She waited and waited until finally she received a call from him. They were being questioned by Homeland Security, but they were fine. The CDC had flooded the town and within days Abbie, Kaitlyn and Charlie had been thoroughly studied and recorded. As soon as the Victoryville border had been reopened, Kaitlyn’s mother had been granted permission to come and collect her daughter and grandson and go back to their apartment. Abbie felt so happy to see the tearful reunion between them, although it cut her deep inside to know that she would never be afforded the same opportunity with her own family.
After Kaitlyn and Charlie’s departure, she’d been left alone in her house with the memories of what had happened. Her broken windows were boarded up, a makeshift door was hung where her last one had been kicked in. She sat in her room and stared across the street at Josh’s house, cordoned off with police tape. She pictured the bodies of Austin, Trent and Langdon lying on the kitchen floor. She pictured the bodies of the Chalmers in the parking area behind the hardware store, where now only dried bloodstains and painted outlines remained, separated from the rest of the world by more police tape.
One night, Shonda-May knocked on her door with a casserole in hand and Cassius by her side. Abbie welcomed them in and they ate dinner together. And when she finally said goodnight to them, she hugged Shonda-May so tight she wondered whether she might ever let her go. “Thank you,” she’d whispered to Shonda-May. “Thank you for coming to help.” Her neighbor gave her a warm smile, squeezed her hand, then left again.
Chief Blackstone had returned to question her further about what had happened across the street. She kept thinking about Trent’s body and the knife she’d plunged into his back; kept thinking about her blackened fingers from when they’d fingerprinted her; kept wondering whether she would ever see Richard and Dr. Pellan again.
When the chief had left, she’d held the framed photo of her missing family to her chest as tears rolled down her face at the horrible feeling inside. At the emptiness. The loneliness. The sorrow. That night she lay on the couch and pretended that Richard lay there with her, just as he had done that one night. It felt like it was a lifetime ago.
Deputy Cann had paid her a visit to see how she was doing. She was pleased to see that the deputy’s face was healed. Just like her lungs. Although the faded stripe remained on his chin, too. She wondered what his stripe had been due to, but didn’t want to pry. He had a look in his eyes as he stared at her, a darkness remembered, that she understood all too well. Something that the chief, as a Clean Skin, would never quite understand, but something that she and the deputy, as Striped Ones who’d been caught up in the madness, would never forget. But she also saw relief and a slight contentment in his eyes. He’d been reunited with Claire and Lena. He had most of his family back again. But it was clear he still mourned his little boy.
A few days after Deputy Cann’s visit, Richard had turned up on her doorstep. He looked tired, his unshaven face having the beginnings of a beard. She took a few moments to realize that he was actually there and she wasn’t dreaming, before throwing her arms around his neck, latching onto him for dear life. He latched onto her too and they stood there in her doorway for how long, she didn’t know, just holding each other tight.
“They just released me,” he said when they finally let each other go.
“And you came straight here?” she’d asked.
He looked at her, then nodded, giving a half smile. “Yeah, I did.”
She brought him inside and he told her what had happened, that Dr. Pellan was still in custody. She’d told him of Kaitlyn’s tearful reunion with her mother, and how she was safe at home with her family. Richard had smiled. Something good had come from all of this. Kaitlyn had Charlie, and now she had her mother again.
She and Richard sat on that couch and stared at each other. They’d talked for a couple of hours, then Abbie offered him food, but he’d told her he was tired, and she’d said she was too. It was late. She asked him to stay. She took his hand and led him upstairs. He’d showered, while she waited. She offered him her bed this time, instead of the couch or the basement, wanting him to stay close now he’d returned. It seemed he felt the same way. They didn’t speak, they just stared at each other as they’d crawled into her bed. They didn’t sleep, not straightaway. Abbie rolled onto her side and faced him, taking his hand in hers, not wanting to let it go, as she gazed into his calm, green eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she’d said softly.
“And me, you,” he said.
The silence sat.
“We survived,” she whispered.
“We did,” he nodded, raising his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers, running his thumb gently down her faded, striped chin. His hand was warm, his touch so gentle. She placed her hand over his, wanting it to stay there forever. Then she leaned in toward him, and they kissed. And that one kiss had turned into many. Slowly, their bodies had entwined and they’d shed their clothes, making love in the peaceful, yet heavy solitude that surrounded them in the empty house. And eventually, they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
The next day Richard was heading back to New York. He’d received clearance from Homeland Security to return to his apartment. He asked her to go with him, said he’d cleared it for her to leave as well if she wanted. She didn’t hesitate. She packed her things and went. She couldn’t stay in the house any longer, couldn’t look at the pictures of her dead family, couldn’t stare at the house of the dead Chalmers, and Richard didn’t want her to.
She felt safe in her new surroundings, lying in Richard’s arms every night; helping each other through the nightmares. How quickly their lives had changed. The events surrounding them had been horrible, but they’d found something in each other; a light that protected them from the darkness Victoryville had cast. Of course, Victoryville was never far from her thoughts. She knew she’d have to return one day, at the very least to pack and sell the house, but there was still a small part of her that hoped her family would one day return. That they weren’t dead.
Abbie, pulling herself from her reverie, turned to peruse the spices on the supermarket shelves. She traced her fingers along the labels, seeking out the rosemary. In her periphery, she noticed a stranger staring. She turned and saw a woman in her early fifties, dark-haired with sprinkles of silver, and lines around the eyes that did not laugh. Abbie gave the woman a smile and a nod hello, but the woman did not smile back. Instead she saw the woman’s stare fall to the faint stripe running down her chin and neck. A Striped One was an extremely rare sight indeed, here in New York. She saw repulsion in the woman’s eyes.
Abbie dropped her smile, but didn’t turn away. Instead, she stared back, as though challenging that repulsion. The woman knew who she was, knew she was that Abbie Randell who had been on the cover of papers and magazines, the one that had done those interviews on TV. The one from Victoryville. But despite all of Abbie’s actions, that’s not what this woman saw when she looked at her. She saw a Striped One. Someone from the Victoryville SZ. The town where the people lost control and turned into barbarians. It didn’t matter that Abbie had tried to stop the violence. All this woman saw was the stripe upon her skin.
“Hey, honey!” Richard said loudly, grabbing her and planting a long, deep kiss on her mouth. He rested his forehead on hers, smiling at her as he cupped her face and caressed her faded stripe. She smiled back, then glanced over at the woman again, who was now eyeing Richard with contempt and examining his Clean Skin chin.
“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Richard beamed at the woman.
The woman scowled and brushed past them, muttering, “You ought to be ashamed.”
Abbie’s body tensed, but Richard soothed her, running his hands up and down her arms.
“She’s not worth it,” he whispered.
“They haven’t learned a thing, have they?” Abbie said, shaking her head.
“No. Not everyone,” Richar
d agreed, then kissed her forehead. “That’s why we need to finish this book.”
She relaxed at the sight of his calming eyes. He smiled again, leaning down to plant a kiss on her striped chin. Then he took her hand and they walked toward the store’s checkout.
They began to place their items on the counter as a voice behind them cried out.
“Oh my God!”
They turned around and saw the operator at the next register, her hand covering her mouth, looking up at a TV mounted on the wall.
“It’s happening again!” she cried. “Oh my God!”
There, on the TV, was a massive black spaceship hovering over a town. Abbie scanned for the Victoryville clock tower, but couldn’t see it. This was somewhere else.
Another town.
She and Richard exchanged an anxious glance, as her heart started thumping overtime.
His cell phone suddenly rang, making them jump with fright.
He glanced down at his pocket cautiously, then pulled it out and answered it.
“Richard Keene,” he said tentatively. A moment of silence passed before he glanced back to the TV on the wall. “Yeah, I see it . . .” He turned his eyes back to Abbie’s. “Yes, she’s here with me . . . What, now? Right now? . . . Can I ask why? . . . Okay.” Richard ended the call and looked back at her. “That was Homeland Security. They’re sending someone to pick us up.”
“Us?” she asked. “Why?”
“Apparently we’re experts on the phenomenon and they want our advice.”
Abbie stared at him open-mouthed.
“Either that,” he said, his voice laced with trepidation, “or they want to keep a close eye on us now they’re back.” He motioned to the TV screen and the image of the hovering spaceship.
Abbie swallowed hard.
“Come on. We gotta go,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the store.
The End.
*
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Also by Amanda Bridgeman
The Aurora Series:
#1 Aurora: Darwin
#2 Aurora: Pegasus
#3 Aurora: Meridian
#4 Aurora: Centralis
#5 Aurora: Eden
#6 Aurora: Decima
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Acknowledgments
A big thank you to everyone who has supported me on my writing journey so far. Having launched six Aurora books at the time of this release, I appreciate my Aurora fans allowing me this indulgence to try something new. As much as I love writing the Aurora series, it’s always been important to me to prove I am not a one trick pony. Also, at some point the Aurora series will end, so I’m keen to introduce readers to new work before they must say goodbye to Carrie and Harris. It’s all part of my long term strategy! But don’t worry, I promise the next book I release will be Aurora #7.
Thank you to my first round beta readers, Joan, Tia, Todd and Ross—you poor things always read the roughest version of my books, but your comments help shape it. And thanks to my second round beta readers, Dave and Justin—the version you read was slightly less shabby, but still in need of some sculpting. Thanks for your feedback!
Self publishing is a lonely business sometimes, but it’s made that more bearable by the one constant I’ve had through all my books, my editor Stephanie Smith. We’ve done seven books together now! Thanks for understanding what I’m trying to say in my sometimes clunky sentences! Your title really should be editor and interpreter.
Thanks to the special readers who have become part of my early review team: Carol, Shelley, Liz, and Elizabeth. I really appreciate your support and enthusiasm for my work.
To my family and friends, I pretty much say this every book, but I’ll say it again: thanks for your patience and understanding, and accepting that you may not get to see me as much as you’d like to. Maybe one day I can ditch the full-time day job and be a full-time writer, eh? One can dream.
Thanks to my writer friends, namely the GMob (Amanda Pillar, Nathan M Farrugia, Steve P Vincent, Luke Preston, Dave Sinclair and Justin Woolley), for all the support and advice—and the occasional boozy nights we spend together when we’re all in the same state.
Lastly, to readers of The Time of The Stripes, I really hope you’ve enjoyed this book, and if you did, I’d love it if you could leave a rating or review on the retailer site where you purchased this book. It means the world and really helps to spread the word about my books. Appreciate it!
And if you’re wondering if there is a sequel planned for The Time of the Stripes—yes there is. But first I must get back to work on the Aurora series or those readers may come after me with pitchforks.
Thanks again!
About Amanda Bridgeman
Born and raised in the seaside/country town of Geraldton, Western Australia, Amanda hails from fishing and farming stock. The youngest of four children, her three brothers raised her on a diet of Rocky, Rambo, Muhammad Ali and AC/DC, while her mother raised her on musicals and drama.
She moved to Perth (Western Australia) to study film and television/creative writing at Murdoch University, earning a BA in Communication Studies. Perth has been her home ever since, aside from a 19-month stint living in London (England) where she dabbled in film and TV “extra” work.
Her third novel Aurora: Meridian was shortlisted for an Aurealis Award for Best Science Fiction Novel.
More novels are on the way! Keep up to date with new releases here:
http://amandabridgeman.com.au/signup/
Copyright
First published by Amanda Bridgeman 2017
Copyright © Amanda Bridgeman 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.
A CIP record for this book is available at the National Library of Australia
The Time of the Stripes
EPUB format: 9780995425972
Print format: 9780995425989
Cover design by Damonza
Edited by Stephanie Smith
Proofread by Joan Bridgeman
The Time of the Stripes Page 38