Page 36 of Midnight Curfew

I swallow.

“Yeahhh,” Trace breathes out. “I’m getting that, too.”

I let off the gas a little. We need to turn around.

“Ah, shit!” Army yells.

I start to brake, but we can’t just pull over here! The main street is the oldest part of town, the road is narrow, and these trucks are tanks.

“What’s wrong?” Macon growls.

“Son of a bitch,” Army snaps. “Stop! Stop driving!”

“What the fuck?” Trace mutters, and I watch him hang a right and follow Army as he swings around the roundabout ahead, pulling over on the other side of the dark street, next to a thick wood.

“Pull over!” Army orders. “Shut down the trucks! Hurry!”

“Army?” Iron barks. “What is it?”

I pull in behind Trace, Macon behind me with Iron, and Santos and Torres quickly slide in at the end of the line.

I shut off my headlights, everyone else following suit.

“Talk to us,” Macon urges.

But the next thing I know, a piercing horn comes through my phone, echoed by others from my brothers’ cells.

I grab my phone, swiping. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Wireless Emergency Alert for St. Carmen,” Army reads to us as we stare at the same words on our screens. “Severe summer storms expected. High winds up to or exceeding eighty miles per hour. Curfew in effect from midnight until six a.m. through…”

And I read the word Army is too stunned to utter as my heart knocks like a bell in my chest. October.

“What the fuck?” Iron shouts. “October?”

“Every day?” Trace asks. “Or just during storms?”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Santos adds from the back.

A curfew. Why would St. Carmen put their citizens on lockdown after midnight? What the hell is this?

“This weather is nothing we haven’t seen a thousand times!” Trace goes on. “A curfew? Really?”

It wasn’t unusual to have a curfew for a hurricane, but we’re not even close yet and probably won’t see storms that serious until August. It’s the middle of June! This has to be a mistake.

“So, what?” I press. “No one can be outside in the middle of the night on this side of the tracks?”

But Army doesn’t answer me, everyone just processing why they’re doing this and what we’re gonna do about it.

Macon hasn’t said a word.

Trace drives home from the bar after 2:00 a.m. Liv’s movie films at all hours.

I work in my classroom at night sometimes.

I like to get late-night takeout at Cymbalina’s.

“What happens if we’re caught out after curfew?” I ask, mainly directing it at Army.