Kimberly smiled at the memory. “Well, it was for my twentieth birthday. In fact, it was on that cruise that my father told me about Walt and about his role as the Guardian.”
“Wow,” he muttered as he poured more tea and held it out to her. “How’d you take that wee bit of news?”
“It was a relief in some ways.” She took a sip, and paused, as she looked over the rim of the cup. “I knew something was…different about Dad. You can’t hide what my father had been doing for forty years and not raise some questions.”
Lance remained quiet as she sorted out her thoughts. He could see her eyes in the dim lights that were part of the Treehouse lighting system. It was a soft glow that permeated through the windows of the hut. It wasn’t enough light to illuminate any colors in the small room, but Lance could see the emotion in Kimberly’s eyes.
“I had no idea of the magnitude of what he was doing, of course. He filled me in only to the point of his relationship with Walt back in the early 1960’s. You see, Dad had been working on some experimental cryogenics with some partners I never knew. He left the business when Walt approached him with his incredible idea. Dad told me that he was hired as a sub-contractor.” She gave a small, knowing smile as she looked at Lance. “Yeah, he wasn’t really a sub-contractor working for WED Enterprises. He answered only to Walt and all the managers of Disneyland knew that Dad wasn’t to be questioned the few times he appeared at the Park during the construction of New Orleans Square.”
The pieces started to fall into place for Lance. He nodded his understanding. “So your dad was able to install the subterranean machine in the Park under the guise of being part of the project Walt had designed and was overseeing.”
“And all the tanks that he figured he would need for a long time in…hibernation.”
“How long did he plan for the tanks to keep Walt suspended?”
“Dad estimated seventy-five years, provided everything worked correctly.” Kimberly took another bite of her sandwich and chewed for a few moments in silence. “He was able to monitor everything from the house. So far, from what I understand, most everything has worked exactly the way my father designed it to work. There are back-up systems in place, too, just in case there’s a loss of power to the Park.”
She could tell Lance was impressed.
Lance thought back to the night he discovered Walt—the night Kimberly’s father pointed a gun at him. That seemed a lifetime ago. “You should’ve seen my face when I looked in that contraption and saw Walt staring back at me.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Of course, you don’t want to know what I was thinking when your dad pointed that .44 Magnum at my forehead.”
“Ah, Lance, I’m so sorry.” Kimberly was sincerely upset by what he had been put through.
He waved her off. “No, no. It was….” He paused, and looked away. “I guess you could call it karma that someone else pointed a gun at me,” thinking back to when he had pulled a gun on his two best friends. Former best friends, he silently corrected.
“Well, I know that if you weren’t there when my dad died, you wouldn’t have known to open that envelope.” Kimberly stopped and pondered the situation. “In fact,” she added, “I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if Dad had just told me that something was missed along the way. I do know one thing, though. I would not have trusted Daniel Crain.” She shook her head. “I honestly wouldn’t put anything past him, uncle or no uncle. He just creeps me out.”
Lance poured the last of the tea and held it out.
Kimberly held up her hand. “No, go ahead. I’m fine.” She didn’t want to have to try and sneak into a Ladies Room any time soon.…
Lance took the final sip. “Well,” as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, “all I know is that I’ve gone from feeling like I had missed the boat to now becoming the captain.” He smiled, even as he secretly hoped he had not become captain of the Titanic. He brushed off the thought and then looked at Kimberly. “I’m glad we’re on this little adventure together.”
Kimberly could feel her heart skip a beat. She didn’t say it, but she was glad too.
As it approached three in the morning, Kimberly awoke, startled at her unfamiliar surroundings. She had fallen asleep after eating the sandwich, and was even more startled to look up into the face of Lance…finding his lap had been her pillow.
“Where…What?” Groggy, she lifted her head from his lap.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Lance smiled as she got up half way, leaning on her outstretched arm. “Good timing, too. It’s just after three and we have a lot of work to do.”
Kimberly sat up and rubbed her eyes with felt like sandpaper. “I guess I fell asleep.”
“It’s fine. You needed the rest and I guess I was a reasonable facsimile of a pillow.” Lance admired the sleepy look that was etched across her face. Dang, she looks good at three in the morning.
“I assume we’re still undiscovered?”
“Yes, and it’s very quiet on the western front.”
Kimberly looked toward Jungle Cruise. “I believe that would be the south-eastern front.”
Lance chuckled. “See? That’s why I brought you along. I’d probably end up on the roof of Pirates if it weren’t for you.”
“I do try.”
Lance quietly went out the window of the hut, slipped on the backpack, and walked to the back of the platform. He had already spied out a large, sturdy branch eighteen inches in diameter that jutted out from the foundation of the hut. The branch, a large, camouflaged scaffolding structure for that section of the tree, was itself supported by a vertical column of vines that was designed to conceal a steel shaft running straight down to the ground. He climbed over the rail that surrounded the walkway and stood on the branch. Overhead were small branches he could grasp for balance as he walked to the outer portion of the tree. There was a large opening that allowed him a clear view over the middle of Indiana Jones’ queue area and into part of the Jungle Cruise.
Kimberly waited and watched at the rail, keeping a lookout for anyone who might be walking below. They were both well-protected from sight by the darkness as well as the layers of branches and leaves that went out in all directions below them. It was sound that was their enemy now.
Lance moved until he felt was far enough out for what he had in mind. The branch had tapered down to ten inches around. His position offered a clear shot to a large Magnolia tree opposite them, directly across from the Indy queue. The tree he picked out was at the edge of Manhattan Island. In a sitting position, straddling the branch, he pulled the backpack off his shoulders. By poking the straps through another sturdy branch, the pack was secure from falling.
Underneath where their sandwiches had been stashed, Lance pulled out an aluminum shoulder bracket that looked like a futuristic rifle stock, and a black, metal barrel that he screwed into the stock. Now the contraption resembled an underwater spear-gun that attached around his neck with black straps.
Next came an arrow-shaped spear about an inch in diameter and a foot-and-a-half long. Lance tested the device by pushing the tip against a branch. With a muted zing, the arrow sprung open and three foot-long arms branched out to form a grappling hook. Once back into their nesting position, he slid the arrow into the barrel until it locked with a click.
Fascinated, Kimberly watched as Lance fished out a coil of wire and attached one end to the eye hook that looped above the barrel. A spring-loaded carabiner attached to the wire threaded through the hook of the arrow. Lance made sure he had a clear view of the Magnolia tree that was about thirty-five feet away. With fifty feet of cable, he should be able to reach the tree. Now he pulled out a CO2 cylinder that slipped into a slot on the rifle directly behind the barrel of the gun. When a short whoosh of escaping air was heard, Lance was ready to go.
While the CO2 cartridge had the capability of about six shots, Lance had to do this in one attempt. He liked the tree he had chosen since it was sufficiently tall to
allow the zip line across the river to fall at a steep enough angle.
Looking one last time below and across the Jungle Cruise river, he saw no one who might hear either him or the hook land. Ankles locked around the branch, he had a firm foundation. Worse than missing his target, falling forty feet would certainly ruin his day.
Ready to fire, Lance held his breath and pulled the trigger. With a quick, half second explosion, the arrow launched from the rifle cleanly through the opening in the tree. The cable spooled out so fast it looked as if he had hooked a large barracuda. The arching arrow landed in the middle of the Magnolia with a rustle of leaves and a muted thud. An instant later the prongs released.
“Yes!” Lance high-fived the tree had held him.
Kimberly unconsciously held her breath as she watched Lance. As he pulled back the slack of the cable, only then did she let her breath out and relax.
When the cable was taut, he tested the strength of the hold. No longer needed, the whole contraption was returned to his backpack. Lance then wrapped the anchor securely around a branch. Because the tree he was in was actually made of concrete and steel, he wasn’t concerned about stability of this end. It was the living Magnolia that he hoped would be strong enough. Hoping he had done enough, he now had a frozen rope stretched at a thirty-degree angle toward the Jungle Cruise.
When he was satisfied, he signaled Kimberly. “I need you.”
As she made her way over the wide branch, Lance took out a small pulley device—a rectangular object that had a hook on the bottom and two wheels sandwiched between two aluminum plates. With a snap, the device opened and Lance placed the wheels over the cable before snapping the two ends back together, encircling the device on the cable and creating a handle. Kimberly reached him as it was secured to a pulley. A small gardening spade was placed in his back pocket.
“I need you to stay here while I zip across the river.” Still needing to whisper, he gripped the wooden handle and tested the pulley by pulling it soundlessly back and forth across the cable. “When I get back I’ll need you to see if anyone is around the base of the Treehouse. I won’t be able to see over the tall berm of bushes.”
Disappointed, Kimberly nodded, wishing she could go with him to search the island and El Lobo. “Okay. But hurry, Lance.”
Lance looked relaxed, as if he was going for a short walk. “I’ll be right back.” He turned to leave but then felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned back to Kimberly with an inquisitive look on his face.
“Good luck…break a leg…pull a hamstring….whatever it is they say before you do something like this.” Kimberly gave him a small smile as she looked into his eyes. She then leaned in and kissed him on his lips. A short, sweet—and for Lance—a completely unexpected first kiss. Lance looked at her with a secret hope that it wouldn’t be their last kiss.
Lance grinned as he leaned out over the branch, hanging onto the handle of the pulley. Slowly letting his weight move from the branch to the wire, he was pleased to see that it only dropped about eight inches when his weight was finally on the cable. Without a word, Lance released the branch and let gravity take over. The downward slope of the cable made the first ten feet flash by. He lifted his legs up as high as he could so he would clear the branches below the tree. As he approached the end, the sag of the cable went below the anchor point so Lance could slow down. With a slight whoosh, Lance hit the leaves of the Magnolia and used his legs to brace the abrupt end against the lower branches and trunk of the huge tree.
A good five feet above the ground, he grabbed a lower branch and swung himself from the handle to the ground. Quickly kneeling down into a tight ball, he paused to hear any approaching voices in the distance. After a minute, Lance looked back up along the cable to where he could make out Kimberly still on the branch.
Lance flashed an “A-Okay” sign before he looked for a path to the other side of the island. Kimberly returned the wave and watched him vanish into the bushes.
Even though it was dark, Kimberly felt both visible and vulnerable—if not perilous—standing out on that large branch. There was nothing she could do for Lance, and, besides, she couldn’t see past the Magnolia Lance had used.
Kimberly knew it would probably be longer than the “be right back” Lance had promised. He would have to negotiate the trek across the small, but dense, jungle, cross both islands to find both El Lobos, search for something he hoped would still be hidden after forty-plus years, and make it back…all without being caught or discovered.
Instead of wistfully scanning the side of the river where Lance vanished, Kimberly climbed back over the rail of the hut where she and Lance had hid. She made herself as comfortable as she could on the thin carpeted floor of the hut. Eyes closed, she listened for any noise that might signal Lance’s return.
Or someone else’s.
Lance found a surprisingly well-marked trail that led in the direction he believed he needed to go. He had a hand-drawn map of the ride, basically showing the shape of the river, the two islands that make up the interior—Manhattan and Catalina—and simple descriptions of various attractions along the ride. There was no description of the trail or where it went, nor was there any depiction of the rock formation in either location they had spotted. Lance believed one of those places had to be where the clue was directing him. This ambiguity was actually a good thing, in Lance’s mind. For something to have been left virtually alone for all this time, it would have to be something nearly forgotten or lost.
According to the map, Lance had landed on Manhattan, near the Cambodian Shrine and sunken ruins where the large, animated Bengal tiger stood snarling at the passing boats. However, with the entire ride’s animation turned off, the tiger, along with all the mechanical creatures, would be motionless. The first location they had spotted would be down the narrow strip of island toward the attraction’s entrance. Just in case there was a worker somewhere in the queue area for the Indiana Jones attraction, Lance headed to the opposite side of Manhattan, across the river from the baboons and the wrecked campsite. The going was slow as the underbrush was thick. He could tell no one had been through that section of the island in a long time. There was no path, no signs, and no footprints.
Sticking near the riverbank, Lance could see well enough. When the river started to make the bend toward the now-silent Schweitzer Falls, he headed into the thicket of vines and tree trunks. In his hand was a small flashlight. When he found the first rock formation, he muttered, “Hello, beautiful!” as he illuminated the open mouth of the small El Lobo. Careful to look over every inch of the rocks, Lance was disappointed when he couldn’t spot any carved WED. He double-checked the base of the man-made formation, pulled leaves and dirt away from the edges, looked inside the wolf-like jaw and all along the top of the structure.
“Going to make me work for it, huh, Walt?” Lance was undeterred as he decided to move on to the next formation.
He knew he needed to get to the point of the island across from where Schweitzer Falls was located. He would climb over the rocks that make up the Falls and climb down opposite the second island, Catalina.
Once he got to the end of Manhattan, it was obvious that he was going to have to get wet—something he had earlier kidded Kimberly about. “Now it’s really too bad she didn’t come.” Not taking the time to grouse about it, Lance sat down on the grassy spit of land and removed his shoes, socks, and pants. With a resigned sigh, he entered the dark green water. Surprised to find the water warm, Lance concluded that the dark coloring of the water retained the heat from the sun. As he moved from ankle-deep water to well past his knees in just a few steps, he held his clothes higher and higher as he approached the center of the river. He had thought it was only about three feet deep. It was more like five feet. When the water reached his chest, the bottom of the river flattened out. Lance knew there was a rail of some sort for the track that kept the Jungle Cruise boats in the middle of the river. As expected, he felt a raised bar with his bare foot, a bar that s
eemed about eight inches off the floor of the river.
Once on the other side, he started to get dressed again, but hesitated. Was there a connecting piece of land? He gave a loud groan. “Idiot. It’s called Catalina Island for a reason….” He decided to only put his shoes on at this point wondering how he might have to explain his current condition should someone discover him only wearing a shirt, boxers and shoes. Still chuckling, he found the trace of a trail that led in the direction he wanted. It had to be a maintenance trail since it ended at a small clearing that contained large pumps and other large valves that Lance concluded must control the flow of water over Schweitzer Falls.
There were steps built in the concrete rockwork that formed the back of the Falls. Those steps, in turn, led up to the top where a second set of steps, probably only used to service the outflow tubes filling the small basin where the water fills up before going over the fifteen-foot wide fall, were located. Lance looked at his watch; it read 4:10 a.m. At this hour, the pumps were off and there was only standing water at the top of the falls when he climbed up to take a look. Stepping stones in the small basin took Lance over the top of Schweitzer Falls. In the darkness he missed one of the stones that had a worn—but unmistakable—WED chiseled into its face. In fact, had he been looking in the right places, he would have spotted two other WED carvings, both of them worn from age and the elements; one was in the first step that lead to the top of the Falls and one was farther back on a well-camouflaged rock face that also featured an arrow that pointed in the exact direction Lance had been following to the El Lobo formation.
On the other side of Schweitzer Falls, there were similar steps down from the top. Neglected with little use, there was ample growth of vines and plants that surrounded and nearly blocked those downward steps. Lance plied through the foliage reached the water’s edge. With another deep sigh, he sat down and again removed his shoes. He didn’t bother rolling his soggy sweatshirt any higher. He didn’t think it could possibly get any wetter than it already was.
It All Started... Page 19
