by P. S. Power
He slammed into the man he'd been aiming for, only to find him tied up and disarmed. It took him a bit to understand what had happened. It had to be the case, didn't it? He looked around. Mark stood behind him peacefully, like always, a silver roll of duct tape in his hands.
“I think I got them all. I'll call the police in a moment. They can clean up from here. I... I know it doesn't seem like it yet, but everyone's horrified about what Denis tried to do earlier. It's been so hard on you. No one blames you for anything. I mean, why would they? But just so you understand? I'm... not great with words, but I hope you come back to the team.”
Brian didn't get to answer, agony swept through him, replacing the mere pain he felt otherwise. This time he found himself back under the tree, his back on fire, lying on his right side. Bleeding. He felt himself going dark, a smile on his lips. He counted as best he could. Nine kids, three other adults in the room he thought, seven while he looked for the stolen kids, and the two earlier, before he left home, then the one from several days ago.
He stumbled over the math, his mind far from clear. Twenty-two? Twenty-two lives saved. As long as he counted the little girl who's nanny he'd replaced too. Four more than the lab people projected. Good enough. He'd have liked to do more, but that would serve. Even one made it worthwhile. It made it all worth it. The beatings, the thirst and hunger, the training, the fear and all. Everything. Oh, wait, the nanny and maybe even the little girl earlier. Twenty-four?
The game sucked, but he'd won, Brian felt himself smile a little then. That would do. The world went black, but he felt the smile on his lips.
He came too in a stark white room.
Well, he thought to himself dreamily, heaven looks just like a hospital room. He'd been hoping for fluffy clouds and angels himself, possibly cute, half naked ones that looked like bikini models, but this would work well enough. He looked over and saw the clear outline of a woman, she stood next to him, not touching him at all. He heard her sob softly. She had clothes on, so no luck there.
“Penny?” He croaked. Before he'd thought that his voice going had been due to lack of water and the beatings, but now he realized it must be the dry hospital air. The idea made him chuckle a bit.
He cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi, Penny. Sorry about all this drama. Are you OK? Is everyone all right?”
“Brian! You're awake! I need to get someone... Um, wait a sec.” He saw her hand reach toward a beige call button and push it firmly, about thirty seconds later a blue scrub clad woman came in, she looked Asian, probably Japanese. Cute.
“Mr. Yi! You're awake already? The betting pool had you down for a coma six to one...” She smiled and didn't apologize to him for the statement at all. Betting pool?
He stared at her until she clearly felt uneasy, then he remembered he should probably talk, say something out loud to put her at ease. People got uneasy when you just stared at them. Right.
“Well... don't just stand there, go put a bet on me to wake up in fifteen minutes. We'll split the winnings.” He tried to grin at her and found that he could. For once his face wasn't bruised up or anything. The side of his head, yes, but that was just from Marcia.
The woman laughed and so did Penny, who touched his arm carefully.
The woman, who introduced herself as Doctor Burrows came and looked at his chart. “First things first, you'll be happy to hear that none of the damage is going to be permanently debilitating. Some scaring on your back, side, and arm, but we have a cream for that, don't sweat it. Chicks dig scars anyway.” She closed the chart and continued.
“We gave you blood, but it's clean. Not that you have to worry about being Infected, but all our stuff is pure. No strange bugs or anything. You've gotten some pain meds, but nothing that should be a problem for you. We didn't know if you'd wake up, honestly. We thought so, but what you did earlier, going all those places and... fighting like that, well the guys in the lab figured it meant that you'd pushed yourself nearly to death. We can get more for you... I'll hook you up with whatever you want. Drugs... dancing girls... fast cars, just ask. I'm kidding of course, except about the drugs, but be responsible about that, you can't afford to turn junkie. Now, pretend to wake up in ten minutes. I'll be right back.”
Playing along Brian did pretend to wake up when she came back in with two other doctors, Penny busting up hard next to him, so loud that he wondered how these others missed it. They decided to increase the pain medication, with the idea that his subconscious mind wouldn't try to take him out of there after the last night and if it did, he'd stand a better chance if he didn't feel all the pain right now.
He agreed. Since it was all guess work, his opinion actually counted for once too. How rare was that?
The rules seemed to have changed, or they didn't know what they were to start with, either way he might as well not be in pain all the time.
They gave him a shot, which did take out a lot of the discomfort, but not all of it, leaving his mind clear. Clearish? When they left to inform people that he hadn't died yet – Doctor Burrows words – he turned to Penny and snagged her hand out of the air. She gasped, took her hand back and looked at it, he took it again and held it.
“Yeah, you're still invisible, but I can kind of see you. It's happened before at least once, when I was going to sleep. I thought it might be the drugs, but really, the longer this goes on, the more I think it's just that I'm paying attention now. I could be wrong, but that's my current guess.” He looked at her carefully. She had a heart shape to her face, and looked slightly round for modern America to consider her really pretty, at least through the face. Cute, in an average sort of way? Which meant about twice as good-looking as what Brian had ever rated as far as dating went. Body wise, she looked pretty good too, from what he could make out. Her hair looked... Lopsided. Brian didn't mention it, since it both didn't matter and really, it couldn't be easy to cut your own hair without a mirror.
Doctor Tull came in first, asked him about fifty questions, which he answered as best he could, most of them about how he felt in regards to the police right now. His opinion he told her, wasn't favorable.
“They keep trying to beat me up. What the heck is with that? Normally right after I do their job for them and try to save someone's life too. I don't see the connection, but so far...” He raised his eyebrows and made a face.
She didn't laugh, but then, it probably wasn't that funny when you put it all together. Since he had to admit, they really were doing that.
Next up was Mark, who brought him a cake, not much bigger than a cup-cake, decorated to look like the tracking device he'd swallowed. It was all in a metallic silver and looked real. It made him laugh.
“Where'd you get that? It's... awesome. Really... as in it strikes me with awe...” Brian really felt it too. No one had ever gone out of their way to buy something like that for him, a joke, but something that had meaning.
Mark looked at him and shrugged, seeming happy. “I made it. Before all this stuff I used to be a baker. I even had a shot at doing television for it, but life being what it is, I ended up here instead.” The man smiled and shrugged gently.
Yeah, being Infected could mess with your plans.
Not knowing if he should keep it or eat it, Brian asked. Mark suggested he not only eat it, but do it within a few hours, since it had a Bavarian cream filling in it. That or put it in a fridge. Giving him food poisoning might be a little too much for the doctors to put up with, so he agreed to give it a shot. If he couldn't eat it, someone around would. It looked and smelled delicious.
After he left Bridget came and hugged him warmly, managing to be halfway careful about it. She whispered to him, leaning into his ear, her mouth almost touching it.
“There are police coming down. I was sent to warn you.” She popped out of the room faster than she came in not mentioning who sent her at all.
Looking at Penny, he shook visibly. The tremors effected his voice.
“She said that the police are co
ming down and she'd been sent to warn me. I kind of got attacked by one last night, so... I beat him up. I mean, not bad, I don't think, he had loads of armor on and a helmet. But...”
“Maybe they're coming to apologize to you?” Penny said innocently, not having ever dealt with the police, Brian figured.
When the two men came in, they swaggered, both acting like they owned the place, in uniform, blue and black, but both without guns in their holsters – taken at the front gate he guessed. When they walked in, they moved to either side of the bed, trapping him, as if it were a plan. The one of the left grabbed his arm and put a cuff on it quickly, then twisted his wrist, trying to make him roll so they could force the arm behind his back. On the other side the officer grabbed his arm where the bullet had grazed it the night before, digging his fingers in over the bandage. They didn't bother telling him he was under arrest or why, he noticed.
Not that it mattered.
The one on the right went down suddenly, Penny having decided that they didn't mean to say they were sorry to him after all, he guessed, since he didn't see what had happened, being a little distracted. The one fighting with his left arm let go with the right hand and punched him several times in the head, which made him see stars, but only hurt a little.
Yay for pain meds.
He reached over and punched the man back, hitting him in the nose three times before he finally let go. Then that police thug went down too. Penny again. Not being seen or heard made her really useful in a fight Brian noticed.
That, however, was the last straw.
He rolled out of bed carefully, to the right. Looking around he saw that the table, a single legged stand really, rested on small black rollers. So not fixed to the floor, but then he'd never seen a table that was. He picked it up and tested the weight. Heavy enough. Brian brought it down on the neck of the policeman on that side of the bed, who tried to get up. He did it three more times, until the man stayed down.
Slowly he moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the process. He stood out of breath, his right arm bleeding again, when Agent Lancaster ran in.
“Oh, good. I was worried for a minute there. I don't know what the fuck the gate was thinking, they know not to let unauthorized people in here. Arrest warrant? None of you is even subject to arrest for anything less than murder, it's part of the contract to keep things like this from happening. Fucking cock-up.” He actually sounded a bit angry about it, Brian noticed.
That made sense to him at least.
Brian just shrugged, hefted the table and hit the man again, then moved back to the one that had hurt his arm. This time he kicked him. After the second kick Brian stopped that, because he nearly broke his big toe on the man's head. He hit him with the stand again instead, getting a groan in return. It was tiring work, but like Marcia had said, fight until they were dead and don't hold back.
He might have muttered that out loud. It was hard to tell.
Agent Lancaster just stared at him, not saying anything. Penny touched his shoulder from the back, the right one, one of the few places left without injury on his body.
“Brian... don't... don't kill them. They were stupid coming here and wrong to attack you, but they don't deserve to die over it. They were just trying to do their job...” Brian shrugged her hand off.
“No. “Just doing my job” “Just following orders” those excuses don't cut it. If we want to play that game, then I'm just doing my job, making sure these monsters don't do it again.” He swung, hitting the man on the back with a thunk.
A half dozen people crowded into the room then, two of them other police officers, also without side arms. Seeing what Brian had been doing, they rushed in, trying to grab him. He fought. Just as hard as he could, punching, kicking, and biting. They didn't go down as easily as the first two, Penny not helping him this time. He didn't give up even as they struck him, hitting one in the groin with the top of his right foot, the other with the table, but weakly, held only in his left hand. Growling he moved in and dug his thumb into one of the attacker's eyes, making him scream briefly.
No one helped him, but then, he hadn't expected them too. He hefted the stand in both hands and got ready to strike the man with it when a light blue wave of light flooded the room and with it an overwhelming wave of gentleness, kindness and compassion. When he looked up at the door, he saw her... Lady Glory.
He'd always thought the name sounded stupid and a bit self-serving, but he realized now that it hadn't been picked by her, but by people that had seen her. Felt this. He had no room for anger in him now. Only love, compassion and gentleness.
He took a deep breath, swallowed, and stood stock still for a moment. The wave of light intensified, running through him so completely he thought he'd cry for a moment. People in homicidal rages, crowds of angry and violent protesters, even insane people, bowed before this light.
Brian understood it now. They didn't have a choice. Compassion led them in its glow.
So then, out of love and compassion for all the people the cop could hurt in the future, Brian hit the man in front of him with the table again and again, walked over to his friend who had also attacked him – true, it had been to protect their friends, but only after those friends had attacked Brian themselves – and struck that one as well.
The light vanished as he set the table down. The sense of compassion lingered, so Brian tried to explain to the room and the still glowing woman that stood in front of him, weeping softly.
“You have to understand, if they came here and used force against me, a man that had saved lives publicly and was in a hospital bed, injured from doing it, what would they do to even weaker people? They have to be stopped to protect the good people. I know that many of you believe that they must be good, because they're wearing police uniforms, but when all evidence is to the contrary, isn't it time to change your opinion?”
He knew that, not having seen what these people were capable of first hand, most of the people in the room just wouldn't get it. He needed to leave here, this place wouldn't be safe for him anymore. Not now.
He tried to leave, but people stood in the way. Lady Glory didn't move, for instance, but didn't do anything. He had nothing against her, or any of them and even kind of understood. It probably looked crazy to them, but he couldn't let the police take him again, no matter what. If that couldn't be seen by the people at the IPB he'd have to make his own way in the world.
Somehow.
Brian looked at them and asked them to clear the doorway, adding in a warm sounding please. No one moved. In fact they stared at his wounds, which were bleeding freely. On his arm everyone could see the wounds, the bloody rents left by the officer that had grabbed him there, his strength must have been insane. On the other side he bled as well, had he been hit there? He didn't remember that, but maybe.
Rage and anger took him again. How could they look at all this, see him being attacked like this and not see his actions as simple self defense? Did they truly despise him so much? Couldn't they see he had to act, that these bad cops were a danger to innocent people and that they'd been willing to let them hurt him again for nothing?
Brian whispered this to the room, then asked them to clear the door again. Lady Glory, weeping openly now, hit him with her full power, which made him feel better, but didn't stop him from needing to leave now, before the friends of these police came for him. They'd kill him, if he let them take him, obviously.
Brian told them that calmly and without rancor. Moving past Lady Glory, smiling at her. She took his arm, the left one and made one last attempt to influence him, pouring every bit of her power into him, making him glow slightly. It looked cool, he decided, and complimented her on it. Then just as gently, he removed her hand from his arm and walked into the hall.
As he did, two more officers rounded the corner. He prepared himself to fight again.
This shit, he decided, was getting old. They stopped when they saw him and took aggressive stances, feet going wide, arms
out, ready to attack.
From behind him, a voice boomed.
“No fucking way. What the hell is this? This is a federal complex and you do not have jurisdiction over any of our people. Four of your officers have been apprehended already for trying to assault a federal agent, if you do it too, I swear to fucking god all mighty I will personally end your motherfucking lives, do you hear me?” Agent Lancaster. When Brian turned he saw the agent had his weapon out, but didn't aim it at them.
“How many of these pig fuckers are in this place? Enough of this shit.” He went to the phone, dialed a number, a single digit and spoke into the phone for a minute. After the first fifteen seconds alarms went off. Soon agents ran through the halls, identifiable by their black suits, looking for any errant police, which they rounded up. There were ten in all. The four from Brian's room were treated and released. Brian argued against it.
“If we let them go... they'll just keep doing things like this. We need to stop them. If they were willing to falsely arrest me, how many people are in prison for similar reasons right now? If they leave, they'll claim that I attacked them and bring back more of their kind...”
It felt funny, blood loss and all the trauma, the stress and strain of the last weeks getting to him, but he really thought they should do something. Maybe not kill the men, but at least make them apologize and promise not to do it again. He nodded to himself.
“Right. They can go if they apologize and mean it. If they won't, then we kill them.”
He didn't try for Lancaster's side arm, since he stood watching Brian so closely he probably expected it. Instead he just walked up to the officer that had grabbed his right arm and pointed.
“So, are you sorry?”
No words came from the cop, of course.
He walked to the man that had cuffed him, still wearing the thing on his left wrist. He pointed at it, then at his left side, where bright red blood stained the otherwise pristine white bandage.
“Are you sorry?”