Leo rubbed his hands together as though trying to wipe the memory of the boy’s blood covering them. He’d helped carry the boy to the medical center, but it was too late. Dr. Chee tried to revive him, but he was DOA. This was Leo’s fault; he was supposed to be policing the Striped Zone. This shouldn’t have happened.
He exhaled loudly in anger and frustration. He was outnumbered, he was running each day on only a few hours’ sleep, and coping with his own loss. He couldn’t do this alone. There were soldiers on the wall, but they never left their post. Even in their bio-suits they didn’t travel further than they needed to. Besides, they answered to outside agencies, not the Victoryville PD.
What the hell was he supposed to do against an angry mob when it was sixty to one?
He hadn’t said these things to Earl when they’d talked after the incident, but he hadn’t needed to. The chief understood. Leo hadn’t said a word when he answered the phone call, because Earl, in that deep voice of his, was quick to say, “It wasn’t your fault, Leo. Alright? There was nothing you could’ve done about it. It’s a tragedy, mark my words, but there’s absolutely nothing you could’ve done about it.” They’d talked briefly. The chief reassured him, told him to keep his mind fixed on the job until this situation was over, and if Leo needed it, there would be counselling for him to access. “I know it’s hard, but you need to accept it. The boy’s death was a tragic, horrible accident. Just keep your head clear, and stay focused. There’s going to be fallout from this, whether we like it or not. That’s what you need to focus on. Keep your eyes and your mind sharp, Leo. Do your best to keep the people calm, and move them on if they start to gather again. And watch your back, alright? That’s a priority. You’re no good to the people over there if you’re out of action.” Leo had agreed. “Good,” Earl had said, “let’s keep the communications open. I want to hear from you every four hours. Got it?”
Leo knew everything Earl had said was right, but it was still hard to shift the guilt. Still hard to erase the image of the boy’s body collapsing. That poor kid had survived the phenomenon, only to die at the hands of a stray bullet fired by a fellow human being. A stray, unnecessary, bullet.
He sighed, thinking of Claire and Lena over in the Clean Zone, wanting desperately to be with them. At least they were safe, he thought. He just had to be strong and make sure that he made it back to them.
When this was all over, that is.
If it could ever be over.
He looked around the cell and his eyes fixed on the bars running along the face of the room. The bars, in long lines, that reminded him horribly of the stripes afflicting the people of this zone. Afflicting him. It made him think of the wooden slats down the side of Mickey’s cot again . . . straight lines digging into horrible memories everywhere he looked.
He suddenly felt claustrophobic, and hastened to exit the cell, wrapping his hand around one of the bars and rolling the door shut behind him. The loud clang echoed around the empty station, reminding him again of his solitary state.
He took one last look at the row of bars before getting as far away from them as he could.
*
Abbie answered the phone with a thumping heart. It hadn’t rung once since . . . since her family had disappeared.
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
“Is this Abbie Randell?” a male voice asked.
She paused wondering whether she should confirm it. “Who is this?”
“Abbie, my name is Richard Keene. I’m a reporter. Sorry for calling so late . . . I, er, I did a story on you helping that girl—”
“I saw it,” she told him cautiously. “What do you want?”
“I was watching the news, and . . . I saw what they did to your house. I’m sorry if my story caused that to happen. Is everyone okay?”
“What do you care? You got your story.”
“I didn’t mean to put you in any kind of dangerous position,” he said. “I thought what you did was very brave. I wanted people to see what you did, to celebrate your actions.”
His voice was warm, it sounded kind. The silence sat for a moment.
“So, what do you want now?” she asked.
The reporter was silent again for a brief moment. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. That Kaitlyn and the child are alright?”
“We’re fine.”
“There’s been no other trouble except the graffiti?”
“No.”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m glad to hear that. There’re some weird things going on and people can start acting a little crazy in times like these. I didn’t want my story to cause any more trouble for you. I want to make sure that people like you stay safe, Abbie.”
“We are,” she told him, adding, “so far.”
“What’s it like in the Striped Zone?”
Abbie pondered his question for a moment. “Are you looking for another story, Mr. Keene?”
There was another pause before he answered. “I’m looking for the truth, Abbie.”
“Well, we’re just the same as the Clean Zone . . . except marked.”
“Tell me something Abbie, if you don’t mind me asking, how is Kaitlyn really? Is she feeling alright, is she displaying any symptoms? Anything at all from being over there in the Striped Zone?”
Abbie looked to where Kaitlyn was asleep on the couch, Charlie swaddled beside her.
“She’s just given birth. She’s tired. She’s adjusting.”
“But she’s not sick with anything? She’s still a Clean Skin?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious. How does a Clean Skin give birth to a Striped One? If it’s contagious, shouldn’t she have caught it?” He paused for a moment. “Like everyone else here in this town, I want to get to the bottom of this. The sooner we can drop those barricades, the better . . . if you Striped Ones aren’t contagious, then we can do that, Abbie.”
Abbie thought of Karen and the fact that she wasn’t displaying any symptoms either. Nor Cassius, Shonda-May’s little boy, as far as she knew.
“Abbie?” the reporter asked. His voice seemed so kind and gentle, but she didn’t know if that was just his way of getting her to talk. The truth was, he was a stranger, and a reporter at that. She wasn’t sure whether she could trust him.
“I’m just trying to find the truth, Abbie,” he said. “Will you help me? Will you help free your town and get your life back?”
“My life back?” she asked, swallowing hard. “You can return my missing family?”
Silence poured down the line.
“Your whole family is missing?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, swallowing again.
“I’m so sorry, Abbie. I can’t imagine—”
“I’m having trouble imagining it myself,” she cut him off, “but it’s true. The empty house around me is evidence of that.”
Again silence filled the line. She felt bad for snapping at him. This phenomenon wasn’t his fault. He was just as much a victim in this as she.
“Kaitlyn is fine. The boy is fine,” she said. “Read into that, what you will, Mr. Keene. Goodbye.”
Abbie hung up the phone, mulling over his words, then turned to stare at the sleeping Clean Skin.
*
Stanley Barrick glared at Colonel Levin.
“This could cause us a lot of problems.”
“I agree,” Levin answered, “but we always knew there was only so long that we could keep the truth hidden. If the welts don’t change, if they don’t experience any symptoms, they’ll soon figure out that they’re not contagious. They’re not stupid.”
“And now we have a Clean Skin girl living in the Striped Zone, which will only speed things up,” Stanley added, as they sat in his makeshift office.
“I’d say you have a couple of days before they start thinking the government is lying and trouble breaks out,” Levin said.
“Trouble has already
broken out,” Stanley said. “We’ve got a dead body to prove it.”
“My soldiers fired overhead into the air. That kid shouldn’t have been on the roof of that building. It was accidental.”
“Tell that to public opinion,” Stanley said bluntly.
Levin sighed heavily. “We could bring the zone barrier down, let them mingle, but still keep the town quarantined from everyone else.”
Stanley considered the idea briefly. “We still don’t know why they categorized the people. That is the problem here. They did it for a reason. So why the hell would they categorize the people, mark some of those people, if they had no intention of coming back?”
Levin shrugged again. “Well I, for one, have always thought there was no question that they were coming back.”
Stanley stared at him.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Levin asked them. “They got past our defenses with ease, they rendered us powerless to do anything against them. I have absolutely no doubt that they’re coming back. For me, the question is when.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Stanley said, “but we can’t go out to the public and say that. The world will goddamn explode if we do. We suspended trading on the stock market to avoid a crash, we’ve got people leaving towns up and down the Eastern Seaboard, turning the whole area into one big ghost town, and we’ve had pockets of riots and looting and protests around the world. And that’s just because this ship hovered over one town. One town. If we tell the people of the world that those things will be back and any one of us could be next, God knows what would happen! If those things are coming back we need to focus every ounce of our attention and resources on them. We can’t be having to deal with mass unrest across the country or the globe, as well.”
“I agree,” Levin said. “We have to contain it and maintain world stability.”
“So, how do we do that?” Stanley said.
“Aside from erasing the town from existence and convincing people the problem’s been taken care of?” Levin said bluntly. “I’m all ears.”
Stanley shot Levin a stony look. “We go with the long incubation story,” he said, then shrugged. “Who knows, it could still be true. In truth, we know very little about any of it.”
“That will buy you some time,” Levin said, “but not much.”
“We keep the barrier between zones in place. I want your soldiers on alert.”
Levin gave a nod. “As always.”
“We’ll prepare another statement. Meanwhile I’ll get our people to have a friendly chat with the media outlets about not inciting violence.”
*
Josh Chalmer’s heart kicked up a notch. Standing in the warehouse out back of the hardware store, Austin, Langdon and Trent were staring at him, having just loaded ammunition into the weapons they had been allocated.
“Are you in or not?” Austin asked, brow furrowed in annoyance.
Josh, nervous as to what would happen after the death of Chris, the boy on the roof, had come to the hardware store to try and find out. Now he wasn’t sure coming here had been such a good idea. But still, he couldn’t walk away. He wanted to know what Magnus and Roy’s mob were going to do.
He nodded, “Y—yeah. Sure.”
“Good,” Austin said, walking up to him and thrusting a gun into his chest. “You know how to fire one of these?”
Josh took it in his hands and studied it. It was heavier than it looked. “Er, no.”
Austin exhaled impatiently. “You should’ve been here when Roy showed us. You gotta catch up.” He looked at Trent. “Teach him how to use this thing.”
Trent stepped toward him as Austin and Langdon moved back into the front of the store.
Josh listened as Trent quickly showed him how to load the gun and use it. He only took half of it in, though. His mind was racing, thinking about what they were planning, how far they intended to take things.
“You think they’ll actually use these on anyone?” Josh asked, holding the gun carefully in his palm as though it were a grenade with a loose pin.
“If they have to,” Trent said. “They’re not for show, you know. These are real guns with real bullets.”
“Yeah, but the military are out there on the barrier. They’ve got some firepower behind them too.”
“So have we,” Trent said, looking down his nose at him, despite the fact that Josh was taller. Regardless of the height difference, Trent was broader than Josh and had clearly spent a lot more time down at the gym. He was strong and, from what Josh had heard, had been taking boxing lessons from Austin for a while now. Getting into a fight with Trent or any of these guys was not on Josh’s list of things to do; they were on his list of things to avoid. At all costs.
“We’re leaving soon,” Trent said to him. “Be ready.”
Josh nodded and watched him walk away, then looked back at the gun in his hands, wondering what the hell he’d just gotten himself into.
*
Abbie knocked softly on the door of Josh’s house. It was late, but she didn’t know what else to do. Peter answered.
“Mr. Chalmer—” she began before Peter cut her off.
“Is Josh with you?”
“No. Is he not here?”
Peter seemed to hiss angrily.
“We think he went to Magnus’ meeting,” she heard Karen’s disappointed voice say from inside.
“There was another meeting?” Abbie asked.
“What do you want, Abbie?” Peter asked softly.
“I need to speak with Karen. Charlie, the baby, he’s screaming a lot tonight and we don’t know what to do. Can she come and take a look?”
“No,” Peter said adamantly, “of course not.”
“We don’t know what to do,” Abbie pleaded.
“Peter,” Karen said softly.
“If they see you!” he hissed over his shoulder, then turned back to Abbie. “Look what they did to your house, Abbie. Tensions are high, and you go and take in that Clean Skin girl.”
“What else could I do?” Abbie said. “Let them stone her and the baby?”
“It’s too risky. Look how they’ve reacted to your Clean Skin. What will they do if they discover Karen? If you draw unwanted attention and she gets caught—”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
“You’re doing it right now, Abbie!”
Abbie didn’t know what to say. “Can I bring the child here, at least?”
“Absolutely not! Take it to the medical center.”
“But—”
“As far as people know, Karen is interstate. No one can know she is here. Do you understand?”
“Mr. Chalmer, I would never—”
“We helped you when you needed it Abbie, but you’re doing fine back in your own house, so please don’t come here again.”
With that Peter closed the door. Abbie stood there for a moment, shocked.
She turned and slowly made her way off the porch and across the road, reading the ugly words smeared across her house. Words that Josh hadn’t been able to properly erase, so they were now smudged thickly across the wall.
As she stepped on to her front lawn, she saw movement in the corner of her eye and looked over at her neighbor’s house. There, in the darkened window, sat Shonda-May, watching Abbie, her brown eyes and skin silhouetting her further against the white underside of the curtain. As soon as they made eye contact, Shonda-May stepped away and closed the curtain. Abbie paused, staring at the window, and considered briefly whether Shonda-May could help with the child. But she felt a sorrow slowly build within her. A realization. She knew the reaction would be the same as Peter’s.
Everyone was scared. No one was willing to help.
*
Josh Chalmer was crouched behind a parked car, staring, frozen, at the dead soldier laying in the distance beneath the streetlight. His whole body rattled in terror.
“Come on!” Langdon hissed, as he ran past toward their ca
r.
Josh turned and stumbled, then righted himself and followed. As soon as he jumped into the car, it took off, tyres screeching. Those in the car burst into a cacophony of “Holy shit!” and “That was insane!” and someone gave a relieved laugh and punched the roof of the car.
Josh felt a hand slap around his neck and squeeze tight, and he bunched his shoulders in response.
“Did you even fire?” Langdon laughed. “Or did you just hide behind the car and piss yourself?”
A chorus of laughter broke out.
Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t actually get his mouth to move. He looked down at the gun in his hands. The safety was still on. He’d never bothered to take it off.
“You better man up, Joshy,” Trent sneered at him, “or you might as well bend over and let those Clean Skins fuck you!”
They broke out in laughter. All except Austin, whose hard eyes studied him from the front passenger seat.
“That’s okay,” Roy said from the driver’s seat. “Josh will step up next time, won’t you?” It sounded more like an order than a question.
Josh nodded, and managed a “Yeah.”
They dumped the car and set it alight, then ran to the hardware store, where Magnus Bracks and others waited for them. On hearing the news of the soldier’s death, the group were given slaps on the back and firm nods of approval for being brave and “doing what had to be done”. Phrases like “Justice for Chris” and “An eye for an eye” were murmured, and someone else said something about “survival of the fittest”.
Josh’s hands, still shaking, were sweaty and he wiped them on his jeans. Wendy came up to him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
“You did good, Josh,” she said. “Those weapons will help us. We need to be able to protect ourselves if they come for us.”
He heard snickering laughter and saw Langdon and Trent watching them. He pulled back from her, but she kept her hands on his shoulders a moment longer, smiling at him. She turned and walked away, and Austin moved to stand next to him.
The Time of the Stripes Page 18