Kingdom Keepers: The Syndrome

by Ridley Pearson

  Stepping through the doors overwhelmed me. An open atrium reached five stories up; gingerbread trim and delicate railings lined the balconies. Across the enormous room, a live band played. High above, two chandeliers hung from the ceiling; higher still were a set of domed stained-glass skylights. Palm fronds dotted the lobby floor, interspersed with chairs and couches. It was to one of those couches that Joe walked me, hand on my shoulder, apparently feeling obligated to ensure that I made it safely.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  I resented being treated like a five-year-old. I nodded, but with difficulty. Something wasn’t right. Joe’s patronizing tone and actions were an affront to me.

  He caught the eyes of the VIP receptionist accompanying us. His look said Watch her.

  I shuddered.

  Joe joined the two Imagineers at the front desk. Turning to the VIP hostess, I put on my best innocent-teenager face and asked for the nearest restroom. The hostess pointed to the right of the concierge desk, well away from Joe and the others.

  I excused myself. She didn’t bat an eye.

  The lobby’s design worked in my favor. In front of the door to the ladies’ room, I was shielded from view by a giant decorative birdcage. I stopped for only a second to pull a sweatshirt from my backpack, slipping it on and pulling up the hood in spite of the heat. Then I power-walked, keeping my head down. Seconds later, out the back door of the lobby, I broke into a run, past the pool, past Narcoossee’s restaurant, down to the dock from which water ferries shuttled guests across the lagoon to the Magic Kingdom.

  “You just barely made it,” the captain of the ferry said, smiling as she closed the rail gate behind me.

  “Thanks for waiting!”

  I took a seat in the back of the small boat. It pulled away, leaving Joe and his secrets behind.

  AMANDA

  Strapped neatly around an upper branch of the tree outside Fort Langhorn was Finn’s wristwatch. It glistened in the wan rays of moonlight.

  I climbed up, eager to confirm it was his. I knew everything about it, down to the black band’s rough outer edge, worn away from constant use. I fought the tightness in my throat; swallowed back my fears for Finn and shoved away the self-pity.

  In the dim light and shadows, I saw a heart carved into the tree. It was a deep old scar left long ago. Framed within the heart were the initials: F + A. My heart did a somersault. How had Finn found this spot where two lovers carved their initials twenty, thirty, forty years ago? I wondered if discovering the carving had spurred him to kiss me for the first time here, near this tree. Finn knew so much about the parks, though he had been aided by Wayne’s mentoring. How incredible to have found such a spot. The carved heart matched the paper one he’d left in his pocket for me. Finn planned everything, dreamed everything, believed everything. I missed him now more than ever.

  Our time, he had written, and he’d hidden his wristwatch on a tree limb in an area of the park only I would know to search. Finn was acting more like Wayne than ever. I dropped back to the dirt with a thump and tried to work out whatever message he’d intended for me.

  Time. A tree. A fort. A kiss. Again, my heart felt like it was riding the Rock ’n’ Roller Coaster. I struggled against the thought that Finn was trying to say good-bye, was trying to leave a message, a reminder of our best times. Please, no!

  A jar to overflowing…

  Time. A watch. A tree. A fort. A kiss. A jar.

  A kiss. A fort. A tree. A watch. A jar.

  A watch.

  A jar.

  Maybe it was desperation. Maybe Finn and I had a connection that transcended time and trees and the fort. But standing there, staring at the tree, trying to make sense of it all, I took Finn’s watch as a landmark. He’d wanted me to find it, of course. I knew that much. It meant something. It marked something.

  I climbed back up to the branch and felt around for any carving, for a note, for anything I might have missed. Nothing. On the ground, I inspected the watch. The only thing wrong was that the day of the week on the face was incorrect. It read Monday, which wasn’t the kind of mistake Finn would make. It might have been intentional, but I didn’t see how or why.

  About to give up, I stepped closer to the tree and studied the precise spot at which the watch had been strapped to the limb. I couldn’t see well in the dark, but I was hoping for something I might have missed. An arrow? Initials?

  My eyes drew a line down the trunk, past another branch, farther down to the soil at the base of the tree. Maybe the dark helped, or maybe it was Finn’s work, but I suddenly saw that the dirt at the base of the tree was different colors. In the soil, I made out four shoe prints. Four.

  The dark disturbance in the soil had nothing to do with me.

  I dropped to my knees and started to dig, throwing soil and wood chips to either side. My fingers traced a circle of soft soil about as wide as a Frisbee. The rest of the dirt, compacted and hard, gave up nothing, but the softer circle yielded to my quickening scoops. The hole had been dug with a trowel or shovel, its interior edges sculpted vertically. The soil was damp and smelled like a rich spring garden.

  My fingers struck something solid. Not a rock. My heart practically stopped. Finn. The watch. Buried treasure. It drummed under my touch, and I knew at once it was a plastic lid. Something inside me, deep inside, understood the significance of the find, the secrecy of it. I took a moment to look around, to see if anyone was watching. What I saw instead was a few stragglers, moving in the direction of the ferry dock. I was alone. It was safe to continue digging.

  I worked more methodically, my thoughts struggling to catch up with my actions. Finn had knowingly crossed over into the DHI state, but still, something had provoked him to leave a cryptic message and emotional scavenger hunt intended only for me. I thrilled at the trust this implied even as part of me recoiled at the responsibility. I felt protective, even a little angry. I was a mess.

  Literally, a mess—dirt and wood chips covered me. Sighing, I used the dim light of my phone to reveal the hallowed treasure. Protruding from the remaining dirt in the hole was the top of a blue and white soy protein powder container. New and undamaged, it clearly had not been in the ground long. I took one last look around and pulled it free. I couldn’t resist opening it, though my internal voice warned me not to.

  Inside were a few small toys, a rubber ball, and a picture I couldn’t make out. No note.

  I didn’t want to spend time here, kneeling in the grass on Tom Sawyer’s Island. I returned the lid to the canister, kicked dirt into the hole and stomped it down, then double-checked that I had pocketed Finn’s watch. In my heart, I told myself, When he returns, he’s going to want that back.

  In my hand, I carried the item I feared would explain why that might never happen.

  I rode a city bus from the Transportation and Ticket Center to downtown Orlando, and took another bus in the direction of Wanda’s apartment. One of its stops came close to the old church. I got off, in part because I was closer to Finn’s house, too, though I doubted his parents would appreciate yet another visit—especially one this late. And I got off in part to connect with Mattie and tell her about the can.

  A trick for getting in and out of the church attic involved using the side basement entrance to the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, which was held as late as midnight on some nights. A regular in the program, Joyce, came bounding over to me the moment I entered. We hugged, having not seen one another for a long, long time. As always, she offered me juice and a pastry. I gobbled down both and wiped down the outside of the tall blue can I was carrying.

  Then I took the building’s middle stairs to the upper reaches and knocked lightly on a door that felt like home. Nothing. I knocked more loudly.

  “Mattie? It’s me!”

  When she failed to answer, I tried to open the door, which could be “locked” from the inside by turning a piece of wood mounted to the jamb. To my surprise, it opened, suggesting Mattie wasn’t home. That shat
tered my plan to examine the can with her, and sent a small shiver of fear darting through me. Where would she be this late?

  She didn’t own a phone that I knew of. I stood in the dingy apartment, trying to think how or where I’d find her.

  “Knock knock!” Joyce was standing at the door.

  “Hi.”

  “Listen, honey,” Joyce said, “I came in late tonight to the meeting and…well, just now one of the girls saw me with you, and I thought you should know that Mattie was hurt two days ago. There was an ambulance.”

  “What!?”

  “She’s okay, I guess. Said she fell and hit her head.”

  “Police?”

  “I don’t know, Amanda.”

  “An ambulance?”

  “I’m sure it was just a precaution.”

  I could barely hear her. My hands shook. I hadn’t realized I was crying until Joyce wrapped me in a hug and told me everything was okay.

  “Can I take you somewhere?”

  I nodded, my shoulders shaking.

  “Mattie’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  I looked at her through blurry eyes. My voice croaked as I said, “I’m not so sure.”

  AMANDA

  Fifteen minutes later, past midnight, I trudged up the outside stairs to Wanda’s apartment. I used the key she’d given me, worried I might wake either her or Mattie, if Mattie was actually inside.

  I swung the door open slowly—and immediately heard voices. A girl’s voice. I hadn’t realized how tired I was because to me it sounded like—

  “Jess?”

  I sprinted across the room and dove on top of her. We hugged and laughed. In that moment, no one else existed. Just Jess. Wonderful Jess. I must have told her a hundred times how much I’d missed her.

  When I emerged from my adrenaline rush, I looked up at the smiling faces of Wanda and Mattie.

  “Mattie, Mattie,” I said, crawling my way across the carpet and past the coffee table to the sofa. We hugged. I asked her if she was all right; to my horror, I learned that Luowski had brutally attacked her and left her unconscious.

  I settled into one of the chairs, still overcome with giddiness at the sight of Jess. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Wanda asked me about the soy protein canister and I laughed, releasing what felt like days’ worth of pent-up tension.

  “Never mind that! What about Luowski attacking you?” I asked Mattie.

  Mattie told me about the horrible visit to the emergency room and the encounter with the Barracks 14er.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “And that he was Barracks 14?”

  “Positive,” Mattie said. “You’d have recognized him immediately. He used to hang around the guy we called the general. Remember the guy with graying hair?”

  “Flat Top?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Flat Top is here in Orlando?”

  “I was pretty much out. I didn’t see him, but I saw him in the thoughts of whoever touched me.”

  “I should have told you,” Jess blurted out.

  Whatever she was talking about was clearly news to the others. We all focused on her.

  She spoke softly and apologetically. “I had one of my dreams. I didn’t sketch all of it; I couldn’t sketch. But…Mandy, the Barracks 14 people captured you. I think it was you. It felt like you to me.”

  “Where?” I asked, swallowing hard. I didn’t take Jess’s dreams lightly.

  “Here, I think. That’s why Joe let me come along.”

  “Joe’s here?”

  Jess nodded.

  “And it gets worse, I’m afraid,” Wanda said. “Tell her.”

  Jess’s whole body seemed to tighten. “I overheard Joe say something about DNA, about bones. I wasn’t supposed to hear it. And I know for sure that he hasn’t told the East Coast Imagineers he’s here. He made a big deal about that. I wasn’t to tell anyone. So I’m swearing you to secrecy, too. Only the four of us can ever talk about this.”

  “No problem,” I said. “But why? What’s going on?”

  “Something’s obviously afoot,” Wanda said, “and I can promise you: if it’s something to do with Finn and the Keepers, if Joe finds out Finn’s stuck in SBS—if the others are stuck in SBS, too—I mean, that could be what it’s about. Philby wasn’t supposed to cross them over. What they’re doing has got to be against every rule at this point.”

  I looked at Wanda, asking a silent question. She faintly shook her head.

  “I think we should,” I said. “Show them.”

  “Show us what?” Mattie asked.

  I stood, Jess rising with me. Together, we gently helped Mattie off the couch. I picked up the blue can and carried it with me as Wanda led the way.

  She opened one of the guest bedroom doors quietly and, when the three of us were poised in the doorway, turned on the light.

  Jess and Mattie gasped.

  Finn lay comfortably in the bed, fully clothed. Sleeping.

  “We have to get the others,” Wanda said, “before Joe finds them.”

  “Or Greg Luowski,” said Mattie.

  “And we have to figure out this,” I said, kneeling on the carpet alongside Finn’s bed. I peeled the plastic lid off the treasure I’d unearthed and spilled the contents out onto the floor.

  MATTIE

  Studying Finn’s blue can with Amanda and Jess felt oddly alienating. It reminded me that I hadn’t been part of so many of their shared adventures. We had our time in the Barracks together, but thankfully, that now felt like another world.

  After all I’d learned in the past few days, I hoped we could keep it that way.

  It was strange: being alone and by myself actually felt better than being alone with others around. The connection between Jess and Amanda would never be matched. When they were together, there was no way not to feel like a third wheel.

  “When you touch this stuff, do you get anything?” It took me a second to realize Amanda was talking to both Jess and me.

  I shook my head. “It’s only living creatures for me. I’d love to be able to read a deck of cards, but I can’t.”

  “I’m not having any flashes,” Jess said. “I’ve had more of those lately, but not now. Maybe I’ll dream something at some point.”

  “He left this for you, right?” I asked Amanda.

  She nodded. “Pretty sure.”

  “But it doesn’t mean anything?”

  “I’m sure it does,” she said, “but not to me. I’m not getting it.”

  “Knowing Finn,” Wanda said. “It’s something very clever. It won’t be any one part, but all the pieces together, just like the Keepers.”

  “Well,” Amanda said, “all the pieces together are a lot of junk.”

  We all laughed in spite of ourselves.

  “Keep trying,” Jess said. She grabbed my elbow and pulled me aside as Amanda turned over the items on the floor. “I need your help,” she whispered.

  “Sure. If I can!” I felt less alone already.

  “I need you to read an Imagineer. He’s the guy who flew me out here, the guy who started the DHIs. There’s something off about him. I need to know if he’s still on our side.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I can try.” I hesitated, but decided not to tell her that I didn’t like to read people unless it was absolutely necessary. Seeing so many private thoughts took its toll. Crawling around inside the heads of others could be frightening.

  “I know it’s hard, Mattie,” Jess said. “It’s important, or I wouldn’t ask.”

  I nodded, and we hugged. “Tell me where to find him.”

  “You can get backstage using my pass. It won’t take long.”

  “Right,” I said. “All I need to do is figure out how make physical contact with a complete stranger, an adult who’s one of the most important people in Disney.”

  The last part never came out of my mouth, but it swirled around in my head the following day, when I was on my way to Disn
ey’s Hollywood Studios.

  MATTIE

  I arrived backstage at Disney’s Hollywood beneath a tall water tower that had ears. Definitely Disney. Nearby, a trolley drove park visitors around. In and among some warehouse-like buildings were nested a few one-story bungalows. The second of these, according to its sign, was the building Jess had described to me as Imagineer’s headquarters.

  I wasn’t about to go in and face some receptionist who’d just tell me to get lost, so I sat down and waited—for a long time. A few people came and went, but not much happened. I began to grow impatient.

  Worse, not far from me, two attractions beckoned: Rock ’n’ Roller Coaster and Tower of Terror. I had gotten in for free! I had no desire to waste my entire morning on what seemed like a hopeless mission. Jess wanted me to read Joe and find out what he knew about Barracks 14. Even the mention of our former prison stirred unease in me. I’d never go back. I couldn’t.

  “Can I help you?” The man’s voice startled me.

  “Oh, I, uh…” I stammered, turning quickly.

  Two men. One of them was Joe Garlington. “I…ah…well, I was…Aren’t you Mr. Garlington?”

  “Yes? And you are?” Joe studied me. He exuded naturally pleasant curiosity. Not a creep. Not a person hiding something.

  “Excited!” I answered.

  “Are you one of our inter—?” Joe cut himself off, his eyes on my ID tag. I should have thought to turn it over or hide it after using it to gain entrance. “Would you excuse me a moment, Alex? I’ll catch up to you.”

  The other man nodded to me, patted Joe on the back, and headed toward the building I’d been staking out so poorly.

  “That’s Jess’s ID,” he said, his voice lowered.

  “I’m Mattie. Mattie Weaver. A friend of hers and Amanda’s.”

  We were about to shake hands, giving me two options: I could keep an open mind and read his surface thoughts, or I could mentally name either the Barracks, the Keepers, or Amanda, and Jess and see what came at me.

  The contact would happen fast. I reached out, already naming Jess and Amanda.

  As he took my hand in his, Joe stood up a little straighter. I should have guessed a person with so much creativity would be a Reacher. They’re as rare as four-leaf clovers—the handful of people who can use the door I open between us to read me. Thankfully, most Reachers don’t know what they possess. For them, it must be like stepping from the dark of a tunnel into the light; they see, but not clearly.