“Isn’t Magnus at death’s door?” Karen asked. Abbie nodded in agreement. She recalled seeing him on the news before. Her father had expressed surprise that Magnus managed to be so influential in the life of the union considering his health problems. He was heavily overweight, had myriad illnesses, yet he refused to step down as union leader. He was a thorn in side of big business and a hero to many. Despite his physical weakness, people were afraid of Magnus and what he stood for.
“His pacemaker’s working fine,” Peter sighed.
“Why is there bad blood between Magnus and the mayor?” Abbie asked.
Peter sat down on the couch and looked at her. “Mayor Russo runs a building company, one that Magnus worked for. One day there was an accident on site. It’s what put Magnus in that wheelchair. He did his back and legs in pretty good. Anyway, Magnus applied for compensation claiming unsafe practices by the company, but it was rejected on a technicality. Magnus fought for years to have the decision overturned, but it never happened. Ever since, he’s been heavily involved with the unions, and has done his best to be a pain in Russo’s ass. He’s a like a dog with a bone. Any chance he has to help defend the little guy, Magnus has been there. That’s how he rose to the top and became the local union leader.”
Karen shook her head softly. “Magnus is stirring the hornets’ nest while Mayor Russo is over on the other side of the fence.”
Peter nodded. “Him and Roy Kenny together could be dangerous.”
“So what do we do?” Josh asked.
“We stay inside,” his father told him. “We keep your mother hidden, and we stay the hell out of it.”
*
Mayor Russo stared at the two men standing on the other side of his desk: Chief Blackstone, and Dr. Emile Preslen.
“The girl is a Clean Skin?” Russo asked.
“Yes,” Dr. Preslen answered, “she wouldn’t be here in the Clean Zone otherwise.”
“But she gave birth to a Striped One?” Russo clarified.
“Yes.”
“Have there been any other cases?” Russo asked.
“No. She’s the first, but there are a couple of others due soon,” Dr. Preslen answered.
“Do you think she may have infected anyone?”
“I don’t think so, but I can’t be one hundred percent certain given we don’t know what the hell we’re dealing with. We’ve been treating all our Clean Skin patients in full protective gear—masks, gloves, glasses—as a precaution,” Preslen said. “I don’t believe any risks were taken by my staff.”
“So what do we do with her?” Russo asked.
“We need to put her in isolation,” Preslen said. “We can’t house her at the hospital given the risk of infection and certainly not with the traffic we’re getting. We have two doctors and limited facilities. Every Clean Skin is coming in for the slightest head cold, panicking about having caught something. We’re stretched as it is. Dr. Chee has set up a medical center in her clinic over in the Striped Zone. I think it’s best if she goes there.”
“If she’s got the room for them,” Blackstone spoke up. “No doubt her clinic is getting as much traffic as yours. Probably more given it’s in the Striped Zone.”
Russo studied the doctor. “Does she need to go to a clinic? Where is her home? Could we send her back there?”
Blackstone scratched his jaw. “We could, but it’s in the Clean Zone. I’m not sure the neighbors will take that so well. A striped baby in their Clean Skin complex?”
Dr. Preslen agreed. “Look, we’ve tried to keep this quiet, but word has already spread around and it’s left a lot of people uneasy.”
“So what do you suggest?” Russo asked.
“She has to go into the Striped Zone,” Preslen said. “We don’t have the facilities to house them in isolation and there could be a potential risk of infection if we leave her here in the Clean Zone.” Preslen shrugged. “To be honest, I’m exhausted and stretched, and I don’t really care. But she can’t stay here.”
Russo stared at Preslen, then at Chief Blackstone. He tapped his pen on the table as his mind ticked over, then sighed heavily and gave a nod.
“Send her into the Striped Zone,” he told Blackstone. “It’s our only option. We can’t risk an outbreak.”
“It’s weird, though, don’t you think?” Blackstone asked. “That’s she’s a Clean Skin and the child is striped. I would’ve thought if it was infectious, she’d definitely have it.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Dr. Preslen said, “but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that prevention is better than cure. These stripes are like nothing we’ve ever seen before. Until we know more, that striped baby, and any risk of infection that comes with it, needs to be removed. We simply can’t risk the rest of the Clean Skin population for the sake of one child. She’s gotta go.”
“Agreed,” Mayor Russo nodded, then looked at Blackstone. “See it done, chief.”
*
Abbie walked toward the main street of Victoryville with Josh by her side. They were headed to the grocery store to stock up on supplies, given the delivery of fresh produce that morning. They were worried that looting might soon occur, considering what was happening in other towns, not to mention the group Roy and Magnus were putting together and what they might do.
Josh had insisted on accompanying her to the store, although she wasn’t sure if he wanted to protect her as much as he wanted some space from his father. Although the altercation between father and son over Roy’s meeting had been brief, she sensed friction remained. She understood the constrictions Josh felt living with parents at his age, and she knew the tension created by hiding Karen wasn’t helping things either, not to mention the tension caused by the family’s move here to Victoryville in the first place. It was clear that Josh hadn’t quite forgiven his father for his indiscretion as yet—or being forced to move here.
As they approached the main street she saw a huddle of people gathered. In the center was Magnus Bracks, with Roy Kenny by his side. Abbie eyed the wheelchair in which Magnus sat, laden with its oxygen tank on the back. The chair was an electric, high-tech looking one and must’ve cost a pretty penny. She saw a bright red object latched to the side of the chair and realized that it was a megaphone.
Roy eyed Josh keenly and gave him a nod. Josh reciprocated cautiously, then looked at two young guys standing near his part-time boss.
“Langdon,” he said to the taller blond one with two stripes. “Trent,” he said to the shorter, stocky one with dark hair and one stripe. The two young guys gave Josh a nod back. They were the ones she’d seen Austin talking with the other day when she’d checked out the barricade for the first time. They worked at Roy’s Hardware and hung out down at the gym.
“You heard the news?” Roy asked Josh, the side of his face giving way to a twitch every now and then, making two of his four stripes move with it.
“What news?” Josh asked.
“Apparently a Clean Skin girl gave birth to a Striped One.” Roy’s eyes narrowed, gauging the response. Abbie wasn’t sure if Roy had even noticed her standing there yet.
“Where’d you hear that?” Josh asked.
“Wendy overheard the soldiers talking,” Trent answered for Roy, motioning to a brooding teenage girl standing with them, with dark hair and three stripes. She nodded in agreement, fastening her heavily made-up eyes on Abbie.
Roy turned his attention to Abbie, giving her the once-over. His face twitched, then he looked back at Josh. “The soldiers said they were going to kick her out of the Clean Zone, given her kid’s marked and all.”
“Can they do that?” Abbie asked concerned.
Roy shrugged again and motioned to the barrier. “Can they do any of this shit?”
“If I know Mayor Russo, he won’t let the kid stay in there, that’s for sure,” Magnus said, his voice wet with phlegm, as he reached for his oxygen mask and took a breath in. His eyes, their cloudiness no doubt
caused by his many illnesses, stared at Abbie as she counted seven stripes over his obese chin and jaw, fighting with the eczema for space on his skin. “They think we’re infected,” he said. “They think we’re below them. They’ll throw it out like trash, mark my words.”
“They better not kick that Clean Skin out here as well,” Roy said tetchily. “We don’t want her neither!”
“Just wait and see.” Magnus eyed the barricade, smiling lightly to himself as though this were a game, and he was waiting for the next play.
Abbie looked around at the barricade, at the makeshift gate, and suddenly realized that was why Magnus and Roy were waiting there. She eyed the group, mostly men, aside from Wendy and an older woman, their faces pasted with unhappy scowls. And their stripes, of course. They looked like they were spoiling for a fight, ready to intercept any intruders into the Striped Zone. Josh seemed to notice it too.
“C’mon,” he suggested, motioning her onward with a flick of his head. She followed, but not before glancing with concern at Magnus and Roy. And as she walked away, she felt their eyes burning into her back.
*
Kaitlyn Manner’s whole body shook like she was a bag of rattling bones. She stared down at the child lying on the bed in front of her, feeling a little numb. The newborn was crying, its face almost as red as the welt that marked its chin. It made her cry too. The sound of this child she’d been waiting months to see. And now it was here, she didn’t want it to be. At least, not like this.
How could she have given birth to a Striped One? She was a Clean Skin. This didn’t make sense. Whatever this was, she must’ve been infected before conception. Or through conception. She screwed her hand into a fist and scrunched the bedsheets. Damn that Blake Rogers! Why did she listen to him? “It’s alright, you won’t get pregnant,” he’d said. Her mama had warned her to stay away from boys and liquor and now here she was stuck in this mess. Blake was long gone. He was the lucky one, finishing high school. And here she was, a dropout with a damn Striped One for a kid.
She felt her shoulders shake as she began to cry again, the hopelessness hard to shift. She’d lost count how many times she’d burst into tears now, and it had barely been a few hours since the birth. It was bad enough that this phenomenon had taken place, but for her mama to be out of town when it did, to be separated from her? Then to go through hours of giving birth, to finally meet this child that she’d decided to give up her whole life for, and then to see that damn welt down his face . . .
She looked at her baby again. His little face was screwed up, like he was in pain. Her chest seemed to crush in on itself. The sound of his cries were like claws deep in the muscle of her heart. She reached over to him and ran her finger along his cheek. It was so soft, so baby soft, just like she knew it would be. She’d been to the antenatal classes where they’d brought in real babies for them to see, to deal with, to change, to help feed with bottles. And watching him now, she knew that her little boy was hungry and scared and alone. He needed his mama. Just like she needed hers.
She ran her hand down to his chin, to the welt that marked it. It was so smooth too, like it wasn’t even a welt, just a pink tattoo beneath the skin. She opened the swaddling around him and followed the mark down to the middle of his chest.
Why? Why him? Why my baby? What was wrong with him? Was he doing to die?
She began to cry again, as the sound of his own cries became unbearable, like a drilling in her ears. She relented and lifted him up, cradling him to her chest and began to rock him, anything to stop the noise. Anything. In a way, she kind of rocked herself too; she needed someone to hold her, but she knew that he needed someone to hold him too. And that’s all they had for now. Each other.
She looked around at the small room in which they were keeping her. The doctor and nurses had left some time ago to “discuss” his condition with the authorities and, despite having just given birth to her first child on her own, somehow this seemed even more frightening. She didn’t know what was going to happen to them. All she knew was that she wanted her mama.
And so Kaitlyn Manner sat there and rocked and rocked, trying to give her son what she herself desperately wanted, but couldn’t have.
*
Stanley Barrick looked at the young scientist, one of many who had been working with Dr. Wattowski on analyzing the data from the Occurrence.
“We think we might have found a link,” the woman said, tucking a pen behind her mousy brown hair, “as to why the ship chose that town.”
“And what link is that?” Stanley asked.
“The readings we managed to get during the visit, the air samples from the weather station, showed a high percentage of mercury in the atmosphere.”
“Yes?”
“Certain levels of mercury are normally found in Victoryville airspace due to the close proximity of the coal plant.”
“The Clivecorp plant,” Wattowski added. “Funnily enough, it’s one of the backers of the Bateson Dermacell research facility, who have been helping with our initial study of the welts.”
“Go on,” Stanley said.
“The percentage of mercury present in the air increased during the visit,” the scientist continued. “Now, we know this didn’t come from the coal plant because everything shut down when the ship appeared, including the plant. Which means the increase of mercury in the atmosphere occurred as a direct result of the ship.”
“And that means?” Stanley asked.
“It means,” Wattowski said, “that we think the higher levels of mercury are a result of pollutants from the ship, which means we may have traced how the ship runs, or what may have partially burned off in the atmosphere on its approach.”
“So?”
“So,” Wattowski said, “it’s a stretch, but it could indicate why this ship may have chosen Victoryville.”
“Depending on their point of entry into the Earth’s atmosphere, that is,” the young scientist was quick to add. “There are many other plants similar to Clivecorp’s around the world, many that produce higher levels of mercury pollution here in the US, but the Victoryville plant may have been the closest source to where the ship came down.”
Stanley stared at her. “Closest source of mercury?”
“Yes,” Wattowski said. “We think they were attracted to a strong source of a resource they recognized.”
“Apparently that was why Bateson Dermacell located itself in Victoryville,” the young scientist added. “Their key focus was research into the effects of pollution on the human population. That Clivecorp plant is the state’s biggest polluter.”
Stanley tossed this information around in his mind. “So how does this relate to the welts?”
Wattowski shrugged. “That, I can’t answer. All we know is that these levels of mercury could provide us with a link as to why the ship chose that particular town, as well as perhaps telling us something about their home world and what they may have there.”
Stanley exhaled loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright. Keep working on it. I need more than mercury.”
*
Deputy Leo Cann surveyed the crowd gathered at the Victoryville interzone gate. He was a little nervous about the numbers, given he was “it” for law enforcement on this side of the wall. He thought briefly about asking for reinforcements, but decided the soldiers at the gate would be enough. He spoke into his comms set.
“I’d say there’s near on fifty people now, chief, and more are coming down this way,” he said.
“Alright,” Chief Blackstone’s deep voice said, “I’ll give the soldiers at the gate a heads-up, tell ’em to be alert. Do your best to get those people to clear the area without making too much of a fuss. We just want to clear a path to release the girl.”
“Will do,” Leo replied, clicking off his comms and surveying the crowd again. He sighed, then leaned in to turn on his vehicle’s warning lights. The red and blue began to flash, drawing the crowd’s at
tention as he made his way toward them.
*
Abbie and Josh came back from the store to find the numbers had swelled in the crowd gathered around Magnus and Roy. There were maybe fifty or sixty now, and an excitable murmur swam through them like an electric current zapping from one conduit to the next. She saw a lone police car down the road, lights flashing. It took her a while to spot the owner. Deputy Cann stood talking with Magnus and Roy. Over their heads she saw the barricade’s makeshift gate opening up and everyone seemed to pause at the sight.
Josh halted beside her too, then quickened his step to join the throng. Abbie followed, and they made their way around the side of the crowd to the front, to get a better view of what was going on. She saw the bio-guards spilling through the gates with their weapons raised, telling the Striped Ones gathered to move back. Deputy Cann was saying the same, waving his arms, but something caught the cop’s attention. He suddenly called out to someone at the back of the crowd and started making his way toward them.
Abbie glanced to where the deputy was heading and saw Austin standing with another young guy atop the rickety roof of the old bank, opposite the gate. Austin was holding a small camera and filming the scene. The deputy made it to the building and started waving them down, but they were ignoring him. She turned back around and noticed Roy watching Austin too, a smug look spreading across his face as he returned his attention to the gate.
The Time of the Stripes Page 15
