Second on the Right (28 page)

The boy growled in frustration. He had lost
the child. He needed that boy. Losing power from his continued
flight, he had been forced to walk during part of his search. He
had waited for a while, having passed their vehicle on the road, in
the hopes of ambushing them. They seemed to take forever gathering
their things and entering the zoo. The man was not familiar. It
wasn’t
him,
but the boy, he knew the boy. He nearly had him,
if it weren’t for that woman who had interfered. He was not
expecting a fight from her.

Girls never fight,
the boy Peter
thought.

She must be a pirate,
Pan snapped
back.

She’s just a girl! But, she hit me. They
don’t do that
, do they?

Pan growled and screamed in his thoughts,
Silence boy!
The young boy, Pete, was becoming unruly. He
had to use more energy to suppress the boy’s actions and keep
control. He kicked at the ground in frustration. She had

knocked him off his feet and hit him hard in
the face. He rubbed his jaw, still sore.
Where had she learned
to fight like that?

He should have easily taken her and the boy.
He made a mental note not to underestimate her a second time. He
promised himself that, the next time he came up against her, she
would not survive.

Gathering his thoughts, Pan stopped and
leaned against a wall in the parking structure in a secluded area.
He held the bag attached to his belt. He tugged on the string to
untie it, and looked inside.

Nearly empty
. He frowned, noting what
small amount of dust he had left. It was the man's fault. He had
caused this shortage. He was forcing Pan’s hand.

"James," he said in a low growl. That man had
cost him nearly everything. The company, which supposedly taking
steps to be green, had actually encroached on several territories
that held the precious drug he so desperately needed. Sure, he
could always go back in time to obtain more, but that wasn’t the
point. James had taken something that belonged to him. He was not
about to let James go unpunished.

Pan planned to make James suffer for what his
company had done. What better way than to take those he loved? As a
bonus, he could use the little boy's energy. The powder gave him
the ability to fly as well as the strength and agility to fight,
but it was life’s energy, the feeding on young souls that kept him
alive. As long as he could keep them nearby, in constant supply, he
could remain young forever. Taking the boys back in time prevented
anyone from finding them. James threatened that existence by
annihilating the plant life that provided Pan the ability to gather
such souls.

The boy stood, fists clenched against his
hips, as he watched the Suburban drive away. He guessed where they
were going next:
the water
. Water wouldn’t stop him.
Arriving at the 79th Street Boat Basin, the boy walked around the
dock. He saw a lone ship in the distance, floating on the horizon.
A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. The hatred he felt for
James was so great, it renewed and empowered him. With this
newfound energy, the boy used a bit of dust from his bag, smearing
it in his mouth, across his teeth. A surge of power shot through
him. He leapt up into the air, taking flight.

It was early morning. The full moon's light
sparkled on the waters surrounding the yacht. The boy alighted onto
the deck below. He observed that James was asleep at the helm, and,
with a sneer, crept into the cabin.

The strange man he had seen at the zoo was
snoring in the dining area. He moved glared at this man, who had
acted as protector for the rest. He couldn’t afford any
interruptions. Pulling out his knife, with a quick flick of the
wrist, he slit Patrick's throat. Patrick's eyes opened wide, but
his efforts to cry out came only as soft gurgling sounds. He tried
to roll out of bed, but was impeded by the boy, who had one foot
pressed firmly on his shoulder. Within seconds, his face grew pale
and his body went limp, blood still spilling out of the gaping
wound across his neck and onto the floor.

Eileen stood on the deck of the
Mistral
Thief
, enjoying the view of the ocean, the feel of the cool
breeze. She knew she was dreaming, but she didn’t care. It felt
like home. Knowing James and Robbie were both on board gave her
even more comfort. This was the rest she needed.

She turned back towards the helm and could
see James, his back to her, standing at the wheel. She couldn’t
help but smile at the sight. He made a good looking pirate. The
large hat was a nice touch. She snuck up behind him and wrapped her
arms under his and around his chest. She gave him a big squeeze.
She felt his hand caress the back of hers.

"Kiss me," she whispered. He turned quickly,
taking her into his arms. As he bent down to kiss her, she looked
up and saw not James, but Captain Robert Benedict. She struggled,
pushing away, but he forced the kiss on her.

At last released, she looked at him confused,
wondering what had happened to James. Benedict had a smug look on
his face. He turned at the sound of small footsteps as a three-year
old Robbie ran up to join them.

"Robbie!" Eileen cried, arms opened to
receive her son, but he did not intend to run to her.

"Daddy!" he shouted excitedly. He ran
directly into the arms of Benedict.

"Aye. That's me boy!" Benedict laughed
heartily.

Eileen looked at Benedict, who grinned with
satisfaction. With little Robbie in his arms, Eileen could see an
uncanny resemblance. She backed away from the two, a horrified
expression on her face.

No! No!
she screamed in her mind.
It can’t be!

Hitting the railing, she fell off the ship,
and was swallowed up by the darkness.

Eileen woke with start, breathing rapidly.
She wiped the sweat off her brow and swung her legs to the side of
the bed. She sat for a moment, looking into the darkness towards
the wall of the cabin. She tried to slow her breathing, but the
image of Robbie with Benedict was disturbing. She needed some fresh
air. Eileen stood and padded quietly through to the dining room and
kitchen area. She thought perhaps seeing James would put her mind
and heart at ease.

Upon entering the dining room area, her heart
sunk to the pit of her stomach. Standing in the room, she could
make out the silhouette of the strange boy. He stepped into the
moonlight streaming through one of the windows, an evil look on his
face, eyes glowing a faint red. She held her breath, trying
frantically to locate some form of protection. As she looked
around, her eyes fell on the body of Patrick.

"Patrick. Patrick," she whispered, stopping
in mid run.

A gleam from metal flashed, reflecting what
little moonlight had filtered into the cabin. She could see the boy
was holding a bloody knife, wiping the blade on the blanket of the
bed in which Patrick lay.

No!
Tears streamed down her face. She
scurried away from the boy, falling as she slipped in a pool of
blood. The boy stared at her.

"James," she called out, "James!" the second
time more loudly than the first. The boy darted, his hand pressing
against her nose and mouth. She struggled, trying to push him away,
but his strength was greater than hers. She moved her head, trying
to release his grip so she could breathe, but his hand held firm.
Her lungs began to burn as they struggled for air.

No!
Her eyes grew wild, knowing her
son was helpless in the other room. She scratched at the boy, but
his other hand pinned hers behind her back. Pain seared through her
shoulder as he wrenched her arm behind her. Her hearing muffled and
darkness overtook her.

James awoke at the helm. He looked around for
a moment. His ears strained for any noise. He thought perhaps he
had dreamt Eileen was calling him. All was quiet. An uneasy feeling
crept over him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

James headed down to the cabin to check on
his wife and son. Walking through the kitchen and dining room, he
saw Patrick's body as he lay sleeping soundly. James was going to
wake him up, but he thought better of it. Patrick needed his sleep
before the next shift.

James slid in mid-stride. Shaking his head,
he made a mental note to clean up whatever it was Robbie no doubt
spilled on the floor. He sat down on the side of the bed. Reaching
out, his hand felt nothing but sheets. Frowning, he turned on the
light and saw, to his horror, that it was empty. James jumped up
and ran out of the room. As he moved away from the door frame, the
light from the bedroom spilled over Patrick's body. James gasped.
Patrick, his pallor grayed, had a gaping wound around his neck from
ear to ear. Blood covered the floor. James rushed to the outside of
the cabin, slipping in puddles, small footprints of someone who had
stepped in Patrick's blood.

The wind picked up. James found Eileen
slumped against the stern of the yacht. Her hair had blown into her
face, but from the way she was positioned, he believed she was
unconscious. A lump caught in his throat as his worst nightmares
came to fruition. The boy stood next to Eileen. In his arms was the
limp body of James’ son.

James walked towards them, but stopped as the
boy turned, motioning his intent to throw Robbie overboard should
James come any closer. James was at a loss.

Jaw clenched, he shouted at the boy, "What do
you want? What is it you want from me?"

The boy laughed maniacally. Eyes wide, he
seemed unable to stand still. He faced James, Robbie hanging like a
rag doll in his arms.

What has he done?
James thought,
looking from Robbie to Eileen. He was struggling to come up with a
solution, a way to save his family. He tried to remain calm, hoping
to reason with the boy.

"Why are you doing this? What do you need?"
James asked in as civil a tone as possible.

The boy stood for a moment, considering the
questions. At last he answered, "I want you to suffer."

James frowned, confused at his answer.
"Suffer? Why?"

The boy sneered, placing Robbie in his
mother's lap. The boy stepped towards James. "I don’t need a
reason," he shrugged.

"I-I don't understand. Have I done something
to you? I assure you, I would gladly see to it that it is
rectified. But harming my friend, my
family
? That will not
solve anything. Please, let them go, and I will help," James said,
begging.

The boy shook his head. James was becoming
more frustrated by the minute. "What is it you want?” he asked.
“And, who are you?"

At that last question, James noticed Eileen
began to stir. Slowly, ever so quietly, she stood up. She picked up
Robbie, who was still unconscious. James tried not to look at her,
follow her movements, but it was too late. The boy read it in his
eyes. Like lightning, he spun around faster than Eileen could
anticipate. With one kick, she received a blow to the chest that
sent her, and Robbie, reeling over the stern. She took hold of the
railing, struggling to keep Robbie tightly in her arm as the other
held on to the yacht.