For Finn, it was a collision of confusion. At the time, he’d enjoyed the flirting with Charlene. It had been harmless enough. But he’d soon felt bad about it. He wouldn’t have told Charlene she looked pretty if Amanda had been present. But Amanda hadn’t been present, and Amanda hadn’t been nice to him for a while now. Was it wrong to flirt with Charlene when Amanda wouldn’t give him the time of day? He knew the answer when he felt guilt-stricken at hearing Amanda was coming aboard.
The rendezvous, the companionway outside of Animator’s Palate, was always busy around mealtime. But not late at night, which was why it had been chosen.
After midnight, the ambience aboard the Disney Dream changed dramatically. Bands of older teens and small groups of barhopping adults roamed the ship. Romantics sat in a deck chairs observing the night sky and the moonlit highlights on the water. It was a restful, quiet time. An officer might be seen in crisp whites, strolling, hands behind his or her back, contemplative—the close of another long sea day.
Charlene took up sentry duty in the long port-side corridor leading to the restaurant. She lay down on the recessed frame of one of the many large porthole windows that ran from the Atrium all the way aft to Animator’s Palate. Willa took watch on Deck 2, just below the rendezvous, while Storey Ming took the same location on Deck 4.
All four sentries had entered their location in a text message to Finn ahead of time, ready to send with the push of a button; this would tell him from which direction the trouble was coming, and therefore in which direction to flee.
Philby took command in the Radio Studio, controlling the 2.0 server that would allow Amanda to cross over, and to return her if necessary. Their Disney DHIs had been discontinued at ten o’clock, following the stage show in the theater.
Finn liked creeping around the ship at night, just as he enjoyed being inside the Disney parks after the gates closed. He remained keenly aware that security cameras were watching, and that crew members who served as security personnel might recognize him. Being recognized—which, he’d come to find out, was the price of fame—was not always such a good thing.
Although most of the passengers had gone to sleep, the crew had not. Finn approached from Deck 11, the warm Panamanian winds blowing across the rail. The ship had passed through the new canal without another incident; the captain had come over the public address explaining and apologizing for the “freak squall.” The open deck area that featured swimming pools by day was lined with pool furniture facing the Funnel Vision screen. Everything shipshape, neat and tidy, not a soul in sight.
Finn moved slowly between the wood cabinets that housed fresh towels, using them as screens. He felt exposed and at risk out here. He’d already gone over the rail once. He had no intention of ever doing so again.
A tall figure passed far on the starboard side of the ship, heading forward. Finn recognized the man’s clothing as that of a Cast Member—khaki shorts and a white polo shirt. It felt strange that the Cast Member didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t look in his direction, not even once. Typically they were so outgoing. He wanted to say this guy was just at the end of a long day, but it didn’t feel right; he found himself looking back at the man and walking faster.
Deck 11 had been a stupid choice. It required him to go through an empty Cabanas restaurant to reach the stern stairs. Being inside the closed cafeteria gave Finn chills. He saw OTs jumping out from every shadow. By the time he finally descended the aft stairs, he was a nervous wreck. He caught the eyes of Storey Ming at the landing of Deck 4—only the eyes, peering out of the shadows. That didn’t help things any.
When he arrived on Deck 3 he found himself alone. It took him a minute to settle down. Animator’s Palate occupied most of the stern. The landing on Deck 3 formed a kind of room, with closed doors to the restaurant to starboard and a narrow corridor leading to bathrooms and the restaurant’s main entrance to port. He waited, checking his Wave Phone for the time.
One of the port-side doors opened. The girl with the red highlights appeared.
“In here,” she said.
Finn hesitated. A trap? The plan had been to stay on the stairway landing, giving them plenty of options for escape.
“I’m waiting for someone,” he said.
The girl swung the door open wider, revealing Amanda. Amanda smiled a bit uncertainly at Finn. For a moment, his Charlene-guilt overwhelmed him. He wanted to run to her, to apologize for something that she didn’t even know about. But he caught himself. Not the time. He looked around—how could he tell the others they were going off plan? He entered the dark restaurant. The girl eased the door shut quietly. It clicked into place.