"Today I was a terrorist"

The clock ticked idly on the wall as I stood in the lobby watching a team of firemen in their rubber-duck HasMat suits carry the last of my fellow victims across the grass to the yellow tent erected on the other end that I’d come to learn was a “Decontamination” station. I’d been “dead” for three hours give or take and by this point I was the last “victim” in the auditorium around which all the commotion had been staged. It was my entire fault.

My mother, a contractor and member of the controller team evaluating responders during the exercise, had asked me if I would like to volunteer to be a “victim” in an exercise they were holding at the fort and if I wouldn’t mind being “decontaminated”. The very word provoked a number of questions but I arrived Wednesday morning armed with a backpack full of snacks and my bathing suit under my clothes. I was ready.

Mom didn’t mention anything about being a terrorist.

The evidence was highly suggestive, a letter detailing a possible motive for the attack, tucked into the furthermost pocket of my backpack. The fire alarms of the building were set off and the victims waited to be rescued. There were five of us staged in the auditorium—not including two heavy looking dummies that also required rescuing—and fourteen in total. It was an hour before firemen entered the building and three more had passed before firemen packaged my limp body on a yellow sled and dragged me from the building with my backpack as evidence.

An initial decontamination shower had been unleashed in front of the building and the team of firemen carrying me paused beneath it until I was thoroughly soaked. I shivered despite the sun and I tried not to smile as the firemen overhead remarked that for a dead body, I sure seemed cold. I squeezed my eyes shut as I was transferred from the sled to a portable conveyor belt inside the HasMat decontamination tent. When I opened them, the four pretty female GI’s leaning over me were discussing procedure. “This is where we’d remove your clothes and begin decontamination”, one of them said to me. I piped up and told them I’d come prepared and they processed me without hesitation, fed my arms and head through a plastic body bag, and folded my arms over my chest. My bag was searched and the evidence eventually made it’s way into the hands of the authorities.

They told me I could go home.