Vanessa instantly recognized the final float.
Decorated with four white columns connected by lengths of red, white, and blue bunting, the Legacy float featured a tableau of living statues posed on a set piece crafted to resemble a craggy mountain overlook. The living statue of a miner held his pickax aloft and unmoving for an impossibly long time. Every so often, the statues eased into different positions before freezing in place again.
Only as the final float passed by were the shadowy silhouettes of ghosts visible on the back of the Legacy float, ending the parade with an unsettling stinger.
Released from the viewing area, the visitors milled in all directions.
Vanessa pulled up tape with the rest of the crew until every piece had been removed, then led the way back to the break room.
Everyone collapsed into chairs to recover from the intense heat.
Vanessa took a closer look at the Gold Rush neckerchief around one young woman’s neck. “May I borrow that for a moment?” she asked, indicating the accessory.
The young woman regarded Vanessa with surprise. “Sure,” she said, removing her hat and peeling the neckerchief off. “It’s kinda sweaty,” she said, passing it to Vanessa.
Vanessa pulled the neckerchief over her head.
The crew stared.
She tugged on the neckerchief from several directions, feeling it press against her neck as she did so. “It’s that it won’t come free when pulled, isn’t it?” she asked.
Only Bob answered. “Yup. Stupid thing dangles all over the place.”
“And what if it got caught in the machinery, right?”
He didn’t say anything. He just nodded, which seemed to prompt the owner of the neckerchief to pipe up.
“It should have a Velcro fastener instead of a knot,” she said.
Vanessa handed the neckerchief back to her. “I see what you mean.” She addressed the group. “Okay, everyone, that’s a wrap. Head back to your attraction and I’ll see you next time.”
The strength of her feelings increased her pace as she strode out of American Dream. Such a simple, sensible request. Why didn’t management address this before?
She vowed to ask Mr. Destiny as soon as possible.
Chapter 6
Vanessa
Unsure of what the carriage wash would entail, Vanessa retrieved a spare set of casual clothes from her car and used the locker room to change into jeans and a lightweight plaid work shirt. She checked with Charlotte about ordering pizza for the carriage wash crew and was relieved to find out that pizza delivery would make it unscathed through the park security gate, as long as there was someone to meet the driver in the manager parking lot.
She ordered a pile of cheese and pepperoni pizzas, then fed quarters and bills into the underground break room vending machine until it spit out a sufficient number of sodas. She hauled them back to the office and ran upstairs to receive the pizzas, then staggered downstairs under their weight, her arms heating up uncomfortably from the stack of pizza boxes.
With the pizza safely deposited on the office counter, she unclipped her radio and called Ghost Factory. “Legacy to Ghost Factory.”
“Ghost Factory here.”
It sounded like Thomas.
“Ghost Factory, can you send someone down to the office to help transport some carriage wash supplies?”
“10-4, Legacy. On my way.”
She straightened and re-straightened the stack of pizza boxes. She wiped and re-wiped the condensation that dripped from the sodas. She leaned against the counter, trying to feel calm, until the door finally opened.
“Hey!” said Thomas. “What’s all this?”
“Hey, yourself,” she said. “I got us some pizza. Thought you all might be hungry.”
“Or you and I could just eat it all, right now, and they’d never be the wiser.” He rubbed his hands together and laughed like a villain in a movie.
Vanessa rolled her eyes and laughed. “Don’t tempt me.” She reached for the pizza, but he stepped in front of it.
“What happened to your arm?”
“What?” She looked down. “It’s just red from carrying the pizza.”
He pulled a handful of paper towels from the nearby dispenser and ran them under the cool water tap in the sink. “May I?” he asked, waiting for her assent before he cradled her forearm in one hand and applied a wet paper towel to the redness with his other hand.
Their eyes met.
“Hold that there,” he said.
Vanessa felt the hair stand up on her arm. Must be the cold towels. She shivered.
He let go. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine, really,” she said.
He gave her a skeptical look. “Don’t sacrifice a limb just to get us some pizza.” He rummaged in a cabinet under the counter and found an old grocery bag, then loaded the sodas into it.
“Let me get that,” she said, reaching for the bag.
“Not with your scorched arm,” he said.
“Only the good one, I promise.”
He relented and handed the bag to her.
“I have an idea. Take off your jacket,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows and complied.
She took the Ghost Factory jacket and laid it out on the counter. “Now stack the pizzas on it. That way, your arms will be safe.”
They carried the pizza and sodas up to Ghost Factory and laid them out in the break room.
Thomas
Still there. The flyer he’d pinned to the bulletin board in the Ghost Factory break room remained, just visible behind the stack of pizzas. He didn’t need to read it to know what it said.
He’d written it.
We arrive early to put on a costume and stay late to take it off again.
Why aren’t we paid for this extra time spent working?
Vote YES to unionize and stand up for fair wages!
Short Bob had written the other one. He took the Gold Rush neckerchief personally—not surprising, considering he’d nearly been caught on a ride vehicle just as it was about to launch.
The velvet curtain swung aside and three more crew members crowded into the room.
“Oh, look, the Blondes are here,” he said. “Where’s your charge, ladies?”
Paulina, Laura, and Claudia giggled in unison. “We left him to find his way,” said Paulina.