“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be, Max. We can’t take on every circus performer in the business. It should be the crème de la crème only for Dreamland. Don’t forget, we’re here to make dreams come true, magic come alive, the impossible possible. You had a good run with your crew, but they are nowhere near the caliber of the performers I’ve recruited from across the country. You have to face facts.”
Resigned, Medici nodded and slunk from the room. He had no idea how to break this to his troupe. He’d need an hour to come up with something—maybe have leads on where they could go next or, well, something. But his heart dropped as soon as he approached his office. It looked as though he didn’t have that luxury.
Crowded inside were Pramesh, Miss Atlantis, Puck, Ivan, Catherine, and Rongo. Someone must have summoned them all there. Medici gritted his teeth.
Rongo had been leaning against the wall, but he straightened as Medici trundled in. “’Bout time, boss. So, when do we start?”
Their faces were full of excitement, their hopes high. But their time at Dreamland would end with crushed expectations. And it was all his fault. Medici sighed. Time to break some hearts.
Light dusted the eastern horizon as Holt made his way to the Wonders of Science exhibit. Dreamland wasn’t open for the day yet, but the cleaning crews had been through, unlocking buildings. He searched rooms of inventions until he found her.
Milly was staring at a life-sized statue of Marie Curie, glass test tubes gripped in her hands, an audience of wax scientists arrayed behind her. A plaque next to the display proclaimed her achievements—winner of two Nobel Prizes, discoverer of polonium and radium, and, Holt read with a jolt, creator of mobile radiography to enable field hospitals to have X-ray capabilities. He’d seen that used in the war.
Milly’s eyes were full of yearning, her fingers running absently over the key Annie had given her.
“That’s my daughter, all right: runs away to go to school,” Holt said.
“It’s our fault. The whole experiment.” Milly hung her head.
A stab went through Holt at her expression. He crouched down next to her and patted her knee. “Nah, those are like people. They fail all the time.”
“I bet Dumbo wishes he never met us,” she said.
“You showed him he could fly. Do you think he’d ever trade that?” Holt asked.
“He would to have his mom back,” Milly said without hesitation.
Holt nodded. He squeezed onto the bench next to her, tucking Milly into his side with his right arm.
Milly snuggled in closer. “I miss Mama,” she said.
Holt leaned his head down to touch hers. “So do I.” He squeezed her tight, both of them thinking of Annie.
After a few minutes, Milly sat up and looked at him, a glint he couldn’t read in her eyes. “There’s something I want to show you,” she said.
Taking his hand, she led the way through exhibits about magnetic forces and wind power to a diorama showing a gleaming white kitchen, where an animatronic person stood opening a can. But the hand holding the can was made of metal.
Milly pressed the button next to the scene and a tinny voice emerged from a speaker.
“All kinds of new technological marvels await us in the twentieth century. With advances in both engineering and medicine, the mortal and mechanical will soon be combined to assist ordinary families, workers, and veterans and make them even stronger than they ever were before.”
Tears stung Holt’s eyes as he saw the figure pivot and place the can on the table, its metallic fingers releasing it one by one. Maybe one day soon science would create prosthetic limbs for people like him. Maybe Milly would be the scientist to do it. He squeezed her shoulder.
“Thank you.” Holt smiled at her. “Now, let’s get back to Dumbo. He needs us.”
As they approached Dumbo’s tent, they saw a crowd of people ducking inside, Miss Atlantis and Rongo among them. It seemed to be some sort of gathering for Medici’s troupe. Colette ducked out of the tent and spotted Holt and Milly. With a worried face, she waved them over.
The Farriers hurried in, Colette at their side. There, they found Joe watching everything nervously. He flung his arms around Holt when he saw him.
Across the tent, Pramesh stood near Dumbo’s pen, Tanak draped around the man’s neck as usual. Pramesh held open a colorful silk bag as the troupe formed a line in front of him. Each person stepped up and carefully took out a single feather.
“Colette, what’s going on?” Holt asked.
“Vandevere’s cancelled their contracts. They’re to leave by tomorrow.” Her arms wrapped around her stomach.
“What?” Milly cried.
They crossed over to where the troupe was one by one laying down a feather near Dumbo. But the little elephant was too despondent to notice or care. Even though he wasn’t in the golden carriage anymore, he was slumped on the floor.
“This is outrageous. He can’t do this!” Holt’s gaze darted among his friends, his colleagues, his family—including Dumbo.
Pramesh shrugged and smiled sadly. “All this doesn’t mean anything to us. But no regrets, for we met true magic.” He looked to the elephant. “Goodbye, little friend.”
“We wanted to see him one last time,” Rongo explained.
Miss Atlantis took Puck’s elbow. “One last time to see him fly.” Her voice caught and Puck patted her hand.
“I don’t think he wants to anymore,” Milly said. Dumbo’s ears hadn’t so much as twitched since they’d approached, and his trunk lay flopped on the hay. His eyes were fixed on the wall of the tent as though he hoped it would disappear.
“Oh, no, but he must,” Ivan cried.
Catherine nodded. “He just can’t lose Mrs. Jumbo again.”
“I’m afraid it’s rather worse than that,” a voice said sadly.
They spun to find Sotheby, top hat in hand, walking toward them.
“Mr. Sotheby? What are you doing here?” Colette asked.
Milly had never seen him more than ten steps from Vandevere, but thankfully his boss was nowhere in sight.
“Clearing my conscience.” Sotheby paused and collected a feather from Pramesh’s bag, keeping his hands well clear of the snake coiled around Pramesh’s neck. “I resigned my position as soon as I heard him give the order.”
“What are you talking about?” Holt asked. “What order?”
“Mrs. Jumbo will be gone by tomorrow night. And she’s not meant to survive.”
Milly and Joe clasped hands at Sotheby’s words, and Colette tensed. The whole of Medici’s troupe gaped in horror. Who would do such a thing?
Hanging his head, Sotheby slowly laid down his feather next to the others, then tipped his hat and left.
Colette opened her mouth. “V. A. wouldn’t—” Then she paused, her face shadowed in doubt. Shaking her head, she dropped her gaze, then gasped. “Look at him—he understands,” she said, gesturing to Dumbo, who had tears pooling in his eyes.
Holt clambered into the pen and sank down next to the elephant, wiping away his tears. He stroked Dumbo’s trunk, tears in his own eyes. “This ‘Dreamland’ doesn’t deserve him.”
“No circus does,” Colette declared.
Murmurs of agreement ran through the troupe.
Holt stood and faced them, his eyes meeting theirs. “Then who’s gonna be willing to help me set Dumbo and his mother free?”
Milly’s and Joe’s mouths dropped open. He was serious! And if anyone could help Dumbo, it was him. Their dad was a hero.
“Let’s see what we can find out and meet back here tonight.” Holt divided up tasks and everyone set out.
That night, the group reconvened in the tent, huddled together. Dumbo rolled onto his feet and stuck his trunk over the fence to watch them.
“I got some information from our old friend Sotheby,” Holt said. “A truck is coming to take her at eight o’clock.”
“Eight? That’s right before the show!” Miss Atlantis bi
t her lip.
“Well, we’ve got to intercept that truck and somehow sneak her out of here.” Holt was resolute. He laid down a map of the city.
“We can’t hide an elephant in New York City,” Rongo said, his face incredulous.
“Two elephants,” Puck interjected. “Don’t forget Dumbo.”
“A cousin of mine has a cargo ship that sails tomorrow night, bound for Bombay.” Pramesh pulled out a folded paper and set it down atop the map. Milly and Joe peered closer—it was a schedule for all the ships coming and going from the port that night. Pramesh pointed to one line. “If you can get them to the port, I promise you I’ll take them home.”
“Pramesh, you’d really go with them?” As eager as Milly was to set Dumbo and Mrs. Jumbo free, this would mean a true disbanding of their troupe.
“I miss my land, my history,” Pramesh said wistfully. Then he shot a mischievous look at Holt. “But if you wish to keep my snakes…” He unwound the python from his neck and held it out to the cowboy.
“Nope.” Holt shook his head. “No, thank you. Nope.”
“But how do we get Mrs. Jumbo past the park gates? They’re all electrically controlled from the tower, and there’s no way we can get up there,” Colette pointed out.
“No, but Dumbo can.” Holt smiled at her, finally revealing the last part of his plan. “If we can free him from the Colosseum, you two can fly there.”
“Umm…” Colette was stunned. “This depends on me?” She cast her eyes on the elephant, who, truthfully, didn’t look like he’d be flying anytime soon. Dumbo was slumped in despair.
Milly climbed into the pen to give him a hug.
“Hang on, Holt,” Rongo spoke up, his voice a deep rumble of concern. “She still works for Vandevere, doesn’t she?”
Medici’s troupe members shifted uncertainly, but Holt’s eyes were fixed on Colette’s.
“Dumbo trusts her. So do I.” He gave her a nod. Colette blushed.
Milly stared at her—she’d never seen the aerialist blush before. But she agreed with her dad; Colette was trustworthy.
Holt turned to the others. “Open those gates and it’s a race to the seaport. Impossible? Make it possible. C’mon, how hard can it be?”
Holt’s grin was contagious, and everyone laughed when Barrymore swung down and plopped Holt’s hat onto his head. Now the cowboy looked just like his old self.
Every person in the tent—Milly, Joe, the Medici troupe, and Colette—nodded. A thrill ran through Milly. Tonight, they would make a real dream come true. Dumbo’s dream.
Gravel crunched under the wheels of the armored truck as it slowed to a stop by the Dreamland gates. Leaning out his window, the driver stated his assignment—pickup from Nightmare Island. Up in the tower, a Dreamland guard double-checked the schedule, then buzzed him through, unlocking the gates with a switch on his console.
The truck moved through the gates and cut down the back roads to Nightmare Island as the guard closed the gates behind it.
Inside the menagerie building, Vandevere, Medici, and Skellig waited for the truck while handlers removed all the clothing from Mrs. Jumbo. There was no telling if they’d get another “Kali” in to exhibit at some point.
Medici’s stomach churned and he wished he had the strength of Sotheby, who’d mysteriously quit. This business with Mrs. Jumbo being shipped away was distasteful. Yes, he’d done it himself in a fit of passion after Rufus’s death, but since then he’d reexamined things, and perhaps he’d acted rashly. Perhaps Mrs. Jumbo wasn’t dangerous after all. She certainly seemed harmless now. Maybe even sad, he observed, as she dipped her head so the handlers could take off her headpiece.
“See, the great men, Max, the legends,” Vandevere said, “they all must abandon their families.”
As though she understood his words—and heartily disagreed—Mrs. Jumbo raised her trunk and trumpeted at Vandevere. Her glare did not shake him.
“You have to separate yourself, Max. Stand alone. You do that and history will remember your name,” Vandevere continued.
Behind his back, Medici shot him a dumbfounded look. People didn’t become famous for abandoning their families. Infamous, maybe. He guessed that’s what he’d be if word spread about what he’d done to his troupe. But more than that, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed this tycoon to send them packing—good, hardworking people with talents to share with the world.
“Come, Max,” Vandevere said. “We have a show to attend. Remington and his friends are waiting. Everything must go smoothly tonight. Or we won’t get the loan we need to buy out any remaining competition and pay off the builders and vendors we still owe money to.”
You still owe money to, Medici thought, but he kept his mouth shut and followed Vandevere to the Colosseum.
Backstage, Milly and Joe flanked Dumbo. They’d had to wheel him over in his chariot, as he refused to walk, and it had taken six adults to heft him into the carriage. Now the elephant was sprawled on the floor, his ears covering his face to block out the sounds of the cheering crowd.
“Come on, Dumbo, get up,” Milly coaxed. “You’ve gotta fly tonight!”
“It’s your most important show,” Joe said.
Holt came to stand by his kids, worry creasing his forehead. “What if he won’t perform now for Vandevere? How do we make him understand?”
Milly knelt down next to Dumbo, peeling back his ears so he had to meet her eyes. She held up her necklace. “Locks turn, doors open. Tonight we’re bringing your mom to you.”
Hope flickered in Dumbo’s eyes and he lifted his head. Holt and Joe nodded behind Milly, all three shining with expectation. Colette joined them, her face bright.
“Who’s been dreaming like I’ve been dreaming?” Vandevere boomed. He sauntered into the backstage area and took Colette’s hands in his.
She twisted her face away as he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “V. A., please, my makeup,” she said. She lifted one of her gloved hands, and he reluctantly kissed that instead.
Straightening, he turned to Holt. “Precision tonight, Farrier. Clockwork.”
“That’s what it’s gonna take,” Holt agreed, thinking of all the moving pieces in their scheme. Hopefully the rest of the troupe was doing all right on Nightmare Island.
“Any predictions from our scientist?” Vandevere asked Milly.
“Never let anyone tell you what you can’t do,” she said, parroting his words back to him.
Vandevere nodded his agreement, “Yes, indeed. Nothing can stand in our way.” Then he crouched next to Dumbo, who was at least sitting up now. He gazed into Dumbo’s black eyes and smiled.
“Fly, Dumbo! Fly like you’ve never flown before.” Apparently satisfied with his inspirational pep talk, Vandevere said goodbye to the others and strode off to find his distinguished guests.
Across the park, Medici’s troupe crouched in shadows, watching as the armored truck crossed the bridge over the moat surrounding Nightmare Island and backed into the building. Now they just had to wait until Mrs. Jumbo was loaded.
“Are you ready?” Rongo asked Miss Atlantis.
“I’m no Puck here,” Miss Atlantis said, nudging the actor, whose face turned red, “but melodramatic I can do.”
Puck cleared his throat. “Um, break a leg—I mean, tail.”
Miss Atlantis smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I can keep that guard occupied until you get out with Mrs. Jumbo.”
On the bridge to Nightmare Island, two patrolmen straightened and peered out as a figure emerged from the night. Miss Atlantis staggered onto the planks, clutching a fake mermaid tail to her chest.
“Sorry, ma’am, attraction’s closed,” a guard told her.
Ignoring him, Miss Atlantis swooped past, her expression one of despair.
“My dream was to be a mermaid, and now they’ve taken it away,” she cried dramatically. “And yet…I hear the waters singing. I hear them beckoning me home.”
The guard hurried after her as she stepped to the edge o
f the bridge, arms flung wide.
“Ma’am, please get ahold of yourself.”
“Return me to the vast abyss,” Miss Atlantis proclaimed, her voice reverberating in the wind. “My destiny—the sea!”
The guard reached for her just as she flung herself forward, and he toppled down with her—both landing with a splash in the moat below.
“Mmmf, lady,” the guard sputtered as she flopped on top of him, “it’s only four inches deep.”
As they flailed, the second guard approached and peered over the edge. Miss Atlantis’s hand reached up and pulled him in as well.
Coast clear, Medici’s troupe snuck over the bridge, their costumes and equipment held tight. Rongo used his strength to pull back the bars of the gate. Puck whistled low, impressed at the strongman, then gestured the others forward. Once the gap was wide enough, Harold, also known as the Rubberband Man, bent his thin body through. From the other side, he pulled a lever, opening the gate. The troupe scurried through, careful to close the gate behind them.
The stage manager called for Dumbo to take his position. Holt saddled Dumbo up and looked into his eyes.
“All right, Big D. All up to you.” He addressed his kids next. “Soon as he gets airborne, run back to his tent and I’ll find you there.” Holt had a feeling it would be chaos once Dumbo got out, and he wanted Milly and Joe clear of the Colosseum in case the crowd stampeded. They nodded up at him, their faces earnest. He kissed their heads, hoping he’d be able to make them proud tonight.
He stepped over to grab his jacket and hat, oblivious that the motion dislodged his fake arm, which slid off.
“Holt,” Colette said. She gestured to the arm on the ground.
Holt picked it up, weighing it in his hand. “Ah, to heck with it.” He tossed it aside. He was done with useless appendages.
Colette smiled in delight. Stepping over to him, she helped him pin up his sleeve.
“We could have used a little rehearsal,” she whispered so the kids wouldn’t hear.
“A rehearsal? Think at the Battle of the Argonne we got a rehearsal?” Holt joked. But then he studied her. “Sure you can do this?”
Dumbo Live Action Novelization Page 15
