The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  “Hey, good morning. You were so peaceful looking when I got in last night that I didn't want to wake you, so I just crawled in, I hope that's all right?” She looked up at him sleepily and then looked over at the clock. “I won't be needed for a bit, press stuff, briefings at seven, do you want to go with me to breakfast? I have an extra toothbrush around here somewhere. Don't worry, it's just part of the multi-pack I bought, I don't have so many guests here that I have to keep extra toothbrushes handy all the time.” She grinned at him, her mouth quirking a little bit.

  “That...” As if answering for him, his stomach growled just then. “Sounds really good, if, you know, you don't want me to just leave? I already put you out. Thanks, by the way. I was really out of it. I don't even really know how I got to the first floor. I know I pushed four. Planning to see if I could buy something to eat there...” He trailed off, knowing he sounded lame. Probably better to just stop than to keep compounding the damage. Plus, she may cut him some slack, since it was only six-thirty in the morning. He'd been at a really late lunch, so he must have crashed at about four. Fourteen hours of sleep. Well, he felt all right, ready to meet the day, with some food and possibly drugs to prop him up. Just coffee today, Brian decided, unless something came up. He didn't want to push himself too hard after the last week.

  Karen smiled, looked at the mess of covers on the floor, and shook her head, walking out of the room into the bathroom to get him that toothbrush.

  Ten minutes later they were both roughly ready to sneak over to the restaurant and eat something, dressed in real clothes, a requirement for Team One, but Karen not wearing any make-up at all. Technically that was a requirement too, for the team members that needed it. A couple like Argos and Prime just didn't at all. She did, but could get away with skipping for breakfast sometimes, as long as she sat in the corner. Brian looked at her doubtfully.

  “Who told you that you needed make-up for breakfast? You look great. Now me, I look like something dragged out of a puddle, which is really pretty good all things considered.” His smile was lopsided but firm, as if he knew what he was talking about. Karen chuckled, which, given the time of day, seemed pretty nice of her.

  They hid in a corner like she promised and got all the way to the end of the meal, their server, a friendly older man in a waiters uniform, who looked slightly familiar to Brian for some reason, having just taken away the used dishes and brought extra coffee when Prime, Charlot and Bridget came over. They all looked good, Bridget having dressed up again. It made her look like a tiny twenty year old, her make-up reshaped her face somehow, making it less pointy and rat-like and a lot cuter. Not that she didn't look cute the other way, just that this looked... hot, he admitted to himself. If he hadn't known she was only fifteen he could have gotten... confused. Charlot moved to the front of their little family group.

  “Karen! Good to see you up. We need you in the press area by eight-forty-five. Some new information has come in, so we pushed everything back. Brian... I believe nothing is scheduled for you today, R&R after your ordeal, but if you could remain ready to go in front of the cameras? We can forgive a little blurriness around the edges, but pressed and neat, maybe some make-up?”

  Brian shrugged.

  “Sure, but try to keep things free from three to about, oh, seven or so?”

  “Certainly... may I ask why?” She asked Brian, but her gaze went to Karen. It was a meaningful thing, slightly sly.

  Smiling Brian pointed at Bridget.

  “Today, from three or so on, is the quasi-official, if woefully late, b-day celebration for one miss Bridget Chambers. Whole big thing, cake, ice cream and all the people that aren't taken up by this...thing.” He turned to Bridget. “That is if you can come. I got vetted by Christian who read my mind on the subject and Charles who stood there acting threatening. I passed... my intentions have been proven pure, which should be of comfort to your parents.” He solemnly raised his left hand, right going over his heart, Scott smiled at least.

  Bridget jumped up and down for a second, then got herself under control.

  “You remembered me? After everything you went through, you came back and thought about a party for me? I think I might just cry...” She did, but only for about twenty seconds, smiling the whole time. Darting forward she kissed Brian on the cheek and said she wouldn't miss it for anything. Then the Chambers left, as a group. They looked... closer than Brian had thought they were. More like a real family.

  That settled he just had to figure out who to find for the other stuff.

  He hugged Karen, putting off talking to her about things with Becky, knowing that he needed to soon, because too many people knew about it to keep the whole thing quiet any more, including her own team leader... And Charles, who had no reason not to cause problems for Brian right now. Not that he'd blame the guy after their last meeting.

  Brian had worn his weapons to breakfast, so he could go straight to his own room, where he found a new set of black fatigues laid out on his bed. No note or anything. He shaved, re-brushed his teeth, and showered in about ten minutes, then hand washed the flex armor and hung it up to dry.

  “Hey Becky? If I have to go anywhere, do you think I can get enough of a heads up to get changed? I can put this back on wet right now but...”

  Becky laughed. “Who knows? I'll give you what warning I can. Get back into it as soon as it dries. After this last bit I'm surprised you didn't shower in it.” This came as a voice only, with no ghost girl attached. Eerie. Brian smiled at the thought. Well, at least the voices in his head chanted supportive things, like “don't give up” so far.

  Once dressed he went to first Christian and then Jason's office, finding them both empty. No one else was around either, except Mark in the kitchen.

  “All right, the cake is nearly ready, that gives it about six hours to set? That should be fine. Want a peek?” Beckoning with a hand the smiling man got Brian to walk through the door. He didn't know what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. This was...

  “Incredible Mark. I can't... It's perfect...” It was too. Covered in layers of white and cream colored frosting, it looked delicate and complex, without looking like a wedding cake at all. It was also huge, enough for everyone in the place at least, with seconds for most of them.

  Mark outlined his plan, the ice cream, three kinds, which he'd made from scratch the day before, music selections that Tobin had come up with, and invitations to everyone in the facility.

  “Most of them will have to drop in, because of things, but... yeah. I think it should about come together. I even have her three favorite movies and a projection thing to play them on the wall of the common room.”

  Brian thanked him six times and then again after he asked where he could find everyone else, since he should probably stay in the loop, if he could. Mark told him there were two meeting places, but right now everyone should be in the press room on two.

  He decided to take the stairs, trying to buy himself some time and wanting to get the extra exercise. At about floor seven he saw Penny walking down the stairs slowly gripping the hand rail tightly. Her leg wasn't in the splint any more, and probably hadn't been for a while. She looked thinner than she had when they first met, well, when he'd first seen her at least, but cute. She'd cut her hair, this time it looked really good, even, about shoulder length, she wore it straight down right now, blonde and bobbing a little as she came down toward him.

  “Hi! Are you coming to Bridget's party later?” He asked her suddenly, not able to think of anything else to say.

  She shrugged and looked away. “Does anyone want me to?”

  Brian stuck his tongue out, teasing her, and walked up. “Of course! You're our friend, why wouldn't we want you to come? More to the point you're my friend, and Bridget thinks your cool. That's good enough for me. I don't think anyone will object, do you?”

  Her eyes looked tired, like she hadn't slept in a long time.

  “I'm your friend? Really? I mean, you said you'd talk to
me again and then... well, you didn't. I know you're busy all the time now, but I guess I hoped we could hang out or something...”

  “Is it really a surprise? I was always your friend you know, even when I was mad at you. But that's way back when, weeks ago at least.” He put his hand out to shake hers.

  Instead of shaking his hand she grabbed him suddenly, nearly causing him to fold into a hip toss and send her down the stairs, Brian stopped before anything bad was even noticed by the girl, ending them in a tight hug, her head rested against his left shoulder.

  “I thought... When you left, Lauren and Marcia saw you, we all know what that means, but then you didn't come back...I thought you died Brian. That you went somewhere and fought to the death trying to save someone that would probably never even know you did it. I could sleep hardly, thinking about you dying like that, all alone...”

  Holding her he swayed gently for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of her warmth in his arms and her scent, mainly her shampoo he realized. Some kind of flower.

  “Oh no. Not me. I stayed in control the whole time. As best as I could at least. But I never lost control. Not really. It got close... I nearly gave up, but I held on. In the end that made all the difference, I think.”

  She shifted, pressing the side of her face against his, still holding him around the neck. “Keep trying to not die Brian. Please. I need you...” She whispered into his ear, so softly he could barely hear her. It felt like an incredibly strange thing for her to say after the way that she'd already shot him down, but he let it go. After all, that he couldn't figure out what was going on in her mind shouldn't surprise him overly. He'd never been that good about guessing what women were thinking anyway.

  “Well, no dying today at least, I hope. I have to go and try to help sell the world on the idea that they're all safe and everything is happy and joyous. So, see you at the party? Apparently everyone's invited... even me.” He kissed her on the cheek and started walking again, not waiting for her answer.

  Floor two buzzed with activity, a room, not the one where press conferences were held at all, but three doors down, was easy enough to find, since it had been converted to a kind of war office. At the front of the room six white boards had been filled with facts about the specific-infector incident. Everyone in the room spoke at once creating a babble that was hard to understand.

  Brian walked in and started reading the boards, not knowing what else to do in order to get up to speed. It was an old habit he'd developed as a child. When in doubt, if possible, read. The data was mainly familiar, the only new additions of note were that the Canadian authorities had confirmed both the location and the nature of the creatures, and were sending a sample to them, one of the dead they pulled out of the water, and that the power class level for each specimen examined was higher than initially reported.

  Class five.

  Fuck.

  That many class fours would be... devastating if they got into a city. With their power levels, being class five meant they had to be nearly invulnerable to normal weapons as well. Armored somehow at least, or healing so fast it just didn't matter how badly they got hurt. Brian hadn't noticed because he hadn't really been in a position to take them on anyway. Well, until he lucked out and found what may be their only weakness. If they attacked, en-mass, the military would have trouble taking them out.

  They could probably do it, eventually. They had weapons that could take out a tank, and while invulnerable sounded cool, it didn't normally mean a person really couldn't be hurt at all. If nothing else a big enough fuel air bomb or nuke should work. The fuel air bombs were the go to solution, naturally. Nearly the power of a nuke without the radiation. They should also be weak to weaponized gases, unless of course they had super-healing going on, then that might not work.

  Still, it explained the buzz. At least no one was screaming about another event yet. Brian suddenly wanted to go put the flex armor back on, just in case, wet or not. There was talk about something bad, but Brian couldn't catch enough to understand the threat yet. He sat at a large table, a deep brown wood that looked almost black with thick glass on top to protect it, looking around and trying to sort things out.

  Charlot ran up to him. “Brian, thank god you're here. We need to brief you and get you in front of the cameras. Now. I'll let... someone else explain. I don't think I can do it and maintain my dignity at the moment.” Her voice turned so cold at the end that Brian felt like he might be attacked at any second. Instead she hugged him and pulled him to his feet, pushing him out the door in front of her. Once in the hall she took him by the hand and dragged him to a small room about the size of his bedroom, so not really small, just little compared to where he'd just been. In it sat the same people that had surrounded him in the warming tub the day before, with the addition of Charlot. This then, he realized, made the core power group at the base.

  It surprised him that Marcia was part of it, but only because she spent so much time with him. People with power didn't spend their time alternating between giving him hugs and nearly breaking his arms, or at least, he hadn't thought they did. Apparently things were different than he'd imagined.

  Brian looked around and no one spoke so he shrugged and started asking questions to get them going.

  “Charlot said I need to go and talk to the press? What's the situation? If it's another one of these things, then I need my armor and I'm going in armed this time, even if all I have is a tiny knife...” He looked around, the Director cleared his throat and pointed to a screen looking cold and sounding a little angry.

  “Here, just watch, it's easier than trying to explain...”

  On the screen a man stood, livid with rage and speaking from the purest heart of fear, telling the world of the specific-infector and how it could be headed anywhere, including to the U.S. or a large population center in Canada and if that took place, horrible things would happen.

  So far Brian didn't see the big deal about it. Even when the scared man told everyone that these things were class fives and showed pictures of them, dead ones which Brian recognized personally, flannel shirt guy and topless woman, who he assured the room didn't look half as scary as they really were when they started moaning and howling in the dark. Just thinking about it made him want to leave the room and hide under his bed for a week. He told everyone this out loud, getting a nod from a few of the people as they looked at the images.

  What came next was the part that had everyone on edge. The man, Senator Hooper, their old friend, called for the internment of all Infected in the United States and was pushing for an emergency action to do just that – immediately. No trial or wrong doing would be needed, just being Infected would be enough.

  Ah, Brian nodded to himself, that would be enough to get people here going.

  The press talked about it excitedly, many of them seeming to support the idea, at least in theory, with only a few pointing out how it wouldn't work at all and would only force the good Infected people to hide or fight. Fear seemed to be winning the day, with most of the coverage showing people on the street grudgingly accepting that something like that should be done.

  “Wow, this Hooper guy is good!” Brian said brightly, his voice not even holding sarcasm. “He took a pretty serious situation that needs all our attention and turned it into a national tragedy in the making all by himself. I wonder if he has people to think of things like this for him, or if it just, you know, pops into his head without even trying?”

  Even without a real plan they knew they needed to say something, or else fear could sway a lot of minds against them all. Brian didn't know what to do but didn't feel too lonely since no one else had any real ideas either. Shrugging he suggested they just tell the truth.

  Charlot held up a hand for silence and got it. “What do you mean exactly Brian? Who's truth?”

  “Why not just tell them that this is potentially bad, that we're trying to do something about it, but that trying to round up all the Infected and put them in concentration c
amps would make our job a lot harder, and not protect anyone from this current threat at all? What do people really want right now? This threat out there with Prime and Level standing by ready to fight it, or this threat out there with those same people wondering if the showers have water or malathion gas today?”

  It seemed simple to him.

  Charlot thought for a while and finally nodded. “Risky as all hell, but what else can we do? I don't want to go to a concentration camp myself and I'll tell you all right now that I'll fight to the death if anyone tries to put my family in one.” A soft white light glowed around her clenched right hand, held at her side, the desks and tables pushed away from her a few inches. Brian nodded at her once. That answered the question of her being Infected or not, at least. He also had to agree with her on the point.

  They made plans then, which didn't overly include Brian, thank goodness. He'd have to go and stand in front of the cameras with Team One later.

  “Why not everyone? I mean everyone that can stand to be in the room. Look, people know the different teams exist, hiding everyone but the pretty people away just adds to the stigma. Put them out front, let people see who they really are, warts and all. After all, if I'm a ninety-three year old woman from Illinois, I'd rather have Lauren guarding my back than some college drop out that worked in a factory less than four months ago... These things are scary, maybe we need to show them that the good guys can be scary too, but are on their side, and always have been?”

  Nobody liked that one much at all. Charlot told him about how delicate public perception was, and seemed to be controlling her voice to keep anger out of it. That, Brian guessed, probably meant the suggestion was incredibly stupid. It made sense to him showing the public how tough they could be, but he conceded the point. They were the experts for a reason.

  The event itself went fast, they told the press the truth, all of it and answered every question asked. Brian didn't speak or even go out, just sat in the green room waiting. Then he went and mingled after the thing was over like he'd been told to. For some reason a group of reporters gathered around him like he was Prime or something. Most of them asking softball questions about how he felt, if he'd been scared and stupid things like that. This took a lot longer than the initial press conference had. Moore may not always be his favorite person, but when it came to getting the news out fast and correctly, the guy ruled. When the wall clock said it neared three, he just left, waiving to the Director on his way past.