“Does Philby look taller to you?”
“He’s across a room filled with a hundred people. How should I know?”
“He looks taller to me,” Charlene said. “And Finn looks…heavier.” She paused, then said, “I don’t get why you and Philby aren’t going out.”
“It might be because we’re barely speaking.”
“‘This, too, shall pass.’ You need perspective. We could ask Maybeck about perspective. He’s the artist.” Charlene scanned the room.
Charlene was looking forward to the excursion. She loved a good adrenaline rush. Like the others, she’d seen Jess’s drawing, but unlike the others, she didn’t think it looked anything like her. She knew she was a cute—some might say adorable—older teen who would make for a terrific sacrifice; she just didn’t happen to believe even someone as cruel as Maleficent would resort to murder. Everyone was taking this thing way too far.
“We stay in pairs,” Willa reminded her, ever the one to go by the rules. “And the pairs stay apart.”
“You ever notice the boys make the rules?”
“Not always.”
“Just about.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“You should,” Charlene said. “Because they listen to Amanda and Jess, but not so much to you and me.”
“You think?”
“I know. Come on, Willa, when do they ever actually ask us for our opinions?”
“Why are you doing this? We’re a good team, the five of us.”
“It’s not a team if two or three people make all the decisions for everyone else.” Charlene rose to her toes.
Maybeck entered the lounge in big strides, his shoulders square. A rock star. Wraparound sunglasses. Storey Ming at his side.
Charlene’s full attention fixed on Maybeck and Storey, who now held the attention of at least half the room. Younger kids recognized Maybeck and broke away from their parents to adore him. He loved every second. Storey held her own, playing the part of Maybeck’s sidekick and possible girlfriend—a role Charlene saw as belonging to her.
“Who put her in charge?” she asked Willa.
“Down, girl. We all have roles to play. Don’t blame her for doing hers well.”
“Oh, but I do.”
“Maybeck is taking the attention off us.”
“Off of me,” Charlene said bitterly. She didn’t like being the one babied.
“It’s what he does,” Willa said.
“Yeah, well, Storey doesn’t have to look so into it.”
“Of course she does. Relax. We’re acting out roles here. Nothing more.”
“Tell that to Storey,” Charlene said. “She hardly looks like she’s working! She’s enjoying this!”
“Hi!” A young girl with bouncy brown hair and so much suntan lotion her skin shone addressed Charlene with trepidation.
“Hi.”
“You’re Charlene, right?”
“Yes.” Charlene offered her hand and the girl shook it, clearly thrilled.
“My friend saw you guys on TV.” Keeper fans blurted out this kind of thing all the time. Tongue-tied and believing Charlene a celebrity, a kid would say whatever came to mind. “She e-mailed me about it.”
“I’m glad,” Charlene said, unsure how to respond. Although the Keepers had shot a Disney 365 a year earlier, it seemed unlikely the Channel would be airing it again. It was an odd comment to be sure. “We have a lot of fun shooting those three-six-fives. We’re shooting another on the ship.”
“I don’t think it was a Disney three-six-five. She said it looked really scary and awesome. Anyway…I think you guys are great.”
“Thank you.”
The girl asked for an autograph and offered Charlene a pen to sign her T-shirt.
The group organizer called out a greeting and then ran through the logistics of getting off the ship and into the bus. Legal forms had to be signed because of the risks associated with that activity. Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Charlene and Willa took their place in line, and Charlene found herself looking back at the fan.
“What was that? Since when are any of our three-six-fives scary?”
“I wasn’t listening.”
“That was a bizarre thing to say.”
“Maybe they’re running some kind of new ad or something. One we haven’t seen yet.”
“We see everything before it goes out,” Charlene said.
“I suppose.”
“No supposing about it.” Charlene followed the girl with her eyes, wanting to catch up and ask more questions. But right then a leader shouted out to the group and the room went silent.
* * *
Greg Luowski was bothered by the low lighting in the D Lounge. The faces of the two boys were already shaded and hidden by ball caps and sunglasses. Not right. If this was going down, Luowski wanted to look Finn Whitman in the eye.
What he was about to do wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t safe. So he did a gut-check and then walked right up behind the two when the opportunity presented itself.
“Don’t turn around, Whitless. You either, brainiac.” The boys’ shoulders tensed. He knew he had their attention. “Listen to me and listen good, ’cause this is the only time you’re gonna hear it. I don’t like you, Whitless. I never have. You’re a jerk and you’re too cool for school and jerks like you deserve what they get. But I draw a line, okay?”
Philby started to turn his head. Luowski smacked him.
“Stay, Dog Breath. Do not move! These people…sheesh, they aren’t even people. I don’t know what they are. But they’re taking this too far. You understand? Too far. And it’s bad. Real bad. You…the five of you…all of you…none of you can get off this boat. Not ever. And if I was you I wouldn’t leave my room either. One of you…I don’t know how it’s going to happen or when, but it’s going to happen. You got that? It’s going to happen unless you keep it from happening. If you don’t disappear, they’re going to find you and make you. Okay? And I’m talking, like, forever.”
He’d worked himself up; he was shaking. His low voice trailed off in a dry whisper.
“As in: forever.”
He turned and hurried into the crowd. It wasn’t hard in such an excited group. He just kept his head down and didn’t stop walking until he reached the long corridor outside the District.
Once there, he pushed his back against the paneling, shaking like a baby. Something had happened to him out on the deck during the canal passage. It was like a drain plug had been pulled and some of the bad had drained out. He didn’t know what it meant, or how it worked.
But another part of him knew that whatever these things had planned for Whitless and his gang, it would be much, much worse for him if that green thing came to understand he had warned them.
It’s the last time, he told himself—the two voices inside him battling for control.
If this kept up, he was going to go insane.
A girl with a red tint in her dark hair swept past him. Why did she look so familiar?
* * *
The air-conditioned bus bounced down a dirt road on the last leg of the forty-five-minute drive. Instead of jungle, the Costa Rican landscape on either side was brown, sun-baked grass and shrubs interrupted by the occasional copse of trees and outcropping of rock. A power line hung loosely between concrete poles, looking like it would come down in a strong breeze. The bus slowed and passed through a fence and gate delineating the Mountain Aventura Resort and Campground. The name was painted in black as a subtitle beneath bright green Spanish words.
“I’m in second-year Spanish,” Willa said to her seat mate, “and I have no idea what that says.”
“I still don’t get why he won’t even look at us,” Charlene said. In an effort to ignore Maybeck and Storey, she’d spent the ride fixated on Finn and Philby, who sat two rows from the back of the bus.
“Chill,” Willa said. “By now Terry’s freaking because you’ve barely looked at him once.”
“
They’re never like this. And I don’t like it when people change for no reason.”
“You mean: you don’t like it when boys stop looking at you.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. That came out wrong. That was mean of me.”
“Do you think I’m like that?”
“No.”
“Seriously! Am I?”
“Maybe a little. But…very little!”
Charlene went quiet, her hands pressed between her knees, her head hung.
“I upset you,” said Willa.
“What do you think? I’m a vain, shallow person who needs to be the center of attention—but only just a little.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“Yeah, actually, you did.”
“Well, then, I apologize.”
“Right.”
“They’re boys. Single-minded, socially incompetent creatures. Like me, for saying that to you.”
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“These two boys happen to be our friends. Friends don’t ignore friends.”
Willa lowered her voice. “We went over this. It’s their plan. They are sticking to the plan.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t like the plan.” Charlene snorted. “Not that anyone asked.”
“You didn’t object earlier.”
“I didn’t know it was going to feel like this.”
“Boys don’t have feelings. They have plans. They have teams, schedules, and meals. You’re giving them more credit than they deserve.”
“You are in a funky mood.”
“I get carsick. I want this trip over with.” Willa paused, thinking carefully before she spoke. “Truth is: I used to love being a Keeper. But now? I’m not so sure it’s a bad thing if they replace us.”
“You can’t be serious.”
But Willa’s expression said it all.
The bus’s air brakes hissed and it came to a stop. Heads rocked back and forth.
Charlene used the tinted window as a mirror to check her face. “Vain and shallow.”
“I did not say that!” Willa stomped her foot in frustration. “I am sooooo sorry, Charlene. Can we please just erase the past five minutes?”
Charlene nodded. But she didn’t mean it.
* * *
The zip line training was done in groups of ten. The Dream team was split into two. Willa and Charlene’s half headed up the mountain on a chair lift, followed by a hike to the steeper regions of what was now forest. The trail ended at the first zip line platform and a beautiful view of a long, treed ravine with what looked like power lines stretched across it at odd intervals.
The team leader repeated all the safety instructions, and one by one the adventurers were clipped on to the pulleys that would carry them. The first of the eleven lines was the longest—one thousand feet across—and the fastest: you would fly at speeds approaching twenty-five miles per hour. At the far end the line rose to the distant platform; working against gravity slowed the zip liner. Adventurers were cautioned to remain motionless near the end and to not pull on the brake for fear of coming up short and requiring help to reach the uphill platform. But of course many people did not listen to the instructions. The first few people stopped short of the far platform and had to be hauled in, slowing down the process.
Finally it was Charlene’s turn. She clipped in with the help of the platform leader, tucked her ponytail into her T-shirt to keep it out of the pulley, grabbed hold of the rope as instructed, and lifted her feet. She flew, wind singing in her ears. As the world dropped out from beneath her feet she screamed with glee and excitement. This was what birds must feel like, a kind of freedom she’d never experienced. The two pulleys whined on the double wires overhead; Charlene briefly closed her eyes, and then looked out feeling like an eagle. As she slowed and stretched her toes to reach the platform she cried out again celebrating her success.
The man helping her smiled widely. “You like?”
“O…M…G!” was all she could say. She couldn’t wait for the next line. Charlene followed the path hacked through the woods, descending lower toward the mountain. The path twisted and turned past rocks and trees, and suddenly there appeared a second launch platform with an attendant. The helmeted people in front of her were lined up as they took their turns clipping in and riding. There were a great many smiles, including her own.
Willa arrived from behind, equally wide-eyed and thrilled. “That was amazing!”
Following the second zip line Charlene waited for Willa. The forest path was dark, despite the sunshine blazing into the ravine. She waited not for her own sake, but for Willa’s, who was more of a thinker than an action figure. Charlene knew that if something gave her the creeps, it would terrify Willa—although Willa would never say so.
When Willa arrived, the gloomy path stole all conversation. They moved along, looking in all directions, jumping at the slightest snap of a twig. Weird bird calls and animal sounds filled the woods. The path stretched on, turning and twisting.
After another minute, it was clear to Charlene that something or someone was stalking them from uphill to the right. She hoped Willa had not picked up on it. She tested her theory by slowing down and speeding up. The sounds stayed right with her.
“I hear it,” Willa whispered. “What do we do?”
Charlene waited for Willa to catch up. “You are going to run until you reach the next platform.”
“I’ll never keep up.” Willa was not a particularly fast runner.
“I said ‘you,’ not ‘we.’ I’m going to provide a diversion.”
“Meaning?”
“All you need to do is stay on the path.”
“We’re supposed to stick together.” Willa added, “I’m supposed to be protecting you.”
“Whoever, whatever that is, I’m faster. And I want to know what’s up there.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Color me curious, not crazy.”
“Don’t leave me!”
“On three. One…two…”
Charlene took off uphill, immediately swallowed by the forest.
Willa had never run faster in her life.
Charlene ran toward the last place she’d heard sounds. She believed she would find Greg Luowski tromping through the woods. It wasn’t going to be Maleficent or the Evil Queen running through a forest in pursuit of them. It might be Mattie Weaver or one of the volunteer DHIs Wayne had recruited to help. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t afraid. Her confidence resulted from her own physical prowess—she could run faster, jump farther, climb more quickly and higher than most boys. Let someone try to catch her.
She moved as silently as a huntress, dashing through the trees like a wraith, pausing every few yards to listen attentively. Who? What? Where?
Finally, Charlene stepped out from behind a tree, took two steps, and collapsed to the forest floor, rolling up against a rotten log. All her heroic dreams of allowing herself to be chased were quashed by the distant sight of two figures approaching. Costa Rican, judging by their dark skin and hair.
But it wasn’t their hair or physiques that frightened her; it was the camouflage clothing they wore. It was their bent postures as they paralleled the path. But mostly it was the military face paint that told her this was no game of catch-me-if-you-can.
These two were hunting; and they weren’t after animals.
Charlene lay pushed up against the log, hoping they hadn’t seen her. She listened for the sound of their footfalls, but the annoying prattle of an excited adventurer on the main path blanketed her ears.
“That was amazing!” One of the camouflaged figures—a woman—mocked in heavily Spanish-accented English.
Willa had said this to Charlene only minutes earlier.
The other figure—a man—shushed her.
By this time, the two were dangerously nearby. If Charlene tried to run, she would give them the advantage; if she stayed and they drew even closer, she
was giving herself over. She held her breath.
The woman stepped over the log and crushed Charlene’s hand. Charlene bit back the cry that wanted to escape. The man passed below her. The woman didn’t feel the bones beneath her boot; she trudged onward through the forest.
The two crunched ahead, ten yards past. Now twenty. Charlene couldn’t know for certain what they were up to: bandits preparing to rob tourists? Agents of the Overtakers? Security for the company running the mountain activities, protecting their guests, not stalking them?
She did not dare move until they vanished into the trees. Then she gradually followed, staying well back. Followed, even as the two caught a glimpse of the ship passengers currently on the path and broke into a jog. Clearly they had wanted to see only the two girls—Charlene and Willa. But Charlene revised this opinion as they hunkered down behind a giant upended root-ball from a fallen tree, now with a clear line of sight to the path. They were awaiting someone else.
Charlene backed up gingerly and found her way back down. She waited for a family to come along and took the far side where the two who were spying would not be able to see her clearly. She moved in unison with the family, averting her head as they neared the section of trail she believed was under watch.
Ten minutes later, she caught up with Willa, who was waiting by the third zip line platform.
“I thought…I don’t know what I thought,” Willa said. “I thought something had happened to you.” She said it too loudly for Charlene’s comfort zone.
“Let’s get across,” Charlene said. “They can’t follow us that way.”
“They? Who? What’d you find out?”
“Later,” Charlene said.
Once across the ravine, Charlene explained what she’d seen.
“So they work here?”
“Who knows? Some kind of security, maybe?”
“There’s a lot of forest out here,” Willa said. The mountains were nothing but green. “They could have crossed onto the property. They could have been hired to come after us.”
“By who?”
Some fellow passengers approached down the trail.
“Later,” Willa said.
Two hours later, smiling Dream passengers boarded the bus back to the ship, buzzing about their adventures on the zip lines. Their mood festive and excited, they shared photos and stories, laughter and cheers. Creatures of habit, most people sat in the same seats they’d occupied earlier, including Charlene and Willa. From below came loud noises—coolers and equipment bags being loaded onto the bus.
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