BOOK OF RACHEL
It was like a Star Tour. Actor pointed out which house belonged to what actor, producer, or sporting great. Most of the names I knew, although older. Seems once you left Hollywood and Beverly Hills, and moved into Hidden Hills, you didn't leave.
We took a left at a T and continued on. We pulled into the driveway of the last house on the road, a mammoth single story that encompassed the entire hill top, catching the interest of two Rottweiler’s laying off in the shade in front of three double garage doors.
Off to the right as I stood before the mansion was some sort of pumping or electrical facilities for the Hidden Hills homeowners. It sat on the hilltop across from the home, and behind, was the New National Guard blockade and drone port on the 101.
The big dogs came over, sniffed us, the one of them barked towards the house.
As the actor went to the front door, it opened, and my jaw dropped. It was Christopher Walkin. Now in his early 70's, he still carried himself with distinction and poise. He looked out the door, and smile broadly.
"Holy crap. What the hell are you doing here. I haven't seen you since 'God's Behaving Badly'. We had some fun there."
"Closed a couple bars. Boy was that director an ass."
Christopher looked at me. "So, what did you bring me," he said?
The actor looked at me. "Bring you? Dude, you will be lucky if you’re alive tomorrow if I left her here. I guess you don't recognize her."
Christopher walked up to me, scratching both his dogs on the way. He looked at me intently from close range. "Do I recognize you? Maybe. Were you an extra on 'God's'?"
Pleased to be this close to one of the most important men in Hollywood, I shook my head slowly.
"What. You were Sharon's stand in."
The actor said, "She does look a little like Miss Stone but no."
I swear I was in heaven.
He kept looking at me. Finally, I had to tell him.
"I'm Public Enemy Number Two."
This time Christopher’s jaw dropped. "Your fucking kidding me. If true, what an honor."
Actor said, "It's true, all right.
He looked like he had been struck with lightning. "Oh my god. You’re the looker in the Tower Bombing. Jesus. Let’s go inside." He signaled us to follow, so we did, right into the nicest house I had ever seen.
Actor mentioned, "We don't have long. We have to get back to Topanga before it gets too dark."
He waited a bit as I walked by, putting his arm around my waist. "Wow," he said. "What the hell is that," he said as he felt my Uzi?
As we entered his house, he walked us to his living room. He remained vey close to me, which, even though gay, I didn't mind at all. Walking with him, I felt so many feelings, and heat. I took of my blue western long sleeve to show my t-shirt and gun.
"Wow. What's your name anyway, beautiful?"
Actor jumped in, "We call her Rambolina."
"Rachel," I said.
"Rachel. Okay." We sat down together on the couch, him right next to me. "So, what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Rachel here is organizing an attack on the enemy."
"You? What are you? Nineteen?"
"I just turned eighteen."
"Now wait a fucking minute. You've got men who will do your bidding?"
"Between Rachel and Jim the guy who is filming the 'New Reality', we’d follow them anywhere. We've got an army of Wounded Warriors who basically will follow Rambolia here to their deaths, to stop the mayhem these assholes have down to our government and are doing to the people."
"Rambolina. I like that. I'll get right on the screenplay."
"Let's wait till this story plays out."
"I'd like to hear how it started."
For the next twenty minutes, I told the story with minimal detail, up to the Spaun Ranch gang helping us tomorrow with the Simi freeway drone port, and how we needed help here taking out the 101 port tomorrow.
During my tale, Chris got up and poured us a couple drinks, which I declined, asking for Pepsi only.
"I see. I have a overview of the drone port, I wonder if that is why you're here?"
"I had no idea who you were till we got here. I can't ask anybody as famous as you to put yourself in danger."
"Do you think they'd care who I was during processing."
"No."
"Then I'm glad you’re here. Come with me." Christopher stood, and helped me to my feet. I was surprised how nimble he was for a man in his early seventies. The actor had to rise on his own. He held my hand as we walked down the hall, into his bedroom. We walked up to the floor to ceiling Anwar, hit a switch and pulled on it. It was balanced very well and moved on its hinge easily, almost by itself.
There was a doorway behind, so Chris reached for and turned the handle, pushed it open, and descended down stairs. Lights went on automatically, being set up with motion sensors.
I followed him, the Actor right behind. We quickly came to a large steel door with a wheel that obviously had to turn to open.
"I had this bomb shelter built here when I had the house remodeled. Check this out."
We walked into a long room, with side rooms that held bunks and kitchen. Other rooms held toilets and storage with plenty of food. There was another entrance to the shelter at the other end, we never found out where it exited.
There was another door that he opened. The light went on, weapons lined the walls. There were distance rifles, many handguns, Uzi's, which he particularly delighted in knowing that is what I was packing, and even a couple 50 calipers. He even had two M 15's with grenade launchers, the only thing we didn't have.
"You’re the first people to see this. All the hoopla concerning gun control after Sandy Hook and Universal City Walk Massacre, well, this would have put me in prison."
"Not anymore."
"No. Not anymore. Not since Washington was nuked and gun control became obsolete."
We were quiet for moments.
"So," I looked in his eyes, close enough to kiss him, "can you help?"
"What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Leading the attack on Burbank Terminal."
He looked at me for more moments. "You just want me to knock out the drones?"
"At noon tomorrow."
"If you promise to come back, I'll do it. There are others here in Hidden Hills as prepped as I am, and want to see the downfall of the New World Military."
"Sure, I'll come back, but, I'll have to bring someone."
Christopher Walkin looked at the actor for a moment who shrugged. “Who are you bringing?"
The first words I said were not the words Christopher wanted to hear. "My lover."
He frowned.
"Her names Patty and I do believe she would love to meet you."
Christopher smiled broadly at that. He said, “I have a Short Wave link. The next installment starts in minutes. You want to stay and watch?”
“Sure. Might as well, since we’ll never get back in time.”
We entered another room, this one filled with electronics. It looked like a play room, with Wi-Fi set up, a couple computers and a large TV screen, one of the biggest I’ve seen. We sat in front of the TV; Christopher sat next to me, putting his arm around me.
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