The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  “Later Den.”

  Jan, it turned out, really was brilliant, her idea in setting up for the show took two rolling carts and sounded like enough food to feed a small army. She promised it wasn't really that much. Incredible though. All he had to do was come get it at about two. The woman hopped up efficiently and then winked.

  “Now get out of here before the morning crowd gets in. All the Team One people will whine if they see you coming to breakfast not dressed properly, because they have to “be presentable” all the time, which is a pain for them, then Charlot Chambers will come and yell at Warren, who will spend the rest of the day sniping at us, even though we can't do anything about it. You see how that works?”

  “I do. Here...” Denis downed the rest of his black coffee and stood.

  “Um, in case I don't see you later... thanks. This really means a lot, you bothering to help me like this.”

  This got waved away, “ha, good, you'd be surprised how few people actually thank us here. But leave now... I'll have everything ready for you later. No worries.”

  Feeling peppy from caffeine and happier than he thought he'd be for a while, Denis decided to take the stairs back to his room. He had six hours to kill now and at least an hour before breakfast. The exercise, he figured would do him good, even if it was all walking down instead of up. Maybe he could hit the gym too? Walk some laps on the track, even though he wasn't up to jogging yet? Making his way down the stairs was less than fun, the pain meds had started to wear off it seemed, but then, so had the worst of the pain. It kind of evened out. That just meant walking very slow and carefully, one step at a time. No big.

  Or at least it wasn't until he saw the couple clearly having sex against the wall at the fifth floor landing. Denis froze and started to back away, taking a slow step back, not getting who it was really. Clark and...

  At first Denis kind of hoped the vigorously bouncing red-headed woman was Rachel or even Karen, but it wasn't, no matter how much he tried to force his mind to believe that. It was Bridget. Little tiny, very, very young looking Bridget Chambers.

  Fuck.

  What the hell was he supposed to do now?

  8

  His first thought involved running up and beating the hell out of Clark. Prime had busted his arm up though, so that would be out. Plus, skinny or not, the guy was huge. Nearly a foot taller than Denis. Instead he put them both to sleep. They just stopped what they were doing and laid down on the floor, barely twitching at all. Their clothes were still half undone, and the whole thing just left Denis with a disaster.

  God it was a mess.

  Not having a single clue as to what was needed, he decided to cheat and walked over to the level five door, keeping it behind him so he never lost visual contact with the two on the floor and started to pound on it. With his right hand.

  Bad plan he decided, nearly going to his knees.

  Very fucking bad move.

  After he recovered, barely keeping the two asleep for nearly two minutes, Denis kicked the door with his heel instead, which worked a lot better, not trying to rouse the whole floor, just get a little help. What he got was Tobin, thank God, and the giant armored woman. Level.

  The voice that came out of her sounded sweet at first. Like a young woman that taught Sunday school instead of a human wrecking machine. That had to weird some people out in a fight, Denis decided. Something that big should growl at you, not sound like she was about to offer you a cookie.

  “Is everything all right? We heard the knocking and people normally just walk in if they want something...” Then she saw them.

  “Bridgie? What happened, are they all right? Why is their clothing like that...”

  Tobin snorted.

  “Den's making them sleep. You get the clothes Lauren. You've seen porn on the internet at least, if nothing else. Plus you were all normal before you changed, so you probably even had dates and stuff. Not like me. I turned when I was two...” The tiny man sounded.... nearly as ticked and sick as Denis felt to tell the truth.

  “Right, so Lauren, as a girl, would you be able to fix Bridget's clothes for her? I'll try to narrow the field here so it won't put you to sleep too.”

  It took time to get that right, about five minutes then Tobin did the honors for Clark in about half the time with an incredibly small level of concern for the stork like man's dignity or health. Freaking moron that Ichabod was. If he just wanted sex Peggy probably would have done him. Or half the women on Team Two. Hell, there had to be hookers in town, didn't there? The guy didn't look that bad, just a bit geeky. He could have probably even picked up a woman in a bar, or at least just gone with that internet porn Tobin had mentioned. He had a lot of options. Which meant that screwing Bridget was just... sick on his part.

  Without moving or indicating that anything at all might be happening, the giant brown and black armor spoke, sounding worried and angry. Denis got that, big time. Especially since Bridget didn't seem like her biggest fan at the moment.

  “What do we do? I...”

  Denis took a breath, after all how the hell should he know? Then again, when in doubt, pass the buck.

  “Level, we need you to get out of here I think. This shouldn't end up as a fight, but... yeah, if it does, you can't fight against Bridget right now. Tobin, if you could get Clark and Bridget's team leaders... we'll let them deal with this I guess. Oh, Marcia too. She's one of Clark's team leaders now. I'll just hold them napping until everyone gets here. That seem like a plan?”

  Level, Lauren, he remembered, called out that she'd get Sparks, the Team Two leader and Tobin took a deep breath, then another. Then he ran up the stairs faster than Denis would have been able to go down them. Marcia and Sparks got there first, running, but only by about a minute. Then, dressed in a nice suit and shaved as if he'd started his day already, came the Team One leader Torque. Rob, Denis had heard him called. Following him were Prime and Charlot Chambers as well. They both looked sleepy still at least.

  Looking at the situation Denis wondered if Clark would make it out of the stairwell alive. He also kind of wondered if he should.

  They all started talking at once. Loudly. Thank God he'd already had his coffee. This would have been one of those times that a good loud whistle would have really fit nicely. Denis didn't know how though, well, he could do simple tunes and all that, but not that ear shattering kind of thing that some people could manage. So he just stood and watched the sleeping couple. Waiting for someone to call everyone else to order. It turned out to be Rob, who could do that high pitched loud whistle thing using his fingers. Denis really wanted to be able to do that too.

  Everyone got quiet then, so Denis explained what had happened. That was all. He'd seen it and no one, oddly enough, doubted him. He'd have looked at him suspiciously given everything. Some guy happens to be holding two half naked people in a sleep state in a hallway? Yeah, that sounded normal. Rob, the Team One guy looked at him and asked, very politely, if he could release Bridget for a moment.

  That was easier than holding her in place, so he did it, careful to redouble his efforts on Clark. The girl woke slowly and looked around at everyone, then down at Clark. Then she scowled at everyone including him and stood rapidly, crossing her arms.

  “I made him do it! You can't punish him... I didn't give him a choice.” She proclaimed rapidly. Loudly. Stupidly. It started another argument and then, just when it looked like Bridget was about to duke it out with Prime, even more people showed up. Karen looked worried and concerned, glancing hard at Clark lying on the floor, then... Brian. Rachel growled a bit when she got filled in and seemed suddenly ready to rip things off of Clark and that didn't seem like it would stop at mere genitals either. Not wanting to be that close to a fight, Denis kept his mouth shut as everyone else shouted at each other. Hoping that if anything happened no one would come after him for making them fall asleep.

  Finally Brian held up his right hand and amazingly everyone stopped and looked at him.

  “
Let's take this to the Director. I... Yeah.” It was a plan, if only one to dump things on someone else. It worked for Denis at least. As long as it didn't get dumped on him.

  That got them removed to a nicer venue, one of the second floor press conference rooms, a medium sized one toward the back, beige carpet and wood panel walls, with enough chairs around a decently large shiny table that Clark could easily be beaten to death with, from any quarter. Denis put his money on Marcia breaking first, that or Charlot Chambers. Her hands were glowing again, a much brighter white than he'd seen when her anger had just been over him.

  Bridget had to be removed from the room, a job given to her grandmother, since very few other people could handle her if she decided to fight. Even Prime would have been pressed, he admitted, which was news to about half the people in the room. Prime was a class five, but Rachel was a class six and though no one had told her at all, so was Bridget.

  Brian mentioned it softly after she was taken out of the room.

  “The medical exams all say she's going to have some kind of energy blast and maybe be able to fly, like Prime. It's... Well we're all hoping she can learn to control herself before that happens. It will functionally make her a class seven... No one will be able to control her.”

  Denis could, if it came to that, but...

  Seriously, he did not want to be in the middle here. Having the pint sized girl mad at him wasn't his idea of a good way to get along with others. Or survive. He'd have rather had Prime mad at him, where at least flattery and ego boosting might save him. Bridget wasn't called Impulse because of her speedy movement and quick reflexes. She'd kill him. Oh, she may cry about it later, but her initial thought would be acted on instantly. Censoring herself wasn't something the kid was good at.

  Marcia didn't rant or rave, she just stood near Clark, and waited for him to come to consciousness. It took a long time for Moore to get into the room, over two hours and frankly, Denis had a headache from using his power for that long keeping the stork under. One right between the eyes. It was really just eye strain from staring at Clark so long without really moving much. Not a huge downside for a super-power really. Still, it felt nice to let go of the man when the Director asked him to.

  Then he had to drop Marcia almost instantly. Paralysis. Without so much as hesitating she'd started choking the life out of Ichabod. Not that he would insist that they keep the guy alive, but everything here was watched. If they wanted to kill him, they needed to take him out of the base area first. Given that though, Denis didn't want to mention it out loud. If they were going to be stealthy about it, open discussion on camera seemed a poor plan.

  After a few minutes he let Marcia up and she did indeed manage to calm down enough to not kill someone. It took Brian standing in front of Clark to get that to happen however. Yi was ready to go toe to toe with Marcia it seemed and no one in the room seemed to doubt who'd win. How that was supposed to work Den didn't know, but Marcia, invulnerable or not, having personally taught Brian how to fight or not, didn't seem willing to pursue the matter at the moment. She did keep glaring however.

  When Moore held up a hand toward her she stopped and waited at least, breathing hard, ready to fight. Then Moore slapped a folder down in front of Clark hard. Waving he got the man to open it.

  “A Death Warrant, Mr. Clarkson. One prearranged in case you ever decided to re-offend. Do you have anything to say in your own defense? If so, speak now. Bridget is like my own granddaughter. It's all I can do to keep from killing you this instant myself and I've not had to do that for a very long time.” The tone of voice sold the room on the fact of it. Clark seemed to buy it too, from the way he was suddenly covered with sweat and gulping at an even faster rate than normal.

  The only person even trying to speak in his defense was the Team Two leader, a squat man with a strawberry blond cop mustache and hair to match. Longer than the police would allow, but not unkempt. He wore a pair of sweats that said Team Two on them, half the people in the room wore something similar. Brian and Karen both did for instance.

  “Well, not thrilled about one of my people fucking Bridget, but she isn't exactly twelve anymore. Not old enough to give consent, and her first mode makes that legally dicey even if she was. Should we really kill the guy over it though?”

  Good point. Denis shrugged and then winced as his right arm ached a bit harder.

  “Well, if it had been the first time, I'd say let it go. Fifteen may not be legal, but the situation here isn't normal either. If a girl her age wants to get laid, it's going to take a lot of work for a lonely guy like Clark to say no. But... Clark knew what he was doing here, and to tell the truth, she looks so young still... I can't mentally separate this from child abuse. Plus, wanting it or not, you should have said no, you moron.” He stared hard at the stork like man until the guy grimaced a little.

  Marcia gave Denis a few half deadly looks, then agreed.

  “Good points, all of them. Moot though. I have a warrant of execution and that means he's mine. Charlot and I will just run out into the desert and make our little Clark problem go away. What say?” She looked at the angry woman with the glowing hands and silky red nightie on. Denis just realized that Charlot looked totally hot. Too bad she was a psycho bitch. Not that he could blame her this time. He felt like blasting Clark too, if with severe pain and every kind of discomfort he could think of.

  At that everyone in the room started to simply agree.

  Denis sighed and looked at the Director, “shouldn't we at least have him checked out by Ellen Doer?”

  After a few seconds the Director pulled out a small black cell phone and dialed quickly.

  “Ellen? Something of an emergency, conference three, floor two please?” Then he hung up forcefully.

  As if giving lie to her standard old lady costume, Ellen ran in wearing IPB sweats, what agents wore, or trainers, and her hair being down made her look nearly twenty years younger suddenly. Late forties tops. Heh. He knew she was faking the whole old lady bit too hard. She did a work-up of Clark and just shook her head after a few minutes of intense concentration.

  “Nothing. A bit of coercion from Proxy and Quartz, but nothing that would cause him to take or not take an action other than that.”

  “Good, I can kill him then.” Marcia stood and walked over. Denis didn't disagree with her, but... he wasn't a killer. Letting someone else kill would be nearly as bad. Maybe in the heat of the moment, but this was, like it or not, one of their own teammates. Fuck. Double fuck. He'd have gone for a triple but he didn't think he had enough time.

  “How about... OK... Um...” Denis scrambled, trying to make a suggestion that wouldn't get him killed too. “What if we throw Clark back in lock-up and only bring him out for his crowd control duties? I mean... um, well, Bridget does seem fond of him, right or wrong and if you kill her friend for having sex with her, I don't think it will be healthy for her emotionally.” Denis tensed and waited. It probably sucked as an argument but it was all he could offer. Half of him wanted Marsh to handle this her way. The pedo deserved to be dropped from a plane, after being blindfolded first so he couldn't just float down. They all knew it.

  Instead of a beating, or being blasted through a wall by an enraged mom, everyone stopped and stared at him for a minute. The white dropped from around Charlot's hands and Scott sat back and looked... considering, if still half ready to kill the man. Marcia looked ready to move still, but didn't. About the best that he could hope for there.

  Finally Director Moore nodded at him.

  “Very well Denis. Expand please?”

  “Um, well, not a perfect solution, but when Clark is out he always has an agent or one of us watching him. Not Marcia.” Denis smiled at her and didn't get so much as a twitch in response.

  “He isn't exactly dangerous, not even to Bridget. He just can't be trusted with her is all. So... I say we just lock him away unless we need him, until Bridget reaches the age of consent for this state. Which is...” Denis didn't know. Ha
dn't even thought about it before. If a girl wasn't over twenty-five or so he just didn't bother looking at her most of the time and eighteen was a safe number anywhere if things ever got desperate enough.

  It was Prime who answered, which would have made him laugh if not for the fact that a few of the other people nodded along. Of course he'd know the answer though, and off the top of his head. It was something that came up in his life no doubt.

  “Sixteen here. If they were closer in age now it would be legal, but Bridget's a bit special... her first mode makes a lot of things that aren't good ideas seem doable to her. Reasonable. The whole thing is a bit of a gray area.”

  So... less than a year? No one seemed happy about it, but at least Clark didn't have to die and he'd be out to work, which didn't sound like much fun, but it would have been a great thing as far as Denis was concerned. Just getting to see people every few weeks or so was a bigger treat than the man probably deserved.

  “Right, so that and near daily therapy sessions and possibly regular beatings from Charlot and Prime. Charlot at least, if we're foregoing the death penalty.” Denis stopped talking before he started arguing for castration as well.

  The girl just looked so young to him. She reminded him of some of his half-sisters when they had just turned ten. Except all of them, skinny and small for their age like Bridget, couldn't choose who they wanted to be with. The thought made him want to hit Clark anyway, even though he was really mad at Prophet Darren. Strike him several times, or better, let Marcia or Prime do it. That would kill him though, most likely.

  Clark looked nervous still, Adam's apple bobbing and wavering as the Director took the papers back and everyone agreed to let the man live for now.

  “Thanks man.” He said to Denis, actually looking grateful.