The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  “Brian, Ms. Yoder. Good to see you.” She smiled wickedly and turned on Denis.

  “Notice how I left you out of that Mr. Tompkins? That's my subtle way of letting you know I don't really like you. I didn't want you to miss the subtlety. If you fuck this up today I'll kill you.” She glared at him as if he'd pissed in her Wheaties or something.

  Denis nodded, anger ripping through him, even as he fought to keep it off his face. For half a second the sudden attack nearly set him off, making him go on the offensive. He tried for calm, but it didn't really come. Shaking his head Denis decided to just take the high road and not fight about it.

  “Right. OK. I came to help, as asked, but if I'm not welcome... Well, so much for this then, I guess I'll go wait somewhere else, out of the way.” Then he turned, a bit of anger in his shoulders and back and made himself not stop as he went through the door. He really wanted to say so much more than that. It bubbled in his middle, trying to force its way out, to rip into her and demean the woman, to make her feel bad and small.

  But he didn't. Instead he just walked.

  It was almost adult of him and everything.

  The Chambers bitch didn't have a great reason to like him after all. Sure, even Denis could see that pretty clearly. No one did. That didn't mean he felt like putting up with it. If he wanted death threats he'd go and hit on Marcia, which would be more entertaining all the way around at least. His job didn't involve directly taking abuse from the staff as far as he knew. Crowds maybe, bitchy Directors probably, and people in the chain of command certainly. Not Charlot fucking Chambers though. She could kiss his ass.

  Besides, at the moment it took just about everything he could manage not to rip into her and Den really wasn't certain that would hold much longer. She'd taken him off guard and the emotion had started without warning, so best for him to just leave.

  Just past the door Prime stood waiting, patiently it looked like. The room had too many people inside to add an overgrown buffoon to the mix. Denis just stepped around him, which would have worked fine if Charlot hadn't called out for him to stop just then, sounding more than her usual amount of pissed-off.

  That meant that Scott Chambers, her loving husband, reacting at speeds Denis could hardly track and grabbed his arm. Hard, just below the elbow on the right. Because he'd been walking briskly the sudden move made something pop at the elbow as momentum carried his body forward, but the arm suddenly didn't move at all, pain washing through him.

  Fuck, the moron had broken his arm. Pain not normally being an issue for Prime personally, he didn't let go either. Just one of those things the powerful man didn't really get probably. Denis almost dropped him right there.

  “Let go of my arm.” He said softly, teeth clenched, pain reaching into each word, “Prime, let go of my mother fucking arm right now. You broke it, dickweed.”

  Charlot walked up behind him, seething. Like she had a right to seethe? She'd basically invited him to an insult fest and then got mad because he decided to take off instead of turning it into a bar fight? Glancing at her he saw that her hands were glowing white, a nimbus of energy in the air around them that he could feel as vibrations in his stomach. He'd seen that from her before, a pretty decent power level force blast or something. Probably a class three ability. Functionally that meant the same as if she'd walked out enraged, waving a gun around.

  Prime still didn't let go of his arm.

  “I came when asked, got here on time and was instantly insulted by the person that asked me to come. So fuck you, fuck all of you. Now let go of my arm or I'm going to put you all down.”

  The golden man just tightened his grip, the bones in his upper forearm rubbing together painfully. Right, his giant ego wouldn't let him easily do what someone else told him to. Not without some flattery first. Pain ripped through Denis' right arm, nearly causing his legs to give out. Charlot grabbed his right shoulder and pulled, trying to turn him around. It certainly didn't help anything, since most of the force hit right at the point of damage, the man not letting go and Charlot trying to stretch him the other way.

  “Don't you walk away from me! We have work to do and I won't put up with you being uncooperative! You think I can't have you thrown back in holding faster than you can snap your fingers? I have a lot more clout around here than you might think!”

  That seemed too likely to Denis, so he made both of them move into a strong sense of paralysis. That didn't get Prime to let go, even adding in numbness didn't do it. The man's fingers just didn't budge at all, which meant as he began to fall, he took Denis down with him.

  Fuck. It not only hurt, but now they were going to lock him back up again. This was all a set up to get rid of him the whole time? Why fuck bother?

  Brian came out into the hall and looked at him calmly.

  “Maybe you should let them up? Charlot's just stressed. She's worried about Bridget in all of this. Yes, taking it out on you wasn't fair, but things like that happen, people get snippy when things go wrong and this isn't the best of all worlds right now. I don't think Scott meant anything either. He just reacted... That's kind of what he's trained for. That and photo ops.” Then the black suited and dapper looking Chinese guy smiled. It didn't help, but it beat someone screaming at you or pulling a weapon.

  Denis shook his head.

  “They're going to put me back into lock-up now, and probably kill me. Fuck it, I might as well die fighting. I'm sure that won't take long.” Because class four or not, he was pinned and the best Denis could do was make people uncomfortable or scared for a while. He didn't even have a gun, but then he didn't think even asleep he could kill Prime with something like that.

  Even running wouldn't work. Not even if he could get Prime to let go, which didn't seem all that likely at the moment, the hand was just frozen in place. He knew for a fact that they had him chipped and could track him from space. What could he do, hide underground for the rest of his life? Denis got ready for Proxy to attack him, or someone else to, but instead Director Moore just walked out of the little ready room and glanced at the situation calmly.

  “Hmph. Well... kindly let them go now Denis. We need to get you to medical and back here in time for the press conference. Go ahead. No one's locking you up for this. Self-defense after all, and as far as I can tell you managed the situation totally without violence? Didn't even make these two uncomfortable? We certainly can't ask for more than that, can we? You're simply not in the wrong here this time and acted in a way that falls well within the best anyone could ask for.”

  The voice sounded reasonable and slightly amused. The man also wore a dark suit, not as highly tailored as the one Yi wore and it had a red and blue striped tie and a soft blue shirt for contrast. The look was political rather than friendly, it seemed trustworthy enough for all that.

  “Fine, but if Prime starts ripping my arm off I'm putting him back under and then cutting his hand off to get free. The bastard's fucking strong.” Denis let them go slowly and pulled uncomfortably from the larger man's grasp, it having weakened as they emerged from the effect, and scrambled up to his feet, then back away from the threat, ready to set them back on the ground if he had to.

  When Charlot's right hand started glowing again, Brian calmly stepped in front of Denis and winked at the good looking, if angry, brunette.

  “Pull back a bit Char... and Scott, please don't grab people like that in the future. Regular people break too easily for you to forget how strong you are.” The younger man spoke as if they'd listen. Oddly enough they seemed to.

  “You kind of did ambush him Char, and face it, Denis is working pretty hard to keep things together as it is. We have too much to do for our own PR person to be causing problems, don't you think?”

  The woman growled at Brian, which got ignored. Her hands both had a nimbus of white around them, and her glare looked as if she might just be ready to kill them all. Denis got ready to hit her again when she suddenly relaxed and started taking deep, almost gasping, breaths. H
er burgundy dress heaved at the front a bit. Denis couldn't find it charming at the moment himself.

  “Fine.” She intoned stiffly, not looking at Denis at all.

  Like this was his fault?

  Then she spun and walked into the room behind her as if she'd been the one wronged. Holy fuck was that woman insane or what? Infected and probably with mega-bitch as her first mode at the very least, he tried to remind himself. Denis kind of wanted to torture her and her asshole husband for breaking his arm, which still ached horribly. Prime at least wasn't readying his own force blasts. Small favors and all that.

  Director Moore waved down the hallway, “perhaps a quick trip to medical is in order? Brian, could you help there? I know you have some connections in that department. Do you think you could help expedite things for us?”

  All that seemed like news to Denis. Why would Yi have connections in medical? Was he a doctor or something? Or an EMT? The one file he'd read had said something about being a factory worker. Probably just being sent to keep him from running away, Denis guessed. Not that he could. Even walking jostled his arm enough to make it twinge with each step. Running wouldn't have worked well at all. Holding it to his body he cradled the right in the left and tried to walk smoothly. It barely worked. Pain jolted through him nearly constantly.

  Brian didn't say anything until after the elevator started down.

  “Sorry about that. Some people are still having a bit of trouble realizing that you really are trying to change. It's going to take a bit of time. Plus, Charlot really is always like that. Try not to take it personally next time... which will probably be in about fifteen minutes. The press event starts in half an hour, so this will have to be a rush job.”

  The hot Japanese doctor saw them coming and had tried to get Brian up on a table without waiting, then laughed to find he wasn't hurt at all.

  “Well, that's a first, so what's the damage?” She busily felt the elbow and then helped Denis get his jacket and shirt off while Brian explained quickly.

  “A slightly-over-reactive Prime incident. Probably a dislocated elbow with a popped tendon from the sound of it. We have to be back to the event directly. On the good side Denis shouldn't have to actually fight anyone for a while.”

  Long black hair tied back and white lab coat over blue scrubs, the small woman worked quickly, first numbing the area then adding in some steroids to prevent inflammation of the tendons. Or something like that. Denis had gotten sidetracked by her eyes, which were really pretty and lost a few sentences in there, he knew.

  “Totally preventative, but the protocol seems effective so far. Here, this splint will immobilize your arm in a partially bent position. That way you can forget the sling for a few hours. As soon as the thing is over, get back here for x-rays and real treatment.” She sighed and stared at Yi for a second then shook her head slowly. Almost sadly.

  “I'll tell you what I keep telling Brian here. If you do have to fight, just kill them quickly and try not to get hurt.”

  That got his attention, “I... don't really kill people.”

  The medical advice being given to Brian was to kill people? How messed up was that?

  She nodded, “then be really careful. I also wouldn't take up arm wrestling for a few weeks.”

  Denis managed a polite chuckle and promised that he'd get medical supervision if he decided to take that up as a hobby. His arm didn't hurt as much now, until it got down to the bone, then it ached, an annoying thing that made it hard to focus on anything except the discomfort.

  That done, Brian led him back to the second floor. Back to the people that hated him.

  Fucking wonderful.

  7

  No one gave him any instructions, since that would have been Charlot's job and she spent her time working with her daughter. It kind of made sense, the girl had a combination of youth and a first mode that made it impossible, or nearly so, for her to control her impulses. At least Rachel would be sitting to one side of her. The older woman looked good. Mouthwatering in her version of a business suit which involved silk of bright blue, contrasting with the green Bridget wore. They looked like little dolls sitting side by side.

  The long table was covered with a white cloth and ran nearly the width of the room, close to the back. A lot of chairs were set up in front of it. In the center the Director sat already, making small talk with the reporters. When Charlot started pushing them out she made a point of grabbing Denis' arm hard, the injured one, and making him wait until after Mark went out. It hurt, which had obviously been the point. Fucking bitch. She didn't let go, so he retaliated by passing his own pain along to her directly. She gasped, eyes going wide.

  “Yeah, when you hurt people they actually feel pain. Amazing how that works isn't it?” He muttered to her softly.

  It got her to let go at least, after the third tug proved to her what was going on. Nothing like direct feedback for learning, Denis thought, uncomfortable still, pain killers or not.

  He sat, fifth from the door they came in by, much closer to the center than could possibly be wise really. On the good side it was clear that, for the most part, he wouldn't have to talk. Not unless someone asked him a question directly. Den sipped at the glass of water in front of him instead and let the drone of the news conference move past him almost hypnotically. No one really said anything of note for a good fifteen minutes. Basically just a boring recap. He let it pass by without much concern, trying to keep his face interested and calm.

  Then the room seemed to lay into little Bridget without mercy. That got his attention, because people attacking young girls pissed him off. A lot. He had to bite his tongue almost instantly.

  “Miss Chambers,” a sour looking man with blond hair and ass-face so bad that he should have been a cop said, hitting the “miss” as if he held a grudge against anyone in a skirt. He looked a bit too smart for that though, being a cop, since a lot of police departments had an upper cap on intelligence now. That had sounded like a joke when Denis had first heard it, but apparently it was true. If you were too smart, police work just wasn't for you. They figured you'd get bored with it. And they wondered why they kept messing up so bad?

  “How do you respond to charges that you violated the civil rights of the law enforcement on site when you subdued them, even beating already downed men?”

  The girl smiled and drew the microphone that sat in front of her closer to her lips.

  “You mean those awful terrorists that attacked us?” Innocence poured forth and she sounded really young just then. Sweet even. Denis had to go all Zen to prevent laughter. It was darling.

  “Well sir, I had to make sure they didn't overwhelm me. I'm just a kid and there were sixty-seven grown men there, all of whom had come to try and kill me, and they were armed with lethal weapons. I guess it might look a little mean, but I couldn't afford to take chances could I? How would you have subdued that many grown men?”

  The reporters all laughed at the answer, except the lemon sucker that asked the original question. It had been too smooth and left him too little to go on. The man tried again, his voice sharper, almost abrasive.

  “But the police are immune to prosecution in most cases, didn't you think that arrest might be interfering with their lawful duty?”

  If smug had a name it would have been the reporter who spoke. Bridget shook her head sadly and started to speak, answering the man calmly, when the half dozen unarmed police officers in the room tried to rush the table. About a half dozen in plain clothes came up too. They may not have been real cops of course. How would Denis know? He didn't read minds. They didn't head for Yi this time, or the Director, they ran toward Bridget instead. Half the table started to react and a few reporters stood up looking anxious. Toward the back an older black reporter, a well-dressed woman from one of the religious channels screamed loudly.

  “Jesus, take the sinful Infected and protect your faithful children!” She proclaimed to the room loudly.

  Denis recognized her from decad
es before as some hag that had helped her gay husband in fleecing the masses via religion. That kind of show hadn't strictly been allowed at Faithhome, but he'd gotten to see it because Prophet Darren had wanted everyone to see the devil firsthand. In that case it had been anyone that disagreed with what the cult leader taught. That and a single sneaked episode of Gumby had been the only shows he'd ever seen until he left. He'd been locked in a closet for nearly two weeks over the Gumby incident. After the beating.

  So he recognized the woman now.

  Denis made the police drop and sleep. He had a good view of them and none made it to the front table at all. The reporters looked on silently.

  Proxy stood and gestured to the men on the floor.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is what we have to put up with almost constantly. The bigotry and hatred of Infected has gone too far. I'm sure these men aren't terrorists at heart, but they're seeking to aid terrorists and that can't be allowed.” He gestured to the Director who took the hand-off smoothly.

  “So, if there are no further questions, I believe we need to handle this current situation as well as our regular duties now. Anyone?”

  From the front a man that Den had never seen before stood up and gestured at the fallen.

  “Are they dead?” He sounded concerned, a genuine thing maybe. Moore shook his head.

  “No. They're merely sleeping, please note that we are treating them far more kindly than the police normally treat Infected in their custody. Now, we really should attend to this.”

  The reporters didn't want to leave until grim faced agents in black came and told them to with a good bit of force behind their voices. The last ones out, the most driven to get the story probably, had to be escorted personally to the front gate, Denis heard. He didn't see that part of it, just sitting and staring as he was. He could blink, but if he looked away the contact would be broken. Instead he sipped at the glass of water in his hand until it ran out. The cool water had caused a few small beads of condensation on the outside, making his hand damp and cool. It was the kind of thing you only noticed when you really didn't have anything better to do. Finally, some fifteen minutes later the Director tapped him on the shoulder.