Error: I'm afraid this is the first I've heard of a "comments" flavoured Blosxom. Try dropping the "/+comments" bit from the end of the URL.
Last Call (redux)
Bruce Schneier announced a Second Annual Movie-Plot Threat Contest with entries due by the 30'th. So once again I'll making my monthly IronWriter contribution a movie plot with a terror threat, this time involving common objects used in terrorist plots.
Her hands were shaking so badly, Alice had to dial the familiar number three times. Dear god, she prayed, please let Bob answer.
"Hello," boomed a male voice from the cell phone.
"Oh Bob, thank goodness you're there," gasped Alice in a distraught whisper, "and for god's sake keep your voice down."
"OK OK," said Bob, his voice dropping to a hushed, conspiratorial level. "Why are we whispering? Aren't you supposed to be on your flight to Pittsburgh? Are you trying to sneak a cell phone call? Don't you know that using cell phones in an aircraft is against the rules. Naughty naughty, girl. I'll need to spank you when you get home," he teased.
"You pig. Why can't you ever be serious? This is no joke," said Alice coldly, "my flight has been hijacked."
"Hijacked!" shouted Bob through the tinny earpiece.
"Keep you voice down or you'll get me killed," she gasped. "They don't know I have this phone. You know that new rule where passengers have to check their cellphones as baggage? I forgot to check mine. I don't know how they missed it at security, but I'm glad they did miss it. Anyway, honey, you need to hang up and call the police or 911 or somebody to let them know what's going on here."
"Slow down, Alice, you said hijacked. That's a pretty strong word. Are you sure? Who's hijacking you? How?"
Alice's composure begins to crack. Here eye's began to tear as she stole a glance down the aisle to the horror just two rows up. "Yes, Bob, I'm s-sure," she stammered, gaining a grip on herself. "I think they've killed all the flight attendants and two of the passengers. There's an dead man in the aisle not 10 feet away from me. They shot him, then after he was down, they... Oh my God, Bob, we're going to die!"
"KI..." blurted Bob, in surprise. Then, again under control he continued, "My god, Alice, how many of them are there? Do they have guns or something? How could they get guns on a plane?"
"I don't think they have guns. I didn't see much of it. When it started there was some shouting, a few dull thumps, and some screams. That's it. Nobody knew what was going on till they made the announcement. They called themselves the People's Front of Judea. They told us they had control of the plane and that nobody else would be hurt if we cooperated."
"Oh god!"
"Yes Bob. Everyone's seen the movie United 93. We know what a lie that is. So it wasn't more than 10 seconds after that announcement that a few of the younger men started discussing a plan to take back the plane. They rushed down the aisle as a group, but they were stopped. Shot. Two died right away. A couple more were nicked and probably will die too."
"Stopped? Shot? Shot how? You said there were no guns."
"I didn't see it myself, but the lady across the aisle from me had a better view. It's hard to describe – you'll think I'm crazy – but they're using a kind of a dart system. I don't know what to call it. Like a crossbow."
"You're not making sense, Alice. I'd better call the cops now," said Bob.
"Let me explain, first. You know those silicone wristbands everyone wears? The one's with "Find the Cure" or "Support the Troops" embossed on them?"
"Yeah, 'awareness bracelets', sure."
"They have one of those stretched over the spine of a book. Then they pull it back like a bowstring and load it with a Sharpie pen."
"You're joking?"
"No, Bob, I'm serious. There's a dead man in the aisle in front of me and he... His eye... He has a Sharpie marker..." Unable to continue as her emotions overcome her, Alice sobs quietly into the phone.
"It'll be all right... We'll get you out of there. They've got a lot more security since 911. The TSA will know what to do. I'll call now."
"Bob," said Alice, slowly regaining the ability to talk. "I think they have p-poison in the pens."
#