Kingdom Keepers: The Syndrome (13 page)

When the car turned into the entrance to the Grand Floridian, I practically squealed aloud. What a place. All white antebellum-Victorian architecture. A carriage out front. We’d passed the
Wedding Pavilion on the way.

“We’ve got to pick up the Magic Bands from the front desk. You can wait in the front lobby with Bob,” Joe said.

Stepping through the doors overwhelmed me. An open atrium reached five stories up; gingerbread trim and delicate railings lined the balconies. Across the enormous room, a live band played. High
above, two chandeliers hung from the ceiling; higher still were a set of domed stained-glass skylights. Palm fronds dotted the lobby floor, interspersed with chairs and couches. It was to one of
those couches that Joe walked me, hand on my shoulder, apparently feeling obligated to ensure that I made it safely.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

I resented being treated like a five-year-old. I nodded, but with difficulty. Something wasn’t right. Joe’s patronizing tone and actions were an affront to me.

He caught the eyes of the VIP receptionist accompanying us. His look said
Watch her.

I shuddered.

Joe joined the two Imagineers at the front desk. Turning to the VIP hostess, I put on my best innocent-teenager face and asked for the nearest restroom. The hostess pointed to the right of the
concierge desk, well away from Joe and the others.

I excused myself. She didn’t bat an eye.

The lobby’s design worked in my favor. In front of the door to the ladies’ room, I was shielded from view by a giant decorative birdcage. I stopped for only a second to pull a
sweatshirt from my backpack, slipping it on and pulling up the hood in spite of the heat. Then I power-walked, keeping my head down. Seconds later, out the back door of the lobby, I broke into a
run, past the pool, past Narcoossee’s restaurant, down to the dock from which water ferries shuttled guests across the lagoon to the Magic Kingdom.

“You just barely made it,” the captain of the ferry said, smiling as she closed the rail gate behind me.

“Thanks for waiting!”

I took a seat in the back of the small boat. It pulled away, leaving Joe and his secrets behind.

AMANDA

Strapped neatly around an upper branch of the tree outside Fort Langhorn was Finn’s wristwatch. It glistened in the wan rays of moonlight.

I climbed up, eager to confirm it was his. I knew everything about it, down to the black band’s rough outer edge, worn away from constant use. I fought the tightness in my throat;
swallowed back my fears for Finn and shoved away the self-pity.

In the dim light and shadows, I saw a heart carved into the tree. It was a deep old scar left long ago. Framed within the heart were the initials:
F + A
. My heart did a somersault. How
had Finn found this spot where two lovers carved their initials twenty, thirty, forty years ago? I wondered if discovering the carving had spurred him to kiss me for the first time here, near this
tree. Finn knew so much about the parks, though he had been aided by Wayne’s mentoring. How incredible to have found such a spot. The carved heart matched the paper one he’d left in his
pocket for me. Finn planned everything, dreamed everything, believed everything. I missed him now more than ever.

Our time,
he had written, and he’d hidden his wristwatch on a tree limb in an area of the park only I would know to search. Finn was acting more like Wayne than ever. I dropped back
to the dirt with a thump and tried to work out whatever message he’d intended for me.

Time. A tree. A fort. A kiss. Again, my heart felt like it was riding the Rock ’n’ Roller Coaster. I struggled against the thought that Finn was trying to say good-bye, was trying to
leave a message, a reminder of our best times. Please, no!

A jar to overflowing…

Time. A watch. A tree. A fort. A kiss. A jar.

A kiss. A fort. A tree. A watch. A jar.

A watch.

A jar.

Maybe it was desperation. Maybe Finn and I had a connection that transcended time and trees and the fort. But standing there, staring at the tree, trying to make sense of it all, I took
Finn’s watch as a landmark. He’d wanted me to find it, of course. I knew that much. It meant something. It marked something.

I climbed back up to the branch and felt around for any carving, for a note, for anything I might have missed. Nothing. On the ground, I inspected the watch. The only thing wrong was that the
day of the week on the face was incorrect. It read Monday, which wasn’t the kind of mistake Finn would make. It might have been intentional, but I didn’t see how or why.

About to give up, I stepped closer to the tree and studied the precise spot at which the watch had been strapped to the limb. I couldn’t see well in the dark, but I was hoping for
something I might have missed. An arrow? Initials?

My eyes drew a line down the trunk, past another branch, farther down to the soil at the base of the tree. Maybe the dark helped, or maybe it was Finn’s work, but I suddenly saw that the
dirt at the base of the tree was different colors. In the soil, I made out four shoe prints. Four.

The dark disturbance in the soil had nothing to do with me.

I dropped to my knees and started to dig, throwing soil and wood chips to either side. My fingers traced a circle of soft soil about as wide as a Frisbee. The rest of the dirt, compacted and
hard, gave up nothing, but the softer circle yielded to my quickening scoops. The hole had been dug with a trowel or shovel, its interior edges sculpted vertically. The soil was damp and smelled
like a rich spring garden.

My fingers struck something solid. Not a rock. My heart practically stopped. Finn. The watch. Buried treasure. It drummed under my touch, and I knew at once it was a plastic lid. Something
inside me, deep inside, understood the significance of the find, the secrecy of it. I took a moment to look around, to see if anyone was watching. What I saw instead was a few stragglers, moving in
the direction of the ferry dock. I was alone. It was safe to continue digging.

I worked more methodically, my thoughts struggling to catch up with my actions. Finn had knowingly crossed over into the DHI state, but still, something had provoked him to leave a cryptic
message and emotional scavenger hunt intended only for me. I thrilled at the trust this implied even as part of me recoiled at the responsibility. I felt protective, even a little angry. I was a
mess.

Literally, a mess—dirt and wood chips covered me. Sighing, I used the dim light of my phone to reveal the hallowed treasure. Protruding from the remaining dirt in the hole was the top of a
blue and white soy protein powder container. New and undamaged, it clearly had not been in the ground long. I took one last look around and pulled it free. I couldn’t resist opening it,
though my internal voice warned me not to.

Inside were a few small toys, a rubber ball, and a picture I couldn’t make out. No note.

I didn’t want to spend time here, kneeling in the grass on Tom Sawyer’s Island. I returned the lid to the canister, kicked dirt into the hole and stomped it down, then double-checked
that I had pocketed Finn’s watch. In my heart, I told myself,
When he returns, he’s going to want that back
.

In my hand, I carried the item I feared would explain why that might never happen.

I rode a city bus from the Transportation and Ticket Center to downtown Orlando, and took another bus in the direction of Wanda’s apartment. One of its stops came close
to the old church. I got off, in part because I was closer to Finn’s house, too, though I doubted his parents would appreciate yet another visit—especially one this late. And I got off
in part to connect with Mattie and tell her about the can.

A trick for getting in and out of the church attic involved using the side basement entrance to the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, which was held as late as midnight on some nights. A regular in
the program, Joyce, came bounding over to me the moment I entered. We hugged, having not seen one another for a long, long time. As always, she offered me juice and a pastry. I gobbled down both
and wiped down the outside of the tall blue can I was carrying.

Then I took the building’s middle stairs to the upper reaches and knocked lightly on a door that felt like home. Nothing. I knocked more loudly.

“Mattie? It’s me!”

When she failed to answer, I tried to open the door, which could be “locked” from the inside by turning a piece of wood mounted to the jamb. To my surprise, it opened, suggesting
Mattie wasn’t home. That shattered my plan to examine the can with her, and sent a small shiver of fear darting through me. Where would she be this late?

She didn’t own a phone that I knew of. I stood in the dingy apartment, trying to think how or where I’d find her.

“Knock knock!” Joyce was standing at the door.

“Hi.”

“Listen, honey,” Joyce said, “I came in late tonight to the meeting and…well, just now one of the girls saw me with you, and I thought you should know that Mattie was hurt
two days ago. There was an ambulance.”

“What!?”

“She’s okay, I guess. Said she fell and hit her head.”

“Police?”

“I don’t know, Amanda.”

“An ambulance?”

“I’m sure it was just a precaution.”

I could barely hear her. My hands shook. I hadn’t realized I was crying until Joyce wrapped me in a hug and told me everything was okay.

“Can I take you somewhere?”

I nodded, my shoulders shaking.

“Mattie’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

I looked at her through blurry eyes. My voice croaked as I said, “I’m not so sure.”

AMANDA

Fifteen minutes later, past midnight, I trudged up the outside stairs to Wanda’s apartment. I used the key she’d given me, worried I might wake either her or
Mattie, if Mattie was actually inside.

I swung the door open slowly—and immediately heard voices. A girl’s voice. I hadn’t realized how tired I was because to me it sounded like—

“Jess?”

I sprinted across the room and dove on top of her. We hugged and laughed. In that moment, no one else existed. Just Jess. Wonderful Jess. I must have told her a hundred times how much I’d
missed her.

When I emerged from my adrenaline rush, I looked up at the smiling faces of Wanda and Mattie.

“Mattie, Mattie,” I said, crawling my way across the carpet and past the coffee table to the sofa. We hugged. I asked her if she was all right; to my horror, I learned that Luowski
had brutally attacked her and left her unconscious.

I settled into one of the chairs, still overcome with giddiness at the sight of Jess. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Wanda asked me about the soy protein canister and I laughed,
releasing what felt like days’ worth of pent-up tension.

“Never mind that! What about Luowski attacking you?” I asked Mattie.

Mattie told me about the horrible visit to the emergency room and the encounter with the Barracks 14er.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And that he was Barracks 14?”

“Positive,” Mattie said. “You’d have recognized him immediately. He used to hang around the guy we called the general. Remember the guy with graying hair?”

“Flat Top?”

“That’s him.”

“Flat Top is here in Orlando?”

“I was pretty much out. I didn’t see him, but I saw him in the thoughts of whoever touched me.”

“I should have told you,” Jess blurted out.

Whatever she was talking about was clearly news to the others. We all focused on her.

She spoke softly and apologetically. “I had one of my dreams. I didn’t sketch all of it; I couldn’t sketch. But…Mandy, the Barracks 14 people captured you. I think it was
you. It felt like you to me.”

“Where?” I asked, swallowing hard. I didn’t take Jess’s dreams lightly.

“Here, I think. That’s why Joe let me come along.”

“Joe’s here?”

Jess nodded.

“And it gets worse, I’m afraid,” Wanda said. “Tell her.”

Jess’s whole body seemed to tighten. “I overheard Joe say something about DNA, about bones. I wasn’t supposed to hear it. And I know for sure that he hasn’t told the East
Coast Imagineers he’s here. He made a big deal about that. I wasn’t to tell anyone. So I’m swearing you to secrecy, too. Only the four of us can ever talk about this.”

“No problem,” I said. “But why? What’s going on?”

“Something’s obviously afoot,” Wanda said, “and I can promise you: if it’s something to do with Finn and the Keepers, if Joe finds out Finn’s stuck in
SBS—if the others are stuck in SBS, too—I mean, that could be what it’s about. Philby wasn’t supposed to cross them over. What they’re doing has got to be against
every rule at this point.”

I looked at Wanda, asking a silent question. She faintly shook her head.

“I think we should,” I said. “Show them.”

“Show us what?” Mattie asked.

I stood, Jess rising with me. Together, we gently helped Mattie off the couch. I picked up the blue can and carried it with me as Wanda led the way.

She opened one of the guest bedroom doors quietly and, when the three of us were poised in the doorway, turned on the light.