The Time of the Stripes

by Amanda Bridgeman

  “Move back!” one of the bio-guards barked, using his weapon to motion the way.

  The crowd moved as told, but only slightly, the ones at the front fighting to move against the ones at the back seeking a better view. Instead of backward, they seemed to fan around, forming a rough semicircle in front of the gate. Four soldiers were on the Striped Ones side of the barrier now, aiming their weapons as they pressed forward, and Abbie finally realized what was going on.

  She heard the girl’s sobs before she saw her. It was a sound that made her feel instantly uneasy, registering somewhere deep within her chest. Her eyes searched the gateway for the source, and then finally saw it in the form of a skinny young girl, fifteen at most, but maybe younger, being led through the gates from the Clean Zone by one of the bio-suited soldiers. Abbie recognized her as the girl she’d seen on one of the balconies of the apartment block the other day.

  The girl wore a baggy shirt and shorts and carried something in her arms that she was holding close to her for dear life. It looked like maybe a sack of clothes, but Abbie knew that it wasn’t. The girl’s legs skittered along the pavement as though she was trying to fight the momentum of the soldier escorting her. Abbie’s uneasiness grew and sympathy swamped her. It was clear the girl didn’t want to leave the Clean Zone, but was being forced to do so.

  The murmur of those gathered began to turn into shouts and accusations.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Wendy, the teen with dark hair and heavy eye makeup, shouted at them.

  “What’s going on?” another yelled.

  “Who’s she?”

  “She’s a Clean Skin! You can’t send her out here!”

  “We don’t want her!”

  “Take her back!”

  Once through the gates, the escorting soldier released her and turned back to the gateway.

  “No, please!” the girl cried, reaching after him. “Don’t leave me, please!”

  The other soldiers began to fall back as well, and the girl tried to follow them. She managed to grab one of their arms, but they turned her around and pointed firmly into the Striped Zone, shouting, “Go over there, Miss!”

  The girl was crying hysterically and Abbie suddenly realized her fears were true as the cries and screams seemed to be happening in stereo. It wasn’t a sack in the girl’s arms, but a baby. A tiny, newborn baby.

  “It’s the girl Roy told us about!” Josh’s voice said beside her, aghast.

  “Hey, you can’t leave her here!” The yells from the crowd continued, attracting more passersby to the din.

  She saw Trent call out, “Don’t dump your trash out here!”

  “This is our zone!” Langdon echoed. “You don’t want it, remember?”

  Just as the soldiers went to close the door a rock smacked into the gate, narrowly missing one of their heads. The soldier in question spun around and gave a fierce stare into the crowd of Striped Ones, trying to see who threw it. His comrades also turned around as another rock hit its target, smacking into the soldier’s mask, cracking the left eyepiece. They all swiftly raised their weapons and aimed them at the crowd, while the young sobbing girl stood in their line of fire begging to be taken with them.

  Abbie felt her chest drop to see the girl standing with her crying baby and four guns sweeping across her to the crowd behind. Abbie looked desperately for Deputy Cann, but he was still trying to coax Austin and the other boy down from the roof of the bank, although darting occasional nervous glances to the growing mayhem behind him. Abbie took an anxious step forward as more insults were shouted at both the soldiers and the girl.

  “Enough!” they heard an amplified voice sound loudly over the crowd.

  The crowd of Striped Ones turned and parted to show Roy Kenny hand the red megaphone to Magnus Bracks. Magnus took it and raised it to his mouth as his eyes scanned the soldiers, the girl, and the crowd around him.

  “What’s the meaning of this, soldiers?” his deep voice wheezed into the megaphone.

  The bio-guards glanced at each other, then back at him.

  “Who is the girl and what are you doing with her?” Bracks asked.

  “She’s infected,” they heard a deep voice boom, without megaphone, from back behind the barricade. Abbie saw the Victoryville chief step up to the interzone border, surgical mask across his face. “She can’t stay in the Clean Zone,” he said.

  “So?” Magnus shrugged. “Who said you can dump her out here?”

  “Her child,” the chief pointed, “is a Striped One. They can’t stay in here, Magnus.”

  “She’s not a Striped One!” Roy shouted.

  “We don’t want her and we don’t want the kid!” Langdon called out.

  Magnus raised his hand to call for silence, then spoke into the megaphone again. “I asked a question, chief. Who said you can dump her out here?”

  “An authority higher than you, Mr. Bracks,” the chief told him.

  “What authority?” Magnus asked. “Do you mean that Clean Skin coward, Mayor Russo? If he’s the authority of this town, then why haven’t we seen his face? He seems to have found the time to show it to the people on that side of the wall.”

  The chief ignored his question, motioning for the soldiers to close the gate, and then began to walk away.

  The lead soldier motioned for his men to continue and they too turned to leave. The young girl reached for him again, but he turned and took her by the tops of her arms. “You have to stay here, Miss.”

  Another rock soared through the air and clipped the side of his mask and Abbie gasped at how close it had come to the girl’s face.

  “I’m warning you!” the soldier yelled at the crowd.

  “Back off!” another soldier yelled holding his weapon’s sight to his eye.

  “Screw you!” someone in the crowd yelled.

  More rocks soared through the air toward the soldiers and the still sobbing girl. One caught the girl in the back and she collapsed to her knees. Abbie instantly dropped her shopping and rushed forward, propelled by some kind of gut instinct. She skidded on the knees of her jeans and came to a stop behind the girl, holding her arms out in an arc to surround her protectively as the stones and bottles continued to fly. The girl looked at her with distraught crying eyes that reminded her of some kind of wounded, terrified animal. A rock hit Abbie in the shoulder and she groaned, but it was cut off by ear-piercing gunfire cutting through the air.

  She threw her arms around the girl and curled over her and suddenly felt another body come to wrap around her own. She saw Josh, doing to her what she was trying to do for the girl. The sounds of the terrified, shouting, screaming crowd filled the air and as she looked up she saw the bios retreat back inside the Clean Zone and close the gate. Abbie raised her head and looked behind her to see the scattering crowd.

  “Oh my God, he’s been shot! He’s been shot!” Wendy screamed. As Josh moved away, Abbie turned to see Austin on the roof, pale-faced, trying to lift the limp body of the boy he’d been standing with. A panicky Deputy Cann was holding his arms up to the building’s roof and, within moments, a group of men ran over to stand beside him. Austin dragged the boy to the edge and lowered him down to the men. Abbie watched in horror as the boy’s lifeless and bloodied body was quickly taken away in the arms of Deputy Cann and three other men.

  “Screw you!” Trent yelled, picking up another rock and hurling it at the closed barricade.

  Abbie curled around the girl once more.

  “Enough!” Magnus bellowed into the megaphone.

  The gathered folks looked at him, as he set his chair in motion toward Abbie. She stiffened in fright as he approached, alarmed at what might transpire.

  “Get away from her,” Magnus ordered.

  “What are you going to do?” Abbie asked, her voice noticeably shaking.

  “Move!” Roy stepped forward, reaching for her, but she wrapped herself tighter around the girl. Roy tugged at her, but Abb
ie smacked his arm away.

  “Wait!” Josh yelled, arms out, pleading for calm before Roy retaliated.

  “Get away from that stinking Clean Skin!” Roy yelled.

  “She just a kid!” Abbie shouted back, refusing to move from the crying girl who still sat on the ground on her knees, rocking herself and her child.

  “Move away!” Magnus ordered again. “Show me the child.”

  A scuffle broke out as Langdon and another guy pushed Josh back, then Trent grabbed Abbie and dragged her off the girl. Roy stepped in and tore the child from the hysterical girl’s arms and brought it over to Magnus.

  Abbie elbowed Trent away from her and moved back to the girl to wrap her arms around her, trying to calm her.

  Magnus and Roy examined the child.

  “One stripe,” Magnus said, then he turned his attention to the girl as a murmur swelled through the crowd.

  “Send them back!” Wendy spat.

  “How do you propose we do that?” Magnus asked her. “Toss them over the barricade? They’ll just toss her back.”

  “They shot Chris!” Langdon called back. “This happened because of her!”

  “It was a stray bullet!” Josh spoke up. “They were aiming over our heads. I saw them.”

  Austin pushed through the crowd then, panting, and held his camera out to Roy and Magnus. “I got it on tape!”

  Roy slapped him on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner and exchanged a glance with Magnus.

  “Take your child,” Magnus told the girl.

  The girl, shivering in Abbie’s arms, looked at Magnus, but was too frightened to move. Abbie stood, took the child and returned him to the girl.

  “What are you going to do with her?” Roy asked Magnus.

  “What can we do?” he shrugged. “She’s garbage like the rest of us. She can stay . . . for now.”

  Everyone watched as Magnus eyed the barrier with menace, then turned his chair and headed back toward the row of stores to inspect the scene of the shooting. Roy and the guys who’d both grabbed and held Abbie and Josh followed. As the rest of the crowd dispersed a young teen boy with a scowl pasted across his face spat on the ground near the Clean Skin girl in passing.

  Abbie looked at the girl sitting with shoulders curled, eyes closed, unable to do anything other than cry in distress.

  Josh watched the others move away before asking Abbie, “What do we do with her?”

  “I don’t know.” Abbie shook her head, concerned by the stream of high-pitched screaming coming from the baby.

  Josh looked around the streets, as though searching for an answer.

  Abbie looked at him. “We can’t just leave them here,” she said, then lowered her voice. “Maybe your mom can help with the baby?”

  Josh hesitated, but then gave a resigned sigh and nodded.

  Abbie stood and reached her hand down to the girl, but she flinched away. The girl darted a glance at Abbie, her eyes falling to the welt on Abbie’s chin.

  The Clean Skin girl was scared and, of course, didn’t know her from any of the other Striped Ones here, Abbie realized.

  She knelt down. “I’m Abbie,” she told her. “This is Josh. It’s not safe for you to stay out here. You should come with us.”

  The girl glanced at her, then broke out crying again. “I want to go back in there.” She looked back at the closed gate.

  “You can’t,” Abbie told her gently. “They won’t let you. Your baby is . . . come with us. You’ll be safe.”

  She saw the girl looking timidly around the surrounding streets. Abbie did too. There were still a few Striped Ones standing in the distance watching them. She spotted Austin, standing with Langdon and Trent outside the hardware store. Austin’s camera was pointed directly at her and the Clean Skin girl, filming them. It made Abbie feel uncomfortable to be the target of their attention.

  “We have to move off the street,” Abbie said firmly to the girl. “You can’t stay here on your own.”

  The girl glanced around again, at the Striped Ones watching her, at the gate, then down at her child.

  “Come on,” Abbie said softly, and helped the girl to stand. Then she wrapped her arm around the teenager’s shaking shoulders and walked her in the direction of Josh’s house.

  *

  Richard Keene’s eyes were absolutely glued to the screen. The shakiness of the person holding the camera only seemed to add to the intensity of the vision. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The footage had been taken in the Striped Zone, where a Clean Skin girl had been banished after giving birth to a Striped One.

  He wondered why they hadn’t just put her in isolation rather than kick her out. The scene of the distraught girl being evicted from the Clean Zone was distressing enough, but what moved him more was seeing the Striped Ones who rushed to help her against the angry mob. He then watched the situation erupt into chaos with the accidental shooting of the boy on the rooftop . . .

  The Victoryville shooting was the lead story dominating every newscast, with secondary discussion threads on whether or not the Clean Zone had been infected by the child and what this now meant for the Victoryville Clean Zone.

  Some were outraged that the girl had been kicked out of the Victoryville CZ, some were outraged by the behavior of the mob of Striped Ones, and others were outraged by the actions of the soldiers.

  So much outrage everywhere.

  He noticed the focus across all stations was on the horrific elements of the incident: the throwing of rocks by the Striped Ones, the shooting of the boy by the soldiers, the eviction of the young girl and child, the threat of disease in the Clean Zone. Not one of them focused on what he saw was the real story here: that young woman rushing out despite the flying rocks and stones to help the girl. The Striped One trying to protect the Clean Skin.

  It wasn’t long before it was confirmed that the boy who’d been shot had died from his wound, a single bullet to the chest. Discussion boards on the internet and social media feeds exploded with anger and hate and persecution. Richard had a bad feeling; he’d seen this happen before. He’d seen how one single tragic accident or one wrong court decision could ignite a fury that grew so large the effects were wide ranging and devastating. These incidents showed the dark side of the human condition: how humans were so wildly driven by their emotions, no matter how valid; how the flame of injustice could turn emotions so volcanic that all sense and reason were vaporized.

  He didn’t want this to happen here. People couldn’t lose sight of the bigger picture, of what had happened to the people of Victoryville, of the phenomenon that had triggered everything since. Now was not a time to fracture, it was a time to unite; to be strong for each other. He wanted people to regain focus, to regain calm, before things blew out of control.

  He wanted to tell the story of the striped woman who put her life on the line to help the Clean Skin.

  *

  Dr. Lysart Pellan paced his apartment torn as to what to do. The day’s events had left him with a bitter taste in his mouth and a nauseous sensation in his stomach. First, the footage of that poor girl’s eviction from the Clean Zone in Victoryville had rocked him. She’d been thrown out like some trash because she’d given birth to a Striped One. And it killed him because he knew that the child wasn’t contagious, that it was an empty gesture. That welt simply meant the child had inherited a condition from his mother or father. That’s all. They’d been thrown out for no reason, violence had broken out, and a young man had been accidentally killed in the process. A casualty of a very unnecessary conflict.

  As soon as he’d seen the news he’d immediately called Harvey.

  “Have you seen the footage?” he blurted once Meeks had answered. “Of the Victoryville shooting?”

  “Yes,” Meeks said quietly, “I have.”

  “We could’ve stopped that.”

  “No, we couldn’t have.”

  “It never should’ve happened!”
<
br />   “Lysart—”

  “The child wasn’t contagious!” Lysart insisted. “We knew that. They knew that! She never should’ve have been kicked out and put in that terrible situation.”

  “It’s out of our hands, Lysart.”

  “Is it? Maybe you’re content with washing your hands of this, Harvey, but I’m not. That boy was inadvertently killed because we are keeping quiet about our findings!”

  “It’s the government’s call, Dr. Pellan,” Harvey said firmly, as though pulling rank. “Until they know more, until they are certain these things won’t come back, they cannot divulge these findings. They must discover what those aliens are and why they categorized you first.”

  “What caused this is a separate issue, Harvey! These people are not contagious. It’s not right to segregate them, to herd them away from everyone, to let people think that there is something wrong with them.”

  “There is something wrong with them, Lysart, they are all sick. That is why they have those welts.”

  “And we Clean Skins have defective DNA, Harvey! How does that make us any better than them?”

  “I saw the footage, Lysart. That mob were savages. That had nothing to do with us. That’s on them!”

  “They think the child is contagious, Harvey. We are responsible for that!”

  “Homeland Security have the final word, Dr. Pellan. May I remind you that you signed the agreement. This is out of our hands. This is above us. You signed that contract. Don’t do anything to jeopardize our lab!”

  “Is that all you’re worried about, Harvey? Your lab? Your funding? What about that dead boy? What about that girl tossed into the Striped Zone with a bunch of people who don’t want her there? What about the life of that child? The life of that non-contagious child!”

  “Dr. Pellan—”

  “Professor Meeks,” Lysart said heatedly, “perhaps this is an easier decision for you, given you are sitting back there in Washington, but it’s not so easy for me. I’m the one trapped here in this town. I can see, can feel, what these people are going through.”

  “Dr. Pellan—”

  “We are not just samples in a petri dish, Harvey! We are not here to raise the profile of Bateson Dermacell or be peace offerings to the aliens so they stay away from the rest of you! We are people. We are living and breathing human beings.”