Kingdom Keepers V (9781423153429) (8 page)

“Wait a second! Are you saying any kid aboard the
Dream
could be a potential murderer?” Willa asked.

“The desire to reduce your numbers, your effectiveness, cannot be ignored,” Wayne said. “We are considering all options.”

“DHIs,” Philby said. “Version 2.0. If they throw our DHIs overboard, all we have to do is return. No harm. No foul.”

Looking squarely at Finn, as if warning him, Wayne spoke. “There's always one in every crowd.” For years that “one” had been Finn; he'd nearly always been the first to understand a given situation. Was Wayne cautioning him that his standing as the leader of the Keepers was not to be taken for granted? Philby always had the jump on technical stuff. His jumping to such a conclusion was to be expected! Wasn't it?

“With 2.0,” Philby continued, “there's no way to tell the difference. No more blue line. We can allow ourselves to touch, or be touched. What if we just go aboard as DHIs?”

“A nice solution if your DHIs weren't already part of the plan, part of the canal inaugural.”

“What inaugural? What's going on?” a volunteer asked.

“A fair question,” Wayne said. “A new, larger set of locks on the Panama Canal is to be opened to commercial traffic. Many companies bid for the right to be the first ship through the locks—a terrific publicity opportunity, and one for the history books. Disney was awarded the prize, most likely because of our representing family and family values. And,”—he winked—“because we bid more than the others.” Everyone laughed. “The
Dream
, the first of a new class of Disney Cruise Line ships, is to make the inaugural voyage, Cape Canaveral to Los Angeles. At the same time, the DHI next-generation entertainment is to be rolled out on all the cruise ships. The company has combined the two events: the debut of Disney Hosts Interactive on the cruise line with the first ship to pass through the new locks. More bang for the buck.”

“Let's hope not,” Willa said.

A nervous chuckle rippled through the room.

“Wanda is working on Taser-proof undergarments.” Another rush of snickering. Wanda Alcott, Wayne's daughter, had come to their aid before. “Kind of like a space-age chain mail. A grounding device that dissipates the electrical charge. Necessary for you because your DHIs will be on board the ship at the same time you are.”

“But if at night we could find safe places to sleep…when our DHIs were thought to be down,” Philby said, unwilling to take no for an answer. “We could be out there and relatively safe from attack.”

“No question,” Wayne said. “The protection is critical, however. While you are asleep you will be at your most vulnerable.”

“I can work on that,” Philby said.

“Can I ask a question?” A volunteer had his hand raised. Kenny Carlson, a freckled redhead who, at six feet one, could have used twenty pounds. Ninth grade was an unfair time of life.

Wayne nodded.

“Exactly where do we fit into all this?” Kenny asked. He indicated the other volunteers.

“I'm glad you asked that, Mr. Carlson,” Wayne said.

Kenny looked like he'd been slapped. Wayne knew his name. Wayne had done his homework. Clearly, a volunteer wasn't allowed into the Keepers without a background check.

“First, we need a team at the Base. We cannot simply abandon that battle. While a possible diversion, the Base's role in the parks is too critical to be ignored. We are in the process of moving significant equipment during daylight hours to reduce our losses if we should lose the Base—but at the same time, we are aware this might be what they want: for us to spread our servers out and make it easier for them to steal them. It's a shell game.”

“And second?” Kenny said.

“It's my intention to put as many of you as possible aboard the
Dream
. This will be more difficult than it sounds and will involve an intense orientation to accomplish. Once on board, you will be a resource for the Keepers to draw upon.”

“Cool,” Kenny said. “I'm down with that.”

“Ditto!” said someone else in the group.

“I wouldn't get my hopes up,” Wayne said. “Both options come with risk.”

“I think we knew that going in,” Kenny said.

“If I could have a few minutes with the Keepers alone,” Wayne said. “Amanda and Jess, please stay as well.”

“We'll meet you outside,” Finn said.

The six volunteers left. Wayne and the Keepers clustered tightly around a table. He kept his voice to a whisper.

“The cruise is an obligation we can't get you out of and, as much as it might have once seemed like a dream come true—pun intended—it now appears much the opposite. There is a great deal to accomplish. The volunteers need training. Everything you can do to school them is not just important, but critical at this juncture. Once on the ship you must take every precaution for your safety. Travel in pairs. Enter your staterooms with caution. You are in a contained space on that ship, a finite space, a situation you've not faced before. The journal Finn and Willa saw taken by the Overtakers involves, among other subjects, the lore behind Chernabog.”

Willa and Finn exchanged a knowing glance.

“And there were hyenas,” Finn said. “Angry hyenas.”

“Excuse me?” Willa inquired.

“The chase?”

“What chase? What are you talking about?” Willa said.

Wayne fixed his concentration upon her. “You don't recall being pursued by hyenas?” He checked over with Finn.

“Of course I do,” Willa said.

Finn said to Willa, “In the factory? Or whatever?”

“What factory? Whatever…are you talking about?”

“But you remember Maleficent. The Evil Queen?”

“In the library? Dah.”

“And then we took off through the factory.”

“No. Then we were backstage at the Studios and we returned.”

A hushed silence as Finn considered not only what she was telling him, but her conviction. They both had two very different memories of the same moment.

Finn met eyes with Wayne. “What's going on?”

Wayne shook his head, confused.

“I dreamed it?” Finn said, still looking directly at Wayne.

“Well, I didn't,” Willa said. “The library
is
backstage at the Studios, after all.”

“Maybe you had a dream like mine,” Jess said. She, who could dream the future.

“More likely just a nightmare,” Finn said. “Or a bug in 2.0.” But he wondered if it was possible. Had he dreamed the future, confused the present, imagined something out of thin air?

“Now you know how it feels,” Jess said. “Unsettling, isn't it?”

“Not good,” he said.

“Not good at all,” she said. “And yet, they call it a gift.”

“Okay. I get it.” He and the other Keepers were guilty of thinking Jess and Amanda were gifted. The girls had argued “cursed.”

He continued, “It was just like any other crossing over.”

“Surprisingly real,” Jess said. “As real as it gets.”

Wayne appeared troubled by the news. “While I welcome such resources,” the older man said, “this is not a time for personality shifts. We require each of you in full control of your faculties. We cannot have you doubting things.”

He made it sound like a reprimand.

“I'm sorry, Finn,” Willa said. “I didn't mean to freak you out or anything.”

“Not your problem,” Finn said.

“Wanda will get the suits to you. Wear them,” Wayne said. “Use them. A Taser would be an effective weapon against you as it would knock you unconscious and render you susceptible to a rogue DHI server. We should have foreseen this. Once asleep, if they regain the ability to cross you over—which they might if they get control of the Base—they could trap your DHI and lock you in the Sleeping Beauty Syndrome.”

Wayne's explanation hung over the group like a foul smell.

“I will speak with Finn for a moment,” Wayne announced. “Then we are done here.”

The Keepers and “the sisters” dispersed in clusters, heading out to connect with the volunteers.

Finn had been blindsided by Willa's disclaimer. His mouth was dry. He felt feverish.

Wayne said, “There's someone you must meet.”

S
omeplace dark. Fabric walls. A black floor. Shifting scenes between a girl trapped by adults and the steady advance of three dark silhouettes.

Women, by their swaying hips and steady gaits.

Then…

An enormous wooden crate. The girl again, with nowhere to go.

And the sounds, distant yet present. Alluring. Compelling. Yet frightening.

Water. Big water.

The creaking of metal.

The women again, now exuding a malignant presence.

She backed up into the fabric wall and stumbled. It failed to support her. It moved.

A curtain.

A ship.

Jess sat bolt upright in bed, reaching automatically for her journal, as was her way. She sketched furiously, pencil to paper even before she switched on the Itty Bitty Book Light.

Amanda's face appeared in the gloom from the overhead bunk.

“Another one?”

But Jess didn't need to answer. The sweat on her face and the terror in her eyes said it all. Nonetheless, she did answer.

“We need help,” she said.

* * *

It wasn't fair to call it prison. Being underage and homeless, there were a lot worse situations than living with a bunch of other kids, even if the adults that fed you and schooled you also studied your every fiber. You could come and go as long as you were willing to submit to wearing an ankle bracelet tracking device.

But the rules specified “no unauthorized contact,” which translated loosely to the monitoring of Internet and mobile phone connections, where applicable. Mattie Weaver could have friends, but the friendships would be watched. They would be cut off and refused if deemed a threat to what was termed “the Project.”

Because of this, Mattie needed the help of her fellow Fairlies—as in “fairly human.” Kids with unusual abilities. When tracked in groups, the Fairlies caused far less concern in those responsible for their containment. It was the “rogue,” the kid that wandered off alone, that won attention.

They stopped at Ground Central, a popular local coffee bar and Internet café. While a few of her friends ordered drinks, two others used the washroom, allowing Mattie to use one of the computer terminals immediately adjacent to the washroom. The girls rotated use of the computer, switching places. They checked Internet mailboxes that their government overseers did not know about. They checked their Facebook pages and other sites. All in secret.

Mattie saw her reflection in a mirror behind the computers—two small scars on her lower lip where the piercings had been. Only the faint remains of the rust red that had once been her hair color, her natural black grown out six inches. The lonely, searching eyes she couldn't stand looking back at her. She glanced away.

Whoever was monitoring their ankle bracelets saw only a group of the girls at a coffee shop. If he zoomed in, he might be able to see them move from the front of the store to the back—where the washroom was located. No one knew the extent of their abilities, but put nothing past them.

One particular email threw Mattie's heart into a flutter. She knew who belonged to the fake identity—Cary Shute. Knew the importance of what would turn out to be a coded message. She copied it word for word, returning to the barracks before using a Holy Bible to decode it. Sometimes the translations needed translations because the Bible didn't always offer the most easily understood verbiage.

And a date, only days away.

Sons and daughters equaled
family
, she thought, or
friends
.

Need help.

A story about a boat would help her to gain passage? Noah? she wondered…someone named Noah?

The date was self-explanatory.

The email was from a friend who'd escaped the barracks with another girl several years ago. The system to escape still existed.

Amanda needed her.

It was her turn to try.

T
he living room curtains rustled behind an evening breeze and created a gentle flapping sound, like a dog scratching. There was no other sound in the room except for Finn's expectant breathing as he awaited his mother's decision. He'd taken a big risk including her, and they both knew it. But without her participation and blessing, the mission Wayne had assigned him would require him to lie and cheat. At least this way if he broke the rules she would know why.

When his mother was upset, her face pinched and she resembled a bird. And not a pretty bird, but a bird of prey. Finn saw people this way: as extensions of animals like bulldogs and lizards. His mother was definitely a bird.

“If you're going to ask these things of me,” she whispered harshly, “at least you can make the request reasonable.”

“But if it's not reasonable in the first place, how am I supposed to change it?”

“I'm not asking you to change it. I'm asking you to decline the request in the first place so we don't have to deal with it.”

“So I'm just supposed to tell him no?” Wouldn't Wayne just turn to Philby if Finn declined an assignment? There was no way Finn was going to let that happen.

“That's exactly what you should have told him,” she hissed. “Look at the situation he has put us in!”

“But he wouldn't ask if there wasn't already a situation. So what makes our situation so much more important than his?”

Stumped, she glowered at him. “Don't twist my words, young man.”

“Everything all right in there?” Finn's father called from the television room. Normally a man without a clue, he must have picked up on their silence. Typically, Finn and his mom were anything but quiet around the house, with her barking orders to pick up after himself or set the table or do the dishes or take out the trash. His little sister moved about like a ghost, doing everything right, winning the adoring affection of her parents and ignoring Finn to where half the time he forgot she lived there.

“Fine!” his mother called through the wall.

“Awfully quiet in there.”

To that she said nothing. She waited for the TV's mute to go off. An end of an ad played, replaced by the late news.

“I can do it with you or without you,” Finn said.

“Don't do that. It's beneath you.”

“I'm just saying.”

“Well, don't. You know how I feel about you trying to manipulate me.”

“The wart does it all the time.”

“Don't call your sister that.”

“She does manipulate you.”

“She does not. I'm quite aware of when I'm being played, believe me. If I go along with it, there's a reason: like straight As and completing her piano practice each and every night.”

“So now you're manipulating me?” he said.

She cracked a smile. “Guilty.” Her eyes shone. He loved her to his core when she looked like that at him. He also knew he'd won. They had something of a magical connection, he and his mom. The arguments were over.

“We'll have to think up a darn good excuse,” she whispered. “He's not stupid, you know.”

“What about something to do with Groupon?” Finn's father was consumed with Groupon deals. He was buying stuff and signing up for stuff he had no use for simply because it was seventy percent off.

“You really did inherit my brains,” his mother said.

“If you do say so.”

“And I do.” Another of those smiles of hers. “Trouble is, he checks them all.”

“Then Living Social?”

“Good one! Sports clothing at Downtown Disney,” she said. “Late night sale.”

His father unconditionally supported any purchase related to sports, wishing Finn was more interested.

“What a team,” he said.

“We are, aren't we?”

“What's all the excitement?” his father called out.

In the course of their enthusiasm they'd allowed their voices to rise. Another ad break.

Finn circled his hand, encouraging her to speak up. One had to seize such golden opportunities where his father was concerned.

“We're going to run out for a while,” she hollered. Then she stood and walked in to speak with him since one of the many house rules was no shouting. Shortly after, the two were in the car, and Finn was telling his mother to shut her eyes so he could change into his bathing suit.

“I can't shut my eyes! I'm driving.”

He climbed into the back and changed, then returned to the front passenger seat, his shorts worn under his suit.

“I would hope you wouldn't need that,” his mother said.

“Typhoon Lagoon is a water park, Mom.”

“Don't get smart with me.”

He had a comeback to that, but he swallowed it. “I'm just saying I want to be ready.”

“You'll be careful.”

“I'm always careful.”

She had a comeback to that, but she swallowed it.

* * *

He'd never arrived at Typhoon Lagoon at night. The palm trees formed a dark throat that swallowed the car. The attraction lit the night sky above it as if a UFO had landed in the jungle.

“You sure he said ten o'clock?” his mother asked from behind the wheel.

“Positive.”

“Why so late?”

“How should I know? It's Wayne. It's what he told me to do. He does things his way. At least we're not the only ones here.” The huge parking lot held some parked cars scattered in spaces nearest the entrance.

“Wouldn't you be safer crossed over? As your DHI?”

The thing about his mom was that she understood the technology as well as Philby did. Better than her own son, which put Finn at a disadvantage. But he obviously knew stuff she didn't.

“Our DHIs aren't projected here. We aren't installed in the water parks yet.”

“Did you see that?” his mother said, jerking her head and grabbing the car's rearview mirror.

Finn spun in his seat. “See what?”

“It was like…nah…”

“Like what?”

“Never mind.”

“Mom!”

“I thought I saw someone…well…sneaking around back there.”

“Where?”

“At the edge of the parking lot.”

“Seriously?”

“A shadow is all.”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Besides, there're not that many lights back there to cast shadows.”

“I'm jumpy is all.”

“I'm going to be fine, Mom.”

“Keep your phone on,” she said. “I'll call you if I see anything else.”

“My scout,” he said.

“Don't push it.”

“While you're at it? Lock the doors.”

“If you're trying to scare me, it's working.”

“I'm trying to be smart,” he said, quoting her. “When in doubt, do it the smart way” was a favorite expression of hers. He'd pick up points with her where he could. Parents loved to hear themselves quoted.

“Do be smart,” she said, her eyes tracking to the rearview mirror surreptitiously. Whatever she'd seen back there had stayed with her whether she was going to admit it or not.

“I'm on the guest list,” Finn told the woman at the ticket booth. Technically, the park closed early, usually between five and eight depending on the season and day of the week. Tonight a part of it was rented out for a private party, just as Wayne had said it would be. The party was taking place in Crush 'n' Gusher, leaving the rest of the park off limits. But Wayne had told him there were ways to get around that as well.

“Aren't you…?” the woman said, studying him more closely.

“Finn Whitman.”

“One of the guides.”

“A Disney host. Yes.”

“Well, I'll be. Nice to meet you.” She leaned into the counter. “Listen…is there any truth to the—”

“Great place you have here,” he said, cutting her off. People were always asking about whether the Kingdom Keepers actually existed. The nondisclosure agreement Finn and the others had signed prevented him from giving a straight answer even if he'd wanted to, which he didn't. The Kingdom Keepers was like one of those super-secret clubs at Yale or Harvard. It wasn't something you advertised.

“You're welcome here anytime,” the woman said.

Just as Wayne had predicted.

“You wouldn't mind then if I walked around a little?” he asked. “If I didn't spend all of my time in Crush 'n' Gusher?”

“Let's just say we have a friend in common, you and me,” the woman said. “So far as I'm concerned, you can go anywhere your little heart desires. No one's going to mess with you. In fact, you have the park to yourself. That's what our friend asked for. We'll be closing down the party soon.”

“I just want a look around,” he said.

She winked. “Sure you do.” She came through the door and opened the gate nearest the ticket booth. “Go ahead, have a look around.”

“It's not like that,” he said. “I'm just going to meet someone.”

“Sure you are, sweetness. You go right ahead. Meet whomever you want.” She motioned him through the gate.

He wasn't sure he wanted to go any farther.

People got goofy around him and the others. More so lately than ever before. Grown-ups. Children. Teachers. It didn't seem to matter. His mother called it celebrity. But if this was celebrity, he felt sorry for famous people. Perfectly nice people melted down into blubbering fools around celebrities. Women behind counters allowed you access they shouldn't. Doors were opened that shouldn't be opened for you. Maybeck could get into any club he wanted. Thankfully he didn't want to get into any clubs. But at fifteen he was underage, so what was with that? It was like people wanted so badly to give you stuff that they'd poison you just to say they were the ones who had done it. Fame was not for the weak-minded. Being adored was dangerous.

Finn heard the partying over at Crush 'n' Gusher and felt heavily tempted to blow off the Wayne assignment and ride the slides. It was probably college kids. He wondered what kind of parent could afford to rent Typhoon Lagoon for their kid's party. Only one answer: a very rich one. Finn was not rich. He didn't know how to act around rich people. Once across the bridge over Castaway Creek he turned left as Wayne had instructed, though was once again tempted by the sound of laughter and squeals of joy over at the Crush.

He continued around the curve toward Keelhaul and Mayday Falls, all alone. As a Keeper, Finn was accustomed to empty parks, the vastness, the creepiness, but Typhoon Lagoon was a new one for him, and it took some getting used to. The water in the Surf Pool was as flat and shiny as an ice rink. But the waterfalls and slides were all running, the churning sound filling the night air. It was the emptiness that creeped him out. What had Wayne gotten him into? He was used to a thousand screaming kids here. Besides the rush of water there was only the occasional shriek from Crush 'n' Gusher to keep him company.

As Wayne had instructed, he took the long way around to the Typhoon Boatworks, though it seemed wrong not to take the more direct route. He wasn't sure why Wayne wanted this, but Finn assumed it was to keep him from getting too close to the party and needing to explain himself. Or maybe it was so that someone could keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't being followed. Or maybe it was so he could figure out if someone was following him. Or maybe Wayne was losing a step. Maybe Wayne was a few quarts low. He recalled his mother's attention to her rearview mirror and he felt a shiver. After becoming a DHI and Kingdom Keeper his life had transformed into a complex of alliances and enemies. He didn't wish such an existence on anyone. It wasn't like he was a superhero; he was just a kid. But he had superhero issues to deal with.

Finn kept away from the edge of the Surf Pool, though he wanted to climb to the lookout. He took the tunnel that led to the path behind the wave-generator wall, now on the Mountain Trail and continuing toward Humunga Kowabunga, his second-favorite spot in the park after Storm Slides.

He heard something behind him and stopped short. The scuffing continued briefly, but stopped abruptly. In his former life he might have called out to see who was there. But not as a Keeper. He ducked into the foliage and squatted low, trying to be quiet. He broke a small branch on a bush and to him it sounded as loud as a starting pistol. He waited and waited, wondering if it had only been his imagination since no one appeared and he heard nothing out of the ordinary—only the distant euphoria of the party echoing throughout the empty park. Finally he summoned his courage and reentered the trails.

But within a few steps he heard the same sound again. This time he identified it more as plastic on stone. Like a bucket being dragged or a water bottle being set down onto a hard surface. Not a single bucket. Many buckets.

Again he hid in the foliage, pushed back away from the path, but still with a view of it.

The sounds grew closer and his fear intensified. They weren't human sounds.