“What’s that about?” the wife asked.

“Probably nothing. I just… I hope it’s not terrorists or anything.”

“Terrorists,” the wife whispered.

“Yeah, did you hear that story on Fox? Or CNN. There were reports of a possible terrorist attack in L.A.”

“No!”

“Rumors, that’s all. You know how the police always say that and then nothing happens. Most of the time.” March shrugged. “Anyway, have fun.”

A quarter mile down the winding paths, Antioch March found another couple that looked promising. He walked up to them, brandishing the map, and nodded.

“Hi, sorry to bother you.”

“Sure,” said the husband. He and his wife were with three children, about eight through twelve.

March asked this husband too for directions. Where a particular restaurant was. He was supposed to meet his family there. The couple consulted the map.

The husband said, “There you be. Bit of a hike but you’re going the right way.”

March knew where the restaurant was and that proceeding toward it would give him an excuse to stroll along with the couple.

“Thanks.” They all started to move in that direction.

“Come here every year,” the husband said as they walked along. “You?”

March said, “No, first time. Josh was too young. He’s five now.” They meandered past two uniformed cops consulting their prop sheets. 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. I mean, 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 was 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 something 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.”