The first thing DeSanctis saw was the heads. When he entered there were two: Goofy's and the Mad Hatter's. None was attached to his torso; they were just two colorful costume heads lying lifeless on the shiny white linoleum floor. From the small folding table that was overturned, DeSanctis knew where they had fallen from. That was easy. The tricky part was seeing where he was leading. He left the small room and found himself in a corridor that ran perpendicular to he. He held the gun with both hands. To the right of him, toward the rear, was a laundry cart. Directly ahead was another room that smelled of bleach. To his left was the front door of the building, the easiest point of exit.
DeSanctis headed for the door, but when he tried to open it, he found it locked. He quickly scanned the room for windows or other doors. Nothing that allowed access to the outside. Wherever Charlie was, he was still there. Hidden. DeSanctis turned, raised his weapon, and surveyed the long white corridor. There were a few yellow-painted gym lockers on the walls, the overturned table just ahead, and the same laundry cart at the back. Through the walls he could hear Gallo's muffled cries directed at Oliver. To the left of him, next to the folding table, was the room that smelled of bleach. To the right of him, past the maintenance room, was another room that he had missed. They were the only possibilities. A room to the right of him; another to the left of him.
As he had learned during his training, when faced with a choice between two, most of the population opts for the right. Of course, that's what Charlie had done. DeSanctis started on the left, where the door to the bleach-smelling room was slightly ajar. He very carefully used the toe of his shoe to pry it open a little more, just enough to peek through the gap between the hinges. He tilted his head to check again. There was no one there.
He opened the door a little more and entered the room very cautiously, his finger brushing the trigger of the gun.
He leaned back against the doorjamb to slip into the room against the wall. Once inside, he pointed the gun at the only objects in the room: an industrial washer and dryer that took up most of the back wall. The machines were the biggest DeSanctis had ever seen. Big enough that someone could hide inside.
Gun outstretched in front of him, he inched toward the closed metal door of the washing machine. Over his shoulder he kept hearing Rooster yelling at Oliver in the warehouse. Without hearing his voices, he readied his weapon and reached for the washer door handle. He leaned in without making a sound. The smell of bleach filled the air. Just as his fingertips closed around the handle, the machine came to life with a high-pitched motorized whine, starting the next wash cycle. DeSanctis jerked back, but when the machine switched from Wash to Spin he opened the door. A pile of clothes of all colors fell heavily to the floor with a loud bang.
Wet. Green leggings... bright red Santa pants... red, white and blue skirts. Just costumes.
Kicking the pile of clothes aside, he closed the washer door and headed for the dryer. Again, he readied the weapon. Again, he opened the door of the huge machine. And, again, he found only a pile of brightly colored costumes. Saying nothing, he grabbed a handful of clothing and tossed it to the ground.
Returning to the corridor he was about to enter the other room when he realized that there was something he was out of place. In the corridor, ahead. Against the wall. The laundry cart that used to be in the center of the hall... was now to the right. Something had moved him. Or someone had moved it.
DeSanctis smiled and moved close to the wall. That wasn't very smart of you, Charlie...not smart at all, he thought as he pointed his pistol at the cart. But when he finally got to it—when he craned his neck to take a look inside him—he discovered that he was empty. However, carts do not move on their own. DeSanctis looked down the hall.
At the end of it, a tall, folding wooden screen blocked access to the rooms at the rear. DeSanctis pushed aside the laundry cart and strode purposefully toward the screen.
Ten steps later, he passed the screen and stopped. In a room that looked like a smaller version of the warehouse he'd left behind, there were rows and rows of racks on wheels. In front of him hung a red-and-white polka dot dress with a label that read "Minnie." On another hook, on a hanger labeled "Donald," Donald Duck's blue suit and fluffy white tail hung in the air. In front of the suit, Donald's head hung upside down on a special hanger. Another of Donald's heads rested on top of the hanger, and a third lay on its side on the floor. In the entire room, the heads were the only detail DeSanctis could not ignore: Minnie's; of Pluto; from Goofy; Of the seven Dwarfs, the empty heads seemed to watch him with their lifeless gazes.
Making an effort to ignore them, DeSanctis quickly inspected the aisles between the racks. The costumes hung to the ground and prevented a clear view of the place. If he wanted to get Charlie he would have to force him out. Moving forward methodically, DeSanctis slipped between two butterfly costumes and entered the first aisle between the racks. With each step, a kaleidoscope of colorful costumes brushed past his shoulders, but DeSanctis didn't seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on the ground, searching for Charlie's shoes. Every few steps he would rest his pistol on the side of a costume that seemed too bulky but, other than that, nothing slowed him down... that is, until he reached the end of the hall and saw the familiar black tuxedo with bright red shorts. Two white, specially sewn four-fingered gloves were attached to the sleeve.
Lifting his head, DeSanctis moved the costume up to the top of the hanger, which held the head of the world's most famous mouse. With an instinctive movement, DeSanctis rapped his knuckles lightly on Mickey's smiling face.
"You couldn't help it, right?" asked a voice behind him.
DeSanctis turned quickly, but by the time he saw Charlie, it was too late. Wielding an industrial broom like a caveman's club, Charlie struck. Exactly at the moment DeSanctis turned, the broomstick flew through the air. It hit DeSanctis's head with a nasty snap.
"That's for messing with my mother, you bastard," Charlie said, raising the broom to hit him again. And this is for my brother...