HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 5

by Nancy Temple Rodrigue

  As they rose from the table, Wolf wondered what Walt had been thinking. He had seen a look of revelation come and go over his boss’s face. “It’s pretty intense. It gets up to fifty miles per hour in some spots. I’ll bet you can’t guess the name of the first passenger.” Wolf dumped their trash into a nearby themed trash can. A smug smile crossed Walt’s lips when he saw the handy placement of the can. That had been one of the myriads of ideas he had put into place that were obviously still in effect in every Park.

  “Considering I still don’t know what year this is, I wouldn’t take that bet.”

  “It was Thumper.”

  That stopped Walt in his tracks. “Thumper? From Bambi?”

  Wolf grinned at Walt’s incredulous expression. “Yep. That Thumper. One of the Imagineers wanted to see what a passenger would go through and what condition he would be in when he returned.” He let out a laugh. “So, they strapped in a stuffed Thumper and filmed the whole thing. Thumper’s ears would fly up, flatten back, and then move all over the place. That way they could see the experience the riders would have.”

  Walt nodded. “That’s smart thinking. When I wanted to test a ride, they’d make a wooden mock-up of the ride vehicle and then push me through the scenes at whatever pace the ride would run.”

  “So, what do you think: Frontierland and the Mark Twain, or Discoveryland?”

  “Well, I’m for both, but let’s go see their Mark Twain. And I want to get a closer look at what you called Big Thunder. A newer version of my Mine Train, huh?”

  They decided to cut through Adventureland first so Walt could ride Pirates of the Caribbean. When they continued their trek to Frontierland, Wolf regaled his boss with the Disneyland Paris backstory of the Phantom Manor. Walt was soon immersed in the tale of the curse of Thunder Mesa, Henry Ravenswood, and his engaged daughter. Once the disapproving Henry had been killed and the daughter’s fiancé vanished, she never took off her wedding dress and wandered aimlessly through the Mansion, an evil phantom stalking her every move.

  The mobility scooter suddenly veered past the Thunder Mesa Riverboat Landing and headed around the River toward the Manor. “Okay, the Mark Twain can wait.”

  “Wolf! Hey, Wolf. Is that you?”

  Stopped in his tracks, Wolf recognized the voice. A foreboding of disaster traveled down his spine. “Get Walt out of here!”

  At his hiss, Omah, her fingers laced through Wolf’s, glanced over her shoulder to see who it was. “Oh! What’s he doing here?”

  “He built this Park. I suspect he’s a regular visitor. And, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d recognize Walt. There isn’t any way we can explain this. Get Walt out of sight and into the Mansion.”

  Omah hurried to catch up with the scooter. Walt, oblivious to the peril, had stopped to admire Phantom Manor. “I like the dormers on the third floor and the attic. The design looks like it could have come out of the Midwest. Not sure l like the dingy brown wood compared to my white antebellum mansion.”

  Peeking back over her shoulder, Omah could see that Wolf had used his body to partially block their view. “Hey, the line‘s not very long. Let’s go inside.”

  “Where’s Wolf? Didn’t he want to come?”

  About to start pushing the scooter herself just to get him moving, Omah fiddled with her purse to give her hands something else to do. “Oh, he’ll catch up.”

  Once Walt and Omah were far enough away, Wolf planted a smile on his face. “Tony.”

  The Imagineer shook hands with Wolf. “This is a surprise. I don’t usually see someone I know here in Paris. Say, who was that with you? I thought I recognized the face.”

  “You mean my wife, Omah?” Wolf knew that wasn’t who Tony meant. But the tactic did seem to work.

  “Wife? I didn’t know you were married. Congrats, man! Long overdue.” Tony looked from the retreating backs as they neared the entrance. “Who’s that with her? That’s who I thought I recog…”

  Wolf had to think fast and blurted out the first name he could think of. “Omah’s uncle. Uncle Ninaawa.” He had just called Walt ‘Uncle Man.’

  Before Tony could respond, the spring breeze carried a sound over the two men. It was a sound anyone who ever knew Walt would instantly recognize.

  Walt coughed.

  Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Tony turned back to Wolf.

  Fullerton

  Peter stared at everything he had grouped together on his desk. It wasn’t a vast array. This particular collection consisted of a small black book, one piece of paper torn out of said book, a plastic canister half painted white, and an iron key. The key’s smallish size belied its importance. His fingers idly played with the cool metal as he recalled all the hidden, forbidden places it had taken him so far. He tapped the key up and down on the desktop as his mind repeated the words ‘so far.’ He fully discerned that the complete role of the metal object had not yet been fulfilled.

  The key had come to him during one of his Hidden Mickey quests—so like the one waiting for his next step. It had been a special gift from Walt to assist him, or whoever found it, in their mission to complete the assigned tasks. The Key to Disneyland. It would open any door, any lock, in the Disneyland Park and the Burbank Studio. There were possibly only three or four in existence. No one knew for sure. As the foremost Guardian of Walt, Wolf, of course, had one. The current president of the Disney Corporation would have one. And, for a little over a year now, Peter, a fourteen-year-old freshman in high school, had one.

  The excitement he had felt when he realized what it was had been great. But, his possession had been brief. Deemed too young and impulsive, the key had been hidden until such time as the Guardians felt he was ready and able to assume the responsibility that went with ownership.

  In spite of the angst he was going through, Peter’s lips turned up into a half-grin. His mom’s hiding place had been easy to find. He looked off into the distance, the grin fading. Had she wanted him to find it? She hadn’t known much about the quest he and Catie had been following, but had been supportive in the parts she did understand. Perhaps Kimberly had decided having the key to use would have been better than having to force his way into a room or a building.

  Catie.

  The key dropped onto the wooden desktop with a metallic ping. The spark of interest that he had just begun to feel again extinguished. His partner was hurt. Catie wasn’t there to bubble over with enthusiasm or send him exclamation point-filled emails when one of them discovered something vital.

  He knew, deep down, that Catie’s accident wasn’t his fault. The realization was also there that the trials they went through at the hands of Nimue were not his fault, either. But, acknowledge them or not, the long-range effects were still in place. Peter had been spooked.

  An index finger pushed the small black book around as the same questions again bombarded his mind. Was the book real? Or was it just another trick? Was Wolf under the same type of spell Lisa had been subjected to? Who could he trust?

  So far the quest had been fairly straight-forward. The first clue, pretty much solved by Wolf’s words, had led to where it was supposed to lead. It had been ridiculously easy. The clues set in place by Nimue hadn’t been terribly difficult, either. Should he view that as a red flag and refuse to go any further?

  Did he want to refuse to go any further?

  Peter knew he was at a crossroad. His decision now would dictate his future as either a Guardian of Walt or as a…. Hmm, what will I become if I don’t follow in the footsteps that started with my grandfather? What will I be when I grow up?

  Heady questions. Some of his friends already knew what profession they wanted follow. Tim wanted to be a policeman. Rayne wanted to be a professional dancer. Dawn was into fashion design. Chloe had hopes of getting into law school. The classes they took reflected their determination to make their dreams possible. Other friends, like Jason, Stewart, and Brad, had no direction in mind. Their focus was on the next weekend.

  Up until a
year ago, if asked, Peter would have told everyone that he was going to work at Disneyland like his parents. Lance was a security guard partnered with Wolf. His mom used to be a meet-and-greet princess, but now trained the newer, younger women who would fill the tiara. Only the family knew that the posts Lance and Kimberly, and also Wolf, held were façades to cover their more important role as Guardians, to protect Walt and what he had put into place decades ago.

  But now? He had no idea. He hadn’t even considered any other place he wanted to be but Disneyland.

  “It’s not supposed to be this hard.”

  Peter didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until the family’s Golden Retriever, Dug, awakened at the sound and softly whined. Her plumed tail thumping the carpet, he bent down so he could pat her massive head. “Are you going to help me, Dug? Do you want to go to Disneyland with me and try and find the answer to this clue?”

  Excited by the word ‘Go’ out of all he said, Dug heaved herself to her feet. After turning in a full circle, she planted her paws on his shoulders so she could better lick his face. Her weight almost pulled him out of the chair.

  “Okay, okay. Didn’t mean for you to get all excited. Down!”

  Not the command she wanted, Dug’s ears flattened back and her tail drooped as she headed out of Peter’s room to look for more agreeable kids. Michael always left some nice, smelly socks on the floor. Maybe he would play with her.

  “Was it something I said?” Peter considered calling back the disappointed dog, but sighed instead. Playing with Dug wouldn’t solve his dilemma. It would only prolong whatever decision he needed to make. Not that that was such a bad idea. Procrastination was a longtime friend of Peter’s. They had a wonderful understanding between them. Procrastination would be embraced until the very last moment, and then Peter would thrust it aside to do whatever was needed. They both knew the system that had worked so long and so well.

  “I could be a professional pitcher for the Angels. Quarterback for the Rams? I know. Driver at Indy.” The laugh that spurted from his mouth surprised Peter. He knew those were ridiculous life choices for him. “Can’t hit the side of a barn, couldn’t throw a straight pass to save my life, and I don’t know how to drive.” He fingered the black book that teetered on the edge of his desk, ready to fall to the carpet. This is what you always wanted. Why don’t you want it now?

  Walt’s book was pushed back to safety. Instead of rereading Walt’s personal message, he picked up the clue he had found under Toby Tyler’s Bridge. “Which Mask would you choose: Comedy or Tragedy? I’d prefer to laugh.”

  He still had no idea what that meant. Not knowing on which part to focus—Mask or Comedy or Tragedy—he was stumped. With a disheartened shrug, he turned to his computer.

  After typing in ‘mask comedy tragedy,’ he was inundated with images of two masks apparently from the days of Greek theater. The smiling one, he found, was named after the muse Thalia, and the frowning one was Melpomene. His eyes began to cross the more he read about the origins of the theater masks. “What does that have to do with Walt?”

  With a groan of ‘duh,’ he added Walt to the search engine, but the results were still confusing. “I don’t get it. Shouldn’t I have to go to Disneyland or the Studio? There are theaters in both places. That’s where I went last time.”

  Frustrated again, he added the word Disneyland to the search. “Oh, that’s more like it.” Staring at the computer screen, a spark of excitement began to override the apathy of the previous year as Peter felt his heart rate speed up. “Now what do I do?”

  The first picture the search engine displayed was the Opera House on Main Street. And, bracketed by Baroque-like ornamental arches on the very apex of the building, were a smiling face and a frowning face. Three stories off the ground, Peter knew this had to be what Walt meant. The Opera House had been the first building completed during the construction of Disneyland and was used a much-needed, on-site lumber mill. Now it was the home of Mr. Lincoln. The offices in use on the second floor had a lovely view of Town Square.

  Deep in thought, his fingers idly pushed around the Key to Disneyland on the desktop as the computer screen faded to black. “I can get backstage easily enough with or without Mom or Dad. The doors leading into the buildings back there aren’t locked, but any access to the roof should be. I’m pretty sure this key can get me up there.” Moving his mouse, he glanced at the clock on the bottom of his computer screen. “I need to talk to Catie. Maybe she’d like to hear what I found.” A small smile crossed his face. Catie didn’t like heights and wouldn’t have wanted to go up there with him—however he would end up accomplishing that feat.

  Finding he was leaning close the computer, Peter sat back in his chair. Just then he realized something: He now knew that he was going to follow the clue to see where it led.

  The nurses looked up as Peter walked into the High Dependency Unit. Catie had been moved to the HDU when her acute dangers were over. The subdural hematoma was still an issue, so she hadn’t been placed in the Pediatrics Ward. He self-consciously raised a hand to greet the nurses as he entered the new room.

  “Peter! You should’ve told me you were coming. We could have picked you up and ridden together.” Kimberly, looking agitated, stood from her chair to stretch her back. Michael’s eyes remained glued to the TV screen up on the wall, his fingers wrapped around a controller as the game they were playing continued. With an amused snort as she glared at Michael, she thrust her controller into Peter’s hands. “Never trust an eight-year old who hands you a Wii stick and says all you have to do is press A.”

  “Then you won’t want to trust Andrew, either.” Not there to play games while they waited, Peter tossed the game’s controller onto the table.

  Kimberly had to smile at his warning. “That’s probably true.”

  “Any news?” Peter indicated the silent Catie with a tilt of his head.

  Kimberly’s expression fell. “No change today. Catie’s vitals are steady. Her brain waves are strong. She’s doing better, but she hasn’t awakened yet.”

  Peter took his usual seat next to her bed and looked around at the new flower arrangements in the room. There were also Get Well balloons secured in a far corner and a few stuffed animals, both from home and from her worried friends. She would have loved the bright, cheerful flowers. He, like everyone else, just hoped that she’d open her eyes so she could enjoy them. “Mom, can I, uh, talk to Catie? Alone?”

  Kimberly knew better than to embarrass him by teasing. “Sure, honey. I’ll bet she’ll love to hear your voice.” After ruffling Peter’s hair, she pried the remaining controller out of oblivious Michael’s hands. “Come one, Mikey. Let’s go get some ice cream in the cafeteria.”

  “But we aren’t done with our game!”

  “Oh, yes, we are.” Kimberly herded her middle son out of the room and gave Peter a grin behind the boy’s back.

  Once his family was out of sight, Peter turned back to the bed. “Hi, Catie. It’s me. Peter. Peter Brentwood.” He gave a self-conscious chuckle. “You probably knew that, right? How’re you doing today? I see you got a new teddy bear from…” He went over to read the card. “Who’s Jeffrey? Someone from school…that I don’t know?” Stop it, you sound stupid. “I, umm, came to tell you something exciting. At least, I think it could be exciting, if I was excited about it…” He shook his head and started over. “I think I found out the answer to the next clue. Remember how it talked about masks and comedy and stuff? I think it means the top of the Opera House on Main Street. There are two faces up there and they look just like the pictures I found on the Internet. There were also some in Bugs Land, but that wasn’t there in Walt’s time.”

  As he paused to think about what else he could tell her, he listened to the steady, slow beep beep of her heart monitor. It was the only sound in the darkened, quiet room.

  He placed a gentle hand on her good arm, the other still mending in a cast. “I just remembered you said you’d been in Drama in s
chool. You were in a play last year. Can’t remember which one you told me. Sorry. You probably would have recognized the masks right away, huh? I…uh…” Peter broke off and looked over at the door to make sure no one was standing there. “I miss you, Catie…and I hope you get better soon! I have to go. Mom and Mikey will be back soon. I need to talk Dad into taking me to Disneyland tomorrow. Wish you could come, too.”

  As he exited the room, he failed to hear Catie’s heart monitor.

  The beeping was noticeably faster.

  Disneyland

  Lance couldn’t read Peter’s face. When Peter asked to go with him on his shift the next day, he expected to see some of the old anticipation and eagerness. The face next to him at the Security entrance off Disney Drive was almost expressionless. “You okay to go, Pete? You know what you need to do?”

  “What?” Peter’s mind was pulled from the mission ahead. He still wasn’t sure how he would stay undetected by either the cast members or the thousands of guests milling below. “Yeah, I think so. You aren’t going to come with me, are you?”

  Lance hid his disappointment. He would have loved to assist his son. Especially a task like this where he needed to keep his wits about him. He and Adam had to recover a hidden clue inside that same building—only it had been inside one of the glass cases in full view of anyone who might have come into the room. Man, those were fun days! “Umm, no, not if you’re sure about what needs to be done.”

  Peter’s shrug could have meant anything. Yes, I know exactly. No, I don’t have a clue. Whatever, I don’t want to really be here. Lance merely patted him on the shoulder. “Do what you have to. And, don’t get caught. There’s only so much I can let you get away with. Uncle Wolf is still on his…well, whatever it is that he’s doing. He can’t help, either.”

  “I know.” Focused on the rooftop, he didn’t want to chat any longer. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll call you when I’m done.”