She nodded and left as quickly as she could.
*
Dr. Pellan found himself pacing the floor. It had been hours since his meeting with the CDC, and the lack of sleep, while threatening to envelop him, also seemed to wire him awake. That’s why he was pacing: trying to force his body to stay awake, in tune with his mind. He wanted to know if they thought he was right.
And he wanted to know what they would do next.
Relief washed over him when he finally received word from Harvey that they were about to reconnect via video conference. This time Dr. Hogarth was joined by a balding man in a dark suit. His eyes looked steely, although just as tired as Lysart’s, but he had an important air about him.
“Professor Meeks, Dr. Pellan,” Hogarth greeted them. “This is Stanley Barrick of Homeland Security.”
“Mr. Barrick,” Meeks said, while Lysart acknowledged him with a nod.
“Was I right, Dr. Hogarth?” Lysart asked, eager to know.
“It’s still very early, but we believe so, Dr. Pellan,” she told him. “We’re in the process of applying your theory across the rest of the town, but based on your sample findings, early indicators on the medical records we’ve accessed so far, seem to match.”
Lysart sighed with relief. There wasn’t a contagion. His colleagues could return. Not only that, but he could see his daughters again soon.
“That’s good news,” he said, smiling. “This means the barricade can come down. Our colleagues and families can reunite.”
“Unfortunately not, Dr. Pellan,” Barrick said cautiously.
“No?” Lysart asked.
“Early indicators may have established that there is no contagion as such,” Hogarth said, “but we still have a lot of unanswered questions. This needs further study. We can’t risk dropping the segregation just yet.”
“But there’s nothing communicable?”
“It appears not, but—”
“No, Dr. Hogarth, there’s not. The Striped Ones are sick, but what they have we can’t catch.”
“We understand that, Dr. Pellan,” Barrick said. “However, we need to find out more before we can relax security. We are dealing with a major incident here, and we cannot take the lives of millions of Americans, billions of people around the world, lightly.”
“Look, I know this involved an alien ship, but there is no contagion here—”
“Thousands of people are missing from the town, Dr. Pellan. Thousands, quite possibly murdered by these things. And they left many of you behind, marked. We must proceed with caution.”
“I understand that, but—”
Barrick held up his hand. “We’re only three days in, Dr. Pellan. We cannot rush things. We’re still investigating, and we will continue to do so thoroughly.”
“Investigating what?” Lysart asked. “The ship is gone and there is no contagion.”
“Dr. Pellan, we have every resource available working on this,” Barrick said. “Until we know more, the barricades and the segregation will stay in place. Your town must remain quarantined.”
“But what about those with families? Surely the barricade within the town can come down at least? My colleague, Mary Rodriguez, is a single mother. She has children that she was separated from and no other family here in Victoryville.”
“I’m sure they’re in safe hands in one of the local centers for the time being,” Barrick said. “We appreciate your concern, Dr. Pellan, and we appreciate what you have accomplished, but as a scientific professional you must understand the need for caution until further investigations are done.”
“Yes, I do, but—”
“Will you be announcing this discovery?” Meeks asked. “Of Dr. Pellan’s theory? Of Bateson Dermacell’s involvement?”
“No,” Barrick told him, “not yet. And that is why I’m meeting with you now. This is considered a matter of national security and the two of you, anyone else in your lab, or on the board, who is aware of your theory, have now been classified by the government of the United States of America. Do you understand?”
Lysart darted his eyes to Harvey’s screen, then back at Barrick and Hogarth. Barrick held up a contract of some kind.
“You will both need to sign these agreements, which are being issued to you as we speak.”
Lysart’s brow furrowed.
“And the board?” Meeks asked.
“Yes. Anyone who has been made aware of your findings. I will need a complete list, Professor Meeks. This is an order issued at the highest level.”
The professor gave a shocked nod. “Absolutely. Yes, of course.”
“People have the right to know,” Lysart spoke up. “The Striped Ones have the right to know that they’re not infectious.”
“They will be told when we’re absolutely sure there is no further threat,” Barrick said firmly.
“But—”
“Dr. Pellan, everyone is on edge. Globally. We need to do what we have to, to keep order. That is paramount right now.”
“How will you keep order by refusing to allow people to be with their loved ones? If they think they’re sick, possibly dying—”
“Dr. Pellan, you have identified that our citizens have been categorized, but what we don’t know is why. There could still be some kind of alien contagion lingering within them somehow, in those welts, that could possibly have a long gestation period. Something we know nothing about because it isn’t of this world—”
“If there were any abnormalities your experts at the CDC would have identified them already.”
“Not necessarily, Dr. Pellan. There is no precedence for what has happened here, and I will not be the one to lower that barricade and release a contagion that wipes out the town, the entire Eastern Seaboard of the United States and possibly further afield. Until we know for sure what we’re dealing with, Victoryville and its zones will remain quarantined.”
“We would’ve been able to isolate and identify anything that was abnormal to the human structure, and we did not,” Lysart said, as immense worry consumed him. There was something about the way Barrick had said “Victoryville and its zones will remain quarantined.” Something about the tone of his voice that struck fear down Lysart’s spine. “You’re using the contagion as an excuse,” he said, his voice losing volume. “That’s not what you’re worried about, is it? You’re worried about the categorization. You’re worried about why they did this. You’re worried about what happens next . . . you think those things are going to come back for us, don’t you? And you’re going to leave us locked up in this town until they do.”
“Dr. Pellan, you’ve been working very hard for us since this happened. You’re tired, you’re emotional and you’re overreacting. This is simply about precaution and risk mitigation.”
“This is about saving your neck and sacrificing ours.”
“Dr. Pellan,” Meeks cautioned.
“This discussion is over,” Barrick said abruptly. “You will sign those agreements, you will keep this information to yourselves, and you will remain calm. Rest assured, once we have more information to hand, we will consider sharing this information with the general population. Until then you and your research are classified, do you understand? Public safety, security and stability are our primary objectives here.” Barrick stared at them both firmly.
“But,” Meeks spoke up, clearing his throat, “when you do release the information, Bateson Dermacell will get full credit, yes?”
“Yes, Professor Meeks,” Hogarth said with a placating tone. “If and when the information is released, your lab will receive due credit.”
Meeks gave a confident nod. “Send through the agreements.”
“What if we don’t sign?” Lysart asked, curious.
“There’s no need to go down that path, doctor,” Barrick told him. “This is just a temporary measure for the good of the people, for our national security and for international stability. That’s all. In times of un
certainty, control is fundamental.” He glanced at someone offscreen, then back at Lysart. “The agreements have now been sent to you. Please sign the document, Dr. Pellan.”
Lysart noted the stare Barrick gave him. It wasn’t one that gave him an option.
“We will sign it,” Professor Meeks assured them. “You have our word.”
*
Deputy Leo Cann held the phone tightly to his ear, as he leaned against the doorway of his kitchen.
“You’re alright?” he asked gently.
Claire sniffed. “Yeah, we’re okay. Donna’s been real good putting us up like this.”
“Lena’s in bed already?”
“Yeah. She had a big day playing with Jacob and Carly. Ate too much candy.”
Leo smiled, picturing his daughter with chocolate smeared across her mouth. His smile faded though. “And you?” he asked. “How are you doing?”
Claire didn’t answer. He heard her sniffing, knew she was fighting her emotions. He felt his own eyes begin to sting and his throat tighten.
“I love you, Claire,” he whispered. “I miss you.”
She began crying then, and he closed his eyes, wanting desperately to be able to hold her.
“Why did they take him?” she managed, her voice high-pitched and strangled. “He was just a little baby . . .”
“I don’t know,” Leo said, shaking his head as she continued to cry. “I don’t know, but you have to stay strong, Claire,” he told her. “For Lena.”
“What about you?” she cried. “You’ve got that stripe. What’s going to happen to you?”
“I’m okay,” he reassured her. “I feel fine.”
“But those things did that. What have they done to you?”
He was silent a moment. “I don’t know,” he said softly, “but I feel fine.”
Claire continued to sob. Leo pulled the phone away from his ear, the sound killing him, burning a hole right through his chest. A tear escaped his eye and he wiped it away. He held the phone back up.
“Honey . . .” he said, trying to break through her tears. “I gotta go. I gotta go back on shift.”
“I want you here with us,” she cried.
“I know, and I want that too. But we can’t right now. Not until they know.”
“Why is this happening? Where is my baby boy?”
“Claire,” he said through her tears. “Claire, listen to me!” he said more firmly. “Listen!” She quietened and he continued. “Honey, I have to go back on shift. Just stay strong, alright? For me, for Lena. I’ll call you again in a few hours. You give her a big hug from daddy, alright?”
Claire’s crying calmed, but she continued to sniff.
“Promise me!” Leo said.
“I will,” she whispered.
“Good . . . I love you, honey. I love you and Lena so much.”
“I know,” she said. “We love you too. Please come back to us.”
“I will,” he said, clenching his jaw, fighting the emotion that suddenly surged up into his throat. “I promise.”
He hung up the phone then and looked around his empty house. He stood there not knowing what to do. The truth was he still had a few minutes before he had to check in with Earl. His eyes were drawn to the darkened hallway, and his body moved down toward Mickey’s room. He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyeing his son’s empty cot.
He moved into the room and stood beside it, looking down into it. He rested his hands on top of the white wooden frame, studying the blankets within. His legs suddenly felt weak and he lowered himself into a crouch, sliding his hands down over the wooden slats along the sides, curling his grasp around them. As he stared through those slats, those bars, into his son’s cot, he was sure he could smell Mickey’s scent. That beautiful, soft, baby smell.
Leo tightened his grip on the slats, rested his forehead against the cot and couldn’t fight the tears any more as he mourned his missing son.
*
Stanley Barrick rested his head in his hand, but had so far kept his voice measured and calm. It wasn’t every day he had a direct line with the President.
“So that’s your recommended course of action?” President Turner’s voice sounded down the phone.
“Yes, Mr. President,” Stanley said. “There’s nothing we can do right now but keep the town under quarantine and the zone barrier in place.”
“There’s been no indication that the ship will return?”
“No. However, our scientists are studying the environmental impact of its first visit. We’re hoping we can build some kind of warning system from the data when it’s complete. If the environment, the weather, etc, displays similar conditions to the first visit, it will raise an alarm. So we’ll know about it.”
“How much warning will we have?”
Stanley paused a moment. “Our estimates are, at best, maybe an hour or two, but it could be as little as twenty minutes, maybe less.”
The President was silent a moment. “That’s a damn shame, Stanley.”
“It is, Mr. President. These things took the healthy, sir, and they categorized those left behind. We don’t know why, but we do think it would be foolish to think they won’t be back. Whether they will bring the healthy back, or whether they will come back for the others, or maybe a different town, we don’t know. But that’s why we need to keep the town quarantined. Just in case. If they come back for those left behind . . . I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it, sir.”
“And what if they come back and choose another town next time? And then another. And another.”
Stanley took a moment to steady his voice. “Then I would say we’re in a whole lot of trouble, sir. Our weapons were ineffective. There will be nothing we can do, but sit back and watch.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We’ll keep working on things. We’ve stood the CDC down for now, but we’re keeping them on standby. According to the press, however, they’re still working on the problem.”
“Alright. I agree with your planned course of action. Keep the town quarantined. It’s important that the rest of the world thinks it’s just Victoryville, that this was a one-off attack and these things won’t be back. We are walking a fine line and if we’re not careful, this could cause a massive international collapse. Nerves are on the brink as it is, but if we can assure people that this tragedy will be confined to just one town . . . It’s a tragedy what has happened, and we will do what we can to help the people of Victoryville, but if we have to sacrifice a small town for the sake of world stability, then that’s what we need to do.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“Keep up the good work, Stanley. Keep me informed.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Day Four
Abbie made her way to the Chalmer house. There had been an announcement that a press conference would be happening this morning and a nervous excitement seemed to swell in the air as to the possibilities of what might be revealed.
As she crossed the street, she noticed Josh and Peter were standing on their porch studying something in the distance. She turned her eyes to where they were looking. About 500 meters away, where the town center’s barricade gateway stood, a small crowd had gathered.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Supplies are coming through from the Clean Zone,” Josh answered.
“People are worried about getting their share,” Peter told her.
“Looks like Roy Kenny’s down there.” Josh squinted, trying to pick people out of the crowd.
Peter shook his head and sighed. “Trust him to be in the thick of things.”
“Roy Kenny?” Abbie asked. “He owns the hardware store right?”
“Yeah,” Josh said, leaning against the porch post. “When I’m not at the VAC, I’ve been working there part-time. He’s . . . an interesting character.”
“And that’s why I go
to the hardware store across town instead,” Peter said. “If you go into Roy’s store, he’ll bail you up with his conspiracy theories.”
“Conspiracy theories?” Abbie asked.
“Roy Kenny is a paranoid delusionist,” Peter told her. “I went to school with him. I should know.”
Abbie studied the group in the distance. “Is he the skinny one in the black muscle-shirt?”
“Yeah,” Josh said, “next to the guy in the wheelchair.”
She eyed Roy Kenny in the distance. He stood, arms folded, talking to the man in the wheelchair. The wheelchair had what looked like an oxygen tank on the back, and something bright red in color attached to the side.
“The one in the wheelchair, is that the union guy?” she asked, noticing that the small crowd gathered seemed to be paying him attention.
“Magnus Bracks,” Peter told her. “I hear he’s a minor celebrity in these parts. The small town guy who’s made waves in the statehouse.”
“Roy Kenny is one of his biggest supporters,” Josh said. “He’s got posters up at the hardware store.”
“Yeah,” Abbie nodded, “I’ve seen him on the news.”
Just then they saw the barricade gateway slide across and a jeep emerge. Armed bio-guards stood up in the vehicle and waved at the small crowd to disperse. The group eventually did so, but even from where Abbie stood, she could tell from their reluctant body language that they weren’t happy.
“What are Magnus and Roy up to?” Karen’s voice sounded behind them.
“Karen!” Peter hissed and pushed her back inside the door. “If they see you . . .”
“No one will report me, Peter,” Karen said softly. “There are others doing exactly what we are. I saw Shonda-May, Abbie’s neighbor. Her little boy Cassius is still with her. He’s a Clean Skin. She must’ve hidden him when the military came around.”
“When did you see her?” Peter asked.
A guilty look flashed across Karen’s face. “Last night,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep. I came and stood by the window and looked out. I saw them scurrying around the back of their house.”
“Did they see you?” Josh straightened.
Karen paused, then nodded.
The Time of the Stripes Page 13
