Kingdom Keepers the Return Book 3 Page 3

  “Hollingsworth!” Finn said. “The hotel dorm. That group of fake Cast Members he keeps there. Those two are spies! Hollingsworth is trying to infiltrate your workshop.”

  Looking deeply troubled, Wayne took a moment to place a telephone call to Disney’s W.E.D. team, the architects and engineers who’d developed Disneyland. He asked to speak with “Mr. James Hawkins.” Then he hung up the phone slowly, looking bewildered. He studied the faces of the group of teens staring back at him.

  “We’ve got trouble,” Wayne said.

  “No, no, no,” Maybeck countered. “We’ve got opportunity.”

  AS AN ARTIST, TERRY MAYBECK was brilliant. As a human being, he was sometimes a fool. The opportunity he perceived was straightforward.

  “Amanda and I should follow those two. If they’re Hollingsworth’s agents or informers, they’ll probably lead us to the others. Like bees returning to the hive.” He received dubious looks from everyone else. “Maybe we even get Hollingsworth! We want to bug out, right? Go home. To the future. According to you two,” he said, singling out Amanda and Jess—often called Fairlies, short for fairly human—“the Imagineers say we gotta stop Hollingsworth. So it’s time to stop talking and start walking. They’re getting away.” He motioned to the door.

  “No offense, Terry, but you kinda stand out,” said Charlene. “I’m sorry to say it, but the only six-foot-tall teenage black guys out there are pushing wheelbarrows. You’re wearing a suit.”

  The Keepers had crossed over in “Sunday school clothes” so that they’d blend in during Disneyland’s lavish opening day celebration. Being projected images, they were stuck with those costumes; although when the park closed for the night things changed dramatically for the Keepers, it was currently daytime.

  “I’m wearing this stupid dress,” Charlene continued, “but it’s a 1950s stupid dress, and a lot of girls are wearing them. And sure, Amanda’s in skinny jeans, but thankfully someone thought to tie a bandana around her neck to give her the cowgirl look.” In 1955 Disneyland, there was a lot of cowgirl going around. Westerns were all the rage in film and television, popularizing the look among children. Disneyland’s Pack Mules, Shooting Gallery, Conestoga Wagon rides, and Disneyland Stages all played into the trendy theme. “The good thing for us is that we girls aren’t much more than ornaments. No one’s going to pay much attention.”

  “Of course they will,” Finn blurted out. “You’re both so beautiful.”

  Judging by his hologram blush (a technological rarity), he hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.

  “Go!” Willa said. “Follow them, but don’t do anything stupid.”

  “This is me we’re talking about!” Maybeck complained. “What happened to ‘Black Is Beautiful’? It should be me out there!”

  “You’re about ten years early,” Willa said. “Late sixties.” She smiled at him, though; Maybeck only rarely made a big deal about his African American heritage. The 1950s segregation was getting to him, Willa thought. She added, “Besides, Terry, you’re gorgeous. All us girls agree about that.”

  Amanda and Charlene hurried out the door.

  “Between Amanda’s powers and Charlene’s athleticism, they’re the best choice anyway,” said Philby in his dry academic way.

  “What powers?” Wayne asked.

  “That’s right! You still don’t know, do you?” Philby said in a kind of confused tone. “For now, it’s better we just leave it. There’s only so much any of us can handle, and you’re not ready for Amanda.”

  * * *

  “Ready?” Charlene asked Amanda. They had caught sight of the backs of the boy and girl near the Plaza end of Main Street USA. It was time for action. Their holograms were in color, and more rounded than Charlene’s original two-dimensional variety. But while Wayne and Philby had improved the look of the projections, they were far from perfect. They looked the most convincing when pushed up against a wall, or another static background. Mixed into a crowd, they gave off a ghostly image—still solid looking, but not quite right.

  “Remember to stay in sight of each other.” Amanda cut across to the Tomorrowland side of the street. With a subtle motion of either hand she gently and invisibly nudged park guests aside ten feet in front of her, creating an open lane for herself. Those who felt themselves pushed turned around to complain, but saw no one; they had no inclination to attribute their being shoved to a girl still ten feet from them. Who would ever think a person could manipulate things with the simple motion of a hand?

  When Amanda pushed a young girl out of her way, the movement caused the girl to drop her ice cream cone. With quick reflexes, Amanda directed a small push beneath the cone; it briefly defied gravity, floating in the air. The girl grabbed it.

  “Did you see that?!” the little girl exclaimed to her mother, who shook her head.

  Amanda passed her, already motioning aside others.

  Shane and Thia circled the Plaza to the left, Charlene not far behind. They took the third asphalt path to the left heading toward the park’s bandstand. The bandstand, an open-air, circular, covered stage, was surrounded by an ornate white railing. An American flag hung lifelessly from a flagpole atop its pointed roof.

  Amanda paused in the busier Plaza area, noting that there was no landscaping around the bandstand other than a few orange trees and rows of benches beneath blue-and-white umbrellas. With no band currently playing, the stage and benches stood empty. If Shane and Thia had a meeting planned, it would be easily witnessed.

  For her part, Charlene turned toward the benches, took a seat, and watched as the two Cast Members walked up the bandstand’s steps to the floor. They wandered about, pausing to look at the castle and talk among themselves. Then they came around as a pair, forcing Charlene to lower her head. The two gazed out over the bench area.

  Moments later, Charlene heard their footsteps descending. She kept her head down, concerned her hologram might have given her away. She counted slowly to ten and raised her chin as a shadow appeared at her feet and crept up her crinoline skirt. She found herself looking up at the boy, Shane.

  “What’s buzzin’, cousin?”

  Charlene didn’t speak.

  “You’re one of the new kids, aren’t you?”

  She only stared. If he reached out to touch her, things would get weird. Her unstable hologram reacted to fear, turning solid and therefore vulnerable to attack, and she was currently fighting back a sense of panic.

  “My advice to you, sister, is for you and your pals to cop a breeze, fade out, put an egg in your shoe. And in case you didn’t notice, Pinky’s out of jail.”

  She instinctively cocked her head, given he was focused on her dress.

  “Your slip’s showing,” he said.

  “I’m not wearing a slip.”

  “The fluffy stuff.”

  “It’s supposed to show.” Charlene looked beyond him for Thia. Gone.

  “Buzz off.”

  “You first.”

  “You gonna make me make you?”

  “I thought Cast Members were supposed to be nice.”

  “Oh…yeah. Cool. Look, Dolly, fire it up and goose it. I’ll clue you: your Clydes aren’t wanted here, all your nosing around. Bug off, and don’t come back.”

  “My friends and I love Disneyland…Shane,” she said, reading his name tag. “We come here every day. Maybe I should talk to someone about how rude you’re being to me.”

  “Later, gator. And no flapping your lips, you hear me? You do and you’ll be eating a knuckle sandwich.” He raised his fist.

  The moment he did, he slammed to the ground. It wasn’t like he’d fallen off-balance; it was like he’d been hit by a hurricane wind. He slid a few feet, eating a bunch of dirt that he spit out like a sputtering motor.

  Amanda, standing a few feet away, held her palm out in a push. “There you are!” Amanda said innocently. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Charlene hopped off the bench and hurried to join her.

&nb
sp; “Thank…you,” Charlene said. “Things were getting nasty.”

  “I noticed.”

  “The girl, Thia, disappeared.”

  “Not exactly,” Amanda said. “When this bully headed over to you, Thia went around behind the bandstand and vanished.”

  “You were watching?”

  “She never saw me. She got around to the far side, looked around, and then ducked. Vanished, but I doubt any magic was involved. More like a door of some sort.”

  “A hidden door.”

  Charlene heard the footfalls before Amanda did. She bumped Amanda aside, dropped to one knee, and stuck out her leg. Shane tripped and skidded painfully across the asphalt.

  The girls took off running, eager to disappear into the crowded Plaza.

  “He tried to warn me that we aren’t welcome,” Charlene said breathlessly.

  “Whatever. I want to hide and watch him. I’ve got a hunch he’s going to follow the girl wherever she went.”

  “Under the bandstand,” Charlene said.

  “Under the bandstand,” Amanda confirmed.

  “HOW DANGEROUS IS THIS for you?” asked the man walking beside Mattie. He had something of a belly and an odd walk.

  “It’s California Adventure,” she answered. “How dangerous can it be?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Think of me as a spy, then,” she said. “I’m trying to get information that people want kept secret. It has its moments.”

  “So it’s dangerous,” he proposed.

  “I’m very good at what I do. Not to worry.”

  He took a long look at her. “I don’t doubt it.”

  The park, alive with thousands of visitors, stretched out under a canopy of background music and blue sky. The guests exuded excitement, walking faster than normal, talking louder. There was lots of pointing and families stopping abruptly. If you didn’t look out you’d pile into someone.

  “You don’t get out much, do you?” Mattie asked. “Are all your Cast Member hours spent in Disneyland, or what?”

  “I’m a Dapper Dan. Where would you expect me to be?”

  “Point taken.”

  He didn’t look like a Dapper Dan. At the moment, he wore chinos and a polo shirt, not his costume’s red pants, white shirt, and red-and-white-striped vest. He had a weathered, jowly face with semicircles like kangaroo pouches beneath his eyes. He walked duck-footed, without bending his knees much. Mattie had trouble looking at him without grinning—which wasn’t fair, so she didn’t look over much.

  “Let me ask you this,” she said. “What are our chances of finding one of your brother’s associates?” She placed emphasis on the final word.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “They’re either here or they aren’t. I either see them or I don’t. You know, it seems you know more about me than I do you, Mattie. Judging by the red streaks in your hair, your torn jeans and combat boots, you’re…how do I say this politely?…a person who enjoys her own company.”

  “A loner? A loser? A runaway?”

  “I would never be so impertinent.”

  “Loner, yes. Runaway, yes. Loser, never. And you know why.”

  “My brother. Of course. We share a cause, no matter how different we look.” He paused, looking over at her as they walked. “What do you call it, that thing you do? What you did to me when we first met.”

  “Reading. I call it reading someone.”

  “What if they don’t want to be read?”

  “It doesn’t usually matter. Most of the time they can’t stop me.”

  “It’s a violation, you know?” He sounded wounded. “Taking someone’s thoughts without their permission. Without their knowledge. How’s that possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Mattie said solemnly. “I stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago.”

  “You don’t like having an ability like that?”

  “It’s ruined my life—so far, at least. Being a freak is not so hot.”

  “I’m sorry for whatever my brother and his people did to you.”

  “I don’t need your sympathy. I don’t expect anything of anyone. Except myself. I expect things of myself.”

  “You once accused me of being a spy.”

  “That was Amanda, I think. Not me. But, yeah. You didn’t deny it.”

  “And here I am, being a spy.”

  “Funny how that’s worked out,” she said.

  * * *

  Between the Tower of Terror, Ariel’s Grotto, California Screamin’, and Cars Land, this side of the park had long been a favorite of Mattie’s. She was beginning to feel comfortable navigating her way around, knowing where the best food was, the nearest restroom, the good shopping.

  “You must know what this is about,” Mattie said.

  “I can speculate easily enough. I’m assuming we’re here because of all the trouble the other day. I can’t think of a time the park was closed like that. Not that there was any choice. People were frightened. A few were hurt on the steamboat.”

  “It was awful.”

  “But couldn’t you just read me and see the faces of the people who associate with my brother? It would seem you don’t really need me.”

  “It’s not as if I get a full download, you know?” Mattie’s voice was softer now. “I pick up on what you’re thinking. Usually I have to make it happen. You know, like giving you a prompt? I have to make you think about something if I’m going to read what I want to find out. Not always, but almost always.”

  “That sounds tricky. A bit risky, even.”

  “Yeah. There is that,” Mattie said.

  “I’m afraid I’m no good to you if I’m supposed to defend you…I’m slow and not the fighting type.”

  “No sweat.” She reached out and thumped him on his generous belly as they walked. It was an overly familiar gesture she felt perfectly comfortable with—she’d seen inside this man and knew him to be good-natured, with a strong sense of humor.

  Zeke Hollingsworth laughed heartily.

  “You’re the youngest Hollingsworth.”

  “I’m the middle son, Ebsy. The Cast Members call me Zeke. Amery’s my older brother.”

  “Amery Jr.”

  “He’s called that sometimes, yes.” Zeke looked over at the top of her head. “Is it safe, what you do? This reading? Can it harm you in any way?”

  “It’s super disturbing,” Mattie answered honestly. “Imagine getting inside someone else’s head. When it happens, there’s this moment where there’s no me, no Mattie, just the target’s thoughts. And then there’re the reachers. I thought you were a reacher when I first targeted you.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  “What I do isn’t always a one-way street. Some people are able to detect my reading them. They reach back across. Reachers. I’m in their heads, they’re in mine.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “No,” Mattie said. “It feels as if I’ll…lose myself, you know? Like I’ll just zombie out or something.”

  “Then why in heaven’s name are we doing this?”

  “I’m a Fairlie. It stands for fairly human. You’re forced to take chances when you’re the one with the ‘special gift.’” She drew air quotes.

  “How many of you are there?”

  “That’s a question you should ask your brother, Amery Jr.”

  “Baltimore,” Zeke Hollingsworth muttered.

  “Bingo,” said Mattie.

  * * *

  Together, Mattie and Zeke walked around California Adventure for nearly two hours. He told her that World of Color was his favorite show. He spoke of the changes he’d seen here and in Disneyland with a degree of nostalgia. He talked of his brothers and him following their father around when the “old man” worked with Disney. Zeke had been too young to remember, but Junior had told him stories.

  Mattie had no memory of her own father or mother. She’d spent five years in Barracks 14, and three before that living with her grandparents.
For a few precious hours in California Adventure she felt as if this awkward man was kind of a dad. She somehow knew that once Zeke saw her in action and was reminded of her freakishness, his opinion of her would change. People didn’t know how to act around those different from themselves. The trick was not to act at all; but some people failed to learn that lesson.

  “There’s one of my brother’s guys,” Zeke said under his breath. They’d come around the circle, nearing the entrance to Cars Land. “To your right, standing next to the vineyard. Dark slacks and the pale windbreaker.”

  “Got him,” she said. “Name?”

  “I…ah…”

  “What’s his name?” Mattie asked. “I need a name!”

  “Billings? Or Bill Inis? Was it Bill? I think it’s Bill.”

  “I need a name!” Mattie repeated. She saw the target join the stream of park visitors, heading in the direction of the Red Car Trolley route and the gates. “We can’t stay together. He might recognize you.”

  Briefly losing sight of the target, she left Zeke. She moved quickly, but without breaking into a run. Caught sight of him again.

  “Mr. Inis!”

  The target didn’t change his pace. Zeke had given her the wrong name.

  “Excuse me, sir! Mr. Inis?” Mattie called once more. The target broke stride, turning slightly. A tall man with crow’s-feet at his eyes and a thick, sand-colored mustache, he was celebrity handsome. He focused on her, his determined blue eyes enchanting and calculating. His lips parted as if to speak, but he said nothing. Instead, he squinted slightly, like the sun bothered him.

  Mattie took his right hand firmly in both of hers. “It’s so good to see you, Mr.—” She purposely cut herself off.

  In that infinitesimal, immeasurable instant, a portal opened to the man’s thought. His name was in fact James Calder Corwin. She saw a long hallway with discolored gray walls and a lightbulb burning; she saw a rapid-fire stream of faces, traffic, and groups of teens entering Disneyland. She forced the words Fairlies, Barracks 14, Baltimore, and children onto him. In the same mental image some of the teens looked back at her: she knew their faces! They were Fairlies! All of them!