March said, ‘No, first time. Josh was too young. He’s five now.’ They meandered past two uniformed officers consulting their advertising fliers. The men didn’t even glance toward him.

‘I hear you. Beth and Richard,’ the wife said, nodding toward her brood, ‘took them to Disney when they were three and four. Scared to death of Goofy. They weren’t too sure about Tinker Bell either.’

March laughed.

The husband: ‘Wait till they can appreciate it. Even the kids’ tickets’re ridiculous. Break the bank.’

As March walked with them, chatting about the rides, he looked around him. Into the trees, the rocks – well, fake rocks – the lampposts, the grounds. Studying carefully. He was learning some things about theme parks. In truth, he’d never been to one. That had been as far removed from his parents’ idea of entertainment as one could imagine. Go downstairs, play video games, Andy. Go play.

Interesting, what he was noticing.

Then March said to the couple, ‘There’s another one.’ A frown.

‘What’s that?’

‘Another cop. Or whoever it is. With that sheet of paper. I’ve seen about ten of them.’

The wife: ‘Yeah, I saw some too. What’s that about?’

March: ‘It’s like they’re looking for somebody.’

‘Maybe somebody broke in without paying.’

‘I don’t think,’ March said slowly, ‘they’d go to that much trouble for somebody like that.’

‘Probably not,’ the wife said. ‘Hm. Look, two more.’

‘Odd,’ the husband said.

‘I hope it’s nothing too serious,’ March said. ‘Maybe … Excuse me … A text.’ He frowned as he looked at his phone, holding the screen so they couldn’t see it. He pretended to read. ‘Oh. Well.’ He’d nearly said, ‘Jesus.’ But he’d noted the wife wore a cross and he needed his new friends to be with him. Completely with him.

‘What?’

‘That was from my wife. She’s up at the restaurant. She just got a text from her mother. It was on the news. They’re talking about some kind of a terrorist thing in the park.’

‘Terrorists?’ the wife blurted. ‘Here?’ Six or seven people turned toward them.

March didn’t answer. He looked around, frowning. He began texting. The message was not, however, to the imaginary wife. It was going out to various blog sites, as well as legitimate news organizations, Twitter.

Rumors that terrorist rams front gate at Global Adventure Park. Suicide bomber loose in park.

March looked up. ‘I’ve got to get to my wife and son.’ But he looked at his phone again. ‘No, no!’

‘What is it, Mister?’

‘My brother. In Seattle. He’s watching CNN and, it looks like somebody rammed the front gate. Some guy with a backpack. He’s here in the park!’

‘Oh, Bill. Kids! Come here! Kids, stop, come over here.’

‘What ride are Sandy and Dwight on?’ the husband asked. Voice breathless.

‘One of the roller-coasters, I don’t know. Call them and let them know.’

A voice behind him. Another couple. ‘Did you mention a terrorist or something? I saw all the police. With those handouts.’

March said, ‘I just heard, somebody crashed into the front gate and got into the park with a bomb and a machine-gun.’

‘Gun too?’ the husband of the first couple asked.

March brandished his phone. ‘My brother. That’s the story. Suicide bomber, they’re saying. He’s armed. And there may be others.’

‘Fuck no.’

The good Christian wife didn’t correct her husband’s language.

‘Well, that’s what he heard. CNN and Fox.’

Now all the adults were making calls or texting. Some seeking confirmation. But others would be spreading the lie.

One woman said desperately into her iPhone: ‘Honey, where are you and the kids? Well, get out. Just leave now. There’re terrorists in the park! … Yeah, we saw them too! If there are that many police something bad is happening. Get out! … I will. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

March turned.

Ah, fantastic! A tour guide was passing, holding aloft a folded umbrella so his group could see him. Sixty or so kids, from a private high school in Ohio, according to their matching T-shirts.

March began to speak to the leader but he didn’t have to say anything. The wife of the first couple said, ‘Did you hear anything about terrorists in the park? Do you know where it’s safe?’

The guide blinked, lowered the umbrella. ‘No, what do you mean?’

The word spread among the students like flames through dry California brush. ‘Terrorists.’ Some of the girls in the group started to cry. A few boys too. Phones emerged. Texts and voice calls.

Breathlessly March added, ‘In the park. He rammed the gate. Suicide bomber. But he’s got guns too. There may be more than one.’ He held up his phone for proof.

Wonderful adolescent cries and screams.

The Get was pleased.

Now there was a good-size crowd in this area of the park. People uncertain about where to go. All talking, checking phones, making calls or texting. Gathering children.

And looking for someone with a backpack bomb, a suicide vest, a machine-gun, an RPG.

One man stormed up to a deputy holding one of the ID sheets and confronted him. Others joined in.

‘The hell are you doing about it?’

‘Why aren’t there any announcements?’

‘Do you even know?’

The officer was flustered. Looking around. Another patron, then two more accosted the cop, demanding why they were covering up an attack and not evacuating. Was it so the amusement park wouldn’t lose face – or tax money the park would pay the county? The officer denied terrorists. But nobody was listening.

March stepped aside, watching the growing agitation of the crowd. Now about two hundred people were milling about, shouting at concession-stand employees, groundskeepers, costumed characters.

Time to ratchet things up, March decided. He called 911.

‘Police and fire, what’s your emergency?’

‘My family’s in Global Adventure. Somebody crashed into the gate and he’s loose. It’s a terrorist. They’ve seen him. He’s got a bomb!’

The dispatcher: ‘We have a report of an accident but there’s no report of any terror—’

‘Jesus, there he is! He’s got a bomb! And a gun too.’

‘Sir, what’s your name and location? Please—’

He disconnected and walked farther around the perimeter of the park, making a circle back toward the entrance. Looking in the trees, looking behind the buildings.

He made another voice call, to a local news affiliate. ‘Please, you have to help! We’re in Global Adventure World, the park, you know. Orange County. We’re hiding. My family’s hiding but he’s nearby. It’s a terrorist. A man with a machine-gun. And another one with a bomb! Please … There’s a terror attack going on! A suicide bomber. He crashed through the gate and he’s in the park. I’m looking at him now.’

‘Sir, please, what’s your name?’

‘Jesus, he’s coming this way.’

He disconnected and continued to walk through the park, noting the increasing number of people on their phones, standing in protective clusters. Some were walking off the paths and into the bushes, peering out – as if in a scene from one of the amusement-park parent company’s movies: the innocent about to be devoured by aliens.

March hurried along the pathway. He was about to play the scenario all over again, walking up to another family and stabbing them with panic, when the husband gripped March’s arm.

‘Hey!’

Wide-eyed, the man said, ‘Mister, you have family here?’

‘Yeah, they’re over at Tornado Alley. Why?’

‘There’re terrorists in the park. A half-dozen. They’re going to blow up some of the rides.’

The wife was sobbing.

‘No!’ March said. He looked at his phone. ‘Hell, you’re right. It’s my wife. Texting. CNN has the story. Terror alert. Suicide bomber in the park.’

‘That’s why the police. They’re all over the place.’

‘And they’re not saying anything!’ March snapped.