Kingdom Keepers

1


He found himself standing next to the flagpole in Town Square, in the heart of the Magic Kingdom. In his pajamas. How he’d gotten here, he had no idea. His last memory was climbing into bed—it felt like only minutes earlier.

Gripped by a sense of panic, awed by the sight of the Cinderella Castle at night, Finn Whitman briefly recalled that he’d had other, similar dreams recently—always in the Magic Kingdom, always at night. But in his thirteen years, none so real, so vivid as this: he felt a breeze on his face; he smelled the wet earth of a flower bed not far away; he heard the distant whine of traffic and the buzz of a motorboat on the lake behind him.

“It looks so different,” he thought, only to realize he’d spoken out loud. Main Street stood empty, not a person in sight. He glanced around and quickly saw that he was all alone.

“Not so different as all that,” came a man’s voice. Though faint, it startled Finn. He looked around again, this time trying to find the source of that voice.

There! An old guy with white hair, on a bench in front of the Exhibition Hall. He sat so close to a seated sculpture of Goofy that Finn hadn’t noticed him.

Finn moved toward the man, crossing the empty street. He felt unusually light, almost buoyant.

The old man wore khakis, a collared shirt, and a name tag: WAYNE.

“Where is everybody?” Finn asked, struck by the electronic sound of his own voice.

“Is it empty?” the man asked, looking up anxiously. “Tell me what you see.”

Finn wondered if the old guy was blind. He seemed to be looking right at Finn; his blue eyes looked perfectly normal. Still, maybe he couldn’t see.

“Well,” Finn said politely, “it’s like…empty. And it’s dark out. And it’s just the two of us.”

Wayne’s expression changed to disappointment.

“What am I supposed to see, exactly?” Finn asked.

“You’re only supposed to see what you can see.”

“Whatever that means,” Finn said.

“It means exactly what it says.”

“If you say so.”

“Listen, young man, I’ve been around here since long before any of them were even created. I live in the apartment above the fire station.” He pointed right at the firehouse and then looked back at Finn. “That takes some seniority, believe me.”

Seniority or senility? Finn wondered. Living above the firehouse? Finn doubted it.

“Nice pajamas,” the old guy said.

Finn looked at himself. His pajamas seemed to be…glowing. What was with that? He said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you can see, if you’re not blind, then why’d you ask me about the park being empty?”

Wayne’s ice-blue eyes drilled into him. “How do you think you got here, young man?”

“That depends on where I am,” Finn answered honestly. This felt like no dream he’d ever experienced.

“Very good answer. I expected no less of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I assumed that you’d question this—that’s only natural—but ultimately there’s only one explanation, isn’t there?”

“Is there?” Finn asked, confused.

“The other ones I wasn’t so sure about. But you, Finn Whitman. By the way, that’s a fine name you have. A name with real potential.”

Finn took a step back. How did this old guy know his name?

“What other ones?” Finn asked. He studied Town Square and Main Street. The street lamps shone yellow. The Cinderella Castle glowed in the distance. All the familiar streets and paths and attractions, but empty. “I told you, there’s no one here. No one but us. It’s empty.”

Wayne said nothing as he stood and walked up Main Street, past the shops and toward the castle. Finn found himself following right along. They reached Central Plaza, an island in the center of a traffic circle, the spokes of which led to the Magic Kingdom’s various lands—Tomorrowland, Frontierland, Liberty Square. They stopped in front of a statue of Walt Disney with Mickey Mouse. The castle rose majestically into the night sky.

“What time is it?” Wayne asked.

As Finn brought his arm up to look at his watch, he saw that his arm wasn’t exactly his arm. It was…glowing. Not only glowing, but he could almost see through it. As if—

“What’s going on?” Finn asked. “What’s with my arm?”

Wayne sounded critical as he said, “Figure it out.” He then reached into his pocket and removed what looked like a remote control for a car: a small black plastic fob with a single red button. It looked like a garage-door opener.

“What’s with that thing?” Finn asked.