[IC] Act One: Savannah

Act One: Savannah



Theme Tune

Date: 26 May, 1937

The group assembles at the airport again three days later, all driven to the place through the narrow country lanes outside Arkham by Frank Kearns, who seems pretty happy at the prospect of flying again. Once at the airport, he starts to deal with the various tasks of prepping the plane, checking the plane's equipment, making sure he has enough fuel, and creating and lodging flight paths. Ms Winston Rogers is also at hand, to see you off, give you wishes of success and safe flight, and to hand you banker's drafts to cover your expenses and fees - the equivalent of about 3 months wages for each of you, for what she expects to take maybe a week. As you clamber into the plane, obviously a private one, and lavishly furnished with plenty of storage space, you notice that the maps and books have been stowed in the plane in bespoke shelves that allow the various tomes to remain in situ during flight. There are several other shelves here that remain empty.

When you are all ready, Frank heads to the cockpit and puts a headset on, and begins talking to the small airport's control tower. As he taxis to the runway, he switches to a plane-wide system and says "Should take about 8 hours folks, maybe a little longer depending on the weather. Buckle up. There are flasks and food in the galley at the back when you get hungry."

He takes off on the short runway, speeding into the air at a steep angle, and you can soon only see the ground through wisps of cloud. There's a bit of turbulence, but nothing that none of you can't handle.

---

A short interlude

Trent Holloway was surprised when his cousin, a lawyer up in Arkham, contacted him to ask if he was still in Atlanta, and whether he was free to help some people. "Should only take a week or so," he was told, and so had readily agreed. Sounded simple enough - basically just hire a car, get some rooms in Savannah (for four people in total including himself), and help them look into a guy named Douglas Henslowe. In return he'd been given a banker's draft for a considerable amount - enough that he wasn't sure this was entirely legit, except that his cousin was a steadfast quaker himself and above reproach. And so here he was, waiting at a small airport just outside Savannah, waiting on a aplne - the only one due in tonight - to arrive.

---

Just over eight hours later, he lets you know that you're coming in to land. It's late evening, and as you step from the plane into the Savannah evening, it's hot still, and humid. The airport is only small, similar to that at Arkham, and you see a car waiting for you by a small hangar, a man stood by it. "I'll be staying here to check on the plane, if you need to get a message to Ms Winston Rogers, let me know, you can find me here. Looks like that guy there is your contact; Ms Winston Rogers said she'd be sorting something out for you. Good luck." WIth that, he heads over to the hangar to open the door and bring the plane in.

Impending Doom Points: 4

It is the first time she'd flown and the experience was both exciting and discomforting, but Lillian is determined to stay awake. After a long while, this had become hard to do; by the time the aeroplane lands, she is quite tired and hungry - she's not eaten on board, but she took a stale something with her for later.

Filled with trepidation about her lodgings, she exited the aircraft lugging her case in her usual manner and waited to be addressed by the stranger first, or introduced by the others.

This has been Gabriel's longest flight, and definitely the first aboard a privately owned airplane. He has flown for conferences before, but not as far South.
He spends most of it observing from the window of this rare vantage point. First the multitude and variety of human activity, decreasing in scale until the particular becomes the general, blending in the distance with hundreds, then thousands, hundreds of thousands parallel lives.

Puts things in perspective... Seeing the grand scheme of things. Our concerns and personal struggles become insignificant in the wider context.

Eventually, the journey comes to an end, and he is happy to feel solid ground under his feet. Thanking Frank for the smooth flight, he walks towards the man Frank pointed out, extending his hand.

"I am Dr. Gabriel Walker, pleased to meet you. These are my associates, Mrs. Blakey and Mr. Weston. Very kind of Ms Winston Rogers to arrange for you to pick us up."

Samuel settles in. He knows better than to distract their pilot during take off, but once they're at cruising elevation Sam pokes his head forward. "Hey Frank... kinda nice to be flying without people shooting at us for once, eh?" Sam lets out a good natured laugh before promptly moving back to see what they had in the way of food. What better way to spend his time? It wasn't as if he could go for a walk.

---

Once they land, taxi, and debark, Sam turns to Frank. "Frankie, you sure you're going to be alright here? Got everything you need? Does it lock up right proper? Please tell me you still have your sidearm..." There is a twinge of concern to the Marine's voice. He had put some thought into what their benefactor had said... and hadn't been able to shake the idea that if there truly was an element of danger, it may spill over to the people around them.

Reluctantly, he accepted that Frank was staying here and moved to join his two travel companions and their new driver? "Samuel Weston, pleased to make your acquaintance," he said as he offered his hand.

Lillian nods quickly towards the man at Dr. Walker's introduction.

She didn't immediately offer her own hand, but she briefly looks around to see if there is a car, or perhaps to see if there is anybody else about.

The newcomer is standing by a car. You don't see anyone else around - looks like this was the last flight coming in, and it's a small private airstrip. Presumably there was / is someone in the control tower to give you permission to land, but they aren't around here.

The man introduces himself as Trent, and says that he was asked by Ms Winston Rogers to arrange hotel rooms for you and to hire a car. He'll drive you in to town, take you to your hotels, and leave the car with you so you have transport for the duration of your stay. He says you can leave the car at the airport when you're done with it, he can pick it up from there.



He's dressed in what you soon become accustomed to - dark trousers, shirt and tie, and a hat. The shirt has the sleeves rolled up, and though it's in the evening now, he runs a handkerchief over his brow and neck every now and then to deal with the sweat - the humidity is through the roof as well as the heat. It feels like you're sitting inside a warm, wet mouth or something.

As you drive into town, with the car's roof down (which at least gives you some relief from the heat and humidity, as your hair ruffles in what passes for a breeze), you notice that it's somewhat run-down, gas lamps sputter as you pass them, sending a yellow glow across the road that divides the city into slices of dark and light, windows lit within reveal the iron bars across many of them, and much of the place is in shadow - what could be lurking here?



The city itself is obviously old and run-down, as if it's on its last legs. You drive past half a dozen small park-like squares, lined with brick rowhouses, churches, and the like. There are trees everywhere, with Spanish moss dripping from them. The streets themselves are also made of brick in the main, with large wrought iron gates dividing up parts of the city.

Lilian is dropped off first at her hotel - Trent apologises, but Savannah, being one of the capitals of the south, hasn't yet fully loosened the Confederate grasp that once held it firmly, and this is one of the few that caters to Black visitors. "I picked the best one I could, but it still ain't much," he says ruefully. He gives you the details of the hotel that the others are staying at in case of emergency, and helps you with your bag.



The drive to the hotel where the gentlemen will be staying is only a few minutes - the two places are surprisingly close, but the areas are very different. While still not a grand hotel, the building is better kept, there is better lighting around the area, and it generally has a safer feel.

The heat and humidity hit him as he takes the first few steps towards the driver. It is oppressive, unbearable for a New Englander like him. He feels tired and uncomfortable in a matter of minutes. Damn it... how can anyone live here? And it's only May!!

As Lillian is dropped off at her underwhelming hotel, a rather awkward moment, he hastens to call after her as she heads towards the entrance, "Mrs. Blakey, maybe after settling in our respective rooms, it won't be too late for dining together?"
He confirms the logistics with Trent, to ensure his proposal is feasible.

"This is miserable." Even with the breeze of the car, the humidity was stifling. Samuel was simply sitting, but sweating like back when he was on a forced march. When the Doc mentioned dinner, Sam nodded in agreement... not that Mrs. Blakely could likely see him, but because it was a good idea. The more time they spent together, the easier it would be for Sam to keep an eye on both of them. He was already concerned about Lillian, being alone as she was. He took consolation in the fact that as they had just arrived, anyone who might be related to this nonsense they were investigating likely didn't know about them yet.

"If we can find somewhere suitable, certainly, Doctor." Lillian welcomes the idea, but isn't sure how likely it could be.

"If it isn't manageable, then I will come find you in the morning."

She carries her case up the flight of stairs and after a brief discussion about herself, finds her room. It could be much worse, it seems relatively clean. She finds it in the Green Book, so that offers some assurance.

At their hotel, Samuel was pleased to note the plumbing. It was a luxury that many homes simply didn't offer, although Sam had a feeling it would become more common with time.

His room was on the second floor, and Sam found it plain but well kept. The shower and commode were a blessing, and well worth the price... not that he was paying. But if he was? Worth it. He had travelled light, so unpacking his bag was quick. His spare clothes were tucked into dresser drawers, and his boots were put by the door. He loaded his 1911 and put the holster on his belt before sliding his sidearm in. He always missed the weight on his hip, feeling incomplete without it. With it? With it, he felt whole.

Pulling on his light jacket, hemmed a touch longer than normal to help with concealment, he stepped in front of the sink. His sink. He smiled, then splashed some water on his face before stepping out to find the Doc.

After refreshing in the hotel room, the water a welcome relief from the stifling humidity out there, Gabriel sits for a moment to reflect about how segregated these parts are, and what that will mean for their work. It will be a hindrance, for sure. It seemed important to find some shared territory where it is deemed acceptable to be in the presence of coloured people.

He regroups with Samuel, sharing his concerns about these unexpected hindrances slowing them down.
"That man Trent left us the car - care to drive, Mr Weston? You have the better eyes and reflexes of a younger man. Let's go fetch Mrs Lillian and go find something to eat. We can brainstorm where to start on a full stomach..."

"Excellent plan, Doctor," Sam replies, taking the keys and heading outside to the car. "We need a restaurant that will serve all of us, though... perhaps we can ask at the desk?"

"Yes, let us go. Mrs Blakey had that Green Book with her, I wonder if that can be of any help to find an address. Frankly, I didn't know such a directory existed."

The man at the hotel desk seems a bit uncomfortable when Samuel asks for a restaurant that serves both black and white customers. "Sir, this is a segregated state. You won't find any restaurants that serve both here," he eventually replies.

Lillian packs certain valuables into the handbag, then heads downstairs to wait, asking questions to get her bearings, wanting to know where she could acquire groceries.

"We'll make due, thanks." Samuel replies, leading the Doctor out to the car and heading to pick up their compatriot in this little excursion.

"I'm afraid I was rather optimistic, about being able to share dinner, Mrs Blakey. It looks like, until we find a better solution, a hot dog taken from a stand and eaten in the car will have to do, for tonight. I don't like this, we will need a shared base of operations. Any suggestions would be welcome. I was toying with the idea of using the hangar where our employer's plane is housed - perhaps that is out of town enough to serve our purpose without being bothered by these silly segregation laws..."

"Sounds good, Doctor. Frankly, I'll probably eat at least two. We can pick up some groceries in the morning. Maybe we should acquire a camp stove and the other such accoutrements that will let us eat and work together."

The trio part for the night, having made plans to reconvene in the morning at the Savannah Library that was indicated to them.

After an uncomfortable night (the humidity making sleeping difficult, and the electric fan in his room just barely shifting hot air), Gabriel meets the others at the Library, luckily within walking distance from their hotels. He is wearing lighter clothing to try cope with the heat.

"I hope your night was more restful than mine... my old New England body is decidedly not compatible with this climate..." he says to his colleagues. Then, pointing at the Library entrance, "Shall we?"