Prop 232

"Zach, we have to stop them. They don't want to track the general population to help make life safer and easier. They want to control us!" said Tamara, as her hazel eyes flashed.

"You're overreacting. I know Governor Dobbs, he's a good guy. He would never do what you're suggesting," Zach replied in what he hoped was a calming tone.

"Just because you've had dinner with the guy doesn't mean you know him. And even if his intentions are good, I can guarantee that there will be abuse. In fact, if Governor Dobbs isn't planning to use Prop 232 in exactly the way I've described, someone else is. Next time you see him, ask how he thought of it. Ten to one someone planted the idea, and let him feel like he thought of it himself," she said confidently.

"I'll do just that. And I know him quite well, for your information. Much better than I know you. We grew up on the same street, and we had sleepovers at least once a month until we were too old for that. Okay, maybe a few years after we were too old for it," admitted Zach sheepishly.

"You're thirty-two, and you'd live in a treehouse if you could, and have cake for supper," she teased, in a rare moment of genuine humor.

"Well you're twenty-five, and I think you've probably been going on forty since you were eight," laughed Zach, pleasantly surprised by her joke.

"If he's not one of the bad guys, maybe he can unknowingly lead us to them. But you have to swear, you won't tell him about FOMAS. Especially not what we really do. It would not only put all of us in danger, but it would make your friend a prime target," she replied, suddenly all business again.

"If Wendell Dobbs is mixed up in something dangerous, he deserves to know about it," insisted Zach, his blue eyes blinking rapidly, and a small frown creasing his forehead.

"The way things stand now, your friend is an asset to those behind Prop 232. They feel like they're pulling the strings, and he's singing and dancing to their tune. If they detect even the slightest hint of distrust on his part, everything changes. Do you want him to end up floating in the harbor?" Tamara asked coldly. Her flaming red hair did nothing to add warmth to her words or expression.

"Of course not... are you saying that these people would hire an assassin?" he gulped, going pale.

"You've been with FOMAS for five months. Based on what you've seen and heard, what do you think?" she whispered.

"I really don't know, Tamara. When you recruited me, I thought we were just getting together to educate the public on policies concerning Freedom Of Movement And Speech. I didn't know that we were out to try to save the nation," sighed Zach.

"You were recruited because you are honest, kind, and still believe that people can be decent. When I found out that you volunteer at the animal shelter, and drive your elderly neighbor to church each week, I was pretty sure you would be a good fit. After I saw you chase that woman down to return the fat wad of cash she'd dropped in the elevator, I knew for sure," Tamara replied, still in a no nonsense tone.

"Well, I guess it's true that no good deed goes unpunished," said Zach, as he ran his hands through his short blonde hair.

"Trust me, what we are doing is important. My father died for this cause, and I'm willing to do the same if necessary," Tamara stated, as she stared intently at Zach, who looked like he sincerely wished he had never heard of FOMAS.

This is my first entry for the CineTV script-writing contest

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Cover image made in Canva Pro, using their template. Fractal artwork is my own.