The Lost Boys are a group of boys brought to Neverland by Peter Pan. But some dark power is moving through Neverland, influencing the minds of the Neverlanders. Soon, what was once fun and games becomes something far more dangerous, as this evil contaminates the imaginations of the Lost Boys, and Peter Pan.
Jedediah “Blindside” Parker wandered through the jungle, his handmade boots crunching the leaves of the undergrowth. The summer sun was hot on the back of his neck as he searched the trees. Suddenly, a shadow swooped across the ground toward him, and he was nearly knocked off his feet.
“Lost Boys, gather ‘round!” Pan shouted as he flew past. Jed spun to trace him with his one good eye as Pan rocketed towards the Meeting Ground. Behind him trailed a tiny ball of light, and Jed heard the call of bells as Tink flew past. Jed didn't care much for the little fairy, but he did owe his life to her pixie dust, so he couldn't complain too much.
The sound of shouting filled the air as the gangs closed in on each other. Jed was throwing rocks, punching and biting, to keep those rotten boys from the Jumpers gang out of Stacker territory.
Jed had been a Stacker, a street kid, living underneath the factory smokestacks. The Stackers spent most of their days scavenging for food, and useful items from the factories’ throwaways, as avoiding getting pulled inside, where the stuffy air and large machinery would spell almost certain death for a reckless Stacker.
Still, the Jumpers, who lived near the river, would move in every winter to Stacker Territory, where the warmth from the engines that drove the machines could keep the gangs from freezing to death in the cold depths of the winter months.
The meeting ground was at the center of the island, right at the top of the tallest mountain on the island. From there, you could see the borders of all four seasons, competing for dominance. Sumer, on the northeastern quarter of the island, was where the Lost Boys’ main camp was, and where Jed had just come from. To the Southeast was spring, and the southwest was fall. Far, far away to the south, in the bay, a ship was docked. The Jolly Roger, which hadn’t sailed for as long as Jed could remember. He couldn’t see from the top of the mountain, but he knew the pirates sheltered in that bay. They’d built on the beach, and it was very dangerous for any Lost Boys to go there alone. On the western edge of the island was the indian camp, a whole forest of tents and cabins, it was always a place of smoky campfires and autumn feasts.
In the Northwestern quarter of the island, was winter. Snow lay thick on the branches of the trees, which weren’t sunny palm trees, but pines and firs. Winter trees.
There was snow on the ground that particular day, stained black from the soot that fell constantly from the sky. The Jumpers had crossed the river by jumping over it’s narrowest point, instead of taking the heavily guarded bridges leading from the main city. Jed remembered it was bitter cold. His fingers had been nearly frozen, and when the Jumper’s had attacked, in the third annual Battle of the Furnaces, Jed’s fingers had nearly broken on the first punch.
Several Jumpers went down in that first volley of rocks and broken bricks, thrown by the Stackers. Then they started throwing back. The two gangs were fairly even in numbers, and the Jumpers came to close quarters quickly, armed with jagged rocks and bits of broken glass. One boy caught Jed across the face with a piece of glass, and Jed’s vision in his left eye went red. Jed kept fighting until a rock or a brick caught him on the side of the head and he went down in the mud.
Other boys had joined Jed at the top of the mountain, as Pan hovered overhead. He was the only one who could fly forever, and Jed rarely saw him touch the ground. On the edge of the clearing at the top of the mountain, he saw Boulder, and Monkey, and Sprout gathering into a little group. Jed moved to join them and was joined by Hunter, Dee, and the Sham.
“Hey, Blindside,” Hunter greeted with a grin that nearly rivaled Pan’s toothy smile. Jed ruffled the younger boy’s hair and sat down to await the rest of the lost boys.
Jed had laid there, long after the battle was over. The Stackers had managed to beat the Jumpers back, but the cost was great for both sides. Boys lay dead or dying in the mud between two factory warehouses, their windowless walls showing no sympathy for the street kids. Jed, head throbbing, bleeding, his eye gruesome and bloody, lay in the mud, half conscious as he heard the footfalls of a soft shoe on brick.
“What do you think?” A boy’s voice, young and carefree, sounded as a hand roughly pulled on Jed’s shoulder, flipping him onto his back. There was the sound of high-pitched bells, and Jed opened his eyes to see a pair of shocking blue eyes, twinkling at him above a cocky grin and scattered freckles, and below a shock of red hair. He was dirty, but it wasn’t the dirt of the factories and the streets, it was different. The good kind of dirt. The kind of dirt that came from the country, where the ground was soft and the air was clean.
“Who are you?” Jed tried to ask, but the other boy stopped him.
“Do you want to play a game?” He asked.
Finally, everyone had gathered and Peter Pan landed, looking around at all the boys he had brought to the island.
“I have an idea for a great game,” He said.