“Oh, I fly elephants all the time,” Colette said breezily, before arching an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Holt grinned. “With one hand tied behind my back.”
Colette rolled her eyes and nudged him away. They had an elephant to steal.
Inside the Nightmare Island zoo, Ivan slipped one of his wands through the bars around the electrical panel. With a nudge, he turned up the fog machine, which let out a hiss of air. The mist thickened. Swinging his wand to hook a lever, he tugged.
Bam! They were all plunged into darkness.
“What the heck? We just lost power,” one of the island guards said.
“To everything?” The armored truck driver sounded nervous. “Even the cages?”
Bang! Bam! Wham! From the sounds of it, the animals were ramming against their doors to get out. Maybe they could smell the guards’ fear.
A grizzly bear’s growl rumbled. The lion’s roar called back.
“Where are the breakers? Get these lights back on!” Skellig ordered. Shaking his head at the quivering of the men beside him, he slammed the rear doors of the truck closed on Mrs. Jumbo and headed off to find the panel himself.
Wanting to get away, the truck driver stepped up to the cab of the truck, but something within moved. The seat was covered in snakes.
With a piercing shriek, the driver retreated. Arav chuckled as Catherine and a few others slipped into the back of the truck. He’d collect the snakes before joining them.
The place was full of fog—floor to ceiling. The guards saw the silhouettes of predators stalking free: a lion, a bear, and a crocodile.
Skellig couldn’t believe the animals could have escaped that easily. How had they not attacked already?
Pushing the men in one direction, Skellig stalked off in the other. One of them would find the switches.
One of the guards reached the breakers.
Pop! The lights came back up. Skellig blinked, then blinked again. The creatures prowling around them were Medici’s acrobats in animal costumes, and another of the troupe growled into a megaphone.
“It’s a trick! Get back to the—” Skellig bellowed, but it was too late.
Vrooom. The truck’s engine revved and it plowed forward, Ivan swinging up onto the back as it burst through the doors of the building.
Skellig and the guards raced after it. “Stop that truck!” Skellig yelled. But the moat’s guards were not at their post. They were helping a dripping Miss Atlantis back onto the bridge.
Spotting the truck, Miss Atlantis kicked one of the guards into the moat and thwacked the second one with her tail, knocking him back into the water. “Sorry,” she called.
Rongo slowed the truck just long enough for Miss Atlantis to swing aboard and join him and Puck in the cab.
“Those animal impressions were terrific, Puck,” Rongo said.
Puck chuckled. “Well, the acrobats really mimicked their movements so well—if I hadn’t known it was them, I would have thought the critters got out, too!”
“Who says a circus needs real animals?” Rongo said.
“Yeah, who says you need ’em at all?” Puck answered.
They all traded looks, an idea brewing. Something that could be spectacular.
Cool wind off the ocean cut through the oppressive summer heat, although V. A. refused to allow such a trifling thing as the weather to affect him as he strolled through his pride and joy, Dreamland. Glancing down, he tucked his favorite gold pocket watch into the vest of his three-piece suit.
A watch he had bought himself, with his own earnings, not anything he’d inherited from his father. His lip lifted in an involuntary snarl at the thought of the man.
All through his childhood, V. A.’s father had berated and belittled him. He mocked his grades at school, his lack of friends, and his piano performances—a musical endeavor his mother insisted upon despite her complete lack of interest in anything else having to do with her son. Of course, the old man had gotten his in the end—fired from his job at the law firm for annoying the wrong high-profile client.
Unemployed, his father had spiraled downward as their bank account ran dry, lashing out at his wife and son until he’d finally snapped, stalked out of their house, and moved to Montana, looking for gold. He’d never found any, of course. And now V. A. took a secret twisted pleasure in reading his father’s letters pleading for money. He’d wire a small amount to his father every fourth request or so, dangling just enough to keep his father hoping for more.
He’d been more generous with his mother while she was alive. A socialite from old money who knew how to charm and little else, V. A.’s mother drifted after his father left. Only sixteen, V. A. had stepped up, spinning small jobs like hawking theater shows into bigger ones—writing the flyers for those very same shows, working backstage, and finally making his way up to director. Of course, his mother’s family had disapproved, but there wasn’t much they could do.
Over the years, V. A. learned the ins and outs of showmanship. He had a keen eye for what motivated people and could spot talent from a hundred yards away. Nobody could match his marketing savvy, either. It had taken him a decade, but he’d been able to sock away enough to launch Dreamland—a place where magic happened and childhood dreams came true.
And now, his own dreams were in danger. The contractor for the roller coaster was insisting on full payment rather than split deposits, the loan he’d used to buy out the Zuckerman circus was multiplying in interest faster than his ticket sales, and postproduction costs on his last film were triple what he’d been quoted.
He needed an infusion of excitement into Dreamland—something big and bold and never seen before.
Leaning back against the fence behind him, V. A. surveyed his grand park. What was missing?
“V. A., there you are,” Sotheby’s voice called.
“What’s the news, Sotheby?” V. A. asked. It couldn’t be good if his trusted assistant was tracking him down.
Sotheby’s expression was rueful as he approached. Yes, definitely bad news.
“The electric company sent over a representative. If next month’s bill isn’t paid up front, he says they’re going to cut the power.”
Dreamland couldn’t run without electricity. Everything from the gates to the rides to the lights in the tents needed it. It had taken seven electricians to install the special set of transformers that processed all the power Dreamland used on a nightly basis.
“A representative, huh?” V. A. mused. He liked dealing with people face to face. It was much easier to read them in person than via letter or over the phone. Maybe this representative had a wish V. A. could fulfill. Perhaps he had children who’d love a free VIP night at the circus, complete with behind-the-scenes introductions to the acrobats. Or perhaps the representative was an aspiring actor—V. A. could find a role for him in his next film. V. A. had connections everywhere. He’d make something happen.
All he had to do was find out what the man dreamed of and make it come true.
“I’ll come talk to him,” V. A. told Sotheby. “Please escort him to the Manhattan dining room and let him know I’ll be there presently.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I have Diane prepare a meal? Or just some beverages?”
“Let’s do light refreshments. Those crab cakes she made last week were exquisite.” V. A. paused, watching the waves. “Oh, and Sotheby, see if Colette is available to join us.”
She was almost as good as he at charming people, and her graceful poise always relaxed V. A., let him shine at his best.
Sotheby bowed his head in salute and headed back to the Dreamland headquarters.
He could fix all this. He’d clawed his way out of deeper holes before. V. A. inhaled deeply, letting the ocean scent clear his head.
First step, charm the power company representative into a new payment plan. Next up, secure a second loan; perhaps mortgage his mother’s house on the cape. There was a banker he’d met last month at the
museum gala…Remington. That was it. Maybe he’d be interested in investing in the grand amusement park.
As he worked on all that, V. A. would keep an eye out for the next biggest star act. There’d been rumors of a giant hairy man living in the mountains out West. Rumblings from Russia spoke of performers looking to relocate en masse in light of tighter government control. He’d also seen an article the other day on a woman in Delaware who supposedly commanded the weather. He somehow doubted that last one, but V. A. was thorough in his quest for greatness. No stone would be left unturned.
Who knew? Maybe tomorrow’s paper would hold the key to his dreams.
No matter how long it took or where his search took him, he would find a gem to raise Dreamland above all other circuses, menageries, and fairgrounds. Once he did, he’d never let it go.
From the back of the VIP booth, Medici watched the show, the lights following the performers perfectly, the audience in the tent gasping at all the right places. And they hadn’t even seen Dumbo yet.
“Mr. Medici? May I show you to your seat?” the coat check girl asked politely. She eyed the suitcase in his hands, but Medici clutched it tighter, so she gestured toward the empty chair in the front row of the booth instead. Right next to Vandevere.
“No, why don’t you take it?” Medici didn’t want it, that was for sure.
“Oh, no, really, sir, I couldn’t.”
“Please, it’s the best seat in the house.”
“Oh, yes, sir, no question. But it’s your circus,” she said.
“Go on, you’ll enjoy it,” Medici urged.
Blushing, she thanked him and scampered down the aisle.
Looking over his shoulder, Vandevere noticed Medici and waved him forward. Yet Medici couldn’t make his feet move.
Skellig burst into the booth at that moment. He’d been heading for Vandevere, but when he saw Medici, he grabbed hold of him instead.
“You!” Skellig whispered loudly.
Sensing an emergency, Vandevere smoothly nodded at his guests and slipped up the aisle to join them as Skellig hauled Medici into the stairwell.
“Where is your circus? Your circus of thieves?” Skellig shook Medici slightly, but Medici had no idea what he was talking about. His troupe had all been sent packing.
“What’s going on here?” Vandevere asked.
“It’s the elephant’s mother. She’s gone—and his troupe is behind it,” Skellig explained, chest heaving in anger.
“What? They’d never!” Medici exclaimed. “They couldn’t. Well, maybe…”
Medici cowered behind his briefcase as Vandevere and Skellig glared at him.
“Alert the tower, secure the gates,” Vandevere ordered. “Don’t let them get out.” Then he paused. “But why would they only take the one?”
His face paled and he spun to the show, where Dumbo’s act was about to start. “We have to keep an eye on Farrier—and his children,” he ordered as a spotlight turned on, shining full blast on Dumbo, high above the crowd.
“You come with us, Medici. Fix it,” Skellig said, grasping Medici’s elbow and hauling him with them.
The trio stormed backstage, but Milly and Joe saw them coming and ducked behind a crate. As Vandevere and Skellig moved on, Medici noticed an open door to the outside. Curious, he ventured out.
There was Holt, bowie knife clasped in his mouth, scaling a ladder one-handed.
“You know, whenever you put that hat on it usually means trouble,” Medici drawled.
Startled, Holt nearly lost his grip. His shoulders relaxed slightly—only slightly—when he saw it was Medici. Their gazes locked.
“Dumbo doesn’t belong here. None of us do,” Holt told him.
“Hey, you, what’re you doing up there?” a guard called.
“Get down here,” his partner yelled.
Medici regarded them coolly. “He is a maintenance man fixing the light. Get back to your posts,” he ordered.
The men saluted as they left.
“Still know how to put on a show, don’t you, Gustavo?” Holt smiled down at Medici.
“Still got hope.” Medici grinned back at him. “Learned that from you.”
Nodding, Holt began working his way higher up the building, clinging to the metal supports. For the first time since getting to Dreamland, Medici felt truly proud, the knot in his stomach finally untying.
Inside the main tent, Colette spun higher in the air as the chandelier brought her to Dumbo’s platform.
The elephant eyed her warily as she stepped onto it lightly. Colette smiled at him.
“Let’s try this again. You and me,” she said.
She climbed onto his saddle and held a single feather aloft for all to see before handing it forward to Dumbo. He reluctantly wrapped his trunk around it. Then Colette projected her voice so the audience could hear her.
“Dumbo, Prince of the Elephants! I command you to fly with me!” she shouted.
Colette flung her arms out with a flourish, but Dumbo’s ears stayed downcast. Desperate for him to understand, she leaned forward and whispered.
“Dumbo, please fly. Do it for your mama.”
A shiver of excitement passed through Dumbo at the word mama, and he slurped the feather up his trunk. His chest puffed out as he sat up. Then he took two steps forward and plunged off the platform so quickly that Colette grabbed hold of the saddle with a small shriek of surprise.
The crowd gasped as the elephant and rider dropped, plummeting to the ground. Backstage, Milly and Joe hugged one another close, eyes riveted on the arena. Vandevere paused in his search for the Farriers to watch as well. Then…
Fwoop. Dumbo’s ears flared wide and he swung up.
Colette cried out in delight as Dumbo soared around the tent. All the faces below her were turned up in awe, silently absorbing the miracle.
“It’s happening,” Vandevere whispered from the wings. His gaze moved from Dumbo and Colette to the crowd. “This is the dream.”
From Dumbo’s back, Colette spotted a slash in the tent fabric—Holt was on the other side, furiously sawing at the tough material to make the slit wider.
“There, Dumbo,” Colette whispered, pointing. “Look for the stars.”
Dumbo’s head swiveled, his eyes lighting up at the beautiful glimmer of starlight beyond the hot lights of the tent. He angled toward it.
“Aaah!” A scream came from below. It sounded like Joe.
Colette arched her neck to see. Just out of sight of the spotlights, Vandevere and his thug, Skellig, had Joe and Milly cornered. The brutes were gripping the kids tightly.
“Dumbo, the kids,” Colette urged.
Dumbo’s ears had caught the scream as well and he pivoted, eyes picking out the trapped Milly and Joe. Huffing, he dove toward the men looming over them, Colette clinging to his back in terror.
At the last moment, Vandevere and Skellig sensed him coming and ducked out of the way, letting go of Milly and Joe. The kids seized their chance and bolted.
Vandevere growled as Dumbo and Colette flapped back up toward the ceiling. He turned to Skellig, snarling, “Get me those kids.”
Skellig darted off while Vandevere fumed. High above them, Dumbo wrapped his ears protectively around Colette and shot through the opening cut into the Colosseum, accidentally knocking Holt off-balance.
The cowboy bounced and rolled down the side of the tent, the ground getting closer every moment. Just before he reached the ledge, he grabbed hold of a railing, clinging to it like a life preserver.
Free in the open air, Dumbo’s ears flared wide. The wind was stronger up there, but he adjusted quickly, banking to keep Colette sheltered.
She looked back, checking on Holt. He’d scaled the railing and was watching them. Facing forward, Colette scanned for their goal.
“Dumbo, there!” Colette pointed to the tower.
As they soared toward it, Colette flung off her wig and headdress—she wouldn’t need them anymore. Tonight she would not only help free
Dumbo and his mother, she would free herself as well.
It was a routine night up in the tower for the two engineers: monitor the gate traffic and pull the switch to open it for vehicles when the guard below radioed; make sure none of the breakers popped from electrical overload; and basically sit back, relax, and take in the sparkling lights of Dreamland shining on a…flying elephant coming straight for them?
“What on earth?” one of the guards cried.
They both bolted to their feet as the elephant careened toward them. He wasn’t slowing down.
“Aaaah!” The men dropped to the floor, covering their heads. But as Dumbo thunked into the window, it held strong, and he landed on the catwalk.
Colette leapt off the elephant and darted into the tower booth.
“Don’t mind us, just passing through,” she said sweetly, stepping over one of the guards to get to the controls.
“Hey! You can’t do that.” The bigger guard leapt to his feet and picked her up just as Colette reached for the MAIN PARK GATES switch.
Colette squirmed and kicked, but she couldn’t break the man’s hold. Turning her head, she fixed her eyes on Dumbo, who had poked his head into the booth.
“Dumbo, she needs you,” Colette implored.
“Eeeeuuggh!” Dumbo trumpeted. He squeezed himself inside, nearly trampling the second guard.
Confidently, Dumbo wrapped his trunk around the switch and yanked it up.
Clang!
Down below, the golden gates of the park swung open, to the surprise of the crowd. People dove out of the way as a large truck, driven by a smiling bald man, burst out from behind a tent and tore past them and out the gates, gravel churning up from its wheels. The gate guards blinked in astonishment, then stared up at the tower.
Dumbo’s eyes were alight with excitement; he toggled other switches and pulled every lever within reach.
“Get the elephant,” the larger guard ordered.
“You get the elephant!” the smaller one countered.
Dumbo Live Action Novelization Page 16
