WITH ONLY AN HOUR TO GO before the Magic Kingdom closed for the night, Finn, Philby, and Maybeck used the employee passes to enter, which didn’t register on the computer system and allowed them to avoid the front gates. Operations Management prohibited them from entering any of the Parks as themselves without prior approval, and now they risked being spotted. For camouflage, all three wore as close to the same clothes as their projected DHIs wore. This way, they’d be mistaken as their own Disney Hosts. But they weren’t perfectly identical costumes: Maybeck had, for some reason, chosen a pair of dark socks; Finn no longer owned the running shoes he’d worn when modeling for his DHI so he was wearing the black ones he’d colored with a Sharpie.
They walked slowly, side by side, behind the buildings on Main Street in the direction of Cinderella Castle. They appeared relaxed and self-confident, never a problem for Maybeck.
As they happened past other Cast Members they heard comments trailing behind them like, “Can you believe how real those things look?” The three fought to keep smiles off their faces.
The Magic Kingdom had been built atop a series of interconnecting tunnels called the Utilidor. Through these tunnels passed Cast Members and electric golf carts that served as small trucks. Control of the Park’s technology was handled from offices in the Utilidor, which included a massive computer server room, the brains of the Park. This was the Keepers’ destination.
Multiple backstage Cast-Member-only entrances to the Utilidor existed throughout the Park. As the three approached the entrance just behind the Main Street ice cream parlor, Maybeck blocked Finn and Philby, pushing them back against the wall.
“Pirates!”
Finn and Philby spotted them: a pair of pirates casually talking in front of a double doorway up ahead.
“That’s the door to the Utilidor,” Professor Philby said.
“Overtakers?” Finn said.
“Must be,” Maybeck agreed. “They’re guarding the entrance, just in case we come along to spoil all their fun.”
“We could try the entrance by Splash Mountain,” Finn suggested.
“We’d have to cross the entire Park to get there,” Philby said. “And if these guys are guarding this one, others are probably guarding that one, too.”
“We need another way in,” Maybeck said.
“How do you guys feel about getting filthy dirty?” Finn asked.
He led them through the crowded parking lot, staying as far away from the pirates as possible. As they neared a full-length mirror at the Cast Member entrance into the Park, a foul smell overpowered them. A message on the mirror read Make it a magical day for our guests!
“What the…?” Maybeck said. “Stink…eee!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down,” said Finn. But the constant roar to their right covered their voices. He led them toward that noise: an area just before Cast Members entered the Park, tucked behind a plywood screen with empty cardboard boxes piled in a corner and a large pipe, three feet in diameter, sticking out of the concrete.
“Brilliant!” said Philby as he realized where they were.
Maybeck focused on the pipe. It had a weighted lid and was surrounded by warning signs. “No way,” he said. “You are not getting me down there.”
“That’ll work,” said Finn. “We need you to stand guard. We all have our phones.”
“I wouldn’t count on ours working down there,” Philby cautioned.
“Macbeth,” Finn said, trying to get back at Maybeck for all the nicknames he called him, “will stay up here to keep an eye on the pirates. You’ll text us if you see any change in them, because it may mean trouble for us. Philby and I will try to get to the server room.”
Maybeck said, “So I text if I see something awkward up here. Is that all?”
“No,” said Philby. “You see this red stop button?”
“Kind of hard to miss,” Maybeck said. The plastic emergency button was huge.
“If you hear the system restart, then you hit that button.”
Finn added, “We’d rather not get sucked through the system and spit out into the compactor. It’s up to you to see that doesn’t happen.”
“Could be bad for our health,” said Philby. “As in, fatal. The wind generated to suck the trash out of the Park reaches sixty miles an hour in the pipe. That’s almost hurricane speed.”
“Got it,” said Maybeck. “Hit the red button. Kill the wind.”
“Seriously,” Philby said.
“Red button. Easy enough.”
“Okay then,” Finn said to Philby. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” said Philby.
Finn punched the red button. The roar ground to a stop.
Philby lifted the heavy lid and the smell intensified.
“Glad it’s you guys going down there and not me,” Maybeck said, pinching his nose.
“We won’t have long,” Philby warned. “Engineering Base over in the Studios will see a warning that the system’s down. They’ll try a restart before anything else.”
“So…I’ll go first.” Finn’s only other time in the trash system had been a long time ago. Maleficent had been chasing him. He’d been terrified.
He climbed over the sticky edge into the steel pipe, while Philby and Maybeck held open the lid. Maybeck’s face was puckered in disgust as the putrid odors of rotting trash wafted up.
Finn let go and dropped. He fell a few feet, landing in some wet slop at the bottom of a similar-size steel pipe that ran parallel with the surface. A tunnel within the tunnel.
“Out of the way!” Philby said.
The pipe was too small to crouch and stay on two feet. Finn was forced to drop to hands and knees amid the sticky, disgusting goo of old garbage.
He called back coarsely, “You might want to get your flashlight out before you put your hands in this stuff.”
Philby dropped in behind him, flashlight on. Finn’s shadow spread before him amid the garbage and debris that adhered to every inch of the pipe-wrappers, crushed cups and cans, chewing gum, rubber bands, grotesque rotting remnants of former meals, banana peels, turkey leg bones, and every kind of plastic container ever made, most of them unrecognizable. The smell only grew worse the farther they crawled. Finn held his breath for as long as possible, but an inhale was inevitable, and when it came, it tasted like he was eating trash.
“I think I’m going to puke,” Philby said from behind him.
“Go ahead. It might improve the smell.”
“By now Base has tried to reset. That’ll take a couple of minutes to be in effect. When Maybeck pulls a second emergency stop they’ll send a team to investigate. We need to be out of here by then. This thing is basically a wind tunnel.”
Philby could recite the statistics, but Finn had experienced the trash pipe. What Philby didn’t seem to grasp was the power of that suction. If the trash bags were moving at sixty miles an hour, the two of them would be also. Some things were better left unsaid. He picked up the pace, though it wasn’t exactly fast going. The slime coating the tube was the consistency of tar. His knees and the palms of his hands stuck to it like a fly to flypaper. Each movement made a sucking and slurping noise.
“Hurry it up!” Philby said.
“I’m trying.”
“It smells like my father’s beef-jerky farts.”
“TMI.”
Finn paused at the first intersection-a pipe ran off to the left. Professor Philby had to take a closer look himself. He shined the flashlight at the walls of the connecting pipe.
“Hair,” he said, pointing out clumps of what looked like steel wool stuck to the surface. “The beauty parlor is close by. The server room is up ahead at the next intersection. It should be a recycling station.”
Finn was going to ask why a recycling station would be connected to a trash system, but he knew better than to challenge Philby. For one thing, Philby’s explanations could run on the long side. Finn slogged ahead, so disgusted with the ooze that he began walking on his elbows rather than sinking his hands into it.
“We’re too slow. We’re taking too long,” Philby warned. And just like that, a clunk was heard, like a grumbling in the belly of a beast. The system was restarting.
“Okay, that’s what we expected.” Philby tried to sound calm. His hair stuck to the goo on the walls. “Now, all that needs to happen is for Maybeck to trip the emergency stop again.”
Finn considered trying to send a text, but looked at the layer of tarlike goo on his hands-something they hadn’t considered. Nonetheless, he reached into his pocket for his phone as the wind lifted the hair off his head.
Zero bars: no service.
“Oh, perfect,” he said.
Maybeck understood his assignment: keep an eye on the two pirates; stop the system if it restarted. Piece of cake. What Philby had only vaguely mentioned was that on-site engineers might seek immediate answers to their trash system shutting down. Despite the casual, playful, magical impression the Parks had on visitors, in truth they were run more like a NASA mission. There were teams of experts to tackle and instantly solve any kind of problem-from the lettuce in a restaurant going brown, to the intricacies of staging the three o’clock parade each day; the evening fireworks; the street bands; the stage shows. There were enough maintenance employees to form a small army. Two of these men were radio-dispatched by Engineering Base to investigate an emergency stop at URS-3-Utilidor Refuse Station #3.
Luckily, Maybeck heard them coming before they saw him. They were complaining to each other about what kind of knucklehead would pull an emergency stop on the trash system. They were just on the other side of the trash area’s plywood barrier as he heard them. He turned, dropped to his hands and knees, and burrowed deeply into the pile of cardboard recycling.
He stared out from his hiding place as the two maintenance guys inspected the door that sealed the trash drop, as well as the electronic box that housed the red emergency stop override.
“I don’t see nothing wrong,” said the shorter of the two. He was thick-boned and heavyset and had a voice like a dog growling.
Philby had said the system would be restarted the first time remotely from Engineering Base. He’d been wrong-a rarity.
“Nah,” said the other, a taller, leaner man. “Some wise guy’s idea of a practical joke.”
The short guy grabbed his radio. “Good to go URS-three. Repeat: green light for URS-three restart.”
“Roger, that,” came a woman’s voice over the radio.
A moment later, Maybeck felt a thunk underfoot.
The system had restarted.
Willa, her DHI riddled with static, moved carefully through the backstage area behind France, taking care to screen herself behind trailers, vehicles, and pieces of staging. Hypersensitive about how she stood out wearing pajamas, she wanted to avoid being seen as much as possible. If kids recognized her, she’d be mobbed and she’d have to role-play as a Disney Host. Another Willa guide-dressed in lederhosen-was currently somewhere in Epcot, which could explain her own current projection problems. Willa’s own hologram would likely improve once Epcot was closed and the regular DHIs were turned off for the night, but she didn’t want to wait. She had a few hundred yards to cover in order to reach the pin-trading station by the fountain. The Return. The most direct route was to join the sea of Park visitors, but the idea terrified her.
She knew that if she looked scared and out of place, she would appear vulnerable: If she looked confident and comfortable, despite the pajamas, she would fit right in. After all, newlyweds went around the Parks in mouse ears and bridal veils. On a scale of 1 to 10, pajamas barely registered.
She briefly hid behind a Food and Wine Festival station, gathering her courage. Then she stepped out and confidently joined the hordes. She was in a courtyard in France, the lake straight ahead. There were shops to her right and a French bakery. Benches to her left. Trees and raised islands of flowers in the center of the oblong, cobblestoned plaza. Music filled the air-pieces of the sound track to The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It had an inviting and calming effect. The music surrounded her and made her feel at peace. She loved the Parks when they were open and filled with families and brimming with happiness. Her toes and fingers tingled. Her blue line grew solid-she was pure DHI.
In her euphoria, she failed to look where she was going, and walked right through a raised flower bed, coming out the other side. Some kids recognized her immediately and approached, crowding her, asking for photographs and autographs. She had to agree or risk making an even bigger scene as visitors complained. She posed for some photographs, explained politely that as a hologram she couldn’t sign autographs, and hoped to get away. Camera flashes blinded her. Kids bubbled with enthusiasm.
“Over here!” a mother called out.
Willa looked in that direction-toward the bakery. Above the woman’s shoulder she saw a court jester in a green felt costume and clown makeup. The jester stared at her, but not in admiration. More like a policeman watching a suspect.
As she heard the organized sounds of synchronized marching approach, she knew she was in trouble. Epcot was not a place for goose-stepping soldiers. Twelve costumed cathedral guards appeared from around the corner. Judge Frollo’s guards, she thought. Overtakers. They marched straight for her.
“Excuse me,” she said to a group of kids, “but I have to go. I hear those guards will give you candy if you hold onto them and don’t let go.”
The kids squealed and took off, shouting at the guards.
Willa walked quickly toward the bridge leading to the United Kingdom. The rhythmic footfalls stopped as the kids assaulted the guards. Again, she heard her name ripple through the crowd as more people identified her. Things were going badly. What had seemed like such a short distance now felt like miles. Spaceship Earth looked so tiny and distant all of a sudden.
Behind her, a French-accented guard called out, “Clear the way! Clear the path!” Apparently, not all of the guards had been sidelined by the kids.
Disney visitors were too polite: they cleared a path behind her.
Willa glanced back; the guards were gaining ground.
The crowd ahead now grew thicker as the walkway narrowed. She dodged her way through pedestrians, but wasn’t increasing her lead. Behind her, Frollo’s guards continued their relentless pursuit.
Only as she lost her balance and bumped into a baby carriage did she realize the value of her being a DHI. A moment earlier she’d walked through the flower island; she needed to get to all clear.
She allowed the music to own her, let it carry her away to where she’d been only moments before; music was the elixir for her; music was her cure. The tingling of her fingers signaled her transformation, and she broke into a sprint, running through anything in front of her-people, strollers, it didn’t matter. With her approach, startled guests jumped back, only to have her run right through them. Kids cheered. Adults shouted startled complaints.
But she left the guards behind. No matter how they tried, they weren’t going to catch her. Twice more, she settled and focused on the music. Twice more, she went all clear.
Willa passed the Canadian pavilion, still a long way from the Return, but gaining with each step. Her confidence increased: she was going to make it.
The fountain and plaza came into view. Almost there! But then, appearing from around the fountain, a half-dozen Segways-not CTDs, but Park Security.
Her hologram’s blue outline had faded slightly. She couldn’t allow them to scare her, couldn’t allow her DHI to weaken-to become even fractionally mortal. The path split just ahead: directly in front of her, the fountain; to the left, a pathway leading behind Innoventions West, with access to The Land and The Seas. She took this alternate route, hidden from the Security team.
From behind her came the steady tromp, tromp, tromp of the cathedral guards.
She reminded herself that she only needed to reach the Return. Willa cleared her thoughts and watched her blue outline grow more solid. If she could trust her DHI she could charge the pin-trading station, grab the Return, and send herself back. So close now.
She followed the path to the right, the pin-trading station straight ahead.
“You there!” a man shouted.
Arriving to the fob’s hiding place, she jumped to reach into the intersection of support pipes.
Empty!
She tried the next steel support, realizing she must have the wrong post.
Empty!
“YOU!” another man’s deep voice shouted. “STOP!”
She tried a third column. Nothing! The next.
The Segways rolled toward her.
The cathedral guards closed in from behind.
Her mind reeled. Where was the Return? Where had Philby and Finn put it? How was she supposed to get back without it?
She couldn’t stay there bumming over it. She needed to hide. She needed…
Spaceship Earth. Its geodesic construction rose 180 feet into the night sky. Maybe inside the dome she’d find a place to hide, or maybe she’d turn out to be in DHI shadow?
She turned and ran, the men behind her calling after her to stop.
Not likely.
Philby looked back into the strong wind. A Park map landed on his face and wrapped around him like a veil.
Litter splattered him. As the wind tunnel restarted, the lightest items were lifted first, followed by increasingly heavier ones. Ducking the larger pieces of airborne trash was like something from a video game. Finn and Philby didn’t dare turn their backs on the onslaught for fear of missing something really big and dangerous. So they faced into it, crawling backward as quickly as their knees and hands would carry them.
“Incoming,” Philby announced. He flattened himself as a constellation of aluminum cans came down the pipe.
One struck Finn on the shoulder. “Oww!”
“Don’t let one bean you,” Philby warned. “It could probably knock you out.”
Neither boy was amused. Now came plastic knives, forks, and spoons. Paper plates, more cans. The half-eaten turkey bones came at them like spears and arrows. Fruit and vegetable waste and all matter of wet stuff. Finally, they couldn’t take it. They had no choice but to turn their backs to the steady stream for fear of having their eyes poked out.
The force of air grew stronger, ruffling their clothing and hair. The amount of loose garbage was overwhelming. It smashed into them, sticking to their clothing and bare skin. Finn slapped away a plastic fork that adhered to his ear. A sticky rain pelted them-ketchup, soda, cold coffee, and soup.
“Hurry!” Philby shouted, as a tumbling sound arose from down the pipe.
The first of the garbage bags. It sounded like it was rolling at the moment, but soon it would be lifted and carried by wind; soon it would be a missile headed for them.
“That’s it!” Philby announced, shining his flashlight ahead of them, highlighting an intersection of pipe.
A bag crashed into Philby, careened off the pipe wall, and knocked Finn sideways, flattening both boys. They clambered to their hands and knees only to be bowled over by the next. And another after that.
Any chance of Finn going all clear was out. The situation was terrifying.
The bags felt like rocks when they hit. Each time Finn managed to get his legs and arms under him, another bag knocked him over. The pipe intersection just ahead seemed no closer.
“Where’s Maybeck?” Finn called out. “We need Maybeck!”
Maybeck couldn’t believe that the two Engineering guys would just stand there, hanging out by the trash dump. He could feel the rumble under his feet, knew the system was engaged. He could picture Finn and Philby like soda bubbles in a straw getting sucked toward the trash compactor.
He watched as the shorter guy grabbed his radio. “Awaiting instructions,” he said.
“Roger that,” came back a voice, thinly. “We’re waiting on Base.”
“Copy.”
The two guys were obviously in no hurry-were used to waiting.
Maybeck eyed the red emergency stop button, wondering what to do.
Willa ran up the long ramp leading into Spaceship Earth, out of breath. The Segways, ridden by Security guards, were only yards behind her. She slid like a baseball player under the chains blocking the entrance, scrambled to her feet, and took off running again. Behind her, the Security guards had to dismount the Segways, costing them precious seconds. Behind them, the phalanx of Frollo’s cathedral guards followed up the ramp. The Security men turned to face the marching unit. “Stop!” one of them hollered, raising his outstretched palm. He’d never been in this situation before.
Marching guards? He had no idea what to do. “This attraction is closed. The Park is closing for the night. Report back to Operations Management.”
The guards stood there in formation, their eyes straight ahead like true soldiers. Not one of them said a thing.
“Did you hear me?” the Security guy said. “Fun’s over.”
The lead guard signaled his group forward. They marched toward the Security man.
“What the heck?” the Security man complained.
Willa hurried through the dark, crestfallen to look down and see her own feet. Spaceship Earth was not in DHI shadow.
The ride was running, though its seats were empty. The Park was closing down for the night. She climbed aboard the first car that passed.
First things first: she would hide until she came up with a plan. At their meeting they’d discussed why Charlene had been crossed over into the Park. Philby had thought it was to debrief her as a spy. But now a second, more insidious motive presented itself: by putting Charlene into Epcot and knowing she would try to escape, the OTs could follow her to the Return and steal it. Without the Return, and without Philby’s back door on the server, any Keeper who crossed over would have no way back. Crossing them over one at a time made so much sense: when working as a team the Keepers had never failed, but as individuals they were far more vulnerable. They would be stuck in the Syndrome. Locked in a coma in their beds at home.
Not just overnight.
But forever.
The flashlight fell out of Philby’s hand as the next bag of trash struck him down. In the swirling light, Finn watched a bulging trash bag approach at the speed of cannon fire. He ducked, and it flew overhead. The flashlight rolled at his feet. Finn lunged for it, but missed. Affronted by a windstorm of sloppy trash and deadly bags, he inched toward the intersection of pipes.
“Philby?!” he cried.
The wind in the tunnel was at full speed-hurricane force. Finn was sliding backward, clawing at the goop, trying not to lose track of Philby. Suddenly, a hand appeared. Finn grabbed it. He felt himself braked as he and Philby joined hands-Philby had caught on to the edge of the intersection. Together they strained to hold on, Finn repeatedly struck by flying trash bags. Then the wind all but stopped. He and Philby were in the adjoining pipe.
Light shone through a circular crack a few yards ahead.
Philby saw it, too. “That’s the way out! The system has supplementary pressurization stations,” Professor Philby explained. “There are dozens of extra fans along the route. All connecting pipes must be airtight.”
“Maybe another time,” Finn said.
Philby led Finn to the end of the short section of pipe. Together they managed to unlock and push open a maintenance door against the drag of the wind. Philby used a plastic bottle to jam the bottom of the door open. Finn climbed out first, down a metal ladder. Philby followed. They were behind heavy equipment, a cardboard compactor, in an alcove off the Utilidor.
The boys were disgusting-covered in a layer of stinking brown sludge from head to toe. “We cannot just walk out there like this,” Finn said. “How are we ever going to pull this off?”
Philby’s eyes ticked back and forth-the professor at work. He poked his head through a network of smaller pipes. “Got something,” he said, crawling through. He returned a moment later with a small, greasy hand towel. They took turns cleaning each other’s face.
“We’re still a mess,” Finn said, indicating his clothes. “I’m like a human booger.”
“This is a cardboard recycling station.”
“Yeah? So?”
“It’s closing time. Everyone wants to get home. You think anyone’s going to look twice at a couple of kids coming down the hall wearing cardboard boxes?”
“I like it!”
The boys snuck around to the side where dozens of collapsed cardboard boxes leaned against the wall. Philby sized up two of them, and the boys reassembled them, overlapping the flaps to make them square and sturdy again. Philby then tore sections out of the flaps: one for Finn’s neck, and one for each of his legs on the opposite end of the big box. It was marked doritos. Philby’s was sun chips. They got past the machinery, and Philby quickly helped Finn into his box so that it hung on his shoulders and ended just above his knees, making walking awkward. Philby climbed into his box, but had trouble getting the bottom flaps closed. Finn tried squatting but it did no good-he was just a big cardboard box. Finally, Philby gave up. His box hung from his shoulders with his head sticking out, but the bottom flaps hung down, moving with his every step.
With Finn walking awkwardly in the lead, the two boys moved out into the thirty-foot-wide Utilidor tunnel joining dozens of Cast Members. Philby had been right: no one gave a pair of moving boxes a second thought.
Twenty yards later, they reached a set of windows on their left. Venetian blinds drawn from the inside. They walked past.
“The server room,” Philby hissed from behind.
Finn didn’t need to be reminded. He’d been here more than once. The last time, a certain green-skinned fairy had been here as well.
Philby tried to get his eye to the window at the edge of the blind so he could see through, but the box was too big and it blocked him from leaning in close. He turned to the side, but again the box blocked him from seeing in.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Finn spun around and said to Philby, “Here, I’ll fix it for you.” He spun Philby and his box around, mainly to hide their faces.
Three Cast Members came out of the server room, saying good-night to each other. Two of them wished the other a good vacation, and the man thanked them. Finn turned back as the door was shutting. He got a look into the room, seeing no one. But then, reflected off the door’s safety glass, he caught sight of a man at a desk.
“There’s still at least one guy in there. At a desk over on the far side of the room.”
“Well, we can’t just stand around here. We’ve got to do something.”
Finn said, “The smells coming out of this box are going to make me puke. We’d better keep moving.”
The boys continued on toward an exit where people dressed in street clothes were leaving. Golf carts laden with everything from bottled water to Pirates of the Caribbean muskets streamed past. The Magic Kingdom was shifting into maintenance mode. Stores and restaurants would be restocked. There would be painting and carpentry, cleaning, and polishing carried out within the Park for the next several hours. The boys had to reach the server, gain access, determine which Park Willa was in, and launch a rescue attempt. Every second counted.
Behind them, the server room door opened and two men came out. The second one checked to make sure the door was locked, and the two said good-night.
“Can you manage all clear?” Philby asked.
“Maybe for a few seconds.”
“Unlock the door and let me in.”
Finn nodded. They stood in front of the door. Willa needed him, Finn reminded himself. He closed his eyes and pictured the train coming. When he opened them again, the blue line shimmered around his filthy sleeve. He stepped through the box and the closed door into the server room. The lights were off. No one was there. Good.
Ten seconds later, he watched the blue line fade until it was gone. He reached out and unlocked the door for Philby.
A few minutes later, two cardboard boxes were discovered by a cleaning crew outside the server room. The cleaners picked up the boxes and carried them to recycling, while on the other side of the wall two nervous boys waited for them to pass.
“We’re in,” Philby said.
Jess sat upright in bed. While dozing over homework, she’d had the kissing dream again. The same steps in the background. She shuddered, feeling guilty and somewhat creepy. Finn was a good enough guy, but she didn’t think about him like that. She felt a little sick to her stomach. No matter how this went down, it couldn’t be good for anyone.
Her reaction was automatic and immediate. Once again she reached under her pillow and came out with her diary. She switched on her book light and flipped through the pages to the earlier sketch. There were details about the stairs to add: they stepped down left to right and-here was the weird part-weren’t equal in size. Bad perspective, she thought, or out of scale. She sketched in some planting that looked familiar to her, though she couldn’t place it. She added some texture to Finn’s face; he looked incredibly lifelike. Filled in his shirt with stripes. Modified the tailored shirt she was wearing in the sketch, only to realize it was a shirt she didn’t like very much. She lent it to Amanda more often than she wore it herself.
Well, there’s a solution, she thought. If she avoided wearing that particular shirt, then she wouldn’t be wearing it in the future. If she didn’t wear it in the future, then she wouldn’t kiss Finn.
Relief flooded through her. So simple. It all came down to avoiding that shirt.
“Here’s something to think about,” Philby said, standing alongside Finn, facing row after row of library-like shelving that held stacked computer servers, Ethernet routers, modems, power supplies, and wireless boxes, all blinking a constellation of colorful lights. “If the OTs are messing with this stuff, this is the time they mess with it: after the Park closes. We may not be alone here for long.”
“Way to cheer me up. Thanks,” said Finn.
Philby reached the DHI server, the electronic brains responsible for both generating their images and communicating those images to an array of Park projectors within the Magic Kingdom. It also tied to other DHI servers through fiber optic lines, in the Animal Kingdom, Epcot, and Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
Philby pulled out the tray holding the server’s keyboard and entered his back-door password. The system rejected the password.
“I thought it was a data transmission problem,” he said, half talking to himself. “There’s no attempt limit from the hardwired keyboard, only with remote access. I thought if tried my password from here I’d get in. But that’s not working. What I know for sure is that if I tried remotely and failed three times in a row, remote access would be denied for twenty-four hours. An alarm would be sent up-line. Engineering Base over in the Studios would see the hack attempt and probably notify Security. I’ve got one more remote try, but I know it’s not going to work. It’s the OTs. They were waiting for me.”
“You don’t actually know that.”
“You think it was the Imagineers? Wayne sends me a warning, then locks me out of the server? I don’t think so.”
“So what about Willa?”
Philby just stared at the screen, fuming. “The fob should still work for a Return-it’s sent wirelessly over the cell-phone frequency, a whole different subsystem than a manual Return. But it’s not going to be easy finding her.”
“You gotta get us into this machine.”
“Tell me about it. Okay. Give me a minute.” He laced his fingers over his head and closed his eyes.
“I can help out,” Finn offered.
Philby sat very still for several minutes. Finn grew increasingly impatient but said nothing.
“Okay,” Philby said, standing and moving down the aisle. “Let’s assume the OTs phished for my password, stole it, and then erased it. That would explain resetting the server and my losing the data connection. That would mean they can now access the server remotely, same way as I did. But,” he said pulling, out his phone, “if I try to access it one more time remotely and I fail, any remote access will be blocked for twenty-four hours, including theirs. That’ll leave the only access from here-this keyboard. But the OTs are not the only ones who can access this server.”
“The Imagineers,” Finn said. “Engineering.”
“Yes. SOP,” he said, meaning standard operating procedure, “for an attempted raid on a server would be to send Security first and someone from Base, second. The Security guy makes sure the room’s clear. The guy from Base checks the server, runs virus-scanning software, studies and prints the log.”
“So?” Finn said.
Philby was already unplugging and collecting wires from the backs of other computer servers. Finn followed along like a lost dog.
“So we need the guy from Base to access the server,” Philby continued.
“I think we established that.”
“He has to enter a password,” Philby said. “The system’s master password is the only thing that can override a lockout. Look for a camera.”
“What?”
“A webcam. Usually little round balls about the size of a golf ball.”
“I know what a webcam looks like,” said Finn.
“So find one.”
“Where?”
“This is a giant room devoted to computers, and only computers. Somewhere in here are Security web-cams as well as personal webcams. Just find one!”
“You’re telling me Security can see us?”
“Probably. Could be. But there are hundreds, probably thousands of cameras around the Parks. They’re not going to focus on here unless we give them reason to. Until we give them reason to. That’s why I haven’t tried the password for the third time. First, we need a camera.”
The boys split up to search.
“Is that one in the ceiling?” Finn called out.
“Yeah, probably. But it’s too hard to deal with.”
Finn kept looking, ducking down another long aisle of stacks of electronic gear.
“Somewhere here,” Philby said, “There has to be…aha! I’ve got it!”
He’d found a freestanding webcam alongside a keyboard at one of the desks. He traced the USB cord and unplugged it.
When Philby got on a roll, there was no stopping him. His actions became frantic as he hurried with the webcam back to the DHI server. He dragged a chair into place, climbed up onto it, and placed the webcam on the top shelf, wedging it between a pair of speakers.
“Run the wire down the back there,” Philby directed Finn.
Finn did as he was told. Together, they worked furiously, running wires, changing the position of the camera. Finn still didn’t know what Philby was up to.
Philby double checked his phone and said, “No cell service, but it’s a good Wi-Fi signal down here.”
Philby handed his to phone Finn. “Can you see my hands?” he said, placing them on the keyboard.
Finn viewed the phone’s screen. It was the video image from the webcam Philby had installed. It showed the keyboard and Philby’s hands.
“Unreal,” Finn said. “Yeah, your hands and the keyboard.”
He took his phone back. “Check the cold room for hiding places,” he said, referring to a second server room with which the boys were familiar. “Room for both of us. It has to be good. We can’t be found.”
Finn entered a small room crowded with big, lumbering machines. The bigger and more sensitive electronics ran more efficiently when kept extremely cool. He found space behind a computer the size of vending machine.
“I’ve got something,” he called out.
“Stand by!” Philby called back. He used his phone to make a remote connection. He then tried his password for the third time. The computer bumped the access page and warned that access would now be denied for twenty-four hours.
He glanced at his watch. Given the past history of the DHIs and this server, he gave Base five minutes to respond.
It took only three minutes. A Security woman named Joyce Brighton, who’d worked Security for eleven years, the past three in the Utilidor, entered the server room with a cup of coffee in hand.
She glanced around, well aware that false alarms outnumbered real ones 20 to 1.
She surveyed the empty room, and reached for her radio. Then she stopped.
What on Earth was that foul odor?
It smelled like a Dumpster.
Philby and Finn remained hidden behind the towering rack of servers when the door to the supercooled room opened. Over the steady sound of the air conditioning and the computer fans could be heard a nose sniffing. Philby looked down at the brown muck and pieces of food and litter adhered to his clothing. Unfortunately, he’d already grown accustomed to the foul odor. Clearly the guard had picked up on it.
The nose worked the air in short little sniffs. The sound moved toward the two boys.
“What in heaven’s name is that smell?” said a woman softly to herself.
The guard reached the towering enclosure they hid behind.
“Ah-ha!” the guard said.
She tried to squeeze herself between the two enclosures. Finn and Philby had slipped through; judging by the sounds she was making, she was not a perfect fit.
“Joyce, what’s your twenty?” a male voice said over her radio. “Fresh coffee when you’re ready.”
The woman guard stood there, basically stuck between the two metal enclosures. She was maybe two feet from Philby. Her hand shot out from the gap, and nearly touched him as she tried to get to her radio. After a second try, she backed out into the main part of the room.
“Pour me a cup. I’m on my way. Tell Base that Data Operations is clear. They can send their guy over.”
The “guy” was not a guy at all, but a woman from Maintenance who arrived from the Studios in less than fifteen minutes. Philby had Finn hold the phone while he watched the image from the webcam. A pair of delicate hands appeared in frame and typed in a sixteen-digit string alphanumeric password. Philby knew what to watch for: he had Finn study the first eight finger motions, while he took the second set. Philby had sketched out a keyboard on a piece of notepaper; he marked the finger movements with Xs and numbered them.
The technician spent another twenty minutes putting the server through its paces-a full virus scan and a reboot. Apparently satisfied that there’d been no breach, she slid the keyboard back in its tray and left the server room.
“What now?” Finn asked.
“Now,” Philby answered, waving the piece of notepaper, “I do my magic and you and Maybeck get to sleep. We’re back in business.”
Maybeck sneaked out from under the cardboard boxes. The two guys had been told Base was “good.” They finally left.
His hand hovered over the STOP button.
Then he thought to send Philby a text.
want me to stop it?
Tucked in behind the plywood wall, he waited. And waited. When no text came back, he decided the reception was bad. He had to make a decision. Too much time had passed since the system had been restarted. By now, Finn and Philby had either been blown out of the system or were safe.
But his job was to keep the trash system down. He could stop it again, hide amid the boxes, and see what happened.
He hit STOP.
As Philby and Finn left Data Operations, Philby noticed that the overhead rumble stopped.
“Maybeck,” he said.
“About time!” Finn said.
The two boys hurried back and reentered the trash system. They moved incredibly quickly this time, knowing exactly where they were going. Reaching the vertical pipe through which they’d entered, Philby knocked three times. The lid opened and Maybeck reached down a hand.
“Hurry!” he said into the dark.
He helped Philby up, then Finn.
“Oh, man!” Maybeck said. “You guys reek like diaper poo.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Finn said.
Minutes later, they were attracting unwanted attention on their way out. But thankfully, the state of their smell kept the curious at bay. They cut a wide swath as they walked out of the employee gate at the front of the Park.
Finn caught sight of the time and called his mother. The arrangement had been for them to be picked up in Downtown Disney, but they were already late. He was going to have to risk the truth, or something close to it.
“Good grief!” she said as they piled into the car, Maybeck riding shotgun, Finn and Philby relegated to the back. “You two look disgusting.”
“We went Dumpster diving,” Finn said.
“You what?!”
“I threw my wallet away by accident,” Philby said. “It was on this food tray, and I just dumped it in there by mistake, and by the time I realized it they’d already emptied the trash-”
“So they went Dumpster diving,” Maybeck said.
“And we found it,” Finn said.
“In the Magic Kingdom,” she said. “What happened to Downtown Disney?”
“Our plans changed.”
“You aren’t allowed in the Magic Kingdom without permission.” His mom didn’t miss much.
“Something came up,” Finn said.
An ominous silence overcame the car’s interior. His mother was clearly considering how far to push her son with the other boys in the car. “Well, at least it has a happy ending,” she said, letting Finn off the hook. For now.
She rolled down the window. “Can I just say, you stink?” She burst out laughing, as did the boys, though their laughter was faked.
Then she went through the typical mom stuff: “Did you have a good time?” “Did you see any friends?” “How much money did you spend?” It was like she was reading from the same script anytime Finn did anything with his friends.
“Willa’s mother called.” She dropped it like a bomb and checked the rearview mirror for impact. The thing about his mother: she could lay little traps that he would fall into before he knew it.
“She said you knew what it was about,” his mother continued.
“Yeah. Okay, thanks,” Finn said.
“So,” she said, addressing Maybeck, “now you can tell me the real reason you were in the Magic Kingdom. And if you lie, I’ll know it. And I won’t be happy.”
She met eyes-mother eyes-with Finn in the rearview mirror.
“It’s probably nothing you want to hear about,” Maybeck said.
“Try me.”
Maybeck hesitated.
“Mom,” Finn said.
“We had an understanding, correct?” his mother said.
Philby knew that of all the parents, Mrs. Whitman had a love of all things Disney, and was maybe the only parent to support their efforts. He said, “The Overtakers crossed over Willa and she’s stuck in the Syndrome.”
“That’s why her mom called,” Finn said, joining in on the explanation. It wouldn’t look good if Philby was the only one telling the truth.
“They tricked us and phished for my password-a back door to the DHI server-and they got it. They blocked us out and I couldn’t Return Willa.”
“Oh, my…And tonight?” she asked. There she was, staring down Finn in the rearview mirror again.
“The Utilidor,” Finn said.
“The server room,” Philby said. “We had to gain access to the server. We set up a trap and the maintenance people fell into it. I trapped the master password, which allowed me to create a new back door. I can control the server remotely again now.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the Imagineers or Maintenance who locked you out in the first place?” she said.
“Attenuating circumstances,” Finn said.
“Extenuating,” his mother corrected, then added, “Which were…?”
Finn answered. “If someone from Disney had locked us out, it would have meant we were in big trouble. They’d have called you and Dad, right? The parents? But that didn’t happen.”
Mrs. Whitman nodded. She pulled off the highway and into a gas station. She parked the car and faced the three boys. “I realize I don’t get all of this, but if you’re back in the server, why not just bring Willa back now?”
“I tried when we were down there,” Philby said. “A manual Return is different than using the fob. When we use the fob, our DHIs and the signal are in the same location-the same projection coordinates. A manual Return only works for sure at the landing-the hub in MK, the fountain in Epcot. If her DHI is not on the plaza, there’s no guarantee it will link up.”
“So we’ve got to get her to the plaza,” Finn said. “We’re doing everything we can for Willa. What we need now is to get home and get to sleep.”
“To cross over,” she said. She didn’t sound pleased.
“Willa’s mom,” Maybeck said, “knows she can’t take her to the hospital because of what happened to Philby when his parents took him.”
“It’s up to us to get her back,” Philby said. “Tonight.”
Mrs. Whitman put her hands to her temples like she had a headache. “But to get her back you have to use that button, right? It’s in one of the Parks somewhere, isn’t it?” She was basically talking to herself. “Which Park?”
“Epcot,” both Finn and Maybeck answered at once.
“You have to find her first.”
“Yes,” Finn said.
“And then use the button to bring her back.”
“The fob. Yes,” Philby said. “It’s the best way. But as a backup, I can bring them back remotely.”
“Why would you need a backup?” she asked.
Philby responded, though tentatively. “Because…for some reason she hasn’t used the fob to Return. We don’t exactly understand that. The first thing is to find her.”
“So, shouldn’t I be taking you to Epcot?” she asked.
Finn looked dumbstruck.
“We’d never get in,” Philby said. “And even if we could, it would be too-”
“Dangerous,” Finn said.
“Risky,” Maybeck said.
“Dangerous, or risky?” she asked.
“Both,” all three boys answered, simultaneously.
Finn said, “We need to be DHIs. It’s way safer.”
“These are just Disney villains,” she said, as if trying to convince herself. “They are fictional characters.”
The boys said nothing. Unless you’d met Maleficent face-to-face, there was no explaining it.
“I thought they locked them up,” she said.
Philby said, “There’s no real way to know, but, yeah, we’re pretty sure they’re locked up.”
“Then who’s doing this?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,” Finn said.
“Try me.”
“The two we’ve seen so far are Cruella and the Evil Queen. There are probably more.”
“Oh, I hate the Evil Queen,” she said. Then she started laughing, and the boys joined in. She cleared tears from her eyes as they stopped. “What are you going to do? How can I help?”
“Seriously?” Finn said, wondering if the Overtakers had gotten control of his mom. This was his mom, right? “For one thing, you could call Jelly and Philby’s parents and tell them they’re spending the night.”
“I can do that. What else?” she asked.
Philby explained: “We have to get Finn and Maybeck to cross over and find her. As long as they can get her to the fob, we’re good. If something’s wrong with the fob-which seems possible-they need to get her to what we call ‘the landing’-the center of the Park, the fountain. Then I can bring them back manually, without the fob.”
“We could use a parent on our side,” Finn said. “If the parents gang up on us…it will not be good.”
“Meaning, you could use a parent in case something goes wrong?” she asked Philby.
“Uhh…”
“What could go wrong?” she asked. “You’re saying Finn and Maybeck might not Return? Like Willa?”
“I suppose.”
Finn held his breath. Think of Willa, he was chanting to himself. “Her mother’s really freaked out,” he reminded. “We know we can get her back.”
Mrs. Whitman put the car in gear and peeled out, throwing the boys back in their seats.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said.
Philby’s mother wouldn’t let him spend the night. Having lost her son once to the Syndrome she didn’t approve of his spending time with his Keeper friends. Despite the newspaper stories spreading rumors that the Keepers had defended Disney World from its villains, she had a limited view of their purpose. She didn’t give two cents about Disney World keeping its magic. Not if it put her son at risk. It wasn’t like he was saving the world or something. It was an entertainment company. Some theme parks. She wasn’t about to sacrifice her son for the sake of larger profits. Her resistance to anything Kingdom Keepers was tempered by an appreciation for the money Disney continued to contribute for Philby’s future college expenses; she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, but she had limits.
So Mrs. Whitman had dropped Philby home, taking Maybeck and Finn with her.
Philby had placed a towel at the bottom of his door to block the light from reaching the hallway, so when his mom checked it would look like the lights in his room were out. He sat at his computer.
ready? he texted Finn over Skype.
yes, Finn texted back.
its working. i’m in. good 2 go
Finn texted:
k, 9
Philby returned:
cm
Finn leaned back in his chair, his mother sitting on one side, Maybeck on the other, Finn’s father snoring from the other room.
“This worries me,” his mother said.
“It’s good news.”
“Not that,” she said. “But that I don’t understand half of what you’re texting.”
“It’s like a code.”
“I know that, Finn. Don’t get smart with me.”
His mother got irritable if she stayed up late. This was going to be a long night.
“Once Maybeck and me get to sleep, Philby’ll cross us over.”
“Maybeck and I,” she corrected. He ignored her: way too tired. “What about you getting back?”
“We’ll find the fob. No sweat. If it’s not working, we’ve already set up a time and Philby can manually Return us.”
“The manual override he talked about,” she said.
“Yeah, exactly,” he said.
“What time?”
“One.”
She sat back. “You all have thought it through, haven’t you?”
“It’s what we do, Mom.”
“Yes, but…You’re fifteen.”
“Almost sixteen,” he said.
“It’s a lot to deal with.”
“Not really,” he said. He could hear her rethinking her decision to allow him and Maybeck to cross over.
“It’s dangerous. Risky,” she said. “You both said so.”
“Exaggerating,” Maybeck said. “You know Philby. Remember, Mrs. W., when we cross over we’re holograms. Stuff passes through us.”
“What kind of stuff, Terry? Are you saying they try to hurt you?”
“It’s Disney World. Nothing bad happens,” Maybeck said.
Finn wondered if they’d used this excuse one too many times.
To Finn’s relief, she nodded. She was definitely tired.
“We’ve got to get to sleep,” he said.
Maybeck climbed onto an inflatable mattress on the floor.
“With your shoes on?” Mrs. Whitman said to Maybeck.
“Mom,” Finn said, “we know what we’re doing. Go to sleep. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“As if,” she said. She was even beginning to talk like him.
The 9 Finn had texted had let Philby know his mother was in the room. The cm that came back from him meant “Call Me.”
Now, with her gone, Finn climbed out of bed and let Maybeck know what was going on. He double-checked that his door was fully closed and returned to his computer. He called Philby, and spoke at a whisper.
“What’s up?” Finn said.
“There’s something weird going on,” Philby said. “Willa’s projection coordinates are for Epcot, but the current default for the Return is in MK.”
“How could that be? The fob’s in Epcot.”
“It was when we last saw it.”
“Why would the Imagineers reset the default?”
“It doesn’t make sense. Not for the Imagineers. The point is, we’ve lost the Return somehow. I’ll definitely have to cross you back manually from here.”
He made it sound so simple. One of Philby’s greatest qualities was his confidence. He wasn’t arrogant or a bragger; he just happened to be right most of the time-a know-it-all who didn’t get all up in your face with it. To hear him even slightly uncertain was alarming. Finn didn’t say anything about it. Philby lived with more pressure than most of them, stuck with the Professor role.
“So, we’re good to go,” Finn said. “One o’clock.”
“Yeah, sure. I just wanted you to know where we’re at. I can Return you manually. All I’ll need is a signal.”
“I’ll bring my phone.”
“Yeah,” Philby said, “but they don’t always work, so we go with one o’clock or a signal if you find her earlier.”
Philby had a plan for everything. He provided Finn with a way to signal him that Philby couldn’t miss.
“Okay.”
“But no matter what, if you can’t send a signal, you and Maybeck should be at the plaza by one-an hour and a half from now.”
“It isn’t much time. It’s a big place.”
“I realize that.”
“Philby,” Finn said, “if this doesn’t go right, it’s not your fault. Okay? Forget about that. Just, whatever you do, don’t let anyone else cross over. Three of us in the Syndrome is enough.”
“Do not go there.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” said Philby. “Don’t even go there.”
“If that happens, get to Jess. Maybe she’ll have dreamed something that will help us. But don’t freak out. Come into the Park as your real selves. We’ll find you. We’ll figure it out together.”
“Okay, now you’re definitely freaking me out,” Philby said.
“Just promise.”
“Yeah, okay. I won’t panic.”
“Someone’s got to keep it together.”
“I thought that’s your job,” Philby said.
Maybeck placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder, overhearing the conversation. It was not what he expected from Maybeck.
Finn hung up, and a few minutes later the boys went back to bed. It was not easy for either of them to fall asleep. Finn didn’t know how much time passed, but he woke up lying on the concrete at the edge of the Epcot fountain plaza. He’d crossed over.
“Took you long enough,” came the familiar voice of Maybeck.
Finn got up off the concrete, checked his hands for the shimmering blue outline, and grinned. It felt good to be back.
He sat with his back pressed against the concrete retaining wall that formed the fountain.
“So? How do we find her?” Maybeck said.
Finn looked around. Epcot began at the golf ball- shaped Spaceship Earth; two huge areas ran off to both sides, with a half dozen attraction pavilions in both directions. The plaza fountain gave way to the lake surrounded by replica World Showcase countries, with Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, and other world landmarks.
“Mexico,” Finn said. “We start with Philby’s plan.”
For close to an hour, Willa had huddled behind a rock in the Primitive Man display inside Spaceship Earth. Earlier, she’d heard two men speaking French-cathedral guards-as they’d passed on the ride. She’d made herself as small as possible, and held her breath to make no noise. One of the guards had apparently jumped out of the car he was riding, but by doing so he tripped a sensor and shut down the ride, at which point there had been a flurry of discussion.
Realizing his mistake, he and the other guards had left quickly. One of the advantages of being a hologram-Willa had not tripped the system.
Assuming Disney maintenance men, and possibly Security personnel, would follow up on the ride’s emergency shutdown, Willa had relocated to a display that included a Roman guard.
Things had been quiet for some time now, and so she ventured out, determined to search for the Return. Determined to get home.
She would start with Lost and Found. If a Cast Member discovered what looked like a garage door opener, he or she would turn it in. Because the Keepers had lost the fob once before, Willa knew exactly where to look.
She took her time, careful to advance and pause, advance and pause. After determining an area was clear, she would move a little bit farther. Thankfully, the Lost and Found wasn’t far: in the back office of a small building tucked away near the entrance gate turnstiles.
She reached the building, concentrating on her thin blue outline to make sure her hologram was all clear, and then walked through the back door.
She arrived into a tiny office with event posters covering the walls. There were two desks, one cluttered, one neat. Two computer terminals. Two phones.
The phones presented her with an opportunity she had not, until now, considered. She could call Finn or Philby and…except, she didn’t know their numbers. They were on her phone as speed dials, but her phone was back home. She knew Charlene’s number by heart; Charlene could relay a message. She would need to lose her DHI state at least slightly in order to be material enough to pick up and handle a telephone, but at this point being afraid wouldn’t take any effort.
First, she checked the metal cabinet marked Lost and Found. Unlike when Finn had to go into the cabinet months earlier, it wasn’t locked now. Inside, she found over a dozen cell phones, clothing, wallets, jewelry, driver’s licenses, credit cards, and four sets of car keys-all with black fobs. But not the Return.
Her conclusion was that the OTs had stolen it, as she’d suspected. She eyed the phones and the computers. Did she dare start down the road of fear in order to become material enough to work the devices? Once begun it was hard to turn back. Fear fed on fear.
But what choice was there? She thought of her mother trying to wake her while in the Syndrome. Her fingers, knees, and toes tingled. She picked up the phone and dialed.
Charlene answered.
“It’s me!”
“Willa?”
“I’m in the Syndrome.”
“We know that. But how-”
“I’m in Epcot. I’m pretty sure the OTs have the Return. You have to tell the boys not to come after me. It’s obviously a trap!”
“I…ah…I think it’s too late. The plan’s for Finn and Maybeck to cross tonight.”
“But they can’t. They…we…can’t Return.”
“Philby got back into the server. It’s going to be all right.”
“No, it’s not. Not anywhere close.”
“Finn and Maybeck should be there by now.”
“I need Philby’s number,” Willa said. “I keep it on speed dial, but-”
“Yeah. Okay. Hang on.”
As Willa waited, she looked down at the phone to see a line light lit. By using the phone, she’d given herself away. She hung up immediately. She had to get out of there!
She tried walking through the door, but bounced against it. Her fear had gotten the better of her. It was a sickening, downward spiral. She tentatively opened the door and slipped outside, pulling it shut quietly behind her.
When she turned around, a shape appeared around the corner of a building and quickly ducked back.
“Finn?” She spoke his name aloud, though only in a whisper. She glanced around haltingly, ensuring she was alone.
“Pssst! ”
He reappeared.
She waved, so happy to see him! Finn stepped out into the open, and she realized he’d come in disguise-he was wearing the same stupid costume, shorts and a T-shirt, that his DHI wore in the Magic Kingdom. She hurried toward him, a combination of relief and anxiety overcoming her: relief they’d found each other; anxiety over the thought of telling him there was no way to Return.
“Oh, my gosh, Finn! It is so good to-”
He evaporated into a wisp of smoke that reformed into something darker and larger…until she found herself facing the Evil Queen.
She screamed. Her hologram outline dimmed.
“You…witch!” she uttered angrily.
“You are correct. This small girl, impossible to lose; she now finds no way to move.” The Evil Queen waved her index finger in a tight circle.
Willa tried to run. She could hardly lift her legs. She was quickly surrounded by cathedral guards. Behind them, on the points of the compass, four crash-test dummies on Segways.
Cruella De Vil stepped out from behind the Queen.
“Well, well. I have to compliment you, dearest,” she said to the Evil Queen. “You’re quite the little Venus flytrap.”
The Queen ignored her. “The judge asked you a question, little girl,” the Queen said to Willa, her eyes squinting. “I fear you were rude to him. Let me explain that being rude to me will have far more…devastating results. Hmmm? Do I make myself clear?” The Evil Queen stepped forward. Willa found her beauty bewitching and powerful.
She nodded against her will. The sensation in her limbs slowly returned. Her legs no longer felt like they weighed a ton.
“Then out with it,” the Queen ordered. “Or suffer!” Another flick of her hand and Willa bent over in a convulsion, like she had been punched in the stomach. This despite her being in her state of partial DHI. She hated to think how that would hurt when flesh and blood.
The Queen waved her hands again and her lips trembled as she chanted some kind of incantation.
Spiders appeared out of cracks in the pavement. Hundreds, thousands of them. Small ones. Red ones. Black ones. HUGE ones. They swarmed at Willa’s feet, leaving her in the center of an oozing circle of hairy spiders. If she moved even slightly…
She was terrified, which dampened her DHI, making her more vulnerable. She was outmatched. The Queen got what the Queen wanted.
“WHAT DID JEZEBEL DRAW?”
“A face! A man,” Willa volunteered, still bent over, her stomach in a knot. The spiders encroached.
The witch cackled with laughter that sounded like breaking ice. “Who? What man? And be careful you don’t lie, little thing.” She began to sing. “‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider…’”
The ring of spiders tightened at Willa’s feet.
“A man…in uniform.”
Finn’s DHI climbed the stone steps running up the center of the Mexico pavilion, a Mayan temple with balconies of flowers on either side of the center staircase. He’d taken this same route with Philby; he knew what he was doing. Maybeck’s DHI had already reached the top, climbing as effortlessly as a cat.
“Wait up!” hissed a humiliated Finn.
“Move it!” Maybeck said. He watched Finn climb. “It’s only a set of stairs.”
Tiny stairs, steep stairs, Finn felt like saying, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Memo to Whitman: I don’t think you’re going to be able to see Willa from up here. So what, in the name of cream cheese, are we doing here?”
“Doing what Philby told us to do,” Finn whispered back. “Into the booth.”
“The IllumiNations booth? How’s that supposed to help Willa?”
“Remember in The Wizard of Oz, the man behind the curtain?”
“Sure. The old guy. What about him?”
“That’s you. You’re the man behind the curtain. You’re the one controlling things.”
“I’m liking this plan more and more, Whitman.”
I knew you would, Finn nearly said. “Okay, so pay attention.”
The longer he sat there staring at his computer monitor, the more concerned Philby grew. The webcam view was of the Park as a whole. He could see a few black specks move from time to time, but they looked about the size of ants. He couldn’t tell who or what they were, or what they were up to. If Finn is going to send me a signal, he thought, it had better be something good. Otherwise, I might miss it. So he focused intently on the most recent development: a thick group of ants had congregated between Spaceship Earth and the office building near the entrance. That couldn’t be good. It might be a meeting of Security, or a cleaning or maintenance team getting ready to deploy around the Park, or it could easily be Overtakers.
When Philby heard rustling in the bushes outside his window, he looked away from his computer.
The window was unlocked. Not good. What if there was a serial killer creeping around their house?
When he heard more brushing of sticks against the side of the house, goose bumps raced up his arms-something was out there, and it was too big to be a dog.
More like a person.
Willa was not scared of spiders; she was terrified of them. They moved as a mass around her bare feet within inches of touching her. Her DHI was anything but pure, making her physically vulnerable.
“What kind of uniform?” the Queen asked.
She’d said too much already. She hated herself for having said anything. “A security officer,” she lied. “Like at the airport.”
There were two huge vultures following behind her. Cruella steered clear of the birds as she walked around Willa, studying her.
Willa’s eyes followed Cruella.
“I don’t think so,” the Evil Queen said. She waved her hand. The spiders swarmed over Willa’s feet and started up her ankles. She cried out and kicked with both legs, like running in place, but the spiders kept coming. Screaming, she brushed them away, but there were thousands of them, and each time her bare feet landed she felt them squish beneath her while a hundred more climbed onto her.
“Get them off!”
Willa jumped out of the oozing black circle, but a vulture came at her, flapping its large wings, and stuck its grotesque bald head and curved beak into her face, driving her back. She leaped to her left, and the second vulture blocked her there as well. She fled back into the swarm of spiders. Some had reached her knees. As fast as she could brush them off, they gained on her.
“STOP IT!”
“What kind of uniform, dear?” the Queen said in a perfectly calm voice.
“Military, I think. Those things on his shoulders.” She jumped and hopped and swatted at the spiders.
The Queen waved the spiders down and off her. They formed the doughnut again, with Willa at the center.
“That’s better, my little ugly duckling,” the Queen said. “More details, and I’ll keep them off you.”
Willa collected herself and looked up, intent to meet eyes with the Queen. But what she saw just beyond the Queen nearly stopped her heart: Finn. Her friend Finn, not the Queen’s copy of him. He wore all black and was carrying the shimmering blue line that said he’d crossed over. Finn, who’d come to rescue her.
The Evil Queen caught Willa’s eye movement and, without looking behind her, made a sweeping, surprisingly graceful motion toward Finn, her lips moving, but making no sound. Whatever she had expected to happen to him did not. The blue line around Finn’s DHI shimmered, though only slightly-he was only part hologram. He rushed Willa, lowered his shoulder, and hit her like a football tackle, throwing her onto his shoulder. He took off at a run.
Spiders raced up his back, Willa brushing them off furiously. She looked down: the stream of spiders had stretched into long black line like a…
Snake.
Gigabyte, the twenty-foot python, was a matter of yards behind Finn. The vultures flew on either side of him.
Back at Gigabyte’s tail, the remaining spiders turned into rattlesnakes.
“Finn…” Willa gasped, laying atop his shoulder. “Snakes.”
The rattlesnakes moved faster than the giant python.
“Finn?” she said.
He could feel himself slowing down-the more frightened she became, the heavier she was to carry.
“Don’t…look!” he said. He followed the path past Innoventions West and aimed for the fountain plaza, now in sight. Maybeck’s timing was going to have to be perfect, or between the snakes and vultures they would lose their chance to Return.
The fountain was now only a matter of twenty yards away. A figure appeared on the far side, toward the lake: Maybeck, running at a full sprint, two CTDs on foot chasing him.
Maybeck counted down in his head: thirty-nine…thirty-eight…thirty-seven…
He had a pair of robots on his tail, pursuing his DHI at lightning speed. One of them had gotten close enough to fire some kind of Taser, but because of his DHI state, its electrodes and wires had passed right through him.
Up ahead he saw Whitman carrying Willa on his shoulder, and some kind of broken shadow slithering behind him. Behind the shadow came the Evil Queen and Cruella. If this had been Philby’s plan, he was out of his skull. They’d walked right into a nest of Overtakers.
“Uncool!” he shouted as he skidded to a stop, seeing the snakes-not shadows but snakes!-braiding themselves around the feet of Finn’s DHI.
“Do NOT look down!” Maybeck added.
Finn looked down. His blue hologram line faded and the tangle of snakes locked around his partially mortal ankles, and Finn fell, dumping Willa, whom Maybeck caught in his arms.
Maybeck had lost count. Eighteen? Twelve? Whitman had told him he had to keep count.
Oops…
Finn rose to his elbows, but surrounded by hissing rattlesnakes, he froze.
“Welcome, boys,” said the Evil Queen, finally catching up.
Maybeck helped Willa keep her balance as he put her down. It was a clever move-it put her within an arm’s length of Finn. If she dared to reach across the snakes, they could hold hands.
Philby stared out his window. It was not a serial killer; it was Hugo Montcliff, and more important, he had Elvis in his arms. Elvis, an inside cat, had disappeared earlier that afternoon and Philby’s mom had been distraught. Hugo would be a family hero for years to come.
Philby threw open the window. “You found him! My mother’s going to saint you.”
“He was wandering around the Evans’ house.”
“Need the couch tonight?” Philby knew Hugo couldn’t suffer his parents screaming fights all night.
“You mind?”
“Climb on in,” Philby said, making a gesture like a hotel doorman. Hugo passed him Elvis and followed through the window.
Philby felt a shiver, but blamed it on the night air.
“Sorry, I’ve got to be rude,” Philby said, shutting and locking the window, “but I’m jamming.” He pointed to his desk. “It’s late, so be as quiet as you can. Wouldn’t want to wake up my mom. Towel’s in the closet. I’ll catch you in the morning.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t stay.” Hugo’s voice had dropped an octave. He spoke softly, sounding hurt.
Philby, who was now a step closer to his desk, looked back at his friend, feeling sorry for him. “No, I didn’t mean that. I’ll be done in a couple minutes.”
“Is that Epcot?” Hugo said, stepping closer.
“That’s amazing you could recognize it,” Philby said. His screen was nothing but some lights, the shimmering water of the lake, and…the little ants had moved to the fountain plaza.
That has to be Finn and Maybeck. But there were way too many ants on the screen-if it was Finn, he and Maybeck weren’t alone.
“Can I play?” Hugo asked.
“Ah…it’s not exactly a game, and, ah…You know, if you don’t mind, I’m a little busy right now.”
“Oh, but I do mind,” Hugo said. “Don’t touch that keyboard.”
Philby spun around. With Hugo having been outside in the dark, he hadn’t gotten a good look at him, especially given that he’d been holding Elvis. The cat had won Philby’s attention-by design, Philby thought. Because Hugo’s eyes were a vivid green.
Hugo had brown eyes.
Philby couldn’t believe it! Hugo? Of all people! After all Philby’s family had given to the boy! He felt overcome with anger and disbelief.
He saw his terry cloth bathrobe and belt lying on his bed. The belt would work to tie Hugo up.
Philby charged.
Hugo knocked him out of the way and onto the bed. Where had that kind of strength come from? Philby did a somersault and sprang from his haunches, launching himself at the boy.
To his right, a burst of color erupted across his computer screen.
The signal.
The lake burst into flames, flooding the night sky and illuminating every pavilion in a wash of golden light. It reflected off the face of the Evil Queen. It danced in Cruella’s eyes.
Finn hopped to his knees and stood, leaning to reach across the tangle of rattlesnakes and touch Willa’s outstretched hand.
It was not only the water burning. A dozen towering torches surrounding the lake had also burst into flames. But the water effect, part of the IllumiNations show, was a spectacular sight: giant balls of orange flames boiling off the water’s surface and rising into the dark, looking like the surface of the sun.
The timing of the effect had been Maybeck’s job: to schedule the pyrotechnics that Professor Philby had discovered on the control booth’s computer when he and Finn had visited two nights earlier. More than a thousand different pieces of ordnance on water barges, and a half-dozen laser projectors mounted on top of pavilions, were all synchronized by the IllumiNations computer. Following their spotting Willa and the Queen on the Security video, Maybeck had scheduled the fire events, giving himself five minutes to leave the control room, climb down the Mayan Temple, and catch up to Finn. With it nearing one am and the scheduled manual Return, maybe the pyrotechnics would offer a needed distraction.
Given that it looked like all of Epcot was on fire, there was no way Philby could miss the signal.
Now all he had to do was remotely tell the DHI server to Return them.
Philby witnessed the wash of flames engulfing Epcot’s lake and stretched for the computer’s Return/Enter key.
But Hugo held him by the shoulders, struggling to get his arms around Philby’s chest and squeeze the wind out of him. Philby stumbled back, his fingers hitting the spacebar instead of the Return key.
He threw an elbow into Hugo’s stomach, and groaning, Hugo let go. Philby regained his balance…took a step toward his desk…and was tackled to the floor.
He went down hard, face-first. Philby rolled over and kicked out, catching Hugo in the face. But Hugo scrambled on top of Philby, pinning his shoulders and winding up with a balled fist. As Hugo drove the fist toward his face, Philby jerked his head. Hugo punched the floor. Philby’s hand found the wicker trash can; he raked it across Hugo’s face and the boy went off him.
Philby rolled and shoved his hand into Hugo’s face-the fake green eyes staring back, unflinching and terrifying. Philby couldn’t look at those eyes. He turned away.
Hugo grabbed both of Philby’s wrists, pushing up, trying to get Philby off; Philby pushed back, trying to hold Hugo down. Their arms began to tremble, then to shake.
Light flashed from the computer, the lake alive with fire.
Philby managed to pin Hugo’s left arm with his knee and reach for the computer with his right hand. Hugo rocked side to side attempting to free his arm, and making it impossible for Philby to properly aim his fingers. He missed the Return key three times in a row.
Hugo kneed Philby in the back, freeing his hand, which he used to palm Philby below the chin and propel him back toward the bed.
Hugo jumped up and reached for the Escape key, which would close the current window-Philby’s link with the DHI server.
Philby had bit his lip; he tasted the salty tang of blood in his mouth. He was mad.
Elvis was just standing there on the bed like a spectator. Philby grabbed him and held him just behind the front legs and lunged for Hugo using the same technique his family members used to train Elvis to use his scratching pole. It forced Elvis to extend his front claws-claws that now tore through Hugo’s shirt, leaving eight narrow tracks of blood behind as Philby dragged him down the boy’s back, and then tossed Elvis back onto the bed as Hugo let out a gut-wrenching scream.
Philby spun Hugo around, tripped him, and dumped him to the floor. He stabbed for the Return key.
THIS ACTION CANNOT BE UNDONE
DO YOU WISH PROCEED? Y/N
He hit Y.
The bedroom door burst open. A wrinkly-faced woman with no makeup, an adhesive strip across the bridge of her nose stretching her cheeks, and wearing a pair of pajamas covered with cartoons of Marge Simpson, shouted: “BOYS!”
Both Hugo and Philby stopped cold.
“What in the devil is going on, young man?” Philby’s mom said to him. The next thing she said was, “Elvis?” in a loving and kind voice of pure affection.
Hugo stood up, unlocked the window, threw it open, and dove outside.
Philby watched the bandwidth meter spike in the bottom right corner of the computer screen. The DHI properties of the holograms were being saved back to the DHI server. The Return. The whole process could take anywhere from ten to sixty seconds.
Precious seconds.
“Dell?” his mother said.
“Please, Mom, no!” Philby said, seeing his mother march toward his desk. “Remember what happened to me?” he said in a begging tone. “If you shut my computer, it’ll happen to all three of them-Finn, Willa, and Maybeck. Mom! You don’t want that to happen.”
Shutting the computer, putting it into sleep mode, would send his friends to sleep along with it. Stuck in the Syndrome.
Finn couldn’t take his eyes off the trembling hands of the Evil Queen held high above her head. She reminded him of a major league pitcher in his windup. She was about to deliver some kind of spitball, sinker spell, that would make the spiders and rattlesnakes look like kids’ stuff. Something nasty.
The flames licked off the lake.
Tears ran down Willa’s face as she mouthed, “Thank you,” to Finn.
The Evil Queen threw her hands at them with a witch’s fury, her lips spouting an incantation.
“Children in peril
Children in fright-”
But she stopped before completing it.
Willa had disappeared.
Finn watched as Maybeck sparkled, became transparent, and vanished.
Finn sat bolt upright in bed. His own bed, at home. Maybeck blinked furiously from his air mattress.
Finn felt something on his leg and threw back the covers.
A rattlesnake.
He screamed a bad word loud enough to be heard two blocks away.
He shook his leg like a maniac. The snake flew up and was caught, dangling from one of the paddles on his ceiling fan.
His father threw open his bedroom door and switched on the light, his mother craning over her husband’s shoulder.
When Finn’s ceiling light switched on, so did the fan.
The snake began circling overhead. The fan gained speed.
“FINN WHITMAN!” his father thundered, glaring at him. His father had run out of patience for the Kingdom Keepers after their earliest adventure. Wanting his son to focus on academics first and sports second, he had little tolerance for Finn’s claims of saving Disney from its villains. Although he appreciated the college money that resulted from his son’s participation in the program, and even secretly enjoyed some of the attention and fame that rubbed off on him for being Finn’s father, this kind of nighttime interruption to his family was exactly what he objected to and found so offensive.
He didn’t need a manual to understand why his son and Maybeck were fully clothed in black, wearing shoes, and sweating profusely while in air conditioning.
“I had a nightmare,” Finn said.
“Lying will only make it worse for you.”
The rattlesnake was currently rotating at warp speed, wrapped around the fan blade.
“Mom? Please?” he said, flicking his eyes to the ceiling fan.
His mother spotted the snake and went ashen white.
“Sweetie,” she said to her husband, “come on back to bed. Let’s deal with this in the morning. Nothing to be done now.”
Mr. Whitman seemed unmovable. “Terry,” he said, “do I have your word you two will go back to sleep? No shenanigans?”
The rattlesnake was losing its hold. Six inches of the snake was now sticking off the end of the fan’s paddle.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Whitman trusted Finn’s friends more than he did his own son.
Mr. Whitman made a grunting sound of disapproval, allowing his wife to pull him out of the doorway. She stepped forward, made a face of pure horror, and reached for the light switch. As she shut off the light, she closed the door.
Finn heard a thump, but couldn’t see in the darkness. His father opened the door again and peered inside. “What was that?” he said. “Are you testing me, son?”
“No, sir!” Finn answered.
The rattlesnake had hit the door. It was hanging in a coil from the pair of hooks on the back of the door, its tongue flicking in the direction of his father’s head.
Finn sprang out of bed. “Sorry, Dad. Won’t happen again. Good night.” He toed the door and shut it in his father’s face.
His father called softly through the door: “We’ll discuss this in the morning, young man!”
The snake turned toward Finn.
“Whitman!” Maybeck hissed, having backed up to the wall.
Finn dove into his closet and grabbed his laundry bag and a hanger. He’d seen this on the Discovery Channel.
“You gotta help me!” Finn whispered.
“Oh, yeah, as if that’s going to happen.”
“I need you to hold the bag open.”
“Pass.”
“I can’t do both at once.”
“No way!”
“Maybeck!”
Maybeck approached cautiously and held the bag. “This feels like the losing end of this deal.”
“You want to handle the snake? Be my guest.”
The snake’s rattle was going strongly, raising every hair on Finn’s body. If his father heard it, he might as well let the snake just bite him now.
Maybeck held open the laundry bag, his arms extended supernaturally. He was basically a ZIP code away. Finn hooked the snake with the hanger and lifted it carefully from the door’s twin clothes hooks. The snake hung heavily from the U of the hanger.
Finn lowered it slowly and Maybeck caught the snake in the bag.
“Window!” Finn hissed.
Maybeck moved that direction. Finn opened the window and Maybeck extended the bag outside.
“Okay,” Finn said, “let go.”
“I can’t,” Maybeck said. “My fingers are frozen.”
“Let…go…” Finn said, uncurling Maybeck’s fingers one by one.
The bag crashed down in the plants.
Shutting the window, Finn heaved a sigh of relief. Maybeck hadn’t moved. He looked like a statue.
“It’s out,” Finn said.
Maybeck shook his head and finally managed to step away from the window.
“We’ll have to check the bag in the morning and make sure the snake is gone,” Finn said.
“You can if you want,” Maybeck said.
Finn texted Willa and Philby.
Willa texted back immediately, thanking all three boys. Philby texted a few minutes later:
trouble here. group skype b4 skool @ 7:45
Reading the text over Finn’s shoulder, Maybeck whispered, “He thinks he had troubles. I gotta hear this.”