Exposure Season 1 e-1

by Tonya Muir

  * * *

  God, these men don’t know when to shut up. Kelsey hasn’t had to ask them much of anything, we’ll have to edit the heck out of this to get anything coherent. Jimmy comments on this several times during the interview while he watches the feed in the truck and chatters in my ear.

  They’re educated and believe in education. Their children attend school all day and the work for the compound seems to be divided equally among men and women and not across gender lines. I can respect that. They’ve been here five years, Chris was a founder, and it started out as a shelter for battered women and children, mostly.

  Chris and Sam were social workers in Lincoln, apparently, and tired of the red tape and the mistreated families (they should come to LA some time) so they came up with this scheme one drunken Saturday night. It seems like a good plan and the people here are willing to be here, no one is held against their will and families come and go all the time.

  Sam talked a little bit about the different religious groups and how everyone is free to follow their own beliefs and that his position as ‘caretaker’ is elected.

  It sounds pretty cool. I wonder what they think of same sex relationships.

  "How many people are here?" Kelsey asks, over an hour into the interview. They’re the first words she’s been able to sneak in.

  "A hundred and forty as of last week," Sam replies. "The housing is mostly communal, different family units sharing kitchens and common rooms but having their own sleeping quarters."

  "Isn’t that a lot for a piece of land this size?"

  Sam shrugs. "We’re not completely self-sufficient when our numbers get that high but we won’t turn people away. We get supplies in town when we need them and we have some profitable ventures here to help us."

  "Tell me about these trips to town," Kels prompts.

  "We have a group of teenagers responsible for shopping and the selling of our goods. We expect everyone to pull their own weight and it’s a good job for youngsters: teaches them the value of money and social structures."

  "But ..." Kelsey prods into the silence Sam has left dangling.

  "But we have a couple of young men now who are testing their boundaries, feeling a bit too big for their britches."

  "The town thinks you’re a bunch of wackos out here," Kelsey points out.

  Oh good, Kelsey, sugarcoat it. I focus in on Sam’s serious face while he ponders the statement.

  "We’ve never made an effort to prove we’re not. They think we do all kinds of weird things in here. But, really, it’s none of their business. The boys aren’t necessarily helping our cause right now, but we’re working with them."

  "Have you restricted their access to town?"

  Sam looks shocked at such a question. "No, of course not. They’re there today."

  I meet Kelsey’s curious green gaze over the betacam and I shrug. I’m not a parent. I don’t know crap about disciplining teenaged boys. Now, give me a few teenaged girls and I could come up with something. Well, college girls. Gotta be legal.

  I can tell we’re wrapping up this very boring interview and I hear Kelsey ask for permission to film the grounds and talk with some of the residents. Sam agrees easily and asks Chris to show us around.

  When I turn off the camera, I get it ready for our short interview work. I will shoot off the shoulder and not bother sending the 13 gig feed back to the truck, it’s too hard to maneuver the pole around with us.

  Kelsey saunters over to me and shakes her head. She’s wondering why we came to middle America for nothing and I have to admit, I’m wondering the same. Oh well. Some stories pan out and some don’t. No beer at the bar for my source this time around.

  It’s getting late in the afternoon when Kelsey finishes up yet another interview with yet another happy camper. We have gotten some dirty looks from a few and refusals to speak from some others, but that’s not so unusual in the media business.

  We’re wrapping up and talking about heading down the dirt road when a loud rumble and dust come over the crest and down into the compound. A red four door pickup screeches to a halt and a handful of young men jump out of the vehicle, laughing loudly and pounding each other on backs.

  I suppose we should try to get some words from them before we head back to the hotel. Kelsey’s silent nod tells me she agrees and we’re on our way over.

  Kelsey does the intro and permission spiel, which the boys are thrilled to hear. She’s much more professional with this group than she was with Football and the memory makes me grin before I start taping. Jimmy groans in my ear.

  "You were in town just now?"

  "Yeah," says the apparent leader. "What a blast. Got us some important things back there. We have an important job."

  "Did you start anything while you were there? I understand you’ve had some run-ins recently?"

  The kid scuffs his toe in the dirt for awhile and shrugs. "We only do what we’re told."

  Kelsey raises one fine eyebrow. "What were you told to do?"

  "Alan-" a voice from the back of the group calls out in warning but the speaker waves him off.

  "It’s almost time, man. I don’t care if the lady knows. We were told to get the town worried about us. Like we were a threat. So we start fights and we talk like we’re all a buncha kooks. No big deal."

  "Did Sam tell you to do this?"

  "Sam? That bag of wind? He ain’t nothing," Alan shakes his head. "Come on, guys," he motions to his buddies and they start to move to the back of the truck.

  I follow them with the camera and continue taping while they pull wrapped bundles from the bed and drop them in the dirt. The packages clatter noisily.

  "So who told you to do these things?" Kelsey persists, leaning against the vehicle.

  Alan stops his motion and watches my partner and glances at me and the camera before deciding to answer. "See, living here is a lot like living anywhere. You have groups of people who don’t get along and you have minorities who might have better ideas and more promises for the future but the old politics don’t allow for those changes."

  I’m struck by how articulate our young friend is, as if he has someone speaking in his ear. Or he’s memorized this speech from previous encounters.

  "So it’s a minority leader? Trying for a coup?"

  Alan grins. "Something like that, yeah. We have work to do, Ms. Stanton."

  She thanks him for his time and comes back over to me.

  I lower the betacam from my shoulder, shifting my grip on it. "What do you think?"

  "I think we should ask Chris a couple more questions."

  I nod my agreement and we head back to the large building where Chris disappeared once deeming us unworthy an escort. We’re barely in the upstairs hallway when we hear a heated argument coming from Sam’s office. I quirk an eyebrow at Kels and turn on the camera so we can at least get sound, and Kels aims the antenna back toward the truck.

  "You’re taping nothing," Jimmy’s voice pipes up helpfully in my ear.

  "Shut up and listen, Olson," I whisper.

  I really can’t pick up much but muffled voices through the thick door. I hear ‘fanatic’ in Sam’s deep booming tones and a higher voice responds with a jumble of words and ‘what the people want.’

  Suddenly things are more interesting and I’m grinning again. Kelsey shakes her head but a slight smile graces her features. Jimmy is whining about something in my ear but I pop it out and let it dangle, not wanting to miss the fun in front of me.

  We don’t get too much time to respond to this new development because the door bursts open and out stomp Chris, Sam, and a tall skinny man. They’re still yelling at each other and Sam is telling the third man to go home and cool off.

  "Then we’ll call a meeting and decide if this is a place for you and your followers to live, Scamp."

  Scamp? There’s a classy name if I’ve ever heard one. It fits the man, though. He’s tall and lanky with long hair and a scruffy beard. He’s dressed in denim and flannel
and parades a ‘world-be-damned’ attitude if I’ve ever seen one. And I have a pretty good idea of what one looks like since I consider myself a pro.

  "That’s what you think, Sam," he grumbles in response.

  Interrupting our friendly little gathering, a small group of men comes flying up the stairs and into the hallway.

  "Sam! There are cops at the gate. They’re demanding entrance, wielding weapons," the shortest of the group pants while sliding to a halt.

  "Do they have a subpoena?" Sam asks reasonably. I’m glad the camera is running and I know Jimmy is getting an eyeful. This must be what he was trying to tell me when I tuned him out. Oh well. I sure hope the kid has enough sense to grab the extra betacam and catch the action at the gate with it.

  "No. They said they have probable cause and they’re not taking no for an answer."

  As I pan back from Sam’s close-up to take in the whole group, I see an odd smile on Scamp’s thin lips. "And so it begins."

  Huh?

  We don’t consider his vague statement for very long before the men in the group that just came up the stairs all pull guns. In a blink of an eye, their short spokesman is shot in the back. Another crack of gunshot leaves Sam on the ground.

  "Jesus Christ," I yell. I reach out my free hand towards Kelsey and am relieved when I feel the soft flesh of her hand meet my palm.

  I close my fingers and pull her towards me, wanting her close to me and far away from them. When I take the time to focus again through the camera, I see a gun pointed right at us and Scamp grinning behind the barrel.

  Jimmy’s babbling in my ear again and I try to tune him out as I tuck Kelsey behind me. She’s not willing to be protected and stubbornly remains at my side.

  "You! Camera ladies," Scamp calls out. "You’ll come in handy. Pete, lock ‘em up."

  Pete steps forward with a semi-automatic weapon and jabs me in the ribs.

  "Turn that off for now," Scamp demands.

  I think about arguing with him but something tells me this isn’t wise, and the batteries are almost completely drained by now. Protesting will get me nothing but broken ribs and no good footage. Not a good exchange. I take the camera off my shoulder without stopping it and let it focus on the linoleum at our feet but giving Jimmy all the sound he wants.

  "Move it," Pete grabs for Kelsey’s arm but that damn chivalry I find in me when the blonde’s around makes me reach out and knock his hand away.

  "Don’t touch us," I warn him. "We’ll do what you want."

  Pete eyes me for a long moment, as if determining some kind of response. I wonder briefly if I’ve made a mistake.

  "Get moving!" Scamp shouts over Sam’s shouts of pain. "Don’t mess with ‘em, Pete."

  Our captor seems to be willing to abide by his leader’s requests and motions to the stairwell with his weapon.

  We’re escorted from the building, across the chaotic compound, and to a smaller structure. I switch off the camera now, the antenna won’t work inside the building.

  Once inside, our ‘escort’ points to a soiled corner. "Camera goes there."

  "No way."

  He levels the gun at my midsection. "Camera goes there."

  I glance at Kelsey. "Can’t argue with that logic, can I?" I put the camera, the kit, the tripod, the antenna and everything else we’ve been carrying down in the corner gently. That’s a helluva lot of money invested in that squalid space right now.

  Pete opens a door and shoves us into a tiny room, slamming the door behind us.

  The room is nothing more than an oversized closet and is lit from a bare dangling bulb in the middle. The walls and floor are all seamless grey concrete. Looking up proves to me the ceiling offers no better possibilities. We hear the ominous sound of a deadbolt and chain behind us.

  I glance over to Kelsey who is also taking in our surroundings, shaking her head. Slowly our eyes meet and hers look suddenly sad.

  "Just another story, huh?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

  Episode Nine: The Long Kiss Goodnight

  Scenes from last week’s episode

  "What’s up, Little Roo?" I nod to the package she has in her hand.

  "Dramamine. I don’t fly well."

  "You’re afraid of flying?"

  "Not afraid, really. It’s more of a claustrophobic issue."

  "Then," I lean over and whisper, "aren’t you glad you came out of the closet?"

 

  As I pan back from Sam’s close-up to take in the whole group, I see an odd smile on Scamp’s thin lips. "And so it begins."

  Huh?

  We don’t consider his vague statement for very long before the men in the group that just came up the stairs all pull guns. In a blink of an eye, their short spokesman is shot in the back. Another crack of gunshot leaves Sam on the ground.

  "Jesus Christ," I yell. I reach out my free hand towards Kelsey and am relieved when I feel the soft flesh of her hand meet my palm.

 

  Pete opens a door and shoves us into a tiny room, slamming the door behind us.

  The room is nothing more than an oversized closet and is lit from a bare dangling bulb in the middle. The walls and floor are all seamless grey concrete. Looking up proves to me the ceiling offers no better possibilities. We hear the ominous sound of a deadbolt and chain behind us.

  I glance over to Kelsey who is also taking in our surroundings, shaking her head. Slowly our eyes meet and hers look suddenly sad.

  "Just another story, huh?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  Episode Nine: The Long Kiss Goodnight

  It’s chilly when I wake. I can’t help but shake a little bit. The tiny room is empty except for Harper and me. There are no windows in this little room, just one naked bulb that hangs from the ceiling by a wire which looks like it could give at any second. This is a bad cliché. Jail was better than this. I try to sit up wondering when they’re going to come kill us, if the room doesn’t do me in first. I shiver again.

  "C’mere." Her voice is soft and comes from the corner. I manage to focus on Harper. She’s leaning with her back against the wall, holding her hand out to me. "C’mere, Kels. You’re cold. I’m not going to feel you up."

  I slowly scoot across the cold concrete floor to her and she wraps her arms around me as she settles her jacket over us. The leather is already warm from her body heat and it instantly feels good. "Thanks," I whisper as I lay my head on her shoulder. Under any other circumstance I bet I could really get into this, provided I was drunk as hell and out of my mind. Right now, though, all I want is her body warmth.

  "You’re welcome."

  "Harper? Do you think they are going to kill us?"

  "Nah, cher, never." Her New Orleans accent comes out stronger with this reassurance. She looks down and gives me a smile. I like both the smile and the accent. "We’ll be fine, just fine." Her arms tighten around me, holding me close.

  God, I never really noticed how good she smells before. Even after a day of not showering she still has a scent that is simply, well, for lack of a better word and noted in a purely detached manner, erotic. I can’t really describe it well without not doing it justice. It reminds me of the smell of summer rain and winter nights by the fireplace, all natural and primal and musky. No wonder she has women lining up at her bedroom door.

  The door rattles as a key enters the lock. I jerk away from Harper, immediately missing her warmth. She lets me keep the jacket though. The last thing I want to do is give these maniacs any additional reason to hurt us; somehow I figure being lesbian is a big no-no here.

  When the door opens, an armed guard lets a small brunette woman into the room with a tray of food. She sets it on the floor and slides it into the room without a word. They back out and the door closes again. Glad to see the Women’s Movement is alive and well in Omaha.

  Harper pulls the tray over and uncovers it. "Hmm … looks like we’re going to live for sure."

  "What make
s you say that?"

  "If they were gonna kill us, they wouldn’t feed us this well." She explains as she pops a piece of bacon in her mouth.

  I look at the tempting bacon, eggs and biscuits. Apparently, diets and cholesterol counts mean nothing to these people. "Maybe the food is poisoned."

  She manages to swallow before giving me a dirty look. "That was cruel."

  "Sorry." I shrug a bit then decide to go ahead and eat anyhow. Hell, if they’re going to kill us I may as well choose which way I want to go. And on a full stomach sounds best right now. This is as opposed to riddled with bullets. I break off another piece of bacon and offer it to her. She leans forward and takes it from my fingers with her mouth. Oh God. I’m about to die and I am incredibly turned on. Not fair. So not fair. "Wonder what’s going on outside?" I think I manage to sound almost nonchalant.

  Harper chuckles, enjoying my discomfort. "Well, after breakfast," she reaches for a carton of milk and sips, "we’ll try to wrangle a trip to the little hostage’s room and see what we can find out."

  "Good plan. I’m going to need that anyhow."

  "Me too," she admits with a little laugh.

  "Ah … so Harper Kingsley does function like a normal human."

  "Oh yeah. I even put my pants on one leg at a time."

  I can’t resist playing a little. "So, how do you get out of them?"

  "As quickly as possible." She grins at me.

  Oh, she is good. As I look at her now, I’m betting very good. Oh hell, I guessed that from the moment I saw her on the motorcycle. Some part of me is sorry that I’ll never find out. Did I just think that? Christ, Kels get a fucking grip. She is not even your type.

  Beth.

  Beth is your type. And you spent most of the last weekend with her taking you to places you hadn’t been in a long time. Now slam the damn cage door shut ‘til she comes back into town. In another six months or so. Oh God.

  She offers me the milk and I take a drink. "Thanks. You like apple?" I ask as I pick up a slice from the tray.

  "Will you feed it to me?"