Kingdom Keepers V (9781423153429) (30 page)

Another whispered past his ear as Finn leaned left.

She had another ball of fire in hand, but let it fall to the sand next to her. It sputtered and died.

“You resist the change that is coming,” she said. “This will be your undoing. I don't expect you to join us. I would never trust you, nor you me. Stop challenging me, take your friends with you, and you'll have your mother back. Good as new.”

His head felt as if it might burst. She was working to upset him, to put him off his guard.

“What if we…you and I…are nothing more than someone's game? Players in a game?” He'd been thinking about this recently, but had not shared the idea with anyone. Not even Philby. It struck him as ironic that Maleficent would hear it first. “You are a character. Your words and actions are designed by others. Walt Disney. The animators. Now the Imagineers. And it was the Imagineers who created me—as a DHI, giving you someone to battle. Isn't that just a little bit convenient?”

He could see his words affect her in the slumping of her shoulders and a glowering in her eyes.

“Nonsense…” she uttered, but her words lacked conviction.

“How do you think I feel? They're using us both.”

He was knee-deep in the surf before her own toes contacted the water and she realized his location. She waded in deeper as he'd known she would.

“Stay where you are!” she hollered.

Finn lowered his chin below the surface and spoke softly. “Starfish wise, starfish cries.”

Maleficent made a sweeping motion with her arm. The water around Finn illuminated in wire-thin bars of light forming a perfect octagon, fully encircling him.

He'd seen such a fence before—in the dungeon below Pirates—and had made the mistake of attempting to breach it. The shock had thrown him back. Finn fought to stay stock-still in the undulating surf, unsure what the energy beam might do to his DHI when standing waist-deep in seawater.

From all along the line where the breaking waves reached hungrily for the sand, a white foam arose like boiling water. Maleficent, proud of her accomplishment of confining Finn, and focusing her considerable energies into the electronic fence that surrounded him, took no notice of events at her feet.

Finn, however, witnessed the result of uttering King Triton's code. A small, pale claw appeared through the foam. Then another. Crabs. Not just hundreds, but thousands of them. Tens of thousands. All converging on Maleficent in the colorful pulses of light from the fireworks.

By the time she looked down, with an expression of terror overcoming her, she was in too deep to retreat. Knee-deep, to be precise—all in a matter of seconds. She sank into a hole dug beneath her by ten thousand furious beach crabs, the seawater roiling around her like a giant white inner tube. She put out her hands to tread water, to stop her descent, but screamed wickedly as the crabs bit her.

Her eyes found Finn and filled with venom.

Finn swelled with pride and confidence. He'd lured her out here; he used the code to defeat her. There was one last barrier to overcome:
all clear
. Philby was extremely smart, ridiculously capable, but he wasn't superior. Software was software. If 2.0
all clear
were achievable, then Finn possessed the tools necessary to achieve it. He didn't need a light at the end of a dark tunnel. That process required thinking. The point of 2.0 was its transparency. You didn't think your way, you trusted.

He cleared his head and walked through the glowing wires, unharmed.

Crossing her arms—her hands bloody—she continued to sink lower.

“Release my mother, and I'll call them off.”

Maleficent was waist deep and sinking quickly. “I—” She snatched the journal from her waist and held it above the water.

“You are in no position to argue!” he said, suddenly worried Triton's crabs would drown the fairy. In all his dreams of defeating her, he'd never thought of actually killing her. The idea sickened him. No matter how he hated and despised her, he would take no satisfaction in her drowning.

He said, “Release my mother!”

“She's human, you fool!”

What was that supposed to mean?

“Who did this?” she asked, now chest deep. “Was it Ariel? That little bi—”

Finn shouted. “You can save yourself! Release my—”

“You do so underestimate me.”

She vanished. One moment up to her chin; the next, the journal fell toward the water as a black cormorant appeared on the surface, shook water from its feathers, cawed loudly at Finn, and flew off toward the ship.

Finn ran through the knee-deep surf and snatched the journal from the surface.

The foaming water subsided, and through the calming waves Finn saw ten thousand crabs disperse.

Charlene arrived, out of breath.

“Look at you!” she said, seeing Finn up to his knees in beautiful water. “You know, some of us are working!”

“I…ah…” Finn pointed at the waves. At nothing. His fingers gripped the journal tightly.

“Philby and Willa are in the plane.”

“What plane?”

Charlene said impatiently, “Come on! Let's go!”

* * *

His Wave Phone in hand, Maybeck ran west toward the island's landing strip, responding to Philby's summons. Fireworks punctuated the sky to his left, the pace of the explosions increasing: the show was nearing its frantic finale. He hurdled a fallen palm tree that blocked the narrow path. Two abandoned Pargos were trapped on the near side of the fallen tree.

He'd added up the propane tank and Luowski's igniter: spark to gas, gas ignites. He'd wanted to tell Luowski that there was no gas to ignite—he and Tim had dismantled the tank's connection to the CO
₂
lines. But Philby's rule was to never share intel with the enemy; such arrogance nearly always backfired.

He arrived at the eastern end of the landing strip, a wide swath of asphalt between him and the stage-set airplane tucked into the jungle at the corner. The other plane—an actual, functional, twin-engine plane—was the center of a flurry of activity, as Cast Members crowded around its rear door, all struggling with something Maybeck couldn't see. Warning beeps signaled as the micro truck backed up slowly toward the airplane's rear door. The Cast Members were hissing orders at each other; no one seemed to be in charge.

He smelled burning rubber and saw a faint line of smoke smoldering at the edge of the runway's blacktop, then realized he and Tim had found only half of whatever system had been engineered. The discovery enraged him. He regretted leaving Luowski locked inside the shed. The headphones meant a radio. A radio meant he'd left Luowski with the ability to communicate.

At nearly the same instant Maybeck came to this realization, the pilot signaled a Cast Member and shouted something at him. The Cast Member immediately spun around, searching the runway's jungle perimeter. He then shouted at the others, his voice carrying through the percussive detonations in the sky.

“We've got company! Hurry it up!”

What to do, and how to do it? Maybeck wondered, scanning the scene. The presence of Cast Members confused him. Cast Members had proven themselves to be allies of the Kingdom Keepers—facilitators, support––even though Wayne had once warned to be wary of them. There was no way they would side with the Overtakers; they loved the parks and the Disney magic more than anyone.

His world was turned on its head. Maybeck tried to make sense of it. Maybe the Cast Members unloading the plane were as afraid of the Overtakers as he and the other Keepers were. But then what about Luowski? The boy's involvement meant trouble, plain and simple. The Cast Members could be impostors, the same way he and the Keepers had posed as crew members. Too many possibilities.

He watched as a large crate was unloaded from the plane and into the back of the truck. Four of the Cast Members tried to move it, but it required the strength of all six. Two of the Cast Members secured a back gate on the truck and slapped the side.

The truck moved off slowly, the driver careful of its contents.

* * *

“She's gone,” Finn whispered to Charlene from where they hid beneath Tia Dalma's cabana. “She and the others must have gotten away when I was with Maleficent.”

“Philby needs us,” she reminded.

“They planned this carefully. All of it at once. The beach party had to be their idea.” The damp journal sat on the sand.

“We can do this later, right? We need to help Philby and Willa.”

“What did she mean about my mother being human?” he asked Charlene.

“Who? What are you talking about?”

“Why would she say that? The ship's in danger. This journal is why.”

“Are you listening to me? Philby needs—”

“Jafar and Tia Dalma are characters. No one will think anything of them being on board.”

“Did you hear what I said about a plane landing? Willa and I overheard all of it. Some box—”

“There's a Disney Villain show, isn't there? Didn't I read about that in the
Navigator
? A stage show. That could be it.”

“Are you going to shut up and listen to me?” she said.

“Hmm? Yeah. Sure. A plane. A box. I got it.”

“Being put onto the
Dream
.”

“Philby's on it,” he said. “It's what we do, Charlie. We each take care of our own assignments.”

“You're just lying here in the sand. How can that possibly help?”

“I was attacked by Jafar's serpent staff. It's the
real
Jafar. The
real
Tia Dalma. The
real
Maleficent was trying to kill me out there. She talked about a change of leadership…the natural order. But why the ship? Why confine yourself—your team—to such a limited space? As big as the
Dream
is, it's no theme park.”

“It is a theme park, but it's a theme park that goes somewhere.”

Finn sat up so quickly he threw sand on her. “It does go somewhere!”

“Lots of places. Aruba. The canal—”

“L.A.!” he said.

“They're trying to get to the West Coast. They're trying to get to Disneyland,” Charlene said.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “Brilliant!” It was an unassuming kiss, but on the lips, and it paralyzed him.

Charlene seemed dazed. She reached behind his head, pulled him to her, and kissed him hard and long. When she let go, when she backed off, she said, “I thought so.” She smiled at him.

Finn could hardly breathe. He didn't want this. Why had he allowed it to go on so long? He wanted Amanda.

“I don't know. I just…had to.”

“But that isn't
us
.” Again, he envisioned Amanda.

“I know. But…I just knew it would be like that.”

He wasn't about to ask her “Like what?” because he knew exactly what she meant. It was like the kiss he'd shared with Storey Ming. Definitely not a middle-school kiss. He fought back a smile. What was it with girls, anyway?

“Disneyland,” he said.

She nodded, still breathing hard. She clearly wasn't thinking about Disneyland.

He brushed sand off the journal. “This is what Wayne wanted. We must protect it.”

“Philby needs us.”

“Go if you want.”

“Come with me.” There was a deeper meaning to her invitation, and they both knew it. She didn't want to leave him.

He, on the other hand, wanted her out of here.

“I need to keep this safe,” he said. “I can't risk it being retaken. They didn't want us knowing what was going on here,” he said, looking up at the floor of the cabana. “Jafar's staff was supposed to make sure of that. Tia Dalma made them bring the Cast Members to her. Why?”

She said nothing. Her eyes were focused on his lips.

“I'm going inside,” he said.

“What if she's in there?”

“She's not. I need to study the journal before heading back to the ship. Maleficent took it off the ship with her. Why take such a risk unless they needed it for something? It's too dark for me to read. But in there…”

The gaps in the floorboards revealed the flickering candlelight.

“The fireworks are ending. We need to get back onto the ship.”

“All the more reason to figure out what was so important.” He patted the journal.

“Make it quick,” she said.

“Yeah.” He waddled in a crouch to the open beach, stopping alongside the stairs and turning to look back.

She mouthed “Thank you” and tapped her wrist, indicating for him to hurry.

Finn climbed the stairs silently. Each cabana was divided in two with separate access. He eased the door open. Empty! The massage tables had been pushed to either wall, creating a space between them. On the floor was a pentagram drawn in chalk. There was a dead frog pinned by its limbs in the center pentagon; each of the triangles contained a small terra-cotta cup. There were dead moths in one; what looked and smelled like fish guts in another; a flower floating on oil in a third. Alongside the star was a sock puppet–like stuffed creature, with elbow macaroni on its head like horns. The doll was stained by green and mustard-colored dust. A red candle had dripped wax onto the floorboards. The whole thing gave Finn the creeps.

He scooted onto the nearest massage table and opened the journal, its pages stained, the writing smeared because of its exposure to the seawater. The parts written in pencil were blurred and sometimes illegible; he could make out the notes written in ink. It mentioned someone named Stravinsky. Finn knew the name—a Soviet general? an athlete? an author? He couldn't place it.

There were pages of sketches that included shooting stars and brooms, monsters and Mickey's sorcerer's hat. Whoever had made the notes had drawn arrows connecting ideas to sketches and ideas to ideas. Some were numbered and circled. Some carried asterisks. It would take someone like Philby a long time of study to begin to piece together the concepts and the intentions. For Finn, it came off as a kind of second language; one that included verse and coded footnotes.