They hurry away as the Dillard continues to recite the litany of his capabilities to no one.
“Will he stop?” Amanda asks Finn.
There’s a white feather caught by the breeze, floating before them. Willa waves it away.
“Who knows?” Finn says. “It’s all new to me.”
They don’t know if the door to the apartment is locked; they don’t bother using it. Inside, the group crowds the small entryway, then moves into the apartment’s sitting area, which is to the right. They keep silent as they explore the tiny apartment. It takes only a minute or two to determine that they’re alone.
“It’s small,” Willa says. “So much smaller than I expected.”
“It’s pretty,” Amanda says.
“My grandmother had a quilt like that,” Willa says, gesturing to a throw on one of the couches.
“Look at the huge Minnie!” Willa says. A huge stuffed Minnie Mouse sags against the table holding the lamp. “Couldn’t you just hug it? Maybe all night long? I would love to have a stuffed animal like that! I wouldn’t care who saw it!”
“It’ll have to wait. First we search all the rooms without 3-D glasses, then again with,” Finn instructs. “We’re looking at photos, embroidery, anything with letters or images. Whatever we find may need to be decoded—open minds here.”
He and the girls separate. As he searches, Finn keeps an eye on the lamp in the window. It’s a small, simple light with a white glass shade. Nothing pretentious or unusual, but perfectly preserved—as is every other antique in the apartment: two twin beds against opposite walls; the table holding the lamp; books, figurines, and a half dozen photos placed carefully around the walls. Near the short hallway is a tall wooden case with a curved top and an inset glass window. Finn is drawn to its unusual design. It looks like an old-fashioned jukebox—like something from Grease or Teen Beach Movie—but made of wood.
He steps closer. Behind the glass window, he sees bronze-colored discs the size of power saw blades. He’s normally able to figure stuff out on the fly; it rarely takes two looks for him to understand an object’s purpose. But for the first time in a long while, Finn is stumped. The thing’s function and the strange discs it contains baffle him.
Face to the glass, Finn squints into the strange-looking machine. The painted words have decayed over the years, but he’s able to read:
It is a jukebox, or a predecessor of one. The huge metal disks are like giant CDs. It has to be very old. Finn finds himself wishing the Dillard were here; discovering that feeling interests him.
“I’ve got something,” Willa says. She looks like a librarian in the oversize 3-D glasses. “Lower corner.”
Amanda moves toward her and pulls her glasses down in front of her eyes. “Yup! It’s tiny, but it’s there.”
Finn joins them, donning his glasses. A dime-size Osiris hieroglyph glows green, illuminating the black-and-white photo of a group of men in jackets and ties and women in dresses, all of whom hold shovels.
“That’s Walt,” Willa says, leaning in and gesturing toward the photo. “His wife, Lillian, and I think that’s Marty Sklar, the Imagineer. I don’t know the others.”
The date behind the superimposed Osiris hieroglyph is 1957.
“The Dillard will be able to identify everyone. I’ll get him.”
Finn heads for the door, but he’s only taken three steps when a girl’s voice sounds. “You can’t go out there.”
Shocked, Finn jumps back, loses all clear, and smacks into the wall. Willa emits a partial scream, which she quickly muffles with her hand.
“Don’t freak out!” The girl’s voice speaks again.
And then she materializes, blocking the hallway to the door. Her jet-black hair cascades over her face, revealing one blue eye. She’s wiry, high school age, wearing a red spandex suit, black shorts, and tall leather boots.
“Violet!” Willa says.
“Who?” Amanda asks, studying the young woman.
“From The Incredibles,” Willa says. “She looks so—”
“Real? Well…yeah! I’m right here, you know?” Violet says. “And you are?”
“Finn,” he says.
“I know your name, genius,” Violet says. “I’m asking if you’re human or…whatever-you-call-it.”
“Whatever-you-call-it,” Finn says.
“Which would be holograms,” Willa adds. “We’re holograms.”
“It was you who lowered the chain on the stairs,” Amanda says.
“Gold star,” says Violet. “Though not for myself. And you are?”
“Amanda. I’m kind of a friend.”
“Real or whatever-you-call-it?”
“Not real. More whatever-you-call-it.”
Willa says, “If you didn’t lower the chain for yourself, then who?”
“There’s a friend of ours out there,” Finn says simultaneously. “I need to get past you, please.”
“If you go out that door, Finn,” Violet says, “you will be eaten by Shere Khan.”
“The tiger? He’s out there?” Willa says.
Violet nods. “Shere Khan and Si on this side, Scar and Am on the other.”
Amanda’s eyes widen.
Willa’s eyes narrow, and she asks, “And you know this how?”
“Really?” Violet says. “I come in here. I leave you a clue—the chain—and you think, what, I’m here to pass the time? I know this because I live here, Willa. I’m here because we characters are under instructions to help the Children of Light however we can, and I happened to be chasing down my little brother when I saw the kitty-litter crew surround this place. I got the little annoyance back to our parents, made myself invisible, and slipped inside. FYI: you walked right past all of them.”
“Then why didn’t they attack?” Willa asks.
“How should I know? Maybe they’re waiting to see what you find.”
“Thank you,” Amanda says, shooting Willa a look. “We appreciate everything you and the others are doing to help us.”
“Very much,” Finn adds.
“Have you found what you came for?” Violet asks.
“We think so,” Willa answers.
“No, you haven’t,” Violet says immediately, shaking her head.
“It might be faster,” Amanda says, “if you didn’t talk in riddles. We kind of have enough of those on our plate at the moment.”
“I’m just measuring your intelligence,” Violet says. “We hear about how you guys are always outwitting the Dark Ones, but I’m honestly not picking up a lot of that right now.”
“Look. You didn’t come here to warn us, or to protect us,” Finn says. “You’re assigned to protect whomever it is you lowered the chain for. After all, you could have stepped over it, no problem.”
“That’s better,” Violet says.
“The white feather—the one I nearly inhaled,” Willa says. “Daisy or Donald Duck.”
“Very good!” Violet bows slightly. “But wrong, I’m sorry to say. The feathers are from her hand mirror.”
“What hand mirror? Who…her?” stammers Finn.
But Willa doesn’t hesitate. Spinning to the street side window, she practically shouts, “Oh…my—”
“You can get up,” Violet says.
The stuffed Minnie is not stuffed. As it sits up, all three Keepers jump back—even Willa, who’s speechless.
“Minnie Mouse?” Amanda gasps. “The Minnie Mouse?”
The tiny figure stands about four feet tall and is “So-o-o-o-o cute!” as Willa says.
Minnie claps her gloved hands appreciatively.
“Can you speak?” Willa asks, performing a half curtsy, though she’s not sure why. A silence falls across the room.
“She didn’t when she helped Amanda and me in the Magic Kingdom,” Finn says. He asks Amanda if she remembers. Amanda nods violently, starstruck.
“Through me she can speak,” Violet says. She pauses, listens, and then speaks, apparently translating the mouse’s words.
“Minnie wants to thank you and your friends for your attempts to save the Kingdom.”
“We’re not done yet,” Finn says.
Violet says, “Minnie wants you to know this: ‘That which you seek will give everyone much comfort and happiness.’”
“Has she told you what that is?” Amanda asks.
“No. Think of me more as a bodyguard—or a bouncer, but with better hair.” Violet stops again and seems to listen to the silence. “She says the person you are seeking foresaw the coming of the Children of Light.”
“You’re making this up!” Willa complains. “She can’t possibly know—”
“Let me tell you something. When it comes to this place, Ms. Minnie pretty much knows all.”
“I think we should listen,” Finn says.
Violet nods, pauses. An enormous tear spills from Minnie’s right eye. It splashes to the floor and pools; it looks like someone spilled a glass of water. Then Minnie points to her ear, and Violet speaks again. “‘He told me, It’s up here.’” Violet motions to her temple, the same way Minnie is doing. “‘He was humming a tune. He kept pointing and repeating, It’s all up here.’”
Minnie wipes away another brimming tear that threatens to fall. Her large eyes are fixed on the Keepers. Finn can’t tell if it’s hope or sorrow he sees in her gaze.
Violet continues to translate. “‘He told me they wouldn’t stop me, that I had to do it before it was too late. If he tried, they would follow him. That would ruin it all.’”
Violet looks at Minnie doubtfully and shakes her head, but Minnie isn’t finished.
“Excuse me,” Finn says to Minnie. “Who wouldn’t stop you?”
Minnie smiles at Finn. Violet speaks for her, saying, “‘I remember you, too. We…Pluto and I…helped you to get to the island.’”
Finn inhales sharply. He says aloud, “I love this place!”
“‘I do, as well,’” Minnie says, still speaking through Violet.
“Your friend told you they wouldn’t stop you. Who did he—”
“‘The bank.’”
“Of course,” Willa says.
Amanda shifts her eyes from Finn to Willa; she’s lost.
“You tore it up,” Finn says, “not the Overtakers.”
Minnie smiles away her tears. “‘He told me you would understand.’”
“The bank would let you in,” Finn says, “because you’re you.”
Another smile. It needs no translation from Violet.
“So, are you guys going to tell me what’s going on?” Violet says.
“No,” Finn says. “We can’t.”
Minnie steps forward and hugs Finn. Only Finn.
Violet says softly, “‘You are the next.’”
“Was that you or her?” Willa asks.
“Her,” Violet says.
“Oh…my…gosh,” Willa says softly to herself.
Minnie releases Finn.
“‘I did as he asked,’” Violet says for Minnie. “‘Of course I did. Just in time, as it turns out. The ghosts arrived and took it from me. Took it right out of the bank with everyone crouched in terror behind them.’”
“But not you,” Finn says. Wraiths, he’s thinking.
Minnie looks as if she might cry again. She shakes her head.
Violet says, “‘I knew I would like you.’” In a more caustic tone, she adds, “For the record, that’s all her, too.”
“Surprise, surprise,” says Willa.
Finn is transfixed by Minnie. For him, there’s no one else in the room. He taps his head. “The power is all up here. It’s in our heads.”
“‘I wish I knew,’” Minnie says through Violet. “‘He tapped his head like that. It’s all up here, he said.’”
“And he was humming,” Amanda reminds everyone.
“‘A pretty tune.’” Violet hums a lovely melody. When she stops, a brittle silence hangs in the room. No one wants to break it.
“Can we get you guys out of here now?” Violet asks. “And FYI, this is me again, not Minnie.”
“‘We?’” Willa repeats.
“You don’t think I’m going to attempt this alone, do you? Bagheera and the Tramp are hiding outside, waiting.”
“We have a friend named the Dillard out there as well.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Violet asks.
“A plan?” Finn asks.
“Ah, yes,” Violet smiles and tosses her shock of dark hair. “That would help.”
THE CLOCK TOWER in Fantasyland wears several faces. Philby and the others inspect each one, a painstaking process that eats up precious time. Jess is once again lagging behind, but now Charlene stays with her, making Maybeck and Philby the group’s investigators.
The two boys move on to Innoventions. Inside the sign is hidden yet another clock, which Philby is certain will reward them. It does not. No visible clues, with or without 3-D glasses. At last, the girls catch up to the boys.
“We do Town Hall in Toontown last,” Philby says, “because I think we’re all terrified of Toontown. Agreed?” No one objects, not even Maybeck. “Excellent. But…that leaves Small World.”
“Oh joy,” says Maybeck. “Not like we’ve had any problems there before.”
Philby says, “The dolls come out every fifteen minutes like cuckoos. If Wayne’s telling Finn, ‘It’s about time,’ we can’t exclude it.”
“As long as we don’t have to go inside,” Charlene says. Philby nods, and turns to Jess.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine, thank you.”
An instant later, Philby jumps and shouts, “Rat!”
Maybeck bunches his fists in a fighting pose, but the two girls have little or no reaction.
“That’s not a rat,” Charlene says, “I mean, of course it’s a rat, but it’s Remy. And the one next to him is Django. As in: Ratatouille.”
Remy nods.
The girls move to meet the rat. The two boys aren’t nearly as eager. Charlene and Jess kneel, and then squeal and coo about how cute Remy is. Playing to the crowd, the rat shakes Charlene’s index finger with both paws.
“Can we save the Adventure Club for another visit?” Maybeck says.
Remy points, his long whiskers twitching toward Small World. He shakes his head violently, then waves in a different direction.
“He wants us to follow him!” squeals Charlene.
From the shadows a hundred rats of all sizes appear. Adorable rats, not scary ones, with big black eyes, long whiskers, lips twitching in rat-size smiles that show their two front teeth.
“An escort,” says Charlene, delighted.
“Why can’t we go that way?” Maybeck asks Remy.
Remy’s eyebrows arch mysteriously.
“Overtakers,” says Philby.
The rat nods.
“Satisfied?” Charlene asks.
At Remy’s signal, his cousins, friends, and teammates surround the Keepers like a wave of brown water. The rats herd the group at a quick pace, containing them within their undulating shadow and offering a protective force field.
The route moves away from Fantasyland and past the Mad Tea Party toward the Matterhorn, then swings left in the direction of Small World. Remy leads them in an arc through the trees, and they pop out on the far side of the Small World pavilion. Here the parade starts, but the park ends.
“We need to see the front,” Philby says in a whisper.
Remy’s button nose twitches.
“One or two of us could sneak along the topiary,” Charlene suggests. She gives Maybeck a look that indicates she’s volunteering. “We reach the front and do what we have to without attracting attention.”
“That would be me and you,” Maybeck says.
“Correct,” Philby says.
Jess is lost behind her own eyelids again. Charlene speaks gently to her. “Jess, you and Philby are going to wait for us with Remy and his friends in the trees.”
Eyes shut, Jess nods faintly. “An oval and a spiral.
Chains.” Her eyes pop open. She starts to draw in the dirt. “Did I say something?”
“Yes,” Philby says. “I didn’t like the last part.”
“It’s near here. It only happened as we got closer.” Her sketch looks like a rifle sight: a large circle with a pin at its center.
“No offense, but we’re wasting time,” Maybeck says. He signals Charlene. “Ready?”
“I’ll wear the 3-D glasses,” she says, “even though they make me dizzy. You never know.”
“I’ll be your Seeing Eye dog.” Maybeck has a way of being inappropriate without trying; Charlene smiles wryly at him. Then they crouch, cross the path, and steal into the shadows of the topiary trees, all carved and trimmed into geometric shapes. One is shaped like an upside-down teardrop, another like a cube.
As they pass beneath another, Charlene hisses for Maybeck to stop. She points to a stone in the ground.
“The eye,” Charlene says. “From the photo! It’s on that rock.”
Maybeck inspects the stone closely. The simple ideogram of an eye carved on its surface—nearly identical to the hieroglyph—looks old and faded, but it’s still unmistakable.
“You think it’s under the rock?”
“One way to find out.” Maybeck tries to move the carved stone, but it won’t budge. He and Charlene start digging. After a second, Charlene stops.
“Come on!” Maybeck says encouragingly.
“We know better diggers,” Charlene says, and whistles. Remy’s nose pokes out from behind a tree. A minute later, two dozen rats are moving earth from all four sides of the stone like a machine. Dirt flies into symmetrical piles. In concert with their efforts, Maybeck shoves and wrestles the stone until it comes free.
Remy alone digs at the bottom of the exposed hole. His efforts are careful, so as not to tear a piece of paper should he encounter it.
“A little deeper,” Maybeck says.
Django tugs on Charlene’s pant leg.
“What is it, little friend?” she says.
Django clearly wants her to follow him, and she does. They dart across the path and look back at the topiary trees. Django turns. Charlene turns. He gestures with his head. Charlene has no idea what he’s trying to tell her.
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