Kingdom Keepers V

by Ridley Pearson

  As he turned to go in that direction, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye: a launch sliding through the water just outside of the marked-off swimming areas. It was taking the same basic route that the lifeboats had taken the night before, a route toward the cabanas.

  His fingers hovered over the phone. He’d been ready to text that he was on his way to the runway, but his thumbs wouldn’t cooperate.

  boat toward cabana—wll stay here

  He had no desire to face Jafar or Tia Dalma alone. He knew that Jafar’s serpent staff was out there somewhere keeping watch. Just the thought of that gave him shivers on an otherwise warm night.

  The explosions and bursts of light overhead, the appreciative oohs from the passengers, all facing the ship, mouths agape, made it a chaotic walk for Finn as he headed back toward the cabanas. As the fireworks exploded, the sand turned a variety of colors; Finn’s shadow spread out around him in a starburst.

  It flashed green, and Finn looked up to see Maleficent standing ten yards off, staring at him. He stopped cold.

  The beach went black, then illuminated again: she was gone.

  Or had she been there in the first place? he wondered.

  Don’t go, a voice inside him pleaded. But, as the launch turned and headed for shore, he saw no choice. It was loaded with ten or twelve Cast Members, not one of whom was looking up at the fireworks.

  It was almost as if they were in a trance.

  * * *

  Using the fireworks mortar blasts as a beacon, Charlene and the returned Willa fled down the swamp paths in the light of the exploding colors. They took two wrong turns but easily found the proper path, working their way out of the maze. Out of breath, they found themselves on asphalt—the access road to the watchtower. It was only a matter of minutes before they approached the runway and, on the corner, the Disney-staged twin-engine plane that was overgrown with jungle life.

  They turned and hugged.

  “Don’t forget to tell Finn about the plane,” Willa said.

  “I won’t.”

  “Good luck,” Charlene said. She sprinted across the wide runway and out of sight, in the direction of the massage cabanas.

  Willa crept up to the old plane.

  “Psst!” she hissed.

  “In here,” came Philby’s voice.

  She pulled herself up onto the wing and looked down into the cockpit, where Philby sat in the torn leather pilot’s seat.

  “There’s no room,” she complained.

  “My lap,” he said, patting his legs.

  “As if!” She debated playing along, but was afraid of how he could suddenly distance himself.

  A brilliant yellow flash lit up everything around them. She jumped into the cockpit and onto Philby’s lap.

  They both looked up into the night sky as the fireworks boomed. The two spreading flowers in the black were red and blue.

  Not yellow.

  Philby pushed her forward as he leaned and peered out at the runway. A yellow and blue line of flame ran parallel to the tarmac.

  “The propane…” Philby muttered to himself.

  “The what?” Willa said.

  He quickly explained Maybeck’s discovery of a planted propane tank connected to the island’s insect tubing.

  “But if they removed it…”

  “There must have been two,” Philby said. “Don’t you see? They use the fireworks as cover so it won’t be noticed. By putting propane through the line and lighting it, they mark the runway for the pilot.” He grew excited. “The plane you heard about. The delivery! With everyone’s attention on the fireworks…with all the booming…no one sees or hears the…”

  His voice was covered by the low growl of an approaching plane somewhere in the blackened distance.

  * * *

  Maybeck might have reached Luowski without being noticed, but a burst of color from the fireworks display threw Maybeck’s shadow across the wall, causing Luowski to spin around. The boy stood so fast the headphones flew off his wide skull. He lifted his left arm in time to block Maybeck’s punch, delivering his own right fist into Maybeck’s abs.

  Maybeck was in shape. The blow hurt, but his abs were rock hard, limiting the damage. Maybeck faked a left by raising his elbow and caught Luowski by surprise with an extended left, up and over the forearm block, that connected with Luowski’s ear. He clearly rang his bell with that one. Luowski staggered back off balance and into the radio gear.

  But as the boy reached out, Maybeck saw he was going for some kind of improvised switch—a black button on the end of a pair of wires crudely attached to a box on the wall. Maybeck didn’t know what the boy was up to, but he knew he had to stop him from reaching that button. He moved toward it. In the process, he opened himself up.

  Focused on the button, the off-balance Luowski still managed to backhand Maybeck across the face. As he followed through, he caught Maybeck by the sleeve of his shirt and tugged.

  The kid was phenomenally strong, Maybeck realized a fraction of a second too late. Not just strong, but well coordinated, able to convert his raw power into decisive moves. Maybeck had felt he was within inches of stopping the kid from reaching the switch and then found himself being hurled back toward the shed door. It was like he bounced off a force field.

  Luowski pushed the button; its popping sound was familiar to Maybeck. Luowski defiantly tore the button from the wires. Whatever he’d just done, there was no undoing it.

  Maybeck scrambled to his feet in the open door.

  “How’d that work out for you?” Luowski said, clearly in control of the situation.

  “About as well as this is going to work out for you,” Maybeck fired back.

  He slipped out of the shed, shut the door, and locked it. Only with the click of the padlock did he recall where he’d heard the sound that button had made: his aunt’s barbecue grill.

  The igniter.

  * * *

  It was some kind of ceremony. The Cast Members were led into Tia Dalma’s cabana, and she started chanting something indistinguishable as Finn listened from behind.

  Neither Jafar nor his staff were anywhere to be seen.

  Finn sneaked closer across the sand and pulled himself up to peer through the bottom of the open window, catching glimpses of the interior.

  Six Cast Members. Three girls. Three boys. He tried to commit their faces to memory, though in the flickering candlelight he couldn’t see clearly. Tia Dalma was waving a small doll in one hand and a carved idol in the other—a boy? He couldn’t tell.

  She uttered nonsensical words in a steady, hypnotizing stream. Finn dropped back down, afraid he was coming under whatever spell she was issuing. For there was no doubt about what she was up to.

  The Overtakers were taking control of some of the ship’s Cast Members. Just the thought of this paralyzed Finn. Who could they trust if not the Cast Members?

  Before he could think what to do, he turned around.

  Maleficent stood at the edge of the jungle where Finn had just been crouched in hiding.

  He heard the six Cast Members leaving the cabana. A moment later he heard a truck start up and drive off.

  Neither he nor Maleficent had moved. They stood there, locked together in an unending stare.

  Finn had known this moment was coming.

  * * *

  At Philby’s urging, they scrambled out of the cockpit and hid in the jungle at the edge of the runway. As he’d expected, a glowing yellow line stretched the entire length of the runway, easily seen from a plane preparing to land.

  “No landing lights,” Philby said.

  If there was a plane out there, Willa didn’t see it, but there was no mistaking the sound as it grew louder.

  “So it’s on,” she said. “The delivery. They were going to drop a palm tree across the road so a Pargo couldn’t make it if they happened to see the landing.”

  “Means it’s going to be quick,” Philby said. “They didn’t block all the vehicles.” He was
pointing to a small but heavy-duty flatbed truck just arriving at the end of the runway. Six Cast Members piled out of the truck—three boys, three girls. One ignited a pair of signal flares and, stepping in front of the others, held them high above his head. Smoke spiraled from the bright orange flares.

  “But if they’re Cast Members…” Willa said.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” said Philby.

  “Maybe it’s something the ship arranged,” she speculated. “Maybe they just don’t want the passengers knowing about it.”

  “It doesn’t add up. No one knew about the propane.”

  “No one that we know of,” she said. “That doesn’t mean we’re right.”

  Philby could not live easily with the thought of being wrong. It wasn’t in his vocabulary. Like math, facts added up to a single result. You could collect any number of facts about a particular thing or event, but when added together in any combination they reached but a single truth. Philby spent endless hours collecting and amassing such data. When he reached a conclusion it was, in his mind, as concrete as simple addition.

  The facts of this matter had led him to realize a secret landing was taking place—secret not only from passengers, but from Disney as well. He was right. He was always right.

  “We treat it as hostile,” he said.

  “But they’re Cast Members.”

  “Could have been tricked. May know nothing of the contents. For now we observe as carefully as possible. We commit everything—everything!—to memory. The safety of the ship and its passengers depend on it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “It’s what you said, not me. Whatever is arriving on this plane is being brought aboard the Dream. And right now, we are the only ones who know about it.”

  * * *

  “You understand change is inevitable,” Maleficent said. “It’s as constant as the rising sun. Change of heart. Change of leadership. Unstoppable as time. Don’t blame yourself. It is not your fault. It is simply the way. This is my moment. You were unfortunate enough to be used by others to interfere with the natural order of things. You see that, don’t you? I think you will if you look closely enough. The truth is not always apparent, is it? The truth about Wayne…it doesn’t yell out to be heard. Sometimes you must listen quite carefully for it.”

  The truth about Wayne? Finn wondered. “What are you talking about?” Finn moved away from the cabana, not wanting anything at his back, seeking open space, equal ground. Her words gnawed at him. He didn’t want to believe a thing this creature said.

  “Mr. Disney created me as well,” Maleficent said. “So many seem to forget that. He put the same thought into my creation as any prince or princess. I am no different. I am entitled to my existence. My beliefs. Order. Obedience. Observation. You know it’s needed. That its time has come. You have seen the result of the so-called freedoms in the parks. The sniveling, runny-nosed rats disobeying their parents. The complaining. The impatience. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  He didn’t understand why the human body had eyelids that could block out all sight, yet no corresponding method to plug one’s ears and blot out all sound. He was forced to hear her. But not forced to listen, he realized, separating the two ideas in his thought. Hear, but don’t listen. Look, but don’t see.

  “I like the parks the way they are.”

  “Of course you do! You’re brainwashed. I don’t blame you, boy.”

  “I want my mother back!”

  “Little boy wants his mommy?”

  “Don’t mess with me.”

  “You are older. Bigger now than when we first met. But still foolish. Hmm? Mess with you? I can do anything to you I wish.”

  Put into this same situation, Philby would be considering ways to defeat her. Charlene would be debating the proper combat. Willa would want to outthink her. Maybeck would step up to challenge her.

  Finn wished he had the sword from Maelstrom, knowing it possessed great power, possibly enough to defeat this fairy. Certainly enough to threaten her. But its exact location had been unknown for some time.

  Was that Wayne’s doing as well?

  She had all the weapons; he had only the untested beta version of DHI 2.0 with which to battle back. If the Imagineers wanted their software upgrade field-tested, here was their chance.

  As he moved between cabanas, he heard the lapping of the small waves in between the rhythmic booming of the fireworks. He led her into the open, away from the cabanas and toward the edge of the ocean.

  “It is said all life came from the oceans,” Maleficent preached. “So to the ocean you shall return, young man.”

  “He not only created characters,” Finn said to her. “He created roles. Characters are confined to those roles. You are not obeying yours. What happens to those who do not obey?”

  “Do not twist my words.”

  “Your words or his words? Can a character be smarter or wiser or more important than the one who created her? Can she put words into her mouth or thoughts into her head that he doesn’t want her to speak or think?” He sensed she’d paused, as if actually considering what he’d said. He wondered: if he could not defeat her with weapons that he so sorely lacked, might it be possible to defeat her with words?

  She reared back her arm as if to throw something. In her open palm, a sphere of fire the size of a softball appeared. Her cape opened with the effort, and there in the ball’s sputtering light, tucked into her belt, he saw the leatherbound journal stolen from the library.

  She threw the fireball. Finn leaned slightly right and it hurled past, hissing as it landed in the ocean water.

  Another whispered past his ear as Finn leaned left.

  She had another ball of fire in hand, but let it fall to the sand next to her. It sputtered and died.

  “You resist the change that is coming,” she said. “This will be your undoing. I don’t expect you to join us. I would never trust you, nor you me. Stop challenging me, take your friends with you, and you’ll have your mother back. Good as new.”

  His head felt as if it might burst. She was working to upset him, to put him off his guard.

  “What if we…you and I…are nothing more than someone’s game? Players in a game?” He’d been thinking about this recently, but had not shared the idea with anyone. Not even Philby. It struck him as ironic that Maleficent would hear it first. “You are a character. Your words and actions are designed by others. Walt Disney. The animators. Now the Imagineers. And it was the Imagineers who created me—as a DHI, giving you someone to battle. Isn’t that just a little bit convenient?”

  He could see his words affect her in the slumping of her shoulders and a glowering in her eyes.

  “Nonsense…” she uttered, but her words lacked conviction.

  “How do you think I feel? They’re using us both.”

  He was knee-deep in the surf before her own toes contacted the water and she realized his location. She waded in deeper as he’d known she would.

  “Stay where you are!” she hollered.

  Finn lowered his chin below the surface and spoke softly. “Starfish wise, starfish cries.”

  Maleficent made a sweeping motion with her arm. The water around Finn illuminated in wire-thin bars of light forming a perfect octagon, fully encircling him.

  He’d seen such a fence before—in the dungeon below Pirates—and had made the mistake of attempting to breach it. The shock had thrown him back. Finn fought to stay stock-still in the undulating surf, unsure what the energy beam might do to his DHI when standing waist-deep in seawater.

  From all along the line where the breaking waves reached hungrily for the sand, a white foam arose like boiling water. Maleficent, proud of her accomplishment of confining Finn, and focusing her considerable energies into the electronic fence that surrounded him, took no notice of events at her feet.

  Finn, however, witnessed the result of uttering King Triton’s code. A small, pale claw appeared through the foam. Then ano
ther. Crabs. Not just hundreds, but thousands of them. Tens of thousands. All converging on Maleficent in the colorful pulses of light from the fireworks.

  By the time she looked down, with an expression of terror overcoming her, she was in too deep to retreat. Knee-deep, to be precise—all in a matter of seconds. She sank into a hole dug beneath her by ten thousand furious beach crabs, the seawater roiling around her like a giant white inner tube. She put out her hands to tread water, to stop her descent, but screamed wickedly as the crabs bit her.

  Her eyes found Finn and filled with venom.

  Finn swelled with pride and confidence. He’d lured her out here; he used the code to defeat her. There was one last barrier to overcome: all clear. Philby was extremely smart, ridiculously capable, but he wasn’t superior. Software was software. If 2.0 all clear were achievable, then Finn possessed the tools necessary to achieve it. He didn’t need a light at the end of a dark tunnel. That process required thinking. The point of 2.0 was its transparency. You didn’t think your way, you trusted.

  He cleared his head and walked through the glowing wires, unharmed.

  Crossing her arms—her hands bloody—she continued to sink lower.

  “Release my mother, and I’ll call them off.”

  Maleficent was waist deep and sinking quickly. “I—” She snatched the journal from her waist and held it above the water.

  “You are in no position to argue!” he said, suddenly worried Triton’s crabs would drown the fairy. In all his dreams of defeating her, he’d never thought of actually killing her. The idea sickened him. No matter how he hated and despised her, he would take no satisfaction in her drowning.

  He said, “Release my mother!”

  “She’s human, you fool!”

  What was that supposed to mean?

  “Who did this?” she asked, now chest deep. “Was it Ariel? That little bi—”

  Finn shouted. “You can save yourself! Release my—”

  “You do so underestimate me.”

  She vanished. One moment up to her chin; the next, the journal fell toward the water as a black cormorant appeared on the surface, shook water from its feathers, cawed loudly at Finn, and flew off toward the ship.