Page 56… in a fiction series
Miranda crawled out from under a sea of flannel sheets, a chenille throw, and a down comforter stuffed inside a soft duvet. She toasted toast, curled her curls, and put on Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, Concerto No. 4 in F minor, Op. 8– the Largo movement called “Winter”. She delighted in the fact that her electrical worries were over. Her craving for another Oreo cookie, however, was not.
In an hour Tiller was picking her up at the Boat Basin. He had a new car and was eager to take it for a ride. Miranda was excited about going with him. Their destination: a college football stadium in a nearby state. A controversial former first lady was scheduled to give the commencement address– graduation was just ten weeks away. Heightened security and emergency preparedness measures were paramount.
Tiller’s preliminary plan included the midwest’s best snipers strategically placed throughout the stadium. An advance team with dogs would sniff out explosives and discretely placed threats before any guests, graduates, or the esteemed speaker arrived. In addition, bomb sniffers would be stationed at points throughout the facility. A joint effort by all levels of national security, state and local police, as well as the university’s special services unit would be on hand before, during, and after the event.
The stadium and its surrounding areas would be zoned ”no fly” on graduation day. University officials required zero areas of vulnerability– upgrading infrastructure was a must. The school would provide heightened security at every gate, and ushers would provide an extra set of discerning eyes. Good, but not good enough. That’s why Emerson James Tiller was known as the best in the business.
“Worst potential disaster, Miranda?” It was a rhetorical question. “It would have to be a fire. Try to imagine the catastrophic reaction among more than 100,000 unsuspecting fans. And let’s be honest… there would be rampant trampling and people falling to their deaths. It would be a horrifying scene. We’ll know more once we get there.”
Tiller’s worst case musings continued. “How about an explosion or a bomb? If there was an explosion at ANY sports stadium, it would cut attendance at every single game in the nation. People just wouldn’t go, for fear of losing their lives. It’s a disturbing thought.” He took a sip of water, his wheels still turning.
Heading up the ramp and merging onto I-75, a long Mayflower moving van roared past the BMW 7-Series, cutting us off without warning. After Tiller spoke a few choice words under his breath, he asked Miranda if she had ever loaded and moved a house full of furniture. She discreetly rolled her eyes, and said she had not.
It was a side of her boss she hadn’t expected to see– ever. The ride to the mysterious university would be more interesting than she thought.
14 On a good day, enjoy yourself;
On a bad day, examine your conscience.
God arranges for both kinds of days
So that we won’t take anything for granted.
Ecclesiastes 7:14 (The Message)
To be continued…
*This story is based on some true events, however, has been fictionalized and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2012, Shoes for an Imaginary Life. All rights reserved.