Suddenly Maybeck sneezed, sending the letters airborne. Finn and Philby snagged a few of them and returned them to the table.

Others floated down like large snowflakes. They settled, one by one.

“Wait!” Finn called out. He gasped as he saw what the letters were spelling all by themselves: W Y

F IR S T

P EN

Finn licked the tip of his finger, touched the W and turned it over. He then neatened the rest: MY FIRST PEN

“The Stonecutter’s Quill. It’s Walt Disney’s first pen,” Philby said. “Oh my gosh!”

“But what does it mean?” Charlene said.

“It’s the next clue. It means we’ve got to find Walt’s first pen,” Philby answered.

Maybeck groaned, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“But where?” Charlene asked.

Silence.

“Is there a museum or something?” Finn asked.

The kids all shook their heads.

“There’s that thing, One Man’s Dream,” Willa stated. “Over in Disney-MGM. It’s kind of like a museum, I suppose.”

Philby said, “That sounds…relevant.”

“What are you, a lawyer?” Maybeck said.

Willa continued, “As I remember, there’s stuff there, like an old desk and models and things like that.”

“Worth a try,” Finn muttered softly.

“Wayne,” Philby said, drawing everyone’s attention. “This is a question for Wayne.”

Maybeck said, “I paid him a visit. Asked him to join us in the apartment. He said his hip was bothering him, and that if we wanted to see him, it would have to be at his place.”

“Well, then,” Finn said. “I guess that’s that.”

They split up into two groups—Finn with Willa; Maybeck and Philby with Charlene—and left the restaurant five minutes apart.

The area of greatest risk was Main Street, which was the park’s sole entrance and exit. You couldn’t leave or enter the Magic Kingdom without walking down Main Street. The fire station was up at Town Square, at the opposite end of the street from where they were.

When Finn and Willa reached the park end of Main Street—the area near the castle—they stayed close to the storefronts, ducking into doorways and sneaking glances out onto the empty street. Twice they hid in the shadows against a door as Finn spotted the taillights of golf carts in the distance. He checked his watch: in two minutes the other three would leave the restaurant. The idea had been for Finn and Willa to be safely inside Wayne’s by then.

The most risk came with crossing the street. Finn signaled to Willa and counted down with his fingers. Three…two…one…

They took off across the street, two blurs of dull, colorful light. As they did, Finn had the pronounced feeling that someone was watching him. He glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw a shadow move in one of the doorways. But who?

Door to door they moved up Main Street. Finn looked back, but there was no more sign of anyone following. When he was sure they were in the clear, he led Willa toward the fire station and up the back stairs. Wayne answered the door as if he’d been waiting for them.

“I think you’ve done it,” Wayne said, with all five DHIs gathered in his apartment. Philby and Finn had explained their solution to the fable.

Wayne continued, “It was the glasses, you see? That reference to perspective was where we failed all these years. You should be very proud of yourselves.”

“Is that it?” Maybeck asked. “Can we start sleeping again, for real?”

“You can try,” Wayne answered, “but I’m willing to think you’ll have to see it through.”

“See what through?” Maybeck complained. “You wanted us to solve the fable, and we did.”

Wayne stared at Finn until the boy said, “It’s not solved. Maybe the pen is the end of it.”

“It’s possible,” Wayne said, “but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Why can’t you take it from here?” Maybeck asked.

“I could try,” Wayne answered. “But I’m not sure that would solve your crossing-over problem.”

“You designed us to cross over. So un-design us,” Charlene said.

“If only it were that easy. No, I’m afraid Finn’s right: you’ll need to see this through.”

“You’re after her,” Maybeck said, finally understanding. “Was this ever about the fable? Or is that just a way to smoke her out?”

“It’s very much about the fable,” Wayne answered. “I sense some hostility in you, Terry”

“Do you really?” Maybeck snorted and crossed his arms. “That wouldn’t be because I was kidnapped, would it? And now you want me coming back for more?”

Willa asked, “Is he right? Are we supposed to…deliver…that thing. Maleficent? How do we do that?”

“You take things one at a time,” Wayne replied. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“One Man’s Dream,” Finn said.

“You can go in as a DHI, but you won’t get out with what you want,” Wayne stated, surprising them. “Think about it. You might get inside, but the pen would not come out with you. The pen is material and real, whereas you—”

“Are not,” Philby answered.

“So we have to steal it?” Finn asked.

“You are going to borrow it, I suppose.”

“Why can’t you do that?” Maybeck challenged.

“I wasn’t the one to solve the fable. I’m not the one brought here to fix things. You are. All five of you.

“But you could get the pen if you wanted.”

“Could I? If an old goat like me from Imagineering asked to get inside a display in One Man’s Dream, they’d probably fire me. I have no business there.”

“Which display?” Philby asked. “You know which display, don’t you?”

“I have an idea,” Wayne admitted.

“Sheesh!” Maybeck huffed, fed up.

“There are several replicas. A drafting table. His school desk. Even Walt’s original office. A pen…it’s conceivable it could be in any of these. You must bring me the pen the moment you have it. And understand the threat you now pose to the Overtakers. Don’t underestimate that. Not for a minute. You’ve solved the fable. They may know that, or at least suspect it. If the pen is valuable enough, powerful enough, to hide inside a fable, then one can imagine we are not the only ones after it.”

“You’re afraid of her,” Willa said softly. “You created us because you’re afraid of her.”

“Are you old enough to understand the saying ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’?” Wayne asked.

Finn had heard the expression before, and judging by the faces of the others, they had too.

He thought he understood Wayne’s message. “You’re not the one who created us,” he said. “So who did?”

Voices came loudly up the back stairs from outside. Several men. One of them said, “Was this where you saw them?”

“We were spotted!” Charlene said in a panic.

“You’ll have to go now,” Wayne said.

He looked toward Finn, who said in a panicked voice, “The remote’s back in the apartment.

That’s where we leave it!”

The sound of feet coming up the stairs grew all the louder.

A pounding on the back door.

Wayne had a contented smile on his face. “You don’t think we’d do this without making a backup, do you?” he said, holding up an exact replica of their remote.

Another loud knock on the door. “Open up, please!” a deep male voice commanded.

“Gather ‘round,” Wayne said, calm and relaxed, as if he had not a care in the world.

The DHIs huddled together.

Wayne pushed the button.

28

The Transportation and Ticket Center hummed with conversation as a tangle of park visitors shuttled between buses and monorails. Some families were ending their days just as others were starting theirs. On a Monday afternoon, thick with humidity the tired and impatient mingled with the exhilarated and anxious. For some, a day spent; for others, an evening full of promise. The humidity hung in the air so heavily you could practically wear it like a coat.