Never After

by Elconin, Dan

• ISBN13: 9781416979678
• ISBN10: 1416979670
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2009-10-20
• Publisher: Simon Pulse

Summary

There is no place like a dysfunctional home.Leaving everything behind for the Island was Ricky's dream come true. When his happily ever after is not quite what it seems, he discovers that running away means running toward bigger problems.Trapped on the Island, Ricky must join together with the only people he can trust to help him face his fears and return home. But the only way off the Island is to confront the person who trapped Ricky and his friends in the first place. With countless enemies and true peril staring them down, Ricky's mission to leave this so-called paradise will become a battle for their very lives.

Excerpts

Chapter 1

"Now wake up, mate. I'm comin'."

I awoke slowly, the dream lingering like an afterimage. I clung to it, trying to pull myself back in, but it slipped away into the darkness of reality....

Another few seconds and I was wide awake. The dream already seemed like a distant memory. It had been a good dream, I remembered that much. Something about the Island...

The clock on my nightstand read 11:38 p.m. I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to remember more of the dream, but as always, the details drifted tantalizingly just beyond my conscious reach. Finally I gave up and, yawning, rolled onto my side and closed my eyes.

It came from outside, behind me -- a faint crunch of dry leaves.

My eyes snapped open. Automatically I drew my covers tighter around my shoulders, hairs prickling all over my body. I listened intently but didn't dare roll over to look out the window behind me.

It was your imagination, I told myself. You were practically asleep, so --

Another crunch.

And another.

It wasn't my imagination.

Panic and adrenaline shot through me like electricity, and I frantically scrambled out of bed and lunged for the stairs -- then saw the closed door. The memory of slamming it flashed behind my eyes, and I froze while reaching for the doorknob. What the hell was I going to do, run scared to my mommy? I couldn't do that, especially not now.

Another crunch -- leaves being stepped on, I was almost certain.

Suddenly feeling courageous -- or perhaps just reckless -- I spun around and peered out the window.

Nothing.

From across the room, in the darkness, I couldn't see much of anything. Still, I let out a breath of relief. I listened another five or ten seconds, but heard nothing more.

It was probably just an animal. A raccoon, maybe a squirrel.

But what if it wasn't? What if it was a robber? Or worse...?

Hell, maybe it's Santa Claus getting a head start.

I snorted, smiling, and my anxiety abated a bit. I decided I was being ridiculous. Scaring myself. Totally overreacting.

Nevertheless, I knew I probably wouldn't sleep again tonight unless I investigated a bit.

I slowly tiptoed up to the window and scanned the roof of the garage, which my room sat on top of. Nothing. From inside the window, though, I could see little to either side. Trying to pretend to myself that I wasn't afraid in the slightest, I unlocked the window, slid it open, and --

The cheerful voice of a boy, seemingly right in my ear: "Boo."

I yelped, leapt back, and tumbled backward over my bed, crashing to the carpet behind it. I quickly peeked over the mattress, my heart going crazy, just as a dark, humanlike figure swung down from the roof of my room and perched on the windowsill.

After some careful consideration, I decided I'd seen enough. I scrambled to my feet and lunged for the door -- but never reached it. Something grabbed my collar (How the fuck did it move so fast?!) and yanked me backward. I landed on the bed on my back, and before I could move, the figure was standing astride my waist. A boy's shadowy face loomed over me, eerily backlit by the moonlight, and for one heart-stopping moment, I was certain I was about to die.

Then the boy grinned broadly and said in a cheerful, Australian accent, "G'day, Ricky."

Hearing my name in his voice, I realized instantly:

This boy seemed somehow...familiar...

The boy backflipped off the bed -- yeah, backflipped -- and landed lightly on the floor in front of me. "No worries, mate," he said. "I'm na here to hurt ya."

I sat up slowly, my heart still freaking out, and glanced at the door. Common sense was advising me, DON'T JUST SIT THERE, YOU DUMBASS, RUUUUNNNN!!! But the boy's casual friendliness and distinct familiarity won me over.

I eyed him up and down. Seeing my inspection, the boy did a dainty pirouette, like a girl showing off a dress. He looked about my age, sixteen. He was lean and deeply tanned, and had a friendly face, twinkling blue eyes, and scruffy blond hair. He wore only a pair of dirty, tan shorts that looked like something an American Indian might have worn.

And for just an instant, I thought it looked like his right hand and wrist were glowing very faintly -- as if his skin had absorbed a mist of pale light. It was just barely perceptible, though, and the next instant my mind had dismissed it as a trick of the moonlight.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice slightly shaky.

"My name is Peter," the boy said, and he bowed theatrically, "...and I'm from the Island."

My breath caught.

After a moment, I said, "Which island?"

Peter grinned. "The Island."

"There's a lot of islands in the world."

His grin widened. "In this world, yeah."

That sentence seemed to whirl around the inside of my skull for a good five seconds, gathering momentum, before it slammed into my brain.

Then I said, "Holy shit."

I dashed into my bathroom and locked the door. I filled a cup to the brim with cold water from the sink and dumped it over my head. In movies, getting doused with cold water makes you more lucid and alert; in reality, I now discovered, it makes you more wet and cold. In the mirror, my eyes were puffy and bloodshot with dark circles underneath, my hair was sticking up in all directions, and my face was dripping wet.

So at least I looked perfectly sane.

I ripped the door open.

Peter was gone.

I carefully scanned the room three times, leaned out the doorway and looked to either side, and peered under my bed.

Nothing.

I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief and slumped against the door frame. "Jesus Christ," I whispered.

I must have been hallucinating. That was the only even remotely reasonable explanation I could think of -- reasonable, perhaps, but hardly comforting. In fact, the notion that I was hallucinating was almost as disturbing as the notion that that kid was real and from the Island.

Can stress cause hallucinations? Probably not, or I'd be in a mental institution by now. Not counting high school, that is. Though even by the standards of the last few months, today had been extremely stressful.

I stayed slumped against the door frame for three or four minutes before I started trudging back to bed, still wondering what --

"Boo."

"JESUS FUCK !"

Peter was standing right behind me. Cackling.

"Where the fuck did you come from?!" I cried, looking around wildly. It was impossible. I'd looked around the entire room and he hadn't been there. There was nowhere to hide, no way in hell he could have popped up right behind me like that.

"Sorry 'bout that, mate," he laughed, "didn't mean to scare ya. Well, alrigh', I s'pose I did. But look, why don't we start over, ay? I just wanna talk."

"No." I stepped back, shaking my head. "You're not real. I'm not talking to you."

He frowned, looking politely puzzled. "Oh really?" He made a show of looking around. "Then may I ask who you're talking to?"

"I'm not talking to anybody, I'm hallucinating."

He grinned. "Oh, well, that must be a relief, ay? I'm not real, you're just batshit mental."

"I'm not 'mental,' " I said, somewhat uncertainly. "It's just stress."

His grin widened. "Stress, ay? That a new name for LSD?"

"I'm not on drugs, either, all right?" I snapped.

"Well lemme just ask ya somethin', mate -- when ya first saw me and ya started runnin' for the door, somethin' pulled ya back onto the bed, rememba that? If I'm na real, how d'ya explain that?"

Oh shit. I'd forgotten about that. I stared at Peter, trying to act unfazed -- more for my own sake than his -- while groping frantically for an explanation. Finally, I said, "I tripped."

"Ah," he grinned and pointed at me, "so you admit it."

"Admit what?"

"You're on LSD." He threw his head back and cackled.

I covered my face with my hands. "I need to see a psychologist."

"Change a' heart, ay?"

I dropped my hands and looked at him sharply. "What'd you say?"

"Neva mind. Listen, mate...ya say ya stressed out, righ'? Well, I just happen to know the perfect way to relieve stress. So why don't ya just have a seat and let me explain, ay?"

My eyes gravitated toward the door -- but again Peter's mirthful friendliness and my overwhelming wonder got the better of me.

I studied Peter again and frowned a bit in frustration. I still could not connect him with any specific memory -- I felt almost certain I'd never seen him before -- and yet somehow he seemed unmistakably familiar.... "Do I know you?" I asked.

" 'Course ya do, mate. Ya know me from ya dreams -- ya just havin' a bit a' trou -- "

"Whoa, wait a sec," I said, staring at him quizzically, "did you say...from my dreams?"

"Uh-huh. Like that dream ya just had. The one about the Island."

My eyes widened. "How the...you...?"

He grinned. "How'd I know 'bout that dream? I was in the dream, mate. Don't ya rememba? I told ya to wake up 'cause I was comin' to see ya."

I felt like an explosion had gone off inside my head -- suddenly I did remember that. "But -- but that's impossible, how'd you -- "

"To make it simple, mate -- very simple -- I can communicate with ya through dreams. Which is how I told ya 'bout the Island. Oh, did I mention I live there?"

My mind was starting to spin crazily. "The Island's not real."

"And neither am I, righ'?" He laughed. "The Island is real, mate. But I couldn't just walk up to ya on the street one day and start talkin' 'bout it -- ya woulda thought I was bloody mental. But people are much more open-minded in their dreams. So that's where I went first. I showed ya the Island through ya dreams. So that when I came tonight, I'd already have my foot in the door, ya see?"

My mind was now spinning so fast that the room itself seemed to be rotating. I knew what he was saying was impossible...and yet I could think of no explanation that was possible. Why else would Peter be so familiar when I was so certain I'd never seen him before? How else could he know about the Island? About my dreams?

"I can prove it, if ya want," Peter said, somewhat quietly. "I can show ya the Island. I can take you there." He was grinning at me eagerly, almost hungrily, his eyes sparkling. "Come with me," he said, nodding toward the open window.

That took me a beat to process. "What, like right now?"

Peter nodded. "Right now, mate."

I opened my mouth, but found I was too surprised to even think, much less speak.

Peter said, "Just think of it as, like...runnin' away from home for a bit."

That gave me a little jolt. I remembered, just hours ago, eyeing the door to the garage and --

"Ya were just thinkin' 'bout runnin' away, weren't ya?"

I looked at him sharply. "How the hell'd you know that?!"

"Ya told me yaself. In that dream ya just had. I know 'bout everythin', mate -- that's why I'm here. I know 'bout the last few months. I know 'bout today. And I know how much ya been wishin' ya could go to the Island. Well, now ya can stop wishin'. And hell, mate, why not get away? What's keepin' ya here?"

Nothing, I thought. And my throat tightened.

"I can come back whenever I want, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, a' course." Peter grinned. "I can't guarantee you'll want to, though."

"Where exactly is the Island?"

His grin widened. "It ain't on any maps."

"Then how do you get there?"

"You'll see. You'll like it there, I promise ya that. It's the most wonderful place. " He paused a moment, beaming at me excitedly. "So how 'bout it, mate?"

An actual escape to the Island, I thought wonderingly. An opportunity to experience what before I could only imagine.

Quite literally, a dream come true.

I smiled slowly. "Yeah. I'm coming."

Copyright © 2009 by Dan Elconin

---

Excerpted from Never After by Dan Elconin
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.