The Return: Disney Lands

by Ridley Pearson

  “But operational,” Tim added.

  “Like Harry Potter’s cloak,” Amanda said.

  “But for real,” added Tim.

  “Invisibility?” Amanda gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. She could move objects with her mind, but this seemed beyond even her admittedly big suspension of disbelief. “Too cool.”

  “I have a sample,” Emily said. She dug around in her closet and retrieved a gray piece of fabric the size of a dinner napkin. A pair of extremely thin wires ran from the fabric to a black box the size of a deck of cards. Emily plugged in the box and said, “Tim? Hold it, please?”

  Tim took the sample, holding it parallel to Emily’s bed and the fabric art behind it—a sunset made completely of colored pieces of cloth. The napkin blocked Amanda’s view of the wall. Emily threw a switch on the box, and…

  The wall art reappeared. Only when Tim pinched the napkin did any clue to the invisibility fabric’s existence show.

  “That’s crazy!” Amanda breathed.

  “Em’s been working on wearable prototypes for Chameleon, haven’t you, Em?”

  “I have two finished. Both women’s, both my size. Our size,” she said, looking carefully at Amanda. They were roughly the same height, with similar builds. “We girls have to reduce our curves as much as possible. So I’ve built Spanx into the bottoms, and we can wrap our tops tight. Curves make things extremely complex. Because of that, in a must-not-be-seen situation, it’s better to face the person or animal viewing you, front or back, not to the side.”

  “Person, animal…or video camera,” Tim added. Emily smiled at him, taking the napkin back and turning off the battery pack.

  “But how do you power it?” Amanda said.

  “You wear two packs, here.” Emily indicated a point high up the inside of her thighs. “One is power, the other’s circuitry. Battery’s good for just over ten minutes right now. No longer than twelve. That’s one of the big limitations.”

  Amanda considered what she was hearing. They couldn’t know that she’d seen so many impossible things happen that this actually made sense. She wondered why Tim was so willing to help her. She didn’t like the idea of being in debt to anyone.

  “You want me to wear this thing to avoid the three-nineties?” Amanda asked. “What’s in it for you?”

  “I’m just such a nice guy.”

  “You want me to get something for you while I’m there.”

  “Of course! If possible. I realize it’s dangerous. I’m not expecting miracles.”

  “It is dangerous,” Amanda said, shifting her eyes pointedly to Emily. “Tell her.”

  Tim recounted their earlier exploits, holding back nothing, including Dirk’s final malevolent pursuit and their near escape in the dumbwaiter.

  “If you’re caught,” Tim told Emily, “you’ll both be suspended or expelled.”

  “Yeah,” Emily said, enthusiasm evident on her face, “but if we’re not caught, then my prototypes will have passed a legit field test, and I move to the top of my class.”

  “You don’t want to do this,” Amanda said softly. She had a feeling it would be impossible to convince Emily, but she wanted to try. “You can coach me and I can do this by myself.”

  “Of course you can.” Emily’s voice oozed sarcasm. “But there’s no way that’s going to happen. Now, let’s get you fitted.”

  “HOW DOES IT FEEL?” Emily asked Amanda.

  “You’re littler than I am, but if I don’t breathe, I’m okay,” Amanda said. She and Emily laughed.

  “You both look like Spider-Man,” Tim said. “Only you’re girls and your costumes are, like, scales. Or tiny gray sequins. So maybe not so much.”

  “Miniature LEDs,” Emily said, correcting him. “Like the world globe in Epcot’s Reflections of Earth.”

  The three were crammed into the small third floor maintenance room that housed the pair of dumbwaiters.

  “It may be lunchtime up here, but it’ll feel like midnight down there,” Tim said. “You need to be back on the afternoon shuttle for classes at DSI. That gives you less than an hour.”

  “Tim, what makes you think the dumbwaiters will work? I’m ninety-nine-percent sure Dirk knows we used them.”

  “As far as he knows, he disabled them,” Tim said, a little too proudly, “which is completely excellent for us, since in all my brilliance, I overrode his effort. In his mind, there’s no way these can operate, which means you should be safe upon landing, as well as for takeoff.”

  Emily emitted a soft laugh. “They do not make a hat big enough for your head.” Turning awkwardly in the cramped space, she addressed Amanda, their faces very close together. “Remember, the Chameleons have a two-foot minimum focal range, so try to keep everything more than an arm’s distance away from you. Oh, and my suit has a few extra effects. Don’t be startled if I use them.”

  “Okay,” Amanda said, feeling a new burst of nerves creep through her.

  “Obviously we’ll only use the suits when needed,” Emily cautioned. “Ten minutes goes by incredibly fast. Don’t throw the switch unless you have to. Even turned off, the suits are hard to see in low light.”

  “Got it.”

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  They climbed together into one dumbwaiter, packing in as tightly as they could. Tim pulled down the grate, threw them a mini-salute, and wished them good luck.

  Minutes later, the two girls crossed the laundry room. Amanda pointed out the short-circuited 390 lying in the doorway. But the other doorway stood empty.

  Emily kept her voice down. “Seeing the mess down here, I guess I should mention something else. The suits have to stay clean. Dirt or mud on the diodes shows up as a black spot or lines. I call them dead spots. Not good.”

  Shuddering at the thought, Amanda gave a thumbs-up. She carefully cleared a path through the mess of spilled detergent with a rag. The girls stepped over the 390 and out of the laundry room.

  Amanda led the way down the aisle. Things went well until a rat crossed their path and Emily screamed. Both girls froze. Amanda hand signaled, steering them to the left on tiptoes.

  A few more minutes passed before a turn left them facing a wall of chain link fence, like a tennis court. The storage area? Amanda wondered. As the girls moved closer, Amanda identified the sound of a 390. She signaled Emily by marching in place mechanically.

  Emily nodded and tried the doorknob. Locked. “We’re going to stand out of the way. Remember,” she whispered, “face it head on. Don’t turn to the side.”

  Amanda nodded.

  “Okay. Throw the switch.”

  The two girls reached down.

  They disappeared.

  An old man—Dirk—appeared first. He swung a flashlight in front of his path. He was followed by a slower moving 390. As the pair drew nearer, Amanda felt sweat running down her ribs. She hoped she wouldn’t short-circuit the suit.

  The man’s wrinkled leathery eyes squinted. Reaching the door, Dirk stopped and tested it, finding it locked. He turned his back on the chain link and took several steps as if leaving. Then, reconsidering, he withdrew a cluttered key chain, and unlocked the door. The hinges shrieked like wounded birds. In a creaky voice, Dirk called out a command to the waiting robot. “Guard.”

  The robot issued a series of cheeps.

  Dirk entered the room and threw the light switch. Though it was tempting, Amanda did not turn her head to see what he did next. All she could make out was Dirk’s shadow, stretching thinly toward the 390.

  The invisible Emily took Amanda by the hand and tugged.

  The girls slipped in behind Dirk and stopped to face him as he pivoted. He looked directly at them. Through them.

  He turned down a narrow aisle between tall shelves neatly ordered with hundreds of cardboard file boxes.

  Emily pulled Amanda away and down a different aisle. She switched off her suit to conserve the battery. Amanda did the same.

  The girls were visible.
/>   GAPS BETWEEN THE BOXES afforded Amanda a glimpse of Dirk as he moved slowly down a far aisle. He moved cautiously.

  “Who’s there?” croaked the old man dryly, almost as if he’d felt her staring. He moved toward them.

  Amanda flipped on her suit’s invisibility feature. She looked toward Emily. Gone.

  Dirk stood at the end of Amanda’s aisle. Keeping her shoulders square, she backed up. At the other end, she side-stepped out of sight. She was about to make herself visible again when Dirk called out, “I know you’re in here! I will catch you and you will be expelled. These records are off limits!”

  Battery or not, she couldn’t bring herself to risk being seen.

  Dirk crossed into the next aisle over, moving slowly and quietly. Amanda reached for one of the boxes, prepared to give him a start. Dirk, one aisle over, drew closer.

  A thought occurred to her. She felt a little devilish as she raised her hands, palms out, and pushed.

  A dozen boxes, full of binders and papers, went flying into the next aisle.

  Dirk pedaled backward and fell over. Gulping and gasping for air, he crawled on hands and knees toward the door.

  “Away with you!” he shouted.

  Though part of Amanda felt bad about terrifying an old man, she nearly laughed as Emily threw more paperwork into the air. Needing no further incentive, Dirk fled the archive. The hinges cried out as the door banged shut. Amid his scrambling flight, Dirk shouted to the 390, “Stand down! Follow!” and the robot obediently ground its way after him, vacating the room.

  A grinning Emily reappeared from invisibility. Amanda switched off her suit.

  “That was genius!” Emily said, her eyes aglow. “The entire aisle at once? Using telekinesis? Tina was right?”

  “Did you see him run?” Amanda said, avoiding a direct answer.

  At her evasion, Emily looked crestfallen. “Oh, I see.”

  “It’s a mess!” Amanda looked around, suddenly sensing the consequences of what she’d done. “How will we find anything now? And keep from getting caught?”

  “Don’t freak. Here’s the trick: if we pick up all this mess and put it back, he won’t believe it ever happened.”

  “That’s just cruel.”

  “No, it’s important. He’ll report this, Amanda. But if we make him look nuts, then this place doesn’t get locked up like a prison.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “You can’t always play fair. Didn’t you learn that from your Keeper friends? Look, he took off scared. People who are scared take a few minutes to get it together. I’ll pick up the spilled stuff. You find the files—the ones you want and what Tim’s after. But we’ve got to hurry! At some point he’s going to convince himself he shouldn’t be so freaked out, and that means he’ll come back.”

  “You sure?”

  “Go!”

  Amanda sorted out the filing system with relative ease. After that, it was a matter of moving row to row in search of the IAV file Philby wanted. She actually found what Tim was looking for first. With those files in hand, she moved two rows over and located a box on the bottom shelf. Inside, she identified not one, but two 471 files: a and b. She hurried to Emily with the various folders in hand.

  “What do I do with these?” she asked.

  “Turn around, I’ll unzip you.”

  A moment later, the files shoved against her skin, Amanda felt all the more squished by the suit. It wouldn’t zip all the way, but Emily arranged Amanda’s hood to cover the gap.

  In a stroke of luck, the doorknob to the archives room could be unlocked from the inside. The two girls relocked it upon leaving. With the noise of the hinges now behind them, they reached the basement’s main aisle just as Dirk appeared.

  At his side was a dark-suited businessman.

  The girls switched on their suits. Amanda felt Emily’s warm hand on the back of her arm, guiding her forward, keeping her shoulders square. Amanda, uncomfortable with the concept of her own invisibility, nearly screamed as she recognized the businessman.

  Tobias Langford.

  Emily turned Amanda at the last moment. The girls pivoted like a gate opening. The men passed through seamlessly.

  But then Amanda sneezed without warning.

  Both men spun around.

  “You see? I told you!” Dirk said. “Ghosts!”

  “Not possible!” said Langford.

  “I’m telling you…it’s the Hunchback. Like last time!” Dirk sounded ready to cry. He pulled at his hair, twisting the wiry white strands every which way.

  “Impossible.” Langford shook his head sharply. “We took care of him.”

  “One of the resident ghosts, then.”

  “Do you know how much money we paid Lockwood and Company to get rid of those things? The ghosts are gone, Dirk. They’re nothing but a story now. An old story no one believes.”

  “I’ve been telling you all for years that they’re still down here.”

  Amanda felt Emily’s hand tighten convulsively on her arm. She looked down—and choked back a gasp. Large spots on her suit, spots the size of buttons, were flashing gray. Her battery was failing. The sputtering LEDs formed ripples across her suit, a movement like water.

  “You see that?” Dirk spit out. “What is that?”

  He edged closer, reluctantly. Transfixed by her failing suit, Amanda failed to step back.

  Dirk bumped into her hip.

  But then Amanda felt herself pulled—Emily!—and a pair of arms wrapped around her. Resolutely, Emily marched Amanda ahead, her toes nudging Amanda’s heels forward. It was a good but flawed attempt. Langford and Dirk saw floating blobs of gray moving away from them, hovering weirdly in the dim air of the basement.

  “What—what is that?” Langford breathed.

  “What did I tell you?” said Dirk. “Ghosts!”

  Emily hurried Amanda down an aisle, released her, and then they ran. Hard. At the end of the aisle, they turned left, then right; hurled themselves through the laundry room door and jumped over the fallen 390. Breathing hard, they ran for the dumbwaiters—and stopped, frozen in their tracks.

  “If we use the dumbwaiter, they’ll absolutely know we’re real!” Amanda whispered. “You made Chameleon for class, Emily! Langford will figure out it was you.”

  Cursing under her breath—just like Tim, Amanda thought wryly—Emily pulled Amanda toward a line of cabinets across the room. Both girls crawled inside, pulled the cabinet doors shut, and switched off their suits, conserving what little battery power remained.

  The louvered cabinet doors made it possible to see out. The door creaked and Langford stepped into the dark laundry room, his phone extended, casting out light before it as a flashlight.

  “What is this place?” Langford said, his voice echoing eerily.

  “The old laundry.”

  “My God, talk about spooky.”

  “The three-nineties followed whoever was down here into this room. Earlier, I’m talking about. Blue sneakers.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I saw a pair of sneakers on the dumbwaiter. Blue sneakers. Big ones. You put your DSI kids in front of me, I can pick ’em out.”

  “Spend some time upstairs tomorrow. Keep your eyes open.” Langford sounded bored and dismissive, but Amanda couldn’t tell if he was faking it.

  “But what about the ghosts? I’m telling you, Mr. L., you’ve got to see the records room. Let me show you the mess they made in the records room.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Langford glanced around the laundry once more. Amanda saw him look directly at the cabinet, at her. She held her gloved hand across her mouth to keep from giving herself away. “I’m telling you, Dirk, what we saw back there was weird. Those shadows, like something melting. Hard to explain.”

  “Ghosts are hard to explain.”

  “Don’t start, Dirk.”

  “You know as well as I do that strange things have been happening down here for years. Ever since the fire.”

&nbs
p; “We took care of all that a long time ago. The voices. The crying.”

  “We ain’t seen nothing like this.”

  “No, Dirk,” said Langford, still eyeing the cabinet door. “Nothing like this.”

  “SO?” BURIED JUST BELOW Tim’s eagerness to hear their report was envy over the girls’ accomplishments.

  Emily and Amanda sat on a pair of beanbags in the dorm’s third-floor game room. The scuffs and thumps of Ping-Pong and foosball competed with the Disney movie sound tracks blasting from the karaoke machine. The acoustic tile ceiling had pencils stuck into it like stalactites, evidencing years of DSI occupancy. The rest of the dorms could seem formal, but this was a relaxed, easy space.

  “We got the files,” Amanda said.

  “Can I see them?” Tim dragged a leaking beanbag over to join them. His long, lanky frame looked awkward stretched out like that. As he wiggled to get comfortable, small plastic balls belched from a tear and bounced away across the floor.

  “We weren’t able to get yours.”

  “Please?” he said nicely, his hand outstretched.

  Amanda held the files close to her heart, just out of his reach. “Only if you share everything. No more holding back.”

  “Agreed.”

  “The shuttle leaves in ten minutes,” Emily reminded them.

  Tim snatched the files and began reading, turning pages quickly, his perusal punctuated by furtive glances at the two girls. He read faster and faster. His pace frantic, in a race against the clock.

  Then his eyes widened. He grinned.

  “What?” Amanda asked.

  “Why does your friend Philby want this?”

  “He didn’t say. Only that Finn…that the Keepers needed them. Why, what are they? What’s in there?”