Kingdom Keepers VI

by Ridley Pearson

  “Dillard,” Charlene said. For all the excitement she’d felt, the burden of failure owned her. Leading a mission wasn’t everything she’d thought it would be. They were going home empty-handed. No matter what they would say, Philby and Finn and Maybeck would view her as a failure. “Dillard was in the duffel bag.”

  “Being put on a bus. I’m pretty sure it was our bus. The girl was all worried about the ship. And the guy, more jungle and rocks. He was desperate. Afraid. It was daytime. People spend a lot of time imagining what’s coming. Don’t ask me why, since they can’t change it. But they do.”

  “Was Dillard there?”

  “It’s not a movie. I read their feelings, Charlene. There’s a lot of love. Way too much hate. Hunger. Worry. Fear. Anger. People waste a lot of time.”

  The taxi snaked along the two-lane road; the girls sat in silence. Pretty soon, Charlene’s and Amanda’s DHIs hit interference, sputtered, and vanished. Mattie closed her eyes and tried to nap.

  It was impossible.

  With cell coverage restored, an invisible Amanda spoke.

  “Why hide Dillard on the ship?” Frustration punctuated Amanda’s digitally manipulated voice. “If they wanted Finn dead, they would have just killed him.”

  “Well, that’s a cheery thought,” said Charlene’s.

  Mattie’s head tracked left to right to left like she was watching a tennis match.

  “Maybe not,” said Amanda. “They brought him back to the ship. If they haven’t already, at some point they’re going to realize it’s not Finn. That can’t be good for Dillard.”

  “I don’t get it,” Charlene said. “Why bother with all this? Why not just capture Finn on the ship?”

  Mattie said, “Because if it happens off the ship, it’s someone else’s responsibility. No one’s going to search the ship for someone who disappeared off the ship.”

  “They wanted the cruise to continue,” Amanda said.

  “We don’t know if they still think it’s Finn.” Charlene sounded excited. “If we’re lucky––if Dillard’s lucky––the disguise is still working. And that means Finn can’t be seen on the ship. If they discover they’ve been tricked, that won’t be good for Dillard.”

  “Mattie,” Amanda said. “We need to send Philby a text using Charlene’s phone and have him tell Finn to stay in the stateroom, out of sight. He can’t be seen by anyone. We’ll have to smuggle him food and stuff.”

  “The boy in the duffel bag…he was alive,” Mattie said. “Dillard was alive.”

  Charlene said, “Let’s hope we can keep him that way.”

  Mattie took out the phone and began to type out a text.

  * * *

  The parting was not easy. Mattie repeatedly told them she’d be okay, but she didn’t believe it. A teenage girl in a foreign country, headed for the boat to take her up the coast to Puerto Vallarta. Willa’s passport. Charlene’s iPhone. A fair amount of cash, and a credit card Philby had “borrowed” from his mother’s purse. His mother wouldn’t look for the card until she needed more cash from an ATM. She didn’t use her plastic in foreign countries.

  But it was still risky. Mattie and Willa didn’t look perfectly alike, but in an odd way the red streak in Mattie’s dark hair helped. If you took Willa and made her Goth, there was enough of a similarity between her and Mattie to believe a four-year-old photo.

  Amanda discovered that her DHI could not cry tears. But still, feeling herself crying while a DHI was just another on a long list of things that surprised her about the hologram experience—like not feeling humidity and temperature change in the same way, and rarely if ever feeling hungry. But her heart could ache, as it did now, as she stood on a street corner beneath a tropical tree, the sound of car horns in the distance like coyotes crying beneath the stars.

  “Do you think the passport will work?” Charlene asked.

  “I think that’s the least of her problems. You know how far it is?”

  “But she’ll beat us there?”

  “Supposedly. But who knows?”

  “Have a little faith!”

  Amanda found Charlene’s gung-ho energy annoying. She was all for optimism and courage in the face of danger, but a long boat ride up the coast for a sixteen-year-old girl carrying someone else’s passport? Was it better than even odds that they’d ever see Mattie again? And how would they feel if she failed to make the rendezvous in Puerto Vallarta? What then?

  “It was supposed to be her and Dillard traveling together. That made a lot more sense than her going it alone,” Amanda said.

  “Everything happens for a reason.”

  “But not always a good reason!” Amanda had had about enough.

  “Since when are you a glass-half-empty type?”

  Amanda reached out her hand. The Return would be an easier transmission if their holograms connected into a single graphics file.

  “She should be requesting the return from Philby any—” Amanda failed to get the last words out.

  She awoke in her upper bunk in Mrs. Nash’s house. Before she fully opened her eyes, she ached to be back aboard the Disney Dream…with Finn.

  INFORMED BY UNCLE BOB of the boys’ visit to his office, Clayton Freeman walked with Rafina, a fellow security member from Rwanda. The breakthrough had come only moments before Bob’s call. A child had spilled lemonade at a table with a view of the mammoth Funnel Vision screen. Clayton had jumped up to help clean it, but had stopped in the midst of laying napkins across the spill, his memory jogged: a string of successive drops stained the decking in a straight line.

  The pattern was eerily familiar. And then, like a jolt, he had it: he’d seen the jogging path stained in a similar pattern.

  Armed with two Taser stun guns, he and Rafina approached the forward jogging path’s starboard curve, the spot where twice before Freeman had lost the stowaway.

  Freeman had taken a forensics course in college. Fluid splatter had received two weeks of intensive study. These stains on the jogging track, like the lemonade, formed perfect little suns. Meaning they’d dripped straight down from overhead.

  Freeman looked up.

  A group of large pipes ran overhead, interrupted by two large metal cubes suspended from the ceiling end to end, each nearly the size of a refrigerator. The cube nearest Freeman carried dark stains running down its side.

  “What is that?” Rafina asked.

  This wasn’t the first time Freeman had studied the upper area of the deck’s tunnel; not by any means. But it was the first time he’d noticed a gap above the refrigerator- size boxes. He wasn’t sure of the purpose the large steel boxes served—water tanks?––but they were clearly fixtures, permanent pieces of the ship.

  The spills were not oil or pink hydraulic fluid. Not bird droppings or rust. It looked more like…

  Soda.

  For Rafina’s sake, Freeman mimed his drinking from a can. He then signaled for her to be quiet, and she nodded.

  Freeman concentrated on every detail of his surroundings. A slight scuff mark—faint scratches on the varnished wooden handrail—said it all. He motioned for Rafina to climb the wall, using the handrail as a leg up. He indicated his own eyes, wanting her to look into the narrow space above the piece of steel overhead. She nodded. He made fists, indicating she should be prepared for confrontation, pointed to himself and then the deck: he would remain down here. She understood.

  Lithe and catlike, Rafina ascended the wall. In order to reach a particular handhold she needed to adjust her left foot—it perfectly covered the scratched area on the handrail. At this moment, Freeman knew he was right.

  His search for the stowaway was about to come to an end.

  As Rafina’s head came even with the top of the steel box, pages of newsprint took flight from the opposite side, falling toward Freeman like giant confetti. He batted them aside. Food wrappers followed, as well as paper cups for soda. A large boy crashed to the deck. Freeman tackled him.

  Rafina shouted down to him, her voice
echoing.

  “There’s another one, on drugs or something,” Rafina called down. “His eyes are open, but he’s not moving.”

  “It’s not drugs!” the other kid said, appealing to Freeman. “They did this to him. Zoned him out like that because he warned the kids.”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Freeman asked.

  “If you don’t know that,” the kid said, “I’d better talk to your boss.”

  WILLA MISSED THE MEETING, unable to get away from her mom’s stateroom at such a late hour. Most of the parents had been off on their own for the cruise. Willa’s kept a close eye on her late at night.

  Philby kept looking around, as if expecting to see Willa.

  Maybeck had been experiencing headaches and had gone to bed at eleven to get ready for the following day at Puerto Vallarta.

  The Dream, “running behind schedule” due to delays in Costa Rica, was set to disembark guests three hours late, at ten thirty in the morning.

  “Three steps,” Finn said, holding up the copies of the pages from the journal and repeating what he’d said only a few minutes before. “The witch—that would be Tia Dalma. Step one.” He raised one finger. “The key flower—Maybeck and Storey saw Tia Dalma doing a ceremony over before she picked it in the cave.” A second finger. “And now Dillard. Just as Luowski and Mattie warned. A sacrifice. ‘One of you will die.’”

  Charlene wormed her hands between knees, tightly pressed together. She looked ready to crawl out of her skin.

  “It’s not your fault, Charlene,” Finn said.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “If we combine what Jess drew,” the Professor said, coming to his feet in the small inboard stateroom, “with what Mattie felt up on the mountain, they pretty much match. Stone. Maybe a cave. Something dangerous.”

  “Chernabog,” Finn said flatly.

  “You’d think.” Philby picked at a fingernail. It was a nasty habit he had recently developed. “I suppose no one’s going to tell us if they found him backstage and locked him up or something. But if they had, let’s face it: Wayne would know. Wayne would have told us.”

  “So, we know what they have planned,” Charlene said, her face pointed to the floor. “What are we going to do about it?” Charlene seemed very dejected. The reality of the situation had sunk in.

  The sound of defeat in her voice was so foreign, Finn found himself concentrating on the fact that it was really her. She blamed herself for Dillard, which didn’t make any sense.

  “We’re going to stop it,” Finn said.

  “He’s not a cat,” Philby countered. “He doesn’t get nine lives.”

  “He’s a monster,” Charlene said. “So maybe he gets more.”

  Philby snorted. “If they get us thinking we’re beat before we really are, then they win.”

  “Look who’s the cheerleader now,” she said.

  “They’ve got Dillard,” Finn reminded him.

  Philby countered, “They think they’ve got you. Kenny said the disguise wasn’t perfect, but given the clothes and the fact they’ve never actually held you captive before, they may still believe he’s you.”

  Finn thought: Then he’s dead.

  Kenny nodded from the corner. He looked like the kid going to detention. “It could go either way.”

  “So they have a hostage,” Finn said. “And we know what they’re planning.”

  “‘Someone will die,’” Charlene repeated. “I really don’t think we should have left Mattie! That was a bad plan.”

  “It was the only plan.” Philby sounded defensive.

  “It didn’t work!”

  “It helped!” he shouted. “Mattie empathized with two of them. We know more than we did.”

  “Yeah, right! She helped us, and now she’s alone. Some friends we are. Some team!”

  “The ones who are hurting,” Finn said, “are Amanda and Jess. They got Mattie to come here in the first place.”

  “Do you ever stop thinking about her? Feeling sorry for her?” Charlene raised her head just long enough to make Finn feel her scorn.

  “So, what now?” Philby asked Finn in a mocking tone.

  Was Finn supposed to capitulate and let Philby direct the next step?

  “They’re going to get off the ship,” Finn said. “Either in Puerto Vallarta or Cabo. Unless these rocks and caves are in Disneyland, then it has to be one of the next stops.”

  “Agreed.” Philby seemed to be taunting him: Be as smart as I am.

  “They’ll head to this place, whatever it is. They’ll take Chernabog and Dillard. They brought me—or Dillard—back to the ship because there was more to do.”

  Philby nodded. He could be so annoying.

  “The rise of Chernabog,” Charlene said.

  “That’s such a drama-queen way of saying it,” Philby sneered.

  Charlene stuck her tongue out at him.

  “The best move is for our DHIs to follow them. If we can even figure out when and how they’re leaving the ship.”

  “They’re creatures of habit,” Philby said. “They will leave by the side of the ship away from the dock, the forward gangway. There will be a boat waiting. Just like in Aruba. Trust me. But it can’t be our DHIs.”

  “No projectors.”

  “Gold star.”

  “We’re supposed to guide the kayak trip. All five of us,” Charlene reminded Philby, eyes moving to Finn. “If we’re a no-show, the excursion crew will come looking for us.”

  “Yes,” Philby said. “But once we disembark, we’ll be logged off the ship by the computers. Security will be able to determine that we left the ship with the first passengers.”

  “And if the Overtakers leave the ship before we’re allowed off?” Charlene asked.

  “That would be smart of them, and bad for us,” Philby conceded. “Good thinking, Charlie.”

  Finn raised a finger. “We can assume there will be projection in the town, just not out in the jungle.” Philby did not contradict him. “We send Storey out as a DHI. She can jump through the hull, won’t need to go through security at the gangway. Once out, she drops a rope—”

  “A line.”

  “—or finds a ladder on the pier. We leave through the aft gangway door. We swim for it. Storey has figured out a way for us to get out of the water. Those docks are so high, there’s no way we can do it without help.”

  “When the aft gangway door is opened, it will send a signal to Security. They’ll check cameras. They’ll see us.” Philby sounded so confident.

  “But not if you can rig it so they don’t.” Finn was testing his theory.

  “Correct,” Philby said.

  “You understand we have only a slight idea of what the OTs are up to? Sacrifice. Reboot Chernabog. Charlene? Dillard? We also know they may want 2.0 and one of us in order to figure it out. We can’t give them that. Stopping them is not an option, it’s a requirement. Our purpose,” Finn finished softly.

  The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the ship’s powerful engine, a slight, worrying vibration.

  SURPRISINGLY, THINGS WENT according to plan.

  It was almost as if Security served it up on a platter for Philby. He worked out an elaborate scheme to lure people out of the offices so he could get inside as his DHI and defeat the aft gangway alarm—only to watch an apparent emergency vacate the place like it was on fire. Philby overrode the cameras and the alarm easily. Finn and Philby hurried to the aft gangway door where they met up with Maybeck, Willa, and Charlene.

  Having left all electronics behind, but keeping their IDs on them, they slipped into the water and swam to shore where Storey had left a line for them to climb, ingeniously located behind a large sign listing immigration policy for arriving passengers. The Keepers pulled themselves up to the dock, rolled, and hid behind the sign, undetected.

  The pier work of unloading trash and loading mountains of food by forklift kept the crew and longshoremen occupied. Philby peered around the sign, gave a thumbs-up, a
nd the five Keepers walked calmly through the warehouse to their freedom, avoiding the immigration station, which hadn’t even opened yet.

  Finn and Philby took up a location by an ATM that offered a clear view of Deck 11 and waited. Maybeck headed into the streets of Puerto Vallarta with Charlene, while Willa stayed near a taxi stand up the street with a clear view of the two boys.

  Thirty minutes felt like several hours, but finally Storey appeared along the rail. She waved her arms. Philby waved back. She pointed forward.

  “Here we go,” Philby said. “The OTs are on the move. Same as Aruba.”

  Storey’s final signal was cradling her arms and rocking an invisible baby—the sign that the OTs were carrying something: Dillard.

  “They’ve got him,” Finn said.

  “Not for long, they don’t,” Philby said.

  The sound of approaching motors caught their ears. They looked up to see Maybeck and Charlene riding scooters. The two pulled to the curb and indicated the spare helmets clipped to the seats.

  “No way!” Finn said. “How could you possibly—?”

  “It’s Mexico,” Maybeck said.

  Charlene said proudly, “He told the guy renting them that he was twenty and I was eighteen.”

  “Turned out it didn’t matter,” Maybeck explained. “You can rent them at fifteen or over. We have them for the day.”

  “What about Willa?” Philby asked.

  “She’ll take the taxi as planned,” Maybeck said. “You going to climb on, or what?”

  “You look stupid in that helmet,” Philby said.

  “Wait until you have yours on, Romeo.”

  Finn teamed up with Charlene; Philby with Maybeck. They rode up to Willa and filled her in. While her eyes betrayed her desire to be with Philby, she neither complained nor objected. To work their mission smoothly, the teamwork required of each of them overcame the rest.

  Willa pointed out a rusted white van parked away from the Dream on the next pier. “I’m guessing that’s their ride.”