As the sun began to set and a few of the sparkling lights lit up the buildings around him, Peter had an idea. “It’s still kinda light out. Maybe now would be a good time.”
Before he could talk himself out of it, he hurried back to the near-empty train station. A lot of guests were either at dinner within the Park or on their way out to one of the many restaurants around the area. He had to wait for the Ward Kimball to depart before the E. P. Ripley came to a steamy stop. Most of the tired riders opted for the seats nearest the entry. There were only a few passengers with Peter in his end car.
With only moments before his jump-off point came, his ears were buzzing from nerves. “Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think.”
He found himself almost at the tunnel before hurling over the backside of the rail. Rolling in the gravel, he came to a stop against the opposite side of the berm, curled into as small a ball as he could. When there were no yells or squealing brakes from the train, he felt it was safe to peek out. All he could see was the back of the train as it continued through the tunnel.
Run! His mind was already in gear before his feet caught up. Using vines and roots, he clawed his way up the berm until he found a thick clump of brush to hide behind. When the pounding in his ears began to lessen and he could actually hear again, the shot from the skipper sounded a long way away. “Man, I really overshot it.”
Low to the ground, he kept to the thickest bushes as he worked his way to the rhino’s location. Hidden from view, he could hear the sputter and whine of the engines as the boats passed by.
When he finally reached the back of the Veldt, his phone began to loudly play the theme from Star Tours. “Oh shoot! Oh shoot!” as he tried to get it to stop before some sharp-eared guest passing by wondered what that sound was. His voice a muffled gasp, he answered the phone. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
“Pete? You sound winded. Where are you?”
“Ummm….” He was saved from answering by the shot of a gun.
“Oh, you’re on the Jungle Cruise?”
“Umm, yeah, you could say that.” Peter wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Great. Glad you’re having a good time. Listen, I’m on my dinner break and wondered if you wanted to come with me. Blue Bayou? One of your favorites.”
Peter’s stomach gurgled. “I just ate at the Bengal Barbecue.” Rats, now I’m hungry again.
“Oh, all right. Then I’ll just grab something light. See you in a couple of hours?”
If I’m not in jail. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll find you.”
“You all right? You sound funny.”
“Gotta go. Umm, people are staring.” At the rhino…
“Oh, right. See you, Pete.”
The call ended and Peter slumped back against a tree. This was harder than he thought.
In a secluded nook behind the rhino, surrounded by trees and boulders, Peter peered out as boat after boat went by. “Gosh, don’t they ever break down any more?” So far he’d only been able to hurry out once to examine the rhino. The loud spiel of the skippers alerted him when another boat approached. “This is going to take forever.”
The latest boat slipped out of view and he ran back to the irritating animal as the hyenas continued to laugh. The point of the rhino’s horn went up and down as the natives above him mimicked the movement. “There isn’t anything here. That rhino is built like a tank. Oh shoot!”
He dove back under cover just as a boat came into view. “And look at that! Wow, there must be a million rocks on that beach!” as the skipper obviously didn’t see the trapped safari waiting for rescue or irate rhino that had caused the problem.
“Okay, one more time.” Peter ran his hands over and under the rhino in an attempt to see if a capsule was somehow attached to the body.
“There’s the safari I told you to watch out for. See the guy on the bottom? He’ll surely get the point in the end! Keep an eye out as we enter the pool of hippopotami…”
In his hiding place, an open-mouthed Peter stared after the unseen boat. “Is that what I missed? It’s not the rhino. It’s the guys on the pole!”
Peter stepped back into view as he went up to the natives clinging to the pole, stuck there for decades as the persistent rhinoceros stayed in his place. “It has to be one of them. But which one? Man, already??”
Back in the safety of his rocks, Peter pulled out his now-silenced phone to take another look at the pictures. “Which guy would it be and where would Walt hide something?”
It was beginning to get darker and Peter knew the stone-filled beach would soon be lit by hidden spotlights. Plus, the skippers would also use handheld lights to brighten the areas they were spieling. If he was going to find something, it had better be quick. He didn’t want to have to come back and do this again.
Reaching over, he pulled his backpack closer to retrieve his ever-handy flashlight. As he reached into the zippered pouch, his hand froze. Looking at what he held in his hand, his eyes jerked over to the clinging natives. They, too, had backpacks. “It has to be in one of those. But which one? What if it’s that guy on top? How would I get up there without a ladder and without being seen?”
Peter shook his head. It was beginning to look impossible.
“…that guy on the bottom will get the point in the end. See? The hyenas like it!”
As the boat rounded the bend, the oft-repeated phrase played over in his mind. “Hey, that’s what the clue said. ‘He’ll get the point in the end.’ It has to be the guy on the bottom. Only one way to check.”
He had to wait for one more boat to go by. Sprinting to the hapless native, as soon as he was in the ‘down’ position, Peter felt through the material of the khaki backpack. Something was in there. After the next boat he was back and trying to get open the leather ties. Nerves and sweaty fingers made the easy task more difficult than it needed to be. Deep in concentration, he was almost caught by the next boatload.
“Got it!” Relieved, Peter barely got the ties back into place and himself out of sight before the next boat. He thought he heard the skipper stammer, but could have been mistaken as the spiel continued uninterrupted.
Once back at the dock and unloaded, Skipper Tom swapped placed with one of the loaders. Before he took his place he had something to report to his lead. “I think I saw something out by the rhino. Not sure. It happened so fast. But, I think I saw a kid dive into the bushes.”
“Okay, how do I get out of here?” Now that he had what he wanted, Peter relaxed against the tall rocks as he worked it out. Going back to the train tracks wasn’t an option. Jumping off a train was one thing. Jumping back on it was another. Whistling softly to himself, he studied the aerial map with the flashlight. “It might take a while, but I think I’d better go to Main Street and come out there. Easier to explain than walking into the train station.”
A chuckle died in his throat when he heard sounds rapidly approaching his hiding spot. The crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs could only mean one thing: He had been seen.
“The rhino is just up ahead. Keep an eye out. We don’t know how many kids there are. Lance, you circle around to the Veldt. Steve, you come with me to the beach.”
With the voices coming from his left—the way he had come in—Peter took off to the right. Keeping low so the passing boats couldn’t tip off Security, he wound his way through the thick trees and brush as fast as he could, leaves and branches whipping at his face. Forced to climb partway up the berm to keep undercover, he then worried that a passing train would spot him.
When the sounds of Main Street started to get louder, he knew he was close. Turning away from the train tracks, he pushed through the vines and roots until the vegetation began to thin. He could finally see the back of the Guided Tour Garden and the taller City Hall.
Scrambling down the dirty embankment, catching his foot on a protruding root, he rolled onto the pavement in front of two surprised tour guides. “Cat,” he fairly shouted at them be
fore sprinting to the Emporium’s back entry. Once inside, he planned to lose himself in the maze of shops and hightail it back to his apartment and safety.
With an attempt to control his rapid breath and mop the moisture from his face, Peter pretended to shop as he calmly strolled through the Emporium. After more than a few glances over his shoulder, he relaxed when there were no signs of alarm or pursuit. He went so far as to buy a bag of toffee peanuts in the Candy Palace before strolling across Main Street to the entry of his apartment.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his dad, arms folded, leaning carelessly against the wall of the stairwell. Lance came down the steps and ambled up to his son. Reaching up, he pulled a leafy eucalyptus twig out of Peter’s hair. “So, what’d you find at the rhino?”
Disney Studio – Burbank
Adam marveled at the ease of getting onto the Studio Lot. Years ago he and Beth had become members of a local Disney Fan Club and were able to join one of their rare, private tours of the Studio. But he was well aware that the average fan walking in off the street would only get as far as the guard station on Buena Vista Street before being politely turned away. Glancing at Peter as they got out of the car, he couldn’t help but notice the boy’s ease and air of familiarity. There was no wide-eyed sense of wonder he would have expected from a fan as big as Peter. He knew about Peter’s escapade in the Studio’s Nunnery—so named decades ago because it was a No Man’s Land so the many female inkers would be able to relax without male interruption—but thought it had been an isolated incident. Now he was curious.
Adam’s curiosity would have to wait, though. Kenneth, the security guard at the entrance gate, had followed them to their parking spot in the visitor lot. Clipboard in hand, he began by pointing at the three soundstages and neighboring trailers over to the right. “We have a lot of production filming going on today, so you need to stay away from those buildings. You might want to begin at the popular signpost at Dopey Drive and then proceed to the front of the Animation Building.” Kenneth glanced at the dark suit Peter was wearing. Very businesslike. His eyes then paused on the backward-facing baseball cap Adam had shoved onto his blond hair. The pause was just long enough for Adam to uneasily shift under the scrutiny. The hat had been a last-minute addition in an attempt to give him the air of a ‘blog filmer’ for a young host. Kenneth’s eyes shifted away to hide his amusement. “You are also free to film in the Legends Plaza.” His look stayed on Peter this time. “Just don’t climb all over the statues, all right?”
Trying to keep in the professional mode his dad and Uncle Adam had stressed, Peter held back from rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir. Do we have access to the Archives?”
Kenneth’s eyebrows lifted. “No. That’s off-limits except by invitation.” He consulted his clipboard again. “Which you don’t have.” When he saw Peter’s hopeful look falter, he added, “But you can go into the lobby of the Frank G. Wells Building here,” as he pointed to his printed map. “There are some artifacts on display there.” He looked from Adam to Peter. “Any other questions? Do you need this map? No? All right. You’ve been allowed three hours. Have fun.” The look on the guard’s face indicated anything but fun. “I’ll come find you when your time is up.” It wasn’t an offer.
Forcing a smile, Adam held out his hand. “Thanks for your help. I’m sure we’ll get just what we need.”
Kenneth shook the proffered hand, his eyes again straying to Adam’s hat. “Right.”
Letting Peter lead the way, Adam refrained from jerking the cap off his head. “So, do we start on Dopey Drive? It sounded like that was expected. I have my iPad ready. You know what you’re going to say?” He was less-than-encouraged by Peter’s quick reply.
“Nope. I figured I’d just wing it.”
Adam’s groan was drowned out by an electric cart zipping by. He recognized one of the stars of a popular television show. “We are so going to jail.”
“What’d you say, Uncle Adam?”
“Nothing, Pete. Let’s just get this show on the road.”
After pretending to film the signpost and Pluto’s three paw prints in front of the bright red fire hydrant, Adam began to relax. Peter seemed as full of hot air as his father had been when they did this same ruse in Kansas City back in 2002. Gesturing at the nearby Animation Building that had housed Walt’s offices, Peter chattered on and on. Adam had already quit listening and concentrated on holding the iPad level. They had, unfortunately, begun to attract unwanted attention as employees from different departments walked past their position.
When the audience around them had grown, Adam signaled to Peter. “Um, cut! Hey, Peter? I think we have enough footage here. Shall we go on to the next spot?” Adam almost laughed when Peter ran a hand through his hair. His dad had that used that same mannerism when he was in view of ‘his adoring public.’
“Yes. Let’s go on to the Wells Building.”
Adam stifled a chuckle. “Yes. Let’s.”
As they continued down Minnie Avenue, Peter thought Uncle Adam was acting odd and wondered if something was off. “Did I do something wrong?” He looked down at his clothes to straighten the hated tie.
Adam smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re doing just fine. Isn’t that the Ink and Paint Department?”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, that’s the main entrance. There are other doors on the different streets. We’ll have to see which one looks best. This entry seems awfully busy.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, too. One of the hazards of coming on a week day. Let’s get some footage of the Legends for good measure. I’m not sure if we’re being followed or not.”
“What?” Peter’s head jerked around as they walked. “You think so? What’d you see?”
“Calm down and act professional, Pete. I didn’t see anything particular. Just talking out loud.” Which I probably shouldn’tdo. “We’ll play it by ear. You ready to talk about the Partners Statue?”
The prospect of being able to stand next to the famous statue helped dissipate Peter’s concern. In the Disneyland Hub, the identical statue was up on a pedestal, surrounded by flowerbeds and a metal fence. Pictures there could only be taken from a distance. Here, in the Plaza, the statue was ground level. Over on the edge of the Plaza was a park bench that held bronze statues of Roy Disney and Minnie Mouse.
Once Peter had made up enough facts about the statues of the two famous brothers, they edged back toward the Ink and Paint Department. Adam heard Peter gasp when he glanced inside.
“What’s wrong, Pete?”
“I…I didn’t know there were so many rooms. I only saw the one when I went through the tunnel last year. Look at all those bottles!”
Adam could hear an edge of panic in the boy’s voice. “Steady there, Pete. We’ll figure it out.” His heart sank when he saw that Peter hadn’t been exaggerating. There had to be hundreds of bottles in the room they could see. What would they find in the other rooms through those inner doors? “Just remember, we’re doing this for Catie. Remember Catie and be calm.”
Still staring at the task ahead of him, Peter didn’t see Adam swipe at his eyes. “For Catie. I’ll do it for her.”
Adam had to clear his throat before he could speak. “From what I can see, it looks clear in this room. You want to give it a go? You have something prepared to talk about?”
“Sure.”
Shaking his head at the unconvincing tone of Peter’s voice, Adam opened the door and urged the boy inside. “Just act like we’re supposed to be in here, Pete. People tend to believe you if you act like you know what you’re doing.” We are so going to jail.
“Gotcha.” Peter ran a hand through his hair again and shook it back. “Ready, Uncle Adam.” His eyes constantly moved around the room while he talked on and on about different Disney movies that might have used these paints. Every time he found a paint bottle that was yellow, he walked over to it and ‘accidently’ dropped his microphone to look more closely at the bottle. Over and over he onl
y found plastic containers. “Okay, people, let’s move into the next room. Here we find the sinks that the animators use to mix the paints to match the exact colors needed for their projects. Just think. Walt Disney himself might have used that very sink.”
An artist doing just that was startled to see someone walk in filming. Turning off the water, she excused herself, saying she’d come back in a couple of minutes to allow them some space.
“Why, thank you. That’s nice of you.” Peter dimpled at her and Adam had to keep from laughing.
“We need to speed it up, Pete.” Adam had refrained from speaking until the woman was gone from the room. “She’s on the clock and won’t want to wait too long. If we upset too many animators, they might call in a complaint. That could bring our friend Kenneth sooner than we want.”
Peter had just dropped his mike again. “Rats. There’s nothing here. Gosh, how many yellows do they have?” He hurried to the other side of the small room to look at another group of yellow paints. “There’s another room over there. Let’s try that one and she can get back to the sink.”
Adam followed Peter out of the room and thanked the animator for waiting. But, he didn’t have Peter’s dimples.
“Just don’t take too long. People have to work, you know.”
“Yes. Sorry.” Adam caught up to Peter in the next room. This room had an animator’s desk and an overhead ventilation system for the paint fumes. There were another wall of shelving, but there was more than just paint. He could see folder systems and books. Signed artwork was displayed on the upper walls. Peter, he could see, was examining the shelves of glass bottles and animator’s brushes. “Is that it, Peter?”
Peter’s hands shook as he reached for the bottles. “There aren’t any yellows. Look! There isn’t even one yellow.” He gently pushed a blue bottle aside, his heart pounding. “It isn’t here.”
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