Kingdom Keepers VI (9781423179214) (8 page)

Charlene regained some breath. “Way to go, Willa. Nice move!”

Willa helped Charlene to her feet. Together, they dragged the unconscious man into the machine room and pulled the door shut.

Charlene tried to steady her breathing. “Next time, remind me to come as a hologram. For the record, this is way too difficult.”

Willa laughed. The girls fled down the hall.

Upstairs, the audience broke into applause.

* * *

“Hey,” Finn said, innocently, lowering his voice for the sake of the lecture going on. “We're looking for the greenroom.”

“Sure you are,” a clean-cut Joe College–type guy said.

The two crewmen moved closer to Finn.

“What are you doing hiding back here?” the second man said. Built like a weightlifter, he was short but solid, with a young face.

“We…ah…” Maybeck was fast on his feet, but not always with his thinking.

“We weren't hiding. We had this bet,” Finn said, “about what letter was on the other side of the bottom block. I said it was an
R
. My friend here, a
B
.”

“We had the same blocks when were kids,” Maybeck said.

The two guys separated. Neither Finn nor Maybeck liked the look of that. The stocky one moved toward the blocks while Joe College faced them.

“And what was the letter?” inquired Joe College.

Finn and Maybeck exchanged slightly panicked looks in the flashing light from the slide show, which was continuing on the big screen above.

The weightlifter leaned in to look at the back side of the alphabet block.

Maybeck shook his head ever so slightly, like a pitcher shaking off a catcher's signal; he didn't want to make the guess.

Finn took in the visible letters on the existing stack of blocks.

“It's
E
,” he said.

He and Maybeck watched as the short guy nodded to his partner.

Maybeck shot him a look that said,
How could you
have known that?

“So. We should be getting to the greenroom,” Finn said.

Joe didn't move. He rocked his head back, eyes on the ceiling. “So…what exactly are we going to do with you?”

Maybeck had had enough. “Look, man, you can join us in the greenroom. That's where we're going.”

“I don't think so,” Joe said in a menacing voice. “We hear your two girlfriends are poking around downstairs where they don't belong. What is it you kids are looking for? Witches? Monsters?” His tone was mocking. “Grow up.”

“Just the letter on the block. Really,” Finn said.

“Uh-huh. Right. Now, there should be five of you. Where's the other boy?”

Finn didn't like how much Joe knew.

“Schedule says five of you. Where's the fifth? Huh? Hiding somewhere? Like you two?”

“We weren't hiding,” Finn said defiantly. “I told you, we were—”

“Yeah. I got that the first time.” He stepped closer. “Must be coincidence, all of you just happening to arrive early.”

“Don't trouble your brain,” an annoyed Maybeck said. “You must have a microphone to go plug in or something.”

Finn scowled at him.
Cool it!

“Stage manager would like to speak to you. Downstairs. We'll go this way.” Joe College indicated the port side of the stage.

The strongman remained a few paces behind Maybeck, squeezing the boys between himself and his partner.

“Actually, we're going to meet the girls. Wouldn't want them to worry,” Finn said.

“Boys,” Philby said into Finn's and Maybeck's ears, “I can throw a breaker, killing the lights but not the presentation. Emergency lights will kick in. You might get a second or two.”

“We'll make sure the girls join you. Trust me.” Joe had a hungry glint to his eye.

“Yes!” Maybeck said, a little loudly given the presentation taking place a matter of yards away. Finn saw his hand on his radio; Maybeck was signaling Philby.

The backstage went black.

Maybeck attacked the strongman, diving blindly into his legs and knocking him down. He drove an elbow into the back of the man's neck, stunning his spine and briefly paralyzing him.

Finn had kept his eye on Joe, knowing it would be dark by the time he attacked. He shoved the guy, hoping to knock him down.

The emergency lights flashed, went dark, and came on again for good. As the sterile white light strobed like something on a dance floor, Finn saw Joe College halfway across the backstage area, just getting to his
feet.

Had he done that? he wondered. In years past, when the other guys on the baseball team hit triples, Finn could only manage singles. He was fast and agile, but he wasn't exactly muscleman material.

Had the guy taken off in the dark, slipped, and fallen? If so, why the look he was giving Finn—one of both anger and…respect?

Joe charged. Finn's knees went to rubber. But as the lights flickered off and then on for good, Finn balled his fists and connected on an upswing with Joe's chin. Joe looked like he'd hit a patch of ice.

“Sorry,” Finn said, forgetting himself for a moment.

He stared at his own hands.
Did I do that?

Willa and Charlene appeared from the right, running frantically.

Maybeck lay faceup on the stage floor where he'd dived. Finn offered him a hand, and
with one arm
lifted Maybeck onto his feet. Reminded of his explosive swimming, Finn wondered what was going on. A spell?

“Quickly,” he said.

Maybeck looked dazed.

“I'm okay,” Finn said, thinking that was the source of his friend's bewilderment.

“Piñata,” Maybeck said in a harsh whisper.

Just the one word:
piñata
.

* * *

The four Keepers passed behind the projection screen. The reversed image showed what the speaker called a “ceremonial arch.”

“Carved into the stones of the arch you can see pictographs and glyphs. These are an example of the ancient Mayan language, which is not dissimilar to glyphs found in Aruban caves. Historians and archeologists speculate that there was much trade and cross-
cultural exchange within the Caribbean during the Mayan and Aztec dynasties.”

Finn led the team around to the far side, aware that their opponents would be fast on their heels. As they hurried, a close-up of one of the pictographs appeared on the screen, now fifteen feet high.

“This is
janaab
, the Mayan symbol for ‘flower,'” he said.

“Seriously? That's number four!” Willa cried. As a group they arrived at stage left. “That's the Mayan character I couldn't find: flower! So it's gold, island, cave, flower.”

Charlene said, “Gold island, flower cave.”

Her rearrangement of the words made it a kind of game; a game the boys weren't interested in. Their attention was fixed on the backstage area, where Philby had restored the blue light.

The two zoned-out stagehands were up and
moving.

“Island cave, gold flower.”

Both girls gasped and repeated the words in unison, voices rising in excitement: “Island cave, gold flower!”

* * *

Dixon appeared at the top of the stairs, blocking the stage-door exit. The other two, Joe College and the weightlifter, approached from backstage.

“We're talking OT sandwich,” Maybeck said. “And we're the PB-and-J.”

The two stagehands closed fast. Joe walked with an angry limp.

“Not good,” Finn said.

“Grab hands,” Willa said, “and get ready to smile.”

“What?” Maybeck said, incredulously. But before he could protest, Willa took his hand and led the Keepers out onto the stage—the one place the stagehands could not follow.

A wild cheer arose from the audience. The speaker wasn't sure how to handle their early entrance.

Behind them, the stagehands divided; the weightlifter crossed backstage, reappearing on the opposite side, trapping them.

They were a Kingdom Keeper short—no Philby—but the audience didn't seem to care. Many were on their feet, giving the group a standing ovation.

Maybeck spoke to Finn through a fake smile. “Like a piñata.”

Finn had no idea what he meant. “You must have hit your head pretty hard. You're talking nonsense.”

“I'm telling you: a piñata.”

The audience stomped and cheered. The stage floor vibrated. Christian crossed toward them, waving to the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, your very own Kingdom Keepers!”

Another loud cheer from the audience.

Finn glanced back to see the
janaab
image.
Island
cave. Gold flower.
Island gold, cave flower?
While he waved to the audience, his mind worked through
the various combinations and tried to throw a piñata into the mix. He couldn't make sense of any of it.

Christian did a nice job of covering for their early entrance. The lecturer looked dazed. Didn't know where he was.

At that moment, the three stagehands suddenly rushed the stage from both sides, carrying wireless microphones. They'd found their excuse. And each held a second item, obscured by the mikes. It took Finn a moment to process what those items might be.

“Look out! Tasers!” he cried, tripping Willa into Charlene and intentionally sending them toppling. He pulled Maybeck down by the arm.

The stagehands fired their Tasers nearly simultaneously, but missed.

Missed the
kids
.

The lecturer collapsed; Christian caught him. The audience laughed and applauded as the stagehands retreated, passing Philby, who was arriving late. He drew more applause. A new group of stagehands rushed onstage and dragged the fallen lecturer into the wings. These guys, Finn realized, were the real stagehands, not Maleficent's zombies.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please give a big
Disney Dream
welcome to the Disney Hosts Interactive!” Christian had little else to say, so he tried again, making out that this was all part of the act. His eyes flashed to Finn, demanding an explanation for the attack. Finn just shrugged. What could he say?

The Keepers, led by Willa, followed the script they'd been given for the orientation. Willa picked up perfectly on Christian's second introduction, reciting her memorized lines. The other Keepers followed her lead. The spoke about all the fun they were going to have on Aruba, the interesting places to sightsee, and how to take full advantage of the excursions being offered.

A slideshow of the island's features ran behind them while high seas adventure music provided background. Despite the awkward beginning, the orientation ended well.

Surprising Christian by going off script, Finn led his friends into the audience. There, surrounded by admirers, the OTs had no shot at them.

Minutes later, the theater doors swished closed behind them. The Keepers divided into two groups; Maybeck with Charlene; Finn with Philby and Willa. They would meet in 816, by prior arrangement.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, Finn was deep in thought.
Piñata. Gold island,
cave flower?
What did it all mean?

F
INN HELD OPEN
the backstage door for Philby and Maybeck, who slipped through quietly. He followed them inside. It was two in the morning, the ship plying the waters for the final push to Aruba.

Maybeck had argued against a return backstage on the same night as the orientation, but Philby was determined to follow through on Maybeck's mention of a piñata.

“The idea that the OTs have hidden Chernabog inside a Buzz Lightyear parade balloon backstage is just insane enough to make complete sense! If he's in torpor,
as Willa believes, he will require almost no oxygen. Maybeck, it's possible you're right. Well played.”

“I hope not,” Maybeck said.

The three boys crept across the backstage area, holding close to the backdrops. Together, they shared an anxious inhale as Maybeck led the way to where he and Finn had encountered the two stagehands.

The only sound was a slight hum of electricity and the whoosh of forced air.

They were directly below several character balloons secured to the ceiling: Buzz, Bolt, and the five members of the Incredibles family.

Maybeck pointed to himself, then up.

Philby nodded.

Maybeck climbed the ladder strapped to the wall.

* * *

From up close, the Buzz Lightyear balloon was all color and clear plastic. Maybeck didn't know whether he was looking into the guy's side or his arm, but what he saw caused his heart to leap in his chest.

He panicked, a rare and unnatural state for him. Throwing his feet to the outside of the rungs, he slid down the ladder like it was a firehouse pole. His sneakers
squealed against the metal. He landed on the stage with a loud thud.

“Sheesh!” Finn reached out to steady Maybeck.

“We're out of here!” Maybeck said. He took two steps.

“Who's there?” A man's voice carried across the stage. “Hello?” It came from their left.

Philby waved for Maybeck and Finn to follow him. The three boys hurried away to a set of dark stairs leading to the theater auditorium.

They were cornered. If they went through into the theater, they'd be seen; if they stayed where they were, they'd be caught.

Finn wasn't going to stand around. He yanked open the door and dove beneath a seat in the first row, crawling forward and tucking his legs into a ball. Philby and Maybeck followed. The three boys lay on the auditorium floor beneath three side-by-side seats.

Footfalls pounded out onstage.

“Anybody there?” The man's voice was incredibly present and close. “Answer me! Who's there?”

More footfalls. One, maybe two more people.

Finn used the loud sound to cover his rolling onto his back and wiggling forward to beneath row three.

Philby had the nerve to grab hold of him to try to stop him. Finn shook off his hand a little too harshly, pulled himself to sitting, and peered through the spaces between seats.

He saw a squat but wide-shouldered stagehand looking up into the dark where Maybeck had climbed. Finn sensed the other man before he ever saw him, a man standing as still as a predator cat, only the whites of his eyes ticking left to right as he searched the auditorium. Finn didn't so much as blink.
The man was looking
right at him
. He held his breath; fought to keep from moving.

At last, the stagehand turned away. A second later he could be heard descending the stairs.

Finn finally rested his eyes, relief flooding him.

The stage stood empty.

The boys gingerly extricated themselves from under the seats and moved quietly into the aisle. They crept toward the back of the theater and the glowing exit signs.

“You! Stop!” The sneaky stagehand had tricked them.

“Don't show them your faces!” Finn told Philby and Maybeck as the three ran.

The stagehand jumped and took off after the boys, supernaturally fast.

“Go!” Finn shouted to Maybeck and Philby as he skidded to a stop and turned to face the man coming for them.

Finn possessed a confidence acquired over time by being the unanointed leader of the group. But usually it was Maybeck or Charlene, not him, who stuck around for the battles. Without thinking now about what he was doing, he dropped to one knee, grabbed hold of either side of the aisle carpet, and pulled. Pulled hard.

Nothing happened. What the heck had he been thinking?

The stagehand drew closer. Anger and frustration overcame Finn. He gave the carpet one ferocious tug. To his surprise, this time it tore loose and rose like a wave, rippling powerfully as it pulled free. The wave surged beneath the stagehand—a magic carpet—
dumping the man flat onto his back and knocking the wind out of him.

The boys ran out the theater's main doors reaching Mickey's Mainsail shop in record time.

“What was that, Whitman?” Maybeck asked.

“No clue.”

“Since when do you go for the Superman stuff?”

“Since never.” Finn panted. As if to prove it, he was out of breath.

Then, arriving down the opposing hallway alongside White Caps, came the second stagehand, the one with the shoulders of a weightlifter. He glowered at the three boys.

“Well,” he growled, “if it ain't the Three Stooges.”

“Split up!” Philby shouted as the three boys took off.

Finn and Philby headed aft; Maybeck peeled off and bounded down the amidships stairs.

The stagehand ignored Maybeck, increasing his odds by going after two of the kids.

Though he tried to focus on fleeing, Finn couldn't help wondering what had happened back there. That surge of strength…was it a fluke? Something he could learn to do? He glanced over his shoulder.

No question the man was after him, not Philby. Time to act.

Finn bumped Philby, sending him tumbling.

The stagehand ran past Philby, just as Finn had surmised.

Finn put his newfound power to a test, ascending the Atrium's grand staircase. He huffed and puffed as usual. Was slow, as usual.

The man labored behind him.

Finn was running on fumes by the time he headed through the Vista Gallery, ran down the long port companionway leading to the District, and then through the warren of nightclubs. He needed oxygen. He needed a paramedic.

When he looked next, the stagehand was nowhere in sight. Finn climbed the aft staircase, feeling like he was a hundred years old.

He stopped at Deck 8, his lungs ready to burst, wanting desperately to find out what had happened.

To find out if he could ever do it again.

* * *

“It's him!” Maybeck rarely sounded frightened.

He, Finn, and Philby were outside on the veranda of Finn's stateroom.

“Chernabog?” Finn worked to keep disbelief from his voice.

“He's inside the Buzz Lightyear balloon.”

“You saw him.” Philby swallowed so hard it looked like he'd gulped a mouse.

“Most of the balloon is colored. I saw an eye, and part of a horn.” Maybeck allowed this to sink in. “An extremely, unbelievably big eye.”

Maybeck was no chicken. Just the way he'd bailed down the ladder told Finn he'd seen something horrific.

“So we report him to Security.” Philby sounded disappointed.

“You realize, this could be the beginning of the end for the OTs.” Finn sounded stunned. “No Chernabog. Security realizing something big is going down. That we're not a bunch of lunatic kids.”

“You and I go to Security.”

“What about me?” Maybeck complained.

“You hang back. If Security detains us, we may need a jailbreak.”

* * *

“Let me get this straight,” Uncle Bob said to the two VIPs. “You've demanded to speak to me at three in the morning because you say Chernabog, who is a Disney character who has
never
sailed with us, is hidden inside the Buzz Lightyear inflatable backstage in the Walt Disney Theatre.”

“Correct.” The redhead, Philby, was bright-eyed despite the late hour. The other boy, Finn, seemed more quietly confident, like a person in charge.

“And how did this monster get aboard?”

“A plane landed on Castaway Cay. He was the cargo.”

Bob said nothing, revealed nothing in his face. He'd been told of guests having seen a plane landing. At the time, he'd not believed it.

“I saw it,” Philby said. “I was there.”

“And how did everyone else miss this event?” Bob purposely didn't reveal that some had in fact reported similar happenings.

“The fireworks,” Finn said. “They were used as a diversion. The plane didn't turn on any lights until
seconds before it landed.”

“So the sound was covered by the fireworks,” Uncle Bob said, trying not to appear interested. He faked a laugh. “Okay. This is part of your show, right? The late-night video dump? I thought you weren't supposed to know about—” His expression changed dramatically. “Listen. Sorry. Okay? We'll look into it.”

Finn didn't understand what had just happened. Uncle Bob had gone from suspicious and confrontational to apologetic and chummy.

“By ‘show,'” Philby said, his tone confrontational, “do you mean our role in the parks or something? Look. We're not asking you to believe any of the stories about us, sir. We only ask that you inspect the Buzz Lightyear balloon's contents.”

“We are in the process of that as we speak,” said Bob, now a different man. Finn and Philby exchanged perplexed glances.

“We're serious.” Finn had a sense Bob was not.

“As am I. I have a man on the way there now.” Bob worked the radio at his waist. “Yup. He's on his way.”

“What did you mean just now by the ‘video dump'?” Professor Philby said. When Bob shot him a look of ignorance, Philby continued. “I'm aware that the ship uploads the larger data packets to the satellite at night when the guests are asleep and there's more bandwidth on the satellite link. But isn't that mostly for the media tours or the special events?”

Bob looked as if Philby had tricked him, as if his brain was trying to catch up. That expression gave way to one of impatience, and finally, determination.

“I was referring to the three-six-five you're shooting for Disney Channel. The director uploads after hours.” A Disney 365 was a two-minute video publicity piece that ran on the Channel.

Finn was having trouble focusing, his brain too tired. He understood Philby's concern about high-volume video dumps: the transmission of DHI data required enormous bandwidth—that was how the Imagineers had been able to track the movement of the Overtakers' server to a possible ship at sea. This ship. This sea.

If the ship performed a video dump at night, sending the 365 to the company's studio, the huge bandwidth requirements could diminish the quality of Amanda and Jess as DHIs. Philby was trying to figure things out in order to avoid complications.

Bob touched his ear. “Did not copy!” The man
listened intently. “Roger that.”

He looked at the two boys quizzically. “Okay, so what's going on?”

The boys offered only puzzled expressions.

“If it was an accident, I need to know that right now. If it's found to be vandalism and you're trying to pull my chain, heads are going to roll.”

“We don't have a clue what you're talking about,” Philby said.

“Don't mess with me.”

“Not happening,” Finn said. “No clue.”

Bob studied them. “The condition of the Buzz Lightyear balloon the last time you saw it? And I advise you to think carefully before giving me your answer
.”

The boys stared at each other, dumbfounded.

“If I'm hearing you,” Philby said, “you're telling us something's happened to the balloon?”

“The longer you mess with me,” Bob said, “the deeper the hole you dig.”

“We're not messing with you,” Finn said. “Give us a lie detector test or whatever, but when we last saw that parade balloon it was inflated and secured to the ceiling backstage.”

“Why?” Philby said. “Your guy found Chernabog?”

“My guy found a deflated balloon, cut—not torn—from one end to the other with a sharp object. That's a five-thousand-dollar prop. As in
dollars
,” Bob added for their benefit. “You're trying a clever plan to pretend someone else did this and get yourselves off the
hook.”

“So we dreamed up Chernabog,” Philby said, allowing fatigue and anger to color his voice. “We dreamed up a plane landing on Castaway. Yeah!” he said, sarcastically. “We did that to make sure you wouldn't bust us for popping your Buzz Lightyear balloon.”

“You be careful with that mouth of yours, son.”

“We're in danger here,
Dad
. You're under attack and in trouble, and we're apparently the only ones trying to keep your ship from being overtaken by people—by
things
—you will not believe. When you finally do, it'll be too late.”

Bob's face was scarlet.