Kingdom Keepers VI (9781423179214) (20 page)

Hurrying through the 687 Lounge, they drew immediate attention. All the ship's bars were Adults Only. A Cast Member with unfocused eyes and an awkward gait approached from the far side of the lounge, clearly intending to intercept them. Another OT zombie.

As a group, the Keepers jogged into the neighboring District Lounge. Having violated the age rule there as well, they had two crew members after them—one zombie, Finn thought, one not. It was too dark to determine the color of the crew members' eyes, but the Keepers weren't sticking around for any close-ups.

Finn could no longer hold on to Amanda's hologram arm, but realized as she jogged beside him that she was back to full power. They reached the District's forward entrance where, unfortunately, they encountered a third crew member.

“We're going!” Storey called out to the lady guard.

“Hold on a second!” the woman shouted. “We…want…to…talk—”

She took off after them. The kids broke into a sprint.

“Why are we running?” Willa panted.

“What are we going to do, tell them a couple chefs were practicing their knife throwing on us?” Finn said. “That would go over big.”

Rule #1: Kids are faster than grown-ups.

Rule #2: Disney crew members aren't grown-ups, in the grown-up sense.

“I know who you are!” shouted the crew member, now only a matter of yards behind them.

“You…don't…know…who…
I
…am!” Amanda charged the woman.

Finn and the others kept running. The crew
member crossed her arms in preparation for a full-speed collision. Amanda's DHI passed through her.

Slack-jawed, the woman stared at the hologram in disbelief. “Wow.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Amanda stepped through the wall and out onto the jogging track. She waved back at the gawking crew member from the far side of one of the hallway's large circular windows.

The woman's fellow staff members arrived, out of breath. Two of them looked down the empty hall, and saw the kids were gone.

“Must…pursue,” one of them said in a strange monotone—like someone who'd been hypnotized onstage during one of the magic shows.

“For the record?” the woman said to the two. “I don't even care about losing the kids. What I just saw? That was totally worth it.”

No one acknowledged her. The two men took off in a bizarre, stiff-legged run that made them look more like puppets than people.

* * *

The Cast Member beauty salon was like a prop shop for a horror show. Along the tops of the cabinets that surrounded the room and the six well-padded salon chairs were plastic heads wearing wigs—Snow White, Cinderella, Belle, and a dozen others—as well as latex prosthetics like noses, ears, chins, cheeks, and bald caps. The salon was a special effects laboratory possessing the theatrical cosmetics and technology needed to turn an ordinary Cast Member into an extraordinary Disney character—one who looked nearly identical to the character's image in a Disney film.

Dillard Cole and Kenny Carlson entered the empty salon on top secret orders, received from Wanda Alcott by encrypted e-mail. They'd been told where to find the salon: forward on Deck 2 through a locked Cast Member–only door; the salon was part of the Walt Disney Theatre's lower-level backstage area, shared by the stage productions and the character appearance groups. They'd also been advised of the safest time to be there: one hour past the conclusion of the Canal celebration, a rest time for the dozens of characters involved.

Dillard stepped through and locked the door from the inside.

“Find a hiding place. I'm going to put a chair by the door. If it opens, we'll hear the chair slide. We hear that, we hide.”

Kenny found a closet of hanging crinoline petticoats; there was space enough to tuck in behind. It was the best spot in the small room for a boy so tall. Dillard was able to squeeze into a dark area under the makeup station farthest from the door; thus hidden, he was nearly invisible to the naked eye. A risky spot, but one he liked because it afforded him a view of the room.

With their hiding places planned, they followed procedures outlined in YouTube videos showing various techniques and practices of people working in salons. They'd memorized most of it.

The hair was not the problem. Both boys had previously booked appointments in the Senses Spa and Salon and brought magazine photos of the haircuts
they desired. It was nothing new to the experts in Senses to work from such photographs—kids often wanted
to look like their favorite film, television, or rock
star.

The challenge was the choice of, and application of, the latex prostheses that would transform their faces as Wanda had requested. They tried a variety of different noses and cheeks, finally gluing them into place, each boy serving as the other's beautician. Dillard had to shave off his eyebrows and use stick-ons to match color and shape; Kenny was able to use his freckles and red hair to his advantage. Twenty minutes passed. Thirty. Bit by bit, the boys saw themselves slowly transform. The coloring and application of makeup was a different matter.

“This is way harder than it looked in the video.”

“I don't get how much time this must take for girls every morning. What do they do, get up at four or something?”

“I don't think they're as slow as we are.”

“You look like some ninety-year-old geezer with bright red cheeks and fake eyelashes.”

“You're the one doing this to me.”

“And I'm really sorry about that, but you look ugly and ancient and a lot like a girl.”

“Get it together, would you?”

“I'm trying.”

“Try harder.”

Dillard had done a good job on Kenny, but the reverse was not true. No matter how many times Kenny cleaned up Dillard's face—itself a time-consuming job!—and reapplied the cosmetics, Dillard looked only slightly better, and still nothing close to the person he was supposed to resemble.

“It's going to work, but I need more practice,” Kenny said.

“Yeah, you're pretty pathetic at this.” Dillard couldn't keep it in any longer. “We should tell Finn what we're doing.”

“Wanda said not to.” Kenny tried adjusting Dillard's latex nose.

“He needs to be told.”

“You worship that guy,” Kenny said.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“We're neighbors. I've known him since first grade.”

“So what? You are so weird about him. It's like he walks on water or something.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“He's the leader. He should be told.”

“Wayne's the leader and Wanda's his daughter, and she says no.”

They left the salon ten minutes later, still arguing.

* * *

The new Keeper stateroom, 9603, was another unoccupied room that Storey Ming had found. An internal cabin, it had no windows to the water. But the Imagineers had once again outdone themselves: a high definition circular porthole on the wall played live video of the view as would be seen through any other stateroom window on the ninth deck. The result was a sense of the horizon and the weather; you didn't feel like you were locked up in a windowless room.

But the cabin was small, and with the five Keepers crammed into it, smaller still. The two girls sat up against the bed's headboard. Maybeck was stretched out sideways at their feet. Finn and Philby stood. Amanda's hologram sat on the floor by a recycling can. Mattie Weaver sat on a plastic trash basket turned upside down. She looked uncomfortable, knowing only Amanda well.

“I know where he's hiding,” Mattie said, speaking of Luowski. “And I know what he was told to do.”

“You see their memories.” Professor Philby studied her like she was something under a microscope for him to pick apart with stainless steel probes.

“Their thoughts, sometimes their
feelings
. I get glimpses, because some people think visually. I get pictures in my head.”

“Like Jess,” Willa said.

“Except she sees the future. Not me. I suppose I see the past some, but mostly it's the present thought, I think. I don't know exactly. I get feelings. A sense of things.”

“And what about Luowski?” Finn shifted foot to foot like a runner getting ready for a race. Nerves.

“Turmoil. Worry. Concern. He's horribly conflicted.
If I touch someone who's happy, I'm happy. When I touched him I nearly passed out. He's this angry jumble of mixed-up emotions. He is to get one of you for them.”

“The sacrifice,” Finn said.

“Who?” Willa barely got the word out.

Mattie shook her head. “He doesn't know, but he knows it means death. A horrible death. He sees a knife dripping with blood.”

Silence, followed by Maybeck. “The hyena killing.”

“I don't see the past,” Mattie reminded them all. “He fears that knife. The blood. He's terrified. He was out there on the deck, but none of his attention was on the celebration. He's worried, for himself, and for one of you.”

“Sacrifice,” Philby repeated, making it sound like
a homework assignment. He said to Willa: “The journal.”

Finn addressed Amanda's hologram. “Jess's drawings.”

Amanda met eyes with him but said nothing. She looked frightened.

Mattie said, “The guy is haunted.”

“Think how we feel!” Maybeck said. Everyone but Philby laughed.

“Any images?” Philby asked.

“There were metal stairs. Darkness. But I wouldn't put too much into it.”

“We have to protect Charlene,” Maybeck said.

“And Willa,” Philby added. “It's girls they want. Willa, you said so.”

“That was fifteen hundred years ago, FYI.” Willa contemplated the gathering. “It could be any of us.”

“I think he's afraid it may be him,” Mattie said, winning their attention. “That he betrayed them somehow.”

“When he warned us,” Maybeck said, reminding Finn again.

“Could be,” Finn said. “If Maleficent found out—”

“That other guy was there,” Maybeck reminded them.

“Dixon.”

“And he's a total zombie,” Charlene said. “He was one of the stagehands Willa and I ran into.”

Philby waited for the resulting chatting to settle down. He addressed Mattie. “Can you make contact with him again?”

Mattie said, “Some people sense when they're touched. It's like when you go cold all of a sudden for no reason. Luowski felt me doing it.” She looked first at Philby, then the others. “The more times it's done, the more the person can sense it. I'm basically stealing their thoughts. They feel it.”

“And Luowski knew,” Willa said. “Could that have been what he was afraid of?”

“I don't think so,” Mattie said. “It's possible, I suppose.”

Finn withdrew the printout of Amanda's e-mail and passed it to Mattie. “Did you ‘see' anything like this?” He passed it to Mattie.

“No. But as I've said, I don't see the future the way Jess does.”

“We thought it was Aruba,” Finn told her. “Even though it came a little late.”

“It doesn't look like a cave,” Mattie said of the drawing. “More like a tunnel. The walls are straight and smooth.”

“But that doesn't fit with whatever you saw.”

“No. I'm sorry.” She passed it back. Finn returned it to his back pocket.

“We're scheduled to guide the zip line group tomorrow,” Maybeck said. “It's the perfect place for more blue-sky lightning.”

“Do you want to stay behind,” Charlene said, “after what happened to you? We've got no problem with that.”

The Keepers all mumbled agreement.

“I didn't say that. What I meant was—”

“We know what you meant,” Philby interrupted.

Finn said, “Charlene, it's you who should stay behind.”

“Safety in numbers,” Charlene said. “And besides, I'm probably safer off the ship than on.”

“If I signed up for the zip line,” Mattie said, “if I could move through the passengers on the excursion,
I might sense something.”

“You have no documentation,” the Professor pointed
out. “Besides, those excursions were fully booked a long time ago.”

“The gathering spots,” Finn said. “All excursions meet as a group on the ship and leave from there. Mattie could cruise among the passengers, passing out pencils or something so she has the excuse to touch them.”

Philby nodded. “Could work.”

“But the problem is, we don't know if Luowski's orders have anything to do with the zip lines. He could be planning to toss one of us overboard, for all we know.” Finn moved to stand next to Philby, addressing the others. “Our rule has always been to pair up. That's kept us safe so far. So we'll pair up, but everyone keeps an eye on Charlene. Anything weird, and we get her to the bus, or whatever. We keep her safe.”

All the Keepers nodded.

“Okay,” Finn said, “so we'll pair up where possible. Mattie, you'll let us know whatever you find out.”

“Where do we find you, anyway?” Charlene asked. “Where are you sleeping?”

“If you need me, just stay after one of the movies in the Buena Vista. When you're sure the theater is empty and the Cast Members have left the projection booth, call out, ‘Mad Hatter.' I'll meet you in Shutters Photo Studio a few minutes later.”

“And if you don't show up?” Philby asked.

“Then I'm either out trying to make contact with other people like Luowski, or…” She hesitated. “Or something's happened.”

T
HE SHIP'S
D L
OUNGE
, the gathering place for the Costa Rican zip line excursion, was known for its nightclub decor, dim lighting, and dance floor. But under full light at seven in the morning, it was home to a large group of guests wanting to hang in a harness and fly across steel wires in the mountains of a foreign country.

“Something's different about Finn,” Charlene said to Willa. “And Philby, for that matter.”

“It's seven in the morning. We said we'd pair up, and they're paired up. We also said we'd stay away from each other, and they're staying away from us.”

“Does Philby look taller to you?”

“He's across a room filled with a hundred people. How should I know?”

“He looks taller to me,” Charlene said. “And Finn looks…heavier.” She paused, then said, “I don't get why you and Philby aren't going out.”

“It might be because we're barely speaking.”

“‘This, too, shall pass.' You need perspective. We could ask Maybeck about perspective. He's the artist.” Charlene scanned the room.

Charlene was looking forward to the excursion. She loved a good adrenaline rush. Like the others, she'd
seen Jess's drawing, but unlike the others, she didn't think it looked anything like her. She knew she was a cute—some might say adorable—older teen who would make for a terrific sacrifice; she just didn't happen to believe even someone as cruel as Maleficent would resort to murder. Everyone was taking this thing way too far.

“We stay in pairs,” Willa reminded her, ever the one to go by the rules. “And the pairs stay apart.”

“You ever notice the boys make the rules?”

“Not always.”

“Just about.”

“I hadn't thought about it.”

“You should,” Charlene said. “Because they listen to Amanda and Jess, but not so much to you and me.”

“You think?”

“I
know
. Come on, Willa, when do they ever actually ask us for our opinions?”

“Why are you doing this? We're a good team, the five of us.”

“It's not a team if two or three people make all
the decisions for everyone else.” Charlene rose to her toes.

Maybeck entered the lounge in big strides, his shoulders square. A rock star. Wraparound sunglasses. Storey Ming at his side.

Charlene's full attention fixed on Maybeck and Storey, who now held the attention of at least half the room. Younger kids recognized Maybeck and broke away from their parents to adore him. He loved every second. Storey held her own, playing the part of Maybeck's sidekick and possible girlfriend—a role Charlene saw as belonging to her.

“Who put her in charge?” she asked Willa.

“Down, girl. We all have roles to play. Don't blame her for doing hers well.”

“Oh, but I do.”

“Maybeck is taking the attention off us.”

“Off of
me
,” Charlene said bitterly. She didn't like being the one babied.

“It's what he does,” Willa said.

“Yeah, well, Storey doesn't have to look so into it.”

“Of course she does. Relax. We're acting out roles here. Nothing more.”

“Tell that to Storey,” Charlene said. “She hardly looks like she's working! She's enjoying this!”

“Hi!” A young girl with bouncy brown hair and so much suntan lotion her skin shone addressed Charlene with trepidation.

“Hi.”

“You're Charlene, right?”

“Yes.” Charlene offered her hand and the girl shook it, clearly thrilled.

“My friend saw you guys on TV.” Keeper fans
blurted out this kind of thing all the time. Tongue-tied and believing Charlene a celebrity, a kid would say whatever came to mind. “She e-mailed me about it.”

“I'm glad,” Charlene said, unsure how to respond. Although the Keepers had shot a Disney 365 a year earlier, it seemed unlikely the Channel would be airing it again. It was an odd comment to be sure. “We have a lot of fun shooting those three-six-fives. We're shooting another on the ship.”

“I don't think it was a Disney three-six-five. She said it looked really scary and awesome. Anyway…I think you guys are great.”

“Thank you.”

The girl asked for an autograph and offered Charlene a pen to sign her T-shirt.

The group organizer called out a greeting and then ran through the logistics of getting off the ship and into the bus. Legal forms had to be signed because of the risks associated with that activity. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Charlene and Willa took their place in line, and Charlene found herself looking back at the fan.

“What was that? Since when are any of our three-six-fives scary?”

“I wasn't listening.”

“That was a bizarre thing to say.”

“Maybe they're running some kind of new ad or something. One we haven't seen yet.”

“We see everything before it goes out,” Charlene said.

“I suppose.”

“No supposing about it.” Charlene followed the girl with her eyes, wanting to catch up and ask more questions. But right then a leader shouted out to the group and the room went silent.

* * *

Greg Luowski was bothered by the low lighting in the D Lounge. The faces of the two boys were already shaded and hidden by ball caps and sunglasses. Not right. If this was going down, Luowski wanted to look Finn Whitman in the eye.

What he was about to do wasn't easy. And it
wasn't safe. So he did a gut-check and then walked right up behind the two when the opportunity presented itself.

“Don't turn around, Whitless. You either, brainiac.” The boys' shoulders tensed. He knew he had their attention. “Listen to me and listen good, 'cause this is the only time you're gonna hear it. I don't like you, Whitless. I never have. You're a jerk and you're too cool for school and jerks like you deserve what they get. But I draw a line, okay?”

Philby started to turn his head. Luowski smacked him.

“Stay, Dog Breath. Do not move! These people…sheesh, they aren't even people. I don't know what they are. But they're taking this too far. You understand? Too far. And it's bad. Real bad. You…the five of
you…
all
of you…
none
of you can get off this boat. Not ever. And if I was you I wouldn't leave my room either. One of you…I don't know how it's going to happen or when, but it's going to happen. You got that?
It's going to happen unless you keep it from happening.
If you don't disappear, they're going to find you and make you. Okay? And I'm talking, like, forever.”

He'd worked himself up; he was shaking. His low voice trailed off in a dry whisper.

“As in:
forever
.”

He turned and hurried into the crowd. It wasn't hard in such an excited group. He just kept his head down and didn't stop walking until he reached the long corridor outside the District.

Once there, he pushed his back against the paneling,
shaking like a baby. Something had happened to him out
on the deck during the canal passage. It was like a drain plug had been pulled and some of the bad had drained out. He didn't know what it meant, or how it worked.

But another part of him knew that whatever these
things
had planned for Whitless and his gang, it would be much, much worse for him if that green thing came to understand he had warned them.

It's the last time,
he told himself—the two voices inside him battling for control.

If this kept up, he was going to go insane.

A girl with a red tint in her dark hair swept past him. Why did she look so familiar?

* * *

The air-conditioned bus bounced down a dirt road on the last leg of the forty-five-minute drive. Instead of jungle, the Costa Rican landscape on either side was brown, sun-baked grass and shrubs interrupted by the occasional copse of trees and outcropping of rock. A power line hung loosely between concrete poles, looking like it would come down in a strong breeze. The bus slowed and passed through a fence and gate delineating the Mountain Aventura Resort and Campground. The name was painted in black as a subtitle beneath bright green Spanish words.

“I'm in second-year Spanish,” Willa said to her seat mate, “and I have no idea what that says.”

“I still don't get why he won't even look at us,” Charlene said. In an effort to ignore Maybeck and Storey, she'd spent the ride fixated on Finn and Philby, who sat two rows from the back of the bus.

“Chill,” Willa said. “By now Terry's freaking because you've barely looked at him once.”

“They're never like this. And I don't like it when people change for no reason.”

“You mean: you don't like it when boys stop looking at you.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. That came out wrong. That was mean of me.”

“Do you think I'm like that?”

“No.”

“Seriously! Am I?”

“Maybe a little. But…very little!”

Charlene went quiet, her hands pressed between her knees, her head hung.

“I upset you,” said Willa.

“What do you think? I'm a vain, shallow person who needs to be the center of attention—but only just a little.”

“I didn't say that!”

“Yeah, actually, you did.”

“Well, then, I apologize.”

“Right.”

“They're boys. Single-minded, socially incompetent creatures. Like me, for saying that to you.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“Tell me I'm wrong.”

“These two boys happen to be our friends. Friends don't ignore friends.”

Willa lowered her voice. “We went over this. It's their plan. They are sticking to the plan.”

“Yeah? Well, I don't like the plan.” Charlene snorted.
“Not that anyone asked.”

“You didn't object earlier.”

“I didn't know it was going to feel like this.”

“Boys don't have feelings. They have plans. They have teams, schedules, and meals. You're giving them more credit than they deserve.”

“You are in a funky mood.”

“I get carsick. I want this trip over with.” Willa paused, thinking carefully before she spoke. “Truth is: I used to love being a Keeper. But now? I'm not so sure it's a bad thing if they replace us.”

“You can't be serious.”

But Willa's expression said it all.

The bus's air brakes hissed and it came to a stop. Heads rocked back and forth.

Charlene used the tinted window as a mirror to check her face. “Vain and shallow.”

“I did not say that!” Willa stomped her foot in frustration. “I am sooooo sorry, Charlene. Can we please just erase the past five minutes?”

Charlene nodded. But she didn't mean it.

* * *

The zip line training was done in groups of ten. The
Dream
team was split into two. Willa and Charlene's half headed up the mountain on a chair lift, followed by a hike to the steeper regions of what was now
forest. The trail ended at the first zip line platform
and a beautiful view of a long, treed ravine with what looked like power lines stretched across it at odd
intervals.

The team leader repeated all the safety instructions, and one by one the adventurers were clipped on to the pulleys that would carry them. The first of the eleven lines was the longest—one thousand feet across—and the fastest: you would fly at speeds approaching twenty-five miles per hour. At the far end the line rose to the distant platform; working against gravity slowed the zip liner. Adventurers were cautioned to remain motionless near the end and to not pull on the brake for fear of coming up short and requiring help to reach the uphill platform. But of course many people did not listen to the instructions. The first few people stopped short of the far platform and had to be hauled in, slowing down the process.

Finally it was Charlene's turn. She clipped in with the help of the platform leader, tucked her ponytail into her T-shirt to keep it out of the pulley, grabbed hold of the rope as instructed, and lifted her feet. She flew, wind singing in her ears. As the world dropped out from beneath her feet she screamed with glee and excitement. This was what birds must feel like, a kind of freedom she'd never experienced. The two pulleys whined on the double wires overhead; Charlene briefly closed her eyes, and then looked out feeling like an eagle. As she slowed and stretched her toes to reach the platform she cried out again celebrating her success.

The man helping her smiled widely. “You like?”

“O…M…G!” was all she could say. She couldn't wait for the next line. Charlene followed the path hacked through the woods, descending lower toward the mountain. The path twisted and turned past rocks and trees, and suddenly there appeared a second launch platform with an attendant. The helmeted people in front of her were lined up as they took their turns clipping in and riding. There were a great many smiles, including her own.