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"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. The husband asked, "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 within earshot of March were making calls or texting. Some seeking confirmation. Some warning relatives or friends. But all were spreading the lie.
One woman rasped 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, a trim, middle-aged man, was just then 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, strolled along behind him.
Intending to spread more fear, March began to speak to the umbrella man--probably a teacher or parent chaperone--but he didn't have to say anything. The wife of the first couple blurted, "Did you hear anything about terrorists in the park? Do you know where it's safe?"
The man blinked, lowered the umbrella. "No, what do you mean?"
The word spread like flames through dry California brush among the students. "Terrorists." Some of the girls in the group started to cry. A few boys too. Phones emerged from rear pockets. Texts and voice calls shot into the ether.
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.
Several students dropped to their knees and prayed; they were nearly knocked over by a group of people walking quickly in the direction of the exit. The chaperone cried, "Are you out of your minds? Get up, get up!"
Another chaperone, a woman, joined him. "Did you hear? Terrorists in the park!" Her voice was ragged with fear.
Which shook the students even more.
And Antioch March basked in the seductive comfort of adolescent cries and screams.
The Get smiled.
The kids' reaction had drawn a good-size crowd in this portion of the park. People milled about anxiously, 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 sheriff's deputy holding one of the ID sheets and confronted him. Other joined in.
"The hell are you doing about it?"
"Why aren't there any announcements?"
"Do you even know?"
The officer looked flustered. Another patron, then two more, accosted the cop, demanding why they were covering up an attack and not evacuating. Was it, one man raged, so the amusement park wouldn't lose face--or tax money the park would pay the county? The officers denied terrorists. But nobody was listening.
