The Return: Disney Lands

by Ridley Pearson

  “So,” Willa said carefully to Philby, “for the time being, let’s assume Finn is not playing a practical joke.” She then presented Philby with a physics problem: would their highly charged particles require excessive energy to break free of the cathode ray tube, and if so, were they better off attempting the disconnect as solos or as a group?

  “You’re saying the loss of energy may cause a kind of brown-out within the circuitry,” Philby said, his eyebrows drawing together in thought.

  “Tube circuitry,” Willa said. “Not yet transistor. If you brown-out a tube, with no capacitors to sustain it—”

  “That’s like a Fender guitar amp,” Maybeck said, eyes widening. “When those things don’t have enough power, they distort big time. It gets ugly fast.”

  “Meaning,” Willa said to Philby, “any remaining high concentrations of energy—”

  “Will degrade precipitously!” Philby clapped his hands together.

  “You’re getting away from me,” said Charlene, wrinkling her nose. “Keep it in the ballpark, would you?”

  Smiling at her friend, Willa explained that if, say, two of them jumped first, the remaining three might be caught in the equivalent of an electronic storm. The sudden drop in energy would push the system to hurriedly fire photons at the screen and thus fill the picture tube with what had gone missing. The DHIs left inside would find themselves facing a firing squad of high energy.

  Philby added that the sudden drop in energy could cause the circuitry to “brown out” and overheat. The remaining DHIs would be degraded and diminished, and, if the system failed altogether, trapped.

  “Lost,” Willa concluded. “In a kind of electronic Sleeping Beauty Syndrome. Like when a computer crashes and the document you were working on is gone. You never get it back.”

  “Lost,” Charlene whispered, looking wide-eyed at Maybeck.

  “It’s not that easy, though,” Philby said, and presented a third possibility: the departure of all five at once might “fry” the television. “It could close the door we came through.”

  “We can turn around now,” Finn said. “Before this goes too far. The return from here is to dive back into the picture tube.” He gestured behind them. “When we were on Jingles, we felt ourselves being swallowed by a tunnel-like thing behind us, right? I think if we ran in that direction now, the same thing would happen. We’d return.”

  “That’s my vote,” said Charlene decisively. “Return while we still can. How did we even get here? I am so totally confused. Philby, maybe you can do calculations or something? Once we’re back, I mean. I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Vote,” said Maybeck. “Hands up for diving into that workshop.”

  Four hands went up.

  Finn grinned. “We did it, you guys!”

  “Did what?” Maybeck asked skeptically.

  “Followed Wayne’s message. Made it here. You guys don’t know what’s going on right now—”

  “I have no idea what’s going on right now!” Philby sounded desperate.

  “But Finn and I do,” Maybeck said, “and it’s ridiculously, amazingly incredible. We’ve done the impossible.”

  Most of all, Finn wanted to say, you guys are stuck with me.

  But he kept the sentiment to himself.

  “Okay.” Charlene couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. “Are we seriously not going back?”

  “No way,” Maybeck said. “You have any idea what’s out there?” He pointed toward the workshop.

  Philby looked and sounded bewildered. “I feel as if I should know, but for some reason I don’t. I’ve got nothing.”

  “Then it’s working,” Finn said.

  “I’m not going to fight you,” Charlene declared. “And I’m sure as heck not going to be trapped in here alone.”

  “Wayne would want us to jump,” Finn said. “Believe it or not, I’m not even guessing at that.”

  “I wish I knew what was going on!” Philby shouted.

  “You will in a minute,” Finn said. “Once we jump, we’ve made it to where Wayne wanted us. After that, who knows? But it has to be important. Super important.”

  “Ready? We go on three?” Maybeck said.

  “Hands in front like diving into a pool,” Finn said. “And make yourself as flat, as much of a plane, as possible.”

  “I’ve never been plain,” Maybeck quipped. “P…L…”

  “We got it!” Willa chided.

  On the count of three, the Keepers ran and dove.

  THE KEEPERS SKIDDED ACROSS the smooth cement floor like five swimmers who’d left the blocks only to discover that there was no water in the pool. Philby called out that they were two-dimensional. Charlene qualified his comment by pointing out that at least they were in color, not black-and-white. Maybeck told everyone to check out the items on the workbenches: bulky hand tools for the most part; the few electric pieces looked clunky, oversize, and retro.

  “That’s a hand drill,” he said. “No wireless anything. This stuff is ancient.”

  “This stuff is the best money can buy.” The voice came from alongside the main door, which swung closed with a bang. A kid, not much older than any of the Keepers, stood before them. He wore a tam, though only Maybeck, who remembered Finn’s description of the kid, found this significant.

  “Who are you?” Philby asked defensively.

  “I’m betting it’s Wayne,” Maybeck said.

  The others gasped.

  “I remember Finn’s Newsies thing,” Maybeck added, astonished. “I remember meeting you.”

  “Good,” the younger Wayne said. “Then everything’s working just peachy!” He turned to Finn. “Did you bring it?”

  “We did,” Finn said. “Yes.” He produced the folder he’d crossed over with, one of the two Jess had retrieved from the dorm’s basement. Wayne accepted it, and then slowly waved his hand through Philby. “Do you see that, Finn?” he said. “No more fuzzy-wuzzies. The image is stable. This is extra important to the next step.”

  “Wayne,” Philby said. “Your last name wouldn’t happen to be—”

  “Kresky? Yes.”

  “So you’re related to the Wayne we know?”

  “I think I am,” Wayne said, winking at Finn, “the Wayne you know.”

  “What day is it?” a bewildered Willa asked. “I mean, what’s the date, the exact date?”

  “July seventeenth, nineteen fifty-five.”

  “Black Sunday,” Willa mumbled. “The International Press Preview.”

  “Impressive,” Wayne said. “But why Black Sunday? It’s delightful out there!”

  Willa withheld any comment for the moment. Instead, she addressed Finn. “Am I supposed to believe this is actually nineteen fifty-five?”

  Charlene chimed in, too. “Yeah, nice try. I mean it’s a funny joke, a good prank, but can we all just get real for a second?”

  “The same thing happened to me, guys,” Finn explained. “I crossed over to the Carousel of Progress; ended up in the nineteen sixties, and I was…part of…one of the shows. I…I just refused to believe it. It’s still hard to believe.”

  “Come on,” Philby said. “If this is nineteen fifty-five, which is preposterous, by the way, and this is Wayne Kresky, then we just time traveled!”

  “Correct,” said Wayne.

  “As if! Ha-ha!” Philby said. But he sounded nervous.

  “Guys,” Maybeck said. “This is not a joke.”

  “We met this kid last time,” Finn said. “There were tons of TV people around.”

  “Darn tootin’! They’re still out there,” Wayne said, pointing toward the door.

  “Let’s say we play along for a minute.” Charlene turned to face Finn, called all the Keepers into a huddle, and whispered, “Why would our Wayne have wanted us here?”

  “Obviously, there’s work to be done,” Finn said. “He must need us, though it’s possible this Wayne doesn’t exactly know that yet.”

  “We did as he asked,” P
hilby said. “Supposedly, I mean; I’m not saying I believe this. But if…this…is real, then we time traveled, just like Wayne wanted. We did what he asked. We succeeded. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It is for me,” Charlene said.

  “You all know Wayne,” Finn said. “There’s always more.”

  “I’m right here, pal,”

  “What if we don’t want any more?” Charlene asked, ignoring Wayne.

  Willa frowned at her, and Charlene looked down at her feet. Willa then asked Finn if they were allowed to mess with the past—she was beginning to believe, Finn thought.

  “I don’t think there’s a handbook,” he said. “I mean we’ve all seen the movies where they’re not supposed to change the future by changing the past. But how’s that even possible?”

  “You guys know I’m something of a Disney historian,” Willa said. “I prefer that to ‘geek,’ if you don’t mind.” No one corrected her. “Is it okay if I ask this guy some questions?”

  “Be my guest,” Finn said.

  They broke the huddle, and Willa stepped closer to Wayne. With small, controlled movements, she reached out for him. Her two-dimensional DHI hand passed through his. She concentrated, tried again, and managed to touch his sleeve.

  “How would you like to appear incredibly smart?” she asked. “Clairvoyant, even?”

  “I already feel pretty smart,” Wayne said, smiling at her. “You’re here, aren’t you? But, I’m listening.”

  “When we step outside, it’s going to be pushing a hundred degrees.”

  “Okee-doke! That right there is impressive.”

  “Asphalt was laid yesterday in the park.”

  “Go on.” Wayne looked surprised, and maybe a little stressed, by her knowledge.

  “In this heat, that asphalt is going to get soft enough that women’s high heels will sink into it. You might want to put out signs warning the guests.”

  “This is fun!” Wayne said, rocking back on his heels, his sarcasm obvious from his tone. “Are you having fun, miss? ’Cause I sure am!”

  “It’s more dangerous than fun, Wayne. There’s also going to be a gas leak in Fantasyland—it’ll cause three of the Lands to close.”

  “Today? You know this?”

  “This afternoon, in fact. And I do know. It’s part of Disney history.”

  “Good golly. I hadn’t thought about how this would work, exactly.”

  Philby stepped forward. “Enough, Willa. Wayne, whose idea was it to bring us here?”

  “I don’t know,” Wayne said. “I got a letter. Addressed to me, on yellowed paper. Just showed up one day in my pigeonhole. Lost and found, it said. A simple note I wasn’t supposed to share with anyone—anyone but you. It said some kids would just appear. He, whoever wrote it, he told me things—secrets—that made me look real smart. So I did what it said, and the boy…these two boys showed up two days ago. The letter said that would happen. It told me to keep watch.”

  Finn felt chills invade his DHI. “Wayne knew we’d do it. Figure out his message, figure out time travel. He trusted us.” Turning, he addressed the others. “Do you realize how important it is, that we’ve accomplished this?”

  “What else does the letter say?” Philby hadn’t turned away from Wayne. His tone was urgent.

  “I’m supposed to let you read it. I could go get it, I reckon.”

  “There’s no time. What else?”

  “It mentions the ink. The letter’s written in ink! Did I tell you that? It says the visitors—you all—have to ‘put the ink back into the well.’ Now, what on God’s green earth is that supposed to mean? A real puzzler, am I right?”

  “So that is what’s next,” Finn said, with emphasis. He took the time to look at each Keeper individually, forcing him or her to meet his eyes. “The pen! That’s why he wanted us here, needed us here.”

  “Placing Walt’s pen,” Maybeck said.

  “We’ll have to find it first!” Philby said. Finn could practically see the sparks flying around Philby’s brain. “Probably have to steal it first!”

  “Oh, we’ll find it all right.” At last there was determination in Charlene’s voice. “And when we do, every villain in this park will be after us. We’ll have to be ready.”

  Wayne’s head was inside the television cabinet now; when he spoke, his voice was muffled and tinny, and no one understood a word. Finally, he came up for air, and Willa addressed him.

  “The plumbers’ strike?” She turned her back on Philby and ignored Finn’s impatient gesture to be quiet.

  “What about it?” Wayne said.

  “It’s going to leave Walt Disney with a choice between running water in the drinking fountains or the toilets.”

  “Already happened. He chose the toilets.” Wayne sounded breathless. “I’m not sure I want the full answer to what I’m about to ask next, but…The note said you’d be from another time. Is that right?”

  “That’s right,” Finn said. But his mind was conflicted; he was distracted by what Maybeck had said.

  Walt’s fountain pen. From the first time he’d stared at Walt’s music box, Finn had known. Getting here was one thing. Now, there was something else. Something completely different.

  “Gee whiz,” Wayne slumped against the console, shaking his head.

  “You kept the letter?” Philby asked.

  “Of course. It said to. That it had to be kept nice and private. Secret-like, except for when I showed it to you.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “Like I said, not on me.”

  “Is it possible for a DHI to faint?” Charlene asked.

  “It is!” Finn said. “I found out the hard way.” He and Maybeck helped Charlene sit down. As they did, they exchanged a look. Get ready, it said. Fasten your seat belt.

  “What are the odds,” Maybeck said, “of us being the only ones who want that pen?”

  Finn nodded deliberately. The gesture told Maybeck he agreed, but that their fears should be kept between them—at least for now. Though they exchanged no words, it felt as if they’d had an entire conversation.

  On the other side of the group, Willa couldn’t stop with her history lesson. “They’ve issued fourteen thousand tickets to the international press for today’s showcase. Well, those tickets have been counterfeited. Twenty-eight thousand guests are going to show up, swarm the park, and overwhelm everything you have planned.”

  “I think I need to sit down, too.” Wayne found a sawhorse to lean against, wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead.

  “That’s why today is known as Black Sunday,” Willa explained.

  “You could only know that if it had already happened,” Wayne said.

  “Right. And if you tell your bosses what I’m telling you now, you’re going to look very smart.”

  “If I tell my bosses, they’ll put me in an asylum.”

  The Keepers chuckled. All but Charlene, who had her head between her legs and was taking fast, shallow breaths. Maybeck stroked her back.

  Beside them, Finn couldn’t keep his thoughts from racing ahead. He and the Keepers would be easily identified if Wayne couldn’t use the newly delivered information to create three-dimensional DHIs, a technology that wouldn’t arrive into history for another decade at least. He felt the odds stacked badly against them. While the others joked, he shuddered.

  “Look, we can’t help but feel good about what we’ve accomplished,” Philby said. “But I’m…apprehensive about going outside. Even if I won’t remember it, I’m not sure it’s smart or safe.”

  “We should start with the letter,” Finn said, forcing himself to focus. “We need to read the letter.”

  “We’re not going back. Are we?” Charlene had sat up. She looked terrified, pale and ghostly. “He tricked us, right? He always tricks us.”

  “Of course we’re going to return!” Finn said. “Whenever we want.”

  He walked to the color television and held his fingers up to the screen. “See?”<
br />
  But instead of his hand disappearing into the picture tube, his fingers poked the glass, skidded away. Finn tried a more perpendicular angle: the same result.

  “No need to panic,” Wayne said. “It’s most likely something simple. The vacuum tubes don’t last long, for instance.” He moved to the large console in the back of the television and began tinkering.

  “We’re not going back,” Charlene repeated. “I knew it. The minute I saw that we grew big like this, coming through there, I just knew it.”

  “It’s the tubes,” Wayne repeated. “I’ll have it fixed in a jiffy!”

  A puff of smoke rose from the television, and the screen went black. Charlene gave a low wail.

  Wayne poked his face around the console. He wore a rueful expression.

  “Or, if it’s more complicated, then in due time.”

  “I don’t think that’s what we want to hear,” Maybeck said, still hovering protectively near Charlene.

  “I got a tip that we had to hurry if we were going to cross over manually,” Finn told the group. “If we were back in our time, you’d remember that. But by now, I suppose you’ve forgotten. We voted, though.”

  “Sure we did,” Charlene said, discouraged.

  “We’ve got to believe him,” Willa said. “Keep it together, everyone!” But her own voice sounded shrill.

  “You’re the one screaming,” Charlene said.

  “Am I? Oh, man!” Willa shrank into herself, leaned toward Philby.

  “It’s going to be all right.” Wayne sounded a little too glee-club, a tone that didn’t match the bewildered look in his eyes.

  “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.” Maybeck walked to the door and looked outside. “Part of me is excited to be here, now, to get to be a part of all this. Part of me is not okay with it at all.”

  “Wayne,” Finn said. “I mean, with present company excluded—Wayne has always come through for us. We deciphered his message and we pulled off the impossible. It’s nineteen fifty-five, people! And we’re here!”

  Maybeck spoke a word that turned present-day Wayne’s face crimson.