Stone Ranger

by Bob Blanton

  “Not me either.”

  “Can’t afford it,” Matthew added.

  “Oh man, Matt, what are you going to do? You’re going to have to escort three beautiful women all day.”

  “I’m sure I’ll suffer through it.”

  Alex, Brianna and Emily giggled. “Don’t worry, Matt, we won’t pick on you too much.”

  Terror’s Night Out

  “Achoo,” Brianna sneezed.

  “Bless you,” Matthew replied, handing her a Kleenex. “Are you okay?”

  “I think I’m coming down with a cold,” Brianna said. “You should go home so you don’t catch it.”

  “Don’t worry, I never catch colds. Jessie gets one a month during the winter, but I never do.”

  “You’re lucky. I can’t believe I’m going to mess up our night out.”

  “So, you don’t think you’ll be better in four hours?” Matthew jested.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Brea, are you ready for a game?” Emily asked as she came down the stairs.

  “Oh no, I should have called you. I have a cold,” Brianna said.

  “What? I can’t believe it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Brianna said.

  “No, not the game, the play,” Emily said. “Can you believe my supposed boyfriend begged out at the last minute to go watch the Lakers play, and now you have a cold. What a waste.”

  “I can probably sell them,” Matthew said. He’d had to ask Mr. Stevenson to help him get the tickets. Opening night had sold out the first day, but it was the only day that Brianna had been free to go to a play. Then Emily had decided to take Tyler.

  “No, you should go,” Brianna said. “Maybe Jason will go with you.”

  “No way,” Jason hollered from the hallway. “I’m not getting dressed up for some play.”

  “It’s okay; we can stay in and watch a movie.”

  “No! I know you really want to see the play. Why don’t you and Emily go? She needs cheering up after Tyler chose basketball over her.”

  “That’s okay,” Matthew said. “We’ll try and catch it later.”

  “You know I’m booked with tennis for the next month. I’m not going to make it, but that shouldn’t stop you.”

  “Don’t worry, Brea,” Emily said. “I’m just fine.”

  “But I’m not, I’ll feel a lot better lying around tonight if you guys go to the play.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Don’t worry,” Brianna coughed. “I’ll collect later when I’m feeling better.”

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Emily picked Matthew up at seven, driving the family’s big Mercedes 500SL

  “Hi, is something wrong with your car?” Matthew asked.

  “I thought this one would be a little more convenient, with the long dress and everything,” Emily replied. “You look nice.”

  Matthew had rented a tuxedo like he’d worn to the Winter Ball, but this time he had a bright blue cummerbund and bowtie. “I feel like we’re going to the prom.”

  “It’s a snazzy affair, one of the hottest tickets in town, and a virtual who’s who of San Diego. You should know, you’re the one who got the tickets.”

  “I know, but I was only thinking about the night, I didn’t think about the party.”

  Emily put the car into gear and backed out of the driveway. “We don’t have to stay the whole time; we can just see if we get a chance to talk to any of the stars, especially Chaz and Caroline.”

  “Big stars like that, they’ll probably be hanging around the big shots,” Matthew said.

  “They’re kids, too, I’m sure they get tired of talking with big shots. We’re as close to normal kids as they’ll probably get to meet.”

  “We’ll see.”

  When they arrived at the La Jolla Playhouse, Emily pulled the car up to the valet parking stand.

  “You’re going to valet park?” Matthew asked.

  “Definitely,” Emily said. “I’m not walking across the parking lot in heels and a long gown.”

  Matthew extended his arm to escort her to the door.

  “Why, thank you,” Emily said.

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  About fifteen minutes into the play, an English-accented voice came over the loudspeaker.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please stay seated. My men are guarding each exit and they will shoot anyone who tries to leave.”

  “What’s going on?” Matthew whispered to Emily. “This is not funny.”

  Matthew and Emily looked around. There was a man holding a machine gun at each of the exit doors along the aisle on each side of the theater.

  “Don’t bother to try and use your cell phones, we have a jammer in place so there will be no service available. Not to worry, we’ll be contacting the authorities shortly,” the man continued. “And we are placing bombs alongside each exit as I speak, so please just settle down, we’re going to have a long night.”

  “Oh my God,” Emily cried, “they’re going to kill us.”

  Matthew pulled his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on. “No signal.”

  “They said they’re jamming them.”

  “Well, I’m thinking I can get around their jamming with my friendly portal,” Matthew replied. “But let’s put this thing on silent mode before someone calls me.” He clicked through the menu and set the phone to silent mode.

  “Here, use my headset,” Emily offered as she started digging through her purse.

  “Don’t bother, it won’t work.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s Bluetooth, wireless, so the jammer will block it. We’ll have to use old-fashioned wired technology,” Matthew said as he pulled his earpiece out of his pocket.

  “Be careful,” Emily whispered.

  “I will,” Matthew replied, as he hooked up the headset and turned the phone on.

  Matthew focused his mind and brought up his portal putting the other end over downtown La Jolla, far from the theater and the jammer. The cell phone screen showed four bars for reception. “Okay, now 911.”

  “911 operator, what’s your emergency?” came the voice through his headset.

  “My name is Matthew Brandt. Terrorists have taken control of the La Jolla Playhouse. They’ve got automatic weapons and they say they’ve got bombs.”

  “One moment please,” came the incongruous reply.

  “She’s put me on hold,” Matthew whispered to Emily while stifling a nervous laugh. “Can you believe that?”

  “Now we’re going to have everyone join me up here on the stage,” the man said. “Please have your cell phones and any weapons out for our collection.”

  “He’s a real comedian,” Matthew whispered.

  “Yes, you’ve got to put that thing away before someone sees you.”

  “We’re in the middle of the aisle, we’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Young man, it is a criminal offense to call in a false alarm,” another voice said into Matthew’s earpiece.

  “I know. This is not a joke; they’re forcing everyone onto the stage. I suggest you call Agent Caruthers at the FBI.” Matthew recited the phone number from memory. “Now, listen to this.”

  Matthew held the mouthpiece out as the terrorist leader continued. “As you come up on the stage, please stay away from the small drums you’ll find up there. They’re bombs and we wouldn’t want you to set them off.”

  “Now, please call Agent Caruthers,” Matthew hissed into the phone and then he hung up.

  “Who’s Agent Caruthers?” Emily asked.

  “She’s the FBI agent who nailed Alex and me back in December. She’s the head of the terrorism task force. You’ve seen her on TV.”

  “Oh, and you know her number?”

  “Sure, I snagged one of her cards, thought it might come in handy if Alex kept up her James Bond number.”

  While they continued to shuffle forward toward the stage, Matthew decided to do some recon work. He calmed his nerves and opened his portal in the theater l
obby. Then using it like a virtual camera, he surveyed the scene. There were four terrorists in the lobby standing guard. They were pacing around with their AK-47s, chatting with each other in Arabic.

  Outside was a different story. There weren’t any terrorists visible, but the security guard was lying dead beside the concession booth. The tent that had been set up to host the Cast Party was a grisly scene; there were dead bodies lying everywhere, across the tables and on the ground. The driver of the catering truck was slumped over the wheel, and there were several waiters lying dead in the back of the truck.

  Matthew sucked in his breath as he scanned the carnage. Emily shivered, as she imagined what Matthew must be seeing. “What are you seeing?” She asked.

  “Lots of dead bodies,” Matthew whispered.

  He continued the surveillance. He found a couple of security guards dead in the adjoining theater. The other two theaters on the site were silent tonight, “Thank God,” Matthew thought. He found the valet attendants lying dead beside their key booth and a young couple was dead in the parking lot. There was a news van from Channel 10; Matthew recognized the reporter. She, the cameraman and the driver were all lying beside the van. Gunshot wounds to their heads.

  As he moved out toward Torrey Pines road, he found another security guard lying dead beside the Playhouse sign. Moving his virtual camera over to the road, he looked toward the south. He pushed his camera south, looking to see if the police were on their way. There was a car racing north; it wasn’t marked like a police car, but it was moving through traffic with a purpose. He matched speed with the car and focused on the car’s interior. There was a shotgun standing up to the right of the driver, and both men looked like cops. The chattering radio cinched it.

  The passenger keyed his mic, “Control, we’re approaching the campus entrance, should be there in one minute.”

  Matthew turned his cam off, “Let me slide up a little.”

  “Why?”

  “The cops are almost here, I want to signal them before they get too close. I’m going to use that light.” Matthew indicated one of the house lights on the wall of the theater.

  He slid past Emily and positioned himself so that the light was shining over his shoulder. Then he opened his portal. The light acted as a spotlight shining out toward Torrey Pines road. When the police car turned the corner, Matthew used his hand to block his side of the portal, making the light flash on and off.

  “Are they here?” Emily asked.

  “Almost.”

  Matthew flashed the light a few more times then rotated his portal so light wouldn’t shine through anymore. He and Emily hurried to close the gap that had developed in the minute that Matthew had been standing in front of the light. He watched and listened as the car pulled up and stopped beside the sign. The two men got out with their guns drawn.

  “The light’s gone.”

  “Just be careful. I’ve got you covered.”

  The first man inched his way up to the sign. “I’ve got a dead security guard here.” Stepping over the dead guard, he continued to survey the area around the sign.

  “Call it in; this isn’t a false alarm.”

  The first man went back to the car. “Control, this is Sgt. Wallman. We’ve got a dead security guard at the road. I think this is the real deal. Over.”

  “Hold your position, seal off the area. We have a unit coming up the back road. They’ll block access from there.”

  “What about the theater?”

  “The FBI antiterrorism team and the SWAT team are on their way. You’re to hold your position.”

  “They’re here,” Matthew whispered. “FBI and SWAT are on their way.”

  In another ten minutes they reached first row of seating before the stage.

  “Now what do I do with the phone?”

  “What do you mean, you have to give it to them,” Emily said.

  “No, we’re going to need communication with the outside if we’re going to get out of this,” Matthew said.

  “You’re crazy; you can just use your portal.”

  “I’m not interested in having the FBI, the police and everyone in San Diego knowing my little secret.”

  “Do you really think we’ll get out of this?” Emily asked.

  “Of course,” Matthew said with false bravado. “The FBI antiterrorism unit will figure out how to get us out.”

  “I hope so.”

  Matthew wrapped the hands-free set around the cell phone and put it under his jacket.

  “What are you going to do?” Emily asked.

  “When we get close to the stage, I’m going to set it on the portal and slide it to the back of the stage,” Matthew whispered. “The side curtains should hide it so we can retrieve it later.”

  “They’re using a wand on everyone,” Emily whispered.

  “These guys are prepared, aren’t they? They’ve even raised the orchestra platform to half height.”

  “Well, it’s not helping all that much,” Emily said as they watched one of the women struggling to make the 18-inch step in her long gown. Finally her companion just lifted her up and sat her on the platform. When she stood up you could see where the dust from the platform had stained the seat of her gown.

  “Ugh,” Emily groaned. “Her date could have at least wiped the spot with his handkerchief.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

  Emily cupped her hand on Matthews shoulder and leaned in, “My hero.”

  “Now stay close to the seats as you come across the stage, anyone getting too close to the stage might be shot,” the voice droned on.

  Matthew and Emily inched along with the other members of the audience. As they did, they surveyed the scene on the stage. There was a terrorist at each corner of the stage holding an AK-47. And there were four blue drums, about 20-gallon size, two on each side of the stage. The hostages who were up on the stage were quietly milling around, keeping a respectable distance from the drums. Most of them looked like they were in shock.

  Matthew readied his phone, “Let me know when it’s clear.”

  “This is nuts.”

  “Yes, but what have we got to lose?” Matthew added.

  “I guess if they’re going to kill us anyway, might as well gamble a little,” Emily whispered as she looked around. “It looks like once we pass the guy at the bottom of the aisle, you’re clear until you get to the center where they’re running the wand over everyone.”

  “Good.”

  They quietly followed the line as it inched around the corner and snaked along the edge of the seats.

  “Okay, I’ll let you know when he looks away,” Emily sneaked a peak around the room to make sure none of the other terrorists were looking at them.

  “Say when.”

  “When.”

  Matthew set the phone on his portal, and then gave it a little push toward the stage. It traveled silently along at the same height as the stage, floating in the air. Then Matthew closed the portal and let the cell phone settle onto the stage; it was so close to the floor that it didn’t make a sound when it dropped.

  “That’s pretty good,” Emily said, “how did you get the height just right?”

  “I opened it on the stage then slid it back to me. That end always stays at the same level, no change in potential energy.”

  “Clever.”

  Matthew and Emily waited as the line progressed. There were two terrorists passing wands over people, one taking care of the line coming from stage left and the other for the line from stage right. It took about twenty to thirty seconds per person so the progress was extremely slow. You could hear the sounds of people whispering, some crying and an occasional curse word as they all worked their way along. When they reached the front of the line, Emily handed her cell phone and purse to the terrorist who was collecting them, and he tossed them both into a box. Emily stood stoically while they ran the wand over her body.

  When it was Matthew’s turn, he handed them his watch and
wallet.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” the terrorist asked.

  “In the car,” Matthew replied. “We’re together and we only need one,” he added pointing to Emily.

  The terrorist spent extra time running the wand over Matthew, then pushed him toward the riser. Emily was standing at the edge of the platform. Matthew crouched down putting his hand on the platform to brace himself and made a step with the calf of his right leg. “Here use my leg as a step.”

  “Won’t I hurt you?”

  “Not unless I get stuck with an extra cleaning charge for the tux.”

  Emily giggled a little as she put her hand on Matthew’s shoulders, used her other hand to hike her gown up a little then stepped onto his calf just below the knee. Splitting the difference in the height of the platform made all the difference as she easily made the two steps up onto it.

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “It’s nice to maintain some dignity.”

  “Least I could do after bringing you on this great date,” Matthew replied as he hopped up onto the platform.

  “It’s not your fault,” Emily replied. “There’s no way anyone could have known.”

  They repeated the process to get onto the stage, then worked their way toward the back of the stage. They turned to watch as the rest of the audience members worked their way onto the stage. Most of the men were following Matthew’s example and allowing their companions to gracefully step onto the stage. Several of the younger men paused to help the more elderly couples behind them. While they were watching this, two of the terrorists set up a large machine gun in the center of the seating area.

  “Great, as if blowing us up isn’t enough,” Emily said.

  “I guess they want to make sure we’re subdued,” Matthew said.

  “Well, they’ve got everyone scared to death.”

  “I’m going to check out that guy in the control booth,” Matthew whispered into Emily’s ear. “Poke me if anything happens.

  Matthew opened his portal in the control booth. The man had just picked up the phone. He dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

  “Channel 3 News, how may I help you?”

  “I need to speak with Jane Collins.”

  Matthew groaned silently, “Oh God, not her.”