Zack & Zoey Save Walt's Brain -or- Tinker Bell's Time-Travel Tragedy by MJ Ware

  "There's a chain too." Tommy pointed to an old rusty chain hanging under the bolt.

  "Let's get that first. I'll lean down. You hold me."

  "No, I'm smaller. You hold me."

  The driver was only three cars away, so I said, "Fine, get going."

  Tommy leaned over while I held him by his Nightmare Before Christmas belt.

  It was only a few seconds before he hollered, "Got the chain off. Now I'll try the bolt." A few more seconds passed. "Pull me back up. I can't get it."

  I pulled him up. "No luck?" I asked.

  "There's a pin that's holding the bolt in place. If we can get the pin off, the bolt will fall. But it's stuck. I'm going to have to try kicking it off."

  "Let me do it. I'm stronger." I started down the back, and he held onto my shirt. It wasn't more than a couple of feet, but it seemed much deeper once I began leaning down. As I got closer, the tram appeared to go faster, the ground whizzing by just below me.

  I held myself in place, wedging my body in the space between our car and the first passenger car. "Tell Zoey not to turn right, or she'll squish me like a grape."

  "…She says you've been putting on a little weight, anyway."

  "Tell her I'm not obsessed with my weight like—oh, never mind." I started kicking the pin.

  My rear end was inches from the asphalt. One wrong move, and I'd have to figure out how to use the toilet without sitting—not to mention I'd be run over by a couple hundred cranky park guests and their passenger cars.

  The pin that held the bolt in place started to give, so I kept kicking. Finally, I kicked it out. It made a clanking sound as it fell to the ground.

  Fortunately, the cars didn't come loose right then, or I would have lost my grip and fallen to my death—or at least some pretty gnarly road rash.

  "The bolt didn't drop. The cars can't break free." I pulled myself back on the tram.

  "It's probably the weight of all the passengers holding the bolt in place," Zoey hollered. "I may have to stop to cut them lose."

  "No, I have an idea."

  "Pull over!" The driver was just one passenger car away. "Stop this tram, you kids."

  I stood on the bolt that held the cars together. "Zoey, on my mark, take your foot off the gas and just tap the brake."

  "Okay."

  Right as I screamed, "Now!" I was grabbed from behind. But still I jumped and landed with all my weight on the bolt, which made a popping sound as it shot out.

  The cars began to separate, and the tram driver, who'd managed to snag my shirt, didn't let go. The passenger cars veered away, leaving the riders behind, but the driver still held on. I looked back; he was running with the tram. I won't repeat exactly what he was yelling, but roughly translated, it was something like, "Why, you dirty little poops. You flopping delinquent witches."

  Along with sounds of his ranting, there was a rip. It was my shirt: a small tear along one of the seams. Here was my chance to get rid of our last passenger.

  Pretending I was the Hulk, I grabbed both sides of my shirt and pulled it apart along the rip. Once completely torn, it slid right off my back.

  I heard a thud as the driver fell to the ground. He wasn't really hurt, maybe a bit scraped up; like I said, we weren't going very fast. But he was more than a little upset, continuing to curse and yell.

  "Yippee," Tommy shouted. "Take that, you stupid turd-tart."

  "Tammy, a lady should never use such foul language," I said.

  "You two, sit down." Zoey pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

  "Where are all the cars?" Tommy asked as we drove onto an empty street.

  "I don't know. Something's wrong, very wrong." A shadow moved over us. "Well, there are the flying cars, anyway." I pointed overhead.

  "We're on West. Take the next right," Tommy said. "It should be Ball Road."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Google Maps," he said. "Haven't you ever searched Disneyland on Google Maps?"

  "You're the only Disney stalker here."

  Zoey turned onto Ball. "So where are we heading?"

  "Home," he said.

  "I can't take a tram on the freeway."

  "There doesn't seem to be anyone else on the roads, and I think I can speed this thing up." Tommy was sizing up the tram.

  "So you're an auto mechanic now too?" I sneered.

  "You said it yourself, I'm a Disney expert. I know everything Disney." Tommy stuck out his chest. At least I think that's what he was doing. It might have been a small puff of wind caught under his shirt.

  "Stalker. I said Disney stalker."

  "These things work like the Autopia cars." He ignored me. "I'm almost positive they have a governor to retard the engine."

  "Tommy, retard? That's worse than cursing. I can't believe your mouth." Zoey was trying to stretch out her shoulder.

  "No, no. I didn't mean it like that. It's an auto term. It's a lever or limit-switch that keeps the engine from going too fast."

  "Disney expert or not, I don't see how you'd know that."

  "It's all part of picking a fast Autopia car. They use the same governor." Tommy straightened his mouse ears with pride. "Just pull over by the on-ramp."

  "Tommy, if you are making this up, I'm going to personally let Zoey beat you up."

  Chapter 9 – Hey, Mom, I'm Not Dead

  We pulled over, and Tommy set his mouse ear hat on the seat so he could mess with the motor. I was so sick of those ears. When he wasn't looking, I tossed his hat into the gutter, then went to help.

  The hardest part was getting the hood open. It was the whole front of the tram and took both of us to lift it. Turned out the retard-governor thing was just a small bolt. Fortunately it was loose, so I used my house key to unscrew it.

  "I thought it would go faster," I said as Zoey turned onto the freeway. "Is this as fast as it can go? Maybe I should drive."

  "I have my foot pressed all the way down." Zoey glared at me. "How could you make it go any faster? It's not powered by hot air."

  "At least it's a little faster," Tommy said. "Besides, there's no one else on the freeway."

  He was right. The entire way back home to Green Town, we only saw a handful of cars. We stayed in the slow lane. The trip took almost four hours.

  When we got off the freeway and started looking at the buildings, I couldn't deny it any longer. "Something is seriously wrong."

  "Guys." Tommy's voice trembled like a Girl Scout trying to sell her first box of cookies. "This isn't Green Town."

  "No, it is. Look—there's the grocery store and Danny's Donut Dugout. They're the same." Zoey hesitated. "It's just maybe not our Green Town."

  "What are you talking about?" Tommy slid away from us, close enough to the edge to fall out.

  "Tommy." I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. "We're in an alternate dimension or something. It's gotta be—like our world, but different."

  Tommy stared at me, and his eyes started to drift like I'd seen happen when Sunny said something really smart that he couldn't understand.

  "Zack, you're the closest, right?" Zoey asked. "And your mom should be at work—at least, in our dimension."

  "Fine, go to my house." I wasn't excited about going to my place first, but Zoey was right. It was the closest.

  Everything in the neighborhood was the same, but different—a small change here and there, and some places seemed more run down or not taken care of.

  "Zack, don't forget that." Zoey pointed back toward the tram to Walt. Tommy started to go back.

  "What if my mom comes home early?" I stopped him. "Remember how much trouble I got in when I stole from the Quick-Stop? That was a candy bar. This is a human head. Leave it there."

  "What if someone takes Mr. Disney?" Tommy put his hands on his cheeks, almost like that kid in the Home Alone movies.

  "No one's going to take him. He's wrapped up." At my front door, I put my key in the lock, half hoping it wouldn't fit. As the key turned, my stomach
sank with each click.

  I peeked into the living room to make sure there wasn't a copy of me sitting there playing World of Warlords. I figured if there was another me and we met, it might blow up the universe, or at least fry my Xbox. "One of you go to my room and see if there's another Zack in there."

  Zoey walked into the kitchen. "No need." Her voice, beyond grim, sounded as if she'd found a dead body. "Zack, come here." Her voice cracked—and Zoey wasn't the type of girl who cried.

  Reluctantly, I followed. The bulletin board that Mom had always used to remind me when I had a book report or science project due was covered with yellowing newspaper clippings and web printouts.

  "Two Local Students Disappear During Theme Park Field Trip," Tommy read from one of the headlines.

  Momentarily speechless, I stared at the board and all the articles about our disappearance, then thought out loud, "Two? Why only two?" The words barely got out.

  "Here." Zoey pointed to another headline. It read: Five Years after Disappearance, Prime Suspect Still Refuses to Discuss Missing Student Case. Under the headline was a picture of Tommy, except he wasn't quite as scrawny, and he had one of those thin mustaches guys grow when they think they have facial hair, but it really just looks like their mom painted it on for Halloween.

  "That's me." Tommy gasped.

  "It's not an alternate reality." I put a hand on the counter to keep from falling over. "It's the future. We're in the future."

  "What?" Zoey's eyes were watery, but she wasn't really crying. "We can't be sure. If there's another Tommy here, it's an alternate reality."

  "But Tommy's old. He has a mustache… well, sorta."

  "Maybe it's another reality, but one in the future," she suggested.

  "Remember when the machine zapped us?" I turned and put my other hand on the counter, propping myself up. "I was pushing Tommy out. He was, like, half in and half out."

  "So what, are you saying? You think there's two Tommys now?"

  "No." I examined the grout on the counter, more worn than it had been in the morning, before the field trip. "I know it."

  "Shut up, Zack. There's no way. I'm me." Tommy pounded his small fist against his chest.

  Turning back around, I eyed the board, still keeping a hand on the counter. "I know you are. And so is the guy we saw with Walt's head."

  "In the lavatory? You think I'm Mr. Night, sitting back there in my evil lavatory?"

  "It's laboratory—a secret laboratory, dummy." I tried to laugh, but couldn't. "And you're not Mr. Night. You're the guy with the mask. The one who was about to drill a hole in Walt Disney's brain."

  "Shut up, Zack. Just SHUT UP!" I felt a shove from behind. I knew it was him, because a shove from Zoey usually puts me on the ground. "I'd never do anything to hurt Mr. Disney."

  "I thought that guy was familiar." Zoey took him by the hand. "Tommy. It's okay. It wasn't you. It's like an evil Tommy. We even heard that Night guy say 'Traddles'—he must have meant him."

  "You mean a he's a doppelganger, like the evil Mr. Spock in Mirror, Mirror?"

  "Umm, sure." Zoey obviously had no idea what he was talking about. "Exactly like that, I guess."

  "He's not exactly a doppelganger because he's real, not a—" I stopped when Zoey shot me an evil eye. "Anyway, that's how Night knew your last name. He wasn't talking to you. He was talking to the evil version of Tommy."

  "I—I don't know." Tommy turned a tad green.

  "Don't worry about it. It doesn't really matter right now." I didn't want him to hurl in my kitchen. "The real question is: How do we get back to our time?"

  Looking at each other, we instantly knew the answer. "Sunny," we said.

  "Look at that paper." I took the article about Tommy being a suspect in our disappearance. "It's not as old as the rest, but it's still yellowing. It still has to be pretty old. So we've been gone… eight, ten, maybe even fifteen years in the future."

  "Sunny has to be, like, a super brain by now." Zoey smiled a little. "Let's find her."

  I was going to run upstairs to get a T-shirt, but I realized my stuff was probably long gone—I didn't want to find out. Fortunately, there was an old Tigers sweatshirt sitting on the back of a chair. It was Mom's, but it fit pretty well.

  "Wait." I grabbed the notepad next to the phone (except there wasn't a phone plugged in there anymore). "I've gotta leave Mom a note. Let her know I'm okay."

  "No, Zack." Tommy ripped the pad out of my hand. I know he had a shock with the whole evil doppelganger thing, but he was really working on my last nerve. "You can't leave a note. We can't do anything to change the future, or we could alter our past. Haven't you ever seen Back to the Future?"

  "Back off, Tammy." I knocked the notepad to the floor. "That only applies to traveling back in time, not forward."

  "I know this is upsetting, guys, but let's cool it. Zack, you're probably right about the messing up time thing. But we can't risk it." She picked up the pad and put it back. "Besides, a note would only upset your mother."

  Tommy and I didn’t say anything else. As we left, I locked the door behind me. The house felt sad, sorta lonely. Zoey took my hand as we walked to the tram, and we interlocked fingers. That was the first time we'd ever done that—but right then, I needed all the support I could get.

  "Zoey, let me drive, okay?" I asked.

  "Well…" Zoey eyed the keys. "If you promise to take it easy. Sunny told me what you did to Principal Blathers' car last year."

  "His car? You should have seen what I did to him." I stomped a weed sprouting from a crack on the driveway. "Let's just say we don't have to worry about any little baby Blatherses running around."

  "Eww! I just pictured half a dozen bald rugrats with bushy mustaches and wet pants. That's so disturbing."

  Tommy ran up to the tram ahead us. He took one look in and said, "It's gone."

  Chapter 10 – Super Scientist, Super Model—Super Sunny

  "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" Zoey asked as we sprinted to the tram.

  "Someone took it." Tommy, leaned against the tram, slapping his hand on his forehead. "What will we do now?"

  We hurried to the tram to check out the floor. There, still wrapped in a sweatshirt, was the head. "It's right there," I said.

  "That's Disney's head."

  "Yeah, you said it was gone."

  "Not the head. My hat. My ears—they're gone, stolen."

  Zoey reached out for his neck with both hands. "I oughta—"

  "Zoey." I pulled her hands away. "One severed head is all I can deal with." We got in the car. I had to pull Tommy in. "Maybe it just blew away. We can order you another pair of mouse ears."

  "They were embroidered. They only do that in the park." Tommy put his head down.

  "Maybe you should pop his head off. We could give it to Night. He might be able to use it to run the Pinocchio ride," I said. "No wait, that's a dark ride—too scary for Tammy's brain."

  "I am not afraid of the dark." Tommy clenched his fists.

  "Boys," Zoey broke in, "we're in some serious trouble here, or have you guys been too busy fighting to notice?"

  I kept my eyes on the road. None of us was having a good day, but Tommy's had been seriously lousy. I probably would have told him I was sorry, maybe even ’fessed up about his mouse ear hat, but I didn't want to do it in front of Zoey.

  Sunny's house was about six blocks away. I knew the way because I'd sometimes go over when I needed help with math—so, once or twice a week.

  Sunny's mom answered the door. "Yes, how may I help you children?"

  She didn't recognize us. "Is Sunny home?" Zoey asked.

  "No, she hasn't lived here for a while. She moved to a place over by the college." Her mom had always been pretty, at least as pretty as a mom could be, but now she was even older than I expected.

  "The college?" I said.

  "You three must be part of her youth outreach program. Sunny loves helping school kids with science projects."

  "Yes, t
hat's it. And we really need her help, right away," I said. "Our science fair project is due this week."

  "Science fair, already?"

  I realized it might be the start of the school year here, too: the same day, but a bunch of years in the future. "Well… It's a very advanced science class."

  "I bet if you get your parents to drive you, you can find her at the college. She's most always there."

  "Okay, thanks," I said as we left.

  We all knew which college; there was only one in town. It's part of the University of California system, so Mom says I'll have to go there to get cheap tuition, because Dad won't help. Though I'm not so sure college is in my future.

  I'd been to the campus once to see a fighting robot competition (that Sunny had convinced me to go to). But once we got there, I realized the school was much bigger than I had thought.

  "How the heck are we going to find her?" I asked.

  "Come on, dummy," said Tommy. "The science building, of course."

  The science building was huge, and I figured we'd end up walking around forever, until I saw the directory in the lobby. Right up top, it said, Science Chair (a.k.a. Head Geek) Sunny Rosa –Room 304.

  "Let's take the elevator." Zoey pointed to it. Tommy beat me to the elevator button.

  When we got to her office, what looked like a tablet computer hung from the door with a blinking message: In lab four.

  It took us a few minutes to find lab four, and once we got there, we stood outside, waiting to see which of us was going to open the door. How would Sunny take seeing us after all this time? Would she help us? Would she even believe us? Would she pull a Tommy and projectile vomit all over us?

  There was only one way to find out. To be safe, I made sure Walt's head was completely covered before entering.

  At first, I thought we had the wrong lab. Only one person stood inside, a woman. She must have been almost six feet tall. She wore white leather pants with a thick black stripe down the side. All they needed to do was glow, and they'd be straight out of Tron.

  Her lab coat had a huge gecko embroidered on the back that said, Green Town Geeks. And strangest of all, she had straight—not curly, but straight—purple hair.

  "Umm, excuse me." I cleared my throat. "Do you know where we can find Sunny Rosa?"

  The woman turned around. "I'm Professor Rosa."

  The smile is what gave her away: big, with two deep dimples—it was Sunny. But she was so different, so… mature.