“You’re going to crush yourself!” she said.
The simulator spun sideways and rotated forward in full circles seven times. Finn felt his dinner coming up again. Each time he took his eyes off the screen he felt sick. He tried to focus on the screen the way his father had told him to focus on the horizon when seasick. The nausea passed. He was okay.
They fell hundreds of feet, facedown.
Finn squeezed back into his seat, unable to free himself.
“We…have…to…do…something!” he said.
“I’m up for suggestions,” she answered. Oddly, Amanda sounded suddenly collected and unaffected by the flips and twirls and drops. She could actually string a sentence together.
Then it struck him: Amanda had a unique power.
“Push…it…open,” Finn shouted over the roar of the simulator’s disintegrating parts. Amanda flashed him a look, her dark hair hanging fully upside down, her cheeks vibrating like Jell-O. Her eyes strained to find the hatch door that Megan had closed electronically. Neither of them knew exactly what was up or down any longer.
“It’s too strong! I heard it lock,” she said.
So had he, but what choice did they have? “You…have…to…try!”
If the seal broke, maybe it would initiate an automatic shutdown.
“Could be dangerous!” she said. For me, Amanda was thinking. How would they explain the damage to the simulator? Damage that would come from the inside? So far in her life her “gift”—as some called it—had only gotten her in trouble or made her the object of teasing. Subjugated at the age of eight to a foster home for freaks in Baltimore—the Fairlies—she’d been studied by scientists, doctors, and soldiers until she’d had no choice but to run away with Jess. She had no urgent desire to make a scene with her gift and bring all that down on herself again.
They jerked violently left, right, front, back, and left again. Finn’s head felt as if it was going to come off his neck. Dangerous? he wanted to say. Really?
Amanda couldn’t risk Finn’s getting hurt. She released her bloodless grip on the chest restraint, reaching toward the screen with outstretched arms. Finn watched her close her eyes, bend her elbows, and flatten her hands, palms facing out like a traffic cop’s. She pushed up over her head—all at once, and with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The metal bulged like it had been hit with a battering ram. Red paint flakes rained down. Sparks flew.
“Again!” he hollered.
“Too strong!” she complained.
“You’re all we’ve got.” The vibrations climbed toward a climax. The push had made the simulator lean even farther to the left; the grinding of metal was now louder than the sound effects.
He smelled electrical smoke. They were going to suffocate.
“EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!” he shouted.
The act of pushing drained Amanda. At low levels she could briefly levitate a person or object—cause them to float for a few seconds. Using up more of herself, she could shove a car a few feet in a parking space, or knock a group of people—or Overtakers—off their feet. Or bend a simulator hatch door. Finn needed her to give it her all.
“O…M…G!” she screamed.
On the screen, the track ahead of them rose, fell, and tilted to the right before…disappearing. It looked as if someone had simply erased the track—it broke off in space. Below the break was a rock canyon so deep that Finn couldn’t see the bottom.
The simulator shuddered. The smell of an electrical short—like the air before a storm—continued to flood the cabin. Their screams were lost amid the groan and complaint of the failing mechanics.
The car reached the end of the track and flew off into space.
Amanda thrust her arms toward the overhead door, but this time like she was lifting an incredibly heavy set of gym weights. Going for an Olympic record.
“STEADY!” Finn shouted, as the car tilted down, now plummeting into the depths of the rock canyon.
The hatch door rumbled and bent, bulged and shuddered, the seal cracking open, first a fraction of an inch, then wider.
“MORE!!!!” Finn said, as the ground—a rock bottom, like a dry riverbed—rushed toward them at over three hundred miles per hour.
The cry of the metal hatch now overpowered any other sound. Amanda’s face was scarlet and sweaty, her arm muscles bulging as her bones seemed to bend to breaking.
The sheet metal tore at the location of both pneumatic hook locks that secured the hatch.
Two inches…three…
The lid blew open.
The ride shut down. Smoke coiled from motors and servos.
A group of Cast Members rushed inside, aiming fire extinguishers that belched a yellow foam.
Finn and Amanda hung against the chest restraints as the simulator rotated forward ninety degrees, facing the ground. It made it hard to see what was going on. Some guy was shouting a bunch of orders.
Finn heard Megan say, “Are you okay? We’re getting you out! Hang on, you’re almost out.”
The chest restraints released without notice. Finn and Amanda fell, crashing into the flat-panel display and cracking its safety glass. Finn helped Amanda up, and Megan offered them her hand. They climbed out.
“Wow,” Finn said, “that’s incredibly lifelike.”
Amanda played along. “Must be expensive if they do that every time.”
They exited from the smoke and chaos. Charlene stood there, her full attention on their joined hands. Finn hadn’t even realized that he and Amanda were holding hands. He let go a little abruptly.
Charlene leaned in to examine the twisted wreckage. Smoke and steam and the gas from the fire extinguishers commingled. She fanned it away from her face.
“What happened in there?” she asked.
Amanda said, “I think next time I’ll design my own ride.”
“You don’t think I had something to do with that…that…” Charlene stammered, “…with whatever happened in there, do you?”
“You mean just because you talked us into coming here in the first place and you designed our roller coaster? Now, why would I think that?” Amanda said.
“Finn?” Charlene pleaded.
“You gave us the card, Charlie,” he said, using a nickname for her only he used. “You designed the ride.” And Maleficent’s locked in a jail cell, he felt like adding. Use of her nickname was an attempt at intimacy, to remind her that he still considered her a close friend, despite what had happened. But it backfired. Amanda heard him and clearly resented it.
“Really?” Amanda said to him. “You’re going to sweet-talk her after she almost killed us?” She stormed off down the exit stairs.
“Amanda! Wait!” Finn called after her.
“I promise you,” Charlene said, “I didn’t do anything! I had nothing to do with this. It wasn’t me!”
They’d been close friends for more than two years. Finn said, “Listen, do I want to think you sabotaged the simulator? Come on!” But she’d designed the ride, he reminded himself.
Finn couldn’t let Amanda get away. He hurried out after her. Charlene followed at a run.
The building seemed more crowded. He recognized nearly everyone—even though there were four hundred kids in his grade.
“KK rules!” he called back to Charlene. His team had long since agreed that when in the Parks no one flew solo. The Overtakers took advantage of Keepers off on their own. In pairs or teams their chances for survival increased.
Finn shoved his way through the crowd, catching only fleeting glimpses of the back of Amanda’s head. She was wasting no time trying to get out of there. She disappeared down the staircase—much too far ahead to hear him calling after her.
Charlene closed in from behind him.
He glanced over the rail, looking down, hoping to catch a glimpse of Amanda as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
His breath caught.
Not possible.
Snow White’s Evil Queen stood amid
a torrent of admirers, all begging for autographs. But the Evil Queen wasn’t looking at her fans; she was locked onto Finn like a laser-guided missile.
He jumped back from the rail, out of the way of her gaze. A shudder of terror flooded him. If it was a legitimate Cast Member, fine. But if it was an Overtaker—if it was the real Evil Queen—then she could throw spells, conjure curses, mix potions to transfigure herself into an ugly old peddler offering a poisoned apple. In short, she was nothing to mess with.
Amanda!
He yanked his phone out of his pocket and sent a group text:
Possible OTs in DQ. Head 2 bus ASAP
Hopefully that would get the others moving. Presently, his job was to get Amanda and Charlene out of there.
The four other Keepers had smart phones just like his—gifts from Wayne and the Imagineers. Amanda and Jess didn’t have phones. Even if they’d had the money to buy them—and they didn’t—Mrs. Nash didn’t allow her girls to have phones.
Charlene caught up to him and he launched himself down the crowded stairwell, fighting through the throng. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Amanda came into view again.
The Queen turned to look at Finn. He averted his eyes, fearing a spell. She walked toward him, the bubble of her admirers moving with her. He stole one more glance in her direction only to realize she wasn’t looking at him but over his head. He looked behind him…
…at Charlene.
From the step above, Charlene lowered her eyes to Finn and said, “What’s she doing here?”
“You know who that is?” Finn asked, surprised.
“Of course I know who that is!”
“I’ve never seen her before. Not the real one.”
“The real one? Is that the real one?”
“What do you think? You feel like giving her the pinch test?”
“AMANDA!” Charlene cried out loudly. She waved furiously, trying to get Amanda to turn around and join them. But Amanda was too caught up in the reason for her running off in the first place. Even more furious seeing Finn and Charlene on the steps together, she heaved through the crowd, ever closer to the Evil Queen.
“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 hai
r 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.
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