Unforeseen - A Kingdom Keepers Novella

by Ridley Pearson

  “Where to?” Amanda asked, verbalizing my exact thought.

  I didn’t immediately answer her. 1) Because I didn’t have an answer. 2) Because I was focused on a line of golf carts parked at an angle only a few yards from us.

  On their bumpers was the word PARGO along with a random number. We were looking at Pargos 4, 11, 7, and 19. Their batteries were charging via black cables thicker than a garden hose.

  I ran to the first of the Pargos and nearly squealed when I saw a key in the ignition. It was a tiny, toy-like key, but after we disconnected the first cart’s charger, it started the cart, which was all that mattered.

  As I slid in behind the wheel, I was shoved rudely.

  “You’re the daydreamer,” Amanda said. “I’m driving.”

  She had a point. I moved across the bench, yielding my spot to her.

  “I repeat: where to?”

  Amanda the Annoying. This was an unfamiliar side of her, and I wanted to say something, but I wasn’t in the mood for an argument. She and I were good for each other that way: we acted as each other’s personality check. We could tell each other anything, and we listened to one another most of the time.

  But not now. Not here.

  “Dinner,” I said.

  “What?” She was clearly alarmed. “How can you—?”

  “Plates. Dinner plates.”

  I encouraged her to stay on our side of the thirty-foot wide tunnel, even though the thing was empty. We passed signs and doors and the occasional stack of wooden shipping pallets, filled with everything from drinking water to Darth Vader costumes. The tunnel system was used to supply the park with everything it needed, keeping such commerce off the streets above so that the park could maintain its charm. The Utilidor also allowed characters and Cast Members to move around the park without being seen.

  That purpose played into our current mission beautifully. As long as the Overtakers weren’t down here, Amanda and I could zoom across the park undetected.

  “When I was standing at the fountain,” I continued, “facing Gaston’s Pub—”

  “Tavern!”

  “Whatever...I saw this flash of white lights. Only I don’t think they were lights. I think they were plates.”

  “You’re hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry, but it’s not that. It really was dinner plates, I think.”

  “Paper plates?”

  “I don’t know. Could have been.” She took a sharp left, nearly throwing me out of the cart. I looked up at a sign on a wall: Cinderella Castle. “Where are we going?”

  “Cinderella’s Royal Table,” Amanda said. “Dinner plates.”

  WE LEFT THE PARGO parked at the bottom of a nondescript white staircase marked “Cinderella’s Royal Table.” The florescent emergency lighting turned my skin a sickly green color as I led the way upstairs, pausing every few steps to listen for pursuers. The Pargo wasn’t exactly quiet in the vast empty Utilidor; by now it seemed like half the park was out looking for us. It was agonizingly slow going, but an Overtaker attack would delay us even more.

  “How much further?” Amanda whispered in my ear.

  I shrugged. My gut told me that when we saw the door, I’d know it, but it also neglected to tell me how much further it might be. The entry into Cinderella’s Royal Table could’ve been one of the half-dozen doors we’d already passed. The stairwell didn’t offer many places to hide. If the OTs attacked, we’d be trapped.

  Arriving at the next landing, I smiled at the sight of an oak door decorated with a coat of arms and hinged to the wall with iron strapping. Save the metal panic bar, it definitely belonged in a castle.

  “Found it,” I whispered, pointing.

  Stepping through, we found ourselves in an alcove off of the throne room, at the spot where families took pictures with the princesses before heading upstairs to dine. Across the room, I recognized the trapdoor throne we’d used earlier as an alternate route into Escher’s Keep.

  “This way.”

  With every creaking floorboard, I imagined an Overtaker lurking in the shadows, waiting. We reached the staircase. The carpet helped muffle our footsteps as we climbed.

  But I was in too big a hurry. I didn’t notice that the staircase ended, and I stepped up, reaching for a tread that didn’t exist. Falling forward, I pulled a tablecloth down with me. Silver goblets and glassware crashed to the floor. Amanda and I froze, ready to run.

  Several long seconds passed before I dared move again. I rolled off of my stomach and stood carefully, avoiding the broken glass. Amanda’s eyes were wide with alarm.

  “Oops.” I shrugged, embarrassed. The Cast Members would have some questions about the set in the morning.

  “Be careful.” Amanda whispered fiercely—as though I needed reminding.

  We picked our way across the minefield of tables, using the moonlight that streamed in from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall to navigate. Peering out, I saw all of Fantasyland laid out below me.

  “It’s creepy that empty,” Amanda whispered. “Beautiful, but creepy.”

  “I thought I’d get used to it after all these years, but I haven’t,” I said.

  “Sneaking around empty parks at night battling fictional villains? I don’t think it’s something you ever get used to. I think it’s something you just learn to live with,” Amanda said. “Come on, kitchen’s this way.”

  I wasn’t sure how Amanda knew the way, but soon we pushed through a pair of doors into the kitchen. My eyes went wide. Everything in here was enormous. We picked our way through the jungle of stainless steel and linoleum, the overall effect of the room overwhelming. “How are we ever going to find a plate in this maze?” I asked Amanda, turning to look at her in the hopes that she had a plan.

  I saw a flash of movement on the edges of the room. A disk, hurtling toward us like a Frisbee. Overtakers!

  “Duck!” I shouted, pulling Amanda down with me as the white projectile flew over our heads and shattered against the wall behind us, leaving a gash in the drywall.

  “Found a plate,” Amanda quipped.

  I spun, searching for our attacker. There! A flash of red ducked behind a countertop; in the next breath, another plate missed my cheek by inches. This time, it was hurled from behind us.

  “There are two of them,” Amanda whispered.

  In a crouch, Amanda and I made our way around a stainless steel kitchen island on wheels, keeping our backs against it as we settled on the opposite side.

  “Now would be a good time for a plan,” Amanda whispered.

  “Agreed,” I said, trying to think. “Follow me.”

  As we crawled toward the rolling island. I grabbed a frying pan, gestured at the kitchen island, and leaned my shoulder to suggest we would move it. I held up one finger, two...We sent the island flying. But instead of crushing the character, it bounced off to the side sending cooking utensils everywhere.

  A man stood up. He was roughly the size of a refrigerator. Gaston, from Beauty and the Beast. The real one, not the bronze one. His muscles stretched his shirt; his black hair was slicked back. In his story, he’d nearly won a hand-to-hand fight with the Beast. What chance did two teenage girls have against him? He appeared unfazed and unhurt despite being struck by a rolling, stainless steel island that had required both Amanda and me to move. Not a good sign.

  He smiled as he stood, almost as though he wanted to tease us into a fight.

  “No one throws kitchenware like Gaston,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Gaston asked, towering above us.

  “It’s those Fairlies they were telling us about, boss.” A little man came scurrying around the island behind us. LeFou, Gaston’s pint-sized overeager sidekick.

  “I know that, you idiot,” Gaston retorted. “I wasn’t asking you.”

  LeFou looked puzzled, but had the presence of mind to keep quiet.

  “Now, I’ve heard you two have been stirring up trouble in the park
tonight,” Gaston continued. “We don’t like troublemakers around here, at least not of your variety. No, around here we deal with troublemakers in the same way we deal with beasts.”

  He stepped toward us menacingly. I looked around the room for an escape. To reach the door, we’d have to go the long way around. Gaston would cut us off. The only other exit was directly behind him. We were stuck.

  The rubber grip on my frying pan felt sticky with sweat. The collision hadn’t affected Gaston one bit; I doubted my skillet would do much good. Standing beside me, Amanda swayed, still weakened from earlier, or dizzy with fear. Even if we could make a break for it, I doubted Amanda could run.

  I spotted my reflection in a mirror above the sink. Jackpot. Gaston’s vanity was legendary.

  “Gaston, most honorable sir,” I began, “I am afraid you have something on your face.”

  “Why yes, I see it too,” Amanda said, catching on. “It seems so wrong to have something covering up such a perfect cheek.”

  “If you’d just come this way with us, we can fix it, and better admire your beauty,” I said, laying it on thick.

  I didn’t have much experience with guys, and especially not with vain guys, but our words seemed to be doing the trick.

  “Why, thank you, ladies,” Gaston said, straightening up and allowing himself to be led to the mirror. “It is important to properly showcase my flawless complexion.”

  “Here you go,” I handed him a dish towel and pointed to the mirror. “Just look right here. I’m sure you’ll see it.”

  Gaston studied himself. “I don’t see a spot. But I do look good. Quite good. I’d venture to say I’m the handsomest man in the kingdom...” He flexed his biceps in the mirror, totally engrossed. Unnoticed, Amanda and I began to back away.

  “Gaston,” LeFou said, trying to snap him out of his revelry. “Gaston!”

  “Yes, LeFou?”

  “The girls...” LeFou began.

  We were almost to the door, but by my side, Amanda staggered, dropping briefly to one knee. As I’d feared, she was in no condition to run.

  Gaston turned, cruelty written large on his face.

  “Leave them be, Gaston,” said a mellifluous voice from behind us.

  We turned to see Belle, the beauty from Beauty and the Beast. She stood in the doorway, her blue dress covering her ankles, her brown hair pinned up in a bun, her characteristic book tucked under one arm.

  “Belle!” Gaston stepped away from us and immediately his whole demeanor changed. “I was just—”

  “Returning to your tavern?” Belle suggested.

  “Well, it’s just that my tavern’s lacking you,” Gaston said. “The most beautiful man? The most beautiful woman? We’d be the most perfect couple around.”

  “My answer’s still no, Gaston. It’s always been no.”

  “No one says no to Gaston,” LeFou piped up. Belle rolled her eyes.

  “Just stop by,” Gaston said smoothly, smiling and leaning against a nearby sink, “we can polish my trophies together.”

  A sly smile danced across Belle’s lips. “If you leave right now, Gaston, and you don’t bother these girls again, I just might visit you later.”

  This proved to be all the motivation Gaston needed. He scrambled out of the room, LeFou struggling to keep up, on his stout little legs.

  Amanda thanked Belle as I walked over to the plates. Looking at them, I hadn’t flashed on anything, so I picked one up and ran my hand over the porcelain surface. Nothing. Another. Nothing. I gave Amanda a little shake of my head, overwhelmed by disappointment. All this danger for a dead end.

  “There must be something. Maybe it’s one specific plate,” Amanda suggested.

  “It’s not that,” I said. “I can’t explain, but there’s something wrong with these plates, this place.”

  “But white plates, in the Magic Kingdom. That’s this!”

  “I know,” I sighed. “Besides, there’s no Hidden Mickey.”

  “Excuse me,” Belle said, coming forward to join us. “I couldn’t help but overhear. White plates? A Hidden Mickey?”

  We nodded our heads in unison.

  “I may have a solution.”

  Amanda and I were stunned into silence. I’d always liked Belle well enough, but meeting her face to face, I couldn’t help but feel starstruck. She was so gorgeous and kind.

  “Tha—that’d be great,” I stuttered. “Wonderful!”

  “There’s been a game in the Haunted Mansion—it’s been going on for years now. Apparently three plates are placed at a particular setting in the ballroom scene. Two smaller bread plates and one large entrée plate. When set up by Cast Members according to the official design, there is no Mickey. However, someone – I’m certainly not implicating the Imagineers -- move them around, placing the two smaller plates along the edge of the larger plate, creating—”

  “A Mickey!” Amanda interrupted. “A Hidden Mickey! That’s it!”

  “An idea—that’s all,” the bashful Belle replied.

  “No! You’ve done it, Belle. I know you’ve done it!”

  She blushed.

  “I’m sorry we have to go,” I said. “Though I—we—would so enjoy spending more time with you. You are totally...enchanting!”

  “You’re too kind,” she said, smiling gently.

  We thanked her again, and I curtsied awkwardly, having no idea what had gotten into me. Belle returned my gesture with the most graceful dip of her head I’d ever seen.

  Amanda and I went back the way we’d come, reaching the Utilidor without incident. As quietly as possible, we started up the Pargo and followed the signs toward Liberty Square.

  “That was Belle, the real Belle!” Amanda said, clearly overwhelmed. “How cool was that?”

  “I’m beginning to see why the Keepers think this is so special.”

  STAIRWAY 23 LED US UP and backstage. It took a moment to get our bearings, but Amanda had it figured out. We found an alleyway between Peter Pan’s Flight and a warehouse-sized structure on our right and moved cautiously through the Cast Members entrance into the park proper.

  I understood then what the Keepers had spent all these years trying to describe. There were big differences between traveling around as a gang and moving as a duo. The disquieting stillness. The palpable sense of impending doom. Danger hung in the air like a mist through which we had to cut our way. With the peace and perfect joy of the daytime park absent, we faced an eerie replica. It looked so similar. But looks could be deceiving.

  It didn’t help that we were headed for the Haunted Mansion, a place where 999 souls called out for one more to join their ranks to make it an even thousand. The lightheartedness of that “story” played well during park hours. At night, alone and terrified, it felt more like a promise.

  Someone will die.

  There had been a time, certainly, when such threats felt preposterous. Dillard Cole’s fate changed that. The Keepers and those around them, like Amanda and me, were at risk. It wasn’t a game anymore.

  We tucked ourselves behind a trash bin with a view of the Horseless Hearse and the covered waiting area. Beyond, the graveyard’s gray pallor beckoned us—it would make a great hiding place if we could bring ourselves to spend time there.

  “It can’t be the front,” Amanda said. “The stretch room won’t be operating, so none of the doors will work. They’re all electric. We need to enter through the exit.”

  “Which means that if you were going to guard one or the other, you’d pick the exit,” I said. “We’ll be walking into a trap.”

  “No one knows we’re here.”

  “How do we know that?” I asked. “There could be other exits. Emergency ones.”

  “No doubt. But they’ll be locked from the outside, too. Besides, all the attractions have intrusion alerts. Don’t get Philby started about that one, by the way. He’ll bore you to tears.”

  We snuck closer to the exit, climbed a wall, and dropped back down to our hands and knees. But
we couldn’t stay hidden for long. A minute later we ran smack into a wrought iron fence, waist high, with sharply pointed bars.

  I didn’t know the parks the way the Keepers did. Mandy was more familiar than I, but we were both surprised by what we saw through the fence.

  “It’s a pet cemetery,” she said. “Those are pets on the gravestones.”

  “I caught that,” I said.

  I shifted toward the terrace below and Amanda grabbed my upper arm, stopping me. Only then did I spot the two black cats roaming the brick courtyard. Nowhere else would the sight of two cats send terror shooting straight through you.

  The cats continued past, heading toward the hearse. Clearly we had to enter the attraction as stealthily as possible.

  “I’m not going in there,” I whispered. “Dead pets? No thank you.”

  “It’s the only way. Dead pets or live Overtakers. Take your pick.”

  “What if the dead pets become live Overtakers?”

  “There’s always that,” she said. “But we won’t know ’til we try.”

  Amanda went first, up and over the threatening spikes. She eased down quietly into the dead leaves on the other side.

  I felt freakishly alone.

  I followed her inside.

  WE LANDED NEXT TO A GRAVESTONE bearing a sculpture of a poodle on top. The little dog was raised on its haunches, front paws tucked in as if it were begging. It shouldn’t have surprised me how real it looked; nor should it have surprised me what came next.

  All of the tombs opened at once. We froze in terror. A concerto of grinding stone and concrete.

  I took two quick steps and, not looking where I was going, smacked into a tree. Staggering back, I saw double. Amanda caught me as I slumped to the ground.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, touching my forehead. A bump was already forming.

  I discovered something I’d rather not have known: semiconsciousness is closely related to sleep. I future flashed.

  Riding the tree limb like a saddle, Finn brings his legs up in time to avoid the fangs of the roaring jaguar. The beast snaps at air, falls, rights itself.

  Leaps again.

  Finn looks down at the trunk he used as a stool, hoping beyond hope that the jaguar lacks common sense. But no. The cat springs up onto the chest, moving as fluidly as rushing water.