor. And the name still glared angrily in her mind's eye, every scratch across it, every childishly formed letter. Ray.