Wayne asked, “How many?”
“Five…no, six, including the guy with the hat.”
“Interesting. What guy with a hat?”
Finn didn’t want to go there. He’d call them pirates and that was that. “You really can’t see them?”
“Me? Heavens, no. I see the cars, but nothing else,” Wayne said excitedly. “And if you can see them, then maybe you can stop them. Or at least try to stop them.”
“Stop them from what, exactly?”
“Three nights ago at the end of the Fantasmics show, the dragon set Mickey on fire. Obviously, that’s not supposed to happen. Mickey is supposed to win. He jumped into the water. He’s all right. The crowd laughed. They didn’t get it. But Mickey could have…He could have…could be in some serious trouble. And then what?”
“But those are actors, right?”
“The dragon is a machine, an Audio-Animatronics machine. But that machine malfunctioned, didn’t it? It did something that it’s not programmed to do. How is that possible? How can that be explained?”
Finn thought, What a strange old man.
Wayne said, “You think I’m a strange old man.”
“Do not.”
“You’re the chosen leader of the DHIs. Don’t question it. Accept it. Without you, Finn, there is no plan.”
“What plan?” Finn gulped. Wayne seemed so serious all of a sudden.
Finn sensed something behind and to his right. He spun around and saw her. Charlene.
His breath caught. She was…glowing. A fuzzy light sputtered at the edges of her body and all around her head, like a halo. She wore a white nightgown. Her hair danced in the wind.
Some distance behind her stood Philby. He wore school clothes, like Finn. Finn recognized him immediately. They were missing Maybeck and Willa.
“Hey there!” a gruff voice called out.
Finn turned. The pirate in the black hat was addressing him.
Me? Finn’s expression said, though he kept his mouth shut.
Wayne asked, “What’s happening? Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he warned.
Charlene and Philby moved steadily closer.
Wayne, appearing distraught, admonished Finn. “You must not get ahead of yourself!”
Finn climbed out of the golf cart. Then, concentrating, he walked right through the cart to the other side. It’s all about what I’m thinking, he realized. If I focus on being a DHI, I’m nothing but light.
A shimmering Charlene approached a tree. She tried to walk through, but crashed into it instead. “How’d you do that?” she asked. “Why can’t I do it?” she asked Wayne.
Wayne seemed flustered. “You all need more time.” He glared at Finn.
The harsh grinding of metal dragging on pavement interrupted them as the pirates pushed the line of blue cars.
The one in the hat, with a broad moustache and thick black beard, hollered out, “Ahoy, there, matie! Lend us a hand, if you will.”
Finn stayed where he was.
“I said lend a hand!” hollered the elaborately dressed man. Behind him, the more scruffy pirates—machines!—pushed and dragged the blue cars. All of a sudden, Finn recognized them as the cars from the Buzz Lightyear ride. He’d been on it dozens of times.
“I’ll pass, thank you,” Finn said.
“Pass? I gave ye an order, me boy. Now heave to!” the captain growled.
“An order? I don’t think so.” Finn replied.
Charlene stepped back and dragged Philby with her. They ducked behind the tree.
“The name’s Blackbeard,” the man said. His mouth moved like a puppet’s. His arms and legs moved stiffly. His eyes mechanically shifted, from the left to the right, their motion disconnected from his speech.
Finn felt a spike of fear but hid it. “Is that so? And I suppose I’m Jack Sparrow?” he asked, smirking.
The captain stepped forward boldly, still a ways off. “Is ye now?”
The pirates stopped their pushing. They gathered behind their captain.
Finn counted six in all. They were dressed in ill-fitting costumes. They had scars on their faces and scabs on their hairy legs. They went barefoot, wearing dark pants that stopped at their calves, and blue-and-white striped shirts. But they weren’t human.
Blackbeard drew his sword. His six pirates drew knives. “I said lend a hand. You’re my conscript now, lad. I’d be obliged if you hove to.”
“You’re not ready,” Wayne hissed at Finn from the shadows. “I’d help you if I could see them, but I can’t.”
Finn felt a jolt of terror, unsure what to do. His legs, wobbly and rigid, were unwilling to move. He figured he could run faster than a bunch of mechanical pirates but wasn’t sure he wanted to test that theory. Besides, he couldn’t budge.
Finn looked back. Four glowing eyes, like cats’ eyes, shone from behind a tree. Charlene and Philby.
“What are you doing with those cars?” Finn asked the captain, stalling. Think!
“You might could say I’m borrowing them, laddie. Or you might could say the Space Ranger Spin is under repair.” He tilted his head and cast an evil eye in Finn’s direction. “I’ve seen you before, Jack Sparrow. Now, where would that be?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Finn said.
“He’s one a’ them hosts, Captain,” a smallish man with frog eyes called out. The man’s right arm continually lifted up and down, up and down. This was apparently the motion he made in his role in the attraction, and he couldn’t stop it.
“A host!” the captain declared. “A new ride? Is that what ye’re telling me?”
His pirates mumbled.
“We don’t much care for new rides,” the captain explained in a dry, cold voice. “Don’t much care for them at all.”
“Do I look like a ride?” Finn asked. His voice trembled. “I’m just a boy.”
“You’re my boy now,” the captain declared. “Ain’t he, lads?” His pirates all nodded in chorus. He said to Finn, “Now…be a good boy and lend us a hand.”
“I’d prefer not to,” Finn said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” He summoned his courage and turned.
“Ye don’t turn yer back on the captain, youngster! I said halt!”
Finn stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. The captain signaled his crew, and they reacted immediately, like a bunch of well-trained dogs. They fanned out. They were not exactly fast on their mechanical legs and feet, but they were steady and worked well as a team.
One of the pirates climbed into a Space Ranger car. He aimed its toy laser cannon at Finn and fired. A bright red pulse of light shot through the night, narrowly missing Finn. He’d ridden the Space Ranger Spin himself a dozen times or more. He knew there was nothing to fear; he’d put his hands into the laser’s light stream before. Nothing ever happened. The laser cannons were no more dangerous than a flashlight.
Another thin red line of light flashed. Again, it missed.
But then Finn realized the cars were not plugged in, were not attached to any ride, had no power source. So where did the electricity for the cannon come from?
As if to answer him, the next pinpoint of light struck his arm. A red bead flickered on his shirtsleeve. The fabric instantly turned brown, then gray. Then…ouch!
It burned him! Finn leaped out of the way.
“Hey!” he blurted out.
He smelled burning hair. His hair. His skin.
The laser was real.
Another flash. Finn dodged out of the way. He avoided the next few attempts as well, the red beams flying past him like glowing arrows. He danced left and right, his arm stinging.
Now the other pirates circled and closed in on Finn, their knives extended.
If a toy laser can burn, what is a very real-looking knife going to do? Wayne had warned him that he was half hologram, half human. Only now did he realize his human half could hurt.
His wounded arm looked less transparent all of a sudden. He wondered if his fear
made him more human than hologram. He pushed against the fear, as if he were trying to shut a heavy door.
A gray-haired pirate with a peg leg thump, thump, thumped his way closer. The circle closed around him. Now Finn could smell the pirates: oily, like an old car, and faintly electrical.
Charlene called out to him from behind the tree.
The captain raised his sword higher, trying to follow that voice. “Reinforcements, mates! Be ye ready!”
Two of the younger pirates closed in on Finn. They walked stiffly and slowly, like six-foot-tall toy soldiers. Finn circled to his right, away from them. He dodged two more attempts from the laser. One of the pirates was hit in the process; the captain raised his hand to stop the laser assault.
The two young pirates, their knives glinting, pressed ever closer.
The captain, with one knee cocked, his foot perched on the lead car, thundered, “Well, now, laddies! Serve him up like a fine filet!”
“Hey, dog breath!” It was Philby. He stepped out from behind the tree.
All six pirates turned toward Philby at once.
With the pirates’ attention briefly diverted, Finn sprang for the nearest Space Ranger car. He grabbed hold of its laser, swiveled and fired. A pulse of red light shot out. Finn was a veteran of Space Ranger Spin. He winged the pirate in the car ahead of him, not ten feet away. The pirate didn’t seem to feel it—he was a machine.
Another pirate charged. Finn shot his knee out, and the thing toppled over, its one good leg moving, still trying to walk.
Finn saw a difference between Blackbeard and the other pirates: Blackbeard had a vaguely human sound to him. Most of the others—all but a few—looked and sounded more like machines than real pirates.
Finn sliced and burned right through the peg leg of the older pirate. He too, teetered, leaned, and tumbled over. Two down.
On the captain’s command, his men charged as a unit. Finn aimed for their knees in a brilliant display of gunnery. They staggered. Several fell. The captain ordered a retreat, and Finn held his fire.
Blackbeard, his eyes darting weirdly back and forth, reached for, but then decided against, the sword that hung at his waist. He clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Ye’ve made a terrible mistake, lad. Me advice for ye is, go back from whence you came. And take them there other two with ye. For yer own good.” His mechanical facial expression never changed. He made no more threats—not with Finn still perched behind the laser. He simply turned and walked away. He did not run, did not hurry, Finn noted. He headed down the path and, a moment later, was gone, out of sight. His pirates dragged themselves and their other fallen mates off with them.
Finn released his hold on the laser, his fingers stiff from gripping so tightly. His shirt bore a small charred hole. The burn on his arm was now a blistered scab. He’d hoped he might only have imagined it—but no: it hurt something fierce.
He climbed out of the car.
“Way to go,” Charlene said simply, trying not to sound too impressed.
Philby approached, and Finn thanked him for the diversion.
The two shook hands. It felt to Finn as if that handshake represented a pact between them. They were in this together now.
To celebrate what he called their “first victory,” Wayne offered them ice-cream bars from a food kiosk. He carried a heavy-looking ring with dozens of keys of all shapes and sizes with which he unlocked the kiosk.
Finn sat down on a bench. Wayne handed him his ice-cream sandwich, and Finn tore off the paper and bit into the treat. He tasted it, though it wasn’t nearly as sweet as it should have been. Maybe he was only half human, he thought.
“What about Willa and Maybeck?” Charlene asked, enjoying her ice cream.
Finn devoured the ice-cream sandwich. With his mouth full he said, “No clue.”
Charlene explained, “Me and Philby met here in the park the other night. We haven’t found each other…you know…on the outside yet. Not like the way you found me. But here we are.”
Her mention of “the outside” sent shivers up Finn’s spine.
Philby said, “I don’t seem to remember as much as Charlene when I wake up. I’m not sure why. But you know, I’ve never really remembered my dreams, so maybe that’s part of it.”
“But this isn’t a dream,” Finn reminded him.
“I know that now,” Philby said. “But I didn’t know that earlier.”
“This will all change,” Wayne said. “The more you cross over, the more it will feel familiar to you.”
“Cross over,” Philby repeated.
“Weird, huh?” Finn said.
Wayne’s hand slipped into his pocket.
“No!” Finn called out, knowing the man intended to send him back to his bed. “You owe us an explanation first.”
“I need you all together,” Wayne said.
Finn said, “You have the three of us. That will have to do. When—if—we’re ever all together, then fine, you can explain it again. But I just got burned on my arm by a group of…”
“Pirates,” Philby said. “Mechanical pirates.”
“Mechanical pirates that could talk and take orders,” Charlene added.
“Yes. Pirates,” Finn said. “Pirates you can’t see, as I understand it. And I don’t understand it. And I’ll stay up, dusk to dawn, if I have to, in order to figure this out. And, if you don’t tell us what this is about, you won’t see me again.”
“Or me,” Philby said.
“Or me,” Charlene agreed.
“It’s now or never,” Finn declared.
The old man looked paler by a good deal. Some bird off in the thick of green cooed deeply. Finn felt like they were being watched.
“All right,” Wayne said, smiling. He glanced around suspiciously. “Come with me.”
They followed. After a bit of a walk, Wayne unlocked and admitted them into the auditorium for the Country Bear Jamboree. He placed the three kids in the first row. Then he walked through the dark space and checked all the doors. He returned to the front of the hall and leaned against the stage to address them.
“There’s a fine line between imagination and reality. An inventor dreams something up, and pretty soon, it’s there on the table before him. A science-fiction writer envisions another world, and then some space probe finds it. If you believe in something strongly enough, I think you can make it happen.”
“That’s a good thing,” Finn said.
Wayne asked, “But what if we believe in witches and villains? If we believe as strongly in things like them…can we make them happen?”
“You’re giving me the creeps.”
“This park, this wonderful place, makes both sides happen—the good and the bad. Some of Walt’s stories go back generations. Hundreds of years. Cinderella. Snow White. We see similar stories in many different cultures across the globe. What if these stories were once true? If they were real, passed down from generation to generation? Different cultures experiencing similar things? And if they were real, are real? If the hero and heroine go off to live happily ever after, then what happens to the villains, witches, sea monsters, and evil stepmothers?”
Finn said, “You’re saying that because the park makes them real, they are real?”
“I’m saying if you believe strongly enough, anything can happen, and millions of people, kids and adults, visit this park—all the Disney parks, the cruise line, the Broadway shows, the Web sites, Disney on Ice—every year. And they—”
“Believe,” Finn said.
“In the bad and the good,” Charlene said.
“Exactly. Yes, they do. And there’s power in that belief,” Wayne said.
“So?” Philby asked.
“So you know your history. What is inevitable once evil gains power?”
Philby answered, “It wants more. Empires. Wars. That kind of stuff.”
“We call them the Overtakers,” Wayne whispered.
Finn felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
&
nbsp; “Who?” Philby asked, also in a whisper.
“We—the Imagineers, I’m talking about—needed something mortal, something part…a hybrid…that could cross over to the character world. That’s what we call it: crossing over. We’ve suspected for years that the characters ‘come alive’—if you will—once the gates are closed. We’ve had evidence of this for some time. But when the trouble started happening, we knew we needed…you—someone who could see the Overtakers. Interact with them. Stop them.”
“This is crazy,” Charlene mumbled.
“Walt knew the time would come. The world gets out of balance. The dark forces rule. History is full of such times. They can last hundreds of years unchecked. It’s like a plague, this dark thought. There’s no music. No art. Only tyranny and war. Madness.”
Charlene said, “I think I’ve heard enough. I’d like to wake up now. In my own bed.”
Wayne continued, “You asked to hear this. So listen.”
The kids remained seated, their full attention on Wayne.
“As I said, Walt knew such a time would come. He left us a treasure map, for a scavenger hunt, something the Overtakers could not easily figure out, even if they obtained it, which they never have. Most of them are machines, you see—audio-animatronics and figures from attractions. Only a handful can think, can communicate. But they control the others.”
“The Stonecutter’s Quill,” Finn mumbled. Wayne had mentioned it the first time they’d met.
“The what?” Philby asked.
“It’s a fable,” Wayne said. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. We must wait for the others.”
“I, for one,” Charlene said, “am never coming back. So if you’ve got something to say, you’d better say it.”
Wayne paced as he talked. “Think about it. The Pirates, Maleficent, Cruella DeVil, Ursula—all with so much belief fueling them, belief, to draw upon. It was inevitable, I suppose.”
“What was inevitable?” Charlene asked.
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