“Looks like you’re in with Wendy,” he said.
Josh glanced at him and shook his head. “No, she’s just being friendly.”
Austin laughed under his breath. “Yeah, she’s been friendly with a few of the guys here.”
Josh glanced at him, then forced a smile as though he shared Austin’s sentiments. Anything to hide the terror he felt within.
“Hey, look,” Austin said, nudging him with his elbow, “if you froze up this time, don’t worry about it.” Then he turned and his taller, broader frame leaned in closer. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Josh stared at him.
“You’ve seen what people are saying on Facebook and Twitter about us,” Austin said. “Some of those outsiders want to wipe us out. If they try to, or if those damn aliens come back, we have to be ready to defend ourselves. ’Cause no one else will give a shit about us, I promise you that. We defend ourselves or we die.” He poked his finger, which felt as hard as a marble, into Josh’s chest. “You piss yourself again, I’ll do more to you than the Clean Skins or those aliens will.” Austin stared at him briefly, his dark-brown eyes fierce, then he relented and gave Josh a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate our haul.”
Josh watched Austin walk away. Petrified, and not knowing what else to do, he followed.
*
Lysart paced his apartment, two news reports circling in his mind with overwhelming ferocity. The first was another story by that reporter, Keene. He’d written a follow-up on the girl, Abbie Randell, who had saved the Clean Skin mother, Kaitlyn Manner, and her child. Her house had been defaced with cruel words, her kindness treated as though it was a crime. But what got to Lysart the most was that Keene had spoken with Abbie about the health of her house guests and had confirmed that Kaitlyn was not displaying any symptoms. Keene then posed theories and questions to his viewers: If this could occur, if a Clean Skin could live in the house of a Striped One, then didn’t it mean that whatever this was, it wasn’t an airborne contagion; and if Kaitlyn could give birth to a Striped One, and have that exchange of bodily fluids and still not be affected, then didn’t that mean this contagion wasn’t transferred through bodily fluids either? And if this contagion wasn’t transferred by air or fluids, then how could it be transferred? Was it transferred at all? Did this mean there wasn’t a contagion? Most Clean Skins and Striped Ones had interacted for over twelve hours before the segregation took place. If the Striped Ones were contagious, then why had no Clean Skin suffered any symptoms? Keene then posited that if he had come to this conclusion through observation and no medical testing, then why had the CDC and government not come to this same conclusion? And if they hadn’t come to this same conclusion, then what had they discovered? What were they hiding?
The second report, however, worked to crush Keene’s speculations: the government released a statement saying that their testing, although currently inconclusive, had not yet ruled out an alien virus with a long incubation period, and therefore, the segregation between the Clean and Striped Zones would remain in place until they could rule out or confirm the presence of an alien virus.
Lysart was astounded that they could release such a lie to the people. His initial testing had been clear. There was no contagion.
He was a scientist and he believed that everything had an explanation, but why the population of Victoryville had been categorized by these things, he didn’t know. What he did know, however, was why the government was keeping segregation in place, why they were keeping the town in quarantine: in case the aliens came back. And if they did, the government knew it was helpless to do anything. So they were going to keep the town fenced off and wait and see if the aliens came back to finish whatever it was they had started. At least, the government was hoping that was all the aliens would do when they returned.
Regardless, it was clear the people of Victoryville had already been tainted, so if they were the cost of saving everyone else, then it would be a small price to pay.
And that price included Lysart’s life. He thought of his daughters in France with their mother, constantly wondering if he’d ever get to see them again. Then he thought of that young mother thrust into the Striped Zone with her baby. The girl’s own mother, according to news reports, was trapped outside the town somewhere.
This couldn’t go on. If the lives of the people of Victoryville were still in danger, if they were going to be left here like bait for the alien’s return, then they had the right to the truth, they had the right to know.
And they had the right to be reunited with their loved ones before it was too late.
*
Abbie awoke to the sounds of distant yelling. Arguing. She got out of bed and moved to the window. She saw Josh exiting his house, slamming the door behind him and striding angrily across his front lawn to the pavement. Glancing up, he saw her at the bedroom window. He seemed to pause for a moment, then changed direction and headed for her front door.
She pulled on a robe and walked downstairs to open it, turning on a couple of lights as she did. Josh marched straight in and began pacing her living room.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” she asked.
Josh continued to pace. “My damn father! He forbids me to go to any more of Magnus’ meetings. He doesn’t understand. I’m doing it to protect mom! I’m keeping an eye on them, trying to figure out what they’re up to. Trying to figure out if they know about her or any of the Clean Skins who are hiding, and what they’ll do about it, if they do. He doesn’t get it!”
The energy flowing through him scared her a little. He was on edge. She didn’t really know him that well, but she could tell that this was more than just an argument with his father about Magnus’ meeting.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that soldier’s death!” he said vehemently.
Abbie paused a moment. “What soldier’s death?”
Josh continued to pace, shaking his head. “It’s all over the news . . . things got out of hand. It was Roy. It was all Roy. I had nothing to do with it.”
“Nothing to do with what?”
Josh kept pacing and ran his hand over his face as though trying to wipe the images away. Abbie moved to the TV and turned it on. A weather report was on, but she read the news scrolling underneath:
More violence in Victoryville tonight. One soldier dead, one injured, as tensions rise.
Abbie turned back to Josh. “So what the hell happened?”
Josh slumped on the couch, leaning forward to put his head in his hands. Abbie wasn’t sure what to do, but moved to sit beside him and tentatively put her arm around his shoulders.
“Josh, what happened?”
He looked at her briefly and she saw tears threatening his eyes. He clenched his jaw, and lowered his head into his hands again.
“Josh . . .” she said gently.
“They’ve started looting and stockpiling,” he eventually blurted out. “Magnus and Roy are convinced the government are lying to us. They think something bad is coming. They think the Clean Skins and those outside are going to do something bad to us . . . Magnus keeps giving warlike speeches, saying that we have to prepare to defend ourselves, that we won’t let them do anything to us, that we won’t go down without a fight. They’ve gathered everyone’s personal cache of weapons, but Magnus says it’s not enough. Roy’s started taking groups out to rob what they can and tonight they decided to hit some soldiers.”
Abbie felt a weightlessness fill her stomach.
It was fear.
“No one was supposed to get hurt . . . but one of the soldiers went for his weapon and Roy shot him. Just shot him.” Josh shook his head as if trying to get rid of the memory.
“You were there?” Abbie asked, trying to contain any judgment.
Josh sniffed back his tears. He glanced at her, then nodded. “Roy and Austin asked me t
o go. Langdon and Trent were there too. I think they were testing me, testing my loyalty, so I went. I was curious about what they were doing, how far they were taking things.”
“Oh God, Josh . . .” Abbie whispered.
“I didn’t fire a single shot! As soon as Roy fired, the other soldier fired back, and then the guys joined in and they were shooting at each other. The soldiers were outnumbered. I just ducked for cover and watched it go down. Roy had a choice. He could’ve just wounded that soldier but I saw what he did. He wounded the soldier and when the guy tried to get up, Roy shot him clean in the neck. He didn’t have to shoot him again, but he did. He killed him!”
Abbie squeezed Josh into a hug, resting his head on her shoulder. The fear within her zoomed up to terror level.
“They all got in on it,” Josh continued. “Even Austin. Afterward, they celebrated. They were high-fiving, saying what a good haul they got from the soldiers . . . like that soldier wasn’t killed. Like the other wasn’t hurt.”
“Austin, too?”
Josh nodded. “He said it was payback for Chris’ death. He said that with the aliens out there and us locked up in the town, the rules no longer apply. It’s just life and death now. Survival . . . I—I couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. I just didn’t know what to do.”
“What did Magnus say about it? He didn’t approve, surely?”
“He didn’t say anything. Roy told him what happened and Magnus just gave him a nod, as if to say ‘it had to be done’.”
Josh stood, shrugging her off and started pacing again. “What am I going to do?”
Abbie looked at him, not sure what to say. She watched him as he paced, tortured by what he’d witnessed, scared by the decisions in front of him.
“I don’t know what to do.” Josh shook his head in disbelief.
“Did you tell your father?” she asked.
“God no! He saw the news and asked, but I told him I wasn’t there. I said I didn’t know what they were planning.”
“Just stay away from them, Josh. Don’t go back there, just stay away.”
“I can’t,” he argued. “They’re dangerous. If you’re not with them, then you’re against them. Roy made comments to me about my old man, saying he needs to harden up, saying he needs to reassess where his loyalties lie. They’re threats, I know it! If they find out that we’re hiding mom . . .”
“Go to the police, then.”
“Are you crazy? I have to keep them on side. I have let them think that we’re okay, that they don’t have to worry about us.”
“The police can help.”
“No, they can’t! Deputy Cann is on his own over here. You think he can do anything? He’s out of his depth.”
“Josh, I really think you should stay away from them.”
“God, you sound like my father! You have no idea. It’s not that simple, Abbie!”
“Is everything okay?” they heard Kaitlyn’s small voice asking from the top of the stairs.
Abbie and Josh looked up at the sound.
“It’s fine,” Abbie called back quickly, not wanting to alarm the teenager.
Josh turned suddenly and headed for the door.
“Josh!” she called, but he ignored her, vanishing through her front door.
Day Six
Richard Keene woke to his phone ringing. He picked it off the sleeping bag he lay on and answered.
“Harry?”
“Richard, where are you?”
“I’m still at the Civic Hall. Why?”
“We, er, may have a little problem.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” Richard asked as he stood up, grabbing his pack and making his way to the balcony where it was quieter.
“I had a visit from Homeland Security.”
“You did?” Richard stepped out into the early morning air.
“As a matter of national security, we’ve been asked to report responsibly and avoid speculation.”
“What?”
“They said people are on edge and the slightest thing could trigger unwanted outcomes. There’re claims of inciting violence and the like. We’ve got the eye of Big Brother firmly upon us.”
“Us?”
“You better watch yourself, kid. The questions you’ve been asking must be ruffling some feathers. Your name came up a few times.”
“Is this just us or is this industry-wide?”
“Industry-wide, apparently. I put in a few calls. It looks like everyone has politely been asked to watch what they say. If anyone is found to be inciting violence, then measures may be taken.”
“Well now, isn’t that interesting.” Richard felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
“It is, kid, but this is serious. They’re watching you.”
“Must’ve hit a nerve, huh. So much for free speech.”
“Oh, they were sure to word things carefully. It was a simple request all in the name of keeping the peace and not fueling mob violence.”
“I’m not fueling violence, I’m been imploring people for kindness and calm. What they don’t like is the questions I’m raising to them.”
“Look, just be careful, alright? I gotta go.”
“Thanks, Harry.”
Richard ended the call. He leaned against the brick pillar beside him, which formed part of the Victoryville clock tower. Resting his hands on the railing, he stared at the distant barricade and its guards, then looked beyond into the Striped Zone.
His curiosity was absolutely burning now. Just what was it about the Striped Ones that scared the government so?
*
Mayor Russo gave Chief Blackstone a hard look. “What the hell is going on over there, chief? Is your deputy actually doing his job?”
“Deputy Cann is covering the Victoryville Striped Zone on his own. He has to sleep sometime.”
“A soldier was shot and killed on Victoryville soil. I’ve had the state governor on the phone chewing my ass! They’re sending in more soldiers because they think we can’t police our own people. After the press we got sending that girl out of the Clean Zone, this is a goddamn nightmare!”
“Yes, it is,” Chief Blackstone nodded calmly.
“What are you doing about it?”
“What can we do about it? One soldier is dead and the other is recovering from surgery. I’m waiting to speak with him to see if he can ID the shooters, but until he comes to, there’s not much I can do. There appears to be no other witnesses. At least, from what I can gather, given I’m over here in the Clean Zone.” Blackstone said the last part with a hint of condescension. “Of course, with your permission, I could grab one of those bio-suits and head over there—”
“No!” Russo cut him off. “Your job is here in the Clean Zone.”
“Then what would you have me do, mayor?”
“You can start by talking to Bracks,” Russo fumed. “I’ll bet you any money, he knows who’s behind it.”
Blackstone regarded him for a moment, lips pursed, then conceded a nod. “I’ll have Leo pay him a visit.”
“Don’t just get him to pay a visit, Earl, get him to lay down the law,” Russo warned. “This happened because he stirred up the crowd the other day. If we have any more trouble . . .!”
“We’ll do our best within the constraints of the law, mayor. We can’t go accusing anyone without evidence.”
“Then find a way! Have him tailed or something.”
“I’ll have Deputy Cann do what he can, within the law. Bracks, of all people, is the last person you want to accuse you of unlawful activity, don’t you think?”
Russo clenched his jaw, fuming at the calmness with which Blackstone spoke. He couldn’t recall ever seeing the chief upset or on edge. How the hell could be so relaxed about things?
Regardless, he knew the chief was right. If he gave Bracks an inch, the man would take a mile. Magnus was just waiting for him to put a foot out of line. Russo had to watch his st
ep and play things by the book. He couldn’t let that man win.
“Just . . .” Russo paused, trying to push down his anger. “Just do what you can, chief. But do it fast, and thorough.”
Blackstone tipped his hat and left.
*
Richard stared at his ringing phone. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Richard Keene,” he answered curiously, walking along the corridor of the Civic Hall, having just washed one of his shirts in the bathroom basin.
“Mr. Keene,” the male voice responded, but silence soon filled the line.
“Yes.” Richard prompted the caller. “Who is this?”
He heard the man sigh. He sounded nervous, unsure.
“Have you heard the latest reports of what happened in Victoryville?” the man asked.
Richard stopped walking. He glanced around the corridor, then slipped into the nearby accessible bathroom, locking the door behind him.
“Who is this?” he asked again, dumping his pack on the ground.
“Have you heard the latest reports of what happened in Victoryville?” the man repeated.
“Yes, I have. A soldier was killed at the barrier. Why do you ask?”
Silence, for a moment, before the man spoke again.
“Things are getting out of hand . . . but you’re doing well, Mr. Keene. Don’t stop digging.”
Richard paused as he tossed the words around in his mind, letting them sink in.
“Do you know something?” Richard asked, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. “Can you help me?”
“Just keep asking the same questions you have been,” the man said. “If you smell a rat, then chase it. Don’t give up.”
And with that the man hung up.
Richard immediately called the number back, but the man did not answer. Dropping the phone to his side, he gazed at the wall a moment before turning around. He caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror and stared back into his own eyes. He tapped the phone against his thigh as his mind ticked over, then he grabbed his backpack and set off to work.
The Time of the Stripes Page 19
