“Just take it slow,” Gillian warns as we dive into the swarm of people bottlenecked in front of the Diamond Horseshoe Saloon. Within a few steps, the red, white, and blue of Liberty Square has been replaced by the muddy browns of the old-fashioned Frontier Trading Post. Gillian lowers her head and matches the pace of the moseying crowd. Wanting no part of it, Charlie runs ahead, weaving his way through the mob.
“Charlie… wait…!” I call out.
He doesn’t even turn around. I take off after him, but he’s already four families in front of us. Jumping up for a better view, I follow his blond hair as it swerves through the crowd. As he passes the Country Bear Jamboree, he glances back to make sure I’m with him, but the more I try to catch up, the further Gillian falls behind. Straddling between them, I try my best to keep it even, but sooner or later one has to give.
I look over my shoulder at Gillian, who’s finally finding some speed. “C’mon!” I call out, waving her forward. Cutting past a family with their stroller, I start to accelerate. But as I scope ahead to find Charlie, he’s nowhere in sight. I crane my neck and scan the heads of the crowd, hunting for his blond hair. It’s not there. I check again. Nothing. I don’t care how mad he was; there’s no way he’d leave without me.
Feeling that twitch in my stomach from when we got separated before, I punch the panic button and race forward. “Excuse me… coming through…” I call to the crowd as I angle and shove between them. As Gillian catches up, I’m still searching the swarm of heads for Charlie’s hair color. The short-haired blond with the J. Crew-preppy family… the messy strawberry blond with the Louisiana State baseball hat… even the dyed blond with the visible black roots. I check each one. He’s got to be here somewhere. Across the street, a ten-year-old boy shoots a cork popgun straight at his sister’s face. Behind me, two kids chase each other with purple cotton-candy-colored tongues. Next to me, a boy cries and his father threatens to take him home. “Yankee Doodle” blares from the speakers in the lampposts. I can barely think straight. Gillian reaches out to hold my hand. I don’t want it right now. Up ahead, the street bears to the left. I’m running out of space. I give it one last shot.
“Charlie!” I shout.
Twenty feet in front of me, a familiar blond mop-top juts out from behind the coonskin cap kiosk. Charlie! “Charlie!” I call out, waving both hands over my head.
Get down! he motions, patting the air, palms downward.
What’re you -?
Get down! Now!
He looks back across the street and I follow his gaze – through the mob – on the far corner of the Pecos Bill Cafe. I spot the two dark suits that stand out amidst the Mickey Mouse T-shirt crowd. And then they spot me.
Gallo’s eyes narrow into a jet black glare. Shoving his way between a young couple, he plows into the crowd. DeSanctis is right behind him.
76
“You had to yell, didn’t you?” Charlie asks as Gillian and I blow past the kiosk.
“Me? I wasn’t the one who-” I cut myself off and focus back on Gallo. Across the street, he’s fighting through the heart of the throng. And we’re almost out of running room. In front of us, the road dead-ends at a waist-high swinging wooden gate. On our left, Gallo pushes even closer.
“Down here,” Gillian says, pointing to the right.
Charlie shakes his head. It doesn’t matter if it’s the best path; he’s not giving her the chance. With a sharp tug, he pulls open the wooden gate and runs up what looks like the incline of an asphalt driveway. He’s headed straight for a green wooden wall that surrounds the whole park. It has to be at least eight feet high. There’s no way we’re climbing over this one.
“Is he nuts?” Gillian asks.
“Charlie… stop!” I shout, chasing after him. “It’s a dead end!” As he clears the highest point of the driveway, the road slopes down toward the green wall. From where I’m running – just inside the gate – he’s got nowhere to go. “Get out of there!” I yell. Charlie keeps going.
But as I hit the peak of the driveway, I finally see what’s got his attention. I didn’t notice it at first – the small sign on the wall that says “Cast Members Only.”
“Whoa,” Gillian says as she spots it for herself.
We couldn’t see it from the front gate – the angle was all wrong. But as we clear the highest part of the incline, it’s obvious that what looks like a single wall is actually two walls that overlap, but never meet up. Charlie steps forward, makes a sharp right, and disappears. It’s not a dead-end – just another optical illusion.
Following behind Charlie, I zigzag through the gap and run down a long, paved driveway. It’s like being on a back lot – the park fades behind us and all its colors and music are replaced by concrete grays and a creaky silence. Next to us, a compact, green building reeks something fierce, making it blatantly obvious where Disney tucks its garbage. At first, Charlie runs toward it – if we plan on walking away from this, he knows we have to get out of sight – but the stench keeps him on the driveway, racing down toward the back of the lot.
Up ahead, it doesn’t get much better. The closest buildings are a few scattered construction trailers, and an old warehouse with a faded blue sign that says “Magic Kingdom Decorating.”
“The trailers…” Gillian says.
Charlie goes right for the warehouse. A few steps ahead of me, he spins around to check if Gallo’s made it through the gate. That’s when I see the pain on his face. He’s as gray as the concrete, completely drained. Gillian and I start catching up. Even with his medication, he can’t keep up this pace.
Just a few more feet, bro – almost there.
Outside the warehouse, fifteen parade floats are parked in three neat rows under a rusted, metal awning. The smell of fresh paint surrounds us, and next to the glittering, shiny floats, dozens of empty paint cans tell us where everyone is. It’s drying time. No one’s around.
Rushing past the floats, we duck into the gaping mouth of the warehouse’s enormous garage door. Inside it’s like a giant airplane hangar – skyscraper ceiling, arched roof, and plenty of dark, dusty space – but instead of planes, it’s packed with more floats. Five rows of them fill the entire righthand side of the hangar, but unlike the painted ones out front, these are all covered with tightly strung Christmas lights. Disney’s Electric Light Parade. At night, it’s all lit up. In the shadows of the warehouse – alone in the dark – it’s dead and lifeless. I already don’t like this place.
On the left, cluttered along the floor, it’s a mess of leftover storage: giant rocking horses, an oversized treasure chest from Aladdin, two rolling popcorn carts, chandeliers, and even a few disco balls that’re stacked up in the corner.
Wasting no time, all three of us scout for hiding spots and-
There’s a muffled running in the distance.
Charlie and I lock eyes. He scrambles to the left; Gillian tugs me to the right. I go to fight, but Gallo’s too close. Time to get out of sight. Stumbling behind Gillian, I hide behind a huge float that’s shaped like Cinderella’s coach; Charlie ducks into a storage closet against the wall. He shuts the door behind himself. And right there, my brother’s gone.
Don’t ever pull me like that again! I glare at Gillian.
She doesn’t care. She’s still focused on Gallo. “Did he see us?” she whispers, crouched down behind the float.
Quiet! I motion with a finger in front of my lips. Outside, the rumbling gets louder. Bent down and peeking diagonally between the wheels of the coach, I see Gallo’s and DeSanctis’s tall shadows stretch out across the floor of the entrance. Gallo’s arm slithers into his jacket and he pulls his gun.