The Time of the Stripes Read online

  The Time of the Stripes

  AMANDA BRIDGEMAN

  About The Time of the Stripes

  They survived the alien visitation. But can they survive each other?

  No-one had heard of Victoryville before. But when an alien spaceship appears, hovering over the town, the whole world suddenly knows its name.

  After twenty-four hours and a failed military assault, the ship disappears without a trace. When the outside world restores communication to the town, thousands are reported missing.

  Those who remain in Victoryville are irreparably changed. However, only some have been left with strange red marks upon their skin.

  Quarantined from the outside world and segregated within, alliances are made and relationships are shattered, as everyone fights for the truth - and for their own survival.

  Contents

  About The Time of the Stripes

  Contents

  Day Zero

  Day One

  Day Two

  Day Three

  Day Four

  Day Five

  Day Six

  Day Seven

  Day Eight

  Day Nine

  Afterward

  Also by Amanda Bridgeman

  Acknowledgments

  About Amanda Bridgeman

  Copyright

  This book is set in an entirely fictional town, but it is perhaps a place far too real in the lives of many people throughout the globe.

  Day Zero

  Abbie Randell watched the strange patch of haze dancing in the distance. It seemed to float across the blue beyond, shifting and morphing, as though blown about by the wind on high. She rubbed her tired eyes and turned them toward the smokestacks of the Clivecorp plant on the outskirts of town. Gray plumes wafted upward from the tall cylinders, leaving a trail that eventually thinned and vaporized into the blue. She looked back to the unusual patch of haze, but it, too, had now vanished. She stared at the sky for a moment, wondering just how much of the air she breathed was fresh, and how much came from the plant’s old smokestacks. It was a hot topic in the mouths of the townsfolk of late.

  She yawned and stretched her body, reaching up toward the sun. It was an unusually warm start to autumn, which made it worth her while to be up this early. She put on her father’s baseball cap and tugged her long, dark ponytail through the gap at the back. Up studying the night before, she’d been running late this morning and had accidentally grabbed his. But he wouldn’t need it today; he had a big job interview this morning. She smiled and crossed her fingers for him. He’d been out of work for a while and really needed this job. The whole family did.

  She reached into her bag, which lay on the grass by her towel, and pulled out a clipboard. She had two classes to teach today and first up were the toddlers. She checked her watch, then looked at the entrance of the Victoryville Aquatic Center. People were starting to arrive.

  “Morning,” Josh smiled, as he walked past toward the lifeguard chair.

  “Morning,” she smiled back. She’d officially met him yesterday in the VAC’s cafe. Not only was he the new lifeguard, but he was also her new neighbor, having moved in across the street with his family a couple of weeks ago.

  Candy, the other lifeguard on duty, a tall and slender blond, slowly walked past, saying quietly: “The view has suddenly improved around here, hasn’t it?” Abbie glanced at her, amused. Turning back to the VAC’s entrance she saw Deputy Cann’s green SUV pull up and his wife Claire getting out. Abbie moved toward them, knowing that Claire would need a hand wrangling their two-year-old daughter and baby son.

  “Morning!” Abbie greeted them.

  “Morning, Abbie,” Deputy Cann threw her a wave and a smile from the driver’s seat, pulling his sunglasses up to sit atop his short dark hair.

  “Morning,” Claire beamed, as she unhooked Mickey’s bassinet and handed it to Abbie. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Abbie said, smiling down at the sleeping baby.

  “I hear your father’s team made it into the finals,” the deputy said.

  “Sure did,” Abbie grinned. “They’re going for back-to-back championships.”

  “Well, if they win, I’d say your father’s a shoo-in for local Little League Coach of the Year again.”

  “Fingers crossed,” she said. “So today’s the big Bateson Dermacell opening, right?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “I’m heading into the station now.”

  “I heard talk of people protesting Clivecorp’s involvement. You think there’ll be any trouble?” she asked.

  “Nah.” The deputy shook his head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. The chief and I will be there anyhow.”

  “I hope it’s peaceful,” Claire said, unhooking her daughter’s seat belt. “I think the research these Bateson Dermacell guys are doing is important. We need to know what the pollution is doing to us, and if they’re willing to donate the lab to the schools when they’re done, then who can complain? Let them study us.”

  Abbie nodded in agreement as Claire helped her daughter out of the car. Abbie smiled at the little girl’s cute brown pigtails and green polka dot swimsuit. “Hi, Miss Lena! Are you ready for your swimming lesson today?”

  Lena gave a big grin and nodded.

  “You have fun, honey!” Deputy Cann said to his little girl, as he pulled his sunglasses back down. “I’ll see you this afternoon, alright?”

  “Say ’bye to daddy,” Claire motioned for Lena to wave. Lena raised her chubby little arm and flung it about in the air, and they watched as Deputy Cann departed.

  Abbie looked back at Lena and saw the girl’s eyes were no longer on her father as he drove away, but instead were looking up into the sky.

  “Sparkles!” Lena said, pointing into the air.

  Both Abbie and Claire searched to see what Lena was pointing at.

  “Sparkles? I can’t see anything, honey,” Claire said, holding her hand up to shade her eyes.

  “Sparkles, momma!” Lena said again, grinning and pointing.

  Claire lowered her hand and shrugged at Abbie as she took Mickey’s bassinet. “Maybe you just saw a plane catching the sunlight, honey,” she said to her daughter.

  Abbie looked into the sky again, searching for the “sparkles” Lena had seen, wondering if it was the strange patch of haze she’d seen earlier. For a moment she thought she saw something shifting across the blue, like a heat mirage or smoke. She blinked her tired eyes again to clear her vision, but whatever she thought she saw was gone. There was nothing but clear blue sky.

  “Must just be this strange heat,” she said to Claire, then turned back to Lena again. “What do you say, Lena, shall we get into the pool and cool down?”

  *

  Deputy Leo Cann entered the Victoryville police station and saw Chief Blackstone leaning on the front counter, engrossed in the morning’s newspaper, mug of coffee beside him. Leo smiled to himself. The chief was old school, always saying how he couldn’t stand reading things on cell phone screens. He looked up from the newspaper, smoothing down the thick, graying mustache that sat upon his dark-brown skin.

  “Morning, Leo,” he said in his deep, laid-back drawl.

  “Morning, Earl.”

  “Grab yourself a coffee, then we’ll make our way down.”

  “Sure thing.” Leo moved over to grab himself a cup. “JT and Figgs already down there?”

  “JT’s over at the Clivecorp plant, keeping an eye on things, and Figgs is patrolling the area between there and the Bateson Dermacell office,” Blackstone answered, standing upright and folding the paper. “The other posts are on standby, but I don’t think we’ll need them. Josie’s ju
st gone off shift and Louise is over at Mrs. Morcombe’s responding to a claim of theft.”

  “What is it this time?” Leo asked, amused, as he leaned back on the counter and sipped his coffee.

  “Her cat.”

  “Her cat?” Leo nearly spat his coffee out. Normally, Mrs. Morcombe complained about stolen newspapers and pot plants.

  “Mm-hmm,” the chief nodded. “It didn’t turn up for breakfast and apparently it always turns up for breakfast.”

  “Who would steal a cat?”

  “If I was a betting man, I’d say it’s under the tyres of some long-haul over on the highway,” he said reaching for his Stetson. “Anyway, Louise will come back and man the fort while we manage the ceremony.”

  Leo nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. “How many are we expecting at the opening, you think?”

  “A couple hundred maybe. The bigger the crowd, the happier the mayor will be.”

  Leo chuckled. “He does love to hold the attention of a crowd and tell everyone how good he is.”

  “I’ll get the patrol car and meet you ’round front,” Blackstone said suppressing a smile, then disappeared through a side door.

  *

  Chief Earl Blackstone pulled the patrol vehicle up in front of the new Bateson Dermacell office. Located just outside the town’s center on the main road, it was a modest one-story building, though its white paneled walls and black-tinted windows gave it an expensive look. New, sleek, and years younger than many of the buildings nearby, it seemed to sparkle like a diamond in the rough: a hint of modernity among the years of faded history that surrounded it.

  Blackstone and Leo exited their vehicle and glanced around. As they did, a black Lincoln, freshly washed and shined, pulled into the parking lot alongside theirs. It was the mayor.

  “Go check the stage area ’round back,” Blackstone ordered his deputy. “Check for possible entry points protestors could use.” Leo gave a nod and disappeared around the side of the building.

  Blackstone watched and waited as the mayor, Michael Russo, and his partner, Nicola, exited their vehicle.

  “Chief!” Russo greeted him. “Lovely day for it.”

  Blackstone gave a nod and glanced up at the sky. “Indeed. Certainly a nice warm day ahead of us.”

  “Yes. It’s a lovely day and a great step forward for the town of Victoryville,” Russo grinned, adjusting his rimless glasses with one hand, while placing his other around Nicola’s back. An ex-model from Miami, Nicola was normally half a head taller than Russo, but in heels, like she was today, she was a full head taller.

  “It is,” Blackstone agreed, tucking his thumbs into his belt.

  “Are there any updates on the chance of protests?” Russo asked.

  “Nope. I don’t think there’ll be any trouble.”

  “Word is, a reporter from New York is going to be here today?”

  “Yeah, I heard that too.”

  “Well, if these protestors show they’d better not embarrass me or the folks from Bateson Dermacell in front of this reporter. Or Clivecorp! Not only are Clivecorp the major benefactors of this lab, but the jobs they provide at the plant help keep food on this town’s table. The people better remember that.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Blackstone nodded, although he personally thought the skepticism about Clivecorp’s involvement was valid. A company previously fined for pollution suddenly investing in a research project into the effects of pollution? Some said it was merely a PR exercise. Some claimed it was a means of controlling the information released. “People in town don’t have a problem with Bateson Dermacell or what they’re doing,” Blackstone said. “If anyone’s going to protest they’re likely to do it out at the Clivecorp plant not here.”

  “Well, if they turn up, just keep an eye on them,” Russo said. “And keep them away from that reporter.” The mayor straightened his suit jacket then turned to his partner. “How do I look?”

  Nicola straightened his tie and gave a beaming smile. “Like a winner.”

  He smiled at her, threw Blackstone a glance, then ushered Nicola forward into the building.

  *

  Dr. Lysart Pellan stood alone in Lab-One of the brand new Bateson Dermacell project office, taking one last look at his new home before it became a hive of activity. He knew why he was here, why they’d handed him the reins to run things. They were trying to slowly pull him back in. He was one of their best scientists and they wanted him back working at full capacity, winning accolades and bringing in funding. But he’d been there and done that, and it had cost him his marriage. It wasn’t him any more. Call it a midlife crisis, but he’d had to reassess things, and he realized there was more to life than working yourself to the bone. He loved being a scientist and working in the lab, but he didn’t want all the other stuff. Not any more. The only reason he’d accepted this post was to get him out of Washington for a while. It gave him a chance to work away from the eyes of the board, and just do his own thing. Do what he loved to do.

  The laboratory in which he stood was of moderate size, with four workstations set around the edges of the room, each with covered consoles and overhead shelves stacked with the necessary items they would require for their studies. Adjoining it, and visible through a large window in the shared wall, was Lab-Two. Although it was smaller, Lab-Two contained a Class II-A2 Biological Safety Cabinet with which they could examine the biological samples collected from the local population. For the parameters of this new project, the resources were quite adequate: the building and equipment was brand new, and they’d given him a team of seven to carry out the research over a two year period. It was their way of wooing him back he was sure of it.

  As he stood looking into Lab-Two, he caught his reflection in the glass. He straightened the jacket of his dark suit, adjusted his tie, then glanced around again. Whether they were trying to woo him or not, the fact was, this was exactly what he wanted right now. To be left alone with science.

  He moved over to the microscope beside the console he’d chosen as his, and brushed his light brown fingers over it as though touching the face of a newborn child. He suddenly remembered part of the reason why he’d come here, and reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a small framed picture. He studied the worn image within of the Hindu god, Ganesha—evoking memories of his mother—and smiled as he placed it on the bench.

  The sound of footsteps caught his attention and he turned to see Professor Meeks entering the lab. Dressed in an even sharper suit than Lysart’s, Meeks carried a bottle of wine adorned with a gold ribbon.

  “Dr. Pellan,” Meeks said, “I thought I’d find you here.”

  Lysart smiled. “Just enjoying a quiet moment with my new home.”

  “And what a nice new home it is!” Meeks said, handing him the bottle. “A gift. For you. Consider it a lab-warming present.”

  Lysart studied the label. It was a very expensive red. “Harvey, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Of course I should have. The board has faith in you, Lysart. And this,” he motioned to the lab around them, “is the start of a beautiful new era for both Bateson Dermacell and you.”

  Lysart placed the bottle down beside the microscope. “I shall enjoy drinking this tonight.”

  “And you should. Are your daughters coming today?” Meeks asked.

  “No. They’ve gone to Paris with their mother.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  Lysart shrugged. “This town doesn’t quite match the allure of Paris, Harvey.”

  “I guess not. Well, shall we go over the event one last time? There will be a reporter from New York here soon. Word is he’s investigating Clivecorp, not us, but I want to make sure we present at our best for Bateson Dermacell.”

  “I’m sure you’ll dazzle him,” Lysart smiled. “That’s your specialty, Harvey. Not mine. You do the talking and the fund-raising, I do the science.”

  “Come, Dr. Pellan,” Meeks smiled back. �
�You know I have a scheduling conflict and need to return to Washington soon after the ceremony, which means I can’t be here to dazzle him. You need to be the one networking with the locals at the gathering afterward. You’re the face of this project office. You’re the one who will be staying here in town for the next couple of years. You need to do this, not me.” Meeks patted Lysart on the shoulder. “I know you won’t let me down.”

  Lysart gave a small smile.

  “Good,” Meeks said. “Shall we?”

  *

  Richard Keene, CNN reporter, stood at the back of the ceremony, watching as the Victoryville mayor took to the stage to give his welcoming speech. There was a decent crowd gathered, some sitting in rows of chairs while the rest milled around in the yard behind the new Bateson Dermacell office where the ceremony was taking place. The local police chief and one of his deputies were present, positioned either side of the stage, but standing well back and casting their gaze about the crowd. There were floral decorations and streamers and balloons, and he could smell fresh coffee wafting out from inside the building.

  With his leatherbound notebook in hand, he’d been scribbling down his observations of the people, of the town, of this new project office, but he paused when the mayor finally began to speak.

  “Thank you. And welcome! As mayor of Victoryville, I am honoured to be standing here today and officially opening this new facility. This project office is a symbol of progress in Victoryville, as we lay down some much needed fresh roots to replace the old. This town has a long history of fighting change, going right back to the days of the civil war. But for too long that attitude has caused the town to stagnate and it is at risk of dying, of fading into history and becoming a ghost town, if we do not stand up and embrace the future and run with it. We must work hard to progress every single day or we will be left behind. Many of our youth leave this town, never to return. I know this, because until several years ago I was one of them. And I left because, at the time, this town didn’t offer me any reason to stay. This needs to change. And that’s why this facility marks an important turning point for Victoryville. This facility sees us bringing fresh industry and new opportunities to our people. As mayor of Victoryville, I could not be happier to welcome Bateson Dermacell here, beginning what I hope will be a long and fruitful partnership.” He beamed a broad smile at the crowd. “So, on that note, I will now hand over to Professor Meeks to speak on behalf of Bateson Dermacell.”