“This isn’t right,” Philby says. “Toontown should be roped off.” Unable to stop himself, he blurts out, “Unless everyone’s too busy chasing down Overtakers.”
The train whistle sounds from far away.
“We missed Finn and Willa,” Amanda says. “Not fair!” In anger, she throws both fists toward the ground, as if she’s swinging hammers. She is lifted off her feet and propelled to the pavement flat on her back; she has “pushed” herself, allowing her anger to briefly own her.
Amanda stares down at her hands. Then she looks up at Jess, tears of frustration welling in her eyes.
“We’re going to find him,” Jess says. “Hold on to that energy. We may need it.”
* * *
The commotion outside Mickey’s House—shrieking parents running in all directions, their children held firmly by the hand—is the only signal Willa needs. Weasels on two feet cannot run nearly as fast as weasels on four feet. Willa has hidden herself among the crowds. The cries ahead of her are like a starting gun. Without hesitation, she makes for the front door of Mickey’s House, stops, and listens. She steps inside.
No one. It’s empty and silent and creepy because of it. Of all the attractions, Mickey’s House should be roiling with childish laughter. “Finn!” she calls timidly, moving discretely into the living room. She stops abruptly and stands still, reaching deep to find her pure DHI.
There, just ahead of her, is a broom tiptoeing on its bristles.
* * *
As Maybeck and Charlene emerge from Snow White’s Scary Adventures—a ride that has definitely lived up to its name—they spot a pair of Cast Members riding Segways; they’re heading rapidly in the direction of It’s a Small World.
“Security,” Maybeck says. “They don’t usually show themselves like that. Why aren’t they backstage?”
“Let’s find out!” Charlene says, jogging off, running hard to keep the Segways in sight.
* * *
Finn knows that his fear of the broom is degrading his hologram, despite his best attempts to mask it. The brooms could have killed Maybeck and Charlene in the Battle for the Base; they are skinny and fast, and he knows of no way to threaten or eliminate them. This one doesn’t appear to have a bucket of the acidlike green goo that presented such a danger to Maybeck and Charlene, but that fact isn’t enough to alleviate Finn’s sense of dread. No matter how you slice it, it’s plain disturbing to see a broom walking on its bristles as if it has two stubby legs.
When Willa appears behind the broom, a combination of anger and relief rushes through Finn. She’s not supposed to be here, he thinks.
“What does it want?” Willa asks. Her voice spins the broom in her direction; a small puff of dust rises from the floor. She feels the hairs on her neck stand up.
“Me. Us, now, I suppose.”
“What exactly is it supposed to do?” she asks. “Choke us on dust?”
“Don’t make it ang—”
The broom comes at Willa so fast that she has no time to move. It thrusts the top of its handle—its head? do they even have heads?—into her middle, below her ribs. As she bends forward, retching, its handle strikes her on the head, not once, but repeatedly. Her DHI is gone—she’s feeling this brutally, as she would any such beating.
Finn runs and tackles the broom, pulling its handle to the floor with him. But the wiry wood bends like a pole-vault pole, then straightens, launching Finn across the room, a human projectile. Finn crashes into the stone above the fireplace and tumbles to the floor.
Willa covers her head with her hands as she writhes in pain on the floor.
“Stop it!”
The broom strikes again. And again.
“Hey!” Finn shouts.
The broom stiffens, then turns.
Dang, it’s an ugly thing, Finn thinks. So common, you’d hardly even think about it normally; so dangerous, you just want to run. Finn has been in dozens of threatening situations; he has battled witches and dragons, monsters and pirates. He’s faced dolls and crash-test dummies. Yet, once again he finds battling inanimate objects terrifying. How do you fight something that’s already dead?
Willa points at Finn as if to say, You.
Finn bears the weight of that pointing finger. Me. Willa’s in trouble; she needs him. But what does she expect him to do?
Thankfully, it takes Finn only a fraction of a second to realize he’s being egotistical and self-indulgent. Willa isn’t pointing at him; she’s pointing at the fireplace behind him. Finn connects the fire to the broomcorn serving as the broom’s two legs: Willa is pointing out a weapon he can use.
If this weren’t Disneyland, if he weren’t a hologram facing a sadistic broom, Finn would accept that the red glow coming from behind him is only flickering electric light. But he knows better. To dream is to believe.
If he and Willa believe the red glow is the fire it pretends to be, then it’s fire. The logs in the bucket on the hearth are not plastic, but wood.
Taking a deep breath, channeling his belief, Finn jams a log through the rubbery mesh screen into the fireplace. It comes out flaming. I love this place!
The broom reacts stiffly, but too late; in the midst of charging Finn, its forward momentum proves irreversible. Finn lights the broomcorn and watches the broom try to stomp out the flames burning up its “feet”—with its feet! Its efforts only fan the flames further.
Willa’s up. Remembering that she alone can affect her current state, that fear is something that can be shed, she runs to the broom, grabs it, and hurries from the room. Finn follows.
In the laundry room, Willa drowns the fire in the broom’s own bucket.
“Nails!” she cries, directing Finn to a can on a shelf above the drying towels. Nodding, Finn grabs a nail and the dust brush from the wall; he uses the latter as a hammer, securing the handle of the broom to the maple chest against which it leans.
“Not going anywhere,” Willa says, breathless.
“Are you all right?” Finn asks, examining her head.
“No, but I’ll live,” she says, touching her bruises. “For the record? I considered letting him burn for a minute there.”
“You’re such a softie,” Finn says, offering her a quick hug before they hurry from the house.
TOONTOWN ACTS LIKE THE SWIRLING mouth of a tornado, drawing everything nearby into its turbulent funnel. First the Segways are swallowed up.
The conflicting currents within Toontown rotate clock-wise. A crowd mentality, spreading outward from the small number of families escaping Mickey’s House, morphs the guests into a large group moving quickly toward the exit. Few know exactly why they’re fleeing, but if five families are running, they think theirs should be as well.
On the opposite side of the vortex from Mickey’s House are the Segways, Philby and the Fairlies—and a stream of Kingdom Keepers fans who have recognized their idols.
An instant later, Finn and Willa emerge from within Mickey’s House and are caught up in the circular flow. Despite their DHI status, they instinctively work to avoid collisions, spinning and dodging what has become a panicked stampede. The heaving movement of the crowd spits them into the quieter center of the spinning mass, near the small fountain.
Emerging from within the crowd is a woman in an elaborately crocheted brown dress. She has a full head of long dreads and…bare feet. She turns.
It’s Tia Dalma.
Finn’s heart stops. His mouth goes dry. This woman, who has apparently followed him into Toontown, tricked Finn into killing his best friend, Dillard Cole. If she’s here, does that mean…? He tingles from head to toe, losing his DHI.
Tia Dalma is flanked by Cruella and Judge Doom, with the all-weasel Toon Patrol just behind. A murmur sweeps through the masses. The swirling storm stops. Philby and the other Keepers step into the empty center behind Willa and Finn.
There’s a collective hush as the crowd awaits a street performance.
“Bring us the Legend!” Tia Dalma shouts, sweeping
her arms outward.
Finn holds up his hand, halting his fellow Keepers. He steps forward.
Cameras flash. A child’s voice from the audience rings out, “Give it to her, Finn!”
The top of the fountain is adorned with a statue of Mickey Mouse and his Fantasia conductor’s baton. Finn’s breath catches. The Legend. Does she mean Mickey—or Wayne?
Finn says the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you think these people are ever going to let you destroy the magic? No matter what you do to us, what you try to do to him, you will never win. It’s the one thing you’ve completely underestimated: the power of good. This is their park,” he says, gesturing to the crowd. “Theirs. Not yours, not ours.”
“Do you pass out a collection plate now?” Tia Dalma says, her voice a mocking croak. “Those others with you, are they your choir? Take your preaching elsewhere, boy. We take what is ours. And if you believe it ends with this park, you have another think coming.”
“Throughout history, evil self-destructs,” Finn says. “It’s an unsustainable force.”
“Oh, really?” Tia Dalma shouts. “You bring him to us, boy, or we will walk over you to get him.”
She glances at the oncoming Segways then, and does the strangest thing: she sings. It’s only a few lines, but they are unexpected—beautiful, soaring notes. Finn might respond more fully if he were not mostly DHI. To his dismay, he sees all the men in the large crowd turn toward the voodoo priestess, including the Security guys riding Segways, who immediately lose control and crash.
With a fierce cry, Charlene leads the Keepers into battle, Maybeck right behind her. She cartwheels, executes a back handspring, and lands atop Psycho, knocking him to the pavement. Maybeck blocks an attempt by two of the other weasels to grab Charlene, and the fight is on.
Jess hangs back as Philby and Finn march toward Tia Dalma and Cruella. Finn has no plan beyond focusing himself into full all clear. Cruella looks concerned. In contrast, Tia Dalma’s internal confidence rattles both boys.
Doom and his Toon Patrol are fully engaged by Maybeck and Charlene. Willa joins in; never much of a fighter, she’s battling as fiercely as she can.
Amanda walks steadily behind Philby and Finn, wishing there were a clear lane through which she could use her power to push.
Cruella shouts a single word, “Come!”
Tia Dalma’s lips are moving. Finn spots two tiny, rag-limbed dolls clutched in her tattooed hands and a long row of similar figurines tucked into a crimson scarf tied around her waist. As she squeezes her hand, his knees give out and he drops. Philby spins, buckles over at the waist, and falls, writhing in agony.
“Must…go…all…clear…” Finn groans, squinting his eyes closed, searching for darkness and that pinprick of light. All he sees is red, the color of his anger.
Amanda never misses a stride. Head held high, her vision locked on Tia Dalma, she raises her arms, pulls back at the elbows, and shoves.
Cruella and Tia Dalma catapult up and back, flying ten yards through the air before they crash hard to the ground. The crowd cheers, celebrating what they believe is a masterful special effect.
Finn screams. Philby throws up. Tia Dalma’s right hand squeezes the dolls so tightly that her fingers are white and bloodless.
“Hands in your pockets, young lady!” she roars.
Amanda, whose hands are in fact raised and ready to heave the two witches into another zip code, sees Finn shaking, Philby retching. She nods slowly and complies.
Behind them, Maybeck, Willa, and Charlene are losing ground to Doom and his Toon Patrol. No matter what the Keepers throw at them, the weasels barely feel it. Doom’s icy calm doesn’t help matters. He strolls casually over to Willa and grabs her from behind, holding a knife to her neck.
Jess stands to the side, observing.
“There, there,” Doom whispers. “You’ll barely even feel it.”
The cold pressure of the blade on Willa’s throat causes her limbs to tingle, and she’s afraid. Deathly afraid.
Amanda’s eyes sweep forward again. Tia is badly shaken from her fall. Cruella doesn’t appear to be moving.
The sound of rapid scratching comes like a powerful wind on all sides. The crowd screams, and chaos breaks out; park visitors scatter in every direction, revealing a rampaging horde of animals, mostly from the Jungle Cruise. Tigers, lions, leopards, monkeys, hyenas, and crows converge on Toontown from all sides, teeth bared, hackles up. They’re responding to Cruella’s summons, answering her call, “Come!”
Among them are the stray cats and dogs that must hide inside the park all day and only emerge in the wee hours of the morning to hunt for food in the trash. They look prepared to devour everything in their path.
Among the shrieks and cries, the patter of running shoes slapping pavement surround the Keepers, stroller wheels spinning, lungs wheezing, feet flying. The retreat from Toontown is an exodus on an epic scale, a flight of all guests and Cast Members, scared off by the influx of wild animals, the flying witches, and the writhing boys.
Ignoring the chaos around them, Maybeck and Charlene are too engaged to see Doom’s hold on Willa. Jess is screaming at them to pay attention, but heedless, they continue to fight.
The flow of human bodies fleeing parts and spreads into two distinct streams. In the center of the split, a caped woman appears. She carries herself with the stature of a queen. An Evil Queen, carrying a shoulder-high scepter.
Every living thing in Toontown seems to take a collective breath.
“Willa!” Philby moans, seeing the knife at her throat.
The flow of people is finally exhausted; the area is empty.
Maybeck and Charlene hear Philby’s shout and stop fighting, even as the Toon Patrol moves toward them.
“All clear!” Charlene cries to Willa. It’s her friend’s only chance for survival.
Finn is shaking visibly, pain shooting through him, but still he sees the Evil Queen’s approach. A pinprick of light…A pinprick of light…But it eludes him.
Philby, tucked into a ball, forces one eye open.
The Queen advances at a slow, eerily calm pace. A dark smile splits her beautiful features.
Jess steps up alongside Amanda. “Can you—?”
“No,” Amanda whispers. “If I do, that creep’s hand will move. I’ll kill Willa.” Her voice tightens. Breaks. “Jess, this time…I think we’ve lost.”
“YOU WILL NOT WALK OVER ANYONE!”
The booming voice carves a path through the scene of battle and separates the crowd of Kingdom Keepers and Overtakers gathered in front of Mickey’s House. It belongs to an unimposing figure: an old man with wispy white hair, wearing khakis, a polo shirt, and leather-topped deck shoes. He looks like he belongs at a marina or on a golf course. In his right hand, he carries what appears to be a pad of paper.
“We are tired of you and your kind,” he says. “I find this all quite tiresome.”
Finn can breathe again, and move. Color returns to Philby’s face. Tia Dalma, an observer like the rest of them, has relaxed her grip.
“Some people know not when to give up,” the Evil Queen says in her calm, regal voice. “Such a pity.”
“And some nonpeople like you just plain take things too far,” Wayne counters. “Pitiful.” He holds up something in his left hand, a slender black object. “Looking for this, are we?”
The Queen cannot hide her surprise at the sight of the talisman. The other Overtakers seem to take their cue from her; clearly, they don’t understand the significance of Wayne’s offering, but they follow her lead just the same, with surprised expressions.
Finn’s body tingles as he mentally focuses on and achieves all clear. The blue outline reappears around Philby and the other Keepers as well—all but Willa, who, with a knife to her throat, has a sputtering blue outline.
Tia Dalma’s authority seems to have been usurped by the Evil Queen. The return to Disneyland appears to have rearranged the Overtakers’ hierarchy, and Finn wonder
s how this might affect him and the other Keepers.
“And look! What have we here?” Wayne says, motioning to Jess to approach him. As she comes nearer, he whispers to her, “The past and future are always present.”
“I dream the future,” she whispers back. “But I’ve lived the past.”
“Correct. Listen carefully now, young lady, and believe it all.”
As Wayne turns his attention to the Evil Queen, he hands Jess the pad of paper along with a black fountain pen, the mere sight of which runs chills through her.
“This young woman can see the future,” Wayne says. The Overtakers are well aware of Jess’s paranormal abilities; they have tried repeatedly to capture her and prevent her from aiding the Kingdom Keepers. Now they hiss angrily among themselves. “What she doesn’t know,” Wayne continues loudly, “is something you have feared all along. She cannot only dream it, but with this pen—Walt’s pen—she can draw it as well.”
Walt’s pen! Jess studies the pen in her hand, wishing it weren’t there, wishing he had handed it to someone else. She has no idea how to use it.
“Draw what you see!” Wayne instructs Jess.
Trembling, Jess uncaps the pen. Is this indeed Walt Disney’s original pen, the same pen that saved the Kingdom after the Keepers solved the riddle of the Stonecutter’s Quill? Wayne’s declaration of her own powers is news to her. Is it a ruse to stall the Evil Queen? Jess has never considered herself a witch, but Wayne is talking about her as if she were one. She feels a burden she has never felt before.
Jess touches the nib to the paper, only to discover that the pen draws by itself. Ink spreads out into dozens of fine lines depicting the scene in front of her. As she lifts the pen from the page, the illustration animates. She can imagine Walt Disney seeing his mouse come to life.
A border forms around the illustration and the image splits in half, separating Willa from Judge Doom. The knife falls to the ground: in the picture, Willa is safe. But Doom seizes the knife and charges Wayne.…Jess jerks her eyes away from the image, unable to watch.
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