Disney at Dawn

“That’s encouraging,” Maybeck said sarcastically.

“That’s reality,” the driver said.

“Yeah?” Maybeck snapped a little testily. “Well, that would be the first time we’ve dealt with reality in a long, long time. So pardon me if I don’t recognize it.”

“Any questions?” the driver asked.

He hoisted the truck’s rear door. And while the sun had not yet risen, they found themselves in a vast, empty parking lot, alongside several steel-sided, mostly windowless buildings that looked like warehouses. The sky was fully aglow with the push of dawn as the kids climbed out of the truck and hurried to follow the Dapper Dan.

16

THE DRIVER SHOWED THEM into the Cast Services building. Even if the lights had been on, it still would have been gloomy and creepy inside, with its rows of hundreds of abandoned lockers. But under the hazy glow of the dim, off-hours lighting, the place looked positively haunted. Not one locker had a person’s name on it, nor did any of them look used—no scratches, decals, graffiti, or dents. Nothing like the lockers at school.

“This was originally going to be where Cast Members changed for work,” the Dapper Dan said, “but it became impractical because of the distance to the Park. But if anything goes wrong—a missing button, a broken zipper—it comes here. The building’s only open a few hours a day.”

The six kids stood just inside the building. The driver walked past and unlocked an interior door to the left of a narrow counter, behind which was a retractable metal barrier, padlocked shut.

“Make sure this is locked behind you. When you’re ready, you cross the roads out here. Stay to the far left of the parking lots. There’s a pedestrian entrance on West Sava

There was a noise then, like the wind: a swishing, whooshing sound, as if someone had left a window open. But no one felt a breeze, and not a hair moved on anyone’s head. However, quite a few hairs raised on the back of Fi

“What was that?” he asked.

The driver turned to the door they had come through. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “You’re on your own from here on out.” He was gone in an instant. His hurrying off so quickly added to the sense of impending danger.

He closed the door a little loudly on his way out. The boom echoed around the building.

“Check it out,” Maybeck called to the others. He was holding open the door that the driver had unlocked. The others stepped forward and peered inside. The ceiling was thirty feet overhead, steel beams with cross supports—all unfinished and basic. Displayed before them were fifty or sixty rows of clothes hanging from steel pipes. The rows stretched from where they stood to the far side of the building, fifty yards or more.

“Oh…my…gosh,” gushed Charlene.

There had to be thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of garments—every kind of Animal Kingdom costume and Cast Member outfit, in every size. And accessories: hats, boots, belts, buckles, backpacks, clipboards, pointers, pens, notepads—in containers on shelves just above the clothing that matched their theme.

“Wow…” Willa said.

“You all know how you’re dressing,” Fi

“Against what?” Willa asked.

“Use your imagination,” Maybeck said.

“If I whistle like this,” Fi

“If you whistle like that,” Maybeck said condescendingly, “you’re going to get me laughing so hard I’ll never be able to hide.”

“Your problem, not mine,” Fi

That silenced Maybeck for the moment, just long enough for Philby to say he’d look for a door at the back where he could stand guard. Amanda would stay basically where they were. Fi

No one had a good feeling about this. No one but Charlene, who was acting like she’d just unlocked her grandmother’s attic.

* * *

Suspended above the impossibly long rows of clothing and costumes were large hand-painted signs done in the Animal Kingdom’s African-style lettering. They divided the space into sections, a system used to organize a hundred thousand Cast Member costume pieces into something manageable.

While Maybeck cruised ANIMAL CARE and Willa PARK RANGERS, Charlene browsed the area marked PERFORMERS, searching for DeVine costumes.

The first suggestion that they might not be alone came in the form of noise: the familiar sound of hangers tinkling like dull bells. Charlene noticed it first, or was at least the first to voice her concern. She hurried to find Willa and whispered hotly, “Did you hear that? The hangers? Coming from over there?” She pointed.

“What?” Willa was busy trying to find a shirt that would fit her.

“Hangers. Like someone else is in here,” Charlene explained in a conspiratorial hush. “Don’t forget Small World.”

As DHIs, the kids had once ridden through It’s a Small World late at night only to have all the dolls come alive and attack them. It was a memory—more like a nightmare—none of them cherished. Other parts of various attractions in the Magic Kingdom had come alive as well, often threatening them, or outright causing them harm. It had instilled a reluctance in them all, a distrust of what might happen next, that had stayed with them long since, and whether they spoke of it or not, haunted them.

“You’re just buggy because it’s dark in here.”

“I’m not buggy! I heard hangers banging around over there. What’s with that? You think I should tell Fi

“Boys? We don’t need boys.”

Some hangers rang out quite near them. Charlene jumped back. Willa stood her ground but peered inquisitively into the room’s twilight. “It’s got to be Fi

“Ha-ha.”

Willa stood taller and spoke with authority. “Okay, you guys! You got us. Ally-ally-in-free.”

The ting-ting of hangers faded, like a clock ru

“Are you going to check it out?” Charlene asked, partly hiding behind Willa.

Together the girls explored the rack in front of them, pushing clothes aside. They did so cautiously, a few garments at a time. Willa grabbed a bunch of shirts and slid them to her right.

A large bat dropped from the rack, unfolded its wings, and flapped violently to gain altitude. Willa ducked. Charlene screamed and went over backward, falling to the floor.

The bat spiraled into the upper reaches of the warehouse and, because of Charlene’s scream, got the attention of everyone on the floor.