Free Kingdom Keepers VII by Ridley Pearson

that may have restored Chernabog to his former… glory ’s not the right word, but you get the point. A ceremony you, the Keepers, interrupted. Now they’re on the move. Eleven hundred trucks pass through that depot every day. So, do we know their intended final destination? No. But Long Beach is nearly due west of Anaheim. Any guesses?”
    “Ha-ha.” Maybeck sounds just too bored.
    “Something else we don’t know,” Brad adds, “is what they have planned, what resources they possess.”
    “This is like tracking terrorists,” Philby says, a little too eagerly.
    “Down, boy,” Maybeck says.
    “We don’t know what shape they’re in,” Willa says. “Three years underground, eating what, bugs? Worms? Rats? Living in filth, surviving on whatever water trickles through the rocks…”
    “It does more than trickle,” Finn says, speaking from experience. “But yeah, you’re right. They can’t be in great shape.”
    Brad says, “You know how to start a riot? Starve the population.”
    He lets the words sit there, filling the air.
    “So,” Maybeck says, “they’ve got a jacked-up monster beast and a ticked-off evil queen.”
    “We also know,” Willa says, addressing Brad, “that Maleficent is dead. One of their strongest, most active leaders is gone. Some of us saw her struggle to hold the OTs together. They’ve lost her. And we all know Chernabog’s not a candidate for the debate team. So it’s going to fall on one of the ladies to try to unify the OTs.”
    “We know,” Philby says, picking up on Willa’s line of thinking, “that they got on the Disney Dream for a reason. They didn’t just want to jump-start the Beast; they wanted to get to Disneyland.”
    “Exactly,” Brad says. He’s awkward as usual, uncomfortable treating kids so much younger than he is with respect, but clearly he values their opinions, understands that this is how they operate. Without them, he’s got nothing. “We don’t know what it is that they’re planning.”
    “Our destruction,” Maybeck says, instantly sobering the group, “for one thing.”
    The jet engines whine outside the windows. Blue sky. Brown terrain forty thousand feet below.
    “The end,” Finn says softly. “They’re planning the end. Of us. The parks. The magic. They have Tia Dalma’s black arts, the Evil Queen’s conjuring, and Chernabog’s evil. We’ve got…Without Wayne, what have we got?”
    No one dares answer, not even Brad. “We’ve got to get to Wayne. Figure this out.”
    “No movement relies on any one individual.”
    “Since when do five people make up a movement?” Willa asks.
    “A basketball team,” Maybeck says. “Enough for a basketball team. Barely. We can’t even field a baseball team. We’re pathetic.”
    The conversation has gotten away from Brad. He drags a wrist across his lips as he tries to sort out how to herd the Keepers back into positive territory. His eyes are bloodshot from fatigue.
    The pilot instructs his passengers over the intercom to prepare the cabin for landing. The private plane’s one flight attendant, a wiry but small man with a bad toupee, collects drinking glasses and plates, returns backpacks to storage. A moment later, they experience the smoothest landing in aviation history. Through it all, Maybeck looks terrified.
    “You’ve never flown before,” Brad says, challenging him. They can’t avoid picking on one another.
    “I—it’s—” Maybeck stutters.
    “Everyone’s first time flying on a private jet,” Finn says, coming to Maybeck’s defense. “And it’s very cool.”
    “Very!” Philby chimes in.
    Maybeck shoots Finn and Philby a look of thanks. Finn’s expression says, I’ve got your back. The plane taxis and slows. Maybeck peers out the window.
    “Charlene!”
    * * *
    The air tastes different. Willa hadn’t noticed it as a DHI the night before. Her attention had been on things flying. It’s fresh. Brown hills rise out of the green of palm trees. All that talk