“Sure you are, sweetness. You go right ahead. Meet whomever you want.” She motioned him through the gate.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to go any farther.
People got goofy around him and the others. More so lately than ever before. Grown-ups. Children. Teachers. It didn’t seem to matter. His mother called it celebrity. But if this was celebrity, he felt sorry for famous people. Perfectly nice people melted down into blubbering fools around celebrities. Women behind counters allowed you access they shouldn’t. Doors were opened that shouldn’t be opened for you. Maybeck could get into any club he wanted. Thankfully he didn’t want to get into any clubs. But at fifteen he was underage, so what was with that? It was like people wanted so badly to give you stuff that they’d poison you just to say they were the ones who had done it. Fame was not for the weak-minded. Being adored was dangerous.
Finn heard the partying over at Crush ’n’ Gusher and felt heavily tempted to blow off the Wayne assignment and ride the slides. It was probably college kids. He wondered what kind of parent could afford to rent Typhoon Lagoon for their kid’s party. Only one answer: a very rich one. Finn was not rich. He didn’t know how to act around rich people. Once across the bridge over Castaway Creek he turned left as Wayne had instructed, though was once again tempted by the sound of laughter and squeals of joy over at the Crush.
He continued around the curve toward Keelhaul and Mayday Falls, all alone. As a Keeper, Finn was accustomed to empty parks, the vastness, the creepiness, but Typhoon Lagoon was a new one for him, and it took some getting used to. The water in the Surf Pool was as flat and shiny as an ice rink. But the waterfalls and slides were all running, the churning sound filling the night air. It was the emptiness that creeped him out. What had Wayne gotten him into? He was used to a thousand screaming kids here. Besides the rush of water there was only the occasional shriek from Crush ’n’ Gusher to keep him company.
As Wayne had instructed, he took the long way around to the Typhoon Boatworks, though it seemed wrong not to take the more direct route. He wasn’t sure why Wayne wanted this, but Finn assumed it was to keep him from getting too close to the party and needing to explain himself. Or maybe it was so that someone could keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn’t being followed. Or maybe it was so he could figure out if someone was following him. Or maybe Wayne was losing a step. Maybe Wayne was a few quarts low. He recalled his mother’s attention to her rearview mirror and he felt a shiver. After becoming a DHI and Kingdom Keeper his life had transformed into a complex of alliances and enemies. He didn’t wish such an existence on anyone. It wasn’t like he was a superhero; he was just a kid. But he had superhero issues to deal with.
Finn kept away from the edge of the Surf Pool, though he wanted to climb to the lookout. He took the tunnel that led to the path behind the wave-generator wall, now on the Mountain Trail and continuing toward Humunga Kowabunga, his second-favorite spot in the park after Storm Slides.
He heard something behind him and stopped short. The scuffing continued briefly, but stopped abruptly. In his former life he might have called out to see who was there. But not as a Keeper. He ducked into the foliage and squatted low, trying to be quiet. He broke a small branch on a bush and to him it sounded as loud as a starting pistol. He waited and waited, wondering if it had only been his imagination since no one appeared and he heard nothing out of the ordinary—only the distant euphoria of the party echoing throughout the empty park. Finally he summoned his courage and reentered the trails.
But within a few steps he heard the same sound again. This time he identified it more as plastic on stone. Like a bucket being dragged or a water bottle being set down onto a hard surface. Not a single bucket. Many buckets.
Again he hid in the foliage, pushed back away from the path, but still with a view of it.
The sounds grew closer and his fear intensified. They weren’t human sounds.
When he first saw them, his body went cold. He mistook them for crash-test dummies—“CTDs” in Keeper speak—from Epcot’s Test Track: Overtakers that had challenged him and other Keepers on multiple occasions. The CTDs were inhuman robots programmed by the Overtakers for only one mission: to catch and kill Keepers. They carried onboard heat sensors, high-def video cameras with scanning capabilities (as eyes), super-sensitive audio enhancement (ears), and no human emotion or fear. Finn was a sitting duck.
Only then did he see his mistake. They weren’t CTDs.
Two of the six were smaller than the four others. Immature dummies. Teenagers, Finn realized. They were rescue dummies used for lifesaving and water rescue drills and training. Their limbs were all messed up—feet pointing backward, arms twisted inhumanly. They stumbled along like six zombies: four adult dummies and the two teens. All boys. Bare plastic chests for the application of CPR. Epcot’s crash-test dummies at least looked somewhat human. The rescue dummies looked more like something raised from the dead—a leg dragging, arms flapping at their sides, blank faces. Their limbs were combinations of soft padding and hard plastic. How the things could even stand without support was beyond explanation—unless one considered Maleficent’s awesome powers.