Kingdom Keepers V Page 8

  Why hadn’t Wayne warned him about them? He held his breath and allowed them to pass. A stupid mistake. It put the rescue dummies between him and the Boatworks. After a moment he slipped back out onto the pathway behind the wave-generating wall. He hurried ahead, spotted the dummies from the back, and climbed through the landscaping and over some rocks and lowered himself to a stairway. It took him a moment to recognize it as the entrance to Humunga. He started down, not far now from the Boatworks shop. He turned a corner and was face to no face with one of the teenage rescue dummies. The mutant slapped the side of its upper leg. It was as loud as a drum, and the rhythm was organized. A code! The dummies couldn’t talk, but they could drum signals. By the sound of clomping plastic moving toward Finn, he realized this one had called the others.

  Finn turned and ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. From what he’d seen, there was no way the zombies could match his pace. He climbed higher, glancing back and seeing no one. But the sounds were unmistakable: he was being followed.

  He reached the top—practically at Miss Tilly, the wrecked boat at the very top of everything—and faced the dark, open mouths of three tubes. Water gushed into each. No problem, Finn told himself, as he launched himself feet-first down the middle tube. He had to shut his mouth to keep from screaming. Although inside a tube—a tube carrying water—the initial drop was more like falling out a window. Straight down, as fast as gravity could pull him. Finally his seat found the water and he slid, insanely fast, down the remainder of the ride and was braked by the water in a level stretch of open tube. He opened his eyes.

  Rescue dummies. Two adults on the other side of the tube to his right. He cursed his luck that he’d been stalked by dummies with brains. Why couldn’t he have gotten the real dummies? The ones with stuffing for brains? These two had stayed behind to cut off his escape from the slides.

  Finn pulled himself out of the slide, hurrying away. Behind him, the dummies that had been chasing him arrived at the bottom of the slides and proceeded to knock down the two adult dummies.

  Not wanting to lead them to the Boatworks and his rendezvous, Finn scrambled over a wall and headed for the body slides. He made a point of leaving wet footprints heading up the steps, but then jumped the wall and ducked behind some bushes. A moment later, four of the rescue dummies hurried past and up the steps. Again, this left two unaccounted for—no doubt they were waiting below. Finn crawled over the rocks and stayed away from the small pool where the body slides terminated. He flattened himself to the ground as he spotted the two adult dummies. Checked how far it was to the Boatworks. Too far, with too much open space. He’d be seen. No matter what, he couldn’t compromise the meeting Wayne had planned for him.

  The head on one of the dummies pivoted around like an owl’s. Finn ducked, but just a bit too late. He heard the clomping of plastic on concrete and knew he was toast.

  He tried to collect himself, to settle down, but he brushed his hand against a cactus and it stuck him with a couple dozen fiery needles.

  The two dummies drummed on their thighs and chests in a primitive dance that terrified Finn. Maybe they were talking to each other, or maybe they were just excited; whatever it was, they were freaks. Arm burning, Finn carefully snapped off a paddle of cactus and pushed through the planting toward the two rescue dummies, determined to make his confrontation before others arrived. He had no idea if they felt anything; no idea if his weapon would make any difference. He jumped off the wall, and the two stepped back, wary of him. That was encouraging.

  He wondered at their role. Were they after him? Were they just Overtaker sentries who roamed the park at night? Who had charmed them to life, and why?

  They tapped out code to each other and widened the distance between them, doing a more effective job of boxing Finn in. One of the teenage dummies arrived via a slide into the landing pool, stealing the attention of one of the adults just for an instant. Finn lunged forward and raked the cactus paddle down the fabric section of the dummy’s arm.

  No reaction. No nerves, Finn thought.

  The dummy looked back at Finn, annoyed, but not harmed or in any kind of pain.

  When the other dummy raised its plastic fists, Finn knew he had serious problems. No way to hurt them, nothing for them to fear.

  The smaller dummy climbed out of the pool, making it three to one.

  Then Finn saw a flash of color on his right.

  Stitch.

  Finn was well familiar with Stitch. It wasn’t a costume. This was the real Stitch. The character’s mouth and eyes moved. His facial skin looked oily in the dim light. He was not happy. Not at all. He was angry and troubled, and all of that anger was aimed at the dummies. He stuck out his jaw, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Finn felt a chill. The creature growled and took a step toward the dummies; all three took a step back. There was clearly a history between them, and Finn had little doubt who had the upper hand. Stitch stepped between Finn and the dummies. Now three others arrived into the landing pool. They saw Stitch and took off in the other direction.

  Stitch’s right arm waved. It took Finn a moment to realize the gesture was meant for him, that Stitch was telling him to get out of there. Finn slipped to the side and took off running.

  Behind him, he heard a shriek that had to be Stitch. Frantic drumming that had to be the dummies. Then more growling and guttural sounds. Something flew through the air, landing on the path in front of him. It was part of an arm—a torn dummy arm, bite mark apparent. More disgusting sounds behind him, and the drumming suddenly stopped.

  Finn ran hard and fast, skidding to a stop in front of the Boatworks cabin.

  He faced a good-looking girl wearing Typhoon Lagoon Cast Member shorts and shirt.

  “I’m Melanie.” She was older than he was. She had dark blue eyes and a pretty face. In school she would have been considered hot.

  “Finn.”

  “Yes. Can I just say that you and your friends are doing the greatest thing ever.”

  He wondered if she knew CPR. He thought his heart had stopped.

  “Ah…thanks.” Real suave of him. Hard to think up such a smooth response.

  “We’ll do anything, anytime, to help you. Seriously, anything.”

  “Thanks,” he said. On a real roll.

  “You and I could text if you want. So you could contact me.”

  “That’d be good. I’d like that.”

  “Only if you want.”

  “I do!” Way too enthusiastic.

  “There are a lot of us willing to help. No way we want Maleficent as our boss.”

  “Overtakers,” Finn said. “We call them Overtakers.”

  “You can text me anytime.” She pulled out her iPhone, reciting her number. Finn pulled out his phone, but it was dripping water.

  “Maybe another time,” he said.

  She giggled.

  “Lilo asked me to give you this,” she said, indicating a surfboard. “All you have to do is paddle. But you’ll need a rash jacket, and I have a full wet suit for you if you’d rather.”

  “I’m going surfing?” Finn asked.

  She glanced toward the Surf Pool and then at Finn as if he had to be mental.

  “Ah…yeah. Listen, I don’t know what’s going on. Only that Lilo wanted me to give you this stuff and make sure you get in the water. Then I’m supposed to clear out. Crush ’n’ Gusher is shutting down for the night right now.”

  “I’m going to be in here alone?” If he had tried to sound like a six-year-old he couldn’t have done a better job of it.

  “That seems like the plan.”

  “No problem,” he said, trying to correct the situation.

  “Here, let me help you.” She held out the neoprene rash jacket.

  Finn undressed down to his swim trunks. She just stood there watching him, holding the jacket. She helped him into the vest.

  “Lie flat on the board, your feet hanging off the back. Paddle with both hands. You can kick, too. Normally we w
ould have you approach the wall and turn around and paddle out about ten yards—that’s where the waves come from. But for whatever reason, I was told to tell you to paddle into the middle, facing the wall, and just hang out. If a wave should come, you’ll just bob up over it.”

  “Thanks, Melanie.”

  “No worries.”

  Not for you, Finn was thinking.

  “Down the stairs. Careful because they can be slippery. I’ll toss your board in.” She lifted the long board like it was nothing, walked to the rail, and lowered it, dropping it into the water.

  “Okay, then,” Finn said.

  “Nice meeting you. And I mean it. There are a bunch of us that think what you’re doing is awesome. We’d love to help. Or just hang out. Or whatever.”

  “Sure,” he said, returning to his non-sentences. A thought occurred to him a moment too late: what if the Overtakers had replaced his contact at the Boatworks with an OTK? Could anyone be as nice as Melanie to a total stranger?

  He made his way down the stairs and jumped into the water. In the distance, he saw a Cast Member escorting the partying kids from Crush ’n’ Gusher out of the park.

  Once in the water, he looked back up the steps.

  Melanie was gone.

  While Philby remained locked in his room with a towel across the base of his door to block any light from giving him away, Willa, Maybeck, and Charlene were riding in the back of a Pargo toward the Base in Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Each carried a large water gun—filled with ammonia—capable of shooting thirty feet. The air was thick with humidity and smelled of burning rubber, the remains of a late rehearsal at the stunt show. The park’s backstage area was like a warehouse district—nondescript, steel-sided one- and two-story buildings, bland and boring. But the three holograms hidden behind a bench seat on the Pargo could feel their hearts pounding, another unexpected result of the upgrade to 2.0.

  The Overtakers could be anywhere. The Fantasmic! show was known as an outpost for them—a place the real villains could blend in with their Cast Member counterparts. Despite security screening to prevent such substitutions, the Overtakers’ powers were not to be underestimated. On a night like this, when an assault on the Base was anticipated, it wasn’t a question of if but where they were gathered.

  Maybeck rolled out of the Pargo first, taking advantage of his holographic state. He rolled across the pavement, never feeling a thing, and crawled quickly into the shadow of a nearby building. He watched as Willa went next. Then the Pargo disappeared around the corner. Charlene was scheduled to bail out on the turn. If she did so, he didn’t see it. With everyone in place, while not perfect, they had decent views of all four sides of the two-story building that housed the Base.

  A dark window on the second floor filled with light and then went black again, the signal to Maybeck that Kenny Carlson, along with another boy and two girl recruits, had successfully crossed over as a DHI. It was a historic accomplishment: seven DHIs already backstage. When and if Amanda and Jess crossed over there would be nine.

  Maybeck practiced control of 2.0 by reaching out and touching the crate he hid behind, and then, with his next effort, burying the arm of his hologram up to the elbow. He’d worked on shortening the time needed to jump between the two states, finding the bandwidth ample enough to allow incredibly quick switching. They were just scratching the surface of 2.0, but already it was like an entirely new experience.

  Willa waved and he signaled back. Time slowed—either a product of 2.0 or his own nerves. He didn’t want to know which. The Cast Members inside the Base were no match for the Overtakers. A computer operator didn’t have a lot of skills when matched with a flame-throwing fairy. It left him and the others as the last line of defense—which no doubt made the Cast Members uneasy.

  A streak to Maybeck’s left. A hunched figure was running quickly toward him. Friend or foe? He had no idea. The ammonia wouldn’t kill, but it wouldn’t be pleasant; he wasn’t about to spray a “friendly” with it.

  He prepared to tackle the person. If it turned out to be an OT, he’d hit it in the face with the ammonia, blinding it and sending it running for first aid. He squinted into the dark, trying to judge the distance. His muscles tensed, ready to spring. He knew a thing or two about defending himself. Life wasn’t always perfect as an African American kid in central Florida. He’d learned to be a step ahead and to see around corners. You didn’t wait for your opponent to own your space—to crowd you. You got the jump on them.

  He dove out into the open, grabbing the person by the knees and squeezing in the perfect execution of a football tackle. The person collapsed and Maybeck rolled on top of…her.

  “Jess?”

  His hologram passed right through her so that he lay on the asphalt. She, too, was crossed over.

  “What the…? That could have hurt!”

  “This way!”

  He hurried behind the crate. Jess followed.

  “2.0,” he said.

  “Yeah. I noticed.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’m not volunteering for war duty, or whatever it is you call it,” she said. “I came here to warn you.”

  “About?”

  “I…hang on…”

  Sometimes when the Keepers crossed over, objects in their pockets crossed with them. Sometimes not. This was one area 2.0 still had not perfected, though it was more consistent now.

  “It’s here!” Jess said, withdrawing and unfolding two pieces of paper, one atop the other. “I didn’t recognize this for what it was or I would have brought it up at the meeting. I have so many of these dreams. Always so random. This one was…maybe a week ago.”

  Maybeck held it up to the light. A bunch of rectangles and clusters of Xs. Jess’s “gift”—and what made her valuable as a Fairlie—was an uncanny ability to dream the future. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t constant. But when one of her dreams could be interpreted correctly, it always proved insanely accurate. She sketched out what she had seen in the middle of the night after she awoke from one of the nightmares.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Neither did I,” she whispered. “That’s why I didn’t really even think about it. But then Jeannie was doing this history project and was on Google Earth and something just clicked. I realized what this is…” She slid out the second sheet of paper. “It took me some time to narrow it down.”

  Maybeck angled this page to catch the light as well. It was a satellite image of rooftops.

  “It’s here. Right here,” she said. “Amanda figured it out, once I realized what I’d dreamed. And check it out,” she added, pointing between the two sheets.

  “No way!” Maybeck said.

  “Shh!”

  He compared the two pages and turned her drawing until the positioning of the structures undeniably matched.

  “It’s tonight,” she said. “Look at these numbers.” Awaking from her dream, she’d written down three numbers: 417. Together they made no sense. But separated, they could be a month, 4, April, and a date, 17.

  “Tomorrow,” Maybeck said. But then, realizing it would soon be after midnight: “Or late tonight.”

  “Tonight.”

  “And these?” he asked, indicating the Xs.

  “I thought you might know. I don’t have any idea.”

  Maybeck oriented himself to the Google Earth sheet and then to her drawing. He turned away from her and looked up.

  “It’s them,” Maybeck said.

  “The OTs?”

  “Yeah! Has to be. Their positions. This is…incredible. This gives us the chance to attack instead of waiting to be attacked. Have you studied siege strategies? The best, really the only, way for the besieged to win is to wait for disease to kill the enemy, or pull off an ambush. And we don’t have time for disease.”

  “But what if I’m wrong?”

  “You? You’re never wrong.”

  “I’m wrong all the time. You just don’t see all the times I’m wrong.”r />
  “Listen,” Maybeck said, “no way a handful of us are going to hold off a full-scale attack. I can take the volunteers around the outside and come back to these locations and hope to surprise the OTs. This is a gift.”

  He reached out, arms wide, but passed right through the hologram.

  “That was a hug,” he said, “in case you didn’t get the idea.”

  “Noted.”

  The first sign of something wrong was the sound of machinery. Initially, it was just pops and clunks. But when that was followed by the sound of water—a lot of water—Finn’s insides turned to Jell-O. He lay on the surfboard atop the calm water, chilled and feeling both vulnerable and alone. Lingering at the back of his mind was a question that echoed every few minutes: why had Wayne sent him into a park that didn’t offer DHI projection? Prior to the upgrade he’d possessed the ability to picture a pinprick of light at the end of a tunnel and, presto chango, his arms and legs would tingle and he’d be nothing but pure light. All clear. The condition hadn’t lasted long, but it had gotten him out of some serious situations. Since the DHI 2.0 upgrade, he’d been unable to go all clear. Floating like a cork in the middle of a huge pool, wooden walls rising thirty feet on three sides of him, a spillway beach behind him, he was wishing for the chance to go all clear.

  He’d seen the Surf Pool in action before. When the dam that was now in front of him belched, out came waves anywhere from three to ten feet high. Alone and slightly afraid of the sounds building up on the far side of the dam, it felt to him more like it should be called Tsunami Canyon rather than Surf Pool.