Her wide eyes narrowed in hatred. She lunged again.
Finn straightened himself out and gained speed. He briefly pulled away from her.
Through the roar, he heard her mumble: “Anima transformatur!” Finn ducked as she flicked her wrist at him. A sandwich bag next to him melted and re-formed into a rat. That spell had been meant for him. At once, the rat came alive, its tail swiping, its little feet clawing for purchase.
Maleficent closed the gap. Finn tore a hole in a garbage bag, scattering its contents.
He heard a clank of metal not far ahead: yet another gate.
The rat scrambled and scratched at Finn. If he and Maleficent crashed into a gate together, she would have him and the plans. He felt certain of it.
She wound up to deliver yet another spell, the two of them racing through the slimy tube. Finn grabbed hold of the clawing rat and threw it at her. Maleficent fought off the rat and came right for Finn.
He saw a small white circle grow larger and wider. The end of the tunnel! Finn could smell fresh air.
Trying to buy himself time, he shouted at her, “You forgot something: evil never wins in the Magic Kingdom.”
She called back, “That depends on whose magic it is.”
Propelled out the end of the trash tube, Finn flew through the air and crashed into a sea of trash bags in an enormous steel collection box, like a railroad car. He scrambled toward the edge, where he saw Wayne and others, men and women, surrounding the huge collection bin.
“Hurry!” Wayne shouted.
Finn reached for the edge, pulled himself up and over, and fell to the ground, splatting, soaking wet with trash.
There he saw Philby and Maybeck, also covered in goo.
He watched as Maleficent shot out the end of the trash tube and into the giant container.
The team of adults quickly produced a net, dragging it from one end to the other and trapping her inside.
“To the bus! Quickly!” Wayne hollered, moving in that direction himself.
The other adults worked furiously to secure the net.
As Finn ran, he heard Maleficent’s wails of complaint from the bin.
Maybeck, Philby, and Finn caught up to Wayne—the old guy limping along.
Finn shouted, “You’re not going to—”
“No!” Wayne replied. “We don’t kill anything here. Not even witches. We’ll give her a taste of her own jail—the one you found—for a while. It’ll give us time to determine how much power the Overtakers have gained. You’ve done well! We’re almost through.”
“Almost?” shouted all three boys, coming to a stop at once.
They all boarded the bus.
Finn handed him the plans and the pens.
Wayne looked back gratefully and said, “Good job, kids.”
34
Looking out the window of the castle apartment, having crossed over just before ten o’clock, Finn thought the park looked beautiful.
He wondered if he’d ever know the truth about Amanda, if he’d ever see her again, for she’d been noticeably absent from school that Monday. He thought about Maleficent saying that there were Overtakers far more powerful than she was, and he wondered if more adventures lay in store for him and his new friends.
Willa was the last to cross over. She appeared in the room, wearing a cotton nightgown that flowed to her ankles. To explain this she said, “My mom put me to bed. Nothing much I could do about it.”
Finn looked around at each of his new friends. He liked them all, though each for a different reason. He unrolled the faded blueprints of the park.
They examined them, fascinated to see how the park had started out. Wayne explained what they were looking at.
From the group of pens and pencils on the coffee table, Wayne selected a boring-looking black one. It was fat and bulged. A very old fountain pen.
Wayne put on a pair of sunglasses. He passed out sunglasses to all the kids too, and told them to put them on as well.
“Now,” Wayne said, “we finally put the two together.”
“How will we know if it’s right?” Finn asked.
Wayne’s aged face twisted into a smile. “Believe me, we’ll know.”
Wayne contemplated the pen, then passed it to Finn, “This is for you, I think.” He indicated a small metal lever on the end of the pen.
Finn picked up the pen, carefully unscrewed the cap, and hooked the small lever with his fingernail. He looked up at each of the others, their expectant eyes filled with curiosity and excitement.
“Hold it up high,” Wayne instructed.
Finn did so, and pulled on the lever. A single drop of dark ink splashed down onto the plans. Finn, Wayne, and all the kids jumped back.
The drop of ink settled, then expanded and bled out into each and every faded line drawn onto the plans. It raced from one to another, spreading faster and faster. Faint lines became solid and bold.