Small lizards inhabited most of Florida. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing them zip up trees, across sidewalks, and down the walls of buildings that he almost didn’t notice them at all. His aunt Jelly, who was as close to a mother as Maybeck would ever get, called them “little dragons” and considered them close relatives to the cockroach and mouse. She wasn’t beyond trying to beat them with a broom as she shooed them from the house. He’d been catching them since he was five; if you grabbed one by the tail, the tail came off. For a while he’d kept the tails—he’d had about twenty—but Jelly had found them and thrown them out, never saying a thing about it, then lying to him when he asked.
But the lizard he saw wasn’t like other lizards. For one thing it was fairly big—five or six inches, instead of the typical three or four. It was also some kind of chameleon, quickly changing from the brown of the wood chips in the jungle to the grayish black of the paved path as the reptile emerged into sunlight. But more than anything, it was the way the lizard headed straight into trouble that won Maybeck’s interest. Despite dozens of running shoes and sandals slapping down around it like mallets, the creature never wavered from its mission, dodging this way and that as it risked getting crushed. The lizards that Maybeck lived with spooked easily and skittered away as fast as lightning when approached. He’d never seen a lizard as bold as this one. It headed straight for…
…the Disney Vacation Web terminal.
Maybeck looked back toward the jungle from where the lizard had emerged. From there, in the shaded darkness held in place by tangled vines and leaves the size of tennis rackets, two sets of green glowing eyes stared out. He fixed his attention on them, trying to strip away the camouflage of plants and undergrowth in order to see to what those eyes belonged.
Monkeys…he thought at first. But the eyes were too widely set for a gibbon, and too far off the ground. Orangutans!
It was then that he saw the chameleon stitch its way back through the slalom course of legs and slither into the jungle, heading directly for the green flash of eyes.
As much as he resisted the idea that any of this was actually happening, he sorted it out quickly: the lizard was some kind of messenger; the monkeys were on a mission; Finn was their target.
A moment passed, and he realized he’d almost had it right.
Almost, but not quite. That’s when he saw a lion slink out of the jungle. He fumbled with the DS, but it was going to take too long.
“Mayday, dude! Mayday!” he shouted.
The Park visitors saw the lion as well. A man screamed as a woman grabbed her children by the hands and started to run. The crowd scattered.
Finn turned around and froze.
Maybeck again glanced to his left—the gardener. He knew what to do.
41
FINN SPUN AROUND to see a lion strolling toward him. A big lion. A lion with a thick collar of fur, a huge head, beady eyes, and glistening white teeth. He instantly knew this was not a case of bad luck: the lion was coming for him just as the bats had come for Maybeck.
The lion lumbered toward him, now only a few yards away. The guests had scattered but now encircled an area about twenty yards across, with the beast at its center.
Heat flashed through him, and all the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose with his fright.
He knew what he had to do: he had to cross over. The lion couldn’t hurt a DHI. But as the enormous cat began to flex, as if preparing to strike, Finn’s fear was not to be conquered. The lion opened its mouth and let out a tremendous roar that seemed to come from all around. It surrounded Finn and shook the ground. It didn’t sound natural. Finn threw his hands out, fending off the attack. He swooned, feeling dizzy.
And then, at once, several hands grabbed him and began to drag him away.
He heard applause and laughter.
He blinked his eyes open but was immediately blinded by the sun in the sky.
He averted his eyes and happened to catch a glimpse of one of the hands wrapped around his arm: black and calloused, with long, thin fingers. The hand was connected to a hairy arm.
Finn wrenched his head around.
He was being dragged off by a pair of orangutans. He tried to break the grip of the one on his left, and the thing bared its teeth and lunged toward his face as if to bite him. Finn jerked away, narrowly missing those teeth.
They were dragging him toward the jungle. They were kidnapping him.
And the audience thought it was all part of the show.
42
MAYBECK HEARD THAT ROAR and ran for the gardener who was watering the trees. He stole the hose out of the man’s hands. Not really a man—more like a college kid. The guy didn’t appreciate someone stealing his hose.
Maybeck’s aunt Jelly had a mutt named Porky who considered their small backyard his domain. About once a month some stupid neighborhood dog would decide to visit their backyard without an invitation from Porky, typically resulting in a dogfight of epic proportions.
The first time Maybeck had tried to break up one of the fights, he’d nearly gotten his hand bitten off. He’d been saved by Jelly, who had broken up the fight with the garden hose. Ever since, Maybeck had used a strong burst of hose water to separate Porky and his prey.
He took the hose and sprinted toward the large apes who were dragging his friend across the pavement. He fought his way through the thick crowd, which was actually laughing and cheering.
Maybeck gave the hose one last tug, but he’d reached its limit. It would extend no farther.
He squeezed the handle and shot a burst of water at the lion. The water pressed right through the animal.
A DHI!
Next, Maybeck aimed the hose at the nearest orangutan, hitting him squarely in the head. The ape was real. It let go of Finn to block the water streaming toward its face.
Again, the audience let out a cry of approval, clapping and hollering.
The ape shot a glance at Maybeck as if to challenge him, then quickly seemed to reconsider, and turned back toward Finn.
Maybeck blasted the other ape.
Finn broke loose just as the gardener jumped onto Maybeck from behind, wresting the hose from his grip.
Finn scrambled to his feet, slipped on the wet blacktop, and went down hard. Both orangutans rushed him, and Finn rolled out of the way, causing the two apes to collide. He got to his feet and took off toward Maybeck, who knocked the gardener aside, opening a small hole in the crowd, which Finn charged through.
The two took off at a full sprint, the orangutans following, their backs hunched, their teeth bared.
Finn glanced over his shoulder, but it slowed him.
“Don’t look back!” Amanda said into his ear. “I’ve got you. The Lion King show is running! You can lose them in there!”
“This way!” Finn shouted at Maybeck, who had heard Amanda as well.
They angled slightly toward the large, open pavilion, where a flash of bright color and loud African music confirmed the show was underway.
“They’re gaining on you,” Amanda warned. “Zigzag!”
Finn and Maybeck immediately cut left and right, right and left, in random patterns. Rather than run straight and intercept them, the orangutans followed their paths exactly, and the boys, having the longer strides, increased their leads.
“It’s working!” Amanda cheered them on.
Together the boys burst into the show already in progress. Four sets of wooden bleachers rose from a theater-in-the-round, at the center of which were colorfully dressed acrobats performing on a giant trampoline, with trapeze artists spinning overhead.
As Finn slowed, Maybeck didn’t hesitate for a second. Perhaps it was the result of forward momentum, perhaps because the Lion King stage set blocked their way; but Maybeck ran right up a ramp, hit the trampoline, and vaulted his way through the air and across to the other side. He tucked into a somersault, rolled to standing, and went running down the opposing ramp—right out of the pavilion.