Kingdom Keepers Boxed Set

by Ridley Pearson

  “I texted the others,” he tried telling Charlene. But then he saw what she was up to: she was taking a photo of the Queen.

  Charlene mumbled, “What’s she doing outside of the Parks?”

  “Technically,” he said, “we’re on Disney property.” He led her down the stairs, fighting his way toward Amanda. Charlene followed.

  “Technically,” she said, calling over his shoulder, “she belongs in the Magic Kingdom. The afternoon parade. Some autographing. Not inside DisneyQuest.”

  “Maybe it’s part of our school event,” Finn suggested. He wanted an easy explanation; he wanted to be told this was a Cast Member, maybe a college student in costume.

  The Queen was slowed by her fans.

  Amanda had disappeared, hopefully into an elevator or down another stairwell to the ground floor, where a variety of rides gave way to a long hallway and an exit that passed through the gift shop.

  The Evil Queen seemed caught up in her popularity—a woman pulled in two directions, but favoring admiration over purpose. Finn and the Keepers had long since learned that the by-products of fame—the adoring crowds wanting autographs and souvenirs, the people invading your space away from the Parks—was a different, but very real challenge.

  Charlene grabbed Finn’s hand. He led her through the crowd, coming incredibly close to the Queen, but her fans formed a wall, and they passed by as quickly as they’d arrived. He let go of Charlene’s hand and bounded down the less-crowded stairway.

  He ran and caught up to Amanda, turning her by the shoulder.

  “Wait up!” he said.

  She spun around, her face streaked with the snail lines of fallen tears.

  “Let go!” she said.

  “I knew it was the OTs. They’re here.” His eyes refocused toward the entrance of the hallway that led outside. “There!” he said.

  Cruella De Vil was looking right at them. Gaunt, pale, and wearing fur in Florida with her trademark cigarette holder in her right hand. She, too, was surrounded by a knot of fans wanting autographs. She raised her cigarette holder and pointed with her long, gloved finger.

  “Look, kids,” she said in her creamy voice, “it’s the Kingdom Keepers.”

  The mass of fans turned toward Finn and Amanda, just as Charlene caught up to them. “She’s right!”…“It’s them!”…“Let’s go!” Voices echoed off the ceiling and walls.

  A mass of kids abandoned Cruella and rushed toward them.

  Finn pulled Amanda to him protectively.

  Amanda said, “Oh…no…” pointing back toward the stairway.

  The Evil Queen.

  The three of them were sandwiched.

  Charlene’s attention was on the low ceiling decorated with fishing nets and metal sculpture.

  “I can handle this,” she said. “Stay with me! I have an idea.” She broke away from them just before the fans enveloped Finn and Amanda.

  Finn had learned that the only thing worse than a hyper fan was an angry fan. No matter what, he didn’t want to make any of the kids mad or they would harass and glue themselves to him, complaining and shouting and taking an attitude.

  “Hey! How ya doing?” he said.

  Amanda looked curiously at Finn, wondering what he was starting. But he knew what he was doing; he’d done it plenty of times before. Offered a pen, he started signing forearms, hands, the back of shirts. The crowd pressed in more tightly, everyone eager to get an autograph. This was what Charlene had immediately understood: their fans would protect them.

  Given the distraction, Charlene had scrambled up the wall like a tree frog and was currently hanging upside down from the lights attached to the ceiling. As she moved, so did the human wall surrounding Finn and Amanda—the fans were leaping up and trying to touch her, applauding her, screaming her name. As long as Finn and Amanda stayed below her, the protective wall of fans that encircled them moved with her, keeping the Evil Queen and Cruella at a distance.

  The two Overtakers—they had to be Overtakers—were also trying to push through to Finn and Amanda, but it was no use; they weren’t going to beat out fifty wild fans.

  Charlene continued on the ceiling toward the hallway. Finn and Amanda and their fans moved with her.

  As the group reached the hallway, the room narrowed. Charlene dropped. Finn pushed rudely through that side of kids, dragging Amanda with him. A gloved hand caught his shoulder.

  Taller than the young fans, the Evil Queen had reached above their heads and caught him.

  She said, “You cannot stop us. We will do this with or without your help. If you run, you’d better keep running.”

  He ran.

  Down the hall at a sprint, twenty of the screaming kids close behind. Through the turnstile, the gift shop, and into fresh air. Finn had rarely ever run so hard, and yet both girls were several paces ahead of him and increasing their leads.

  When a good distance away, he dared to look back. Cruella and the Evil Queen had made no attempt to run after them.

  If you run, you’d better keep running.…

  Instead, Cruella was heading to a…pay phone.

  She reached it and brought the receiver to her ear. It was the last Finn saw of her, but it struck him as so out of place, so odd, despite the fact that Cruella used telephones in her movies. Not pay phones. Not in Downtown Disney.

  He arrived at the bus stop out of breath just as a bus was about to pull away. The driver braked for him and opened the door, and as he climbed on, he saw all six of his friends clustered in the back by the door.

  Maybeck, a head taller than anyone his age, caught Finn’s eye and nodded, clearly relieved to see he’d made it.

  A telephone, Finn was thinking.

  * * *

  Philby contained his surprise when a pop-up window appeared on his lab computer. A bright-eyed sixteen-year-old with reddish hair and freckles, Philby was a geek in disguise. He looked perfectly normal, but his British upbringing and slight accent, along with having a brain like Einstein, set him apart from other kids.

  Edgewater High’s computer lab security software blocked pop-ups, prevented cookies, and limited Web access while simultaneously recording keystrokes. It was like working in the offices of the CIA or the NSA.

  The lab had five long countertops with chairs, and eight laptop stations each. Currently, thirty-one students all faced forward where their instructor, Mr. Chambers, was stationed to the left of a large, interactive whiteboard mounted to the wall behind him. The whiteboard could carry anything from a mirror of one of the computers, to a PowerPoint presentation, or video. The instructor monitored software that showed a real-time thumbnail of each computer screen active in the lab. Mr. Chambers could click on any one of these at any time, seeing exactly what a particular student was doing. Chats were forbidden, as were aimlessly browsing the Web, downloads, or entertainment.

  The pop-up on Philby’s screen displayed an invitation to a video chat. Technically, because of the security software and firewall, a pop-up was impossible, which only made it all the more intriguing to him. Despite his computer expertise, Philby had never been able to hack the school’s firewall—but not for want of trying.

  Making matters worse, Philby and his fellow students had all signed ethics contracts, making it their responsibility to report any breaches or misuse of the system. By not raising his hand the moment the pop-up appeared on his screen, Philby had already violated that contract. It didn’t escape him that Mr. Chambers could easily be watching his screen, could already know about the pop-up himself.

  If caught in violation of the contract, Philby would be suspended from lab for a week, possibly expelled from the class for the semester. It called for diversionary tactics, nothing new to Philby and his friends, who had long since established a system to distract Mr. Chambers away from his monitoring software.

  Philby caught the eye of Hugo Montcliff, a neighborhood friend with droopy eyes, greasy hair, and shirts that carried unidentifiable food stains. Hugo’s father was a
hard-drinking former policeman who couldn’t hold a job. Hugo occasionally sneaked out at night because he couldn’t take the screaming between his parents. Some nights he’d show up at Philby’s house and sleep on the couch. Philby’s mom had come to think of him as a kind of adopted son, and Philby considered him the closest thing he’d ever have to a brother. Philby signaled Hugo by tapping the desk twice and then pointing to his screen. Hugo nodded.

  Philby then turned his attention to Mr. Chambers, knowing Hugo would open a drawing program when he was supposed to be creating a PowerPoint. As Mr. Chambers reached for his computer mouse, suggesting he’d spotted Hugo’s divergence from the assignment and would therefore briefly only be monitoring Hugo’s activities, Philby made his move.

  Already wearing a headset for the sake of his own PowerPoint assignment, Philby accepted the invitation to the online video chat.

  The pop-up window grew in size and a fuzzy video image appeared.

  Philby brought his fist to his mouth to muffle his own gasp. Although difficult to see clearly, the white hair and cool blue eyes revealed the identity of the caller: Wayne.

  The Keepers had neither seen nor heard from Wayne in several months—not since his hospitalization following the Fantasmic! adventure. He was believed to be in hiding, keeping himself out of the hands of the Overtakers, who would use any means necessary—including torture—to obtain the top-secret location of their captured leaders, Maleficent and Chernabog, or possibly to obtain other secret information that the creator of the Kingdom Keepers possessed.

  “Are you secure?” The old man’s voice was steady but troubled, even as heard over the static-ridden poor connection.

  “Not exactly, but I’m okay for a couple minutes,” Philby whispered.

  Wayne knew more about the behind-the-scenes operations at the Parks than any other Disney Imagineer. He had helped to create a new hologram technology, had recruited Finn, Philby, and the others to model for what would become hologram guides in the Parks—Daylight Hologram Imaging, or DHI. The new holograms were an instant success. Families could be toured through the Parks by a talking teenage guide who was nothing but light, yet looked and sounded absolutely real. Park attendance jumped. Tourists traveled from around the world to see the new Disney phenomenon.

  But Wayne and his Imagineering colleagues had advanced the DHI technology so the five students who’d modeled for them could also “cross over” into the Parks as holograms when they went to sleep at night. Once in the Parks, the DHIs could spy for the Imagineers or battle the Overtakers for control of the Parks.

  A call from Wayne could not be taken lightly.

  Philby had so many questions he wanted to ask: How had Wayne managed to breach the school’s computer security? Why would he risk contacting Philby in this manner? When had Wayne gotten out of the hospital? Where was he now? Did his call have anything to do with Maleficent or Chernabog? But time was precious; he kept his mouth shut and listened.

  “As you know, these are dangerous times,” Wayne said. “Dangerous times require risk taking. My daughter, Wanda, whom you’ve met, has been my eyes and ears of late. She has been extremely busy carrying on my work—our work. But something has happened. She has been jailed by the police.”

  Philby wanted to cry out, but he held his tongue.

  Wanda arrested?

  “I need Finn to offer bail for her release. This will require an adult, and we know Mrs. Whitman to be…supportive…of our cause. Wanda knows things that you five must know. Must act upon. Quickly.”

  The Evil Queen, Philby was thinking. Cruella De Vil. It’s happening again.

  “Tonight the five of you must be in Norway’s Stave Church at eight pm. Not your DHIs, but your real selves. A picture is worth a thousand words.”

  “I have so many questions.”

  “Prepare for remote access to the server. You may need it,” Wayne said. Philby knew this was a call to battle.

  Since Maleficent and Chernabog were imprisoned by Disney, Wayne’s concern suggested that the Over-takers had reorganized. But if Wayne was risking breaching the school’s computer security, it implied something else as well.

  “You believe they’re monitoring our home computers,” Philby said, guessing.

  “You see why I contacted you? You understand the bigger picture. Finn is the natural leader, but you, Philby, are the navigator. Steer Finn in the right direction and he will lead you well.”

  The Overtakers were spying on them. It gave him the chills. He’d been IMing with Willa on a regular basis, writing stuff he didn’t necessarily want anyone else seeing.

  “Never underestimate their capabilities,” Wayne said. “We all have learned that lesson too many times.”

  “Where are you?” Philby blurted out. “Are you all right?” Wayne looked old and tired. He must be worried sick about Wanda, Philby thought.

  “Unimportant. Do as I say. Do what I ask. Good luck. We’re all counting on you.”

  The window went black, the connection lost.

  “Mr. Philby?” It was Mr. Chambers from the front of the class. He was not in a charitable mood.

  Philby slipped off the headset expecting suspension and possible detention.

  “No videos. You know the assignment. Voice is okay. No video.”

  Philby realized that Mr. Chambers so trusted the school’s firewall that he couldn’t for a moment believe that anyone had managed to breach it. He must have assumed that the video on Philby’s screen was something Philby had created.

  “Sorry, Mr. Chambers.”

  Philby and Hugo met eyes, and Philby thanked him with a quick nod of his head. Hugo smiled and went back to work. He could see the curiosity on Hugo’s face—he wanted to know what had required the diversion. Philby would have to invent a pretty convincing story: Hugo was not easily fooled.

  Philby’s heart raced. Wayne. Wanda. The Stave Church. The Overtakers were reorganized, still out there.

  For the past several months he and his friends had not worried about such things. They’d actually had lives again.

  But now, in a few short minutes, all of that had changed.

  Again.

  * * *

  Philby compartmentalized his ideas. His mind worked like a filing cabinet. He held ideas in drawers, opening one or two while closing others. He didn’t think about it; it just happened. Once he had hung up from the chat with Wayne, he put all those ideas into a drawer and slid it shut, marking it as urgent. He’d been able to go about his classwork. But now, while other kids occupied the time between classes with hallway chitchat, Philby concentrated on the contents of that mental filing drawer. He made a list of what had to be done and in what order, with an emphasis on efficiency.

  First, he would text Finn about Wanda. Next he would send a group text to all the Keepers about meeting at the Stave Church at eight pm. Then, once home, he would take his laptop over to Hugo’s house to get off his home network, where the Overtakers might be monitoring him. He would access the DHI server remotely and lock it down, making sure there was no chance that the Keepers might cross over unexpectedly after going to sleep. Crossing over was not the danger; it was getting stuck as a DHI, failing to come back, what the Keepers called the Return.

  Philby spotted Willa up the hallway. In that instant, he became just another ninth grader with a crush. She was standing at her locker, one hand on its metal door, the other at her side while staring into space. He suddenly tensed. His legs felt like lead.

  He recalled the exact day this change in his attitude toward her had occurred. They’d been sitting at a table at the Marble Slab with the other Keepers when he’d been overcome with a feeling of curiosity. It was something he still didn’t understand. But what it amounted to was: he wanted to be around her, to know more about her, to spend time with her. She was smart, funny, and thoughtful. Maybe not drop-dead pretty like Charlene, or the brooding kind of beauty like Amanda, but interesting-looking. Intriguing. More important to him was that they though
t the same way. Often came to the same conclusions without any kind of communication. Like they were connected.

  “Hi, there,” he said, reaching her locker.

  “You ever know you’re looking right at something but can’t see it?” At the moment, Willa was looking right at him.

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “My sheet music is in here somewhere.”

  One thing on which they differed: she kept her locker a mess; his was neatly ordered. He studied her locker carefully, reached in and withdrew the sheet music. Her eyes filled with appreciation.

  “You’re awesome!” she said.

  He wanted to hear her say it again.

  “Wayne just video-chatted me in the lab,” he told her.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  The locker door slammed into place and she locked it. Philby could sense both Willa’s apprehension as well as her misgivings. He could see her think. She had an intensity that he totally got.

  “But that’s not possible,” she said.

  “I know. Isn’t it cool?”

  “It had to be some kind of trick. The school’s firewall—”

  “—was breached. Wayne breached it.”

  Spencer Randolph was staring at them from across the hall. A gifted athlete and popular tenth grader, Spencer always seemed to be hanging around Willa.

  “Don’t look now,” Philby said, trying to make it sound like he didn’t care, “but Spence can’t take his eyes off you.”

  “He always does that.” Willa blushed. Philby didn’t like seeing her blush over Spencer Randolph. She looked back at Philby. “Why would he do that?”

  Philby felt confused: Because you’re smart? Because you’re a Willa kind of pretty? “He probably wants to go out with you,” he said.

  “Wayne, stupid!” she said. “Not Spence. I know all about Spence.”

  “You do?” How had he let that slip?

  “Why would Wayne go to all that trouble just to get a message to you?”