“Listen: you’re the nerd and I’m the dude. What can I say?”
“I thought you’re the one who doesn’t like stereotyping.”
“That’s true.”
“So?”
“So I could cut you some slack some of the time.”
“Like now, for instance.”
“Okay, I get it. What you don’t understand, is how annoying it is to hang with a know-it-all.”
“Then don’t hang with me.”
“I don’t mean it that way: you’re okay. It’s just…annoying that you know so much.”
“Pardon me for living.”
“You wouldn’t understand because you don’t have to be around it.”
“I happen to like to know stuff.”
“I’m not knocking that.”
“Of course you are.”
“You make the rest of us look dumb…feel dumb.”
“No way.”
“I’m telling you,” Maybeck said.
“I don’t mean to do that,” Philby said. “I get excited about knowing stuff. Maybe I take it too far.”
“Maybe?” Maybeck snapped sarcastically.
“Message received,” Philby said. “But you’re no prince, either.”
“Don’t tell the ladies that.”
“Ssh!” Philby spotted a pair of slender shadows on the path and at the same time heard a whining hum of an electric motor. The Segways! He stretched out an arm, driving Maybeck into shadow with him. Both boys wore black—all that showed of their DHIs was a thin glow along their shoulders and legs. It looked like nothing more than the light that wavers from a lighted swimming pool at night; you would have to stare long and hard to make any sense of what you were seeing.
Maybeck gasped aloud as the Segways passed and he saw not people but crash-test dummies riding the scooters.
Philby went rigid and stayed absolutely still as the nearest Segway came to a gradual stop. The Segway spun in their direction and the dummy was looking right at them. He spoke in an eerily electronic, monotone, computer-generated voice like from a bad science fiction movie.
“Rover Two reporting audible anomaly, detected four degrees south by south-southwest from current position.”
The second rover slowed, turned and returned to join the other. “Source of anomaly?” He had the exact same voice.
“Unknown. Presumed human.”
“No visual. Do you copy?”
“Copy.”
“Errant signal. Will file at conclusion of patrol.”
“Copy.”
The two rovers spun in unison and motored off past Mexico, growing ever smaller.
“That was…bizarre,” Maybeck said.
“Overtakers.”
“Ah…Duh! For as smart as you are, sometimes you can say the dumbest things.”
“Test Track dummies.”
“But they can speak,” Maybeck said.
“I kind of noticed that. I suppose the term dummies is not quite fair. They’re probably some kind of hybrid Animatronic, to be more exact. Robots built from leftover equipment like the kind of stuff I saw in the maintenance shed that time with Finn.”
“You think Maleficent is building herself an army?” Maybeck said.
“Maybe Wayne found out about it. Maybe that’s what got him in trouble. Except that I was with him when he disappeared, and I didn’t see anything to do with any robots.”
“But if there’re Overtakers patrolling Epcot…” Maybeck said.
“There has to be a reason,” Philby completed. “Yes, that’s right.”
“The sword,” Maybeck said.
“Let’s go.”
* * *
With her incredible speed Charlene led the way, running from their hiding place in the shrubs to the junction of the bridge and the main path. Once there, she slipped over the low wall and skidded down on her bottom, grabbing onto one of the protruding rocks in the wall and keeping herself from plunging into the canal.
Next came Jess, so that Willa would be last. Jess bent over and ran hard, mimicking everything Charlene had done. She crawled over the wall and found Charlene’s outstretched hand awaiting her.
“Way to go!” Charlene said in a hoarse whisper. They waited. One minute. Two.
“What’s taking her so long?” Charlene said. She started back up the face of the bridge, but Jess stopped her.
“If she isn’t here,” Jess said, “there’s a reason.”
A moment later Willa vaulted the wall, and caught up to the two girls.
“The dummies stopped over by Norway. I couldn’t see what was going on, but because Philby and Maybeck are over there…”
“You think they’re okay?” Charlene asked.
“The dummies stayed there for a minute and then moved on. I assume they’re all right.”
“Okay, then,” Charlene said. “Have both of you done uneven parallel bars?”
“No,” said Jess. “But I played on the bar on the playground when I was little.”
“Could you hold yourself up?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all you need to do. Willa?”
“I’ll do okay,” Willa said.
“Hand over hand,” Charlene advised. “Keep your feet pressed against the bar so you’re hanging with your back to the water. We can’t be dangling our legs or they might see us.”
“Who goes first?” Jess asked. When neither girl answered, she said, “I will.”
She clambered over the rocks, surprising the other two with her agility and flexibility, and found her way to the cluster of metal pipes and plastic tubes connected to the underside of the bridge. She reached up, hooked her fingers around the biggest pipe, and pulled herself up, hanging from it like an opossum from a tree limb. She inched her way backward, wrenching her neck around so she could see.
“It’s not so bad,” she whispered to the others. After a minute or two she reached the rock island that supported the turn in the bridge. She let herself down, found the same pipe continuing on the next section, and reached the far side.
“You’re next,” Charlene told Willa as she waved to Jess and gave her a thumbs-up.
Willa said, “I’m not the most coordinated person, you know?”
“You’ll do fine. Don’t look down. Just keep moving. You might want to go feet first.”
“Okay.”
Willa inched around on the rocks tentatively and grabbed hold of the pipe. She tested it by hanging from it, then gripped it again and swung her legs up so that her legs faced the island, and looked once over her shoulder at Charlene, her expression desperate and filled with concern. Charlene offered her a bright expression and hoped for the best.
Willa worked herself out over the dark water, moving slowly, but with increasing confidence.
“Psst!” It was Jess from the opposite shore. She was pointing wildly up the canal away from the lake.
Charlene held her palm out like a traffic cop to stop Willa. Willa obeyed.
A small motorboat pulling a single barge was headed toward the lake. The barge had some gear on it—anchors or something. It was probably part of the support crew for the IllumiNations fireworks show. No matter: there was no way Willa could make it over to the island in time without being seen. If she remained perfectly still, the boat driver might not see her as he passed beneath her.
Charlene hand-signaled Willa to stay put. Willa nodded her agreement, but Charlene knew it couldn’t be easy, since she was holding all her weight by only a few fingers and using her leg strength to clamp her feet to the pipe. Charlene gestured with her chin for Willa to flatten herself so she wouldn’t hang down so far. Willa nodded, lengthened her hold, and pulled herself up closer to the pipe.
Willa struggled to hold on, arching her back, straightening her legs. And then it happened: she fell. Her feet slipped off the pipe, swinging down. The momentum proved too much for her tired hands. She lost her grip, letting go of the pipe, falling feet first, and dropped. Charlene expected
a splash, but amazingly, Willa landed on the barge and despite her claim of not being athletic, she hit with the grace of a gymnast—her toes, ankles, knees absorbing the shock so that she arrived on the deck of the barge with only the most minimal sound, a small thud, which might have been nothing more than a wave lapping against the side of the vessel, and might have been lessened too by her being in her DHI state. The pilot didn’t turn around or react in any way.
A terrified Willa met eyes with Charlene, already scurrying across the deck of the barge and looking for a hiding place. Charlene had the presence of mind to point toward France and Willa nodded. They would meet up there if at all possible.
Willa and the barge motored out into the lake, the darkness soon masking them. The sound of the boat motor faded. Charlene scampered across the pipe like a monkey and reached Jess.
“What do we do?” Jess said.
“What we came to do,” Charlene answered. “We don’t have a choice.”
“How do you people do this?” Jess said, her voice straining to confine her emotions.
“You’ll get used to it,” Charlene said. “After a while, you actually kind of crave it.”
* * *
Finn walked calmly and steadily across the short distance to the back wall of the gift shop. He forgot about Amanda, he forgot about Wayne; he pictured the light of the train in the tunnel, wheatgrass blowing in the wind, a sailboat on the water, all things tranquil and gentle.
His hands and feet tingled, the sensation spreading up and down to meet somewhere in the center of his chest, near his heart, from where he felt a wonderfully peaceful swell of satisfaction and pleasure.
He walked straight through the cinder block wall, through a desk and a chair, arriving in an office space at the back of the gift shop. The shelves were neatly stocked with boxes and plastic bags crammed with items to replace all those sold out front. There was a computer terminal on the desk, a stapler, a phone. A Disney picture calendar hung on the wall alongside several cartoons that had been cut from the newspaper and a newspaper column titled “No Glass Slippers for This Little Princess.” Post-its hung from everywhere like ornaments from a Christmas tree. Along the wall by the door was a steel cabinet taller than Finn divided in half by a big door on the left and two smaller doors on the right, the lowest of which bore the title: LOST AND FOUND.
Finn proudly approached the locker and tried the lever: locked. He jiggled it several times to no avail. Next, he tried the desk’s center drawer, hoping for the key to unlock the lost and found: locked. In fact, every desk drawer was locked. He searched for a nail or hook where the keys might have been hung or hidden: nothing.
He knew he could reach through the metal locker door, but to do so he would have to be in all-clear, while to touch and pick up the fob he would have to be out of his all-clear state. He couldn’t even imagine the pain of losing his all-clear state while his arm was divided by a piece of steel. Besides which, the fob had not crossed over with him—it would remain fully material whether in his hand or not. Only items the DHIs held in their hands or carried in a pocket when they went to sleep achieved the DHI state; the locker door would need to be opened so Finn could remove the fob.
But to make sure he had the right place, he kneeled on the floor, settled himself, and stuck his head through the door and into the locker. His DHI’s glow shone enough light for him to see several cell phones and cameras, a sweatshirt—and the small black fob. The Return. He backed out of the locker before his own frustration removed his all-clear state and the metal bit into his neck.
So close, he thought, wondering if there wasn’t something to be done. How could he just leave it there? He tried another search of the place, including sticking his face through the top of the desk—like looking into a pool from the edge—and he spotted a set of keys he was certain would open the locker.
But there was nothing to be done about it. Just as there was no way into the locker, there was no way in to the desk. The only way to retrieve the fob was to do so while the locker was unlocked and open. During business hours, when Epcot was operating.
He calmed himself, walked through the wall and back outside and caught up with Amanda.
“We’re in trouble,” he told her. “We can’t cross back over until the park opens.”
“But that’s hours away,” she said. “And doesn’t that mean—?” She stopped herself because Finn was already nodding.
“The Syndrome,” he said. “Every one of us will be stuck in the Syndrome.”
PHILBY WHISPERED TO MAYBECK. “I don’t like this. Reminds me of Small World.”
“I hear you,” returned Maybeck in an equally soft voice.
They were inside the doors of Maelstrom, walking quietly through the empty waiting-line area, approaching the attraction’s loading dock. The main lights had been turned off. There was no music. As they arrived at the loading area, where guests would board the boats, the enormous painted mural facing them was barely lit, so that only the most brightly colored paint jumped out at them: a red-and-white striped sail, the top half of the sun, a village of white buildings.
“How do you spell creepy?” Maybeck asked.
A boat awaited them, the water gurgling around it.
“Why do I not want to get into that boat?” Philby said.
“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the Norwegian and his son who just happened into Wonders, would it?”
“And the axe he was carrying?” Philby said.
“I didn’t see that.”
“I didn’t mention it to any of the others, because I don’t think they saw it either, but oh, yes: the redhead was carrying a very large axe.”
“You’re so comforting.”
“I try.”
“Well, try a little less, would you?” Maybeck said.
“Get in the boat,” Philby advised. “I’ll turn on the ride,” he said, pointing to a control console, “and jump in as it’s moving.”
“And if you happen not to make it and I end up in there alone?”
“The sword,” Philby said.
“You’d better not chicken out and leave me to do this alone.”
“Don’t sweat it. I’ll make it to the boat in time.”
Maybeck climbed into the second row. Philby hit the START button on the console and ran to the edge and, with plenty of time to spare, climbed in alongside Maybeck.
“Okay, we’ve got problems,” Philby said, practically before he had sat down. He pointed to a curving bow of a boat that stuck out of the mural; it was wooden and three-dimensional.
“Yeah? So?” Maybeck said.
“That’s where the dude and his son are supposed to be.”
The front of the display boat was empty.
“Meaning?”
“They could be anywhere.”
“An axe,” Maybeck stated.
“True story.”
“In here somewhere?”
“Could be.”
“Why can’t we be normal kids?” Maybeck asked.
“I think we have Wayne to thank for that. Wayne and our parents who wanted the college funds.”
“College funds don’t do you any good if you aren’t alive to go to college.”
“True story.”
The boat began to climb. Into the dark. Into the sound of rushing water and the pounding of their own hearts in their ears.
* * *
“But what if she’s in trouble?” Jess demanded.
“Then she’ll get out of it, or she’ll call or text,” Charlene answered. The two were hunkered down where the bridge abutted the path, only a matter of thirty yards from the entrance to France. Street lamps cast a soft light.
Charlene led her to their right, along a retaining wall where a bicycle and canoe were fixed to the wall to simulate the towpath along the river Seine. Reaching the end of this retaining wall, they climbed over and into some well-manicured shrubs, and higher up, to just behind a bench, overlooking the plaza in front of France.
“But…”
“Our job is to get in there and find out if there’s a connection to Wayne. Willa is smart. She’ll think of something. If she needs us, we’ll hear from her. I’ll go first. You wait until I signal you. Okay?”
Jess clung to the rock wall, looking timid and afraid.
“Jess, we’re good at this. You have to trust me, the same way we all trust your dreams. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. All this, everything we’re doing is because of you, because Wayne picked you somehow, and don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t. None of this makes any sense out there in what everyone calls the ‘real world,’ but this world is just as real, believe me. And it’s the world we’re in right now, so you’ve got to trust me.”
“It’s just so…different,” Jess said, looking at her own hand glowing.
“I know what that’s like. I remember what it was like the first few times. I thought it was some kind of dream. If it wasn’t for the others, I’d still think it’s a dream. But it isn’t. We’re here and we’ve got stuff to do, and I need you to trust me. Willa’s going to be okay, and if she isn’t we’ll help her. It’s just the way it is.”
Jess nodded, still mesmerized by her illuminated hand. “I’ll bet you’re a good cheerleader.”
“Sit tight and wait for my signal.”
Charlene sprang into action. Up and over and past the bench, looking this way and that, stitching her way through the tall, mature trees along the embankment. She faced the Tuileries Gardens as she crossed and found a hiding place tucked into a storefront.
She waved and Jess followed, repeating her steps nearly exactly, amazed how it suddenly felt as if they’d crossed the Atlantic and stepped into a foreign country. The Parisian buildings were realistic and lovely, with tall windows and curving copper roofs. There were shops and cafés with little tables outside, incredible fountains, bright awnings, gas lamps, and street signs. The flowers and landscaping were all neatly manicured and perfect, the air heavy with perfume.
“It’s…amazing.”
“Yes,” Charlene said. “But hold the applause. We need to find the Notre Dame exhibit.”
“The Impressions movie.”
“Yes.”
“The main pavilion would be the next street over, wouldn’t it?” Jess asked.
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