Unforeseen - A Kingdom Keepers Novella Page 7

  Holding on for dear life, Finn scoots away from the snapping jaws. He spins around on the branch. The jaguar’s wet nose is so close he can make out its leathery texture.

  The cat’s mouth opens wide, spit flying as it roars.

  I felt someone shaking me and opened my eyes to see Amanda. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Wake up! Wake up, Jess!”

  I made the mistake of looking around me.

  From each of the graves crawled the decrepit, rotted remains of a poodle, a duck, a hound, a cat. The animals pulled their exposed bones and scabs of flesh out of their burial holes with savage determination. When the poodle growled, exposing its teeth through a patchwork of flesh that should have been its face, I whimpered.

  Animals panting and low, slurping growls. Dogs. Wild dogs. Dangerously close.

  The pack of wild dogs is bearing down on Willa. They are scraggly, scruffy, drooling, ugly hounds with matted fur and savage eyes.

  The horrifying growl of a dog startles Willa. Its nose is in the air, red and black gums displayed in a nasty snarl of broken teeth.

  Raking my head so as to avert my eyes, I squeezed Amanda’s hand and then heaved her off me, pushing her to the side as a decaying owl dove off a tree branch and aimed itself at me. Throwing up a hand, I caught its head. A dusty, filthy wing caught me in the mouth; I ate feathers. Spitting, crying out, I wrestled the zombie owl as it pecked at my neck with its hooked beak and scratched my chest with its sharpened talons.

  Finally, I caught it by the wing and hurled it at the tree trunk. Doing so went against everything I was—I’d reacted purely on instinct.

  The owl slammed into the bark, fluttered, and fell. But in the next instant, it was standing, picking at the broken bones in its wing. Only then did the terrible truth hit me.

  “We can’t hurt them! We can’t kill them!” I jumped to my feet.

  Amanda squirmed and rolled, throwing leaves up around her in a brown cloud. She was pulling at her ankles. It took me a moment to realize that they were tied together; another to understand that the thick rope binding her was no rope at all, but a snake. The thing had coiled around both her ankles multiple times. I could see its torn skin undulating and tightening.

  Mandy was too scared to speak. The snake kept tightening its grip. I reached forward, but couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

  Amanda’s terror-ridden expression changed all that. Her skin was bluish, her eyes bugging out of her head.

  “Breathe!” I shouted.

  A zombie dog approached, head to the ground, a bouquet of flowers locked in its jaw. Black, empty eye sockets stared at us. Blind! I realized. It’s blind!

  All the animals were missing their eyes. They were working off scent alone!

  Squinting in total repugnance, I took the snake by the tail and began to unwrap it. The gentler I was, the less it resisted. Much of its body had some amount of meat and skin left on it, but sizeable portions did not—just vertebrae. The feel of cold bones made me want to throw up. Amanda bent her knees allowing me to work beneath her upturned heels. She calmed considerably as she saw the snake uncoiling.

  “I...I...”

  “It’s all right,” I said, not wanting her to look around and see the drooling, blind hound three feet from her head. Another few steps, and the flowers were going to hit Amanda. I had to get the snake free before she reacted.

  I sped up my effort—but carefully. If I moved too quickly, the thing tightened like it was made of metal. Two coils to go...

  The owl scooted forward. I dropped the snake.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda sat up, reaching for the snake.

  “Wait!” I peeled off my top shirt—glad for the T-shirt beneath—and tossed it past Amanda to a spot roughly equidistant between the hound and the owl. Both animals turned toward it. “They’re blind,” I cried. “I’ve got this.”

  The snake was mine. It buckled and danced as I held it, keeping my arm high in the air. I ran the decaying reptile over to my shirt and dropped it. The commotion must have provoked the hound and the owl, for there was an immediate frenzy of wings, the snapping of jaws, and some grotesque sounds I couldn’t identify.

  I pulled Amanda up.

  The three animals had quickly forgotten the smell of my shirt, distracted as they were by the tang of fetid, powdered blood. Amidst the melee, Amanda dared to leap forward, snag my shirt, and toss it to me.

  We jumped the fence and landed on the other side just as the two patrolling cats leapt from the back terrace into the woods. They came at us without hesitation.

  Their tiny bodies, malnourished and skinny with hunger, seemed to expand. It looked as if they were being filled with pressurized air. They grew from cat to bobcat to panther, first slowly and then incredibly fast, in the space of several bounding leaps up the hill. From semidomesticated to wild in no time.

  Amanda spun.

  “No!” I shouted, raising my arms. “Do not turn your back on them! Look directly at their eyes. Show your teeth. Growl and raise your arms. Spread your legs. Look as big as you can!” I led by example, clapping sharply.

  The nearest panther skidded to a stop and then began lurching toward us in stalking mode. The other cat was a shoulder length behind the first.

  “Louder!” I hollered.

  Amanda and I growled and barked with all our might. Our small frames must have looked six feet tall and as wide as a barn.

  The cats stopped.

  I made one reflexive juke at them. I didn’t want to start a fight I knew we’d lose, but I didn’t cower. The lead cat jumped back. It slowly began to shrink.

  “Am I really seeing this?” Amanda asked in a whisper.

  “Yes! They’re getting smaller again!”

  From panther, to bobcat, to kitty. I stomped my foot and they skittered out of sight.

  They’re going to tell someone, I thought. Somehow...

  “What happened to you?” Amanda asked hysterically. “I thought I was the action figure.”

  Honestly, I had no idea what had possessed me in the past few minutes. “We shouldn’t have let them get away. We don’t have much time before they bring in reinforcements. If we’re going to do this, we’d better go now.”

  “I read a book once where that thing was alive,” I said, turning to point out the red-eyed raven over the door. We were inside the Haunted Mansion, walking the Doom Buggy track backward, past the graveyard and around some turns. The glass ball that usually held Madame Leota’s head stood empty.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d set off backward, but I wasn’t going to change directions now.

  “I’ve heard the expression about your skin crawling so many times,” Amanda said. “It’s weird to actually feel it.”

  “Enough of that.”

  “I’m not allowed to be scared? I can’t help it, you know!”

  “You need to. Help it. Stop it. Avoid talking about it. It isn’t helping.”

  “Because you’re scared, too.”

  “Petrified. This ride has always been creepy. And that’s with it turned on. I feel like I’m in that attic above the old church.”

  I felt Amanda shiver. “You had to bring that up.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Where’s Mary Poppins when we need her?” Amanda said. We both smiled.

  But not for long. The cavernous building had a life of its own—groaning. It was difficult to distinguish potential threats from ordinary sounds. Of all the places to be trapped in the dark, this was not the one I’d have chosen.

  “I hate this place,” I muttered.

  When Amanda didn’t immediately reply, I turned around. She had stopped fifteen feet behind me, staring at something.

  “Mandy!” I hissed.

  She gave no sign of having heard me. I hurried to her and followed her gaze.

  “It’s just a door,” I said. “A prop. There’s nothing on the other side.”

  Clunk! It sounded electric. But loud!

  "Playful spooks have interrupted our
tour. Please remain seated in your Doom Buggies. We will continue momentarily."

  The buggies started moving. A green light appeared around the rim of the door, which started to bang open and shut. Pairs of ghost eyes appeared and disappeared in the pattern on the wallpaper.

  “I saw something,” Amanda said. “A shadow in the door.”

  “But it’s not a real door,” I said. To prove my point, I pushed the door, knowing it would only move a matter of inches.

  To my surprise, it swung fully open, blinding us with a wash of that iridescent neon green light. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “I told you,” she said, and took a step forward.

  I grabbed hold of her arm. “No. We’re looking for plates, remember?”

  “You know how stuff happens to you that you can’t explain?” Amanda said. “That’s me right now. I have to go in here. You don’t, if you don’t want to.”

  “Of course I don’t want to! Should I list the reasons? A) This is the Haunted Mansion! B) That door is not supposed to open. C) Nothing but trouble can come from going through a door that’s not supposed to open in a place waiting for one more dead person. D) Did I mention, dead person?”

  “So stay here. Scream your brains out if you see someone.”

  “I can’t do that, and you know it. We do things together.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  I extended my arm to hold the door open and screened my eyes against the light with my other hand.

  Amanda said, “Stay close.”

  I’D EXPERIENCED MY FAIR SHARE of bone-chilling moments: being shipped off to Barracks 14 and studied like an amoeba under a microscope; having a spell put on me that left me in a trance for months; being imprisoned underground. But nothing prepared me for what Amanda and I now faced.

  The walls of the small, glowing room were covered—as in: covered—with photographs, news articles, and sketches of Wayne Kresky. It was as if we’d stumbled on a stalker’s shrine to the mighty Imagineer, the man some believed was the engineer of the fight against the Overtakers. The general.

  The dozens of photos had obviously been taken without Wayne’s knowledge. Some—more than a few—included the DHIs, our friends, the Kingdom Keepers. But the way the photos had been trimmed, annotated with markers, or doodled left me sick to my stomach. Whoever had done this had drawn nooses, knives, and bloody wounds.

  It was horrifying. I grew dizzy. Amanda caught me as I was about to faint.

  “Out,” she said. “We have to get out!”

  She half-dragged me to the door and pulled it shut behind us.

  The Doom Buggies were rolling, complete with lights and sound effects. We worked our way along the side, moving in the opposite direction of the cars.

  “What...was...that?” I croaked out.

  “An abomination,” Amanda said. “Jealousy. Anger. Frustration. It makes me so mad. The Overtakers think they’re so high and mighty.”

  “A spell room,” I said. “A place to—”

  “Yes,” Amanda said. “A place where nothing good can happen.”

  “And if it’s too late?” I asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t even think like that!”

  She stopped. I bumped into her. Amanda gave me her most severe look.

  “Tell me you didn’t see anything in there,” she said softly.

  “A fountain,” I whispered. “Mickey on top of a fountain. The Evil Queen.”

  “Wayne?” she asked, her voice quavering.

  I nodded solemnly, slowly. I wanted to remind her that I didn’t want to see such things. But how?

  “I don’t have a choice, you know?”

  She glared at me, her eyes unforgiving. Her look said, Oh, yes you do!

  I shook my head no, trembling from head to toe.

  Amanda said, “Do not tell me that room, what we saw in there, is what it’s all about!”

  I shrugged. She’d told me not to tell her.

  We reached the Haunted Mansion’s banquet scene without difficulty, but Amanda and I had to backtrack to find our way down. The Doom Buggies were on an elevated track, and the dinner action took place below. We found a staircase and descended; around us, ghosts danced and creepy voices called.

  My sketch was no longer more empty than full. Quite the opposite. I’d added pieces I didn’t understand, but didn’t question. I wasn’t sure how much more remained.

  I’d added Mickey’s head to the watch for fun; had put in his Sorcerer's cap and a bunch of other stuff without knowing precisely why. It was all part of a creepy process I didn’t understand. Where might this next Hidden Mickey lead us? What image could still fit onto the page? I honestly had no idea.

  “There it is,” Amanda said. “Exactly like Belle said.”

  Three plates in the shape of Mickey.

  The ghosts continued to float and moan above us. I could picture them coming to life, dark wraiths intent on sucking our souls dry. Is that something I’m supposed to draw? I didn’t dare. It felt like a thing I should let pass, something too dangerous to play with.

  Then I “saw” something—a truth Amanda had no way of knowing.

  “This is the end,” I said. “This is where we stop.”

  “How can you possibly say that?” she quipped.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Because she’s right.”

  A man’s voice. Amanda and I literally jumped off the floor. We turned in midair and landed running.

  “Wait! It’s me!”

  Wayne! We stopped and looked back. He’d been sitting at the table all along.

  We’d been looking right at him.

  “How did you—?”

  “Luck, I suppose,” he said. “Intuition, perhaps. Not to mention that of all the alleged symbols in the Magic Kingdom, this is the most well-known. I should have thought of it from the beginning. It’s the only one I can think of that changes regularly. Sometimes it’s here, sometimes it’s not.”

  “Tonight it is.”

  “Yes.” He seemed okay with that. He clearly hadn’t been touring the place.

  “So, you beat us to it,” I said.

  “In a manner of speaking,” Wayne said. “Let’s just say I arrived before you did.”

  “What does that mean?” Amanda asked.

  “I think she knows,” Wayne said, staring me down with his mischievous blue eyes.

  Did I? I had no idea what he was talking about. But Wayne was Mr. Riddles, and I knew from his probing eyes that he wanted me to figure this one out.

  “I’m supposed to see something here,” I speculated.

  “Indeed.”

  “Something you two cannot.”

  “Goes without saying.”

  “The Hidden Mickey.”

  “It seems to have worked at the other spots.”

  “Absolutely,” I said, holding up my drawing. “I’ve filled out my entire page!”

  “There you go,” he said.

  “Have you already turned over the plates?” Amanda asked, voicing what I was thinking aloud.

  Wayne shook his head. “I’ve been around this place longer than you.” He grinned. “I learned long ago that we each have our place, our reason in this...contest. It’s not right to wade into another person’s pond. Think of me as a spectator, nothing more.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I said. “You’re what makes this whole thing work.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth, Jessica. You all see how old I am and you think of me as a wise old sage, but I assure you: the only truth in that is old.”

  “But...this has been your battle, Wayne. The Keepers were your doing. The two of us coming here—we’ve always thought that was you, because of the tickets you gave me. You told me to offer them to Finn. All of this. It was you.”

  “I’m not without a few tricks. It has been...fun, in an odd way.”

  “It’s not over,” I said.

  “You just said it was,” he countered. “T
his is where we stop. Something like that.”

  “I meant Mandy and me.”

  “The things we say often take on greater meaning as we reflect upon them.” He paused and said, “Now, I suggest you get down to the business at hand before something around here comes alive.” He gestured to the ghosts flying overhead.

  I felt a chill. I stepped forward, touched one of the plates, and closed my eyes.

  Nothing.

  I tried one ear, then the next.

  Nothing from either bread plate.

  Wayne said nothing. Amanda said nothing.

  I flipped over the first of the two bread plates and concentrated.

  Nothing.

  The other.

  Nothing.

  The dinner plate.

  I had to force myself to blink. Could this be real? I felt Wayne sit forward.

  “Do you see that?” I asked them.

  Neither spoke.

  Were my eyes open or shut? Was I seeing this or dreaming it?

  Words were writing themselves across the plate in a flourish of grandmotherly handwriting. “‘When is the present the past?’” I quoted aloud.

  “Are you asking that, or what? Because FYI, there’s nothing on the bottom of the plate.”

  I blinked again. My eyes must have been shut, because Mandy was right: blank.

  “Is that one of yours?” I asked Wayne.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Do you know the answer?”

  “I have my own idea. What do you think?”

  I repeated the riddle aloud. “Tomorrow,” I said.

  “Yeah! The future,” said Amanda.

  Wayne simply grinned.

  “Is that what you got?” I asked.

  “It’s not important what I got,” he said. “I’m not the one seeing things.”

  I knew what he was saying. I drew the future. I was somehow connected to it. The plate seemed to be talking directly to me. But I had no idea what it was saying.

  Without knowing why, I began flipping the other dinner plates and closing my eyes. I waited a moment and then moved on. All the way down my side of the table, to the end, and down the other until I reached Wayne.