“You have to believe.”
“I do believe. I believe it isn’t going to work.”
Emerson motioned Wayan Bagus and Vernon to get onto the path and walk in front of them toward the gatehouse.
“Hold your hands up as if you’ve been arrested,” Emerson said. “Look ashamed that you’ve been caught breaking the law.”
“It is difficult for me to look ashamed,” Wayan Bagus said, “but I can look humble. I believe it might appear similar.”
“They’re pointing at us,” Vernon said. “They see us.”
“Hello,” Emerson shouted. “We found these two miscreants trespassing in the restricted area.”
“?‘Miscreants’?” Riley whispered. “Who says ‘miscreants’?”
The first guard took the rifle off his shoulder and pointed it in their direction.
“What are they saying?” Riley asked. “Can anyone read lips that far away?”
“They’re confused,” Wayan Bagus said. “They’re saying that there are rangers assigned to reconnaissance in the surrounding woods, but they don’t recognize you.”
“Are you sure?” Vernon asked. “I can’t hear a thing. You’re not just making that up, are you?”
Wayan Bagus steepled his fingers. “Altogether, there are eight types of illusions. Magic, a dream, a bubble, a rainbow, lightning, the moon reflected in water, a mirage, and a city of celestial musicians.”
Vernon stared at the guards. “Those guys sure aren’t celestial musicians, and I noticed you didn’t mention assault rifles in that list.”
“Only one way to find out for certain,” Emerson said. He turned to Riley. “Hold up your wrist so they can see it.”
“We’re the new recruits,” Emerson shouted, pointing to the ink tattoo on his wrist. “Tin Man assigned us to recon.”
One of the guards got out a pair of binoculars and looked in their direction. He said something to the second guard, and lowered his gun.
Emerson waved at the guards as he approached. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he whispered to Riley, Vernon, and Wayan Bagus. “I’ve read several books on improvisational acting so I know what I’m doing. The most important thing is not to break character. Just follow my lead and wait for me to give the signal before we jump them.”
“Let me see your identification,” the first guard said.
Emerson waved his hand in front of the guard’s face. “I am Park Ranger Kenobi. You don’t need to see our identification.”
“Protocol is to require identification.”
“It’s critical that I get these droids to t
he commander,” Emerson said.
“Say what? Are we getting pranked? Billy put you up to this, right?”
“Let me try this again from the top,” Emerson said. He shook his hands and rolled his neck. “Red leather. Yellow leather. Red leather. Yellow leather. The tip of the tongue, the teeth, and the lips. The tip of the tongue, the teeth, and the lips. Okay, I’m ready.”
“What are you ready for?” the guard asked.
“To give you my identification,” Emerson said. He reached into his pocket and rooted around. “It’s in here somewhere.” He pulled his hand out and gave the guard the stiff middle finger.
“I reckon that’s the signal,” Vernon said, jumping on the back of the nearest guard and wrestling him to the ground.
Emerson punched the other guard in the temple, temporarily disorienting him. He flipped him around into a sleeper hold, and in a matter of seconds the guard lost consciousness and slumped to the ground.
Riley stepped in and disarmed both guards.