As she slunk after her shadow, she wondered if this was how the shadow usually felt, trailing after her. She kept her eyes on the shadow's hands, waiting for its stop, stay there or follow me gestures.
The shadow glided onto the deck, then came back to wave Gwen up. No one noticed a simple shadow. The adults did not share the children's paranoia since shadows never did anything except the black coats' bidding. Where did Gwen fall in this unnatural hierarchy of magic and age that she had a shadow she could send off, but not control? She couldn't deny her shadow had a mind of its own.
Leaping over the minimal metal rail, Gwen landed on the boat's back deck—colder and harder than the gleaming wood of Starkey's pirate ship. Textured for traction, the silvery sheet metal made a hollow, dead sound as she walked on it. She needed to dash a few yards to the door at the rear of the ship, so Gwen hovered to it while her shadow slid under and confirmed the coast was clear. Heaving open the oblong metal door, Gwen slipped in before the heavy slab of metal blew shut behind her. She pushed back on it, making sure it didn't slam loud enough to catch anyone's attention.
Her shadow, already far ahead, glided over the floor of the naval corridor. The slender hall felt claustrophobic, and the long stretch of oblong doorways made Gwen feel trapped between two mirrors, staring down an infinite reflection of the same five yards of abrasive lights and off-white floors. Electrical circuit breaker boxes and red emergency lights sat dormant on the pale walls while pipes and wires wound like industrial snakes overhead. Half-flying, Gwen stayed light on her feet as her shadow led her down the corridor and forced her to hurtle the steps through the maritime doorways.
A door slammed down the hall, echoing insidiously. Gwen heard, and then saw, several crisp black uniforms descending a narrow stairwell. She sprung to the ceiling to hide, but that would only block her out of sight until they came through the oblong doorway that led into this particular stretch of naval corridor. Her shadow, thinking of a more productive strategy, dipped into the nearest room. Gwen heard the door unlock, and then saw as her shadow came only halfway out to wave her in. Dropping down quickly and stowing herself in the room, Gwen locked the door behind her.
Her problem would have been solved, but she had ducked into the operations room. The admiral and his executive officers all had keys to the operations room, and happened to be heading for it at that precise moment.
Chapter 31
The shadow—which had already spent a bit of time aboard this ship—knew what trouble lay ahead. With frantic motions, it gestured to the officers' locker beside the control panel. With increasing anxiety, the shadow struggled to communicate the importance of Gwen getting into the grey-green locker.
Instead, she wandered around, fascinated by the operations room—the blinking radars, the humming navigational equipment, and the plotting table. A map of Neverland and its surrounding waters, covered in miniatures, reminded Gwen of a board game. She picked up one of the pieces next to the wooden tree in the center of the painted island. The blue totem, like a chess piece, seemed weighted with more meaning and power than its plastic could convey.
Her shadow rushed onto the table to grab her and push her away, toward the locker, but the shadow had no substance or strength with which to push.
Was this just a game to the adults, too?
The thought occurred to Gwen, This seems like an important room. I wonder why nobody is in it, just a second before she heard angry, gruff voices approaching. The surly debate served as her cue to heed her shadow. The sound of a key jammed into the room's lock sent her flying for the officers' locker, where she closed herself inside and hid behind a row of standard-issue rain ponchos hanging inside.
The officers barged in with a powerful sense of indignation. Gwen peeked from behind the raincoats and through the slats of the locker, catching sight of the uniformed officers as they entered.
A tall, bald man led them in, exclaiming, “That doesn't explain why we got faulty intelligence!”
A white coat and two other black coats followed, the man in the white coat volunteering, “The anomalous capacities of our informer may have been significantly diminished, sir.”
“Admiral,” the smaller solider began, “shouldn't the Captain be here for this?”
His timid tone seemed justified when the bald Admiral snapped back, “That inexperienced little oaf? He shouldn't even be on this ship. If the CAO hadn't stuck him on here, he'd be playing toy boats at the academy right now.”
“But certainly he's—”
“All he's done is give us a bad informant. No pirates in Neverland my ass! What's the status with our ground troops?
“Sir!” The black coat woman announced. “We've lost contact with three-quarters of the men we've sent ashore, including those taken at the preliminary landing on the eastern shore.”
“But commander,” the small man corrected the woman, “we are currently on the eastern side of the island.”
“Damn this island and its impossible directions!” the Admiral declared, pounding his fist on the table. A brief silence followed as he shuffled talismans on the war table. “Where's the piece for the girl?”
“What girl?” the small man asked, his nerves escaping through his voice.
“Damnit, Rinstien, the Hoffman girl!”
Gwen's mouth fell open. She almost stumbled back, but her panic petrified her. In her hurry to hide, she hadn't put back the blue piece on the board
