The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 2

by Roy MacGregor

  Incredibly, no one said anything as the line continued to inch forward. Nish seemed only half awake, moving with the flow. A few tourists noticed, but each time they were stopped from saying anything by the Owls. Data pulled out the film and, when it was time, carefully peeled away the protective cover to reveal a perfect portrait of Nish’s bird topping. The Owls managed to hand it around without breaking out into hysterical laughter. After everyone had seen it, Sarah took the photographic proof from Data and stuffed it carefully into the pouch she wore around her waist.

  They reached the entrance without Nish catching on, and were directed into what looked like a seedy old, rundown, musty and dusty hotel. There were newspapers tossed on tables, with dates that read 1939–long before even the parents of any of the Owls had been born! They passed through the lobby and into the library, the sense of dread building.

  Once they were in the library, a bolt of lightning seemed to strike, bringing a dusty television to life with an introduction from an old show called “The Twilight Zone,” which some of the kids seemed to know. A man with a deep voice made Travis shiver as he recounted the tale of the family that had disappeared forever when another bolt of lightning had struck the old hotel, causing the elevator they had been riding in to shoot out through the top of the building and far, far into outer space–all the way to “The Twilight Zone.”

  From the library they were ushered into the boiler room, where another snaking line led to the only elevator still working: the service elevator. Travis could almost smell the fear in the crowd. The screams from those actually on the ride were far, far louder now, the sounds of machinery grinding, then snapping, even more alarming. Travis’s mouth felt dry; the palms of his hands were wet.

  They had barely stepped into the boiler room when Simon broke. He just stood there, shaking for a moment, then suddenly turned on his heel and hurried back through the entrance.

  Unfortunately, Nish noticed.

  “Wakkk-cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck!” he chanted, with Andy joining in, both of them flapping their arms as Simon dashed through the door and away.

  Their taunts made Travis all the more determined to stay–no matter how tough it got.

  It was crowded in the boiler room: it seemed the walls were closing in. Travis had trouble swallowing. He knew from here they would be crammed into an elevator, and the idea of being trapped in that small space was as alarming as the thought of the thirteen-floor plunge.

  The wait was growing worse. They moved by inches. The people seemed to pack in tighter and tighter. He was losing his ability to breathe. His heart was missing beats, trying to go faster than the heart muscles could pump.

  There was a warning sign by the final steps leading up to the actual ride. Travis read the sign quickly: “Those who experience anxiety in enclosed spaces should not ride.”

  Now he couldn’t swallow at all. His shirt was sticking to his back. His heart was pounding. He knew he had to get out!

  Travis looked around. No one was watching him; Nish and Andy were well ahead. Nish seemed to have somehow conquered his fear, or else he was just so determined to prove Sarah wrong that he had no choice but to follow through with it. Travis couldn’t summon the same courage, false or not. He couldn’t do it.

  All eyes were on the entrance to the ride, all ears on the grinding gears and sliding cables and terrifying, hideous screams that came from above. Travis quickly checked the last sentence on the warning sign: “Visitors who wish to change their minds may exit to the right.”

  For a moment he was undecided. He looked up toward the “service elevator,” where the next trip was being loaded. Some were already screaming. A young woman lunged back towards the doorway, already in tears, but her boyfriend grabbed her and hauled her forward. Those waiting for the next ride laughed.

  Travis couldn’t take it. When he was sure no one was looking, he bolted for the safety exit. Through a doorway and up a quick, open elevator, and he was out into the Florida sunshine and could breathe again.

  He had chickened out.

  Travis was miserable. Even if he covered his ears, he could still hear the sounds of the Tower of Terror–the cables slipping, the gears grinding, the trap doors breaking open, the rush of wind as the elevator plummeted again and again, and the endless, chilling screaming.

  He waited around for the others by the exit, where he found a handy washroom. There was also a souvenir store, where they sold everything from T-shirts that bragged “I survived the Tower of Terror” to coffee mugs depicting the attraction. The store even had a booth where they sold photos that must have been taken at the very top of the tower, when the riders were at their most terrified. The billboard had been no exaggeration–their hair really was standing on end!

  Travis watched as laughing, relieved riders came off the ride and entered the shop. He noticed Simon standing just outside the door.

  Travis’s first instinct was to call to Simon. His second was to keep quiet. He knew that everyone had seen Simon bail out, but he was fairly sure no one had seen him do it too. And since not all the Owls would fit into the same elevator ride, perhaps no one would ever realize he had chickened out. As long as Simon didn’t notice him now, there was still a chance that Travis’s secret would be his alone.

  Feeling like a fool, like a traitor to his own team, he ducked behind a rack of souvenir coffee cups. Simon couldn’t see him here, and his teammates might miss him as they came off the ride.

  Travis heard the Owls coming even before he saw them. Loudest, of course, was Nish, and he was in full brag.

  “It was nothin’, man! I shoulda bet twenty dollars!”

  They all rounded the corner at once, a laughing, pushing, shoving throng of kids in T-shirts they’d picked up everywhere, from Lake Placid, New York, to Malmö, Sweden. A few had Screech Owls caps on. Nish, of course, had another type of cap on. The bird plop was still there. It had survived the trip!

  “Hey!” Nish shouted. “Let’s check out the pictures!”

  Travis could see Data wink at Lars. The Owls hurried to see the expression on Nish’s face when he saw what was lying on top of his hair. Travis slipped unnoticed into the group.

  “Great ride, eh, Trav?” Andy said as Travis edged up beside him.

  “Yeah,” Travis said. “Great.”

  “Which one were you on? I didn’t see you.”

  “The other elevator.”

  Travis winced a bit. Technically, he wasn’t lying. It obviously had been a great ride, and he had taken the other elevator. But not the next elevator on the ride.

  “Pay up!” Nish was ordering Sarah up ahead. “I need some cash for the picture of me.”

  When Sarah held out the dollar Nish had won, he grabbed it and elbowed through to the front of the line.

  “WHAT THE–!?” Nish shouted.

  The man running the photo booth had just put up the photograph of the Owls’ ride. Sarah’s long hair was standing straight up, as was Lars’s. Nish’s hair was sitting flat, most of it trapped under a white mess.

  “This picture didn’t come out right!” Nish practically shouted at the man.

  The man merely looked at the top of Nish’s head and shrugged, smiling slightly.

  “Looks pretty accurate to me,” he said.

  Nish slipped one hand up to his ear, then carefully onto his hair and up to the top of his head, where he found what he feared.

  “Who did this?” he demanded, turning on the other Owls.

  Willie, the trivia expert, answered: “I believe it was a cardinal.”

  The Owls all laughed, all except Nish. He yanked a Kleenex out of his pocket and began batting at his hair, disgusted. He looked around, spotted the washroom, and bolted for it.

  “Quick!” Sarah said. “We’ve got to buy this for him. You know how Nish has to have a souvenir of everywhere he goes!”

  They collected the money as fast as hands could reach into pockets and haul out change and small bills. Sarah made the purchase, and the
man put the photograph into a bag for her to carry it in. The Owls then went outside to wait.

  Simon was still out there, looking sheepish. No one said anything to him. Everyone knew what had happened, and Simon knew that everyone knew. No one, however, seemed to suspect that Travis had also bolted, not even Simon. Travis felt like a sneak, but he still couldn’t let Simon know he wasn’t alone.

  When Nish finally came out, it looked like he had washed his hair–perhaps he had, leaning into the sink and scrubbing in that awful pink stuff that shoots out the soap tap. His hair was glistening and combed, with not a touch of white to be found anywhere. He did not look in the mood for teasing. He walked up to Sarah and stood directly in front of her, his lips moving furiously before he spoke.

  “Give me it!” he demanded.

  “Give you what?”

  “The picture.”

  “What picture?”

  “The-picture-you-are-carrying-in-that-bag.”

  Sarah looked at her purchase as if she’d just noticed it for the first time.

  “Oh,” she said. “This?”

  “Give it to me!”

  “We were going to give it to you, Nish. It’s a gift from all of us so you’ll never forget your trip to Florida.”

  Nish grabbed the package as Sarah held it up to him, yanked out the photograph, and, without even looking at it, ripped it into little pieces. He then walked over to the nearest garbage can and dropped it in.

  He turned, slapping his hands together. “There,” he smiled sarcastically at Sarah. “Already forgotten.”

  Nish then turned on his heels and stomped off.

  Sarah, far from beaten, merely smiled and waved at Nish behind his back. Then she patted her waist pouch, where Data’s Polaroid still lay, well protected from Nish’s chubby hands.

  “Not entirely forgotten,” she whispered, then patted the treasured pouch again.

  The Screech Owls arrived too early for the parade down Main Street, U.S.A., so they killed some time by poking around the stores. At the Emporium, where Sarah and Data were lining up to get their names stitched on the mouse ears they had purchased, Travis thought he saw the beautiful young woman from the campsite. He told Nish.

  “Geez,” Nish said. “Why didn’t I bring my X-ray glasses?”

  Travis shook his head: “They don’t even work.”

  “You have to believe in them,” answered Nish.

  Travis just shook his head again. What was the point in even trying to talk to Nish? How, Travis wondered, did this lunatic ever become his best friend?

  Even without the help of his glasses, Nish wanted to check her out. Travis had seen her in the books section, buying a guide to the Magic Kingdom, and they hurried over in order to catch her before they left.

  There was indeed a young woman there. She was putting her purchase into a large pram she was pushing, the baby shielded from the sun by a canopy.

  “It’s not her,” said Nish, turning away.

  Travis wasn’t so sure. But he could have been mistaken. Perhaps the baby had just been sleeping back at the campsite and the man with the shaved head was her husband. Or the guy with the ponytail.

  The Owls killed a bit more time by checking out some of the Fantasyland attractions–Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Legend of the Lion King, It’s a Small World–all of which they considered were for “little kids,” not anyone who had ridden the Tower of Terror.

  This, of course, only opened up more teasing opportunities for Nish. He tried to get Simon to take one of the rides, and for a while he and Andy and Wilson followed Simon around, taunting him in high, childlike voices: “It’s a small world, after all. It’s a small world, after all. It’s a small world, after all…It’s a small, small world….”

  Wilson looked very uncomfortable and quit after the first obnoxious verse. Andy quit after the second. Nish didn’t know when to quit. He continued singing in a high-pitched voice while walking around behind Simon, until Simon looked as if he wished that he, like the star of Peter Pan’s Flight a few steps down the street, could simply make a wish and fly away.

  Travis waited until he had an opening. “Knock it off, Nish,” he whispered.

  “Yes, sirrrr! Mr. Lindsay!” Nish barked back. But at least he shut up and stopped singing.

  “We better head off for the parade,” Sarah said, checking her new Minnie Mouse wristwatch.

  They were heading quickly back through Fantasyland and across Liberty Square, just opposite the Hall of Presidents, when Nish, at the head of the line, brought the Screech Owls to a sudden stop.

  “The Goof Man!” he shouted.

  Nish was pointing to the side of the building. The object of his attention, standing in the dark shade of the building, was concealed slightly by a parked maintenance truck.

  “It’s Goofy!” Data shouted, fumbling for his camera.

  “C’mon!” Nish called back to them. “I gotta have my picture taken with the Goof Man!”

  The Screech Owls turned like a swarm of bees, heading straight for the Hall of Presidents and the maintenance truck.

  “Hey!” a uniformed maintenance worker shouted as they rounded the truck. “This is a restricted work area. You kids can’t come in here!”

  “We want to see Goofy!” Nish protested. “We just saw him here!”

  The worker angrily checked his watch. “Parade’s in fifteen minutes, kids. Catch him there.”

  Just then the side door to the hall opened and Goofy emerged: big toothy dog’s grin, black floppy ears, eyelids half closed, red shirt, yellow vest, and black pants, white three-fingered gloves. Just like in the cartoon the Owls loved about Goofy trying to play hockey on a frozen pond.

  “Goofer!” Nish shouted.

  Goofy turned sharply to see who was calling, then began to move in the opposite direction. He has to get to the parade, Travis figured. He hasn’t time for all the photographs and autographs the Screech Owls are going to demand.

  Nish shouted after him, “Goofy! Hey, wait up!”

  With Andy and Data behind him, Nish raced past the truck and brushed right by the outstretched arm of the maintenance worker. Nish barrelled straight on down past the door Goofy had just come out of. He caught Goofy by the arm as he was about to slip away between two buildings.

  “C’mon, Goof Man! All I want is a picture to prove I met you!”

  Goofy turned, shaking Nish’s hand off his arm. When he spoke, the muffed voice from inside the suit sounded irritated.

  “There’s a picture session at the end of the parade, son.”

  “We know that, Goof Man! But we’ll never get through all the parents and strollers. Just a quick one, okay?”

  Goofy shook his head impatiently, but Data already had his Polaroid out and Nish was posing for the camera as if he and Goofy were the greatest friends in the world. Nish had a big hey-look-at-me! grin on and had slipped an arm around Goofy’s waist.

  With no way out, Goofy gave up. He quickly threw an arm around Nish, posed, and Data took the shot.

  “Only one!” Goofy said. “I gotta go!”

  “No problem, Goof Man. We’ll catch ya later.” Nish didn’t care. He had what he wanted.

  Goofy hurried away between the Hall of Presidents and the Liberty Square Riverboat, and the Owls turned to continue toward Cinderella Castle for the parade. At the same time, the maintenance worker pulled away in his truck, veering sharply in front of the Owls. Travis got a glance at his face as he passed by. The worker looked furious. How did he ever get hired here? Travis wondered. Everyone else in Disney World was so friendly and helpful, but this guy had treated them as if they had no right to be here and had no right at all to be bothering a busy Disney executive like Mr. Goofy.

  The Owls made it to Main Street, U.S.A. just as the parade was starting out, and they pushed as close to the front of the spectators’ line as they could manage. It was wonderful, with marching bands and all the Disney songs and brilliantly coloured floats showing scenes from all the best-known
Disney movies–The Lion King, Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, The Little Mermaid–and bringing up the rear was a huge float with all the best-known cartoon characters: Mickey and Minnie, Pluto, Snow White, Donald Duck, Dumbo…and, of course, Goofy.

  The Owls couldn’t have been better placed. The parade stopped right in front of them for one of the “magic moments,” when the cartoon characters from the final float came and danced with the children in the crowd and shook hands and posed for photographs. Travis shook Mickey Mouse’s hand, feeling a little silly as he did so.

  And Nish, of course, got a second chance with Goofy–who this time was in a much better mood. He posed for several photographs with Nish, then with Sarah and Jeremy and even Andy, who had been claiming he was far too old for this stuff but looked as pleased as Nish to stand arm-in-arm with Goofy while Data took their picture.

  “The Goof Man!” Nish shouted, and Goofy turned and high-fived him.

  Sarah just stood there, shaking her head in amazement.

  “A true meeting of minds,” she said. “It’s almost enough to make you cry.”

  The Screech Owls awoke next morning to the sound of helicopters flying low over the campsite and then off over the swampy land to the south. They were so close that dust was still swirling on the campground paths when the boys emerged from their tent.

  “Army choppers,” Data announced.

  “What’re they doing?” asked Travis.

  “Maybe somebody’s lost in the swamp!” Data said, his imagination also swirling. “Maybe an alligator grabbed somebody last night!”

  Travis didn’t think so. Maybe there was an air-force base nearby. Maybe they were on manoeuvres. They probably hadn’t been as close as it had seemed in the tent, the canvas shaking and the poles rattling as they passed directly overhead.

  The boys saw Muck standing off to one side of their campsite, a big fist locked around a cup of coffee. He was staring after the helicopters.

  “What was that all about?” Travis asked his coach.

  “I have no idea,” Muck said. “First there’s searchlights passing through the campsite half the night, now these guys. I didn’t sleep a wink.”