The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  Weathers looked pissed though, the kind of thing that told her that this girl wasn’t just some random kid he met a few times.

  She decided to use it against him. It was interrogation one-oh-one after all.

  “So, Weathers, is this your granddaughter or are you getting so pissed because Jimmy was moving in on your squeeze? Like em’ young, do you?” She was ready for almost anything from the man trying to climb to his feet to fight her to him sitting back and crying. Instead he just shrugged and spoke calmly getting Mic to glare at him after a few seconds.

  “Jimmy was my son. My step-son. I got him involved in all this. He died because he listened to me. Of course I would have kicked his butt into prison for trying to make a move on Heather here, but that’s done now. Stupid of him. Half a dozen women here that would have kept him company and he picks the fourteen year old? Just like him. Say, anyone have the time?” He had a watch but it was behind his back.

  Chris looked at hers, a delicate silver thing, that or white gold, that graced her right wrist.

  “Two minutes left, if the time I pulled from your heads is correct.” She stood and walked over to Denis for some reason, patting him on the back.

  The man hugged her a little and held on, “I’m sorry Chris, I’m sure he’ll be all right. He’s good. If nothing else he’ll get out alive. He left the instant you told him too, before the bomb went off even. Nothing can really touch him.”

  It took Marcia a few seconds to work it out. Mark had left. Probably to try and help out in DC. He’d be there already, even though he had to walk, bike or run the distance. Stasis time meant that nothing else seemed to move for him, at all. In that alternate place he’d lived for hundreds of years already, sometimes decades in a blink of an eye. She nodded and got her cell back out. Hopefully he’d taken his with him. It was all so frustrating, being so far away from the attacks like she was, not able to help.

  It picked up on the second ring, the man sounding a bit breathless, which was pretty darned strange for him. He normally couldn’t stay in regular time if he got excited. It probably made sex interesting for him. That wasn’t the issue for the moment though and could be dealt with later.

  “Marsh?” His voice sounded tiny suddenly, like a small child and not an adult man at all. “I can see them. There are… Fifteen, no sixteen, jets coming in. Three formations of five plus a larger one in the back. A bomber I think. What do we do? I can’t reach then from here. None of us can.”

  He went silent then, the roar of the fighters coming in louder by the second.

  “Mark? Are you near Bridget? Get her the phone if you can. Now!” It was a long shot, but what the hell? They had nothing else and the girl was called fucking Impulse for a reason, right? If she was given the right information and it was actually possible for her to act on it, she should be able to. It was the part where she may not be able to yet that might get in the way.

  “Hello?” She sounded very young suddenly too. It didn’t matter though, she was all they had.

  “Bridget, this is Marcia. Remember when I told you that you might be able fly one day? You already can, we’ve been hiding it from you. I want you to do that now, as hard and fast as you can, right at the bomber, the bigger plane the others are protecting. Use your force blasts too. Don’t stop until all the planes are gone. Do it! Don’t think about it. Just do it. Now! Do it or everybody dies!” Marcia screamed the last bit, hoping that fear would help the girl act, rather than hinder her.

  For a few seconds the roaring sounds from the phone got louder, then it went dead. She only hoped it had just been dropped and that she hadn’t messed up, telling the girl to fight instead of run away. She was tough, but no one could take on fifteen fighter jets like that. Not flying. Not alone. Especially if they hadn’t really done it before. Marcia felt her stomach drop thinking about it, wondering if it was the last time she’d see any of her people there ever again. It depended on the missiles the planes had, probably.

  It felt like it was the last time. The only hope they had now was pure luck and that someone would do something she just didn’t understand.

  It was about then that Brian vanished, his power kicking in without warning it seemed, or at least he didn’t act like he knew anything was going to happen this time. Where he went she didn’t know. Worse, given everything, she might never know at all.

  10

  Nothing happened for nearly half an hour.

  Brian didn’t come back. No one called at all and the phone lines were all dead or busy. Every single one of them, as if cell phones had decided to take the day off suddenly. That might happen if D.C. just vanished or was too badly damaged. Or if the lines were just plugged with people trying to call friends and relatives to make sure they were all right. Either way it was nerve wracking and made her want to cry.

  That didn’t fit her image, so she didn’t, just feeling miserable instead. Mic looked at her with a smile from his position on the ground, having recovered from the little tap Proxy had delivered earlier. He still sounded a little rough, but that could have just been because of the events of the day, not any real damage. She probably didn’t sound all that good either and she wasn’t injured at all.

  “So, Cast Iron… looks like we found your weak spot, didn’t we? The crack in your armor.” He chuckled about it, which was obviously forced, but still annoyed her, which was what he wanted. He was trying to needle her for some reason.

  “Sure, you’re tough. Proved that when you killed all those people earlier, didn’t you? Babies and women, real powerful there. Nothing can touch you. Nothing can hurt you. But we know your weakness, the soft underbelly of the Cast Iron Bitch.” He smirked, also forced, as if trying to get everyone to see her as being weak would actually help him and his remaining people at all.

  Maybe he was hoping she’d get mad and kill him?

  He was a fool if that’s what he wanted. They needed him and Weathers alive, so that they could question them, find out who they knew that was also involved and root them out. This wasn’t really over after all. No matter what else happened, Mic and Weathers were going to live through the day and keep living until they gave up every secret they’d ever had. Marcia looked over at Chris, but the woman wasn’t listening to her thoughts, she just stared at the trees off in the distance.

  The air felt still to her. Quiet. Foreboding as she tried to ignore whatever trick or goad Mic was about to try and use on her. She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out, since he offered it freely enough.

  “The one thing all your power can’t do is save the ones you love. You do love them too. Paranoid freak that you are, you’ve always gotten too close to the people around you. You did it with us back in the day and you still do it with your little freak pals. We knew that it would hurt you more to have to watch, not being able to do anything to save them, than to be at the attack itself. This will break you, bitch. The problem with Cast Iron is that it snaps when the right kind of force is applied. Right now all your people are dying and you’re stuck here with us, listening to some guy yak at you and you can’t do shit about it.” He laughed again, then his head rocked back and he slumped into unconsciousness.

  “Oops. I hit him a little harder than I thought. I guess he forgot you still have friends right here that aren’t psychopaths like he is.” Penny sounded angry and a bit raw, like she’d been crying.

  Conroy was standing about ten feet away, but heard the whole thing, and walked over, a knife in his hand. He didn’t start cutting anyone though; he just stood, trying to stay ready. That he’d shifted to a blade meant he was in interrogation mode. Otherwise he would have had a firearm out.

  “Damn straight. Marcy, don’t listen to him. He was always just bitter that I got you instead of him. Never was wound all that tight anyway. Betraying his country like this…” He took a step forward, but stopped and looked down at the hand where his knife had been.

  “Sorry boss, but we need these two alive and unhurt. Torture them later, after
we get the info from them. I know it’s hard right now, but we may have to do a lot of things we don’t want to before this is all over. Might as well start by doing it right.” Penny again. She’d taken the knife and sounded a bit smarter than she normally did about things like that. Harder too.

  Marcia had to agree though. It just made sense. The surprising part was how cool the girl was under pressure. Crying, but ready to enforce what was needed at the same time. Even if it meant going against the new management.

  Luckily Mike Conroy didn’t have a problem with being corrected, if the person doing it was right.

  “I hear you Cooper. I’ll lay off for now. We should get back to the bus, or have it come here, get ready to move. Maybe get to town and find out what’s going on?” It was all sensible.

  “No.” Marcia looked around and sighed.

  “We need the bus I mean, that parts right. We should send for it. We need to be here though, because Brian will come back to this location.” If he was still alive. He was a good fighter, hard, and unwilling to quit. Maybe even psychically gifted in a way that related to that kind of thing. She was almost certain of it in fact. It might not be enough to save him if the bombs had started dropping. Plus, he could just make a mistake or get unlucky. Some situations were just unwinnable. Like the one they were in, possibly.

  They sent Tobin for the vehicle, along with Denis, who could actually drive it, if it came down to that. Not well, probably, since he’d only ever driven cars before, but it wasn’t exactly like there was heavy traffic on the roads. They jogged off at better speed than they’d come in at. True, Marcia could have made the trip faster, but if Sammy had taken off or wouldn’t come back with the others she’d be stuck trying to find some other transportation and might miss it when Proxy popped back in. They didn’t have much to help him with she didn’t think, and mentioned it, sounding a little listless as she did.

  Without asking what she meant, Mike rummaged through his bag and pulled out a red cordura satchel with a white cross on it.

  “Special medical kit. Enough for minor surgery if we have to do it. Meds, suture material, bandages and a half dozen other things they don’t sell you at Wal-mart.” She poked through it, noticing that it was a lot more complete than that even. Some of the drugs weren’t strictly legal to have, even with a prescription. They had their uses though and an old special forces guy with his skills knew them all.

  The bus got there about fifteen minutes later, Sammy at the wheel, meaning he hadn’t bailed on them. That was good. She kind of liked the guy. Then, he was just a man hired to drive them around and bribed to pass messages, not a team member. No one could have really blamed him for running home when it all started going down. It turned out that he didn’t have a reason to yet, as the first reports were just starting to hit the radio. He left it on and opened the door after he parked so that everyone could hear.

  The reports were…

  Awesome from the sound of it.

  Much better than she could have hoped for. D.C. was still there somehow, even though a few strikes had hit the ground. The Whitehouse was damaged; on fire still and the news people on the air were giving panicked descriptions of the air battle going on, not certain as to which side they should be rooting for.

  Marcia kind of got why that was. After all, it was a fight between the remaining ten Air Force jets, which had been responsible for the bombing of the capital, and four obviously Infected people. Bridget was one of them, the only one described by name, since she was IPB and sort of famous. The other three were just… people.

  Infected people that were trying to help when the chips were down. Civilians.

  The regular people didn’t know what to think about that. The reporters spun theories, half of which were something along the lines of the noble Air Force sacrificing their lives to protect against the evil Infected. Luckily that didn’t last too long.

  The President had been injured in the attack on the Whitehouse and the First Lady was possibly hurt too, but his daughter was fine. Apparently Proxy had traded out for her and that saved her life. He’d gotten her away, along with the special guard that had saved the President and part of his Secret Service men. Most of those died in the blast. The President had been shielded physically by Level though, along with several members of his regular guard detail who’d used their bodies to try and protect the man.

  There was no word as to what happened to Ink, or where Proxy was. He hadn’t come back. It was rare, but he’d done that once before, moving directly from one situation to another. It was hard on him to do, but it wasn’t like he got much of a choice in the matter. The other option was that he’d be dead and never coming back at all. Marcia just couldn’t stand that idea at the moment.

  “Thank god, Bridget’s alive.” It wasn’t a lot to cling too, but since everyone else at the base might just be dead, it would have to do.

  The voices on the radio changed, as they rushed to a special announcement from the senate.

  The voice on the air was rough, filled with emotion… and familiar. Marcia moved closer, realizing who it was. It made her stomach drop.

  “This is Senator James Hooper. I regret to inform you all that my worst fears have been realized. A group of rogue Infected military personnel have tried to take our country from us by force, attempting to move against the President and killing his wife, Martha. The plan apparently involved an attack on the rest of the government as well. Luckily federal agents were able to thwart the worse of this attack and remove the threat and are battling with the aid of civilian forces to protect our capital at this very moment. We should all bow our head in prayers of thanks and for those lost in the horrible events of this day. God bless.” It was a good speech, the kind of thing that screamed that it wasn’t him and his cronies behind it without ever actually saying the words out loud.

  The man was a genius when it came to making the Infected look bad after all. They didn’t even have anyone that could speak for them, to counter the idea that the original plan had been from the other side. Hooper had taken what was at least a partial defeat and turned it into a victory already. It was the last straw, the crushing weight that made her look down at the white of her uniform and start crying.

  Mike came over and hugged her, just holding her while it all came out.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Oh, life wasn’t fair, she knew that, but this… to attack like they had and then to blame it on someone else… How could they defeat that? They just couldn’t. Even as Infected people risked their lives to save innocent civilians from their own kind, they were being blamed for it. Hooper had been clever enough to not even tell the people at home that the federal agents he’d talked about were IPB and that the civilians that were holding off the attack on the capital were Infected.

  It was probably enough to send them all to war, she decided. After the new Hooper act got voted in at least. The last one had called for concentration camps. Who knew what people would be willing to do this time.

  Then another voice spoke, another announcement came. At first she didn’t recognize the voice, since she’d rarely heard it sounding so firm. So angry. It was Director Moore and he was partway into a newscast when the station they listened to picked it up.

  “That’s correct. This was an attempted military coup. As you well know the U.S. military doesn’t allow Infected individuals into the service, and the indication at this point is that anti-Infected terrorists were behind today’s actions. The attempts to destroy the IPB headquarters was thwarted with no damage to the facility or personnel.” He stopped as a voice came from further away.

  It sounded like Brian.

  Marcia blinked, but it wasn’t just her that noticed it. Penny gasped.

  “Brian? That’s Brian!” She sounded happier than a girl that had kind of dumped all over the guy at one point should actually sound, but that was their business. Karen perked up and agreed that the voice was his though.

  “What’s he saying?” It was ha
rd to hear at first, but a microphone finally got brought in, to pick him up, so people could understand him.

  “The indication is that this event has been carried out by Hooper supporters in the military, along with civilian aid from hate groups and other terrorist organizations. We do not know if it was done under his direction at this time or not, but it’s clear that the Senator is trying to spin this to make it look like Infected are involved in the attack, when the only thing that we’ve done so far today is protect the President and Washington D.C. from destruction.” He repeated it several times, explaining himself when asked to by the people on the scene.

  Lancaster slapped his forehead.

  “Brian… God this isn’t going to go over well. I know it had to be said, but I just wish we could have gotten someone else to say it. The President maybe.” He sighed and moved back a bit, as if trying to distance himself from the conversation on the radio.

  Moore came back on then and made a sound that was very close to “Humph.”

  “While I know that might be hard for some to hear, it’s simply the truth. We’ve been trying to soften the blow for a long time, but it’s very clear that certain forces in the government are involved in trying to start a war between the Infected population and the non-Infected. Like it or not, his personal plan or not, Senator Hooper is considered the defacto leader of the major terrorist groups in this country. I ask right now that he step forward and state publically that he is not, in fact, responsible for these people and ask them to not continue to perform acts of terror in his name. We need this to stop, before it becomes something we cannot control at all. Blaming the Infected for the acts of his own followers is inexcusable….” It sounded for a second like he was going to say more, but instead he just gasped and stopped, ending a few seconds later.