Power Play (3 page)

They exited from the smoke and chaos. Charlene stood there, her full attention on their joined hands. Finn hadn’t even realized that he and Amanda were holding hands. He let go a little abruptly.

Charlene leaned in to examine the twisted wreckage. Smoke and steam and the gas from the fire extinguishers commingled. She fanned it away from her face.

“What happened in there?” she asked.

Amanda said, “I think next time I’ll design my own ride.”

“You don’t think I had something to do with that…that…” Charlene stammered, “…with whatever happened in there, do you?”

“You mean just because you talked us into coming here in the first place and you designed our roller coaster? Now, why would I think that?” Amanda said.

“Finn?” Charlene pleaded.

“You gave us the card, Charlie,” he said, using a nickname for her only he used. “You designed the ride.”
And Maleficent’s locked in a jail cell,
he felt like adding. Use of her nickname was an attempt at intimacy, to remind her that he still considered her a close friend, despite what had happened. But it backfired. Amanda heard him and clearly resented it.

“Really?” Amanda said to him. “You’re going to sweet-talk her after she almost
killed us
?” She stormed off down the exit stairs.

“Amanda! Wait!” Finn called after her.

“I promise you,” Charlene said, “I didn’t do anything! I had nothing to do with this. It wasn’t me!”

They’d been close friends for more than two years. Finn said, “Listen, do I want to think you sabotaged the simulator? Come on!” But she’d designed the ride, he reminded himself.

Finn couldn’t let Amanda get away. He hurried out after her. Charlene followed at a run.

The building seemed more crowded. He recognized nearly everyone—even though there were four hundred kids in his grade.

“KK rules!” he called back to Charlene. His team had long since agreed that when in the Parks no one flew solo. The Overtakers took advantage of Keepers off on their own. In pairs or teams their chances for survival increased.

Finn shoved his way through the crowd, catching only fleeting glimpses of the back of Amanda’s head. She was wasting no time trying to get out of there. She disappeared down the staircase—much too far ahead to hear him calling after her.

Charlene closed in from behind him.

He glanced over the rail, looking down, hoping to catch a glimpse of Amanda as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

His breath caught.

Not possible.

Snow White’s Evil Queen stood amid a torrent of admirers, all begging for autographs. But the Evil Queen wasn’t looking at her fans; she was locked onto Finn like a laser-guided missile.

He jumped back from the rail, out of the way of her gaze. A shudder of terror flooded him. If it was a legitimate Cast Member, fine. But if it was an Overtaker—if it was the
real
Evil Queen—then she could throw spells, conjure curses, mix potions to transfigure herself into an ugly old peddler offering a poisoned apple. In short, she was nothing to mess with.

Amanda!

He yanked his phone out of his pocket and sent a group text:

Possible OTs in DQ. Head 2 bus ASAP

Hopefully that would get the others moving. Presently, his job was to get Amanda and Charlene out of there.

The four other Keepers had smart phones just like his—gifts from Wayne and the Imagineers. Amanda and Jess didn’t have phones. Even if they’d had the money to buy them—and they didn’t—Mrs. Nash didn’t allow her girls to have phones.

Charlene caught up to him and he launched himself down the crowded stairwell, fighting through the throng. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, Amanda came into view again.

The Queen turned to look at Finn. He averted his eyes, fearing a spell. She walked toward him, the bubble of her admirers moving with her. He stole one more glance in her direction only to realize she wasn’t looking at him but over his head. He looked behind him…

…at Charlene.

From the step above, Charlene lowered her eyes to Finn and said, “What’s
she
doing here?”

“You know who that is?” Finn asked, surprised.

“Of course I know who that is!”

“I’ve never seen her before. Not the real one.”

“The real one? Is that the
real
one?”

“What do you think? You feel like giving her the pinch test?”

“AMANDA!” Charlene cried out loudly. She waved furiously, trying to get Amanda to turn around and join them. But Amanda was too caught up in the reason for her running off in the first place. Even more furious seeing Finn and Charlene on the steps together, she heaved through the crowd, ever closer to the Evil Queen.

“I texted the others,” he tried telling Charlene. But then he saw what she was up to: she was taking a photo of the Queen.

Charlene mumbled, “What’s she doing outside of the Parks?”

“Technically,” he said, “we’re on Disney property.” He led her down the stairs, fighting his way toward Amanda. Charlene followed.

“Technically,” she said, calling over his shoulder, “she belongs in the Magic Kingdom. The afternoon parade. Some autographing. Not inside DisneyQuest.”

“Maybe it’s part of our school event,” Finn suggested. He wanted an easy explanation; he wanted to be told this was a Cast Member, maybe a college student in costume.

The Queen was slowed by her fans.

Amanda had disappeared, hopefully into an elevator or down another stairwell to the ground floor, where a variety of rides gave way to a long hallway and an exit that passed through the gift shop.

The Evil Queen seemed caught up in her popularity—a woman pulled in two directions, but favoring admiration over purpose. Finn and the Keepers had long since learned that the by-products of fame—the adoring crowds wanting autographs and souvenirs, the people invading your space away from the Parks—was a different, but very real challenge.

Charlene grabbed Finn’s hand. He led her through the crowd, coming incredibly close to the Queen, but her fans formed a wall, and they passed by as quickly as they’d arrived. He let go of Charlene’s hand and bounded down the less-crowded stairway.

He ran and caught up to Amanda, turning her by the shoulder.

“Wait up!” he said.

She spun around, her face streaked with the snail lines of fallen tears.

“Let go!” she said.

“I knew it was the OTs. They’re here.” His eyes refocused toward the entrance of the hallway that led outside. “There!” he said.

Cruella De Vil was looking right at them. Gaunt, pale, and wearing fur in Florida with her trademark cigarette holder in her right hand. She, too, was surrounded by a knot of fans wanting autographs. She raised her cigarette holder and pointed with her long, gloved finger.

“Look, kids,” she said in her creamy voice, “it’s the Kingdom Keepers.”

The mass of fans turned toward Finn and Amanda, just as Charlene caught up to them. “She’s right!”…“It’s them!”…“Let’s go!” Voices echoed off the ceiling and walls.

A mass of kids abandoned Cruella and rushed toward them.

Finn pulled Amanda to him protectively.

Amanda said, “Oh…no…” pointing back toward the stairway.

The Evil Queen.

The three of them were sandwiched.

Charlene’s attention was on the low ceiling decorated with fishing nets and metal sculpture.

“I can handle this,” she said. “Stay with me! I have an idea.” She broke away from them just before the fans enveloped Finn and Amanda.

Finn had learned that the only thing worse than a hyper fan was an angry fan. No matter what, he didn’t want to make any of the kids mad or they would harass and glue themselves to him, complaining and shouting and taking an attitude.

“Hey! How ya doing?” he said.

Amanda looked curiously at Finn, wondering what he was starting. But he knew what he was doing; he’d done it plenty of times before. Offered a pen, he started signing forearms, hands, the back of shirts. The crowd pressed in more tightly, everyone eager to get an autograph. This was what Charlene had immediately understood: their fans would protect them.

Given the distraction, Charlene had scrambled up the wall like a tree frog and was currently hanging upside down from the lights attached to the ceiling. As she moved, so did the human wall surrounding Finn and Amanda—the fans were leaping up and trying to touch her, applauding her, screaming her name. As long as Finn and Amanda stayed below her, the protective wall of fans that encircled them moved with her, keeping the Evil Queen and Cruella at a distance.

The two Overtakers—they
had
to be Overtakers—were also trying to push through to Finn and Amanda, but it was no use; they weren’t going to beat out fifty wild fans.

Charlene continued on the ceiling toward the hallway. Finn and Amanda and their fans moved with her.

As the group reached the hallway, the room narrowed. Charlene dropped. Finn pushed rudely through that side of kids, dragging Amanda with him. A gloved hand caught his shoulder.

Taller than the young fans, the Evil Queen had reached above their heads and caught him.

She said, “You cannot stop us. We will do this with or without your help. If you run, you’d better keep running.”

He ran.

Down the hall at a sprint, twenty of the screaming kids close behind. Through the turnstile, the gift shop, and into fresh air. Finn had rarely ever run so hard, and yet both girls were several paces ahead of him and increasing their leads.

When a good distance away, he dared to look back. Cruella and the Evil Queen had made no attempt to run after them.

If you run, you’d better keep running.…

Instead, Cruella was heading to a…pay phone.

She reached it and brought the receiver to her ear. It was the last Finn saw of her, but it struck him as so out of place, so odd, despite the fact that Cruella used telephones in her movies. Not pay phones. Not in Downtown Disney.

He arrived at the bus stop out of breath just as a bus was about to pull away. The driver braked for him and opened the door, and as he climbed on, he saw all six of his friends clustered in the back by the door.

Maybeck, a head taller than anyone his age, caught Finn’s eye and nodded, clearly relieved to see he’d made it.

A telephone, Finn was thinking.

* * *

Philby contained his surprise when a pop-up window appeared on his lab computer. A bright-eyed sixteen-year-old with reddish hair and freckles, Philby was a geek in disguise. He looked perfectly normal, but his British upbringing and slight accent, along with having a brain like Einstein, set him apart from other kids.

Edgewater High’s computer lab security software blocked pop-ups, prevented cookies, and limited Web access while simultaneously recording keystrokes. It was like working in the offices of the CIA or the NSA.

The lab had five long countertops with chairs, and eight laptop stations each. Currently, thirty-one students all faced forward where their instructor, Mr. Chambers, was stationed to the left of a large, interactive whiteboard mounted to the wall behind him. The whiteboard could carry anything from a mirror of one of the computers, to a PowerPoint presentation, or video. The instructor monitored software that showed a real-time thumbnail of each computer screen active in the lab. Mr. Chambers could click on any one of these at any time, seeing exactly what a particular student was doing. Chats were forbidden, as were aimlessly browsing the Web, downloads, or entertainment.

The pop-up on Philby’s screen displayed an invitation to a video chat. Technically, because of the security software and firewall, a pop-up was impossible, which only made it all the more intriguing to him. Despite his computer expertise, Philby had never been able to hack the school’s firewall—but not for want of trying.

Making matters worse, Philby and his fellow students had all signed ethics contracts, making it their responsibility to report any breaches or misuse of the system. By not raising his hand the moment the pop-up appeared on his screen, Philby had already violated that contract. It didn’t escape him that Mr. Chambers could easily be watching his screen, could already know about the pop-up himself.

If caught in violation of the contract, Philby would be suspended from lab for a week, possibly expelled from the class for the semester. It called for diversionary tactics, nothing new to Philby and his friends, who had long since established a system to distract Mr. Chambers away from his monitoring software.

Philby caught the eye of Hugo Montcliff, a neighborhood friend with droopy eyes, greasy hair, and shirts that carried unidentifiable food stains. Hugo’s father was a hard-drinking former policeman who couldn’t hold a job. Hugo occasionally sneaked out at night because he couldn’t take the screaming between his parents. Some nights he’d show up at Philby’s house and sleep on the couch. Philby’s mom had come to think of him as a kind of adopted son, and Philby considered him the closest thing he’d ever have to a brother. Philby signaled Hugo by tapping the desk twice and then pointing to his screen. Hugo nodded.

Philby then turned his attention to Mr. Chambers, knowing Hugo would open a drawing program when he was supposed to be creating a PowerPoint. As Mr. Chambers reached for his computer mouse, suggesting he’d spotted Hugo’s divergence from the assignment and would therefore briefly only be monitoring Hugo’s activities, Philby made his move.

Already wearing a headset for the sake of his own PowerPoint assignment, Philby accepted the invitation to the online video chat.

The pop-up window grew in size and a fuzzy video image appeared.

Philby brought his fist to his mouth to muffle his own gasp. Although difficult to see clearly, the white hair and cool blue eyes revealed the identity of the caller: Wayne.