by Jeff Dixon
The Swiss Family Treehouse is based on the 1960 live-action Disney feature film “Swiss Family Robinson.” Making the connection to the book in the painting had been an easy one for Hawk. Although the attraction was not a thrilling one, it was one Hawk loved just because of the creativity, and as always . . . the details. Trying to recreate a model of the home the Robinson family built in the movie was no easy feat for Imagineers. They ended up building a tree house, and it doesn’t include an elevator. That means navigating the one hundred sixteen steps every time you visit. Hawk and Kate walked past the entrance and over to a shop across the plaza. Once inside, they absently flipped through clothing racks while they looked over the streets of Adventureland.
“Are we going to climb a tree?” Kate asked as they faux shopped.
“Did you know that tree is a Disneyodendron eximus?” Hawk asked her, as his eyes moved through the crowds, searching.
“A what?”
“It means an out-of-the-ordinary Disney tree, or something like that. It’s man-made, with concrete roots. The fourteen hundred limbs are constructed of cement-coated steel. Three hundred thousand plastic leaves were attached by hand. The tree is ninety feet high and sixty feet wide.”
“How do you keep all those facts in your head?” She looked at him with a mixture of puzzlement and amazement.
“Scary, huh?”
“I’ll say.” Kate looked back toward the tree. “Are we going up it?”
“Well . . .” Hawk looked at her outfit. “Is that really how you dress to visit a theme park?”
“You don’t like my outfit?” Kate looked down at her usual stylish blouse, skirt, and heels. “This is how I dress every day.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” He smiled. I like it a lot. “But it makes it tough to blend into the crowd with you dressed up.”
“Who likes to blend into a crowd?”
Hawk listened as the thunder rolled again. This time it was closer. He walked to the cash register and bought two of the opaque plastic ponchos that miraculously showed up in every merchandise store when inclement weather appeared over the resort. Umbrellas were discouraged in the parks— they were too dangerous, and someone might get poked—so ponchos and raingear became the dress of the day. He made his purchase and came back to where Kate was standing at the clothes rack.
“They’ve closed the attraction.” Hawk nodded toward the entrance of the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse. “It’s too dangerous to climb it with the lightning and rain.”
“So what do we do, just wait out the storm?”
“No, I’m not the most patient person. I don’t like to wait. I get bored.”
Hawk moved Kate out of the shop, into the covered pass-through that allowed guests to move from Adventureland into Frontierland and Liberty Square. There were restrooms and the entrance to a gift shop located in the walkway. Once the rain started, people began to gather en masse inside. As the rain fell even harder, the people pressed in, and the passageway became a sea of humanity trying to stay dry. The more people that packed into the passage, the louder the noise became. The sound of the hard, steady rain and the elevated voices of everyone trying to be heard made it almost deafening to wait there.
Hawk leaned in, positioning his mouth at Kate’s ear, and began whispering to her. As she listened, she would occasionally pull her head away from him, look at him, then nod, and then lean back into him to keep listening. She reached over and grabbed his arm tightly and mouthed, “Be careful.” Then he slipped out of the crowd, onto the street, merging with the poncho-covered people determined not to let the rain spoil their vacation. On a sprint through the rain, he arrived at the entrance, and ignoring the sign indicating the attraction was closed, he jumped the gate and ran across the bridge to the steps.
Thunder shook the tree as he hit the bottom of the steps. The design was simple and genius. The steps would carry you up into the tree where Imagineers had re-created rooms and props that were a part, or could have been a part, of the live action film. Where you will find a word. That was what he was now looking for . . . a word . . . whatever that might mean. Arriving at the first room, he saw the re-created living room, which featured an organ, tables, chairs, and bookcase. Pressing his face against the window to get the widest view of the room’s interior, he let his eyes explore the space for another figurine or something a figurine might be hidden in. The word portion of the clue had not yet connected; he was hoping it would all fall into place as he searched, because he had no other lead to pursue. Seeing nothing in the living room that alerted him, he skipped up the next section of steps that wove their way through the branches.
Lightning flashed bright and close, a spectacular yet frightening blaze of hot white across the darkened late-afternoon sky. As he squinted against the light, the thunder clapped, shaking the walkway beneath his feet. I’m glad we shut this down in bad weather, he thought, as he arrived at the bedroom of Mother and Father Robinson. Again placing his face against the window so he could see inside, he started at the nightstand by the bed and moved his gaze across the room. He stepped back for a moment and then leaned forward again. Straining to see with better clarity, he noticed that one of the books in the room had the word Holy Bible on the cover. That was two words. As a pastor, he often referred to the Bible as the Word of God. People in Christian circles would utter the phrase that they needed a word from the Lord.
The Bible, he believed beyond any doubt, was God’s Word. The book was the word. The door to the bedroom was located behind a rail that kept guests out of the display and secured by a rope system that he quickly released. It swung open. Hawk stepped into the bedroom. He lightly walked over to the nightstand and bent down to look at the Bible closer. From this new vantage point, he could see what was under the nightstand. It was a cylinder-shaped object, wrapped in a burlap cloth, similar to what he had found in the cemetery during another rainstorm. He snatched up the package and began to unwrap it right there, out of the rain.
Just as before, he unwound the cloth until he saw another figure, a bit smaller than the others because this person was designed to be seated. The cowboy’s hands were extended with the fingers pointing down as if playing a piano. Flipping it over in his hand, he saw a collectible pin attached with the same adhesive. He gently pried the pin free, and tossing it over in his hand, saw it was one of his all-time favorite characters: Goofy. After placing the Goofy pin in his pocket, he carefully rewrapped the cowboy figure, then stepped back out onto the stairs.
Despite the weather, he couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a rare, spectacular glimpse of the park. He climbed up the next flight, which led to the bedroom set of the boys from the film. This was the highest point of the attraction, then the steps would unwind themselves down the tree and take you past other things to look at on your descent. Hawk paused and looked out over the park.
The height of the tree gave an amazing perspective of the Magic Kingdom, and particularly of Adventureland. In the rain, the streets had become a steady stream of hooded, opaque Mickey Mouse ponchos bobbing as the guests moved to the next stop on their journey. Then he saw the movement at the bottom of the tree.
There was someone wearing a black hooded rain jacket scuttling into the exit area of the tree house. Hawk descended a few steps and peered closely, trying to see the face. When the person turned to look up toward him, the only detail Hawk could see was a black ski mask, shadowed by the black hood. Not a good sign, but also not a surprise.
In the pass-through earlier, Hawk had whispered to Kate that he was sure he would be watched by those trying to stop him. They had threatened them, they had chased them, they had tried to stop them; and so far, they’d had no success. They were getting desperate, because the more time Hawk had to look, the closer he would be to finding whatever was out there to find.
Hawk reversed himself and went back up the way he had come, cresting the stairs by the boys’ bedroom, then heading back down toward the entrance. Swinging aroun
d the corner, he came up short. A man wearing a black hooded jacket was coming at him across the bridge. Staring directly at him, Hawk could see under the hood the presidential mask he had grown tired of seeing. The hooded man stopped when he saw Hawk pause on the steps and waved a finger in the air from side to side at the CCA, as if telling Hawk he was in trouble now.
Hawk backed up the steps. There was a hooded man coming up the steps toward him from either direction. He had no place to go. The lightning streaked the sky again, and thunder rattled the tree to its concrete root system. Hawk twisted on the landing at the top of the tree, peering downward. The men were closing in on him. He wiped his rain-streaked face with his hand and tried to think. They would reach him in moments.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
* * *
THIS IS INSANE WAS THE THOUGHT that ran through Hawk’s head as he leaped over the railing and landed on top of the tree branch stretched out in front of him. The jump was not far or that difficult, but the height of the tree and the branch now made slick by the rain created an additional challenge. After making sure he was secure, he scooted out on the branch and looked back at the two men coming after him up the steps. They were still standing motionless, watching him move out on the branch. Their reaction was exactly what he had hoped for. They waited to see whether he would hang on or slip and fall into the water below.
Hawk looked down and thought about the possibility of falling. It did not appeal to him. If he fell, he would bounce through the concrete-and-steel branches before finally clearing them and plopping into the water below. He wasn’t sure, but he knew the water, like much of the flowing water in the park, was not nearly as deep as it appeared. If he didn’t die bouncing through the branches, he would probably be severely injured as he hit the too-shallow water. This plan had better work.
Once again, multiple streaks of lightning flashed around him and thunder shook the tree. Now that he was trapped on the limb, the men chasing him resumed their ascent with renewed speed.
Hawk began to drag himself across the branch, focusing on the limb slightly lower than his perch. To reach it, he would have to jump perfectly and grab the one section that looked like the best place to connect. The men had reached the place Hawk had leaped from. They both stood and watched him carefully. Hawk felt behind him and made sure the wrapped package was still tucked securely in the waist of his pants, where he had placed it moments before his jump. He had no doubt they could see it there as well.
“Why don’t you come on out here and join me?” he yelled over his shoulder, loud enough to be heard over the sheet of rain.
Then, pulling himself up into a crouching position on his branch, he jumped out toward the next one. His feet slid just as he left the safety of the tree limb, and he knew immediately he was going to be short of his distance. As he plummeted through the air, time seemed to slow down, and his brain ran through a series of possibilities and calculations in that fraction of a second so his body would know what to do.
He lobbed his forearm over the extended branch, immediately tightening his grip, trying to pull himself closer to the length of concrete while bracing for his full body weight to sail below it. Once that happened, he felt himself start to slip around the branch while he anxiously lunged toward it with his other hand. Getting a handhold, he now hung below the branch, tightly grasping it with both hands.
Looking down, he saw that the attention of the poncho-clad passersby was being drawn toward him. A few, then a few more, and then a crowd began to notice the man hanging from the branches of the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse. Exhaling, he pulled himself up to the branch in a chin-up. Now he was able to stretch out a hand and grip a smaller branch to pull himself upright. Another glance over his shoulder allowed him a glimpse of the two men who’d been chasing him. They now seemed as enthralled as the rest of the crowd.
Perched on the second branch, Hawk reached behind him and grabbed the wrapped package. Holding it in his hand, he looked carefully across toward the crowd below him. What he was about to do was risky, but no riskier than what he’d just done. He pulled back his arm and with a side-armed heave, launched the package into the air, whirling it like a boomerang. The old joke played across his brain as he watched the package spin. What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back? The answer was always . . . just a stick. But the stick he had just tossed was a priceless piece of art. He watched as it sailed through the raindrops and landed just where he had been aiming. It hit the branches of a tree lining the walkway near Bwana Bob’s. The package hung up momentarily in a branch and then dropped and bounced until it hit the ground.
A carefully manicured hand snatched it up and hid it under a poncho. Just as they had planned, in case someone decided to try and stop him, Kate had been waiting below. Now he could no longer spot her in the flowing sea of ponchos moving along in the Magic Kingdom. The package was safe, and she was, for all practical purposes, invisible in the crowd. Twisting his head back, he turned in time to see the two hooded pursuers already heading down the tree. They would be too late; she was already gone, and once again they had been foiled.
While he watched them move away, he reached into his pocket and carefully removed the Goofy collectible pin. Holding it tightly between his wet fingers, he inspected it to see if it had a QR code attached; it did. He retrieved his new cell phone and punched the button to power it up. Sliding his finger over the touch screen, he scrolled over the apps until he found the barcode scanner. He brought the scanner to life and aligned it over the black-andwhite-patterned square. Flecks of light danced over the code, then the screen blinked and the old-style film began to play. Hawk remembered to focus quickly and try to catch a glimpse of the background as George spoke. This time, George appeared to still be moving inside a tunnel. Light shone across one side of his face. The screen shot was a tight close-up, and again Hawk knew that where it was filmed had a familiarity to it that, as of yet, he just couldn’t figure out.
George spoke. “You are still on the adventure . . . good for you. Don’t give up . . . not yet . . . you are getting closer. I will say it once, listen closely. Follow the ghosts of the past when the floodwaters flow . . . under the pressure of clouds . . . on your quest you will go.”
It appeared that George had taken a sudden and sharp turn. The background behind him went dark. Then the screen went blank, and the message was done. Shoving the phone and the pin back in his pocket, he replayed the clues once in his mind so he would not forget.
Sighing and placing himself flat against the tree branch, he laid down his head and closed his eyes. Feeling the rain soak him, he knew that this time he had pushed a little too close to the edge. A sharp crack of lightning caused his eyes to immediately spring open, and he remembered he was lying on a concrete-covered steel tree in a storm. He slowly began to pull himself along the branch, back toward the trunk of the tree.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
* * *
ROGER E. BROGGIE CRAWLED INTO THE FRONTIERLAND Train Station. The Roger E. Broggie was one of four locomotives that chugged around the Magic Kingdom on the Walt Disney World railroad line each day. Named after the man who’d led the effort in acquiring the locomotives, he was a trusted friend of Walt’s and one of the Imagineers who had helped make Epcot a reality. The train named in his honor let off a burst of steam as it stopped in Frontierland. There was a flurry of activity as passengers disembarked at this station, which placed them at the entrance to Splash Mountain on the edge of Frontierland. After those getting off had cleared the loading platform, the gate was opened for guests who were boarding. The rain had made people reluctant to leave the train, and it was now the resting place for passengers who had decided to ride out the storm under the cover of the passenger cars.
Grayson Hawkes made his way through Frontierland Station to board the train. His climb down from the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse had been far less harrowing than the trip out onto the branches. Yet the climb down had not been without difficulty.
The jump from the limb back to the safety of the guest area had been farther than he thought. Luckily, by the time he got to the lowest part of his climb in the branches, three cast members and four members of the security team had positioned themselves to meet him. When they realized it was the chief creative architect coming down the tree, their focus had narrowed from getting him down safely and escorting him out of the park to getting him down safely. The security detail had questions, and Hawk had deferred them all to contact Reginald Cambridge. They informed him that Cambridge was not in the parks today, and Hawk told them to direct their questions to Clint Wayman instead.
After making sure he was OK and that no one had actually been hurt during his little adventure, Hawk left the befuddled bunch at the base of the tree and quickly donned his poncho. Sliding the plastic hood over his head, he cut through into Frontierland to get on the train. The cast member let him pass through the gate to climb aboard, and he headed to the last car. He had given Kate specific instructions to meet him on the last row of the last car on the train. That way he was assured of only one person being behind them: the cast member responsible for getting passengers on and off. From the vantage point in the rear compartment, they could see who got on and off, they could see any unusual activity in front of them, and the train was noisy enough that they could talk without being overheard. It was the concept of hiding in plain sight that had developed this plan.
For the first time since boarding, he looked up and saw Kate Young seated in the last row of the back car, her head still covered in poncho plastic, looking at him. He slid into the seat next to her, where he was greeted by a surprisingly powerful punch to the arm.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” She reared back to hit him again.
“What are you talking about?” He tried to twist away from the second punch but was not fast enough.
