Kingdom Keepers VII

by Pearson, Ridley

  The Evil Queen hollers, struggling against the rats streaming up her legs and across her limbs. The remaining drops of poison fall on a few of the rats weighing her down. They too age and weaken. In desperation, the Queen takes to shaking the potion onto the undulating sea of rats as they swarm her. One by one they fall, lessening her load.

  Finn sees what’s coming. He drops his sword, worried that his strong hold on it may limit his all clear. As the metal clanks to the floor, drops of blue sail cleanly through his hologram, leaving him unaffected.

  The stuff splashes the faces of some Small World dolls, who age horrifically, like plastic melting in flames, warping from frolicking child to wrinkled gnome. Their legs wither and break. Their fingers shrivel and bend.

  The Dillard is unfazed. He studies the battle like an academic or a United Nations observer. His hologram head moves mechanically, taking a slow, all-encompassing panoramic view of the station’s interior.

  When he speaks, it’s to Finn. There’s no doubt about that, though he’s looking in another direction entirely. “She is unimportant. The real threat is the one kneeling. You have approximately…twenty-six seconds to prevent catastrophe. Twenty-two seconds. Twenty.”

  “What catastrophe?” Finn has taken up his sword again. The Small World dolls are swinging tools at him and the other Keepers—blades, pieces of lumber with nails sticking out. Finn, Amanda, and Willa are in tight formation, backs pressed together, turning like a wheel as they battle the onslaught of dolls. Swords and wrenches clank and spark.

  “We’re outnumbered!” Willa calls.

  “I need my hands free to push,” Amanda cries. “But if I drop my sword—”

  “Defend yourself! Do not lower your sword!” Finn shouts.

  Through the haze, Finn sees Philby’s team pinned against the far wall by wave after wave of Card Soldiers and dolls. Violet disappears and reappears, emanating small force fields that clear a narrow area around her.

  “What catastrophe?” Finn repeats, shouting louder.

  “It is too late,” the Dillard answers. “Six…five…four…” The Dillard raises his voice. It’s the first—and last—time Finn will hear him do so. “Brace yourselves!”

  IT BEGINS AS SEASICKNESS, a loss of stability, dizziness. At first, the body wants to believe it’s an internal malfunction, perhaps something amiss in the inner ear. It is the sound that brings the brain around to the possibility of an external influence: a booming growl, a cosmic resonance.

  “Chernabog!” Finn shouts to those at his back.

  The Dillard’s voice returns to normal. “Probability, six-point-six percent.”

  “Who else can shake the earth?”

  “I warned you,” the Dillard says over the growing roar. “She is right there, Finn. Right where I said she was.”

  Philby and Charlene, also battling the dolls and cards, also back-to-back, fight their way to within shouting distance of Finn.

  “That’s Oil Field Road!” Philby briefly swings his sword toward the improvised backdrop, where Tia Dalma plays her dangerous games.

  “Two-point-two. Two-point-six. Two-point-nine. Three-point-five…”

  “What’s with the decimals, Dillard?” Finn calls out.

  Some of Prince Phillip’s troops now spill in through the front door of the station, followed by a smoky line of wraiths. One of the wraiths lands on one of the squires, who instantly disappears, absorbed.

  “Wraiths!” It’s Willa’s voice, not far from the man who has just vanished.

  “Four-point-three. Four-point-eight…”

  Finn’s legs are not all that’s moving. The station’s ridgepole is swaying from side to side. The walls themselves are moving.

  “Dillard!”

  “I am using the Richter scale, Finn. I thought you would recogn—”

  Clanging swords with the aggressive dolls, Finn turns to Amanda. “You…need to…push her! We’re out of time—hurry! I’ll cover you.”

  “Ready!”

  “Go!” Finn shouts. He is battling three dolls at once. Amanda drops her sword, does a 180-degree pirouette, and shoves her hands at Tia Dalma.

  The set explodes. Tia Dalma rolls into and across the painted boxes that model the Oil Field Road drilling station. The blowback sends Small World dolls toppling throughout the room.

  The Keepers’ DHI transparency serves them well; they remain standing. Everything else in the room has fallen.

  And then the room itself falls.

  “EARTHQUAKE!” Finn shouts.

  WHEN FINN AWAKENS, he is atop a barren hill. The trees have fallen around him. It is still night, but fires burn brightly across the park, illuminating spirals of gray smoke against an oily sky. Finn sees that he is only partially projected.

  Nothing around him appears to be level. He can’t wrap his mind around it. The collapse of the station had nothing to do with their efforts; what Jess’s drawing revealed represented the Overtakers’ success, and specifically the results of Tia Dalma’s voodoo magic.

  Nearby, Maybeck’s DHI sputters. Finn spots what must be Philby and Willa holding hands, their projections so faint he can see through them to the chunks of concrete and wood atop which they lie.

  Finn rolls over and sees that the area just outside Disneyland is apparently unaffected. He’s on an island of destruction, which includes the Disneyland and California Adventure parks, but nothing beyond the fences. “Bizarre,” he says aloud.

  Strangest of all, there’s not a siren to be heard. No one else knows! Finn realizes, a shiver passing through his wounded DHI. Looking back, he rises to his knees—and jumps, startled.

  “Don’t do that!”

  The Dillard towers over him, also sparking and sputtering.

  “Where is everyone? Is everyone all right?”

  “Define everyone.”

  “You—are—so—frustrating! The other Keepers—and Amanda, Jess, Violet.”

  “Of those you list as holograms, that is, with the exception of Violet, all are coming back online.”

  “Just because we’re holograms…we aren’t like you, Dillard. We can get hurt. Or worse. Are they okay?”

  “I have no update on Violet.” The Dillard closes his eyes, calculating, or whatever it is he does. Finn studies the landscape by the light of the flickering fires. Wooden structures like the Skyway Station and two buildings on Main Street have collapsed in ruins. Big Thunder Mountain Railway, Matterhorn Bobsled, and Storybook Land have all suffered.

  “Searching…”

  Four deep gouges run up Main Street like ugly scars; the roadway around the Plaza is cracked as well. Much of the damage is too far off and it’s too dark for Finn to judge accurately.

  The Dillard’s eyes open. “No source data for the holograms is seriously impacted. The system rebooted only minutes ago. All holograms are coming back online presently.”

  “So they’re all right.”

  “No lasting damage to source data.” The Dillard does not seem to like repeating himself.

  “Remy? Django?”

  “Some of the rodents were lost in the battle. The leaders have survived.”

  “Where?”

  “Unknown.”

  “The Overtakers? The villains?”

  “Undetermined.”

  “What good are you?” Finn says it but doesn’t mean it. Worse, the Dillard starts to list his processors and hardware. Finn stops him by withdrawing the question. “How bad is the damage?”

  “The earthquake measured six-point-six on the Richter scale. We are standing nine-point-five-four miles from its epicenter in La Habra, California. The resulting damage—”

  “Wait! La Habra is where Philby found the voodoo doll.”

  “I believe it was a young adult named Austin, but point taken,” says the Dillard.

  “The rest of the city?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “What’s the damage to the rest of the city?”

  “The damage is a
pparently contained to Disneyland and California Adventure.”

  “How is that possible? Never mind!” Finn says, realizing the Dillard will recite the probabilities of earthquakes, fault lines, and catastrophe rates.

  Finn watches as some of the holograms reboot. His legs feel weak, hologram or not. His head is spinning. He thinks he might throw up.

  “Hey!” Philby calls. Hand in hand, he and Willa head toward Finn and Dillard. Philby has only one leg and one arm. But as he nears, his DHI fills out. Though he’s not entirely three-dimensional, his limbs are visible.

  Maybeck rises from the ashes like a phoenix. But only when Amanda stands up from behind a huge piece of the fallen station does Finn take off at a run to greet her. Moments later, two-thirds of the Keepers are joined in a huddle, arms around one another’s shoulders.

  Amanda asks, “Where are—?”

  “Everyone’s coming online. We don’t know about Violet.”

  “That fire just went out by itself!” Philby says.

  “Not exactly by itself.” A girl’s voice.

  “Jess!” Amanda declares.

  At the bottom of the small hill, Jess has the battle plan laid out before her and Walt’s pen in hand. “That was one of the ones I started.” As planned, Jess controlled the fires and the fog in the Skyway Station, working to confuse the Overtakers.

  “The knights?” Finn asks her.

  “Retreated back to the carousel ‘to fight another day,’ as Prince Phillip put it.”

  “The OTs fled on foot,” Charlene says as she and Violet come up the paved path. Charlene’s partial hologram makes her look wounded. “They all survived, but Violet saw Remy and Django following them, so maybe there’s hope we can track where they go next.”

  “There’s a word,” Amanda says. “Hope.”

  Finn thanks Violet for distracting Shere Khan at the Jungle Cruise. Instead of her usual sassy self, Violet nods solemnly. Clearly, the earthquake has affected her too.

  Finn engages the Dillard. “Can you communicate with the Studios, Dillard?”

  “Negative.”

  “But we’re being projected.”

  “Yes.”

  “Explain.”

  “I cannot confirm.”

  “Best guess.”

  “Is that a—?”

  “Yes! A question!”

  “Installed within the last decade, fiber optics are considered to be buried lines and fall under federal guidance for earthquake sustainability. These data lines may have survived intact.”

  “Our projection is over fiber,” Finn says. “Philby calls it ‘light pipe.’”

  “Correct.”

  “Can we communicate over fiber optics?”

  “There are protocols, yes. A transmitter and receiver are required for encryption.”

  “So the Imagineers would have to have special hardware installed, and we’d need a special phone, something like that.”

  “Precisely.”

  “If I turn sideways, I’m two-dimensional.”

  “Yes, I have noticed.” The Dillard spins as well; from the side, he’s paper-thin. “‘Best guess,’ as you say, is that we are operating on a limited number of projectors, restricting three-dimensional projection. Technically, we are full holograms.”

  “Are we stuck here, Dillard?” Philby is beginning to grasp the scope of their situation. “Does that mean our human selves are stuck in SBS in our beds at the Studios?” The Dillard doesn’t answer. Maybe the question or the terminology has confused him. Maybe he’s short on bandwidth. “Are we on emergency power?” Philby asks the Dillard. “What’s supplying the power to project us?”

  “Technically, the Disneyland and California Adventure parks can operate on self-generated power during emergency conditions. The fuel for the generators is natural gas backed up by diesel. So long as the flow of natural gas continues, the park can generate enough power to remain in functional security mode at all times.”

  Looking out at the flames licking through the smudge of black smoke, Finn is almost certain not all natural gas is flowing uninterrupted. “If the park loses emergency power, then our projectors go down and we’re in DHI shadow.”

  “Is that—?”

  “No!” Finn says. “Not a question. A statement.”

  Philby says, “Our bodies won’t wake up, our DHIs won’t show up, and no one will know we’re here. Technically, I suppose we won’t be. If the Imagineers ship our real selves off to the hospital, the drugs will affect not only our bodies, but the behavior of our DHIs.” Philby has had personal experience with medical intervention while in DHI state. “That’s no fun.”

  “So, we’re cut off from the Studios,” Finn says. “We’re on emergency power.”

  “No sirens,” Philby says, echoing Finn’s earlier observation. “That has to be the work of the OTs. They must have overridden the alarms or something.”

  “Under the rules of warfare,” the Dillard begins, “such a strategy indicates that their efforts will continue through the night. The enemy has more planned.”

  “Great,” Maybeck mutters, pulling Charlene into a hug.

  “And it seems likely that no one will be coming to help,” Philby says. “Even if they do, they may not enter such a risky environment.”

  Indeed, the cracks in the ground are still expanding, and the last standing trees are tilting toward the ground. The Keepers look among themselves from face to face, expecting the spark of optimism for which they’re known. Nothing.

  “The OTs have crippled and isolated the parks,” Willa says. “Just like they’ve always wanted.”

  “We can’t let this stand,” Finn says flatly, determinedly, as the others look on in astonishment. “Can you imagine how it’ll hurt people to see the park like this? We can’t let that happen.”

  “Earth to Finn,” Maybeck says. “Open your eyes. It happened.”

  “I’m up for finishing them off,” Philby says proudly. He bends down to pick up a chunk of rock, but it takes him three tries. His DHI can’t catch hold of it; as he lifts, the rock falls through his grip and back to the ground.

  The others immediately try the same thing, with similar results.

  “We aren’t ourselves,” Charlene says.

  Jess climbs the hill to join them. She and Amanda share a long hologram hug. “Don’t ask me to use the pen again,” she says, “because I won’t. I don’t want to see anything more.”

  “Dillard?” Finn says, turning to face him. “Fact: we have six, maybe seven hours to conquer the Overtakers and restore the park. Is it possible?”

  The Dillard’s eyes flutter shut. “Rephrase, please.”

  Finn thinks.

  Willa speaks. “First: How do we achieve maximum effectiveness against the Overtakers?”

  The Dillard’s eyelids flutter shut. Everyone hangs on his response. When it comes, his voice breaks several times, distorting digitally like a bad phone call.

  “Two options. Number one: restore six park projectors. Override the northwest emergency shutdown valve of natural gas, restoring supply to Disneyland. Override the southeast emergency shutdown valve of natural gas, restoring supply to California Adventure.” The Dillard needs no breath; he speaks in a continuous flow, a sound disconcerting to the ear. “Breach security and attempt to restore communication with the Walt Disney Studios and the Imagineers.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Maybeck quips.

  “Number two: restore the thirteenth piece. Return Mickey Mouse to his rightful throne in the kingdom. Dispatch the Overtakers with Mickey Mouse as your leader and ally. Restore the kingdom.”

  “Dispatch the Overtakers,” Maybeck says. “How?”

  “It all comes down to time.”

  “Everything goes back to Wayne,” Finn mutters. “Those are practically his exact words.”

  “I thought he meant his watch,” Charlene says.

  “The Osiris hieroglyph,” says Willa.

  Amanda puts her arm around Finn, leaning in clo
se, but their holograms spark, forcing her to stand back.

  “Fulfilling the Osiris myth’s prophecy is crucial to your survival and that of the Disney kingdom,” the Dillard says. “The power there will lead you.”

  “But lead us where?” Finn asks anxiously.

  “That information is classified and inaccessible.”

  “Classified?” Philby says.

  “Correct.”

  “The thirteenth piece.” From Philby’s voice, Finn knows he’s become Professor Philby once more. “Restoring Mickey gives us the advantage.”

  “Correct.” The Dillard suffers digital interference again, turning into colorful vertical bars of light like a video test pattern. He looks like the northern lights. Moments later, his flat hologram returns.

  “What if none of this has happened?” Jess asks, stunning the others. “What if it’s virtual reality or something? I mean, how can people not see these fires, the smoke?”

  “A spell?” Charlene asks. “Can a spell make an entire population see what you want it to see?”

  “I doubt that,” Philby says. “But one might create an illusion of Disneyland from the outside, one that obscures the reality.”

  “People drive by,” Charlene says, “but see—”

  “What they want to see,” Philby answers.

  “They aren’t going to wait two or three days to finish this,” Finn says, staring out at the destruction surrounding them.

  “It looks finished to me,” Maybeck says, “but I’m game.”

  The Dillard says, “‘You can design and create, and build the most wonderful place in the world. But it takes people to make the dream a reality.’ Quotation: Walt Disney.”

  “If people see this and stop coming, the dream is dead,” says Finn. “The OTs win.”

  “Never. Not ever,” says Charlene.

  The Dillard recites again. “‘When you believe in a thing, believe in it all the way.’”

  “Walt was right. We have to believe this is going to work,” Finn says. “No doubts. No limits. One thing at a time. We find and repair Mickey. Whatever follows, follows.”