Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Mobbed

Amanda was packing her laptop bag as Todd walked into the room. In his hands, he held a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses.

"What are those for?" Amanda asked.

"There's a mob of news-people waiting for you," Todd said. "It would be wise if we avoid them. So we are going through the back entrance." He kept glancing at the door as if he were expecting someone.

As if on cue, Detective Snyder walks in.

"The back is covered, too," he said. "But there is less there than the front entrance. The chief lets me have a few officers to help you out, and there's a vehicle waiting for you."

Amanda noticed the detective didn't seem as suspicious of them as he did in the interview. Instead, he eyed her with sympathy.

Amanda put on the hoodie and the sunglasses.

"Alright, this way," Detective Snyder said and led them down the hall, in the opposite direction of the front entrance.

When they stepped out, the reporters bombarded them with questions.

"What happened?"

"Why did you come back?"

"Will you recover okay?"

"Do you think these were the men who assaulted you the last time?"

"Is it true that you are a defected Russian spy?"

Amanda stopped and looked at the reporter as if she was crazy.

Where did that come from? She wondered. Before she would say anything, she felt a firm grip on both shoulders.

"Don't say anything and keep moving," Todd said, and he guided her into the large SUV.

Trisha was already in the car. Amanda looked at her, and they both cracked up laughing. "Did you hear that?!" Amanda said, "A Russian spy? Really?"

Trisha nodded, but couldn't say anything.

Todd wasn't laughing, but he did look amused.

After Amanda had calmed down, she sighed. "Ugh, I thought people were blowing things out of proportion when they complained about the 'media elite' trying to blame Russia for everything."

"Perhaps you should watch the news more often," Todd said.

Amanda rolled her eyes, "I'd like to stay in my own fantasy bubble that the human race isn't that stupid."

Todd coughed as if to stifle a laugh.

Trisha giggled. "Just think the 'media elite' as a very low percentage of the population and that the intelligent are no longer bothering to participate in the charades."

"Heh, good idea," Amanda responded and sat back in her seat. She then noticed that she had to lean forward to hear Todd's quiet voice over the hum of the car. However, in the noisy reporter mob,  she could hear Todd clear as glass.
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