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                “You see, Wendy, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies.”

                                Peter Pan, Peter Pan

                “What does Toren want from us?” I muse as the light is disappearing from the window, leaving the single bulbs as the only source of illumination. I look across at Slate as she’s leaned up against the corner of the holding cell, fast asleep.

                “Morcean wanted to be king of his city.” I say, rolling thoughts over again and again inside my head. “But Toren pretty much is king of his, whatever.” I discard that train of thought and shift in my place with my back to the bars as I sit on the bench.

                “Zombies.” I say, the shadows in the corners of the room drawing my attention. “Vampires.” I add to the list. “And now crazy, Nazi soldiers.” I keep thinking. “Toren can’t kill the zombies. Or the vampires. Does he think we have some way to kill them?” I keep thinking. “What do we have that he wants?”

                “Maybe it’s just us.”

                I turn over as Slate sits up, rubbing her eyes groggily. She props herself up on her shoulder and looks at me. “I mean, we’re an unaccounted for quantity. We know about the zombies. And the vampires. And we’ve survived encounters with both.”

                “Not to mention that big cannibal dude.” I say.

And I

Get kicked

In the face

                My head reels as I fall back onto the bench, agony shooting through my veins. Slate rushes over to me, helping me to stay seated, looking me over, trying to find the wound. “Are you alright?” She asks, confused.

                “Yeah.” I say. “It’s, it’s just the drugs from earlier.”

                As the pain subsides, Slate moves back against the wall, flopping down on the bench across from me. She sighs out. “Sam.” She says, her voice sounding candid and honest. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

                “I don’t either.” I admit. “I mean, if I knew what Toren wanted, maybe we could give it to him and he might let us go. But, I mean, I don’t know what we can do.”

                Slate sits back and breathes out. “I have to say,” She almost laughs. “For all the times I’ve dodged out of death, I didn’t think I’d end up like this. I’d end up in a prison.” She looks across at me, smiling. “With a wuss like you.”

                “What can I say?” I shrug with a smile. “I expose all sorts of people to new and exciting paths of their lives.”

                And something in the back of my head kicks.

                And then I get kicked in the face again.

                The pain’s getting worse with each blow. I hear Slate gasp in, the pain registering so badly on my face that she felt it too. I completely fall onto my side on the bench, holding my face. But as the pain’s getting worse, it also disappears faster. I guess pretty soon, it’ll just be instantaneously bad, then instantaneously gone.

                But as I regain my posture, something registers. The pain came when I was thinking about something. I look across at Slate and she can tell something’s going through my mind. “Slate.” I ask. “Did, did the guys ever put anything inside of me? Like the scientist guys?” I ask.

                “No.” She says, confused. “Why?”

                “Because, I think those pains are being triggered by something.” I say. I start to think back. I was thinking something about paths. Like a walking path? No. Like a path of life. Like a preordained, destined path. Like the type of path that he . . .

                Pain.

                Pain like I have never known.

                Pain worse than anything I ever could have fathomed.

                Pain more horrible than even the bowels of hell could conceive.

                My eyes explode in light.

                Slate’s standing over me.

                “We’ve got to get out of here. Come on!” She yells.

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