Wet Signature

The detective sat motionless and exhausted at his desk. He could see the glow of a high moon through dusty blinds. He embraced the silence in his office and felt the chill of crisp, cold air from outside as a few of his colleagues left the building.

The revelations and allegations of the high profile case consumed Detective Darrell Adler as he sifted through various photos and files related to suspicious deaths that occurred during the pandemic. He knew much of the findings would further fuel many long nights for him.

"Damn this is crazy," he uttered to himself before letting out a long sigh. He decided to make a trip to the breakroom for another round of stale, hot coffee.

The pandemic had been brutal all over the world. It also seemed to have impacted a particular neighborhood. The subdivision was an extremely affluent one with pristine lawns and high end vehicles in every driveway or garage. It was demographically a domestic jewel for families and even single, upscale professionals too.

The HOA was quite adamant about requiring exterior surveillance for each residence "as a means to protect the quality of life deserving of exceptional individuals at all times." Compliance was always expected from residents and by all accounts "deemed mandatory."

The desire to keep "undesirables" away and out while keeping their community a mask free area became an underlying socioeconomic premise for the tragic events in Canyon Hills. The arrogance of limitless wealth, distance, and expensive efforts to alienate outweighed their common sense to wear inexpensive face masks during a world emergency.

Unfortunately, common sense sorely lacked in most of this case for Detective Adler and the highly contagious pathogen with no name, had created an atmosphere of high tension.

As he downloaded the tenth file salvaged from a crematory, he increased the speaker volume on the PC. He looked for any details that stood out while listening with heightened interest.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we deserve to live without fear and above all else, we deserve to keep our community here at Canyon Hills a mask free zone. Now I know most of you feel the government will fix this anomaly, as they should. We all pay hefty taxes for most things in our state! They have no right to force or intimidate us into wearing a mask or anything else for that matter." The tall, middle-aged woman continued to speak to the audience in their community clubhouse.

"This is for all of us who today, tomorrow, and forever unite on the common principle of freedom in this country!"

The document she held in her hands was neatly typed and enumerated. There was also a signature line with a pre-filled date. Detective Adler decided to zoom in on it to gain more clarity. The document was simply entitled "The CANYON HILLS PLEDGE." While she passed out the official looking document to all 80 attendees, they chanted loudly "no damn masks" for at least 15 minutes.

Looking even more closely, he also saw a disclaimer or "trust waiver" in large bold print. It specifically forbid any further electronic communication or documented meetings in the future. It also indicated proof of the current gathering would be locked in an encrypted vault at an undisclosed location. The cultish behavior was premeditated in Detective Adler's mind.

The speaker also advised them a sign had been created for the entrance of their community but was approximately located 10 feet away from the established Canyon Hills Business Office.

He paused the video and began looking at the victims who seemingly died under suspicious circumstances. The victims all disagreed with the mask free loyalists.

However, their rights were not considered and they were ostracized in Canyon Hills, a community they also loved. The misguided and cruel discrimination cost them their lives.

The photos of the victims were not morbidly gruesome but the common denominator was a small brand on their lower backs. It was a capital "T" and rumors swirled that it stood for "Traitor." There was also a black blindfold pinned into their hair and coins placed over their eyes. The coins were taped under the blindfold. The idea may have been to prevent victims from seeing their final end.

"This is Adler," the desk phone was in his reach and he answered quickly.

"I see-so one of the victims created his own pledge and signed it. He embedded the loyalist group in Canyon Hills knowingly while infected with the pathogen. He had been diagnosed as asymptomatic. This may have contributed to the mass community spread experienced in only 30 days. Okay, thank you I will include this in my report." He hung up.

Detective Adler could only process the ideology of survival of the fittest or some survival at all cost as a motive that destroyed their sense of security and community.

He continued to mull over photos of the signed pledges collected during that fateful day and meeting at Canyon Hills. They all had been unwavering to the end.

Detective Adler was confident indictments would follow, but couldn't help but feel melancholic while finishing up additional paperwork on the case.

He took one final glance at the computer screen and looked at the time. It was 7am. He turned it off, grabbed his cell phone, checked for his keys, and put on his jacket.

All Detective Darrell Adler wanted and needed at this moment was to clear his own mind. The mask he wore fit snugly on his face. He exited the building briskly. The sunshine and cold air were both welcome forms of simplicity and peace.

-THE END