“Wow…” Willa said.
“You all know how you’re dressing,” Finn said. He spotted the signs across the room. “Women’s locker rooms to the right, men’s to the left. The sooner we’re out of here the better. Philby, Amanda, and I will stand guard.”
“Against what?” Willa asked.
“Use your imagination,” Maybeck said.
“If I whistle like this,” Finn said, emitting a whistle that sounded a little bit like a sick bird, a little bit like a leaking balloon, “then hide until you hear it again.”
“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,” Finn said.
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. Finn would patrol the general locker area where they’d entered.
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 Finn?”
“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 Finn or Philby playing a joke,” she told Charlene.
“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 running down. The girls waited for someone to jump out and surprise them, but it didn’t happen.
“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.
It was a big bat, an ugly bat, with a wingspan of at least two feet, but it moved through the air as fast as a cat after a toy, fluttering and flying, weaving and diving, one moment up high near the ceiling, the next dive-bombing down one of the endless aisles.
The commotion drew Finn and Amanda, running. Philby hurried from the back. But it was Maybeck who proved to be the shrewd thinker. He grabbed a butterfly net from the props section and came after the bat like a lacrosse player, swinging the billowing net with remarkable agility.
“Find the lights!” he shouted, following the bat down a row of grass skirts. “Bats don’t like light!”
Where the others might have been satisfied with scaring the bat out of the building, Amanda and Finn understood the tension in Maybeck’s voice. Finn had seen a huge bat at Amanda’s. The same bat? Not a great believer in coincidence, he, too, wanted to catch it. Clearly Maybeck also believed it was no ordinary bat.