Kingdom Keepers V

by Ridley Pearson

  “Different locations?” Maybeck asked.

  The guy looked at him curiously. “Why do you care?”

  “I’m a problem solver,” Maybeck said.

  “You’re trying to get off trash duty.”

  “That too,” Maybeck said, allowing a faint smile. “Could you use an assistant?”

  “I’ll tell you what: there’s nothing to do on trash duty until after lunch. I can get you back by then.”

  “For real?”

  “If you want to. It’s not pleasant. There’s a lot of muck and mud—”

  “And mosquitoes,” Maybeck said.

  “The size of sparrows,” the guy said.

  “I’m in.”

  * * *

  Following the instructions on the note he’d received, Finn stood at the edge of the stingray beach, wondering if he was really going to do this. The idea was to wade in, knee deep, and approach a Cast Member at one of the many stations where you could pet and feed stingrays. He was okay with the wading part, not so thrilled about the touching the fish part.

  But the girl at the left station was Storey Ming, and she was staring right at him. Finn had told no one about the meeting, honoring her request in the note. Now reluctance tugged at him. Why couldn’t she have picked the waterslide or the Jet Skis? Why’d it have to be here?

  There were guests waiting in line to wade out to the stations. Dressed as a Cast Member, Finn had the privilege of jumping the line. Storey Ming’s eyes bore into him, imploring him to do just that. He relented, stepping into the cool water and wading out.

  “I’m training you,” Storey Ming said softly, “just in case anyone should ask, which they won’t. So look awestruck. I’m a very good teacher.”

  There was a white plastic track just below the surface. The stingrays were trained to enter the track and move station to station, where they were fed and petted. Being fed kept them interested in entering the track. It was a good system for all concerned.

  Finn petted several—it felt way cooler than he’d thought it would. Then Storey Ming handed him some pellets and told him to hold his hand very steady, palm up. The next stingray swam over his arm and he felt a sucking, kissing sensation on his hand. The food pellets were no longer there when the stingray moved on.

  “That felt very strange,” Finn said.

  “It grows on you. I like it a lot.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that.”

  “So? What about the lifeboats?”

  “You were right,” he said. He told her about the encounter with the hyenas, about stowing away on the lifeboats and following the sailors up to the massage cabanas. He told her he’d heard voices muttering but not the specific conversation, and he left out the part about Tia Dalma. Not everyone could handle the world of the Keepers and Overtakers. You had to ease them into it or they might form an opinion of you that was irreversible.

  Certainly she knew about the Overtakers but hyenas on board the Dream had clearly stretched her level of credulity; Finn didn’t want to push her too far too fast.

  So he thought of a way to phrase his next question. “What kinds of religions are on board? In the crew, I mean?”

  “You name it, we have it.”

  “How about the more obscure ones, like voodoo?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “People who believe in that sort of thing?”

  “Cast Members or guests? Because when it comes to guests, my sense is, you name it, we see it.”

  Finn hadn’t considered that the lifeboats had been sent to bring Tia Dalma aboard for the entertainment of the guests.

  Seeing no way around the truth, he said, “The lifeboats were sent to pick up Tia Dalma. She refused. Said to send ‘them’ here. I don’t know who she meant by ‘them.’”

  “That might explain it,” Storey said softly to her-self.

  “Explain what?”

  “I hear we’re staying in port until later tonight, not leaving at five as scheduled.”

  “Here on the island?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that such a big deal?”

  “Only that it’s never happened before.”

  “Never?”

  “Correct. Never. But tonight there’s going to be a Beach Blanket Barbecue. Music. Dancing. Fireworks from the ship.”

  Finn got the impression Storey Ming heard things she wasn’t supposed to hear.

  “I don’t love it when plans change,” he said. It reeked of the Overtakers.

  “You and me both.”

  “Who makes such decisions?”

  “Can’t happen without the captain. The director of entertainment, Christian, would have to bring it to the captain.”

  “That’s high up.”

  “As high as it gets.”

  “Who could convince the director of entertainment to make that kind of switch?”

  “Don’t know. I’m not nearly a high enough rank to know.”

  A certain green fairy? Finn wondered.

  “So we’ve delayed our departure. We’re staying for a beach party that’ll put all the guests off the ship and on the beach.”

  “Most of them. Yes. And nearly all the Cast Members and crew.”

  “The ship will be empty.”

  “It’s never empty. It’ll be lightly staffed. Most everyone in the crew will be onshore helping out. Some galley chefs and waiters will stay behind. The crew that manages the kids’ clubs. You won’t notice it if you’re on board, but nearly all of the entertainment will be ashore.”

  “Making it easier to sneak people off and back aboard.”

  “That doesn’t happen,” she said. “Trust me. Security on this ship is the best there is. Period. Nothing gets past Uncle Bob.”

  “My friends and I did last night.”

  “You were holograms,” she said. “Holograms don’t present a real big threat, last time I checked.”

  “Okay,” Finn said, “so if the change in plans is not because of that, then maybe it’s to give Cast Members or crew a chance to meet secretly on the island.”

  “It could be a million things,” she said. “Could be nothing.”

  Finn tried to connect the schedule change to Tia Dalma. The sailor crew had come to fetch her; she had refused, telling them to bring “them” to her. But whom did she mean? And why? And what, if anything, might it have to do with the stolen journal? As much as Wayne wanted him focused on getting back the journal and destroying the OT server—if it even existed—Finn knew from previous encounters with the Overtakers that he had to see the whole picture. Maleficent was crafty, wicked, and brilliant. There was no underestimating her.

  “Thank you,” Finn said.

  “You and your friends are in danger,” Storey Ming said bluntly.

  “We have something we need to do. There are those opposed to the idea. I’m sure it will work out.”

  “There must be more that I can do for you. More than just listening for rumors.”

  Finn considered the boy his age that had gone missing from the photograph. To be a hologram you had to be asleep.

  “Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

  “Of course! I will if I can,” she answered.

  “There’s going to be a stateroom with a Do Not Disturb sign out and its telephone blocked from calls. I suppose there could be a lot of them. But I need to know which of them has a boy registered in the room. A boy my age, or maybe a little older. Might have the initials G. L. Might not.”

  “Staterooms with kids. Do not disturb.”

  “Correct,” he said.

  “I’ve got a friend in Reservations. I can do that.”

  Finn thanked her.

  “What about here on the island?” she asked. “I can help here, too.”

  “Okay. Listen, I promise I won’t ask you out on a date, but could I get your Wave Phone number?”

  She gave him the number and said, “And who says I’d turn down the date if it was offered?”

  Finn blush
ed. She was way too pretty. Four or five years older than him.

  Maybe the island was enchanted.

  * * *

  Philby found the phones where Finn had said he would. He studied the massage bungalows from a short distance, wondering what was up with Tia Dalma and the account of the previous night. All around him, thousands of cruise line guests were running, sailing, laughing, watersliding, and eating. Always eating. Oblivious to the challenges facing five teenagers, the guests took advantage of their time on their own private island, able to pack a week’s worth of regular beach vacation into a single day.

  Mixed in with them were dozens of Cast Members who provided all that fun. Somewhere—likely back on the ship—were an uncounted number of rebellious Overtakers who disapproved of the Disney lifestyle and wanted to instill their own wicked values on the parks and guests. There were times, like now, that Philby felt outnumbered and overwhelmed. It was far easier to hatch a devious plan than to uncover one. Just looking out at all the guests emphasized the futility of the Keepers’ mission. They were looking for a needle in a haystack.

  Then, over the heads of the beachgoers, the suntanners, the swimmers, the Frisbee throwers, the snorkelers, the day sailors, the Jet Skiers, and the barbecue dwellers rose the nearly unbelievable vastness of the Dream. Sparkling in the sunshine. Majestic. Almost as if it had been Photoshopped in.

  At that same moment a honeybee floated by on the breeze. It too seemed incredibly out of place. Maybe the company set up hives to help pollinate gardens and flowers. He didn’t really care. What interested Philby all of a sudden was that in biology class he’d learned about clearing the hive of the worker bees. He’d learned that when a hive was threatened, a group of bees rushed to surround the queen and protect her. How this very act of communal defense could be used by the beekeeper to locate and identify the queen, to pluck her from the hive, which was sometimes necessary to move the worker bees or establish a new hive.

  From the bee to the ship and back to the bee. Something so small. Something so large. All the people swarming the beach. Great ideas didn’t materialize out of thin air. The really great ideas were inspired by something or someone. Even a bee.

  Philby wondered if, with all this insanity ashore, he might have just come up with a way to find the hidden queen.

  * * *

  Finn sat at a table at Cookie’s, getting hungry as everyone walked past with trays of food. Philby had met up with him right at the scheduled time to drop off the various Wave Phones left behind the night before. Finn told him about Storey Ming returning to the ship to look for staterooms where kids might be sleeping—where an OTK might be crossed over.

  Philby took note of the information, then said he had something to do and headed for the Dream.

  “You think you’re so cool,” Finn said, Philby now well out of earshot. Once to the ship, Philby could report back to Wayne ahead of Finn. He felt tempted to race back himself and beat him to it.

  A girl sat down on the far end of the same picnic table bench. Finn glanced over and jumped.

  It was Sally Ringwald. It took him only seconds to spot the faint blue line shimmering at her edges.

  “No way…” he gasped. His mother’s spy. A DHI for the Overtakers.

  She looked straight ahead and spoke softly. “There’s something happening tonight.”

  “The party,” Finn said.

  “I don’t know about any party.”

  “Are you on the ship? How many of you?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “And I don’t know. Listen, I promised your mother, and I’m keeping that promise.”

  “What’s happening tonight?” he asked.

  “All I know is there have been messages. A bunch of us are going to be on the island.”

  “Overtakers,” Finn said softly.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “To do what?”

  “It’s unclear. There’s a truck involved.”

  “A truck.”

  “But I don’t know what for.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “I thought you should know. It’s something I thought you should know.”

  “How many of you?” he repeated.

  Sally stood from the bench and left, her hologram disappearing into the thick lunch crowd. Then she was gone.

  Finn considered following her, but he had the phones to give back. He checked the time. So unlike the girls to be late. Maybeck, sure; Maybeck liked to be the last to arrive to anything; he liked to keep people waiting just long enough that they took notice of him. But Willa and Charlene were punctual.

  Fifteen minutes. Twenty…

  He stopped counting. No one was coming.

  “We’re lost,” Charlene said, “aren’t we?”

  “And then some,” said Willa.

  They’d been wandering the narrow trails for more than two hours, the mangrove and swamp marsh grasses like walls on either side, leaving them in open-air tunnels. The spongy sand underfoot revealed nothing; if you closed your eyes and spun around, the trail gave no indication of which direction you’d just been headed.

  “You remember the maze in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You know that was Robert Pattinson…the boy who died?”

  “Charlie, everyone knows it was Robert Pattinson.”

  “I’m just trying to change the subject, get our minds off of never finding our way out of here and being eaten by snakes, or starving to death, or missing the boat. It’s going to leave at five o’clock.”

  “Ship. And it’s not even noon yet.”

  “I’m just saying…”

  “You’re saying too much. We need to think more, talk less,” Willa said.

  “Way to establish a sense of teamwork. Thanks for the confidence boost. I happen to talk a lot when I’m nervous.” Charlene had been told she talked a lot—as in too much—nervous or not. But only by all of her teachers, her coach, and her parents. Needless to say, they were all crazy.

  “Wish I had my iPhone,” Charlene said. “I could map our position and—”

  “No you couldn’t. There’s no cell service here. No GPS. Your phone would just stare back at you.”

  “You’re such a dark cloud today. Lighten up!”

  “You’re starting to sound like a Disney character,” Willa said. “I wouldn’t take the role so much to heart.”

  Charlene made a sudden move at Willa, invading her space. Willa jumped back out of the way, clearly frightened. The two girls stood facing each other, breathing pent-up violence.

  “Look at us,” Willa said.

  “Oh, I’m looking…believe me, I’m looking.” Charlene had yet to flinch, dialed in to Willa and working to stare her down into submission. “And I don’t like what I see.”

  “Truce?” Willa proposed.

  “What is with you?” Charlene asked. However small, Willa’s capitulation gave her a sense of victory.

  “Boy stuff.”

  “Philby?”

  Willa hesitated. “I know…how stupid can I get, right?”

  “You’re not stupid. No one would accuse you of that.”

  “You weren’t really going to hit me. Right?”

  Charlene answered with another stare-down.

  “You freak me out sometimes.”

  “Good.” That made Charlene feel even better. “Now…how do we find our way out of here?”

  “Well, for starters, you see the way all the plants are leaning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wind,” Willa said. “All we have to figure out is if it’s an onshore breeze or an offshore breeze.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “The wind blows so constantly from a single direction that plants growing up in the wind bend away from it. Permanently. But is it coming off the water or blowing out to the water—onshore or offshore?”

  Willa kneeled, took up a stick, and drew the island, a long, narrow finger. Then, to th
e left, the ship at the pier perpendicular to the shore. She drew a line down the center of the island to represent the road the shuttle followed and three lines pointing at the island to represent the steady breeze. She drew two Xs to represent her and Charlene.

  She leaned back, squatting over her work.

  “It’s both,” she said. “Of course it is! I’m not used to islands. On the mainland it has to be one or the other. Here, it’s different.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “On the ship side of the island, the breeze comes off the water. On this side, it continues on and blows offshore back out to sea. So we want to head into the wind, away from the direction the plants lean. And when we hit other paths, we want to take the ones that head the same way: away from the lean.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Am I positive? No. But yeah, I’m sure.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Stay with me.”

  “As if there’s a choice.”

  “There’s only one small problem,” Willa said.

  “Which is?”

  “Sometimes the afternoon winds are stronger than the morning winds. No matter what, the wind almost always turns around on itself later in the day.”

  “In which case,” Charlene proposed, “everything you just said is backward.”

  “Correct.”

  “So we’re still lost.”

  “Yes. But we’re lost with a theory.”

  “You drive me crazy,” Charlene said. “But in a good way.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “There is an alternative,” Charlene said suddenly.

  “Which is?”

  “Get on my shoulders and see where we are.” Charlene kneeled. “What are you waiting for? Climb on.”

  “You can’t possibly hold me.”

  “We won’t know until we try.”

  * * *

  Surrounded by marsh and a hundred yards from a narrow inlet of ocean water an impossible color of blue, with nothing around them but scrub brush, sand, and darting lizards the size of gummy bears, two men toiled.

  “And if the system isn’t working?” Maybeck asked.

  “Then the mosquito population will run wild.”

  “Does it bother you,” said Maybeck, “that you spent all those years studying the lives of insects, and now you’ve devoted yourself to killing them?”