Stars (Wendy Darling #1)(67)
“Peter!” she screamed, her flailing feet finding the wall behind her as she fought against the current that was swirling her ever backward, deeper into the beautiful room of green glass. Bottles of wine were all around her, being tossed in the rising waters, like ships on an angry sea. A red bottle of wine broke open against the wall next to her, sloshing its contents all around her, blood in the water. Her mouth tasted bittersweet, the tingling zing of wine mingling with the salty water. Something darted above her in the air.
“Peter!”
“Wendy!” Peter flew down toward her and grabbed her hand. “You can fly, remember?”
Wendy almost laughed in spite of herself. In her terror she had forgotten—that’s right, she thought. I can fly. Willing herself upward, Wendy rose slowly up above the flood, water pouring from her body like raindrops. Several of the Lost Boys had been pushed back inside the room by the wave of water and began rising out of the river around her, their dirty hair parting the floating bottles like leviathans of nightmares. Their faces, however, betrayed them—they were only the faces of frightened boys. One of them was clawing the water, gurgling with a rising panic.
“Peter! I don’t know how to swim! Peter!”
Peter ignored him, his eyes on the door. Abbott rose up from the water and grabbed the boy, tossing him into the air.
“Fly! Everyone, fly! Go, get out of here! Leave everything! Go back to Pan Island!” Abbott shouted.
Peter spun around, his eyes wild with excitement, his cheeks flushed. “Lost Boys, stop! Don’t listen to him. Take your treasure—each boy with his own bag, or there will be dire consequences! Draw your weapons and head back to the top of the skull! Quickly! I’ll meet you there!”
The boys began clustering at the door, heavily laden bags flung over their shoulders or wrapped around their backs. Abbott shot Peter a cutting look. The water was halfway up the doorway now and rising; the rock shelves around them croaked their dismay. Wendy drew herself along the walls and out into the hallway, Peter at her heels, the tiny bottle of rum tucked inside her blouse. The hallway was filling with water, the doors bouncing open and shut with the waves that were running up and down the corridor. Peter crawled along the ceiling behind Wendy.
“Darby!” he barked.
The boy flew up next to him like an eager pup, his hair dripping into his eyes.
“Yes, Peter?” His voice carried a nervous edge through the hallway.
“Darby, I need you to do something special for me—something only you can do. I only trust YOU.”
Darby nodded. “Anything.”
Peter pulled Darby’s forehead against his own, Darby’s body reaching toward Peter as if he were asking for a fatherly embrace.
“My good lad. Go back in there and get Hook’s rum! You’re the only one who can unlock it!”
Darby hesitated for just a moment before sputtering, “Yes, sir!” Then he gave Peter a nervous grin. With a deep breath, Darby ducked under the water and swam back through the seventh door, his body disappearing under the violently churning water, the same water that now was brushing the top of the door frame.
“Peter! He’ll never make it!” Wendy yelled, but her words were drowned out with another mighty wave of water. She pressed herself against the ceiling, desperate to stay out of the water that threatened to swallow them all.
“Follow me!” Peter leapt ahead of her, his body curving quickly toward the mouth of the cave. Wendy looked back for Darby, but the doorway to the room was completely covered over with water, and she wasn’t exactly sure anymore quite where the door was. Darby would make it, wouldn’t he? From under the water, a hand reached out for her. Abbott rose up behind her, gesturing wildly to the boys flying past him, following Peter through the exit. The water was rising, more quickly than it had before. The tip of her pant leg brushed its hungry waves. Abbott screamed frantic directions to the other boys before turning on her.
“What are you still doing here? I’ll get Darby. GO! NOW!”
Wendy nodded, and Abbott turned back toward the seventh door. He had gotten only a few feet from her when there was a screeching sound, as a pitched, mechanical whine filled the hallway. It was so loud that Wendy clamped her hands over her ears, desperate to stop the sound that she was sure would split her in half. She watched in silent horror as a trapdoor, hidden in the arch of the doorway, slammed down, cutting them off from the room—and Darby
“That bottle was booby-trapped! Dammit, Peter!” Abbott yelled. He ducked under the water again, banging fruitlessly against the door. Wendy took a deep breath and followed behind Abbott, alternating between breathing and yanking desperately at the door handle. Darby’s panicked cries reached her ears underwater, a muffled yell marked by desperate pounding on the doors. This time, when Wendy rose to take a breath, there was only a foot of space between her head and the roof of the cavern.
“Darby!” she yelled. “We have to get him out!”
Abbott looked at her, and then at the door, and back at her again. With heavy resignation, he turned away. “There’s nothing we can do. Gods damn it, Peter!”
On the other side of the door, Darby’s screams went silent, and Wendy’s mind was assaulted with images of Darby drowning.
“Can’t we . . .”
Abbott took her arm firmly, sputtering over the water. “The only person who could get into that room is inside of it. He belongs to Hook now. We have to go.” Abbott shook his head. “Damn it! We’ll be next if we don’t hurry. Come on!”