The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  “Perfect! Well, do that well on camera and we won't have an issue.” Her face looked... nearly as greedy as his probably did most the time, except that the woman stared right at him. If he really did look like that no wonder people didn't like him.

  It was creepy. It left him feeling a bit... dirty. Used.

  The show itself went well. Instead of ordering Prime out of the shot all the time, the woman decided to try something new and add text to the screen pointing him out every time he got his face in front of the camera when he wasn't supposed to. Denis got through the hot chocolate segment trying to maintain a serious demeanor while everyone else called out suggestions to him, sometimes contradictory ones. He just listened to Mark until the very end, rolling his eyes and mugging slightly for the camera when people said things to obviously mess him up. When he broke out the heavy whipped cream and needed help from Kerry to put it in a wax paper bag to dispense so that it wouldn't look like crap, he made a giant mess of it. Twice, before he managed to get it right. Everyone laughed at him over it, especially the first time when the bag virtually exploded all over the counter. Kerry had been watching closely and he really wasn't certain she hadn't used her powers to make it happen. Clark was good at lifting heavy things, true, but Kerry was able to make almost anything happen, if she had time. Scowling he handed out cups of the beverage to every one of the on-camera people, each decorated with a light dusting of milk chocolate shavings.

  They did seem to like it. Then, fat, sugar and chocolate, what wasn't to like?

  They had to feed all the stuff to someone, so they pulled in a few people, like Christian, an older black man named Martin Joabs from the front office, who was the third in command of the IPB it turned out, and Jan from the restaurant, who liked most of the offerings, but criticized them each as if she were a professor at a cooking school. Poor Kerry got the worst of it, since éclairs were pretty much just fancy donuts. Jan apparently didn't think that should be the case at all.

  “The Bavarian filling is nice enough, but should be cooler for best presentation. The pastry itself is well done, but the topping is a bit pedestrian. Your finish on it... Well I've seen the same in donut shops. Presentation is important Kerry. It's what makes the difference between top of the line and just so-so food about half the time.”

  For half a second the plain girl looked like she might cry over it, which made the Director look way more eager than she should. It was just a cooking show, not some reality TV farce. Denis propped the girl up a bit, confidence and a calm acceptance. Almost a meditative state. It kind of surprised him that he managed it on the fly. It was easier to put out something positive than discomfort or negative emotions. That was something he'd never noticed before. Then... he'd rarely used his power for anything positive either.

  “All right. I can see that, compared to what everyone else did, it's not great. Well, darn my two year degree anyway! I'll do better.” Her firm nod looked cute. Competent and relaxed.

  Everyone smiled at her then, including Jan who suddenly seemed relieved that the girl wasn't going to be too down about her critique. Or possibly make her head explode.

  It could have been that one too.

  The critique she gave Denis was nearly as rough. He grabbed a pad and paper and took notes on what she said, which got a laugh too, but he was serious, actually paying attention. Denis knew that he had a lot to learn. More than anyone else, including Scott, who turned out to be pretty solid in the kitchen for some reason. She found the drink nice enough, but a little too bland. Spices could help, some cinnamon perhaps. His presentation got a “C”.

  “I know that you used real whipped cream, but it looks like you secretly dragged in a can of Reddi-wip when no one was looking. The milk chocolate dusting is too coarse and changes the texture of the whole thing. A beverage like this should be smooth, not have lumps all over the top. Chill the chocolate and use a rasp next time, not a cheese grater.” Her voice never left academic at least.

  Jan made fun of his presentation too, the way he'd done the actual show, and suggested he actually come up with a plan next time instead of just doing it on the fly.

  She drank all her chocolate though. Since it was cool it basically made it a really thick chocolate milk. Martin didn't finish his, but everyone else did. Even Chris, which surprised him. She seemed like the type that wouldn't want to risk the extra calories. They rarely saw her at meals, but then, she could have been avoiding the people, with all their pesky thoughts, not the food at all.

  Christian just told everyone how “splendid” everything was and Martin Joabs made polite comments that sounded like he didn't like chocolate at all, but refused to spit food out on camera. It worked well enough Denis thought. Better than if they all gushed and raved. This way it seemed real.

  This time they got through the whole thing without incident, which all things considered made for a decent end to the day. They finished too late for dinner, but Warren just led them all into the restaurant and made them all specialty dishes himself. Denis tried the chocolate chicken pastry that the man had concocted for the show, trying to be daring. It really was good. Excellent in fact. Who knew that that would even work at all? Vinegar, sugar and cocoa on chicken? It sounded horrible. Well, learn something new each day.

  “Next time we should make ice cream and maybe some waffle cones... Or, is that not baking enough?” Denis said, remembering a little shop he used to go to that had a machine for it. It didn't look that hard really.

  Mark looked at Warren and nodded.

  “Yeah. You can do those. We need a theme. I was thinking reductions. That OK with everyone?”

  Kerry just nodded and Warren looked like a little kid promised candy. Denis had to ask what those were, which got a laugh from the others.

  “Syrups made from juices. You gently evaporate the excess water from them, making them thicker.” Mark told him, not unkindly.

  “Ah.” Of course. It made perfect sense now that it was explained.

  Denis wondered if an apple-spice reduction was possible, which he could use for the ice cream? Or as a topping for it. Mark nodded along as he spoke and wrote things down, and Warren suggested he play with some recipes before the next episode. A berry syrup could be interesting too.

  After dinner they all went their separate ways, which for him meant back to his room, of course. No money after all. He changed quickly and headed to the gym, which got him there in time to see a group of people practicing unarmed combat, a lot of them were from Team Two it looked like. Denis just jogged, slowly, right arm tight to his side for stability, glad that he wasn't in that group. Or he was until Marcia called him over.

  “Denis. Good of you to join us, you know Hobbs here now, right?” She clearly knew that from the way she spoke. A polite formality.

  “I want you to work with him from now on. He won't be out on crowd control, but we may have some side projects for you both. Hobbs, mind the dislocated elbow, the right one. I'll leave the rest up to you.” Then she just walked away, over to Brian, who she tried to hit several times, very fast. Without any warning at all. Yi put up a better than decent fight. Not as good as she was maybe, but really solid, if the six week course Denis had taken on basic self-defense meant he could judge anything. Hobbs followed his eyes and then bowed to him, folding in the middle a bit.

  “Yes, Advocate Yi is learning quickly. I have heard that less than two full seasons before the present he had no training in combat at all. To have gone so far in such a small time is impressive. He is a truly dedicated individual.” Standing with legs spread slightly, the shaggy man that still looked homeless, smiled. The look reminded him a little of Mark, that kind of enforced calm no matter what the situation thing he always did.

  “You however, are not an advocate, but rather something new to me. A manager of men perhaps? I think we should study the arts of war and advocacy, as that is what the Lady Marcia no doubt intends, but also the arts of the mind. Do you hold clear thoughts?” The last was asked d
elicately, as if a personal question.

  Denis had to try and decipher what the guy meant. It took a second but finally the meaning clicked.

  “Wait... meditation? You mean trying to hold my mind clear of thought or maybe focus on one thought for a period of time?”

  “Indeed! You do such?” The man seemed far more pleased than a simple statement like that should have allowed.

  “Poorly... I just started trying, when I was in lock up. I haven't been too regular about it yet...” If the other man thought Denis some kind of mental master or something...

  Instead the guy just bowed again.

  “Very good. At least you do not represent yourself as more than you are. That is a fine place to start from. For now I'd like to assess your physical combat abilities as we can with you injured thusly, then we shall work on those of the mind. Each day that other work or task does not call you, please work on such.”

  Then the man promptly started kicking Denis' ass.

  Oh, he never touched him, just indicating the blows, the merging patterns that couldn't be tracked at all as Den tried to back pedal and run. Everywhere he tried to move, Hobbs already seemed to stand. It wasn't a power, he could see the movements happening, Denis just couldn't get out of the way in time. Finally, smiling, the man bowed a third time.

  “Not without potential. Now let us retire to a venue where we may begin mental training...”

  That turned out to be the fifteenth floor gym, and according to Hobbs, a good place to start learning would be in a pool of slightly cool water. All Denis had to do was strip down, which was embarrassing, because the pool was open to the large space, and enter the pool, holding his mind as still as he could, since that was the kind of meditation Denis had been practicing already. Hobbs did it first, standing in shoulder deep water calmly, eyes closed. When Denis got in he nearly screamed.

  It wasn't “cool” water, it was liquid ice! After a moment, Hobbs smiled bigger and suggested he hold firm to the empty mind state. Den tried. The first thing he had to quiet being a running monologue of how cold it was and how he hated this, didn't like Hobbs, and felt ridiculous at his own hesitation over a little cold water.

  The shock of it, when he waded out to shoulder height nearly made him go breathless. He realized after a second that he wasn't so much silencing his thoughts as he was repeating internally that he needed to. That, at least, led to him giving it a real try. A few minutes later the other man spoke.

  “Good. Keep striving for clarity.”

  Easy for him to say. Then, since the man also stood in the same water, maybe not so easy. Just as he managed a full thirty seconds of not overly noisy thought, the man moved them to a different pool. It was hard to move, since the water had left him numb, leaving a sharp ache in his right elbow as it tightened up, making the ladder hard to climb and all that. The pool one over wasn't colder as he'd feared at all.

  The water burned instead.

  “Fear not. The water is tolerable to flesh, you are merely chilled, so it feels true to burning. Clear thy mind and withstand it bravely, for it injures you not.”

  Right. That seemed to be Hobbs gentle way of saying “don't be a pussy”, if he translated correctly. Denis took a minute, his thoughts suddenly racing, the pain receding before he found a calm spot inside again. They stayed in this pool longer, standing with hands clasped in front of them as if in prayer. Hobbs had done it, so Denis did too, not knowing why, if there even was a reason.

  Next, still nude, the man walked him over to a platform about two feet square that moved randomly. It looked like part of the floor, but rocked under him without warning or sense. All he had to do was stand on it. Focused as well as he could on the shape of his own skin, the husk that made him. It left him hollow inside, and every few seconds, off balance. Hobbs stood on it as if it didn't move at all, hips nearly steady and head unmoving, his lower body adapting perfectly.

  Then they had to close their eyes. He'd thought it was kind of hard to stay upright with them open, but he soon realized he'd been fooling himself completely. Eyes closed made it so much harder he could barely manage it at all. There was a lot of wild hand waving and huge shifts of body weight trying to keep his feet then.

  After a while the board began to move a tiny bit faster, a little bit harder, and the frequency of changes grew as well. Denis tried to keep his mind sharp and clear, but after a bit opened his eyes. Hobbs still had his closed and Carl, the crazy trainer for the whole facility on the fifteen floor, stood at the controls. Not a hint of mercy in his eyes. Finally when the platform fairly vibrated Denis stumbled off. Hobbs didn't until Carl slowed, then stopped the device.

  Opening his eyes Hobbs said only one thing.

  “Keep your mind on the shape inside yourself, a hollow and empty thing, moving, but still. Let it become you totally.”

  Denis kind of stared rather than doing anything, and the crazy and thin trainer, who looked half carved out of stone somehow, gestured to the square impatiently.

  “You heard the man. Back on the machine. Feel that shape inside yourself.” Carl waved his hand at him lazily.

  Denis tried.

  He failed over and over, but really did do his best.

  After half an hour of this Hobbs seemed satisfied, “good for this time. Daily practice as has been shown until you gain decent skill with these, then we shall increase the measure. Thank you for your aid, sir.” Hobbs said, bowing toward Carl.

  The thin guy dressed to go free climb a mountain, bowed back. If he was bothered by the fact that both men stood out in the open nude he didn't let it show at all. Some of the people looked over from their own strange workouts, but no one really stared. Everything on fifteen was just that much more extreme, Denis guessed. Two naked guys was just... Wednesday here.

  “I have to say, this is the first time I've seen anyone come to my floor for meditation. In the future, please let me know what might be needed in regard for training ahead of time. We do the extreme training here, but what I saw certainly counts. If it's allowable, I may want to get with you, to help train some of the others as well? I can set up a variety of obstacles if I know to do so in advance. No need to keep to this pansy stuff after all.”

  Hobbs nodded his head happily.

  “Indeed!”

  9

  The next weeks went well, if in a strange pattern of intense focus with Hobbs, alternating between a dozen kinds of meditation and near abuse that everyone else seemed to find funny for some reason. One day Denis would be thrown in a sauna and told to focus as hard as possible on his left little toe, the next to fight to make all internal reality go away while listening to Mozart. While he ran each day, and the scraggly looking man insisted on his running, Den had to try and clear his mind or repeat a singular nonsense chant. So far as Denis could tell nothing got repeated, each day handing him new challenges to his focus.

  Nearly two weeks and two whole show tapings later the special anti-riot squad went to Seattle for the riot the Hooperistas had planned there. It felt like a vacation.

  At first.

  This time they traveled by bus, mini-van actually, and both he and Lancaster took turns driving. The vehicle they found themselves in was white, a plain and stark thing with no external markings. The interior had well-kept but cheap looking seats and a dash done in vinyl, all a uniform dark blue. Even with the government plates they got pulled over no less than seven times on the way there, a trip that took two days, because their route had been designed by Marcia, who'd decided that detouring through several small northern towns would help hide who they were.

  Poor Tobin barely got out at all and when he did, normally to go to the restroom, the little guy got hostile stares and a few times called names. He played it off, but it bothered everyone a lot. It was enough that Denis knew it was bad when he came out carrying a white plastic bag of food no one should actually eat, sugary treats and chips mainly, to find Karen glowing a brilliant blue standing in front of Tobin next to Lancaster who
hadn't drawn a weapon yet, but stood with his hand on the one at his hip. In front of them stood five hostile looking men, all far too clean cut looking to be out accosting people in parking lots. They all had short hair, and neatly cared for mustaches for the two that had them. The clothing they wore was bland, blue jeans and t-shirts, a few jackets for variety. In all they looked a lot like almost everyone else around them, except they were holding various weapons, one pointing a stick or pipe of some sort at the small man.

  “Fucking freak! Kill him... If it's a male at all. Damned Infected....”

  Denis moved closer then stooped to set the white plastic bag down carefully, so the food wouldn't get smooshed if a fight started, and walked over smoothly, trying to focus on the situation like Hobbs had been teaching him to do. The agitation of the others affected his thoughts, but he didn't let it rule him. Not exactly at least.

  One thing he knew, more certainly now than ever before, was that he sucked at fighting. That being the case there wasn't going to be fisticuffs here if he could help it. Instead he spoke softly, walking up behind the others.

  “Gentlemen. Go away now. You're accosting a Federal Agent and the large man here is about to kick your asses, if he doesn't just kill you. That you aren't smart enough to see that, is foolish. Even if he doesn't do that, you still want to walk away now. If you try to attack any of us, it will not go well for you.” OK, massive meditation or not, he still sounded pissed and like he really wanted to fight. A problem for him in life.

  Being a little defensive basically sounded a lot like that to almost everyone. Like what he really wanted was to duke it out. He never did. Marcia worked her way around the men, so she could take them from behind and Jay took a position forty degrees or so from their rear. The men didn't get that they were surrounded. They also didn't understand that any one of the people in front of them could take their whole group in less than ten seconds.