The Neverland Wars

Chapter 2-Three Years Later

Peter

"You must choose, Pan! A man chooses!"

        "Stop it!" I cry as flames erupt around me. I try to fly out of it, to safety, but my feet are cemented to the ground. I can't fly. In front of me, the mass of the ship collapses in a pile of flaming wood. I roll out of the way, narrowly escaping injury as it crashes into the main deck. I try once again to fly away yet I can't seem to get my body to listen to me. All I can do is force my feet to carry me across burning rubble, avoiding pieces of the flaming mass hurtling towards the ship deck.

    "A man chooses, Peter!" the same menacing voice bellows. I can't seem to locate the source of the voice--which doesn't bother me. My main priority is to not get burned alive here.

    A man chooses, Peter. A man chooses. A man chooses. The words echo over and over in my head, taunting me over the roar of the burning ship. A man chooses. A man chooses. A man—

    "Peter? Are you in there?" a knock on my bedroom door abruptly wakes me from my dream. I bolt upright in bed, sweat dripping down the back of my neck. There's another knock at my door before it swings open, and the sound of small feet on the floor echoes back to my ears. In a moment, a tuft of white-blonde hair waltzes into the room.

    Skitters, the youngest Lost Boy, smiles a cheeky grin at me. "Morning, Peter."

    "Morning you," I smile, wiping the sweat off the back of my neck in an attempt to not seem as shaken as I am. "Are you my alarm this morning?"

    "Indeed I am," he stands up straight, saluting me like a tiny toy soldier. He's only five so he still has a few more years before they start training him into the Rebellion's army, but that doesn't keep him from acting like an agent. "Mr. Saint Clair is here to brief Seb on his next mission."

    "What sort of mood is he in?" I raise an eyebrow.

Skitters purses his lips, his freckled nose scrunching. His young face reminds me of mine from a long time ago. But those days are gone, and so is the boy who thrived in them.

"I think...good? It's hard to tell with him."

    "Well let's go see for ourselves, shall we?" I push my bedsheets aside and hop to my feet, grabbing Skitters by the hand and hoisting him up to my back effortlessly. He likes piggy back rides because it "makes him feel like a giant" with my six-foot-four frame. We leave the bedroom and quickly stroll down the stairs to the main floor of the base.

    The boys are all up around the dining room, the table set for breakfast. The cooks have prepared a feast of scrambled eggs, fried boar steaks, and an abundance of fruit. As Skitters and I enter the dining room, there's a chorus of "good morning".

    "Hello, boys," I grin, setting Skitters down so he can scurry to sit beside Jon. "How's the grub today?"

    "Most excellent," Benjamin responds around a mouthful of bread, his buzzed head nodding his content.

    I reach over the boys to grab an apple for myself, running the skin over my shirt before taking a bite. I'm immediately disappointed to find it isn't the crisp, juicy fruit I'd hoped, and is instead dry and tasteless. I glance down at it, watching the virtual facade of the green apple melt away to a small, round gray mass. Most of the food in Neverland is this way now. There's no color, no life...no magic. All the food on the table is like this: a virtual facade to entice our eyes but in reality, it's just cleverly disguised protein meal molded into different "foods". I set the 'apple' down on the table and Jon makes a face at it.