“And I’m Mark Rhodes.”
“And this is a special, live edition of Vegas Today, your instant source for the latest entertainment news from the Entertainment Capital of the World.”
* * *
Folks in the front reception area of Clark County Medical Center were paying half attention to the television in the corner while reading old magazines, texting on cell phones, and waiting.
Arnie Harrington, incognito in a jogging outfit, set aside a two-week-old Timemagazine and paid full attention as the screen switched between a high angle of the bleachers and stage, a close-up of the stage, and a traveling handheld taking in any key point of interest.
Whatever happened, he’d know.
At 2:00 P.M., Emile, in the control booth with headset in place, cued the music. A fanfare sounded, the trees onstage began to sway, the volcano rumbled and belched white smoke. The crowd cheered and whistled, here to have a good time and already into it.
For Mandy, being under the stage was like being inside a huge, cartoonish clock striking noon. Valves were hissing, hydraulics gushing, levers jerking, pulleys spinning, all just above her head. She cowered a bit, pulling her tunic around her. Seeing Emile’s marvelous brainchild from the bleachers was one thing; seeing it from inside was entirely something else and no less frightening.
Max, Carl, and Andy took it in stride. In the middle of all that busyness they hurried under the stage to their posts, Max and Carl onto the hydraulic lift, and Andy to the control panel to wait for the strains of creepy music, their cue. When the music played, Max and Carl gave a little wave, Andy hit the Up button, and up they went. The audience began to boo.
Dane eased over to the edge of the crowd at stage right and watched as Max and Carl, decked out and masked in black leather, popped out of the swaying forest and gave the booing crowd disdainful wave-offs like “bad guy” world wrestlers. They swaggered over to the pod, went through the motions of rigging it to the cable, then signaled the crane operator—once again, one had to overlook the incongruity of a monstrous, modern construction crane in a medieval setting. At least the crane itself was hidden behind a leafy, woodsy screen with only the huge boom to ignore.
The crane operator, nonchalantly sipping a cup of coffee, eased the lever back and the pod lurched skyward, shrinking, gently swinging on the end of the cable, tantalizing the audience with things to come. After a dizzying, neck-straining ascent it reached its highest point, 150 feet above the ground and directly above the volcano, a thin cable stretching down from inside the pod to the stage, another harbinger of future thrills.
Max and Carl swaggered into the trees to remain out of sight until needed.
Mandy arranged her tunic about her and took her place on the hydraulic lift immediately below the mouth of the volcano. From here she could look up and see the sky, clear and blue, the home of birds, of angels. Maybe hers, too.
“You okay?” Andy asked.
That brought her back to business. She crouched slightly to allow the effects that would happen above her and steeled herself. “Let’s give ’em a show.”
Andy threw some levers, actuated some valves.
To the delight of the crowd, the music turned bold and magical and, to the delight of every eye, a huge bubble slowly rose out of the volcano and perched with a soapy quiver in the volcano’s mouth. It filled with smoke, making it look like a huge white marble, and then, with a puff of fireworks, it popped, the smoke cleared away, and there was Mandy Whitacre on a circular, silver platform, holding a glimmering silver hoop to frame her body and face.
Applause!
She’d never seen this big an audience in one place in the daylight, in front of her on the bleachers, to either side of her on the ground. For an instant she could identify with a trained whale at one of those big sea aquariums, holding a hoop, surrounded by laughing, applauding people in sunhats and sunglasses, sitting row upon row in the sun.
The music cue. Time for her routine. Okay, here we go, let’s do it!
She went into dance moves, twirling the hoop above her head, making it spin like a coin atop her fingertips, then— Come on, grab hold!—setting it spinning like a wheel, wobbling a few degrees off axis for the cool look of it, suspended above her. The folks were with her, loving it.
She stepped out of the volcano and onto the stage, the hoop moving out before her until it hung in the air, wobble-spinning perpendicular to the bleachers, its silver coating flashing in the sun.
Now for the birdies!
She found, could feelCarson, Maybelle, Lily, and Bonkers as they launched from their handlers on the third level of the parking garage. Such troupers, day after day, aiming to please and all for a cuddle and some treats! Celery leaves all around when this is over, guys and gals!
She went to them on the waves of time and space, flew with them, guided them, and by now they understood her gentle proddings. They flew abreast in a wide formation over the audience, then fell into single file as they circled down and flew loop after loop through the hoop. Loop the Hoop!
The folks loved it.
On command, the doves broke out of the loop and flew a horizontal circle high above the stage while Mandy let the hoop flop sideways and wobble down to her waiting hands. As she held the hoop in outstretched arms to frame her body and face, the doves came down to rest, two on each arm, a charming portrait inside the hoop.
Ta-da! The crowd was hers.
Too bad it couldn’t last. The “bad guys”—now Andy made three—came back onstage, emerging from the woods. The audience booed again. With a sorrowful face—only half acting—she sent the doves back to their handlers and dropped the hoop so that she stood within its circle. She tossed off her tunic and tried to appearready. The music dropped to an ominous low drone signaling Oh-oh, be careful, look out, this is dangerous …
Tell me all about it.
Getting into the restraints wasn’t the scary part. Max clamped on the leg irons with the same care he always used; Carl cuffed her hands with every regard for her comfort and safety. Andy brought the cable and hook over with the same caution and attention. They’d been through stunts like this many times before.
It was the pod, that tiny little box way up there. As she lay on the stage and Andy fixed the hook to her shackles and body harness, she could see straight up into that cavity no bigger than she was and not see the end of the darkness inside.
She’d never gotten used to that thing, never felt right about it, and concrete blocks out in the desert were fine, she could handle them, but this … it brought back every trapped feeling she’d ever had.
Her legs were bound. She couldn’t move her hands. This time it scared her.
Use it!
“Ready?” Andy whispered.
The truth? No,she thought but couldn’t say. No, wait, I can’t find it, I can’t, I can’t think …
She was hanging upside down. The crowd, every face upside down, was dropping away below her. The blood was pounding into her head. She was gasping, clenching her fists, trying not to.
It’s a go, he said. It’s a go.
I’m not going to get out of there! I’m not ready! Oh, God, don’t let them …
There was no way Dane could put aside the fear, not with her so small up there, arms and legs bound, hooked and dangling like a helpless fish. All he could do was stay put and stay steady, keep his mind on the details, make sure things happened when they should.
Fifty more feet to go, and then …
It was so far to fall.
She looked up past her feet. The pod was a predator with jaws wide open. A breeze played over her. She felt herself gently swinging, getting sick. The crowd was buzzing, stirring up. She could see straight down the volcano. It was huffing, smoking. Pilot flames burned inside the rim.