by Alan Janney
Infected
Copyright © 2015 by Alan Janney
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
@alanjanney
@ChaseTheOutlaw
[email protected]
First Edition
Printed in USA
Cover by MS Corley
Artwork by Anne Pierson
ISBN: 978-0-9962293-4-0
Sparkle Press
For my family
Prologue
Los Angeles Times. May 1st. 2018.
“A Night With Natalie North.” By Teresa Triplett
He warned us.
The Outlaw told us that we would see more…creatures like him soon, but we weren’t receptive. He expressed the danger to Los Angeles, but we laughed him off. The man in the mask was stepping outside of his innocuous narrative, or so we thought, and the citizenry didn’t appreciate the intrusion. Wasn’t his fifteen minutes of fame enough?
We were mistaken. Los Angeles is still staggering. We have paid the price for our folly, for our arrogance. However, even in retrospect, how could we have possibly been prepared? I’ve watched the videos countless times and I still cannot believe what I’m seeing. Who are these people? And why can’t we find them?
And speaking of missing persons, what has become of the masked man himself? We all watched him die, completely incinerated. Didn’t we? Or did we all collectively hallucinate that awful night?
I first heard the rumors a week ago, and then the grainy photographs began circulating. Whispers in the dark that our hero hadn’t succumbed to mortality just yet. Perhaps we are not abandoned after all.
The one person who might know for sure agreed to talk with me but either cannot or will not comment on the Outlaw. Natalie North has just finished her spring semester and is packing for Vancouver to shoot a movie. Her agent and manager has purchased her a condo in New York City, in case Los Angeles is no longer safe when filming wraps in August.
We sit down for coffee and she doesn’t mince words.
“The Outlaw has been incredibly decent to me, and he might be Los Angeles’s best hope for peace, if he’s alive. Even if I knew anything about his life, his death, or his whereabouts, why would I betray him to the media?”
She is not mad. She is simply matter-of-fact.
I don’t have an answer for her, other than a selfish one; I would sleep better at night if I knew he was still alive.
(continued on page 3A)
Infected
Die Like Supernovas
“There were giants on the earth in those days…Those were the mighty men, who were of old, men of renown.”
Genesis 6:3-4.
“Sir Launcelot took another spear and unhorsed sixteen more of the King of North Galys’ knights, and with his next, unhorsed another twelve; and in each case with such violence that none of the knights ever fully recovered.”
– Sir Thomas Malory, The Tale of Sir Lancelot
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Tuesday, January 1. 2018
Chapter 2: Tuesday, January 2. 2018
Chapter 3: Wednesday, January 2. 2018
Chapter 4: Thursday, January 3. 2018
Chapter 5: Friday, January 4. 2018
Chapter 6: Saturday night, January 7. 2018
Chapter 7: Saturday, January 14. 2018
Chapter 8: Saturday, January 14. 2018
Chapter 9: Tuesday, January 17. 2018
Chapter 10: Wednesday, January 18. 2018
Chapter 11: Monday, January 23. 2018
Chapter 12: Wednesday, January 25. 2018
Chapter 13: Thursday, January 26. 2018
Chapter 14: Friday, January 27. 2018
Chapter 15: Tuesday, January 31. 2018
Chapter 16: Friday, February 3. 2018
Chapter 17: Friday, February 3. 2018
Chapter 18: Monday, February 6. 2018
Chapter 19: Thursday, February 9. 2018
Chapter 20: Saturday, February 18. 2018
Chapter 21: Saturday, February 18. 2018
Chapter 22: Wednesday, February 22. 2018
Chapter 23: Tuesday, February 28. 2018
Chapter 24: Friday, March 3. 2018
Chapter 25: Friday, March 3. 2018
Chapter 26: Friday, March 3. 2018
Chapter 27: Friday, March 3. 2018
Chapter 28: Wednesday, March 8. 2018
Chapter One
Tuesday, January 1. 2018
“This is a bad idea,” I said.
“You’ve said that before,” Katie Lopez beamed at me.
“It still is.”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she said and she touched me on the nose with her finger. I sat on the bed in her small, pink and perfumed room watching her get ready for her date. I hated the outfit she'd picked out; it was far too small and tight. But she just laughed when I suggested she wear sweatpants and a hoodie. Her finger turned my whole face hot and tingly.
“I’m not jealous,” I protested. Again.
“Yes you are,” she said, arms raised to fasten her silver necklace. “And I like it.”
“I’m worried. Big difference.”
“You’re jealous but you’re really not allowed to be. You have a girlfriend. Remember? The prettiest girl in school?” she reminded me pointedly. “And I have a date with a gorgeous Patrick Henry Dragon.”
She was right about two things. One, I did have a girlfriend. I honestly kept forgetting that over the weekends. Her name is Hannah Walker and although she’s high school royalty she’s also very committed to her school work and cheerleading, even over the weekends. We’d never even been out on a real date. And the second thing Katie was right about, I was jealous.
In fact, I’m in love with her.
I had been for years. I fully admitted this to myself for the first time a few months ago, when she almost died. She’d been kidnapped in October and the police couldn’t find her for over twenty-four hours. Thankfully she’d been rescued unharmed but that day was the worst of my life. Katie is my childhood best friend and I don’t want to live in a world without her. I really like Hannah, my girlfriend, especially when I was around her. She’s overwhelming. But Katie is a way of life for me, as important as oxygen.
“You can not, you can not go on a date with a Patrick Henry Dragon. We’re Hidden Spring Eagles. The Dragons are our rivals,” I said.
“I know! It’s forbidden love, which is romantic,” she grinned, and she began doing something to her face in the mirror with a makeup brush. She’d been growing increasingly pretty as she transitioned out of childhood. Did she know that? I was positive she didn’t care; she only cared about being our school’s next valedictorian.
“It’s not romantic. And it’s certainly not love! Ugh. The Dragons are scum,” I said and took another bite of a chocolate bar. Katie kept her room permanently stocked with chocolate for me. I’d been bingeing on the stuff recently. She lived in an apartment down the street from my family’s townhouse.
“Tank is not scum,” Katie admonished me. “He’s too perfect.”
“Tank is scum. Trust me. He’s a big fat dumb scumbag.”
“Chase,” Katie snapped. “I’ve been waiting to go on this date for over two months. It’s January. He asked me out in October!”
�
��November,” I corrected her. November 1st. I’d never forget that day. That awful awful day.
“Whatever! Mami has had me barricaded in here for two months, like I’m in the witness protection program or something. I’ve been anticipating tonight for sixty days, Chase. So please try and not ruin it for me?”
What could I say? Nothing. I wanted to say so many things but could say none of them. What I wanted to tell her most of all?
The guy she was going out with tonight was the very big fat scumbag that had kidnapped her two months ago. She just didn’t know it. And I couldn’t tell her.
I secretly tailed her car downtown. Her mother was driving her to Tank’s apartment in the city, and I trailed five cars back in my trusty old Toyota. Her mother, a sweet Latina lady, drove five miles under the limit so I had no problem following through the thick Los Angeles traffic. Katie would kill me if she knew.
In the stylish northeastern section of the cavernous city, not far from Echo Park, her burgundy sedan disentangled itself from the snarl and eased to a stop next to a familiar brick building. I parked illegally a block away and watched through the stop-light traffic. I was intimately familiar with that five-story apartment building. I’d never been in it, but I’d been on top of it. Weird, but true.
A massive young man emerged from the building’s grand double-door entrance. It was Tank Ware. The best high school football player on the planet. Junior at Patrick Henry High. Athletic freak. Absurdly handsome. Mind-bogglingly wealthy. A latino, like Katie. Local thug. Slum lord. My nemesis. And Katie’s kidnapper. Despite Katie’s kidnapping being videotaped by TWO helicopters, including one flown by the police, Tank had miraculously escaped. No one knew his real identity, not even Katie.
Well, one person knew. Me. But I couldn’t tell her.
I had four reasons. One, Katie already suspected I’d developed a crush on her and so she’d just assume I was lying due to jealousy. Two, everyone else would assume I was lying to get revenge on Tank, whose team had defeated mine in our recent football championship. Three, I worried what Tank might do to Katie if I ‘snitched’ on him. Four, and of conclusive importance, I couldn’t prove a thing.
As always, Tank was wearing white gloves. One day I’d figure out why. He opened the sedan’s passenger door and extended his gloved hand to Katie, but only because I didn’t have laser beam eyesight and couldn’t vaporize him on the spot. Blushing beautifully, Katie accepted the offered hand and stepped out of the car. Katie’s mother climbed out of the driver side and walked around to be greeted by the handsome couple who had emerged from the apartment building. The two ladies hugged and then the grown-ups chatted amiably. Katie was smiling up at the young man and bouncing on her toes in excitement.
I wanted to die. But instead I pulled out a mask.
I hadn’t worn the mask in two months, not since I fought Tank and found Katie. I wore it to hide my face, obviously, but it had turned into something else, something ridiculous and out of control. Cameras had filmed me while wearing the mask and national interest had been piqued. I’d been given a nickname, and now suddenly the whole world was after me. But no one knew the real identity of the Outlaw. No one except Tank, which made my blood boil.
So now he and I lived in an uneasy truce, a cold war that threatened to boil over any day.
I found a hidden corner and scrambled up the wall, my fingers and shoes grabbing surfaces that barely existed. This new trait of mine was still unnerving. I flung myself over the parapet and ran to Tank’s five-story apartment building, reaching the roof via a pristine fire escape staircase. Everything was familiar. I’d been here several times visiting Natalie North, an actress that claimed to be in a romantic relationship with the Outlaw. She wasn’t exactly wrong about that. But she wasn’t right either. The Outlaw was just me in a ski mask, not some cool superhero. A case of mistaken identity. Or superimposed identity. Or…something weird.
I felt exposed on the roof, because this building was only five stories high and it was surrounded by taller towers. Millions of windows stared at me from above. Was I being watched?
I glared at the penthouse door. It stared back. What was I doing here? What could I do? It’s a free country. Katie can date whoever she wants. If I bust down the door and interrupt their date, Tank would unmask me. I’d be humiliated. But…was I just supposed to sit by quietly and let it happen? Let her date her own kidnapper? I stalked back and forth, fuming.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Without warning, a bag was dumped over my head and synched at the neck. Simultaneously my hands and ankles were bound from behind. It happened so quickly, so neatly and so professionally that I was immobilized before I could move a muscle. I cried out, disoriented and confused and angry, and I was lifted off the ground. What was happening?! I couldn’t think, couldn’t process. The unseen world beyond the bag swayed and jumped. I got the impression of movement, of speed, of air and power. I kicked and bucked furiously but the hands holding me just clamped down harder. My screams got no farther than the hot bag around my face. I pulled and strained desperately at the binds around my wrists to no effect. It was useless. I could do nothing to prevent the interminable journey.
Someone laughed. A man’s voice said, “He’s mad,” and then I was dropped onto the ground. With a final distressed roar, I snapped my wrists free and tore off the bag.
I was in the clouds! Or at least it appeared that way for a shaky, woozy instant. I tried to stand but the sudden change in altitude made me lightheaded. Plus my feet were still bound. I glared at my surroundings, wide-eyed. I was on top of a skyscraper, sitting on a helipad. What. The. Heck.
“Take it easy, kid,” someone said. “If you fall off then I did all this work for nothing.” A man was crouched on the asphalt three feet away. He reached down with a gloved hand and picked up the bindings I’d just broken. He grinned around a cigarette burning between his sharp white teeth. “Looks like I nabbed the right guy. Those were police grade plasticuffs you just snapped, hero.”
My first instinct was to hit him. Hard. I was trembling, afraid and angry, and my stomach was boiling with adrenaline. But something about the man gave me pause. He appeared… formidable. He was built solidly and gave off the impression of dangerous energy. “Who are you?” I asked warily.
“That depends,” he said and he snapped the plastic cuffs around my ankles with a quick knife thrust. He collected the bag and the two broken cuffs and walked to a black satchel near the iron staircase. He was wearing a black shirt and black cargo pants with a pistol holster clipped to his belt. His features were hard, the lines around his eyes were deep, and he was completely bald. He shoved the bag and the cuffs into the satchel, and he sat down crisscross on the helipad.
We were on top of the US Bank Tower, the tallest tower in the city. The colorful array of light panels gave it away, providing me with just enough ambient light to examine my captor. The air up here was cooler and the wind sang through the antennas.
“That depends on what?” I asked.
“Who I am depends on whether or not you’re insane yet,” he said simply. “I know that doesn’t make much sense. Not yet.”
“You got that right. Do you know who I am?”
“Partially. I know you like to call yourself the Outlaw,” he grinned around his cigarette again. I touched my face; my mask was still on. “Seems a little…stupid, you ask me. But your mild-mannered alter ego? I have a few educated guesses.”
“You were waiting for me on top of that building.”
“Right you are.” He held out a box of cigarettes. “You smoke?”
“No,” I scoffed. “People still do that?”
“Smoking won’t kill you,” he smiled darkly. “Not you.”
“Tell me who you are,” I demanded and I stood up. I was frustrated and feeling punchy.
“Soon, kid. I promise. First,” he said and he blew smoke into the atmosphere. “Let me take a few guesses about you.”
“Make it quick or I’m leaving
.”
“The door is behind me and I won’t stop you. First guess, mate. You’re suffering from headaches,” he said and held up one black gloved finger.
“So? It’s been a stressful few months.”
“Two,” he said. Another finger. “You’re having stomach pains too.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Three,” he continued, unimpressed with my surliness. “You’re eighteen or nineteen. Fourth, you’re experiencing intermittent superhuman speed bursts. You cannot predict or control these episodes. Am I correct?”
….whoa…I was speechless.
He kept going, “Fifth, you’re having similar episodes with superhuman strength. Yes? You can run faster, jump higher, or you may be able to climb, or dig, or swim, or throw, or go without sleeping, or think faster, or even seem to make time stand still. Most of those true?”
Neither of us spoke for a long time. His gloved hand, all fingers extended, was like a slap in the face. He’d been right, five for five. Eventually he dropped his hand; he knew he was right. The whole world had incorrect guesses about me. This guy…knew everything.
“Who are you?” I asked. “How do you know this stuff?”
“That’s easy,” he puffed. “I know because I can do those things too.”
Chapter Two
Tuesday, January 2. 2018
His words landed like bombs.
“Hold on,” I said. “You’re…you can do things? Like me? Like climb walls?”
“I can,” he nodded. “But I can do them a lot better. You’ll keep developing, over time.”
“You’ve seen the news,” I guessed. “Most people believe what they saw was just camera tricks or a hoax.”
“We both know that’s not true,” he said gruffly. “Where do you think your abilities come from, mate? How can you suddenly jump rooftops? Or do whatever the hell else you can do? Do you ever wonder?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Did you think you’re the only one on the planet? That can do these things?” he asked, pointed white teeth flashing. His voice was gravelly. He had a faint accent, but I couldn’t place it. Australian? It wasn’t very noticeable, like it’d been worn away.