You and Dana scramble back to the car, getting in and sitting down. Scott left the doors unlocked with the key on the front seat, which was certainly convenient for the two of you. Getting the keys from Margaret, or Scott, or whoever, would certainly be a challenge now.
You stare at each other, heavily breathing, trying to figure out what nightmare just unfolded in front of your eyes. Dana is the first to break the silence. “What the fuck?” She yells, emphasizing the curse word. “This has got to be some prank.” She says, but her tone is hardly convinced.
You aren’t either, though you wish you were. “I know, people don’t just do...... that. But it was clear as day in front of us. Scott isn’t with us anymore.”
You sit in silence for what feels like hours, unable to come to terms with the fact that one of your closest friends is now a middle aged baked in Newtown.
“Let’s leave.” Said Dana.
“What?” you asked.
“We only were here for a pit stop anyway, and it’s for our safety. We can’t stay here.”
You mull the idea over. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree. “At best, this is some horrific prank, at worst, we’re in danger.”
“Good. Grab the wheel.” Instructs Dana, as you shuffle from the back seat where you’re both sitting to the front. You comply with her instructions and quickly turn the ignition. The car turns on, the radio coming to life. “Welcome to Newtown radio! This fine night is partly cloudy, with a 65 degree temperature and a 100% chance of a new life! Have a wonde-” You quickly turn the radio off after hearing that unsettling noise. Dana refuses to comment as you step on the gas, driving through the town’s roads as quickly as you can without being unsafe.
Dana swiftly notices that you’re not making any effort to turn around. “Hey, don’t you think it’s a better idea to leave the town the way we came?”
“Huh?” you ask, confused. “Going straight through is the best bet. Look behind us.” Your view in the rear view mirror, as well as Dana’s when she turns around, indicates that you’ve passed through a large stretch of town, the welcome sign that greeted you and your friends nowhere to be seen.
“What? But the diner was the first thing we saw. And how do you know where you’re going?” asked Dana.
“Uh..” you mutter, not really knowing the answer to that. But for some reason the roads seem familiar to you already. “I don’t think the diner was by the entrance, Margaret lives downtown and walks to work.”
The answer is acceptable to Dana. “Right, that makes sense..” she says, though something seems to be on her mind. A minute or so pauses as you fly through the town. “Say, do you ever think we’ll be able to come back and rescue Scott?”
“Scott?” you ask, trying to jog your memory, when it comes back to you. “Right. Probably not, at this stretch. We’re going to leave and not come back, right?” you ask Dana, but it doesn’t sound right coming out of your mouth, like it’s an actual question and not rhetorical.
“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Says Dana, matter of factly. She’s getting annoying, and you find yourself wishing she’d just sit there and be quiet. You find your wish granted as you drive straight for several minutes, no end of the town in sight. The silence doesn’t last though as she speaks up again. “Hey, have you slowed down?”
“What do you mean?” you ask, a tone of annoyance clear in your voice.
“Hey, no need to get snippy.” Replies Dana. “I mean that you seem to be sticking to the speed limit now. Didn’t we want to get out of here?”
“Sure, but you have to follow the speed limits. It’s important to not do anything illegal.” You say, coming to a full and complete stop at the next stop sign despite there being no traffic. Dana just kind of looks at you quizzically.
“So? It’s the middle of the night and we want to get out of here.” She says.
“Young lady, do not sass me. We will do that, just be patient.” You say, conveying more clearly that you’re getting fed up. Something feels a bit off though. Why did you call your friend young lady? You catch a glimpse of Dana in the rear view mirror. She’s the same friend you’ve always known, despite you being old enough to be her father, the two of you go way back. You mull over the logistics of that thought, trying to figure out if it makes sense.
The confusion in your brain is interrupted by static on the radio suddenly cutting in, static filling the otherwise silent drive.
“I thought you turned that off.” Said Dana.
“I thought so too..” you say, but you can’t bring yourself to play with the dash. It seems important. A voice cuts through the static. “Hello? Do you copy?”
You pick up the radio from its hook on the dashboard. Was that there before? It didn’t matter. “Ten-four.” You say, into the speaker.
“Dispatch unit to Queen Street and Parks Avenue. Code 52 in progress.”
“Ten-four. On my way.” You say, putting the radio back. You reach above your head and flick a switch. Dana winces as the blaring sound of a siren fills the air, the glow of red and blue flashing lights visible out all windows.
“What the hell, man!?” she shouts. “Since when does Scott’s car have that attached to it?”
“Scott’s car?” you ask, confused. This is your cruiser, what was Dana going on about?
“Yes?!” she asks, a bit panicked, as you make a right turn, the first turn you’ve made on this commute. “Don’t you remember? Scott turned into Margaret right in front of us! And now you’re doing it too!”
“What are you talking about? People can’t just become other people.” You say, very matter of factly. Dana is speaking utter nonsense to you.
“But they are! That was the whole trap or curse or whatever that Newtown told us about when we first arrived!” she pleaded. “You have to trust me!”
“First arrived? Young lady, I’ve lived here for 52 years, and I’ve never once heard such a bizarre claim about this lovely town.”
“Fifty- what?” Dana asked, confused, but she seems to be staring at you. As you drive to the scene of the crime, each mile seems to be showing on your body as your hairline recedes, your old mousy style becoming a high and tight, each hair silver, you having gone gray years ago. A magnificent cop stache blooms out under your nose, as you reach your large mitt up to scratch it.
“Fifty-two. I’m flattered you think I look like a spring chicken, but by this age you get a pretty good grasp of reality.” You say, looking every single one of those fifty two years now.
Dana is shocked, and the irony of talking about reality is not lost on her. “I... right. And what do you do, in this town?” she asks, fearing the answer.
“Isn’t it obvious? I know it’s a late hour, but you think you’d know a police officer when you see one.” As you make the statement, Dana clearly sees your shirt refit itself to your new muscular body, becoming a decked out uniform. She can’t quite make out your pants becoming uniform pants, pleated and presentable, and your sneakers growing big and heavy as they reform into combat boots.
“Sorry, I’m just really tired.” Says Dana, resigning to whatever fate you’re undergoing. She knows she’s at it alone now, but maybe you can help her. “What did you say your name was, again?”
“I don’t think I introduced myself actually,” you say. “I’m Corporal Dave Thatcher. A pleasure to meet you formally, miss..” You trail off, realizing you don’t actually know this woman’s name. As you’re lost in thought, a patch embroiders itself over your pectoral, displaying your name for all to see: “D. THATCHER”
“Dana.” She says, curtly.
“Well, Dana, it appears I’ve arrived at the site that I’ve been dispatched to,” you say, reaching over to the passenger seat to put on a police hat and arm your belt with a handgun which hadn’t been there before, unknown to you.
“Right.” She says. “You’ll probably need me to leave now.”
“Depends,” you say, not registering how weird it is to be taxiing around a young lady as an on-duty police officer. “I might not have to take anyone back, but you’ll have to wait outside the cruiser at the very least.”
“Yeah, I get it.” She says, stepping out and observing the sleek police cruiser, white with blue stripes across it and the logo “Newtown Police Department” big and bold on the site. You bid her adieu and start stepping forward, when your radio goes off again.
“Corporal Thatcher, this is dispatching. You copy?”
“10-4.” You say, acknowledging them.
“Great. It turns out that the site was a false alarm, there’s no need to worry about what’s going on here.”
“But it’s proper protocol to check in.” You say, authoritatively. “I can’t ju-”
But you’re interrupted before you can finish the thought. “There’s no need to worry about what’s going on here.”
“There’s no need to worry about what’s going on here.” You agree, and suddenly the entire job flees from your mind. “What are the next orders?” you ask.
“You’re relieved for the night, corporal.” Says the radio. “Thank you for your service to Newtown, Thatcher. Your life’s work is much appreciated here.”
For a brief moment, the comment feels very eerie, but it passes quickly. “10-4. Have a good night.” You say, moving back to the cruiser.
“Alright Dana, looks like I can take you home, there’s nothing to do here.” You say, ushering her to the front passenger seat of the vehicle. She turns back, noticing a gate between the front and the back that wasn’t there when she was riding in the back before. “Where were you headed to, again?”
Anywhere but here, Dana thinks, but maybe you can help her now, after all, you still have a car..