“What are you doing here Marty? You’re kid isn’t old enough to go to high school yet. Shouldn’t you and Jordan be over at George Austin Elementary?” said Tom flatly.
“We’re following your lead Tom,” replied the father. “You were the first of us Tom, we’re here to support you. I talked to the other fathers about this, and we all agree, that coming together is better than going to a bunch of different places. Hell, some of these people don’t even live in the district.”
Tom turned and his lips curled into a slight smile. “I appreciate that Marty,” he said. He decided that if he was going to be a leader, then he should look like one. He arched his back and walked tall past the screaming crowd.
A few feet behind Tom, Jim walked with his eyes looking down. He didn’t really want to be here. He preferred to be at home, where things made more sense, where he didn’t have to feel embarrassed about just being alive, where he didn’t feel so... different. He clutched his books tightly against his chest and hoped that he would be able to just make it through the ordeal. He had done this enough times to know what would happen. Dad and the school officials would get into an argument, and then the police would break things up and tell them to go home. Jim tried to walk with his eyes closed to see if that helped, but he could still hear the shouts of the crowd.
“Go home mutant!” “God hates aliens!” “We’ll never surrender!” reached his ears along with some more hurtful phrases. There was a tap at his right shoulder. He looked around to see Jordan walking just behind him. The small child leaned in and said, “Jim, what do you think would be worse, if they don’t let us go to school here, or if they actually do let us in?” He smiled nervously at his joke. It didn’t make Jim feel any better.
Standing at the front of the school was the principal of Tyler High as well as the head of the Tyler County School Board, Helen Montoya. Both had their arms crossed in a symbol of defiance. Behind the two were a few more police officers. Tom walked straight up to the pair. “I’m here to register my son for school,” he said.
“Tom, you know that I can’t allow that,” replied Helen.
“I have legal documents here with me Helen,” said Tom formally, “They guarantee the right of every child in this country access to an education.” He waved the document at Ms. Montoya.
“I have legal documentation too Tom. Would you like me to read it to you? It is from the County Health Board. It says...,” she put on her reading glasses, “...no child with a communicable disease will be allowed to attend classes if it is believed that the child poses a risk to other students.” She took the glasses off her head. They dangled from a cord at her neck. “We’ve already gone over this a hundred times at the school board meetings. You cannot register a HS-positive child in this school.”
“But there is no proof that HS is contagious. Hell Jim doesn’t even test positive for the anti-bodies.”
“You try telling them that.” She waved her hand at the crowd. “Tom, it would simply be too dangerous for your child to attend classes here. Not just for the sake of the other children, but for his sake too. Now, I’ve already made the offer to send a teacher out to home school your child, and the other children too.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
“Well I’m afraid that’s the best offer you are going to get. My hands are tied by school board policy. We are not going to register your child.”
One of the Patriot Brigade militia members stepped up. “So take your damn freak kid and get the hell out of here.” That was enough. Tom lunged and took a big swing at the man. The other militia members rushed forward to defend their compatriot, the other parents rushed forward to defend Tom. The police rushed forward with pepper spray. One of them tossed a tear gas canister to disperse the crowds. All of the HS children ran back to the parking lot and gathered behind Tom’s truck along with a few parents who stayed out of the fight.
Jim watched the melee from the relative safety of the parking lot. Jordan was just behind him. “Well, I guess Dad’s spending the night in jail again,” said Jordan, “Do you want to play at my house this afternoon?”
“It’s the same every year,” Jim said to no one in particular.
That same day, The Hayes residence, Frederick, MD
Janice was visibly upset when Colin came home from the committee meeting. She was sitting in the living room, in the large, comfy recliner. She never sat there, she was much more of a couch person. But the recliner did have the advantage of facing the front door. It was the place to sit if you were desperately waiting for someone to come home. When Colin opened the front door he could see here there. Her presence meant that something was wrong.
Colin dropped his briefcase by the plastic mat used to hold wet shoes and came to his wife. “What is it honey?” he said.
“I was cleaning Ben’s room today,” she was twisting something over in her hands, “and I found this under the mattress.” She thrust the object at Colin as if she were stabbing him with it. He took the brown cloth from his wife’s hands and unfurled it. It was a brown beret with the words, ‘Patriot Youth Corps’ embroidered across the front in yellow thread. Colin stared at the object for a few seconds to grasp its meaning, then threw it on the floor.
“Where is he?” he said angrily.
“I sent him to his room.”
Colin rolled up his sleeves and started up the stairs. “I’m going to have a talk with that boy.” She trailed behind him, hoping that he situation wouldn’t get worse. She had faith that Colin could make anything better. But lately he had become angrier and angrier, about everything. Ben had become more and more hateful, despite all of the care and attention she gave him. Neil was a handful in of himself. The child was weak and sickly, even for someone who had HS. All Janice ever wanted was the American Dream. The house with well-behaved kids and an attentive, loving husband. Now everything was falling apart. Everything was changing, warping somehow out of control.
Colin smashed his fist against the door to Ben’s room. “Get out here right now Mister!” he shouted. There was no reply. “Don’t make me come in there!” He bashed the door again. Still there was no reply. Janice grabbed her husband’s arm as he brought it forward for a third assault on the door. Tears were in her eyes. Colin came out of his rage and jostled the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. He swung the door open, ready to let out all of the frustrations he had felt that day on his disobedient child. But there was no one in the room. The window was open, and both parents knew that the tree nearby was close enough for a nimble person to climb to the ground without too much effort. There was a hastily scrawled note on the bed. It said, ‘Gone to Fred’s house for dinner. His Dad’s a REAL AMERICAN. I’ll be back when you guys calm down a little. -Ben’
Colin ripped the note in half. If he couldn’t vent his rage on a person, he would vent it on an inanimate object. Then he punched the wall and broke a fist-sized hole in the plaster. He sat down on the bed, with his head in his hands. A faint sobbing sound could be heard.
“It’ll be all right dear,” Janice said through her tears. She tried to smile. “Maybe we’ll move him to a new school. Somewhere that won’t have the bad influences.” She sat down beside him and put her arm around his shoulders.
“It’s not about Ben. It’s about the whole damn system. Ben’s just a symptom.”
“It’s work isn’t it?”
“That damn Hudson is pushing through all of his agenda. Most of the panel is with him. We’re not even TALKING science anymore. No one is interested in curing this thing. They’re just interested in building up an army for some attack. Do you have any idea what they’re doing to those kids they’ve got locked up in those ‘orphanages?’ I do, I’ve read the reports. Guinea pigs, that’s all. I’m not going to let them treat Neil like that. I’m not going to. But then, I come home to find their propaganda infecting my family. Damn them, damn then all to hell!” He reached across the bed and swatted at Ben’s baseball bat shaped light. It crashed to the floor.
The next sound that could be heard was the patter of footsteps in the hallway. A single, insect-like eye peered around the doorframe into the room. It darted back quickly, not wanting to be seen. “Come here baby,” said Lorraine. Neil ran into the room and into his mother’s arms. The two parents cuddled their child for some time without saying a word.
Eight months after the Monmouth Orphanage for the Treatment of Handel’s Syndrome opened its doors.
“I’m glad you came Sister.” Franklin is sitting at a table in the waiting room across from a nun. He is dressed in a plain, gray jumper, just like all of the other children at the facility.
“It’s your birthday Franklin, I couldn’t stay away.”
“Are you sure that your visit is ok with Father Kennedy?”
The nun waved her hand in the air as if to swat away the question. “What I do with my free time is none of Father Kennedy’s business,” she said. “Besides, he never notices me anyway. He’s usually too busy with all the paperwork at the orphanage to care whether I’m around or not.”
“So, how are things back at Holy Trinity?” Franklin said with a nostalgic smile.
“Its so much quieter since you and Enoch and the other boys all left. Now that all of the HS children are sent here, our house is almost empty. There are rumors that we’ll be closed altogether. More and more couples are coming every day to take the children that we do have. I guess that people have decided that an adopted child without HS is better than risking giving birth to a... a...”
“An alien?”
“Franklin! You know that’s now what I meant.” She shook her head in mock disbelief. “Sometimes you are too confrontational for your own good. Most people don’t think the way you think they do. Most people don’t hate you.”
Franklin looked around the stark waiting room, and then down at himself. “That’s not what it looks like from here.”
“You’ve got to have faith Franklin. You’ve got to believe in the idea that you will be delivered from misery one day. You’ve got to believe that things are going to get better. You’ve got to believe that everyone in their heart is a good person, and that even though most of them are scared and stupid, deep down they want what’s right and they’ll eventually figure it out. You’ve got to be patient Franklin, you’ve got to be patient and you’ve got to set a good example. Isn’t that what Father Blythe taught you?”
“Father Blythe is dead Sister,” Franklin said flatly. “They killed him for what he believed.”
Sister Mary Helen frowned. “Don’t let his death be in vain Franklin. Father Blythe was a martyr, and he’ll be recognized for it one day. But you’ve got to educate people. You’ve got to show them what’s right. You can’t just give up on humanity because there are a few morons out there that are scared silly over some disease that they don’t know how to cure.” She reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers. “You watch Franklin. Things will get better. They’ve got scientists working all over the world on this thing. They’ll find a cure. And the minute they do people all around the world will relax. They won’t consider you a threat anymore. Things always look darkest before the dawn.”
“I guess you’re right Sister,” replied Franklin. “Without you and Father Blythe for guidance, I sometimes find myself lost. It’s hard to keep up hope in this place.”
The nun looked down at the four hands touching across the table. Franklin’s elbow was horribly bruised. “Franklin, what did you do to your arm?” she exclaimed.
Franklin grabbed at his damaged appendage as if the injury had just happened. “Nothing Sister. It’s nothing. They just take blood samples for their research that’s all. Sometimes they miss the vein I guess. It’ll heal.” He turned his face into the approximation of a smile. He didn’t want the Sister to worry about him.
“But look at you. She grabbed his arm and held it into the light. There must have been a dozen visible needle marks. “Do they do this to all the children here?”
“As far as I know. I don’t talk to all of them of course, but as far as I know.” He chuckled. “But it’s ok Sister. It’s for the research after all.”
Two months after James Miller should have started the 12
th
grade. The Miller farm, Tyler, TX
Even for a child who has school activities to distract them, the wait can be excruciating. For Jim, who had far more time on his hands than the average teenager, the wait is almost unimaginable. Every afternoon, just after 1 pm, he treks down the half-mile or so of dusty road to where the pavement starts, to where the mailbox is. Sometimes he is early, arriving before the postman can deliver his daily load of flyers and bills. On those days, such as today, he sits and waits by the empty mailbox. It isn’t that hot this time of year, and there is plenty of time after all. Studying can wait until the mail arrives. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his studies knowing that the answer could be waiting for him in a little tin box. So he sits and waits, watching the long, straight road for signs of the van that carries the mail.
On this day, the postman drove up only a few minutes after Jim arrived. He didn’t like Jim. All of these alien kids really “freaked him out,” he used to say. But he was a professional and he took the job of delivering the mail very seriously. So he was cordial to the youngster if not friendly. He pulled up in the big white truck and passed the Miller’s load directly to the waiting teen’s spindly hands. He even managed to choke out a “Have a nice day” before he drove off.
Jim flipped through the pile of mail rapidly, looking for the letter that he hoped would arrive. At first he didn’t see it. But on closer inspection, in between the cable bill and a farm equipment catalog, was the small, white envelope he had been waiting for. On its face was the logo for Georgetown University. Jim didn’t even wait to get back to the house. He dropped the rest of the mail in a heap on the ground and tore the envelope open with his teeth. Inside was a single sheet of paper. That’s wasn’t a good sign. After fumbling with it for a few seconds, he unfolded it. It read: