The Time of the Stripes

by Amanda Bridgeman

  *

  Mayor Russo was walking a very fine line. He had managed to stall the military and state governor with talk of local police intervention first, to ensure things didn’t escalate unnecessarily. The riot had been broken up by the soldiers and things seemed to have calmed for now, but everyone’s patience was wearing thin. Very thin. Homeland Security had given him a window of forty-eight hours to resolve the situation and deliver Bracks to them, before the military would move in and do it themselves. Thankfully, because of their efforts at keeping the peace in certain pockets around the country, and around the world, for that matter, their attention and resources were stretched. And that bought Russo time.

  Chief Blackstone knocked and entered his office. Russo eyed him expectantly.

  “Leo isn’t answering my calls,” the chief told him with a serious look.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Blackstone’s eyes narrowed. “He may have his hands full after that riot, in which case taking my call isn’t high on his list of priorities, but . . .”

  “But?”

  “I got a bad feeling.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “For now the crowd has dispersed, thanks to that teargas from the soldiers at the gate. I’ll give him a couple of hours in case he’s attending to arrests. If I can’t get a hold of him by then, I’m going in.”

  Russo held up his hand. “We don’t want to do anything rash, chief.”

  “Rash?” Blackstone said irritably. “And there I was thinking you wanted me to clean this up?”

  “I do, but we need to be smart about it and not just go in guns-a-blazing.”

  “If my deputy is in trouble, I’m going in there after him,” Blackstone said firmly.

  “And if something happens to you, who will enforce things this side of the wall? We need to think of the Clean Skins too, chief.”

  Blackstone stared at him and Russo didn’t like the accusation in his eyes. “We need to think of everyone equally.”

  “Give your deputy a couple of hours and if you don’t hear from him, then we try to resolve things another way.”

  “What way?”

  Russo sighed heavily, giving him a deadly serious look. “We negotiate.”

  “Negotiate?”

  “With Bracks. We dangle a carrot in front of him. Me. It’s what he ultimately wants: my attention. If your deputy doesn’t respond, I’ll talk directly to Bracks and get him to retract his statements.”

  “You think that’ll work?” Blackstone said, unable to hide his skepticism.

  “It’s me he wants, chief. I’m the one he’s been after all this time. I’ve been ignoring his cries for attention, so maybe it’s time I give him what he wants. It’ll work. It has to. If it doesn’t, the military will go marching in there and . . . God knows what will happen then.” Russo gave him a worried look. “Victoryville has been in the press enough. I don’t want to give them another bloodbath to feed on. We have to contain this ourselves, and fast. Quickly and quietly. We’ve got forty-eight hours.”

  Day Eight

  Richard awoke to the sound of a faraway baby’s cry. He blinked his eyes open and it took him a moment to register where he was: on a foldaway mattress on the floor of Abbie Randell’s basement. He looked up at the small window high on the wall, and saw daylight streaming in around the edges of the curtain. He looked at his watch and saw that it was early morning. He yawned and stretched, then lay there some more, thinking about the past twenty-four hours.

  And the mess he was in.

  And the mess he had caused.

  It had been late when he’d arrived at Abbie’s the night before, and after a brief chat at the table about all that had happened since the phenomenon, the two women had announced that they were going to bed. Abbie looked tired, and not just because of her red swollen eyes from the teargas. Richard himself was exhausted, having worked through the previous night on the story. He was actually relieved at the thought of turning in for the night.

  Abbie had helped Richard with his makeshift bed, while Kaitlyn watched from the top of the basement stairs as if to make sure Abbie was okay. Richard smiled to himself, pleased the two women were taking care of each other. When Abbie left him for the night, he heard her lock the door to the basement. It unnerved him a little to be caged in, but he guessed he couldn’t blame them. He was a stranger, and given the circumstances of the phenomenon and Magnus’ declaration, they didn’t really have the need to trust anyone right now.

  He heard the creaking of floorboards overhead, the sound of movement, of someone walking around. The child’s cries slowly ceased. Someone came down the stairs to the ground floor and light suddenly poured in around the door to the basement, as if the living room curtains had been drawn. He focused on the gap beneath the door and saw a shadow halt in front of it. A few seconds passed, then he heard the door being unlocked. The shadow moved away.

  He took that as a signal that it was time to get up now. He yawned again, scratched his fingers through his hair, then rubbed his eyes and stubbled jaw. He threw the sheets back and made his way to the small bathroom in the corner of the room.

  He soon made his way cautiously up the stairs and opened the door. He made his movements slow and obvious, not wanting to frighten anyone. As he closed the door behind him, he looked up at the stairs and saw no one, then he walked across the empty living room. He moved over to peer out through the sheer curtain covering the large window. The street outside was empty.

  “Careful.” Abbie’s voice gave him a fright. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen that fed off the living room. “Don’t let anyone see you.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized, stepping away from the window.

  “Would you like some breakfast?”

  Richard nodded and said, “Thank you,” and watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. He followed her and saw her standing at the bench, her back to him. “Can I help?” he asked.

  She turned around with a plate of toast. “It’s only toast, I’m afraid.” She placed it on the table. “My groceries are a little thin on the ground. There was supposed to be another delivery of supplies yesterday afternoon, but the riot . . . well, if it’s safe, I’ll head out and see if I can get some more today. Hopefully they’ll try and redeliver the supplies, but after what’s happened, I don’t know.”

  Richard nodded. “They may try and starve the SZ in order to gain compliance.”

  She motioned for him to sit, and he did so. “Coffee? Tea?” she asked.

  “Coffee, please.”

  She poured a cup and handed it to him. He smiled a thank you and took a sip, the warm full-bodied flavor comforting to him. He watched Abbie as she prepared some toast and coffee for herself. Based on his research, she was twenty-three years old, soon to be twenty-four. She looked a little different in the flesh, her long dark-brown hair framing a soft, attractive face, which he noted held an expression that was equal parts sad, tired, worried, even lonely. He remembered her saying that her whole family was missing when they’d spoken on the phone, and the thought evoked his sympathy.

  She moved over to the table and sat across from him. He eyed the welt that traced down her chin and neck again. Her blue-green eyes, still a little pink from the teargas, looked at his.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked, as though trying to shift his focus.

  He nodded. “Yes, I did. Thank you again for giving me somewhere to stay. I needed the rest.”

  “No problem.”

  “Did Charlie keep you awake?” Kaitlyn asked, walking into the room with the child in her arms. “He had a bad night.”

  Richard shook his head. “No, I was exhausted. Didn’t hear a thing down there.” He eyed the child in her arms. “So your mother’s out of town?”

  Kaitlyn nodded. “She’s in Wyoming. She went for my aunt’s fiftieth birthday. It was just supposed to be for a few days. It was too ris
ky for me to go, flying when I was nearly due.”

  A silence befell the room, all of them thinking about that simple decision her mother had made to go to her sister’s and the consequences for Kaitlyn, who had stayed behind.

  “We’ve been talking on the phone. I miss her,” Kaitlyn said, “but in a way, I’m kinda glad she’s not here. She might’ve been taken if she’d stayed. At least I know she’s safe. For now.”

  They exchanged a concerned look before a knock at the door stole their attention.

  Abbie stiffened, her eyes darting to the doorway then back to Richard.

  “Shall I go to the basement?” he asked.

  “Just stay here,” Abbie said, getting up and closing the kitchen door behind her.

  Richard sat in the closed room with Kaitlyn, and heard muffled voices. Whoever had been at the door was now inside the living room. The voice was male.

  Charlie began to cry and Kaitlyn looked at Richard worriedly.

  “Josh!” he heard Abbie call.

  Suddenly the kitchen door opened and a guy around Abbie’s age stalked in. He stopped abruptly when he saw Richard and quickly whipped out a handgun, aiming it at him. Richard threw his hands up in surrender.

  “Whoa! Easy!” he said.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the guy asked.

  “Josh, no!” Abbie pushed the arm holding the gun down, so that it pointed to the floor. “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed.

  Josh narrowed his eyes at Richard, darting them to his Clean Skin chin. “You’re that reporter. The one who did the story.”

  Richard nodded.

  Josh turned to Abbie, looking at her like she was crazy. “What’s he doing here?”

  Abbie tried to answer, but her response was hesitant and she faltered.

  Josh cut her off. “Are you out of your mind? He’s a Clean Skin! Is he doing another story?” Josh turned to Richard, an accusing look upon his face. “Are you doing another story?”

  “No,” Richard said, hands still steady and held up.

  “He had nowhere else to go,” Abbie answered for him.

  Josh looked at her like she was crazy. “Are you nuts? Magnus has just declared war on the Clean Skins and you take another one in?”

  “That’s exactly why I took him in!” Abbie argued back.

  Josh looked at Richard and raised his weapon again. “What do you want? Are you running another story? Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “No, Josh. Not at all,” Richard said in an even tone.

  “You saw the graffiti on her house, right? They don’t think she’s the hero you made her out to be.”

  “Well, they’re wrong. She is a hero,” Richard said, maintaining his calm. He saw Abbie glance at him. “I was trying to focus on the good people, and not the destruction, Josh. Not the people like Magnus Bracks. People like him deserve nothing.”

  “So, what are you doing here then?”

  Richard shrugged. “I wanted to see that Abbie and Kaitlyn were alright. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t caused them any harm.”

  “Well, you have!” Josh spat. “Everyone knows about her now. Everyone knows that she took in a Clean Skin. Magnus has declared the SZ as an exclusion zone for your kind. What do you think that does to her now? You being here.”

  “My kind?” Richard asked. “There’s only one kind here, Josh. Human beings. Marked or not, we’re all humans.”

  “You know nothing about what it is to be marked. Don’t you put yourself with us!”

  “Josh,” Abbie said, “put the gun down. What the hell do you even have that for? Get it out of my house!”

  He looked at her. “Everything’s going to shit out there, Abbie,” he told her. “Trust me, we need protection.”

  “What happened to you last night?” she asked. “You took off in the riot. I saw Austin give you that gun. Where did you go?”

  “Not in front of him,” he said, motioning to Richard, then lowered his gun and stepped closer to her. “Don’t tell him anything, Abbie. If they find out you’re snitching . . .”

  “Who?” Richard asked, brow furrowing. “If who finds out?”

  Josh gave him a hard look, then turned back to Abbie. “Get him out of your house! It’s too goddamn risky.”

  “I’m not buying into this, Josh,” Abbie told him. “This is my house! I will not be threatened or coerced by Magnus or Roy. Or Austin!”

  Josh’s eyes flew wide for a moment at the mention of their names, then paused and asked. “Austin?”

  “Yeah,” Abbie nodded. “The other night when you took off with him, while you were upstairs, he warned me to choose which side I was on. It was a threat, Josh. A veiled one, but a threat nonetheless.”

  Josh shook his head. “It’s not safe to have them here, Abbie.”

  “He’ll stay in the basement.”

  “Abbie—”

  “It’s not just the fanatical Striped Ones, Josh. It’s the government and the military. He’s not safe out there.”

  “The government?” He glanced at Richard.

  “Homeland Security are not happy I unveiled the truth to the people,” he told Josh.

  The young man stared at him for a moment, then looked back at Abbie. “All the more reason you need to get him out of your house Abbie. Think about it!”

  “This is my house, Josh! Well, it was my parent’s house, but seeing how they’ve disappeared, it’s now mine. I know they would support me in this. Magnus Bracks won’t tell me what I can and can’t do in my house, nor who I have stay here! You need to stop listening to what they tell you. They’re warping your mind. They’re using this phenomenon to manipulate people.”

  Josh stormed out of the kitchen, saying, “Come and watch this!”

  Abbie followed him out, as did Kaitlyn, albeit meekly. Richard stood from his seat at the table and followed too, moving cautiously. They stood around the TV and watched the news.

  “They’ve been showing it all morning,” Josh told her.

  Richard saw amateur footage of the streets of Victoryville, of the houses and letterboxes which had now been painted with thick red stripes.

  “People are marking their houses,” Josh explained, “letting everyone know that they’re Striped Ones. The unmarked houses belonging to Clean Skins are being ransacked.”

  Richard sunk down to the couch in shock.

  “Magnus is getting people to pledge their allegiance,” Josh said.

  Richard shook his head hopelessly. “What does he think, he’s leading some kind of revolution here?”

  Josh shrugged. “He says they’re not going down without a fight. That they won’t stand being treated like dogs. He’s fighting the oppression.”

  “Oppression of who?” Richard asked angrily. “The Clean Skins are people just like you. The Clean Skins are caught up in this as well.”

  “No, they’re not,” Josh told him. “We’re ill, diseased. At the first sign of trouble, the Clean Skins threw us in here, forced us away, like we were trash—”

  “They thought it was contagious,” Richard interrupted him. “You had the welts, what did you expect them to do?”

  “Yeah, and when they learned it wasn’t contagious, they kept us here.” Josh stared at him. “You obviously thought it was wrong of them to do that, that’s why you did your story.”

  Richard closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, the regret rushing through him like an avalanche.

  “Something out there did this to us,” Josh told him. “Whatever it is, it’s coming back. And I think Magnus is right. If they do come back, they’re coming back for you Clean Skins!” he pointed at Richard. “Not us. So the tables have turned now, reporter. Now, it is us keeping you out!”

  Richard looked up and saw the threat in the younger man’s eyes.

  “Josh,” Abbie said softly, shaking her head, “listen to what you’re saying.”

  “No, Abbie! Be smart! These C
lean Skins are dangerous. They’re targets for Magnus and Roy, for the government, and for the goddamn aliens! Get them out of your house.”

  “And will you do the same?” she challenged, folding her arms across her chest, obviously referring to something of which Richard wasn’t aware.

  Josh seemed to suck in the air around him as though she’d just slapped him. He lurched closer to her and pointed his finger in her face, making Richard tense. “If you draw any unwanted attention, Abbie,” he warned, then stepped back and headed for the front door. It slammed closed behind him, and the three of them sat in silence for a moment, soaking in what had just happened.

  “Friend of yours?” Richard asked, breaking it.

  Abbie looked at him, her eyes sad and afraid. “I thought so,” she said quietly.

  Richard sighed. “He’s right, though. I should leave.”

  “No,” Kaitlyn blurted, cradling Charlie close to her chest. “If you go, then I have to go,” she said, frightened. “I don’t want to go. I can’t go out there.”

  Abbie turned to her. “It’s alright, Kaitlyn, you don’t have to.” She took the young girl’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug, comforting her. As she did, she looked over Kaitlyn’s shoulder at Richard. “Nor you.”

  Richard watched her carefully. “Are you sure, Abbie?”

  She nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “If we all stick together, we’ll be okay,” she said. “Besides, if you leave . . . I’ll have no one.”

  A heavy sensation filled Richard’s chest as he thought of his missing crew, of being stuck here in Victoryville on his own.

  He watched the two women hugging: the Striped One and the Clean Skin. And somewhere in the darkness of the misery and chaos that surrounded them, that little light of hope shone through again. The hope that shone from within Abbie. The hope that had drawn Richard here like a moth to the flame.

  Deep down, despite how dangerous it was, he was glad that she was letting him stay. He wasn’t sure he could face the brutality of the streets right now. Besides, the image before him was something he felt compelled to protect. He didn’t want to leave until he could ensure it would remain safe.