The Return: Disney Lands Read online

  “What?” Philby demanded, stepping up and confronting Jack Skellington head-on.

  The gourd-headed figure threw his gangly arms in the air, expressing surprise. Philby’s confidence had his DHI tingling, a sensation he took to be a positive sign. He stepped through Jack, spun around, and spoke again.

  “I’m back here, clown face.”

  Skellington spun.

  “What do you want with me?” Philby said.

  The black and white creature lowered his head—he was a good deal taller than Philby’s DHI—putting his face only inches from Philby’s. He waggled a long, boney finger. The gesture spoke clearly to Philby: Oh, no you don’t. I’d be careful if I were you! You’re asking for trouble if you go through with it.

  Philby attempted to step through the figure again, but this time he chest-bumped Skellington, knocking him back.

  “That wasn’t very nice,” Sally said.

  “You stay out of this!” Philby admonished her.

  “I most certainly will not, mister! Jack and I are one and the same. Birds of a feather. Where he goes, I go. Jack’s a good man! Dead or not! You keep that in mind.”

  Philby addressed the bobblehead, his voice flat and calm. “Tell whoever sent you here that we will not turn back. Not now. Not ever. That’s all you need to say. All they need to hear.”

  “I’m sure Jack has no idea what you mean,” said Sally.

  “I’m pretty sure he does.” Philby had not flinched, not once since going head-to-head with the cadaverous puppet. “He meant to hurt me, or distract me, and he’s been successful, at least in the second part. As for hurt—well, that’ll be on him and all those he represents.”

  Spinning, Philby pointed across the street to the Dapper Dan, who was fast approaching. “Including you!”

  The Dapper Dan stopped. He looked confused. Put off. Surprised.

  Willa walked around the Dapper and addressed him. “If you, or any of your kind, follows us or keeps us from entertaining the guests, you will come to regret it.”

  “My kind?” he asked, incredulous.

  She read his name tag: EZEKIEL.

  Though her voice was calm and strong, her mind was spinning. She couldn’t bring herself to imagine that the powerful Overtakers were behind this. The presence of Jack, Sally, the Dapper—it all felt, like the card attack on Finn had felt, like stragglers, isolated villains attempting to run interference without any leadership or plan.

  “Jack!” she added, letting her tone show her exasperation, “You’re supposed to be a good guy. Don’t give in to a bunch of losers!”

  Skellington stood up straighter. At his side, Sally took a deep, rasping breath. “How can someone who’s already dead,” she said, “lose anything?”

  “You and any of the other leftovers, stay away from us!” Philby said, squaring his shoulders.

  “And if you don’t,” Willa warned, “you’d better bring it.” She spoke loudly, to make sure the Dapper Dan heard her as well. What kind of dumb name was Ezekiel?

  The Dapper, unfazed, stepped forward. His face was solemn and composed. “Young lady, how horribly mistaken you are. I have, in fact, come to help.”

  “I’m sure!” Willa nearly spit at him.

  She and Philby turned and walked away, moving hand in hand up Main Street USA toward Town Square. Philby’s hand trembled. Willa’s was ice cold.

  Slowly, with a habit learned through years of adventure, they began to go all clear.

  “What got into you?” Philby gasped.

  “‘It’s about time,’” Willa replied, her DHI grasping his hand tightly. Not letting go.

  FROM WALT’S APARTMENT, where Philby marveled at the music box, to the five Keepers running for King Arthur Carrousel, carried away by a sense of group adventure that had been sorely lacking in the past months, all dressed in period clothing, playing DHI tricks like jumping through the Partners statue while laughing at the top of their lungs, from this exhilarating dash, the Keepers arrived at the carousel and swarmed the platform of spinning horses.

  There was merriment in the air, that rare and welcome rush that comes from perfect friendship. As the five awkwardly mounted Jingles, having drawn a small group of fans and onlookers, they held to each other’s waists like a group of kids riding a toboggan. Maybeck, the last, was barely able to keep from sliding off the painted horse’s rump.

  Closing their eyes, some under the spell of heightened anticipation, others fighting off the fear that came with something new, the fear that could compromise their DHI and corrupt their chance to be part of this, whatever this was.

  They vanished.

  The few park guests who had identified one or another of the Kingdom Keepers and had followed so eagerly to the carousel clapped and cheered, celebrating what they thought was a magic show. Jingles looked lonely, rotating round and round as the park cleared for the night. The security camera’s time lapse captures would show an emptying Fantasyland, families departing for the long ride home, Cast Members closing and cleaning, an enchanted space being readied for the following morning.

  There would be no more sightings of the five kids who’d climbed aboard Jingles, holding on for dear life, their eyes shut as if anticipating something wonderful.

  Is the past really in the past

  Or is it still to come

  Is the future what’s in store for us

  Or has it already begun

  Is the present really happening

  Or will it never come7

  “THANK YOU FOR MAKING IT on such short notice,” Joe Garlington said from the other side of three display screens connected to his computer. He rolled his chair out from behind them, though he remained on the far side of the desk.

  “No problem,” Amanda said dryly. She sipped from the water the secretary had given her. Coughed.

  “We both know better than that,” Joe said. “I heard from Toby Langford.”

  “Oh.”

  “And of course, I’d seen the video as well. You and the cards. The push.”

  “Mr. Langford didn’t mention them,” Amanda said, sitting forward in spite of herself. “Did you know that? Why wouldn’t he acknowledge that there was an attack?”

  Joe scribbled a note. “Don’t change the subject, Amanda.”

  “What is the subject?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Finn’s not answering my texts.”

  “That’s not the subject. Protecting secrets and keeping secrets are two different things. We require you to protect our company secrets. We ask you not to lie or do things, things like public displays of supernatural ability, that will bring the company bad publicity.”

  Amanda sat back, stung. “Don’t you want your guests believing in the magic?” she said softly. Joe knew about the battles between Overtakers and characters. He knew the Disney villains were real and that a band of holographic teenagers really did cross over at night.8 Certainly, he must believe in the magic, she thought.

  “Do you think this is a good time to be sarcastic with me?”

  “Probably not.”

  “No probably about it.” Joe jotted down some more notes. Amanda didn’t like that. She wished she could see what he was writing. “Tell me about it.”

  “It?”

  “Careful,” he warned.

  “I’ve texted him for two days and nothing. That’s completely unlike him.”

  His face reddened. “We’re not talking about your love life, Amanda. We’re talking about the carousel. The cards. You just happened to be there?”

  “I tried the others, too. Maybeck. Willa. Philby. Nothing. So I thought, heck, I’ll just call Charlene. Voicemail. Where are they, Joe? Where have they gone?”

  “Where did those cards come from?”

  “Mad Hatter, I assume. They were going to hurt my friends. The Queen of Hearts is seriously psycho. What would you have done? Peggy told me to—”

  “Don’t give me that excuse. You and I both know Peggy was referring to
your work at DSI, not inside the parks. Not with guests in attendance. You tried that line on Toby, I hear.” Joe closed his notebook, looked at her wearily. “Please, Amanda, give me some credit. We accepted you and Jess into DSI as adults. That means we expect adult behavior and adult communication. Do you think yourself capable of that?”

  “Why would all five of them go off the grid?” Amanda remained persistent.

  Joe sighed, and put the cap on his pen. “Okay. That’s all. I guess I’ll just have to give you the time to find out.”

  “What?”

  “You’re suspended from DSI.”

  “Excuse me?” Amanda felt like she was about to cry.

  “You’re out. Whether that’s temporary or permanent is up to you.”

  “Permanent? I am so sorry, Joe! I didn’t mean to—”

  “That’s exactly the point, Amanda: You did mean to. Of course you did. Everything you did was premeditated. That’s the most annoying and telling part of this, quite frankly. That, and your blatant dishonesty.”

  “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll tell you anything!”

  “You’ll take a break, young lady.” Joe’s face was like a piece of stone; his eyes were cold. “What you do with that time is up to you. If I were you I would think about what it is I want for my future.”

  “I don’t want to leave DSI. I’m sorry about everything. They’re my friends, you know? Real friends. The first friends Jess and I have ever really had.”

  “Jessica seems to be toeing the line quite well.” Joe stood. Amanda didn’t like that. It implied the meeting was over, that he really wasn’t giving her a chance to argue. “You’ll do with the next week as you see fit. I leave it up to you. Please figure out what’s important to you, and then we can talk again.”

  Tears gushed down Amanda’s cheeks, despite her best efforts to hold them back. “I didn’t…” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry…Really…Really sorry.”

  “I don’t like this anymore than you do,” Joe said, putting his arm around her and guiding her gently to the door. “You and Jessica are special to me. Important. I have no doubt—none whatsoever—that you’ll make the most of these next few days. You’re a smart kid, Amanda. When we meet again, all will be forgiven, and we can both move on. Sound good?”

  Amanda nodded, drawing in deep breaths between sobs.

  “Things have a way of working out when we put our minds to it,” Joe said.

  “I was just trying to help,” Amanda gurgled.

  He patted her on the shoulder. “Well then, that’s a good place for us to start next week when we talk. Keep that in mind. Let’s start right there.”

  “He said I should serve as a kind of DSI ambassador,” Amanda said to Jess later as she packed. “Convince some of the parents that this is a good place for their kids.”

  “Joe said that?”

  Her stomach knotted. They didn’t lie to each other, but here she was doing exactly that. “He said how great it would be to get as many of the Keepers here next semester as possible. That I was the perfect person to convince them.”

  “What if Finn doesn’t want to see you?”

  Amanda offered her sister a look. “Since when?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. What did he say about them not answering texts?”

  “He made me think maybe they’ve been doing something with the Imagineers that has their phones down.” The lying became easier as she went. A troubling development. She didn’t like herself right now. She knew Jess wouldn’t like her, either. “I think by sending me back there, he’s planning to let me see them in person. So no complaints.”

  “This has to do with the Legacy, doesn’t it?” Jess asked. “You two talked about Hollingsworth and the Legacy.”

  “I swear, I said nothing.” Finally, a speck of truth. She cherished it.

  “You’re not mad at me again, are you?” Jess sounded terrified.

  “Why would I be?”

  “Because they let me into the basement.”

  “I’m not supposed to know about that.”

  “Tim shouldn’t have told you.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Amanda asked, keeping her eyes fixed steadily on Jess’s.

  “Don’t get mad.”

  “Why should I get mad?”

  “We just worked everything out.”

  “We did. And now I get to go work everything out with Wanda.”

  “What does that mean?” Jess asked.

  Amanda blushed. “Nothing. Look, I don’t have some switch that can turn off my feelings! I’m scared for him.”

  Jess laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m being completely real here, Mandy. This is honest. No tricks. No secret messages. I have no idea where they are, where Finn is, why he isn’t texting you. I know as much, or as little, about the Legacy as you do. Tim passed a file to you to get to the Keepers. Not me. You must remember this stuff.”

  “Because you’re trying to protect me?” Half statement, half question. This time Jess didn’t take the bait.

  “I’m trying to protect all of us, and that includes Finn and the Keepers.” Jess paused, sighed. “It’s not easy.”

  “I have to know,” Amanda said.

  “‘Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.’ Matthew 7:7.”

  “Since when do you go around quoting the Bible?” Amanda stepped away from Jess, throwing up her hands in complete exasperation.

  “I know maybe three quotes, and another three or four from Shakespeare. So sue me.” Jess twisted her lips as if biting back a laugh. “I mean, they come in handy.”

  “You’re mocking me with that verse.”

  “I’m trying to warn you to leave it alone, Mandy. Believe it or not, sometimes we just don’t want to know. Think who Finn is. Charlie. Maybeck. They’re more pioneers than holograms. If you think for even a minute that we know everything they’ve done, you’re fooling yourself. If they wanted us to know what they were doing now, we would.”

  “And if they’re in trouble?” Amanda caught Jess’s eyes, saw again the flare of emotion her friend struggled to conceal. “You know something. A dream? You’ve dreamed something.”

  “Not about them. It’s not them in trouble. It’s about you. Us.”

  “Tell me.”

  Jess pursed her lips. “I can’t. Not until I understand it. I’ve learned the hard way that if I share my dreams too soon it causes nothing but trouble.”

  “Are we in danger?”

  “In the dream? Yes.”

  “But you won’t tell me from who, or what, or why?”

  Jess laughed, and Amanda with her. “We are so pathetic,” Jess said. They shared feelings of camaraderie. Of sisterhood. Survival.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Jess said.

  “With me, I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  They laughed again.

  “I love you, you know?” Jess said. “More than anyone. More than any of this. Real love. The kind where I’d run in front of a bus to stop it from hitting you. That kind of love.”

  Amanda nodded, her eyes going shiny. “Shut up.”

  “I’m going to come get you if you mess this up.” Jess gave her a fierce hug, holding her close. “Whatever you do, keep looking over your shoulder.”

  “Your dream.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me?”

  “I’m not…I can’t.” Jess paused to think about it. “Though maybe, in a way, I already have.”

  THE FIVE KEEPERS AWOKE within moments of one another. It was snowing, but in an Alice in Wonderland sort of way: pink, blue, green, red, and yellow circular flakes swirling about, stirred by an unpredictable breeze.

  Charlene thought she’d crossed over into the inside of a snow globe. Maybeck saw it as confetti, but try as he might to capture and hold on to a flake, he could not. Philby simply sat, staring, the professor at work. Like Maybeck, Willa tried to displace t
he colorful balls, batting them with her hands and blowing on them. Nothing.

  Finn knew what the others did not. He alone paid no attention to the electric atmosphere, looking instead for the way out.

  Beyond what he knew to be glass, a group of long workbenches could be seen through the colorful snow. Empty wooden stools as tall as skyscrapers rose alongside the worktables. A series of funnel lights like winged canopies hung from black wires as thick as phone poles. Looking in the opposite direction revealed a long, shrinking tunnel, from which the colorful balls seemed to emerge in steady streams.

  “I’ve got it!” Finn cried, swatting at the colorful Ping-Pong–size balls as if they were annoying insects. “Come here, everyone.”

  The others joined him, and Finn explained breathlessly that they’d arrived in a picture tube—apparently color, this time—but in shrunken form. In one direction were the electronics; in the other, whatever space the television set occupied. He believed it was a workshop of some kind.

  Judging by the soft light in the room and the fact that the funnel lights were not switched on, it was daytime. Try as the Keepers might to leave the picture tube, there were only two proven methods. The first was to stand tall, turn sideways, and jump. The second, to dive. In both cases, the slightest twitch of fear would confine one inside, as Finn had previously experienced. To attempt a face-first jump would result in a painful collision.

  “Why do I have no idea what you’re talking about?” Philby said. He looked uncharacteristically pale and nervous.

  “The folder!” Finn said energetically, trying to shake his friend out of his stupor. “Wayne created a color television from that information we gave him! These stupid balls are pixels. The reason we all look so weird and low-resolution is that it isn’t a very good picture. I wonder what that will mean once we leave here?”

  “Down, boy,” Maybeck said. “Let’s get everyone out of here before we play twenty questions!”

  Ignoring Maybeck’s desire to leap first and ask questions later, Willa pressed Finn to explain his color television comment, which Finn did, patiently and in more detail. He should have remembered the mem-ory loss and planned for it better. It was slowing them down.