Only then did he understand Amanda’s efforts, her never giving up. Only then did he come to wonder if Amanda wasn’t some kind of witch herself—a good witch.
The crowd exploded into celebration.
Maleficent’s green form streaked toward them.
As Finn—a boy again—reached the fence, he faced Amanda. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You weren’t ready,” she said.
Amanda stood in front of a large yellow cylinder sticking out of the ground, with a thick, circular, steel trapdoor on top. A number of warning posters instructed proper use.
“The others went ahead,” Amanda said. “Go!”
Finn looked down. “But it’s a trash chute.”
“Go! Feet first.” She opened it. “Quickly! Jump!” She seemed distracted.
Finn followed her line of sight. Maleficent had caught up to Jez. But Jez held her hands in front of her, and try as Maleficent might, she could not get close to the girl. Raging with anger, Maleficent suddenly saw Finn.
Finn asked Amanda, “Is Jez who I think she is?”
“Jess, not Jez, not any more. How can we ever thank you?” The tears spilled from her eyes. “We couldn’t break the spell ourselves.”
“Then she is—Then you are—” Finn’s head swam.
But he stopped himself as Maleficent raised her hand to cast a spell.
Seeing this, Finn jumped down the trash chute.
From high overhead he heard Amanda’s gleeful voice echo as he fell. “I’ll never forget what you did!”
As he was sucked down the foul-smelling tube, Finn tucked the roll of plans away under his belt. He took a deep breath and gagged. He thought he might throw up.
The tube reeked of rotting trash. Gooey bits and sticky globs of rancid food and soggy litter stuck to him like leeches, licked his face and slopped into his hair and clothing. Again, he felt himself gag.
In the distance, far down the tube, echoing through the metal, Finn heard hoots and hollers—Maybeck and Philby.
The suction spit trash into his face. He slammed into some kind of mesh gate, an intersection of converging trash-evacuation tubes. On the other side, black garbage bags and trash raced past. Then the gate opened and it was his turn. He tumbled down and rolled into the next tube, picked up speed, and headed off again, upside down and backward.
Wind roared all around him. A garbage bag smashed into him. It broke open, its trash freed. Awful stuff raced around him and stuck to him. He braced himself just in time for another intersection. But this gate was open and he moved into a third, larger tube.
Aluminum cans peppered his head. Cellophane and cotton candy stuck to him. Diapers, orange peels, sticky popsicle sticks. He somersaulted to avoid this stuff, and there, behind him, came a dull green light. It grew ever larger. It moved quickly.
He was thrown into a back somersault. As he came around, he found himself facing Maleficent. Arms at her side, head forward, legs outstretched behind her, she flew effortlessly through the garbage tube, apparently unaffected by the suction.
“Miss me?” she wheezed.
She lunged. Her ice-cold hand grabbed for the scroll. Finn kicked out and pushed her back.
Her wide eyes narrowed in hatred. She lunged again.
Finn straightened himself out and gained speed. He briefly pulled away from her.
Through the roar, he heard her mumble: “Anima transformatur!” Finn ducked as she flicked her wrist at him. A sandwich bag next to him melted and re-formed into a rat. That spell had been meant for him. At once, the rat came alive, its tail swiping, its little feet clawing for purchase.
Maleficent closed the gap. Finn tore a hole in a garbage bag, scattering its contents.
He heard a clank of metal not far ahead: yet another gate.
The rat scrambled and scratched at Finn. If he and Maleficent crashed into a gate together, she would have him and the plans. He felt certain of it.
She wound up to deliver yet another spell, the two of them racing through the slimy tube. Finn grabbed hold of the clawing rat and threw it at her. Maleficent fought off the rat and came right for Finn.
He saw a small white circle grow larger and wider. The end of the tunnel! Finn could smell fresh air.
Trying to buy himself time, he shouted at her, “You forgot something: evil never wins in the Magic Kingdom.”
She called back, “That depends on whose magic it is.”
Propelled out the end of the trash tube, Finn flew through the air and crashed into a sea of trash bags in an enormous steel collection box, like a railroad car. He scrambled toward the edge, where he saw Wayne and others, men and women, surrounding the huge collection bin.
“Hurry!” Wayne shouted.
Finn reached for the edge, pulled himself up and over, and fell to the ground, splatting, soaking wet with trash.
There he saw Philby and Maybeck, also covered in goo.
He watched as Maleficent shot out the end of the trash tube and into the giant container.
The team of adults quickly produced a net, dragging it from one end to the other and trapping her inside.
“To the bus! Quickly!” Wayne hollered, moving in that direction himself.
The other adults worked furiously to secure the net.
As Finn ran, he heard Maleficent’s wails of complaint from the bin.
Maybeck, Philby, and Finn caught up to Wayne—the old guy limping along.
Finn shouted, “You’re not going to—”
“No!” Wayne replied. “We don’t kill anything here. Not even witches. We’ll give her a taste of her own jail—the one you found—for a while. It’ll give us time to determine how much power the Overtakers have gained. You’ve done well! We’re almost through.”
“Almost?” shouted all three boys, coming to a stop at once.
They all boarded the bus.
Finn handed him the plans and the pens.
Wayne looked back gratefully and said, “Good job, kids.”
34
Looking out the window of the castle apartment, having crossed over just before ten o’clock, Finn thought the park looked beautiful.
He wondered if he’d ever know the truth about Amanda, if he’d ever see her again, for she’d been noticeably absent from school that Monday. He thought about Maleficent saying that there were Overtakers far more powerful than she was, and he wondered if more adventures lay in store for him and his new friends.
Willa was the last to cross over. She appeared in the room, wearing a cotton nightgown that flowed to her ankles. To explain this she said, “My mom put me to bed. Nothing much I could do about it.”
Finn looked around at each of his new friends. He liked them all, though each for a different reason. He unrolled the faded blueprints of the park.
They examined them, fascinated to see how the park had started out. Wayne explained what they were looking at.
From the group of pens and pencils on the coffee table, Wayne selected a boring-looking black one. It was fat and bulged. A very old fountain pen.
Wayne put on a pair of sunglasses. He passed out sunglasses to all the kids too, and told them to put them on as well.
“Now,” Wayne said, “we finally put the two together.”
“How will we know if it’s right?” Finn asked.
Wayne’s aged face twisted into a smile. “Believe me, we’ll know.”
Wayne contemplated the pen, then passed it to Finn, “This is for you, I think.” He indicated a small metal lever on the end of the pen.
Finn picked up the pen, carefully unscrewed the cap, and hooked the small lever with his fingernail. He looked up at each of the others, their expectant eyes filled with curiosity and excitement.
“Hold it up high,” Wayne instructed.
Finn did so, and pulled on the lever. A single drop of dark ink splashed down onto the plans. Finn, Wayne, and all the kids jumped back.
The drop of ink settled, then expanded and bled out into each and eve
ry faded line drawn onto the plans. It raced from one to another, spreading faster and faster. Faint lines became solid and bold.
The detailed plans transformed, one page after another. Some of what Finn saw was familiar, an area of Frontierland, a piece of Liberty Square. But much of this was foreign to him—parts of a park never before seen.
“Come look!” Wayne said, now standing by the small window. He tore the theatrical gel from the window.
The kids joined him, squeezing together.
Below, the dark park filled with light, following the same pattern that the ink flowed through the plans. Light rushed up lanes and streets, jumped over benches and engorged trees. Attractions came alive. First on the outer edge of the Magic Kingdom, but steadily rushing toward the castle.
Faster and faster the light traveled through the park, brighter and brighter. It arrived at the castle from all directions, a brilliant white light racing up the walls. The kids jumped back, blinded.
The sky erupted with fireworks, throwing blazing color and light into the heavens, deafening explosions and blinding colors.
The local newspapers would report the next day that a private party at the Magic Kingdom had been responsible for the most amazing show of fireworks the park had ever seen. But Finn and the other DHIs would know differently.
With the sky still erupting outside, Wayne walked over to Finn and extended a hand of thanks. They shook hands. The kids cheered and formed a huddle. As they spun in celebration, Wayne returned to the coffee table. There, he picked up the black remote.
And pushed the button.
RIDLEY PEARSON is the award-winning coauthor, with Dave Barry, of Peter and the Starcatchers, Peter and the Shadow Thieves, Peter and the Secret of Rundoon, and Science Fair. He has also written more than twenty best-selling crime novels, including Killer Weekend, and the young adult novels Kingdom Keepers II—Disney at Dawn and Steel Trapp—The Challenge. He was the first American to be awarded the Raymond Chandler/Fulbright Fellowship in Detective Fiction at Oxford University.
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