April Fool

Gary pressed the alarm on the radio and grabbed the remote. He closed his eyes and waited for the morning anchors to list the latest events that occurred during the night.

“We are standing outside this building in downtown Portland. Overnight it has been turned into a clinic, which may be opened to the public late this afternoon. During the night we have seen all kinds of items used in what can only be called Abortion Clinics. We have not been able to see into the doors as there are blinds and walls hiding our view. We will stand by to see what develops when the doors open for business.”

Gary sat up and stared at the screen. Where was this place? He punched some numbers on his phone and waited for the ringing to wake his intended recipient.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

“Mark, Gary. I just heard the news. Another one of those abortion clinics has opened up down town. We need to get the group together and set up a picket line.” His voice rose with intensity.

“Gary? What are you doing up so early? Let me hear the newscast and I will get right back to you.”

“I’m not waiting. I will get some things together. We are not having another one of those butcher shops starting up.” He slammed the receiver back on its base and jumped out of bed.

It didn’t take long to dress. While he brushed his teeth, he watched for another segment.

“We have pictures of men dressed in white lab coats wheeling carts into the back of the building. There have been young women carefully covered as they are hurried into the side door across the street from where I am standing. We are just a few blocks from the Pioneer Square. I am sure there will be many protestors on the square today. What can we expect for weather?”

Gary spit into the sink and rinsed his mouth then punched the power button on the TV as he passed. In the basement he carefully packed the items he had made weeks ago for a time like today. He needed to get into the city before the morning commuters flooded the railway.

He walked to the Max and got on. He had dressed to blend in with the other businessmen; a fedora to hide his face, long coat and leather gloves. He had a very expensive backpack and he read from a tablet. Not your typical bad guy.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the center of the city. He went down a few side streets until the familiar block where he saw the van and TV crew members. They were laughing and drinking coffee. They didn’t notice Gary slip into the loading area. He watched as gurneys pushed by white coated men moved into the building from a large panel truck. They didn’t look his way. Slipping through the door he found a door to a bathroom. It was empty and he cracked the door to watch what was going on. The carts were pushed into a room with a metal swinging door. Next to the door was a trash can. Perfect.

His heart beat fast. His breath came in great gasps as if he'd run a marathon. He had prepared but nothing could prepare him for actually carrying out his plan. There would be no more butchers setting up shops in Portland. After a man and cart went through the swinging door, he heard him call, “That’s it. Now let’s get this stuff prepped and ready. We need to have everything on the tables before the doors open at eleven.”

They had clients already signed up. Anger flooded Gary, his face burned and the fire in his blood reached his fingers and toes then rebounded back to his brain. In a flash he had the canisters primed and set. A quick drop in the trash can and the bag propped up in the small alcove that led to another doorway and he was out the door heading back to the Max platform. As the doors closed and the Max pulled away down the tracks, there was an explosion. The blast rocked the train for a moment but it didn’t stop.

Thirty minutes later Gary went into his house and turned on the TV.

“We have breaking news. Just moments ago, there was an explosion in downtown Portland. Earlier a TV station was telling everyone that a new abortion clinic was to open later this morning. That was an April Fool’s joke. Actually, we were informed that a coalition of chefs from restaurants in the downtown area were offering free food tastings to the public as a kick off to a Taste of Portland campaign. We are sad to say many of those chefs were killed in the explosion as well as the TV crew that announced the fake clinic opening. We have had no information as to who might have done this and we will keep you informed.”

Gary froze. His phone rang and rang. He slowly stepped to the lighted pad that gave Mark’s name as the caller. He picked up the handset and pressed the green, talk button.

“Hello?”

“Gary, did you hear the news? I have been trying to call you for a half an hour. What were you doing?”

“Oh, just took a shower. I am standing here all wet. Can I call you later?”

“Turn on the TV! Some nut thought the story about the abortion clinic was true and blew it up.” There was a long pause then Mark’s voice was low. “Gary, where were you? You don’t take morning showers. I was in college with you. You didn’t do something stupid did you?”

Gary carefully pressed the red button.