Kingdom Keepers III Dinsey in Shadow

by Ridley Pearson

  * * *

  Charlene got the cal seconds after Maybeck hit the seat-restraint button.

  Jess spoke softly into the phone and so it was difficult for Charlene to hear. “I see a screen,”

  she said, “like a TV screen. There are two squares beneath it to either side and switches to the side. Three labels. Wil a thinks the labels mean it’s your ride, Mission: Space.”

  “Yes! She’s right. I’m looking at a bunch of screens right now, and there’re a gazil ion square buttons and switches al over the place.”

  “‘Valves’…‘Hypersleep’…‘First Stage,’” Jess said. “Those are the labels. I don’t know what they mean, or even if they mean something, but Wil a thinks it’s important.”

  Charlene repeated the three labels, her eyes searching the console. The Hypersleep button was directly below the Engineer screen. Next, she spotted the 1st Stage Sep button below the Commander’s screen.

  “That’s al I’ve got,” Jess said.

  Charlene thanked her and was about to ask her to describe the location of the Valves button, when the doors hissed. Maybeck hit the button. The door was about to close.

  “I need you in here!” she shouted to Maybeck, realizing that with her seat belt locked around her waist, she couldn’t reach the 1st Stage button, only the Hypersleep. “Now!”

  For once, Maybeck listened to someone else. He dove through the opening as the door slid shut, landing across her knees, extended the ful length of the capsule. He caught a foot, and just wrenched it free—his running shoe coming off—as the door sealed shut.

  Charlene had reached out to pul on his leg to free his stuck foot. It was in that confusion that her eye lit upon a set of switches stacked vertical y: Electrics, Hydraulics, Valves.

  Valves! she realized. They were in such an out-of-the way location, she might have missed them entirely had she not reached for Maybeck’s leg.

  But now, as the interior lights went dark, rendering the capsule pitch-black, and a screen flickered, showing a blue sky fil ed with soft white clouds, she worked to imprint the exact location of those switches: to her right, and a little lower than her elbow.

  “How long is this ride?” she asked Maybeck, who had pul ed himself to sitting, feet on the floor, facing the far left screen.

  “I don’t know. Five minutes? Feels a lot longer than that, but that’s what I’m guessing. Did I happen to mention that I hate this ride?”

  The screen showed they were lining up with a launch platform. The pod began to shake and the roar of rocket engines drowned out al thought.

  “We…have…to…focus!” she said, her teeth rattling. “We have five minutes to figure out these buttons.”

  “What buttons?”

  “You take the Commander screen.”

  “Got it.”

  “Lower left button is marked—”

  “First Stage Sep,” he said.

  “That’s it. I’ve got the Hypersleep button and, I hope, the Valves switch. My guess is that we need to work these buttons in the right order and something wil happen.”

  “That doesn’t sound so great,” Maybeck said. “What if we don’t want it to happen?”

  The capsule lifted and, as it did, the force driving Charlene back into her seat became intense. She sensed the capsule’s spinning and began to feel dizzy.

  “Note to self,” Maybeck said, “I could easily hurl, or pass out, or whatever. So if we’re going to do something, I would suggest sooner than later.”

  The liftoff was causing the capsule to feel like it might break apart.

  “What…happens…first?” she managed to ask.

  “Stage separation,” he answered. “I know that much.”

  “And that’s you. Okay….”

  “And like right away!” he spit out.

  At that instant, the narrator’s voice instructed the Commander, “Initiate first stage separation… Now! ” The 1st Stage Sep button lit up.

  “Push the button,” Charlene hol ered too loudly, “and hold it! Do not let go! ”

  “Got it!” Maybeck said, depressing the button. “Hyperspace is next.”

  The Mission Control woman told them they were looking good. Maybeck had a few choice words for her, but kept them to himself. The man’s voice told the pilot to fire the second-stage rockets.

  “Don’t do anything,” she said.

  “But what if—”

  “It’s not part of Wayne’s instructions.”

  “But we’re not even sure—”

  “Do not touch any buttons. Not until I say so.”

  “Who put you in charge?”

  “You did, remember? You wanted me in the capsule. Wel , here I am.”

  They might have been able to see each other given the glow of the monitors, but Charlene couldn’t sit forward. She was pasted back in her seat. The capsule slingshot around the moon and the Mission Control man told the engineer to activate Hyperspace.

  “Okay….” Charlene said, reaching out and pressing and holding the Hypersleep button.

  “He said Hyper space, not Hyper sleep.”

  “Yeah? Wel , we’re making this up as we go,” she said. She could see Maybeck’s outstretched arm—thankful y, he was stil holding the 1st Stage Sep button.

  While holding the Hypersleep button, she stretched to find the Valves switch. She felt in the dark—top switch, middle switch, lower switch. She walked her fingers up and counted them again.

  She talked to herself: “Top: Electrics. Middle: Valves. Lower: Hydraulics.”

  “What’s going on? We’re about to…crash on Mars.”

  “I’m going to throw the switch,” she cal ed out. “Hold on.”

  “Hold on? I’m flat as a pancake over here, Charlene, and I’m about to lose my cookies. And that makes pancakes and cookies, and that’s not pretty.”

  Charlene touched the switch, hesitating only a heartbeat. Then she pushed it down.

  Suddenly, the pressure against her chest tripled.

  “It’s speeding up!” Maybeck cried out.

  “I…know,” she managed to choke out. But she could barely breathe.

  * * *

  Wil a turned the handle of the projection-booth door, pausing before pul ing it open. She double-checked with Jess, who nodded. Wil a cracked the door open just far enough to peer inside.

  The overhead fluorescent tube lights flickered and came on automatical y—motion sensors had sensed the door opening. A bar of light escaped the crack in the door and Wil a did the only thing that made any sense to do: she jerked the door open, pul ed Jess inside with her, and eased the door shut as quickly and quietly as possible.

  The first thing that impressed her about the space was how neat and clean it was. The equipment was big and clunky—white metal boxes, and a tal glass one just ahead, al careful y labeled and covered in warning stickers. The projector itself was enormous, situated in the middle of the narrow room. Wide film fed from the glass case into the projector and then looped around and returned to the case.

  “The IMAX film,” Jess said, “is a continuous loop. This box,” she said, indicating the glass tower, “keeps the film organized—see al the rol ers?” The glass box held the film between rol ers top to bottom so that a hundred yards or more of film could be stored in a four-foot-by-three-foot box, just four feet high.

  “Maybe I get the four-one-one another time, if it’s okay with you?” Wil a said, her face sweaty, her eyes nervous.

  “Sure, no problem.” But Jess studied al the equipment with fascination, having read about it and studied it, but never having seen it in person.

  Wil a moved quickly through the projection room to a far door and careful y opened it as wel .

  “He’s not here,” she said. “It’s a storage room.”

  Jess took her time at the projector.

  “It’s like one of those computer clean rooms,” Wil a said. “And check it out: the temperature and humidity are monitored. So I’m guessing this is the place
that reported the temperature drop back to maintenance.”

  Jess final y broke away from her study of the gear. “And that means…maleficent?”

  “If Maleficent entered this room the temperature would sure drop considerably, so yes, I assume at some point she was here.”

  “For what reason?”

  “That’s what we need to figure out. Does it have to do with their testing the new New York film? Something to do with Wayne? Was he kept here for a while? I don’t know the answers.”

  “We’re assuming Wayne is here somewhere in Epcot,” Jess said. “Because of my dream—

  the jacket he’s wearing and our discovery of the boardroom mural. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “So what if the Overtakers found out that Wayne had discovered their plans? I mean, when they took me, it was to keep me from seeing into the future and knowing what they were up to. So what if Wayne presented the same problem: he knew what they were up to?”

  “Okay, I’m with you.”

  “And Wayne had been al over the park putting this together. Right? I mean that’s what he would do, isn’t it? Make sure he was right? And let’s say that the Overtakers had some way of knowing where Wayne had gone. A GPS chip in his phone, or maybe a memo he’d written, or questions he’d asked to the wrong person. That’s not so important. What is important is that the Overtakers had some way of knowing where he’d been, what he’d been up to.”

  “Which could have happened in any number of ways.”

  “Exactly right.”

  “So,” Wil a said, “Maleficent or the Overtakers retrace Wayne’s steps, and in doing so trip al the temperature sensors because the temperature drops wherever she goes.”

  “She’s smart enough to hide somewhere that won’t happen. We’re not going to find her in one of the places on the maintenance list. I don’t believe that’s going to happen.”

  “But we’re here because Wayne was once here,” Wil a said. “I think this makes a lot of sense.”

  “Me, too. So that means we need to figure out why Wayne came here. Why Soarin’? Why the projection booth? He must have been onto the Overtakers’ plan. They fol owed him here, just as we have.”

  “So they probably took whatever it was that he was after—if he didn’t take it himself,” Wil a said.

  “Possibly.”

  “Probably, is more like it.”

  “But you’re forgetting something: he went missing during al the trouble in the Animal Kingdom when you guys were trying to find me. There’s a time thing here. The maintenance logs are more recent than that, so the Overtakers came here after they already had Wayne. So they were or are looking for something that Wayne didn’t have on him when they got him. You can bet they searched the Firehouse—and they obviously didn’t find it there either.”

  “So it’s stil here,” Wil a said.

  “I think so. I think there are clues of some sort al over the park. Wayne left them in the attractions that have to do with flying. He’s trying to save the park. You know that’s his main concern. That’s just Wayne. The Blake poem was trying to tel us that he’s wil ing to die to save the parks, if necessary. So whatever he was worried about is here.”

  “Unless they found it,” Wil a clarified.

  “True,” Jess said. “But if they found it, then why did they keep looking? The maintenance log has Maleficent—or at least temperature drops—happening al over the place.”

  “So they never did find it!” Wil a said.

  “Or, there’s more than one thing to find. More than one clue, one piece of evidence. Wayne spread it around, knowing that would increase our chances of figuring it out.”

  “There’s something here somewhere,” Wil a said, spinning around.

  “I think so,” said Jess.

  “So we conduct a search. A methodical search, just the way Wayne would expect Philby to organize it.”

  “We start at the door and work our way forward,” Jess said.

  “One question,” Wil a said. “Could it be in the film? If he spliced a single frame into the film, would it ever be spotted?”

  “At twenty-four frames per second,” Jess said, quoting her research, “I doubt it. It might flicker, but you wouldn’t see it. Good point. What a hiding place! That’s bril iant, Wil a!”

  “Thank you.”

  “But we’re going to catch it. Not while the film is moving. Your eye can’t pick it up with the film moving so fast.”

  The film was moving as the test downstairs continued.

  “So?”

  “Wayne would know the film is stored in the glass box. It’s too hard for us to see it al in there.

  If he left a clue spliced into the film it would have to be right at the start, right where we’d see it when the film was stopped and waiting to load and, I hate to say it, but it would be the California film, not the New York one they’re testing.” She pointed to an enormous aluminum wheel—a case

  —sitting on the floor. “That’s the California film. It’s basical y a crime to open that box. The film is incredibly sensitive to dust and dirt in the air. You handle with special white—”

  She was interrupted by Wil a’s pointing to a pair of the very gloves she was describing.

  “Okay,” Jess said. “I’l check the film while you search the room. But you have to be thorough.”

  “We both have to be thorough.”

  “And fast,” Jess said. “If they have a problem with their test, they may head up here.”

  They got to work. Five minutes passed. Ten. Jess had the case open and was careful y reviewing each frame of the film’s leader by holding the film up to the overhead light.

  Wil a was working her way through the room, inch by inch, making note of every piece of equipment and anything that might be unusual about it.

  “Got something!” Jess said, her white-gloved hands careful y holding the film over her head.

  Wil a joined her.

  “See the splice line?” Jess said. “I mean, there are several in the leader, so it’s not anything huge by itself, but see this second splice? It’s a single frame that has been cut into the film. And that is unusual. This is the only one I’ve seen.”

  “But it’s black.”

  “It’s dark, yes. It blends in that way with the rest of the leader. But it’s not actual y black, just very, very, dark. We need more light.”

  “Such as?”

  “I’m not sure. The projector’s light is incredibly bright. If we could slide the whole can over there, and I could get close enough to where the light is leaking out, maybe…”

  “So let’s do it,” Wil a said.

  The film can was incredibly heavy. Even working together, the two couldn’t budge it.

  “We’l have to unwind the film far enough to get the leader over there,” Jess said. “And it can’t touch the floor or it’s ruined. Use your socks as gloves.”

  “What?”

  “Take off your socks and use them as gloves. You’re going to have to hold the film.”

  A minute later Jess was uncoiling the film from the can and Wil a was supporting it, keeping it from touching the floor. Jess managed to get the splice up to the edge of the projector, from which a bril iant white light seeped out and il uminated the dark rectangle of spliced film.

  What she saw astounded her.

  “It’s a seat belt sign,” she said.

  “A what?”

  “You heard me. Like you’d see on an airplane or something.”

  Jess had turned to look back at Wil a. In doing so, she’d lost track of her hands. They wandered into the projector’s beam, interrupting it. She noticed this immediately, but it was too late: she’d broken the image being projected to the screen.

  “Uh-oh,” she said. Glancing out through the projection windowpane she could just make out the two tiny figures wel below, at the control console. The bigger of the two—the man—was pointing up toward the booth.

  “The lights!” s
he said to Wil a. “The room lights can be seen from below. They know we’re here!”

  Wil a kept her calm, immediately coiling the film back into the can. Jess fed her the extra length.

  “I saw something…I have to check something,” Wil a said.

  “Saw what?”

  “In this book over there. It’s a journal. It’s marked A-three, whatever that means. But I think it’s some kind of maintenance log. There was something about seat belts…”

  “No way,” Jess said.

  “Way.”

  The projector stopped.

  “This is not good,” said Wil a.

  They’d fed enough film into the can that Jess could take over and finish it up. Wil a pul ed her hands from her socks, dropping one in the process. She hurried over past the projector. The journal was an oversized notebook with a hardcover. She flipped through the pages as Jess finished putting the film away and closing the canister.

  “He’s got to be on his way up here,” Jess said. “I know he saw the light on.”

  “I knew it!” Wil a said. “The last entry lists a seat belt inspection. Some of the seat belts were locking but not opening. And get this! The dates of al the other maintenance work…it ends like two years ago. They must have automated the work or something. But this seat belt thing…it’s dated three weeks ago.”

  “Right when Wayne went missing.”

  “Bingo,” Wil a said.

  “It has to mean something.”

  Wil a moved to the projection window.

  “Oh, no…” she gasped. “He’s on his way up here.”

  “Wel , we can’t go out the door.”

  “And it’s not like we can hide in here.”

  “There!” Jess said. She pointed beyond Wil a to a door.

  They hurried and opened the door. It led into the upper-level superstructure of the ride—a catwalk that led out into the dark and the steel girders that supported Soarin’s huge swings below.

  “We’re supposed to go out there?” Wil a groaned.

  “Just don’t look down!” Jess said.

  They stepped out into the dark and pul ed the door closed. Jess made the mistake of not fol owing her own advice: she glanced down. One misstep, and they would fal sixty feet through steel pipes to a concrete floor.