Kingdom Keepers: The Syndrome Read online

  BOOKS BY RIDLEY PEARSON

  Kingdom Keepers—Disney After Dark

  Kingdom Keepers II—Disney at Dawn

  Kingdom Keepers III—Disney in Shadow

  Kingdom Keepers IV—Power Play

  Kingdom Keepers V—Shell Game

  Kingdom Keepers VI—Dark Passage

  Kingdom Keepers VII—The Insider

  Steel Trapp—The Challenge

  Steel Trapp—The Academy

  MYSTERIES AND THRILLERS (FOR GROWN-UPS)

  The Risk Agent

  Choke Point

  The Red Room

  The following are some of the trademarks, registered marks, and service marks owned by Disney Enterprises, Inc.: Adventureland® Area, Audio-Animatronics® Figure, Big Thunder Mountain® Railroad, Disney®, Disneyland®, Disney’s Hollywood Studios, Disney’s Animal Kingdom® Theme Park, Epcot®, Fantasyland® Area, FASTPASS® Service, Fort Wilderness, Frontierland® Area, Imagineering, Imagineers, it’s a small world, Magic Kingdom® Park, Main Street, U.S.A., Area, Mickey’s Toontown®, monorail, New Orleans Square, Space Mountain® Attraction, Splash Mountain® Attraction, Tomorrowland® Area, Toontown®, Walt Disney World® Resort.

  Toy Story characters © Disney Enterprises, Inc./Pixar Animation Studios

  Winnie the Pooh characters based on the “Winnie the Pooh” works by A. A. Milne and E. H. Shepard

  Copyright © 2015 Page One, Inc.

  Cover design by Beth Meyers

  Cover Illustration © 2015 by Sam Kennedy

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-2575-7

  Visit www.DisneyBooks.com

  www.thekingdomkeepers.com

  www.ridleypearson.com

  www.kingdomkeepersinsider.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Ridley Pearson

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Day 1

  Day 2

  Day 3

  Day 4

  Day 5

  Day 6

  Day 7

  Day 8

  Day 9

  Day 10

  Day 11

  Day 12

  Preview of The Return

  About the Author

  Special thanks are due to Genevieve Gagne-Hawes and Samantha Frank for their editorial efforts; also, to Wendy Lefkon and Disney Books for keeping the train on the tracks; to Nancy Zastrow and Jen Wood for office management and social media skills; and to all Disney Imagineers for contributing to my research, both on the ground and on the Web.

  DEDICATED to everyone with a special skill. Fairlies, all.

  AMANDA

  I wasn’t always this way. Maybe I inherited it, but I don’t know because my parents aren’t around to ask. I can’t say it exactly feels normal. I remember not having it.

  The first time it hit me, I was an angry twelve-year-old. My mother was still around then and there was a man who could have been my father. I called him Tom. I don’t remember him well. My mother was being mean and I stormed into my room—it was actually some kind of closet, I think, off the apartment’s only hallway—and I turned and slammed a different door from across the room. Bang! The door moved like a hurricane wind had hit it.

  From that day on she was afraid of me. What she didn’t realize was that it had happened in little ways before that—ways I didn’t quite understand but still didn’t question. A page of a book would turn on its own as I reached for it; toothpaste would go onto my toothbrush without my squeezing; once, the saltshaker moved across the kitchen table to me—though no one else saw it because I was eating my mac and cheese alone. It may not have made sense to others, but none of the events surprised me.

  It felt natural.

  As an escapee from “Barracks 14,” a so-called “private school” in Maryland, I did not want to ever go back. Not ever.

  My closest friend on earth, Jessica, and I had escaped during Hurricane Cally. In truth, Barracks 14 was a cinder block brick of a building among many others on a military base that had been closed for over a decade. Boarding school, seriously? I don’t know what they called us, our so-called instructors, but we called ourselves Fairlies, for fairly human. Each of us had some sort of strange power. The instructors called them gifts—what a joke! Try telling that to the boy who set his textbook on fire because he became frustrated with his algebra homework; or the girl down the hall who heard people’s thoughts the way the rest of us hear people speak. At Barracks 14, she’d worn a set of noise-canceling earbuds to keep her sane. Gifts of coal, if you ask me.

  It seemed like one of those “grass is greener” situations: we Fairlies, uncomfortable with the very “gifts” our instructors wanted so badly to understand. Maybe it was mere curiosity, as they claimed, but it looked more like greed, like a hunger to own this private part of us we didn’t want to share. They were so annoying with their cameras and their questions. Once inside that military base, we never left. Barracks 14 was a prison, plain and simple. No matter what they called it, it was a place to poke and test us, physically and mentally. It was invasive, scary, sometimes embarrassing, and often abusive. It was a place from which to run.

  So Jess and I did just that. One or two others escaped as well. Most have not been so fortunate.

  After finding our way to Orlando, Florida, Jess and I were eventually contacted by five kids our age who were nearly as weird we are—and that’s saying something. We all graduated high school last year from different schools in Orlando. The five—two girls and three boys—work for Disney. But not like other interns. The five aren’t Cast Members, food service workers, lighting designers, or character handlers. They are in-park guides. Families hire them to tour around the parks, move to the front of lines, meet characters, or get lunch reservations. The weird part: they’re holograms. Well, not our friends. Our friends are real. But they modeled for Disney so that their incredibly lifelike holograms could be used as park guides. Now the Disney Hosts Interactive—so-called “DHI”—guides are among the most requested service in all of Disney.

  Things got crazy. This was Disney and, as Jess and I came to find out, stuff in Disney was a lot more real than we’d known. It was a lot more than fairy tales and princesses. Things happened in the parks after dark. Bad things. Our friends—quickly nicknamed the Kingdom Keepers—had become part of the effort to stop the Disney villains—the Overtakers—who wanted the good magic replaced by the dark. Jess and I got caught up in that effort.

  We’d been hanging around with the Keepers ever since Jess had been taken over—yes, taken over!—by Maleficent. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t have believed it either—don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.

  I met Finn Whitman in what I think of as a predetermined moment. And though he did not know it, I did. I’d been expecting him, thanks to an old Disney Imagineer who, I would later come to believe, may have helped with our escape from Barracks 14.

  Finn could be annoying and too clever for his own good, but he’s also brave, tenacious, irritating, romantic, and heroic. He would never be a jerk. He would never fail to return a text of mine, not ever.

  So, when Finn stopped texting me, I knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

  I gave it a day. Two. On the third day of silence I rode an hour and a half on a bus to the Walt Disney Pictures studio lot and waited another forty m
inutes to see a man named Joe Garlington, a highly positioned Disney Imagineer who knew everything that had to do with Finn and the Kingdom Keepers. Jess and I, currently interning for Disney’s Imagineers, had every right to meet with Mr. Garlington. Even so, I was intimidated.

  We met in a brightly lit conference room. With its fancy black chairs and three conference phones, it had a high-tech feel. One wall, all glass, faced the balcony corridor overlooking the lobby. Joe wore a black Kangol cap over his fuzzy blond hair. He had bright eyes, a big, kind smile, and a gentle voice. He was dressed in a way that made him look like an ad for adventure clothing.

  “How’s the interning going?” he said, starting the conversation from the chair next to mine. “I hear good things about both you and Jess.”

  “It’s great,” I answered. “Unreal. I can’t believe we’re actual Disney interns, that we get paid to do stuff we would pay to do! It’s dreamy.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’m also glad you came up here to visit. You know my door’s always open. But honestly, should I be alarmed? It’s a long way to travel—from the park to here in Burbank—for a social visit. So let me start by asking what you need. Is there a complaint or situation I need to deal with?”

  “Finn’s not answering my texts.”

  “That’s it?” He grinned.

  “Have you heard from him?” I asked.

  Joe looked out the glass as if there was something there to see. “We’re trying to respect their return to normalcy. The Keepers, I mean. You know that.” He paced. “We’ve offered them internships as well. I’m sure you’re aware of that. They must work that out with their families. We respect that process.”

  “It’s been, what, nearly a week since they went back to Orlando—without saying good-bye? And not even a text? That’s not right.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Amanda. Friendships can be tricky.”

  “I want to know why I haven’t heard from him. You know something, don’t you?” I looked him up and down. “I tried Charlie—Charlene—and Willa, too. Nada!”

  “I think we should give it another day or two.”

  “Give what another day or two?” I demanded, leaning in.

  Joe smirked. “Listen, Amanda, the fact is…the kids wanted some time in the park by themselves.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “But it’s true.”

  “They went back to Orlando.”

  “There’s a park there, too. Several parks. You lived there. I don’t have to tell you that.”

  “So Finn’s too busy having fun to text me?” I wasn’t about to cry in front of Joe Garlington, but I felt a lump in my throat the size of a bowling ball. This was not the news I wanted.

  “I’m no expert, but sometimes the best approach to these things is to give the other person time.”

  “You don’t know anything about Finn and me.”

  “True. Do I want to?”

  “You’re just asking that to keep me from arguing. You think I’m just being a girl.”

  “Better than the alternative. Now that would scare me.”

  “Now you’re just being rude.” I paused, and then added, “You know what happens when I get mad.”

  “Of course I do, Amanda. Which is why—”

  “You’d saying anything to keep me calm.”

  “That’s not what I was going to say. You interrupted me.” He pinched his nose, pursed his lips and tested how far back the chair could rock.

  “Okay. I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  “I’ve lost my train of thought.”

  He hadn’t lost his train of thought; he’d lost patience. He appraised me, and when he spoke, his warm voice was breathy.

  “Let it be.”

  “Let what be?”

  “No good will come of this.”

  “Then you’re saying there is a ‘this’? I knew it!”

  “I said no such thing. You start chasing rainbows, and all you get is exhausted. He’s a boy. Eighteen. Smart. Tired. Home for the first time in many long, grueling weeks. Give it a rest, Amanda. Give Finn a rest.”

  “Send me back there. Please.”

  “It’s dangerous for you back there. Mrs. Nash…we upset her. I upset her. Who knows who she’s notified by now? Maybe there’s a reward out for you.”

  “Is there?”

  “I said maybe.”

  “They can’t put me and Jess on milk cartons. We’re eighteen. They’re not going to put us on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. What are you so afraid they’re going to do?”

  “I don’t even know who ‘they’ are. Maybe you do,” Joe said, “and maybe you lived with them long enough to not be afraid of them, but if there was someone out there looking for me who had once confined me to a military base, I’d avoid any chance of contact. Any chance.”

  I had nothing to say; only memories that kept me quiet.

  “You know how much Jess and I appreciate what you’ve done for us.”

  “No more than I’d expect you to do for me,” Joe said. “That’s the way the world works, right? Or should work, at least.”

  “Yes,” I said. “It should.”

  “So we’re on the same side. I guess that’s all I’m saying. Trying to say.”

  “I know that.”

  “They’re going to sleep most of every day for a while, I imagine. Goof around in the parks when they get the chance. They’ve probably looking through their college acceptances by now, and are going to have some decisions to make. Maybe their phones are off so no one can follow them, GPS them, reach them. I’m not saying Finn doesn’t want to text you or whatever, but maybe he’s just taking a self-imposed break. Or maybe his parents—maybe all their parents—took their phones away so they can’t contact each other. I can’t pry into their lives. Not anymore. I’ve already done stuff I shouldn’t have done.”

  “You had a kingdom to save.”

  “I’m a parent, Amanda. I would never let my kids take personal risks for anything other than service to their country. Do you think their parents, their guardians, care about the kingdom? I would imagine their parents are pretty much done with all of that by now.”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Worse, I knew he was probably right.

  Still, I needed to know absolutely. It was Finn, after all.

  By combining Jess’s and my money, I had just enough to book a last-minute deal, a red-eye flight to Orlando. I was given a temporary leave of absence from my internship at the School of Imagineering. I didn’t want to risk losing my internship by being gone too long. With no place to stay, and barely more than bus fare and my phone in my pocket, I ended up on Wanda Kresky’s doorstep.

  The daughter of Wayne Kresky, the late Disney Legend and creative force behind the DHIs, Wanda was the insider of all insiders. She agreed to put me up, gave me a short lecture about what would have happened if she’d been away on a trip, and lent me fifty dollars that we both knew I was unlikely to repay anytime soon.

  “Why would Joe be that way?” I asked across the kitchen counter of her tiny apartment as she fixed me a sandwich.

  “Maybe you’re reading more into it than was there.”

  “No one answering their phones? Seriously?”

  “Yeah, okay. I don’t know, but I think you’re right. It’s strange. You’ve got to believe he’s protecting them, though, Amanda. I don’t doubt that they want some downtime, that they might even spend time in the park together, but not answering their phones is…different.”

  “Right?”

  “So where do you start? Can I drive you?”

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “I hope you’re kidding.”

  “Finn’s house. Finn’s mom. She’s basically one of us at this point.” Finn’s mother had been put under a horrendous spell by the Overtakers, which left her working against her own son. “If anyone’s going to be honest, it’s her.”

  “Then that’s where we start.”

  Mrs. Whitman l
ooked pale and sickly. She stepped outside their one-and-half story ranch home instead of asking me to come in. Wanda waited in the car, her head turned toward us. It was dusk, but the heat caused my skin to prickle with sweat. The palm fronds stood motionless, looking plastic. A few red flowers dared to test the heat. They weren’t winning.

  We’d already said our hellos and how-are-yous by the time Mrs. Whitman decided to let me in, closing the door quietly behind her.

  “I’d heard you were interning in Disneyland,” she said.

  “Yes! It’s going great. Thank you! Is Finn home? Could I see him please?”

  “He’s…no…I mean, he’s not here. He’s…He’s away…at college orientation at Vanderbilt. We’re so proud of him. He was accepted by four schools! Did he tell you that? Isn’t that wonderful?”

  With so much to be happy about, why had she been crying recently? Why was she several shades paler than I’d ever seen her look? Why shut the door so quietly if only Finn’s sister was home? I knew Finn’s room was one of the windows facing the garage; we’d all heard the stories of his best friend, Dillard, or the dreaded Greg Luowski coming and going by climbing up on the roof. I felt so tempted to just run down the length of the house and try to sneak a peak.

  But I didn’t have to. A thin rim of light outlined a drawn shade in the window closest to the garage. If it was Finn’s room—and it made sense that it would be—and he was away, why leave the light on?

  She caught me looking in that direction.

  “I’m sorry, Amanda. I wish you’d—” She caught herself.

  “I did. Remember? I called Finn and Philby, Maybeck, Willa, and Charlene. All of them. I left messages for all of them.” I lowered my voice. “You can tell me. You know that. I’m here to help.”

  I watched her eyes fill to overflowing, but she managed to hold back the tears.

  “I want to help.” I saw no reason not to push. I was only going to meet with more resistance from the other Keepers’ parents. “Mrs. Whitman, of everybody, I thought you…I thought I could…that we knew each other. We’ve been through this together. You, me, Finn, the other Keepers. Let me, please let me help.”