Sheriff Ellis Conrad, Journal entry - one month to cycles end

The town has been quiet.

Not the normal quiet. Not the kind you get after folks drink themselves tired and the saloon lamps go down one by one. This is different, and that is what is worrying me. 

I walked Main Street twice today. Boots on hard-packed dirt. Cold bite at the edges of my fingers. The town was running as normal, folks going about their day, each getting ready for cycles end. 

People keep saying it is calm. They say it like it is a blessing.

Calm is what you get right before the weather breaks.

The cycle is turning again. You can feel it in the bones if you have any sense, and if you do not, the town will teach you. It always does.

The gangs have started moving out.

That is what caught my eye first. Not the drunks, not the petty thieves, not the usual rot that crawls out when the sun drops. The gangs. The ones who have lasted. The ones who know the difference between a bar fight and a storm surge.

They are packing up and shifting their weight toward the edges. Toward old bunkers and dugouts and places that are hard to reach. They are not running. They are bracing. Stocking water. Counting ammunition. Getting quiet.

A man does not bunker down unless he expects something worse than me.

That thought sat with me all day. It followed me into my office, follwed me home. I caught myself listening for sounds that were not there.

I asked Deputy Hale if he noticed it too.

He shrugged, trying to act like he did not care. “Folks get spooked near the turn,” he said.

“Spooked is one thing,” I told him. “Prepared is another.”

He did not argue with me.

New trouble is already coming in. You can tell by the faces at the edge of town, by the way strangers stand like they are waiting for permission to breathe. The ones with hungry eyes. The ones with too-easy smiles. The ones who keep their hands close, like they are expecting to be caught.

I wrote this down because I want it clear in my own mind.

When the start of the cycle hits, I want to know who is still standing in Deadwater when it begins. Who chose to be here when it all resets and starts over.

If you come in at the start, come in straight.

Mean what you say. Say what you mean. Do not test me. Do not test the town.

Deadwater has a way of answering back.