CHAPTER FOUR
Cannon fire boomed in the distance.
A palm tree near her detonated in a spray of splinters and shrapnel. It creaked as the top half folded over, the fronds snapping as they fell.
Sasha jolted awake while standing on her feet. That was probably the most disorienting thing a person could go through—waking up while standing, eyes already open. She was shaking as she tried to process what was going on.
“Get after them, you scurvy dogs!”
People were running past her. Chaos reigned. Meanwhile, her brain was still attempting to boot up past the load screen.
She had a sword in her hand. A boarding saber, which she recognized from all the dumb documentaries she got sucked into watching in her spare time. She stared at it. It had notches taken out of the blade—it had seen some shit. She was dressed in period men’s clothing, in a simple, striped linen vest tied over a muslin shirt. She had breeches and colonial socks on, and her shoes were faded and scuffed. A sash around her waist was made up of about twenty different scraps of fabric by the looks of it.
Over it all she was wearing a once expensive looking, but nowvery battered, 18thcentury coat in shades of what probably was once crimson. Now, it was kind of threadbare and salt had stained it blackish-gray in portions. Something that likely had once been fashionable, but was now very far out of date.
There was no subtle way to put it—she was dressed up in a goddamnpiratecostume.It was a good costume, though. Like, an expensive one from a Broadway production or a blockbuster movie. But a cliche pirate costume, nonetheless.
“What theactualf—” She didn’t get any farther than that.
Fa-boooooom.
More cannon fire.
That time, the heavy ball of lead and steel dug into the sandy beach some twenty feet away, sending a spray of particles shooting through the air.
Someone grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the brush where everyone else was running. “Move yer feet, Mr. Smee—” A grizzled face turned toward her. He was missing teeth, and the texture of his skin resembled leather. “They shootin’ for the Boys, but they hit whatever they hit! Can’t aim cannons!”
Mr. Smee?
What theactualfuck was happening?
Looking down at herself, she had to quickly check to make sure she was still, well, her. With all the nonsense that had been going on that day, there was really a fair shot that she was suddenly a man. No, still a woman, and still very much herself. At least she didn’t have to put up withthat.
But the other pirate was still dragging her, and she started to run to keep up. It was that, or trip and eat the sand, sticks, and bits of dry sea debris that had washed up or been blown into the brushy area where the beach ended and the thicker portion of an island jungle began.
If the pirate called her Mr. Smee…
And the pirate had referenced “the Boys.”
Was this…?
They burst into a clearing.
The older pirate dropped her wrist to pull his sword. Letting out a battle cry, he ran forward. Sasha could only stand there, staring, agog, at what was before her.
It was a battle. A straight upsword fightbetween pirates and…teenage boys who were dressed like they had been raised by wolves.
They were dirty, their hair long and unkempt, each style seemingly worn in a slightly unique fashion, like they belonged to some strange tribe and that was their personal marker. They fought with improvised weapons or what they had clearly stolen from the pirates.
Suddenly, she laughed. She couldn’t help it.
This was Neverland.
She was in Neverland!
And she was watching Hook’s pirates fight Peter Pan’sLost Boys!
“If this is all a drug trip, this is—this is pretty good. Damn.” Letting out a rush of air, she smiled. It was a front-row seat to one of her favorite childhood stories. She wondered when Peter Pan himself might show up! Or?—
