Whispers On Set

Chapter 9

We made it back to the motel. I began editing again, and compiling clips together. The apartment was more insulated against outside noise than the other houses we visited, which meant that there wasn't any real way I could eavesdrop on what the DHS was saying about us during the filming. There wasn't any background noise. If there wasn't talking, there was sniffling, or quiet sobbing. Some of it was quieter than the rest. That must have been Cammy. I didn't really know her story, but she must have been able to relate in some way to Rhonda's situation. I wasn't sure how, and it wasn't my place to ask.
While working on the edit of the documentary was good, it wasn't really what I wanted to be doing. I would much rather have been working on some kind of escape plan. Something in Rhonda's story flipped a switch in me. Knowing now how much people wanted to leave Eastby, and the consequences for doing so, only made me want to leave even more. I kept my head down, though. I didn't know how deep this lockdown went. I wanted to talk to Cammy about it. She was the one who found the picture originally, and Rosco mentioned she knew computer stuff. She had been pretty quiet since we came here. Rosco was easier to read, but I also knew him.
I checked the time. It was just past six. I was hungry. I should grab a bite to eat first, and then talk to Cammy. Maybe come up with a plan. Rosco, too. The three of us probably couldn't make it out of here on our own. In fact, I was nearly certain of that. We would need some help. That sandwich shop was pretty good. I could probably hoof it there. I didn't need to bug Rosco and Cammy just yet. I took my laptop and hard drives with me, though. If I left them in my room unattended, I was worried that they would either be copied or missing when I got back. The DHS already tried to take them once.
The sun was going down as I walked out on the concrete. It was a little chillier than I expected. Walking alone in an unfamiliar place where shootouts happened more than once a month had me on edge. I was unfamiliar to everyone here, too. Well, maybe not the DHS. They probably have already run background checks on the three of us. Job history, tax reports, social media posts, the works. If they thought I was a threat, they probably would've taken me out. I wasn't sure what they thought about Rosco. Maybe he was deemed as just an eccentric guy. I always thought Rosco was terrible with money, but they wouldn't shoot him over unpaid taxes. Cammy I wasn't sure about. She seemed like someone capable of covering her tracks. She definitely had social media accounts, but probably cleaned up after her own digital paper trail.
I thought back about the words the cop told us when we first arrived. He seemed like he let us in because by filming something, we had some sort of leverage. Turning us away wouldn't do because we could talk about the bubble around Eastby. That would be worse for them. But if they let us in, they didn't necessarily have to let us out. That was probably their plan all along.
It wasn't long before I was going to get to the sandwich shop. I was hungry, but I had a thought. Sam seemed like a pretty reliable guy. Rosco mentioned the delivery truck stopping at the gas station earlier. If Sam owned a food business, he probably got deliveries, too. And there was a pub on the corner. Eastby wasn't big enough to make everything in a gas station locally. Stuff had to be coming in from the outside. If Sam knew about it...
I fumbled my bag. My phone camera wasn't as great as whatever Rosco had brought along, but I had it with me. I could turn on my mic and leave it in my bag. Record the conversation. Maybe Rosco could use something Sam said. We could always come back later and film a better shot. Either way, Sam had information I wanted. I turned on my mic and phone camera and arrived at Sam's Sammies. "Hey there," said Sam.
"My young filmmaking friend," said Sam. "Welcome back. Where are your buddies?"
"Guess they weren't hungry," I said. "I'll do a cheesesteak again. Mushrooms, onions, provolone."
"Coming up," said Sam. "Same as last time, right? I remember." He threw the ingredients on the grill.
"You seem like a pretty knowledgeable guy," I said. "How did you start your business here?"
"Everybody likes sandwiches," said Sam. "I just filled a need, I guess. The chain restaurants shut down pretty fast. I think DHS co-opted them pretty fast. The only other local spot's the pub, and the gas station's local, too. But that's all we got anymore. Both of them have food, but nothing fresh."
"How do you guys get fresh food here, anyway?" I asked.
"Business orders," said Sam. "DHS processes them, makes sure we're not ordering stuff we don't need. They have one of their own stop the truck on the outskirts, explain the situation, and let the delivery driver take a load off. Then they bring stuff to any given business, unload it, and boom — fresh meats and veggies."
"That seems pretty involved," I said. "Nobody's questioned that yet?"
"The water contamination thing seems to scare most people off," said Sam. "Some people probably have a few questions, but they maintain the status quo."
"So they do let you send information to the outside world," I said.
"Well, yeah," said Sam, "but it gets screened first. If you were thinking of trying to just upload your documentary to the Internet, fat chance of that."
"What if we encrypted it?" I asked. "Sent it in tiny chunks to a friend?"
"They wouldn't let an encrypted file get through the Sieve," said Sam. "That's what everybody calls it here. The Internet lockdown. They've got some machine, God knows where, that runs some algorithm. Code. It lets people browse the Internet just fine. Even order things online. But try and send an e-mail? Post a video? Phone call, text? Shot down. No chance."
"They can just do that?" I asked.
Sam put cheese over the meat. "I don't know, man," he said. "It's the government. They can do whatever they want."
"They really do have everything locked up, then," I said.
"Pretty much," said Sam. He wrapped up my sandwich. "Some things can slip through, though. Every once in a while."
"What kind of things?" I asked.
"Couldn't say," said Sam. He subtly pointed his head towards his security camera. "Actually, come to think of it, I haven't heard of anything slipping through the Sieve in months. Really, since it was up. That'll be 11.95."
I gave him two twenties. A small gift for the information. Besides, Rosco had given me quite the cash bump. I could be a little generous to the sandwich guy. "You're good," I said.
Sam took one of the twenties and put it in the tip jar on the table, then broke up the other. I could tell he wanted to say more. He was hiding something. He KNEW something, that he couldn't say here. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I appreciate the generosity."
"Anytime," I said. "Best sandwiches in town, right? I'll definitely be back."
"Be seeing you," said Sam. He smiled.
I left the store. My mind was racing. If Sam really knew something, there was hope. But I couldn't talk to him. Hell, I probably couldn't even meet him someplace. The DHS would be watching. Somehow, I would need to figure out a way to isolate him from Homeland's eyes and ears, without drawing suspicion. In the meantime, I had some information to share with Rosco. And a sandwich to eat.
I polished off the cheesesteak before I got back to the motel. It was just as delicious as last time. I headed straight to Rosco's room. Knowing them, they probably went to the gas station for dinner anyway. Sam's Sammies were good, but he didn't sell condoms. I knocked loudly. "It's just me," I said. "Grabbed a bite. Want to see the cut?"
"Give me a minute," said Rosco. "Actually, can I meet you in your room in a few?"
"Sure," I said. "Cammy, too."
I didn't hear a response from Rosco or Cammy. I went back to my room and waited on the edge of the bed. It took a few minutes, but the two of them eventually made their way over. Cammy looked a little embarrassed, but Rosco was more or less unfazed. "Couldn't wait to show us the footage, eh?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Sounds like you two couldn't wait for something either." I pulled out my phone.
"What's this?" asked Rosco.
I gave him my headphones to listen to and played the video for him. "I thought I'd try some found footage at the sandwich place," I said.
Rosco listened to the whole thing in silence. "Dude, I don't know how useful this is," he said. "But thank you for doing that. Dedicating yourself, I mean."
"I think we learned some valuable information about Eastby," I said. I pulled out my laptop and opened up a word editor. I typed "DHS IS LISTENING EVERYWHERE."
Rosco snapped his fingers. "I'll be right back," he said. He ran off to his room, leaving Cammy with me.
"Have a listen, too," I said. I gave the headphones to Cammy and let her listen to the conversation I had with Sam.
"That's crazy," she said.
"Is it doable?" I asked. "The Sieve."
"Yeah, probably," said Cammy. "I mean, it's the government. It's definitely likely. Probably wasn't intended for this. They'd have to do a lot of rerouting, especially for cell networks..."
"It's over my head," I said.
"It's not something you can just whip up overnight," said Cammy. "If they really have this thing, and it works like this, and works this well..."
"What?" I asked.
"If that's true, then this whole thing.... I don't know." Cammy brushed me aside and typed on my laptop. "PLANNED."
"It could mean anything," I lied. "DHS works fast."
"You're right," said Cammy.
"Hey, so..." I tried changing the subject. I didn't want to talk about government secrets for too long. "I, uh. I heard you crying earlier today. At Rhonda's."
"Oh," said Cammy. She looked down. "Yeah."
"Is it something you want to talk about, or...?"
"Not really," she said. "I was in a dark place. Before I met Rosco, I mean. So... yeah. I could relate, a little bit."
"You have a kid?" I asked.
Cammy bit her lip. "Miscarried," she said.
"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's fine," said Cammy. "Wasn't meant to be."
Rosco stumbled in. "I just had a great idea," he said. He pulled a legal pad and pack of pencils out of a bag. "We should write down some notes. Plan things out. I always liked using paper anyway. Better that way."
"You ran all the way to the gas station for that?" I asked. "Actually, I'm more surprised that they had a legal pad and pencils..."
"Oh, yeah, I told the clerk I'd give him fifty bucks for the one in the back," said Rosco. "Didn't take long."
"Huh," I said. Rosco was right, though. We could write down a lot of things. The DHS had probably bugged our rooms, and almost definitely had the camera feeds of the motel. Maybe even a few hidden cameras.
"I'm gonna take this back to my room," said Rosco. "And shower. I don't know about you two, but I always have my best ideas in the shower."
"Don't get the paper wet," I said.
"I won't," said Rosco. He hurried off. Cammy got up to go after him.
"Hey," I said.
Cammy turned around. "Yeah?" she asked.
"We're gonna get through this," I said. "It's going to be okay."
Cammy gave me a weak smile. "I hope so," she said. She followed Rosco back to his room, closing the door behind her.
I sighed. I probably wouldn't ever get the full picture of Cammy, but she was more reliable than I initially gave her credit for. I wished her and Rosco the best. We were going to make it out of this.
After Cammy left, I got an incredibly strong urge to call Janice. I tried it anyway, just in case. Nothing but a tone. I wanted to punch something. I wanted out. I was going to get out, and get back to her. Sooner or later. Now that everyone was on the same page, we could start chipping away at the bubble. I crawled into bed, alone.
Although I probably wasn't as alone as I thought.