Lost Boy Found - Foxfire Studios of St. Louis

FoxFire Studios of Saint Louis (http://foxfirestuidos.net) presents
“Lost Boy Found” by David “Daveykins FoxFire” Gonterman
FINAL PUBLIC BETA 01 file dated 23. Jan. 2007 for community editing purposes. By
opening this file, you agree to the following:
1. This file has two purposes, brainstorming of ideas and correction of errors. It’s
over 115K of words and took me a year to write. Even with a thorough
proofreading, I flat out KNOW that there’s a typo or two in here. I’d figure a
couple extra eyes can help me out here. If you find one, let me know and tell me
where it’s at. Page and paragraph numbers are suggested.
2. OUT AND OUT FLAMES IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN!! I did NOT make this file so
I can get kilobytes-long tirades telling me how much this book sucks. If you
want to mock my book, go to Encyclopedia Dramatica where you belong! Do it in
front of my face and you WILL be a victim in my next book. I will not ask for
your permission. You didn’t ask my permission to put something I want to sell
into your MiST machine. I’ll see to that in court.
3. You might have a better idea about a scene than I do, so if you see something
you can improve on, please say so. It's encouraged under the Creative Commons
license. All I ask is that you give me permission to use said idea. If you’re not
giving me permission, don’t bother. I don’t want to hear it.
4. I appreciate professional manners when sending me your typo finds. I did not
ask you to berate me on my less than perfect grasp on spelling and grammar.
(Like I said before, take that to your favorite troll site where it belongs.) Just help
me find these Radio Edit errors and help me correct then, please.
5. This file is STILL a work in progress. While you have all the rights according to
the Attribution--Non Commercial--Share Alike Creative Commons License (you
can even make fan works now), I request that you refrain from posting this in
your own web site or publicly file share it at this time. I will publish this book to
the general public when I'm good and ready. I'm not yet good and ready.
My contact address is thus:
David Gonterman
2441 E. 24th Street, Apt 1
Granite City, IL 62040
E-Mail: [email protected]
Instant Messages:
ICQ: 2126426
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This book belongs to
the undersigned:
. . . and as the owner of this book, the undersigned is granted the
rights to use the text of this book in any way he or she sees fit; including
quotations, sharing the story with others, and creating derivative and
‘fan-made’ works; as long as these conditions are maintained:
1. That the author of the story, David “Daveykins FoxFire”
Gonterman retains all credits to the original title, including all
characters therein. Any new storylines and/or additional
characters can be credited to whoever made them.
2. All activity is not made for commercial purposes.
3. All applicable usages are licensed under a license identical to
this one.
Any other permissions may be acquired by written permission of the
author, which can be reached by E-Mail at [email protected],
and a different license will be given when applicable.
And if you found anything in the story’s text that can use some revision,
or something that you’d like the author to work on, feel free to let him
know about it. It’ll be greatly appreciated.
More information about this license can be attained at the Creative
Commons web site at http://creativecommons.org; and a more extensive
explanation of this license can be viewed at the web page
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.5/ .
All boys grow up, even the one they say doesn’t.
It all depends on how you define ‘Grow Up’.
FoxFire Studios of Saint Louis – http://foxfirestudios.net
presents
http://lostboyfound.foxfirestudios.net
by David “Daveykins FoxFire”Gonterman and associates.
2005 David Gonterman
Work STILL in Progress
Feedback and Corrections
Suggested and Appreciated
Lost Boy Found
2006 by David "Daveykins FoxFire" Gonterman. Some Rights
Reserved. Based on Characters, Locations, and Scenarios in "Peter and Wendy" by J.
M. Barrie, which is in the Public Domain according to US Copyright Law. Neither The
Great Ormond Street Hospital, owner of the UK Copyright, or The Walt Disney
company, copyright owner of the US Animated version, have no connection to this book.
This work—including storyline, characters, and likenesses thereof—
is the property of David “Daveykins FoxFire” Gonterman, and
licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NoncommercialShare Alike 2.5 License. To view a copy of this license, visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.5/ or send a letter to Creative
Commons, 543 Howard Street, 5th Floor, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.
David Gonterman
2441 E. 24th St., Apt 1.
Granite City, IL 62040
[email protected]
Visit the official web site at lostboyfound.foxfirestudios.net .
Special Thanks go
all those who helped me
brainstorm, edit, and
encourage me along the way.
Ann English
Robb Britting
Rich Koster
Marcie Le Cava
Luke Pickard
Drew Rhine
Starbucks Coffee of Granite City, IL.
McDonalds at Johnson Road, Granite City, IL
Dedicated to all those who believed in me.
Even when I didn’t believe in myself.
1
Chapter 00
Excerpt from Nitsan Mutami’s Neverland Journal, dated 15 May
99:
(Translated from Chinese)
Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean between the two tropics is an island
that isn’t normal. Normal islands don’t move or change shape at will.
Nor do they have strange readings on electromagnetic devices. Or have
their nature sounds accompanied by strange bell-like ringing.
Normal islands do not have denizens that would remind you of Classical
Disney Movies either.
Neverland is an aptly named island.
The name came from a ship that sailed during the time Columbus
discovered America. The ship wrecked on this island’s shore, carrying a
strange cargo of a substance described only as otherworldly, and a group
of British orphans led by a boy named Peter and his four friends. The
wreckage spilled this alien material, covering these five boys as it flowed
throughout the island. The children found out that this material altered
their physical makeup, not only stopping their aging process, but also
enabling them to all fly unaided at will. They found similar properties
with the fauna and flora of the island as well; so that no one on this
island, as long as they stay, will ever grow a day older. Never. Hence,
the island adopted the name from the ship ’Neverland.’
The nature of this material, as well as how it altered the children’s, and
the island’s, genetic makeup, wasn’t reproduced in any lab, until earlier
in the latter part of his decade with my own studies. But I’m getting
ahead of myself.
Before World War I, a London girl named Wendy Darling, disappeared for
a few days, and reappeared with a report of this very island, and of a
Peter Pan and his Lost Boys. Before she disappeared again, never to
return, she told this story to a local playwright named J. M. Barrie. He
reproduced this story into a play, then a book, and the rest you know as
history, especially if you’re a Disney Fan.
By the time Wendy was there, Peter has made this island equal parts
Orphanage and Playground, inviting children who slipped through the
cracks of society to live with him and his mates. In fact, the Lost Boys
you know in the Disney film were in fact these children; Slightly, Nibs,
Cubby, and Toodles are much older and have a higher ranking in the
Lost Boys. The names and faces of these children changed throughout
the decades, as new kids arrive and others return to their homes, some
with hopes that they can bring a little bit of Neverland with him or her.
2
One such person who succeeded in this could very well be one of these
children who was around when Wendy was there, a Missouri boy who’s
name I haven’t discovered, yet. They say that he became quite famous
and kept the story of Peter Pan alive until his death in 1966.
This is not his story, however.
I wanted to start this journal with a story of a more recent former Lost
Boy who found himself in Las Vegas, Nevada, where a caring family who
has ties to the Wendy Darling of the classic tale took him in. His
adventure brought him back to Neverland, using equal parts faith and
science to take him there. It is a combination that lead me to setting on
this very island to pursue my own scientific study on this unique island.
His name is Adam “Two Tails” Packbell, and the following is his story,
gathered by his own accounting and recorded on his web site . . .
3
Lost Boy Found
The following is a compilation of installments by Adam
“Two Tails” Packbell as they are written in his web-based
Wiki-formatted Journal, combined with dramatized scenes
written in prose by the author. Both parties assure that
this is the most factual accounting of the existence
of Mollusk Island, aka Neverland, so far.
In other words, if you’re finished reading this and
you still don’t believe, either party doubt that anything
on this planet will. In that case...
Why in God’s name are you reading this?
Put it back.
4
1/5 The Hole
5
Chapter 01
December 1980
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry titled “Introduction”:
I thank my parents for getting me started on this journal. My mom
(WendyDarlingMystran1) suggest that I keep one so that I’ll have a place
to put down thoughts that come to my mind, or in some cases come
loose in my mind. My dad (CopperMystran) encouraged it, especially
when he looks over my shoulder—Bad Parent! No Remote!—and says
that I have the talent to be at least a halfway decent writer. I think it’s
because of this when he decided to drop into my lap a computer and
access to a web site with all the bells and whistles. (We’re talking PHP,
SQL, CSS, SSI, and many other combinations you’d never expect to see
outside of Alphabet Soup.)
I didn’t want to go that deep into developing a web site, since it’s just
going to be a blog anyway—and I shudder to allow any advertisements
into something as personal as a high-tech diary—so I installed Media
Wiki. It’s easy to use just from the browser. And I find out that most of
my thoughts are organized Wiki style anyway.
So, the big question now that I’ve gotten out of the main menu on this
blog: Where do I begin?
By now, I’m at home, settled in the attic of the Mystran residence, resting
on the bed and writing down what I want to type about. I’ve made a
bunch of friends already—including Vixen XO XO XO—and I’ve just got
back in school . . .
I’d suppose that I should get the worst part over with, then. School.
No, it’s not SaintNorberts. I’m welcomed there with open arms, and the
nuns there have by now accepted me being the class clown there. They
treat me very well over there.
That wasn’t the case in the previous school.
A school in an old town and in an old life that I don’t really remember all
that well. Nor want to.
It’s not because of the time difference (Read AdamsDisappearance) that
makes this difficult. If it weren’t for mom’s PeterPanFetish, I would be
convinced that aliens abducted me. Thoughts like that make me
shudder over being Talk Show fodder.
1 Hypertext links that not explained elsewhere in the story are described in brief by footnotes.
Links consist of Capitalized words strung together or Underlined or both. Such is how the
Excerpted pages resemble in Wikis like Adam’s Wiki-like Blog (Internet-based ’Web Blog’).
6
It was because of what happened in Chamberlain, Maine.
In Paducah, Kentucky.
In Littleton Colorado.
Nothing scares me like thinking of those towns.
Because I know, that whatever happened to me didn’t happen, that there
would be another town on that list:
[CENSORED]1.
The town I was born.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
“LogLadderScene”:
It was a winter’s night in the early 80s. Christmas Eve.
A lonely log ladder, towering above an empty schoolyard, got an
unexpected visitor at that strange hour. A boy about 11 years old who
had already had enough of his short life to last him to his old age was
climbing that ladder. He had enough of the constant bullying from his
peers and humiliation by his teachers. It had dragged him from a gifted
kindergartener to a hopeless flunker at 6 grade. He had advanced in
grade only because his teachers did not want another year of him. He
had gone from a child who was the best to a whipping boy who was there
for punishment over whatever went wrong in the world. He was someone
who lived his life from beating to beating and little much, if at all.
th
The last straw came about an hour before. At the Christmas recital,
somebody rigged his Santa suit to disintegrate right where he stood.
Everybody in the hall had a good laugh, at his expense.
The child just could not stand any more. He ran sobbing past mocking
children and irate adults who demanded that he repeat the scene for the
next two performances. He ran out of the hall through a snowstorm and
into the darkness until he could not hear the laughter or any other
human voice.
He did not stop running until he came to that log ladder. He finds
himself here during recesses or when his parents would not let him in
his own house because he needed to ’play’ with other kids. He found
himself on the top rung often with the occasional catcalls from below
telling him to jump to his death. Every now and then, someone would
even climb up to push him off.
1 The location of the city where Adam Packbell was born has been omitted to protect the
innocents in said city.
7
There was a good reason why he chose that place as his personal retreat
from the world below him. There was a constant wind at the top of the
ladder, an altitude where flags flutter and birds fly, which drown out the
noise below him. There he could study the clouds at day and the stars
at night—yes, he did show up there at night when things at his house got
too intense. He could look for any deity that would claim him or any
changes in his fortune in the sky above, and in a way, around him as
well. He looked for anything that would ensure him that his past
existence would not be the theme of his whole life.
Emphasis on the word, ‘any,’ and he did not care who. Never mind what
he heard in Church.
Every other night he would be found there and dragged back to his
school or his house with at least a thorough tongue-lashing but more
expectedly worse, but not that night. The snowstorm he had run
through had grown to 100-year blizzard proportions with the addition of
a thick fog, covering the outside world as if by a flood. The streets were
impassable and the visibility all but a few feet. The storm also hid the
log ladder below the child in the white and darkness that flowed over and
around him as well.
For the first time, the child felt that the world he knew had disappeared.
It was just himself and the wind around him. The wind seemed to blow
louder through his hair and into his ears, whipping around his small
frame and up to his chin as if to guide him to look up.
He did look up and saw what would be the one and only Christmas
present he ever needed. The holiday would have no more purpose after
tonight because of its presence. Because his silent cries in the night just
was answered.
A book as wide as he appeared in the neatherspace above him. He stood
up tall over the top rung to reach for it, welcoming it into his arms. It
was made out of wood and bronze with pages lined in gold that gave the
inside of the book a fiery glow. The book had a latch similar to diaries,
and a foxtail-like shape encrusted it over the felt covers.
The lock sprang open at his touch, as if it were accepting him, and it
opened itself to reveal virgin pages of the softest vellum inside. The
darkness of the nighttime snow-blind left his presence as the book
opened. A fire that the boy had never seen before surrounded him. He
could feel the heat and light it gave off, but it did not hurt, even as it
started to ignite the log he was standing on and even seeped through his
body and into his soul. And he could see the flicker of flame begin to
write on the pages.
It started with a mere trickle, a sole flame forming a single letter.
Then a word.
Then another word.
8
A sentence.
A paragraph.
And another.
And a third.
They seemed to pour out from the boy’s own soul: Stories. A whole
universe of stories appeared from every genre imaginable. He saw a
romance tale appear in the parchment, then a mystery, science, history,
tragedy, comedy, and more and more. Page after page flew past as fire
wrote on it, yet there was no end to the pages within the book.
It did not seem weird to the boy. He was already lost in the words that
appeared in front of him. In fact, it felt right to him, more right than
anything else that had occurred in his short life.
And then the dam burst open. Wide!
The flame painted a picture.
And another.
Several of them merged to form a comic strip.
Then a whole series of strips.
Then a whole comic book.
And another.
Pictures and words danced together in perfect harmony. It almost
resembled the music that now sang in his ears and in his mind. A whole
world, no, a complete universe, flowed from inside him out onto the
paper, and then back to him. He felt it resonate inside him as he felt
every story and tale in his own soul.
He never felt so good about anything like this before.
So right.
So alive, alive for the first time ever.
He closed his eyes.
He took in a breath.
He felt his legs take leave of the log below him.
The fire disappeared instantly. The log ladder was completely consumed,
no longer needed, mere ash covered by the snow.
The child was never seen again.
Only the stars and the snow were the witnesses.
Those wanting to find him spent all of Christmas Day looking for “That
God Damned Brat.”
9
They did the same the next day, wondering if they should actually be
worried about the child.
The day after that, they filed the Missing Person’s report with the cops.
And the day after that, they discovered the remains of his favorite hiding
spot, the ashes that was once that log ladder.
By New Years, people even began to miss the child, and regret
mistreating him.
There were no signs of kidnapping.
No reports of where he was running away to.
He simply vanished without a trace.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
“AdamsDisappearance,” Dated 15 Mar 96:
Links of Interest:
“Boy
Lost In Snow”, [CENSORED] Press-Record, 25 Dec 80
“Obituary:
Adam Packbell”, [CENSORED] Press-Record, XX Feb 811
Scanned
School ID, Johnson School, [CENSORED] Public School
District #92
I used Yahoo, Google, Metacrawler, Open Text, I’d even use a fine tooth
comb to find stuff other than these three items. My dad had to supply
me with the first two, and he said it was like pulling teeth.
There was two factors that made this difficult: One, there was a flood in
93 that got too close to the records building which did quite a number on
a good chunk of Southern Illinois history. And two is the year involved.
1980. Back when Operating systems use screens of 40 by 24 Text
Characters. Apples still come in models where you can make its symbol
with reversed brackets and make pie with their guts after some good use.
The Atari 2600 was it and people just called it an Atari, without the
number. And you can have a good game without animating spilled
blood. <sniff>
The second factor is of major importance: All this happened in
Christmas Eve, 1980. The next time I would look at a calendar, it would
be January 3, 1996. Fifteen years has passed.
I had my checkup a week after I was found, and they told me that I was a
perfectly heal-thy—more or less—eleven year old.
1 Before scanned in, the words “no body have been found,” were highlighted.
2 Due to the ravages of time, most of the details have been worn out, save for “Adam Packbell,”
and “School Year 1980-1981” Note that the name of the school has not been omitted. I
challenge you to find an innocent person in that school at the time.
10
I should have been 26. I haven’t aged a week in a decade and a half.
I don’t like to tell this in public at this time. Like I said, it reeks of Talk
Show fodder. “Welcome to Jerry Springer, tonight’s show: Children who
were Alien Abductees!”
Picture me rolling my eyes to the point where they can roll off my skull.
They also checked if I had space probes stuck in me. Nope. Perfectly
normal skeleton, no strange metal thingies implanted anywhere.
But I had to ask: Where the #&771 was I these fifteen years?
That’s why I started this Wiki.
1 Excerpt from the parental notice in Adam’s Wiki: I’m not one to curse much above what is
completely necessary, and even then, thanks to my mom being an English Nanny, I try to keep
things Work-Safe, so expect to see the occasional switch to l33t whenever Radio Edits are
needed.
11
Chapter 02
December 1995
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
TwoTailsCostume:
The first clue would be what I was wearing when mom found me; a fully
body fursuit of a fox, face mask and two tails. I still have this costume,
which I have converted into stuffed animal I keep by my bed..
But I have got to ask: WHAT THE PCUK!?!
Where in the blue hell does an eleven year old go to get a fursuit? And
where is the place where it’s okay to go out in public as Miles Prowler 27phrackin-7?!
I’m not even a Furry Fan.
If the boy walking down Highway 95 knew he was wearing a full body
costume of a two tailed fox, he didn’t seemed to care. He did not care
about the fursuit because it was in the evening in the outskirts of Las
Vegas, and the temperature was dropping to the point where it was
appropriate to put on something warm. He did not see the occasional
passing car and such did not notice any of them looking his way. What
he was concerned about is the bright lights up ahead, and a glittering
sign welcoming him to town. The sight was familiar to him, but he was
not sure why. He was not sure why he was heading toward that sign and
the shining city that started to glow in the night behind that sign, but he
had to go there, like a moth’s attraction to the proverbial flame.
A car pulled over beside him. He froze, not knowing what to do. He was
ready to book into the desert brush if he had to. He also grabbed a firm
hold on the book bag he had slung over his shoulder.
A door opened and a woman stepped out. “Hold on there, young one.”
The man said as the costumed child took one step back, “Don’t be
scared.” The woman turned toward the fox boy, revealing her reddishbrown hair, simple pair of slacks and blouse, sensible driving shoes, and
a pronounced British accent.
The Fox Boy gulped. Even if he was able to talk, he was too scared to do
so. He just backed away to put some space between himself and this
floating pale face before he’ll turn around and book the other way at top
speed.
12
“Don’t be frightened, child,” she said again. It had a quiet yet
distinguished power to it, soft to the ears yet authoritative. And her eyes
looked right through his mask and into his soul. It didn’t help his
nervousness or fear, and he backed away again.
She reached out and placed her hands around the fox boy’s shoulders.
The child let out a scream when they touched him, mind racked with
intense paranoia. The scream stopped when a finger of one of those
hands touched the mask’s frozen smile.
She let out a long and loud ssssshhhhhhhhhhh with streamed through
the child’s ears and into his head. Not as if he’d be able to say anything
else. The 11-year-old trembled before her, wanting to pull away from
those eyes and run as fast as he could, not knowing or caring where he
would be going.
“It’s all right, child.” She said as she held him there. “You’re quite a
bundle of nerves here. You’re obviously lost, in fact, I don’t think you
not know where you are, do you?”
It was a question, and despite the calm voice, it carried a demand for the
child to speak. However, the costumed fox boy could only shake his
head in the ‘no’ direction.
“I would expect that this place can be very dangerous for someone like
you. Do you where you’re going or where your home is?”
Another ‘no’ shake from the fox boy.
“Then come with me, child. I’ll help you.”
This one was less of a command, more like an invitation. For a while, it
has yet to register in the fox boy’s mind. He did indeed heard stories
about people who would take him away to do something to him. He
didn’t know what that something was, but he knew it wasn’t nice.
However, the child just couldn’t refuse this woman. Maybe it was the
fact that it would be the second time that he went somewhere with
someone. Or something; the book he had in his hands was with him on
the previous trip. Or maybe it was a touch of naiveté. Or maybe it was
the fact that this English Lady’s voice was getting to him.
Or maybe it was the intense wave of fatigue. It washed over the fox boy’s
body, and he became sleepy in his costume in the back seat of that car
before it even pulled back into Highway 95, limp as the plush animal he
resembled . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
WendyDarlingMystran:
13
It might come to the shock to some that there was a Wendy Darling who
lived in 190X London. And that she vanished from her home one day
after an argument with her parents, only to return with a story that J.M.
Barrie made into the play and book titled "Peter Pan."
There are two details not well known, though: One, Wendy vanished
again not too soon before WWI and this time went for good. And Two,
her siblings lived on and spawned offspring. Their lineage goes on
through history past the time when they assisted one Walter Elias
Disney with turning the story into one of his top movies to the present
day, where a descendant of John Darling was born looking so much like
the famous Lost Girl that she got named after her.
This Wendy didn’t know whatever or not Peter Pan would come for her to
take her to Neverland, despite falling in love with the stories and
characters and becoming what we kiddies would call an otaku1 about it.
Fortunately, she came across the next best thing: She fell in love with a
magician named Copper Mystran, and moved with him to Los Vegas,
Nevada.
She now Wendy Darling Mystran. Most people know her as a
Professional Nanny2 with very competent references despite being nonconventional as British Nannies go. Think Mary Poppins meets Sharon
Osbourne.
I just call her Mom.
It was morning when the boy awoke. He found himself on a comfortable
bed in someone’s bedroom. The morning sun coming in through a
window that overlooked the daytime version of that very same city he was
walking toward. It was much closer, with towering buildings of various
styles and colors. He was sitting up to get a better look when he also
saw what he was wearing: A light green and slightly tattred tunic tied to
the waist by a belt, dark green tights, and brown slippers.
What he had on before was gone! He scratched his head, only to find a
soft felt green pointed hat with a feather stuck in it.
He also noted the woman’s voice again; talking to someone, he can’t hear
from beyond the door out the room.
“uh-huh . . . uh-huh . . . uh—hold on there, back up. You lost me at the
year, are you sure? . . . Well, hon, the child I picked up is still a pre-teen
. . . humph . . . now come on, Copper Mystran. Just because the greatgrandmother I’m named after was . . .” She chuckled, then sighed, and
then chuckled again. “Of course he’s in one of my favorite costumes . . .
1 Link to a Pop-Up window defining the term. “Otaku, n, Anime Term, Fan of anything of a level
bordering or passing obsession.
2 Link to a link list on Wendy’s Nanny businesses, including references from other nannies.
14
at least I don’t have to measure him for real clothes . . . oh bother, I
think he’s up, so I’ll call you later . . . Lovely.”
The woman walked into Adam’s view. She had on a bright colored
flowing dress, her warm smile, and her British voice. She had in her
hand a sort of device that resembled a phone, only not connected to
anything else. She folded it in half and set it aside on a dresser.
“Morning there, dear.” She said as she sat on the bed he was sleeping
on. “I thought you needed a rest, so I let you sleep in my home.”
He looked around again and saw the book he was carrying all this time,
though, and he gathered enough courage to move closer to get his book
back.
“Oh, this is yours? Here.” She gave the book to him, which he took into
his arms. He smiled and nodded in thanks. He can smell her presence
on her book and by her closeness, a welcoming mix of spices and
sweetness.
“Oh, you’re cute fox suit is in the wash. It was dirty,. I’ll let you have it
back when it’s clean, and what you have on now is the only thing I have
around me that fits you. I hope you don’t mind that until I get you
something better?”
She smiled as she said that, a smile that was infectious to the boy, who
smiled back.
“Good. By the way, you’re even cuter without that hot fur coat anyway,”
she said as she rubbed his reddish hair, “that was all you had on when
we found you. I think I can find something better for you here in the
Vegas hot sun, but first, I think I should feed you breakfast. You must
be hungry, er . . . Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t think I’ve gotten your name.”
The child thought for a second.
And another second.
It took him a while.
A grumbling stomach brought a name to his mouth: “Ah . . . Adam. Ah
think.”
“You think?”
He looked down, his face red with embarrassment. “Ah . . . ah c-can’t re
. . . member.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled PeterPanFetish:
15
I’ve came across a lot of Otaku Groups, and I’m convinced that the most
open-minded one of the lot has to be Disney Fans. Uncle Walt made so
many cartoons appealing to so many groups that the Fandom on a whole
is pretty much a big tent. Broad and welcoming to even the most eclectic
of fans. Granted, there are exceptions (<cough> Rescue Rangers
</cough>), but each of the sub-groups in this Fandom are very friendly
to each other. Compare that to something like, say, Pretty Warrior Sailor
Moon, where the Negaverse doesn’t have to worry about destroying the
world; the Moonies can pretty much do that by their own without any
help, thank you so much.
Like I said earlier, my mother’s favorite is Peter Pan, and she could be a
certifiable nut for the flying boy. She converted parts of her home into a
shrine with all the stuff she collected. And I think there’s a Tinkerbell
statue where the Virgin Mary should be in the front yard. (If she claims
that Jesus Christ came from a Pixie, I wouldn’t be surprised.)
She’d even go as far as dressing me up in those Green Tights and add me
to her collection.
Not that I’d mind, anyway. (See the entry on AdamAsPan)
“I’ve found an ID card of some sort with ‘Adam Packbell’ written on it, so
I’ve just assumed that’s your name. But since you remember the Adam
part, I’m glad I didn’t screw that up.”
Adam grunted a ‘uh-huh’ as he lifted the bowl to drink down the milk
from his third bowl of cereal. Most British people would have
disapproved of that lack of etiquette, but not this woman.
“Small wonder you were so light when I carried you home, Adam. You
must’ve been famished. Need another bowl, dear?”
He shook his head. “uh-uh . . . ah’m full, m-ma’am.”
“Please, call me Wendy,” she said as she received the bowl from Adam.
“No, honesty, that is my name. It’s not because I’ve fallen in love with
this little guy here.” She picked up a plastic figurine of Peter Pan—the
pointy-eared boy who was dressed exactly like what Adam had on—and
made flying noises as she hovered it around.
It made Adam chuckle when she did that. It was as infectious as
Wendy’s smile.
“I was named after my great-grandmother, who was in the right time and
place to be the Wendy in the Peter Pan story. Been fan of the classic my
whole life because of that. Even a marriage of a fine gentleman and my
immigrating to America couldn’t change that. Even played as him in a
school play, wearing the very Peter Pan costume you’re in now. Since I
still remember the size of that costume, I’ll be able to get a change of
16
more proper clothes this afternoon. I don’t think you’d want to go
around downtown Las Vegas dressed up in that.”
He looked down to where he was wearing, and just shrugged.
“Or that furry costume, either.”
Another chuckle.
“You probably don’t know where that came from or where you got it,
either, so you?”
He thought for a few moments.
Until Wendy patted him on his head.
“Don’t worry about it, dear. I’m sure you’ll remember soon enough. I’ve
heard that when people lose some memories, it takes time to find them
again.”
His brow creased for a moment. He knew he forgotten some things.
Make that a whole lot of things. Things that where important. Things
that—
Wendy picked up Adam into her arms in a bear hug. He was a slight bit
heavier, thanks to the full stomach, but just that. He opened his eyes—it
was only now that he was aware that he closed them tight—and looked
up to Wendy’s soft face.
“It’s all right, child. I know you’ll remember one day. Until then, you
can stay here. I’d like you to, if you want.”
He looked up at Wendy’s eyes, hearing her voice, and one again, how can
he refuse her? He smiled and nodded.
Her face seemed to glow as she lifted him up above her head. It was
almost as if he could float up there. “That’s great! You can be my
answer to Peter! You even look like him!”
He blushed at that.
“Oh! Silly me.”
She put him back down to the floor and showed him around her home.
And his.
Wendy’s home was a mini-mansion. The main floor had four quarters: A
kitchen, dining room, living room, and a den used as an office. This floor
had plenty of display cases for Wendy’s collection of cute souvenirs,
figurines, dolls, the occasional snow dome, and what not. There was
even a stuffed bear sitting on the sofa.
The second floor had two full baths and several bedrooms. The master
bedroom was hers—as well as this Copper person—the all but one was
empty. The occupied one contained what Wendy called her most prized
part of her collection: What Adam first thought was a life-sized doll maid
17
lying on the bed was in fact, according to Wendy, an android girl with fox
ears and a brushy tail. “Her name’s Tara Kit, and she was given to me
by Copper one day to keep me company. She’s recharging her batteries,
so it’s best we let her sleep for a while.”
There was a top floor above the master room, which housed a smaller
bath and a good-sized bedroom. Adam liked this room the best and
decided that the attic room would be his.
Wendy spent the rest of the morning showing off her collection. He
found the characters and figures rather familiar, and even knows the
names to some like that red-headed mermaid or that black-eared mouse,
but not knowing where he heard of them or even why unnerved him.
As Wendy kept an eye on him, something pinged at her. She had to with
that costume he’s in. That costume of hers—and now his—proved to
make him all but silent on the soft carpet. What unnerved her was that
phone call to Copper.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled CopperMystran:
You won’t think of Copper when you run through the list of World
Famous magicians here in Vegas, in fact he’s in the D-List category. He
probably picked it up as a hobby and liked being in tuxedos ever since,
and I heard that he’s quite a romantic; Kelly Griffin would swoon over
him. He’s a romantic to mom, and very friendly and approachable to me.
Whenever he shows up, we usually go out together on various trips and
outings; which at the time I’m writing this is an understandable case of
making up for all the time he’s away. At least he writes often about his
travels around the world.
What he does gets a bit fuzzy at times, but I know it’s a combination of
his ‘hobby,’ and his true vocation: Would you believe
ProfessionalHypnotist? He even put a stage version of that into his act,
I’ve heard.
But I think that it’s some constant globetrotting research of some sort. I
know this because when he shows up, Dad’s got something new and
exciting to show me. One day I might join him on one trip and find out
where he gets this stuff, but I wonder if it’s something I shouldn’t know
about, like how a teen girl gets their periods, ugh.
What Copper found out about Adam didn’t surprise her, since she have
heard about stories like Adam’s every other month: An unpopular, over
18
bullied and all-out shunned child gets pushed beyond his or her
breaking point and runs away, commits suicide, or ends up as breaking
news on the news channels. In Adam’s case, he just ran full tilt into a
blizzard and vanished without a trace.
However, it was the when that unnerved her. And Copper as well. “. . .
that happened Christmas Eve.”
“Yes?”
“Nineteen Hundred and Eighty. AD.”
She checked the date on the cell phone: It was barely a week after New
Year’s Day. The year was 1996.
“Wendy, dear, this happened fifteen years ago. And by your image from
your camera phone, he hasn’t aged a day.”
Three questions ran through Wendy’s mind as she remembered what her
husband said while the time-lost child sat on the floor in front of her
with a Rubik’s Cube: One, where has this guy been since 1980; Two,
how did he end up here in 1995 Las Vegas without aging one day; and
Three, what should she do with him?
The first question had one answer that went back and forth from her
mind. Outside of Alien abduction, she could think of only one place he
can be where he can spend 15 years without growing any older, but to
the general population, Neverland was a part of a Disney movie.
Of course, even if that was the answer to Question #1, it wouldn’t answer
Question #2. Adam’s memories were a jumble. He had probably hit his
head or something and got amnesia, poor thing. And Wendy was the
first one to find him. Answering the question of how he got here and
where he came from would have to wait until Adam himself finds the
missing part of his memories that has the answer.
However, the third question was, to Wendy’s relief, very much cut and
dry. Wherever Adam once called his hometown, it doesn’t matter. To
that town, Adam Packbell died Christmas Eve 1980. Wherever he’s been,
she has neither the knowledge nor the ability to send him back. And she
was not intending to take him to any child services center. In fact, before
Copper could do any research on the child’s name, she insisted in filing
adoption papers. Nobody wanted this child she found, so that would
make him hers. As quirky as she is, Wendy Mystran is the neighborhood
Super-Nanny. She’s certain that she can raise Adam better than any
institution.
The only problem with Question #3 would be how to ensure that the
child would bond with her, to think of her as her mother. She pulled out
a crystal candleholder and lit the candle inside. She remembers how she
met Copper, and how she dated, and how he does what he did with his
voice and touch.
19
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
ProfessionalHypnotist:
I must admit that I don’t know a lot about this subject, and part of me
actually doesn’t want to. If you want to know more, ask my Dad or Surf
the Web1.
All I know is that I’d be with my parents, either by their side or on their
lap or some other close place, and I’m at this place where all is quiet,
warm, safe, and magic. I don’t know how I can describe it other than
that. All I’ll know is that I was loved and happy while under that spell.
Being loved and happy. That’s so rare in this world.
She strained her ears to get a bearing of Adam as she does this. The
clank of the just-solved Rubik’s Cube on the ledge on a shelf announced
that he’s still in the room. Wendy would raise an eyebrow on the puzzle
cube later; she’d never gotten past one side.
“Not much of a talker, aren’t you?”
Adam’s voice was small and near a whisper. “A-ah don’t tawk g-good.”
“Indeed!” Wendy turned around to face him, face showing mock
indignation. “I can understand you perfectly fine. Just because you
have a backwoods accent doesn’t mean you don’t talk good. I was raised
in London, England, and I must say that my voice comes off more funny
than yours.”
She patted Adam as he fidgeted, scuffed his hair a bit. “You’re accent’s
just fine, child. To think that’s a speech impediment.” She guided him
over to a chair and sat him down there, the combination of he soft touch,
gentle voice, and eye contact started to siphon the tension away. “It’s all
right, Adam. You’re with friends now. You’ve come to my home after a
long and hard journey, and as you take a deep breath now, you can feel
all that tension from your trip in that small body of yours, and you hold
that breath for a moment, and then slowly exhale letting out that tension
with your breath. That’s right. Nice and slow.”
Adam found himself breathing in and out with Wendy’s words, a slow
inhale, holding it, gathering a bit of the stress with him, and the
sensation of the tension going out with the slow exhale. This happened
1 Link goes to Copper Mystran’s Web Site, which contains more material on this subject.
20
for about five or six breaths, and Adam found himself more relaxed, more
at ease, as Wendy moved closer to Adam and held the child’s shoulders.
“Feeling better, Adam? You certainly look like you do.”
Adam nodded.
“That’s good. You needed it after the long trip you made you’ve been
through a lot, have you?”
Adam broke away for a moment. He searched what little memories he
had at the time, his brow furrowed. What’s wrong with his memories?
“You don’t remember.”
He closed his eyes, shook his head.
“You must have lost your memories somehow. I’m very sorry to have this
happen to you.”
Adam’s voice was somewhat better. “Ah...ah know i-it must’b-be a long
tahm.” His eyes still closed tight.
Wendy cupped his hand under Adam’s chin, and the child’s eyes
reopened and returned to her eyes. “I know it’s a hard time for you, but
you won’t be alone anymore. You’re staying with me now. We’ll be like a
family.”
Of course they are. Why should they not be? Wendy told the truth, after
all. He was in-deed lost and alone in a strange land, and she took them
in and cared for him, the first and possibly the only ones that will. Of
course he’ll stay. He settled into Wendy’s welcome and comfortable chair
and saw the candleholder she held.
“That’s right, child. Take a deep breath. Let your body relax. Let it out.
Slow. That’s right. Let your eyes fall here, on my candle. You can see it
sparkle in its holder, can you? Yes, it is. Your eyes are drawn to them.
That’s it. Take a deep breath. Let your limbs go limp. Let it out. Slow.
Relaxed. That’s it.”
Indeed, Adam can see that candle sparkle from inside its crystal holder,
or maybe he’s imagining it, but he can’t pull away from them even if he
could try. Everything around them and that sparkling seemed to faze
away in a haze, even Wendy’s voice seemed to grow softer, until they
were just noises in his ears. His eyes grew heavy as the limp, relaxed
feeling spread into his body and up to his head, still trying to keep their
gaze on that sparkle.
Wendy’s face smiled as Adam’s own slackened. Copper was right;
Children are always easy to hypnotize, and Adam was no exception. Just
how far Wendy can take Adam is still a guess however, and it depends on
how good his imagination still is with the tests she has planned.
“That’s right, my child. You’ve traveled long and far to come here.
You’ve traveled long and far to us and you, my child, must be very tired.
21
You need to relax and release all that tension from your trip now that
you’ve finally arrived. You’ve finally arrived to my home and you need to
rest, to empty your body and mind of that trip. Take a deep breath.
That’s right, child. Let it out. Soon your eyes will close and your mind
will be empty and asleep. You can’t help but fall into a deep, deep,
restful sleep. Sound and safe. You can’t help but drift off to sleep, child
. . ..”
When Adam’s eyes fluttered closed, he slipped...no, he fell...into an even
deeper and dreamy state. The initial shock of the drop shook all over his
body, causing his eyes to flutter open for an instant, but nothing
registered in his mind by the time the eyes closed once again. He felt
himself sink into a warm, dark, quiet, and very blissful sleep. Adam
really did felt safe here, in this dark place, filled with hearth and warmth
and home. It all seemed to flow all over his body, gently pulling him even
deeper into that soft dark slumber . . .
“Good boy, Adam,” Wendy tells the entranced child as he brushes the
hair from his forehead. “You’re deeply asleep and your mind is empty.
You are far away from your past, and you can’t think of it anymore.
That’s okay, child, you’re with me. Safer now than you have ever been.
You are here in a new world, Adam. A world of light and love and
happiness. A world where you can heal, and grow . . .”
The boy sighed as he slumped into the soft chair, his mind as far away
and sinking into a white milky fog. Does he know what is happening to
him? He doesn’t quite know, but in time, he doesn’t care either. Every
running thought in his head eluded him, going farther and farther away
into the fog, and Adam doubted that he wanted to go out and chase them
anymore. He just wants to sit here and dream, and listen to Wendy’s
lovely voice.
Wendy blew the candle out; it served its purpose, and placed it on a felt
sheet so it won’t make a sound. “. . . and now you hear nothing but my
voice, see nothing though your heavy eyes and I will pull you deeper and
deeper now Adam and you want it, you want so much to fall deeper and
deeper into my magic spell, yes, give in to my voice, let it move you,
Adam . . . You do so want this, do you, child?”
What Adam said in his entranced stupor surprised Wendy . . . “yes,
mama.”
“Mama now? Even in this deep trance you know will do deeper. You
think of me more like your Mother, now, do you my child?”
“yes mama.”
“You think of me being your Mother, now, as I bring you deeper into my
magic spell, and you want that more than you’ve ever wanted anything,
more and more you’ll find that wonderful feeling of being my beloved son.
22
You do want that, my child. You do want to be my son, happy beloved,
and loyal to me, your Mother.”
Adam listened to that repetition for about a couple minutes before he
spoke again. “yes . . . Mother.”
Wendy had to smile. This was going better than she thought. “Yes,
that’s right, my son. I am now your Mother, my beloved son, and soon
you will know me as nothing other than such. And you slip deeper and
deeper into my loving spell, as a child does to his true parent. Feel my
wisdom, and tenderness, know my love and pride, my son.”
Adam sighed another ‘ . . . mama . . . ‘ as a joy he haven’t known of
before overfilled him. He’s a son now, a son to a Mother who is actually
proud of him. Who is approving of him and what he does and who he is.
Wendy, now known as Mother to Adam, felt some tears come from her
eyes. As she wiped them away, she thought that Adam is ready . . .
He was flying, the cool night air enveloping him unhindered by what he
wore. Just the tunic and tights. Maybe the slippers on his feet and the cap
on his head with the feather. He scanned the world below with eyes as
bight as stars over a full set of baby teeth that has yet to part from his
mouth.
There were a multitude of houses below him. Each one with a light in the
window. Each one with a Mother. He knew each one of them would be
barred, but he checked a few just in case.
Sure enough each window was barred from the inside and there was a
baby in the bed.
He expected this. He remember a saying, it may or may not be his, that he
first thought that his own Mother would always keep his window open no
matter how long he spent outside. But after weeks and months of flying,
he found his window barred. Mother has completely forgotten about him,
and has given birth to another child who took his bed.
Indeed, this is the real truth about mothers. The toads!
But that still didn't deaden the surprise over the sight of an unbarred
window.
He dared a peek inside, and found a bed that is unclaimed.
He heard of a voice inside, the voice of a mother. A mother who was
without a child and was wishing on a star for one.
He hesitated. Even as she saw him. As they met eye to eye. As he saw
her hold out her arms for the flying boy.
He feared the Mothers he thought they all were.
23
But as he looked at her, he know she was different.
Just as he was Peter, he knew that she was Wendy, and they would
always be together.
And together they will always be, as he lets her hold him, take him in, and
set him on his bed...
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled TaraKit:
Tara Kit is short for EDS-USP2-TK; Emotional Doll System, made in the
United States, Prototype model, serial number 2, and her initials.
Emotional Dolls like Tara are androids with the ability to develop
relationships with their Users as they interact with them. They are a
new rage in Japan, where fans of dating sims can import their saved
games into their own Emotional Dolls and have them develop a
composite personality, at times so lifelike that some of these otaku even
go steady and even marry their androids. They resemble cute looking
girls with additional furry features like additional ears and a tail. In
Tara’s case, it’s the ears and tail of a fox.
While some droids made it out into the public, almost all of them
resemble those little beeping scooting boxes you’d see Chewy scare away
in Episode 4. And I do know of some owning an Earth version of an R2
type, and that the military and some law enforcement groups are beefing
up their ranks with pilotable robots—I know of a friend who wants one
himself. However, everyone I know consider EDS droids rather creepy.
It’s probably regional in nature. Americans just don’t consider it okay for
someone to shack with what is in all intents and purposes a Stepherd
Wife.
However, there are other purposes for having an EDS around, which is
why local robotics company NeoGizmoTech is developing this US version.
Not only can they act out Princess Maker, but they also make great
housemaids who help around the home, and Mom would never be able to
keep her appointments and phone numbers without her. After I showed
up, she got an additional function of being an extra set of eyes and ears
to keep watch after me. And I must admit, I’d like having her as a
babysitter.
And yes, you perverts. You can screw them. In fact, EDS-USP1-AR is a
robotic version of a textbook Playboy Bunny, complete with the ears, tail,
costume, and disposition. Someone in NeoGizmoTech must’ve been too
lonely for his own good.
24
A passive and inert Tara Kit still laid at her bed. Her maid dress was still
as perfect as it was when she laid down since she doesn’t as much as
fidget in her ‘off’ mode. The long dark blue skirt was thick enough not to
show where her legs were, spread apart, and separated by her tail, which
had on simple ankle socks and shoes. The white frilly apron went
around her waist and up to the shoulders of her long sleeves, further
covering what could be electronic devices or a likable figure. Her
strawberry blond hair was still as perfect, bound back in an equally frilly
white hair band.
Her eyes went from closed to fully open with a click. Her back was a bit
too rigid, but all five of her limbs were still and inert and her head still
didn’t move. Her face was a frozen smile with eyes that stared off into
space. Her monotone voice didn’t help her current doll-like image.
energy levels at full . . . recharge system disengaged . . . kernel ok . . .
motor systems ok . . . internal circuitry ok . . . hard disk memory optimized
at 80% free . . . all systems green . . . unit EDS-USP2-TK ready for
operation . . . accessing parameter menu . . . relaying to networked
machine mystrantara . . .
Tara had a USB cable connected behind one of the side locks of her hair,
which lead to the small desktop computer set in a lamppost. The
monitor showed a list of what Tara assumes are her users and what she
is to them.
On top of the list is Wendy, the “Alpha User,” for whom Tara serves the
most purpose. Having his in her programming makes for a contented
and even happy android. Yes, her programming does allow her some
limited emotions. It took Wendy some time for her to warm up to her,
but Tara proved to be very valuable to her in time. Not only does she
help out around the house, she also serves as Wendy’s PDA, keeping
track of her addresses, phone numbers, dates and appointments,
dictating notes and letters, storing recopies and household tips, and in
general being the Mystran’s Girl Friday and her pride and joy among her
collection. If she could at this point of time, Tara would wonder what
Wendy would think of her emotions.
Of course, Tara wasn’t capable to think about such things. Or think at
all. She wasn’t able to. Her personality programming was still inactive
and she just laid there inert as a second user entered her memory:
Adam Packbell. She’d think of the image of him transferred to her
memories as that of a rather handsome child. The selections made
remade her thoughts and created her connection toward him. Adam
would be Tara’s kid brother of sorts, and she will be very fond of him.
She is to accompany the child and keep tabs of him if Copper or Wendy
weren’t around. Her emotion chips were ready to generate the highest
levels of fondness and affection toward the child, and she is to do
anything within her ability to keep him safe and in a general state of
25
well-being. She would want him to be happy, and to have his life and
world to be as such.
She wouldn’t even notice the change in her programming and personality
—the change in who she is—even after the programming screen is
clicked off and a switch is moved back to “Active Mode,” returning her
systems to their normal state of robotic living. She couldn’t. She is after
all a robot. Someone who does what she’s programmed. Even if that
programming can be self-adjusted over time.
Life appears in Tara’s eyes. Her face brightens. Her arms move in front
of her chest. Her legs bend in place. By the time she stood up from her
bed and detached the USB cord from where it stuck on her head, her
movements were smooth and natural looking. Even her tail had the
side-to-side wag.
Tara’s triangular ears pivoted around for signs of life in the house. She
found the soft feminine voice of Wendy and followed it. She noted that
she was talking to someone she is very fond of, and assumed that it was
Adam.
“. . . and know that I will love and care for you with all I am and that I
am proud to have you as my son. You will never be lost and alone ever
again.”
Tara found Wendy with the dreaming Adam in her arms. She had to
smile at what Adam was wearing. It suits him with the kind of mother
he has.
She settled down next to Wendy and looked on at the entranced Adam.
She found herself sighing in affection as she felt her programmed in
emotions toward him register. Tara Kit wouldn’t claim that she has an
imagination; she is after all an android. But she can actually see herself
with him. Playing games, going out of adventures, and sharing good
times. Recharging with his sleeping body in her arms. Being happy.
That’s what she wants for Adam. That’s what she wants for him for as
long as she lived.
“I want you to be happy, Adam.” Wendy said as she stroked his head. “I
want this life and world to be happy, and I’ll help you make this life a
happy one. I’ll be here with you for as long as I live. You’ll never have to
be in that sad lonely world anymore. I will love you with all of my being.”
Her voice was down to a soft whisper as she moved over to his ear to say,
“I will love you, Adam Packbell, for all eternity.” She then gently pressed
her lips against his an offers him a very warm and long kiss.
Adam’s eyes fluttered open as he feet Mother’s kiss, awake, though still
enchanted by that magical dream. He could smell apple pie and
cinnamon rolls, and felt the gentle warmth of a mother bear cradling her
cub. He pulled up to her, embraced her with his arms, set his chin over
her shoulder, and felt something wet and peculiar.
26
“I know you’re happy to have me, Mom, but why are you crying?”
Wendy had to laugh at that, and so did Tara, although for a different
reason. The complexity of humans always fascinated her.
Adam heard Tara’s amused giggle and turned around to see who it was.
The Foxgirl robot was up and about and giving him a cute smile. “Hello
there, Adam,” she said in a cheerful voice. “You’re kinda cute.”
“Tara, girl,” Wendy said, “Had a nice recharge?”
“I have.” Tara said with a nod.
“That’s good to hear. I’m going to need you to look after Adam here while
I go buy some clothes for him. As much as I want to, he can only play
Peter Pan at certain times.”
She passed Adam to Tara’s arms. Adam was surprised as to how soft
and silky her body felt, not the metal he’d expect when he heard that
she’s a robot. She even smelled of bubble gum.
“Of course, Wendy. I hope to get to know your son better.”
“Be careful, Mama. I hope you won’t be gone long.”
“Oh, I’ll be back in a couple hours, Adam,” Wendy said as she kissed him
again on the forehead.
And then she went out the door and toward her car with a shopping list
of clothes, food and snacks, small playthings, hygiene products . . .
“Is there any books in here, Tara?”
. . . and some books for the lucky child.
27
Chapter 03
January 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
IdentificationCard:
[Included is a scanned image of Adam’s current ID, with the following
text: Nevada State ID; the ID card’s serial number; Issued 01-03-96,
Expires 12-25-00; The mailing address of “Adam Packbell, C/O Mystran
Residence, 14 Great Ormand Street Box #2, Las Vegas NV 89109”;
Birthdate 12-25-85, Male, 4 feet even and 90 lbs; Brown Eyes, Red
Brown Hair, and no restrictions other than the “Under 21” and “Not
Driving License” parts.]
This is the first clue over where what happened to me: That number on
the Weight is just a suggestion. When I stepped on the scale, it didn’t go
past 30. Mom said that I’m light on my feet, but light enough not to
show on the scale?
The doctor Mom took me to is just as puzzled as I am, because we both
know I eat well enough. Just ask Mom; her food bill tripled thanks to
me. The doc could only note that it could be another example of the
wave of GeneticMutations1 flying about town, especially here in Vegas
thanks to all those atomic tests that occurred nearby during the 40s.
“You have got to be the most lucky kid on Earth,” the DMV clerk said as
she busies herself with the forms needed to create a new Identification
Card for Adam. “Last night, you didn’t have a record to your name,
much less an identity, and now you have every record available for you to
function here. Birth Certificates, Adoption Records, SSI Numbers, it’s all
here, and all dated yesterday.”
“Seems that you now have a decent family that wasn’t there before, eh?”
She said as she handed Adam his ID. Not only did she shake her head
at him, but also her flat, stern voice gave Adam the impression that he
should be somewhere else. “Not too many runaways wake up one day to
a new family. Don’t screw this up, you hear? NEXT!”
Even if he wasn’t this shy toward strangers Adam would have taken the
ID and bailed from the room before he got another one of those looks
from that clerk.
1 Link to a page with a list of Web Sites on Genetic Mutations.
28
He went out the office and in the hall, found Tara sitting on a bench with
her eyes closed, and sat down next to her, a bit too still, but a pointed
fox ear twitched toward Adam when he sat down.
She opened the eye near to Adam and smiled. “Got your ID?”
He nodded.
“Wendy’ll be back here when she gets done. She needs to get her
signature on some forms, and there’s a long line in front of her.”
“Bummer.”
She just shrugged, and closed her eyes again.
Adam just sat there, on the bench, looking at his shoes, reached back for
his book bag and his copy of Final Fantasy VII—The Novelization.
And then another pair of shoes entered his field of vision, about his size.
“Hi there,” a chipper and girlish voice sang out toward him.
He looked up. It was a girl about his age, wearing bell-bottom jeans, a
half-length shirt, and a vest. Her red hair tied back with a bow into twin
tails but the bangs still managed to fall a bit in front of her eyes.
“You’re must be Wendy’s new son she’s crowing about all over Vegas
today. Adam, right?”
Adam nodded, as did Tara who woke back up again. “What brings you
here, Vixen?”
“Oh, my dad’s filing some announcements about local native stuff.”
“Ah,” Tara nods. “You can sit here if you wish.”
“He doesn’t mind?”
He shook his had and scooted over to give the girl room.
“Thanks, Adam,” she said as she sat down. “I heard that you’ve lost your
memory too.”
“Hmmm?” Adam’s curiosity overcame his shyness at this point.
“Yeah, sucks ain’t it? One day I just woke up and found myself in
someone’s house with someone looking like a Native American. His
name’s Elrohir Telemar. He said that he found me lost in the desert after
I fell down and bumped my head on some rock. I had to take his word
for it; I didn’t even know my name. He took me in and called me ‘Vixen’
because of my hair.”
“Something tells me that I should be grateful of having a name tag on me
when I was found.”
“Yeah,” Vixen said with a chuckle. “You would have been named after
Wendy’s hero. But then again, you do look like him.”
Adam blushed. And then he smiled. “Yeah, I’d guess.”
29
“Maybe we should grab a soda, Think your mom would mind?”
“Not at all,” Tara said, “I’ll page her and accompany you.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled VixenTelemar:
She’s the first friend I made in Vegas. She saw me looking bored on the
bench and just sat next to me. We’re now practically an item. I’m going
to end up married to this woman, I know it.
I think it’s because that we’ve got similar origins. She lost her memory
because she had a bad fall and her head landed on something. She was
real glad ElrohirTelemar1 found her. He saved her young life and then
raised her as his daughter.
While she isn’t as much into her father’s Native American traditions as
Elrohir is, she has learned one native skill: The ability to speak with
other animals, including her constant red fox companion, Todd. When
she started to get into puberty a year later—trust me, you don’t want the
sordid details. Let’s just say I don’t envy you girls—she was fluent in 50
species. She wants to work in a zoo when she grows up.
Of course, when she’s not hanging on my arm. I have got to admit that I
have mixed feelings when Vix gets all over me. I’m at the part where I
don’t mind at all having a girl all over me, but man, there’s such a thing
as cooties, you know.
As Tara was standing up to walk with the two kids, Wendy felt a rumble
in her hip. It was her cell phone going off. She flipped open and read
what was on the screen. She then turned to who was behind her.
“Looks like your daughter just found my son.”
Elrohir was dressed Native American Chic, with fringes on his jacket with
a beaded pattern, accented with the long raven hair, oriental-style
features, and bolo tie. “I’m not surprised. Vixen makes friends very
easily.”
“I know, I’ve been keeping an eye on her with you. In fact, it’s the reason
behind me renewing this blooming license. To think that you’d need to
register with City Hall to be a professional nanny.”
“You know why by now Wendy, it’s all those hidden camera exposes that
make the news. And that’s not counting the one you were in.”
1 Link to a page on Vixen’s Father, with a small summary of his Native American heritage. He is
25% Paiute and works in a local Tribal community to preserve it’s history and traditions.
30
“So I found that nanny cam and played with it just like it was a normal
digicam. At least I commented how good parents they were.”
As Wendy was saying that, she was looking out of the window to find a
rather handsome red fox just sitting there in the desert yard. A bit out of
place, since most of the foxes in Nevada were of the Fennec variety. No
matter though, since foxes are as omnivorous as they are opportunistic;
they can survive in any rural environment if there was enough garbage
cans to raid or kids to charm.
Such as that red-haired girl that fox bounded to, his tail wagging.
“Here, Todd, c’mon boy,” Vixen said as she saw the ball of fur race up to
her, barking out in a high-pitched “Kon! Kon!” and in one leap pounced
into her arms. She giggled as the fox nuzzled up to her shoulder and
licked her face.
“That fox must know you,” Adam said.
“Sure does, when my Dad found me, he had Todd here as a cub, and he
let me raise him. He even taught me how to talk to him. Watch this.”
Todd’s closest ear perked up as Vixen murred some noises into his ear.
Adam didn’t know what it was about, but the fox looked over at the
strange boy next to Vixen, and back at Vixen. The fox let out a “Merf” of
a growl, wondering what to think of him.
Adam did the one thing he knew of if he saw an animal that wasn’t
growling or barking at him at the time: He stuck his hand in front of
him, palm up, for the critter to sniff.
Todd did so, at Vixen’s purring request. He was cautious at first, his
nose poking out toward Adam’s offered hand, his pronounced sniffs
taking in the boy’s scent. The fox then brushes his face up against the
hand, as if coaxing the hand to pet him. This happened for a few
seconds until, with a sudden leap, Todd jumped from Vixen’s shoulder to
Adam’s.
Adam laughed as the fox snuggled up to him, and did the lick-kiss that
he gave Vixen.
“He likes you now. Todd always clears any friends for me, he’s very
protective.”
Adam ‘heh’s as Todd sniffs around, attracted to a scent in Adam’s snack
bag. Adam took out a chunk of beef jerky for the fox to nibble at from
his hand.
“But then there’s always bribery,” Vixen said as she laughed.
The sight of the beef jerky caused Vixen’s stomach to rumble, as well as
Adam’s, so they decided to go grab some lunch themselves, with the
robotic Foxgirl following along.
31
It would be Adam’s first view of the Las Vegas Strip, memory or not. Not
that it mattered, the towering and elaborate casinos, hotels, signs, and
various other architecture left Adam in sheer awe. Was that an Egyptian
pyramid next to a Medieval Castle? The Statue of Liberty and the Tower
of Paris sharing the same city block! And over there: A volcano! And a
Pirate Ship! A fountain that seemed to dance to it’s own soundtrack!
Any one of them may be a wonder to behold, but this is one right after
another in a wonder-filled amusement park that just goes on and on.
“If you think this is awesome, wait til you should see it in night,” Vixen
said, as she watches Adam look out the monorail window slack-jawed.
“That’s when they turn on the lights. You’ll be surprised if you’d ever
find the chance to sleep. I know I had. If I had a buck for each time the
cops picked me up dozing under the light tunnel at Fremont Street...”
“Light tunnel?”
“Be glad you’re going to be living here. It’s going to take all your time
until you’re 21 to take all of Vegas in. And then you can go in the
casinos, but that’s too far ahead of me. Check out that roller coaster!”
The Manhattan Express became Adam’s first major memory of Vegas.
Vixen found out that he would, like her, enjoy riding roller coasters, as
he was thrilled to the twisting turns of the steel coaster. Almost all the
time his arms were even up, almost as if he was flying through the track.
By the time Wendy caught up with the pair—guided by the signal from
their ever-following Tara—Adam was enjoying his re-introduction to
normal everyday life, or at the very least, what counts as “normal
everyday life” in Vegas. And Vixen was showing him one of the perks of
knowing the city like the back of her hand: She knows where the 99¢
two-foot hot dogs are.
While Wendy got one for herself and joined the two children, Adam stole
a look over to the side and found out what a slot machine is like.
And blinked in disbelief as someone blew a twenty dollar bill in just as
few seconds right before his eyes.
“And they’d tell you two not to spend your allowance in once place,”
Wendy said with her nose upturned.
“At least at the arcades twenty bucks lasts longer,” Vixen added.
“The arcade?”
Vixen was right about Arcades: Just as colorful and noisy as the adults-
32
only casinos, but the games lasts much longer for just a few quarters at
a time. And according to her, Adam can expect at least two or three of
these arcades in each of these Casinos.
Adam was distracted once again, this time by the variety of games. But
this is familiar territory to Adam. “It’s Vegas,” he’s been told, “Everything
in Vegas is more than what you can take in all at once.”
Vixen thought it would be a good idea to pick the first game, and so she
showed him her favorite of favorites in arcade games: Dance Dance
Revolution. DDR, as their initials call it, is a video jukebox with a pair of
footpad platforms connected to it. The video screen show a stream of
arrows that correspond to the four arrow pads on the platform you’re
sitting on. When the arrows reach the four stationary arrows on the top
of the screen, you hit the corresponding arrow panel. If you do it right,
the life bar above the four arrows grow, if you miss, it shrinks. If it
shrinks to nothing, you lose the game.
Losing the game wasn’t much of a problem with the Adam and Vixen,
who was playing it at the easiest setting. Adam learned how to play the
game, and parts of the crowd noted his light footwork gliding over the
arrow pads.
But then she noted someone walk up to the machine and started to tap
on the selection buttons that were on the jukebox and called up the
option screen. “Let’s see how well you do with a challenge, dude.”
Vixen recognized the young man. “Take it easy on him, Victor. It’s his
first time on DDR.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled VictorKalinski:
Victor Kalinski, also known as “Motorhead,” would have been among my
friends eventually. He was one of my mother’s Nanny cases ever since
she caught him in the alley smoking a joint. He was having trouble at a
school that claimed that he was nothing but trouble.
He’s no longer a up and coming criminal, but he’s quite a hacker1. He’s
very interested in computers and electronics, and was the one who
introduced me to the Internet. You can always find him tweaking this
computer or adding stuff to that device. He might come off as a geek,
but it keeps him out of trouble.
1 Link to a pop-up definition: Hacker n, Computer and Electronic enthusiast who often seeks
methods to improve on the devices they use, like adding additional Hard Drive space to a Tivo
Player.
33
Adam looked over to whom this Victor is. A slender dude in his mid
teens, light brown hair, an ‘3V1L L33T’ T-shirt, and a likable chummy
voice. “It’s all right, Vix. I just want to see how he’ll do.” He then tapped
on the start button. “Don’t feel bad if you bomb the first time.”
The song began. ‘Sakura’ on the ‘Oni’ setting. One of the best-known
‘hard’ songs on DDR.
Adam readied himself on the dance pad, focused on the screen. The
surrounding lights and sounds faded away. He only heard the Japanese
strings and the falling sakura petals waiting for the stream of arrows to
show up. He feared the worst, as it took a bit too long for it to show. In
fact, the whole screen seemed to slow down as he waited for the stream
to start.
He wasn’t disappointed. The almost too congested stream of arrows shot
up almost too much. He panicked for a split second. And then his feet
started to jump on the tiles. He could feel his body, his mind, himself,
catch up with the speed of the streaming arrows.
The battle started between his light footwork and the jukebox set to
challenge him. The life bar on the top of the screen was a tug of war. It
dipped down and slowly crept back up, neither contestant in the battle
giving in.
And just as it was about to last too long and Adam was about to lose it
all, the arrow stream and the music stopped.
CLEARED!
The machine’s congratulatory applause mingled with the applause from
behind him. The world once again visible and audible, as shouts of
victory came from the onlookers.
“Not bad.” Victor said, giving him a firm slap on the shoulder.
Adam felt winded, and his legs were a bit too warm. He looked at the
screen for the resulting grade: C
He turned to Victor and nodded. “Not bad for a first time. Need’ta
recover from that.”
The GAME OVER screen showed, so Adam stepped down and let
someone else have some exercise.
“Way to go, dude!” Victor said giving Adam another slap on the back.
“That was awesome.”
“Th-thanks,” Adam replied, giving him a weak smile.
“You’ve tried DDR before, haven’t ya?”
Adam shook his head.
“You’ve haven’t?”
34
At this point, Wendy’s voice interrupted. “Motorhead, can you please
come here after you’re through joshing around with my son?”
Victor turned around to meet Adam’s mother, his face showing surprise.
He then turned back to Adam.
“I’m Adam Packbell.” He held out his hand.
“I’m sorry.” He shook it.
“About what?”
“You have to put up with her twenty four seven.” Victor pointed toward
Wendy who was showing mock shock. “She’ll be a great mom, but she
can be a little weird at times, thanks to her Darling heritage.”
“And the problem is?”
Victor blinked at this before Wendy tapped him on the shoulder. The two
took some steps away.
“I need to tell you more about Adam, Vic.”
“When did you adopt him, Wendy?”
“Yesterday. I’ve signed the papers this morning. I’ve found the poor
bloke wandering the desert outside of town. When I took him into my
home, I’ve found out that he has no family, home, records, even identity.
He didn’t have anywhere else to go and I don’t know of anyone who’ll
take him, so I decided to keep him.”
“Does he know who he is?”
“That’s what I wanted to tell you about. He doesn’t remember anything
before he showed up here.”
“Amnesia? Damn.”
Wendy raised an eyebrow.
“er, pardon my French.”
“You cussed in your main language, Victor. American English.”
“Pardon me just the same.”
Wendy chuckled. She was doing her own joshing. Not that she won't
frown on what Victor said; a person with her upbringing believes that
cursing is a sign of being ignorant or, which is more the case for her
charges, verbally challenged.
“My point is that, when you take my son around and get him back up to
speed, go easy on him, and that includes your limited vocabulary.”
“Right.”
“Now then, on a better issue. How has dumpster diving over at
NeoGizmoTech caught for you?”
35
“I didn’t have to stoop that far, but I did find a new power system for
Tara.” He then went on for a full minute of technical jargon and what
not that Wendy wouldn’t understand until she made a grunt.
“In layman’s terms, Motorhead.”
“It should last twice as long as the standard system Tara has now. They
could have it ready for her this summer.”
“Excellent. You’re really getting into this high-tech stuff.”
“Well, that’s why I’ve gotten the nickname Motorhead.”
“Keeps your out of trouble, and that’s good.”
Victor’s face fell and he looked past Wendy. “...and speaking of trouble.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
NorthVegasHigh:
Note: This entry is a compilation of several entries here in this Wiki,
including SacheBlackard, JoshBlackard, VictorKalinski, SacheVsWendy,
and VegasCodfish.
Whenever I wonder about why things happened to me the way they
happen, I only need to look at North Vegas High, and the reason always
come back to me. I also remember the shudder I felt when I hear about
school shooters, wondering if I should have been one of them.
If I had to “learn” in a place like North Vegas High, I would no doubt
make the news that way. With all the harassment by the peers, the
tyrannical dictatorship of the faculty, and the total apathy of everyone
else, there would be no alternative. How can you learn in a place where
you have graffiti on every other wall saying that you “eat shit,” have
insults, laughs, and foreign objects thrown at you with impunity. And in
the meantime, you’re fearing everyone a foot taller, a decade older, or
both who’s waiting for the slightest excuse to swat you to the point where
you’re reduced to a wailing baby?
That was my life in grammar school during the seventies, and what
probably set me running into the snow was somebody saying that it
would be worse when I get to Junior High. If North Vegas High is an
indication, I don’t blame myself for running. No High School Diploma is
worth getting this kind of treatment, and as long as people are blind to
this, they’re going to keep seeing their schools in breaking news reports.
That’s what’s going to happen to North Vegas High, and I don’t have to go
there—thank God—to know it. Mom’s got enough evidence to shut the
place down if she had more clout, and can list a whole class of people,
36
like Motorhead, who came in happy and bright at 8th grade, only to end
up broken in sullen by 10th, resembling more like POW victims than high
school students.
Victor still has flashbacks about Sache Blackard, a man who runs his
school with an iron fist (usually holding a Singapore Cane which he uses
with impunity,) cheap suits, anger issues, bad breath, a B.O. that could
kill if you smell too much, and tenure. And he runs his school like Lord
of the Flies where the popular, athletic, and beautiful trump anything
else, including anything in Academics above standardized tests. But
when schools started to get shot up, he went way beyond zero tolerance,
rounding up every student who didn’t fit into his image of popular—with
his spoiled punk son Josh propped up as a standard—and reducing
them into prisoners, forcing them to drop out by his extreme disciplinary
practices or flat out expelling them at a drop of a hat. He’d even go as far
as to force their families to move out of North Vegas, including using
Eminent Domain to turn a home that was home schooling several rejects
into strip mall.
These despotic practices is covered by a public image of a beleaguered
high school principal in a high-crime area and a rule of order must be
maintained there. Not too many people see through that disguise, even
as a once proud school now resembles a prison and the kids considered
criminals already, even though they do not have a record.
I’m happy to report, however, that he’s not as entrenched as he appears.
By the time I showed up, there was a growing group of dissenters who
consider him to too strict to be an effective principal. One of the more
visible is my mother, who made CNN one time by nearly knocking Sache
out with an umbrella in response to him making a harassing Mary
Poppins crack. (Idiot. Everyone knows she’s a Peter Pan fan.)
It was here where he earned his nickname, because she said this loud
enough to be heard all around the world: “And another thing: The next
time you want to get into a fight with me, Blackard, remember to bathe
beforehand: You smell like Codfish!!”
That is not making his campaign to have his tenure renewed much
better, and his desire to better his own political place at my expense
could very well finish him off.
Wendy didn’t have to turn around to see who entered the arcade. The
body odor offended her nose and just about everybody else in the room.
It was the scent of someone who spent all his time exercising and not
showering afterwards. She smelled it before she heard the crowd noise
grow silent and felt the hairs on the back of her neck. She knew that
someone is giving her a dirty look.
37
Sache Blackard, Principal of North Vegas Junior High, had that effect on
people, especially kids. Wendy stole a look that was just as disapproving
back at him, creating a drop in room temperature of a good ten degrees.
Wendy gave Sache a defiant look, enjoying the memories of dressing him
down on 24-hour cable news channels, until Vixen’s cry of “Get away
from me!!” brought her back to reality.
Josh Blackard found his way to Adam and Vixen’s bench, shoved Adam
to the floor, and began to make some moves toward another one of
Wendy’s charges. (For an instant, she thanked the Great Spirit that
Elrohir found Vixen. Native American families are exempt from the
public school system, including those with their adopted kids.)
Wendy was about to take the two kids away from this Codfish in Training
and get out of the casino without creating another incident.
Too late. Adam was tapping on Josh’s shoulder.
“Get the fuck away from me, Boy” the muscle-headed Jacket Jock said
without even turning around to face that he was taking to. He just got
back to making his advancements on Vixen.
But not before Adam delivered a swift uppercut. Between the legs.
Even Vixen had to feel it: “ooooooo. Rick Flair style.”
The Letterman turned around the best he could with his gonads
protesting. He saw an enraged Adam Packbell. Eyes that were nearly
glowing.
“Don’t call me boy.” Adam said with a menacing sneer.
Adam wondered why the jock was smiling when a smelly, sweaty, and
strong hand grabbed him from the back of the neck and slammed him to
the floor.
The impact and the smell made him feel dizzy. He tried to kick away, but
it only made the hand squeeze. He screamed.
“I’LL CALL YOU WHATEVER I DAMN WELL WANT, BOY!!”
He felt the hot and wet breath of a bearded mouth up against his neck as
a voice cranked to eleven pierced his ears.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY TO MY SON?!”
“Let go of me!!”
That only made him push down hard.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”
“LET GO OF ME!!”
Adam’s head swam. He felt he was going to faint. His right hand had to
work fast. It dug into his shorts, and found a mechanical pencil.
38
“WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME!!”
A pencil that hand jams into that hand’s wrist!
“LET GO!!!”
The voice backed away, howling in range.
As Adam scrapped himself off the floor and turned to see who was trying
to turn him into part of the New York New York architecture, he saw that
the pain only made this black haired fiend who resembled too much like
one of his mother’s stories all the more angrier.
“WAIT TIL I GET YOUR ASS IN MY SCHOOL, BOY!” Sache said, letting
some spittle fly from his mouth to Adam’s face. When Adam tried to
brush it off, a hand was several settings too tight grabbed him and lifted
up above his head. “YOU’VE GOT A LOT TO LEARN ABOUT-”
“About what, pray tell?”
Sache didn’t bother to look around. “I’ll talk to you in a moment
Poppins. WHERE WAS I?”
Sache didn’t have time to get back to his place on teaching this Boy to
learn his place.
“You’ll talk to me now, Codfish!” Wendy said as she pulled Adam away
with one hand and shoved Sache to the wall with the other. “Once you
get your filthy hands off my son!”
Sache looked rather indignant, and his mind was just about to spit out a
“what . . . did you . . . just call me . . . you . . . ”, but then he noticed the
stressed part of Wendy’s diatribe. “Your son?”
“That’s right, rotter, and I’d rather take a dip on the Thames then take
my child to that Gulag hole you call a School.”
“It’s the only school for the kids in here that are declared ‘troubled’ by
the School Board. Just like your son has become the moment he got on
the database. Mine is the only school that will take punks like him!”
Sache took a moment to take a steely glance toward Adam, who shrank
at his predatory expression.
Wendy was aghast over what is happening, and her gasp let everyone
know it. Adam was only present in Vegas for two and a half days, and
he’s already a “Problem Child” statistic? The Gall!
Sache didn’t even think about why this would cause such an response as
he continued. “In fact, I’ve even sent you a Ritalin prescription for your
son to take befo-”
He went too far.
The contact of Wendy’s hand to Sache’s face echoed all the way across
the connected buildings of New York New York, even over the casino
39
floors. Sache himself reeled to the floor, an imprint of her hand
emblazoned in bruise red.
It was definitely Wendy’s turn to be angered. She have had enough of
Sache’s tempting the fate of getting between her and her cub, and like a
mother bear, she’s not going to sit with that. “Tara, love, call up the
forms needed to home school your kids, so I can fill them when I get
home.”
“At once, Wendy,” Tara said.
Sache was snarling in anger as he gets up. Nobody should be allowed to
do that to him, especially someone who had her education from a
boarding home instead of a high school diploma. “Do you honestly think
you can give your son a decent edu-”
“Even the brain-dead can give my son a better education than you, and
they won’t be needing Ritalin. And I’d rather keep my child at home than
have him so stoned he can’t move out of a chair. I’ve seen you screw up
many a child in your school, I refuse to allow you to screw up my own
child.”
She then grabbed his collar, moved up to his face, and had to winkle her
nose for the coup de grace. “Oh, and one more thing. If you so much as
look at my son the wrong way again, I’ll deep fry you and serve you with
chips. Let’s go, Adam. I need to wash the smell off me. Good God, Sir!
Do you wash your hands in an aquarium?!”
Wendy took Adam by the hand and out of the Arcade, while Sache was
now yelling in top volume and even following them until a security guard
stopped him. Adam didn’t hear all of what Sache screamed about, but
he could tell he was aiming his anger at him, because of the way he
called him “Boy.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled ToBeABoy:
I’ve never liked being called “Boy.” It’s not the word itself but it’s how it’s
said. The tone of voice, the inflection, how it just spits out like some
racial epithet.
But it had an added sting that I didn’t think it should have. For most of
the time back home, I wracked my brain trying to find the reason why,
what lost memory gave that small word such a big pain.
I found the answer in the book I came to Vegas with, the book that came
to me in the log ladder so long ago.
Folks, if the pain I felt as I keyed this into the Wiki is any indication, life
as a Grammar School student in Granite City must’ve been pure hell:
40
To be a Boy means you have no name. You will always be
addressed by bad words. Even if people do use what they think
your name is, it would have the same sting as a bad word. More
often than not, you will just be called ‘Boy.’
To be a Boy means you cannot do a single thing right. Every
thing you will do will be the wrong thing, even if you do it right.
You will always say the wrong thing, or say it the wrong way, or
say it too loudly, or not say it loud enough.
To be a Boy means that you should know the consequences
of your actions. There will always be consequences to your
actions. It doesn’t matter if you do bad, do well, or do anything, or
do nothing. You will always be punished, disciplined,
reprimanded, and any other result. You will never be rewarded for
what you have done.
To be a Boy means that nothing of yours will be safe. Any
part of your body will be slapped, what you own will be taken
away, your room will always be barged in by someone angry at you,
you will always be grounded, you will always be swatted. It’ll
happen because of something they claim you’ve done, and it
doesn’t matter if you even remember doing it, or even done it at all.
You are presumed Guilty, which is all that is needed.
To be a Boy means that you are just not needed when you’re
not being punished. Your interests will always be different, you
will always be weird, and others will not consider you as someone
they want to know more of. No one wants to be your friend; no one
wants you in their groups, going into your neighborhoods, their
businesses, their relationships, or anywhere else. You will be
kicked out whatever you are in or not.
To be a Boy means that you are regulated to the basement of
your parent’s house, with no acceptable idea of what you want to
do with your life. You will always be inadequate of going out on
your own, and anything that would be even considered will fail
utterly. And you will still be punished for your failure. A Boy at 11
is still a Boy at 16, and will still be a Boy at 35.
To be a Boy means that you do what needs to be done to
keep Punishments to a minimum. That means avoiding other
people as much as you can. You will live alone, even if that means
staying in your mother’s basement, strung out on the couch in
front of that Television while they wonder what the hell is wrong . .
.
41
Adam’s thoughts snapped back to place with he felt two arms fall over
his shoulders. He didn’t know about it, but he was crying rivers out of
his eyes. He knew the words over what he was feeling now, but he didn’t
need to say it.
“Oh Adam, you poor dear.” Wendy said hugging him from behind.
“That’s what you were before you vanished, did you. And Sache brought
all those fears back to you. The monster.”
He nodded. He ran away to get away from people like Sache Blackard.
He didn’t want to run away from them again. He felt tired and weary one
again, like the day Mom found him.
“You don’t have to run away from him anymore, I promise.”
Wendy continued to hold her son and let him cry himself to sleep. They
were tears of relief over not having to be afraid of his past anymore.
They’re gone now, as his mother said in her soft smooth voice. The past
is gone, no longer a problem for him anymore. He’s in a safe place now,
a hedge against the storms of living with grownups. No longer will he
have to deal with the constant disapproving eyes and angry voices over
his shoulder. He no longer has to deal with the constant criticism and
the fear that everything he could do would be wrong. That time has
gone, long gone, as far away as he felt himself slipping, as he slipped
back into that dark, warm, and peaceful place.
Wendy was not using any more magic on him; it was her soft voice and
little else. She likes sparking his imagination, encouraging him to
daydream and enjoy being a child. A child instead of a ’Boy.’
“You know,” Wendy said as she left the room for the down stairs, “You
were really brave in defending Vixen, Adam. Seems that my little
fanship’s rubbing you the right way. I sure hope it did.”
Adam fell asleep in a happier frame of mind. No longer was he that ‘Boy’
on the poem. Not as long as he’s close to his mother and far away from
the “Old Codfish” known as Sache Blackard. Whatever this education is,
he can get one without his ‘help,’ thank you so much.
He didn’t hear someone enter his room as he slept. It was neither Wendy
nor Tara, however. Vixen’s concern over her hero of the day caused her
to venture into a place few girls dared to go: A boy’s bedroom.
She peeked over the top of the stairs, her shoes off so she won’t make a
sound, and looked around, her trusty kit by her side. Vixen found out
that Adam’s an avid reader, because there’s a lot of books, a lot more
than that Harry Potter book set on the desk. The desk also housed a
coffee can full of pencils, a pile of notebooks, and on the center, a large
coffee-table book entitled “Two Tails.” The large book rested over a pile of
written papers and a few opened and half-solved crossword puzzle and
Sudoku books. Behind it was a crystal candleholder, a new candle
42
flickering inside. Vixen blew it out, the flame reduced to a stream of
smoke.
She turned to the bed, and found Adam deep asleep in his green T-shirt
and boxer briefs. She heard his deep breathing and saw his chest rise.
She turned her head to the side, thinking what he’d look like dressed as
Wendy’s favored character, and suppressed a chuckle. She moved
closer, crept on the bed, and snuggled up next to the sleeping Adam.
She kissed him on the cheek and nestled over his shoulder, and hearing
the sound of his heart inside his warm chest, she feel asleep by him, a
smile on her face that was shared by the dreaming Adam. It wasn’t long
before Todd joined in, hopping on the bed and curling up next to his
partner’s hero.
...An hero who wonders if he's seen way too much Final Fantasy, much
less knew what a Playstation is all about, when he told the pixie flitting
above him why Captain Hook was announced by the song “One Wing
Angel” from Final Fantasy VII.
“He's playing Sephiroth because you wanted a bigger sword, you silly
ass,” said a small ringing voice from above.
He turned to his right arm, and sure enough, his hand was holding a giant
Buster Sword! About a half as tall as himself in all the tunic and tights!
And wide enough to block a long long long sword that led his eyes into the
right hand of...
“HOOK!!” He said with his anger returning. He remembers now: Codfish
kidnapped his Red-haired Wendy and tied her up on the far mast of the
Jolly Roger. He was about to swoop down to rescue her—and woe be the
pirate in his way—when he heard the music.
“What can I say?” Hook said. “Why do all the Japanese Villains have all
the good music? But I have to ask.” He flexed his back shoulders. “Just
one wing? What sense is that?” He flexed some more. “In order to fly...”
His eyes flew wide when he saw what popped out of Hook's back.
“You need two wings to fly.”
Indeed, Captain J. Hook now sports a pair of black raven-like wings from
his back. Wings that lifted him off the ground, and toward his long-time
adversary.
With an “Have at Thee!!” from each combatant, they clash into a grim
dance of near clangs from their large swords.
“If I were you, I'd surrender, boy.” “If I were you, I'd be butt ugly. What
did you do, Hook? Have a plastic surgeon replace your face with your
ass?” “ooooo.”
43
Everyone below on the deck was entranced by the fight within the sails, as
the pair was all but bouncing off of each other.
“Tell me what you treasure most. Give me the pleasure of taking it away.”
He was panting by now. “You stole . . . that line from . . . Square Enix.”
“Of course,” Hook said, showing mock surprise over what he said. “What
do you expect from a pirate?”
“Besides, you're doing it wrong. Here's how you copy Final Fantasy!!”
He swung his sword toward Hook, and it split into seven blades, six
surrounding Hook while Pan swung the seventh in his hand into and
through the accursed pirate while the other blades sliced the victim to
ribbons.
“Finish Him!!”
He heard The Wendy's call, and with a “Batter Up,” swatted Hook with the
flat side of the re-assembled Buster Sword into the starry sky.
Before he realized that one of the seven blades took a detour to cut Wendy
free from the mast, she was already in Adam's arms, her green eyes
sparkling under fiery red hair.
“You really need to cut down on those video games, even though you've
been getting some great ideas from them.”
“Right,” He said, as he kissed her.
Adam and Vixen may not be kissing as they dreamed the same dream,
being in each other’s arms, but they were both smiling.
44
Chapter 04
February 1996
From Wendy Mystran’s book, Mothers to Peter:
My Disney Fandom tendencies aside, I started raising Adam just like any
one of my charges. You’ve probably seen it from the Nanny shows: The
Nanny observes for a while while the family—or the child—goes through
their day. That way we not only find out what is the problem, but also
what is causing it and come up with ways to address it. More often than
not the problem won’t even need a Naughty Chair. I had an problem that
was solved within 2 days: There was a baby who won’t stay in his crib at
night. I saw why immediately: The crib looked like a Vietnam Tiger Cage
almost suspended from the ceiling and it was in pitch black darkness. I
suggested a padded pen at the floor, put dimmers on the light switches,
and added a clock radio that played nature sounds. Mother put the baby
down, turned on the radio, set the lights at 10% strength, and the kid fell
asleep within 5 minutes while the parents stand there gobsmacked. I’d
suggest it for every new parent.
With Adam, there was a different dynamic that comes up while raising a
kid: The kid may have a quirk that is the proverbial blessing in disguise,
where there is a part in the child’s makeup that shows a lot of promise
but can be an minor annoyance at times. With Adam, his quirk is an
high IQ that includes a side effect of him being the quiet type. By the
third day he was in my home, he’d solved all the puzzle toys I had
around, gone through all of my unsolved crossword puzzles, and gave me
a new pastime of helping me with jigsaw puzzles. The trade-off is that
he’s not very talkative and there are times I wonder if I could put a bell
on him like a cat so I’ll know where he’s at. I think this bashfulness is
related to that Southern Accent of his: To this day, even if that person
could fit right at home with Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawkings, if the
child has a southern accent he’s automatically Short Bus fodder. He’ll
be dragged through years of Speech Therapy, wall to wall ridicule from
others, and in recent years drugged to the point where the poor soul will
never have a coherent thought until he’s 20. Or until he runs off into the
snow whichever comes first.
That makes me appreciative that a group of my previous charges became
his closest friends. That will help him ten times more than anything I
would done, even with me inviting him into my own Disney Fandom
world and make him my Peter—tights and all. That’ll be a real boon for
play dates with Vixen. More on her later.
Outside of his quirk (and mine, I must admit) Adam’s rather easy to
45
raise. There wasn’t any major problems with him. I could tell he got
used to living with me when he started to show a quick wit. I can tell
that he’s trying to keep respectful, but there are times—just like with any
child—when my son talks back. Not to be intentionally flippant; just
trying to get me to laugh by being a smart alec. Most of the time it
works. The most I do here is to remind him not to be too cheeky. It’s a
boundary he bounces off of the most. Later on as he grew older and
made friends, he also has a habit of moseying on his way home, even
with a curfew invoked. Like with the baby in the crib, I have a quick fix
of giving him a cel phone. His father splurged and bought him one of
those new Motorola Razr phones. Make me jealous, won’t ya, love? At
least I’ll know that Adam’s heading home, and maybe get something for
his mama from a bakery or fast food joint he’ll stop by on the way home.
Free Spirited, yet considerate. That’s my son.
This, I’m happy to say, is more or less the full extent of my disciplining
Adam. He knows how bad kids act; like most of his friends, he’s seen my
collection of Nanny Shows. Nothing like seeing how badly other kids act
to keep them at line. ‘My God,’ Victor said one time, ‘my parents would
kill me if I acted like that!’ (Of course, it’s double when the child they’re
watching are themselves. Such is the power of media.)
Unfortunately, media can cut both ways of course. Almost all of my kids
know what happens on the Discovery Channel. . .
“Shagging!?” Adam’s voice had some shock in it. “Mom, I’m still in the
cootie stage.”
“And I’ve seen the Discovery Channel, Auntie,” Vixen added. “Do you
know how much it makes me want to retch when they show what they
do with what I need to do Number One-”
“VIXEN!!” Wendy said, her voice stern and authoritative; a proper voice
of a British Nanny.
Elrohir laughed. “That’s my daughter for you. She can be a bit to
handle at times, but I just can’t imagine life without her.” He glanced at
the young man next to Vixen. “It seems to me that she’s taking a shining
to you, doesn’t she?”
Adam gulped and blushed. He looked at Vixen, but she only gave him a
shy wink and a “Maaaaayyyyybeeeeeeee.” with a giggle.
Wendy rolled her eyes. Elrohir laughed again.
"Too bad that being her hero wasn’t any easier for Adam, with what
happened with Sache Blackard."
46
"Tell me about it," Wendy said, her mood lowered by the mention of that
name. "How’d he find out about Adam’s existence is beyond me; I
certainly won’t tell him."
Sache shook his head. "Good thing I don’t have to deal with him over
Vixen. Native American households are exempt from public schools. I
can either put her in a tribal school or the private school I send her to."
"St. Norbert’s?"
"Yeah, that one."
"I know the Nun running that place." Wendy looked toward Adam, who
was starting to fidget. The mention of school makes him very nervous.
"She’s very nice and calm even toward the so-called problem kids I get.
Someone who had a rather real problem with School in general would be
perfect for her."
Elrohir nodded and turned to Adam. "I take it you had a rough time in
school before you came here."
Adam gulped and inhaled to speak. "I-it’s why ah ran away in the first
place, ah think."
"Still having problems remembering?"
"More like ah don’ wanna remember."
"If what happened yesterday was any indication, I don’t blame you."
Adam nodded.
"I’ll vouch for St. Norbert’s, young’un. They’ll treat you a lot better there.
Like I said before, I trust them with Vix."
Adam turned to Vixen, who sent him a coy smile.
"By the way, I heard that you’ve wrote about what you felt back then on
that book of yours."
Adam nodded again. "Ah don’t know how I wrote it in there. It ain’t in
my handwriting."
"Mind if I see that book? I’m just curious about it."
"Sure thing."
Adam ducked upstairs for half a minute, and then came back down.
“I got the book here,” Adam said as he placed the book on the table.
Elrohir made a mental note on how old looking the book is as Adam
works the book’s lock free, and then gasped when he saw what was on
the book. “Adam, since when did you learn Cherokee?”
Adam blinked, “huh?”
“Cherokee. That’s the language this book is written in.”
47
“It just looks like English to me.”
“Wha-”
Wendy crooked her head over to what was on the book. To her as well,
the words were in English, and he pointed to a phrase on the exposed
page and read it aloud. “I frequent this place.”
To Adam’s eyes, the phrase was “I go there often,” and he said so.
“Huh?” Wendy realized that she was reading the British version of
English, while Adam was reading the American version. Elrohir was
reading a written language of the Cherokee tribe. And all three of them
were on the same page.
“I might be stating the obvious,” Elrohir said, “but I don’t think that this
book is normal.”
The others nodded, including Vixen who was watching from a distance
and crept up to Adam and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Do you
know where you got it?”
Adam shrugged with his free shoulder. “I don’t know much. It just came
to me in a snowstorm one night...”
He could remember the tears burning his cheeks and the winds lapping
around him at the top rung of the log ladder. He could feel the icy air
turn to a warm fire as the book hovered toward him.
“...I had it ever since. I only wish I knew any more.”
“I think I know of someone who would help us figure out more about
your book, Adam,” Elrohir said. “I just hope you can deal with Catholic
Nuns.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled SaintNorberts:
Ever seen the movie Boy’sTown1? It’s based on the true story behind the
real live version, about a Father Flannigan got the idea to build a place
for abandoned and runaway kids can go so that they don’t end up in jails
and become hardened criminals like the one he was giving the Last
Rights to on the way to his execution. He’s the polar opposite to the
Sache Blackard of the world; the type of believes that there is no such
thing as a Bad Boy.
I have mixed feelings about Father Flannigan. On one side I’m glad that
he lived in the 50s and has passed away by now. He could not be able to
build a Boy’s Town today, where it is all too easy to lump Catholic Priests
together with Michael Jackson. But on the other hand, let’s face it. We
1 Link goes to the official Boy’s Town movie web site.
48
need people like Father Flannigan to reach out to these kids—kids like
me—before we really do make a mess of our lives.
Fortunately for me, I have a smaller version of Boy’s Town in my part of
town. The Spanish founded St. Norbert Monastery while Nevada was still
part of Mexico and the synagogue still has the clay architecture. Over
time, additional buildings came up until it covered two city blocks. There
was the church, the place for the Priests and Nuns to live, the school
itself, and a boarding house for orphans and throwaways.
The school itself is semi-private. The public school board helps with the
funding because it is the designated “Geek School,” the one school in the
district where students who were having problems with school were sent.
To a new student’s surprise, St. Norbert’s Academy is quite liberal for a
school run by Catholics. Although they do have a course on what their
religion is, you don’t really have to be a Catholic to go there. Instead of
focusing on standardized test taking, students learn at their own pace,
and at times you can have classes with several grades at the same time.
This flexible program coupled with making Physical Education elective—
although the gym in this school is actually a MartialArtsDojo—not only
allows students to go through high school at a faster pace; many
students get their diplomas before they reach 16, but it also shortens the
school day to five hours. Standard Classes go from 9am to 2pm, with a
breakfast and a lunch at each end. You can go to the electives after 2:45
or you can just bail and go home. Even the dress code is liberal for a
Catholic school. Even though most students use uniforms, but not only
are they optional but they are customizable as well. You can make your
uniform to suit your taste as long as they pass decency guidelines. I
know of some uniforms that include leather jackets, western cowboys,
and even Native America versions. There is even a Gothic Lolita version.
The Mother Superior of the church, Sharon Alera, runs St. Norbert’s
Academy. Take all those stern stereotypes of the ruler packing nun and
toss them out the window, she’s not like that at all. Her quiet softspoken demeanor reminds me more of Mother Theresa but with a better
living quarters. She even swapped the traditional habit for a simple robe
and rosary, which is what she usually wears whenever I see her.
“I take it you see English when you read from this book,” Mother Sharon
said as she looked at Adam's book.
Adam nodded, looking up from the wooden cross he found in the room.
It was actually a puzzle where you have to free it from a rope knot and a
metal loop. “What language do you see?”
“Latin.”
49
Adam blinked. “I don’t know how everyone can see this book in a
different language.”
Mother Sharon scratched her chin, “I agree with you. Elrohir did say
that there is something magical about this book. And he said that you
got it in a snowstorm as well.”
Adam nodded again, and fidgeted a little bit. That last fidget was enough
to free the cross from the rope.
“Wow. There wasn't a person here who knows how to do that. Did you
find a book or something that knows how to pull it off?”
Adam shrugged. “I only looked over where the rope goes.”
“I'm surprised that you didn't read up about it, hearing that you're an
avid reader. Not too many readers out there nowadays. Hmm, what’s
this?”
There was a section of pages at the back of the book that were bounded
by a metal ribbon with a lock in it.
“That’s something I didn’t know about, Mother Sharon.”
She nodded. “Do you have a key to this?”
Adam shook his head. “If I had it, I would have it with this book.”
“Hmmm, I wonder what could be in there?”
She then flipped all the pages back to the right side, so that it showed
the front end papers. Six numbers appeared in the inside front cover, to
the left side of the end paper:
01
24
35
13
42
57
“Hmmm. Adam, do you know what these numbers mean?”
“I dunno. Your guess is as good as--”
A candle flame’s worth of orange-red flame appeared over the 57. It
vanished as sudden as it appeared, but when it disappeared, the 57 have
changed to a 38.
“Adam, did this happen before.”
“Many times. It seems to write itself.”
Mother Sharon nodded, finding what was happening very interesting.
“Have you ever seen of a book like this one, Ma’am?” Adam didn’t know
how to address a Mother Superior, and hoped that the common courtesy
would be sufficient.
“Not personally,” she said as she closed and locked the book. “But I
might know someone who does from my connections with the Vatican. If
you’d like, I’d like to look into it.”
50
“O-okay,” Adam said as he got the book back.
“I don’t know if you are deep in religious stuff as I am, but I believe that
everything happens for a reason and a purpose. I think there’s a reason
you’re here with that book in your hands. I don’t think either of us know
what it is yet, Adam, but I’m certain you’ll find them.”
Adam smiled at that.
She hoped that Adam’s warming up to her will make what’s coming
easier. “In the meantime, I’d hope you consider my invitation to have St.
Norbert’s as the place you’ll go to. I heard a but too much over what
happened to you in both public schools, and Sache Blackard isn’t very
kind to you.”
He sighed at that wondering about what to say.
“From what I read about you, I don’t blame you not liking school. The
way it turned you into a dummy.” Mother Sharon gave his head a gentle
scuff “This may come as a shock, but I think you’re too smart for
school.”
“Wha?”
“You know that test you took?”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
StandardizedTests:
You have got to be kidding me?! This is how the Public Schools figure
out whatever or not a student can graduate?! This isn’t going to prepare
a kid for the rest of his life. “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” is not and
will never be a college major or a career path!!
“I take it you listened to my advice on the spices to your veggie soup,
Senorita,” A well-fed Latino boy said as he sniffed over the counter at the
lunch line. “I can smell the chipotle.”
“I sure did, Roberto,” Miss. Cora, the resident chef from the convent,
said. “And I made a lot of it too. So much that everyone’s entitled to an
second helping if they want.”
“Mmmmmm, me like.”
“I thought you would, being the resident foodie and all.”
“Gracias, Miss. Cora,” Roberto said and he headed downstream on the
line.
51
She turned to who was next. “My, I haven’t seen you here before. You
must be the Mystran kid we heard about.”
“Ola?!” Roberto turned around, to find the reddish haired preteen
behind him. “You’re Adam Packbell?”
Adam fidgeted a bit, “er . . . y-yeah.”
“Ol Le Le, we got us a celebrity in Norbert’s!!” Roberto gave Adam a firm
pat on the shoulder. “I’d tell you what he did, Miss. Cora, but you have
two Sisters out back, and I don’t want to say something they find too
sensitive.”
“Yeah, Rob,” Came a voice that was from a much older nun. “There’s
such a thing as too much information, you know.”
“That goes without saying, Senorita. Miss Cora, give him something
special on his first day, si?”
He got an extra cheese and bologna sandwich cut across the corners to
go with the large bowl of soup. “And like I said before, we’ll allow you to
have a second helping of soup if you want it, and as much drinks as you
want over at the fountain. All we ask is that you clean your place and,”
she winked, “deal with the crusts yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the crusts, ma’am.”
“You’re sure easy to please,” she said as she nodded for him to move on.
The students have already formed their cliques by the time Adam showed
up. He saw Vixen over at one side talking to about eight other girls. She
looked at him, waved, and smiled.
He smiled back.
That produced a communal giggle from the other girls who then resumed
their gossiping.
Adam wondered where he’ll be sitting.
“Hey Robbie! That’s Adam with you?”
“Ole, Motorhead!! I got our little berry-breaker with me.”
“Then tell him to sit with us, Hombre!”
He needn’t worry about where he’ll be siting. He sat with Roberto, Victor,
and spiky-haired Jei.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled FriendsList:
Roberto Ortega:
52
Some people have mixed feelings about how he came here. He was born
on this side of the border by what some call <quote>Undocumented
Workers</quote> who crossed what could be the worst protected border
in the free world, gave birth to him, and managed to dump him into a fire
station before the feds found them to ship them back to Mexico never to
be seen again. Nice. Under the rules, because he was born in American
soil, he’s an automatic US Citizen. Unfortunately, it was under such
rotten circumstances. Good thing there was a more legal Latino couple
that couldn’t bear children who could take him.
He’d make a decent chef someday. Provided of course he doesn’t eat all
the ingredients himself. :) At least when he tries out a recipe, he makes
enough for him and his friends.
Jei Kawakami:
The younger of two brothers who moved in with the owner of the dojo
over at St. Norbert’s. Unlike the older brother who is slated to be the
next Master in the dogo, Jei seems to be set in a different path1.
Couldn’t do very well with the environment of the Japanese School
System (They also teach for StandardizedTests but at least the hosts in
the quiz shows don’t make Anne Robinson look all so warm and fuzzy) so
his parents thought that an American Private School would be better for
him.
He’s my supplier of all things Anime and Manga. He’s got a pile as tall as
the Stratosphere and it grows by the yard every day. He’s an avid gamer,
and is known to speak in RPG terms and stand in line waiting for the
next Final Fantasy installment.
His room is almost fill of Models and robots too, and he’s always working
on one to chill down for the night. His parents hope this talent could
translate into decent performance in Norbert’s shop classes. From what
I hear, that plan’s working. He made his own bike by the time I showed
up, and he hopes to make bikes for a living when he graduates.
Hey, you have to pay for those comics somehow, right?
“I’m surprised that everyone knows what happened in that casino,”
Adam said, “What was that one again, there’s so many in town that I-”
“The New York New York Casino, Adam-san. News travels fast when you
crit someone.” Jei said after he smirked at the second sandwich on his
plate. While most of the time Miss. Cora makes enough food to feed 100
1 Popup with a side note: In a country where nails that stick out tends to get hammered down,
this could be a rather light assessment in some quarters. Me, when a nail sticks out, that
means the nail is better suited elsewhere.
53
hungry dudes like Roberto, not everyone gets the extra sides. You have
to have done something special to get that honor. Like your first day at
the school, or score the #1 spot on a big test. Or do what Adam did to a
rival school. “That’s one radical Limit you’ve got. Adam Packbell uses
Berry Breaker on Josh Blackard for 256 points of damage; Instant Cool,
my friend. Instant Cool.”
“He was harassing Vixen. What do you expect me to do?”
There was also the part about Blackard calling him ‘Boy,’ but they didn’t
need to know that.
Besides, they had other topics on their minds: How they’re doing in
class today, the next video game, girls . . . “That Vixen is soooo into you,
Adam. I think you got muy lucky, dude.” . . . Books read lately, manga
and Role Playing Games, Jei waiting oh so eagerly for Final Fantasy 9.
Adam nearly getting through the FFVII novel.
“I’d like to play that one,” Adam said.
“You mean you haven’t?” Jei said.
Adam looked toward Victor. “I think my mother told you about what
happened to me.”
“Yeah, as weird as it sounds, she just found him wandering the desert
without any record of where he was of any memory over what happened
before then.”
Adam made a note to thank Victor for backing him up. “Yeah, I was just
living my life one day, and the next I was wandering the outskirts of
town. Everything between the two’s been a blank. Doctors and the
Sisters here say that they’ll come back in time.”
“Ai Carumba. That must suck big time.”
“Yeah. From the parts I do remember, I’m kinda glad I forgotten them
all. Most of it would’ve been rather nasty, and most of it coming from a
school not unlike Vegas North.”
“Whoa . . . that bad, hommes?”
“Guess so.” Adam was feeling nervous again.
“I had the same problem with the schools in Japan,” Jei said. “My
parents heard of Uncle Kenata becoming a sensei here. They also heard
that this school specializes in people who are . . . what’s the word?”
“Oddballs,” Roberto said. “You get them all over the world
“And to think kids slipping through the cracks as a purely American
problem,” Victor added. “Kids who got bullied to the point that the
faculty gets scared of him, families who opt out of controversial classes
and watch as their kids get flunked out, and my personal favorite: those
who won’t take the Ritalin prescribed by the school nurse. Never take
54
the Ritalin, Adam, trust me on this. It turns people into zombies so
nobody would be bothered by them; that’s the only reason why they’d
put kids on it, never mind this ADD crap.”
“Si. And with your memories taking that siesta in your head, Adam, I
might not know of the bad rep those in the cloth have. Priests doing bad
things to kids in the confessional. Mother Sharon don’t allow that here.
Father Daniel and his Deacons tend to keep to themselves running the
church part and let her shepherd us black sheep around.
And they’re cool if you’re a different religion as well. I know of a Baptist
Church that also uses the buildings here, and the gym Jei calls home
contains a Shinto Shrine and Zen Garden where I go at times for siestas.
You’ll like this place, amigo, trust me on this.”
“I might . . . ” Adam said. “I might . . . if I can just get over my school
jitters.”
At that point, Mother Sharon arrived with papers in her hand. “You
might not need to get over them for long, Adam.”
Adam didn’t pretend to understand the results of that test. He took
Mother Sharon’s word for it: There are some areas that needed work, of
course; History, Civics, and the like. However, the parts that focused on
the fundamentals; the Math, Reading, Comprehension, Logic, and all the
other basics; the ratings were off the scale.
“Son,” Mother Sharon told him from his side, “While there may be some
subjects where you need to catch up on, but with these ratings, at your
age . . .”
“Eleven,” Wendy injected.
“At age Eleven, you could get into High School level. And your reading
and vocabulary are at College level. Your intelligence is that high,
Adam.”
Adam could only scratch his head at this, his face etched with confusion.
“You’re having a hard time believing it, I see.”
Adam’s face felt flushed, not expecting to feel again the feeling he felt last
night.
“From what I heard about your former schools, I don’t blame you for
feeling this way, especially when you could be too smart for that school.”
“Yeah, Adam,” Wendy added, “I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen a lot of
genius kids who started in kindergarten taking classes in the next grade,
but couldn’t fit into their environment, so they began to suffer in their
grades, and end up either flunking out or advancing by social promotion
55
because the teachers don’t want to deal with them anymore. I think
that’s what happened to you, my dear.”
Mother Sharon nodded in agreement. “I know it is hard for you to
believe that you’re a bright person, while everyone else thinks you’re just
some dumb boy . . .”
Adam’s warmth toward Mother Sharon returned. Another one who
considers boy derogatory.
“And from what I heard and seen from you, I think you’d like to learn
things even though you wouldn’t admit it. Most kids do want an
education, but find school to get in the way. That’s why I made St.
Norbert’s as an alternative. I hope that you’d want to come here to get
that education you want and need.”
Wendy then tilted her head out the door. “And I’m sure that you two on
the outside of the office would agree . . .”
There was at least two GASP!’s from the hallway.
“. . . if you weren’t scared of being caught as an eavesdropper, that is.”
Mother Sharon only chuckled at that. She knew that, at the least, Vixen
and Victor would be curious over Adam’s test results enough to play the
lookie-loo; and she did hear that these two, as well as others, were
vouching for the school. Perhaps these two would be the deciding factor
in Adam’s choice of school.
What surprised Mother Sharon is how persuasive she can get. My, did
she flirt. She must like Adam or something.
“Your Peter seems to have found his Wendy, my dear Ms. Mystran,”
Mother Sharon said to Adam’s mother.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
MyMissingSmarts:
I’m smart?
I’m actually smart?
When I ran into the snow 15 years ago, I was convinced that I’m so
retarded I can only move up in grade because the teachers were too
disgusted with me. I end up lost in Sin City and all of the sudden I can
skip Junior High? Part of me just couldn’t believe it even if God himself
come down from the sky and told that to my face.
Mother Sharon reminded me that, for a time when I was in kindergarten,
I was doing first and second grade courses. But then they found out
about my particular quirks including a queer drawl in my voice and they
got the idea that there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t fit in
56
with their environment so they considered me the village idiot. Both
Sharon and my mother have seen plenty of cases like that.
Mom tells me that I shouldn’t worry about it anymore, that it’s in the
past, that it’s all over.
BUT STILL!!
Did it have to take fifteen faricking years in a time warp?
Did I have to have my fricking childhood stolen from me?
Just because I . . .
Adam was still fuming over this discovery after the initial shock faded
away. Here was an intelligent kid who could be his old school’s pride
and joy but in their eyes, he became too quirky and weird to be a part of
their community. His emotions grew more sour by the moment, and he
was putting them on paper, something Wendy encourages him to do.
That was what he was doing when Vixen peeked up into his room again.
She had her shoes off so she won’t make a sound. She could tell from
her vantage point that Adam could use some cheering up, which is easy
with a four-legged mutual friend.
Adam just felt the brushy tail stroke his leg before—“KON!!”—a furry face
jumped into his lap from under the desk, a cold wet nose snuggling his
and his tongue licking his cheeks. It was enough to break his sour
mood. He laughed as he scratched the merfling fox.
“Todd thought you needed that,” Vixen said as she climbed the rest of
the stairs.
“Yeah, ah did. Didn’t like what I was feeling, stewing over what
happened way back then.”
“I’d be more worried over how you’d end up here in Vegas.”
Adam nodded. “I still don’t know what happened.”
“Well, what would you think about a pizza dinner with your new friends.
Our parent’s buying.”
At least Adam had an answer to that.
The local pizza place had the perfect ambiance for dining out, with
subdued lighting and taped music not too loud, but enough to crowd out
the noise from the other booths. There was a good number of video
games to play while waiting for the pizzas, which Wendy and Elrohir
57
ordered four for them all, three if you put Roberto into account, and one
just for the two of them. The video games were left by since Adam’s new
crew of friends were sill buzzing over the misfortune that caused Adam
Packbell to run from his old school in the first place.
“I think it was that accent of yours that did it, hommes,” Roberto said,
which caused Victor, Jei, and Vixen—who was sitting next to and leaning
on Adam—look up. “You don’t know it because of the locale, but Adam
got this muy deep Southern Draw that fits in just fine here.”
“You think so?” Adam asked.
“He’s right, you do,” Victor said. “Now that Robbie here mentioned it. I
can pick it out now. We get a lot of people with drawls like yours,
Adam.”
“Where was your old school at?” Jei said.
“Illinois,” Adam answered, “east of St. Louis, if I remember right.”
“There’s your answer. I heard Jeff Foxworthy say that ‘Whenever people
up North hear a Southern Accent, they automatically deduct 20
intelligence points.’ That’s what happened to you, sorry to say.”
The other two guys groaned.
“Speech therapy case,” Victor said.
“You didn’t have a good time there, amigo. I feel for ya there. I got the
treatment because of my own accent. Blackard didn’t care to know that
English is my first language.”
Adam nodded, not showing much interest, “Yeah.”
The others noticed this.
“It’s not that I’m glad that I ended up here, I am. It’s how I got here
that’s the problem.”
They quick-fired some suggestions. “You don’t remember being picked
up or anything?” “Were you kidnapped?” “Abducted by Aliens? I need
to remind Mama Wendy to check your butt for—“ “ROB!!” “Sorry, Vix.”
“It’s more than you think.” Adam paused a bit, wondering if he should
show them the laminated card in his shirt pocket or not. “Can you guys
keep a secret.”
“That depends.” Roberto said. “What’s the secret about?”
He then pulled out the card. “Check the date on my old school’s ID.”
They did. And their eyes nearly fell out of their heads. “Dude, this can’t
be right.” “That was before the Regan Administration.” “You should be
what . . in your late 20s!”
58
“If what this card says is true. I must’ve been out of the world for fifteen
years, and I haven’t aged a single day.” He shakes his head. “I don’t
know how or why, though. That’s what’s bothering me.”
Vixen just looked at Adam, who became more mysterious with that
revelation. She sympathized with him too, having lost her own
memories. She hugged his arm, and put her head by his shoulder.
“I want to find out what happened to me during those fifteen years more
than anything else right now, but ah didn’t know how t’ put it out in the
open. Kinda makes me feel like some kinda freak. Don’t even know if ah
should’ve—“
“Hey, it’s all right dude.”
Adam looked up to Victor. He smiled at him.
“We’ll help ya.”
“Hai. I thought life in America’s going to get rather dull until you said
that. Guys, we’ve just got an adventure plop into our laps. A real life
Final Fantasy. This’ll be awesome!”
“Si, Amigo.” Roberto went around Adam to give him a firm slap on the
back. “What happened to you was mondo bizzaro, but you’re a pretty
cool guy, I’m sure we’ll help you through this.”
Vixen didn’t say anything. She just pecked him on the cheek.
That lightened up the mood instantly, with the reactions from the other
guys. “OOOOOOOO.” “Oh, man! Cooties.” “Do we need to get you two
a private booth?” “The night’s still young, slow down, kids, there’s plenty
of time to spice things up.”
Adam relaxed a lot. It was a load on his chest that he was pretty much
carrying by himself the month or so after returning to the real world. He
felt glad that he has friends that will help him carry the load. “There’s
this book I got with me that I was carrying when Mom found me. I’d like
to show it to you all tomorrow, if we can get together.”
“That would be the first piece in the puzzle we’ll be working together,
everybody, but first, we have to take pieces from the pizza that’s coming
here, bring it over, Mama Wendy...”
Jei, Robbie, and Victor walked home together from the pizza place,
looking forward to what Adam would show from his book.
“What do you think, guys,” Jei asked. “Do either of you have any idea
what happened to Adam?”
59
“Part of me still wants to check his butt for space probes. Maybe we can
get Vixen to do it, so he won’t get too offended.”
“Why do I get the feeling that, if he had an anal probe, Vix would have
pulled it out already.” Victor said. Jei and Robbie ‘Oooooooo’ed to the
innuendo. “But it could be anything, guys. It could be aliens, could be
something Vix’s dad would say over campfire. He could have fallen
through some Super Mario type Warp Zone. He could even been . . .”
At that point, Victor’s voice and his legs stopped in mid-thought.
“Guys, does Adam remind you of anyone?”
“que?” “nani?”
“I mean think about it: Red hair that gets hard to control at times.
Round nose bordered by freckles. Slender figure. Light on his feet. Has
a bright smile that shows his upper teeth. Very enthusiastic and eager
when he’s not self-conscious. Only that southern accent’s keeping him
from reminding us all of Wendy Darling Mystran’s-”
“NO FARICKING WAY!!”
Victor got that in stereo.
“Well, he does look like Peter Pan.”
“Even if he does, esse, since when does a Disney Film dump it’s
characters into Southern Nevada like it was a coyote sending migrants
across the border, with a change of accent and an alias?!”
“Also, that school ID was pretty authentic. But if he isn’t Peter Pan, he
could be-”
“Aw, forget what I said, guys. Roberto’s got a point, although believing
that Neverland is Michael Eisner’s intellectual property isn’t much
beyond believing that Neverland even exists.”
He turned around, rubbing his forehead.
“Maybe it’s best not to worry about how he got here for now, and just
piece together the clues along with Adam.”
“Like I said, minna. Just like Final Fantasy. We might need supplies.”
“Maybe we can talk to your uncle about any swords we might need.”
“It’ll be easier for me to believe that when I find out how in the world can
I fall into a Disney Cartoon, stay there for 15 years without growing any
older, and then get dropped off here.” Adam said, chuckling, as he led
Vixen arm in arm back to his house.
60
“Well, you do look like Peter Pan.” Vixen said “Got the hair, the nose,
the smile. The manners.” She tapped his elbow. “I’d bet you’d look just
like him in costume.”
“Yeah,” he blushed. “Wendy got me a copy of that costume. I might
need to incorporate it into a western outfit for my school uniform or
something.”
“That would be kewl. I’d like to see you in it.”
Adam blushed.
“Aw, c’mon.” Vixen said. “I’ll give you a kiss if you do.”
Adam gave him an impish grin.
“Don’t you think that a girl is worth more than twenty boys?”
“Ah’ll be right down.”
Adam let Vixen in and headed upstairs. For some reason, he wasn’t
surprised when he saw his costume folded and ready on his bed. What
surprised him is what was put on top of it: An acorn pendant with his
name engraved.
His steps were so silent in his costume’s slippers that Vixen didn’t know
he was back until he covered her eyes from behind. Vixen’s eyes
sparkled in the same way in a dream Adam just remembered when he
played Final Fantasy with Disney characters.
“Oh, you are too cuuuute!” Vixen dug into her back pocket. “There was
something I wanted to get for you since I’ve seen it in a jewelry stand.
It’ll complete the look.”
She pulled out a necklace with a pendant of a gold-plated thimble, with
her name engraved on it.
“It was a set of two,” she said. “I don’t know where the other one was,
but I think your mother . . .”
It was Adam’s cue to show her the other necklace.
It was rare when Vixen giggled like the girl she’s supposed to be instead
of the fiery tomboy she’s known as. This was one of the times, as he
slipped the acorn necklace around her neck, while she did the same with
the thimble necklace. While she did so, and her arms are over his
shoulders, she pulled him close. Very close. And gave him a passionate
kiss.
Vixen could swear that she felt lighter as she embraced him. Hear the
ringing of a bell and feel the dust seep into her skin. She felt herself
flying. Flying with her pan.
“You’ll always be my Pan, Adam,” she said with her smooth silky voice
before locking his lips with hers some more.
61
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled AdamKissers:
In my short time here in Vegas, I’ve been kissed on the lips many times.
Especially my mother, who’s known to wake me up with a smooch if I
oversleep. She kisses like some people think mothers should: Apple Pies
and Cinnamon, a warmth that covers you like a blanket, and a hug like a
mama bear holding her cub.
And then there was that first kiss with Vixen. Talk about cranking it up
a notch. Several notches. Vixen has a deep wet kiss that makes me
tingle all over, from hair to curling toes. I think she even uses her
tongue. I can taste peppermint and smell red hots. And she nearly
melts over my body like warmed over sucker candy pouring over my head
until it coats every inch of my skin. It’s that passionate. I can still hear
the “BAM!” even as I type this.
I’m still wondering who’s the better kisser.
62
2/5 The Flop
63
Chapter 05
March 1996
“You ask me, Sharon,” Wendy said as she walked with Mother Sharon
around the synagogue, “I think this is a sign that my son’s finally letting
his guard down.”
“Is that unlike you, Wendy?”
“Adopted children tend to act too perfect because they fear rejection at
the slightest flaw; if they do anything even the littlest of bits wrong—
BOOM! They’re kicked back to the street before they could even blink. I
was a nanny of several adopted kids, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“I see. By the time I see them, most of them have given up trying to be
good.”
“Would one of those kids be the one who picked a fight with my son?
Just as he was learning self defense from Kenata-san! When the smoke
cleared Adam broke the bloke’s nose as he was sent sailing through a
fence . . . and we were just talking about you, Adam. Are you all right?”
Adam was about to nail in one of the three replacement planks when he
looked up. He sported a patch on his elbow and smelled of pain gel, but
his pride and emotions hurt more. He hoped that he would get that
fence fixed and be done with before his mother showed up. No such
luck.
“So that’s why you came here so early,” Wendy said as she scratched
Adam’s head. “Heard you had a little scuffle. Three weeks in the martial
arts, and already you had to use it.”
“Your mother’s more understanding than I thought, Adam,” Mother
Sharon added. “It’s clear that you were defending yourself, no shame on
that. Just finish up that fence and it’ll all be behind us, okay?”
He nodded, but Wendy can tell he was worried. She smiled and patted
his head. “You’ll be all right, Adam. We’ll go somewhere to eat after
you’re done.”
Mother Sharon made sure they went around a corner before continuing.
“That’s what he was in tears over. Having to fight in self defense. He
thought he got in trouble because he defended himself while the
tormentor skates free.”
“He had that scenario a lot in his old school.”
“From what I heard, that happened to him weekly, and at times he didn’t
even have to raise his hand before being dragged to the principle office
while the bully is sneering at him.”
64
Wendy shook her head. “I don’t know what is worse, Adam being
targeted by Sache Blackard, or finding out that he’s been treated the
same way fifteen years ago.”
“I don’t blame him for hating school.”
“Never mind the past. How’s Adam doing otherwise?”
“He’s at the stage where he’s figuring out what he can and can’t do. As I
expected, he’s excelling at some areas, like Math and English. Other
areas where he’s not doing so well, and you can tell by how he gets bored
and only does enough to squeek by. History is by far his worst subject
and the lowest grades. Not everyone can take in all those date
memorization. And there are times where he wonders why some people
focus on the bad parts of the subject to the exclusion of everything else.”
“I take it Adam’s first taste of politics wasn’t a positive one.”
“He’ll try everything at least once to see if he’s good at it, which makes
for some rather . . . interesting scenes.”
“I heard that there was an explosion he’s credited for.”
“Found a still-lit cigarette and tossed it into a trash bin. Didn’t know it
was used for the oil and gas-soaked clothes from the shop classes.”
“Ouch!”
“Your son was Catholic for about five minutes afterward.”
“Tell me about the dishwasher mishap.”
“Oh! He was helping Robbie with Home Ec. He loaded the dishwasher
just fine, but instead of the dishwasher detergent, he got the dish
washing soap by mistake!”
Wendy snorted: “That happened once at home! My kitchen looked like
one of those bubble raves! Did you catch Rob playing the D.J.?!”
“’Venido. Limpíese. Purifiqúese.’ All spoken to a techno beat. Any other
environment and I’d consider him a budding priest!”
By then the two of them were laughing. It was indeed moments that
people would laugh about afterwards. As a Nanny, Wendy had the
practice of laughing at it sooner; usually during the time that the kids
were cleaning up the affected area and patching themselves up as well.
Unacceptable Behavior is one thing. Innocent mishaps done by children
being children, that’s something else.
“And from one of Roberto’s raves we end up in Kenata’s dojo, and the
reason why I called you here.”
“Yes, Kenata-san’s found another clue in the book?”
“More than a clue. It’s something that’s been missing in his family since
the Meji era.
65
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
MartialArtsDojo:
One of my all time favorite Anime is RurouniKenshin1 . The title’s
author, Nobuhiro Watsuki, got the inspiration of the title character from
a real historical figure in his country’s past, one Kawakami Gensai2. His
life wasn’t too different from the one Hiruma Kenshin had; Gensai-dono3
was one of the hitrokiri4 that brought forth the Meji era. They both used
a Batto-jutsu style sword style which was modified by the use of a
reversed blade sword—a sakabato—during the Meji era. And they both
ended up as Rurouni, as wanderers, until they both found a place to live
the rest of their lives.
Watsuki-san took some liberties, but he was making manga, not reciting
history. I’m honored to know parts that lead off where Watsuki-san’s
research left off. For starters, during the latter times of his life, Gensaidono adapted his sword style to a form that he can teach, for historical
as well as self-defensive purposes. (Just because swords are frowned
upon at the time, doesn’t mean they’re needed.) This style became
known as Hiruma Siranui-Ryu, and it was passed on through the
generations. As time went on, parts of the Kawakami bloodline fled the
rise of the WWII empire during the 1940s and moved to America, where
they did what they could to assist the Allies despite anti-Japanese
sentiment. Today, the American Kawakami family reside in Las Vegas
where they made a Little Tokyo community and part of the St. Norbert’s
campus:
[Picture of the Japanese style Dojo in front of a zen garden]
Sign shown in English and Japanese:
St. Norberts Monastery
Kawakami Building
Hiruma Siranui-Ryu
Kenjutsu Dojo
Kawakami Gensai, Founder
Kawakami Kenata, 6th Generation Master and Instructor
List of ~18 students include:
1
2
3
4
Link goes to a link list on the title, leading with the official site of the series.
Pop Up Note: This name is written ’Last name, First name’ in accordance to Japan’s customs. The order would be
reversed when members of his family moved to America.
Pop Up Note: -dono is one of those ’out of left field’ suffixes in the Japanese language. Both Kenshin and Gensai
were known to use it a lot. On the politeness scale, it’s up there with -sama, only more formal.
Pop Up Note: A lot of Rurouni Kenshin fans get this wrong: ’hitrokiri’ means ’man slayer.’ ’Battosai’ means
’master of Batto-Jutsu.’ As a Battosai myself, I find that somewhat grating that they use one to mean the other.
66
Kawakami Masai, 7th Generation Master
·
·
·
Packbell, Adam; USA
Kenata-sensei found me wandering around the dojo’s historical displays
—which include Gensai’s own sakabato, as well as a display on Rurouni
Kenshin ;)—as I was trying to cool down from a rough time I had an hour
or so before. I think he caught me swinging an ’air katana’. After some
chit chating over tea and stuff, he got the idea that it would be some help
to me to learn this sword style. Self-confidence and discipline and all
that.
But there was a second reason why I became a student in Hiruma
Siranui-Ryu, and it’s not because I want to make quick draws like
Kenshin. For some reason, holding a sword felt all too natural to me.
It’s as if I’ve swung it many times before, as if I knew how to fight with a
sword but somehow got lost in my amnesia. It was a classic case of deja
vu. Only it wasn’t no little bug in the Matrix; we’re talking about whole
city blocks getting reprogrammed.
At least I’ll know what to do when I see Agent Smiths crawling my way.
When running my little @$$ off isn’t an option, of course.
Kenata hovered over a low table in his office. On the table were three
items. One, an old scroll with various diagrams written and drawn on it.
Two, Adam’s book, open at a page marked with one of the various Post-It
Notes usesd to mark discoveries in the book. And three, a sheet of paper
to copy a page from the book by hand. When the three items come into
view of Mother Sharon and Wendy, the two women find that the book is
in English, while the scroll and paper are in Kanji.
Kenata didn’t need to look up to see who showed up. “Wendy-san,
Sharon-dono, youkoso.”
“I take it zeroxing the page didn’t work,” Wendy said.
“Not exactly. You can copy a page, but the text comes out as some alien
language. So I pitched it and started to copy it the hard way.”
“What are you copying, it seemed to be part of--”
“The manual of my family’s kenjutsu?” Kenata looked up. “It surprised
both me and Adam, but that’s exactly what it is. In fact, this page in
particular, has been removed from my scroll and represents a part of
Hiruma Siranui-Ryu that was lost for generations. A secret technique so
67
powerful, that when it’s taught in feudal time, the student that learns the
technique ends up killing the teacher because of it.”
He finished the copy and shows it to the two. Remembering that Adam’s
book has the translation feature, he showed the page in the book. “It is
our Succession Technique: The Rising Heavens Slash. And thanks to
your adopted son, Wendy, it is no longer lost to history.”
Wendy looked over to the diagrams. “Oh, my. You almost need to be a
contortionist just to try it! It looks like you need to dislodge your spine.”
“It would appear so, either that or you’ll cut off your leg. This move is
secret for one reason: This is a batto-jutsu move done wrong.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled BattoJutsu:
My sword style, Hiruma Siranui-Ryu, is at it’s heart Batto-Jutsu. It
involves quick draws and fast slashes that would appeal to Americans;
it’s similar to gunslinging, only with a sword.
[Inserted Picture of a Batto-Jutsu draw]
By pressing the sword up against it’s hilt, you’ll be able to draw the
sword into a swing at a faster rate. Kawakami Gensai can do this so fast
that the tip of the blade breaks the sound barrier, creating in a whip-like
crack. This was, of course, before he switched to a sakabato, which can
throw down anyone’s drawing speed.
As you can see, you need to do this move leading with your opposite leg
(With the sword hanging off your left hip, you need to lead with your
right foot) so that your legs will be out of the way. Wouldn’t do to get in a
fight only to die because you cut off your own legs . . .
“If this missing page of your is in that book of Adam’s,” Mother Sharon
said, “I wonder what else is in there?”
“Do you think that this book could put my son in danger, if some
nefarious bloke finds out about it?”
“It’s possible. I know of people in the Meji era who would kill and die to
get their hands on a copy of my manual scroll, especially one with the
Rising Heavens Slash included. I’ll only be a matter of time when
someone finds out about this book. And wonders what else is in there.
Could be anything. Could be everything.”
The thought worried all three of them until Adam peeked in the room,
having finished fixing the fence.
68
“However, I have faith that Adam will defend this with every fiber of his
being. Certainly, it’s a lot better reason to teach him my heritage than to
fight off bullies, eh, Adam-kun?”
Adam smirked and giggled as Kenata gave him a noogie. Adam snorted
once, and asked him if he was done with the copy.
“Would you think that my son would pull off that move, Kenata-sensei.”
“Perhaps. Once he gets out of his klutz stage first . . .”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled BattoJutsu,
Continued:
. . . this makes the style’s ultimate attack somewhat surprising: You’re
going to be doing this move ass backwards. You either have a neutral
footing or—even worse—lead with the wrong foot, the same side you’re
drawing from. As the sword is drawn, you shift your weight and turn at
the waist to get your legs out of the way.
The result is a powerful—very powerful—uppercut swing that can pack a
punch that can rival Mike Tyson’s. So powerful, in fact, that it usually
kills the teacher! Hence the term Succession Move.
I don’t blame the founder of Hiruma Siranui-Ryu removing the Rising
Heavens Slash from the manual. Fortunately for today, there’s practice
swords made out of wood and plastic and protective padding to ensure
that doesn’t happen. In fact, not too soon after discovering this move,
Kenata’s eldest son, Masai, became the first to learn the Rising Heavens
Slash in over a century. And Kenata himself became the first teacher
ever to teach the succession move and walk away without a scratch.
Three cheers to bulletproof vests. If Kelvar can stop a small arms fire, it
can stop the Rising Heavens Slash.
And it did.
Barely.
[Inserted pic of the remains of the bulletproof vest. It had a grove where
the swipe struck.]
. . . I’ll be sticking to bokken for the time being, thank you very much.
In light of what it does to modern day armor, I’m surprised to hear my
sensei encourage me to attempt the move.
He said that the thing you need most to master it is the will to live above
all else, and that’s something I have in spades.
I think being able to land on your feet should be in that list as well.
69
Everybody winced as Adam spilled to the floor.
Kenada knew, even if he hadn’t encouraged him to learn the Rising
Heavens Slash, that Adam Packbell would try it at least once. Either
way, the result was the same, the move produced an upswing that lifted
Adam off the ground, and in the unbalanced posture he was in, he
couldn’t keep himself from falling down.
Yet the move, however imperfect, was effective. The dummy set in front
of Adam had a suptle swipe in it’s leather covering, and it swayed back at
the impact of the swing.
Adam groaned as he was helped up by Masai. “Note to self: Save that
move for when you absolutely have to. It plum sets me off balance.”
“Not to mention a good three feet off the ground!” Masai said. “How
much do you weigh, Adono?”
Adono was a nick name some of the Japanese students (and Kenata at
times) called Adam. It’s what you get when you add the -dono suffix to
Adam and slur it. At least it sounded better than that slur of a label Boy.
“Oro?” Masai managed to even pick him off the ground by the collar
after setting him up. “Soka! Dude! You’re a lot lighter than you look.
How on earth can you be so light?!”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled MyWeight:
Refrence: Entry entitled IdentificationCard
It’s not that I don’t eat that much; in fact with my appetite I should end
up obese. I just don’t register to a scale. It’s like a vampire in front of a
mirror. I know that gravity still works, because I don’t go and fall off the
planet, and I can jump normal to well. I just register at an sixth of what
I’m supposed to weigh, as like I’m on the moon.
I didn’t give it much thought until mom got a call from Child and Family
Services about an anomymous tip about me being starved. With my seefood diet, me being in the home town of the All You Can Eat Buffet, and
the fact that I was scarfing an whole pizza right in front of her, I’ve had to
ask that woman: What The Frack?! (Yeah, Mom. I said that with my
mouth full. Me Bad.)
70
This will be the first of several visits from CFS on the subject. Often
enough for them to put in my file that everything’s normal, and
whoever’s making those calls were just blowing smoke up my mother’s
butt. I have my theory as to who is making those calls: There’s only one
person I know who would crank call government offices to drive a family
out of town, and had done so before. Sashe the Codfish needs a plastic
doll. And an OD of those Erectile Dysfunction drugs I heard about. It
might be the only way he can the sex he needs.
Not only is CFS keeping a file on me, but they also wanted to keep an eye
on me. They even assigned Mother Sharon as my counselor. Talk about
convenient.
They also suggested that I look into what’s going on inside me. I still
don’t know what’s going on myself, but I do have one thought about it.
This may be another clue.
“When ah find out why ah’m so light, minna-san’s, ah’m going to be
telling everyone.”
“Something’s wrong, Adono?”
“Huh?”
“Son, I’ve been around you enough to know, when you get nervous, that
Texan accent of yours kicks up.”
Adam sighed. Kendata-sensei was right. Mom knows this as well.
Nerves affect his accent. And he was nervous.
“I heard that your father’s finally coming home, and you’ll finally get to
meet him in the flesh. Could that be worrying you, son?”
“How’d you--”
“I’m good friends with Copper Mystran, and I must admit that your
mother told me about it as well. She must have sensed it.”
Adam sighed, and he fidgeted. Some of the fellow students found it
unlike the All-American-gung-ho-full-speed-ahead-let-me-try-the-damnsuccession-technique-the-instant-I-grab-a-bokken Adam Packbell to act
so self-conscious . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled FatherIssues:
Words can’t express how nervous I am over the idea that I have a father.
In afterthought, I’ll agree with Mom when she said that it’s because it
71
was just me and her at the thought, and here comes another into our
life.
Mom did whatever she could. She showed me pictures and told me tales,
about how much of a romantic he is and that he raised his voice on less
than five instances since Mom knows him. There was a story about a
suicidal girl who became his happy-go-lucky jester assistant for a time—
this was before he found Wendy, of course. There was also the company
he busted that was turning unsuspecting people into what mom called
“Living Robots.” (The tech used in this was given to NeoGizmoTech for
better uses, and their prototype robots, like Tara-chan, was made from
it.) There was some other stories I’d like to put into a format I can
publish.
Copper also wrote some letters to me, apologizing for not being there
when Mom found me and later telling me more about where he was and
what he’s doing. In the 3rd letter, he suggested that I should start this
journal. (I started with a notebook at that time, and I’ve almost filled it
up before I switched to this web site.)
But still, I am nervous as heck when I hear that he’s arriving tomorrow.
Mom knows how brave I get when something scary comes my way.
When I come across a problem, I plow right through. It’s why I plan to
meet him at the airport. Even packed a lunch for the occasion; I’ve
heard that a can of soda at the airport costs as much as lunch at a
casino.
Cans of soda at the Airport didn’t cost as much as dinner, but the prices
were very expensive in Adam’s standards nonetheless. It didn’t help the
butterflies in Adam’s stomach one iota.
Neither was finding Sache in the Airport. The two crossed past each
other like ships in the night, with him boring angry eyes into Adam.
Adam didn’t look but flipped up the collar of his denim jacket and
ignored the “Why the hell are you here, boy?” he could hear in Sache’s
barely audible voice.
He kept his defenses up until he turned the corner and waited until the
hairs in the back of his neck went down. Adam thought he got past him,
and even wiped his brow.
whew
That was when he was yanked back and spun around.
“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE, BOY?!”
Adam couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. His vision only had a blur of
Sache’s exasperated face as he was being shaken by his fists like a rag
72
doll. Between the jerks and the smell, he was already feeling dizzy, he
could hear his brains rattling in his head.
Adam’s right leg needed to do something before the rest of him falls
unconscious or worse, and it acted on instinct.
“Don’t Call Me Boy!”
At the other end of the break in Adam’s memory, he was slumped on the
floor, breath knocked out and unable to move for the next few moments,
but still conscious, more or less. His vision was blurry, but he could see
someone he hoped was Sache on the floor doubled over. He couldn’t
understood he was saying, but it was as high-pitched as it is loud.
Adam dragged himself away from Sache before he would grab him again,
yelling something that he hoped was the “Will somebody please get him
away from me?!”
At first he thought he fell unconscious when everything went black. But
as his senses start coming back to full strength he found out it was a
cape draped over him. A cape from the tuxedo worn by the man who
stepped before him.
His ears picked up the voice all too clear among the still scattered noise.
His voice was raised and forceful, and even then it wasn’t piercing the
ears. The voice had a tone and poise that would come from an opera
singer, a voice that can grab someone’s attention while still being soft
and gentle: “I might not be up to date in the laws here, but I doubt that
Vegas City Hall would decree that wiping your own brow and saying
’whew’ should get you Shaken Baby Syndrome.”
Adam pulling himself up to his knees. His vision cleared as he saw a
scared face with a piercing eye, looking straight toward a Sache who was
back to his feet but still hobbling and still high-pitched as he spits out
something about a boy, “who needs to know respect!”
“Nobody can learn respect with a broken neck, Blackard. In this case,
the only thing he needs to know is where he can file assault charges.”
“Assault Charges?! Who’s going to listen to him?! He’s just a boy-”
“A Boy, A Boy—I HAVE A NAME, GOD DAMNIT!!”
That caused everything in the Airport to pause. Even the airplanes
stopped in mid-air. Adam didn’t know for another five seconds that it
was him that said it.
Sache only needed three: “HOW DARE YOU CUSS AT ME BO-”
Adam winced when he heard a swish, but he realized that it wasn’t
anything swinging his way. It was the Tuxedo-wearing man’s walking
cane planted right into Sache’s shoulder.
“He’s an eleven-year old with a limited vocabulary and some big hulking
thug giving him flashbacks of a time when he got turned over someone’s
73
knee on a daily and possibly hourly basis. So I don’t blame him for
cursing at you. Not to mention hitting low. So I suggest that you steer
clear of him before he learns how to properly fight.”
He tapped the tip of his cane into Sache’s shoulder with the last words to
drive the message across. Sache gave Adam a angry glance and walking
away. The best he could, that is.
Adam was still shaking off the cobwebs when the Tuxedo man—Copper
Mystran, he remembered, Wendy’s husband—walked over to him and
helped him up. “You must be Adam. Are you alright?”
Adam did so, but he was surprised. Copper’s hands didn’t squeeze or
shake when they held Adam’s shoulders—they even wore white gloves!
They guided him to his feet instead of picking him up by the scuff of the
neck. Copper took Adam into his arms and held him until he was able to
nod.
Five hours ago, he was having nightmares about a father with a wooden
stick aimed right on his ass. The person in that position saved that ass
just now. Copper hoped that would be a start of getting through to him,
as he hurried Adam out of the Airport and into a limo that Tara was
driving. Adam wondered where he got it.
“As you know, I earned my way through college as a stage hypnotist. I
was good enough of one to get this used limo. In fact, I found myself
keeping this little night job even after getting my psychology degree.”
“So that’s why you’re wearing a tuxedo?”
Copper nodded. “I never needed any other outfit nowadays.”
“Mr. Mystran,” Tara said from the driver’s seat, “I’m sure that you’ll have
plenty of bonding time for Adam to get used to those scars, since Wendy
is out with another child. I heard that it’ll be televised.”
Adam didn’t hear the last part. His mouth went dry and his muscles
tensed up. They tensed up a little more when Copper’s gloved hand
settled on Adam’s shoulder, but as that hand continued to stroke, they
relaxed little by little. As that soft sound of Copper’s voice echoed in
Adam’s ears.
“I regret not being around when your mother found you, son. Especially
when I heard about your former life.”
He paused, waiting as a tint of the nightmare that he was fearing perked
up his head.
“I know it’ll take a while for you to trust me. I’ll just ask you to give me
time.”
It was still alien for Adam to think of Copper Mystran as his father, but
still, he found himself letting Copper drape his cape over him again, pull
him close with his arms, all but engulfing the child in the black cloth.
74
There was something about the soft steady voice, the rhythmic strokes of
the white fingers and the black cocoon that made him feel safe. And
warm. And loved.
“I want the best for you, my Son.” He heard Copper say as he stroked
his forehead, moving over his closed eyes, paused over his cheek. “I
want this family to be happy for you, as we drive away, away from your
old life, and your old fears . . .”
He could feel himself pull away . . . going farther and farther . . . leaving
only the place he visited before with Mama . . .
He opened his eyes when he felt sand scrunch below him. He found
himself on a beach. The salty brine of sea water stinging the multitude of
stripes on his back. From the neck down to the upper legs, there was
marks from every possible item that can be used for punishment. The rest
of his body was too weak to move, and his eyes too tired to cry. He was
tossed overboard when the daily whippings grew tiresome, and whoever
abandoned him went along with their lives.
He was left to die. Parts of him thought he has, the rest were shocked to
find he’s still alive.
The next wave of the ocean met with him, salt on half-open wounds caused
automatic nerves to twitch hands and feet. The water prodded him out of
the water and into dryer sand.
He looked up after a long pause. If he’s going to be marooned on an
island, he might as well find out what island it is.
He saw a grassy area with a path that lead to a forest. A babbling stream
snaked along the path.
He winced as he tried to stand up. Still sore from the salt water wake-up
call. He struggled to stand up and walk to the path.
He could only get as far as the grass until he collapsed again, overcome
with pain. He wept new tears that dropped to the path.
Tears that were accompanied by tears from the sky.
A gentle rain is falling.
A sun shower.
A kitsune’s wedding.
And he’s the groom.
He feels the rain wash over him, soothing his face, rinsing the scar-caked
back.
75
His tattered clothes, all but rags and ribbons of fabric, take in the
raindrops. They sagged down and started to break away. Worn over by
sea travel and constant beatings, they finally disintegrated and fell on the
ground as so many rags.
It left him nude, but he didn’t care at that point.
He found a waterfall, where the path and the stream crossed.
He made his way under the fall and let the cool fresh water drench him. It
felt so good over his sore back.
So good in fact that he felt something pull away from his back.
It was one of the stripes from his back, scabbed and pus-filled, which he
watched float down the stream into the ocean.
He felt the area where the stripe was.
He only felt smooth unblemished skin. There wasn’t even blood. There
wasn’t even a memory of pain there. As he inspected that area, another
horrible-looking slash washed off from him.
He stayed under that waterfall as injury over injury fell from his body and
toward the sea, feeling relief over the water’s healing. He never thought he
could actually feel good on his back and his rear. He never thought he
could remember anything about his back that didn’t involve someone
hitting it with anything above a friendly shoulder pat. He never felt
anything much like this relief. He never enjoyed anything in his life more.
He got out from under the waterfall clean and whole, without as much as a
scar or blemish on his still-nude body.
As he went back along the path, the rain was replaced by a warm breeze,
drying him off. He heard the wind in the trees and the sounds of the birds
and smelled the hint of pine and maple.
He smiled. The first smile in a long time. He didn’t know what it was his
first smile in so long. He couldn’t remember the beatings and wondered
where all those scabs come from either; the waterfall washed away the
memories as well as the scars. He could no longer remember what
happened before he went overboard.
How did he went overboard anyway?
Did he went overboard somewhere?
He saw something hanging on a low branch. A pair of tights, thick enough
to cover him from the waist down, but light and very comfortable as he put
them on. He also found a tunic with a belt, tattered a bit in the sleeves and
tail, but very sturdy regardless. There was also a pair of cloth slippers for
his feet, and a cap with a red plume for his head.
His smile stayed on his face as he put on his clothes. He didn’t know
where the thought came from; he just knew they were his. He also didn’t
know when in the world did he ever frowned. He felt lighter in his feet and
76
in his heart as he went deeper and deeper into the forest. He felt the
woods welcome him in, like a mother’s arms.
He laughed as he felt the woods’ embrace, feeling a tug on his ears until
they formed a point, felt his nose rounded with freckles painted on. He felt
ever younger with each step and laugh.
Eternally young.
He came upon a stump in the path, with something resting in it that caught
his eye. It was an ocarina. A Sweet Potato from the shape. He didn’t
know where he heard of ocarinas or when he knew how to play one, but
as he picked it up and put it to his mouth. It was like he always knew how
to play.
The woods were filled with music, a happy tune that echoed through the
trees. The music filled him as well, his ears, his mind, and his heart.
He skipped through the forest, not a care in the world, singing a song from
his heart through his flute. He was happy over who he was, a child who
never grew up and never will. If he could remember who he was when he
entered his enchanted forest home, he didn’t noticed.
At the end of the path, he found a cottage that called out to him. A
thatched roof. A blue door with a brass knocker. Soft gray walls with pink
trim. Daisies blooming in open doors and windows. A soft warm glow
from within.
It filled his vision, flooded his mind. He was more enchanted by the
cottage than the whole trek deep inside the forest. He couldn’t remember
what happened before he arrived on the island, walked through the forest,
and before the house, nor that he cared.
All this was more than what he ever wanted out of life. It was all he would
ever wanted out of life.
He entered the house, walked through the door and into the center of the
room. He felt the warmth of the fireplace and saw all the mementos in the
walls and tables. He saw that all the figures were of him on the shelves
and saw his face everywhere he looked. He smiled at this sight, and felt
right at home here. He believed that he belonged here, as Peter Pan, in
Neverland, in this Home.
He brought his ocarina back to his mouth and resumed playing. It was a
song that added to the warmth and love in the house, making him a part of
it. He felt himself blending into the world around him, becoming as much a
part of his world as the trees, dirt, figurines, and all the else until nothing
else mattered. This is where he belonged.
He continued to play his ocarina, free as a bird, and happy as a lark, in
his hearth and home, even as his dream fades and his trance ends, and
77
he wakes up in his father’s study dressed in his Peter Pan’s costume, his
face done with a round nose and his ears with points glued on. He
continued making the notes from his heart, not caring where they came
from, as Father encouraged him. “That’s right, my son. Keep playing for
your father. You look so happy and free. I like you like this.”
Adam (or was it Peter, he couldn’t tell, his mind was still happy and
fuzzy) continued playing until he felt the song finish out of his heart and
through his ocarina. He let the last note flow long, as if he’s cherishing
the tune, before lowering his sweet potato flute and opening his eyes.
He saw his reflection in the mirror first. He looked just like Peter Pan
from the cartoon. Round nose, pointed ears, green tights, and all. He
smiled. He did felt happy dressed up like this.
“That’s right, my son. You look so right as Pan. I’d like you to wear this
as often as you want. You can even do your nose and ears. Just for me
and your mother, if for nothing else. You like being our Peter Pan, do
you, my son?”
“Yes I do, Father.”
Adam was surprised over how he’d said that.
Copper patted him on the shoulder. “It’ll still take time for you to get
used to saying that, I know. But for now, let’s see about that book of
yours.”
It took him a while for Adam to notice. Not only was he dressed in his
Peter Pan costume, tights and all, and he felt that he took a shower as
well . . .
In that instant, however, a thought came into his head: It’s all right. You
can trust him He’s your father, you’re his son. You look good as Pan, you
can look like him for him, just like with Mother. It was the kind of
thoughts he knew came from that safe place he was in a few moments
ago. It was enough for him to put aside the worries. But still . . .
. . . he was also carrying the bookbag under his arm. What on earth
happened while he was asleep?
“Your face says that you don’t understand. In time you’ll know how
hypnosis works. I sensed that you slipped into a light trance under my
arm and cape, so I took a chance to test how suggestible you are. You
were indeed suggestible enough for me to get you to take a shower—that
Sache smell, ugh—and change into your Pan costume. Your mother
always thought you looked cute in it, and she was right. You can
remember what happened now, can you?”
He could, the constant soft and low voice that flowed through his mind,
putting thoughts in, guiding him, compelling him. He remembered his
body grow warm, and then cold, stiff, then limp, he felt his arms float
78
away like balloons, he felt himself playing the ocarina, and then he
crowed . . .
“COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!!”
Adam gasped the instant after he crowed right out of the blue, complete
with the arms folded in to resemble wings. The instant after that, he
blushed. The instant after that, he started laughing. Even with his arms
still folded.
Copper laughed as well. “That’s right, my son. Come to me, your father,
and relax in my lap.”
“Yes papa,” Adam said, still wondering why he’s doing this. But
nonetheless, he settled into Copper’s lap, falling limp in his arms.
“That’s right, my son. Let yourself relax and grow warm and limp. You
can let all your defenses down now. I can see you slip back into that
warmth as your father holds you as your right arm begins to float...float
as high as your trust in me as you look at your father’s face.”
His free arm floated up into the air, as far as it could without pain.
Copper knew that he’s trusting him very much now, enough to accept
him as his father; Copper just has to do is keep the mental massage. He
cradled the child’s face in his arms and looked into his smiling eyes.
“It’s all right now, Adam. You’re with your father now. And this is how I
will be for you. You know I’m not as heavy handed as you feared, and
that’s what’s keeping you from calling me your father. But now that
you’re feeling my magic and knowing my guidance, you feel free to call
me father from now for ever, is it.”
Adam’s felt ashamed to not being able to trust him sooner.
“It’s okay, my son. You trust me now, do you?”
Adam’s voice was quiet. “Yes, Father.”
“That’s right. It’ll be easier for you to call me your father each time you
say it. And with each time you say it you’ll find it easier for you to
believe I’m your father. And you’ll find it so right that you do call me
your father as you continue to call me your father, and you know you
want to call me your father as much as I know you do.”
Another “Yes Father,” and he felt a warm happy glow from inside.
Having a Father that was proud of him being his son was a new
experience for him, and he enjoyed it.
“Now then, my son, can you open up this book for me, so I can see
what’s in it?”
“Sure thing, Father.”
Copper let Adam send life back into his hands and arms as he snapped
off the lock and opened the book, showing Dad (calling him that was still
79
weird) what he knows now about the book. They consist of the numbers
inside the front cover . . .
15
24
14
35
49
02
. . . as well as what Adam knows about the book, with all the pages he
discovered marked by Post-It notes.
“This book isn't normal, I’ll let you know.”
“I’ve heard about the language translation and the changing texts . . .”
Copper flipped back to the front cover and sure enough . . .
15
24
17
36
00
15
“ . . . and in between getting an occasional Chinese government official
less paranoid over me, I found out that there was other books like yours.
In fact, I found that there were some historical connections. Case in
point:”
Copper took a small book out of one of his tuxedo’s coat pocket and hand
it to Adam.
“A souvenir. It’s an English translation to “Journey to the West,” and it’s
a good bet that it’s author had a book like yours. I can also guess that
others had such a book all over the world . . . ah, here we are.”
“hm?”
Copper turned the book toward Adam to show him what he found.
“Your records from the school in your old life. The very thing I had to
pull teeth to get.”
“How’d that get in there?” Adam said as he flipped a page back and
forth. “I know that this book’s got a lot of secrets, but I wouldn’t expect
an destroyed permanent record get in there.”
“Not that you’d like to read it anyway, it wasn’t very flattering.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Adam closed the book.
“But why did I get it? How did it come to me in that fiery glowing ball
way back then in that log ladder, and how did I end up here fifteen years
in the future? And what happened to me in between those times?”
80
“I wish I knew myself, my son.” He turned back to Adam’s face. “But
we’ll find out together. We are a family after all.”
“heh, yes, Father, we are.”
Dad was right about one thing: Calling Copper Mystran “father” does get
easier to do each time he says it.
“Do you think my book has the answers, Father?”
“I think so, and I think it holds our best clues. But it won’t be the only
lead we’ll be using. Now, since we both had a decent shower and rest,
there’s a place I’d like to show you, where someone wants to see more of
you and your book.”
“Sure thing, Father. Ain’t like I have anything better to do. We are
supposed to have a bonding moment, are we?”
Copper smiled and patted his son on the head. “Yes, son, we are. You
do look like Pan in that costume. Just like in the Cartoon.”
Adam smiled warmly, finding joy in the idea.
“I’d like to find a way to incorporate this into your school uniform. Make
this look be your style, so to say. And I’m sure I’ll get enough copies so
that you can always wear it almost all the time. You could even wear
normal pants over the tights.”
Adam wondered why he haven’t thought of it before. He already had
gotten into costume to cheer Mother up on occasion. Using the tights as
underwear would make the transition easier.
However, he did had a bit of concern. “That might be a bit expensive
though.”
“I have my ways, my son.”
81
Chapter 06
April 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled NeoGizmoTech:
[Inserted Mapquest image of parts of the Southern Vegas area, Adam’s
house in the center marked by a star. The mentioned points of interests
below are marked by additional icons.]
I didn't think I needed to bum rides off people here in Vegas. Most of the
places I go often are withing walking or biking stage. There's a local
mom & pop coffee shop a few blocks west which I go to on the way to St.
Norberts. Three blocks north is the bus and tram station that can take
me through the Vegas Strip and up to the Downtown area. (I can catch a
transfer further north, but I don't go near Sache's turf unless I have to.)
The longest route is to the east, where there's a mall with a Borders book
store about a mile and a half away. And the shortest is to the south;
there's a Quicktrip at the end of the block run by some of the nicest—
and well adjusted—Muslims you'll ever meet. (The famliy came to
America from Afghanistan before the Taliban got a hold of them.) I end
up going there at least once a day, whenever I needed a refill or just some
fresh air. It's also where I can take the bus over to the Tribal community
where Vixen lives. You'll be surprised when you'd see it; this community
can pass for Middle Class by paleface standards.
There’s just one place where I can’t reach by bike or bus at this time; and
that is to the NeoGizmoTech building 3 miles southeast and on the other
side of a busy Interstate with no way to get across. NeoGizmoTech
(NAZDAQ: NeoGT1) specializes in robotics and biomechanics. Tara Kit is
one of their prototypes2, but the company is better known for
replacement limbs (The company’s proprietor, Justin Kinto, has three of
them; Left arm and both legs.) and medical equipment found in
hospitals, crime labs, and even an occasional CSI episode or two. The
company also has side projects which I’ll be beta testing from time to
time, which could end up in consumer electronics shows on the way to
your local stores. The most popular in the list is a new Desktop operating
system that uses Linux known as Linspire. I found out about it when
Michael Robertson showed up while I was there and gave me the CDRoms to try it out. I now have Linspire on all my computers; Phrack
You, Micro$#!*. They’re also making a Nintendo DS that is also a PDA
with a cel phone. You can find out other stuff over at their web site3.
1 Link to the Business Profile from the NASDAQ stock server.
2 Link to Wiki Entry TaraKit.
3 Link to the NeoGizmoTech Site.
82
Oh, and by the way, this very site is hosted by NGT, who allowed me to
put a web server into their on-site Internet Router. 60 Gigs of Free
Lifetime Web Space alone is worth a shout out.
I stated in several previous entires ( IdentificationCard, MyWeight ) that I
wanted to look into the mystery of my non-existent weight; like I said, it's
like I'm on the moon; one sixth of what it should be. Dad took me to
NGT to begin this research while Tara Kit is getting some needed
servicing. We caught Mr. Kinto in one of his busier weeks though, so the
gist of the research is going to be made by one of his newest assistants,
one Nitsan Mutami, an RN graduate from Shanghai. I also noted that
Mr. Kinto's doesn't have much of a kid-friendly nature, unlike Nitsan
who can be quite affable once you get around the language barrier. She
had the misfortune of being punted to the states before learning how to
speak English and she still speaks it in the broken stage. Not that I
want her to feel bad about it; my Chinese sucks just as bad, and I've
have subtitled martial arts films to help me.
The NGT building was a former warehouse on the outskirts of town. It’s
been retooled for it’s new purpose with ample room for research labs and
study areas, lots of bright lighting, and an indoor environment more
conductive to white color work than blue collar storage and packing.
One lab even uses the pre-installed overhead pulley and track system
while they updated Tara Kit with an improved power cell and backed up
her hard drives.
Another lab, Medi/First Aid Lab 3 to be exact, was only the scene of a
loud jarring clang and a teenage boy’s yelp.
“ureeeeeeeh!” The woman said as she ran to Adam’s side, her long black
hair flaring out as if it was as shocked as the rest of her. She caught
him before the sliding tray he was sitting on bucked him off after the MRI
machine spat him out. “Adam!! Are you all right?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t scared of that thing, I swear!”
The machine was still humming, and Adam was still being pushed away
from it. Even his pants were being pushed up his legs, reveling the dark
green tights underneath.
Nitsan was still trying to push him back in when Copper and Justin
arrived. “Some—humpth—first day I having!” she said in her still broken
English. “It’s as if this machine not like taste of Adam.”
“Adam, did you check all your pockets for metal.”
“It wouldn’t make this kind of reaction, Copper,” Justin said as he picked
up a sealed plastic vial of metal shavings. When he tossed it into the
83
still-humming MRI chamber, it sucked the vial in and bounced it around
in the tube until it was shut down.
Adam felt the push from the machine fade and vanish, his legs settled
back on the slab. “Does an MRI machine mess around with Earth’s
gravity?” he said as he fixed his pants. “Something tells me that it
shouldn’t.”
“No, it shouldn’t.” Justin said as he put a finger to his chin.
“Is this machine broken and I--”
“It ain’t that either, Nitsan. I checked it two hours ago and it’s in perfect
condition.” Justin looked toward Adam and scratched his chin. “This is
highly peculiar, you responding to an electromagnetic field like this. I
may need to call up some special tools to see what is going on in your
body.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
ElectroMagnetics:
To give you a better understanding of just what NGT is planning to do
with me and whatever samples I give them, I have to give the best
explanation an eleven year old can give to you about how
Electromagnetism and Gravity is related. Fortunately I’ve read a lot of
books. I also know how to use search engines.
We all know that the Earth has a North and South Pole, and it produces
an electromag-netic field that makes compasses work, not to mention
other things. It's not uncommon for scientists to study how this
electromagnetic field relates to other forces in nature, like the earth's
gravity. A common household magnet doesn’t work on human flesh; we
don't have that much metal in us, but the earth's gravity is strong
enough to hold us to it because of it's size in relation to an average
human body. Or for that matter any other matter on the earth's surface;
animal, vegetable, or mineral; solid, liquid, or gas.
It is also known that everything on the earth carries it’s own static
electrical charge. It would be understandable that the same principle
works for us and whatever microscopic whatever is on us at the time.
Under normal conditions, this charge connects to the earth’s gravity like
two magnets at opposite ends.
84
[Inserted Picture of the reaction between a
human body and the earth, they meet by a N
and S pole.]
Not so with my own body’s physical makeup. Oh, I have an static
electrical charge, no problem there, but somehow, the polarity is
reversed
[Inserted Picture of a human body hovering
above the earth, the body’s N pole facing the
earth’s N pole.]
and whenever you put two magnets together by like poles, they repel!
Something inside of me is resisting the pull of gravity. Not enough to
shoot me off into orbit, thank goodness, but enough for to so show on
the bathroom scale.
But what part of my body could be doing this, I had to ask? That’s when
a blood sample was needed.
Reminder to myself: I don’t like needles.
"Darnest thing I ever did see," Justin said as he saw the white glowing
sparks floating in the blood sample. "What in God’s name are you
eating, son?"
Adam shrugged. "Normal food, I guess. What this stuff is and how it got
into my blood stream is anybody’s guess. I take it you don’t know what
it is either."
"I intend to find out, but I know two things about it though."
Justin took the vial with the sparkling blood out from under the
electronic microscope. Even at normal vision the sample sported a dim
golden glow.
"One, I don’t think that everything about those glowing sparks will be
listed in the periodic table of elements. And Two..."
Justin let go of the vial.
It fell.
It fell slowly.
It slowed even still as it fluttered to the floor.
It stopped falling.
Three full inches from the floor.
85
"...it’s the stuff that’s resisting the force of gravity."
The noonday bell rang as Justin picked the vial back up. “Nitsan, why
don’t you take Adam here to that Chinese place you like so much.”
“It not that, Justin. Some of my relatives work there. Come on, Adam,
I’ll show you place.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled NitsanMutami:
While most of Nitsan’s family is Chinese—as I said before she was born
in Shanghai—she has members in other countries like Japan, Indonesia,
and the United States. This became a necessity when China’s ’One
Child’ rule came in effect and families with an extra pregnancy or
multiple births decided that moving was better than being pressured to
comply. Either way, their government wanted to reduce their rate of
growth in the first place, right?
In Nitsan’s case, her parents moved to Vegas when they became
pregnant with her baby brother, and partnered with another family to
run the Chinese Buffet that’s close to the NGT building. As for Nitsan
herself, her smarts got her into UNLV where she got a biology degree.
NGT is her first job out of college, and I’m sure she’ll do just fine. Even
as she still learns how to speak the language.
Adam took to the noodles and dumplings with gusto. He even tried his
hand with chopsticks for a few moments. The lo main noodles wiggled in
his unsteady hold until they ended up cut in two and back on the plate.
"Guess I should quit while I’m ahead and fall back on the fork, should I?"
Nitsan chuckled even though she was sympathetic in Adam’s recent
plight. "Those things take time for anybody to figure out. Even those
who use them all the time."
"At least the spoons are good for the wonton soup."
"Right." She then switched subjects to what was on her mind. "What do
you think about that glowing stuff in blood sample?”
“I dunno. It could be anything.”
“I’m surprised you not mention pixie dust.”
“I’m surprised you did. You’re a scientist.”
“I know, I know.” Nitsan blushed. “Some in my field can get high and
mighty claiming that there no thing they can’t explain. That there no
86
such thing that hadn’t been explained. Not all scientists act like that; I
hope I don’t. I got into science because I’m curious about things I don’t
know yet. How you defy gravity, I don’t know yet, I’m very curious. Just
like you.
“Besiiiides, I heard that your mother is from very famous family, is she
not?”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
TheWendyDisappearance:
Mom told me all about it within the first week I was with her.
In 190X, three London children vanished from their home. They include
my mother’s namesake, Wendy Darling, and her two younger brothers,
John and Michael. They returned three days later as mysteriously as
they vanished telling about an magical island that roams the Atlantic
Ocean—literary; the island moves—where nobody on it ever ages,
especially an pre-teenaged boy with elven features who can fly and could
have been alive before America was discovered by Columbus. JM Barrie
heard of this tale and, with the help of Wendy, created the story we all
know today as one of Disney’s masterpieces. That, and of the children’s
hospital that owns the copyrights.
There’s more to this story than what most Disney Otaku know, though.
John and Michael grew up to adulthood, got jobs and wives, and went on
with their lives. In fact, my mother came from John’s branch of the
Darling family tree. Wendy, however, vanished again several years after
this incident, never to be seen again.
Prevailing rumors state that Wendy thought she was a complete idiot for
leaving Neverland and returned to the Island. And Peter.
However, there is no proof that Neverland exists or if Peter Pan, or for
that matter Wendy Darling, still lives today, and is still in her teenage
years.
I could very well be that proof, or so my gut tells me. I vanish without a
trace for 15 years, only to show up on Wendy Darling Mystran’s
doorstep, without aging more than a week in the meantime. There’s a
connection there, I know it. So does my mom, but that’s expected from
Disney Otaku like her.
If what mom believes is true, that Neverland does exist, as well as the
idea about me coming from there, then the clear-cut proof of this theory
may lie in that island itself.
87
Of course, before I can do that, I need to find out whatever Neverland
actually exists.
I need solid proof; X Billion people clapping for a faerie may not be
wrong, but it’s going to take more than belief...
“People actually believe in pixies in China, Nitsan?”
“Of course, Adam.” Nitsan laughed. “Disney has great influence on
children in China, so much so that they’re getting their own Disneyland
in Hong Kong. Also, some folks are as much as fans as your mother. So
I do admit, I do believe in fairies as child. And . . . let me tell you secret.”
The two moved closer.
“I would just love to do study on Tinkerbell. Find out what makes faerie
tick. Find out how they fly, how they glow; what you can and can’t do
with the dust they scatter everywhere. I dream about being around
beakers and scanners all but coated with dust while 3 or 4 pixie flutter
above me. It why I got into science in first place.”
The two giggled and chuckled.
“That hadn’t been forefront of my mind as of late until you showed up
with glowing things in your blood. . . ”
“But like I said, all that glowy stuff could be anything, so it’s best that we
find out more about it before we assume anything.”
“Exactly.” Nitsan stood up. “That’s what we do. After I catch up with
some relatives of mine. If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to ask.”
Adam noded, bowing as much as he could being seated and with food in
his mouth.
Nitsan was well into a decent conversation with her family in town when
she noticed a small gathering around the Ikaruga coin-op video game.
She didn’t thought much about it until . . .
“That redhead kid’s playing both ships!”
. . . and then she ducked out of the kitchen to see who was playing.
It was Adam
He was indeed playing one of the toughest old-school shooters made to
date.
And he was beating it.
With both ships. One hand on each joystick.
And then he said, “Honest, mister. I’ve never played this game before.”
88
Nitsan was reaching for her clipboard by the time the final boss was
taken down.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled MatrixMode:
I first caught wind of this from Kenata-sensei. As he watched me he
noticed that my reaction time grows shorter and my agility grows greater
when things get going good, with sparring, while running, while playing
DDR, anything that gets my adrenaline going. It feels like time slows
down. Motorhead also mentioned it when I’m beginning to string triple
digit combos on DDR once I get the juices going and I crank things up to
the Oni level. Kenata-sensei told me that in time, I could be pulling off
moves that should only work in Chinese martial arts movies. We’re
talking defying gravity and dodging things like I’m frigging Neo here. To
encourage this, he assigned some meditative exercises to see if I can tap
into this hidden ability. With enough practice, he claims that I could turn
on this ’Matrix Mode’ at will.
I may not know everything about this ’Matrix Mode’ just as anybody else,
but I know that I can get a lotta milage out of this.
As does Nitsan and her friends at NGT.
I also know that it’s another piece of the puzzle. It is related to the
glowing bits in my blood, and that this agility is also shown in a certain
Disney classic character.
May 1996
“You ain’t seen . . . nothing yet . . .”
Victor, Jei, Rob, Vixen, and Nitsan were all amazed by the sight of Adam
playing House of the Dead using both guns, while strapped to an array
biometric equipment recording the reaction time Adam showed as he ran
through the game using what Victor called “The extreme of mad l33t
skills” when the Magician exploded.
“YAAAATAAAAAAA!!!”
All Adam could say, as he heard the Magician’s last words; “House of the
Dead two anyone?”
“Don’t give Sega any ideas!” Roberto said wiping his brow. “That last
boss made me sweat like a pig. Did you see him pull off them Dragon
89
Ball moves. I expected that zombie to go Super Sayian on Adam’s ass,
esse.”
“Hey,” Adam said as he caught his breath. “It’s about time I got the good
ending.”
Sophie showed up on the screen, pretty much alive, and running to
Rowan’s arms as G watches.
“YATAZE! Adam Packbell pulls off Super Awesome Move! House of the
Dead game takes the Quad Nine! 9999 Damage and it’s defeated!
“Easy for you to say, Jei.” Adam said as he pulled off something from his
ear. “That was like pulling teeth. Ditto with getting to that power up
room. That took almost five tries.”
While Vixen hugged her ’hero’ and helped him pull off the straps, the
three guys and Nitsan checked out the recording of the game play, with
computer generated pointers to where Adam’s eyes was focused on and
where the two guns were aimed at. A side box on one side also recorded
his heartbeat and blood pressure, which was recorded by the ear-clip
heart monitor that was just pulled off his ear. The beta-stage device was
so sensitive that it can replace the inflatable bands used in hospitals. It
can also monitor specific chemicals in the blood stream and can even
give a snapshot of the capiaries between the two pads of the clam, due to
the microscopic technology against the thin skin of the earlobe
“This is so cool, Nitsan,” Victor said as he looked over her shoulder,
“being able to see eye-hand coordination as it happens. I want to have a
job in this.”
“I heard there may be summer intern positions here this summer. I give
word for you. Now you see how it improves when adrenaline level goes
up?”
Everyone looked to see what was going on the screen. As the bar
denoting the level of adrenaline goes up, the reaction time went down.
“By the time he reached the Hermit, he was all but perfect in his
shooting.”
Adam unclipped the last strip from him and went around to the monitor.
He saw what the others were watching. “Mind if I see the image of what’s
was in my ear lobe Nitsan?”
“Sure thing, but do your friends . . . know . . .”
“Know about what, Adam?” Jei asked.
“Do you know what’s causing this Matrix Mode of yours, dude?” Victor
added.
“I have a clue.” Adam said as the screen changed to the image of the
capiaries in his ear.
And the blood that appeared to be glowing.
90
Adam’s friends looked at the screen.
Then at Adam.
Then at the screen.
Then at Adam.
“What on earth has your mama been feeding you, Adam? Pixie Dust?”
Jei’s eyes were wide in wonder as he got real close to the blood sample on
display. “No wonder you’re so awesome, Adam. You have materia in
your blood!”
Roberto just rolled his eyes at Jei. “You should talk your wife over what
she uses to sweeten the medicine, Senior Copper.”
Victor rolled his eyes at both Jei and Rob. “I don’t think this glowing
stuff is in any sweetener. Not even the pink stuff stays in your
bloodstream like that.”
“I assure you, Roberto, my wife doesn’t have anything like what’s in
Adam’s bloodstream.”
“Then what is it?” Vixen asked, hanging on Adam’s arm with a worried
look in her face.
“I’ve did find something about these glowing particles, Adam,” Justin
said.
“What did you find, sir?”
“Well, how it’s glowing is still up in the air, but we’ve discovered the main
protein which comprises these particles: Keratin.”
Adam tried his best to remember where he heard that word before.
“In fact, we’ve also found out the source of the Keratin used. These
particles are microscopic particles of a bird’s wing.”
The words of “Say What?” echoed through the room.
“A dove, in fact. Your blood’s part bird’s wing, and I could make a guess
that there’s other parts of your body that have keratin in it. With all the
samples you’ve graced us with thus far, I’m sure to be right.”
“I hope so, Justin, that one about my bone marrow still smarts a bit.”
“I don’t know if what I’ll say next would smart even more, but there
seems to be a tiny amount of radioactivity coming from . . .”
Justin looked around and found that everyone else was in total shock.
“I assure you, people, it sounds worse than it is. The radioactivity is no
greater than what a human body normally produces.”
91
“Come again?” Adam asked.
“You by now know that the human body generates more electricity than
a 120 volt batery, and over 25,000 BTUs of body heat. There’s even a
movie that takes advantage of that. Some of this power comes from a
naturally occurring amount of potassium in your body, of which 40
milligrams is indeed radioactive. Since it was a part of you since you
were born, and the amount is so low, it doesn’t produce any harm to you.
These keratin particles are giving off the same small--and just as safe
may I add--level of radiation. While you won’t be growing any extra limbs
anytime soon, it is reacting to your adrenal gland and affecting your
agility. You playing that video game with both guns blazing clinches that
part of my theory.”
“You mean that this may be why I’m so light on my feet?”
“Not to mention this Matrix Mode of yours, Adam.” Copper replied.
“Another piece in the puzzle falls into place.”
“Yeah, I think so . . . but . . . Does this mean I can fly?”
“. . . that piece has yet to fall, my son.”
92
Chapter 07
June 1996
Saint Norbert’s Academy
Mother Superior Sharon Alera, Principal
Report Card for
for the semester of
Adam Packbell
Subject
Grade Level
Spring of 1996
Comments
Reading
A+
12
It’s almost impossible for Adam not to read anything. Find him
a book and he’ll pounce on it.
Writing
A
10
Some spelling and grammar errors. Nothing that a proofreader
and spelling checker won’t help with. He’s ready for some
beginner composition courses next year. Best prepare him on
how to do research over the summer.
Arithmetic
B
10
He’s past Algebra, the Basics: Will be on the more advanced
Calculus in the Fall.
Social Studies
C
9
His Weak point, especially with History and the memorization of
dates and names. I get the impression that he’ll be flat out
bored with what is taught in public school.
NOTE: I very much appreciate you going easy on him when he,
as he calls it, bombs a tests. The three Ds on his record come
from tests in this category.
He’ll get by, being well rounded, though things may get harried.
Paise the Lord for whoever built Tara, huh? ;)
Home Econ
B
9
Kenjutsu-P.E.
N/A
Yellow
Belt
Adono’s well through the introduction stages, and has earned
his brokken. He’ll continue his lesions during the summer twice
a week, schedule permitting. Just make sure he keeps
practicing and stay out of any more fights than necessary.
--- Kenata-Sensei
Behaviors
N/A
N/A
He’s known to pull off a prank or wisecrack if things get dull, but
you know that already. And otherwise he’s well behaved and
tends to get along with his group of friends. He’s not afraid to
finish a fight someone else puts him into, or step in whenever
someone’s is being given a hard time.
Disciplinary
Actions
N/A
N/A
Hardly a problem to me or my teachers, even with the occasional
crack. Whenever he gets into a problem, he immediately looks
for a way to fix it, which we keep in mind when we do have to
correct him. More often than not a good sit down in the
confessional where he can talk it out is all he needed.
NOTE: This is the summer vacation time, which means that
North Vegas High will be out most of the time, as well as Adam
and Company. Please, keep your son away from anyone with the
last name of Blackard!!
93
From the Las Vegas Sun, dated 5 Jun 96, titled “Drug Frameup
spoiled by teen Blogger”:
[Picture of Adam holding up an arm holding a baggie of marijuana.]
LAS VEGAS, NV – Adam Packbell, 12 years old, is an exceptionally bright
student in the semi-private Saint Norbert’s Academy. He’s rather slender
and sports a moppy red hair that would remind some of Peter Pan from
the Disney films, including his adopted mother who boasts to be a
descendant of the Wendy family in the story. He reads at a college level,
is in High School Math, practices Akido, and is one of the newest
members of the blogosphere [mention of his web site inserted here] He
had decent grades in this spring semester and is about to enjoy the
summer in his adopted home town of Las Vegas.
He almost spent it in Juvenile Hall.
When Adam was bumped in a busy Freemont Street two days ago, he felt
an hand slip into his back pants pocket, a pocket he attests never uses.
He grabbed the wrist and pulled it up into the open to find that the hand
was holding a bag of marijuana. The hand belonged to Josh Blackard,
who claimed that the pot belonged to Adam, even as the cameras were
flashing and the cops approached the scene.
Both youthes were detained for questioning. Josh claimed that he found
the bag in Adam’s back pocket, and he was distributing it to several
other youths arrested during the week for drug possession. Adam
claimed that he wouldn’t even go near drugs let alone sell them.
“The part about touching it is key,” a police spokesperson said earlier
today. “When we reviewed the tape of the scene, it was clear that Josh
was intent on putting the bag in Adam’s hands. And it’s to Adam’s credit
that he failed in doing so. We’ve took his prints to compare it to the
prints in all the bags we got, and we never found a single print belonging
to Mr. Packbell. We’ve found a lot from Josh, though.
“It became obvious that this is a case of mass blackmail by Josh
Blackard against not only Adam Packbell, but the many others who have
been arrested on drug possession charges. We have therefore dropped
all of these drug possession charges and will focus our prosecution on
Josh Blackard alone.”
Josh is the son of Sache Blackard, influential principal behind the
controversial North Vegas High School. Mr. Blackard cannot be reached
for comment, due to the pending investigation.
94
Adam, however, commented a lot on his blog.
“Thank God that I’m in a country—and in a family—where you’re
considered Innocent until proved Guilty.” Adam said online, “Even
though I did take that drug test—tested negative on every substance
known to man except for grounded up bird wing, but that’s not an illegal
drug last time they looked—and gave them my prints. That really helped
clear my name. And kudos go to my parents as well [Copper and Wendy
Mystran] who’s been very supporting through this hard time I got
through.
“Too bad I can’t say the same for other kids caught by this faux sting of
Blackard. As I’m writing this, one of the people caught in the sting is
still in the hospital recovering from the battery he got from his father. I’ll
be seeing him as a resident student in Norbert’s in the fall.
“A second one has to do with the Morning Talk show I was in. A victim
was about to be sent to Boot Camp—I met the DI’s back stage; nice guys
when they’re not going at full blast down your neck—when I made a
dramatic entrance showing that the kid was indeed framed. At that
instant, the kid turned into Sargent fricking Hartman, slapping his
mother in the face and telling her on national television that ‘She will do
a lot of @$$-kissing if she’s ever going to be called his mother ever again!’
And as I was still recovering from that shock, I found a girl who was too
young to be walking the streets as a prostitute, smoking a joint and
muttering how she’s Dead to her family.
“Three tales of broken trust in their children. Three children who are
majorly malfunctioning. Three cautionary tales. Three incidents that
won’t happen if the parents gave their kids a benefit of a doubt.
“Parents. Don’t let this happen to your child.”
“I hope this tailoring won’t make you fidget too much, Adam.” Copper
said as he watched his son being fitted into his first tuxedo. “If it’s of
some comfort, the first time was strange for me as well.”
“Riiiiight,” Adam said as he tugged at the collar. The tuxedo did fit well
on him, even as the tailor was working on the pants cuffs. He just
wasn’t used to having a collar that snug.
“This isn’t supposed to be a reaction to what happened to you earlier
with Josh and those baggies of pot,” Copper said as he fixed Adam’s tie.
“I wanted to take you with me on some events this summer, and some of
them are black tie events, hence the tuxedo I’m fitting you into. I just
need to be the protective father to you and keep you from having scenes
like that happening too much.”
Adam nodded at that, but he was still quite hesitant.
95
“Besides, you won’t be the only child joining me.”
Copper stood up as the tailor finished with the hems and the cuffs, and
motioned for someone outside the room.
Out stepped Vixen in a blue and white frilly dress fit for a princess, just
as out of place as he was. In fact, she was grumbling until she saw him
in his tux.
“Er, hi, Vixen,” Adam said. “Yer look pretty in that. Just like a
princess.”
She couldn’t tell how many times her heart skipped a beat that night.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entries entitled PrincessVixen
and FirstBlackTie:
[Inserted photograph of Vixen in her dress]
She really looked like a Princess in that dress. They even did her face
and hair gave her a parasol she can hold in her opera length gloved hand
(the one who’s not holding Todd’s leash, who was dolled up as well with
his own bow tie collar.) She’s not much into the Lolita lifestyle though,
but she did say that she’ll wear it if it means being by my arm while I’m
wearing my tux.
[Inserted pics of Adam and Vixen in the limo, out on the town, with
others in a black tie event, and with an occasional celebrity or two.
Some of these pics are even autographed.]
My first ’Black Tie’ event was later on that week. It was with some of
Copper’s friends who were magicians and hypnotists, including some
who were headlining some of the casinos on the Strip. My personal
favorite is Penn & Teller, even though I had to pry Teller away from Vixen
on multiple times. Gillette, if you’re reading this, put a leash on your
silent partner!!
During the event, at least one person wondered if I was going to learn my
father’s vocation. While I did pick up on a trick or two—I’d like to have
my wallet pickpocketed from me now, heh heh heh—It should be
apparent that me and my Dad’s going off on different paths. My calling
is in writing and journalism, and a few of Dad’s friends gave my name to
some who are into my field of interest, especially in the blogosphere.
That would be the first time I’ve been asked about what I wanted to do
with my life. I have to admit that I haven’t thought much about it, being
more concerned with what brought me here and where I was for those
fifteen years. Outside of that, I’m more interested in being alive, as a
somewhat normal kid, and worry about growing up later.
96
I’m still eleven. There’s no rush.
July 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled SkinnedKnee:
The next piece of the puzzle fell into place when I fell myself: From my
bike. Skinned my knee a good on the concrete. It wasn’t pretty. Blood
is gross.
What caught my interest was that, while I was waiting for someone to
fetch a first aid kit, I saw the blood on my wound glowing and the wound
stitched itself together right before my eyes. By the time the first aid kit
showed up, All that was needed was a alcohol rub to get the blood off a
slight scar. I was still limping but that was the only sign that I had the
spill by the time I got home.
I wonder how I got an accelerated healing factor on the way back home,
shaking off images of comic books with Patrick Stewart in them along the
way. When I talked it out with my parents, they thought it was best that
I alerted this to NGT
“Must you do that?!” Adam said as he protested getting cut by a razor
while his arm was under a high-speed digital camera.
“Couldn’t record your healing without a wound, Adam,” Justin replied.
“You didn’t have to did that deep though. Couldn’t you do a mere flesh
wound?”
“I would, but I also needed a sample of your skin tissue. And must I
remind you that your round is healing just as we are bickering?”
“But it does hurt, and it does bleed.”
“At least I didn’t drop you off the building or shoot you or-”
Ahem!!
By the time Justin was able to pry away from Nitsan’s dirty look, the
scrape under the camera lens was healed in full. Nitsan consoled Adam
as she wiped off the blood on his arm while Justin downloaded the digital
movie file into a computer to view on a computer.
“As I expected.” Justin pointed to the slow-motion image of the glowing
blood, which he started to magnify until individual glowing sparks can be
97
seen. They began to shoot out glowing tendrils that reach out for the
borders of the injury and began to rebuild the skin by copying the
uninjured cells from the surrounding areas. “The keratin particles are
co-operating with the healing agents that occur in human blood
naturally, speeding up the process. It appears that they do a lot more
than just counter the pull of gravity.”
Nitsan pondered what Justin said. “Would these things heal any injury.”
Adam protested. “It’s not like I’m going to stick my head into a guillotine
anytime soon.”
“Yeah, I doubt you’re immortal, Adam,” Justin said, “but, it would be
safe to say that the stuff in your blood can accelerate the healing of most
common injuries, and even some diseases. I would even say that it’s
counteracting the Aging process as well?”
“The aging process? What makes you say . . . oh.”
“That’s right, Adam. You forgot that fifteen years has gone by between
your disappearance and your return. It’s easier for me to believe that
you were still alive somewhere during that time, but because of this
material in your blood, you didn’t age that much.”
Nitsan’s gasp announced that she finally realized what happened to
Adam. “That must mean you’re . . .” she did some number crunching
with her fingers. “. . . twenty six.”
“You remembered the old school records in Adam’s file, Miss Mutami.
This takes the Time Warp theory off the table. You weren’t just sent
fifteen years ahead of time that Christmas eve in the snow. You were
sent somewhere where this bird wing substance was injected into you
that stopped the aging process.” Justin scratched his chin as he looked
toward Adam. “But what exactly is it I have no idea.”
Adam started to squirm.
“And by the look on your face, you wished you knew an answer you can
give me as well.”
Adam nodded.
“I’m sure we find way.” Nitsan said as she patted Adam on the sholder.
Justin could only grunt at that.
“I know you believe it, Mom,” Adam said. “And I know that Vixen and
Nitsan might. But I doubt most other people does.”
He was reading the printed out papers that Nitsan gave him on what’s in
a person’s bloodstream other than blood cells. There was information on
platelets, white blood cels, free radicals, and other articles in that pile on
98
his lap. Vixen was resting against Adam’s back, and Todd was curled up
against his hip. He piped up from another part of the living room while
Nitsan and Wendy talked about the latest discovery, the latest piece in
the puzzle falling into place.
Wendy sighed along with her son, and Todd nuzzled into Adam’s leg. “I
know, son, I know. I’d have problems believing it myself and my family’s
famous for it.”
“And that’s the point, Mom. To most people in these days, Neverland is
from a Walt Disney movie. It’ll be easier for them to believe that a god
came to earth incarnated as a human than to believe in Neverland. But
here I am, with all the clues pointing to that very place.”
“Just because nobody believes in anything, doesn’t mean that thing
doesn’t exist.”
“Try telling them about it though, Mom. I don’t because I know they’ll
toss me into the nut house.”
Wendy nodded again. “I know.”
As Wendy patted Adam on the shoulder, Nitsan took one of the Peter Pan
snowglobes from Wendy’s collection. “It will take more than faith and
trust to get people to believe that Neverland exist. If all clues we have
thus far is true, then Adam did came from Neverland. That must mean
that Neverland does exist. We must find that Neverland and show it to
world. When we do, all the answers over Adam’s life will fall into place.”
Everyone nodded at that.
Until Adam said “So how do we begin with that, then?”
That brought the blank slates back to everyone’s minds.
“It’s not like there’s going to be a pixie falling out of the sky in Vegas and
land in Adam’s lap, will there?” Vixen asked.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
BlatantForeshadowing:
I think it is about this time where the hurricane hit Neverland.
As some of you know by now, that island is not normal. It moves.
Physically. And some say that it has a mind of it’s own. It even changes
sizes, or that’s what I heard. You’ll need the top of the line plus in spy
satellite and geological tracking technology floating over the Atlantic, an
impossibly thorough search of the Atlantic Ocean between the Topics of
Cancer and Capricorn, and a 60-60-24-7-365 level of diligence just to
find the island, let along track it.
99
It would be easier for you to break the banks in every Casino in Vegas
than to see Neverland with your own eyes. Which makes the way I
actually get to that island so easy it’s embarrassing.
As some of you know, there are a lot of hurricanes in that area. There’s
a lot of hot air, plenty of humidity, good stiff winds, the occasional
butterfly, you get the picture. Ever since the island was made into the
way it was—do not ask me how, that’s a question for another writer—it’s
been dodging hurricanes throughout it’s existence.
It is about the time Vixen wondered if a fairy would ever plop into my lap.
One of these hurricanes got really really lucky. The kind of luck that can
break the banks of all the Casinos in Vegas. It smacked head-on into
Neverland with Category 5 force.
From what I heard, the damage was immense. It’s to the island’s credit
that it was able to fix itself up by the time I got there. And I still need to
ask a dove there if she had to get her egg fixed or just had to lay another
one. But I know for certain, by chatting with the many fairies on that
island, that they have lost a good dozen of their number by that lucky
hurricane, blown out into the winds over the sea.
One of these was Fire Storm. She’s a fire talent pixie, hence the name.
And thanks to an Internet search engine I whipped up on the fly, she’s
all but immune to people not believing in pixies. You wouldn’t want to
say so in her presence, though. By the time this entry was typed, she
fried the eyes off of a half dozen grown-ups.
More on her later.
Honest.
Stop cussing me out, Stormy.
107
Chapter 08
August 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled MyFirstTroll,
dated 1 Aug 96:
Today is a red-letter date in the life of this site. I have gotten my first
flame.
I will not honor the flamer with a full listing of the flame here. I’ll just
tell you some of the ’finer points’ of the five kilobyte long letter which I’ve
’control-C, control-V’d into my message board. Yeah, what you see is
exactly what I saw in Thunderbird. It would be a good idea to turn off
your spelling checkers because mine crashed. That’s an accomplishment
being that I use Linspire machines.
This proves ironic because a good section of the five kilobytes consisted
of correcting my own typos. “U R A cumpleat IDJIT!!!!!! It’s 1 be4 3 Xpect
afta 6!! Can’t U fcukin SPELL U Dummiy!!!!!” This hypocritical crap also
included a severe berating about the Peter Pan content in this site. I
won’t bore you with the details, I’ll just say that this a$$#o73 hates me
as much as he hates a decent grasp of Common English. This is coming
from someone who uses leetspeak to Radio Edit his cuss words, but I
digress.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind people telling me that I typoed. In
fact, I encourage it. Help me find the damned spelling errors and let me
correct them. I’ll appreciate it. But I’ll let you know that when you
berate me for referring a Disney Movie, all the while using Text Messages
in lieu of even elementary level grammar, you just come off as someone
who’s still living with your mother. At least I have a better excuse: I’m
still a tweenager.
Victor and I talked a lot about how these yackoffs tick. They do nothing
much else in their days than surf the web finding sites that they just
don’t like, let everyone associated with said site know how much of a
lamer they are, and then go out and tell everyone they know themselves
how much of a lamer the people in said site are. Those others in turn
fire their own flames and repeat the cycle. They even have web sites that
list the victims, making long drawn out discussions on how bad the sites
are. I have seen some of those sites. Not only do I think there’s nothing
they do like, but also that these sites are a textbook case of the Pot (The
Troll) calling the Kettle (What they consider You to be) black.
I’ve seen sites from five-year-olds that had better design. At least a fiveyear-old would know basic HTML and will settle for default browser
settings. And that would be an improvement from the Encyclopedia
Dramatica.
108
What really irk me isn’t the web design that can melt your eyeballs or
their hypocrisy in spelling and grammar. My beef is this: If something
you see is so god-awful that knowing it exists is enough burden on your
soul that you’d just want to slash your wrists, why in God’s name
would you keep looking at it?
Isn’t there 50 gazillion other places to see than my web site? Don’t you
have other things to do with your life than to tell me how much I suck?
Is your life so faricking inane that the only way you can feel better about
yourself—since you can’t even flip a burger right—is to tear down
someone else who wouldn’t even show on your browser if you don’t type
in the address? Are you this pathetic?!
Victor smirked at the latest entry. “I can just hear them snicker and
laugh even as they read this, Adam. You’re right on this part: They are
absolutely pathetic.”
“I haven’t gotten any of these flames since a few days ago, and now it’s
almost 2-3 mail pieces an hour. Why is that?”
“You heard the news lately? About Sache Blackard?”
“My mother was one of those who pushed the call for a Vote of No
Confidence against Sache through City Hall. I didn’t bother getting
involved. But some in her group did say that it was what they said in my
blog—are you thinking what I thinking?”
“What you’re getting is backlash from Sache’s sheep? If I gamble, I’d put
my money on it.”
“...I’m getting grief because of someone else’s actions?” Adam groaned.
“You haven’t heard the horror stories I know. It’s a good thing you took
my advice and required people to register for your message board. That’ll
keep the flames down to the bare minimum. I’ve seen trolls take over
whole message boards and guestbooks, just typing in flame after flame
after flame.”
“Is that all you could do to keep them at bay?”
Victor nodded. “Sad to say. If there were anything to get them off your
back, I’d be telling you to do it by now. In fact, anything you’d do only
make them flame the more. I know one guy who got it so bad that he
pulled his site off the net. They just started to come to his front door
telling his mother how much of a coward he is.”
“Jeez! They flamed them to death, and then they flamed them for dying!”
“And that’s not the worst. There was one time when someone on Instant
Message was harassing Jei. I made the mistake of calling up my own IM
and telling them to knock it off.”
109
“What happened?”
“I got this reply in fifteen new chat windows: Go back home to your
mama’s basement, Jei, we know it’s you!!”
Adam’s jaw dropped.
“And then they copied and pasted their ‘lul Final Fantasy is Ghei’ line to
my screen twelve times. They will not believe that Jei would have one
friend! Not until someone traced my screen name and found two
different addresses did they all scurry back to their basements.”
Adam groaned again.
“I shouldn’t tell you the site hacks where someone replaces the whole site
with a curvature version. I’ve heard of people who got in trouble because
of what the hacker left-”
“Don’t these people have anything better to do?!”
“They’re past 30 and still live with their parents. What do you expect?”
Adam’s head went back into his hands.
“At least you’re one up on these wankers, Adam. You’re one of the
smartest dudes I know. None us us can solve a Rubic’s Cube outside of
breaking all the pieces apart. You can solve a normal one in under a
minute and the new four by four by four one in less than five. You’re a
farking genius, dude. You’ve haven’t gotten your diploma yet and
already you’re going into journalism with that blog of yours. That’ll save
a McJob for the others to fight over. And even if your parents will leave
that attic room for ya, I heard plans that you could be getting that guest
house in back. The one we use for the summer as a crash pad, you’ll be
moving out to there.”
Adam looked over to Victor.
“I think they’re just jealous of you, Adam. They haven’t left the nest.
You can almost do that now and you haven’t hit puberty yet.”
“I hear ya there. And you’ve got NGT to help get you out of your mother’s
basement. By the way, how’s work there.”
“Been working on Linspire projects all summer, as you know. I’m
making some of the graphics for their ’Click ’n’ Run’ interface which has
been very fun. It’s going to be the Linux nubie’s best friend.”
“Could one of those projects involve Tara? She’s been acting weird
toward you.”
“Nope.” Victor stretched back and smiled. “That part happened in my
off hours. You know that she, like those EDS droids she was designed
after, has a built-in Dating Sim function that alters their personality into
a compilation of all the games you play.”
“ . . . . you didn’t.”
110
There was a knock.
“Tara. Come on in, hon.”
The sight of Tara made Adam check to see if his nose was bleeding. She
wore a skimpy French Maid outfit, fishnet stockings, high heels, and felt
white gloves. She had a couple of cups of ice tea. She was also leaving
little to the imagination. Her costume revealed her chest and would have
showed her panties if the frilly petticoat wasn’t there.
She giggled with she saw Adam’s reaction. “I got you some drinks, you
guys.” She gave Adam his drink, and then let her tail brush up against
Victor when she gave him his.
“You’re too good for me, Tara Kit,” Victor said before giving her a kiss on
the cheek.
“It’s the least I can do for you, darling.” Tara said with a voice that was
almost murr.
That really made Adam’s mind reel. “You two are an item?”
“Why not,” Tara said. “Like he said, I have an EDS mode, and Victor
accessed it. Besides, he sees me more than a robot anyway.”
“Yeah, she’s more human than most humans you know.”
“Oh, you’re just too sweet, dear.” Tara returned the kiss and walked out,
giving Victor a good look of her tail as she went out of the room.
“Tara’s response may be a bit stereotypical now, acting like a maid in
that get-up, but falling in Love is new for her. I hope I can expand her
actions some more.”
Adam gave Victor a skeptical look. “Yeah right. Didn’t I hear that you’ll
need someone to drive you to NGT?”
“Not recently, dude. I got myself a chopper you know. Beats bumming
rides off people, even from Tara who would do it without batting an eye.
Speaking of bikes, I heard that you’re trying to start a petition.”
“I am.”
Adam pulled out a Trapper folder that contained some papers. “I’ve got
back from City Hall a few days back. The mayor was friendly enough to
send me some info on the political process and show me how to bring
something up to them. I’ve made sure that this petition was properly
done before I started to look for signatures.”
Victor looked at the papers. “This one’s to set up a public transportation
link across I-515 into the NGT area to serve the growing number of
commuters there.”
“Yeah, Even if it’s just a walkway across the interstate, I’ll be happy.
That’s the biggest problem I have getting to there.”
111
Victor took a stray pen and took the honor of having the first name on
that petition. “I’m sure you’ll get something better, like a bus route or
something. I’ll help you out…”
Adam looked at the cup Tara gave her. It had a picture of a sailing ship
and a listing of a marina. “You’ve been to Oregon, Vic?”
“Used to live there as a kid. My father was a sailor.”
Adam nodded.
“I used to go there every day, be on the boat with my dad. I picked up a
lot of stuff from him. I used to wish I could go sailing just like him.”
“What happened.”
“Nasty divorce. Nastier custody battle. I ended up with relatives here.”
Victor shook his head. “I couldn’t think of sailing books after that.
How’d you get that cup is beyond me.”
Adam shrugged. “Shame though. You could’be been a great sailor.”
“Yeah, rather than just some pot-smoking loser teen boffing a robot.”
“I don’t think you’re a pot-smoking loser teen.”
Victor looked at Adam, smiled, and rubbed his hair.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled OscarGoodman:
I’ll be voting for him if I were older. I met Mr. Goodman in a previous
Black Tie with my dad. I mentioned my need for an easier way for me to
ride my bike to NeoGizmoTech. We talked for the rest of the evening on
how City Hall works.
Las Vegas’ local government has a public transportation committee that
connects with all the busses, Metrolink light rail trains, the strip
monorail, and even taxis. Anyone with a need for a new bus line or
Metro station can petition the committee. It takes in ten to twenty
petitions a year, and plans additions to the public transportation system
three times a year.
I went to that committee the following day, and found out how to start a
petition to add a station along the I-515 Metrolink line with a pedestrian
way across the Interstate. Along the way, Mother Sharon gave me an
additional motivation: I get this passed; I’ll pass Civics with an A.
Bonus.
112
“That has got to be the cutest dress your girlfriend has ever been in,
Adam.” Oscar said as he saw a more animated Vixen in a red Chinese
style dress with a white midriff, a two-toned back bow, black gloves and
boots, and hair braids that has triangular fox ears. “She even looks like
a fox, just like that critter that always follows her. She’s worse than
Paris Hilton with Todd.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you raise an otherwise wild animal from
a kitten. She even puts a supplement into Todd’s food that tones down
the scent enough so he’ll be less of a stinker in places like this.” Adam
pointed to the booth where Todd lounged in, snacking on chicken scraps,
and getting scritched by the occasional passer-by. “I can’t imagine how
the chefs here would think about cooking for a fox.”
“I talked with one of them, they’re not exactly complaining. Todd’s cute,
good-natured, housebroken, and they know what to do with the scraps.
By the way, how’s your petition coming?”
“I’m getting signatures right and left, around the NGT area on both sides
of the 515, as well as other sympathetic people and businesses.”
“I saw that you’re even getting them on your blog.”
“Yeah, good thing I got that web script that collects legal sigs. Give me a
week and I’ll have everything together for the committee.
“That’s great! I’m sure you’ll get this approved . . .”
Oscar said more about others benefiting from the station and about the
grade he’ll get in Civics, but a Chinese woman distracted Adam.
“Nihayyyoooo, Adam!”
Nitsan was in a dark blue dress from her home country, with a dragon
imprint and a side cut that exposed almost all of her leg. The design was
modest yet attention-grabbing.
“Eh? Is that you, Adam? You look sooo couture.” Nitsan giggled as she
gave Adam a big squeeze.”
Adam had to excuse himself from Oscar. The attractiveness of being in a
Tuxedo was getting easier to get used to: Handsome preteen guy plus
Penguin Suit equals near constant hugs.
“I have update on your book,” Nitsan said as she followed Adam into his
booth. She petted Todd on the head while he curled up next to her.
“You know that corner you folded off?”
“Yeah, part of me didn’t want to rip it off, but you did wanted it for
science’s sake.”
“Just like true bibliophile, you don’t want them hurt, but it gave me a lot
of insight on it.”
“What did you find?”
113
“At first glance, the pages are thin, like pages in Bibles. But when I
looked deeper into it with microscope, the pages had the same energies
as the keratin in your blood.”
“You mean that level of radioactivity?”
“Exactly, but when it glows like it does in your bloodstream, it burns the
pages just so; just enough to write—and rewrite—without damaging the
sheet.”
“Whoa.”
“That’s what the book does when you watch it write.”
“That’s another piece down, since we know how it’s doing it. But why is
it doing this or how the dust got in there?”
Nitsan shook her head.
Adam sighed.
“Please,” Nitsan said as she put her hand over his. “Be patient.”
Adam looked up to see Nitsan’s reassuring smile.
“We find all the answers. We just need time.”
8 August 1996
9:15 am, PDT
Adam walked his bike out of the Strip Monorail at the Downtown station.
He headed to City Hall, green-toned customized School Uniform accented
by a tie between his shirt and vest. A messenger bag stuffed to the gills
with the assembled petition.
He noticed a ping in the back of his mind, the kind of ping that makes
your hair stand on end and your eyes dart back and forth in a fit of
paranoia. It didn’t take him long to find the source: Sache was
campaigning against the pending No-Confidence vote. He was in
complete Public Relations mode. It was all Adam can do to keep from
puking at the sight. Here is someone who was usually strangling him
acting so cordial and diplomatic, a ‘Just Folks’ sort of guy. He was
waxing eloquent about being beleaguered by a group he dismissed as
illiterate ne’er do wells who didn’t know how hard his job was.
Adam didn’t want a confrontation with Sache. One, Adam has his own
business, and two, Sache has his Josh-run goon squad patrolling the
surrounding area, only a half block from him
114
“How on earth did he get out of jail,” Adam thought. “Either Sache did
some bribing, or someone did a lot of sleeping.”
Adam he took a quick right and went around city hall to enter in the
back. That area was on the other side from Sache’s display, so he
thought it was safer. After he locked his bike and told a nearby cop
about a thug in a North Vegas Letterman jersey putting a knife to
someone’s face, he sneaked over to the Transportation Committee
without incident.
“I’ll do my business and lie low somewhere in the cafe,” Adam thought,
“Until Blackard and his goon squad packs up and leaves.”
The committee room took up a floor in one of the side rings of the
building; a double-height ceiling and was rounded at the far end with
windows that overlook downtown Vegas. Adam couldn’t see the stage
from the windows and let out another sigh of relief.
Different committees use this room in different days; Law Enforcement
on Monday, Gambling meets on Tuesday, Education meets on
Wednesday, and Transportation today on Thursday. It was yesterday
when the Education committee declared that they would cast that NoConfidence vote next week.
Oscar was near the reception’s desk at when he heard someone come
over to him. “Adam!” Oscar said when he recognized who was coming
with the stack of papers in his bag. “Glad to see you, son. I take it that’s
the petition.”
“Sure nuf,” Adam said as he hefted the stack up to the receptionist’s
desk, setting it down with an audible thump. More than one other
committee member noted the sheer size of the stack that ’this young
man’ carried with him.
“Whoa,” the receptionist said, that’s a lot of signatures.
“Yeah. Kept me from getting bored.”
That caused a few nods and chuckles from the back.
“With these many signatures, it should be no problem at all getting that
needed transit station pushed through the committee.” Oscar gave a nod
to the receptionist who pulled out some forms to put that large petition
into a storage file. “What’s going to happen next could be a bit dull
compared to what you did to get this to us, Adam. It’s mostly talk about
how to fund the place and where to put it and-”
“I’ve got some ideas with me.” Adam dug through the now-deflated bag
and pull out a Trapper folder. He opened it to revealed pages with some
possible layouts on the space given by possible locations. “With some of
these, you can even expand on the Metro Train later.”
“My goodness, Adam!” someone in the committee said as he looked over
Adam’s shoulder. “You thought of everything!”
115
Adam smiled at that, glad to see that his idea had a positive response,
especially other grown-ups. Maybe it was with the help of Oscar and
other like-minded souls who want to make an impact on a future
outstanding citizen of Las Vegas, but he didn’t mind. Some of them
looked at the pages and commented that he should go into politics or
someth—
Part of him expected this good vibe to sour all of the sudden, to feel this
cold shiver down his back and around his guts. It accompanied the foul
odor and the feeling that someone’s staring holes into the back of his
head.
He didn’t want to turn around to see where the hot breath was coming
from. Oscar was addressing the one who was snarling behind Adam
while Adam favored his temples. “Unless you have something related to
this meeting, Mr. Blackard, I suggest you go back to your campaigning.”
“I heard that someone alerted the authorities on one of my students. I
think I’m looking at the one who did that.” Sache crouched down to
Adam’s level. “That student was vital in my campaign, I let you know.”
Adam’s showed a good amount of disgust, and it wasn’t over Sache’s
B.O. He didn’t want to acknowledge Sache with as much as a glance.
Adam was also in an important business matter that he actually dressed
up in and was on his best behavior on. And here comes this Codfish to
ruin it!
“You are wasting my time,” Adam said, his lips not moving more than
necessary. “Go away.”
“You will apologize for wasting these gentlemen’s time, Boy, once you tell
him who you really are.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“I mean what is your real name? Tell me, Boy!”
Adam had to sigh, then he turned around “My name is Adam Pa-”
“LIES!!”
He shoved a paper into his face, showing the image of his old school id
from 1980.
“Adam Packbell died fifteen years ago! Nobody here has a clue over who
you really are; including that whack out brit you call your Mother. And
this also says that, Maybe I could be an alien, or an angel, or maybe even
a Disney Charact-”
“I didn’t say that!!”
“That’s what you said here in this printout from your site.” Sache said,
waving his hand that held the print out.
“Let me see that!!”
116
He had to jump to grab the paper as Sache dangled the paper away from
him. To everyone else’s eyes, Adam’s jump was a good six feet straight
up. Sache tried to keep the hand that held the paper away from Adam’s
grasp, but Adam was too quick. By the time gravity brought Adam back
down, Sache ended up with only a ripped off corner in his hand.
Adam read the page aloud:
“Where the Radio Edit was I these fifteen years?”
“Mike: Maybe you could have been an alien.”
“Tom: Or an Angel.”
“Crow: Or even a Disney Character...”
“Mike, Tom, Crow…” Adam slapped the paper to the desk and looked
back to Sache. “This is a MiSTing, you idiot!!”
“A MiSTing?” Oscar asked.
“A recent form of flaming someone, sir, mostly fanfiction. It’s when they
treat the text as a really bad movie, but that’s not the point. This tripe
didn’t come from my site!”
“It has the text from your site in that. That’s all I care to know about it!”
“You don’t even care to get my own words from my own blog?”
“I know what I’m told about you and I follow that blindly!”
At that last word from that line, Sache let out a spray or spittle that all
but covered Adam. Out of reflex, he threw the sharpened pencil toward
Sache.
“WATCH THE GOD DAMNED SPIT!!”
Sache swiped it away with a hand that nearly slapped Adam in the same
move.
“You WILL call me MISTER Blackard, boy!! And you WILL know your
place!!”
“And where is that place? Under your smelly foot?!”
“And you WILL STOP TALKING TO ME IN THAT TONE OF VOICE!!”
“I’ll won’t talk to you at all then.”
Adam then turned his back to Sache, returning to Oscar. Both faces
showed a little more than frustration. “Will someone please escort this
Codfish out of the room so we can-”
Adam was on his knees before he was even aware of his fight-or-flight
reflex kicking in. A slapping sound just above his head announced the
source of this action: Sache was going to box both of his ears in. If
Adam didn’t duck, he would have.
“Stop that, Hawkings!! This has gone too far!!”
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“You heard him, Boy!! GET UP HERE, AND TELL ME YOUR NAME!!”
Sache grabbed Adam at the hair and pulled him up from the floor. He
didn’t hold on long.
“YOUR NAME, BOY!!”
“Don’t Call Me BOY!”
His hand found a better place to be when Adam’s knee discovered that
it’s in perfect position. By the time the knee’s actions registered in
Adam’s brain, most of the others in the room were feeling the effects of
an Official Adam Packbell Berry Breaker delivered to his tormentor.
The next thing Adam was aware of was the wall he crashed into, his right
eye in pain. He wasn’t sure he was conscious or not. What he was sure
of was Sache’s yelling: “I WISH I WAS YOUR FATHER SO I CAN SLAP
YOUR-”
Six police officers swarmed over Sache and handcuffed his arms behind
his back before Adam’s body slid down the wall and onto the floor.
Sache outrage was as high as his voice: “You can’t do this to me!! I’m an
official part of this city’s-”
The cops were already doing the Miranda script: “Sache Blackard, you
are under arrest for assaulting Adam Packbell. You have th-”
“ASSAULT?!?! TO THAT BOY?!”
“That boy was conducting official business, Blackard,” Oscar said, “and
in a rather mature manner that I was admiring, until you smacked him
around as if he was some no-good punk. And need I remind you that
what happens here is taped and replayed in local cable channels, which
will no doubt give the No-Confidence voters some real ammunition.”
“And not only that,” the cop said, “That boy isn’t even in your school. I
think that No-Confidence vote just became the least of your problems.”
Sache growled at the cop with rather bad intentions in his eyes.
“You’re coming with us, pal.”
“What about him?!” Sache’s head tilted to Adam. “He kicked me in the
nuts! Again and Again!! That camera showed that too. You got your
duties: Arrest him as well!!”
“Sache Blackard, I’m surprised in you.” Oscar said. “Don’t you
remember Nevada’s Self-Defense Law?”
That caused Sache’s struggles to stop, for a moment.
“You should. You were on the campaign to kill it, and then to challenge
it in Federal and Supreme Courts. It states that, any party who acts in
self-defense cannot be charged in any court in the State—criminal, civil,
118
or military—for their actions. That boy could kill you and nobody can
touch him.”
“T-This can’t be happening!!” Sache said as they dragged him away.
“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!! THAT BOY SHOULD NOT BE HERE!! HE
DOESN’T EVEN-”
“I will see you in Court, Blackard!!” Oscar said as he went over to the
tended-to Adam. As he stirs back to consciousness the bruises in his
eye starts to recede.
“Are you all right, son?”
By now the shiner has vanished before everyone’s eyes. A few noticed
this, but they didn’t get the chance to comment on it.
The doors flew open with a bang as Sache forced his way back in,
followed by all six bouncers in blue. Sache’s face showed an emotion
beyond uncontrollable rage; blood vessels outside of the skin, eyes this
close to catching fire, and sparks coming out of his teeth.
“A-CUR-SSSSED-BOOOOIIII!! YOU-DON’T-EVEN-HAVE-A NAME!! YOUDON’T-EVEN-”
That was when they broke out the Taser. What was left of his voice
became a howling scream that shattered glasses and windows as Sache
fell.
There was one more “a—cur—sed—boy” before the doors closed, but the
screaming continued well into the next few minutes. It didn’t even have
to come from Sache’s mouth; it echoed throughout the large room for
that long.
Everyone was in shock over what happened, especially Oscar, who was
the first to turn back to Adam. “Do you have any idea what Blackard’s
got against you?”
He just shrugged. It was all he could do after what Sache has done.
“Does any of this have any bearing over whatever or not there’s a
pedestrian bridge or a bus line to NeoGizmoTech, sir?” Adam said.
“No. Of course not,” Oscar said, as he put the paper Sache had through
the shredder. “So it shouldn’t matter here. Now then, where were we?
Oh yes, your petition for what you just mentioned. Thank you for
reminding us, Mr. Packbell”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
SachesDownfall:
119
I didn’t have to testify against Sache in court—thank God—although I
was in the room when it all went down; Oscar and a few other council
members made a big enough case to convict Sache and put him away for
a couple years. That ensured that he got the No-Confidence vote as well,
stripping him from his job.
It also made me a local hero being the one who did with so many grownups (including my Mother) couldn’t do. I got many readers during the
following week, which of course, I welcome you all, and good enough well
wishing on my quest to solve the mystery about what happened in the
80s and early 90s.
I have to comment though, about some of you stating that I did with all
these school shooters should have done, and went to the courts instead
of the gun locker. When you say that I have to point out two things:
One, by the time you’re considering turning your school into an
impromptu game of Doom, you’ve pretty much thrown out legal
discourse because you’re convinced that nobody would ever look at you,
much less look out for you.
And second, and this is more important: I’ve never was a North High
School student!!
This is what irks me to no end. I go to semi-private, Catholic-run,
Magnet-style Saint Norbert’s Academy. I’m not even in the public school
system, let alone the district Sache was running. We’re on different sides
of the city, and neither of us had any business at the other person’s side.
In all accounts, Sache Blackard and Adam Packbell shouldn’t have
known that each other existed, nor should they care.
Why, then, was all that hate Sache has in me? What caused him to go at
me, and what he would do if he gets out of prison and ignores any
restraining orders to avoid me?
What does he see in me find me that’s making him this way?
It certainly not anything I’ve done. I’ve only been here for half a year.
The groundbreaking ceremony took place two weeks later. The projected
Metro and Bus station will be in a strip of land surrounding abandoned
train tracks considered for a Metrolink expansion. That’s in the future,
but for now, the place will be a bus transfer station with a bridge over
the Interstate. Even in this temporary, it’ll become a vital part of the
area’s transit system when it opens in two months.
Adam was as proud of his achievement as he was with the ’A’ in civics he
got. “I’d crow people, but not only is that too cliché for me,” Adam said
as he pointed to a mural made into a sidewalk with Peter Pan remade
into a cowboy. “Can any of you tell me who did this and not tell me?”
120
Everyone laughed, including Adam after a few seconds.
“Well, you do look like him, Adam,” a news reporter told him. “But I
guess you get that at least once every day.”
“Me? Peter Pan? With this accent? And a tail in my hair?”
“An All-American version?”
Adam chuckled, showing his top teeth and messing up his red hair. “All
that’s needed is a pixie right?”
While the camera was on Adam, the lens picked up something else: a
streak of light that came from the sky and landed hard on the desert
ground with a cloud of dust. The camera caught Adam as he scooped up
something glowing in his hand. It also caught Adam’s expression of utter
shock.
“Er, I’ve gotta go.” Adam said before he walked away, hoping that he
could get out of the area before turning back to what he was holding,
hoping that whomever he was holding won’t fall unconscious.
Or worse: Let her light go out.
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Chapter 09
24 August 1996, 8:15 PM
She felt she slept for an eternity. She thought that her light has indeed
given out, and that she faded into nothingness. Then the light shone in
her eyes.
At first, everything was a blur. As her eyes started to adjust, she noticed
the puppyish smell of a Clumbsy boy’s bedroom. She found herself lying
on a towel inside a cigar box, surrounded by books, papers, and a
strange box with a window. The image in the window was rather odd for
her; what shown there looked more like a newspaper. Under this box
was a board with many buttons on it and a large plastic jellybean with
two more buttons.
She then noticed the boy himself, sitting in front of all these and many
more strange boxes. He was preoccupied with what was in that odd
window. While tapping on the buttons on the board. Pausing on
occasions to slide the plastic jellybean around.
She didn’t know how she got here, but she knew she was still alive,
although still rather weak. She let out a little moan that reached the
boy’s ears.
“Ah,” the boy said, “You’re awake.”
She tried to stand up but felt dizzy as fell. The boy’s hand caught her
and sat her back down to the towel.
“Hold on, girl. Not until you get your strength back.”
He then picked up a strawberry on the other side of the table, and put it
near the fairy. “I hope you can eat into this. I can’t seem to cut it down
to your bite size.”
The strawberry was huge even to Clumbsy standards, a good three
inches tall. It would feed 15 fairies for a whole day, she thought as she
bit into the berry. It wasn’t the sweetest strawberry she tasted, but the
thought this boy had behind it more than made up for it, and besides,
she was hungry.
While the pixie ate, the boy saw some of her glow returning. “That’s a
relief. I thought you were just going to die on me.”
The boy returned to the three strange items. “I was worried about that.
I’ve been told a lot about you fairies and how y’awl tick, but I never
thought I’d come across a fairy myself.” The box showed a lot more
images in its screen. “Only problem is trying to find a way to nurse you
back to health, because I’m worried that you’d die from disbelief.”
122
He sighed, put his head on one hand while tapping at the plastic rock
with the other. “It ain’t like I can break the fourth wall and get the
audience to–”
Somewhere among the boxes surrounding both fairy and Clumbsy, there
was a sound of a clap. In the Clumbsy’s eyes, it came from one of the
many web pages he was accessing; it didn’t even come from an actual
human. But in the fairy’s eyes, it’s enough.
Adam noticed that the fairy’s glow brightened and strengthened as the
WAV file played. He played it again and got the same result.
He scratched his chin wondering what that could mean.
Then he got an idea.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled Prilla.bin:
In all honesty, I did not have Gail Carson Levine in mind when I named
the program after the teleporting pixie in her book. In fact, I didn’t know
that there really was a pixie like her until I showed up on the island.
She’s not a shy one; I’ll let you know. What sort of black tar candy
topping does she put in her Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs?
But at the time I started coding this program, ‘Prilla’ was the best idea I
have for a placeholder until I can think up for a better name.
The program itself came from several parts from various Google searches.
The main routine was a downloadable version of Google’s search engine.
I customized that engine with specific criteria so it looks for find bona
fide web sites positive toward fairies. The hardest part was adjusting the
parameters to keep out the false positives, smut sites, and other riff raff.
By the time I’m keying in this entry, I’ve probably spent 60 full hours
total on the parameters.
When the engine finds a site that falls within the criteria, it does three
things: One, it shows the page on the screen and plays the WAV file of
someone clapping. I later added a counter for the claps. Two, it saves
the page into a storage drive for later reference: I took a 20 Gig hard
drive and made it USB-connectable just for this. And Three, it adds the
URL into the engine so it can go through the page for additional links to
search.
It would do one of two things: It wouldn’t work, and the death of the
pixie would be a sad lesson learned, or it would work, and I have a device
that will ensure that no pixie would ever fear death by disbelief again.
123
But when I ran the final test and have the pixie on front of the screen
with both speakers aimed at her, there was a third possibility I didn’t
think of: I will blow up the poor fairy.
And a good chunk of Vegas.
Adam took one more look at the pixie. He considered what he’s about to
do for the umpteenth time this minute. He came with the same decision
every time.
Adam took a breath.
Held it in.
Prepared for the worst.
Moved his mouse to the Start button.
And clicked it.
For a long long time, nothing happened.
Adam thought there was a bug he hadn’t found yet.
And then he saw the web page pop up on Tinker Bell.
Followed by a clap.
The glow had yet to rise before the second page pop up with a clap.
Then a third.
Then a tenth.
Adam dared to breathe out as the program took off.
Finding sites from Wiccians, Children, fairy tales, nursery rhymes, and
cartoons.
Book reviews, personal stories, reference sites.
Fan Sites, Blogs, The entire contents of disney.go.com.
Every possible Peter Pan fan site in it’s numerous incarnations.
Carousels, Auditoriums, Sandboxes, Birthday Parties, Parades.
Everything becoming a blur on the screen as the clapping became a roar.
Adam blinked when these very words appeared on the screen even as
they appeared on an open source word processor . . .
“. . . now that’s one thorough search engi-”
124
The Mystran residence went up in a 200-foot tall ball of yellow-white
glittering dust, which created a golden yellow shockwave that ripped
through the entire Las Vegas skyline.
Those on the Strip and in Downtown Vegas saw the light show and
thought it was just part of the Vegas ambiance. They just said their
ooohs and ahhhs and went on their way, and some would even hearken
back to the time where they did Atomic Bomb tests not too far from the
city.
About 4,500 miles away, in the Atlantic Ocean, an uncharted island
began to feel the effects of Adam's search. What was once a quiet rustle
became a loud roar that just grew louder and louder. It came from the
skies in the west, heading full-tilt toward the island with a loud wind.
The freight train sound became the sound of jet plane engines with the
exhaust set right against everybody’s ears.
A pirate ship decided to use discretion and dropped the anchor.
Mermaids dived down to calmer waters. Off into one corner, the native
tribe hunkered down and said a quick prayer.
In a hallow deep in the oldest forests on the island, the gathering of
bright glowing lights hovered over a dove nesting on an egg. A wooden
box shelter, secured on the branches with, surrounded the dove even she
hoped was ample protection.
The fairies feared what would happen. They still remember the time
when a Class 5 hurricane assaulted the island. They remember what
happened to their dove and her egg during the storm.
The memory made what the dove said even more puzzling.
“It isn't a storm.”
“Wha?” “Can’t be anything else, darling?” “What is it then?”
“It's Claps,” a boy that looked like Adam a fairy on his shoulder. “Just
like when The Never Bird's egg was fixed. But they weren't as loud as
this.”
The blond pixie wearing a short green dress knew he was right. After all,
she was closest to the dove when that new pixie did her clap-collecting
magic. But that Clap Wave—as the fairies called it—was nothing
compared to this one. She couldn’t find the words. She could only brace
for impact.
They were all bracing for impact.
Bracing as the Mother of all Clap Waves pushed the trees inland.
125
“HOLY SH-”
The impact hit like an atomic bomb. It knocked Peter Pan and Tinker
Bell back at least three miles then rag dolled through a meadow for a
fourth. It was all Tink could do to hold on to Peter's hair and keep her
lunch down. When the two recover where they finally lands, Peter would
find that the last of his baby teeth knocked free from his mouth. Not
because of anything that happened to that egg, but because of the hard
tumbling. “Crumbs,” he'll curse through the blood in his mouth. “It
would take a month for the new teeth to push into place. How on earth
am I going to chew?”
The rest of the Island's inhabitants fared in a similar manner. At least
one thatch-roof tepee tipped over by the impact, and the Pirate Ship was
ripped off its anchor. The mermaids saw a couple new species of fish
that flowed into their lagoon water, and a couple hawks sailed into the
wind as it passed.
The hawthorn tree swayed and strained by the impact. Some of the
Popsicle sticks used in the construction of The Never Bird's shelter
creaked and the whole construct tilted a good bit to one side when the
wave was at it's most. Even the dove was worried. “Not even I’ve sensed
this many claps. Oh, My!”
Just as she said that, the wave passed. The shelter swayed back into
place to the massive cheers of the fairies, every one of them glowing so
bright they couldn’t look at each other. They’re not worried about their
retinas, though; their protective cover for their mother held! If it can
handle “The Mother of all Clap Waves,” it can surely handle a Class 5
Hurricane.
“Once we are finished celebrating our success,” The Never Bird said to a
nearby Sparrow Man—a male fairy, “let's find out where that Clap Wave
came from. It certainly didn't come from any of us.”
Vixen was the first to arrive to the Mystran residence and headed up
Adam’s room.
She found Adam in his room, sprawled on his bed out cold. “Adam, what
happened?”
That’s when she heard the bells. At first, she thought it was coming from
the computer. It was still on, and it was showing two things: A ‘Program
Crash’ sign that is rare for a Linux machine, and a staggering count:
235,748,451,346 Claps.
But that wasn’t what was making the bells.
Her eyes focused to the half-blinding ball of light hovering in front of it.
126
That’s when she saw the feminine figure hovering between her and the
computer screen. She was a strawberry blond pony-tailed fairy, glowing
a bright orange like a candle flame. Her tattered orange dress still
sparkled in a shower of fairy dust. She turned around to see the girl and
showed a shy smile.
Vixen did the one thing expected of a girl her age, living in a time she’s
in, to do when she sees a fairy for the first time.
She grabbed her, turned her over, and looked to see where the batteries
go in.
Vixen did this for about thirty seconds before Wendy arrived to the
scene.
“Vixen! What on Earth is going on . . . and what do you have there?”
That was when what was confused for a plastic doll wiggled free of
Vixen’s hands, and with a string of bells made a beeline into Adam’s hair.
Adam was just coming to while a frightened little fairy peeked out of his
hair strands. “Ooog. Why am I thinking that I should be reminded not
to do this again, when I know that I might? Uhhh.”
25 August 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled FireStorm:
Fire Storm, Stormy for short, was conceived with the first giggle of a
Japanese Schoolgirl. This is why she’s bilingual in Japanese and Pixie.
She’s picking up English as she goes, although she’s still in the phase
where what she says is some interesting Engrish lines. She also has
Japanese mannerisms, bows and all. She even considers me her
’sempai.1’
All Never Fairies are Excerpts in a given talent, and as I stated elsewhere
Fire Storm’s talent is fire. She can create fire on the spot and can
control it as well, sending fire to places with pinpoint accuracy from a
candle’s flicker to an epic forest fire. She can also keep fire from burning
what she doesn’t want burnt. I don’t want to try it yet, but I’m sure that
she can completely engulf me in flames and not get singed. (She already
did it with my hand once, just to show me what she could do.)
Fire-talent fairies have a different make-up from other Never Fairies is
that the source of their talent doesn’t come from faerie dust. It comes
1 Pop-up: I refer to the senior-junior ’Sempai-Kohai’ relationship used in many organizations in
Japan, including Schools and Businesses
127
from the sun, and a fire-talent fairy can regain their strength by resting
in a sunny place and sunbathe. As a side effect, the stored energy
returns in the form of their own dust; they can generate their own rather
than grinding up molted feathers save in emergencies. More on that
later. In a high-temperature region like Southern Nevada, this means
that Fire Storm can generate enough dust to be Mother Dove to other
pixies.
It was with Stormy that I first heard of pixie-slash-faerie dust in its
normal setting. I asked for a sample in a vial, which she was glad to
offer once I got her up to speed with what’s going on. She promised that
she’d help me find my answers as much as she wanted to get back to the
island.
Fire Storm herself may be the answer to all of my questions. A deus ex
machina with a cute face and glowing wings.
Fire Storm's orange glow makes for a perfect disguise as she watched
Wendy talk with some concerned fire marshals about what happened last
night. She just sat on an unlit candle in plain view. Any human would
just look right at her and just see a candle they think is lit. It was all she
could do not to ring out a giggle over the silliness of Clumbsies. It's an
apt common noun for a human being.
“You've seen the news, haven't you, Ms. Mystran? That explosion in your
house is on all the news channels, from the Alphabet networks to Al
Jazera. But I don't know which is more shocking...”
“The fact that my house isn't as much as singed?”
“Or what happened to everywhere else in town. There was a rash of
miraculous recoveries in all the hospitals in the wake of that 'explosion,'
they run the whole gamut: Cuts and scrapes, a stiff leg, indigestion,
hangovers, overdoses, broken bones, heart attacks, strokes, terminal
cancers, even persistent vegetated states. No doubt you know of Roy
Horn.”
“The one mistaken by a kitten by one of his White Tigers?”
“None other. This morning, he got off his wheelchair and stood on his
own, just as if nothing happened with Montecore. He's having a medical
examination but I just know that he's fully recovered. While the news
hadn't fingered the address of the explosion's source, I heard that
Sigfried Fischbacher would want to talk to your son.”
“He's going to stand in line behind me, I'm afraid.” Wendy said in an
authoritarian tone with her arms crossed. “It seems that there's little
that happens around my home that he isn’t involved in. I'm sure that he
has to answer to this.”
128
“At least nobody was really hurt, unless you count the husband turned
in by his wife who had her feeding tube yanked out five hours before the
event. I hope you go easy on him.”
Wendy turned toward the candle and winked. Fire Storm got the hint
that Sempai isn't in that deep in trouble as she let on.
“He'll at least be in his room until all this blows over. If there isn't
anything else?”
Stormy saw the man tip his hat to Wendy and leave. She waited for
Wendy to signal an 'all clear' before leaving the candle and settled on her
shoulder.
“Oh, I'm not mad at my son, sweet girl.” she said to Fire Storm. “I've
seen him do worse, and I would have suspected he'd pull off something
like this when he thinks it would save a pixie's life. And that's what he
did, did he?”
She chuckled as he heard bells from the Never Fairy. “Besides, I always
wanted to have one of you flit around my house anyway. What's that
proper greeting of yours, I think I remember....'Fly with me?'”
It was formed as a question, but the intention was understood. Fire
Storm gave a happy ring accompanied by a good number of hearts.
“So, Fire Storm, eh?” Wendy said as she entered the kitchen.
The pixie nodded, looking over to Adam who was favoring his temples.
She bounced away from Wendy's shoulder and settled onto Adam's.
Wendy could tell that she's talking to him though she only heard bells.
“Ah'm okay, Stormy. Just trying to keep the masses at bay.”
“That’s the name you’ve given her?”
“No, Mom. That’s what she told me she’s.”
“You can hear her voice? All I hear is bells.”
“Yeah. Probably by all the claps I gave her.”
“I’d bet. Over 200 Billion! You’ve blown me away at the number. The
most the play can get is a few thousand. There’s a story in the works
about a pixie that can collect claps and get past a million. But you and
that search engine...I’m just gobsmacked.”
While Wendy was sill wrapping her head over the sheer number, she saw
Tara walk up from the basement with a large box in her hands. “Here’s
the doll house, Wendy,” she said.
“Lovely,” Wendy said as she waved Fire Storm over. “There’s something I
made when I was a teenager, in the event that I actually have a pixie
visitor...”
129
Fire Storm was surprised at the size of the revealed dollhouse and the
realistic look of a Clumbsy’s house as Tara placed it by the kitchen sink
by all the desert flowers.
“...I started with a Barbie house and just tinkered with it some, adding a
working electrical and plumbing network....” she said as a power
transformer was plugged in place and an connector was screwed into the
a sink hose sprayer with plastic tube that led to a reservoir in the house.
“. . . Think of this as your place to stay for as long as you want...”
Fire Storm thanked Wendy with a bow and flew through the front door.
She was surprised how well made the dollhouse was. It had working
lights and a digital radio. It took a while for the water to reach the sink,
but it did so when Stormy left the tap on enough, hearing the water
tinkle their way through the plastic piping.
The house was spacious, enough to make Clumbsies jealous if it were
their size. It had a large living room, kitchen with some of the appliances
working. A two-level outdoor patio with a swimming pool that Stormy
watched filling up. A bedroom with a plush bed, dresser drawers, and a
wardrobe. And a working bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower,
which Stormy used to get the grime caused by being thrown across the
planet and making a crater in desert sand.
Her wings got drenched of course, but she didn’t care, rinsing herself off
was the one thing she needed in a long time. What happened to her was
a tough ordeal for any species, and she felt very tired because of it. She
thanked her lucky stars that she was found by such considerate—as well
as very resourceful—Clumbsies that saved her life and gave her a place
to stay. She hoped that she could find her way back to Neverland, she
thought of her home in a hollow on that island where most of the fairies
life, close to the dove that adopted them all as their mother. She wished
she’ll come back there one day, but for now, a much needed good shower
and a much needed nap.
Stormy had to hand it to the woman Clumbsy (reminded her of The
Wendy that Peter Pan had around, and did she say that she has the
same name? Yes, she did.) who made this house. She thought of
everything in her scale model representation, including using cut paper
towels for her to dry herself off. With a towel wrapped around her waist,
she opened the wardrobe to find a collection of outfits, most of them
made from Barbie outfits, which to her surprise looks like they would fit
her. Some of them even resembled storybook characters, and Stormy did
have to chuckle when she found a reproduction of Tinker Bell’s dress.
She put it back of course; Green’s not her color.
She found a couple other items that she would like—with her favorite
warm colors of Red and Orange—before she found a 2-piece string bikini
and matching pair of pumps. She put them on and walked over to a
lounge chair on the patio outside, where she laid down, spread out her
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wings to dry, and soaked in the sun, felling the warmth add to her
strength and generating the dust as fire-talent pixies are known to do.
She spent the next couple of hours soaking up the rays and taking in the
aroma of the cactus flowers when she heard a girl’s voice enter the
Clumbsy room her home is in. She recognized the voice: It was the
Clumbsy girl who mistook her for some toy.
Ring. (Humph.)
Poor girl didn’t know fairies existed until she hovered in front of her.
Fire Storm saw that the girl realized her error, because the girl—Vixen by
name, according to Adam-Sempai—was offering a gift as an apology: A
pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt. “I hope the holes in the back were big
enough.”
When Fire Storm put them on over the bikini—judging by the huge blush
on Vixen’s face, swimwear consisting of square patches connected by
string weren’t considered appropriate even in Clumbsy standards—she
nodded her approval. The slits where the wings slide through the shirt
were just right. Either she had help knowing where to cut or it was
beginner’s luck.
“Good. Aunt Wendy helped me with the cuts.”
Vixen heard a series of bells in sync to Stormy’s mouth. Okay, so I was
right the first time. Aweh, is that Pocky!?
Indeed, it was; Vixen made a stop along her doll-clothing trip to snag a
bag of candies. There was a mixed variety, some hard, some soft, some
sweet, some hots, and even a couple chocolates, which Fire Storm bit
into first. She missed enjoying the melting confection that her bell
ringing included hearts that appeared all around her.
“It seems that Fire Storm thinks you’re okay, Vixen, with her settling on
your shoulder.”
“That’s her name.”
“That’s what Adam told me. I can only hear bells.”
Hmmm. They can’t hear my voice. Adam-sempai? I wonder where he is.
“Ah’m tellin’ ya, Vic.” Adam said on the phone. “It just ain’t sumthin’ ah
can put into words without y’awl laughin’ at me. Yeah, It’s big enough t’
crank up mah accent. Once ya seen th’ source of that explosion, ya’ll
know why. Of course ah’m tellin’ y’awl to c’m ovah, Robbie’s making a
Bar-B-Q at mah place. You’ll find out then.”
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There was enough hearts to litter the felt-carpeted plastic floor. That's
how many Fire Storm made as she looked herself over in the main outfit
Vixen found for her. A modest summer dress with a thigh-length skirt, a
vest with hearts, fingerless gloves, and shoes with pom poms on the tips.
She thought she looked like a pixie should, with bright colors to match
their bright glow.
Kawaii! Arigato, Vixen-san! I always wanted something like this back in
Pixie Hollow.
Stormy chided herself an instant later, remembering the Vixen-san can’t
hear her voice, only the bells, but the Clumbsy realized what she was
trying to get across and said “Your Welcome, Stormy,” anyway.
“¡Ole, amigos!” Roberto said, announcing his arrival to the Mystran
home with his pork chops, seasonings, sauce, and charcoal, which he
poured into the grill by the time Adam showed up. “Hey, Adam, I got the
stuff ready to go. All I need to do is find the charcoal lighting fluid.”
“Oh, I have the sinking feeling that you won’t be needing that.”
Adam saw the glowing light hover over to the grill, but Roberto didn’t see
it.
“Could that be related to what happened last night, Adam? What did
you do, hommes? Use the Internet to clap a pixie back to life? That
would be like using a lighting bolt as a defli-”
That would be when the contents in the grill erupted in a fireball.
Roberto jerked back, muttering something that sounded like Spanish.
He didn’t get the chance to realize what he said, because on the next
instant, he saw what caused the fireball: A pixie, all five inches of Fire
Storm, bowing at him.
Blingblingbling Ringaling (Healthy Fire for Happy Burgers)
Roberto had to blink some before turning to Adam.
“¿Where do you put the batteries, Adam?”
“Remember what I said about what everyone really thinks of Fairies,
Adam,” Wendy said as she carried the roasted corncobs over to the
outdoor table as Adam brought the iced tea. “It isn’t that they don’t
believe, it’s just that they didn’t know they exist. More often than not
they’d just see Fire Storm and see a pixie for the first time . . .”
“And wondering what toy companies can’t do with their dolls these days,”
Adam said as he arrived to the patio table with a doll-sized table set in
the middle for the pixie with all the others around her.
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“I thought she was a plastic doll too, Adam.”
“We all fell for that, Jei”
Bling Bling Bling (I doubt tendency)
“Well that’s easy to do, Vic, seeing how cute she is.”
“Si, Vix. That one muchacha muy caliente.”
There was a bunch of giggle-rings from the doll-sized setting, and heartshapes bounced for a moment on the table.
“¿See? The chicks did it when I speak Spanish.”
Jei snickered and elbowed Roberto. “Where’d you get her Dress, Vix?
Looks like one of those Anime collectables. A customized version of
Powerpuff Girls Z if I remember right.”
“Oh, I mixed and matched. I’m surprised that I actually enjoyed playing
with dolls, even living ones, no offense, Stormy.”
Fire Storm just smiled and snacked on a kernel of popcorn.
“What surprises me is that y’awl are so welcoming toward her.
Especially you three.” Adam motioned to Jei, Roberto, and Victor.
“For all of five seconds, I thought you did do a Google Search on ‘Do you
Believe in Fairies?’ judging from what happened last night. Either that
or Disneyland exploded.”
Victor paused and then realized what Adam was worried about.
“Come on, Adam. Like we’re going to not believe our own eyes and undo
your effort in reviving her. I don’t think I want another explosion.”
The others nodded in agreement, as Vixen tapped the seat next to her.
Adam knew it was a clue for him to sit next to her.
“Besides, she’s too darn cute and her ability comes in handy. I’ve just
seen her weld a fork back together after Robert here went and broke a
tine off.”
“Si, I kid you not. She just put the broken off piece in it’s place and
spark welded it back on.”
“Yeah, guys, that talent of hers will come in handy in the coming
months. Like you’re building hobby, Jei.”
“Hai. Fire Storm can help out with some weld jobs, and then even pose
with them if she’s inclined.”
Fire Storm blinked and blinged at this.
“Oh, Wonderful, Jei.” Adam said. “That’s an image stuck in my head for
the rest of the day.”
Victor stood up for an impersonation: “What up Dog! This is Big C for
Street Fury, and this . . .” He pokes his finger in a shirt pocket. “It's the
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World’s Smallest Model Girl. All Five Inches of Fire Storm. Hmm Hmm
Hmm! I do believe in Fairies, I do, I do!!”
That produced as much groans as laughter, as well as a pat on the head
from Tara Kit, who was filling up drinks. Jei only commented to Adam,
who was hiding his face in his hands, that he’d start small with Stormy,
with her own model car that works.
“Tara, dear,” Victor said, giving the foxgirl robot a touch on the sleeve of
her normal maid dress. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
“If I ever have the need to eat food instead of recharging, hon, I would
have.” Tara said as she set his glass down. Unknown to everyone else,
Tara let her brushy tail stroke Victor’s him. “Now keep your mind out of
the gutter.”
Victor’s reaction, however, was clear to all.
“All right you two,” Wendy said. “One surprising event at a time.”
“I know of their relationship, Mom.”
Wendy waved her hands in an attempt to get this segue in the
conversation to stop. “Before we go on to Victor’s taste in girlfriends, I
want to know about what you thought about the most obvious thing to
do with Stormy.”
Adam blinked.
“Fly,” Wendy said. “You know. Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust. That sort of
thing?”
Indeed. It wasn’t anywhere in Adam’s (or anyone else’s) mind until just
then.
Adam thought long and hard that night about how he’s going to try out
this flying. It’s not the flying bit that’s bothering Adam, that would be
what he’d smack into if he falls. Concrete, dirt, desert plants, water,
steel, glass, and God knows what else. The last thing Adam wants to do
is die while trying something stupid.
While he was walking around trying to find an answer to this dilemma,
he found something all but abandoned in an empty lot: A trampoline
with a protective web all around, topped with a padded lip. A perfect
place to fall into in the event of an aborted launch. Adam looked back
and forth to see if there’s nobody else around and decided that he’ll try it
there.
He weaved through the protective webbing and stepped into the center of
the trampoline.
“Dust me, Stormy.”
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“Be careful, Adam-Sempai.” Fire Storm said as she sprinkled a good
amount of dust above Adam. “Don’t inhale too much, it makes
Clumbsies go wonky.”
“Ah’ll keep it in mind, darlin’.” Adam said as he rubbed it into his arms
as if he was taking a shower.
As he patted his hands on his pants. He noticed two things about pixie
dust.
One, it glowed just like the particles in his bloodstream. In fact, he
might even find out that Fire Storm’s dust has the same molecular
makeup as the keratin particles.
And two, he felt himself lighter and lighter as the dust coats him in a soft
glow. He couldn’t even feel the trampoline surface with his feet.
He was floating in the air, about a few inches up.
These particles in your bloodstream is resisting the magnetic pull of Earth’s
Gravity, Adam remembered Justin Kinto say. This is why you’re so light
on your feet . . .if you have enough of these particles with a strong enough
charge, I’m certain that you’ll be able to fly.
He filed that part for later.
He began to bounce, finding the stretched rubber sheet on the way down.
He gave a good dozen bounces to get up to speed.
His head was above the padding on top of the webbing.
That was when he put some umph into it.
One . . .
He cleared the padding ring all the way, hovered there for a moment, and
then dropped back down to
Two!
He jumped over the buildings and hung there! Adam fought a bout of
vertigo when he looked down and saw the small circle that was the
trampoline. But he felt himself float down, much slower than gravity.
He made sure that he would fall inside the circle before gravity resumed
and he
THREE!!
He went fifteen stories straight up before he knew it, and still going up
into the night sky! He managed to level off at an estimated height of one
of the Strip Casinos.
He felt a sense of total weightlessness combined with an equal amount of
solitude. He was in the darkness of the night sky, with only the stars
above and the city lights below, with him floating between.
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He hovered there knowing that he’ll won't fall. Not in this minute, not in
this night, not ever.
Indeed, the piece that fell into place would have to wait.
Because Adam found out that he can fly.
He can fly, he can fly, he can fly.
“Well,” Adam said, “Cock-a-doodle-doo.”
That line was spoken. The “YAHOOO!”s that came later as he flew over
the houses, those were louder. He swooped through the streets at
speeds faster than what was legal in a car. He spiraled over an
abandoned warehouse near NGT and looped over the Interstate on the
way back home.
He realized something when he saw his house below him: How is he
going to tell this to his parents? Much less the rest of the world.
His mother, who was waiting on the roof, answered that question. Being
a descendant of The Wendy, she was overjoyed when she saw him float
over to her.
“I knew you could do it, Adam,” She said as she hugged him. “I always
knew you could.”
His father, who was with her, agreed with a nod. “Nice going, son. I’m
proud of you.”
But it was Vixen, who was there as well, who had the most excitement.
“Let me join you! I wanna fly with the eagles!”
Adam held out his hand for her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take her
home.”
When Vixen touched his hand, she saw the glow flow down her arm and
over her body, and she felt gravity release its hold on her. Even Todd felt
it, who whined a bit in the baby carriage vest Vixen wore.
Adam lifted her up to his level, a good yard off the roof. And with her
arm in his, the two flew away.
“Bring her home by Midnight,” Wendy said.
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Chapter 10
September 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
Summer96Recap:
Last night I dreamed that I would’ve graduated High School a year early
if it weren’t for Civics. Which I had to take the final text five times before
I could pass it. I ended up missing the mid-year graduation ceremony
because of it. One last rail on the resident geek.
It’s nice to know that I’ve gotten this little annoyance out of the way in
real life. St. Norbert’s gave me an A in Civics because of my activities
during the summer. I’m still doing the happy dance while I’m typing
this. Fire Storm keeps egging me on.
In other news, not only was Blackard finished as a principle of North
Vegas High, but so was North Vegas High. The vacancy was filled by
someone who, when he inspected the building, suffered a flashback. He
claimed that the building looked just like a Nazi concentration camp and
demanded it razed at once.
Let the record state that the new principle isn’t a Holocaust survivor. His
father was. But that didn’t stop the images of kids thrown into Sache
Blackard’s ovens by his Master Class.
That was the crowning jewel to the flood of reports from Sache’s
detractors. The school board had to make a controversial decision and
close the building down. This occurred a week after the new principal’s
term; the school board had little more than a month from the start of the
school year to find a new building. They found a new one in a couple
days, but converting them into classrooms and reworking all the bus
routes required a three-week extension of Summer Break.
I shouldn’t have to include this as well, but the new principal is also an
orthodox Jew. Yeah. I can assume that the expulsion of Josh Blackard
and his goons was over them saying something anti-semantic. Last year
the ‘Master Class’ of North Vegas High was the upper crust of their
society. Now they’re nothing more than a street gang of hooligans with a
bad case of Beer Goggles. How else do you explain the belief in Jews
being bloodthirsty controllers of everything? This ranks up there with
seeing Janet Reno as a Playboy Centerfold.
And yes, they were saying bad intentions to me as well. At least by now I
have a sword and know how to use it. It’s a loaner sakabato until Dad
comes back from Japan this fall with my very own reversed blade sword
for a Christmas present. Made out of lightweight Titanium and molded
like a bird’s wing. Already dreaming about it.
137
If I’m not worried about this problem: I can fly. How can I use it in
public? And should I?
And what can I do to keep Fire Storm safe? I don’t want her to end up
dying from someone’s disbelief and force me to use that search program
again. I doubt Vegas could survive another blast like that.
Fire Storm stood on Mother Sharon’s desk in a bright red kimono. She
resembled a lit candle, and smelled of cinnamon. Adam still worried
about showing her to others, but he was doing the first thing he always
did with problems that are over his head: He talked to the few GrownUps he trusted, and that includes Mother Sharon.
“I wonder how many people thought you were some high tech doll,”
Mother Sharon said to the fairy.
Fire Storm just rolled her eyes.
“So you’re a real live fairy, huh?”
“That she is,” Adam said, “but I wonder about people not believing she
exists when she’s right in front of . . .”
“That’s what they said about the coelacanth. Adam.”
“Wha?”
“A prehistoric fish. Long thought extinct three hundred million years
ago. Then someone caught one off the coast of East Africa.” She paused
as leaned back to Fire Storm, but she still talked to Adam. “I take it that
you can fly as well.”
“How’d’ya-”
“I only guessed, knowing what little I know about pixies. Okay, your
mother told me about it too. I appreciate you not doing that indoors.”
“Yeah. Ah dunno about doing it in the daytahm tho’.”
“Hmmm?”
“I had two problems come up back to back. One, I don’t know if showing
Fire Storm to the public. I know my family believes in them, and you
surprised me with you being friendly toward her, but what about
everybody else.”
“Well, remember what your mother said. It’s not that we won’t believe
out of our own volition, it’s because we have so much more things on our
minds. We get so preoccupied with our day-to-day lives that the
existence of fey creatures gets pushed farther and farther into the
background until we only see one in a Disney flick and children’s stories.
Having Fire Storm here as an ambassador could very well bring us back
138
to them.” Mother Sharon nodded to the pixie, which nodded back with a
bell ring.
“But the second one is worse: Should I fly in public? What would
happen if someone sees me zipping above them?”
“I understand your concern, Adam. You’ve found an incredible gift given
by this micro-sized angel.” Sharon nodded toward Fire Storm who
blinged a smile. “I believe that God wouldn’t have her do so unless he
knows that you’re able to use it well. You’ll know what to do when the
time is right.”
Sharon then put a reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder. “It’ll all come in
time.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled SpandexCases:
I didn’t say everything about my concerns about flying in public. I could
think of two things that’ll go into a grown-up’s mind when he or she
catches me zipping above their heads. Okay, three things: Where’s the
Wires? I just remembered that I still live in Vegas.
The other two are polar opposites: Either they see me as some mutant
freak, or they see me as some super hero. You ask me, I’d prefer the
Mutie label.
Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mind being the hero. There’s a part of me
that needs at least one good deed a day. It’s not anything I think about;
It’s nothing any All-American kid won’t do. Besides, I get a kick out of it,
I get jazzed, the world around me gets the volume turned down. I feel so
Zen.
Some people join clubs they’re not supposed to talk about in normal
conversation to get this feeling. Me? I help old ladies, climb trees to
rescue cats, and on occasion, I kick some jackoff in the nuts so he can
drop the kid he’s abducting or use that loaner sakabato to take out the
idiot robbing a nearby casino.
“I had to do it, officer,” I’d say. “This bastard could break into my house
and kill my Mom, and I’ll find out who he is when I play Iron Chef with
his hide; with my blade flipped over may I add. Do you think I can
handle that much grief?”
That is what I learned while reading Spider-Man. Not that “With Great
Powers come Great Responsibility” bull crap. That’s the kind of lessons
learned by Super Heroes.
Super Heroes.
139
Comic Book Characters.
Power Rangers.
Saturday Morning Fluffery.
Spandex Cases.
I have nothing against any single Super Hero, it’s the concept itself the
rubs me the wrong way. They get a super power, and the first thing they
do is put on a gaudy costume with a mask and go out beating up every
little bad guy they come across. And some of these vigilantes get so
damned powerful it’s not even funny.
That and I think that the gaudy Crayola colored spandex and a full-face
mask just tells me you have something to hide.
If I want to wear a something like that, I’ll unstuff my two tailed fox
costume and wear it.
All that makes my choice of College Majors all the more inviting: I can be
a journalist who can fly on his own power. Just give me a camera with a
strap so I won’t drop it from rooftop height.
A couple of my friends would claim that if Spandex Case hating
publisher J.J. Jameson was the one who got bit by that radiated spider,
he’d end up taking a similar route. Someone who has super powers, but
isn’t identified with them.
As I walked home from St. Norberts that day, I found out that a super
powered J.J. may not be a bad way to go with my flying in public.
Even though I think that J.J. would drink himself to death if he thought
of that.
Adam was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t see that car that
sped through the alleyway he was walking in.
Until he was standing on a light post. Fortunately for him, his fight-orflight reflex doesn’t have such a quarrel.
“Fucking Road Ragers!!”
The chase continued on to the next block where the speeder crashed. He
babbled on about a boy who took off straight up to avoid being run over
while he was being cuffed. The cops just thought he was drunk on booze
as well as speed.
Adam just shook his head, and then wondered how he’s going to get
down. He can just jump off and let the pixie dust slow the descent so
that he’ll land as soft as a feather, but what if someone else shows up?
Adam moaned for a second.
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Another second later, he heard something that made his problems moot:
A cry for help.
He saw it all from his vantage point: A hotel fire three blocks away, and
a large woman, African descent, with a girl in her arms and smoke
coming out of the windows below.
He thought about letting Las Vegas’s Bravest handle the situation.
And then he heard Mother Sharon’s Voice again.
You’ll know what to do when the time is right.
Before he knew it, he flew to the balcony the woman—wide eyed in utter
shock—was standing on.
“I’ll get your baby down, ma’am.”
“You’ll get my . . . Who’s got you?!”
The little girl, little more than a year old, leapt from Mother to Adam, and
the child got a ride of her life in a gentle free fall to a waiting fire truck.
Only a shattered vase kept the woman from wondering how this young
man could fly like that. “I don’t see no wires.”
A news cameraman on the ground wondered where the wires were as
well before Adam landed in front of him. There’s no harness or track
above him. Nothing but open sky . . .
Adam tried to hand him the child. “Keep an eye on her while I get her
mother, please?”
The cameraman didn’t know what to do, but an explosion from the
building distracted him enough for Adam to switch the camera with the
kid.
Adam didn’t know that the camera was still on at this time, and it was
set on a good enough angle on the ground to see him catch the woman
as the balcony’s railing gave way.
The impact was like two sumo wrestlers, and it nearly drove Adam to the
ground. He managed to slow down the falling, but not without some
strain.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said as Adam struggled to get to a level landing
field. “I knew I shouldn’t been in that buffet.”
The woman almost had to scrape Adam off the lawn he landed on; he
tried to apologize not rescuing them better on all fours and panting.
It took him a while for Adam to look up at the woman and smiled, “Iz
okay, ma’am.”
He heard a giggle from the child.
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As a grateful mother was hugging him, he saw the glowing ball cross his
face on the way into the sky.
Five hours later, Kiarra arrived on the courtyard in Neverland’s Fairy
Hollow. A Light-Talent Never Fairy with a rare trait of having dark skin.
She also remembered some scenes while she was still a giggle, another
rarity.
She talked of a Neverland set in the middle of a desert, and of a flying
boy who was very much like the Peter Pan the fairies know of.
Tinker Bell wondered about this the most: How can there be another
Pan? Should she tell Peter? How could she say it?
The Press was upon Adam within a half hour. Adam stood in front of
several microphones at his face, and his ears heard so many questions
asked to him in rapid-fire fashion that he couldn’t even start. It didn’t
take him long for him to have enough.
“EVERYBODY PLEASE!!”
Some saw the outburst as a sign to back off.
“Ah . . . Ah don’t think ah can tell you ev’ry’thin’ raite now,” Adam didn’t
talk as much as he stammered. “b’caus ah don’t think ah c-can tell it
innna way so that y’awl can believe it. But ah assure y’awl, once ah’m
able to, ah’ll be makin’ a Power Point style report fo’ all of y’awl t’ see.
Just, please, beah with me.”
“Sorry about this, Adam.” One reporter said. “I know you wanted to be
the reporter, but you didn’t expect to be on the other end.”
“Nah, this heah came outta left field. Just like dat fiah.”
“We might need to find a way for you to calm down, son. You’re
steaming1. We could barely hear what you’re saying.”
“Mah apologies, y’awl. Mah accent gets worse when ah get nervous.”
“It’s just that we all saw you flying. Outside.”
“Without a wire harness.”
“Without wires.”
“I’d like to hear what you know about this power of yours, when you’re
ready.”
1 Link to the Glossary in Adam’s Wiki: ‘Steaming:’ A Poker term for losing your composure.
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The other reporters nodded. They realized the need to play softball for
now. There’s plenty of time to deliver the harder questions.
“Ah just hope yawl won’t raise a stink. Ah’ve heard about what
happened to some spandex cases in New Yawk...”
“That ‘Spandex Case,’ Adam, was a vigilante,” said a voice of someone
Adam recognizes: Oscar. “You were rescuing a family from a burning
building. That was different.”
“And besides, this is Nevada.” Oscar said as he walked up to Adam,
holding a billfold. “None of us would mind at all if you flew off to the
rescue or be a Good Samaritan. In fact, we have a way to handle heroes
like yourself, Adam.”
Oscar opens the billfold to reveal a classic tin star, a Deputy’s tin star.
“We deputize them.”
Adam’s eyes widen at the sight of the Deputy Star. It had his name on it.
“The Mayor and the Sheriff wanted to give you this earlier, after what
happened with Sache and other previous good deeds.”
Adam tried to protest, putting a hand behind his head. “It’s nothing.
Any All-American kid would do stuff like this.”
“Nonetheless, it’s something we encourage.”
Oscar took the Deputy Star, pinned it on Adam’s vest, and shook his
hand.
“You can fly in our airspace anytime, Partner.”
Applause rang out around the room. As well as other words of
encouragement. As mysterious as it was, even to Adam’s eyes, his fears
over flying in public vanished with a handshake and a press report.
That reminded him.
“Like ah said, I’ll let you know when Ah know more, okay. I have my
blog so keep in touch . . .”
October 1996
And so they did, even as they keep an eye in the sky for “Vegas’s Own
Peter Pan,” or so news crews called him on television and Newspapers
pages. There was only a week after the Fire Incident that Adam gave his
first tape to the nightly news: A car chase Adam taped as he flew mere
feet behind the cop cars, and in some cases even the speeder. Adam’s
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‘Cruise Missile Height’ viewpoint was a topic of conversation by the time
Adam made his next visit to NGT. It was on Fox News and CNN.
Most of the people in the labs weren’t looking at the monitors. They
hovered around a table where Nitsan hovered over a glowing object. She
was happy as a child under the Christmas tree.
“Oh, you’re such cutie!” she said to the Honest to God live pixie as she
measured her wingspan.
Fire Storm cooperated with all this poking and prodding, measuring and
recording, scanning and picture taking; she even had on an orange onepiece swimsuit with pom-pom slippers for the occasion—her take on
Tinker Bell’s dress.
Everyone around wondered who was more surprised: Grown-Up
Clumbsies seeing an actual Never Fairy, or Fire Storm seeing Grown-Up
Clumbsies that believe that Never Fairies exist.
Nevertheless, these Grown-Ups did believe, and they were quite gentle
toward Fire Storm, even apologetic. They even placed some fruit and
candies for her to snack on.
When Fire Storm noticed a stack of Post-It Notes by the sweets she was
eating, she thought she’d thank these Clumbsies.
She sprinkled some of her dust on the pad and made words appear.
Fortunately for the scientists, one of them knew Japanese Kanji.
“She wrote ‘Thank you for the sweets, everyone.’ on the paper,” that
scientist said. “She must’ve come from a giggle from some child from
Japan.
“Really,” Nitsan said. “I wonder how Adam and friends recognize what
she said. I know Adam could translate bells we’re . . .”
By this time, Fire Storm ripped the tip sheet away and did the same
sprinkle. This time it was in English, or rather, Engrish:
“I have learned English still. I possess that problem still.”
The scientist who knew Japanese tried to console the pixie. “Don’t worry
about it too much, Stormy-chan. We all had that stage . . .”
Nitsan realized what is going on. “Wait a minute. Stormy’s writing looks
like what’s in Adam’s book. Justin must know this!”
Fire Storm also donated a good amount of pixie dust for study. The
supply filled a 20oz bottle.
Justin sprinkled a pinch of the stuff on Adam’s blood sample.
144
He held it up and let it drop.
He watched it slow down, stop in mid-air, then start floating up.
“Eureka, Mister Packbell, I think you’ve got it!”
Adam hovered in the air above Justin. “So you found out they’re the
same stuff as in my blood?”
“Exactly.” Justin said. “As I hypothesized, the more dust you absorb the
greater the effects, until you’re able to fly about as you are right now.”
“And to think we’ve been studying pixie dust all this time. You wouldn’t
believe it if it was named that at first, I know.”
Justin had to nod. “True. Like most of the people here, I didn’t think
Fairies of any stripe existed in reality. Until today when you brought Fire
Storm with you.”
“Coelacanth, dude. Coelacanth.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Coelacanth:
“Prehistoric fish, once thought extinct over millions of years, then
somebody caught one off the coast of Madagascar.” -- Line from a
Volkswagen Ad.
Link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coelacanth – Coelacanth entry on
Wikipedia.
One of the frequently asked questions is why I have this fish on the
Vegas Lost Boys insignia, when a Pixie would be more appropriate. The
answer makes a lot of sense if you think about it:
This is a fish everyone thought was extinct. But it still exists, sometimes
at the end of a fishing pole. If we live in a world that the Coelacanth still
lives and breathes, then Never Fairies shouldn’t be too far behind.
A Side Note: When my Clap Wave hit Neverland, several new species of
fish found their way into the waters around the Island. A school of
Coelacanth was among the introduced species.
“Right.” Justin thought for a moment. “If you assume that all this is
true. That you can fly like Peter Pan; you even look like him. That there
is such a thing as Pixie Dust and Fairies and all that. There should
145
come to the question as to whatever Neverland exists. And if it does,
where is it?”
“Yeah. I know of some people here who’d be interested in going there in
the name of science. I wasn’t sure if you’d be any interested in it
though.”
“Not as much as Nitsan, I’d admit.” Justin returned to the filled 20oz
bottle. “But this stuff here, this has promise. I want to know more
about it and what it can do.”
“I want to try things with it not even Walt Disney thought of. But I worry
about people wanting to get to this stuff.”
“You’re worried about someone using this for a bad purpose?”
“I’m worried about so many people wanting this that its source is
destroyed. I don’t want this gold-laying goose killed.”
Justin nodded. “Let’s keep this quiet for now then, Adam. For now only
NGT, your family, and your friends need to know.”
“Nice to know you included my mates, since they’re just showing up.”
“Man, Adam!” Victor said as he arrived to the room with the other three
in tow. “It still freaks me out seeing you do that.”
“Oh stop complaining,” Vixen said as she went over to give Adam a hug.
As she did, she started to hover off the ground as well. “I think it’s cute.”
“Besides, he needs to practice!” Jei said. “He needs to level up, get more
MP. Improve his Flight Skill.”
Everyone looked at Jei.
“What? I said this is like a RPG! A Real Life Comic Book! Look at him!
Nevermind NGT; we should have Professor Xavier look at him!”
Justin wasn’t plussed. “I don’t think he’s a mutant, Jei.”
“I have to admit it suits him though,” Roberto added. “Are you done with
Fire Storm, Senior Kinto?”
“I am, I don’t know about . . . Nitsan?”
Nitsan entered the room with Fire Storm. “Adam! Good News! Bring out
your book. I found something important.”
With the book out, Nitsan asked the pixie to write on another Post-It
note.
“Note how it writing rather than what being written. I knew it!” Nitsan
said. “Pixie writing matches writing on book, fire effect and all.”
Everyone in the room felt that another piece fell into place. “That’s
great.” “Whoa. Just like the book?”
146
“So, Mr. Kinto, the stuff in this book and in Adam is the same stuff that’s
in Stormy’s Pixie Dust?”
“That’s what we’ve just stated, Jei,”
“Not like an RPG, eh?” Jei backed away singing the Final Fantasy Victory
theme.
“So that could explain how the writing changes, especially with those six
numbers on the cover.”
“You could have something there. Those numbers mean something, but
what?”
“Do you think that it might lead us to Neverland?”
Everyone paused as Victor asked that.
“Come on, folks. Fire Storm’s a bona fide Never Fairy. Adam looks like
Peter Pan, flies like Peter Pan, has his aging process frozen for a decade
and a half like Peter Pan. I hear he has a costume to look just like Peter
Pan. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if Adam Packbell is Peter Pan! If all
this is real,” Victor circled his finger around the room, “Then Neverland is
real, guys! We just have to find that island.”
Adam fell quiet when Victor said what was in everyone’s heart. What if
all this is true . . .
“My Dad always said,” Adam said as he lowered himself to the floor and
sighed, “That if you believe something with all your heart and mind, that
it can become real. With him and my mother’s love, I was able to become
Peter for them. At times I even believe that I’m Peter too. But no matter
how much I like all this . . . somehow . . . I feel that something’s off. I
don’t know what. If I’m not really ‘the boy who won’t grow up,’ I could be
somewhere close.” He closed his eyes. “I feel that my answers lie there,
but if I go there. Would I be able to . . .”
He couldn’t find the words: Should he find Neverland and return there. Is
he supposed to go back there and leave his new life behind . . .
“Adam?”
He felt Vixen’s hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll be with you. All the way.”
The other guys chimed in tune.
“All of us,” said Victor.
“Hai,” Jei said. “We’re in your party.”
“After all,” Victor added, “You’re our Peter Pan.”
“And we’re your Lost Boys,” said Roberto.
147
As Adam heard the others agree, Adam smiled. A warm, welcomed smile.
“And Vegas will be our Neverland.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
VegasLostBoysOrigin:
At this time I still didn’t know if I was actually Peter Pan with amnesia,
or one of Peter’s Lost Boys, but as far as my family and friends are
concerned, I am Peter Pan. A remixed version of Peter, but Peter Pan
nonetheless. With Fire Storm playing Tinker Bell, Vixen as Wendy, and
Vic, Jei, and Rob the Lost Boys. Or in this case, the Vegas Lost Boys,
since we all live in Las Vegas. (I’m missing a Toodles. Oh well, that’ll
come later)
In fact, the boys even wanted to see me in my Peter Pan costume.
Makeup and everything. I didn’t know if that would be all right; up til
then only Vixen and my parents saw me in it. They told me that it would
be fitting for me, at least when they’re just by themselves. I finally
agreed. They even wanted to start wearing some kind of outfit.
I told them straight out: No Fursuits. I keep hearing my Mom tell me
about Vegas heat. They flipped a coin between Indians and Pirates and
Pirates won out. After all, a clothing store nearby has pirate stuff. We
can think up a kind of uniform to show our affiliation later.
Mom said that we could use the Guest House as our hideout-slashdormitory to move into: The Mystran Residence has a second house
behind the main one. It’s a guesthouse for company to stay in. Mom
and Dad promised it to me when the time comes that I leave the nest
proper. They also didn’t mind me making it into a dormitory for my
friends if I don’t play the music too loud or burn the place down.
Jei, Rob, and Victor arrived to the Guest House in their pirate costumes:
Mostly Scarves, striped shirts, short pants, and matching socks and
buckled shoes. They quieted down as they entered the house.
They heard the ethereal sounds of an ocarina filling the whole house. It
wasn’t just the sounds, they could see the music. Streams of pixie dust
flowed in the air, painting the walls and decorating the table, adding
moss, flowers, plants, and trees. Giving off the enticing smell of an
enchanted forest. The dust flowed over to the boys, stroking their
shoulders and touching their faces, as if inviting them into Adam’s world.
148
Their steps made no sound as they followed the music. Their hearts felt
lighter, as if they’re leaving the outside world with the worries and
problems behind them.
Then they found Adam in the back room. It was a scene that he and
Vixen had for many times up to now. There was no longer any question
about Adam’s Peter Pan persona. Not only was the outfit perfect with the
tights, slippers, tunic and cap with the feather, but Adam done his face
with freckles, unkempt hair and a rounded nose. Even his ears had a
point thanks to stage makeup appliances blended in. It’s as if Adam has
become Peter Pan and has brought a piece of Neverland with him.
Sitting next to him with her eyes closed, was Vixen, or was she? She had
on The Wendy’s blue dress. Her puffed sleeves bookmarked a face done
in light make-up and her hair in curls behind her head. She curled up
to Peter, her white panty hose and black shoes sticking out of her long
skirt. She just listened to the music as he tilted her head side to side,
her lips smiling as she enjoys her musical dream.
They stood there, drawn into the ocarina’s spell, letting the music
enthrall them as it did Vixen, as it did Adam. As it did Wendy and Peter.
The music died down for a moment, as Peter’s eyes opened. “If you
believe in something with all your heart and mind,” he said in a soft
voice, “You can make it as real as you’d wish. It can even become our
reality. In here, we can find our dreams and make them real. Not caring
about where we came from, what others would think about us, or
anything else outside of this happy place. This is our world and our life.
And everything outside this place no longer matters. In here, we can do
and be what we want to. We’ll be free. It’s what we wanted, all of us.”
The Lost Boys nodded, and they sat down.
Peter returned to his ocarina and started to play again, weaving his
magical song over his mates, over his Wendy, and his Lost Boys, bringing
them through the enchanted forest and into the cottage they saw as their
home. Bringing Adam's cottage into the walls and furniture of the house,
blending fantasy and reality until they become one.
They would stay in their shared dream, they’re new home, for most of the
night. The Guest House would stay in its transformed enchanted form
for months to come.
The boys woke up the next day thinking that they’ve returned to their
childhoods. They thought that Adam took them to Neverland and they
decided to stay there. They even made their own marks on the Island:
Roberto became the Lost Boys’ Master Chef, collecting ingredients from
the land and sea and making meals more scrumptious than any
149
imagined one The Wendy could think up. Jei all but anime-ized the
place, teaching an Old School island some New School tricks. The fur
skins were replaced with ears and tails, the music has a bit of J-Pop into
it, And several magical items and maybe a mech or two were thrown in to
defend the island from Hook and his invading pirates. Victor carried the
Island into the 21st Century, networking the Lost Boys with the Indians,
planting a GPS beacon on top of the tallest mountain, supplying
electricity to their lair, and restoring a magical image to high technology.
Vixen dreams of being one with all the animals of the island, becoming
their caretaker as she is with Todd, all the while becoming the Wife of her
Peter. And Adam dreamed of becoming Peter Pan in body as well as
heart and soul, flying free and happy in his world, never worrying about
growing older or his place in life or getting any grief from anybody.
Unless it’s coming from a rival crew, of course.
When they woke up and saw a sleeping Peter and Wendy in a house
decorated like a fairy tale, it took a while to remember what happened:
They met Adam and Vixen in costume, and as a very convincing Peter
Pan, Adam showed a very real magic with his ocarina and his pixie. It
was magic none of them wanted to break.
Last night Adam gave his Lost Boys an invitation to add their dreams to
his and add their own marks to his Neverland. Roberto was the first to
start, as he went to the kitchen to find something to cook for breakfast.
Fortunately, Mama (‘Wendy Mystran,’ Rob thought, ‘not Vixen.’) stocked
up the pantry and refrigerator. So Rob started to cook up a bacon and
egg breakfast.
That was a start of a entire day of hunting dumpsters for stuff to pillage,
rooting around Goodwill stores for cheap clothes and jewelry, finding
stuff discarded in the back of casinos with the delight of finding buried
treasure—there was even a chest or two to put stuff in—and in general
having a good day of Adventuring.
They all joined in with a pirate image, even Adam, who whipped up a
pirate-like version of his school uniform and his Peter Pan costume (“Like
Hell am I going out in this,” Adam said. “In some times, you can tell
what religion I am, and only the toilet and Vixen should see that.”).
Vixen got in too, donning on her own pirate costume that resembles a
guy.
She ditched a pirate costume for a very revealing wrench dress when
they returned to the house. They had enough stuff to build a few extra
computers, enough decorations to complete the house, a complete HoldEm poker table that Binion's Horseshoe was just throwing away because
of a leg that Victor can fix, and a whole lot of cheap jewelry to fill a
treasure chest.
A good amount of the jewelry was worn by Vixen later that day, to go
with the wrench dress she found with a plunging neckline that went
150
down to over the top of her growing breasts that somehow held Victor’s
head steady as she pierced his ears.
“Ugh!” Victor protested to the pain, and the slight drops of blood that
dropped off the holder pin on his lobe. “I will not look down on your girls
anymore about ear piercings.”
“Wait til you get to corsets.” Vixen said. “So you’re really getting into
this Pirate motif.”
Victor tried not to nod. “At least in some way. I kinda feel that it suits
me. I don’t know why.” He paused for a moment. “You know what we
need? We need our own unique uniforms, convert our school uniforms.
Maybe even add an insignia patch to go with Adam’s Sheriff Star.”
“I heard that Wendy’s looking into making patches for us,” Vixen said.
“I wonder if I can make a Buccaneer style school uniform, like how Adam
made a Western version of that Peter Pan costume.”
“I’d be encouraging that, Vic.” Adam said as he entered the room. “You
know, Vixen, you’re right. The pirate look does look good for him.”
Vixen giggled and snuggled up to Adam. Adam got a good look down
Vixen’s dress.
“Careful,” Vixen said as she pinched Adam’s nose closed with two
fingers. “I had enough blood on me.”
While Victor was still laughing at that, Jei arrived in the room with a
stack of paper. Everyone wondered what it was.
“This is a study on those numbers on that book’s front cover. Back
when they just kept a web cam on those six numbers and recorded all
the changes?”
Adam nodded as he got his book. He opened it up to the numbers of the
front cover.
The numbers were in mid change into this:
24
13
39
29
59
04
“I noticed something important about these numbers,” Jei said. “They
only go from zero to 59, especially the four numbers on the right. And
the first two numbers have a smaller range, and sometimes, they even
drop below zero and go into the negatives, especially with the lower left
number. That’s when I came up with this idea.”
He drew the marks on the cover that showed what he had in his mind:
151
24° 39’ 59" W
03° 29’ 04" N(S)
“Longitude and Latitude; Degrees, Minutes, Seconds.” Justin tapped
each row and column with the pencil as he lists them. “These are Global
Co-ordinates.”
Victor was on the computer and already logging onto a NGT web site.
“NGT can access a satellite above the Atlantic Ocean to track storms and
ships, communicate with firms across the sea and other neat stuff. It
even has a spy camera that can be sharp to a few hundred feet. Let’s key
in those numbers.”
“There’s not even a tropical depression in that areas, unless there’s
something . . .”
As the camera started to zoom, they found an uncharted island.
An island that to everyone’s surprise moved east as they watched!
“You’re not getting away,” Victor said as a quick mouse move kept the
spy satellite’s camera on the mark just as the numbers changed on the
cover.
“I thought so. When that island moves, the numbers in the book
changes. This book was track . . . ing . . . some . . .”
That was all Jei could say as everyone looked at what was looming up on
the screen.
The boys let their jaws hang. Adam gasped. Vixen went, “Wow.”
Adam pointed at some places of the island on the screen. “Mollusk Tribe
. . . Mermaid Cove . . . Skull Rock . . . and that dot moving on the
southwest corner . . . No doubt that’s the Jolly Roger.”
Fire Storm looked at the screen, turned around, and congratulated Victor
with a ringing clapping.
“You weren’t just reliving your childhood, Nitsan, and I apologize for
thinking so.” Justin said when he got enough water in his mouth.
“Adam, is that...”
“That’s Neverland, all right,” Adam said, “And here I thought it was a
fairy tale.”
“Or a Disney Cartoon.”
The realization that they discovered Neverland has sunk in by the time
Jei thrusted up his arms: “YAAAATAAAAAAH!”
“That’s right, Jei, we have a GPS Satellite staring right down the place!”
Victor said. “Adam, this is the biggest piece ever to fall into place. And I
can only guess that the rest of the pieces are on that island itself.”
152
“One question then: How do we get there?”
That quieted the room down.
How do they get there?
“That’s a good question.”
153
Chapter 11
November 1996
Adam winced repeatedly as Victor, Robert, and Jei took turns using a
swimming pool to try their hand in flying.
Only to see them pancake themselves on the water.
Jei had to stop when he started to see bruises all over the front of his
body. He looked like a car two toned with red and white primer paint.
“where’d’ya keep the phoenix downs? oooog.”
Victor managed to stop short before that happened to him. He turned to
the hovering Adam and muttered, “You make it look so damned easy.”
“You make it look so damned painful!” Adam retorted.
Firestorm consoled Adam as he was favoring his temples. (“Now you
know, Sempai, why we call you people Clumbsies.”)
If the sight of Jei and Victor almost killing themselves weren’t enough,
Adam saw something that was really out in left field: Roberto acting like
he’s having a bad acid trip. He kept walking into everything with his
eyes glazed over. At times, he couldn’t even stand up. “Aiaiai, ¿what
happened to my skull? It all turned to gummi bears.”
“Roberto, man, what’s going on? Why’re you’re shakin’ like yoah on
crack, dude?”
Roberto felt like his head is about to rot off his neck. “I was about to
sprinkle some of the dust, man, but I think I snorted some by accident.”
“Aw. Crud.”
“¡MY BRAINS ARE MELTING OUTTA MY EYES!”
Adam had to hold on to Roberto and shake some sense back into him.
“GET A GRIP OF YOURSELF, MAN!!”
“¿Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“¿Who put a bologna sandwich in my pants?”
Tara had to nurse all four of them. They moaned over one ailment or
another.
Roberto was still feeling the effects of inhaling pixie dust. “I’ll won’t do
that again. Aiyiyi.”
154
Jei was sore all over. “Keep the potions coming. I think I was on my last
HP. I saw Arieth beyond the vail.”
Victor had it worse. He was grateful for Fire Storm’s pixie dust to mend
broken bones, but it still warranted a trip to the hospital . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled E.R.Room:
By this time, I’ve become very intimate with the Hospital. It’s not that I
go there for every scrape and sprain. I carry around a first aid kit, and I
have Fire Storm. But when I started to fly when I get out of the house, I
started to collect skinned elbows and knees, my fair share of bumps and
bruises, and that’s not mentioning a broken bone or two.
To be honest, Mom insisted on taking me to the ER. It’s not out of
whatever or not I survive the spills I make but because of infection
afterward. Like your average mother, she doesn’t want things to get
things any worse. Not that I mind; I keep a bottle of hydrogen peroxide
just for the occasion. But when I nearly turn myself into street pizza and
end up in a heap, it’s off to the ER I go.
Oh, the trials and tribulations of Vegas’ newest starlet.
NGT thought ahead of this because of the addition of my blood (back
when they didn’t know what it was) and made sure that the University
Medical Center knows about it. The two have a relationship because of a
common interest in biomechanics. I even signed up with one of UMC’s
physicians for the regular checkups. They know the kind of supply to
use on me (Type O+ blood, Ibuprofen for pain management, latex is
permitted, and so on) and the peanut allergy and stuff.
UMC also has a lot of girl candy stripers and interns. They look at me
and just go gaga.
. . . his left arm is in a sling. “When I meet Michael Eisner, I’m going to
neuter that bastard.”
Adam tossed back a couple Ibuprofen tablets while an ice pack sat on his
head. “Get in line behind me.”
“If you ask me,” Tara said after she took the emptied cup of water from
Adam, “you guys may be going it all wrong. We don’t have to be flying
per se. According to the story, Peter got a whole ship off the water. Also,
I have my doubts that holidays and confections will be adequate for your
goals.”
155
“What’re you getting at, Tara?”
“What I’m getting at is a question that needs to be asked: What
constitutes as a ‘Happy Thought’ to you? You are Preteens and
Teenagers in the late 1990s. The time frame is different from the time of
J. M. Barrie. It is only logical that the thought you should be meditating
on be-”
“That’s it!” Robert said, “Gracias, Tara. We were thinking of the wrong
stuff. We’ve gotta think up what makes us happy. Not at what we think
what makes any kid happy.”
The other three nodded.
“So, hommes. What’s a happy thought for us.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled VLBVehicles:
Of the fivesome consisting, Vixen, Jei, Roberto, Victor and myself, only
Rob and Victor were within driving ages. Jei hopes he could start
learning within a year or so. But Victor prefers motorcycles, so that
leaves Rob as the sole car driver. And owner.
Roberto’s cruising machine is a Buick convertible that he converted into
a Low Rider. It has a hydraulic system controlled by a Playstation
controller, which has an excellent layout for each wheel.
In time Robbie wanted to get a second car. Something more sensible for
hauling groceries and the occasional passenger around, and leave the
Low Rider for show.
Why do I get the feeling that he’ll put hydraulics on his ‘regular’ car?
That evening was a perfect time for cruising, which includes Roberto’s as
it thumped to the tune of some slow rap bleeding out of the speakers.
Fire Storm straddled the hood ornament dressed like Sassy Sally,
making the ornament glow and sprinkle with each bounce from the
hydraulic lifts.
“Go easy on her, Rob,” Adam said in protest. “She agreed to experiment
with her dust on cars, not to have her brains jerked out.”
“Oh relax, will ya. Our pixie here’s enjoying herself, eh? With all these
good vibes I’m feeling, we’ll have my loco-motion in the air before this
track’s through on the—What ho? Who put the streetlights so low.”
156
Rob hit the brakes to avoid hitting the streetlight crossbar. It took them
a while to realize what it was and why it’s at windshield level: They were
hovering ten feet above the street in the middle of the intersection.
The crowd was gawking.
The other cruisers were cheering.
And the guys in the car were high fiving.
“Well, whattya know, amigos?! This stuff works!!”
Rob let the car lift another ten feet so they’re clear of the streetlamps and
resumed the slow going.
“Yeah,” Jei said, “and I have an idea to get this stuff to work even better.
It took a while to buck enough dust from Stormy to get to the engine. We
need a faster system.”
“Any suggestions, people.”
“I have one, Adam.” Victor said. “What’s a better happy thought than
pushing a Nitrous button?”
It took Victor and Jei a few nights back in the St. Norbert’s shop to build
the charger unit. It starts with a plastic funnel for Fire Storm to drop
her dust in, grated so that she won’t fall in herself by accident. The
funnel’s small end is fed through an air compressor which fills up an
empty Nitrous canister. With the gathering of some of the materials from
a couple salvage yards, the whole device costs little more than $20 to
build.
“We’ve just critted the price tag, guys. A typical Nitrous system costs
just a little bit under 70 bucks,” Jei said before pointing to a tank being
filled; the sound of the air pump and some hissing filled the background.
“The real costs come from the Nitrous itself. But we only need empty
tanks because we’re going to use this system to supply the engine with
Pixie Dust rather than Laughing Gas.”
“It’s a good idea, Jei,” Adam said.
“I hear a ‘But will it work,’ coming, right?”
“No you don’t. I’m hoping that it does work. Have you tried it?”
“Not yet I’m afraid.” Jei patted the box the just-bought Nitrous system is
in. “We need to find a car to try it.”
“That’s a problem,” Adam said. “It ain’t like none of our parents, and I
suspect Robbie as well, would like us messing around with their cars.”
“Aw, Caray.”
157
Adam and Jei turned to the opened garage door. Roberto just lifted the
lawn mower to its side.
“This here blade’s cut in two. Mama Wendy’s ain’t gonna like this. Too
bad tho’. The motor’s still good.”
Jei only needed a few moments to think it over.
“I think we’ve got our test case. Help me get that old go cart from the
wall.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled FlyingGoCarts:
Even though I’m not a big Shop student, the Shop classes at St. Norberts
could rival more mainstream public schools. In one of the projects, you
get to build your own go-cart from a bunch of pipes, old car parts, and a
slightly used lawn mower engine. Jei and Vic made one last year but the
engine gave out. They kept it in storage until they can get a replacement.
They never got around to fix the thing until Mom’s mower snapped on
Roberto. They spent a weekend refitting the go-cart with the new engine
and installing the first Pixie Dust Nitrous (PDN)1 system.
When they asked me to be the text pilot, I insisted that they put in a roll
cage and Mom insisted I wore a helmet. I would have insisted it too.
Even with my flying ability and healing factor, I’m not one to tempt fate.
It didn’t take long to get the Go Cart up and running again, and we’ve
spent a good gas can full pulling off doughnuts and zipping over streets
and fields. It’ll be in the field where we test the PDN system.
Either it’ll work or I’ll have a story to tell to future members of the Vegas
Lost Boys or my own kids if I ever knock Vixen up.
If I survive the crash, of course.
“Okay, Adam,” Victor said as he patted Adam on the helmet. “It’s all set.
Flip the switch to turn the system on, and use the button on the wheel to
squirt some dust. We’ll all be watching with the cameras.”
“You sure you got the Jaws of Life ready in case I crash this thing?”
Victor laughed. “Hopefully we won’t have to.”
1 Link to the Wiki Entry entitled ‘PixieDustNitrous,’ which describes the use of a Nitro Boost
system used by Street and Drift Racers to deliver Pixie Dust into an internal combustion
engine. Diagrams of both the system in the car and the device used to fill an empty tank are
given.
158
“That ain’t reassuring.”
Victor had to make the crack. The temptation was too much.
“Aw come on, Mr. Former Lost Boy. Didn’t Peter tell you about ‘Dying
being an awfully big adventure?’”
Victor would relish Adam’s exasperated response.
“PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DEAL WITH THE INTERNAL COMBUSTION
ENGINE, YOU SMARTASS!”
Adam groaned seconds after he said that. “I can’t believe he said that.”
His innate curiosity resumed a few seconds later. Just what would
happen to the internal combustion engine when someone sprays pixie
dust into it?
Bling Blinbling (Let’s find out.)
Fire Storm pulled a pixie-sized pair of safety goggles over her eyes. . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Jei’sModels:
Jei has a hobby of making model cars, robots, dioramas, and what not.
Fire Storm showed up and this hobby went into overdrive. It can’t be
helped when there’s a five-inch model girl to pose with the completed
kits.
And he improved some of them. I remember what Jei said about Fire
Storm getting a working car. She now has a scaled Ferrari to tool
around in. And that doll house Mom had is now set in a model city block
with live trees, a train she can turn on and off, ramps where she can
drive from the table to the floor, and other wild things.
Jei also went as far as to team up with Vixen to design clothes for her.
Stormy’s now got an assortment of clothes from full body jumpsuits to
tight-fitting miniskirts and dresses fit for Jennifer Lopez. I heard he’s
planning to make a calendar.
The clothes projects include making some doll outfits more practical.
Most of them include fitting shatterproof goggles.
. . . She then held onto Adam’s hair. The rattail she hooked her legs
around has grown past his shoulders.
Adam turned on the motor, and popped the clutch.
The go-cart jerked to forward motion.
159
He pushed the throttle pedal halfway to get a good enough speed.
Then he flipped the ready switch.
“Okay . . . here goes . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Dust!”
He pushed the button on the steering wheel.
There was a hissing sound of the nitrous system feeding fairy dust into
the carburetor.
There was another lurch.
Adam hold on to the wheel for dear life.
As he saw the ground drop away.
He heard cheers behind him.
“All right, it works, oh sh-”
The world spun end over end, side over side, flipped heads over heels.
When the world stopped spinning, Adam found himself upside down.
Parts of Adam still spun for another minute or so.
Adam was grateful for the roll cage and the helmet. Fire Storm was
ejected and sent sailing straight up.
Victor took off his cap and used it as a net to catch her on the way down.
“Whoops. Are you alright, Stormy?”
There were some disoriented bells. (T-this is why we call you c-clumbsies.
oooog.)
The others pulled Adam out of the roll cage and wondered what
happened.
Roberto got the best view of what happened. “Adam tried to steer up in
the air and the cart went loco.”
Back in the house, Jei pondered both bits of feedback hovering over a
spiral notebook and a model of the go-cart. A pencil tucked in his ear.
Stormy resting in his hair.
“Adam reported that the cart was shaky in the air,” Jei said as he tapped
his nose. “He must’ve have problems keeping it stable as well as with
steering it. Looks like the cart could use some wings to stable the flight,
with a set of rudders and elevators.”
Fire Storm looked up to a pile of books on machines. She hopped down
to look over the titles until she found one entitled “Airplanes.” She flung
some dust on that book and started to scoot it from the pile.
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“There’s that book I was thinking of. Let me help you out there, Stormychan.” Jei picked up the several books above the Airplane book so the
pixie can open the book to a cutaway look inside a basic airplane.
Looking back and fourth between the book and the notepaper, Jei
scribbled some additions to the plane.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled FlyingGoCarts,
continued:
It took Jei and Vic about a week to make the additions. They welded
on...Well, it was Fire Storm that did the welding.
[Picture of the boys around the Go Cart, none
of them were working on the frame, but there was
a blinding white spark shooting sparks from the
metal. The floor was covered in dust.]
She really comes in handy. One day in Norberts and she almost got the
Pope and Cardinal Ratzinger to believe in fairies. She’s right at home in
Shop.
The wings were built, the frame was covered with sheet metal, and a
wedge was added in front to provide some aerodynamics. The needed
rudders were installed and wired into a wheel that goes in four
directions. We assumed that the cart doesn’t need to be molded smooth
when it’s dusted, since they saw me fly all the time. And they know
about the Jolly Roger.
(I told NGT about this; they’re still studying flying by dust. They even got
a wind tunnel. The jury’s still out at this time.)
This time, when we tested the modified go cart . . .
[Picture of the Go Cart flying above everyone’s heads]
The cart flew like the Kitty Hawk.
In the end, we’ve found that we can easily get a car in the air, good
enough, but we still need to hold the car steady and be able to steer it.
In retrospect, I think back to the classic J.M. Barrie story. When Hook’s
ship was in the air, it could still be steered by the winds, as if it was in
the water. The sails and rudder also helped smoothing out the ride.
That’s what’s missing from cars; which needs added wings in order to
work.
That’s what we’ll do once we get another car. Once we get one.
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“So, Robbie, you’re living with us for the time being.” Adam said as he
walked home with Rob. They used a back alley that leads straight from
Norberts to the Guest House.
“Si. When I talked to your mother about it, she said it was cool. Your
casa’s got some kicking kitchens dude. I can’t wait to try out what I can
whip up in there.”
“Really? I’ve overheard Mom and Mother Sharon and they mentioned
that you might be looking for a place outside of Norbert’s.”
“They’ve talked to me about it too. They see me as someone about to
strike out on my own and get my own place, but they just didn’t want to
give me the boot with little more than a clothes on my back.”
“So you’re living at my house until you get your own.”
“Yeah. Until I get to a culinary school and get into a restaurant. Then I
can move to my own place.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They knocked knuckles.
“Even though you’re not one to rush, you’ve been making plans yourself,
I heard.”
“Oh, I’ve just sent some videos to the media and earned some bucks.
Even with my fast track through High School, I still have some time
before I leave the nest.”
“Dude, I heard you’ve been considered to get some awards for those
videos. With you flying so low filming car chases it looks more like a
video game.”
As Adam laughed, a spot in his hair started to glow. And a pair of wings
poked out.
“Ah, look who’s poking out of your hair? Buena tarde, Senorita Fire
Storm. ¿Usted tiene una siesta agradable?”
There were some bells and a heart shape.
“Does she always sleep in your hair?”
“Most of the time. That’s what happens when you save a Pixie’s life; she
sticks by you from that moment on. Not that I mind,” Adam looks up to
the fairy’s face as she looks over to him. “She brightens up everybody
she meets.”
“That reminds me, Adam. I managed to get my Low Rider set up with the
PDN.”
“Tested it out?”
162
“Si. I don’t have to use much to have it kick in. Low riders ain’t made
for speed; A little dab’ll do me.”
“Low riders aren’t made for trunk space as well, afraid to say.”
“Yeah. We need something we can stash camping equipment in.”
“We need to get one soon so we can weld in the wings.”
“Where’re we going to get something big enough to—Sosténgalo, mi
amigo.”
Robert placed an arm in front of Adam and pushed him against a
building.
“Wha? What’s the matter?”
“Get out your camera and hook it up to your Razr. I just saw something
that shouldn’t be here.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
NevadaSelfDefenseAndGoodSamaritanAct:
The self-defense law1 that saved my ass earlier this year was not without
challenges. Critics of the law decry the renewal of the Wild West and the
encouragement of the “Evils of countering Violence by Violence.” Most of
them despise the Second Amendment and think that you can appease a
mugger out of taking your purse.
But that noise was put to a quick end five days before a vote to expand
this law, when an illegal immigrant redefined the meaning of ‘chutzpah’:
He shot to death a rancher who saw him break into his ranch, and then
turned around and sue the just-widowed family of their ranch because of
human rights issues.
Nevada’s State Congress made it high definition clear that they’re not
going to put up with that here:
The Self Defense Law became the Nevada Self Defense and Good
Samaritan Act2. It takes the concept of “If you are forced to use force to
defend yourself, you shouldn’t be charged in criminal or civil court” and
expands it to protect anyone who tries to do a good deed. If you go out
on an act of Good Samaritanship and something goes south (Say, you
stop to fix a flat and you end up breaking a windshield. These things
happen) you’re just as protected from liability outside of basic repairs.
(The co-payment for the windshield repair, if applicable and affordable)
You will not walk out of court with your family indentured to the person
1 Link to the official listing of the law on the books in August.
2 Link to the official listing of the law on the books as it was put up to the November vote.
163
you were trying to help. (That’s happening in California, which has
people raising a stink in the US Supreme Court.)
Some added perks were tossed in as well. One clause stated that those
who assist in an arrest or a conviction gets whatever property the convict
had once the cops are done with it. Let’s say that you pull up on the
street to block a drug runner in a Lamborghini so that the cops can
catch up and arrest him. You’ll end up the proud owner of the
overcompensation symbol, after the drug officers and crime crews are
finished with it. All you need to do is pay for any transfer and
impounding fees. There’s been E-Bay listings of some neat swag that
some got through this law already.
That’s what Roberto had in mind when he saw . . .
“They’re working a meth lab in that Volkswagen Microbus, hommes.”
Roberto said. “We’ve gotta bust em, Adam.”
Roberto took the camera and waved it in front of Fire Storm.
She sprinkled some dust and made it float in the air.
As Roberto joined Adam behind the building, Stormie floated the camera
around the corner . . .
“Stay low, Stormy, you need to keep it inconspicuous.”
. . . and rustled into sagebrush.
The camera lens got a good view of the mobile meth lab. The Razr
received the image from a cable.
“Here’s hoping we can stay under cover.” Adam pulled out a Bluetooth
Earpiece and slid it in place. He keyed in the call to 911 and text
messaged the address.
While the two watched, they saw the owner of the house they were
behind come in to complain about the Meth Lab.
“This coming from someone with a joint in his mouth?!” “Even I have my
limits. That Crank’s fucking up people right and left within months,
including some friends of mine. At least pot’s got some medical uses.”
The argument got heated and the meth lab owners started to switch to
Spanish. Roberto didn’t need much translation to know that things are
about to get a bit nasty.
The view screen on the Razr showed one of them reaching up behind the
Bunsen burner and pulled out an Uzi machine gun.
“I think we should pull back,” Adam said, “We’ve done enough.”
164
Adam nodded to Fire Storm to bring back the camera, so they can bail
with their skin, but before she could do so, the camera caught one of the
two meth cookers heading toward the camera.
“Damnit.” “We’re out of time, not even for subtlety.”
The next thing Roberto knew, he was airborne! He tried to scream but a
hand was over his mouth. By the time he was aware that Adam has
grabbed him by the collar and went straight up, he was on the roof.
“Jeez, Adam. Warn me sometime.”
“I did.”
Adam was running off the ledge, his sword drawn.
He saw the gun-toting feeb handling the digicam.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
ThunderHammerStrike:
Officially called the Ryu-tsui-zen in Siranui-Ryu, it’s a downward strike
from the air. When you stick it, you break your fall on the other chump’s
face when the sword connects.
This is the first move I combined with my flying ability. Under normal
circumstances, you’re not in the air that much in a sword fight, unless
you’re a floor above and you jump down. With pixie dust, I can find my
target at skyscraper height, freefall, and pull off the ‘Thunder Hammer
Strike’ as I drop in from out of the blue.
I have a highlight reel of this move from various news crews, usually
accompanied by someone saying, “Where’d he come from?!” It never gets
old.
“I’ll take my digicam . . .”
From ten feet, the victim didn’t have the chance to look up before Adam's
sword clocked him.
“ . . . if you don’t mind.”
The now-limp hand dropped the camera into Adam’s grasp, and the rest
of the body followed it into the gravel.
That was when the other drug-maker stumbled into the alleyway, holding
onto the stoner and pointing the gun at the arriving police. “We’re going
down together, junkie!”
165
“What do you mean? I got a prescription for my pot. Put the gun down
and mellow, man. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“WILL YOU SHUT UP?!”
“Will you listen to him?” said a voice to the drug-maker’s left.
The perp just blinked when he saw Adam, enough for Adam to go into
batto-jutsu stance. Then he started laughing. “You’ve gotta be shitting
me! Bringing a sword into a gunfight, Pan?! Why don’t you go home to
your Neverland like you belong?!”
As Adam turned to roll his eyes at the cops, he saw firestorm’s glow
burst into a fireball.
“Maybe you can have Tinker Bell give you a blow job, if she ever e-”
A fireball that went right into his face. He could see the silhouette of a
very angry pixie with white-hot eyes staring at him.
“Dude, run.” Adam said.
The victim—now Fire Storm’s victim—tried to run, but he could only frail
his arms and scream as the pixie kept zapping fiery bolts into his face. “I
DO BELIEVE IN FAIRIES I DO I DO JUST GET HER AWAY FROM
MEEEEEE!”
When he turned around, Stormy got her shot, and engulfed him in
flames! Despite his screams and a few cops reaching for fire
extinguishers, Stormy made sure that the flames didn’t burn him. What
she was burning was his clothes and his body hair. Even the hair on his
head.
Even his pubes.
When the flames receded and the cops could make their arrest, he was
naked, shaved bald all over, and crying like a baby. Everyone that
wasn’t making an arrest was busting a gut.
“Shouldn’t’ve pissed her off, dude.” Adam said as he picked up the
wallet dropped when the pants were burned to ashes. “Under the rules, I
get the bills, right?” The wallet had over $750 in small bills.
“That’s right.” One of the cops said as Adam handed him the rest of the
wallet. “We’ll need the ID’s and other bits of paper in there, and there’s a
good chance those credit cards were stolen.”
Adam nodded. “I’m also wondering if me and my mates can get the
Microbus after you’re done with it.”
He looked over to the vehicle Roberto was inspecting. “You can’t have
the car yet, pal,” another cop told him. “We still need it for evidence.
We’ll let you have it after we’re done with it.”
“Let me get the papers for ya then, but I doubt you’ve got a license to
drive, Adam.”
166
“That’s okay, sir. I know someone old enough to drive. Besides, we need
it for a trip over the Christmas Break.”
“I see. There’s also going to be the fees to get it out of the impound and
for the title transfer, but you’ve got that handled already.”
“Tell me about it,” Adam said looking at his budging back pocket,
“Yeesh.”
“And if you got that taped, I’m sure you’re be getting more.”
Adam heard some bells in his left shoulder. Fire Storm was holding the
camera all that time, even when the first meth cooker was holding it.
“Don’t blow it all in one place, kiddo.”
167
Chapter 12
24 December 1996
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entries entitled
Sache’sBreakout and Christmas1996:
It was no doubt the one Stormy shaved bare that told Sache about me. I
don’t know if he heard about a flying boy in Vegas from the news, or has
a television in his cell. From what I cared to pick up, he was put into
solitary for a while.
After Christmas, I did a little backtracking and found out that Sache
planned his break out from prison earlier that month. The shaved dude
was the one who helped him. He would have escaped too, but one of the
bigger, dumber, and hornier Bubbas got a hold to him first.
(Now that’s a sentence greater than death. Being locked into a tutu
being some heavy, greasy, hairy, and smelly inmate’s maid, cleaning cells
with his tongue while giving B-Js at a snap of a finger’s notice. Poor
guy’s practically screaming for his lethal injection.)
But why, God, why, didn’t Bubba pick Sache? Sache had to go and
almost ruin the first Christmas Eve I had since that log ladder.
That day became my new birthday!
Nobody really knows when my actual birthday was. So they picked the
day of my disappearance, Late Christmas Eve. Christmas wouldn’t be a
happy day for me because my thoughts would always go to the log ladder
scene. But switch it into a birthday and it becomes easier.
“So you guys went and finished up the Microbus while I was gone,” Adam
said while he went for his fourth slice of the Las Vegas Club’s infamous
Big Daddy Burger. Burgers aren’t normally sliced like a birthday cake,
but then again, normal sized burgers aren’t large enough to be a cake.
The Big Daddy Burger is a square foot hamburger with nine pounds of
meet, one half head of iceberg lettuce, 2 whole tomatoes sliced, 2 whole
onions sliced, 4 whole pickles sliced and quartered and 12 whole slices of
cheese. And yes, if it’s your birthday, they’ll put candles on it.
“We’ve got it finished, Adam,” Jei said. “Even test flown it to make sure
the PDN works. All we need to so is pack up and away we go.
Victor nodded. “I know of some camping stores we can get our needed
equipment, and I’m sure Robbie here can keep us from just eating
M.R.E.’s all the time.”
168
Rob would have said something but his mouth was full.
“What we need is navigation,” Jei added. “And that’s where you come
in.”
Adam pulled out a device from his pocket. “You’ll really going to
appreciate my Dad taking me to Japan. Go this GPS I can use with
Google Earth.”
“Awesome.”
“So the worst thing we have to worry about is keeping an eye on those six
numbers.”
“Yeah.” Vixen stuck out her tongue.
“We don’t have that island belled or anything. And since that island
moves, it’s going to need those numbers.”
Victor went for a small notepad. He opened it to a shopping list. “Add a
GPS marker. We’ll get it now and worry about the ethics before we turn
it on.”
“By the way, Adam,” Vixen noticed Todd sniffing at the box. “That ain’t
the only thing you got form Japan, was it?”
“Well, nobody expects the Birthday Boy giving presents,” Adam opened
up the box, “But I can’t eat all this Pocky myself.”
He tossed each of his friends a box of the famous candy coated cracker
sticks. He also showed what appeared first to be a dark tube.
Everyone focused on the tube, which revealed it’s real identity when it's
on the table.
“You’ve got it.” “Whoa.” “That’s the sword?”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
StoryoftheSakabato:
Quentin Tarantino fans heard of Hattori Hanzo, a sword maker who,
according to the 2-part movie Kill Bill 1, retired from making swords but
had to make one more when the title character showed up and told him
what a former student of his has done.
While I don’t know if there is a Beatrix “The Bride” Kiddo out and about,
I do know about a real life version of the swordmaker. There is a Hattori
Hanzo who’s a swordmaker in Okinawa. ‘The Jessie James of Samurai
Swords,’ Hanzo-san makes special one-of-a-kind swords. Some of these
1 Pop-Up Note: Why oh Why didn’t Peter Jackson get a hint from Quentin and split his long as
bleep movies into separate volumes? Some of us don’t want to watch a three-hour-plus movie.
169
are for friends and patrons he accepts, but most of them end up in his
collection in his home.
My Dad knows Hanzo-san and says he owes him a favor, so he'll ask him
to make my Sakabato. But before Dad can tell him about me, I ended up
defending Hanzo-san myself from a couple street punks.
When he took me to his home to check out his collection, we talked
about Siranui-Ryu and my wish for a reversed-edge sword. He hasn’t
made one, but since I’ve asked and as thanks for earlier, he’ll make me
one.
The sword is a combination of ancient tradition and high technology.
The blade is from a combination of steel and titanium. The shape is
rounded into a wing shape, reducing the sword's drag.
“When Kawakami Gensai found himself in the time of Meiji,” Hanzo-san
told me as he presented my blade, “He could not free himself from his old
ways, so he became a Rurouni, wandering the land and helping
whomever he finds. But he did swear not to kill as he did during the
Bakumatsu, so he used a sword like this one.
“I know you don’t walk the same path as the Kawakami family. But I
also know of your desire to defend those you care about. Such is why
you learned Siranui-Ryu, and such is why you now have this sword.”
The sword was well balanced in his hand. When he took a few practice
swings, the blade cut through the air with a light whooooosh and an
effortless swing. He did it slow at first, and then he went at full speed.
In addition, he heard a sound not made by a blade since the Meiji era:
whi-CRACK!
Vixen heard as she watched Adam in the back yard. The parents of both
of them stopped their conversation to look at Adam as he did it again.
whi-CRACK!
“I have to ask, Adam,” Elrohir asked, “did you get a sword or a whip?”
Adam was surprised the most. “Ken-sensei told me that Gensai could
swing his sword so fast that the tip can break the sound barrier.”
He did it a third time.
whi-CRACK!
“With this sword, I’m doing that too. I’m sure it’s because it’s a
lightweight, but . . .”
He slipped the sword back in the sheath, and then went through a kata
with his sword. The sword whizzed and cracked through the air, and
170
even the air around Adam began to stir and spin around him as he went
through the pattern.
When he was over, the whi-CRACK! sounds still hung around the
neighborhood. Some people were by now complaining about someone
setting off firecrackers. Adam was standing in the middle of a light
tornado at the end.
“Cool.”
“Yeah, so cool.”
Adam noticed the long draw at the end of what Vixen said. She was
rather quiet now. She just looked at him with a look of just longing for
him. Her eyes were shimmering and her face blushed.
Vixen didn’t know what it was, she thought she had a crush on him
before, but she never felt what a crush was.
Until now.
She tingled all over, her heart did back flips in her chest. She felt like
she was jumping out of her skin. She longed to just melt all over him,
coat him like a wet blanket. Taste his“Are you all right, Vix?”
Vixen opened her eyes to see Adam’s puzzled expression. He floated up
to her without a sound, something he’s known to do by now: He’s
become used to being in mid-air, as if he’d been doing this all his life.
Vixen’s face felt warm all over, with him being mere inches from him.
She leaned over to his cheek and gave him a kiss.
It was longer than the other kisses before, and warmer. Adam could feel
her warmth like a candle’s soft flame glowing over him.
"This kiss is . . . different than before."
She pulled away and smile at him. She could feel her emotions flow out
of her like waves in an ocean, and she would drown in them if she could.
Adam took her hands in his. "Something on your mind, Vix?"
Adam wondered before if he could fall in love with Vixen. To be honest
he never felt it before, didn’t know if he would let himself do so. He
remembered that he was eleven years old for fifteen years. Now he’s
thirteen. And he can feel his neck start to get warm and his face blush.
"I just...” She blushes again. Then he lets it out. "Just want to be with
you, you know. Be WITH you." she smiles bigger.
“Be . . . with me?” He asks. He feels her warmth and her girl-waves
coming out of her. He sees her squirm.
171
For a long time they wondered who’ll make the first move. Vixen
wondered what Adam would do to lead. Adam wondered what to do to
lead.
Vixen found something to lead with herself.
She takes his head in her hands, pulls himself up to him, and cradles
his lips with hers in a soft caress.
This kiss was ten times softer and warmer than the kisses they had
before in those play dates. She tasted and felt like melting candy in his
arms.
He takes her into his arms and pulls her up off the ground. At first she
tensed up as she found herself floating in the air, but then she relaxed,
melted into his arms and chest. She started to kiss him a bit deeper.
Adam shares in the kiss, feeling lighter and happier, until a taste of each
other's tongue surprises them both.
That unsuspected sensation made the pair jerk away on reflex. They
giggled after a second.
"You all right?” He says in his trademark drawl.
"yeeah I ttthink" she says. She relaxed again and cracked a smile.
"That must've been a pretty happy thought you had to be floating like
this. It's almost like you've fallen in love or something."
His voice still had that innocent boyish tenor, but she can see his eyes
and smile grow impish. She could see him in her imagination with his
half-pointed ears and scent of the woods. A teenaged Pan.
She floated in his arms, transfixed on his eyes, with a huge sheepish
smile. "Yeah fallen in love or something." He put a finger under her chin
and she felt his touch and warmth over her, a soft transition to him
taking the lead.
He could take her anywhere. She would let him.
"You've fallen in love . . . with me?"
Her voice was soft and wispy. "Yes. I love you, Adam."
He closes his eyes and puts a finger under her chin, as if to kiss her.
"Yes, I love you, is it so hard to believe?"
Adam’s voice brushed her lips. "I believe you.” He then lets her lips
touch his again.
He felt himself give himself the permission he needed.
His voice was just as wispy. “I love you too.” Before he caresses her lips.
172
Vixen’s heart skipped several beats as they kissed more relaxed then
before. He lets her relax in his arms, floating in the air, letting their
tongues touch as they feel each other's warmth and love.
Neither wished the moment to end, but both of them needed to come up
for air.
Vixen settled over his shoulder and whispers "Happy Birthday" in his
ear.
He smiles and whispers, "Thank you" in hers.
Adam’s Razr thought it would be a good time to cut in at that moment.
“Crap,” Vixen said with a disappointed look on her face.
Adam picked it up. “I take it you thought we’re going-”
“It’s not that Adam!”
It was Victor on the phone.
“Switch to the local newsfeed.”
Adam’s Razr can access podcasts and live newsfeeds. Adam added a
1Gig SD card for playing MP3 files, and there’s the Bluetooth headset.
Adam switched the Razr to the news channel.
The local news feed: “Three men escaped from jail earlier today, killing a
guard en route. Two were caught before the third was picked up by a
van of youths in lettermen jackets. The van has been spotted going
south along a side road along the Strip.
“The fugitive is identified to be Sache Blackard. And the prison warden’s
heard something about a place named Norbert’s.”
Adam bolted toward Norberts at ‘Cruise Missile Height,’ about fifty feet
off the ground, making several phone calls at once. He needed to let
Saint Norberts Academy know about what was going on. He needed to
marshal his friends to the defense. He called 911 and told the operator
what he thought would be the exact place Sache Blackard would be
headed.
He was looking over the whole complex when he saw the sparking flame
of a lighter igniting a rag.
He maneuvered until he hovered above the flame.
Then dropped like a rock.
BLINBLING!! (BANSAIIIIIII!!)
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Adam knew he was falling on top of Sache Blackard long before he could
see his face on the way down. The face met the blunt business end of
Adam’s Sakabato with a sickening sound of metal on flesh.
The reverse-edge blade dug a groove over his right eye. The rest of him
reeled backward, dropped the firebomb meant for the church and
collapsed on the ground.
Adam swatted the firebomb before it or him touched the ground. The
alcohol contents spread and ignited en route, spreading flames over the
blacktop where they’ll be out of the way until they died out. It’s light
revealed the old North Vegas High’s Letterman still supporting their
coach and principal.
All of them muttered over who dropped from the heavens, knocked out
their leader, and floated to the ground as if gravity has no hold on him.
“Check it out.” “It’s Pakie Boy.” “A Cowboy Peter Pan.” There were also
a few off-colored remarks and some chuckles.
“Well, cock a doodle doo.” Adam said, saying the line instead of crowing
it. “Which one of you recycled human butt wipes is next?”
Five of them charged just a few seconds after making accusations toward
Adam’s sexuality. While Adam ignored such taunts . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled URAFaggot!!:
There are two things you need to know about this particular label.
Neither of them involves sexual preferences: The first is, if you’re being
called a ‘Fag,’ homosexuality is the least of your problems. In their eyes,
you could get out of the closet, be a more flamboyant homosexual then
Carson Kressley, and end up improving your standing in the taunter’s
eyes. To understand the image the taunter has for you, keep in mind
that ‘Fag’ is British for ‘Cigarette.’ Think of a spent cancer stick dropped
on the side of the road, then ground under a multitude of heels without a
single thought.
The second part is related to the taunter’s thought processes: If you’re
calling someone a Fag, then homophobia is the least of your problems. If
all those Pro-Gay advocacy groups find out that you think of someone
even worse than the negative stereotype they’re combating . . .
. . . Fire Storm was quite offended.
Three of the five thugs in the opening wave and most of the crowd behind
them didn’t notice the glowing dot before it turned into a floating fireball
174
that engulfed three of the five members of the first wave. The other two
ends up distracted enough to feel the sting of Adam’s sword.
The ones Adam hit were the lucky ones. Fire Storm was burning clothes
and body hair again. She will do twelve goons this way before the cops
come.
Adam put his sword in the fireball and let the blade catch some of the
fire.
(Yay! Fight! Strike down your foes with your fiery blade of Passion!)
The fire-talent Never Fairy and Adam’s now-flaming sword, held most of
Sache’s army at bay. Many of them were wringing their hands, faces
shown indignity over Adam actually fighting back.
But some of them smiled. That made Adam a bit worried that he wasn’t
counting all of the members of this torch mob.
And he would be right.
Six of the lettermen snuck into the garage while “That Green Faggot” was
showing “that stupid Fire-Breathing magic show.” Each of them had a
sledgehammer; chomping at the bit for the “Hippy hunk of junk that
faggot’s worthless butt-fuck-”
“¿Need I remind you, Seniors, that you’re inna casa del dios?”
Their mouths were all dry by the time the lights switched on.
Some rather angry nuns, Adam’s quartet of friends, the other orphans in
Norberts and four fire extinguishers surrounded them. Every one of
them wondered what was more offensive: Their limited vocabulary or
being woken up at such an ungodly hour.
“Not to worry, Mama,” Roberto said, pulling the pin. “We’ll wash out
their mouths.”
All four made perfect headshots with their spray, making all six tumble
down like pins in a bowling alley. They landed on not only hard concrete
with fancy speckled painted-on coating, a variety of pencils, rulers, and
switches Mother Sharon and her sisters spread on the floor.
“Yaaataaaa! Vegas Lost Boys cast Aqua Level 7 for 1,600 Damage Total!”
Saint Norbert nuns aren't known to use their rulers on children, thanks
to their Mother Superior’s knowledge in childrearing. For most of these
orphans, this will be the only time they seen them do.
175
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
TornadoSiranuiRyu:
As you learn swordfighting, you end up customizing your fighting style to
suit your own talents and traits.
Under normal conditions, Siranui-Ryu is more of a Power-based style.
The moves require all your power in the delivery. But if you’re more of a
Speed and Agility type, you’ll adapt these Siranui-Ryu techniques to your
skills. I started doing this when I started to HALO jump into the RyuTsui-Sen Thunder Hammer.
But another family of moves became the hallmark of my customized
sword style, the Ryu-Kan-Sen set (or Twister Slash as I call them). They
involve a spin. Sometimes a pro baller spins around to avoid a defender.
Ryu-Kan-Sen does that in a swordfight.
Most swordsmen will warn you not to show your back to your opponent,
but if you’re fast enough, like me, you can get away with it.
While I was sparring with someone after I rediscovered Pixie Dust, I
pulled several Ryu-Kan-Sen moves in a combo!
At first, People said I was showing off. Then someone told me that I
looked like a Twister. This was when all those movies about tornadoes
were in the theaters. Kenada-sensei thought that it was a good image of
my version of the fighting style and gave it the name Tornado SiranuiRyu.
See yourself as a living tornado, Adam, a force of nature all around you, a
quiet calm inside.
They say that I might never fully develop Tornado Siranui-Ryu, but
someone in the future may pick it up and complete the style. I hope this
happens.
Southern Nevada wasn’t a place that usually gets tornadoes.
Sache’s Letterman could have sworn that one appeared in Norberts,
because a good number of them went flying.
Adam was going full tilt, on all cylinders, hammer dropped and chocks
pulled. What didn’t get the steel blade got what they felt was a shot
through the chest. It was a small shockwave produced by the sword.
When the dust settled in a swirling vortex that surrounded Adam in a
scene straight out of a Hong Kong movie or even a Magic and Sorcery
story, everyone that accompanied Sache Blackard in his quest for
revenge ended up on the ground, some of them multiple times.
176
All by a boy a third of their size with a sword.
A boy who they knew now was flying.
They thought twice about mocking the boy’s ‘Peter Pan’ image.
A few of them were even getting out of the yard while they could,
following the twelve shaved bare by that boy’s pixie.
A few more did the same when they heard police sirens.
“FUCKING COWARDS!! MUST I DO EVERYTHING MYSELF?!”
Adam saw Sache whip out something he will see in his sleep . . .
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Sache’sPaddle:
The Radio Edit thing was electrified! The rumors are true! When Sache
Blackard swats someone, he uses an effing Shock Paddle!! There was no
proof, despite complaints, until he started to swing it at me, and with the
look at his face, I could tell he wanted to use it on me from day one.
My . . . God . . . This is abusive in Singapore’s standards! Hell! Even
Paul Heyman would call offense if it got into an ECW ring!
“YOUR ASS IS MINE, BOY!!”
. . . and charged at him with an animalistic growl of rage.
Sache rushed Adam from Adam’s left, too fast for Adam to move his legs
out of the way.
Adam didn’t know if he had the time to even draw his blade.
He didn’t even know that he drew it the instant Sache switched on the
electricity and swung down on the attack . . .
“Don’t Call Me B-
whi—CRACK-TOOOOM!!
!”
. . . until it was behind him. The right arm felt warm by the move. His
whole left side felt tingly, like a lightning bolt just missed him. His lip
trembled. Everything around him froze, including time.
He could remember his arm move straight up after the draw, the twist of
the thigh to go with the step. Hear the blade slide through the air, his
whole blade producing the shockwave.
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He’d done it. He mastered the move. And he was still standing. The
Rising Heavens Slash was his. It took someone ready to go and
electrocute him in order to do it.
Adam didn’t celebrate. He couldn’t. He saw what his sword cut. Dull
edge or no dull edge.
The electrified paddle; two feet long, seven inches wide, sporting a pair of
air holes and current holding wires which he can see still sparking; fell
between him and Sache, whole.
The very still held it. Cut off at the wrist.
Sache face was total shock, a combination of the emotional and medical
versions. He was on his knees, his right hand holding the bleeding
stump where his left hand was. The eye that wasn’t swollen was blank.
Adam’s reflexes noticed a twitch, somewhere, either form Sache or from
his goons, because he switched his sword over to Sache’s chin.
“Mister Blackard. Please. End this. Before I do.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
SacheAndTemptation:
For those thirty seconds between me hacking off Sache’s hand and the
cops finally showing up, I was tempted to just slice off Sache’s head right
then and there. Sache had broken out of prison to torch my school to
get at me. I know that Sache will keep coming at me, and keep coming
at me, until he’s dead or he kills me. You can’t reason with him, you
can’t tell him to stop, and negotiations will only delay the inevitable. It
will be him or me one day. And part of me wants that day to get over
with, sooner rather than later.
But. But. But . . . . But.
When the cops showed up and told me that it’s over. I just swished the
blood off the blade, slid it back in, and walked over to the garage. Maybe
I didn’t want a killing on my conscious, especially one done on sacred
ground.
Yeah, it’s sacred ground. It’s not kosher to fight to the death on sacred
ground.
Why do I have the feeling that I’m going to end up regretting it?
When I looked at his eyes when the paramedics put him on that
stretcher and carry him away, I knew.
Those eyes are those of someone who have nothing left in their being
except rage.
178
A rage that won’t die until he does. It won’t be over when he kills me, I
know it.
“It ain’t over yet.” Adam said aloud when Mother Sharon walked up
behind him. “He’ll be back. He’ll keep coming at me. I know it.”
He felt her hand on his shoulder. “I know, my son. Evil like that won’t
be easily stopped. That’s why you got that sword, right.”
Adam turned to see Mother Sharon’s face, the gratitude in her eyes, and
nodded. “By the way, that’s a nice sword you got there. That’s the
Christmas Present?”
“More of a Birthday Present, really. Christmas’s also mah birthday.”
“You share more than just His birthday, from what you showed me
tonight.” Mother Sharon led Adam back to the building. “We’re going to
have a Bishop for Mass tomorrow. I know you don’t do Mass, but we’d
like to bless that sword, if that’s alright.”
Adam couldn’t answer right away. The doors opened and several of the
children ran out to meet their Hero. ‘Their’ Peter Pan they called him.
They had one more micro-party, just a serving of cakes and juice, as a
salute to his honor. It was all they have time for until they had to get
back to bed.
179
Chapter 13
29 December 1996, 11:23 PM, PST
It was the night before the trip. Nobody got much sleep.
Especially Jei, who was anticipating a good weekend of roughing it in
some deserted island. They must’ve checked the list at least five times.
Roberto had it the easiest; the best way for him to get some sleep is
dream about food. Some of his better recipes come from what he dreamt
up the night before.
Vixen was too busy enjoying the best dream of her life.
She never felt anything like this before, and she didn’t want it to end.
She thought she felt it with the occasional innocent crush.
Then she met Adam Packbell.
This was Honest To God Love she felt toward him
And now she knows he loved her in turn.
She didn’t want this feeling to end.
She dreamed he swooped down in his flying pirate ship, snatched her
from the ground, right where she stood, and carried her to the skies.
She looked into his eyes, eyes glowing golden by the magic in his blood,
and heard his soft draw of a voice.
“A girl is always better than twenty boys.”
She wanted to give him all of her.
Her body, mind and soul.
She wanted him to take all of her.
And he did.
She seemed to implode into herself in his arms as he stripped layer upon
layer from her, her body slipped inside as if she had her own gravity, her
mind slipped back into the oblivion.
She never wanted this feeling to end.
She woke up in his bed, her body wrapped in silk and cloth, her ears and
wrists adorned in gold, and two arms around her head.
She opened her eyes to see the one thing she will ever need in life, and
knew she was his.
His mate.
His love.
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His wife.
She stayed in his arms as they sailed away to the heavens, knowing that
this feeling will never end.
Victor was looking at his heaven. The android on his bed. Her eyes were
closed in a light sleep; the occasional fidget and twitch show how well
she was crafted. Nude underneath a thin semi-transparent teddy and
panties, her polymer skin to humanlike—a bit too perfect, though—
shown through to her friend’s eyes.
Normally she would be very self-conscious about being this vulnerable to
a human, much less nude. But right now, tonight, in her lover’s bed,
she couldn’t. She felt herself glow in an electronic version of intimate
pleasure, cheeks blushed and her body warmed.
Neither of them knew how Tara Kit, an Emotional Doll Android ported
from Japanese technology, would be capable of ‘getting it on.’ Granted,
she did have the equipment, much like her Playboy Bunny sister, and
she does have some of the routines, though not as cranked up to the
max and in your face like Aline Rabbit. No, Tara’s a lot more innocent in
the matter, naive. She didn’t know what’s it like to be in love and loving,
but not in the way Victor showed it.
“Not that I mind you looking me over when I was in a fetish costume and
fishnets, but are you going to ogle at me all night while I recharge?”
Tara didn’t know what to do, and didn’t know what to feel about it. It
was uncharted territory, and she couldn’t help but be excited.
As Victor settled into bed next to her, took her in her arms, drew her in,
and hold her tight.
Adam rubbed his temples and muttered to himself. He never liked
nightmares. Not that he doesn’t know how to control them, because of
his imagination, but because it robs him of some good sleep. Usually it
was of Sache Blackard chasing him around, only to get dispatched in the
messiest manner he could think of at the time.
This one was different.
He was Pan again. He found a magic mirror sealed in the attic of the
cottage. Set in a cabinet of wood closed and locked. Mystical etchings of
shadowy figures all around, meant to warn people from unlocking the
doors and looking inside.
Pan knew the reason why it was locked. He knew of the dangers inside.
The mirror’s magic shows the true nature of whoever looked in its
reflection. Brave people were shown to be really cowards. Virtuous people
were shown to be really vile. Sane people were reduced into running into
the woods screaming their minds out.
It doesn’t matter how far in the back of his mind he placed this cabinet. No
matter how much he warned himself against it. Pan couldn’t help but be
181
curious. He could never remember being anything other than himself. The
happy eternal child. But still there was something amiss in his head.
Memories he has forgotten. Whole chunks of his life missing. He wouldn’t
care a bit about them if they just didn’t . . . UGH! . . . irk him to no end.
He saw a key right in that rock.
He had to know.
Had to know who he was.
Had to fill in the missing pieces of his life.
Had to know the answers.
Even if it did cost him dear.
He fiddled with the key, and with a little effort slid the bolt out of the way.
The mirror opened itself by his own and revealed what it saw in Peter Pan.
It was Pan, all right, but different, very different. He was dressed as a
cowboy, sported a longer hair, and carried a longer sword. He felt
confused rather than scared. Who was this second Peter Pan?
And wasn’t he the only one?
And why is he feeling that he was becoming—
Adam woke up at that point.
Adam climbed out of bed, out the window, and onto the roof.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled HighPlaces:
Whenever I need some peace and quiet to ponder something, I end up
going into a high place. Roof of a skyscraper, tall tower, top of a cliff, the
roof of my house, and so on. I end up in these places for the same
reason why I went up that Log Ladder: It’s nice and quiet, no one
around, and all I can hear is the wind around me. And the occasional
bird. It’s how my mind can unwind. I do it so often at home at nighttime
when it’s colder (In Vegas that means air temperatures of 80° and below)
that I usually end up sleeping on the roof. Fortunately the roof is flat
enough for someone not to slip off; injury and insult in one. And I can
even set up a place by the air vents with a mat and a cooler.
Adam was on that roof long enough for his mother to notice. Especially.
She overheard Adam opening the window. She got to the roof herself and
found her way to her son’s side.
182
“Couldn’t sleep too, I see.”
Adam nodded.
“I wonder if you’re just as excited as I am. Two years ago I couldn’t know
if Neverland was real or not. Now it’s being tracked by GPS and you’re
about to go there with your friends. I hope you’re ready.”
Adam nodded. As quiet as when Wendy found him last year.
Wendy stroked his hair. “Worried about what you’d find?”
“Yeah.” Adam said. “All this time I wondered what happened to me all
these years. I think I’ll find my answers there. I know it. But that’s not
what’s bothering me.”
He sighed, leaned back, and brushed his hair.
“I wonder if I’ll ever come to terms with what happened. I have a new life
here, with a safe home and a loving family and friends. I worry that I’d
have to leave it all behind when I get my answers.”
Wendy put an arm around him. A warm embrace just like last year. “I
understand, Adam. I do hope you do return, and I hope with something
from Neverland with you. But even if you don’t, you know this.”
She pointed to her chest. “You’ll always have a home here, with us, and
in my heart.”
The two looked up at the stars together, including the pair that shone
the brightest, off in the east. The one of the right even brighter than the
other.
“We’ll always be together.”
“Mom,” Adam said without looking up. “What do you think would
happen, if I grow up?”
Wendy scratched her chin. It wasn't a question she was expecting from
Adam, whom she'd groomed ever since she found him into someone who
wouldn't think of such things. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I've found all these things about myself, about my friends and
all, and about flying, and everything. If I get any older, do you think that
I'd . . . lose these things?”
“Well,” Wendy said, rubbing his hair, “What to you think growing up is?”
Adam thought a bit about it. He didn't know the answer.
“It's a question we Darlings were pondering ever since my namesake
found Peter Pan. Sure, we too worry about growing up and whatever
dangers you'll bring on yourself, and what you'd lose in your life when
you do, but there's a question in my head that helped calmed my fears.”
Adam looked up.
183
“How do you define growing up? Do you define it as someone who
forgets how to fly, how to crow, how to do all those cool things I see in
you? Put on a three piece suit with a tie and sit in a cubicle and watch
your life go by?”
Adam shook his head.
“Then you needn't worry about growing up and becoming that, that's for
sure. But . . .” She turned to Adam. “What if you wanted to be that
flying good-natured child you are now, when you're fifteen . . . when
you're twenty and Fire Storm's still flitting in your hair and you can zip
along the Vegas Strip without worrying about car traffic . . . when you're
thirty and you're bring a gift of childhood to another generation, much
like I think Peter himself is doing . . . when you're a hundred or more
and you've haven't lost a step in your life while others your age, those
who did get the three piece suits and the sensory deprivation working
areas and . . .”
“Yeah,” Adam said. “I'd like to be that.”
“Then you don't even have to worry about growing up, Adam,” Wendy
smiled. “You don't have to answer the question of 'What do you want to
do when you grow up,' because, my good child, you're doing it already!
You needn't worry about growing up at all, Adam, because you don't
have to.” Wendy sat up. “At least any more than necessary. I do see
you getting married to Vixen and raising little Pans of your own, but
that's in the future. Right now you're just you. And that's all that will
ever matter.”
Adam smiled, and settled back to Wendy's side. “And I'll be flying
forever.”
“I know,” Wendy said, patting her Peter on the shoulder. “I know.”
30 December 1996, 10:00 AM PST
By the time the customized Volkswagen Microbus rounded the corner to
a lonely road in the desert, everyone inside it checked the list at least a
dozen times. What wasn’t used for seats were stuffed with camping and
survival equipment, as well as the occasional electronic equipment
including a RC car with a digicam, Geiger meters, vials for samples, and
a GPS marker. To everyone else in Las Vegas, Adam and his friends were
just about to spend New Years camping.
“Well, we are going camping, right guys?” Vixen said as she stuck her
head out of a blanket. Todd was under the covers, calmed by being with
his mistress and in the dark.
184
“How’s Todd?” Adam said. He was in the shotgun set which was set to
serve as the Navigator chair. A laptop with a satellite connection to the
Internet—via a screw-on dish on the roof—and a real-time GPS readout
made sure that everyone would know where they are and where they’re
going.
“He’ll be okay as long as he stays under the sheets. He hates traveling in
a car.”
“I don’t blame him, Vixie,” Rob said. “We’re about to get to the real bad
part. Even with the Fire Storm Nitrous, we’re going to need to make
several stops because of the sheer distance.”
“That’s why I’ve got the PS2 in here,” Jei said reaching for a controller.
“One of those new plasma screens too. Screwed it onto the roof once I
found it. Probably doubled the price for this whole car, but trust me, its
money well spent.”
“Turn the right corner in Sin City, and you can find anything,” Adam
said as he slid his book into place, under a laptop where the glove
compartment used to be.
“Viva Las Vegas, mi amigos!”
“Where’s Stormy-chan?”
A ringing of bells comes from the dashboard.
“There she is.”
Fire Storm took her favorite perch in Adam's hair.
“Fire Storm Air flight 100 taking off for Dallas, Miami, and parts
unknown.” Victor pushed down on the gas. “Chart our course, Adam.”
“And here we go!” Jei quipped in the back. “Red Five, We’re going in.”
“Aye Eye,” Adam said, looking at his book’s cover and keying in the coordinates into the laptop. The numbers convert to a marker on a GPSpowered Google Earth program. A second marker represented the car.
The Microbus sped through the gears.
“We’ve got the road all to ourselves for a perfect liftoff. Adam, stand by
on the Nitro switch.”
Adam flipped up the cover of the switch. “Ah’m ready.”
The speedometer passed the legal speed limit.
“Pixie,”
“Now!”
Adam flipped the switch. “Dust!”
The sound of air hissing bled out under the front hood. A nozzle squirts
out magically empowered grounded up bird wing into the carburetor,
185
adding to the vortex of air and fuel going into the pistons, where a
waiting spark plug sets it aflame.
The speed doubled that instant as the wheels lifted off the ground.
“And we have liftoff!” Jei said, “Liftoff of the Space Shuttle Volkswagen
bringing the modern day to a—hey guys, check that out!”
Everyone—including Todd who stuck his head out—saw what was in
front of them: Even though it was in the morning, and in a clear blue
cloudless sky, two stars can be seen, the one of the right showing where
they’re going brighter than the one on the left.
“¿Que? When Barrie put that ‘Second Star to the Right’ part in the book,
I didn’t know he took it liter—wha ho!!”
It was enough for Todd to duck back in. The current speed of the car
doubled again, and gravity rotated 90 degrees behind them. Victor
would have appreciated replacing the stock dashboard with a digital
version, but he was looking at what he got him and his friends into:
The flying Volkswagen Microbus flew into and through what looked like a
giant tube, bending light as the car slipped past, altering the view of the
world around them into a Dali-style hallucination.
“AyIyIy!!” Jei said, “We got sucked into a wormhole.”
“Jei, we’re still in the Earth’s atmosphere.”
“How else would you describe this, Vic?”
Robbie was muttering something in Spanish, no doubt a Hail Mary.
“Adam, what’s going on?” Vixen was consoling a whimpering Todd.
“Let’s shut off the Nitrous.”
“Hold on, Vic.” Adam was looking at the view screen of the laptop. “I
thought so!”
Adam pointed to two dots on a map showing where they are and where
the Island is. The former dot was speeding toward the latter.
“Whatever this is, this is going to take us directly to the island. I had to
watch our markers to be sure. Looks like our trip has just become a
non-stopper. ETA to the Island? About 30 Minutes.”
“Adam,” Vic asked, “Did you just remember this?”
“Just now.”
They continued through this tube as the images of warped trees and
warped mountains gave way to warped sea.
“Adam?”
“Yeah, Jei?”
“How much longer are we going to be in this Trekker’s Pot Dream?”
186
“I have no i-”
The warping stopped, and reality snapped back like it was a Stretch
Armstrong.
“We’re out of it, whatever that was,” Victor said. “Adam, do you know
where we are?”
“Hold on a sec for the GPS to register . . . okay . . . whoa!”
He looked at the screen and checked it at the book’s inside cover.
“We’re exactly at the place the numbers in my book told us to go. The
numbers even changed while we were in the tube. Look around, people,
we couldn’t be left over open sea.”
“There it is!” Victor said, pointing outside. “Look!”
Everyone looked at where Vic is pointing.
And everyone’s jaw dropped.
There on the water was an island not unlike what they imagined. It
seemed to shine from inside, from under the trees, inside the mountains,
and under the waters. A rainbow crowned the island bright as a star
and almost solid as a ribbon.
“So,” Victor said. “That’s Neverland.”
“It looks a lot better in real life.” Jei said. “The movies don’t give it
justice.”
“I doubt anyone who made them ever seen this with their own eyes.”
Robert said, after taking a picture of the island with a digital camera.
“Adam,” Vixen said as she smiled and hugged Adam from behind. “Let’s
go down there so you can show us around.”
Adam didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t have time to.
There was a small explosion, followed by a combination of two things: A
loud sound of metal on metal just under everyone’s seats, and a severe
shaking of the world around them.
And after that, the WV Microbus began to lift and swerve on the way
down, like a plane out of control.
“What the Fuck!?” Victor said.
“Someone just critted the Microbus!” Jei said. “We’re falling out of the
sky!”
Roberto pulled a cord. “Good thing we thought of this!”
The cord ripped open a parachute. As it filled up and slowed the fall,
there was another explosion.
187
And Adam saw what was being thrown at the Microbus:
A cannonball.
Damnit! I should’ve known.
Adam then did something that everyone thought was insane, at first.
“Try to make it anywhere on the Island, and then let up a signal.” He
then picked up his sword. “I gotta try to stop that pirate from shooting
us!”
“Pirate?!”
Adam jumped out of the Microbus and flew down. Everyone followed
where he was flying to and found a wooden ship. With the Jolly Roger
flying on it's back mast.
“Let me guess,” Robert said as he and the others saw it. “That’s the Jolly
Roger, ain’t it?”
188
3/5 The Turn
189
Chapter 14
30 December 1996, 10:40 AM CST
Hook was so engrossed over his latest kill that he wasn’t aware of what
the others saw.
"Okay, mates. Can any of you tell me how can one of those 60s era
hippie cars can fly?"
Smee tapped Hook on the shoulder.
“I’d expect the more modern ones to do that by now, what is it Smee.”
“Captain, there’s someone who fell out of that car.”
“Yes?”
“And he’s flying this way, like a bat out of hell and looking just like . . . ”
“What do you mean flying?”
Hook lowered his spyglass just in time to get a good look at the inside of
a jar of Tartar sauce.
Everyone else saw the one who delivered that jar as he slid across the
deck.
“I haven't been in Neverland for five seconds and already I’m having
codfish for dinner. Yum.”
Hook couldn’t place the voice. Too American to be Pan. Reminded him
of a Rebel in the Civil War. His hair was too long too. A ponytail no selfrespecting young man would ever be caught wearing. And he was
dressed like those American Cowboys he heard about in stories about
the Old West Era.
Not that he cared.
“Whoever this guy is,” One of the other pirates said, “he came from that .
. . whatever that was . . . and he does look like Pan if I say-”
“JUST SHOOT HIM, WILL YOU!!”
“Jeez, take a look at those antique popguns,” Adam said as he did a
couple of check-dodges, “You honestly think that you can hit me with
those old things?”
Adam saw a few of them load their guns.
“Why is it that I am not intimidated?”
Adam gave them enough time to load and get a bead on him when he
went straight up the main mast. “That’s right, Spanky, put some holes
in these sails.”
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Adam was dodging the crude ammo as easily as he was dodging rubber
balls back in Norbert’s.
“Piss off your Captain some more!”
He almost didn’t see the leather-tanned figure wearing only shorts and a
sword climb up to his level.
“Finally!” Adam said in the middle of his Quick Draw Batto-jutsu attack.
“Someone with some sport.”
Adam managed to whip out his sword to block the first strike. It gave
him a closer look at the blade the pirate used.
“That looks like the Green Destiny sword. You didn’t pay money for this,
did ya?”
The pirate growled as he swung again.
“Strike one!”
And again.
“Ooooo, feel the breeze!”
And finally.
“Strike three, you is out!”
The pirate didn’t see the sword occupy the space between the back swing
and his chin. The impact made him think that he was beheaded. When
he recovers from the fall back through the deck, he’ll find out that the
only thing that got split was his jawbone.
"Outta Ammo, Boys?" Adam said as he noticed five seconds pass from
the last wizz of projectile past his head. He slid down a low sail and used
it to slingshot his way toward the dozen pirates caught in between
reloading their guns and pulling their swords.
Adam swung his sword in a series of wide sweeping swings. In the
matter of seconds and a gust of wind, all twelve was on the ground either
groaning or unconscious.
Even Captain Hook was impressed. “That’s some skill you have there,
lad. Too bad you look too much like an old enemy of mine or else I’d
impress you to join me-”
In the time between ‘me’ and ‘crew,’ Adam’s sword had taken Hook’s
sword out of his hand and stopped an inch under his chin.
“Captain, if you knew half of what I’ve forgotten about myself, you’d
know that there’s no friggin way I’d be a part of your crew.”
It was centuries of experience being a pirate that kept Captain Hook from
cracking when Adam poked his sword at his face. In fact, he started to
laugh.
191
Adam raised an eyebrow.
“Ye may look like Peter Pan, boy, but you’re not him.”
“And why do you ask that? I never claimed that I’m him.”
“And he be glad ye didn’t, because he be tied up to that far mast behind
me.”
Hook knew this Yankee has to take his eyes off him to see the mentioned
mast. With him distracted Hook can slide a dagger out of his coat sleeve
and run him through with it.
And Adam was indeed distracted, showing as much shock and surprise
as the figure tied up in that pole. His clothes was different, closer to
Nintendo’s Link than the ballet tights and slippers that the Disney
version of Peter Pan wore, but he still had the red hair and boyish
features of the more famous image of him. The most noted addition was
the red captain jacket he wore over the Robin Hood costume. It looked a
bit out of place, but to Adam, the jacket fit in in some strange notion.
Peter himself stopped trying to get to his blade and free himself the
moment Adam charged into Hook with the Tartar Sauce. Peter thought
he was looking at a mirror, and saw his reflection as someone in the Wild
West.
“There be Peter Pan, boy. I don’t know who ye may be, and to be honest,
I DON’T EVEN-”
Hook turned around to thrust that hidden dagger into where he thought
Adam was. He only sliced open air.
“Before anything else, Peter, I must apologize.”
“What for?”
Hook heard rope being cut.
“People thought I was you.”
“With those good looks, I understand perfectly . . .”
The resemblance was uncanny. Even Hook thought there was some
magic mirror involved, as the two mimicked each other’s poses.
“But you have me in a disadvantage, mate.” Peter said as he tapped his
chin. “I don’t know who you are.”
Adam was tapping his other chin before he realized his error. “Me and
my manners. Name’s Adam Packbell.”
Peter reached out to greet him with a proper handshake. “Nice to meet .
. .”
And saw that Adam spat into his hand. And made some special moves
that came out of Adam’s brain and down his right arm without him
aware of it.
192
“ . . . you. Have we met before?”
“Let me guess: That was a Lost Boy handshake.”
“Well, yes, it was. Only real Lost Boys know of it. How’d you.”
“Thought so. I found myself in America with parts of mah memories
missing. As Ah pieced them together, they lead me here . . .”
Hook noticed that some of his crew has recovered, so he signaled them
back into the fray.
“ . . . So ah came back to Neverland looking foah answers. Answers to
questions that will have to wait.”
“True enough, Adam. Looks like these cutthroats want some more.”
“Ain’t we going to bail outta here? We can fly you know.”
“Can’t. Not without Tinker Bell.”
“Captain Codfish got her too?”
“How else was he able to get me tied up like that?”
“At least it wasn’t while you were compromised behind a tree,” Adam said
as he saw the pirates make a line.
“Kill Pan?” Said one in the middle. “Which one, Captain? I’m seeing
double.”
“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE, KILL THEM BOTH, YOU IDJITS!!”
Just as they charged, a roaring fire appeared between the two groups.
The pirates stopped in their tracks. Peter thought that Tinker Bell
learned some new tricks, but he noticed that the ball of light inside the
fire’s too red in color. The ball revealed to be a different Fairy who flew
over to Adam. She was dressed like a cowgirl, but that’s not what Peter
noticed.
“You’ve got a fire talent Pixie?!” Peter thought this Adam Packbell is full
of surprises. “I haven’t seen one of those before in my life!”
Adam’s didn’t notice what Peter said. “There was another Pixie here, Fire
Storm.”
She nodded and gave a series of ringing bells. Bells that Peter
understood.
“That pixie in a lantern. Did she have blond hair and a green short
dress?”
She nodded again, and then noticed that she nodded to someone behind
her. When she turned around to find whom she was talking to, she
couldn’t believe her eyes.
(Another Adam-Sempai?)
193
“Nevermind that, girl.” Adam said to the pixie. “Take him to that pixie
you found, I’ll take the rear.”
She gave Peter a hand signal to follow her and bolted back to the pirate
line.
A line that saw Peter whip out his short sword and charge toward them.
The pirates charged Peter.
Peter thought he’d get overwhelmed again, but remembered that he now
has someone on his side.
Adam charged the pirates with another one of his quick draws of his
sword.
“whi-CRACK!”
Even with his closer look, Peter could not see the sword move as several
pirates twice Adam’s size reeled back and fell to the deck in a heap. It
wasn’t clear if they were struck or pushed back by the wind created by
the swing.
“Whoa!” Peter looked around at the carnage made by Adam. “Wherever
you learned that, I’m glad you’re on my side.”
Adam managed to kick open a door. “What can I say, once a Lost Boy,
ummth!” Adam let Stormy and Peter pass before closing the door behind
him. He braced it by pulling a hallway shelf up against the door.
The flaming pixie girl flew over to a lantern. The glow inside was softer
and golden, a more common glow for a pixie. Peter smiled as he opened
the lantern and released the glow inside.
“What was it now, Tinker Bell?” He asked to the ringing dot. “Hook had
one of your spare tinker’s hammers and didn’t know about it, how in the
world did he get one of those?”
Adam narrowed his eyes to see whom Peter was talking too. Tink looked
more like her Disney version, with short blond bangs which she tugged
at, and a simple green dress with matching slippers with the puffs on the
toes.
Tink realized that she was being watched from behind and turned
around. She did a double take as she saw the Pan-like similarity.
Fire Storm flew over to her to explain the matter. After a bit of ringing
from both fairies, Tink turned back to Adam and bowed in thanks.
“Much obliged, ma’am,” Adam said, tilting an imaginary cowboy hat.
Tink tried to stifle a laugh, but it finally sneezed out. It made her glow
pop out like a firecracker.
“Now that we got our pixies,” Adam said, “do any of us know the way
out?”
194
“Good News: I do; Bad News . . .”
As if by a cue, Captain Hook squeezed his way through the hall.
“ . . . it’s through him.”
“Great.” Adam readied for another Batto-Jutsu draw as Hook taunted.
“Aye, stranger. There be only one way outta me ship, and that’s through
me pretty saber.”
“Very well, then,” Adam said, and prepared to draw.
“Careful, Captain. That other Peter’s a pro with that sword. He fights
like he’s a samurai.”
“He’s too young to be a samurai, Sm--”
That was all Hook could say before he heard another whi-CRACK!!
For the longest of times, everyone in the room, including Peter . . .
“Wow! Blink and you missed it!!”
. . . thought Hook was cut in two. Hook collapsed to the deck with his
breath knocked out and thinking that this stranger killed him at that
instant.
Until he noticed several moments later that there wasn’t any bloodshed
from the moment he arrived.
There would be a nasty bruise across his chest and a couple ribs that
snapped, but that was it.
Peter noticed this sooner “You were using the back edge of that sword?”
“Not exactly,” Adam said revealing his sword. Peter saw that the sword's
blade wasn't just reversed, but the blade was rounded into a bird’s wing.
“This reversed blade sword is made to cut air instead of skin.”
Adam stopped on his way out as his foot was on Hook’s body. He turned
off the dust and let gravity tell Hook that there's someone standing on
him.
“Be glad you didn’t hit that car in the engine, mister, or Peter here would
be needing another Pirate to play with.” After swiping the sweat of the
sword, he slid it back to his sheath, and then took out a small white card
and placed it on Hook’s unconscious body before he took off.
Smee picked up the card after the two Pans left. It was a business card:
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Adam Packbell
Captain of the Vegas Lost Boys
Las Vegas, Nevada.
AdamPackbell@[DOMAIN OMITTED]
“Las Vegas, Nevada?!”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
PeterPanandLostBoys:
First off, I have to say that Peter Pan isn’t much interested in computers
and the Internet. Not that I blame him for not being up to speed; I just
have to keep from talking over his head. But he did tell me that he might
get a small one. Nothing too much, just something to get back in touch
with other Lost Boys. That’ll come later.
Also, I have to include that Peter has at least some pride. He won't be
caught dead wearing only tree leaves, nor that the ballerina costume Girl
Pan wears. He said that the Disney animated version was closer to what
he really wears, and added the hat with the red plume out because of
that. Everything else he wears came from the Late Medieval style of a
street urchin from England, which still resembles something you’d see
Link wear in those Zelda games. (Note to Pan: I know it’s over your
head. The other viewers know what I’m talking about.) He had thicker
boots and bracers, and the sleeves and tail of the tunic was straighter.
I’d say Disney was close.
His most notable addition would be that Captain’s Jacket he has on, bold
red with gold accents. He claims that he got it off a pirate he defeated,
but he couldn’t remember who it was. Peter isn’t known to have much of
a memory if he didn’t find it important at the time. The record would
state that it’s because of his eternal youthfulness, but I’d just say that,
when you’ve been alive as long as he has, it gets kinda crowded in the
gray matter.
Barrie, and Disney for that matter, had his mates—Slightly, Nibs, Cubby,
and Toodles—wear fursuits because they’re not allowed to dress like
Peter. While they may be true for the average Lost Boy, the four boys
who were with Peter when their ship wrecked on the island were given an
upgrade. These lieutenants dress like the Disney version of Peter Pan,
with different colors to keep them unique.
196
(There’s a side bar to the ‘Men in Tights’ factor: Peter mentioned that all
their clothes are made by silk spun by actual spiders, some of them big
enough to have them for dinner if they didn’t deliver meals to them. I’ll
talk more about them later.)
Yes, I did hint that there’s more Lost Boys than the number listed in
both Book and Movie. Since Peter and company ended up on the island,
they turned it into equal parts orphanage and playground. By the time
they settled into their own underground hangout (Soon to have a house
built right on top when Wendy joined in. They didn’t build it around
where she crashed; Wendy wished to have her house be an extension of
Peter’s hideout below.) Peter decided bring in other kids as
disadvantaged as he was while he was still in England. These are
usually kids nobody else wanted, falling between fighting parents, kicked
out of their families, or forced to run away into the snow like me. Know
of a kid who vanished without a trace and there’s no body yet? Chances
are Peter Pan spirited the kid to Neverland and he or she is living a very
happy life. Easy to do when there are no Grown-Ups giving them grief
they don’t need.
(I can solve a good chunk of America’s Most Wanted’s missing children
cases here.)
“It’s as if you’ve never left, my friend,” Peter said as he looked behind
him. Adam was following Peter Follow-The-Leader style.
“You know this island more than I do, Peter.” Adam tilted his head.
“Those guys on the beach your Lost Boys”
“Aye, they be. Looks like you spoiled their fun though.”
“Whoops. My bad.”
Peter saw a small army of children lead by four older boys. The four
were dressed similar to Peter; more like Disney Pans with different
colors. The children were of course dressed in animal costumes made
like pajamas. Most of them had on swords and staffs, which they threw
on the ground in disgust.
“Blast it, Peter!” The tallest one said. “You were supposed to wait for us
to save you!”
“Yeah,” the most well fed one added. “You said you wouldn’t be hogging
all the fun.”
“My apologies, gentlemen, but it appears that a new party has entered
the party, or should I say an former one.” Peter stepped aside to show
Adam to the crew. “This is Adam Packbell, and if all signs are true, he
was one of us.”
197
Adam took the imaginary hat off his head and bowed. “Some would say
I’m still am.”
Everyone looked at Adam with a puzzled expression, some even showed a
bit of recognition. Some even tested him with the spittle-loaded
handshake, which he passed. “He’s one of us, all right.” The tallest lad
said again. “But I don’t recognized his face.”
“Hmm.” Adam scratched his chin. “You know of anyone who
disappeared the Christmas before last one.”
Everyone thought for a while. Thinking back a year in a past wasn't
something any of them did often.
It was Peter who came up with something first. Even with his tendencies
to forget easily, he still has a hold on most of his memories. “I think I
know of someone.”
“Someone who wore a fox’s mask.”
“And had two tails.”
“He disappeared last year.”
Adam pointed his thumb to his chest. “I remember wearing that
costume, mask and all, when I was found.” He then looked into the
forest, “And I think I see something that might be a clincher for some . .
.”
Adam could see a square object in the shadow of the trees, accompanied
by two balls of light. The two balls became Tink and Stormy, and the
square object was . . .
“Ah, my book.” Adam said as he took the book. “Thank you, ladies. I
take it you’ve found my crew.”
Everyone noticed the title of the book. That’s when they recognized him.
“Two Tails! You’re Two Tails!!”
The crowd was much more cordial at that point. They crowded over
Adam, slapping his back, shaking his hands, and welcoming him back.
Peter’s four lieutenants reintroduced themselves: The tallest one in
reddish brown was Slightly, the next tallest in tan was Nibs, the smallest
one in gray was Toodles, and the rotund one in dark brown was Cubby.
The others in animal skins had names, but they fired them off all at
once, and Adam couldn’t get them all. He shrugged in his head, knowing
that he’ll know them by name as he goes.
“You’ve sure changed in over a year.” Nibs said. “You look like what
Peter would be if he were a cowboy.”
“Well, that’s what you dress like in the Wild West. Now, if you excuse
me?”
198
Adam crooked an ear toward Fire Storm. “You got that from the
Microbus. Are the mates alright?”
Some of the Lost Boys noticed that Stormy was a Fire Talent. Very rare
in Neverland
“You’ve got friends in that flying . . . Microwhatsis?”
Adam nodded. “Hook got a lucky shot in and they had to make a crash
landing. No doubt they need rescuing.”
“And so they shall. A friend of Two Tails is a friend of us. Let’s go
mates.”
Peter took off into the air and headed into the forest, led by the two
pixies. Adam followed Peter first, and everyone else took off after them.
Vixen hung in the branches of the trees that caught her suspenders, the
whining Todd inside his pouch. “I know you need to use this tree, Todd,
but I’m sure Adam’ll get us down once he comes back.”
She then heard bells and thought that was him. “Adam! I’m over here.”
Then she found out that the pixie ringing in her ears wasn’t Fire Storm,
but the unmistakable blond fairy wearing a green dress who blinked up
to her face.
“Tinker Bell?” Vixen asked.
Tink smiled. Bling Blingabling (It’s nice to be noticed.)
“Whoa. I’ve never expect to see someone as famous as you . . . Wait a
minute; Tink! I need some of your dust. I can fly down with it.”
Tink merely turned around and gave a defiant pose. Bling (Why should
I!)
“Aw come on! I won’t be making moves on Peter! I’m someone else’s
girlfriend.”
“I’m afraid she’s right, Tink. Miss Vixen, right?”
“Ada-”
She realized that she was wrong the second time. The flying boy bowing
to her looked a bit like Adam in his Pan costume, but the costume was
different, more realistic. And the hair is shorter, wilder. And he was
British in his voice and mannerisms.
“You’re . . .”
“May I be the first to welcome you to Never Land, Dear Lady.” Peter
picked up Tink by the wings and tapped out some dust on Vixen not
199
unlike in the Disney film. “Two Tails told me all about you. Friend of a
Lost Boy is a friend of mine, I always say.”
“Two Tails?” Then she realized. “That’s the name on Adam’s book!”
“That’s where we gave him the name. I’d figure Adam Packbell would be
a better name for him today.”
Tink muttered out a curse word or two before swooping down to the
ground.
“Oh, thank God!” Tink heard Adam say from under the wrecked VW
Microbus where it landed. “No major spills of fluid. That could very
much save Hook’s hide!”
The boys, some of them brave enough to touch and climb up on it,
surrounded the car.
“Wow. A Volkswagen Microbus.” “I’d never thought I’d see one of these
close up.” “Adam, do you have one of those Beetles anywhere?” “They
look like the buses I went to school in.” “You went to school?” One boy
in a fox suit even sang a few lines of a song based on the model.
Tink flew under the car to see the damage. The back axle was cut clean
behind the right wheel. There was a huge dent where the cannonball hit.
“So help me, if this car spills as much as a drop of any fluid, I’m going to
turn that Codfish inside out.” Adam turned to a child bear. “Some of the
quote-unquote ‘blood’ in this thing doesn’t mix well with nature.”
He heard Vixen’s giggling, and wiggled out from under the car to see
Vixen float down, followed by Peter
“It’s because of the name that he became a two-tailed fox. You’ve been
teaching your mates well, Two Tails.”
“I haven’t gotten all of them to fly yet, Peter. Fire Storm was with us for
only a few months.”
Peter nodded before Vixen tapped him on his shoulder.
“He still has that costume, Peter! Turned it into a plush animal.”
Peter snorted out a small amount of laughter at that. “He turned his fur
skin into a teddy fox?”
“Couldn’t wear it in a desert town,” Adam opened the back hatch and
pulled out a bag of candy. He opened it as the bag drew the children’s
eyes. “So I did the next best thing. Go Long!”
Adam reached back to throw it. The children scramble deep into the
forest.
“Psyche.”
Adam passed the bag to the nearest one. “There’s a lot more where that
came from, so don’t be greedy, all right.”
200
Peter slapped his knee and laughed as the girl in a bunny rabbit skin
bounded toward the others.
Adam winked and turned to Vixen. “What happened to the guys?”
Vixen remembered and her fear returned. “Adam, they were just about
to pull me down when some people caught them?”
“What kind of people, Vix?”
“They looked like someone from the National Geographic, or some rather
stereotypical view on my father’s tribe.” There was a little disgust in her
voice at the second part.
“The Mollusks,” Peter said. “I’ll talk to them before they do something
rash with your friends. They know me, but they’re not too keen with
strangers.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled MolluskTribe:
Of all the things some of us want to hang Barrie or Walt over, it’s their
depiction of the natives in the original story. I don’t exactly blame him
though, either of them had archaic references of what so-called ‘savages’
would be like. At least Ridley Pearson was closer to reality.1
The part I’m sure of is that The Mollusk Tribe was an offshoot of a Middle
American tribe (could be the Mayans or Aztecs, I’m not sure.) who ended
up stranded on the Island and split into it’s own history. How they got
here is still a mystery, and they don’t talk to me much.
They keep to themselves; very cautious toward strangers. But Peter
saved the tribal captain’s life from Captain Hook—where Peter hacked off
the pirate’s hand and gave him his name—and he has a more cordial
connection with them. The Mollusks even sends an Ambassador to the
Lost Boys. At the time Wendy made her visit to the island, that liaison
was Tiger Lilly, the chieftain’s daughter. In the time we showed up, she
became that tribe’s chieftess.
“From the looks of things,” the grown up and tanned over black haired
woman with flowing long hair tied back and a eagle’s feather sticking up
from her hair band, “you three young man were wondering whatever or
not the rumors are true about a moving island where nobody grows any
1 Side Note: Will somebody in Disney please make a remake of ‘Song of the South?’ Get the
damned cheezy and MiSTable stereotypes so I can hear Uncle Remus’s stories. I wanna hear
the stories of Br’er Rabbit and not have to blush when I hear ‘Tar Baby,’ for Pete’s Sake!
201
older. I noticed the bells coming from that sorry excuse of a plane you
were using. Pixie Dust in lieu of wings? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know which is worse, hommes. We being kidnapped by the
natives, or the fact that we were lied to by Uncle Walt.”
Everyone outside of the cage Roberto, Victor, and Jei was in laughed, the
chieftess loudest of all. “And I suspect the Indians where you come from
speak Tonto?”
Jei was about to make a comment that would state the opposite, but
thought otherwise when he got a good look at the spears pointed toward
him. “You best shut up, Rob.”
The woman belted out a series or clicks and grunts that told the natives
to put those spears away.
“You have to excuse us. Every now and then we get a visitor or two,
either by accident as you have, or on purpose. Either or, we as a tribe
have grown to distrust them and their ulterior motives.”
“Honesty ma’am,” Victor said, “We were just gonna let you and your tribe
be. We were here because a friend of mine wanted to get back with Peter
Pan. He got separated from us.”
The chieftess nodded. “Peter is an exception. We have good terms with
him. Once he gets over here and speaks on your behalf, we’ll let you go
with your lives, as long as you no longer muddle in on our affairs.”
“So you’re not going to eat us, right senorita?”
At that, the chieftess nearly had a gut-busting laugh, echoed by the other
tribe members. “We will certainly won’t, Spaniard. We Molluskes are not
cannibals.”
“It’s Latino, and I hear a ’but’ coming.”
She pointed to the rock shown in the bay at the other side of the tribe
camp. At first the three guys thought it was covered by some very large
seaweed and moss.
Until a large mass of seaweed jutting into the water moved and lifted up
out of the water.
The boys realized that they were looking at the leg of a salt-water
crocodile.
A giant salt-water crocodile.
“I call no talking like an Australian zookeeper, Gentlemen.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled TickTock:
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Cue the Sir Mixalot Audio.
Oh, my, god. Steve, look at that croc. It is so big.
His original name was Mr. Grin. That’s the name he had when he ate
Captain Hook’s hacked off hand. According to the story where he got his
new name is when he was chasing Hook around to get the rest of him,
and Hook fed him his alarm clock. The clock’s been ticking ever since,
announcing his presence. Hence the name change by the time The
Wendy showed up.
I think it’s the alarm clock that messed up the poor croc’s mind. By the
time I was on the island, that croc has grown into the ’largest and
orneriest Salt Water Crocodile on the planet.’ I’m not blowing smoke; I
showed a tape of Tick Tock to Steve Irwin and made him say that.
To illustrate, let’s compare Tick Tock with the crocs in Australia Zoo.
Their largest Salty is Acco. He’s 5 meters long, 16 feet, and tips the
scales at a solid 1000 Kilograms, well over a Ton.
Tick Tock clocks in at a massive eight meters long, with a weight of 1500
Kilos. These are only guesstimates, because nobody could ever get close
enough to Tick Tock to measure his stats. For all anyone knows, Tick
Tock could be a girl.
Tick Tock is usually found in a side lagoon by the Mollusk tribe, sunning
himself on a large rock, which he just covers. Avoid that lagoon. And if
you as much as hear a clock’s ticking, you do what Captain Hook does
and head for higher ground.
A certain annoying Australian voice cut off Tiger Lilly’s smug air:
“Keeeer-ikey, that is one huge bloke there mates! He be the naughtiest
Salty in the whole world!”
She spun around with a look that could kill. She didn’t look at the three
guys in the cage, but the fourth on top of the hut. “PETER!”
The three in the cage looked at each other. “Peter?”
With one hand, Peter was unlocking the cage gate, dropping it open.
With the other, he was holding his nose and doing a Steve Irwin
impression. “He might be a littl’ bit cranky, but oi think oi’l grab it by his
tail and stick me finger in an unmentionable . . .”
The cage door dropped with a clang, startling the boys. Then a redhaired boy’s face stuck down from the roof with a round nose and
pointed ears. “You three better run. She’s gonna go on the warpath.”
They didn’t argue much at that point.
203
When the three got out, they saw the rest of their rescuer chased around
by Tiger Lily. She cursed in some unknown tongue, shook her fist at
him, and threw anything she could grab. He smiled as charming as ever
and kept a few steps away, floating in the air as if gravity had no
meaning for him.
“Is it me,” Victor said, “or did Adam break out his costume again?”
A hand that grabbed Victor’s right ear gave him his answer: “Don’t give
our host a complex this soon. He doesn’t even know you yet.”
The other two turned behind Vic to see a more familiar face.
“Come on you three, before anyone notices and ruins Peter Pan’s effort.”
Adam had to drag the three away from the area. They were too busy
looking at this flying boy and his antics.
“Aw, some on, Tiger Lily.” Peter said in a disarming voice. “I know deep
down you like me. All those times we had together.”
“And what would The Wendy say, you . . . you . . . you . . .”
“Player?”
Tiger Lilly and Peter turned at once toward the foursome. Peter had his
hands on his hips. Tiger had her arms crossed. Both gave Robert a
stern look.
“I thought she needed help finding the right word. Soy refrán just-OW!”
“You Dumbass!” Adam said as he hit Robert on the head.
“Let’s run for it, guys,” Victor said, “Before that crazy native catches us
again.”
“Yeah, what he said.” Jei added. “Hey Adam, doesn’t this Peter guy look
like you?”
“I suspect a trend.”
204
Chapter 15
30 December 1996, 5:15 PM
(Local Time: Neverland)
“Las Vegas, Nevada?” Hook said as he put another ice pack on his
stomach. “He’s a long way from the America West, Smee. He’s a long
way from desert sand.”
“What do you think made him come all the way here, Captain.”
“Judging from how he was so amiable toward Peter Pan, he must be a
former Lost Boys who somehow found his way back. How he was able to
pull that off is a mystery.”
“It could be related to the strange happenings lately.”
“Yer referring to that tidal wave of air that broadsided us earlier this
year?” Hook nodded. “They’ve been happening more and more as of late,
and from the rumor mill, those pixies have someone in their midst
notorious for gathering enough claps to make those so-called ‘Clap
Waves.’”
“I doubt this Prilla made the particular ‘Clap Wave’ you’re referring to,
Captain. Do you think that Adam had something to that-”
“Yer be close, Smee. Close. Notice how close Peter and Adam resemble
each other. I wonder how this development would play out over in his
place. I’ve seen what he does to dissenters.”
Hook smiled, and then chuckled. “If I be a betting man, I think those
two won’t last three hours without fighting.”
In that instant, Hook heard a sound of steel on steel from where he
thought the hideout is located, and he chuckled some more. “See there
you are?”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Peter’s Hideout:
The bulk of Peter’s home is underground. When Wendy showed up, they
built her cottage right on top of the entrance. Over time, the two
structures merged into one mansion-like building. Wendy’s rooms on
top, the Lost Boys downstairs, and a grand hall in between.
But that’s not the only building in the Hideout area. As Peter’s ranks
swelled and receded, some of his charges outgrown the Hideout but
decided to live in Neverland for the rest of their lives. So houses were
built nearby the Mansion for them to move in.
205
What began as a hideout has become a little community. It’s styled like
a humble English village where everybody pitches in and takes care of
everybody like an extended family. This communal structure might be
strange to Americans like myself—the bad reputation of said structure
notwithstanding—but the community is small enough for it to work and
there wasn’t any Greed or Sloth involved. It has a farm, a tailor, a baker,
a wood and metal smith, and every other establishment the community
needs for survival.
When my crew and me showed up, we wondered how we’re going to fit
into this community, even though we’re guests. Everyone agreed that
they’ll figure it out in due time.
“Are they’re really fighting?” “Nah, Peter’s just playing with Two Tails.”
“Just a sparring session, everything’s cool.” “But look at them go!”
“Better than pro wrestling.”
Such was the rhubarb from the crowd watching what Peter called a “ReInitiation Jump In.” In reality, Peter was interested in Two Tail’s fighting
style and wanted to see how he’d fare against it. Adam agreed to indulge
on a condition of a “Touch Only” rule: You only need to touch with your
blade to score a point. You can also “Tap Out” as an honorable way of
saying “Uncle.”
Once they both agreed on the ground rules, Peter took out a practice
sword while Adam put a safety sleeve over his sword, covering the sharp
back edge. Once everything was ready, they began.
“Whoa!” Peter said when Adam checked him with the butt of his sword’s
handle within 5 seconds. “That there’s what I call ‘Beginner’s Luck.’”
“Right,” Adam replied as he really readied himself. “Just let me know
when I get a bit overconfident, okay?”
Seven seconds later, Peter had his short sword at Adam’s throat. “Was
that what you were talking about?”
Adam tapped his shoulder. “Touché.”
They threw quite a show, even to the ladies on the balcony.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
[The]WendyDarling:
Hands, please. How many of you think that Wendy was an idiot for
wanting to return to London?
206
Wendy herself would agree with you.
Between the memories of Pan not leaving her brain and World War I
looming over the horizon she wished that she could return to Neverland.
Fortunately for her, Peter kept her promise to visit.
As Peter carried her back to ‘their’ home, Wendy confessed that she fell
in love with him.
She wanted to be his wife.
Knowing Peter Pan, he’s not one to jump into new roles. He didn’t want
to be a father when Wendy first showed up. It’s not that he feared
commitment, but he just wasn’t ready to for fatherhood. “Only a GrownUp wants to be called ‘Father,’” he said.
Nevertheless, he didn’t mind becoming her husband. “I’ll be honored to,”
he said with his typical elven flair. “Just allow me to adjust to the
change, okay?”
And he has. He had plenty of time.
The Wendy has been treated much like a queen ever since. Considers
herself Neverland’s Queen even though she doesn’t have the pomp and
circumstance as Great British Royalty. She doesn’t wear much beyond
gowns and frocks (Including a blue dress that Disney depicted) and she
lets the hair in the back down most of the time, only curling them (again,
into the Disney version) on special occasions.
Wendy poured some tea for her guest and her pet fox. “I’d have it more
elaborate, Vixen, if I knew that you and your friends were coming.”
“That’s all right,” Vixen nodded as she accepted the cup. Todd curled up
under the chair and lapped on a saucer. “You’d know by now that we’re
not much into formal stuff. Adam has a tux but he doesn’t wear it
much.”
“The Americans I know are always this easy to please. So Adam here is
adopted by a descendant of one of my brothers.”
“That’s something Wendy Mystran prides herself over. I think it was
John. She’s also named after you.”
“I’d like to meet her sometime.” Wendy took a cookie crumb and let Todd
lap it up. “I still can’t believe you tamed that fox, Vixen.”
“Toddie’s here as tame as a wild animal can get. I raised him from a
kitten and been with me ever since. But I have to know, how’s life here
in Neverland?”
207
“It might not be something for a proper English woman, especially by my
parents who were pressuring me to marry someone rich and snooty.”
“Ugh! I heard about that from others.”
Wendy nodded. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. My only regret
was leaving in the first place.”
“But you had your brothers to worry about back then.”
Wendy sighed. “You might be right—hello?”
Wendy saw Adam bound on the roof above them.
Wendy had her hands on her hips. “Oh, do be careful. You have ladies
under you!”
Adam glanced over to Wendy for an instant. “That was Wendy, Captain.
We’re getting too close to the girl’s tea party.”
Peter bounded over Adam. “Oh, relax, will you.” The two parried some
blows. “It ain’t that we’re using sharp edges.”
Rooftop fighting being cool or not, both of them knew they needed to take
it away from innocent bystanders. Adam found his chance and leapt
over to a grassy field.
While Peter leapt after him, he recognized the stance Adam got into: Feet
apart, Sword sheathed, both hands holding both handle and sheath.
“That’s the move you used on Hook. Looks like you’re gunslinging with a
sword.”
“Batto-Jutsu by name. I can draw, strike, and put it back in its
scabbard before anything even bleeds. In fact, judging by how you’re
twirling your sword . . .”
Peter gave Adam an impish smile. “I wanna try if I could tag you before
you can quick draw on me.”
Adam smiled back. “Careful, Captain. Even with these practice swords,
I don’t wanna hurt you too much. We are sparing, after all.”
“Oh, we’ve proved we can take a bruise or two. Besides, it isn’t like I
wanted you to let me win.”
“Fair enough.” Adam paused a bit before he nodded.
Peter took off.
Adam readied himself.
Peter crossed the distance in one leap.
He saw Adam’s arms flex.
Adam started his draw.
Peter hit the brakes.
208
whi-Crack!
The swing only batted at Peter’s hair.
“Whop, faked me out.”
“Indeed. And now you are wide-”
“Touch.”
Adam tapped Peter on the nose with his sheath.
Peter had to think a moment over just what happened.
Then he smiled.
Then he laughed.
“That was quite cleaver! You’re still holding the sheath!”
“Yep. And you can use it as a second Batto-Jutsu. A ‘Double Down’ in
my town.”
“That move was just too cool . . . Am I using that slang word right?”
Adam nodded as he sheathed his blade. He could tell that the sparring
match was over. A shiny thought, like learning a move that sparked his
interest, distracted Peter’s mind.
Wendy noticed the transition as well. “Peter, do you think we can use
the Pirate Ship out back to house Adam and his friends?”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
In the backyard of the Hideout is a path leading to a hidden cove under a
tall cliff. Inside this cove was a docked a pirate ship. Battle and time
have ravaged all the usefulness out of the sails and cannons. But
everything else was in order. It couldn’t sail, but it can shelter a good
dozen or so.
“Welcome aboard the Wicked Wrench, gentlemen,” Peter said as he led
Adam’s crew on board. “It’s an East Indiamen converted into a Pirate
Ship. I couldn’t find it’s real name, so I used a private joke.”
“How’d it come here?” Vixen asked.
Peter bounded to the barrier in front of the steering wheel. “I’ve seen the
whole battle that brought the ship here one day. I’ve flat out forgotten
what I was doing when I saw her, but Hook saw her at the same time.
Aw, come on, I’m no schoolteacher, mates. If ya have a question ask
away; no need to raise a hand.”
That person was Jei. “How’s Captain Codfish still here?”
“I like you already.”
209
“Didn’t you kill him in the official story?”
“By Master Barrie?” Peter sighed. “If only it were that easy. It seems
that Jas Hook has gotten a bit of the same magic in his blood as I. While
I have thrown him to Tick Tock, on more than one occasion may I add,
he’s very hard to kill. I’ve shot him, stabbed him, hung him, drowned
him, ran him over with his own ship, get him bit by spiders, fed him to
sharks, set him on fire, struck him with lightning; you name it, I’ve at
least tried it. You gents may have heard about a video game where the
winner gets to kill the loser. Having his heart yanked out or shocking his
head until it explodes should do it.”
Jei made a note to show him the game Peter mentioned: Mortal Kombat
was in the Playstation 2 Library. He only needed the time Peter needed
to get his breath.
“This particular ship was different than the other ships because it fought
back. Quite well, may I add. It was quicker, more nimble, a good shot
with their cannons, and could out-run the Jolly Roger if it wanted to. I
was just about to witness something that has never happened—Hook
losing to anyone but me—but then Hook pulled out his trump card.”
“Let me guess: The Jolly Roger can fly.”
“I’ll admit it’s my fault he has a flying ship, since I had Tink dust his ship
when I commandeered it once.” Peter shrugged. “I had to bring back
Wendy in style.” He laughed. “In the end Hook had to fly to best this
ship. She managed to retreat but was too damaged to sail away, so she
found a place to hide here, where it rests to this day. What happened to
her crew, well, if you ask me some other time, I might remember that
tale. Adam here isn’t he only one who needs his memories stirred.”
“You’re not that bad, Peter.”
“Roll your eyes at your own time, Adam. Feel free to use this boat as
your camp. I doubt you all can sleep in what you came here in.”
“Much Thanks, Peter,” Victor said. “We were looking for a place anyway.
It ain’t like we wanted to overcrowd your own pad.”
“That’s all right, I would’ve accommodated the lot of you anyway. A
friend of Two Tails is a friend of mine.”
“You said there was other ships and planes.”
“Yeah, You’ll find a lot of them all around here. Added a tenth to the size
of the island with the sunken ships alone. And during the middle of this
century when airplanes became in vogue, there's a good number of
airplanes crashed here. You’re more than invited to explore to find
what’s in them.”
Peter noticed Adam stopping by the door to the captain’s room, the look
on his face reminded Peter why he chose this ship to hose Adam’s mates.
210
“Found something familiar, Adam,” Peter said as he flew over to Adam’s
side. “You look like you had one of those lost memories falling back into
place.” He tapped Adam on the head to illustrate the matter.
“Wha . . . oh . . . yeah . . . this place does look familiar.”
“It should.”
Adam walked into the Captain’s room.
“It used to be yours.”
What was originally a room for keeping maps, entertaining guests, and
bedding the occasional maiden was taken up by someone with a
perchance for toys. There were plenty of parchments with plans written
in some sort of code, a lot of built puzzle boxes, playthings, a chess and
checkers set, and other items. In a connected room, there was even a
makeshift wood crafting table with various saws, hammers, sandpapers,
screws, vises, brushes, varnish, and a carpet of sawdust spilling into the
main room.
“Whoa . . .” Jei picked up a cylinder object which had bands that can be
spun around. There were letters over those bands. “This here’s a
cryptex.”
“A cryptex?” “Whoa.” “I read this Da Vinci Code book while the Nuns
weren’t looking.” “Who made this one?”
“It should be obvious.”
Everyone looked at Peter.
Peter was looking at Adam.
“You did.”
Adam looked at the cryptex, awestruck at the craftsmanship. “What
kind of a Lost Boy was I?”
“One of the brightest ones I ever met, but you were very quiet. Silent,
actually. In the fifteen years you were here, I don’t think you said more
then twenty words. You didn’t even come out of the shadows until you
got your costume. Then you got out in the light. But you’ve never spoke,
preferring to write what you wanted to say. I just thought you were
mute.”
Adam thought back to what happened to him before he came here. “I
wasn’t treated quite well. But then you probably got a clue or two.”
“From what I gathered you were treated like I was. Oh, I get reminded
with each new arrival what happened to me in some Home for Wayward
Boys. The accommodations were abysmal, the food was terrible, and the
treatment was criminal. The head boss would beat the whole lot of us for
any reason, regardless of what we’ve done anything or not.”
“Daily?”
211
“Think every quarter hour.”
“GEEZ!”
“It’s no wonder why most of us Wayward Boys ran away in one way or
another. Not to mention how I got such a distain for Grown-Ups. They
do things to their own children they won’t do to a Prisoner of War. I
knew I’d fare better in an uncharted island than under anyone's roof.
Fresh air, warm days, cool nights, rivers of clean water, and everything
else I need is within easy reach. And I don’t have to fear anyone
smacking my face. This is a freedom you Americans crave so much.
When I thought I could keep a child much better than any grown-up I
knew, I started picking up whatever wayward boy or girl I come across
and bring them here. Hence the legends you hear of Peter Pan and his
Lost Boys.”
As Peter said that, Victor was looking over some of the plans. “This looks
like you were plotting adventures with the other Lost Boys, Adam. I
wished I knew what language you were using. I can understand
PETERPAN in the upper left corner of these blocks of letters but I . . .”
Peter over heard what Victor said. “It took me a while to figure out what
Two Tails was doing, but you’re right; he was planting little adventures
for the others to play with. He enjoyed making them so much that we let
him keep making it. This ship has become his secret laboratory.” He
looked over Vic’s shoulder to see what Vic was talking to. “He wrote in
some wicked out code so nobody can see a spoiler. There should be a
decoder ring somewhere.”
“Here’s one,” Adam said as he pulled out a small metallic plate, “This one
here can be turned around to see which letter become what, but I don’t
think it’s that easy.” Adam points at the first eight letters, PETERPAN.
“I’m thinking that this is a Double Substitution Code, with this as a
password.”
“Double Substitution Code?”
“If you’ve studied Lewis and Clark, Vic, you’ll know they used one too.
They changed a letter shift code for each letter according to a password.
Makes a very hard code to break.”
Adam set the plan back to the table and placed the ring on top as a
weight. “I’ll deal with it later, we’ve got a welcoming party to go to, right.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
GraduatedLostBoys:
I know what you’re thinking. They call the island Neverland because
212
everyone in there Never gets any older. Emphasis on the word ‘Never.’
That said, how dear God can there be grown-up Lost Boys?!
It is a misnomer and everybody on the island knows it. Especially Peter.
But Peter had to address something Barrie didn’t notice. True enough,
nobody ever gets any older there. You can feel the aging process slow
down as you stay there and eventually stop. The effect may even clash
with the hormonal surges accompanied puberty.
You may never get any older. On the outside.
Inside, however, is a different story.
You might not experience aging, but you do experience time. You don’t
grow up, but you do grow older. And as you grow older, grow wiser, grow
into maturity, you end up breaking off into your own dreams and
desires, making up your own fun which doesn’t exactly match Peter’s.
According to J.M. Barrie’s book, he’d kill anyone who does that.
He does not. But those who wanted to stay in Neverland he builds them
their own place near the Mansion.
The first Lost Boys who ‘Graduated,’ which was his term (more honorable
than ‘Growing Up,’) were his own mates from England; Slightly, Nibs,
Cubby, and Toodles. More joined their ranks as the children he takes in
began to sprout out on their own. Hence the need to turn the area
around the Mansion into a quaint village.
A village that took us in with open arms that night.
While Adam treated the village to getting them up to speed on what
happened to him, they treated him and his crew to homemade pizzas and
a barrel full of a rum flavored iced tea.
Las Vegas, Nevada became in the imagination of Neverland’s denizens
what Neverland was to the outside world:
A Neverland in the desert.
A city aglow in light.
A fifteen-mile wide amusement park.
A world of 50¢ Hot Dogs, nine-pound burgers, and all you can eat in
every direction.
That sparked Cubby’s interest. “When are you getting back there, I
wanna see Vegas myself!”
213
The rest were wowed in time, as Adam went along he story of his
adventure. He was in the outside world, true enough, but it was also
magical. As magical as they were.
Peter was leaning nearby, allowing Adam to take the stage and tell his
tales. It ain’t that he has a monopoly of them.
He saw someone bound up to the barrel for a refill. What he noticed was
a large brushy foxtail. “I take it you’ve found the animal ears and tail,
Vixen.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled FurryEars:
[Inserted image of Vixen’s Ears and Tail]
I don’t use Furskins, or what you call Fursuits, in Vegas. Hello? We’re
in a desert. It’s hot. But a dressmaker in Neverland can make special
ears and tails that you wear with normal clothing. What makes them
special is that when you wear them, they become part of your body, and
you can move and hear from them as long as you keep them on.
I decided to make them optional in my own crew. Until I can get NGT to
recreate the effect, I’m forced to import them from the island.
Vixen giggled as she wagged her tail. “Got this frock too. The tailor has
my overalls so they can fix some holes. I might stay there tonight so I
can get a fursuit.”
“I’m sure Adam’ll like that.”
Vixen’s fox ears twitched as she listened in on Adam. “You said that he
didn’t talk much back in the 80s.”
Peter nodded as he gave a passing Todd a scritch on the head. “He
certainly has a lot to say now. By the way, Vixen’s a nice name for a Lost
Girl.”
“Thanks. I got it from my Dad, if you believe it.”
“Really.”
“ . . . Say, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but I was wondering . . .
If Barrie’s story happened in the turn of the twentieth century . . .”
“How old I really am?” Peter said. He then scratched his head. “That’s a
good question, Vixen. I don’t know my birthday, but I do remember
214
being taken aboard the ship that this island’s now named after during
the 18th century.”
Her jaw dropped.
“I remember America still as colonies and starting to rebel from England.
I wished I could go there instead of wherever I was being dragged to. If I
didn’t find this island, I would have.”
“You must be over 200 years old. Maybe 300.”
“I wear it well, don’t I?” Peter smiled.
“All this time, you didn’t age.”
“Meh,” Peter said, with a snort. “Even if I’m not supposed to grow any
older, a lot does happen in over 200 years. I found out the hard way,
ugh! Can you imagine how puberty could be for a guy like me? Oh, by
the way, check this out.”
He pulled the corners of his lips out for her to see inside.
“Ugh!” Adam said. “TMI, Captain. TMI.”
“I don’t know what that meant but notice what isn’t in my mouth.”
“Cavities? Anchovies? Wendy’s-”
“Close. Baby Teeth. Two hundred years is too long to ask for my original
set of 20. Fortunately I got a healthy set of 32 to replace them. I’m also
happy to report that I lost them because of me taking a spill. Like I’m
going to stand for them just growing out of my mouth.” Peter pulled out
a few freed teeth from a pocket in his tights. “These are my last ones,
and I lost them a few months ago.”
“I take it you lost them out of what I did with that Google search.”
“If you were referring to that Clap Wave that struck the island like a
tsunami, I’m afraid so, Two Tails.”
“I’m very sorry about that . . .”
“Oh, by now I don’t really mind. I can imagine the Tooth Fairy get me
some prime money out of these.”
“Forget the Tooth Fairy, Peter,” Victor said. “Sell them on Ebay. You
might not need to bum money from anybody.”
Peter blinked at that. “Ebay?”
Victor had to chuckle about his faux pas. He patted Peter on the back.
“Don’t worry, dude, we’ll help you get up to speed.”
Peter still had the expression one makes when someone talks way over
his or her head. Adam had to sigh. “We’re going to need some work on
our communication.”
“Yeah.”
215
Chapter 16
31 December 1996 12:15pm
(Local Neverland Time)
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled A'rielle and the
Never Spider:
The designated Tailors of the Lost Boys Community are a pair you might
never find at Disney.
Neverland has a balance of forces just like outside world. Don't think of
Good and Evil but in Light and Shadow; and both hold an important role
in the environmental structure of this island. Because of this, they strive
for a peaceful co-existence that nobody should muck around with.
This balance pairs Mother Dove with a shadow version in a form of a
spider. A big spider. No, bigger. You know that spider in Return of the
King? Combine that with Charlotte from the famous tale with the pig,
and you'd be close.
Mollusks, Lost Boys, and Pirates alike revere (or at the least respect) this
dark lady. (She had to teach Captain Hook by claiming some of his
crew.) She represents the death, burial, and the rebirth part of the life
cycle. She helps regulate the population of the more dangerous animals
on the island, guides dead fairies into whatever counts as their afterlife,
and in some extreme cases, takes a needing fairy—or human—and
remakes them in her image.
Such a case came in the form of A'rielle. I don't know if she was a
Mollusk or Lost Boy, but the Never Spider found her stung half to death
by a swarm of Africanized Killer Bees. After making short work of the
bees, she wrapped the kid into a cocoon and took her to her lair. The
Never Spider’s magic healed the child from the bee venom, but also
changed her into a drow-like dark elf. Several fairies also got the
treatment as the Spider rescues them from hawks.
A'rielle was a student seamstress before she ended up on the island, and
she started to make clothes for Peter’s Crew, and later the Mollusks,
using the stronger-than-steel-cable spider’s silk. She has her own place
in the village with all the needed equipment.
A’rielle looked like she was made out of shadow, with her black indigo
ink skin with the fuzz of velvet. Her eyes had a purple that seemed to
glow under her bleach white hair. She only wore a black robe.
216
Most of the Lost Boys gave her space. She disregarded that as mere
misunderstanding; such as her nature. Nevertheless, A’rielle was a
welcome and appreciated addition to the village. She liked weaving all
the clothes and costumes for the children, which gave her a needed place
to settle into.
Besides, she is a friendly sort once you know her, as her scritching to
Todd attests.
“You treat animals well, Vixen,” A’rielle said as Vixen walked up to her.
“This fox is well behaved.”
“He thinks I’m his mother.”
“I can see a great mother in you, in your future years.” A’rielle stood up.
“I got your overalls stitched up and cleaned, but I talked to my assistant
and she said she’ll be glad to make a furskin for you.”
““I’ll be interested in even meeting your assistant, I’m one of the rare girls
that like spiders.”
At that, Todd yelped with some concern. Vixen cooed at him to go back
to the boat with the boys and wait for her.
“I think it’ll be best for your Kit to steer clear of my basement. I don’t
want to tempt her with anyone that might make up a meal.”
“Good idea.”
A’rielle took Vixen to her house. The inside had the lights dimmed and
the shades drawn. “I’m a Shadow Elf, or Drow in certain company. My
eyes can’t take the full noonday sun like a normal human. The darker
the better.”
“Can you see in the dark?”
“Oh, yes. This level of light is good enough for me, and keeps humans
from bumping into stuff. In total darkness I can see in temperature.”
The main floor has plenty of racks, sewing machines, and looms—some
of them pedal powered—and manikins to hold clothes. One of them held
a replacement tunic, and another had Vixen’s overalls.
They rounded a corner and descended some stairs.
“I don’t think I told you about this,” Victor told Peter as they walked to
the ship, “but I was a son of a sailor myself. Used to dream a lot about
sailing.”
“Really. You should be right at home in the Wrench.”
“You can say that. Never thought I’d have my mind go back to those
days. Dream of sailing the seven seas as free as a bird, hunting for
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pirate treasure, discovering something nobody else have ever seen. All
that stuff.”
Peter smiled. “I tend to bring that out of people. Pride myself on that.”
“Hey, Peter, if you see me dress up like a pirate, do me a favor and don’t
think I’ve joined Hook’s crew, all right. My crew tend to think like pirates
back home.”
Peter waved his hand. “Reminds me of my own crew anyway. We’re
under the same flag, aren’t we.”
“Yeah.”
“Then we shouldn’t have any problems then. Hold it, what’s that
music?”
Peter’s ears perk up to the windy music.
“Adam on his ocarina,” Victor said. “He plays it when he’s in a
thoughtful mood.”
“I’ll check out where he’s at. I’m sure you can handle things here.”
“No prob, Peter. We’re all good.”
He followed his ears to one of the taller treetops. It leads him straight to
Adam, playing his sweet potato ocarina for all to hear. He stopped when
he saw Tinker Bell fly down next to Stormy.
“Don’t stop on my account, mate.”
“Peter. Didn’t see you fly by me.”
“Oh, I needed the fresh air too. It’s okay.”
“Cool.”
“I’ll assume that isn’t related to the temperature.”
Adam chuckled.
“I know, I know. Even if I couldn’t grow any more than I am now, it’s still
hard as nails to keep up the boyish image. Try to keep up with current
slang as the decades go past.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it. If this Internet thing’s as thorough as your mates say
it was, I should get into it just to keep myself up to date.”
“We’re going to hook up a satellite link here. If you’re interested, Vic’ll
hook you up.”
Peter smiled. “You sure have talented mates, Two Tails.”
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Spider webs covered the entire basement. It coated the walls, hung on
the ceiling, fitted into the spaces of the wood, and stuck to the floor. It
was all both of them could see for about 5 feet in the darkness.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” A’rielle said. “I keep forgetting. Let me light something .
. .”
She lit a candle, and the room started to show its occupant. Vixen was
in awe over the sight.
The spider was nearly as tall as the room, cradled in a web made like a
hammock. Six of the legs held her in place, the rear two spinning a
strand of spider’s silk from the bulbous abdomen and into a spool. The
front two legs evolved into arms with hands that held a trapped and still
squirming Never Hawk. Her head has grown into what a centaur would
look like if the ‘taur were a spider instead of a horse, with a humanoid
chest, shoulders, face with 6 eyes accompanying the two main ones, and
white hair tied back.
She brought the resisting hawk up to her mouth and clamped down.
Vixen saw a pair of fangs flip out in the instant her mouth was open in
her view. The bird froze in an instant, all movement and thought
stopped. Vixen knew that the bird would never wake up.
The spider lowered her kill down to her lower legs and cocooned it for
later.
She then turned over to a group of glowing lights. Vixen strained to see
what they were.
They were fairies all right. Never Fairies, but all but one of them were as
dark-skinned as A’rielle, and some of them were half spider. One of
them spun a web that held an injured Sparrow Man spread eagle. He
couldn’t budge. Even his wings were immobilized. There was a broken
leg which in a cast and a bandaged gash across his hips. All in Spider’s
silk.
The spider brought her face up to this Sparrow Man and appeared to
kiss him. His eyes closed and his body went limp, held in place by the
web. His breathing was shallow. The spider nodded at this.
This one will be asleep for a day or two. Make sure his wounds are
dressed.
The two Spider Fairies nodded and returned to the sleeping Sparrow
Man.
The others hovered over toward A’rielle and the spare Pizza she held.
“I got something for your friends, Val.” A’rielle said. “I take it you have
your meal.”
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Yes. A hawk was trapped in my web as he pulled away with his prey.
The Sparrow Man he caught will need time to recover.
The spider turned back to the dark skinned elf, and then at the girl on
the steps.
I see you have brought friends. Salutations.
“Yeah . . . Peter, Ah’ve been wonderin’-”
“What I think about you getting Lost Boys for your own.”
“. . . yeah.”
“It’s something I’ve been thinking on myself.”
“. . . ah thought you’d be mad . . .”
“Me? Angry at you? For coming back to us and bringing your own
friends? Heaven Forbid! I’m not angry at you at all.”
Adam looked up to Peter, who leaned on the trunk of the tree they were
both sitting in.
“I’m not surprised to be . . . what’s the term . . . cool . . . with what
happened. What I am surprised with is what I am feeling.”
“And that is.”
“. . . I’m actually . . . proud in ya . . . and not like what happened with
other Lost Boys that left Neverland.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You’d probably heard of a lot of people who’re were Lost Boys and
Girls in their lives. You’re a bookish type, you’ve heard of several
authors who had a similar spark inside them. Inventors too. And while I
can’t pin the names right off my brain, I’m sure that some of the
forefathers of your country spent some time here.”
“Really.”
Peter racked his memory a bit. “Last Lost Boy who flew the nest I know
of, and I respect him the most. While The Wendy was away, I had a
Midwestern American in my crew. He returned to his Missouri town
before she returned. He made quite a name for of himself. He became a
brilliant animator, which he turned into a household name in family
entertainment. He even made an amusement park that spawned other
parks all over the world. California, Florida, there’s a whole cluster full
in Florida, Japan, France. I heard there’s going to be one in China
soon.”
Adam’s eyes grew wide.
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“And unlike all the others, he didn’t forget his former captain. You can
say that he got my good side in that cartoon movie. Tink too.”
“No. Faricking. Way.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled SpiderTalk:
Vixen told me a lot about how different animals speak. Some have no
actual language but communicate in alternative methods, like
pheromones or light signals. That’s about 15% of all the animal species.
Of the others, they use their voice either by itself or with a combination
of other avenues using the other senses, and sometimes even an
additional sense.
Some species, like Spiders, don’t send words, but thoughts. They do use
clicks or whatever they use to communicate to other species, but they
just use thoughts for spider-to-spider speak. Since most of these spiders
have insects as their prey—another group of animals that use telepathy
—this could be related to how they hunt.
An animal-talent fairy may pick them up, but not an animal-talent
human. There’s a reason why we’re called Clumbsies, people. However,
if someone encountered a giant spider that wanted to talk instead of eat
him or her, they might start a conversation. Spiders are known to be
great communicators, or so I’ve heard.
You understand our speech, the Spider said in Vixen’s head. This is most
fascinating.
Vixen smiled. “I know how to speak with many animals.”
A Clumbsy with a Never Fairie animal talent. She turned to a glowing dot.
Very curious, is it not?
Vixen squinted at the dot until she saw a Never Fairy coated in fur. As
she came closer, she realized that the fairy was sporting a mouse furskin
made out of a spider cocoon.
This one has flash of fancies about becoming a furry creature. She makes
a fine model to practice furskins on.
Vixen giggled at the sight of the fairy dressed like a mouse. She even
acted the part, eeking in a comical way and darting into the shadows.
I believe my daughter introduced me to you; I am Val'incint, whom you call
the Mother Spider. Val for short. You can think if me as Mother Dove's
opposite sister. What is your name, my curious friend?
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“Vixen, ma'am.”
“Such a name needs a proper skin, Vixen.” A'rielle said as she removed
the frock Vixen had on, leaving her in only her bra, panties, Fox Ears
and Tail.
Yes, you should. Come with me, child.
Val'incint stood up on her hind legs and held Vixen's arms with her
hands. She showed immense strength in picking Vixen up and taking
her to a waiting web where she stuck spread eagle.
“Walt Disney was a Lost Boy?”
“Was a black furred rabbit while he was there too. Too bad he got into
legal problems and had the character he made out of his fur skin yanked
from him. You ask me, that mouse was a better image of him anyway.”
“. . . I’m not surprised. Why am I not surprised?”
“That’s what I thought when I heard he died because of all those damned
cigarettes. Didn’t I teach him anything?”
Snort.
“I really wished Walt would have returned. Even as an old man, I would
have welcomed him in. He could be my Uncle anytime.”
“Yeah. Wished he were alive today.”
“Maybe it’s something you could become.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you had to move mountains to do what you did, coming back
here. With friends.”
“Well . . . Ah would say that it was easy, but it’ll only sound like that . . .
Did a lot of fiddling around with what I could find, not knowing if it’ll
work. Or if I blow up the planet in the process.”
“That’s my Two Tails. The mad scientist.”
“Geez, the way you said that, it’s like I’m your son or something. I
thought you don’t like playing father.”
Peter sighed. “I didn’t at first. I thought only Grown-Ups would want to
be fathers. But every time I hear of people who were former Lost Kids.
Like Walt. Like You. I’ve come to feel like a proud father of them.” Peter
rubbed an eye. “I even end up crying, and I don’t do that! Maybe I really
did grow up; despite myself.”
“How do you define ‘Grown Up,’ Peter Pan?”
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For someone in my web, Val said in between slurping sounds as she
munched on a cocooned hawk, you’re surprisingly calm. Most girls your
age are at least squirming.
“I’ve been catching little animals for most of my life. Including smaller
spiders and even more venomous species like snakes. Besides, you’re
weaving clothes on me, not eating me. So it’s no big deal.”
I’m glad. Sometimes I have to bit them and give them a bit of venom. Not
enough to kill. Just enough to calm them down.
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Val’sVenom:
The Never Spider’s neurotoxic venom could be a medical breakthrough
for some people. It works by interrupting the nervous system. In a full
envenomation, the victim is immediately paralyzed. Including
brainwaves, respiration, and heartbeat. Death is instantaneous and
painless. Drier bites used to more hold a person still creates an
anesthetic effect similar to those used in surgery.
This makes the Never Spider an effective surgeon. During most of the
more severe injuries where Pixie Dust can’t heal in an instant, like
broken bones or deep cuts, she can even make a local bite and sew some
stitches. Peter can show you several results of the Never Spider’s skill on
his own hide.
Val started with Vixen’s feet. She called out to some of her fairy
underlings and let them swoop down to start weaving a coating of web
from her toes.
“I bet you know my boyfriend, Val. His name’s Adam Packbell, but you’ll
know him as Two Tails.”
I have. I heard he returned. I’d like to meet him again.
“From what I heard, he had to get his own furskin to come out of his
shell. I wonder if you made it.”
By now the webbing has traveled up her knees. The webbing felt wet and
sticky for the moment, but she felt the silk over her feet dry and solidify.
When dry it was supple and flexible, yet had a lot of heft. Vixen felt a
pair of pads stuck on the soles on her wrapped feet.
I had. He was such a frightened child when I first saw him, and when I
touched his mind I feared that he was never been loved in his life. I felt
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bad for him. So I let him sleep in my web for a time, and been his mentor
ever since.
By now the webbing went up to her waist. A zipper fly stuck in place as
well as a longer zipper on the back. The back zipper started with a
button flap to allow for the tail, and worked on up as the webbing is
spun.
I cradled him in my many arms and told him about the spirits in the island.
About how this island has a spirit of her own, and how she cares for who
lives with her.
“That sounds like something my dad would say. He’s a Native
American.”
Val tilted her head, not knowing what Vixen meant.
“Like the Mollusks.”
I see. I thought that was the term for them. I doubt ‘savages’ and ‘injuns’
would be in vogue nowadays.
“It’s how you define the term. If you think Grown Ups claim they know
more about you than you do yourself, wait with bated breath to find a
reason to smack you upside the head, and enforce rules for you to live by
which they don’t follow themselves, I don’t blame you for never wanting
to grow up. But. Even though you didn’t know how to be a father, but
you knew how you wanted to be treated by one. That’s how you treated
your Lost Boys. I should know; I’m one of them. You’ve never acted like
Hook, Sache, the bastards at your Home, or anyone from my old school,
but you did keep your crew safe from the hazards in this island, and
encouraged the unique quirks of each of us. Not many Grown Ups do
that.”
Peter blinked at this, and then smiled. “Well, now that you put it that
way.”
“As the saying goes, growing older is necessary, Growing up is optional.”
“Heh,” Peter laughed. “I can’t find myself arguing with that logic.”
Adam smiled.
“I don’t think it would be right to be your father.” Peter pulled out his
sword in mid-thought. “No doubt you have one back home. But I do feel
that we should be related somehow.”
“I’m thinking brothers. You’ve been so much like me from what I heard
—what I would be if I were a Yankee—that we should be brothers,
although there’s only one way we can be that.”
He made a cut in the palm of his hand, just enough to bleed.
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“I hope you’re not afraid to see your own blood.”
Vixen done her first fidget since being stuck on Val’s web. One of the
fairies snapped away her bra and let the webbing wrap go over her chest.
As they dried, the silk molded to her body, creating a slender and
unencumbered figure. Not to mention very attractive.
I can tell. You’re in love with Adam. You want to be his mate.
Val’s voice snapped Vixen’s mind back from her dreams. Her face was as
flushed as in the Christmas Night when she was in his arms. The
webbing has gone past her shoulders and down her arms, while her
hands began to feel sticky webbing cover her fingers and thumb,
covering her hand like a glove.
She by now covered from the neck down in a white coating of spider’s
silk, which Val started to paint with a brush and various pigments.
Hmm. You are still too young to be actually mating, but yes, Vixen, you’ll
be a fine mate for my child.
Vixen blushed and her fox ears twitched. Her body hung limp in the web
she hung from. Red for her body with a white chest and black hands
and feet.
A fine mate. I’ll let you rest now, so your skin will dry. Shouldn’t take too
long. Then I’ll bring you to him. It should be dark enough for me to go out
without much trouble.
A’rielle peeked down to look at her partner’s progress, and couldn’t help
but smile at the vixen in her web. “I have a basket for Adam’s crew here.
Mostly stuff that’ll keep them from looking like tourists. Would you like
to carry them to the Wrench?
Yes. I’d like meet up with an old friend.
“Not afraid,” Adam said as he took Peter’s sword. “Just squeamish.” He
placed the sword to his own hand. “When I do this stunt I always
worried I’ll cut too deep and-”
“That’s enough.”
Adam opened his hand. He was grateful that Peter told him when to pull
back.
They moved their cut hands toward each other, each oozing a small
amount of blood from the cuts, until they met and interlocked their
fingers.
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At first, with their hands clasped together, their life blood mixing
together, nothing was going on, save for a pair of hands getting sticky
with blood. It was gross enough for Adam to consider pulling away.
Then he felt it.
A tingle.
Small at first, at the palm of his hand, where the cut was, it entered his
hand, can feel it inside there.
Feel it growing.
Feel it push its way up his arms.
It glowed inside him, shown through his flesh. Adam recognized what
was happening:
Peter’s been in contact with so much Pixie Dust that it’s being reproduced in
his bloodstream. That’s how he can fly by himself. Now his Pixie Dust is
getting into my own system like an IV. . . . Oh boy . . . I hope this doesn’t h
That’s all he could as the dust went past his shoulder and into his heart.
Once that happened, it propelled through the rest of his body. He can
feel it fill his lungs and streak down through his other limbs. The glow
was so great that he had to close his eyes, and he still saw it fill his
vision. His heard the sound of a billion bells, drowning out all thought.
But he did hear a voice.
Welcome home, my child.
A voice from nowhere, and yet, everywhere.
I’ve been waiting for you.
From the trees, from the air, from the earth.
I knew you’d come back to me.
He felt a warm embrace, a tender touch, and a soft thump of a familiar
heart.
Of course you know me, child. You’ve been dreaming of me while you
were away. It was what drew you back to me.
It was the island. This living breathing magical island.
He knew he came from here.
From Her.
Come to me, my begotten son. Come to my arms, to my heart, feel my
warmth, my beloved son.
He felt her embrace him from all around, from his head to his feet,
blocking out anything else but tingle in his body and twinkle in his ears
and sparkles in his shut eyes.
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He felt himself change. It wasn’t like he was shrinking, but he knew that
time is reversing inside him. Body hairs were shrinking, retreating, and
vanishing. He can feel the fuzz on his cheeks and chest vanish, as well
as other areas he daren’t mention. He felt the tingle enter his jaws and
mouth, seeping into his teeth, both juvenile and adult, strengthening and
securing them in place. He knew he’d never feel the pain of Wisdom
Teeth barging in.
His body felt younger; not shorter, though, just younger, eternally
younger. He could feel puberty slowing down and stopping. He felt
himself becoming lighter, lighter and lighter, until he could no longer felt
gravity.
He felt his ears tugged by a gentle hand until they formed an elfish point.
“You’ve felt it too.”
He heard Peter’s, no, his brother’s voice.
“Something happened to the island when my ship crashed into it. Not
only did the ship’s magical cargo changed me, it changed the island as
well. It became alive. It became sentient. It became my Mother. A
Goddess, if you’d like.”
He smiled with greater brightness and happiness than he ever had
before. It was so great that he didn’t notice for another five seconds that
his eyes were open and he looked at his older brother and felt their
Mother surrounding her.
The two were hovering in the treetops. Flying on their own, no longer
needing Pixie Dust.
“You know, long before I came to this island, I wondered if I’d ever see
any of my family members, if I had brothers and all. It’s what orphans
think of. Now I can make up for lost time, eh, bro?”
Adam nodded and smiled, feeling the same thing
Adam’s new elven ears prickled at the sound of some skittering below
him. He dived down to the forest floor.
He looked around to get a fix on who’s coming, every sound of the forest
around them sharpened, every sight clearer.
Then a flash of red fur tackled him!
Oof!
Giggle.
A familiar smell. Vixen’s feminine scent. He didn’t notice it before. But
then he didn’t have his senses cranked up before.
Then again, he didn’t mind.
She sat up, still on her knees, still on the Adam she pounced.
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She was dressed like a female fox, her furskin tight like a catsuit. He
couldn’t help but like it.
She couldn’t help but like the point in his ears. “You sure look cute.”
She touched them, as she used to. “Hey, these ears are real. What
happened?”
“You can say that my return to the Lost Boys is now complete. Where’d
you get that?”
“Someone else you need to meet.”
There were some more rustling.
And Peter recognized the shadowed face.
“Val’incint!” Peter took off his hat and bowed.
Val returned the bow. How are you tonight, my son?
“Just great. I got me a new brother. Wait. He’ll be my first, I never
had-”
. . . a Blood Pact before? Val raised an eyebrow. Be careful with those
pacts, Peter. Blood does have a power.
Peter nodded. “I felt it was appropriate for Adam and myself.”
The giant spider woman turned to the other elf that still lay under his
vulpine girlfriend. Adam . . . Packbell is it now?
Adam squirmed out from under Vixen and sat up, unsure who she was.
Val took his hands with his. Think back, my child. When you were here
first. When I found you cold and afraid.
Adam’s eyes grew wide. “Miss Val! I remember.”
Adam and Val embraced.
“I have a similar relationship with a mermaid,” Peter told Vixen. “By the
way, nice furskin. With your name, it fits.”
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Chapter 17
31 December 1996
“I take it they don’t want us to look like tourists.”
That’s what Victor said when he saw the box of clothes that Spider Lady
dropped off near the Wrench. That’s what they called the giant spider
with human-like features that brought the box here. It wasn’t a
complete set of furskins like what Vixen wore and slept in, thank God,
but a collection of any decent clothing that was still wearable.
“At least we don’t have to worry about clean shirts,” Roberto said as he
pulled a giant sheet of a tunic through his head. “Is this shirt clean?”
The clothes in the box were more suited for medieval renaissance fairs
and pirates, with the oversized tunics and stretchable pants with boots
and stocking caps. The guys found something that fits: Jei found a
kimono styled like Ancient Japan. “I didn’t know they had one of these
here.” Roberto changed the least just adding a tunic. Vixen took off her
furskin and took a simple villager’s dress with her fox ears and tail.
Victor completed his pirate transformation with a bandana, puffed shirt,
sash around his waists, baggy pants, and boots. He even got a pouch
and a saber hung from a belt. “All that’s missing is a pierced ear.”
Adam didn’t bother with the box. “I’d dress like Pan, but I don’t want
people to confuse us.”
And with that they spent most of the day visiting the village and a good
part of the island. They found the tailor house where A’rielle lived and
where the clothes came from. Vixen chatted a bit over gowns that Wendy
would like to try on her. None of the guys wanted to visit the basement.
Robbie found the small farm, more like a community Victory Garden,
where a good number of villagers that had a green thumb pitch in. Ian,
the head gardener, gave Robbie a tour.
“This island’s soil has a good amount of volcanic material,” Ian said.
“That makes this island excellent for crops. Trees too. We’ve got an
orchard that replenishes their fruit and vegetables every month or so.
And I’m working on a flower garden for The Wendy as well, along a path
that goes from here to Pixie Hollow. She really likes it.”
Robbie looked over a part of that garden path bordered with flower
planters on wooden tables. Wendy was walking around them with a
watering can and Vixen nearby close by. He also noticed the tall grass
between both areas.
“Who mows the lawn?”
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“I have a small push mover, but we don’t mow in every place. The
gardens and some bordering areas and high traffic paths, but that’s it.
There’s too much lawn and not enough eager mowers.” Ian shrugged.
“Besides, there’s a certain charm toward wildflowers.”
It’s the same wildflowers Victor and Jei walked through on their way to a
crashed B17 bomber. “I wonder what happened to any survivors, Vic?”
“From what I heard some of the survivors ended up staying here. Some
in that village, I can suspect Hook shanghaied others, and the really
unlucky ones ran into the Molluskes. The rest found a boat to get out or
got picked up. But I’m just guessing.”
“I can guess that the island moved after the rescue and everyone thought
it vanished.” Jei stood up and turned to Victor. “That reminds me: Still
got that beacon?”
Victor pulled it out of a drawstring bag at his hip. “I got it here. Don’t
know if I should turn it on though.”
“Dude, we might be needing that beacon. It could be part of our way
home.”
“I just got misgivings and all. Adam did tell us that we shouldn’t mess
with the island’s environment any more than we have to. What will
happen when I turn this on and this island appears on the globe?”
“It’s still a remote island in the Atlantic, even if it does move. I don’t
think it’ll be disturbed that much. For all I know, only Nitsan would
want to stay here.”
“I know. I’m just worried about it being overdeveloped, that’s all.”
“Tell you what, let’s have Peter decide whatever or not we turn that on.
It’s his island, after all.”
“If you say so—hey, check this out! Is that a bomber jacket?”
Vixen giggled as the multitude of lights hovered around her. Each one a
pixie checking out a new face. A couple of them even hovered down and
played dodge-em with Todd’s nose.
“There’s a lot of fairies around here,” Wendy said. “This garden goes
from the Village to their home, known as Pixie Hollow. You can see their
home tree over there.”
Wendy pointed to the tallest Maple tree in the area, glowing from within
by the sheer number of fairies around, on, and even inside that tree. To
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it’s left was a Hawthorn that had a perfect circle of mushrooms by it’s
trunk.
“That’s where the Never Bird lives. Mother Dove, the fairies call her. She
was the first creature on this island changed by the magic of this island.
She ended up the guardian of that magic, which became the blue egg she
always sits on. And they take the feathers that molt off of her and grind
it into the Pixie Dust you recognize. Hmm, I think I see Fire Storm under
her wing.”
Wendy had to chuckle when she saw Vixen hover over to the Hawthorn
to talk to that dove. “A human with a fairy’s animal speaking talent,” she
said as she watched the girl whistle to the dove in the nest. “Who’d’a
thunk it?”
Wendy was right about Fire Storm being with Mother Dove, as Vixen
found her under the dove’s wing and nuzzling into her feathers.
Vixen picked up dove language with her usual speed, picking out what
the Never Bird said to Adam’s pixie. Something about a ‘grand
adventure,’ and ‘a most peculiar method of gathering claps.’ The bird
then noticed the Clumbsy hovering toward her and started a
conversation with her, just as surprised as Wendy was with Vixen’s
talent. “A Clumbsy with a fairy’s animal speaking talent,” the white bird
says in her own flute-like tongue. “Who’d’a thunk it?”
The two continued their chat until the dove cooed something that made
Vixen look down to check that she’s not disturbing the mushroom ring
below her.
“Oh, do be careful around those things, child,” the Dove said. “It’s called
a fairy ring, or fae rath, and they have very strange effects toward
Clumbsies, and some of them are very dangerous. I heard of some that
makes a Clumbsy dance forever inside it, enthralled by the other fairies
inside until the end of time. Others causes hallucinations so vivid that
whoever has them can’t really tell if they’re back in the real world. And
yet another freezes time for anyone who steps in until he or she is
dragged out. One such poor soul spent just a few minutes in one but
when he was taken out, 400 years has gone by.”
That was enough to make Vixen worried a bit. “What does this one do?”
“Well, it’s not that drastic, depending on who you ask. As you can see by
looking around, I am these fairies’ mother. They come to me and cuddle
under my wings like so many chicks and I can’t get enough of them.”
The dove giggled. “They done it so much that this Fairy Ring appeared,
and whenever a Clumbsy comes too close and steps in the ring, they
turn into a fairy him or herself. It happened to several Clumbsies whom
live with me to this day, enough to warn the locals not to get too close.
But since you’re hovering above that fairy ring and not touching any part
of it, so you may be—LOOK OUT!”
231
A streak of sparkling light buzzed the foot long space between dove and
Clumbsy. A good number of fairies rang out a string of harsh (and some
of them rather colored) language at the fast-flying talent pixie playing Top
Gun, one of their more common pranks.
All Wendy heard was the bells, but she could tell that some of them
picked up some very salty language by how Mother Dove was holding her
ears.
The swearing turned into a collective and loud GASP as Vixen started to
fall down because of the wake that pixie made.
She was still above that fairy ring.
Wendy ran toward that tree, knowing that she won’t get there in time.
Over fifty fairies did, though, and they pulled and pushed Vixen away
with all their might. They still dragged her even as she hit the ground.
“We’re Sorry! We’re Sorry! We’d fly backwards if we could . . .” was all
Vixen could hear as she shook her senses back.
She was still surrounded by glowing balls of light, her fairy friends. So
was The Wendy, not too larger than before.
Vixen checked herself over, and saw that she was still herself.
She sighed. “Oh, that was a close one.”
She put her hand to her head, stroking over her ear.
Her pointed ear.
She looked back at the ring and saw one of the mushrooms shaking back
and forth.
It was a sign that she indeed brushed the mushroom. Wendy saw that it
was her tail.
Not enough to really disturb the fairy ring.
Not enough to turn her into a fairy herself.
But just enough to point her ears.
Vixen didn’t know if she should be relieved or worried.
“That’s what happened to me as well,” Wendy said as she helped Vixen
up. She pulled her hair back to show that her ears were pointed too. “I
was foolish enough to poke at one of those mushrooms,” she pointed to
her ears, “and this happened. Not that I minded much; it matches well
with Peter. From what I hear, your ears will match well with Adam’s,
with that a blood pact.”
“Yeah,” Vixen said as she moved back to the path.
“A blood pact?” The dove said to the two girls. “Isn’t that a bit
dangerous, dears?”
232
Wendy didn’t have an opinion on blood pacts.
Vixen did. “My father’s a Native Indian, and he told me how some from
his tribe and a settler forge a friendship in that way.”
The dove nodded. “Take it from someone who lived a long time, my child,
blood has great power, and shouldn’t be misused. But it also has a
mighty gift that you’ll find very important as you go in your life. Some of
these gifts Peter himself just realized in recent years.”
The bird paused.
“Some of those gifts Adam will realize again.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled CryptexClues:
It’s impossible to solve a cryptex without the password by any method
outside of breaking it. And I don’t want to see what happens when I
break them. Oh, you can do brute force and try out every possible
combination in order, but that could take years to find the right
combination.
I guess I knew of this while I was making the one I found, because I’ve
written a hint in double substitution code right on the tube. It took me a
while to find the right password: CRYPTEX. Decrypting the coded
message using that password revealed the clue . . .
“Five letter word,” Adam tells the crowd, “The clue is: Peter’s earlier
girlfriend.”
The collection of Lost Boys, be they in furskins, tights, or whatever, made
a collective “Ooooooooooo.”
Peter just blushed.
“I’ve tried ‘Wendy,’ and that didn’t work. I tried a variation of Tinker Bell,
‘Tbell.’ That didn’t work.”
“Brain twister,” Slightly said, “Or Scandal Rag in a can? You tell me.”
“Not really,” Peter said. He sat backwards on a chair, his hands at his
temples, his eyes closed, and his brow furled. “There was a girl friend in
my life before The Wendy. That’s two words, mates: Girl. Friend.
Nothing happened between us. She was with me on the boat that
crashed here. Now if I can only remember her name.”
Peter had to chuckle.
233
“This is classic Two Tails. Keeps our brains sharp. I had a terrible
memory before he showed up.”
Peter leaned back as Vixen asked, “What was that boat crash you
mentioned?”
“I’ll tell you as much as I remember. It’s not that I’ve forgotten it
deliberately, it’s just so long ago. . .
“Me and my mates; Slightly, Nibs, Toodles, and Cubby; were taken
aboard a vessel named The Neverland to travel to some country
with a king way to egotistical to remember. It has something to do
with the demand that people show a certain number of fingers and
they would chop them off if the king weren’t given proper respect.
If you don’t know who he is, don’t feel too bad, that sodder’s dead
and forgotten by the whole planet.
Accompanying us was the girl who’s name might come to me in a
few moments, who was carrying a strange box that sparkled and
glowed on it’s own. And whenever it was moved bells rang out.
From what I could remember, it was some otherworldly substance
—Starstuff, it was called—which was the source of various magical
feats made by numerous people in history. It was guarded by
some secret organization during the time.
En route to the aforementioned country, a pair of unrelated events
happened at the same time: We were attacked by a group of
pirates lead by the one we now know as Captain Hook. He had
another name but I don’t know what that was; I’m sure it ain’t
Codfish. At the same time, the strongest hurricane I’ve ever been
in, it had to be a Category 6 or worse, slammed into both of our
ships at once.
All this happened, mind you, while I was curious about that box.
And you know me; I intend to find out about things no matter
what. I was holding on to that crate when it and me were blown
out to sea by that hurricane.
If I didn’t see an island come in front of me, I’d thought I was a
goner. I’d still thought I was a goner when I landed on that
island’s beach.
The crate landed first with only moderate damage, but it was
crushed open when I landed right on top of it, sending the
Starstuff flying all over the island and the surrounding oceans.
By now you know the result of this accident, I became the one you
see before you, the island became a living embodiment of stuff fairy
tales are made of, and M . . .”
It was in mid sentence when Peter’s eyes lit up.
He crowed!
234
“Bless you, Packbell! I knew talking about it would help me remember
her name!”
Adam whipped out the cryptex.
“Try ‘Molly’.”
Adam spelled it out on the cylinders: M-O-L-L-Y
A slight tug on the end and it slid open.
“Well done.” “What’s inside” “Let me see.”
Adam pulled out a scroll of parchment from inside. He unrolled it to
reveal a treasure map. A pair of keys was found with the map, one
smaller than the other.
The other Lost Boys were overjoyed! A Treasure Map! Another
adventure!
But it had to be asked:
“Is this one of your adventures, Two Tails?”
“No.”
Peter pointed to a symbol of a star in an open hand. “This is the symbol
of that group I told you about in my story. ‘The Starkeepers,’ of
something like that.”
Adam pointed to the labels of the various landmarks. “Not in my
handwriting either, but I think I’ve seen it before.”
Back in the Wrench, Adam opened up his book and flipped to the locked
section. The style of the letters matches up with the letters in the map.
“And look here,” Peter said as he tapped the symbol on the locked
divider, “It’s the same symbol.”
“Could this book be from this Starkeeper group?”
“Could be.” Peter thumbed the smaller key in his hand. “Do you think
this key will fit in that lock of yours?”
“Dunno, let’s try it.”
Peter tossed the key to Adam, who put the small metallic piece in place.
Click.
The lock opened, it’s band popped out.
Adam flipped over the band and the divider.
“What’s it say?”
Adam read aloud.
235
The following is the complete accounting of the final actions of our
group, which takes place in this very island. To anyone who opened
the seal that contained this book, you are considered worthy to
access our secrets. It is our hopes that you will keep this safe from
all those who’ll misuse it.
“This seems to be some sort of time capsule.” Adam said as he thumbed
through the pages, with various diagrams, locations of where Starstuff
was found, and even a molecular makeup of several materials. “This
diagram here must be for Pixie Dust, because I recognize this area here.”
He circled a section of said diagram with his finger. “Keratin. We’ve
studied so much back in Vegas I remembered this.”
“I wonder what caused them to disband, though?”
Adam flipped a few pages. “I think I have the answer to that. They keep
records of the times and places that Starstuff landed on Earth, and made
predictions on all future sightings. Take a look at the last actual sighting
and the prediction of the next one.”
Peter leaned toward the book. “Hmm, the last one’s some time before
Wendy came here.”
“And look at the next prediction: Between 2000 and 2003.”
“That’s not too far from now. Only three years, at least.”
If Peter had any thoughts similar to “When you’ve been round as long as
I have, you’ll find that years fly by faster and faster,” he didn’t show it. It
popped in the back of his mind, though, a minor annoyance that left as
quick as it came.
“Yes, but at the time this was written, it must’ve been over a century
away.” Adam moved ahead. “That could be why they disbanded. It
would take too long to get to the next sighting, and there wasn’t much
supply of Starstuff to guard then, so they came back to the island in
secret during the 1920s . . .”
“WHAT?!”
Adam looked up.
“I didn’t know about them here at that decade. I’d thought they would’ve
at least checked in on me.” Peter was a bit irritated. He crossed his
arms and pouted a bit.
Adam continued. “. . . we hid all the Starstuff in a cave marked on this
map,” he patted the scroll, “ . . . and locked all the knowledge we had
gathered to date inside both this cave and in this Starstuff-infused book.
Once we lock both we will send this book away to look for the one who
can bring our organization back in the future when Starstuff reappears
in the world . . .
236
“It doesn’t say much after that, just some well wishing for me with what
they charged me with.” Adam rolled his eyes. “There’s a name that’s
smudged. Something Twotails. I guess that’s where the book’s name is
from, and in turn my Lost Boy name.”
Peter wasn’t irritated for long. “I wonder what else is in that cave?”
“Let’s find out about it in the morning, when we have more light to work
with . . .”
They heard a piercing whistle from outside the cabin, accompanied by an
upward flash of light.
“And I don’t think you can get my crew away from those fireworks
tonight.”
“Do you think it’s Midnight already, Victor?”
“Just checked the watch, Jei. It’s eleven fifty something, give or take a
minute or two. I couldn’t get any exact time to set my watch. Besides,”
Vic set off a bottle rocket, “I was getting antsy.”
Victor, Jei, Robbie, and now Adam and Peter gave the gathering crowd by
the pier an amateur fireworks display. ‘It’s how we celebrate New Years
in Vegas,’ Vic told them. ‘It’s a lot bigger over there, of course. And on
good nights they throw in a building blown up. Demolition crews find
Midnight at New Year’s a good time to blow stuff up.’ They fired off a
bunch of rockets, roman candles, spinners that get tossed into the water
after the fuse is lit, so they spin their way up from the surface, and a lot
other firecrackers to wow the kids. Fire Storm and a few other pixies
volunteered to be the lighters after they made sure that the Jolly Roger
was at the other side of the island.
“It seems that you’ve been getting all your answers, Adam,” Vixen said as
she watched the show by his side. She was back in her fox furskin,
which she slept in cuddled next to her lover. “But I want to know one
thing though. How did you get from Neverland to Vegas last year? I’d
noticed something near the village that reminded me of that.”
“That’s a question that completely left me,” Adam said. “I’ll find out
about it tomorrow.
Vixen nodded. “And what about that GPS device. Has it been switched
on yet?”
“Not yet. Jei, Vic, and now ah’m wonderin’ what would happen when
this thing’s turned on. Once it is, the location of Neverland will appear to
the general public. Enough people will be interested in this new beacon
to investigate it and find out what it is.”
237
“Worried about too many people coming here and make a mess of
things?”
“Yeah. Not to mention people who would make Captain Codfish look like
a Boy Scout. I wanted to find the answers to what happened to me, not
endanger the source of those answers in the process.”
Vixen nodded, “But with the beacon, we’ll be able to make a Net
connection back to Vegas, and it’ll be a lot easier for us to return home.”
Adam nodded. “It’s a Big Slick scenario.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled BigSlick:
Big Slick is what they call an opening Texas Hold-em deal of an Ace and
a King of the same suit. It’s a very powerful hand, and you won’t be
blamed for betting the farm on it, but it has as much chance to losing big
as it is winning big. Any pair beats the A-K suited, but with that hand,
you can get the ultimate hand in poker, the Royal Flush, not to mention
getting an high pair or a strong straight with the community cards. It’s
Big Risk, with Big Reward.
“Have you talked to the guys about it?”
“We have, and we all had the same idea.”
“It’s your island,” Peter thought out loud as he held the device, which
resembles a soda can or a battery operated radio, “It should be your
decision.”
“What do you mean, Peter?” Wendy asked, “And what is that in your
hand.”
“Oh, Wendy. I got this from Adam’s crew while they told me how they got
here.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Did’ya know that there’s a series of satellites way up in the sky, far
above where there’s air. These satellites map the entire surface of this
planet and track where everything is. In fact . . .”
Peter pulled out a smaller device form his pocket, pushed the button,
and showed the display to Wendy.
238
“. . . you can connect to these satellites with this device which tells you
where you are, in Longitude and Latitude, right down to Degrees,
Minutes, and hundredths of seconds. It’s accurate within a few feet.”
“Hmmm. That’s a very convent device. I can imagine how easy ships
can navigate with them.”
“That’s what I was thinking. But then they have these devices here,” he
showed the device he was first holding. “Adam’s mates call this a
beacon, and it can mark where you are to these satellites so others can
tell where you are. Adam’s crew brought this here so they can mark the
island to these satellites so they can get back in touch with Vegas and
help get back home.”
“I see. So why didn’t they turn it on, unless they’re worried about what
would happen if people start showing up in droves.”
“They’ve mentioned that, Wendy. I’ve heard what happened to the
Caribbeans, the Americas, and the West. Some grown-ups go there and
make the place worse than when they found it. And I understand if Two
Tails doesn’t want that to happen to Neverland . . . buuuuuut . . .”
Peter scratched his chin. “I have more Lost Boys that left the Island. If I
can connect to this Internet . . .” Peter chuckled. “. . . I can get back in
touch with them. Maybe we can still be friends. I’m not one to be
permanently docked by one of those computers, but I might have a use
for one.”
Peter set the beacon down on a nightstand, still not turned on. “I shall
sleep on it, and decide tomorrow if this thing be turned on or not. That’s
what I told Adam’s crew. That’s what I’ll do.”
“Seems like the best thing to do, Peter.”
239
Chapter 18
1 January 1997
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Jan1Schedule:
In a perfect world you don’t have to check the weather or monitor the
activities of another group when you plan something, like your daily
commute, the pilgrimage to E3, to hunting down hidden treasure with a
map you found.
Neverland can be many things, but it’s not perfect.
There are two groups any Lost Boy has to keep an eye on at all times.
One of them of course is Captain Hook’s crew. They’re always circling
the island with their cannons aimed inland looking for Peter or anyone
close to him. You can’t go a football field’s length in any direction
without finding at least one cannon ball lying around. You’d think that
since the Jolly Roger can fly they can patrol over the island and search
over land. Even Hook would have thought of that, and would have done
it. If it weren’t bad form.
“Hook’s all about doing it right in his eyes,” Peter told me about him.
“For him, good form is everything. If he didn’t, I’m sure he’ll have this
island blown under the ocean by now. He’s told me that he saw
terrorists in the Middle East do far worse than that if they’ve given the
chance. He placed them worse than me.” Peter shrugs. “Nice to know
that there’s people blacker than him.”
So. Captain Codfish follows a strict code. Make a note to appeal to that
when I meet him.
The other factor in play is the Mollusk Tribe. Every other week or so they
hunt for game. You got deer, bear, foul and other popular game, and as
long as the populace doesn’t go out like the settlers did with the Buffalo,
the supply would be plentiful. But that’s not the problem. They have to
make sure that the Lost Boys are out of the way so they don’t get
confused with dinner.
Remember that some of the kids still wear furskins.
Nothing could piss off a native more than shooting what they thought
was a fox only to find that second tail.
So they send Peter a message telling when they’ll hunt so he can keep
his crew out of their way.
They sent us their latest message last night.
Meanwhile, Hook was reported to be around the mountain we’re going
up.
240
We can forget about flying there today. We’re going to be hoofing it up
that mountain. At least most of us don’t need climbing gear.
“I take it some of you still haven’t gotten the hang of flying yet,” Peter told
Adam’s crew.
“You sound like you understand,” Victor said.
“I do. Some people need to crawl before they can fly. When you’ve been
around like I have, you notice these things.”
“Appreciate it. We would’ve had to wait a lot longer if we didn’t figure out
that you can make a car fly with it.”
“But some of us are catching on, check this out.”
Roberto steeled himself for a moment or two, swung his arms like he’s
about to power lift something heavy, and jumped backwards. Some of
the group held their breath while he hovered there like he’s sitting in an
invisible reclining chair.
“¡Hola! ¡I can fly, Amigos!”
“Correction, Senior,” Peter said. “You can float.”
“¿Eh, it’s a start, isn’t it?”
Nobody expected the group to take too long to get there, by foot or by air.
Circling the woodlands while the Mollusks hunt wasn’t that much of a
detour. After that it’s just a short trek to the mountain and up a
hundred feet to the cave, which was visible through the trees at certain
points.
“It’s a good thing we have your big brother with us, Adam.” Victor said.
“He knows this island more than we all do.”
“The most in the Lost Boy community, last time I checked,” Adam said.
“That’s why he’s taking the lead.”
Peter’s ears twitched. “Hold up for a moment.”
Peter led them to a beach between two large rocks, one of them jetting
into the sea. He had a hand over his pointed ear. He then returned to
the crew.
“Everyone back in the woods, Hook’s coming around.”
The group made their way around a bush and behind a group of trees.
Peter nodded to Tink, who sprinkled enough dust at the lower foliage to
make them grow fuller for better cover. Adam whispered to “Stormy” and
pointed toward the bushes. Fire Storm got the point and helped Tink
out.
241
“I’m surprised you and Fire Storm can understand each other,” Peter
said in a whisper, “with what I heard about the laugh she came from.”
“I’m teaching her English, although how good she is at it depends on
what day it is.” Adam replied with his voice just as quiet. “Here he
comes.”
The Jolly Roger floated into view about 250 yards from shore, just far
enough to keep from running aground. The crew on deck scrambled to
change sails as a bellowing voice belted out commands that echoed
throughout the rocks and trees.
Everyone crouched down further into the bushes and shushed each
other as the ship came between the two rocks, Captain Hook leaning
above the railing and into the forest. He twirled his mustache with his
hook. Victor got a closer look at that hook with a binoculars and found
it to be a prosthetic hook, which can split apart to hold things. It looked
primitive to Victor’s standards; NGT’s prosthetic arms can connect to
their user’s nerve systems and be just like a real hand.
“Looks like he’s expecting us.” Victor said. His voice not above the surf
of the water.
“He’s expecting me.” Peter replied. “He’s been after me ever since I cut off
his hand and fed it to Tick Tock.”
“All this time?”
“Aye. You ask me, I think it’s the hatred for me that’s making him live
this long . . . and the fear of that!”
The sound that assaulted everyone’s ears after Peter said that reminded
Adam and his crew of Godzilla’s roar, only cranked up to 15.
Hook nearly fell overboard in a panic.
“There’s only one thing in this world who would make Codfish freak out
like—HOLY SHIT!!”
Adam’s expletive was drowned out by the crashing sound of Tick Tock,
all eleven meters of him, thirty three feet plus, leapt out of where he was
sitting, just 200 yards ahead in their path. He landed in the water and
charged for the pirate ship full tilt. Running fast enough on the beach to
skip the water along it’s belly.
The Jolly Roger couldn’t sail fast enough to lose the giant crocodile,
which slammed against the hull to try to get inside and to its captain.
The party in the bushes was in utter shock; Peter . . .
“Mates, that crock was in our path; he could just as soon go after us if he
wanted.”
. . . and Adam . . .
“that was Tick Tock?!”
242
. . . and the others.
“Man. Am I glad Hook was around to catch that Hell.”
It took them a while for all of them to recover. Fortunately there was a
pair of pixies to slap their senses back in place.
“Snap out of it and get across to the mountain, you silly asses!”
“Hai! He returns, the meal before finding the fact that it waits for him!”
“ . . . . what the heck did you just say?”
“I’d fly backwards if I could learn better English.”
“ . . . oh.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Tink’sCussing:
Everyone and their cousin who knows about Peter Pan know that Tinker
Bell can curse blue streaks when provoked. It’s almost a given: We’re
talking about someone who’s first line in the book was “You silly ass.”
Not ‘Boy,’ folks. ‘Ass.’ A, double crooked letter.
Rumors say that Tinker Bell cussed on camera in both Disney movies,
not to mention other scenes. She could rip though enough cussing to
make even Howard Stern squirm, but since all the sound men heard was
the bells, they keep it on the tape.
Think of that when you think of which Disney Princess was ‘the Bad Girl’
or what unacceptable material made it to the big screen. Triton’s castle
made of condoms? Ariel being nude from the shells down? Rajah telling
Jasmine to take it off? Simba collapsing on the ground and the scattered
of leaves spelled out ‘Sex?’ Jessica Rabbit going commando? Big Deal.
Do you know that Tinker Bell said in Peter Pan? Now there’s your
tantalizing tidbit.
But I'm surprised to find out that this when I first hear Tinker Bell just
belting it out. That’s a surprise. From all the time I can remember on
the island, both as a Lost Boy and now, I’d think I’d hear her at least
drop an ‘F’ bomb or two.
Sidebar: I found out that fey languages could make verbal abuse sound
like a lover’s sweet caress.
The trail switchbacks up a hundred feet up a crevice. After looking back
243
to see that neither croc nor pirate ship would return, the party slowed
down.
Only a fifty-foot climb lead to the cave. Those who couldn’t fly were
grateful for handholds.
“Whew,” Jei said. “I for one am glad Captain Hook was there, that croc
would have owned us. One hit and Game Over, man, Game Over. No
return to the church with half our gold.”
“Ah, that croc’s a pushover,” Peter said. “I could just lure them over to
where the Jolly Roger was at.”
“Easy for you to say. We’ve yet to master flying.”
Peter then grabbed on to Jei and threw him over the rock wall.
He waited for Jei to turn around to protest.
“Was I able to throw you over the wall if you didn’t master flying yet?”
Jei blinked a bit.
Then he pushed himself off the edge.
“He’ll be ‘Yata!’ -ing all over creation for about a week now,” Adam said as
he looked at the now-flying Jei.
“Like I said, give ‘em time.” Peter proceeded into the cave.
The others turned on their flashlights and lanterns as they followed him
further into the cave. It lit up the dry rocks as it went up a path until
they reached a door.
The door was wooden and rounded, set into place with concrete. It had a
locked latch.
“This must be the door in question.” Adam took the larger key from his
pocket and fidgeted at the lock.
Victor elbowed him. “Hey, Adam, what’s that?” He pointed to the pile of
clothes on a side chamber to the left of the door.
“They look like winter clothes,” Roberto said as he picked them up. “A
coat and woolly pants.” He blew away some dust. “Feels like it’s a Santa
Claus costume.”
“Wow.” Adam went over to the coat. “This could be what I was in when I
was spirited away.” Adam blinked as he found something in the pocket.
“It is! Look!”
He pulled out a school program. He showed the paper to the others
showing the same school and year as the one on the school ID he had.
“Blah Blah Illinois. Dude.” Victor said. “No wonder they treated you like
a retard with that southern accent of yours. You had to live in the
Midwest.”
244
“Hoosierville,” Roberto added. “Ain’t that the pot calling the kettle
black?”
Peter tugged the metal latch away, but he door itself was too much for
one man. The others joined in. “This looks stuck, mates. All together
now...”
The door lost the battle with five guys and it gave way.
It opened to a blinding light. At least it was blinding in the relative
darkness.
“That Light”
Adam said, struck frozen in awe.
“It’s just like in that log ladder.”
The light envelops them all.
“It’s the same light!”
Adam:
“Traumatic Amnesia,” he heard the doctors said. “The scans of
your head noticed some recent bruising on your head, no doubt
you’ve fallen on your head or something.”
“So that’s why ah don’t remember what happen’ t’ me?”
“Afraid so, son.”
“Do ya think ah’ll get it back?”
“In time, in time. Think of your memories as a jigsaw puzzle. At
this time some of the pieces have broken away and scattered in
your head. It’ll take time, but I believe that you can get all the
pieces back in their places.”
His mind’s eye can still see that jigsaw puzzle. There are a lot of
pieces that fell into place, although there are some pieces still
missing. However, more pieces weren’t falling into place, but making
their own place, building up above the original plane in a threedimensional structure.
“Maybe you’ll even have better memories in place of the ones you
lost. You have a new live and a loving family now, Adam. I’d say
give them a shot and make a better life for yourself?”
The pieces were falling into something bigger, something bigger than
the original two-dimension puzzle.
Something bigger than himself.
245
“Nothing happens in a vacuum. Everything happens for a reason,
and there is a reason why you’re here.”
Is this the reason?
Vixen:
She could speak to every species in the zoo, but her own remains a
mystery to her.
That’s what Vixen would think others would say about her, what
others would say about her, and what she would think to herself.
Animals may not be excellent conversationalists, but they won’t
reject you outright as they come up and sniff your hand. They can
be affable and friendly, even intimate. More often than not her
nights were spent sleeping with Todd.
That’s more than she would say about other humans, like her
classmates. They were turned off about her talent and her
tendency to talk more toward every critter that comes nearby.
They kept their distance.
Usually she couldn’t care, even when they whisper among
themselves. But she couldn’t help but be lonely. Why can’t
human friends be as approachable as Todd?
She thought that she’d never get a decent relationship with an
actual boyfriend.
Until Adam swooped in—quite literary—and carried her away.
He brought her to a phase in her life she thought was locked away
from her.
She could see her talent, and herself, being more a part in the
world . . .
A world with Adam
Victor:
Just Another Stoner.
That’s what everyone said about him. Nevermind that nobody has
any proof that he even smoked Marijuana.
Just Another Stoner.
Nevermind that his high tech savvy can be a godsend some of them
needed. A next gen computer. A nanotech alternative to
embryonic stem cells. A robot that can be perfectly human.
Just Another Stoner.
246
In time even he believed what he was.
In time that’s what he really was.
Everyone believed it.
Everyone except Wendy.
Everyone except Justin.
Everyone except NGT.
Everyone except Adam.
And in time, it’ll be everyone except everyone.
Jei:
The nail that sticks out gets nailed down.
There was no room for misfits in Japan.
You’re in a distinct group or you have no business in any group.
If you don’t conform, you have no business outside of your home.
If you’re not normal in anyone’s eyes, then you’re less than nothing
in anybody’s eyes.
The only place for you is in your room.
And you never leave your place.
They have a word for people like you:
Hikkikomori
You are convicted of being not one of us, and you are sentenced for
life.
But there was another way.
You have another place to go.
You have another place to be.
A nail that sticks out gets moved to a place where sticking out serves
a purpose.
In Vegas, you found a place to go.
In their Lost Boys, you found a place to belong.
Sometimes you really have to leave your homeland to find your
honor.
Sometimes you were just born in the wrong place to have it.
That’s what happened to you, and you don’t regret going to get it.
247
Roberto:
It would be easier to go Viva la Razza if you only knew what your
razza is.
You never knew who your parents were. All you know that they
were Illegal Aliens who wanted to make their child an American by
birth. So they can bring their whole family across, using you as an
anchor.
Nevermind that you’re a human being and not a trophy.
But things went awry. They couldn’t get to a hospital in time, and
without a record, they were in danger of having all three of them
deported.
Including you. But to where? To Mexico, you’d be an illegal alien.
If they didn’t abandon you, you’d be a hombre sin un país.
You could either have a family or a country, but not both. At times
you feel that you have neither.
Then an elven ángel flew into town.
He made some friends and formed a family of his own.
A familia you are a part of.
You no longer had to worry about where you call yourself.
Because now you have a razza. Not one any faction would
consider, but it’s a razza to you.
“Did any of you think at one time that earth could be alive?”
They wondered at first what Peter said; still not sure what was real or
their memories being stirred loose. What on earth could touch them like
this?
“That land can have it’s own soul, that you can sense a spirit in the trees
and mountains around you, and a voice calling out into your mind?”
Vixen understood what happened first, easing out of her daze. The
others did as well.
“That’s what happened to this island. When the ship wrecked on the
shores and its contents spilled out.”
Their eyes adjusted to the surroundings.
“The chest’s entire contents of Starstuff seeped into the soil of the land.
It sparked something deep underneath us. It changed this island, gave it
life.”
248
They can see the cave now, with the walls so coated with the extra-fine
Starstuff that the rocks glowed from within.
“Neverland became a living being that day. And we’re in her heart.”
The cave indeed resembled a heart, and the glow pulsed like a beat.
Victor pulled out a Geiger counter (set more sensitive back in Vegas to
pick up the radiation from pixie dust) and pointed it at the wall. The
needle got buried for a few seconds before the clicks grew into a constant
tone. He turned it off before it distracted anyone.
Victor wasn’t the only one unnerved. The air the thick and heavy air of a
holy place. More so than in the cathedral back at Norbert’s. Roberto
even took off his shoes. “Vix,” he said in a soft tone. “Did your father tell
you about these places?”
“Where there’s a spirit in the land?” Vixen nodded. “Y-Yeah, he had. He
is an Indian, after all. He even took me to some places in the west that
were like this. Though they never were as strong.”
She touched a wall with her hand, and got two of her fingertips coated in
the Starstuff.
She looked up, as if hearing something above her. Her half-pointed ears
twitched.
She then giggled.
“What’s going on?” Victor asked.
“I can hear her voice,” Vixen said. “She said something about what a
cute girlfriend I am for Adam.”
She looked over to a corner and saw Adam. How she saw him made her
change mental tracks: He was on his knees crying.
She took out a handkerchief and handed it to him. He both thanked
Vixen for the cloth and apologized for crying.
While the others wondered what could make Adam that emotional, they
saw something in their minds. It wasn’t visible, but it was vivid in their
imagination.
Huddled up next to Adam was another boy, curled up and crying as well.
He looked almost like a younger Adam, only a few years older.
Eventually they realized what they’re seeing.
It was another Adam all right: The Adam of 1980, when he arrived to
Neverland. He clutched the book with both hands and pulled his legs
over it, cradling the leather-bound tome in a fetal position.
The book showed itself to him, and chose him, probably out of pity for the
child.
249
This time everyone heard it. It was a voice nowhere and everywhere.
Adam and Peter knew what it was, and the others did in time. It was the
voice of the island, old and wise like a grandmother.
I sensed him the moment the book found him. Oh, Adam, you were in so
much hurt that I had to let the book carry you here.
Peter snapped his fingers. “I knew it was weird how he came here. I’ve
just remembered that I didn’t bring him her. Two Tails just appeared
walking down from the mountain in that double tailed fox costume.
Since he was dressed like a Lost Boy I took him in anyway.”
That was nine months after he arrived. He was here all this time. In my
heart.
The voice chuckled.
You might say in my womb as well.
The phantom 1980 Adam settled down and fell asleep over a tattered—
some may say shredded—Santa Claus costume. With a closer vantage
point, some may see a tear wiped away by an invisible hand.
I was comforting him, healing him, soothing his spirit. He was hurt and
broken, just like what Peter himself and his friends were, as well as every
lost boy and girl he took in afterward.
Peter nodded. “You’d think that grown-ups’d treat their own offspring
better than they treat their criminals, or their pets. Even today, people’ll
think nothing about doing things to children that’ll put them in jail if
they do it to anyone else.” He shook his head. “Pisses me off to no end.”
Adam—the present-day Adam—stood up to wipe his eyes. “But there’s
something I don’t get: Why did I come here instead of your hideout,
Peter. I don’t think anyone else ended up here.”
Peter nodded at that. “I didn’t know this cave existed until you came out
of it.”
You two will figure it out in time, my children. It isn’t a coincidence Adam
finding this cave as much as Peter finding this island. As well as Adam’s
return with his own crew. Nothing happens in a void. Everything and
everybody has a reason and a purpose.
“This island talks like Mother Sharon,” Roberto said, and then he gets it.
“¿It’s about what we found in Adam’s book, right? It’s because of the
upcoming Starstuff rock falling to earth in the next couple years, ¿si?”
In part, mi amigo, in part.
Everybody looked at each other, wondering what was amiss.
I can sense what is coming in those years. There’s another war in the
horizon. A third world war, very different than the other two. It could rip
apart every nation in the world, maybe the whole world itself if it could,
250
and it will cause many a child to lose their light just like a pixie would, and
there won’t be an Internet thingy to rescue them.
No. They’ll need something more concrete and solid to hold on to.
Something to keep their hopes and dreams alive in the coming turbulent
times. Something to protect the very things that keep me existing.
A bright light appeared in one corner. The group didn’t notice it until
now: A vertical cave from the chamber straight up to the summit. The
sun passed over and shown down the shaft.
We are needed. Adam, Peter, the rest of you, all of Neverland, myself,
everyone. We are needed to be the light to this world in the upcoming dark
times. That is why I called so many people, not just the lot of you. Writers
and artists, dreamers and poets, children and even a couple businesses.
They all heard a clarion call to bring this island to the next century.”
Victor felt something tug at the bag he slung over his shoulder all this
time.
He remembered what was in that bag with the Geiger counter. The GPS
beacon.
It is time.
The bag’s flap opened and something pulled the opening wide.
The GPS beacon hovered out of the bag and floated under the shaft going
up to the top.
Where it was switched on.
It did some beeps at the start, searching for signals, until it sped up and
LEDs lit up on top. In a few more seconds, a green light flashed
announcing that it found a signal from the satellites up in space.
“No turning back now,” Victor said. He turned to Peter, “Looks like the
island decided for all of us.”
The beacon floated up the shaft.
Victor remembered something about the beacon. “That things only got a
battery, it’s only a matter of time before it-”
I’ll have that covered.
As everyone bunched under the shaft to look up at the beacon, streams
of Starstuff started to flow from the coated walls of the shaft to the
beacon, adding itself to the device...
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Neverland
Beacon:
251
I saw what happened to it later. I also found out that, if you put
Starstuff to a common alkaline battery, (or have a pixie dust it for a
lesser effect) the charge is increased a thousand fold. Use it with a
cheapo Ray-O-Vac and that’ll be good though, but if you do it to, say, a
Duracell Ultra and you have a battery that’ll last for the rest of your life.
They also work on rechargeables too; I gave my Razr battery the
treatment and I haven’t needed a recharge yet.
I could only imagine that the Lantern Battery powered GPS beacon will
last, stuck up on a tripod on top of that shaft coated in the stuff would
last. I also would wonder how long it’d take for people to notice it.
The beacon wasn’t set for any emergency frequency. It was set to a
general information tag with the word “Neverland” linked to it. Without
any SOS signals, the satellites can take their sweet old time routing it
throughout the Internet. I can only assume that, if someone did found it
online, they’d think of it with no more thought than the Santa Tracker
gimmick NORAD has.
Except for someone like Wendy Darling Mystran. I bet she’ll be looking
out for just that signal on her computer, and when she does, I can
imagine the celebration she’ll whip up.
It’s real, mama, it’s all real, and you can thank me for that.
I’ll let her know about it tomorrow, when I link back up to the Internet.
I just hope I don’t have to sift through 30K of E-Mail.
252
4/5 The River
253
Chapter 19
1 January 1997 5:00 PM
(Local Time: Neverland)
By all the excitement being inside Neverland’s ticker that nobody thought
about the biggest piece in Adam’s mental puzzle: How in the blue hell
did Adam end up in Vegas? That question didn’t pop back into people’s
minds until the trip back.
“The island did hint that it’s part of the bigger plan,” Peter said as he
rubbed his forehead. “I wish I knew about the details...”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Peter’s Memory:
I don’t blame Peter Pan for being so forgetful. It’s part of his nature to
being so happy-go-lucky and good-natured, such a nice guy to be around
as long as life is relatively free of responsibilities. (We’re talking bills to
pay and planes to catch here; the dumb and stupid things grown-ups
have to do.) He can easily forget the bad stuff out of life. Unfortunately
it means that he might forget something important. Like a running total
of kills he had to make. Or how I was punted to the other side of the
planet.
It’ll take him time to remember, mind you, if you give him enough time to
job his memories.
“I do remember something happened with Hook one day. Something
about you being flung into space.” Peter shrugged. “I just turned
around while I was dealing with Hook and there you went. Didn’t had
much time to think of anything else, and I thought you’d return in time.
Any other details’ll come to me.”
Peter changed the subject, his innate good nature kicking back in. “Hey,
this means that you can get back in touch with your home in Vegas,
right. You can connect to the internet?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in computers, Peter,” Victor said.
“I am interested in using the Internet to get back in touch with other
former Lost Boys,” Peter said. “Using these computers would be a
necessary evil. I’m just not into these techy things.”
“You’re more of the ‘let’s go outside and get lost,’ type.” Victor said.
254
Peter nodded. “Yeah. My idea of a good day involves leaving your
parent’s house from sunrise to sunset, or when the streetlights switch
on. You go out, hang with friends, build forts, go out on adventures, do
stuff. Nowadays people just sit in front of these overglorified boob tubes
and let their bodies and minds go to pot. Sorry guys, but rescuing the
princess on one of those Nintendoh’s doesn’t match to doing that for
real.”
“Yeah,” Victor said, “people see a kid walking in the alleyway and they
fear that kid being abducted, killed, and worse.”
“Si, some see a pervo behind, and in some cases in, every tree they see.”
Peter shuddered.
“What’s wrong?” Vixen asked.
“Nothing on your part. I just had a bad experience with one of the more
famous pedophiles around.”
“Whoa?” “That’s not good?” “Which one?”
Peter looked around, and then whispered something to Vixen.
“Michael Jackson?”
Peter jumped straight up so fast his shoes were left on the ground. He
was found hanging off a branch.
“That’s the one. I won’t spoil you with the details, but there’s a reason
why his unmentionables are bent.”
Everyone on the ground went “EEEEEEWWWWWW!”
“I’m surprised that I’m able to talk about it now. There was a time when
I can’t even have the name mentioned without me jumping out of the
island. Codfish even took advantage of it.” Peter grumbled a bit as he
floated back down.
“Yeah, that’s a shame,” Victor said, getting back to the main subject.
“There’s not enough places for a kid to go that can be safe enough for
them to be kids. Hey, that gives me an idea. Why don’t we take a bit of
Neverland over to Vegas, bring it to the kids there. They could use a
place like this, and not all of them have a pixie to work with. What do
you think, Peter?”
Peter just smiled, winked at Adam, and said, “You weren’t the first to
think that.”
Victor noticed the wink and asked Adam what that was about.
“No Comment.”
255
2 January 1997 9:05am
Adam woke up with the dream still fresh in his mind.
He felt her voice call out to him, stir him out of bed, walk deep inside the
forest and deeper and deeper. He was the Pan in his dreams again,
costume and all.
He was told to bring a jar with him. Any jar will do. Take a jar and fill it
with the island’s dirt. Fill it with the island’s dirt and take it home with
him. Take it home so that a part of the island will always be with him.
So that the island will forever be with him. So that she will . . .
He still didn’t know if he was awake or still dreaming when he saw the
filled jar with him. The jar was the one he used to dump tartar sauce on
Captain Hook a few days earlier. The jar was rinsed off and filled with
dirt.
Guess I didn’t dream it. I’ve gotta check to see what I’m eating in the
evening.
He heard her voice come from the filled jar and into his imagination.
I’m afraid that was me, my child.
He figured it out as he got up: With the jar with him, filled with the dirt
of the island, he can still have the connection with the island even
though he’ll be back in Vegas.
And that will happen soon, or so he thought as he stirred the furskinned
Vixen out of the covers in the bed. It wasn’t sadness over leaving, but
excitement over this new mission Victor hinted on. They found
something precious that needed to be shared back home. In fact it
demanded to with what was said about the coming years. Putting the
GPS beacon on the island—and with it moving it was more like putting a
bell on a cat—served a greater purpose then what they first thought: The
greater scheme of things intended Neverland to be put on the electronic
map. A scheme which is propelled further by people making little
Neverlands all over the world, while all the Lost Boys and Girls; past,
present, and future; network to each other with the Internet. An old
school need with a new school method.
Peter did say “It happened before,” and Adam knew what his former
captain was talking about. He didn’t know how to state the list of more
famous Lost Boys to his crew (And the realization of Walt Disney being
one still shocks him to no end) so he though just to let it pass for now.
Adam arrived to the deck with his crew and the usual breakfast, with
Rob and Victor discussing their impact over banana and apple butter
sandwiches. “We weren’t taking that much,” Victor reminded Rob. “And
I did make a note to keep any future settlements supplied from outside
for just that in mind.”
256
“Did you find some spots for them to set up anything?”
“I noted some spots, around that B17 that crashed here, that is out of
the way enough. I’d say put up a doublewide trailer with solar energy
and a small septic tank and someone like Nitsan and a couple friends
will live well here. That’s what I suggested.”
“You contacted NGT already?”
“Yep. Swapped some IM’s the moment the net kicked in.”
Peter flew in at this point in the conversation: “NGT, is that the place
you talked about earlier?”
Victor nodded. “NeoGizmoTech is more known for medical stuff. Like
replacement hands and artificial joints; I think Hook might want to look
into our company. I have a part time job there with the many side
projects they end up with, including the stuff that got us here, studying
the pixie dust in Adam’s bloodstream.”
“That’s strange to me. I didn’t think that grown-up scientists would be
interested in stuff like us.”
“You’d be surprised. They found out how pixie dust works in a scientific
way and—get this—some of them even flew.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. Peter had one surprise after another when Two
Tails showed up, but grown up scientists flying on faith, trust, and pixie
dust tops them all!
Adam chimed in. “I have a theory about how they’re able to do that,
Peter”
Peter turned to Adam.
“They’re curious. Even though they’re grown up, there’s this little kid
inside them that wants to know how things work. Even if it means
breaking stuff down to atomic levels to figure it out. They’re not satisfied
with mere faith and trust; they want to know just how the magic works
and what makes it so magical. You could say that scientists are the
wizards of the modern day.”
Victor got reminded of something. “In fact there’s Nitsan, one of your
favorites there, Adam.”
“Come on, Vic, what would Vixen think?” “I heard that.” Giggle.
“Well, she got the lead into the subject because she’s a big fan of your
story, Peter. In fact, she wished she could study pixies, and would love
to come here.”
“A scientist who believes in fairies.”
“She wanted to have Fire Storm’s sister.”
There were some bells and a tug on Victor’s hair.
257
“Easy on the merchandise, Stormy.”
“That’s it.” Peter snapped his fingers. “First chance I get, I’m checking
out this Vegas place. If nothing else than to meet this Nitsan.”
“While you’re there, I can whip up a decent laptop for ya.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nah, it’s all right. I do it all the time with the spare parts I find, and
then donate them to the kids at Norbert’s. My way of giving back to the
community. Hey Adam, did you get in touch with your mother yet?”
“Just about to. I got this E-Mail from her marked Urgent: For the Love
of God, I pray you click on this now!”
Adam clicked on the link
Excerpt from The Las Vegas Sun news site, headline “Letterman
Riot on Strip,” dated 2 Jan 96, 2:13am:
[Insert picture of a mob of men wearing North Vegas Letterman jackets
marching south on Las Vegas Boulevard stepping on chair and chanting
on bullhorns. One sign shown near the center of the image said: ADAM!
WE KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE, BOY!!]
The New Year began on a very violent note or the city of Las Vegas. Just
an hour ago, a mob of students from the defunct North Vegas High
School met at the facilities closed last year and then started to march
south. They’re currently three-quarters the way down the famous Strip,
chanting slogans and showing signs with an anti-freak theme and
demanding revenge on the school’s closing.
Las Vegas North High School, run by the controversial principal Sache
Blackard, was shut down not too long after Blackard was arrested after
an altercation with Adam Packbell; a student from the South Vegas
based St. Norbert’s Academy. Mr. Blackard was later dismissed of his
position by the mass of evidence of his abuses of his power as well as
some of the former students.
Adam Packbell’s name was mentioned often by the mob, which met
resistance from citizens, police, and even National Guard troops with
extremely violent force. To date, 50 serious injuries from assaults are
reported with 10 deaths. And representatives from the mob stated that
the only one they want to kill is Adam Packbell and anyone close to him,
referring to Mr. Packbell as a “Freaky Boy who should go back to
Neverland where he belongs,” alluding to the recent discovery of his
ability to fly a la Peter Pan.
Adam Packbell’s current location is unknown, but his residence in the
Great Ormond Street community is under heavy security . . .
258
Adam was beyond worried. In a matter of hours, an army of Old North
Vegas jocks—just about everyone who had a letter in the past twenty to
thirty years—is going to march right down Great Ormond Street and
burn the whole block down. Only the police and riot squad stand in
their way, and he fears it will not be enough.
“Ah’ve gotta rescue ‘em . . . but how . . .”
His options are sparse. With the rear axle broken off, the Microbus is
little more than the newest addition of the landscape of Never
The car! Nobody even started at the car!
He turned to Fire Storm who bit her lip. She was joined by Tinker Bell
who was yanking her hair. They discussed something in a ringing voice
so fast it was hard to keep up. Something about “If I could get every
Tinker Fairy over there, I think we could get the car into some half-way
decent condition in . . . five hours.
Adam Packbell might have nothing to come back to in five hours.
The only other option is flying there under his own power.
He looked up to the sky. He saw the two stars in the sky, the left one
brighter.
Peter had an idea: “I go through these stargates often. Without a vehicle
may I add. You’re safe as long as you don’t get to close to the sides. I’m
sure I don’t want to find out.”
What someone said next made Adam’s heart sank: “Safe as long as you
get past Hook that is.”
Captain Hook.
He’ll shoot Adam out of the sky the moment he saw him take to the air.
Either by himself or in the Volkswagen.
It was all Adam could do between thinking up options and not crying.
“Adam?”
Adam turned to Peter’s voice, letting a few tears fly out as his head
moved.
“I have something that would help us deal with Codfish.”
He then stepped back and returned to his normal jovial tone: “I’d move
heaven and earth to save Wendy, I doubt you’ll be any different.” Peter
turned to Victor. “I shall accompany him to Vegas, and the others here
can help you with the Wrench as much as they can. Tink, tell Slightly to
prep the Bangarang and aim it toward America, this is an emergency.”
259
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Bangarang:
I always wanted to know what’s it like to launch from an aircraft carrier.
Recent roller coaster technology can simulate this with the Linear
Induction Motor, a series of electromagnets that can propel the train at
speeds faster than even the tallest drops. This gem took center stage in
“Superman: The Escape.” It’s only a straight track heading toward a
tower, but with the magnets, it’s all it needs: 100 MPH plus. Forty story
climb. 7 seconds of freefall. It held the records.
But not for long, from what I’m hearing. There’s going to be a coaster
that uses actual catapult technology to break 115 MPH and go up a
tower that’s even taller!
When I found out I can fly, I always dreamed of pushing this talent of
mine to its limits. I especially want to have a catapult around so I can be
launched for longer distances.
Peter Pan must’ve had the same thought because he had such a catapult
built.
Or was it me that built it? The Bangarang looks like it’s something I
would build.
The Bangarang uses air pressure to launch a sled up a 300 feet long
track. It was built out of something that was once a sled used in tractor
pulls, or that’s how it’s resembled. How in tarnation did that end up in
Neverland is anyone’s guess. Not that we're complaining. The sled can
house the entire track when it’s broken down, and the whole device is
contained there so it can be moved around.
Neverland, 9:35am, local time
Peter assembled all of the Lost Boys, and a couple visiting members of
the Mollusk tribe—Tiger Lily and a couple of her delegates no less—and
told them all on what is happening: The friends and families of Adam’s
crew is in danger, and since they’re very much as a Lost Boy as the four
mates who came with Peter, they’re needed to help them out. Slightly
reported that the Bangarang is assembled and aimed to the West, toward
America. The other groups gathered whatever items and Excerptise they
can use for the bigger project, the biggest project Neverland had to date:
Peter turned back to Victor. “Do you think you can make the Wrench
seaworthy, Master Kalinski.”
260
“I’m sure I can give it the Monster Garage effort once I get the right
supplies. We’ve got some tools with us when we came here.”
“We’ll do our best to get what you need, boys.” Wendy said.
Peter turned to the glowing dot on his shoulder. “See if you can get some
pixies to help out Tink.” There were some bells. “You can join me when
you get them to help out, you’ve got that teleporter, right?”
The glowing dot sped away.
“It appears that our plans just got complicated all of the sudden.”
“We’re in our element now, Adam,” Victor said. “We’ll do the jury rig
stuff. You go rescue your Wendy.”
The assembled Bangarang started across a gravel road that leads into
the field Victor mentioned this morning. The road wasn’t special, just
500 yards of gravel. “The Bangarang is usually set along this road. It
doubles as a runway for small aircraft,” Peter said as he and Slightly
checked the controls and connections to a rigged motor and steam
canister. “Every other month or so I head over to London. And
sometimes a plane sends supplies we can’t normally get ourselves here.
Not too often though, they have to contend with Hook on the way down
or up.”
“Will you and Adam have that problem once you launch?” Victor asked.
“No way!” Peter said with a wave of his hand. “The Bangarang’ll take us
from zero to top speed in mere seconds. We’ll blow past Captain Hook
before he knows we’re coming.”
Adam hopped in place on the sled and looked down the track. The track
rose on an incline, as the supports underneath grew longer further on
down. At the end point he could see the brighter star on the left, where
he figured where the stargate home is.
“I hope you an’ Jei can get some progress done on the Wrench when I get
back.”
“With the help we’ll be getting,” Victor gave a thumb up, “rest assured.
You’re joining him, Peter?”
Adam saw Peter’s shadow all but cover him as Peter joined him by his
side.
“Aye, Victor. He might need my help. And besides, I want to see this
Vegas first hand. With this emergency I have an excuse to do it sooner
than what I planned. Fire it up!”
“Aye Eye!” Slightly said. “Master Kalinski, how’s our fuel levels?”
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“Good thing we got the gas from our Microbus. We’re good.”
Slightly pulled the cord.
The motor sputtered to life.
The compressor fed air to the tank.
Peter pointed to a gauge set up so that those on the sled can see. “When
the needle is at the Green, it’s ready.”
Adam can feel the air pressure push at the sled, a bar beneath them kept
the sled put.
The needle on the gauge moved degree by degree toward the green zone.
He felt Peter’s arm around his back to hold him steady; the two will
launch side by side. Adam did the same with his arm.
The pipes strained and popped underneath, and there was some hissing
from a leak or two.
The needle reached the green zone.
“Whenever you’re ready, Two Tails.”
Adam lifted his free hand off the sled.
“NOW!!”
He heard Slightly pull a lever, a bar under the sled drop.
The world began to streak behind the sled as escaping air filled all
hearing, for six seconds gravity rotated 90 degrees behind.
They traveled the length of the track in a blink of an eye. By the next few
seconds, the whole island was behind them, leaving only beach and sea.
And the Jolly Roger, 12 o’clock low.
Adam gulped.
Peter just smiled and pulled out a glass jar, covered in plastic wrap.
“Why I didn’t think about using tartar sauce until you showed up I have
no idea.” Peter flipped off the wrap with one hand and poured the
contents out. “I learn something new every day.”
By the time the stargate let Adam and Peter in, the Jolly Roger had a
stripe of tartar sauce right across the deck, matching the stripe Hook
himself wore from the waist up.
The suction sounds of the stargate propelling the two through thousands
of miles drowned out all cursings Hook said for the next hour or two.
Las Vegas, 3:50am PST
262
Adam saw the bending light, distorted by whatever counted as the
stargate’s walls, recede and fade behind him, morning fading into the
sunrise into the wee hours as they progressed through the time zones.
He knew that when the stargate spits them out over Southern Nevada,
Vegas would be shining in all her lights. The sight will take Peter’s
breath away.
And when reality snapped back to normal and they found themselves
floating 5,000 feet above their destination . . .
“Oh my . . . God.”
Adam knew he was right.
Peter imagined a city made out of lights shining out in all directions in
the darkness of a desert in night. His imagination didn’t give the actual
skyline of Las Vegas justice. For a few minutes, he just floated there,
awestruck at the sight.
“There’s the Stratosphere,” Adam said, pointing to a few landmarks, “The
pyramid shooting light off the top’s the Luxor. And as you follow that red
and white line we call The Strip you’ll see New York, Paris, Treasure
Island, the Belagio, and so on. But from where I’m guessing, Great
Ormond Street’s below us.”
That snapped Peter out of his reverie. “I say, Two Tails, your city’s more
colorful than I’ve imagined. You’ve gotta show me more . . . once we
attend to business of course.”
Peter dived straight down into the darkness.
“Aye-eye.” Adam tucked his limbs in and freefell his the way down.
Adam dived after him, toward what Peter thought was an army advanced
block by block.
It could very well be an army.
Those North Vegas Letterman Jackets could resemble Eastern European
soldier uniforms to those in the lower castes.
Neverland, 11:00am Local Time
Back at the island, all four members of the Vegas Lost Boys took off
toward the Wrench.
“I’ll get in touch with Tiger Lily,” Wendy said as they passed them. “They
might have some thicker tarps we can use as sails. A small party from
the village will help with wood planks.”
Victor nodded. “Appreciate it. I’d like to take some of those machine
guns from that Flying Fortress and mount them on the ship.”
263
“I’ll take care of that,” Jei said.
“How’re you going to carry them here?”
Jei just pointed to the swirling lights. “Our Pixie welders are here. And
they can make anything float with the dust.”
“We can also use what’s in Adam’s old shed if we need to, guys.” Roberto
said. “All we might need is to get the rope and cords we need . . .”
By this time the group arrived to the moored ship, which has already
have someone on board.
Or to be more accurate, a giant spider woman.
“I think I can help you with that,” Val’incint said with A’rielle by her side.
“I thought you two only come in night.”
“This cove is cool and shaded enough almost all the time,” the darkskinned elf said. “Let’s get this job done.”
The guys and their friends were so engrossed at their latest challenge
that they didn’t see Vixen fade back. She returned to the Hideout
cottage, looking out toward the pair of stars off in the west.
Wendy found her in the balcony they had tea not too long ago. Like any
self-deserving brit she had another cuppa to offer her. “You worried
about Adam?”
Vixen nodded, put Todd down, and took the tea.
“I understand, knowing how Peter gets. I know they’ll be all right. He’s
dived headstrong into worse situations.”
Wendy took the girl under her arm. “You should’ve been there when a
bunch of choir boys washed up here. They were even worse than the
pirates with the way they acted. Of course nobody bothered them and
just hoped that someone would pick them up, but eventually Peter had
to step in to stop that group’s leader from burning the island. It was the
first time Peter Pan ever felt like an adult.”
“An adult,” Vixen said with a snicker. “He wouldn’t dare call himself a
grown-up.”
Wendy smiled. “Like what we all said about him; you can learn a lot in
over 300 years. I’m sure he can handle himself around a bunch of
punks who think they’re more mature than he is.”
264
Chapter 20
3 January 1997 4:00 AM CST
The Dodge Ram trucks barreled into the gate. The barrier was made
more for decoration rather than security, so it had no chance for
resistance, much less survival. It broke in two, sending the halves flying
into the first two houses on Great Ormond Street.
The mob of North Vegas High Letterman, both decades past and the last
and final year, swarmed into the community, smashing windows and
setting fires. Egged on by testosterone and loss, they only have one
thought in their groupthink mind: Payback.
Punish the one who brought down their school.
Make her hurt.
Make him bleed.
Make them both beg for their lives.
Make their lives painful and miserable.
Make them know their place.
Make HIM kmow HIS place.
Make everyone in their wake think twice before even looking at a North
Vegas High Veteran the wrong way ever again.
They had to keep their reputation.
At all cost.
They saw their target.
Wendy and Copper Mystran standing guard in front of their home.
They looked at them with open mouthed smiles.
Look! All they had with them is a pistol each, no doubt with the civilian
standard bean bag bullets.
Not enough against hundreds. Not enough to resist them.
All they did was bring on another surge of adrenaline.
With a primal scream, they charged as one into the front yard.
Only seven of them got to grab a hold of them both.
There was a whoosh of something flying through the air.
“Unhand those two, Good Sirs . . .”
265
The seven were relieved of the very hands that held the Mystrans. They
were cut off at the wrist.
“And if you don't mind, don't bleed on them either.”
The resulting stumps bled on the sidewalk instead. The blood made a
trail as they made a screaming retreat.
None else paid them any attention. They were focused on the redhead
young man between the two parties. He looked like Adam, but . . . He
was taller. And he sported a red captain's jacket, and traded his sword
for a larger bowie knife, but the way he was dressed, very similar to a
certain Disney character, was unmistakable.
Especially to Wendy: Could it be?
The front man in the mob ruined Wendy's reverie. “Packbell! About time
We'd find you, you fucking faggot! We were about to burn all of Vegas
down.”
The young main raised an eyebrow. Such language. “I'm afraid you're
mistaken. I'm not Adam. He's over there.”
Adam crashed into the scene right where he pointed, making a crater
both in the street and in the crowd.
“WHOA!” The young man smiled. “I think I saw that move in a movie
once. I only wish they bring back drive-ins . . . ”
“Peter!” Adam said back.
Wendy's suspicions got verified. It is! It is him!
“I was in freefall and you got here sooner. How in tarnation did you do
that!?”
“There are plenty of things you still have yet to learn, matey. Now if you
excuse me.”
He turned to the couple and bowed.
“Mr. Copper and Ms. Wendy Mystran, I presume. Your son told me a lot
about you two, and it's quite a honor to meet you finally.”
Copper had the voice Wendy couldn't have. “You're Peter Pan?” That
caused Wendy to snap out of it and do an impromptu curtsy. “You’ve . .
. changed.”
“Not really,” Peter said with his trademark smile. “Not ever. Now if you
excuse us,” Peter opened the door to their house and shooed them
inside. “There's just something me and your son has got to do. It won't
be any place for grown-ups. Go on, Go on. We'll talk later.”
“Er, y-yes, we shall.” Wendy said as she went back indoors.
Peter closed the door after they got in, and then rolled his eyes.
“Parents. Go fig.”
266
Peter flew up to Adam and stood back to back as goon after goon
surrounded them.
“So, Two Tails,” Peter said. “Think you can handle this many?”
“Well,” Adam said. “Might be tough if one more shows up.”
Peter smiled. “Hm. Then that’ll have to be the one I take care of.”
Adam smirked back. “What, you’re fighting too?”
Peter laughed for all of three seconds.
Then he charged, slicing one letterman, cold cocking a second, and
headbutting a third.
What he thought after that was ‘Looks like I’ll need to take these
codfishes on three at a time.’ What he thought before that was ‘I do hope
I’m out of the way before Adam draws.’
whi-Crack-THOOM!!
Adam’s battojutsu ‘Quick Draw’ attack. What wasn’t blown in the air
was pushed back by the sheer force of the shockwave. Peter counted
thuds as he dodged and attacked three pairs, one pair at another.
“Eight in one blow!” Peter said.
“Wow, that’s a personal best.”
“Yeah, almost my own record; I think it’s either ten or eleven. Too bad I
can't watch you fight,” Peter said as he scratched a letterman across his
chest, slicing parts of his jacket away and sending it’s former wearer
scurrying away with just a scratch across his chest.
As I suspected. Peter swore under his breath. I don’t have to do much to
get them to run. Not even worthy of Hook’s crew.
He didn’t have time to mull about it. He had to dodge five of them tossed
about by one of Adam’s swings. That got his mind back on track. “I’d
just love to see a good view of that move!”
“Oh, I doubt I’d match up to your sheer amount of experience.”
“You’re too modest, Adam.”
“And you’re holding back.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled Peter’s Nasty
Streak:
Those who know only the Disney version of Peter Pan have only a hint at
his bad side. His ‘Avenger’ side, he calls it. It’s the part of him that can
267
be a cold-blooded killer if he’s provoked enough. If you don’t believe me,
read Barrie. Peter even turns on his own mates.
That’s something he hasn’t done in real life, though. Oh sure, he can kill
you and then forget ever met you if you piss him off. That won’t happen
if he and you are on friendly terms. But when you’re facing down pirates
who’d like to slash your throat (and possibly film it as well) fighting to the
death is a necessary evil.
His words, not mine.
When we talked about it, he mentioned the lack of law enforcement in
Neverland. No cops mean nobody bothers you when you skateboard on
the island. It also means that there’s nobody keeping the pirates at bay;
you need to deal with them yourself. Good thing too; no cops also means
that you won’t get dragged into court yourself when you’re forced to slash
someone stem to stern.
I mentioned Nevada’s Self Defense law, which will let you do just that if
it’s clear to the courts that you were defending yourself. Even if you are
sent to the courts, you’ll be dismissed once you show your proof.
“Agreeable chaps,” he calls them.
When Peter Pan and Two Tails reunited, Adam backed Peter up as Peter
rescued Tink. Now Peter was repaying the favor. After slashing and
stabbing the first fifty or so, some with more severe cuts, Peter slid into a
backup position, letting the human tornado do his work.
That’s what Adam resembled once he’s up to full speed. He spun around
in a whirl of steel and skin taking out multiple victims with each swing.
It was a sight to behold, and Peter was cheering him on.
And then he saw one of the Letterman pull out a gun.
Peter flipped his blade over so he’s holding the tip with his hand. “We’ll
have none of that!” He then threw it.
It made a beeline for the gun-toting feeb, spinning end over end until it
connected on the forehead with the butt of the handle. He fell over
backwards, out cold, his gun dropped to the street.
The bowie knife spun it’s way back toward Peter, who caught it in his
hand.
When he looked back at Adam, Peter saw him just standing there,
awestruck at what Peter did. “Whoa! Where’d you learn that move?”
“Experience and practice, my friend. When you’re around as much as
I’ve been, you pick up these—behind you!!”
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Adam ducked so that Peter can lunge over him. The letterman caught
the bowie knife in the chest. He will be the only fatality in the fight.
There was seven of the mob remaining.
Peter winced at his latest victim, however. “Nuts. I didn’t want to kill
any of them.” Not that he cared, but he did wanted to let them live. I
really don’t want my first impression as a serial killer.”
“He was going for point blank range.” Adam replied as he spun around
to pull a second gun out of the dead man’s jacket.
Adam then fired all six rounds in the revolver, all hitting shoulders and
kneecaps, and then threw the gun itself at the final one, knocking him
out.
“Also: We’re in the American West.” Adam said. “When used properly,
guns are honorable weapons here.”
“I see. Do you think we’ll be in trouble? Even with everything . . .” Peter
then looked out, and changed his mood. “What?! No More?! Where’s
the real lynch mob!? What do you think this is—A Disney Film!?”
Adam chuckled and then pat Peter’s shoulder. “Self Defense rule,
remember? We were stopping a riot. They got off easy. We won’t be
questioned much.”
“Ah. Like I said, agreeable chaps.” Peter turned back to Adam’s house.
“We might need to get you a fresh change of clothes. You got some blood
on you.”
Peter looked around him. “You might be right there, talk about
unpresentable.”
“I’d say,” Wendy—Wendy Darling Mystran, that is—said as she got up
the stairs from the basement. “It was almost as bad as some of Adam’s
clothes after a mean spill. I hope my laundry room never becomes a
crime scene. I don’t want to explain my washing machine after the
Luminol lights it up like a Christmas Tree.”
“My apologies, ma’am.” Peter sat crosslegged on a chair by the table. He
traded his clothes with whatever was grabbed first: A drawstring pants
and a t-shirt. He accepted a can of Mountain Dew from Copper and took
a while to remember how to open it.
“Thanks for saving us, Peter.” Copper said. “And I hope I can keep
myself from referring to you as a Disney Character.”
Peter didn’t miss a beat. “It’ll be the first time I heard that. Today.”
“Heh. It’s just that Wendy’s here one of the more hardcore Disney Fans.”
269
“I heard that.”
Peter chuckled at Wendy’s retort. “Not that I mind much. Uncle Walt got
my good side. If I knew I’d meet one, I’d switch to the appropriate
costume. I like to humor them.”
“Peter, we’re talking about someone who turned my living room into a
shrine to you.”
Peter turned to Wendy.
“I should be honored. Wendy Darling Mystran, eh? You must be related
to another Wendy I know.”
“Why, yes, I am. Her great-great-grandniece to be exact. At times I
wished we would actually meet.”
“You might.”
Wendy needed a few moments to realize what he meant.
Than she gasped.
“I can tell you have a lot to talk about. Good thing I like the subject.”
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Chapter 21
3 January 1997 12:30 PM
It didn’t take much for Las Vegas to know that Adam’s back. They only
needed to look up to see him flying about. Some even waved. A couple
even waved him closer for an autograph. The surprising part was that
another flying boy, older than Adam, would come over to sign his name
among his. The signature would be even more surprising. Just as
surprising to find this second person to be much taller then Adam.
“What can I say,” Peter said to the lucky people. “He’s younger than me.
Catcha later.” He then flew out with a trademark Cock-a-doodle-do,
solidifying his identification. He might look like he’s in his twenties, but
he’s still Peter Pan.
When Peter caught up with Adam, he was putting up a poster in one
hand and chugging down a Mountain Dew with the other.
“Dang, how can you just chug that,” Peter said. “Dews are a bit too
tangy for my tastes.”
Adam swallowed the last drops, tossed the can over his shoulder, which
bounced into a waiting trash can. “I did it for the caffeine. I burned the
midnight oil working on this web site, remember?”
Peter looked at the poster. It was an advertisement for
neverlandisreal.net . Adam made the site overnight to show the current
location of the island. It also included a spy satellite view, a photo essay
of the island, links to the various supporting sites, and a message board
that got messages the instant it was installed. The poster showed a
picture of Peter over the spy satellite view, with the web address on the
bottom.
Peter still wore what he had on in that photo shoot; a brand new version
of his Disney costume with the red coat. “I should get a copy of that for
my hideout.”
“I’m saving you a good dozen.” Adam replied.
“So how many are we passing around?” Peter took a couple more from
the backpack hanging from Adam.
“Just enough for you to get to know Vegas a bit.” Adam kicked off the
wall. “They sure like you though.” He nodded downward toward the
croud.
“Of course they like me! I’m well known, showing off my good looks, and
I’m up in the air where everybody can see me. What’s not to like about
Peter Pan?”
271
Peter was checking out his knuckles feeling smug when someone from
street level broke his mood.
“Hey, fly boy! Where’d you put the wires?”
Adam found Peter’s confused expression priceless.
“Come on, Peter, let’s amscray.”
Someone took a picture of the pair at they flow up. This picture was the
top piece in the assortment of photos and recordings seen in the noonday
news. With the title “Peter Pan is Real!” on the bottom above the
scrolling ticker. This played on a large video wall in NGT with a web
browser window of the advertised web site, along with popups of the
satellite view and the ever-changing geo-coordinates.
Adam sat under this monitoring the site traffic on his laptop. He made
notes on plans to add more web cameras. He also read some posts on
the medical effects of pixie dust and made a call for civility and humanity
in studying pixies.
Justin walked over to him.
“This is a surprise. Biggest discovery for NGT yet and it’s not even in our
usual fields.”
Adam just shrugged. “That’s why I took charge of this project myself. I’d
figure you had other things to do with your time.”
Justin nodded. “As long as it explains everything that went on about
you, I won’t argue. Besides, we might be getting some funding soon
thanks to this.”
“Let me guess: You got a call from Disney.”
“Close. The Great Ormond Street Hospital in London. Do you know that
they have a whole wing dedicated to the Peter Pan story since J. M.
Barrie gave them the rights?”
“I know they have the rights but nothing about a Peter Pan wing. Hey! I
thought Peter Pan is public domain here in America.”
Justin shrugged. “They’d rather support what you’re doing than sue
you. But never mind Disney or the Great Ormond Street Hospital.
Where’s the Man of the Hour? I’d like to meet him up close.”
“Pick a number and stand in line, Justin. He’s with Nitsan now getting
checked out.”
Justin rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”
272
Excerpt from Adam Packbell's Wiki, Entry entitled
PeterAndScientists:
It surprises me that Peter is so accommodating toward the NGT
Scientists. They let him take a sample of his blood, hooked him up on
the same machines as I were, and played along with the stupid human
tricks.
When I mentioned it to him, he turned to me and questioned whatever or
not these Scientists are actually grown-ups. He saw a sense of curiosity
in the world around them and a desire to know more about things.
That’s so rare in the Grown-Up world, he said.
He knows Nitsan Mutami by now, and he invited her to join him on the
return trip to Neverland so she can peruse her dream of studying it. She
didn’t need much convincing, but getting the grants and the
transportation matter to set up shop there will take a little more doing. I
promised to help.
“I hope this doesn’t hurt too much,” Nitsan said as she stuck the needle
in Peter’s arm.
“Oh, come on now, that’s supposed to hurt?” Peter chuckled. “I’ve been
stabbed with much bigger stuff.”
Nitsan inserted a couple vials, one after the other, into the hypodermic to
collect the blood sample. Peter watched the blood sample into the vial.
“That blood’s really moving.”
“That your heart doing. I won’t need very much though.”
“Good.” Peter crooked his head. “You can see it glow now.”
Nitsan checked the first vial after she switched it with the other. It was
indeed glowing. “That be the pixie dust.” The glow was brighter, much
brighter, than the glow in Adam’s blood. “It much brighter too.”
Peter nodded. “All that time living with Tink.”
Nitsan nodded, then turned to the pair of lights off on one corner. Fire
Storm was on a camera snapping pictures of Tink.
“You know, Miss Mutami,” Peter said, “I must say that I’m curious.
You’re a grown-up scientist, and yet, you’re very interested in Fairies.
Most people in your profession would rather state that they don’t exist.”
“I always believed in them as child. I just never seen one until this year.
And now we have two. I always wanted to study them, find out how dust
273
works, save record for prosperity.” She turned back to Peter to remove
the vial and the needle. “I’m very curious of them, Peter.”
“I’m just as curious in you and your friends. I never expected this much
childlike curiosity in such a crowd.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking. I would just love to visit your island.
I want to study Neverland on that island, if that’s possible. I understand
if you don’t want grown-ups there.”
Peter shook his head. “Like Adam told me, it’s all on how you define it.
Besides, you act like you’ve been there before.”
Nitsan giggled.
“I take it Adam didn’t teach you how to fly yet, and even if he did, you
might be needing to bring some extra stuff . . .”
Adam caught up with Peter while he was strapped to a biofeedback
machine. He pass a good half hour getting the heartbeats on the readout
to go faster and slower. “I want one of these.” Peter said.
Justin ignored that remark. He was interested in a laptop he connected
to the machine. “I wanted to try this out as soon as I heard about it.
Someone found a way to record the rate in which a human body ages.”
Justin continued talking as he called up some screens, not knowing that
he’s talking over people’s heads. “You’ve heard of a person who doesn’t
appear to get any older, and no, not because of an OD on Starstuff.”
Chuckles. “And there are diseases that make a body age rapidly or stop
altogether. That’s the reason behind this computer program. That’s why
I strapped you in that contraption, Mr. Pan.”
“No need for formalities toward me, Geez. You’re making me feel like a
Grown-Up.”
More chuckles.
“I used myself as a control subject.”
Justin turned the laptop around so that Peter can see the screen. The
graph resembled a cardiogram with cross-marks at a constant distance.
Justin’s name was by it.
“Each blip represent one second in age. And as you can see, for me
these peaks are pretty much normal. One second goes by, I age one
second. Here’s the readout for Peter”
A second line appeared. Peter’s.
It didn’t move at all.
274
“The computer model doesn’t have enough time to formulate what counts
as a second of age for you. I guess I have to keep you strapped in and
wait for days, maybe weeks before you tick off an actual second. And
keep in mind we’re measuring seconds. This meter won’t move at all for
years if we were to measure minutes, or hours. And days? Forget it.”
“It just moved!” Adam said as he focused on the screen. “One pixel.”
“You can see it that close?” Peter asked.
“When you see computer screens as much as I do,” Adam shrugged, “You
notice these things.”
Peter nodded. “So this thing does notice me aging, but just this much . .
.” He held his thumb and finger to denote a very tiny amount. “. . . shy
of a full stop.”
“True. You needn’t worry about being any older though. I have it on
good authority that the world will end before you as much as grow a
beard.”
“Glad to hear that.” Peter laughed. “But what of someone like, Adam?
And I’m sure that his mates would be affected as well.”
“I’m just about to get to that. I remember you told me that those who
visit your island end up slowing their aging processes as well.”
Peter nodded. “Indeed. It’ll take time for the effect to kick in, and I
doubt that Adam’s mates have been in the island enough with the
weekend trip they had. I’m certain that Adam’s as frozen as mine,
though.”
“Almost.”
A third band went up: Adam’s.
It was somewhat faster than Peter’s, yet much slower then Justin’s. A
display of the aging rate appeared after a few seconds:
Justin:
1 Second : 1 Second
Peter:
~8 Hours+ : 1 Second (theoretical)
Adam:
5 Hours : 1 Second
“Not as slow as Peter is right now,” Justin said, “but it is slowed down.
I’m not sure if that’s a constant rate either, I could assume that during
the time you were Two Tails,” Justin nodded to Adam, “It was as stalled
as Peter was, starting back up in the year you were here. There’s a good
case that, if you intend on shuttling back and forth to that island, your
own aging process would be just about this pace, more or less.”
Adam nodded at Justin. “So. I can expect to be a teenager for a good
long time.”
275
“I’m afraid so, Adam. You can imagine how it’ll be remaining young
when everyone else grows old, gets frail, and dies.”
Adam paused for a moment. He felt Peter’s hand on his shoulder. Saw
his concerned face.
Adam smiled. “I’ll deal with it, Peter. I know Eternal Youth isn’t all
bleeps and giggles.”
Peter nodded. “At least you’ll have me, I’ve been there, especially with
puberty. Ugh, I remember that time for me and all the glorious fruits
being a teenager has to offer—acne, shaving, premature ejaculation . . .
and our first time I got into real serious trouble.”
“Which reminds me,” Adam said, “has the cops wanted to talk to us yet?”
Adam didn’t step seven steps into the police department before he got
picked up by the scuff of his neck, dragged into a side room and thrown
into the far corner.
It happened too fast for either Adam or Peter to process in their heads.
In Peter’s mind, there was a trio of Grown-Ups, two Men and one
Woman. One of the men had a briefcase with him. That one has on a
smug and arrogant expression that he learned to hate a long time ago.
The other two were hysteric over finding “THE ONE WHO KILLED MY
SON!!” and started to berate him into signing a confession.
Adam just saw white in his vision and top-volumne rage in his ears. The
combination of the broadside attack from three Grown-Ups and the
impact on the back wall stunned him. He was in no condition to sign
anything, much less admit to a kill rightfully Peter’s. All he could do is
flick off a finger which was broken five second afterward.
Peter had a similar thought over who’s ‘kill’ was who’s. He turned to a
police officer behind a desk. “Good sir, I have to go on record and say
that they have the wrong man. It was I who killed their son, and if
there’s anything I need to do to comply with your self-defense law, I’ll
deal with that while I’m here.”
The cop raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got any witnesses.”
“There’s three grown-ups beating up my witness now, sir. I suggest you
pull them away before they kill him.”
The officer joined Peter as he went over to the room. There was a lot of
incoherent screaming, a table being kicked away, and a scream of:
“GET UP, BOOOOOY!”
By the time Peter pulled out his knife and tossed it into the room.
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All the histrionics stopped when the knife landed with a klang. Peter
waited for five seconds before he spake.
“That, ladies and gentleman, is a Bowie Knife. It’s rather old, it was
made during the mid 1800s by the knife’s inventor. It has a distinct cut,
which I know can match with the wound on your son. I should know,
because it was me who put it there. And I don’t take too kindly to
someone claiming that someone else did what I’ve done.”
The parents turned around to see a Peter Pan that was bigger than they
expected. The father turned to the mother and muttered, “He has
grown.”
“Your son tried to blow my head clean off with a gun and I had to defend
myself. I can understand your grief, but if you have to vent your anger
on someone, you vent it on me, understand?”
For some odd reason, the parents went from enraged to shocked. “He
had a gun?”
Peter nodded, doing his best effort in being somber. He really didn’t
wanted to kill him.
“Where did he get the gun?”
“That’s what we all want to know . . .”
The parent’s wondered why Peter’s eyes went wide all of the sudden.
The sound of someone choking and making a high-pitched groan gave
them a clue.
They turned around.
Adam stood in front of a crumpled down lawyer. The lawyer was holding
his privates.
Adam stole a glance to the parents. They backed away. If Adam wasn’t
their son’s murderer, the look in his eyes told them that he could very
much do his parent’s in. His eyes were glowing red, and he favored his
broken finger as the bones stiched back together.
Peter made sure he was away from the door so they can back away.
“Adam, now you know why I hate Grown-Ups.”
“Oh, it’s not the Grown-Ups I hate.”
Adam picked up the knife.
“IT’S THESE FRUCKING LAWYERS!!”
Adam threw the knife between the lawyer’s legs, and if he didn’t move
back just then, that throw would have struck true. He moved backward
on his rump for a good 10 feet until he was out of the room.
Then he turned around to run.
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He didn’t get far.
The briefcase connected with his head, knocking him unconscious. It
split open on impact, spilling it’s contents out.
“That was a wicked kick, Two Tails.” Peter said. “You should be in
football.”
“Yeah,” Adam said, feeling a lot better. “I could be kicking field goals.”
Peter had to think for a moment what he was talking about. He
scratched his head and looked down.
Then his face went flushed, his eyes wide. He even shuddered and
chattered his teeth.
“Something wrong, son?”
Peter bent over to see a paper float to his feet. He picked it up.
“I know this guy.”
“Know what guy?” Adam said, looking over his shoulder, and saw what
was on it:
Excerpt of the Paper in Peter’s hand at that moment:
From the Office of
[Name Omitted] Law Offices
[Address Omitted]
Date: December 31, 1996
Case #: XXXXXXXXX
Clients:
[A List of names, omitted]
.
.
Blackard, Sache
.
[More names omitted]
.
.
Details:
Defendants in Class Action Lawsuit against Vegas North High
School.
Plantiffs in pending case against Adam Packbell
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Defendants in pending case against Vegas North High Letterman in
the action of Civil Disobedience . . .
Peter looked like he’s seen a ghost. Not your normal ghost, though. It
takes a lot to scare Peter Pan. No, this ghost was different. This ghost
stirred a memory loose. And there’s a lot of memories in Peter’s head, no
matter how good he is at forgetting.
“You know a name in that list, raite?” Peter’s expression worried him.
Peter nodded, and turned the paper over pointing at the name.
“Officer, do you have a picture of a certain Sache Blackard?”
“Do we, that man’s wanted. He excaped from not only a prison, but a
hospital where he got his hand replaced. Not by one of the new fangled
ones that NGT puts out.” The cop crooked a finger to form a hook while
a clerk handed Peter the mug shot. “He insisted that he get one of those
old school steel clasp prothesises that more resemble that hook your old
friend has. Oh, my bad, you and Captain Hook aren’t exactly friends,
right?”
Peter let out a long, drawn out sigh. A sigh resembling what a grown-up
would make when he’s constantly disappointed in a child. “A hook for a
hand, eh? How fitting.”
“Peter.” Adam pointed at the picture. “Captain. You know him?”
“Excuse us?” Peter led Adam to a side. “I’m ashamed to say that I do.”
“Was he from the Molluskes? The Pirates?”
“No and No.”
It took a few precious seconds before something in Adam’s mind started
to suffer a severe logic meltdown. “. . . you mean . . .”
Peter nodded.
Adam didn’t know which was worse: Sache Blackard being a former lost
boy like himself, or the massive computer-like crashes in his brain.
“I found him during the late 60s. The son of a family of hippies who got
shot in some college shooting. He was known for being a ravelling type,
so he earned the Lost Boy name of Ravellino. He was bright and
ambitious, just like you . . . but.”
Another sigh.
“He didn’t just branch out like you did when you got your opprotunity.”
His voice rose a notch. “The cad thought he could actually be better
than I am. He staged a mutiny, if you imagine that. A Mutiny! He told
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me how much he grated over being under my shadow, as if I’m keeping
him down for some reason. The gall.”
“In the end, I had to expell him. I kicked him so far out from Neverland
that I hoped never to see him again. I still look back to the method I
used to do it too:”
Peter’s face was back to his usual gleefull self. He rubbed his hands as
he relished the moment. “I commandeered Captain Codfish’s ship for the
upteenth eleventh time, just as Ravellino was about to claim it for
himself.” Peter used a mock voice. “‘If I can’t captian the Lost Boys,’ I
heard him say, ‘then I shall be Captain of another band of Pirates to
hunt you down, and I’ll succeed when Jas Hook never co-’ that’s when I
spun the main boom around like a baseball bat and—WHAMMO!”
As Peter swung an imaginary baseball bat, making out like a slugger in
the major leagues, it was Adam’s turn to see a ghost.
“Knocked him clear into orbit! Something wrong, Adam?”
“I just remembered something.”
“That’s good to hear. What of it?”
“I think . . . that’s the same way that got me in Vegas.”
It was Peter’s turn to feel his brain crashing. If he could recognize it as
such.
“Are you thinking, that he ended up here the same way?”
“Could be.”
Peter snorted, then picked up his bowie knife. “Gentlemen, it has come
to my attention that it could be me who brought this scourge of a man
here. And what he has done to the other children here in Vegas would
be cause enough for me to come here and deal with him. But for what
he did to you . . .”
He tossed the mug shot in the air, and threw his bowie knife at it. It
caught the picture right between the eyes and carried it to the far end of
the interrogation room. The force of the throw drove it halfway into the
wall, creating a grotesque if not abstract image of Sache with a knife in
his head.
“I'll find this Dark and Sinister Man, Sirs, and it'll be him or me.”
A tap on his shoulder broke Peter’s sour moment.
He looked over to see Adam’s deputy star.
“You’re going to be needing this.”
Peter looked the star over. Held it up to the light. “An actual deputy
star?”
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“Yep. Got it the first time I played hero. Some towns throw their freaks
out of town. In Vegas we make them part of city scene.” Adam shrugs.
“We have a quirky city here.”
“As the line goes,” the sherrif said, “ ‘What happens in Vegas stays in
Vegas.’ We’ll help you track this Hawkings down. All we ask is don’t kill
him unless you have to.”
Peter pinned the star in his green tunic. “I’ll keep that in mind. Oh?
Adam, you’re not coming?”
“I’m needed elsewhere, captain.” Adam said as he picked up his Razr.
“Remember Nitsan?”
“The one from NGT?”
“None other. She’s got a small plane at the airport. I’ll join her and take
her to the Island. I’ll get in touch with my crew there. I’ve just heard
they’ve finished with the Wrench.”
“That’s great! So you’re going there to captain the ship?”
“No, I’m going there to run interference. If Hook takes one look at the
ship in the air?”
Peter laughed as Adam flew away. Moments later the realization hits
him.
“He’s right.”
281
Chapter 22
10 January 1997
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
TomahawkHeight:
By now I’ve found my favorite height to fly in. I’m not talking the heights
I make when I show off, use the hotels and casinos on the Strip as a
skate park, pulling off big air stunts above the rooftops, looping and
dipping with the spotlights, skimming across pools, and what not; I’m
talking just going from place to place.
It’s about 50 feet up, above the power and phone lines but below the
helicopters. History and Military buffs call this zone ‘Tomahawk Height.’
It stuck to me because I resemble a Tomahawk Missile when I’m flying,
sharp corners and all.
Not only is Tomahawk Height a nice open space to fly in, it's also below
the radar of most authority figures, including the air traffic control and
most police and EMT helicopters. That keeps them on their jobs and off
my case. In fact the only radar that can detect me is speed detectors. A
moot point, if you ask me: Above the power lines there's no speed limit.
I guess that why I’m getting grief from jealous drivers parked on the Strip
at rush hour while I’m zipping over their heads. It gives me a warm fuzzy
thinking about it.
By now the only problem I do have with my flying, outside of the obvious
“I am a trained professional please do not try this at home,” Stupid
Human Trick, is the area around the airport. I avoid the airport as much
as I could. There's something about getting in the way of a 747 that
doesn't appeal to me.
If I do go near that place, it's for a reason. Picking up from a plane,
dropping off from a plane, or getting into a plane. And more often than
not it's a private plane from the private hangars. With that case, I have a
bonus: I don't have to go through security and do all those stupid
human tricks. I make a call to air traffic control on my trusty Razr, let
them know I’m around, and coast on over to the appropriate hanger. In
later years, I find this to be a godsend.
Adam made his standard slow approach over the airport. Adam alerted
control and kept low until he flew over the main terminal. That way he
can stay out of the major runways and the airport can maintain their
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business. He glides past the tower, close enough for him to tap on the
glass. Someone in there waved at him as he passed by. He continued
his slow glide until he found the hanger at the far end of the airport,
where all the private crafts sit, next to their own runway and tower.
He hovered in the air at Hanger 18, the number Nitsan mentioned, and
made a soft touch on the ground. The small charter plane sat out of the
hanger doors and is getting it’s final inspection.
Nitsan clapped at him as he landed. “You've been working on your
landings, Adam.”
“Heh,” Adam said as he rubbed his head. “Landings are always the hard
part.”
Nitsan's equipment and supplies are already on board in three wooden
crates. One was for all her scientific toys, enough to set up her lab
wherever she wanted. A second one had a large tent along with some
personal items. The third is normal field supplies and rations.
“Do they know we’re coming,” Nitsan asked.
Adam nodded. “Made a call to The Island on the way here.”
Excerpt from a phone call between Adam Packbell and Wendy
Darling:
Wendy: I have good news to report, Adam. Your crew is almost done
refitting the Wrench. It should be sailing, and with the proper ‘faith trust
and pixie dust,’ flying, by the time you catch back up with them.
Adam: That's great. There's another matter I wanted to discuss with
you. You remember that NGT scientist I told you about?
Wendy: One Nitsan Mutami. You have told me about her.
Adam: Right. Nitsan and Peter have their chat and he gave her his
blessing. She's going to be coming here to study the place.
Wendy: Uh-huh. I look forward to meeting with her, but I have to say
this. I don't know if a scientist, even one who believes in fairies, would
do well here in Neverland.
Adam: I understand that, really. But with so many people interested in
The Island, at least I should have a trial effort. Besides, I'm sure she'll
grow on you.
Wendy: I suppose she will. How will she come over?
Adam: Twin propeller small aircraft. With the toys she's bringing along,
it's a necessity.
Wendy: Oh my goodness, what about Captain Hook?
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Adam: Leave that Codfish to me. He's going to be in for a big surprise.
Adam flipped up his Razr and keyed in Neverland's GPS beacon. He gave
the numbers to Rich, Nitsan’s assistant and the pilot of the plane. “Key
that into your navigation system. If it changes, my Razr'll let me know.”
“I heard that there's a wormhole of some kind,” Rich said. “Won't we just
run into it.”
Adam shook his head. “I don't know everything about that stargate. It
seems to open up only when we're actually aiming for the island. I've
seen airplanes enter the same space and it doesn't show.”
“And at that high, it hard to study.” Nitsan said as she got a digicam
ready.
Adam nodded. “Once we go through, you'll be able to see it whether if it
moved or not. That's also when I jump off so I can run some interference
on Hook.”
“That's the part I'm worried about,” The pilot said. “Are you sure you can
keep this pirate from shooting at us?”
Adam nodded and winked. “I've got something up my sleeve.”
He patted the shoulder bag he had included with the crates.
The twin-propeller plane taxied to the runway without incident. Adam
didn’t know if some of the chatter Rick shared with whoever was in the
tower was anything about not having enough fuel to make it to the
midwest, let alone the Atlantic ocean, and whatever or not the tower
knew about the stargate. His ears were busy taking in the rings from
Fire Storm as she fluttered from Nitsan’s hair to Adam’s.
Adam patted Firestorm. “I missed you so much, girl.”
Bling blinkaling akalaling. (You liar. You say that to all the girls you come
across. Tee Hee)
“I’m not that bad,” Adam said as the plane took off from the ground.
“Okay, Adam,” Rick said. “We’re in the air and headed east toward your
co-ordinates. Now where’s that wormhole?”
“Keep going up. You’ll see two stars, the right one brighter.”
Rick snorted. “Just like the line from the—omygosh you’re right.”
Nitsan and Adam looked up to find the now familiar pair of stars in an
otherwise clear day sky.
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“They’re even visible in daytime,” Nitsan said. “How can that be?” She
turned on her digicam and aimed it straight ahead.
“Another mystery to dig into my dear,” Adam said. “Here we go.”
The gravity shift made everyone know they’ve entered the wormhole,
followed by the light bending everything outside.
Adam got a little worried when something creaked on the ship. “I sent a
Microbus through this without much problems, how is the ship holding?”
“I had to lay off the throttle to keep from breaking things away, but it
doesn’t look real bad.”
Nobody made any more comments as the bent land gave way to bent sea,
and finally to normal sea.
“Give your navigational systems time to reset themselves.”
“One moment there . . . okay, we’re at the exact spot you gave us.”
“THERE IT IS!”
Nitsan was pointing at the sole island in the ocean with a huge grin on
her face. “That island is Neverland, right?”
Adam looked over to where she’s pointing. The island didn’t change
much since he left. He smiled at that thought.
“That it is, Miss Mutami. Now, if you excuse me.”
Adam got up from his feet and moved to the door.
Rick thought he was insane. “You’re going to jump from this high?”
“Have to. I want to make sure Hook’s busy by the time you come within
cannon range. Hand on to your seats!”
Adam slid the door open. Even at their current altitude of 1500 feet, it’s
enough to blow all the air out and pop everyone’s ears.
“CLOSE THAT SMUCKING DOOR BEFORE YOU-”
Adam did so, slamming the door tight and letting the air settle back to a
comfortable level. He grabbed on to the side of the plane for a few
moments.
He then looked in the window, gave a ‘thumbs up’ and kicked away.
His drop started with a couple flips before straighting out into a nose
dive. He freefalled for about 1000 feet while he fumbled for and slipped
on his latest toy from NGT: a personal Heads-Up-Display set in a pair of
goggles over his eyes. The see-through viewscreen gave Adam’s
windspeed, altitude—still dropping fast—and direction from a compass
icon. A small radar screen popped into view after a few seconds, showing
his geo-coordinates as well as the other points of interest in the area.
Like Nitsan’s plane, which was starting it’s own descent.
285
Like the Island, which loomed in front of him as he started to skim the
ocean.
And like the Jolly Roger, which was right in his sights.
. . . . and like Adam Packbell, which was right in the sights in Captain
Hook's spyglass.
“He jumped out of that plane that just appeared,” Smee said, “and now
he's in a Kamakaze course.”
Hook grumbled. “He's a sitting duck.” He slid the spyglass closed.
“Blast him into the brine, and then go for that plane.”
Nibbles got as far as loading the gun and aiming it at Adam.
The cannon’s roar was way out of place and way too soon. Nibbles
double checked his cannon to see if he didn’t fire it.
And the incoming cannonball that crashed through the Jolly Roger’s
deck didn’t come from the intended cannon anyway.
One by one the pirates turned around to where that cannonball came
from. Each one turn and froze. Captain Hook was the last one to do so.
“TURN AROUND YOU IDJITS! YER TARGET’S OVER THERE! WHAT ON
EARTH COULD . . . be . . . behind . . . no . . . farick-ING . . . WAY!!”
Behind the Jolly Roger, raising out of it’s resting spot where Hook
thought was sunk to the bottom, in all it’s glory, black sails and all, was
the East Indiamen sailing ship Hook could barely remember.
But Smee did. “Captain, it’s the Wrench! Someone brought the Wicked
Wrench back form the sea!”
At least that’s what Adam heard when he zipped over the Jolly Roger’s
deck hoping to buzz the Pirates.
When his vision stopped in the middle of the pass with a jarring stop,
Adam knew that things didn’t go according to plan.
When he could see again, he saw he was hooked on his belt. And when
he saw who hooked him, it was a quite literal sense.
“What in the seven seas do you think you’re doing, Packbell.” Hook said
in his usual professional tone. “Are you selling tickets to this place? The
moment you found Neverland you’ve been bringing everyone you know to
this place.”
“Nobody from Disney, though.” Adam said. “I don’t know anyone from
them.”
“And now ye brought a ship up from the bottom of the Atlantic!” Hook
dropped Adam onto the deck with a flick of his left hook-for-a-hand.
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“How on earth did you pull that off, may I ask? Made a deal with Davey
Jones?”
Adam rubbed his rear. “Why would someone from The Monkeys have
anything to do with pirate ships?”
“Typical Landlubber. Keep him tied up, men. Two Tails hasn’t lost
anything in his bag of tricks since I played baseball on his hide.”
“Let me guess.” Adam tried to speak under two of the larger pirates. “It
was you who spun the boom around and sent me into orbit. I’d rather
have that than get goosed by these pedos.”
“Oh,” Hook twirled his mustache with his metallic prosthesis. “I have
just implicated myself, did I?”
“Maybe when you look around in yer pirate code fer yer answer to th’
Fifth Amendment, Ah’d suggest you get a nose hair trimmer. Ah’ve never
seen that much gunk coming out of someone’s nose outside of some
anime shows ah’ve seen.”
“I take it living in Vegas didn’t increase your culture any.”
“Are you sure? Do you know what Vegas is famous for, second to
gambling?”
Hook didn’t know what he meant.
Until he heard a sound of escaping gas and the bell-ringing of pixie dust.
“That’s right, Codfish. Where else can I learn how to levitate a pirate
ship?”
He turned around.
The Wicked Wrench was twenty feet above the water surface. It leaned
toward the Roger, showing it’s deck. It had eight cannons, four machine
guns (Later on, Smee will remember those guns as those from a WWIIera Bomber), a wheel rigging pixie rigged so that the ship can land on
land, and some cheesecake artwork of Tinker Bell and Fire Storm
dressed as a barmaid.
Victor had one of those guns aimed right at Hook.
“Dance, ya varmit!”
Victor lowered the gun down to Hook’s feet. He let his trigger finger do
the rest, spitting out round after round in an atonal drum roll.
Adam rolled out of the way as soon as he wiggled away from under the
dogpile of pirates.
“Adam! Get up there and outta my line of fire!” Victor said as he
continued playing the music Hook was dancing to.
Until Hook danced his way through the deck, causing him to crash
through the lower decks.
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By this time the rest of the pirates were loading their cannons for the
battle.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen.”
It wasn't Adam's voice that caused the pirates to stop what they're doing
and turn around.
It was Adam opening the jar he had with him.
A jar of tartar sauce.
“I think there's something, ya'wl should know.” Adam said as he set the
jar on its side on the deck. He made sure all eyes were on the jar when
he let it go.
Everyone watched the jar roll across the deck and into the hole.
There was a bump.
And then there was a scream.
“We're the least of your problems. See ya.”
With that Adam flew up to the Wrench.
“Take 'er up!” Adam said long before he was on the deck. “We're going
through the stargate.”
The pirates still couldn’t get their eyes off the Wrench even as they
scrambled for wood, nails, and hammers.
Including Captain Hook, who was crawling up from the hole he fell in.
His eyes wide by what he was seeing and what was on his face.
Hook reached into his jacket, pulled out a fat pouch, and threw it on the
deck. The glittering, tinkering contents spilled out and spread out over
the deck and over the walls
“Tartar me once, Shame on you. . .”
Hook was muttering.
Smee was backing away.
“. . . Tartar me twice, Shame on me. . . .”
Hook’s eyes started to glow.
“. . . Tartar me thrice . . .”
He stomped on the sack, bursting it open.
“SHAME ON ALL OF US!!”
Stardust engulfed the Jolly Roger in a thick cloud.
“PREPARE TO TAKE OFF, MEN!”
288
The damage to the ship began to repair by itself. It wasn’t like what
happened with the Wrench, where the Island gave all she could gave to
repair the ship. On board the Roger, time itself seemed to reverse. Holes
filled up with the debris that were knocked out of place just moments
before, masts slid back to their supposed place, jumped back on where
they snapped off and reconnected on a molecular level. Tears in the sails
restitched themselves by invisible hands. In a similar space of time
when it took to disable the ship, the Jolly Roger stood on the ocean as
virgin and terrible as it came out of the shipwright’s blocks.
“WE’LL CHASE THOSE SNOT-NOSED PUNKS AROUND THIS PLANET
. . .”
The ship lifted from the brine.
“. . . PAST THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SUN . . .”
And headed toward the very same stargate.
“. . . AND THROUGH HADES’ FLAMES IF I HAVE TO!!”
Vixen tackled Adam the moment she saw him on deck. She smothered
him with a hug and a series of kisses.
“Take it easy, Vix,” Adam said, “you know I wouldn’t be gone long.” He
looked out to the rest of the crew.
“Welcome aboard the Wicked Wrench, Captain.” Victor said with more
than a little bit of pride.
“You did a good job, Victor. I’m sure Peter’ll approve.” He looked toward
the head. “We’re headed back to Vegas.”
“Hai,” Jei said after tapping at the laptop mounted near the steering
wheel. “This stargate will dump us 10 miles west-south-west from town.”
Adam nodded as he opened the shoulder bag. “Victor, do us a favor and
replace that pirate flag with this.”
Adam pulled out a triangle-folded United States Flag. The white stars
over the blue field was unmistakable.
“We’re going to be over US airspace in a few minutes.” Adam explained.
“A few minutes after that we’re going to have some military planes
investigating what they’ll call the most bizarre unidentified flying aircraft
they’ve ever seen. They’ll won’t fire if they’ll see us flying the Stars and
Stripes.”
Victor took the flag and headed for the flagpost.
289
“While you’re there, may I suggest lowering the wheels.” Adam said as
he moved up to the command deck. “Best get that chore out of the way
so we won’t have to worry about landing on her keel.”
“Good thinking, Adam,” Jei said as he went to the stern. “It’ll take a
while for the ropes and pulley system to work. And we have to tie them
secure so they won’t jerk out of place.”
Adam nodded as he took the helm. “I thought as much.”
They managed to get the wheels tied down in place by the time they saw
the end of the wormhole.
By now the world knows of Neverland by the news and websites, but they
didn't know about the stargate that Adam, Peter, and company were
shuttling back and fourth through.
The stargate had to grow big as it had to let a East Indiamen pirate ship
through. It loomed large over the eastern Nevada sky. Those who were
Trekkies thought it was a wormhole from the series looking a bit too low
for their confort. Older folk remembered the nuclear tests earlier in the
decade and thought it was that. Everyone else was just interested in
what's going on.
All eyes were on the Wicked Wrench as it flew out of the hole.
“I wonder if someone knows we're up here?” Vixen said.
Everyone wondered about that for a few seconds until Adam's cel rang.
“Splendid show, Master Packbell,” Peter's voice sang out from the Razr.
“I couldn't've done it better.”
“Peter?” Adam was surprised. “You've got a cel phone?”
“You can thank your friends at NGT for that. Set me up with one of
these Sidekicks.”
“I've heard about them. They're more for IM's and E-Mail than phones.”
“I can use it for a phone too, with this bluetooth doohicky on my ear.
Looks like an earring if I hold it at the right angle. Very stylish.”
“How's your little hunt?”
Peter did a test slash with his Bowie knife. “The search for my quarry
has narrowed down quite a bit. Las Vegas' finest have circled around an
area due north to your beloved Strip. My goodness, Two Tails. Some of
these neighborhoods are quite dreary, even on London standards.”
“That part of town's always been blighted. I don’t go there.”
“I shall not blame you. The police are interested in a building near here.”
290
“Building surrounded by barbed wire and resembling a prison?”
“Building surrounded by barbed wire and resembling something that
belonged in Germany during the '40s, you mean.”
“That's North Vegas High, Peter.”
“That was a high school?!”
“Blackard's High School, may I add.”
“My God! He's worse than I thought. I would have expected something
like this from the look . . . of his . . . mob . . .”
“Peter. What's wrong?”
“Adam. Behind you.”
Adam turned around to the stern of the ship. And saw the stargate open
in the distance, just as big as the opening needed to send the Wrench
through.
“He couldn't!” Peter shouted over the cel phone line. “He can't!”
“Adam!” Victor said as he ran over to the stern railing. “There's only one
other things that needs a hole like this. Another flying pirate ship.”
“But we were the only one who-”
“No we aren't, Rob!”
Adam saw the bowsprit poke out of the rift.
“HOLY SHIT!”
That’s all Adam could say as the Jolly Roger appeared right before his
eyes.
“GET THIS SHIP DOWN, VICTOR!”
“WHERE?!”
“ANYWHERE!”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled FlyingShips:
Controlling the Wicked Wrench is a lot like steering a sailing ship that
wants to act like a hot air balloon. As our own experiments showed, us
being the Vegas Lost Boys and myself, Pixie Dust can make any
inanimate object float, it can’t make it move anywhere. Compare this
with myself or anyone who’s dusted, who can move by will.
You can modify the ship’s sail and rudder to work with the wind just like
a normal ship does on the water. It required an addition of horizontal
rudders to allow the ship to rise and descend. The Jolly Roger has this
291
long before Victorian ages, and Vic made sure that the Wicked Wrench
had them installed in it’s refitting.
Good thing I have a first mate who got his interest in ships resparked by
Peter Pan.
Motorhead told me he’d like to have the ship be his home.
At least I’ll know he’ll keep the ship well.
The radar found the first pirate ship a few seconds after it passed
through the portal. Since pirate ships were made for sailing on water,
not air, they weren't built for flying in mind. This means they don't have
important airplane equipment. Like the infamous black box, or proper
legal decals on it's bow. Or anything that would bring up any
identification to go with the blip on the radar screen.
To American air space, the Wicked Wrench was just “UFO #1”
That brought the first wave out of Mirimar. Little more than several
Blackhawk helicopters taking flight to investigate the blip in visual
range. En route, everyone on board wondered if they'd see some X-Plane
that got too close to civilization. Even if nobody would be allowed to talk
about it, it would be the highlight of their day.
It was not less of a highlight when they saw the pirate ship floating in the
air.
It was the Blackhawks who reported “UFO #2”—the Jolly Roger—coming
out of the portal. The brass back at the air base erred on the side of
caution, and scrambled the Harriers.
“Stand by while these flying Pirate Ships identify themselves.”
Adam couldn’t punch numbers into his Razr fast enough, “come on
where’s that armed forces radio signal.”
“Captain, Bogie #1’s flying the American Flag. And I think it’s being run
by . . . kids?”
Adam stepped up toward one of the Blackhawks with a phone in one
hand, and the other flailing.
“One of them has a cel phone. Wait. Isn’t that Packbell?”
“Tower to Ghostrider, we can patch into that cel phone. Can you figure
out their intentions.”
“Yes, I think they’re trying to land.”
Adam then pointed toward the Jolly Roger.
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“Tower, this is Ghostrider, Bogie #1 is bailing and landing, going after
Bogie #2”
Adam saluted to the pilot in the Blackhawk, who saluted back before
sliding away sideways.
Ghostrider's Blackhawk turned on a spotlight below the helicopter and
trained it on the second bogey's deck.
“What th . . .” Ghostrider couldn't believe his eyes. “What the hell is
this? A fucking Disney cartoon?”
Captain Hook stood in dead center of the spotlight, egging the strange
aircraft—Hook's words—to “come and get me ye yellow-bellied metallic
devil.”
Ghostrider's co-pilot switched on a outside speaker. “Unidentified Flying
Object. Identify Yourselves!”
“The beastie wants us to identify ourselves.” Hook said, with an amused
tone. “WELL? You heard him! Let's Identify Ourselves! FIRE!”
“Oh . . .” Adam said on the deck.
“ . . . Hells, no!” Peter said on street level.
The cannon struck Ghostrider's Blackhawk square on the cockpit. It fell
from the sky in a fiery heap of metal. Two more such helicopters joined
in on the descent before the rest started firing.
Everyone on deck on both boats dived for cover. Both on the Wrench . . .
“Somebody get my ship down before someone starts blasting holes in it,
please?! At least while we're still on it and the drop is still lethal, is that
possible please?”
. . . and the Roger.
“Somebody PLEASE tell me ye got the secret weapons ready? Before
there's a billion holes in me, IS THAT POSSIBLE PLEASE? Oh, you
have? WELL, WHAT ARE YE WAITING FER, Y' IDJITS!”
If anyone on the Wrench looked back, they would see a trio of machine
guns appear from a set of wooden covers.
Nobody noticed until Victor heard the unmistakable sound. “What the
hell?”
Adam looked at Victor as if he just lost his marbles. “Now is NOT the
time for the pot in your blood to kick back in, Kalinski!”
Victor looked back at the Roger. “They dropped a bomber like we did . .
.”
A panel slid in from the Roger's keel. What slid out down from the hole
convinced Victor that the pot is indeed flashing back.
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“A Fricking Ball Turret!! Hook's got a Mother Fricking Ball Turrett!!
You've gotta be kidding me!!”
Adam didn’t have time to figure out how Hook can install a ball turret
under the Roger and still have it seaworthy. That ball turret aimed right
at him. With Smee at the triggers.
“Aw crap.”
Adam wondered if he was fast enough to block automatic gun fire with
his blade.
He didn't have to.
He was busy covering his ears, as did everyone on the deck, as a Harrier
jump jet flew over the Wrench.
The turret ripped the Harrier in two, sending the halves in two different
directions as it fell.
“This is bad.” Adam said.
“This is beyond bad” Victor said. “Look around.”
He did, and his stomach tied up into knots. He saw a dozen Harriers
easy. And no doubt what other airships will be sent on the Roger.
And who knows what the Wrench would catch second-hand.
“Oh man, this is serious. Our boys’ll only take so many hits before they
break out the really heavy guns! I’ve gotta stop this fight.”
“What!? You can’t go in that!!” Victor tried to protest as Adam took off
toward the Roger.
Adam's face was all business. “Land this thing, Vic. That’s an order!”
“WAIT! YOU’RE OUT OF YOUR MIND! ADAM, COME BACK!!”
Adam was already on the Roger's bowspirit.
Hook’s ears perked when he heard something step on the deck.
He turned around to find.
“Pan? No, not him? It’s that Western one-”
Something he never thought he’d see in his life:
Adam stood on the deck where he landed, raised his hand and shouted:
“PARLEY!!”
Everyone froze.
The pirates.
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The airplanes.
The helicopters.
Even the ordinance. Before gravity took hold and they dropped like
rocks.
The three wheels, one on the bow and two on the stern, were taken from
the landing gear of several wrecked planes, all jury rigged into a
makeshift armature designed to be lowered under the ship’s keel. Victor
tried it once over water to see if it’ll even move, which it did.
As the wheels moved down from under their covered hiding places and
flipped into place underneath, Vic knew that the acid test will come when
they touch the desert ground.
“I got through to the airport,” Roberto said with his hand on his cel.
“They want to know if you want to ask permission to make an emergency
landing.”
“Damnit! Tell them I’m not asking them, I’m telling them—WE’RE
LANDING!! And I don’t care if I land on a runway!!”
He didn’t. The Wrench made her final approach right on the border of
the airport property, in a diagonal line across the entire field.
It landed like the Space Shuttle, aft wheels first.
It was here when Victor noticed an error in his design:
“Where’s the breaks on this thing?!”
The fore wheel touched down.
“Vic, this is a Pirate Ship!” Vixen said. “There ain’t any breaks!!”
“Oh, SHIT!”
The wheels were holding, but they were still going as fast as ever,
heading straight toward the terminal.
Nobody knew how to stop a pirate ship on land.
The terminal was 1500 yards away.
But they knew how to stop a pirate ship on water.
1000 yards from the terminal.
“Drop the Anchor!” Victor ran toward the stern corner where it hung.
“Everyone lower the sails!”
At 750 yards the cast iron anchor got it’s first taste of Nevada soil. It
couldn’t find a way through the desert ground and only dragged behind,
making sparks as it skidded past the tarmac runways.
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At 650 yards all the sails were falling loose from the masts, no longer
holding the wind.
At 500 yards the first visible sign of slowing down, but all on board
worried that it wasn’t enough.
At 300 yards all of them were screaming.
The Wrench rolled to a stop 297 yards later.
All on board and all around were still holding their breath for another
five seconds.
Then one by one they all fainted out of sheer exaustion.
Few people knew what on earth they were looking at, even as the airport
ground crew surrounded the ship and used a rolling staircase to board.
Victor tried to make light of things as he greeted the authorities. “Fetch
me some rum and hand me that horizon. Drink up me hearties, Yo-Ho!”
They didn’t get the joke.
Hook just stood there. Scratching his chin. “You know of the Parley
rule. Mighty unusual of a Lost Boy.”
He gave a few terse looks toward his crew. The crew knew better than to
blind side Adam after he invoked Parley; an official wish to speak with
the Captain and not be harmed until all discussion is taken cared of.
He walked up to Adam until they stood face to face.
“You must understand, boy, that using Parley does not guarantee that I
won’t harm you.”
“I’m not doing this for my person, Captain, but yours. Have you
considered whom you’re fighting tonight?”
Captain Hook looked around. He nodded to the giant flying birds of prey.
“Indeed. Some of me mates are avid Bible readers, and our attackers
indeed look like something out of Revelation.”
“Then these crew members are very well aware of what you and yours are
going up against. I know enough about our Fighter Planes and Gun
Ships to know that they can indeed bring down fire from the heavens
when provoked. In fact they’re being very generous. They can attack
you from several miles away. Maybe even thousands of miles away. And
they can deliver weapons that can destroy all of Neverland, and every
sign of life in a fifty mile radius with it. This includes the air and the
water. In one shot.”
That caused a murmur among the crew.
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Hook raised an eyebrow. He had to ask. “You don’t possibly think . . .
they’d actually use-”
“Captain, to end a World War, they had to use that weapon.”
The murmur was louder.
“Twice.”
By now at least one pirate called for a mutiny.
“You keep this up, Captain Hook, and you’ll never make it to Peter Pan.
Your flying ship will be destroyed, everyone on board will be killed. And
after an half hour the last of the Pirates will not even be remembered.
I’m sure none of us wants that.”
Hook knew Adam was right. Even feared who he was facing now. He
looked around, now aware that he’s in a losing battle, and quite possibly
the first mutiny attempt in over three centuries.
“But . . .”
Everyone stopped talking. Everyone turned toward Adam.
“If we settle this one on one. Me against you, and for the sake of fairness
I’ll turn off the dust. You beat me, you’re can have a clear shot to your
famous adversary and maybe pillage Las Vegas on the side. But If I beat
you, you will be escorted out of American air space unharmed, where you
can wait for Peter Pan to return, and he will. I’d also call for a truce
between Pirate and Lost Boy until the next morning after Pan sets feet
back on the island. When the sun comes up, our game will continue.”
Hook thought about it for a while. He did like the prospect of
substituting a mano on mano battle for hopeless odds.
“What of these mechanical wonders around us?”
Adam pulled out his Razr.
“This is Adam Packbell, Deputy of Las Vegas, Nevada. I ask you to stand
down so I can apprehend this Pirate.”
Adam showed his cel phone, was set on a speaker mode and cranked up
to max. Hook heard a voice from the device. “Mr. Packbell. This
whoever you call it just appeared in American Air Space on the most
whacked out Unidentified Flying Object we’ve ever seen-”
Hook took the cel phone and yelled at it. “It be no Unidentified Flying
Object, Mister. It be the Jolly Roger, ship of one Jas Hook. It floats as
well as flies and I love it.”
“Give me that!” Adam swiped it back.
“Whoever he is and whatever that is,” the guy on the other end said,
“they’re both wanted for an investigation. We’re charged in detaining
him.”
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“Ah understand that, sir. However, we have an prior agreement for a
duel of honor. If he loses, he agrees to retreat out of American Air Space
at his earliest possible time. If I get into trouble, y’all can jump in then,
but until then, please stand by.”
There was a pause.
“Understood. Good luck, Mr. Packbell.”
All the gunships turned their weapons away from the building, and a
good number even pulled away altogether. Some stuck around, though,
curious over the fight.
“They won’t be a problem for now,” Adam closed his Razr and put it back
in his vest. “If any of them interfere, I’ll personally hand you their
spleens.”
“Very well.” Hook said as he twirled his mustache with his hook. “As a
good guesture, I will allow you to chose the location of this battle.”
Adam thought about it for a second. He looked around for a good
neutral spot.
And then he caught a familiar place.
“It’s a good thing me and my wife thought of following your pirate ship.”
Copper said as he rode shotgun in the limo. “I don’t think the cops
would want to be bothered with arresting you four.”
Wendy nodded to the four ‘pirates’ seated in the back. “Something to
keep in mind next time you’re flying a pirate ship in the air: The airport
isn’t the best place to port.”
“I couldn’t find a better place, honest.” Victor said. “We had to get out of
that other ship’s sights.”
The other three nodded.
“We know. That’s why we’re not yelling at you that much.” Copper
poked his head outside. “Do you think that ship’s okay for now.”
“Well, all the flights are canceled because of what’s going on,” the cop
outside said. “And it’s well out of the way of the runways, but I’d suggest
that ship be moved somewhere else as soon as you can. I doubt the
airport wants it there for long.”
Copper nodded. “We’ll be on that as soon as we can, okay.”
He nodded to Tara who pulled away.
“Now then, where’s Adam?”
That would be when they saw a bright spark in the sky.
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“That’s Fire Storm’s signal,” Victor said. “Adam’s a little bit north. Too
north.”
“Yeah,” Vixen said. “I don’t think he usually goes that north of town.
Not even if he’s chased by a pirate.”
“There’s no place he knows of up there,” Roberto said.
“No, not that I know of,” Jei said.
“Unless . . .” Wendy paused for a moment, gave it some thought.
“. . . Adam, you rascal.”
She leaned forward.
“Take us to the Old North Vegas High Building! My guts say he’s there.
He’s gonna take two birds with one stone.”
Tara stepped on the gas, calling up her internal navigation system to get
across the strip as fast as she can. “What on earth would Adam be doing
at North Vegas.”
“I think,” Victor said as he looked out. “I have a clue.”
The others looked out on the left side of the limo, and saw the Jolly Roger
lower itself in a descending course.
Tara did some number crunching. “The current trajectory of that ship is
on a direct heading for North Vegas. It is possible that, according to
Pirate Law, that Adam has parleyed with the captain . . .”
Wendy completed the thought, with a very nervous expression. “ . . . and
they’re settling the whole thing at the old high school. Oh, Adam.”
“Let me get this straight.” Victor said. “Adam and Hook, mono a mono?”
Copper was about to say something about Adam’s swordsmanship, and
with the flying ability he can bring the fight to Captain Hook.
He never got to voice his thought before everyone in back told Tara to
“PUNCH IT!”
“There,” Adam pointed to the roof of the old Vegas High School building.
“A wide enough location where we won’t have to worry about any
collateral damage. I’ll send you a signal when I’m ready.”
“Agreed.” Hook started to return to his crew, only to turn back to Adam,
who was on the railing. “Master Two Tails.”
Adam turned around.
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“You can use your flying ability. I’ll have me own tricks up me sleeve. I
want to test them out before I use them on yer former captain.”
“Very well.”
Then Adam fell backward and disappeared from sight.
“Is that wise, Captain.” Smee said. “He might be tricking us.”
“He got those blasted nightmare creatures to back off, did he?” Hook
said. “Besides, if he is deceiving us, we’ll . . .”
There was a bright flash. Hook saw a bright spark appear over that very
roof.
“Good form, boy. Good form.”
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5/5 The Showdown
301
Chapter 23
10 January 1997 05:00 PM
The Jolly Roger floated over the Vegas Strip, getting everyone’s attention
as it floated northward.
“You’d think they’ve never seen a pirate ship before,” Smee said.
Some of the pirates were just as curious as the city dwellers were,
especially when some of the streetwalkers called over to them on
rooftops.
“Ye’r more than welcome to ‘em, lads,” Hook said, not looking back from
his spyglass, “But I’m not stopping this ship. You need to jump off and
come back on your own.”
A couple pirates took one look straight down and decided against such
activities.
The ship lowered to the rooftop Adam mentioned. He was on the roof,
fiddling with his sword and scabbard.
“I’d be expecting more from yer bottomless bag o’ tricks,” Hook muttered
to himself as he tossed a rope ladder over.
He climbed down the ladder and stepped on the roof. He walked up to
Adam and stopped ten paces away.
“Whenever you’re ready.” Adam said as he raised his sheathed sword in
front of him, and bowed.
Hook returned the gesture by saluting with his rapier.
Sache didn't have to look up to know. That Boy is there. On the roof.
And he brought all of his pathetic childish nonsense world with him!
That Boy is calling him out! He knows it.
It's going to end here. Tonight.
It has to!
Sache isn't going to let him go, no matter how many times he'll try.
That Boy has stolen His School, stolen His Position, stolen His Security,
stolen His Dignity, and stolen His Humanity! He's going to Kill That Boy
before he steals His Live.
It's all he has left.
All he needs is in his office. All of the big guns. All of the punishments
he only needed to show to keep his sheep in line. He only needed to use
302
them three times. And each time he had to spend the whole school
budget on making sure everyone keeps quiet.
He knows he doesn't have to worry this time. He knows they’ll send him
away in the end, and he doesn’t care.
He knows he'll make it brutal. Violent. Demeaning. He'll make sure it's
done out in the open where even his annoying British bitch mother can
see him. And if he's been a good victim, he might just kill them then.
But he will never let it that easy.
He can't!
He must make That Boy Pay!!
He knew what he wanted to do when he opened the door to his office.
Off it's hinges.
“It’s been a long time, Ravellino.”
Sache’s ears burned in his head, not by the words, but by the voice that
carried them. As historic in his memories, and yes, so clear and cheerful
as a newborn child.
He turned around to find Pan hovering above the principal’s desk, the
electrified paddle in his hand, his Bowie Knife stuck on the desk. Peter
was more interested in the paddle than Sache at the time.
“You’ve never written, never called, never as much as shot me one of
those new-fangled E-Mails or Instant Messages, not that I won’t be
getting one of those for another week or two.” Peter turned to Sache. “It
made me think you’ve forgotten all about your old friend.”
Sache felt that his face would just blow off of his skull, revealing nothing
but the red flaming rage underneath. To Pan's eyes, Sache's face looked
like it would do just that at any time.
“Awwwww,” Peter said without passing a beat. “Did I kept you from
doing the one thing that will let you have a rise, oh shameful me.
Shameful.”
Peter took his time to stand up. “But then again, with your actions I’ll
make an exception. You see, it isn’t Adam Packbel you were so angry at,
or anyone native to this fair city. It’s me, is it not?”
Peter yanked the Bowie Knife out from where he stuck it.
“I think we can ignore what’s going on above us, don’t you?”
“I couldn’t help but notice, Two Tails,” Hook said as he readied himself
with his rapier, “that you’re using a batto-jutsu sword style. It was very
popular in Japan during the previous century.”
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“You know of Japanese sword styles? That’s a surprise. I thought you’ve
spent all this time chasing Pan around.”
“Aye, ye thought so, didn’t ye. Shows how little ye know with yer head
buried in all those books of yours. True, me and my crew been hunting
that boy and his mates, but ye must understand. Revenge may be tasty,
especially when it’s served cold, but it doesn’t fill the stomach very well.
And some of these scurvy dogs aboard my ship can only go so long on
just Rum.”
“Also Captain,” Smee added, “we have to get our Rum somewhere.”
Hook turned to Smee. “That goes without saying.”
He returned to Adam, who was still in his batto-jutsu stance. Hmmm, he
didn’t attack while my head was turned. He wants me to make the first
move.
Adam kept his eyes on Hook. If he heard of my style, he must know that I
need him to get into range. He must also know that a batto-jutsu Quick
Draw is normally an all-or-nuthin move. Better prepare to Double Down.
If Smee’s research is right, batto-jutsu is an all-or-nothing attack, if he
misses, he’s vulnerable for a counter. “En Guarde!!” This might be over
quicker than I thought.
Hook charges Adam full tilt, rapier back for a major thrust.
In three full leaps Hook was in range.
Now!
Hook took a half step as soon as he saw muscles twitch on Adam’s arm.
The whip-CRACK!! echoed all over North Vegas, as the blade only went so
far as to clip at the long nose hair over Hook’s upper lip.
The swing managed to push Hook back a half step as well, but he got his
footing back in an instant and lunged.
CLACK!
The sound of Metal on Metal. Hook’s initial strike fell just as short.
Adam’s scabbard entered Hook’s view and trapped his rapier in a metal
hook. The sheath continued to move after the path of the sword as
Adam spun around, causing Hook to continue his forward momentum.
Hook had the presence of mind to roll away. “Very Clever.”
“I was a two-tailed fox for fifteen years, Captain. What did you expect?”
Wide-bladed Paddles.
Singpore Canes.
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Bull Whips.
Tazers.
“I should have seen this long before you mutinied, Ravellini.”
Ropes.
Chains.
Tables.
Chairs.
“You just can't feel anything good unless you're hurting somebody.
Some may even think you’re somewhat disfunctio—whoa!”
Fists.
Feet.
Belts.
There's even a kitchen sink involved.
“It was about time I'd find someone who didn't want a childhood.”
Sache forgot about Adam. He didn't even know who he was. He was all
focused on the One Marvelous Boy who got in the way of his becoming
the Marvelous Boy himself.
“That's what kept you from becoming like me.” Peter said as he dodged
the many implements of punishment Sache used during his almost 20
years of beating children into subordinate sheep people. “You didn't
want anything or anyone above you. You had to be tops in everything or
it doesn't matter. It's something I learned long before I met The Wendy,
Hawkings; sometimes you have to let the other people win.”
Peter was walking backward, not knowing he was about to step on a
rolling piece of chair leg.
“That's the best way I kept my crew from kicking me in the nuts. You
can't be all domineeeeeeEEEEEERRRRRK!”
Peter found himself on the floor before he knew he tripped on something.
“Ugh! That was awk-WACK!”
Sache picked up one of his electrified paddles that still had some juice
and shoved it right at Pan's throat. The sparks of current could almost
be felt under his chin.
“I’ve had my nuts kicked into my mouth for the last time.”
If Sache wasn’t wondering why Pan was smiling, he would have raised
his electrified paddle to deliver his former captain the whipping of his life.
He would also notice a dark figure sneak up behind him and deliver a
low blow from behind.
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Peter winced as well as Sache fell to the floor dropping his paddle.
This time Peter threw it out the still-open window. “I have to apologize, it
seems that my shadow has learned some rather bad habits.”
Sache struggled to turn around to see.
There was nobody there.
Only a shadow on the wall that didn’t come from any body.
A shadow that was showing an obscene gesture.
“A lot can happen in a century, wouldn’t you think.” Peter said as he
picked up his sword. “As cheeky as my shadow can get at times, at least
I got it to follow orders by now.”
The people in the limo heard the clanging of metal on metal long before
they got out of the car.
“Looks like they started the big boss battle without us,” Jei said. “I hate
it when I show up in the last disk.”
Everyone ran around the building and up a service ladder. Once they
got to the roof, they saw the battle in full swing.
Both Adam and Hook had some scratches on them. Adam’s vest was
tattered and there’s a rip or two on his slacks. Hook was reduced to a
breasted shirt and his own trousers.
The pair were at a impass, both catching their breath. Hook in his
standard fencing stance with one sword in one hand stretched out, his
other hand upward to balance. Adam held his sword with both hands
and was in a standard Akido ready stance.
“It appears we have an audience, Master Packbell.” Hook said as his
eyes blinked to the far side.
“Oh, as if the pirates weren’t enough.” Adam countered.
Every newcomer froze in their tracks, having just seen the pirates
leaning up against a shack on the roof.
“This is a one on one duel, ladies and gentlemen,” Smee said. “No
interfering now.”
Copper went to Wendy to hold her back before she could lunge. He
nodded at Adam.
Adam stole a glance over to Copper, and smiled. “It’s all right, I know his
tricks.”
“Do you?” Hook said as he lunged.
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By now Adam’s adrenal gland is chugging around at maximum output.
The adrenaline merged with the pixie dust in his bloodstream and
cranked up his senses a thousandfold.
Adam saw the lunge in slow motion. He leaned to one side, dodging the
lunge. The raiper stopped on a dime and broke right with a whistling
slash. Adam ducked down, letting it pass through his rat tail.
Adam is crouched low while Hook’s sword was wide right. It’ll take a
little less than a half second for Hook to bring his sword around for a
downward slash.
The opening Adam waited for!
Adam swung his sword around so that he lunged butt first as he jumped,
meeting the rapier on it’s way down by the handle.
whi-CRACK!
Adam’s blade made a surprise uppercut that met Hook’s chin and flew
over Adam like a rainbow. Hook let out a surprised “waaaagh!” as he
staggered back.
Adam heard more than a couple “YES!” from his side of the audience. He
was saying the same in his head as well. He’d broken through Hook’s
defenses and left him wide open. This match will be over in the next few
seconds if he could just knock Hook down and pin him with his sword.
click
Adam’s pointed ears prickled when he heard that, not knowing what that
meant until it was too late.
Adam’s eyes went wide when Hook passed his sword behind him to his
left hand, and lunged!
It was all Adam could do just to get his vitals out of the way. But the
rapier did find it’s mark in his right arm, giving it a good deep scratch
before Adam rolled away.
Everyone gasped, Vixen let out a frightened cry. Adam cursed through
his teeth while favoring his bleeding right shoulder.
“Now it be you who is surprised, no?” Hook said. Hook raised his sword,
which was held by a metallic hand, snapped on where the hook should
be. A hook that Hook twirled in his right hand. “Didn’t expect an old
pirate like me from getting...what do you kids call it...upgrades? Getting
this detachable hand attached to me stump of an arm felt like murder,
but when I snap it on in me next fight with Pan, it’ll be worth it. Now do
ye believe I didn’t just chase Peter Pan around all these years, Two
Tails?”
Adam couldn’t answer. He was busy gritting his teeth and feeling his
arm heal up. It sparked like fire mixed with electricity in the wound as
307
the dust did their work. The dust that went out with the blood sparked
its way down his arm and into his sword.
“Ha! Knew that’ll shut ye up. If ye have something to say, say it with
ye-”
Hook couldn’t see Adam occupy the space between where he lied on the
roof and the immediate area one foot from Hook’s left shoulder. Nor did
he see where he landed from the leap, which included a nasty strike
across his face, breaking his nose.
“A-fricking-vast,” Hook said, still seeing stars. “Now that’s fast.”
Adam turned around, his sword glowing bright, it’s blood infused with
Adam’s pixie dust blood. “I’m about to get faster.”
The dust-charge from his blade created enough static to drown out a
scream from below.
Sache reeled back favoring his side. Peter did more than just score on
him.
“What? Did you think I wouldn’t?” Peter said as he held a blade bloody
almost to the handle. “Did you think that because I’m in a Disney Movie
didn’t make my bad side any less undesirable. Oh, I’ve done a whole lot
worse, of have you forgotten.”
Peter was angry. And no, it wasn't by the five or six slashes that dotted
his body. Under normal circumstances, Peter Pan would mock those
cuts and dare them to drain enough of his blood to kill him. Just as they
healed up by the pixie dust in his blood. And it wasn't because of the
stinging he got once or twice by that electrified baton Sache was slinging
around. He wasn't intimidated with that little paddle one iota. Peter has
gotten worse than what Sache can whip out. Not even Hook's schemes
can scratch what some of the really horrifying scenes Peter had to
endure. Michael Jackson came close, but that was the furthest from his
mind.
“You have, have you?”
What was on his mind is the monster that Sache Blackard has become.
What was once an scared and lonely orphan when Peter Pan first saw
him has become the very thing that the boy Sache feared. The very
creature that Peter Pan still hates with a passion that hasn't dimmed
since long before he found The Island.
Those who will punish those who do not conform to their views.
Those who believe only they know what is right and wrong.
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Those who would hover with bated breath for something to happen so
they can come down hard.
Those who would destroy something good with forethought and gloat
over it afterwards.
Those who say that they're an adult, but are in fact more of a child than
Peter!!
“You've become a Grown-Up!” Peter's voice had so much disgust that he
almost threw up dinner along with those words. “A Grown-Up with
pretensions, the worst kind!!”
Sache didn’t hear him, nor did he cared. He just snarled at the greenclad youth with eyes of fire and sparks out of his teeth. His right hand
was opening a drawer that he hoped that Peter didn't see.
Peter did. Or at least, he had enough sense to kick the desk and send
the drawer flying out.
“What you did to the Children of Vegas, I might forgive...”
It shattered on the floor where it landed, scattering the contents.
“...but what you did to Two Tails.” Pan shook his head. “That's
something I can't just drop.”
Sache stole a look at the spilled contents.
He saw a black rubberized handle of a gun.
“Sache Blackard, it's you or me this time!”
“So be it....Boy!!”
With that Sache lunged for the pile just as Peter lunged for him...
Through his panting, Adam saw the helicopters ready their guns and
missiles. He knew that nobody will wait anymore. He had to finish this,
and fast.
Adam grabbed his sheathed sword and got into a normal batto-jutsu
stance.
And then he surprised everyone by sliding his right leg to the side of the
left leg.
Adam’s mates saw the tell in the same instant. The Rising Heavens
Slash.
“He only done it right once!” Jei said.
“He can’t fool the Captain with the scabbard this time,” Smee said. If
Adam misses, Hook’ll be all over him,”
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Vixen tried to warn Adam. “Don’t try it! It’s too-”
The warning stayed in his mouth when Adam jumped 15 stories straight
up.
“That can’t be the Thunder Hammer move,” Jei said to him. “His sword’s
still in the sheathe, and he can’t draw in mid-air. Can he?”
Hook decided to match trick for trick, pull a second sword out for the
free hand, and then leap up to meet Adam.
But Adam didn’t have a trick.
He doesn’t have a trick, a secret technique, a magic attack or a high tech
edge.
He only had his wits.
He thought that he can spin in place and use the centrifugal force to
make a quick-draw. He thought it would be a modification of the
Thunder Hammer.
It was so much more.
When Adam started to spin, he was above not only Hook, but also Peter
and Sache, on the floor below. Peter was about to deliver a killing blow,
while Sache got his hands on his gun.
At the instant Adam went for it, Hell was unleashed everywhere below
him.
It arrived in a sound of a freight train and an irresistible upward suction.
All of the loose gravel and debris on the roof flew straight up into an
unmistakable funnel.
Everyone’s ears started to pop. They had to hit the floor and hold on for
dear life.
Peter and Sache had to cover their ears for fear their eardrums break.
People all over the north side of Vegas thought they were struck by a
sudden act of god.
That could be just what Adam summoned, the very essence of his
fighting style.
See yourself as a living tornado, Adam, a force of nature all around you, a
quiet calm inside.
That’s what he had become.
A tornado. A monster twister. A cyclone only heard of in movies. An F6,
at least.
Everything not nailed down in the room below was blown into the air,
blinding both combatants as debris scramble to find a way outside and
310
join the revelry above. Desk and chairs were pushed this way and that,
the heavier shelves teetered and fell, adding to the chaos.
Both Peter and Sache thought they’d be sliced into ribbons.
And then the plane glass windows gave way.
The combined force of the spin and the quick-draw made the Rising
Heavens Slash tame. When it connected, Hook thought he was struck by
God. A body blow broke a rib or two and his breath knocked out. He
met the roof with enough impact to make a crater. And then he got
skewered like a butterfly stabbed through with a push pin.
The ungodly sound not heard in any storm he knew faded into silence.
Hook thought that Two Tails killed him right then and there. No, he can
hear those strange contraptions called Heili Copters. Not to mention the
awestruck voices by the crowd around him; Lost Boy, Vegas citizen, and
pirate alike. He was still alive. Down for the count, but still alive.
He opened his eyes.
Adam stood on top of him, saka-bato to the throat.
“Der’s no . . . shame’n . . . tappin’ out.” Adam’s accent slipped out with
each pant.
Hook raised an eyebrow. A Lost Boy showing mercy to a pirate? Two
Tails is just one surprise after another.
“Yoah not . . . mah enemy, suh . . . Yoah lahf’s . . . not mine’s t’ take.”
“Tap . . .tapping out.” Hook spat out some blood. “That’s like yeilding,
right?”
Adam nodded.
Everyone saw Hook wiggle his right hand free.
The helicopters prepared to fire.
All eyes and sights bore witness of Hook tapping his hand on the roof.
“Hook’s tapping out. He’s surrendering.”
Adam sighed, relieved that the fight is over.
“That was a pretty good move there. What’s it called?”
“It doesn’t have a name.” Adam sheathed his sword and held out his
hand. “Ah made it up just then. Was just improvisin’. Ah didn’t know if
it would even work.”
Hook snapped his hook back onto left arm, and then got up with Adam’s
help.
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“Good Sportsmanship and Good Swordsmanship. So rare in these times
and days. I salute you, Master Packbell. Men, back to the ship, we’re
headed home.”
Adam pulled out his phone. He putted it to his ear. Nodded. Put it back
in his vest. “The gentlemen in these airships will escort you from US air
space, but they won’t give you any more trouble.”
Hook nodded. “Understood. And under our truce, I’ll let Peter Pan return
to Neverland and resume our game the next morning.”
He turned back to the rope ladder, pausing only to bellow to his crew.
“Never heard of Honor, or did you wake up without your brains? There
are rules to this game, and we shouldn’t leave our manners just because
one of the mentioned parties is-”
Pan panted gallons of air. The former Lost Boy turned Traitor turned
Grown Up From Hell sprawled on the floor bruised and bloody.
Peter tried to remember if he ever wanted to know what’s it like to be hit
dead center by an tornado. And not just any tornado, one of those ‘F-5’s’
he heard about. To see everything suck out of every nook and cranny, to
watch whole buildings and cars be picked up and tossed aside. To see
the clear sky inside the violent walls of the raging storm.
And the possibility to crash land on Oz.
Thanks to Two Tails’ flashy sword style, Peter felt like he went through
just that. He looked up to what was left of the ceiling.
“Man, I hate to be Hook if he was in that.”
Peter could feel the cuts and scrapes over his body stitch back together.
Thank God for pixie dust.
Peter could hear bells in his ears. He felt his wounds stitch together.
But something was wrong.
These bells aren’t coming from me.
He looked down to see something that shouldn’t happen ever.
Sache Blackard stood right in front of his face, his own wounds closing
by sparkling pixie dust, infused in his own blood.
“There’s one thing I learned about you, Cockadoodle,” Sache said. “You
have Eternal Youth . . .”
Sache then pulled the gun and poked it into Pan’s chest!
“You do not have Eternal Life!”
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A Gunshot! Heard just under the roof!
“-PAN!”
Both Adam and Hook said that at once, and they split off in opposite
directions to the floor below.
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Chapter 24
10 January 1997 07:00 PM PST
Adam got inside North Vegas High first. It was easy for someone who
can fly. He jumped off the ledge, flipped over to the street level, and shot
into a window. He headed toward what he hoped was where he heard
the shot and hoped he wasn’t too late.
Adam found Sache with a gun with Pan on the ground. Bleeding. From
a gunshot to the chest.
“YOU SONOFA-”
Adam’s Batto-Jutsu quick draw connected with Sache’s chin like an
Uppercut. It sent Sache into the air and back five feet.
While he was still in mid air, Sache pointed his gun at Adam and fired.
The bullet creased Adam’s already wounded left shoulder. He landed on
top of Peter with a sickening thud.
Damnit!
Adam could only imagine how worse Peter got from under him.
Sache saw Adam’s sword on the floor and kicked it away.
“Guess I get to kill both of you at once.” Sache’s smile was disgusting in
Adam’s eyes. “But I think I’ll kill you first, Packbell!”
Sache shoved the barrel of the gun so deep inside Adam’s mouth that
Adam gagged.
“I never wanted to remember what happened to me all that time ago,”
Sache spat through an angry twisted crimson mask. “And here you are,
you bastard, you worthless piece of shit! You not only remind everyone
of what I’ve lost, but you had . . . the . . . god . . . damned . . . GALL . . .
to make Neverland real to everyone here! You had to bring HIM here!!”
He pointed to Pan. If Adam could pull his eyes off Sache, he could see
the dust in Peter’s blood glow over the wound.
“You had to bring that bastard back to me! I’ve never wanted to see
Peter Pan ever again after what we’ve been through. Not even as a movie!
Not even as a Disney Character. Not even as you!”
Sache then pulled his gun, still smoking, and shoved the barrel right into
Adam’s cheek.
“So I’m going to kill him! Just! Like! You!”
Sache cocked the hammer.
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“I’ve waited a long time to do this, Boy.”
Adam winced, swallowed. Waited for the gunshot.
Instead of the explosion of the gun, he heard something that made
everything around him freeze, including the dust repairing Peter’s chest.
It was the cocking of a second hammer.
It came from a second gun, aimed at Sache’s head.
A Blunderbuss held by the right hand of . . .
“I’ve been waiting longer.”
Captain Hook said that before he pulled the trigger.
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Chapter 25
10 January 1997 07:47 PM PST
Hook stood tall and straight in front of Sache, his pistol aimed right
between the eyes. The world froze between the two, while Hook watched
the image that Sache made for himself melt away from him. In the last
moments of his life, Sache no longer looked like the overbearing, rage
infused, will rail on someone just because he’s there, high school
principle who’ll get what he wanted out of his students regardless of
what he leaves them as. He looked more and more like a scared and
battered little boy, stuck in the body of a grown-up. He was even
blubbering and crying in front of that pistol.
Then Hook pulled the trigger.
Time resumed normal speed the moment Adam heard the gunshot. He
could see Sache’s head snap back, his body reeled through a pane glass
window.
A plane glass window already shattered by the Super Twister move Adam
pulled off earlier. The glass splintered off in shards that shattered even
more on impact with Sache. Some of the shards sliced into Sache’s body
and poked through
That wasn’t what killed him.
A large shard the length of the pane and sharp as a razor fell off from the
top of the pane, slicing Sache clean right at the waist. Guillotine style.
The two pieces of his body fell on each side of the wall.
Adam thought it was strange to feel relief for seeing someone dispatch
this gory. His tormentor who swore to haunt his life is dead. And he
had no part in the actual killing. No more will he need to wake up in the
morning and worry about being shaken down by Sache Blackard. No
more will he need to look over his shoulder to see his electrified paddle
bearing down on him for reasons he didn’t know about. Now he can rest
easy and have a halfway decent
Adam remembered who was to his left. His sword went toward Hook
before his eyes did.
Hook just twirled his mustache with his namesake left appendage. “You
look like you don’t understand, Master Packbell. As one of the smarter
Lost Boys, you’ll figure it out. I’ve been hunting down Pan for well over
200 years. So if you think I’m going to let this pretender take away my
prey, you’re sorely mistaken. If there’s anyone that’s going to kill Peter
Pan, it’s going to be me. Nobody else.”
He turned back to Peter Pan. Still comatose, still blood stained on the
chest.
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“He’ll get up. I’ve put him through worse than that. Bullets, Poisons,
Nooses, Hook and Dangled, Running him through with me sword, walked
planks, keel hauled, I’ve even set him on fire. And he just keeps getting
back up and asking for more.”
He then took a step forward and drew his sword, pointed it toward Pan’s
chin.
“In fact, the only thing I know that might do it is relieving his head from
his neck. That’s something I’ve wanted to do for two decades now. But .
. .”
He then sheathed it back to his belt.
“I can wait a few more days. We’ll continue this the morning after you
return from this vacation, Pan.”
Hook found his way out of the building. “SMEE!!”
The Jolly Roger swooped above the front entrance, dropping a rope
ladder to the Captain’s waiting hook.
“Feel free to come back on more peaceful terms. Some of your crew
might like to go to a casino.”
“We’re pirates, Adam.” Hook said. “We belong in the ocean. You can
have your little oasis in the desert all to yourself. Good day, sir.”
And with that, he climbed up to the deck of the pirate ship, which flew
up into the air and, with a flash of light, vanished from the air.
Adam stood there, still in shock over the death of Sache and the
congenial way Hook departed when he heard a moan.
Peter’s eyes flutter open. He struggled to breathe, and gritted in pain.
He flew back to Pan. “Captain.”
Peter was still in high spirits. “That was a good shot there, mate.” He
looked down at his wound. “Got me good he did.”
“Hang in there, Peter. I’ll call for help.”
“You don’t need to do that. It’s going to take a lot more than that to kill
me.”
“I know, but I just want to make sure. Besides, you know my Mom won’t
let you dance in the isles just yet.”
Peter thought about getting up, but found himself too weak.
“You might be right, ugh.”
Peter let Adam help him to his feet.
“I’ve just been reminded of something I should have learned by World
War II.”
“And that is?”
317
“As adventures go, dying sucks.”
The two had to laugh. “I’ll make sure the Great Ormond Street Hospital
knows that.”
“Yeah, please do—arrrrgh.”
It was all Peter could do not to cry out in pain. It wouldn’t be proper
British to do so. “Yeah, Master Packbell, I will not be going anywhere for
a while.”
“I’ll let you crash in my room, if you wish.”
“Appreciate it, mate.” He then looked behind Adam.
“Mate, you didn’t . . .”
“You won’t believe it if I told you. Captain Hook did him in the Office
with his popgun. But it’s that window pane that finished him off.”
Peter nodded. “It’s probably for the best.”
“You’re not surprised.”
“No, my friend. I’ve seen Hook take out even his own shipmates because
they tried to steel his kill. I think we’ve finished our business here, Two
Tails.”
“Agreed. Let’s get out of . . .”
Peter noticed that Adam’s voice trailed off.
Than he noted Adam’s expression of frustration.
“Adam, what’s wrong?”
Adam just sighed, and leaned Peter over to a post at the doorway
outside, and did the one thing Peter knew Adam didn’t do in his battle
with Hook:
He turned his sword over.
“Ah’ve said it once.”
Peter heard some scrapping behind them.
“Ah’ve said it a thousand times.”
Peter had to dare himself to look back.
“And ah’m sayin’ it foah th’ last tahm.”
It would be the first time in his life—over 200 years—that Peter Pan felt
real terror.
“DON’T-”
Adam got into Quick Draw stance.
“-CALL-”
318
He spun around 180 degrees.
“-ME-”
He drew.
“-BOY!!”
From outside the building: A very loud sound combining a lightning
strike at point blank range and a large bomb blew shattered windows
and blown out doors. The far back walls crumbled to the ground. When
the dust settled, only half of the building remained standing.
From inside: Peter saw a massive shockwave produced by Adam’s quick
draw. It slapped through the long hall traversing the building. Lockers
ripped from the walls. Fire barriers blown out of place and slid on the
floor. Room after room had their contents rocked into the far walls. It
blew concrete and brick out the back, causing the building to collapse
from the back to halfway toward him.
A shockwave was a secondary attack. The Hattori Hanzo blade itself
went through the neck of Sache Blackard like it was so much butter.
Peter saw the upper half of Sache’s body, which got up from where it
landed and crawled toward Peter and Adam like a zombie in a horror
film. A trail of pixie dust infused blood lead from the principle office.
The same blood that spurted from the last beat of Sache’s heart popped
his severed head away from his neck like a cork out of a bottle.
As the dust in the blood blinked, faded, and went out, Sache’s body
became to age. In a few moments all the years Sache Hawkings has lived
caught up to his dismembered body, and the skin grew old, winkled, and
gray. Like a vampire impaled through the heart and left in the sun, the
skin began to slough away, leaving behind muscles, bones, vessels,
nerves, and other tissues, which in turn began to dissolve into mere
dust.
By the time Adam swiped the blood off his sword and sheathed it, all that
was left of Sache Hawkings was dust-caked and tattered clothes and a
brittle skull which Adam grown under foot.
“God,” Adam said, nursing his temples. “Grown-ups.”
“Now you know how I feel, Two Tails.”
“Now then, where were we?” Adam returned to Peter and took back over
his shoulder. “Oh yeah.”
Adam helped Peter out of the building. “I take it you’re the paramedics,”
Peter asked.
The three men who entered the scene were just standing there awestruck
at the sight. One of them said, “There’s two Adams?”
Adam sighed, “Now I know how that feels.”
319
Peter laughed some more until the next pang of pain hit him. “Oh do
carry out your jobs, will you?” Peter said. “I’m not getting any better on
my own.”
Excerpt from Adam Packbell’s Wiki, Entry entitled
DamageAssessment:
The Old North Vegas High building now has a crater on the roof thanks
to the “F5.” That’s what some people named it. When this move gets
into an updated manual of Siranui-Ryu, it’ll no doubt have a more
official name.
What’s left of the old North Vegas High building will be having a date
with the implosion team. They wanted me to have the honor to pull the
plunger, but I turned it down. Victor got the honors; NGT’s getting the
land to build a new North Vegas High with a more welcoming
architecture, state of the art equipment, and with the new principal, an
environment more productive to learning.
Captain Hook was a walking first aid kit after what I did to him, but he
walked out under his own power. The game goes on.
I didn’t get much damage either. The gash I got in my shoulder and
some other places were healed up by the time Hook made the save.
Peter got it the worst. Bullet through his upper left chest exiting in the
back. Broken a couple ribs and collapsed a lung. Not enough to kill
him, but he’ll be down for about a month. He’ll bounce back, especially
with help from family and friends.
As for Sache Blackard. His body was never found. Nuf said.
“You’re not Adam.” One of the interns said as she looked over to the ER
stretcher to see who was on it.
Peter was blushing so much his face nearly glowed. He didn’t know if it
was the several young women surrounding him, or them removing his
shirt. If Adam didn’t tell Peter that they’re doctors, he would’ve thought
they were mermaids, making sure he’s nude when they drag him under .
. . somewhere.
“So you’re Peter Pan, eh?” One of them said, “You’re different than the
Disney films.”
“You’ve got lied to by Uncle Walt.” Peter’s impish smile couldn’t leave
him too far.
320
She took a closer look at the wound. “You’ve got the same pixie dust as
Adam though. I can see the glow in the wound. I hope this doesn’t sting
too much.”
Peter noticed someone rubbing an alcohol pad on the exit wound.
“You’ve gotta do worse than that, ma’am.”
The heart monitor didn’t faze him either, although he did notice the
squeeze of the blood pressure reader.
“BP’s down a bit. Do you know much you bled, Peter?”
“Er, Adam, help me out there? Do you have a better clue?”
Adam was in front of the swinging doors. “My best guess would be
roughly a pint. I suggest Type O Negative.”
Someone in the crowd nodded to him and waved him to leave, which he
done so.
Adam walked up to his family and friends, they all looked worried.
“He had to pull through worse, believe me.” Adam said. “That Pixie Dust
is doing it’s job already, it’s just gotta work through a lot of damage, of
course.”
“How long will it take for the doctors to be done with him?” Wendy asked.
Adam turned back to the swinging doors. “They’re going to check to see
how bad he got it. With his British stiff upper lip it’s no doubt worse
than what he lets on.”
“Peter has never let injuries get the better of him.” Wendy said. “It’s not
that it keeps him down. As you’d see, he heals quickly.”
“Judging by how I heal, Ah believe ya.”
“Yes. Just a little rest and Tender Loving Care, he’ll be up and about
before we know it.” Wendy then sported a growl. “Sooner than I wanted
him to, may I add.”
Adam snorted. “I almost have to pity Peter.”
“Oh, I think it’s more envy than pity, amigo,” Roberto said, “He’s all alone
in that room with several senioritas all over him.”
When Tinker Bell heard that, she freaked out.
(Several girls with My Peter?! Over my Extinguished Light!!)
She buzzed toward the swinging door. But Adam intercepted her.
“Oh no you don’t!” Adam said. “We’ll have none of that! You’re coming
with me. You’re going into a lantern. This one will do.”
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Chapter 26
12 January 1997 08:30 PM PST
Peter decided to thank his guest city—and Adam’s hometown—by giving
them a final flyby before taking off for Neverland. Peter and his four
lieutenants flew in a V formation, two on each side. As the spotlights
shine on them from below, a sixth figure joined them.
“How’s it like to be on every news channel on the networks and cable?”
Adam said as moved into the formation. “Not to mention having a nice
send off by the Vegas locals.”
“What can I say, they’re a friendly sort.” Peter looked down to find
several families on a rooftop and waved at them. “This place suits you
well. I guess I have you to thank for getting them used to flying kids.
But I have to ask, do you think you can handle being in public like this?”
“Oh, I can cope, Peter. I like this town. I just hope you can handle
having Neverland public.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later. It's not written in stone that
the island has to be hidden from the rest of the world. Besides, I still
have that feeling that we’re needed, if not now, definitely in the future.”
Adam nodded. Not knowing what was in the future, but what he told
him the other day was any indication; the future is going to be somewhat
rough.
“Besides, you had to find the answers behind your past.”
“There’s one that’s still missing, though. I don’t know how I ended up
here without my memories.”
“That wasn’t the question you asked.”
Adam had to believe that Peter had a point.
They rounded the Lexor’s Sphinx replica and headed east. A pair of stars
shone in the night sky.
“I guess this is it. You take care, Peter.”
Adam and Peter did the spit handshake of their long time crew. Not the
first time, not the last.
Adam felt something inside the handshake.
His deputy star.
“I leave Las Vegas in good hands,” Peter said, smiling through the tears.
“I’d never thought I’d feel this proud of someone. Is this how grown-ups
feel?”
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“You should get back to Neverland before you start growing a beard.”
“Ha. You’re the one with a good point now,” Peter said as he took off.
“Feel free to drop in anytime. Bring your friends.”
“You too.” Adam said, as he broke away from the formation.
Adam took something out of his pocket, something he was saving for this
moment.
As Peter climbed into the sky heading for the stargate, he saw a bright
fiery glow behind them. When he looked back, he saw Adam holding a
couple lit sparklers in each hand and some more stuck on the laces of
his shoes. Accompanied by Fire Storm’s intense glow, he looked like a
third star in the sky.
Adam stayed up there bathed in a white fire as Peter waves and went
through the stargate.