The Time of the Stripes Read online

  As the mayor urged the professor onstage, Richard cast a glance at his cameraman, Benny, who was scanning over the crowd, recording their applause. Richard then looked at his producer, Lisa. Standing beside him, she looked like she was daydreaming, gazing up at the sky as she tucked her peroxide blond hair behind her ear. He suppressed a grin, then saw her eyes narrow and squint at something, raising a hand to shade her eyes. He turned his gaze upward, but saw nothing other than clear blue sky and sunshine. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling the warmth, then fixed his eyes back on the stage as the mayor shook congratulatory hands with Professor Meeks and ushered him toward the microphone.

  “Thank you, Mayor Russo. And thank you, people of Victoryville, for embracing our research project. At Bateson Dermacell our ideologies are very much aligned with the mayor’s. Progress is key to the survival of any civilization. But we also believe that in today’s world we simply cannot ignore the correlation between man’s progress and its affect on the environment and on ourselves. At Bateson Dermacell we specialize in the study of the long-term effects our environment has upon us. That is the core mission of our research here. And there is no better location than Victoryville given the close proximity of the large coal plant to the local community. At this point I must thank Clivecorp, who run that nearby plant, for being our major benefactor. This proves to the people of Victoryville that Clivecorp care. That, right there, is a perfect example of a symbiotic relationship. Of progress, of stability, of care.” The professor looked down at his notes. “Now, although I am giving this speech today on behalf of Bateson Dermacell, it is not I who will be the figurehead of this local office. The man in charge of the day-to-day running will be none other than Dr. Lysart Pellan. Lysart, if you would?”

  The professor motioned to a man of Anglo-Indian descent in the crowd. Dr. Pellan stood, somewhat hesitantly, gave a slight wave and immediately sat down again.

  “Dr. Pellan is a respected geneticist and has been an absolute credit to Bateson Dermacell in our Washington facility. We have no doubt that he will continue to do us proud here in Victoryville, unlocking the secrets of, and perhaps finding resolutions to, the effects of pollution on mankind.” The professor glanced at his notes once again. “Now I think we’ve all talked enough, don’t you? Let’s call the mayor back on stage now to cut the ribbon and officially declare this facility open, so we may then indulge in the wonderful morning tea arranged for us by the Victoryville Chamber of Commerce.”

  The audience broke into applause again, the mayor took to the stage with a bounce in his step, and together they cut the ribbon to more cheers.

  “Please,” Mayor Russo said, leaning into the mic, “join us for coffee and cake inside, in the foyer.”

  Richard watched as the crowd began to move inside. Lisa pulled out her notes and skimmed them.

  “Alright, we interviewed Professor Meeks before the ceremony and I’ve lined up interviews with the mayor, Dr. Pellan and the Clivecorp reps later today. So let’s head inside and get some general reactions of the townsfolk.”

  “And eat some of that cake,” Benny grinned, scratching his bearded chin.

  “Always thinking of your stomach, you,” Lisa chided.

  “I’d just settle for some of that coffee,” Richard grinned back, as they moved inside.

  *

  Dr Lysart Pellan stood with some of his colleagues: Dr. John Seevers, Mary Rodriguez and the young graduate, Cheung Liu. They stood in silence, drinking tea and nibbling on cake, watching those who had gathered for the morning tea.

  Mary leaned in toward him. “Is that the CNN crew leaving?”

  Lysart looked toward the front doors of the foyer, saw one of the departing males carrying a TV camera. “Looks like it.”

  “Why are they leaving? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing you?”

  “I’m meeting with them later this afternoon. I told Harvey I was too busy this morning.”

  “Oh,” Mary said, before the mayor’s laughter rang out, snatching their attention. He stood in a group with Professor Meeks, who seemed to be regaling everyone with a fascinating tale. “I see Professor Meeks is entertaining the locals.”

  “Yes,” Lysart said, “he’s in his element.”

  “You should be over there, Lysart,” Mary nudged him. “You’re the one who’ll be running this place. Don’t let him steal your thunder.”

  “Harvey handles the people and raises the cash, Mary. That’s the deal now. I handle the science and . . . keep to myself.”

  Mary chuckled, shaking her head as she folded her arms.

  ”You’re not having any cake?” he asked her, noticing her hands were empty.

  Mary slid her hand over her belly. “No. My medication makes me queasy.”

  Lysart’s face softened with sympathy.

  “How is the treatment going, Mary?” John asked her.

  “It’s early days. But I’m a fighter. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let this cancer take me away from my kids.”

  Lysart smiled. “Good for you, Mary.”

  She smiled in return. “Moving out of the city for a while was a good thing, I think.”

  Lysart saw Professor Meeks excusing himself from the mayor’s group and watched as he approached.

  “Lysart, I must be going. I have to be back in Washington by three o’clock.”

  “It was a pleasure to have you here, Harvey.”

  “It was a pleasure to be here. Now, please, go and speak with the mayor. I need you to work the room.”

  “I’d prefer to work the microscope,” he teased.

  John stepped forward. “I’ll go chat with them, professor.”

  “See!” Lysart grinned. “John has it all in hand.” John moved off toward the mayor as Harvey shook his head, then checked his watch. “I’ll call you tomorrow to debrief.”

  Lysart gave a nod and watched as he left the facility.

  *

  Richard Keene sat in the hire vehicle’s passenger seat, his belly full of coffee and cake, as he, Benny and Lisa drove out of the Bateson Dermacell parking lot.

  “I will say one thing for the town,” Benny said with a smile, nursing his camera in his lap as he licked his fingers. “They do a damn good morning tea.”

  Richard smiled. “They sure do.”

  “The mayor was a little full of himself, don’t you think?” Lisa said as she drove along the main road in town. “He was acting like some kind of rock star or something.”

  Richard shrugged. “I guess he’s a big fish in a little town.”

  “I see these small town guys and laugh,” Benny said, shaking his head. “They’d be eaten alive in New York.”

  “Hey, small towns aren’t so bad,” Richard said.

  “Says the guy who moved to New York from Iowa the first chance he got,” Benny quipped.

  “Small towns have their faults,” Richard nodded, watching as the streets of Victoryville went past his windows, some of the buildings old, some rundown, “but the big ones have their troubles too, you know.”

  “True,” Lisa nodded. “You probably wouldn’t get mugged in a town like this.”

  “Yeah, that’s because most of them probably own guns,” Benny pointed out, chuckling. “You try and mug them and you’ll get your head blown off.”

  “I gotta say, I was disappointed there were no protests,” Lisa said. “You think it was all hype just to get us here and give them free promo?”

  “Maybe,” Richard shrugged, “but it wouldn’t surprise me if there is tension bubbling underneath the public front. I mean, you got half of those on the outskirts of town trying to grow crops, while the other half works at the plant that’s pouring all kinds of stuff into the air. And now you’ve got this research group here to study the effects of that pollution, which sounds like a good thing, but it’s being funded by the company doing the polluting. And not only that, it was the mayor’s construction company that built the new Bates
on Dermacell project office. Talk about symbiotic, everything’s connected. Everyone’s hands are in someone else’s pockets. It’s interesting once you scratch beneath the surface.”

  “You’ll find a story in anything, won’t you?” Benny said dryly.

  Richard grinned. “If the facts support it.”

  “I don’t think there’s any story here,” Lisa said. “It’s just local politics, that’s all. Besides, if the Clivecorp plant drags its feet any longer, the EPA will shut it down soon enough. They can only rely on ‘grandfather-clause’ type exemptions for so long. And if they can inject funds into a research office, then they can inject funds into upgrading their plant.”

  “Yeah, but the cost of the small project office versus the upgrade of an entire coal plant . . .?” Benny shrugged.

  She shrugged back. “Regardless, for the size of the project office, that ceremony was just pomp and bullshit. I was bored.”

  Richard chuckled. “I know you were. I saw you staring off into the sky, daydreaming during the mayor’s speech.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t daydreaming! I thought I saw something weird up there, but I think I just need new contact lenses.”

  Richard turned to look out the window, into the blue sky overhead. “It certainly is a beautiful day.”

  *

  By the time they arrived at their hotel and entered the modest, and somewhat dated, foyer, it was 11.30 a.m. A young African-American man gave them a smile and a nod from behind the reception counter as they did. Richard gave a smile and a nod back.

  “All that lovely cake and I’m still hungry,” Benny said, switching the heavy camera he held from one hand to the other. “How long until we head out to the Clivecorp facility for the interviews there?”

  “We’re lined up for 1.00 p.m.,” Lisa told them, checking her notes.

  “Let’s go get a beer, then,” Benny suggested.

  “I thought you said you were hungry?”

  “I am,” Benny shrugged, “and beer goes good with food! Besides, what else are we going to do?”

  “You know, I think you’re onto something.” Lisa slapped Benny’s shoulder. “What do you say, Rick? You up for a drink?”

  Richard shook his head. “Nah, I think I’m going to get some first impressions down while it’s fresh in my mind.”

  “Rick . . .” Benny’s slightly chubby, bearded face gave him a plain stare.

  “I’ll come meet you in a bit.” He smiled and held up his notebook. “I just want to get a start on these notes.”

  “You’re too serious, you know that?” Benny said. “You’ve just turned thirty. You’re still young. Seize the day my friend! Smell the roses!”

  “I am seizing the day,” Richard said. “I’m going to head back to my room and seize this story while it’s fresh in my mind.”

  Lisa chuckled and slapped Benny on the shoulder again. “C’mon Benny, let’s leave Rick to do his thing.” Benny scoffed as Lisa pushed him toward the bar that led off the hotel’s reception.

  Richard, still smiling at the pair, walked up the carpeted staircase to the first floor of the hotel. As he entered his room, he placed the security key card in its slot on the wall, and the lights automatically turned on. He walked over to the window and pulled the heavy curtains back to let in some daylight, then moved to the bed and threw his notes down. He fished the laptop out of his backpack, placed it on the desk against the window, and turned it on.

  While his laptop fired up, he took a seat at the desk and gazed through the sheer curtain that remained across the window, studying the sky outside. The warmth reminded him of the summers back in his home town, reminded him of his parents. He would need to visit them soon. Between living in New York and traveling the world chasing stories, it had been a while since he’d been home.

  The laptop beeped, stealing his attention. He checked the battery; it was at seventy percent. He began flicking through his notes, then started typing, capturing his initial thoughts on the ceremony he’d just attended, on the town, and on the Bateson Dermacell facility. When he finished noting down everything he could think of, he pulled up the internet, wanting to do another search on Clivecorp ahead of his visit that afternoon. He typed the company name into the search window and hit enter, but an error message appeared:

  Unable to make a connection.

  He double-checked his portable wireless device was plugged correctly into the back of the laptop, then tried again. Still no connection. He closed everything down and restarted, hoping that might clear the problem, but it still wouldn’t connect. It was odd. Everything had worked fine last night. Still, he didn’t have time to worry about it just now, so he moved to the telephone beside the bed and called reception.

  “Good morning, Victoryville Holiday Hotel. How may I help you?” the cheerful hotel clerk said.

  “Hi, it’s Richard Keene in room 104. I’d like to use the hotel Wi-Fi, please. Can you tell me the password?” he said as he sat down on the bed.

  “Certainly, sir,” the man answered. Richard heard the clerk tapping away on his keyboard. He leaned back on the headboard of his bed and eyed the room’s dated decor courtesy of orange and brown, and studied the artwork of sailing ships on the wall, which was weird given the ocean was a few hours’ drive away.

  “Sir, I’m sorry . . .” the man came back on the line, “but it would appear that our hotel Wi-Fi is down. I can’t get on the internet at all. I think the whole system is offline.”

  “Oh,” Richard said, “well, that explains why I can’t access it from my personal device. Must be a glitch in the area.”

  “It must be, sir. I’ll give you a call when it’s back up.”

  “Thank you,” Richard said, and hung up.

  He stood, wondering whether he should join Benny and Lisa downstairs. He’d give it five minutes, he thought, stretching out his neck and rolling it from side to side. As he did, the room lights began to flicker. He paused and watched them curiously, wondering what kind of dump Lisa had booked them into. No internet, faulty lights . . .

  Then the flickering stopped, and the lights cut out altogether.

  So did his laptop.

  His eyes flashed to the darkened screen. He moved over to the laptop, pressed the power button to restart, but nothing happened. It was completely dead.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  He looked over at the alarm clock beside the bed. It too had cut out. Complete power failure then . . . Although, that didn’t explain why his laptop had died. The battery had shown a seventy percent charge.

  His eyes were suddenly drawn to the window in front of him as a large shadow passed over the street outside, stealing the sun from the sky.

  It was odd, just how dark it had turned, and how quickly.

  He heard the sound of wind whipping up outside and wondered whether a tornado could be approaching.

  Did they get tornadoes in Victoryville?

  He leaned over the desk, and pulled back the sheer curtains to take a closer look.

  But he never got the chance to see.

  Day One

  Stanley Barrick, Homeland Security, strode into the chaotic ops room. Specialists were spread across multiple desks, tables and consoles, some reading monitors and maps, some deep in intense discussions, some typing hurriedly on keyboards. He made his way to a table where the key advisors stood, ready to provide him with an update.

  “What’s the latest?”

  “We’re still trying to communicate with the town,” Colonel Levin, United States military, answered. “The whole area is still a dead zone. We’ve been unable to make contact.”

  “Where the hell did that thing go?” Stanley asked.

  “We don’t know,” Dr. Nancy Wattowski, NASA representative, answered. “We’re trying to track it, but the technology . . . it’s jamming our satellites, radars, everything. That’s why we had no warning it was coming.”

  “So it could still be out the
re somewhere?” Stanley asked. He was trying hard to remain calm and focused, but found it difficult to shake the images that circled inside his mind. Images of the large alien aircraft that had hovered over the Virginian town for twenty-four hours. Obsidian-black in color, roughly oval in shape and utterly terrifying, it had then suddenly vanished into thin air.

  “We don’t know,” Wattowski said. “Quite possibly.”

  “Still no other sightings globally?” he asked.

  “None reported.”

  “Is the perimeter still secure?” He turned back to Levin.

  “Yes,” the colonel answered, “we’ve got a twenty mile exclusion zone around the town. It’s guarded with everything we’ve got.”

  “No one’s come or gone since?”

  “No, we’ve had no physical visuals on any movement, and until our satellites come back online we can’t get picture overhead.”

  “So what the hell are we dealing with here?” Stanley demanded.

  Levin gave him a grave look. “Our forces couldn’t get near it. It jammed our communications and other tech, and emitted some kind of pulse that made our planes fall out of the sky. I’d say it’s the most sophisticated enemy we’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m not sure enemy is the right word to use here,” Wattowski said, throwing her hand up in objection.

  “No?” Levin countered. “Let’s wait and see what’s left inside that town, shall we?”

  “The engines died on those jets and yet they landed softly on the ground,” Wattowski said. “These things, with that technology, could’ve probably killed every living soul on the Eastern Seaboard with great ease, and yet for some reason they guided your planes safely to the ground.”

  “They fried the engines. That’s a hostile move.”