Director/Carter Scene

          As the night grew, the city's curfew was in full effect. The Director had implemented a curfew only about a year before. By 8 o'clock, most of the streets were empty. The disciples hassled anyone who was out past dark. Soldiers arrested the common dwellers, with commands from the Director, and inprisoned them in the city jail until the next morning where they would be cited and tried by a makeshift jury.
          The people dealt with this. They didn't rebel. They were still afraid. Afraid of this new world. Afraid of what might become of them if they resorted back to their primal instincts. Hell, they voted for these laws. So it was expected that they'd abide by them. It wasn't like they had any other choice.
          The Red Faith was a moniker. It was the same society that had been present years ago. The Director made that very clear. He gave the people their right to vote on all of the laws and regulations of the township, with him only making a few executive orders. And although some of their decisions had been manipulated, he made them believe it was their own.
          Curfew, like many other rules, was their decision, but it was the Director who benefited the most. When everyone was indoors and asleep, the city was still awake, in full motion, like a body only at rest . Politics in the background as cats waiting for night to fall each day.
          "Thank you, Sarif." said the Director, who sat behind his desk. "When you go out, tell Carter I would like to see him, right away." The moonlight stabbed in to the half open blinds of the window, softly lighting the room in a yellow glow.
          "Yes sir." He acknowledged as he closed the door behind him gently.
          A couple of minutes passed before a knock on the door. The Director gathered his paperwork and stacked them into a neat pile before he filed them away in a slot below his desk.
          "Come in," welcomed the Director, "Please, have a seat, Carter."
          The fresh aroma of coffee greeted him as he set foot in the room but the air was thick, as if he knew what was coming next would be unpleasant.
          "Good evening, sir," said Carter, as he rubbed his hands nervously. "I'll just stand."
          "I wasn't asking." He said sternly as he lifted an eyebrow, giving pause before he spoke again. "Is everything alright? You seem a bit nervous." the Director asked, feigning concern.
          "Ah, um... no sir. Just a little anxious about what you wanted to discuss." He answered as he sat down on the edge of his seat.
          Carter bounced his boot up and down on the wooden floor and tried not to make a noise to annoy the Director. But he couldn't help himself. He started to sweat. His eyes darted back and forth between his feet and the ground as he tried to avoid eye contact. The silence was deafening. Neither of them talked for a minute. The Director stared into Carter's eyes and waited for him to say something. He knew Carter well.
          "Sir--"
          "Shut the fuck up." the Director yelled. His eye squinted forward as he tried to address the situation.
          Carter lowered his head, intimidated by his old pal. They refused to speak once again until another moment had went by. Carter loosened his collar around his neck which revealed the moisture under his armpits.
          The Director let out a heavy sigh while he tilted back in his chair. "Look Carter," he started. "I've been thinking about what happened last night. What you did, actually more like what you didn't do."
          Carter gazed at the wall and hoped the conversation would end there. "What do you mean?" he replied.
          The Director continued. "What the hell happened?"
          "I uh don't know what you mean." He responded again.
          "I mean, What the hell happened? You're my guy, Carter," the Director said calmly as he placed his feet on top of his desk. "But you fucked up. Your one job. Your one main job around here is to collect my artifacts. And what do you do?"
          He held back for a moment and looked down at the floor. "I uh... I lost --."
          The Director leaned forward quickly in his seat and shouted, "You fucking lost it."
          He stood up and bent over the desk, inches from Carter's face. "Not only did you lose it, but you left it somewhere. You put it somewhere. And someone found it."
          Carter was uncomfortable, unable to maintain eye contact.
          "Sir." Carter tried but with no luck.
          "I'm not finished." the Director continued. "When the Red Faith was founded, God spoke to me directly, and I took charge. I even appointed you to be my highest-ranking Disciple, to help me get these artifacts."
          A few knocks jolted the door. A female voice could be heard outside saying, "Do you want me to come back later?"
          The Director held out his hand. "Hold on, Carter. Come in." He ordered.
          As the door opened, a skinny girl entered with her head down.
          "Mr. um Director, Damian was shown his room. Would you like me to bring him to your office, sir?" she asked with a tremble in her voice.
          She was a young woman, probably close to twenty or so. She had long brown hair that partially covered her right eye. Her left arm was also bandaged. It appeared as if it was broken. And by how she hung it by her side, it seemed like it hurt. She wore baggy clothes, with a white t-shirt underneath a leather jacket.
          The Director shook his head. "No. Let him rest for the night and get comfortable."
          She nodded and closed the door behind her. The Director took a few steps around his chair before he rested on the back of it.
          "Listen, Carter, where were we?" asked the Director. "I know you're scared. But I need you to have faith in me. We're in this together. You have the power to change things here, and you can start by returning my artifact." The room went silent before he continued, "Do you have any clue as to where it might be?"
          Carter looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He was sweating profusely now, and his breathing became heavier.
          "I don't," he retorted. "But I will find it. I swear it on my life. I'll do anything to make this right. Please, I beg you."
          The Director raised his hand to stop him. "Did Damian mention anything that might help?"
          Carter shifted his eyes and opened his mouth. "Damian," he began. "mentioned to his brother that Jacob was heading south, maybe trying to find a camp there." He hesitated briefly for a second. "So I was thinking..."
          "Go north." the Director interrupted.
          "Go north?" said Carter, confused.
          The Director dipped his head. "That's right. Go north. Jacob and him were friends and he already doesn't trust us. Let's do the opposite. Get your group together, you'll head out at sunrise. Then you'll retrieve what I've lost."
          Carter was relieved. "Yes sir!" he exclaimed as he stood up. "What about Damian?"
          "I'll talk to him first thing tomorrow morning."
          The Director stood up from his chair and walked to the door. He opened it and gestured for Carter to leave. The Director turned around and guided Carter as he walked out of the room. He then laid back down in his chair and thought to himself. His mind raced. His eyes tightly closed as he murmured a few words into the void, "Dear God, please show me the path. Talk to me again. Tell me what --"
          A gentle knock disrupted his concentration. He sat up straight and answered the door.
          "Yes."
          It was the girl from earlier. "Sorry Mr. Pierce, I didn't know you had company before."
          The Director nodded. "It's fine and just call me Alexander."
          She smiled. "Okay, Alexander. I will."
          He turned back and locked the door behind him as she made her way inside.