Komodos didn’t eat people, but they were known to bite and do serious harm. She didn’t know the
rule about Komodos—did you run or walk? The lizard turned sideways for a second, as if to size
her up, and once again she changed her mind: it wasn’t a Komodo; it looked more…prehistoric,
with thick scales and…was that possible?… wings, tucked in along its back. It looked more like…
A dragon. She’d read stories about dragons. Had seen movies. She’d always considered
them mythological creatures. But now she was looking at one.
It had a disgusting, pink tongue that flicked like a snake’s—but about two feet long. The tongue curled as it drew back between the rows of gray, stubby teeth.
She wanted to think of this as coincidence—the two of them had just happened to cross paths, and it was now fol owing her. Tracking her was more to the point, she thought. But then something even more strange entered her thoughts: what if Jez was indeed locked up in the stump
—the food locker—and the dragon was some kind of patrol for the Overtakers? After al , the safari
was fil ed with al sorts of animals, from giraffes to zebras, but a scaly Asian dragon with wings?
The Overtakers.
It was the first thing to come to her: if Jez was being kept out here on the savannah, it seemed
obvious who would guard her. And if there was a dragon mixed in with al the rest of the animals,
could that possibly be a coincidence, since dragons hadn’t existed for the past few mil ion years—
if ever?
So what exactly was the dragon waiting for? It just lingered back there, a dozen yards away,
trol ing back and forth across the grassy landscape as if sniffing around for food. If he was going to attack her, why not get to it?
Could a dragon possibly think? Could it be waiting to see if she headed for the stump? She
subtly increased both the quickness and the length of her strides. She glanced back to see that
the dragon had stayed right with her. It didn’t seem to be moving any faster, either, and yet…there it was.
Now more convinced than ever that she was its intended target, she looked around and realized that she was al alone out on the savannah. She saw an ostrich in the distance—perhaps
they had begun releasing animals already. A herd of Thomson’s gazel es shot across the field, but
some nights they were left on the grounds; it didn’t mean much to see them. If, on the other hand, the animals were already being released and introduced to the savannah, then Wil a hoped they
might distract the dragon from its current obsession with her.
She moved increasingly closer to the stump, and now, looking back, she saw the dragon fol owing her. If she climbed on top of the stump, she would be out of reach of the dragon. But what about the wings? Could something like that possibly fly?
She heard the sudden beating of hooves, seconds later mixing with the rumble of a truck engine. A herd of zebras had been released—again to her left—and from somewhere behind her
a truck was approaching. If she was going to inspect the stump it had to be now—right now.
She ran the last few yards, and if she’d harbored any doubts as to the dragon’s intentions,
they were answered by its light-footed sprint to keep up with her. There was no turning back now.
No changing her mind. The dragon raced toward her, its mouth open, snapping at the air.
She reached the side of the stump—though shaped like a stump, it was made of metal, with
a smal door in the side. She worked the snap lock off the hasp and opened the door.
The dragon charged, seemingly not touching the ground at al . It flicked its long tail back and
forth, moving in a snakelike fashion, quickly closing the distance between them.
Wil a dove inside and pul ed the door shut behind her. It was incredibly warm inside. Enough
light filtered in to al ow her to see that Jez was not there. There were sacks of food and salt licks. It smel ed like a pet store. A coiled hose hung from a hook.
The dragon smashed into the door, then slammed its powerful tail against the stump. Her ears rang. A rumbling in the ground grew louder. Wil a looked out a crack in the access door to
see the herd of zebras bearing down on her as it crossed the savannah.
The dragon took off for a distant tree and climbed it in a creepy, effortless way.
Wil a sagged down to sit, trying to catch her breath.
And then she saw it: freshly scraped into the fake stump’s rusty metal was a simple message
that made absolutely no sense—and yet somehow she knew it had been written by Jez.
It read: Change Rob.
She curled up and held her breath, waiting to flee the stump once the storm of zebras had
passed.
24
MAYBECK STOOD INSIDE a dark enclosure the size of a large closet. It had a concrete floor from
which a low brick wal rose to waist level. From there, framed lumber intersected by long bamboo
poles rose geometrical y overhead, wrapped on the outside with heavy brown vinyl: fake brick.
Together, it added up on the outside to what looked like an Asian temple. But inside it smel ed
bad—real y bad—like one of those Porta-Potties at the state fair. It was surprisingly cool inside—
a place for the monkeys to escape the heat. There was a white plastic tub with a metal handle
sitting by the door. Alongside it was a neatly coiled green hose connected to a spigot.
The door clapped shut behind him. He turned in time to see the monkey overhead, carrying
the pil owcase, climbing effortlessly, up, up, up, pul ing himself between the bamboo poles and jeering down at Maybeck.
Sunlight seeped in through several square openings at the top of the temple. The temple provided shelter for the monkeys, a place to hide from storms and a cool place to sleep. The smel
was the problem: the monkeys used the concrete floor as their bathroom. He understood the purpose of the hose, then, and felt tempted to give the concrete a spraying off.
If the monkey made it to the top window, the pil owcase and its contents would be gone.
Maybeck considered climbing, but that was a race he was sure to lose.
The monkey crossed along the bamboo rafters, and then, to Maybeck’s surprise, began to
work its way back down. Maybeck’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. And then something moved
from the shadows.
Maleficent.
She stepped out to where Maybeck could see her, regal in her purple-fringed black cape, her
startling green skin glowing with maliciousness.
“Hel o, Terrance.” A voice like grinding stones.
The monkey handed her the bag. She accepted it with an outstretched arm, never taking her
eyes off Maybeck.
“Do you know what happens to children who play where they don’t belong?”
He couldn’t get a word out.
“They get…burned,” she said. A flaming orb appeared in one hand. She cocked her arm
back, ready to throw.
Maybeck dove for the hose, swiveled its nozzle, and shot a ferocious stream of water at the
witch.
The monkey cried out and leaped up into the rafters.
The water stream knocked the burning bal out of Maleficent’s hand but produced a cloud of
steam that immediately fil ed the smal space so thickly he couldn’t see.
A dark shadow shifted inside the gray cloud of steam: Maleficent moving to cut off his path to
the door. He abandoned the hose and sprang for the door. But she was much faster than he’d
anticipated. He came face-to-face with the green skin and bloodshot eyes. Her breath was like a
dead mouse caught in a trap as she said, “N
o. I don’t think so.”
Maybeck didn’t hesitate. He kicked out, punching the door open and admitting a flood of light.
Maleficent, stil holding the pil owcase, moved to block his exit, just as he’d hoped.
He sprang up overhead, through the bamboo, and squeezed out the hole at the top. Hand-
over-hand, he swung up the taut connecting rope—five yards…ten—as he pul ed himself toward
the tower.
Maleficent stepped out into the sunlight but jumped back—the heat of the sun’s rays already
too much for her.
Maybeck reached the tower and found the dangling rope and slid down, burning his hands,
reached the ground, and took off running without looking back.
He understood with absolute clarity what was going on: the bat was a spy— Maleficent’s spy—and she’d dispatched the birds and the monkey to make sure she received the bat’s report.
The bat had fol owed Finn since Amanda’s. It knew al about them. And now Maleficent knew,
too.
He shuddered with the thought of that as he broke into the jungle and ran for his life.
25
THE MOMENT THE PARK gates opened to the public, Finn, Amanda, and Philby entered through the
Cast Member entrance, using the IDs that Wayne had provided. Finn and Philby were determined
to mix in with the crowds and reach the rendezvous in time to meet up with the others. Famous as
DHIs, their faces were known throughout the Disney kingdoms, a fame that threatened—for they
were forbidden from attending except on special y approved days. Getting around without being
recognized was not going to be easy. They wore basebal caps to hide their faces, and they kept
to themselves as much as possible.
By the time they reached the benches just inside the large gates north of the Rainforest Cafe,
where the Animal Kingdom parade originated, a wet Maybeck and a dirty-faced Wil a were waiting. Finn handed out copies of the page from Jez’s diary.
Quiet at this hour, it was a good place to meet. They gathered around a bench, awaiting Charlene’s grand entrance as DeVine, the ivy-covered chameleon.
Maybeck told them about being attacked by birds, about losing the bat to a monkey, and about his encounter with Maleficent.
Wil a spoke of her pursuit by a miniature dragon and her discovery in the metal stump of the
cryptic message left by Jez.
“There’s something to be learned from what we both went through,” Wil a said, continuing.
“We can’t trust any of the animals we see. Maleficent can control them. Whether a flock of birds, or a dragon with wings. We’re no longer in the Animal Kingdom, we’re in Maleficent’s kingdom.”
“If she went to al this trouble to be here, there’s got to be a good reason.” Finn heard something behind him and glanced over his shoulder into the jungle. He saw nothing. Wil a and
Maybeck were freaking him out.
“Maleficent’s weak in the heat. She needs cold to survive. If she’s hanging out here, it’s someplace cold.”
“But why here?” Finn asked.
“We need to keep watch on the bat enclosure,” Maybeck proposed.
“I can go places none of you can,” said a girl’s voice from behind them. Once again Finn looked back into the jungle. Again he saw nothing.
“Up here,” said the voice.
He and the others looked up to see a vine-covered leotard, with no face and no arms. It was
Charlene, in costume as DeVine, her face painted green and black. The overal effect was disarming: she’d been standing there al along, immediately behind Finn.
Philby applauded. “Outrageous!” he said.
“Whoa,” said Maybeck. “You total y blend in.”
“I can’t believe it!” said an exhilarated Wil a. “I’m looking right at you and I almost can’t see
you.”
“I’l need to leave the area before the real DeVine comes out. But I can go almost anywhere
undetected. Even Maleficent isn’t going to see me in this.”
“Okay, Charlene wil watch the bat enclosure,” Finn stated with a feigned authority. He remembered Wayne tel ing him that he was the group’s chosen leader, though he stil wasn’t buying it. But to his surprise, no one argued with him.
Charlene, blending into her surroundings, waited for some Park guests to pass and then said, “Wil someone please hand me the page from the diary?”
Amanda produced it, stood on the bench, and passed it up to her.
Charlene studied it. “Monkeys…tigers…a bat…This is enough for now,” she said.
“It’s possible that everything on that page is significant,” Finn cautioned.
Catching Philby dozing off, he punched him in the arm. “And NO fal ing asleep,” he reminded
them.
“I’m exhausted,” Wil a said.
“We cannot sleep!” Finn repeated. “Wayne warned us about that. We’ve got to believe him.”
Maybeck indicated a food cart. “Cokes al around!”
A few minutes later they were al loading up on caffeine. “Maybe Maleficent can’t get Jez out
of the park until after it closes,” Amanda said, “or maybe the plan is to run al of you around until you tire out. If she can trap you al in the Sleeping Beauty Syndrome, she eliminates the enemy
and is free to rule without chal enge.”
“You think she took Jez to bait us?” Wil a asked.
“None of this means anything,” Maybeck said, “until we find Jez. The chal enge is to stay awake long enough to find Jez and crash this cloned server—if it even exists. Then maybe we hunt
down Maleficent, if we’re stil standing. But until we find Jez, none of it matters.”
“Listen!” Charlene said from high on the stilts.
The kids turned their attention toward the jungle.
“Not to me!” Charlene clarified. “To the music.”
The kids perked up their ears. It was Ashley Tisdale’s “Kiss the Girl,” coming over the Park’s
speaker system.
“Yeah? So?” asked Wil a. “Radio Disney plays that al the time.”
“I know that,” Charlene said. “But me and my family come as often as possible, and I’ve never
heard that song in this Park before.”
The kids listened some more. “You’re right. It’s always Lion King and stuff like that.”
“It’s Jez,” Amanda stated.
“What’s Jez?” Finn asked.
“‘Kiss the Girl’is Jez’s favorite song,” Amanda said. “She abuses that song on her iPod. If it
doesn’t belong in this Park, then it’s her. It’s some kind of message.”
“I think you’re more tired than the rest of us,” Maybeck said.
“Which is completely understandable,” Wil a chimed in, “given the stress…”
“Listen…listen!” Amanda demanded, raising a finger to try to shut them up. “Raven-Symoné
is going to sing ‘Under the Sea’ next.”
“Yeah, right,” said Maybeck. “I suppose if your sister can dream the future, you can hear it.”
“Philby,” Amanda said, “Jez had her iPod with her. Is there some way she could use it over
the sound system?”
“Hijack the sound system?” Philby said, considering the question. “Depends, I suppose. If she
stripped a wire from the earbuds and tapped into—”
But he was cut off by the music changing.
Raven-Symoné was singing “Under The Sea.”
Al the kids went quiet.
Some visitors walked past talking about going on Expedition Everest. The parents sounded
reluctant to try the ride.
But it wasn’t the guests that had silenced the kids.
“Coincidence,” Maybeck said in a whisper. He didn’t sound at al
convinced.
“It’s Jez,” Amanda countered, her voice noticeably brighter.
“I know for a fact that they never play that song here,” Charlene said from up high. “I believe
Amanda. And besides, it’s softer than the regular music—not as loud. It doesn’t sound right.”
“Which would also explain why Finn and I overheard two maintenance guys talking about sound-system problems,” Philby said.
Finn’s face brightened. “That’s right!”
“Then why doesn’t she just send us Morse code, or something?” Maybeck complained.
“Because she can’t give away what she’s done,” Amanda said, trying to think as Jez would
think. “She doesn’t want them figuring it out. So she’s trying to communicate with us, without it being real y obvious.”
“Wait right here,” Philby said, taking off at a run. The kids watched him go.
They used the downtime to review the page taken from Jez’s diary.
“The animals could symbolize different things,” Wil a suggested.
“Like what?” a skeptical Maybeck questioned. “Listen, I see the drawing of the lightning striking a castle, and even I’ve got to admit it’s pretty coincidental. But the rest of these? They’re animals. So what? She likes animals. It doesn’t mean they mean something.”
“It doesn’t mean they don’t,” Amanda countered. “You don’t know Jez. They’re clues. Clues
we’re supposed to fol ow.”
Philby came running toward them.
As he did, there was suddenly no music at al : a rarity in any of the Disney Parks.
Then “Under the Sea” began playing again.
One thing al the kids knew: music never repeated in any of the Parks. Not ever.
Out of breath, Philby said, “It’s playing on this side of the Park and in Asia. Discovery Island
and Africa have different music going.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Maybeck said. “How do we know that isn’t always
the case?”
Philby explained, “From what I know, the system is designed to be able to move sound around the Park. The parades require that the music fol ow the floats. It’s a sophisticated, computer-control ed sound system. I’ve never read anything about one half of the Park being sent
one kind of music, and the other half another.”
Kingdom Keepers II: Disney at Dawn Page 11
