* * *
Mitch popped the clutch, on his Yamaha, getting several inches of air between his front tire and the pavement as he accelerated out of the precinct alley. Someone from WDW Security reported a “big disturbance they would not believe” at The Magic Kingdom, so he decided to get on over there right away instead of waiting for any orders.
Disney was located about fifteen miles from the station so it took him a while to get there; the I-4 traffic was a bit much, per usual. He deiced the shoulder was his best bet, so he rode it most of the way. Finally, he sped under the “Happiest Celebration On Earth” sign over Disney’s private expressway at nearly 100m.p.h. zigging and zagging between tourists, taxis and limo service drivers.
The ticket booths were packed. It was four in the afternoon, but WDW Security had stopped entries so there was a huge backup. One lane, under a red light, which meant it was closed, was clear, so Mitch sped through. His bike didn’t have police lights – it was not an official vehicle, even though he often drove it during work hours – so several security people tried to flag him down, but he just sped on by. An SUV security vehicle then came after him, but there was no way it could catch him anyway, so he simply ignored it.
He knew the layout well, so sped past the parking lot on toward The Contemporary then onward to the entrance gates. He hopped the curb and rode on the paving stone walkway and finally slowed right before a mass of security people, who were looking at him like he was crazy while desperately trying to fend off the media.
“What do you think you’re –“
“Save it. I’m the lead on this case and I don’t have time to explain ‘what I ‘m up to’, to each and every security person,” said Mitch tapping his badge, which he wore around his neck on a thick leather lanyard. He stuck up a finger to silence any further questions or comments and grabbed his radio. "Janey, this is Mitch. I’m here. Better send out the troops; looks like some are already here, but this looks like is the real deal so let’s give it all we got.”
With that, he hopped off his bike, grabbed the sawed off twelve gauge from the bike holster, and grabbed a long belt of shells, swinging it over his shoulder and quickly strapping it on.
“Where?” he asks the nearest security guard, who is plainly scared out of his wits by the look on his face.
“I’ll take you,” says a cute smallish woman, pointing to a golf cart on the other side of the turnstile, who seems more excited than scared. "It's trashing the Pirates Of The Caribbean!"
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Factual Illusions (Novel)
Science FictionA group of scientists at an ultra-realistic gaming company - Virtuallusion - are working on their latest "Reality." They stumble upon a way to travel dimensions ... to shadow Earths and beyond. Unfortunately for them, they allow a powerful and mani...
