Kingdom Keepers VI

by Ridley Pearson

  Glancing up, Finn saw the ship’s port rails filling with spectators. This was what he’d hoped for: word spread quickly aboard the Dream, especially around whale or dolphin sightings. If their fellow Keepers were still looking for them—and Finn had every reason to believe they were—there was no way they would miss this.

  Equally important, however, was that not too many passengers see the two kids riding the dolphins. Better that the sighting seem like the ramblings of someone who had drunk too much, or be taken as a Disney special effect. The Panama Canal cruise had been designated a Kingdom Keepers cruise, after all—excuses could be made.

  Finn leaned down to his pilot, having no idea where a dolphin’s ears were located. “Stay under!” he called out.

  Having no idea what Finn had just said, the dolphin rose and leaped again. Finn saw that the flippers by his legs aimed upward as the dolphin dove; he reached out and held the flippers up, then let go. The dolphin got the message, diving deeper. Finn pulled the flippers to horizontal—using them as an equestrian would reins. The dolphin responded, leveling off. Its companion dolphin, carrying Willa, caught up, staying abreast of the leader, both submerged.

  Willa’s short hair streamed behind. She glanced over at Finn, eyes white with exhilaration.

  The passengers on deck would be scouring the waves, hoping. But by now the crowd would be growing. Finn didn’t need witnesses comparing notes: Did you see the two kids riding the dolphins?

  The dolphins sped forward, racing through the water like torpedoes. Willa and Finn held tight. Thirty seconds underwater… Forty…

  How long until the Keepers heard about the sighting and communicated with the Radio Studio to attempt a Return?

  Willa motioned a thumb up, toward the surface. Finn, in weighing exposure to the passengers against the chance to return, had neglected the needs of the hardworking dolphins, who were mammals and required fresh air. He pressed the dolphin’s flippers down, holding them there briefly. The dolphin responded, raising its head, kicking its fluke, and exploding into the night. Water sprayed from its blowhole, fresh air filling its lungs.

  Finn heard shouts as viewers called out to one another.

  Then his arms tingled. He looked over at Willa, but it was like looking at her through a shower curtain; her image was faded and dull. She reached for him, and he for her. Their fingers wiggled, trying to touch. They connected.

  Finn woke in an empty stateroom. Bone dry. Panting. A dream? A nightmare? Or had he returned? Nearly always the same sensation—mystical, mysterious. Awash in disbelief and not trusting his own powers of observation, he briefly wondered if he’d imagined everything.

  Or had he lived it?

  Where did the potency of possibility give way to the power of persuasion?

  FROM THE MOMENT Finn and Willa had jumped off the deck, the situation on board the ship had gone from bad to worse.

  As he’d leaped, Finn had thrown a small object back onto Deck 4. It had been spotted by Amanda and Jess, two girls with unusual abilities who had joined forces with the five Keepers. The “sisters” had been crossed over onto the ship hours earlier as holograms at the instruction of Wayne’s daughter, Wanda. Wayne supervised all the Keepers’ activities and missions; he had the final word on everything.

  The four hyenas in pursuit of Finn had seen it as well. Nasty creatures intent on reducing Finn to a midnight snack, the hyenas were homicidal maniacs. The lead hyena was so determined to catch Finn that it misjudged the traction on the slippery deck and plowed headfirst into the metal railing, knocking itself unconscious. The second beast bounced off the rail, but recovered. Hyena number three aimed for whatever it was Finn had tossed behind, and snapped it up in its frothing mouth.

  Maybeck arrived on deck wearing a kitchen costume: white pants and pullover shirt. “Don’t ask,” he said to the bandaged Charlene at his side. The ship’s doctor had patched her wounded shoulder.

  A big kid for his fifteen years, and fearless to the point of stupidity, Maybeck dove for the hyena but missed. None of the kids knew exactly what the hyena had stolen, but Finn had tried to save it, which made it important.

  Maybeck’s effort was commendable if unsuccessful. He tried for the animal’s rear leg. But this model hyena came equipped with the full package, including backup sensors; it spooked as Maybeck dove, avoiding his eager hand. Like a trained seal, it tossed the small object into the air, opened its maw wide, and appeared to swallow the thing.

  Charlene lunged to stop the hyena. It veered, heading straight for Jess.

  As sisters who weren’t really sisters, the enigmatic Amanda and Jess were known to the Keepers as “Fairlies”—fairly human, but with unique powers. Amanda possessed telekinesis (the “supposed” power to move objects with her mind); Jess, clairvoyance (the “supposed” power to see events in the future). In fact, there wasn’t anything “supposed” about their powers, except that the U.S. military was confounded by them and continued to study kids like Jess and Amanda at a facility in Baltimore, an institution from which the two girls had escaped before meeting the Keepers. Currently, they lived with a number of other “strays,” charges of a foster mother called Mrs. Nash, whom the girls referred to as Mrs. Nasty.

  Now the hyena aimed at Jess, who reacted defensively and reached out to block it. She grabbed its hind leg. The animal squealed, rolled over, and bit Jess, whose hologram was solid at that exact instant.

  Jess cried out and let go. She balled up in pain, rolling onto the deck.

  An injury a Keeper sustained as a DHI ended up as part of their real body when he or she returned. This bite was a bleeder. Jess was in serious trouble.

  The hyena scrambled back to its feet and charged up Deck 4’s jogging track toward the bow, the other hyenas trailing close behind.

  Maybeck started out in pursuit but quickly lost ground. He snatched up a shuffleboard cue, smacked it on the deck, and broke its U-shaped head from its broomstick-like rod. He hoisted the rod to shoulder height and launched it like a javelin. He would claim later that it had been a protective instinct to defend Jess, a combination of anger, frustration, and the urge to play action hero.

  A wild shriek echoed down the deck—the lead hyena was hit, the spear dragging from its flank. The animal slowed but continued toward the bow. The spear wiggled loose and clanged to the deck. The hyenas disappeared into the jogging track’s bow tunnel.

  Charlene and Amanda stooped over the fallen Jess.

  “What’s happening to her?” a frightened Amanda said.

  “She’s…” Charlene studied Jess, trying to understand what they were witnessing.

  The girl’s hologram grew translucent, then disappeared altogether. As it reappeared, it sputtered and wouldn’t hold. Each time it faded, Jess squirmed and cried out in pain.

  “…form-shifting,” Charlene continued. “Her fear and the pain of the wound are switching her from hologram to mortal. She’s in limbo, flashing between the two.”

  The bite was ugly. It was on the top of Jess’s right thigh, two curved lacerations—a frown and a smile. It bled heavily.

  Philby arrived from the Radio Studio through the deck’s center doors. He spoke with a slight British accent, having spent some of his childhood in England, and had a crop of red hair and a sparkle to his eyes that signaled his uncanny intelligence.

  “What about Finn?” Amanda called out to him.

  “Storey’s on it. At the moment, everyone’s on the port side because someone claimed he saw two kids riding dolphins.”

  “No way!” Charlene said.

  Philby grinned at Amanda. “Storey returned the two of them. So for the moment,” he continued, “we should be alone here, but it won’t stay that way.”

  He took in Jess’s injury and her form-shifting.

  “The ship’s doctors can’t find her like this! They’ll try to medicate her hologram and who knows how that will affect her real body.”

  “Well, she can’t return like this,” Amanda said fir
mly. “No way we can deal with the wound at Mrs. Nash’s, not to mention that we’d have no way to explain what’s happened.”

  “So she can’t stay here and she can’t go back,” Maybeck said. “Someone have a plan?”

  Philby caught Charlene’s eye. He said, “We have to—”

  “Hide her.”

  “Yes.”

  “How?” Charlene asked.

  “Even if she could walk,” Maybeck said, “which I doubt—it’s not as if anyone’s going to miss that.”

  He was pointing at Jess’s bloody leg.

  “And we need to find that hyena,” Philby said, “and whatever it stole from Finn.”

  “The bee suits,” Jess groaned to Amanda through clenched teeth.

  All eyes fell on Amanda.

  “What are you talking about?” Philby said.

  “One of her dreams,” Amanda explained. “She sketched out two guys in beekeeper suits carrying her. You know: big, baggy suits and netting for a helmet?”

  Philby said, “Not beekeepers. Hazmat suits. Hazardous materials. Coveralls.” He addressed the wounded Jess. “Is that right? Suits? Goggles? Masks?”

  Jess nodded.

  “Rubber gloves,” she said. “I thought it was beekeepers.”

  “They call ’em protein spills,” Charlene said. “Kids puking. Passengers who get cuts and bleed. Protein. Get it?”

  “That’s disgusting!” Maybeck said.

  “Better than Puke Patrol,” Philby said. “Any guesses as to how many people get seasick on a cruise ship? And if it’s a bug instead of seasickness, they have to make sure it doesn’t spread.”

  “They dispatch teams,” Charlene said. She turned to Maybeck. “Did you read any of Philby’s background notes for this trip?”

  “I…ahh…”

  “Three suits,” Charlene proposed. “One, to hide her. Two more to hide whoever’s carrying her.”

  “Take Maybeck with you. More suits, if you can. A protein spill team can follow the blood trail.”

  “That would be us,” Maybeck said, understanding what Philby had in mind. If they could get four suits, they could divide into two teams of two—one team to get Jess to a stateroom; the other to follow the hyena’s spilled blood.

  “I’m all right,” Jess said, lying. She struggled to get up.

  “Let’s get her to the bench,” Philby said, “before anyone sees her. We’ll hide her leg—”

  “With my bandana,” Charlene said, untying her Cast Member neckerchief.

  “Here we go,” Philby said. “You two…hurry!”

  HAVING FAINTED WHEN SHE’D SEEN the gaping gash in her leg, Jess felt the warm salt spray across her face. Warm as the sunshine that pelted down. Which was technically impossible, as it was currently nighttime. But dreams—especially Jess’s dreams—were unconventional and surprisingly convincing. Only in a dream could you be absolutely sure something was happening that was not.

  A warm breeze was happening. Sunshine was happening. But then it was dark again, and there was something soft and squishy beneath her feet: sand. Sharp twigs belonging to bushes and shrubs scratched her calves.

  Sand. Prickly shrubs. The sound of the ocean, or was it wind? She followed a group of dark shapes. Not kids. Adults. Five? Four? They stopped periodically as if to listen for anyone following. Like her. She stopped, matching them. Stayed low. Alert.

  Rocks and shadows. A cave. The others followed the leader—a woman.

  Jess followed, running the long way around to avoid being seen. She crept up to the slanting corner of the cave’s opening, where a huge gray rock formed the ceiling, and sand the floor. The rock was smooth. Paper wasp hives hung from the rock like warts. Dozens, maybe hundreds of them. A few wasps flew to and from the nests, their tiny legs dangling like landing gear.

  Jess stayed hunched as she crawled inside. The group ahead of her was after something. They were hunting.

  And now she was hunting them.

  * * *

  Finn awoke in one of the few interior staterooms that had not been booked for the cruise. Storey Ming had made it available, so the Keepers had somewhere to sleep when crossed-over as holograms. Ever since his own mom’s loyalty had come into question, he’d been bunking in with Philby. But here, there was no one. He reached for the Wave Phone and saw a text message was waiting.

  r u there?

  It had been sent from Storey Ming’s stateroom phone.

  here

  It took several long seconds for a new message to appear. Anxious seconds.

  j in trouble. deck 4. willa ok?

  Finn felt thickheaded, like he’d had no sleep. It took him a moment to process “j” as “Jess.” His feet were already moving as he texted:

  on way

  He knocked on the stateroom door where he expected to find the returned Willa. Looked in both directions. Some passengers, but no stewards or crew members. He knocked louder, and the door opened. Willa heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Finn.

  “Oh, it’s you!” She opened the door. Finn rushed inside.

  “Hurry. Jess is in trouble.”

  “Where?” Willa asked.

  “Deck four. Starboard.”

  “Where we jumped.”

  “Yeah.”

  “The hyenas?”

  “Way ahead of you,” Finn said.

  “Don’t be such a jerk, okay?” Willa was in his face, up on her toes. “For one thing: you are never way ahead of me.” She trembled there, about to lose her balance.

  Finn nodded. “Point taken.”

  “We nearly drowned,” she said.

  “Sort of.”

  “Close enough for me.”

  “I got us out of it,” Finn said.

  “You?”

  “Sorry… We got us out of it.”

  “Better.”

  “I may have spoken the Triton Code,” he added. “Twice.”

  It took Willa a moment to allow herself to grin. “And I thank you for that,” she said.

  “No charge.”

  “Jess,” she said, reminding them both of their mission.

  “Yes. And quickly.”

  * * *

  As one of the five prettiest girls in ninth grade, if you counted Marsha Coleman—and it was hard not to—Charlene had the attention not only of most juniors but even a few seniors as well. She was “popular,” which often translated to “hot.” She was checked out in the hallways. To girls who were jealous of her, she was an object of derision, the recipient of far too many text messages; and she even received a few anonymous gifts from time to time, not all of which were appropriate.

  She had a lot to be thankful for—but at the same time, not so much. Boys wanted to get to know her, but not in a way she had any interest in. She kept tabs on a couple of them, but the more she learned, the less she liked.

  Except when it came to Terry Maybeck and Finn Whitman, two of her fellow Keepers. Terry, who wasn’t exactly Calvin Klein eye candy. Terry, who considered himself to be God’s gift to girls. Terry, who came from a broken home, had few close friends, and worked every day after school to help his aunt Jelly. Terry, who Charlene couldn’t stop thinking about. She’d been warned about falling for the bad boys. No one could put Terry in that category. Not bad, just different. An artist. Someone who wasn’t afraid to express himself.

  As a cheerleader and freshman starter on the school gymnastics team, Charlene was expected to date athletes. Varsity athletes. Her friends were constantly trying to match her with Kaden Keller, the star soccer player, or Josh Brewer—or any boy with a number on his back. But while she liked them as friends, even good friends, the jocks didn’t satisfy her romantic ideals. She wanted someone thoughtful, funny, interesting, and interested in things other than the obvious stuff boys were always interested in.

  She glanced over at Maybeck, wondering once again if he fit any of her requirements. And if not, then why was she always thinking about him?

  “Keep up!” he hissed at her.
<
br />   “You look like a psycho in a hospital ward,” she said.

  “The costume was handy. Okay? Or should I be running around in a towel?”

  That hardly brought her mind back to business.

  The trick was to look like you were walking while moving close to the speed of running. The Disney Dream was more than three football fields in length. Getting from amidships to the bow, and moving from Deck 4 to Deck 1, one covered a good distance.

  “Storey’s going to meet us,” Maybeck said, checking his phone.

  “Because?” They were stride-for-stride in the port side Deck 4 hallway, the Buena Vista Theatre to their right.

  “She has the all-access crew-member card,” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” said Charlene. She’d had about enough of everyone’s fascination with Storey Ming. She appreciated the help, but not the noise.

  They reached Deck 1. Despite the added distance she’d had to cover from Deck 14, Storey Ming had arrived first. Without introduction, she said, “I can get the Hit Man’s trolley—that’s what we call Mr. Mop, ‘the Hit Man’—but it’ll only have one suit. Two at the most. There must be others in Costume—Laundry—which won’t be too hard to get, but it’ll take a few minutes. So what da ya want to do?”

  “I’ll take the trolley,” Maybeck said. “That way, when the real guy comes looking for it, we can stall him. Charlie will hang here and wait for you.” He addressed Charlene. “You’ll get the other suits up to us.”

  Charlene nodded.

  “You’ll need to wear a suit,” Storey cautioned. “If Uncle Bob sees you on video with the trolley, he’ll know something’s up. We all know the Hit Man, and he’s not you.”

  “Okay. So go. We gotta hurry!”

  Storey took off through the Crew Only door that led to the I-95 corridor.

  “How is this possibly going to work out for Jess?” Charlene asked softly.

  “You’ll see,” Maybeck said.

  “And what about you?” she said. “If you’re caught in that suit… If you’re stealing—”