Beth’s coming out of the hospital room saved Peter from having to explain how he dug up a flowerbed in the Studio’s Nunnery. “So, you found another clue, Peter? How exciting.” It became obvious she was struggling with emotion when her eyes filled with tears. After a clearing cough, her smile wavered, but she was able to continue. “I know Catie loves hearing about what you’re doing. Thanks for coming to talk to her.”
“Maybe she’ll wake up and help me with the next one.”
Beth gave the boy a hug. “I hope so, honey. You go do us all proud, all right?”
Smothered into her shoulder, Peter’s reply was muffled. “I’ll do my best.”
“So, how many graveyards are there in Disneyland anyway?” Back in his room, safe from any more random hugs, Peter concentrated on the clue. He decided to go with Uncle Adam’s explanation that it referred to someone who had died. “Well, that’s interesting. There are at least six graveyards in Disneyland. I thought there was only the one in the Haunted Mansion, but there are really three there.” His chair scooted closer to the desk. “There’s the pet cemetery on the side of the Mansion that most people don’t even know about.” Picture after picture was brought up and closed. “That can’t be it. All the dates are wrong for the clue. They go from 1847 to 1869.”
He switched his search the second Mansion graveyard: The tombstones seen in the outside queue. “No dates? How come none of them have dates? Fred, Master Gracey, Brother Claude, Grampa Marc.” Five minutes later, Peter found he was reading just to be reading and not doing actual research. “Oh, so that’s who they were named after. I knew some of the Imagineers’ names but not all of them. Wonder if I need to go to the Park and look for myself. Maybe these pictures missed something.”
The graveyard scene at the end of the Haunted Mansion ride was the third. “Gosh, these pictures don’t show anything. Yeah, I’ll definitely have to go on the ride.” He smiled as he clicked off the current screen. “Yeah, that’s too bad. I have to ride the Mansion!”
The Frontierland Shootin’ Exposition was next on his list of cemeteries. “The only date I can see in Boot Hill is December 1848. That’s wrong, too.” Peter frowned as he thought. “It can’t be there anyway. They’re all just targets. How could anything be buried under that?”
The next location earned a groan. “Storybook Land Canal Boats? Really? There’s a graveyard in Alice’s Village, but, man, they are only, like half an inch tall. I don’t want to dig up Storybook Land.”
With a shake of his head, Peter dismissed the popular ride to scroll to the next search. “Tom Sawyer Island? Where? At the cabin? No, it was set up behind the old Fort. It says the Fort was torn down and rebuilt in 2007. That’s too bad. Is the graveyard still there? Hmm.”
Disneyland
Lance and his family had a table waterside in the Blue Bayou Restaurant. Michael and Andrew were more interested in the Pirates of the Caribbean boats slowly floating past their table than their dinner. Lance had eagerly devoured his filet while Peter pushed his Jambalaya around in the bowl. “You going to eat that, Pete?”
“Lance, you just had a huge filet. How can you possibly still be hungry?” Her husband’s remarkable hunger always amazed Kimberly. He was still as slender as the day she married him.
“What can I say? I hate seeing something go to waste. Especially the Bayou’s Jambalaya.”
Peter shoved his bowl closer to his dad and grabbed one of the remaining dinner rolls.
“Can I have a roll to feed the ducks, Mom?”
“There’s no ducks in here, Andrew. We’re inside.”
“I know that, Mikey! I mean the ducks in the River.”
Before the two younger ones could get into it, Kimberly sighed. Just one girl. That’s all I ever asked for. One sweet, kind, non-argumentative little daughter. “All right, you two. That’s enough. Andrew, yes, you can have a roll if no one else wants the last one.” She threw a look at Lance that told him not to claim the last roll. To change the subject, she turned to Peter. “So, do you think we need to ride the Mansion again? It was so dark it was difficult to see the writing on many of the tombstones. We could give it another go.”
Peter wasn’t sure. “I don’t think that’s the right place.” In the darkened, moon-lit ambience of the restaurant, amid the soft croaking of frogs and darting fireflies, a sudden bright light caught everyone’s attention. Peter glanced over at the lapping water of the Bayou. Someone in the front row of a passing boat just took a flash picture. “That’s not going to turn out.” He turned back to his mom and her suggestion. “I’d rather go over to Tom Sawyer Island. The picture I saw online was blurry, but the wooden marker thingy looked like it could have said just what the clue said.”
Silent all this time, Lance finished up the remaining Jambalaya. “Man, that was good! Did someone order dessert? I can’t remember. What?” He stopped when he realized Kimberly and Peter were staring at him. “Do I have something on my face?”
“You never leave enough food to have something on your face, honey.”
Lance contentedly patted his flat stomach. “What can I say? I’m a growing boy.”
“We were talking about Tom Sawyer Island, Dad. I’d like to go over there before it shuts down for the night.”
Lance used the Bayou’s flickering darkness to scrutinize Peter’s face. What he saw was determination and figured that was good enough for now. “Okay, that’s a plan. I’ll call two of my security buddies to stand guard. As you know, there’re two paths that go up behind the Fort. One from each side of the River. Or we could just come back tonight from the apartment.”
Peter surprised him by shaking his head no. “I’d rather do it now. You going to ask Steve and Joe for help?”
“Yeah. They’re good for that. They’ve helped me out before and won’t ask any questions later. Plus, they can alert us when the Mark Twain or the Columbia gets close. I do know the canoes aren’t running today.”
“You sound like a tour guide, Daddy!”
“You think I’d make a good one, Andrew?”
“I dunno. Can we go feed the ducks now?”
Arms folded over his chest, Peter stood and stared at the small graveyard behind Fort Wilderness. Situated on a tall mound, it was the farthest you walk on the Island before coming to the fenced-off No Man’s Land. Thaddeus Walker was indeed there, along with ten others who shared his final resting place. W. Pierre Feignoux, Lieut. Laurence Clemmings, Sacajawea, and Ebinizer Browne were among the deceased. “Well, I guess it’s obvious which grave I want, but what do I do? How much do I have to dig up?”
Lance watched as the Mark Twain sailed past, her steam whistle blowing a greeting to the old abandoned Fort. “You have just a couple of minutes before she goes by on the other side. You have to figure it out, son.”
“Yeah, but…” Peter sighed as he brought the folding shovel out from his backpack. When he had been at the Studio, he had found a telltale WED engraved in the wall above the spot he needed to dig. There was no such marking here. Just hard-packed dirt. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll figure it out.”
Once the Mark Twain’s paddlewheel was out of sight on the other side, he knew he should get to work. There would no longer be a danger from any passenger seeing him or what he was about to do.
With a grunt of disgust similar to the one his dad had made back in 2002, the tip of the shovel bit into the ground. Once he broke through the hard top crust, he found the dirt easier to manipulate. Shovelful after shovelful flew to the side.
“Pete? Honey? You’re making a mess. You are going to have to fill it back in, you know.”
Peter looked over at his mom and noticed the way the dirt had been strewn in every direction. The glimmer of excitement faded. “Maybe Michael can help me.”
Michael didn’t even look up from his mom’s phone. “Nope.”
“The Columbia just rounded the bend by the canoe dock. We’re going to have company soon.”
Lance came over from his spot in th
e shade. “Thanks, Joe. Anything yet, Pete? No? Then hold up until the Columbia goes by. You know, we haven’t been on her in a long time. Maybe we can ride her when we’re done here.”
“Ride what, Daddy?” Andrew came back from the happy flock of mallards and mud hens that had just been fed pieces of bread. The ducks went off in a mass of feathers and confusion as the Columbia’s cannons roared from her deck. Scared by the loud noise, Andrew covered his ears. “I don’t want to ride that. It’s too loud. Can we go on Pirates again?”
“Andy, there are cannons in there, too, you know.”
“I know that, Mikey. But, that’s different. Those aren’t real.”
Peter ignored their ongoing debate on what was real at the Park as he got back to work on the growing hole. Just before the Columbia could reach the clearing, his spade hit something hard. “I found something!”
“Hold up.” The warning came from Steve as he waved hello and smiled at the guests as the ship slowly sailed by. “All clear.”
The family stepped away from their nonchalant protective pose around the hole to see what Peter had found. “I think you got it, Pete. That’s definitely plastic and not another rock.” Lance stepped over the short wooden railing that encircled the graves to retrieve the find. “Now you can fill it in.”
Peter’s shoulder sagged. He thought his dad was going to help.
“Lance.”
Halfway back over the fence, Lance paused at the one word uttered by his wife. One word, yet so full of meaning. With a roll of his eyes and a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, he tossed the small container to Kimberly. “Fine.” Without another word, he took the shovel from Peter and began to fill in the hole.
Unable to believe their eyes, Steve and Joe nudged each other as they left their posts to watch Lance’s show. “Wow, he actually does work. I would’ve lost that bet.”
“I know. Did you bring a camera? No one’s going to believe us.”
Tossing the shovel to the side and tamping down the soft dirt, Lance ignored his fellow security guards. “One word of this and I’ll tell Laura what really happened to her family’s heirloom vase, Steve.”
Steve’s tanned face visibly blanched. That monthly poker game had gotten a little rowdier than usual. “Uh, no need to bother Laura. We’re good, right, Joe?”
“Hey, I ain’t the one who broke it.”
Before Lance could prod them any further, cooler heads prevailed. Kimberly stepped between Steve and Joe and thanked them for their help. “Lance is almost done. Do you think you could keep watch for any guests who might wander back here?”
The green-eyed, curvy blonde could have asked them to jump into the River and they would have happily done it. “You bet, Kimberly. Sorry.”
She covered Lance’s ‘whipped puppies’ with a loud cough. Those same green eyes were less-than-mesmerizing when she flashed a warning look at her husband.
Unrepentant, he merely smirked as he called over to his security buddies. “I think we’re done here. Thanks, guys. I owe you one. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” Turning to his younger sons who started to complain again about their boredom with Peter’s stupid job, Lance rubbed his dusty hands together. “So, who’s ready for Pirates?”
“Me! Me!”
“Alrighty, then. Let’s go catch the last raft before they close the Island for the night. Good work, Pete.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder as they walked the dusty trail back to the dock. Screams from the passengers hurtling down Splash Mountain’s flume could be clearly heard from across the River. “Who wants to ride Splash Mountain instead?”
“No.”
His other arm snaked around Kimberly’s waist when they arrived at the raft dock. “Someone doesn’t want to get her hair wet.”
“I think Andrew’s coming down with a cold. He shouldn’t run around the Park with wet feet.”
Lance chuckled. “Right.”
To Peter, their good-natured banter was merely background noise. He didn’t really care what they went on. All the rides were good to him. He just wondered where Walt was going to send him next.
Disneyland Paris
”We have to get Walt out of here. That was Tony.”
Finished with their ride, standing off to the side in the loading room and next to the scooter, Wolf and Omah were in deep discussion. Only half listening, Walt was busy looking at the gothic details of the room as the eerie soundtrack played over and over. “Do I know this Tony?”
Wolf broke off his discussion with his wife to answer Walt, his voice noticeably lower. “Yes, you’ve met him, but he was a boy in your time. He’s gone on to do wonderful things within the company. But,” he stressed, “You can’t be recognized. You know that.”
Even in the darkness of the loading dock, Walt’s brief flicker of irritation was easy to read. The Doom Buggy ride vehicles kept moving steadily past them, the occupants either eagerly leaning forward or warily pressed against the back of the black clamshell. “Maybe this Tony wouldn’t recognize me.” Arms folded across his chest, Walt seemed ready to dig in his feet. He was somewhat surprised when Wolf smiled.
“When was the last time you went anywhere and have not been recognized?”
Walt had to admit the truth of that statement. “Fine. So, now what? I’d like to go on this again. I liked the Frontierland feel of the ghost town. And, we are right here.”
Omah stepped forward and motioned for Walt to resume his seat in the scooter. “We’d probably have to wait in line again to ride.” She put an understanding hand on his shoulder. “Even for you, Boss.”
“Hey, I’ve never minded waiting in line. That’s how you learn things. You see what the guests have to go through and listen to the good and the bad.” From his seat, he glanced up at Wolf. “That was easier to do when I wasn’t so recognizable, as you pointed out.” After one last inspection of the fascinating room, he sighed. “So, can’t we just pop over to Discoveryland instead? If Tony is waiting outside, as you seem to think, he wouldn’t know to look there.”
Wolf knew Walt was just trying to delay the inevitable. “Sorry, Boss, but we can’t take the chance. He heard you cough. Everyone who ever knew you knows your cough. Next time I see him, I’m going to have a hard enough time explaining why we seemingly never came out of the Manor.”
“What do you think, Wolf? I saw a cast member exit when we brought the scooter in. Maybe we can duck in there and go.”
Wolf ignored Walt’s grumble as he considered Omah’s plan. Company policy was that a cast member escorted a scooter or wheelchair back to the entrance. That wouldn’t help their escape. He was fluent enough in French to hopefully persuade the Ghostess to let them go back alone. His Security badge was pulled out of his wallet for good measure. “Here goes nothing,” as he turned to their patient cast member.
Burbank Studio
“Hey! I thought we were going to Disneyland.” Walt was disappointed to find himself back in his inner office. His mind still whirling with all the wonders he had seen and the effects of the instant transfer, he sank into the chair behind his desk. “What day is this, anyway?”
Omah and Wolf looked at each other and shrugged. “Hopefully it’s the same day we left. That was our aim. It should be as if you never left. Should be…” Omah’s voice trailed off as she sincerely hoped that to be the case. Even after decades and centuries of travel, it still wasn’t an exact science.
Walt glanced at the calendar. It did show him it was the same month, but didn’t tell him what he needed to know. “I guess I’ll just have to play it by ear and see what’s going on today.” His eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to Wolf. “You did promise to take me to Disneyland.”
“Wasn’t Paris enough?” Wolf tried to keep an innocent expression on his face.
Walt rubbed a tired hand over his face as he snorted. “I guess that sounded pretty ungrateful. I didn’t mean it that way.” His gesture included Omah. “I do thank you both. I…I never imagined I’d be in Paris or Japan
or China.” His head slowly shook back and forth as he thought about the future scope of his empire. “Roy and I never even thought that far. After all the money that went into Disneyland and the lack of land we were able to buy in Anaheim, we considered Florida to be our big statement Park. Wish I could tell him what’s coming. But, I’d probably be locked up in a loony bin if I tried.”
“Best not to, Boss. This was just for you. But, we haven’t forgotten our promise. You will get to see Disneyland. Just not today.”
“Why... Yeah, I think you’re right. I am awfully tired.” Walt pushed away from his desk and went to stand by the window. His position was the same as when Wolf first arrived, but his attitude was noticeable brighter than he had been. “Much as I hate to admit it. So, when do you think we can…” His question was interrupted by the intercom. “Excuse me a minute. Don’t leave either. I’m not done with you yet.” He pushed the button on his desk. “Yes?”
“Walt, The Boys are here to see you.”
His head still full of Disneyland Paris, his mind went blank. “Boys?”
His secretary’s voice hesitated. Everyone knew who The Boys were. “Umm, the Shermans? You wanted to hear their newest song for The Jungle Book.”
“Oh, right. Give me moment, will you? I’ll come out.”
“All right, Walt. I’ll tell them.”
“I guess that’s our cue to leave.” After giving Walt a hug, Omah went to sit in the scooter so it would go with them when they went back to their time.
Walt turned to Wolf and held out his hand. “I won’t let you forget your promise. You know that, right?”
Wolf had to smile as they shook. “But, Walt, if you see me in the Park tomorrow or the next day and remind me, I won’t have any idea what you’re talking about. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“Gosh, how do you keep all this straight?”
“It’s one of our burdens, I guess. We won’t forget. See you around, Boss.”
HIDDEN MICKEY ADVENTURES 5 Page 8
