by Kate Moseman
“Are you all right?” Her eyes were kind and filled with concern.
Thomas nodded and got to his feet. If I get fired by her, it will be like being murdered by an angel. He shook his head to try to clear it. “Never better!”
He thought fast. “Why don’t we go on a ride-through first? I can recover, and you can see the ride from a visitor’s point of view before we get into the technical side of things.”
He took a shortcut to the loading area through a side door. They stepped onto a moving walkway lit with simulated gas lamps, then into a ride vehicle resembling a small open carriage.
As the carriage moved forward into the darkness, Thomas tried to impose logic on the thoughts tumbling through his mind. I am a crew member trying to start a union in a hostile environment. She is a manager.
She is my natural enemy.
Just as that thought passed through his head, his natural enemy happily exclaimed at a life-size ghost horse appearing to draw the carriage forward.
Thomas squeezed his eyes closed. The soundtrack, so faint from outside the building, was deafening within it. He felt a headache coming on.
They proceeded through one show scene after another. Vanessa attended to it all with apparent pleasure while Thomas, normally immune to every phantasmagorical effect, fervently wished it would all just go away.
It was the longest ride he’d ever been on.
Afterward, he escorted her to a tiny triangular break room wedged into a corner of the attraction building.
The crew members in the break room became noticeably uncomfortable in the presence of the almighty area manager, so Thomas and Vanessa didn’t linger long before they slipped back through the velvet curtain and into the public area of the attraction. Thomas wondered, with some relief, how she would manage to get any intelligence on what was happening if all the crew simply clammed up around her.
They spent the rest of the morning practicing each station in the attraction. His favorite duty by far was to entertain the visitors entering the building. Thomas whipped open the attraction entrance door from the inside, startling the visitors closest to the entryway. “All right, you lot, any person coming in late shall pay a fine. Step lively, that’s the way!” The first visitors in line hesitantly stepped over the threshold. “I hope you washed yourselves today?”
Someone in the crowd laughed and shouted back, “Not me!”
“Insolent language and oaths will not be tolerated,” Thomas fired back, fully in character as a Victorian factory overseer. “In you go, ladies and gents.” He motioned the visitors into the first room of the attraction. “Keep in mind that any person leaving his or her station or talking with other workers will be dismissed. Drop waste on the floor and you shall be fined. Got it, lad?” He glared at a young boy holding a lollipop with a dangling wrapper.
The boy giggled and stuck his tongue out.
Thomas made his way through the crowd to trigger the door to the next waiting area. “Remember, you are required to give four weeks notice if you wish to leave, but we may dismiss you at any time without notice.”
The door to the loading area slid open, but none of the visitors moved. “Don’t just stand there,” he chided. “The devil makes work for idle hands.”
When the last of the group of visitors had straggled through the door to the loading area, Thomas closed it and returned to the exterior door to repeat the process.
This time when he opened the door, he opened it to a little girl in the front, who appeared to be on the verge of tears.
Dropping his Ghost Factory persona, he immediately kneeled to her level and spoke in a gentle tone. “What’s wrong, princess?”
She peered around him to the dark interior of the attraction. “I’m scared the ghosts will get me.”
“Oh, no,” Thomas said, very seriously. “We don’t have that kind of ghost here. Only silly ghosts. Are you afraid of silly ghosts?”
She shook her head solemnly.
“Well, then.” Thomas smiled at her. “You have nothing to worry about. Would you like to be my helper and let the people into the ride?”
Her eyes brightened. “All right,” she said.
They walked side by side into the first room, the girl’s family right behind them with the rest of the crowd following.
“You know how to say ‘Open sesame,’ don’t you?” said Thomas.
The girl opened her mouth as if to say it right then and there.
“Not yet—it’s very powerful, you know. Only to be used when absolutely necessary. Now, face this door.”
She faced the door with an air of great concentration.
“Ready?” He secretly positioned his hand over the button that triggered the door. “Now!”
“Open sesame!” said the girl.
The door slid open as if by magic. Thomas applauded. The girl marched into the loading area with a big smile on her face. Thomas caught Vanessa’s eye and winked.
After they’d worked their way through the rest of the stations, they returned for lunch to the little cafe where they’d picked up coffee earlier in the day. They sat at a rickety outdoor table and dined companionably on premade sandwiches and iced tea.
“So, I noticed you have a little accent … is that a Southern thing you have going on?” Thomas asked in between bites.
Vanessa cocked her head and looked quite serious. “Is it that obvious?”
“No! Not at all. I mean,” he fumbled for the right words, “don’t get me wrong.”
Her serious expression disappeared and her eyes twinkled. “I’m just messing with you. I know it’s obvious. I try to keep the ‘y’alls’ in check most of the time.”
Thomas chuckled. “I know what you mean. I have a tendency to talk like I’m onstage even when I’m not. Old habits die hard.”
“What did you do before you started working here?” she asked.
“You want my life story?”
“Give me the highlights,” said Vanessa, settling back with her iced tea in hand.
“Let’s see. I’m a local boy—can you believe it?”
She shook her head. “Seems like everybody here is from somewhere else. You must be the exception,” she said.
“Exactly. Went to high school in a Podunk town on the coast I bet you’ve never heard of. Dropped out of college, went to New York, tried to make it as an actor … did not make it as an actor,” he finished. “Came back here and got a job at Destiny because they were hiring and I like to eat.”
“Don’t we all,” she drawled.
“What about you?”
“Me?” Vanessa gathered up her sandwich wrapper. “What’s to know?” She pushed back her chair and looked at her watch. “I sprang fully formed from the sea.” She winked at him.
“Don’t try to scare me off with mythological references,” he said.
She laughed. “I promise I’ll fill you in another time.” She stood up and looked down at him. “It’s been fun. Thank you.”
He didn’t want lunch to be over. He rose from his chair anyway. “You’re welcome.”
He watched her walk away, her green skirt rippling in the wind.
As she walked, she pulled the pins out of her hair one at a time.
Chapter 5
Vanessa
Vanessa settled into her chair. A full day stretched before her with no trainings and no costumes. She felt she’d earned a quiet morning to sip a cup of coffee and catch up on paperwork. She set her coffee within reach and laid out her papers with enough space to identify them and be able to flip pages as needed. Her pens and pencils lay in a row.
Everything was in order.
She sighed happily.
She’d picked up the first paper in the stack when someone knocked at the door. “Come in,” she called.
Dirk walked in, closed the door behind h
im, and sat down without being invited to have a seat.
So much for a relaxing morning of coffee and paperwork.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, putting down the paper in her hand. “Can I help you with something?”
“I thought you might like to make a plan for dealing with this union thing. You know, putting pressure on the ringleaders? Getting the crew on our side?”
“We’re not on the same side as our crew?” She knew what his answer would be, but wanted to hear him flounder his way into it.
“Of course we’re on their side, if they’re on the company’s side,” he said.
She regarded him from across the desk. She hadn’t met anyone at Destiny Park whom she liked less than Dirk, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be useful, perhaps in ways he didn’t anticipate. “I’m listening,” she said.
He took the cue. “First, we know some of the Legacy crew must be involved in convincing people to join the union. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be enough support for it to even get off the ground.”
“True. Go on.”
“By that rationale, whoever is involved can’t just be hiding out and biding their time. The only way to convince people to vote for the union is to actually go out and convince people. That’s where these ‘organizers’ reveal themselves,” he said. “All we have to do is see who’s instigating the conversations.”
“Then what?”
Dirk gave her a knowing look, like a second-rate mafioso. “We do what we have to do.”
“I see,” she said. “How do you propose we get that information? I walked into the Ghost Factory break room yesterday and everyone clammed up.”
He looked smug. “Of course, you haven’t been here long,” he said. “But I have. I know some people I can talk to.”
She resisted the impulse to throw her coffee mug at him, scalding hot coffee included.
“I appreciate that suggestion,” she said, “but what about the part where we get people on our side?”
He rubbed his hands together before he continued. “Simple. Every time one of us goes on a walkthrough, or supervises the parade route, we have friendly little chats with the crew. Hit the talking points. Let them know they don’t need a union to come between us and them.”
Not only did he sound like a second-rate mafioso, he sounded like an ersatz Mr. Destiny. He would probably take that as a compliment.
He was watching her and waiting for her response.
I need to stall for time.
The whole situation made her uneasy, but she couldn’t let him know that—and she wasn’t even sure how to balance appeasing Mr. Destiny with respecting her employees’ rights. For now, she had to feign agreement. “It could work. We only have—what is it now? Less than a month?”
“Less than a month,” he confirmed.
“I want you to run up to the head office and see what you can find in terms of talking points and so on.”
That would get him out of her hair for a while.
“Do you want me to start talking to the crew?” he asked.
“No. Let’s get more information from the head office first,” she said. “Then we can take action.”
His eyes gleamed with the fervor of a true believer. “Destiny Park will be union-free in no time,” he said.
He marched out.
Vanessa peeked out the door to make sure Dirk was gone, then stepped into the office common area. A sudden feeling of being trapped within four walls made her shudder. “How do you get used to working in an office with no windows?” she asked Charlotte, who was busily sorting through a large pile of shift-change requests.
“I go upstairs every once in a while, before I go crazy,” Charlotte said.
“Good plan,” said Vanessa. She walked over to a rack of handheld radios and picked one up. “Is this how I keep in touch?” She waggled a radio in Charlotte’s direction.
“One for you, one for Dirk, one for me, plus a spare. All the attractions have them, too.”
Vanessa peered at the dials on the radio. “Got it. Anything else I should know?”
“The area manager’s call sign is Legacy. That makes Dirk’s call sign Legacy 2. The office’s call sign is—”
“Legacy office?” Vanessa guessed.
“Bingo,” said Charlotte. “The attraction call signs are just their names: American Dream, Ghost Factory, and Gold Rush.”
“Easy peasy,” said Vanessa. She patted her clothes, looking for a place to clip the heavy radio. The waistband of her skirt was not ideal, but it would have to do. She made a mental note to start wearing pants instead of skirts. As she smoothed her jacket back into place, she noticed the radio created a large bulge under the fabric. It looks like I’m packing heat. She shrugged off the jacket. Better.
Free of the office, Vanessa bounded up the stairs and out into Destiny Park. Once outside, she unclipped the radio and pressed the talk button. “Legacy to Legacy office. Do you copy? Over.”
Static crackled, then Charlotte’s voice came over the radio. “Copy that, Legacy. Over.”
“10-4, Legacy office. Thank you. Over.” Satisfied with her new toy, Vanessa clipped it back on her skirt waistband and straightened up. Where to go first? American Dream was the closest attraction, making it the obvious choice.
She waved and said “Good morning!” to the crew member at the front entrance.
Nonplussed, he tentatively waved back. A gaggle of visitors diverted his attention, demanding to know if there was a line, how long it was, how long the show lasted, and what time the 3:00 parade would start, so Vanessa bypassed the lot of them and went inside without adding to his troubles.
She made a beeline to the break room. Inside, she encountered one lone crew member, a man in his early fifties, sitting contentedly in a chair.
He appeared to be spooning up yogurt from a disposable container.
“Good morning,” Vanessa said.
“Hey,” said her break room companion, whose name tag read “Bob.”
“What are you up to this morning, Bob?” She sat down in the chair next to him.
Unfazed, Bob held up his yogurt container. “You want some custard? It’s really good,” he said.
Now it was Vanessa’s turn to be nonplussed. What do you say to an offer like that?
“No, thanks, I just had breakfast—Bob, is it?”
“Yessiree,” he said. He took another bite of yogurt. “You’re the new manager.”
“I am, indeed. You can call me Vanessa.”
“All right,” he replied. “Vanessa. What can I do for you?”
“I’m just checking in on everybody today. I haven’t gotten much of a chance to, what with all the trainings and so on.”
He nodded slowly. “You been to the parade yet?”
“I thought I might today, as a matter of fact. Anything else you would recommend?”
He held his spoon suspended in midair while he considered. “Nope.”
The spoon resumed its journey.
“That’s fine. Thank you, Bob,” she said as she went to the break room door. “You have a nice day, now.”
After exiting American Dream, she walked over to the roller coaster. The line at Gold Rush already snaked through the waiting area despite the early hour. Instead of entering the loading area, as she had done before with Thomas, she approached the attraction entrance.
“Good morning,” she said to the woman at the entrance, whose eyes widened upon being addressed. Her name tag read “Maribel.”
“Good morning,” Maribel said.
“How’s it going over here?”
“Oh, fine!” She glanced over her shoulder to survey the queue, sending her thick brown braid swinging. “Going to be a busy day for sure. See the line?”
“I sure do,” said Vanessa. “Were you at the meeting a few
days ago? I don’t think we’ve met. I’m the new area manager.” She held out her hand to shake.
Maribel shook it. “I wasn’t at the meeting, but I heard about it when I came in. Thomas mentioned it.”
“Thomas did? Is he here today?”
“No, he’s not here today.”
Vanessa must have looked visibly disappointed, for Maribel quickly added to her statement. “I mean, he’s not here today. At Gold Rush. But he’s probably at Ghost Factory.”
“Really? That’s where I was headed next. Thank you, Maribel. You have a good day.” Thomas at Ghost Factory? I wonder if he’s training someone. Her steps quickened.
Outside Ghost Factory, she stopped at a distance to study the exterior. The spiked fence and red brick drew the eye first, but there were many more details if one looked closely. The red brick framed a large clock with Roman numerals and two pointed hands. There were glass windows divided by frames into multiple rows of squares, each pane too opaque to see the interior. The line of visitors wound through the gate and under the clock, looking for all the world like a motley crew arriving for work, albeit dressed in clothes unbefitting a Victorian factory worker.
She dodged the line and entered through the side door. The transition from the bright morning sun to the dark interior of the building made her momentarily blind. She groped along the passageway until her eyes adjusted. There’s the break room. She reached for the door handle and was just about to pull open the door when she heard a voice.
She froze.
“You’ve worked here for ten years, but they’re giving the new people better shifts than you?”
Thomas.
Someone responded too quietly for her to hear.
Determined not to eavesdrop, she pulled open the door and pushed aside the velvet curtain.
Thomas
Thomas looked up as the curtain whipped aside and revealed Vanessa.
Oh.
Determined not to be caught flat-footed, he turned back to his coworker with the blandest expression he could manage. “Happens all the time. You jumping back in now?” he asked, using crew member lingo for going back to work after your break.