Unforeseen - A Kingdom Keepers Novella Read online

  Dedication

  Begin the story

  Acknowledgements

  About Coliloquy

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Unforeseen, A Kingdom Keepers Novella

  by

  Ridley Pearson with Allie Lazar

  Dedication

  For Lisa, and the readers of the Kingdom Keepers who want to know more…

  I COULDN’T SLEEP. More accurately, I wouldn’t. Afraid that I’d have the same dream again, afraid I wouldn’t remember it, I lay awake trying to clear my mind. It was important I remember my dreams: they meant something. I could see the future.

  Staring at the underside of Amanda’s gray-flecked mattress and the web of interwoven wires and springs supporting it, I listened to the purr of Jeannie Pucket’s snoring, and felt the familiar longing to be somewhere else. What was supposed to pass for life was more a repetition of boring events, with me always the onlooker, never the participant. If I happened to be involved in something exciting, I ended up being the victim, the target, the tragic heroine. I wanted out.

  But there was no “out.” I’d bounced from one foster home to another; I’d been selected for and “enrolled” in a boarding school that was actually a secret government testing facility I’d escaped with Amanda, only for both of us to end up in Mrs. Nash’s foster home in Orlando, Florida.

  All of that running and fear, and for what? To get up, go to school, do chores. Lather, rinse, repeat. My life was a closed track, like the red one they’d built around the football field. There was no telling where it started and stopped.

  I hid under the covers, my journal and a small booklight in hand, trying to sketch my dream. It was late, well past our 10:30 curfew, but as I said: I couldn’t sleep.

  Giving up on trying to draw, I flipped through my journal, looking for clues that might trigger some memory of the elusive dream. The journal’s pages were filled with drawings and notes. My dream journal. My portal into the future. How any of this was possible, I had no idea, but I’d given up trying to figure it out. It was like the birthmark under my left arm—just there, like it or not.

  A bunch of my recent drawings involved the Disney Hosts Interactive—the DHIs. Finn, Charlene, Maybeck, Philby, and Willa were five teenagers who’d ended up as the models for interactive hologram hosts that served as personal tour guides inside the Disney parks. The technology was wild—the holograms looked absolutely real. Touchable. Yet they were nothing but projected light.

  I’d started dreaming about them and drawing them before I knew they existed. You want to talk about strange.

  Skimming through my journal and reflecting on all the things we’d done together over the past few years made me nostalgic. The five DHIs had had a weirder few years than Amanda and me, and that was saying something. The fact that we’d all found each other—one massive group of weirdos if you believed the rumors flying around school hallways—made our collective mission more important to me. More important to all of us.

  There was this fuzzy line between the five kids and their holograms that got crossed when they went to sleep. Unlike what I experienced when I nodded off—or what you experience, for that matter—the Keepers ended up not in a dream state but in a reality shift, one that left them inside the Magic Kingdom or Epcot late at night, after the parks had closed.

  And they weren’t alone. Or safe.

  Some of my drawings made me happy. Others, not so much.

  I woke with a start, my heart pounding. I’d fallen into the same nightmare yet again. Something to do with Mickey Mouse, smoke, a cracked surface like a mirror—maybe a window, wall, or floor. My journal was lying on my stomach under the covers, and I picked it up, but it was no use. I couldn’t recall a visual image strong enough to inspire me to sketch.

  Again.

  Why couldn’t I visualize it? Was it too frightening? Too insignificant? Too personal? Not personal enough? Was I losing my “gift”?

  I squinted tightly, willing the dream to return. The resulting darkness mocked me; exasperation and anger shot through my veins. My so-called “power” was nothing but a curse. When I was able to visualize my dreams, I ended up afraid of the future; when I couldn’t, I was afraid of the present.

  I nudged Amanda’s mattress, hoping to wake her. Maybe if I could talk this through it would help. Nothing. She slept soundly.

  Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, I slid out of bed, trying to control my runaway breathing. I was too cooped up, too lorded over by Mrs. Nash and her endless rules. I loved Amanda like a sister, but even her company was wearing on me. I had to get out, and I had to get out alone.

  I dressed quickly, glad my prodding hadn’t awakened Mandy. She wouldn’t know what any of this meant; I’d only worry her with my lame explanation about a fleeting, terrifying dream.

  But there was someone who could help...if I could only figure out how to reach him.

  OUTSIDE, WAITING FOR A BUS, I felt alive for the first time in a long while. Then I identified my feeling—fear, rather than a sense of vitality—and I wondered about my own impulses. Grabbing my cell, I called Wayne’s daughter, Wanda. She was probably in her forties, which explained the groggy, dry voice that answered my middle-of-the-night call.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me, Jess.” I paused. “Of Amanda and Jess?”

  “Oh, hi, honey...Wow, it’s late.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “Are you okay?” Her voice shed the fatigue quickly. “What’s going on?”

  I tried to explain myself, but hearing my own words, added, “That didn’t come out so great.”

  “No, I think I get it. You need to talk to my dad.”

  “I don’t know if I need to, but it feels like that, yeah.”

  “I’ll come get you.”

  “No, seriously, the next bus takes me practically to the Magic Kingdom. I just don’t know what to do once I get there.”

  I’d made the right choice. Wanda had a plan.

  LESS THAN A MILE FROM THE MAGIC KINGDOM, I walked in the shadows along the dark, empty roads, passing beneath towering trees and the occasional billboard rising like a skyscraper out of the blackish-green murk of my surroundings. I traversed vast, empty parking lots, continuing on toward the entrance to the Magic Kingdom. According to plan, I stopped and waited in the shadows just shy of the turnstiles. The air was still and silent; I felt cold despite the warm Florida night.

  Time seemed to hang still and tense around me—and then something shifted. I sensed I was being watched. Was it all my imagination? Or maybe Wayne himself? I whispered his name.

  No reply.

  One more time.

  Nothing. I edged into the bushes, crouched and waited, my ears aching from the silence.

  When a wave of warm breath flooded the back of my neck, I let out a silent scream, and spun around to face a pair of animal eyes. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. Wanted to cry out, but my voice was gone.

  Then I laughed a nervous, relieved laugh. It was Pluto. Tail wagging, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Not the plush Pluto with the rubber nose standing on two feet, but the dog. Wet nose. Four paws. Warm—disgusting!—breath. That Pluto. A few years ago, the sight would have shocked me, but after my experiences with the DHIs, not much surprised me anymore.

  Pluto bit down on my sleeve and pulled, dragging me toward the bushes and the woods beyond. At first I resisted, but his determination convinced me that I had no choice.

  As we moved deeper into the greenery, the bushes turned to dense forest. Then that forest changed quickly from Florida foliage to...What?

  With Pluto leading the way, the
branches intertwined more thickly overhead, diffusing and blocking the pale moonlight until I could barely see Pluto. Holding on tightly to the scruff of his neck, I stayed at his side. He was my service dog. I was now in his care.

  A dog. On one level, it made me want to laugh.

  The landscaping should have been only yards deep. Three minutes in, we were still going. I tripped over a root, fell and scratched my arm. Pluto licked me. The trees rustled and creaked. How was that possible given there was no breeze?

  Pluto whimpered, huddling closer to my legs. It felt like the trees were closing in on us. Suddenly, something gripped my shoulder. A bony hand? No, a knotted branch! Trunks morphed into terrifying faces. Sharp pieces of bark protruded from dark crevices, forming mouths that could swallow me whole. Twisted branches reached out for me like arms and hands. As I fought off one, another took hold. It curled and snapped and splintered as it dragged me toward its trunk.

  Growling, Pluto leapt at the tree that held me, scratching at the bark, nipping at the branches. The limbs overhead moaned. As the tree turned on him, it released me, and I ran.

  “Come on, boy!”

  Pluto sunk his teeth into the extended branch and snapped it in half. He bolted past me, barking for me to follow as he dodged through the trees. I slid, skidded, and dove to avoid the branches stretching for me. They were slow, a beat late. Finally we crashed through to an empty parking lot and a Cast Member backstage entrance.

  Together, we made a mad dash for Main Street.

  PLUTO RAN AHEAD AND SAT DOWN in front of the firehouse’s side staircase. A door opened at the top of the stairs, and a head of familiar white hair emerged, glowing in the moonlight.

  Wayne Kresky, a Disney Legend and one of the original Imagineers, broke into a wide smile. “You found her, did you?” he called down to Pluto. “Good boy! Jessica, please, come up.”

  I climbed the stairs, pausing for just a moment before entering. I had never been inside it before. I felt so honored I was flush with excitement.

  Wayne disappeared into the apartment’s galley kitchen and returned with a plate of cookies and two cups of tea, which he placed before us.

  “Sorry I couldn’t let you in myself. I’m on a bit of a tight leash lately. Ever since...Dillard.”

  Finn’s best friend Dillard had died trying to help the DHIs during a battle at a Mexican temple. The Imagineers, Wayne, and the DHIs—now referred to as the Kingdom Keepers because, at least temporarily, they’d saved the kingdom from destruction—had all suffered mightily from his loss of life.

  I heard bitterness as Wayne spoke. “The Imagineers no longer consider the Overtakers to be a significant danger. For what that’s worth. I don’t happen to agree, which is why I was extremely interested in what Wanda said about your stubborn dream.”

  I explained the past two weeks of my vague, intangible dreams. It was such a relief to share it with someone, that the story poured out of me.

  Wayne listened, a troubled look on his face. “Smoke. Mickey. Cracks.”

  “I think so. I can’t be sure. It wasn’t clear like the others.”

  “Please, my dear girl, do not trouble yourself. A gift is to be shared, not a burden. I might know a way to invoke the visions, a way to make them longer lasting. Perhaps if we put you in the right situation…” A glimmer of hope flared in my chest.

  “What is it?” I whispered.

  Wayne paced the small room. “The things you’ve described...I recognize the signs.” More pacing and contemplation. “My dear, every story has a beginning, middle, and end. I had hoped that the events in Mexico represented the end of this story. The end of our troubles with the Overtakers. But now, I fear that may not be the case. Perhaps the worst is yet to come.”

  Worse than Dillard’s death? Tempted to interrupt, the distant look in Wayne’s eyes kept me silent.

  “Things may happen now, Jessica. Unbelievable, horrible things. They are not your fault, nor mine. Remember we’re in a place powered by the belief of countless millions; anything can happen here. These parks make the impossible possible. While that may strengthen our heroes, it unfortunately does the same for our foes. The voodoo priestess, the one you call Tia Dalma, escaped from custody. We don’t know how long ago. A transformation spell was involved.”

  “Wait! What? I thought the Overtakers are done. That’s what everyone’s been saying, right? Maleficent is dead. Chernabog and the Evil Queen were buried alive. Tia Dalma is locked up!”

  “Was.”

  “No way!”

  “This is confidential, my dear. Not even the Keepers must know for now. The forces that oppose us are not insignificant. The unfortunate events in Mexico may have only fueled their fury, as they have ours. This fleeting dream of yours may be important. We must find a way to loosen it, to look at it. Agreed?”

  “Yes! That’s why I’m here!”

  Wayne resumed his pacing, muttering to himself. “Is there anything else—anything at all?”

  I told him I had tried—and failed.

  “Your insight may be stronger here in the park...surrounded by the magic. Perhaps all that’s needed is a spark, something to trigger your visions. If we put you in the right place...” Wayne’s eyes filled with excitement and possibility as he looked me in the eyes. “You mentioned cracks. What kind of cracks?”

  I trembled under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint. “I don’t know.”

  “Rocks? Bricks? Glass?” Wayne asked. He walked to his apartment window and looked outside.

  “I can’t be sure. Rocks, maybe?”

  He turned to me with a smile. “Cinderella Castle. We’ll start there!”

  I followed Wayne out the door and onto the landing outside. He stopped abruptly, turned and held a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. There was a rustling noise, the sound of footsteps. Someone was down there.

  “Pluto?” I mouthed to Wayne.

  He shook his head.

  Two shadowy figures appeared on Main Street. I took a step back, hoping to return to the safety of Wayne’s apartment, but he stopped me. My movement had caused the figures to pause and look in our direction. Overtakers? I wondered.

  After a moment the two continued down Main Street, away from the firehouse.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “If I had to guess: Horace and Jasper.”

  “Cruella’s goons?”

  “The same. When the Imagineers were planning the Sorcerers of the Magic Kingdom game, I warned them not to do it. They seldom listen to me anymore. When the game was finally installed, it accidentally allowed an influx of unsavory characters to the park, Horace and Jasper among them.

  “We need to get to the castle quickly,” he continued. “Horace and Jasper aren’t so bright. We should be able to avoid them if we stay off the street. We’ll use the Emporium to keep us off Main Street and take it from there.”

  Wayne opened a door into the Emporium, admitting us to the expansive merchandise shop that stretched far down the left side of Main Street. Built as a string of connecting rooms, each had its own themed merchandise: pins, toys, hats, clothing. Even cookware.

  We passed a display of books, where the Kingdom Keepers series was featured prominently. “That never stops feeling weird,” I murmured.

  The sound of a door closing quietly made me jump. We weren’t alone.

  He leaned in. “You are the prize, dear girl. They mustn’t capture you. I’ll create a distraction. Once you climb Escher’s Keep, you’ll be safe.” He spoke so confidently, as if it was a given I would make it. Before I could protest, Wayne hurried off.

  Alone in the darkness, the Emporium became a frightening place. The displays cast strange shadows; every corner could’ve hidden an Overtaker. Hearing footsteps, I ducked behind a carousel of pins, my heart pounding. When the sound faded, I dashed to a long, low shelf. I dropped to hands and knees and crawled, listening intently.

  Behind me, I heard someone moving slowly and carefully, as if in a game of
hide-and-seek. If I’d known the rooms better, I might have made a run for it. Crashing into a T-shirt display would only get me caught. I scampered away from the sound of shoes. The aisle looked more like a canyon to cross. I’d be exposed.

  With little choice, I scurried forward on all fours, crossed the aisle, came to my feet and, crouching, weaved my way through displays. Arriving to a Pirates display, I grabbed a toy sword and took it in hand.

  The beating of my heart in my chest obscured my hearing, but I could feel the person nearing. I turned one way, then the other, fearing being caught from behind. I raised the sword, backed up slowly, turned, and...

  Crashed into my pursuer. I screamed.

  A warm, moist palm clamped over my mouth and I bit down.

  Not a man, but a female’s cry rang through the shelves.

  I knew that voice!

  The hand released.

  “Mandy?” I gasped. I stared at her in disbelief. Swept my plastic sword into her side, testing if she was a hologram; the sword connected. “Amanda?”

  We hugged. She squeezed more tightly than I did. Though I was afraid to admit it, I found myself vaguely disappointed by her presence being here. My initial fears in the woods had given way to the excitement of teaming up with Wayne. I wanted—needed—a chance to be me, separate and away from Jess-and-Amanda, from our old dynamic in which she possessed the physical “gift” and I was seen as the dreamer.

  “You didn’t think I’d let you sneak out without me, did you?” she whispered.

  I felt a second wave of disappointment. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “You thought that disappearing in the middle of the night wouldn’t worry me? I heard you climbing out the window.” She paused, held me at arms’ length. “What’s going on? What’s with you?”

  We were far too close. She could read me so easily.

  “I...We need to get to the castle,” I said.

  Amanda remained uncharacteristically silent as we continued through the Emporium together. When we reached the area filled with toys and dolls, I pointed at the new Small World singing dolls. “Creepy, huh? We should probably smile at them,” I joked. But Amanda didn’t laugh.