The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  She shrugged, not knowing where to start. She didn’t have anything solid, just a hunch that pointed in a specific direction.

  “I can’t remember, but, how did they all react when I turned, all those years ago? Do you know? The group had been reassigned after the Lisbon job. I hadn’t been keeping in touch with anyone really.” She watched his eyes as he figured out what she meant.

  “Oh… Um, of the four here… I, uh, don’t recall all of it. I know Morris wasn’t pleased. Said something about you not being fit to fuck anymore, if I recall correctly. I kicked his ass for that. The others… Well, I know that Weathers was never a fan. Always afraid we were going to run into some super Infected and get killed. Kept pointing out how training wasn’t enough against things like that. Always called them “things” too, now that I think about it. I really can’t remember with Harpo or Mic. I don’t think they were happy about it, but no one mentioned anything to me. Of course, they wouldn’t, since we were married by then. We only met up occasionally after that, and really, no one talked about you too much. I think that was about sparing my feelings though, not because they all suddenly hated you.” He settled back on the edge of her bed and propped his weigh up on his hands for a second, leaning back a bit.

  “We should ask the others and see what they have to say about it. I can see where you’re going here and I can’t say that it’s all wrong. I want it to be, but it could be… It might be something like that. Just hate. I don’t get the whole thing where you and the crew got called down here though. Unless…” Conroy’s eyes went huge for a moment, but settled quickly enough.

  Marcia just waited. He’d speak when he was ready, or he wouldn’t. He had an idea though, which meant he’d probably share it sooner rather than later.

  “You never used to be that good at just being, Marcy. It’s an improvement. Now if I could just get you to trust me again.” He grinned like he used to when he was younger but shook his head.

  “Never mind. We both know how that story ends. OK, so… What if the guys called you and yours down here, away from the main event, so that you wouldn’t catch the blame for it? If they have something set up to kill the President of the United States and blame some random Infected person for it, maybe they wanted you and the guys out of the line of fire? They should have tried for Felix too if that was the case, but he’s doing mainly PT now right? Working with Yi and Team Three? I need to talk to him about Cooper then, if that’s the case.”

  Marcia thought about it for a while before answering, wondering if that might have something to it at all. Could it have been as simple as just trying to save them from suspicion? Why else would they all be taken away from the base like that?

  “Oh fuck.”

  Conroy looked at her for a moment, baffled.

  “What?”

  “I was just wondering, what if it was about really trying to save us? From something that would have killed me and the guys? Like a massive attack on the base? A nuke or something? What if it isn’t about the President at all, just about the IPB? Not an assassination at all...” She took a shuddering breath and grabbed for her cell phone, hoping she was wrong.

  Knowing on some level she just wasn’t.

  “What if it’s the opening salvo of a war?”

  9

  There was a real problem with being her, Marcia realized as she called her suspicions in to headquarters. No matter how right she was at any given time, everyone always had to wonder if she was just being paranoid. Her first mode wasn’t that harsh and generally didn’t cause her to run that far off of what was real, but in cases like this, where she just didn’t have a lot of proof yet, it made her pretty easy to ignore.

  Worse, she had to point it out herself first. A good agent would after all, and she really could see all the possibilities. A lot of them anyway.

  “So, we don’t have a time frame and I could just be wrong. If there is a threat though, we need to do something about it and failing to act could be catastrophic.” Marcia ran her fingers through her curly, fairly short hair; it was kind of a boyish look at the moment, but easy to care for. Clarice, the woman that did her make-up for shows and events had said it looked fun. Like she was the ultimate tom-boy or something.

  She liked it better long, but an accident had ripped half of it out, so she had to wait for it to grow back. For all that she seemed to heal fast enough from pretty much anything on the incredibly rare occasion something managed to hurt her, or even just scuff her skin up a little, it didn’t make her hair grow any faster than normal. Her fingernails didn’t seem to grow at all. It was handy, since they were harder than steel. It would be a pain to try and get them trimmed regularly. Why her hair grew at all she didn’t know. It was only the stuff on her head though. She was completely smooth otherwise.

  The theory was that a big part of an Infected’s powers and maybe even their first mode was controlled by their subconscious minds at the point of Infection. So someone basically good would tend to accentuate those traits. Like Karen, who felt compassion all the time, for everything. Or Brian, who had probably always been willing to sacrifice himself to save others. In her case it was like someone had just turned up the power on her personality. She’d had a reputation for being careful, even a bit paranoid, before she’d popped, and she’d spent a lot of time trying to make sure she didn’t get hurt. Bullet and shrapnel resistant clothing, keeping good cover in mind and just being careful all the time.

  So it wasn’t a big surprise when she’d become what she had. Not to anyone that knew her before. Her original code name was even based on her nickname of the time. Cast Iron.

  The Director spoke calmly in his ear, his voice a bit patronizing, but his words made sense, so she tried to ignore the tone.

  “We could… Send people away? To different locations? I hate to scatter our forces too much, especially now, but it might be good for people to get out of here for a bit anyway. How does that sound?” He made his voice into his friendly one that seemed designed to try and trick people into thinking he was just an old man or something.

  “That’s a good idea. Hopefully this isn’t just a wild goose chase. If Braid’s behind it, we could be playing into her every move without even knowing it. How do we beat that?” It was maddening, but so far she didn’t have a clue what they could do and neither did Moore.

  “We can’t. Not at this point. We just have to assume that not everything will be Devorah and go on from there. She has great insight into what to do to influence the future, but she’s still only one person. Not everything is under her direct control. She used to complain about that at times. I always thought she was joking, but it seems that it’s a common condition for members of her family. A need to be in control of reality to a level that even they can’t manage.” He didn’t add that the information had come from Hobbs, who came from the same alternate world that Braid did. They both knew the score there and kept it quiet for the most part.

  It wasn’t a secret, it was just so unbelievable that no one sane would buy it most of the time. Bothering people with things they just wouldn’t be able to accept never really helped. It just made people hate you, in the end. It was hard enough being Infected without bringing up a possible hostile takeover attempt by what were basically inter-dimensional beings.

  The actual plan had to be implemented fast, because they didn’t know the real time window. No matter why it had been done, she, Lancaster and Reyes had been lured to Florida for a reason and that probably meant it was close to some event in time. Either to move them away from, or toward, ground zero. Possibly both. She really needed to get more information and fast. As soon as she got off the phone, she took Conroy by the hand and led him out into the hallway, toward the restaurant on the first floor. They both had to eat after all, no matter what else was going on.

  They walked that way, hand in hand, getting a few stares as they did. It wasn’t until they got to the lobby that Mike leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. It was sweet, but not exactly
how their relationship had been going for the last two decades. She could feel the gentle pressure on her skin and smiled, wondering what it was all about.

  Then she noticed the cameras. At least three were watching them. It wasn’t a big deal, except that she hadn’t put any make-up on, which was the rule for Team One members going out anywhere. Even on base. The only exception was going to the gym and that only because no one knew how to keep it off of the mats and work out equipment. She’d hear about it from Charlot, no doubt.

  The hardest part about intelligence work was the waiting. It always had been for her at least. Conroy just sat at the table with its expensive cream colored cloth after holding her chair out for her. It was a joke of course, an old one that dated back to nearly the first time they’d met. It had never been funny really, but for some reason it always got her to smile. She’d never needed anyone to hold the door for her, or move a chair around, but he always did it anyway, smiling the whole time.

  Before she could say anything the waiter came over, looking relieved for some reason.

  “Hi, I’m James. I’ll be your server today. Would you like menu’s or are you ready to order?” It was clearly something he was used to saying a hundred times a day, and it showed. He sounded polite, but empty inside somehow, like the job was crushing the life out of him. That was a shame, because he looked too young to be broken that way yet. Maybe in his low twenties. About Brian’s age.

  “Menu’s please.” Mike didn’t look at the younger fellow at all, his eyes staying on Marcia, a small smile on his face. “This could take a bit. She tends to be a picky eater.”

  She shrugged.

  “Not that much anymore. But yes, let’s see the menu? We don’t want to miss out on something because we don’t know it exists.”

  He scurried off and back in less than twenty seconds, presenting both with a rather nice leather bound folder in green. A deep color that reminded her of pine trees for some reason. Looking at it more closely she decided it must actually be vinyl or something, since not only would real cow leather be too expensive, it would tick off the environmentalists. Not that vinyl or whatever it was wouldn’t pollute more to make than using a cow would, but it was a thing these days, catering to every fringe group that had the money to lobby congress.

  James leaned in, his eyes going a bit wide, and he whispered, directing their attention toward the lobby through the glass front of the space they were in.

  “I thought that we’d be in for trouble with all the Infected around here the last few days, but so far the television people are the worst by far. The crocodile lady that came in was sweet even and her little toad friend was cool. They sang a song for me and left a nice tip. I had some guy dressed like a chef throw eggs at me earlier, because they weren’t cooked exactly like he wanted. I mean, really… Eggs. They were still hot too. I had to refuse to bring him coffee, just because I value my skin. He yelled at me for that like I was the one with the problem, but there are limits, right?” He blushed a little looking down. He wasn’t tall, maybe five-seven or so, which made him look even younger with the bashful expression on his face.

  “Sorry, not your problem, I’m just a bit shaken up by having stuff thrown at me like that. Just wave to me when you’re ready to order and I’ll be right over.” Then he left to check on another table nearby. This one held several of the television people, but they were crew, not talent. She recognized one of them from the other day. Gary, she thought his name was. A cameraman from Mark’s show. He caught her looking, so she waved to him a bit, smiling before turning back to her conversation. The only thing she knew about him was that Denis called him “Beardo” about half the time.

  They made small talk and watched people, avoiding talking about work at all, except Penny, which hit only on her complete lack of real training to that point. Mike nodded along, asking good questions and generally being agreeable until the food came. Then he grinned and took a bite of pancake, mopping up some of the real syrup out of the container that had come with it.

  “This is good. So, anyway…” He took another bite, a maddening habit of his, starting a sentence then taking forever to finish it. At least he didn’t talk with his mouth full though. After the swallowing he continued.

  “Is having me around going to be a problem for you? I know that… we didn’t end things on perfect footing.” It was a diplomatic way of putting it and meant what it sounded like.

  Could she handle having her ex around all the time? The truth was she didn’t know. It was a good idea all on its own and it wasn’t like she was sleeping her way through the ranks of the IPB or anything, so that part shouldn’t be too hard on him. If anything she’d be the one in trouble there. Older he may be, and just on the fit side of average looking, but Mike Conroy was a charmer when he wanted to be. If he wasn’t dating half the single women on the base by the end of the first month it would only be because he was too busy.

  That reminded her to make sure he was too busy. Smiling she shrugged and took a bite of her own food, some of those eggs that could be used as projectiles in a pinch. They seemed fine to her, but then they would, even if coated in Drain-o or floor wax. The texture seemed right. She took a few bites herself; trying to make sure she didn’t starve herself by accident or make people think she was anorexic and pointed her fork at the man across from her when she was done.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. We probably won’t get to see each other all that much. They actually manage to keep me fairly busy most days. I’m helping to train Brian for instance and have a load of admin stuff each day, meetings and all that. Think you’ll be all right with it? I mean, if anyone has a right to feel wronged about how things ended it’s you. I do want to remind you that I really couldn’t help it back then. Everything hit’s hard at first. Not that I’m claiming it’s a lot better now, but I’ve learned to cope with things a bit.” She grinned. “Sort of. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to have a real relationship with anyone. I’m working on the idea of friendship though. So far so good. I haven’t accused anyone of trying to steal from me or betray me in…” Counting she shook her head and took another bite.

  “What’s it been? Half an hour now?’

  They both chuckled over it, because it was true. A sad and sorry fact, but a real one none the less.

  Luckily, instead of having to delve into the failings of personality caused by her lifestyle and unalterable Infection, they got a distraction. It wasn’t a great thing, but it was something she’d thought might eventually happen. Peggy. She’d killed a man on national television and been put in prison for it. The only one that could hold a person as powerful as she was. The IPB lock-up. Not that it would have made a difference if they’d put her somewhere else. She’d stayed in lock up because it was her punishment and she felt legitimately guilty for what she’d done. The guards had never locked her in, not even at night.

  Marcia had been there and spoken for her at the trial, since it was, at most, manslaughter. The guy had goaded her into attacking, calling her names and insulting her, right after she’d fought to save his life. Peggy had been hurt and had just barely managed to stop the Infected that had been attacking people, separated from the rest of Team Two at the time, desperately trying to protect the civilians in the area, even though she was very nearly outmatched. Then, still bleeding and in pain, the jerk started calling her ugly and trying to get a reaction from her.

  It worked.

  That was hardly her fault though and it wasn’t exactly related to her first mode, just that particular situation. It meant they didn’t have to put her to death, which normally would have been automatic. It also would have caused Team Two to mutiny, she was sure. For that matter she might have joined them. Instead the Director locked her up to placate the masses and the rest of the government. That would have been fine, except now she was on work release, of a sort. Brian had set it up.

  Lauren had been her “guard” but was sent away on a mission, meaning that technically no one was
watching the prisoner. The only real problem there was that the press had somehow figured all of that out and ambushed the woman in the lobby, along with Denis and Tobin. Marcia couldn’t hear them through the glass, but she could read the reporters lips enough to get the idea.

  Why was a dangerous prisoner walking around without the mandatory guard? She sighed and dug out some money, waving to James the waiter.

  “Hey, sorry to run like this, but it looks like there’s a problem. Could you just handle the bill for us? This should cover it. If not, um…” She dug into her purse and pulled her IPB card out. The one that was connected to her bank account.

  “If not, then use this. Give yourself a twenty-five percent tip. That or ten dollars. Whichever is more.” She hopped up, handing the wad of stuff to the man and walking out quickly. She didn’t want to stiff the man on the tip, but it was breakfast. He was only getting that much because she was acting like a loon and running off.

  Conroy followed her, moving up alongside her as they got to the scene, listening to what was being said the whole time.

  Looking a bit panicked, Denis was trying to cover for the lack of guard by claiming that he was handling the situation personally. That didn’t fly though, because he was a celebrity now. Everyone knew he was on probation himself. It was getting pretty dire when Tobin spoke up, his voice firm and commanding, deeper than it normally was. All eyes and camera lenses went to him suddenly.

  “Operative Lauren Slovich had that duty, but was called away on a real assignment, so left me in charge of the situation. Due to the high level of rehabilitation offered in the IPB program, both Peggy and Denis are considered to not be a threat to the public at all. In fact both have proved themselves to be high level assets to our program and we look forward to releasing both of them from any extra scrutiny in short order. The idea of either of them needing a guard is a mere formality, meant only to satisfy the requirements of paperwork, and is not a real issue. Even that paperwork has been recently diminished to the point of almost being considered non-important.” He smiled, a thing that didn’t look like it belonged on his face at all, but would have served the Director well. It was like he was channeling the man or something.