Authors: Ridley Pearson
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.