Kingdom Keepers IV(4)
“The power!” she said. “Call down and tell them to cut off the power.”
* * *
“It’s coming apart!” Finn yelled. On the screen, the parallel tracks rushed toward them at impossible speeds, reflecting the velocity of their virtual roller coaster car. Finn could barely look at it—another five loops coming up, then a series of left corkscrews and what appeared to be the edge of a cliff—another of the thousand-foot drops. It was no longer the pattern of the animated tracks that frightened him, but the sounds of grinding metal and the way the seats in the simulator were no longer level, but leaning heavily left. It was being made to do things it was not designed to do. Its parts were failing—the bushings, the bearings, servos, and gyros; it was like a car going down the side of a mountain with no steering and two of its wheels loose. It was going to crash.
“How could they know where we are?” Amanda cried out. “How is that possible?”
Finn didn’t answer. He knew that when it came to the Overtakers, anything was possible.
“We have to stop it,” he said, looking for options. He shoved his back against the seat and tried to slip out of the chest restraint. It was the same kind of restraint used on real roller coasters—a padded pipe that pulled down over your head. There was some slack in the way it fit. He got about halfway out before getting stuck.
“You’re going to crush yourself!” she said.
The simulator spun sideways and rotated forward in full circles seven times. Finn felt his dinner coming up again. Each time he took his eyes off the screen he felt sick. He tried to focus on the screen the way his father had told him to focus on the horizon when seasick. The nausea passed. He was okay.
They fell hundreds of feet, facedown.
Finn squeezed back into his seat, unable to free himself.
“We…have…to…do…something!” he said.
“I’m up for suggestions,” she answered. Oddly, Amanda sounded suddenly collected and unaffected by the flips and twirls and drops. She could actually string a sentence together.
Then it struck him: Amanda had a unique power.
“Push…it…open,” Finn shouted over the roar of the simulator’s disintegrating parts. Amanda flashed him a look, her dark hair hanging fully upside down, her cheeks vibrating like Jell-O. Her eyes strained to find the hatch door that Megan had closed electronically. Neither of them knew exactly what was up or down any longer.
“It’s too strong! I heard it lock,” she said.
So had he, but what choice did they have? “You…have…to…try!”
If the seal broke, maybe it would initiate an automatic shutdown.
“Could be dangerous!” she said. For me, Amanda was thinking. How would they explain the damage to the simulator? Damage that would come from the inside? So far in her life her “gift”—as some called it—had only gotten her in trouble or made her the object of teasing. Subjugated at the age of eight to a foster home for freaks in Baltimore—the Fairlies—she’d been studied by scientists, doctors, and soldiers until she’d had no choice but to run away with Jess. She had no urgent desire to make a scene with her gift and bring all that down on herself again.
They jerked violently left, right, front, back, and left again. Finn’s head felt as if it was going to come off his neck. Dangerous? he wanted to say. Really?
Amanda couldn’t risk Finn’s getting hurt. She released her bloodless grip on the chest restraint, reaching toward the screen with outstretched arms. Finn watched her close her eyes, bend her elbows, and flatten her hands, palms facing out like a traffic cop’s. She pushed up over her head—all at once, and with every ounce of strength she possessed.
The metal bulged like it had been hit with a battering ram. Red paint flakes rained down. Sparks flew.
“Again!” he hollered.
“Too strong!” she complained.
“You’re all we’ve got.” The vibrations climbed toward a climax. The push had made the simulator lean even farther to the left; the grinding of metal was now louder than the sound effects.
He smelled electrical smoke. They were going to suffocate.
“EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!” he shouted.
The act of pushing drained Amanda. At low levels she could briefly levitate a person or object—cause them to float for a few seconds. Using up more of herself, she could shove a car a few feet in a parking space, or knock a group of people—or Overtakers—off their feet. Or bend a simulator hatch door. Finn needed her to give it her all.
“O…M…G!” she screamed.
On the screen, the track ahead of them rose, fell, and tilted to the right before…disappearing. It looked as if someone had simply erased the track—it broke off in space. Below the break was a rock canyon so deep that Finn couldn’t see the bottom.