The Return: Disney Lands (3 page)

F
INN’S
DHI
HOLOGRAM
walked through
the back door to Walt Disney’s former apartment. The
decorations hadn’t been changed in forty years. A colorful carpet, a pair of antique chairs, a standing lamp, and two daybeds resplendent with needlepoint pillows. A small round table held
the historic glass-domed lamp Walt Disney had once used to announce his presence in the park.

Knowing his time was limited, Finn went directly to
the music box. Philby had reluctantly agreed to cross him over—alone—but he’d also expressed his concern; he expected a
phone call from Finn every ten minutes so as to ensure Finn’s continued safety. Those calls would need to be made from landlines.

Finn worked quickly. The last time they’d crossed over to Walt’s apartment, the Keepers had focused on the ballerina music and the unique-looking
disc currently on the player. Now
Finn opened the glass case and inspected the other twelve discs stored there. Unlike the one on the player, they had all been manufactured by the Music Box Company, and they all looked older than
time. They were identical—except for their titles. Finn recognized only one of the songs, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” He switched discs to make sure the music on
the disc was as
labeled. It was.

With the chords of the national anthem plucking out of the music box, Finn kept searching for something to explain the cryptic message Wayne had left him. His mentor had engraved the back of his
wristwatch with images and a false address. Then he’d concocted an elaborate plan to pass his watch along to Finn. There had to be a reason. True, the images on
the watch had ended up saving
Disneyland, but the reasoning behind the false address was still a mystery, one that haunted Wayne’s protégé.

Finn scoured the music box for a disguised switch or button to release a hidden drawer. Nothing.

The center drawer remained locked, with no key anywhere. Taking a deep breath, Finn reached his version 1.6 hologram hand through the face of the locked
drawer. The tricky part was allowing his
hand to go slightly solid in order to feel around, which caused intense, burning pain in his wrist where it made contact with the drawer. The first few tries proved too painful; he yanked his hand
back.

On his third try, he worked fast in order to keep the pain to a minimum. He shoved his hand inside; his fingers found the metal tab that locked
the drawer, and he rotated it. The drawer
unlocked.

Finn withdrew a larger vinyl disc, one that didn’t match the others in the set. Its label was marked wk. Wayne Kresky.

His heart pounding with joy and surprise at the discovery, Finn looked around the small apartment and, disc in hand, approached an old gramophone across the room.

It took him a moment to realize that the device
wasn’t electric. You had to crank a handle on the side. Finn did so, and the gramophone disc played. After a few seconds of crackling
static, a man’s voice said,

Finn played it twice before returning the disc to the drawer, which he locked
painfully. He then called Philby from the apartment phone—the first of his required check-ins—and
explained his find.

“The label says WK; the voice is scratchy but close to Wayne’s. You still think I’m nuts?”

“Hey, I crossed you over. Don’t lay that on me!”

“I could use a little support here,” Finn said.

“You have more than you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finn
asked.

“I convinced Maybeck and Charlene to cross over into MK and check out Wayne’s apartment.”

“You…did…not!”

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid they might bail. But they went ahead. Granted, I knew they missed each other, what with Maybeck being in Orlando and Charlie doing that show
out west, but for whatever reason, they agreed.”

“So you bribed them.”

“I found effective
motivation. I study physics, Finn. I understand leverage. Call me back in ten minutes. Promise you won’t do anything until then.”

Philby hung up before Finn had a chance to argue.

F
OR ALL THE SWAGGER HE DISPLAYED
around most girls, Maybeck reverted to acting like a young boy around
Charlene, a state she didn’t understand. Upon crossing over into Disney World’s Magic Kingdom, she had expected a hug, even if between holograms. Maybe a kiss on the cheek.

Instead, Maybeck grabbed her hand and gave her a shoulder bump like two basketball players at center court.

“This is cool, right?” He sounded about
twelve. “Having the park to ourselves.”

“Right,” Charlene said. “Though I don’t love the idea of encouraging Finn’s fantasies.”

“I’m thinking of it as cleaning up loose ends. The guy’s been in pieces since Wayne’s death. If we can give him a little closure, what’s not to like?”

“That might be kindest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Don’t hold it against me. I’m actually just psyched
to get a chance to see you. As far as being a hologram goes.”

“I miss you, Terry. I miss everyone, but obviously, especially you. The TV show is exciting. Sure it is. But it’s also shown me how much you and everyone mean to me.”

“Including Finn,” Maybeck said.

“Yes. Of course! Including Finn.”

With Maybeck in the lead, the two teens climbed the stairs to Wayne’s apartment and stepped
through the door.

“It’s nothing like Walt’s place,” Maybeck said.

“You want to explain again what we’re doing here?”

“Looking for anything that connects this stuff Finn keeps talking about. A diary, maybe.”

“Wouldn’t it all have been cleared out, given…you know, his death?”

“Philby says nothing’s been touched. Wayne was important enough that Archives wants to catalog everyth—”

He broke off abruptly.

“What?” Charlene asked. “What do you see?”

“Check out this photo.” The dim glow of the thin blue line surrounding Maybeck reflected off the glass in the frame.

“Can we turn on a light, please?”

“Afraid not. It’ll be seen from Town Square.” Maybeck stepped back half a stride. “I think I know that photo.”

“Disneyland. Opening day,” Charlene said. “Nineteen
fifty-five.”

“I can read,” Maybeck snapped.

“It’s Walt and Mickey, opening day.”

“I got that, too,” he said.

“It’s so familiar! But why?” She leaned in to look more closely at the photo.

“No idea, but it is for me, too. Can’t explain it.” Maybeck paused; studied her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I like to hear that kind of thing. It makes me happy, Terry.”

“It’s more fun with
you around,” he said. “I’m not saying you should quit the TV gig. Not at all. I’m glad you’re happy. But I’m still happier
with you here.”

“That’s sweet, Terry. Really. Thank you.”

Maybeck waited. “Sweet?”

“Am I supposed to say the same thing? Look where we are, Terry. Same old, same old.”

“I’m accepted at Art Center.”

“Right.”

“You like it out there.”

“I love it
out there. I told you, I love the show. The life’s a little strange, but it’s cool. Complete strangers, kids mostly, know me. They stop me and stuff, but so far it
doesn’t bother me. I even enjoy it. And it won’t last forever. Shows get canceled.”

“You’ve moved on,” he said softly.

“Sometimes the tighter you hold on to something, the more it wants to escape.”

“Is that right?”

“We’re fine, Terry. You and I are fine.”

Maybeck turned away from her and rifled through drawers indiscriminately. He searched the contents, some more carefully than others. The small galley kitchen was his first stop. Then an armoire
that held mostly Disney DVDs and a workbench/harvest table under the end window that looked out on Town Square.

After a moment, he barked out some words
that would have gotten bleeped on Charlene’s TV show.

“I don’t like cussing. To remind you for the thousandth time,” she said.

He didn’t appear to hear her. “Check…it…out!”

“What’s that? A saw blade?”

“No way. It’s a metal disc with holes punched out of it. Look familiar?”

“Not particularly. I’m not the best with power tools.”

“Come on, Charlie. It’s one of those music
discs, the ones Walt’s music box plays. Same size and thickness.”

“No. Way.” Charlene’s jaw dropped. “It’s true: you’re the one with the artist’s eye.”

There was a long pause as they looked at each other, then at the disc. Then:

“Wait!” Charlene hissed. “You hear that?”

Footsteps, coming up the outside stairs.

“Dang!” Maybeck said. “There’s only one door. We’ve gotta hide.
Don’t forget we’re version 1.6. That’s bad news. No fear, you hear me!”

“Thanks, Terry. That helps.”

Maybeck looked for hiding places. There weren’t any.

“Wayne invented the DHI technology,” Charlene whispered. “Maybe it’s plausible he would have models of us, you know, just lying around up here in his
apartment.”

“I suppose.”

“Stay with me!” Charlene spun like a ballerina
and focused on two pieces of furniture: an antique television set the size of a washing machine, but with a screen the size of a dinner
plate; and a black cabinet with a pair of twin doors on its front. She instructed Maybeck to step his hologram into the black cabinet. “Waist height. Legs to the side, away from those doors
in case they open them.”

Across the room, Charlene stepped
into
the television console. She lowered herself to waist height and placed her chin in her palms.

Two men, security guards, came through the door. One of them, a short, wiry man, shone a flashlight around, despite the fact that his partner had turned on the lights.

“Whoa! Check out this babe!” he exclaimed, and approached Charlene. “She’s like glowing.”

“What…is…it?” the taller man said.
He spoke with a British accent.

“Some kind of sculpture.” The thin guy reached out to touch Charlene. As his hand passed inside her hologram, he jumped back and nearly fell down.

“No! I know what…
who
it is!” the other said. “She’s one of Kresky’s Kids.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely!”

“A holocaust?”

“Hologram, you idiot! Those kids who beat up on Maleficent.”

“She’s hot.”

“Shut it! There’s another one.” The Brit pointed at Maybeck. “Kresky designed them.”

“These are probably stereotypes,” the thin guy said.

“Prototypes! Don’t you know anything? Kresky invented holograms. Did you know that? And color TV, too.”

“Yeah, I heard that, but I don’t believe it.” The thin guy bent down to open Maybeck’s cabinet.

Charlene’s DHI spun suddenly and faced
the guards. Her voice sounded nasal; it was a good imitation of Auto-Tune. “Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls!”

One of the guards cursed.

Charlene continued. “You have entered the former residence of Disney Legend Wayne Kresky.”

Maybeck spun to his right as robotically as possible. The thin guard stepped back. “Whoa!”

“May we show you around today?” Maybeck asked also
in an electronic-sounding voice. “Please feel free to interrupt at any time, and I will be happy to answer your
question.”

“It’s a beautiful day in the Magic Kingdom!” Charlene said, reciting a memorized line from her DHI script.

“Someone should have told us these things were operational!” the thin guy said. “I about had a coronary when that girl started yapping! How much you want to
bet this is
Mike’s doing? Another one of his stinking jokes?”

Charlene spoke in her best tour guide voice. “Wayne Kresky was a Disney Legend, serving as a Disney Imagineer for more than thirty-five years. As a young man, Wayne became personal friends
with Walt Disney during the construction of Disneyland. Would you like to hear more about Wayne’s friendship with Walt?”

“No!” the guard
shouted. “Definitely not!”

Charlene moved her head mechanically side to side.