“Excuse me…you can’t…”
A security man on the ship side of the gangway was trying to stop a robed woman from disembarking. Laughing horribly, Maleficent walked through the man’s outstretched arms.
“Red—”
“Alert,” said Philby, finishing off Finn’s thought.
“Hologram,” said Willa.
Seeing the dark fairy, the crowd cheered all the more loudly—everyone but the ship contingent. Jodi and the other company executives and ship’s officers stepped out of Maleficent’s way.
All but Captain Cederberg, who, judging by his expression, had had enough of Maleficent and her intrusions.
“I’ll ask you to leave,” Captain Cederberg said.
“Here, catch,” Maleficent said.
Finn saw it in slow motion but reacted in real time. A ball of fire formed in Maleficent’s hand; it left her grasp; Captain Cederberg’s natural reaction was to put his hands together in order to catch something thrown to him.
Finn covered his face and took the ball of fire in his chest, immediately diving to the patch of green grass—sod, laid just for this event. He did so two feet in front of the captain, sparing the man a third-degree burn.
Finn scrambled to his feet, the front of his shirt burned, his skin pink. The crowd on the decks of the ship and the shore was in a frenzy. The chant of “King…dom Keep…ers!” started up.
It occurred to Finn: How do the Panamanians have any idea who we are?
Security men rushed to tackle Maleficent, but ran smack into each other, knocking themselves to the ground.
Maleficent wasn’t there. Only her hologram, which continued to cackle evilly.
Captain Cederberg first looked to Finn, then saw his men collide.
“Blind her!” Finn called.
Too late. Maleficent walked up to the lectern. With no way to pull her off, they had no choice but to listen to her.
Only Philby saw a way around this situation; he took off for the soundboard under a small white tent to the left.
“This is indeed an historic moment!” Maleficent turned back to Finn as if he were part of her plan. “We inaugurate not only a ship’s passage through a territory once believed to be inhospitable to man, but the passing from the old to the new. The old canal”—she waved vaguely over her shoulder—“and the new.” She indicated the Dream. “The old, weary mice”—she pointed to Mickey and Minnie; Mickey put his hands on his hips indignantly—“for the almighty Cherna—”
The name died in the air. Philby had yanked the microphone cord from its socket. Fury burned in the eyes of Maleficent’s DHI. She raised her hands high overhead.
A cloud formed above them in the center of the blue sky, growing outward, darkening, and becoming increasingly ominous at a phenomenal pace. Within the boiling gray cloud an image appeared. A face. Part Minotaur, part bat.
“This is not within her powers,” Willa cried.
Spinning around, the four Keepers scanned the ship for someone…anyone…
“Two o’clock,” said Maybeck weakly.
Tia Dalma was positioned on a flat roof near the back of the ship, an area off limits to all but the crew. She, too, held her hands toward the sky; but the expansion of the cloud appeared synchronized with her movement.
Chernabog’s ghoulish maw yawned open as he licked his chops. His slit eyes squinted.
“Everyone back on the ship!” Finn hollered.
Chernabog blew down on them.
A wet, foul smelling wind stirred the trees. Slowly at first—just a breeze—it increased in force. The clouds rolled, casting crazy shadows on the ground. Tia Dalma summoned a lightning strike; the bolt slammed directly onto the lectern, and it exploded into flames.
In the midst of the chaos, Bob and Finn exchanged a look. Bob’s eyes seemed to say, Okay, so now I believe you about the blue-sky lightning—though perhaps Finn was imagining his capitulation.
Bob herded the group toward the gangway, making sure that the top executives and Captain Cederberg were at the front. But the captain stepped aside, calmly ushering others on board ahead of him.
“Just a small squall,” he said. “We get them all the time. Shame to rain on our parade.… Watch your step.… Grip the rail.… Mind the gap!”
In a surprisingly orderly manner, the thirty Dream representatives returned to the ship as the crowds scattered in an alarming mob scene behind them. The president was rushed to a waiting limousine as two more lightning bolts struck with earthshaking force. Raindrops the size of golf balls fell; pieces of tents and flags went airborne, smashing to bits against the stands that had been set up for the event.
Then, as the gangplank was hauled aboard and the hatch was just about to shut, the storm stopped. The clouds melted from the sky like hot wax.
It was over, leaving what looked like a war zone behind.
“I want answers!” Finn overheard Captain Cederberg shouting to his team as they huddled past security.
Finn knew the truth: there were no answers Captain Cederberg would like. Even fewer that he might believe. If Chernabog’s rise to power had already happened, why had the Queen been in pursuit of Maybeck or Charlene only minutes before? Maleficent had seized an international media stage to make her statement, reaching the biggest audience possible, perhaps signaling other Overtakers around the globe that their time had come; but the Chernabog in the sky––a mile across by a mile high––had been nothing but an image conjured by Tia Dalma. If the real Chernabog had been empowered, why not have him make an appearance?
The answer seemed obvious: Chernabog remained in torpor, awaiting the sacrificial offering.
If they could protect Charlene—and they had to!—perhaps they could prevent the bat-god from gaining power.
* * *
A meeting was hastily arranged later that night when a handful of texts from Amanda demanded that she be crossed over to the ship ASAP.
For Finn, it was a collision of confusion. At the time, he’d enjoyed the flirting with Charlene. It had been harmless enough. But he’d soon felt bad about it. He wouldn’t have told Charlene she looked pretty if Amanda had been present. But Amanda hadn’t been present, and Amanda hadn’t been nice to him for a while now. Was it wrong to flirt with Charlene when Amanda wouldn’t give him the time of day? He knew the answer when he felt guilt-stricken at hearing Amanda was coming aboard.
The rendezvous, the companionway outside of Animator’s Palate, was always busy around mealtime. But not late at night, which was why it had been chosen.
After midnight, the ambience aboard the Disney Dream changed dramatically. Bands of older teens and small groups of barhopping adults roamed the ship. Romantics sat in a deck chairs observing the night sky and the moonlit highlights on the water. It was a restful, quiet time. An officer might be seen in crisp whites, strolling, hands behind his or her back, contemplative—the close of another long sea day.
Charlene took up sentry duty in the long port-side corridor leading to the restaurant. She lay down on the recessed frame of one of the many large porthole windows that ran from the Atrium all the way aft to Animator’s Palate. Willa took watch on Deck 2, just below the rendezvous, while Storey Ming took the same location on Deck 4.
All four sentries had entered their location in a text message to Finn ahead of time, ready to send with the push of a button; this would tell him from which direction the trouble was coming, and therefore in which direction to flee.
Philby took command in the Radio Studio, controlling the 2.0 server that would allow Amanda to cross over, and to return her if necessary. Their Disney DHIs had been discontinued at ten o’clock, following the stage show in the theater.
Finn liked creeping around the ship at night, just as he enjoyed being inside the Disney parks after the gates closed. He remained keenly aware that security cameras were watching, and that crew members who served as security personnel might recognize him. Being recognized—which, he’d come to find out, was the price of fam
e—was not always such a good thing.
Although most of the passengers had gone to sleep, the crew had not. Finn approached from Deck 11, the warm Panamanian winds blowing across the rail. The ship had passed through the new canal without another incident; the captain had come over the public address explaining and apologizing for the “freak squall.” The open deck area that featured swimming pools by day was lined with pool furniture facing the Funnel Vision screen. Everything shipshape, neat and tidy, not a soul in sight.
Finn moved slowly between the wood cabinets that housed fresh towels, using them as screens. He felt exposed and at risk out here. He’d already gone over the rail once. He had no intention of ever doing so again.
A tall figure passed far on the starboard side of the ship, heading forward. Finn recognized the man’s clothing as that of a Cast Member—khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. It felt strange that the Cast Member didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t look in his direction, not even once. Typically they were so outgoing. He wanted to say this guy was just at the end of a long day, but it didn’t feel right; he found himself looking back at the man and walking faster.
Deck 11 had been a stupid choice. It required him to go through an empty Cabanas restaurant to reach the stern stairs. Being inside the closed cafeteria gave Finn chills. He saw OTs jumping out from every shadow. By the time he finally descended the aft stairs, he was a nervous wreck. He caught the eyes of Storey Ming at the landing of Deck 4—only the eyes, peering out of the shadows. That didn’t help things any.
When he arrived on Deck 3 he found himself alone. It took him a minute to settle down. Animator’s Palate occupied most of the stern. The landing on Deck 3 formed a kind of room, with closed doors to the restaurant to starboard and a narrow corridor leading to bathrooms and the restaurant’s main entrance to port. He waited, checking his Wave Phone for the time.
One of the port-side doors opened. The girl with the red highlights appeared.
“In here,” she said.
Finn hesitated. A trap? The plan had been to stay on the stairway landing, giving them plenty of options for escape.
“I’m waiting for someone,” he said.
The girl swung the door open wider, revealing Amanda. Amanda smiled a bit uncertainly at Finn. For a moment, his Charlene-guilt overwhelmed him. He wanted to run to her, to apologize for something that she didn’t even know about. But he caught himself. Not the time. He looked around—how could he tell the others they were going off plan? He entered the dark restaurant. The girl eased the door shut quietly. It clicked into place.
Animator’s Palate was cleverly divided into a dozen smaller areas almost like rooms, each with several large hi-def televisions mounted on the walls. The televisions were the only source of light: they were like windows into the sea around the ship; blue bubbling water with schools of animated fish and the giant sea turtle “dude,” Crush, swimming about.
The three sat at a table relatively near the side door.
Finn and Amanda said with their eyes what both of them had wanted to hear: they’d missed each other. Finn felt like he could breathe again. He drank in a deep lungful of air and felt stress dissipate. Amanda didn’t show anything more—just that one look, but she couldn’t take it back!
“This is Mattie Weaver,” Amanda’s hologram said.
“You know her?” Finn asked.
“We’re friends from Baltimore,” Mattie said, extending her hand to Finn. They shook.
“A Fairlie?”
Mattie nodded.
“Jess and I asked her to be on the ship. To help you guys out.”
Finn looked at the two girls. “You know each other,” he repeated, feeling stupid for having done so.
“When Jess and I realized we could only be here as…this…” Amanda said, indicating her hologram, “we thought—”
“How is she?” Finn interrupted.
“Is something wrong?” Mattie asked Amanda.
“An accident,” Amanda said. “We haven’t much time; let’s keep to the point.”
“Which is?” Finn found himself pulled to the action in the television screens. The peacefulness there belied his internal tension.
“I’ve been…watching you all,” Mattie said. “As Jess and Mandy asked. Trying to help where I could.”
“The journal. And the note.” He considered the various times she’d been spotted. “But how could you possibly… Do you realize we thought you might be an Overtaker?”
“We asked her to stay in the background,” said Amanda. “We didn’t want any chance of her being associated with you, with the Keepers. She’s of more value to us all that way. The only reason we’re even meeting tonight is because…because…” Amanda’s hologram seemed about to cry; Finn wasn’t sure that was even possible.
“How much do you know about Baltimore?” the girl asked him.
“The Fairlies? A little, I guess. Not much.”
“How much of what you do know do you believe?”
“Let me put it this way: a couple of years ago I would have thought Amanda and Jess were psycho. Seriously damaged goods. But, you might say circumstances have changed. For me, I’m talking about. For the other DHI models. Meaning that there isn’t much that can shock me anymore, not that I would dare try to explain any of this to a normal friend”—he thought of Dillard Cole—“for fear someone would have me locked up. But the Fairlies? Honestly? You guys are way easier to believe than most of the stuff we see. Some kids born with weird powers or whatever you want to call it? Seriously? I mean, I had to read about the Salem witch trials in middle school. Am I supposed to freak if some girl can move a book across a desk without touching it? I don’t think so!”
“Do you know the word empathy?” Mattie asked.
“Like sympathy. Sure.”
“Not exactly.”
“Feeling bad for someone.”
“Actually, it’s feeling the same. An ability to share a feeling with someone. Like something you have in common.”
“I guess I don’t get what you’re saying.”
“By now, half the U.S. military is probably looking for me,” Mattie said, “because they don’t get it either. But they’d like to understand it better.”
“You’re empathetic?” He heard her masking her concern with humor, and was reminded once again about all the risks everyone was taking.
“I am.”
“I’m sorry…I get the empathy part…but what’s it mean, exactly?”
“You know fortune tellers?”
“They’re all crazy ladies.”
“Most. Nearly all. But not absolutely all.”
Crush, the turtle, stopped and stared at them through the fish tank of flat panel displays. Something about that bothered Finn. Come on. He couldn’t believe he was getting bad feelings about an animated turtle. He was really tired. Maybeck’s illness and the fight with the Evil Queen had exhausted him.
“What’s one of the first things a fortune teller does with a client?” Mattie sat forward, her eyes fixed intensely on Finn.
“How would I know? I’ve never been.”
She reached across the table, her hands asking Finn for his. But he wasn’t playing. He moved his hands into his lap.
The turtle swam away.
“They touch you,” Mattie said.
“Wait a second…” Finn gave her a sideways glance.
“That’s right: that’s all it takes. I touch someone, and I hear them. The longer the contact, the further back the ‘conversation’ goes.” She drew air quotes.
“That must get kind of creepy.”
“You have no idea. I wear gloves. Long pants when possible. Any skin contact…presto…all your secret thoughts.”
Finn was glad his hands were in his lap. Especially with Amanda in the immediate vicinity. He contemplated the power this kind of insight gave Mattie, and a chill went down his spine.
“A spy. The government wants you as a spy.”
She smiled. “You know
them. They see all sorts of uses for me. Trouble is, they don’t seem to care what I’d like to do.”
Like Amanda’s and Jess’s, Mattie’s “gift” was more of a burden. Finn felt bad for her, felt worse that she’d been drawn into their intrigues.
“And you’re here tonight because…?” Finn looked over at Amanda.
Amanda didn’t answer. It was Mattie, instead. “Because I connected with the big guy. The bulldog.”
“Luowski. When?”
“This afternoon, during the ceremonies. He was out on Vibe’s deck.”
Finn felt a nagging need to look back at the flat-panel aquarium. He reacted without meaning to: a shark’s wide head filled the screen, its jagged teeth showing.
“Now, that’s ugly,” Amanda said.
Finn lowered his voice. “You know how this place works, don’t you? Animator’s? Crush talks in real time to people at the tables. The guests have conversations with a flat panel. They can do that because the Imagineers have hidden cameras all over the place. Hidden microphones. Making this the worst place in the world for a secret meeting. Why don’t we take it outside?”
He didn’t add that the Keepers were in position to help protect them outside but would be of little help in here.
“Mattie is about to tell us about Greg Luowski.”
“I’m just saying…maybe in the hallway?” Finn’s eyes pleaded with Amanda’s hologram. What did she have to worry about? he thought. It’s not like her DHI is vulnerable.
But am I?
Finn had felt different ever since his hologram had been shocked by electricity in the Dream’s engine room. For days now, he’d been feeling stronger and faster than before, a power that came in strange bursts of adrenaline that left him exhausted and confused. He’d also started having dreams that seemed terrifyingly real. In that moment, sitting in Animator’s Palate, he added prescience to his list of new qualities.
Only seconds after he’d voiced their vulnerability, two chefs appeared across the dining room. Even from a considerable distance, two facts were apparent: the chefs had bright green eyes, and each was carrying a boatload of knives and cleavers under his arm.
Without thinking, Finn heaved up the table, forming a barrier, and pulled Mattie behind it. A Chinese cleaver slammed into the table and stuck.
Kingdom Keepers VI Page 17