Curfews and Conspiracies - Part 2 (A Rendezvous in Realtov) | S&S Invitational: November

At the corner of Hale and Graves, Gretchen Masters hugged the vacant building before peeking into the narrow, cobbled street. Gently falling leaves were the only remnants of the day's Autumn Festival. An eerie quiet hovered. The streetlight directly in front cast a long shadow. Startled, she jerked her shoulder around. Afraid she'd been spotted, she retreated a few steps into the shadows. Glancing at her watch, a scowl deepened.

Gretchen shook off negative thoughts, not wanting to believe Evan would abandon her after agreeing to help. But she had no way to be certain whether her dire message reached him.

Night approached. She couldn't wait any longer.

No one could see her nails digging deeply into her clinched first as she walked briskly across the street, glancing in both directions as the wind tossed her auburn hair.

Hales Bar. Upon approach, the boarded tavern was completely unrecognizable from earlier. The regular after-hours clientele kept the bar's reputation intact.

Gretchen knocked twice, then swung open the door.

A steely stomach and thick skin was required for this job. She had neither a few years ago, but starting her own detective agency with her boyfriend and partner, Evan, required she obtain both, quickly. She ordered a watered-down cocktail, then focused on the mirror behind the bartender.

The reflection of a six-foot five, bearded and muscular man approached. Swinging her chair around to face him, his boot stopped it. She took a swig of her drink, then leaned into him. Probing his mid section, she pulled him close. Eyes bucked, he retreated, his hands behind him.

Gretchen glanced at her watch. She slipped the bartender a note in case Evan didn't arrive. He tucked it under the counter, then leaned over. Before he could announce the Military Police, two large hands grabbed her shoulders.

Forcibly swung around, a yellow-striped uniform stamped with MP stared at her.

She froze. Any reaction would bring the patrol.

"What's your business? Fleeing Doverville?" The officer closed in.

No response. Pulling her from the seat, his attempt to handcuff her failed. Quickly, she swung around, reached down into her boot, rose halfway the officer's midsection, and and struck him in the abdomen. His grip on her shoulder eased as she stabbed it deep into his thigh. She grabbed the military gun as he fell backward. The handgun came out of nowhere. He managed to get a shot off as Gretchen fled the bar.

With each step she grimaced. Blood oozed from her left leg. She tore off part of her shirt.

Getting to the toll bridge. It wasn't the best idea heading into a curfew and blackout zone, but Carlton was her cousin.

She glanced back furtively, then stifled a scream as arms flew around her waist. Struggling, she looked up to see Evan, then fell into his arms.

Through back alleys, they reached Evan's car.

The inoperable toll bridge. Blocking entrance into Doverville, access was cut off as Evan approached. Once stopped, Gretchen jumped out and ran.

"Wait! We won't do Carlton any good if we're both killed." But Gretchen kept running.

By the time Evan reached her, she had slid down under the bridge. Hundreds of people were huddled together in eerie silence. They both scoured the crowd with flashlights questioning everyone.

"Check there and turn off those lights," one man hissed, pointing to a group lying motionless.

Thirty minutes later, Gretchen grabbed a man. Confirming Carlton's identify, she roused him. Exhausted but able to move, Evan hoisted him to his feet, dragging him to the car.

"Hurry!" Evan yelled, spotting Military Police descending the bridge.

Gretchen ducked as shots rang out, then pierced the front window. Evan pushed Carlton inside, noticing his bloody shirt. He hopped in and slammed the door as Gretchen sped off in the dark.

Groggy, but awake, Carlton breathed deeply. "Thank God, my transmission reached you. I didn't receive a confirmation, but headed over the bridge after escaping the blockade. Police sprayed the crowd relentlessly. I survived under a dead body. Didn't realize my arm took a bullet."

"Why hasn't chaos reached Realtov?" Evan questioned.

"Because the toll bridge is inoperable. The government forbade us leaving," Carlton confirmed.

"Shock overtook me when your message arrived yesterday during the annual festival. Nothing suspicious. Visited your parents last month. Called two weeks ago, but no answer. That's when I attempted to reach you. Your phone was dead."

"No phone service anywhere in Doverville since the blackout. Even after restored for short periods, access wasn't allowed."

"So where was the transmissions originating to issue instructions?" Evan queried.

"Still trying to figure that out." Carlton's voice faded.

"He's unconscious," Evan informed Gretchen.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, questioning Carlton's incredible story.

Carlton's parents. Their home abandoned by humans and pets. The interior reeked of stale air with dust settling on all unoccupied spaces. Evan secured the doors and windows. The only one uninjured, he tended to their wounds. Fifteen minutes later, Gretchen located food in the fridge. They didn't complain.

While eating, Gretchen grilled Carlton for details.

He began his incredible story of the unknown blackout and subsequent curfew in Doverville.

^Source

"I was at work. Without warning, the building's electricity shut down with employees ordered to go directly home. Explanations would be forthcoming on the evening news. None came. Days stretched into weeks. Then curfews were ordered over a speaker system. I was worried for my parents."

"Fourteen of us questioned the roving blackouts. Then came the curfew. Next, reduction to ten-hour work weeks. Patrolmen deterred looters. The difficult part was keeping track of time. You remember Zenuya? I hated leaving her. But my parents come first." He inhaled deeply the special aroma she infused into the personal candles she made. But we weren't allowed to burn them.

"Something is happening our authorities aren't disclosing. Several co-workers investigated, but were terminated as an example for disobedience. Conspiracy theories included a coordinated invasion."

"Mankind or alien?" Gretchen smirked, but noticed Carlton's expression.

"How could that take place only fifty miles away with no mention of Doverville on our news outlets?" Frowning, Gretchen shook her head, then continued. "I know it was difficult for you to obey the curfew?" She waited until she saw Carlton nod. She knew her cousin's temperament.

Evan interrupted. "We can't stay here if we're going to locate your parents. Perhaps they left a note."

They ransacked the house. Gretchen hated rummaging through her Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Edgar's possessions, but the situation was dire.

He hands flew to his head.

"Damn!" Remembering his mother's obsession with apocalyptic events, their shed would contain instructions if Realtov was still intact.

Locating the key in his mother's vanity, the three ran out the back door. As though time stood still, the shed was untouched and fully stocked.

Carlton headed toward the tool cabinet. Inside a lockbox, family emergency instructions would be left if they were in distress and time permitted. He flipped over the box and located the combination. There laying on top of a cash envelope was a letter.

Hands shaking, Carlton fumbled with the note.

"Residents will be rounded up beginning next week and taken to a holding area for dissidents. If you're still alive, take what you need from storage. Bug-out bags located in our designated area. Be careful. Haven't been able to reach Gretchen."

Her final sentence. "Our fate is sealed. PLEASE, don't come for us. Save yourselves!"

Carlton looked up just as Gretchen grabbed him, hugging tightly.

"Why were some residents spared and others removed from Realtov?" She stared at them.

Carlton frowned. "Damn! They discovered me missing in the weekly head count, then looked at my employment file." He plopped down into the chair. Tears streamed as his hands flew to his face. All Gretchen could see was dried blood. His arm required medical attention, but they didn't dare seek help in Realtov. Perhaps the next city.

"Let's go. Any cash available? Don't know what we'll encounter at that detention facility," Evan implored. He then packed supplies for two-weeks. From the top shelf, he yanked out three fully-loaded bug-out bags.

"There's an envelope in the lockbox," Carlton responded.

Evan removed the money. All three froze as screeching sirens approached. Carlton switched off the light. From the window, they watched as doors slammed and lights flashed from the road's edge.

No longer safe, they scrambled to secure their backpacks, locked up, eased out, then dashed toward Evan's car. He sighed, then directed Evan toward the connecting road.

Carlton stared out the window into the night about to break dawn. Thoughts turned to his parents, then the individuals under the toll bridge whose only crime was attempting to escape the unexplained curfew and blackouts in Doverville.

At the end of the dirt road, the car turned left onto the empty street, traveling west that lead away from Realtov.