Kingdom Keepers V (9781423153429) (3 page)

“He'll go for me,” Wayne said. “The elderly have many more complications with rabies treatment. The fox can bite as strongly as a dog and is probably twice as quick.”

“This is not cheering me up,” Finn said.

“Nor is it intended to. His instincts will dictate he go for either the throat or the Achilles.”

“Yeah, well, I won't let him get that close to you.”

“I'm not talking about
my
throat, Finn.”

Finn swallowed hard; 2.0, he reminded himself, knowing it hadn't been put to this kind of test. So, he thought, we have a fox, a cat, and a guinea pig.

The cat stretched and looked in the direction of the fox. It seemed just for a moment as if they'd communicated. Wayne was a good five feet from the path of the cat. Finn wanted to remind him about their assignments, but he kept quiet.

The fox launched himself at Finn. Wayne lunged for the cat.

Finn extended both arms and almost knocked the flying fox off the train. The animal squealed—a sound that cut Finn to his core—then rolled and slammed onto the floor.

Wayne miscalculated. By moving to intercept the cat, the feral creature put the move on him, feinting to the inside and slipping easily between Finn and Wayne. Finn caught this out of the corner of his eye, but his concentration remained on the fox. It came to all fours, reared back, and bared its teeth. Its eyes filled with golden light and it growled viciously, raising the hair on Finn's arms.

It pounced.

Finn caught it just beneath its front legs as the force pushed him back onto the bench. The fox snapped for Finn's throat, spraying drool. The guttural sounds it emitted turned Finn's stomach—it meant to kill him. Another snap for his throat. And yet another. This time, it bit through the hologram. Without 2.0 it would have torn through Finn's flesh.

Wayne backed away, afraid of both animals. Finn had never seen him like this.

Finn hollered, “The cat!”

He threw the fox hard and high. It flew through the air and landed in the next car back. The moment it landed it charged again, coming at Finn like an airborne missile.

In that briefest of instants, Finn had gotten a look forward: the cat was streaking toward the locomotive. “The cat!” he said again, sensing the trouble before it happened.

Wayne climbed awkwardly over the seat, slow and uncoordinated. The fox landed on Finn, its glaring teeth leading the way. The creature was small in his hands, but unruly, strong, and slippery as a snake. It scratched with its feet and snapped its jaws. Finn reacted instinctively to avoid the teeth, hoisting it high overhead. He smashed it onto the floor of the train car. It let out a sickening cry. Finn felt consumed with guilt; he never hurt animals! But he thought back to the monkeys and ravens in Animal Kingdom, the orangutans bearing down on him—sometimes there was no choice but to fight back.

The fox whimpered and skittered off under the bench. Finn's guilt got the better of him, freezing him. Then the creature tried to lock its jaws onto his heel, snapping nothing but light. Finn screamed, thinking he'd been bitten, then kicked out and connected with the fox.

A shudder passed through his legs. Had the fox managed to bite him? No; the sensation was flooding up both legs—the train was gaining speed. One glance confirmed this: a pair of cat ears stuck up from the locomotive's controls. The cat was running the train.

Wayne had crawled into the coal-car.

The train roared ahead faster.

Working as a team, the fox had been a distraction. The real threat was the cat at the controls. The train cars rocked side to side; the speed increased.

Finn snatched the fox by the neck, whirled around, and let go. It flew off into the woods as the train sped ahead.

Finn grinned. But then: a brown blur between the jungle and the last train car. The fox had jumped back on.

It raised its tiny head, eyes glowing, and, leaping from one bench to the next, raced forward.

The train was moving at top speed, making it hard to stand. Each time Wayne attempted to get to his feet he was thrown to the opposite side of the coal-car and fell again.

The train's wheels lifted off the track. As it passed Space Mountain, it leaned to the outside. Metal twisted and cried out. Finn felt weightless as the inside wheels lifted off the rail and the train car briefly balanced on its outside wheels. It held there—suspended halfway between rolling over and derailing or returning to the track.

Finn turned toward Wayne, offering his back to the approaching fox. Wayne was planted against the coal-car's wall, his eyes bugged out, frozen in terror. Finn clambered over the benches, taking them like a hurdler.

As he reached the coal-car, he looked down and knew what had to be done.

He slipped between the coal-car and the first passenger car, the train still balanced precariously on only its outside wheels. The fox, teeth dripping drool, deftly jumped from one bench to the next.

Finn reached down and worked the heavy iron clamp that joined the two train cars together. With one look he understood how the mechanism worked. He pulled a piece of the clamp with all his strength. The tilting train shrieked.

The wide-eyed fox was a single car back. He could taste Finn's blood.

The car connector released. Finn unhooked a safety chain and the cars separated. One foot…three…eight…

The fox arrived at the end of the car and never hesitated. He sprang…but fell short, missing the coal-car and falling onto the railroad ties. He bounced, tumbled, and then rolled into a ditch. He came to his feet and tried to chase down the train, but he was too slow, no match for a runaway train.

Finn vaulted over the back of the coal-car, lost his balance, fell, and crawled toward Wayne.

* * *

With the release of the passenger cars, the locomotive and coal-car fell back onto the tracks. Finn, still crawling, reached Wayne. “You okay?”

Wayne nodded vigorously. “The throttle!” he hollered. “We're going to crash.”

The train no longer felt anchored to the tracks. It rocked back and forth, first on the wheels to the left, then the right. It sounded like girls screaming at a rock concert.

Finn struggled to reach the front of the coal-car, where it connected to the locomotive. The cat was nowhere to be seen. The engineer's seat was vacant, a number of levers and hand grips to either side.

The throttle, Finn thought, seeing one lever pushed well forward. The train's unpredictable movements made it impossible to judge his vault into the locomotive. He threw a knee up onto the wall of the coal-car. The train's movement dumped him. After two more failed tries, he took a running start and vaulted atop the coal-car's pile of stacked wood and then into the locomotive. He lunged for the throttle to slow the train, but unintentionally shoved the throttle forward.

“Too fast!” Wayne hollered, reduced to playing spectator.

The locomotive was a stone skipping on lake water, a few tons of iron rising and falling, floating off of and then crashing back down onto the rails.

Finn grabbed for the throttle and pulled it back. In doing so, he discovered what he thought must be another feature of 2.0—enhanced strength when under pressure. He pulled so hard the lever broke off in his hand.

The locomotive screamed and gained more speed.

Finn stood there with a useless piece of metal in his hand.

“The brake!” Wayne hollered.

Finn climbed into the empty seat and tugged hard on the only other lever. The wheels cried as sparks flew. The train slowed slightly—enough that it settled onto the track. He spotted a massive red button marked EMERGENCY ONLY. He stretched to reach it. If this didn't qualify as an emergency, nothing did. Holding the brake required both hands and the strength of both arms. If he eased up even slightly, the train charged ahead, threatening to derail. He tried to reach the red button with his shoulder, but it was no use—too far away. The smell of melting metal and sparks filled the air. He repositioned himself—hands between his legs, his feet aimed above his head.

He kicked the red button with his heel. Instantly the groaning ceased—the motor had been disconnected or shut off. The sparks continued to fly, but now the locomotive actually slowed. A hundred yards later it ground to a complete stop. Finn spun around to see Wayne, his face in a total sweat, sitting on the floor of the coal-car.

“Let's get out of here,” Wayne said.

* * *

“No more rides,” Finn said as Wayne led him into Tomorrowland.

“Agreed,” Wayne said.

He brought them backstage at the Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor, under the faint glare of an exit sign. They leaned against the cool wall and rested a moment.

“So they know I'm here,” Finn said.

“Apparently. Yes.”

“You know what bothers me about that?”

“What?” Wayne asked, though his tone of voice said he didn't want to hear.

“With the battle going at Base, how can the Overtakers possibly focus over here at the same time?”

Wayne said, “Because they've increased their numbers dramatically. The Green Eyes, for instance.”

Finn and the Keepers had discovered that some of their schoolmates had joined forces with the Overtakers. They wore green contact lenses in order to tell each other apart from the other students. It was one of many recent developments that suggested the ranks of the Overtakers had grown. Meanwhile, the Keepers remained at seven—the five original DHI models and two sisters, Jess and Amanda, both with intriguing powers. There was talk of six volunteer DHIs having been added, the result of an educational quest inside the Magic Kingdom. Finn had yet to meet them.

“Still outnumbered, and overtired,” Finn said. “Great!”

Wayne glared at him.

“Before we get into the whole
Fantasia
thing,” he said, “what about the maiden voyage?”

“That can wait,” Wayne said. “We have more pressing matters.”

“It's a week away.”

“If we—you five—don't defeat the Overtakers at the Base, a week might as well be a year. DHI 2.0 lives on a server inside the Base. You think it's a coincidence the Overtakers want in there? Not to mention the Base offers every kind of physical control of the parks.”

“Not to mention,” a frustrated Finn said. “A siege is a siege. It's not like they're accomplishing anything.”

“They're building toward a major offensive,” Wayne said. “It's standard field warfare. They make incursions to test our readiness, our defenses. They test our strategy. Then, determining our weaknesses, they strike with everything they have.”

“Way to cheer me up. It's not like we can defeat what we can't see. But if we just wait…that can't be good either.” He wondered what had happened to Wayne the optimist.

“No,” Wayne said. “We need to be proactive—to take the offensive. Especially in light of the upcoming cruise. Once you're gone…” He didn't need to finish that. If the Keepers abandoned the battle for the Base it would fall to the Overtakers. If the Base fell, the entire Kingdom—all the parks—might fall with it.

“
Fantasia
,” Finn reminded him yet again.

“The film has an interesting history that goes way back. It was the only film that Chernabog appeared in. Walt Disney referred to Chernabog as Satan himself. He's been described as part Minotaur, part Mayan bat god. He can summon fire and control ghosts and harpies. He's a creature of confusion and chaos. He is considered the most powerful villain Walt Disney ever created.”

“Then why haven't we seen any of that?” Finn wondered aloud. When Maleficent had animated the Yeti, he'd transfigured into Chernabog. And why do you sound so scared? Finn thought to himself.

“That falls under ‘Be careful what you wish for.' Do you know what torpor is?”

“No.”

“A hummingbird's resting state. Typically adopted during overnight hibernation.”

Philby would have known that, Finn thought.

“Our assumption is that Chernabog has been, and is still, in torpor. We've expected more trouble from him than we've had. So where's he been? In point of fact, the only times we can confirm Chernabog's involvement is when Maleficent moves him. Maybe his transfiguration into and back from the Yeti rendered him powerless. Maybe they don't want us to know. Or maybe the missing journal has something in it that will help him regain his power.”

“Now you're freaking me out.”

“The Minotaur part of him is itself a combination of man and bull. It has no natural source of sustenance. In mythology, the Minotaur devoured humans. He lived in a labyrinth, a maze only he understood.

“Camazotz,” Wayne continued, “is a Mayan bat god—the other half of Chernabog. Camazotz was also nourished by human sacrifice. At one time he bit the head off a young boy and offered it as a ball for a game.”

“And you're saying Chernabog is a combination of the two?”

“Yes. Walt's darkest creation ever.”

“And the journal is like an owner's manual?”

“Could be. We won't know until you get it back.”

“We…?”

“If you don't like Maleficent, think of Chernabog as ten times worse. Maleficent plots and schemes. She teases her prey. Chernabog bites your head off and makes a game out of it. He's fearsome.”

“So we don't want them giving him a reboot.”

“If that's what they're trying to do, then no. Definitely not.”

“Does the battle at the Base have anything to do with the contents of the journal?” Finn asked.

“We won't know until—”

“We get it back for you.”

“Now you're catching on.”

Finn's throat tasted strange. Even more upsetting was that he couldn't recall having the sensation of taste before as a DHI. Version 2.0 was dealing him all sorts of surprises. Next, his chest tightened, like a clamp on his heart. He began shaking. He was going into seizure.