Free Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland by Jeremiah Kleckner, Jeremy Marshall Page A

the base of the pod, I saw a small swatch of growth.   Out of tall stems, almond shaped leaves upturned their bristly faces to the sun.   I pointed Noodler’s attention to the plant and the man with backwards hands nodded his understanding.  
    I stepped to the center, but tripped and fell face down into the sand.   I cursed and pushed myself up onto my knees.   I stepped one leg up and fell again.   I turned over and saw that my ankles were bound by vines.   The thorns dug into the leather of my boots as they crept higher up my legs, winding around my calves and up toward my knees.  
    I cut through the thick skin with my hook.   One vine recoiled and two more lunged for my wrists.   I yanked my left hand away in time, but one tendril wrapped my right arm and pulled it straight.   This time, a thorn bit into me.   A chill ran up my arm like iced fire and I went numb up to my shoulder.   With my free hand, I drew my sword and brought it down hard on the vine that held my wrist.   The vine severed and slid away into the sand.  
    I jabbed my sword into the ground and rolled up my sleeve.   Red and white blotches rose beneath my skin, peaking where the thorn pierced me.   Yellow fluid mixed with thick blood oozed from the opening.   I unstrapped my hook and latched it to my belt.   I pulled my sleeve over my arm and cradled it as I looked back at Noodler.  
    No one was there.  
    I let my arm drop and gripped my sword.  
    “Noodler.”  
    I scanned the row of trees for any sign of my men.  
    “Cecco.”  
    The same silence greeted me.  
    Underneath the rustling leaves and the subtle wind, a faint whine rose to meet my ears.   I looked back at the pod and watched it rock from side to side in a slow rhythm.  
    “It’s a lure,” I said to myself.   “So you want me to come to you, do you?”   I sheathed my sword, pulled my pistol, and shot.   Acrid smoke from the gunpowder kicked into the air.   As it cleared, I watched the pod rear up and shake, spurting white and red fluid onto the sand.   It howled and twitched, then slumped still.  
    I checked the sand for vines, then reloaded my pistol, tucked it into my belt, and drew my sword.   I stepped to the center of the desert patch as the pod burst open at the tip, spilling more fluid.   I poked at it with my sword, but it didn’t move.  
    I peeled back a layer of green skin.   The stench of bile and flesh assaulted me and I backed off a few paces.   The taste of it settled in my throat and I spent valuable seconds gagging.  
    I pulled my shirt over my mouth and turned back to the pod.   I cut into the layers of the plant’s red flesh and rolled it back to uncover a bone, white and fresh.   I dug further and found more bones, connected at the ribcage between a long narrow skull and foreleg.  
    One of the vines in the pod caught my eye.   Its green hue ran the length of the beast’s spine.   I also discovered that, while some parts of the body were rotted through, others were fresh and pink.   As puzzled as I was, I concluded that, aside from it clearly not being human, this beast was alive in some form until I shot it.   Veins, both thin and thick, wound through the carcass and down into the stem of the pod.   Some were attached to the meatier areas, while others reached into the beast’s ribcage and throat.   I pressed on the mass of veins and the corpse let out a soft whine.  
    I cut a line down the side of the pod and found that the veins bundled together into a cable at the neck of the stem.   In one swipe, I severed it from the pod.   Blood spilled onto the sand and the stem writhed for a moment before going limp.  
    I tore one of the plants with furry almond leaves out by the root and stuffed it into the bag that was slung over my shoulder.   I uprooted two more and tucked them away as well.  
    A muffled cry rose behind me.   I listened and again I heard it, this time to my right.   A third cry sang out to my left