Fan Fiction ❯ Bad Security ❯ Bad Security ( One-Shot )

Author: LadyJessy

Website: http://www.geocities.com/ladyampris

Authors notes: Please note that this is a HUMOROUS story and was written after the September 11th incident on a laptop in an airport while I was waiting to catch my flight. The whole time, I kept waiting for someone to come and arrest me for writing about bombs in an airport. This story won First Place in my State Fair. Yea!

Bad Security

I've always prided myself on noticing things that most people don't, the little details that normal people miss, like the way the waitress at the Starbucks I frequent paints her fingernails a different color every day or how my girlfriend always taps her left foot when she is nervous (tapping her right foot means she's angry), or how the driver of my carpool always wears Old Spice.

Or when I'm sitting at Angel's Diner, I know the license plate numbers of all six cars in the parking lot. I know the man in the Armani suit who's necking with the Asian chick in the booth across from me is cheating on his wife because of the suntan line on his left index finger and the suspicious wedding shaped band he wares on his right hand. I know that there is one main entrance, one exit door three booths behind me and to my left, one exit near the restrooms located at the back of the diner and one exit to the outside through the kitchen. Or how people always look up and to the left when they're lying.

I'd already passed through security and had visited Cinabon (the waitress wore shoes that were two sizes too small for her) and decided to sit down at gate B6. At that time, people who were catching the flight that directly preceded mine were already occupying all the seats at B8.

It was after I'd already sat down at B6 and was halfway through my cinnamon roll when I saw her. Most of the seats at this gate were empty, and she sat down across from me and three seats to my left. To anyone else, she would have looked like a normal security guard. She wore navy blue and a strap that carried over a dozen keys along with her identification card. She was also lugging around a large hand-held radio (not one of those wimpy walkie-talkies that you could buy on sale at Kmart for $39.98; the real thing). What caught my eye, though, was the trench coat. I've never seen a security guard wear a trench coat in my life. A Columbine shooter? Yes. A beautiful, blond security guard? No. However, she didn't seem to be doing anything suspicious. In fact, she didn't look like she could hurt a fly. If anything, she looked tired.

Maybe she really is a security guard and she's just on break, I thought to myself. God knows that Security has been put through hell since that September 11th incident and they could probably all use a break.

I'd just about convinced myself of this and gone back to my now cold cinnamon bun when her radio crackled and came to life.

"Report, Marie." I heard the high-pitched female voice on the other end. The voice sounded just like my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Mary, who always gave out candy when it was someone's birthday.

"I'm in Concourse B, awaiting rendezvous," my dark coated security guard stated.

"Rendezvous is canceled, Marie; return to base," the kindergarten teacher said.

My tired looking security guard perked up, looked around her suspiciously and replied, "Ten four." She stood and hurried away purposefully. No one even gave her a second glance. I could almost imagine her saying to those she passed, "No need to worry folks. Just doing my job. Go back to what you were doing. Nothing specially about me."

And there wasn't anything special about her; nothing to make her look any different from the other security guards that roamed the halls. Except when she stood up, I noticed that she was a lot thinner than she looked with that trench coat on and when the overlapping edges of her trench coat fell open slightly, I saw the remaining space was filled with rectangular, navy green packages labeled C4. Now, I've never seen a security guard wearing a trench coat full of C4 in my life. An Israeli terrorist? Yes. A security guard? No.

Sometimes seeing things most people miss really sucks.

"Oh shit."