The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  Unless it was as simple as the woman realizing that Braid was a fruitcake. Powerful didn’t mean right, and war was bad. Always. For the little people it never made sense. On occasion it did to governments, but most of the time… no. It was just a way to get people killed for too little reason. Of course Trivia, who used to be called Know It All for a reason, had the sum of human information held in her head all the time. It was just possible that she’d worked out that she wasn’t really on the side of right.

  Marcia hoped so, because otherwise they were going to lose so badly it wasn’t even funny.

  Mike hugged her around the shoulders, getting a look from Brian. It wasn’t possessive, but he didn’t smile either. After a bit he just gestured at them with his fingers and looked toward the back where the prisoners were.

  “So, you were all part of a group, back in the eighties?” It was an attempt to make conversation, to change the subject so that the prisoners couldn’t hear what was really going on. Not that they’d ever escape, but if they did, it wouldn’t do to let them have too much information. Not even the kids. They’d be freed eventually after all, which meant they couldn’t learn anything of value. The best thing would be to make sure they were dead, so they couldn’t talk, but that wouldn’t be happening either. She couldn’t stomach it.

  Mic had that part right. It really was her weakness. The idea that people she knew and loved would die scared her more than the idea of dying herself. It always had. Not that she loved these particular kids, but they were children. You didn’t just kill kids because it was convenient at the time. The baby that the woman had shot on the porch still hung behind her eyes as they traveled. Sure it would eventually fade, but for now the idea of taking out these other kids was too much for her to think about.

  So she didn’t. Instead she sat back and tried to answer Brian without feeling ancient.

  “The nineties. I was in the CIA then, like Agent Wilson is now. I handled covert ops and was assigned to work with a team of Green Berets. This bunch. We worked together longer than most teams did. I’d just left to get married and settle into a desk job with the company when I popped. Kind of ruined my plans. I got divorced and then came to the IPB. No real choice given my background. They weren’t going to let me just walk around.” She didn’t explain the rest.

  Penny sounded pleased enough though, as she chimed in.

  “And now I get your ex-husband as my new trainer. What do you think, mom and dad, are you going to get back together? Please? It’s best for us kids.” The teasing went on for a few seconds while everyone laughed. Even Brian chuckled a bit, his eyes darker than she’d seen them in the last week.

  The eye’s of someone who knew too much and couldn’t share it with the rest of them. Some pain just had to be held inside for the good of everyone.

  Mike shook his head in response to Penny, but Marcia tilted hers.

  “We’ll see. I don’t know if I’m grown up enough for a real relationship, but there’s no one else I’d rather have around.” She leaned into Conroy’s arm and looked up at him. It was a real moment, a point of connection that she’d never thought she’d get again.

  No one spoke for a long time after that, but eventually Chris went back to work trying to get information and Brian started chatting with Penny and Mike about ways to improve communications with the invisible girl. Most of it would take some tech savvy, but Brian was certain that with a little help they could put it all together.

  Marcia hoped so, because the next bit was going to have to be mainly on the girls shoulders. They didn’t have anyone else that could do what was needed. Not as well. She pulled out a pad and started taking notes on Brian’s ideas. It might just turn out to be the most important thing she’d ever do. Marcia didn’t know it for a fact, but she suspected it. For the moment, that was enough.

  It would have to be.

  Because if they’d won this round at all, it was due to an outside player and that was… A horrible feeling to have. How bad were things that their best hope was a woman that was in thick with the enemy? It would have been terrifying if she let herself think about it, so instead she fell back on old habits and planned instead.

  They hadn’t lost yet, so they couldn’t stop fighting. If she didn’t keep going, she might lose everyone and that idea was the worst thing she could imagine, it would mean being all alone. So she’d keep on as well as she could, no matter what.

  She’d fight until there was nothing left of the world if it came to it, to protect her friends. Marcia just hoped that would be enough.

  She suspected it really wouldn’t, but it was what she’d do until something better came along.

  Marcia just hoped that whatever that was came fast.

  Otherwise she didn’t think they’d survive. Not most of them.

  Sighing she leaned into Mikes arms and closed her eyes, just for a moment. She almost wished it would never end, but after a while she opened her eyes again and got back to work. It was her job to save the world after all. It was all of their jobs. Even if it wasn’t totally fair all the time. Someone had to do it and this time it looked like it was up to them.

  Hopefully they’d be enough.

  Proxy:

  Reunions

  P.S. Power

  Chapter 1

  Brian had to swerve the entire car about ten feet to keep the kid next to it on his bicycle from being smeared all over the pavement. He did it calmly, moving just far enough so that the boy had time to correct and realize he was there. Then he moved past the bike as if nothing had happened. It was a new thing to him, but he'd kind of known that the child, who looked to be about ten or so, had been about to do that, a pothole forcing him into traffic. He wasn't certain, but he thought it might be a sign that his powers were developing. Growing stronger in some way or another. That or he was just getting full of himself and thought he knew the future now.

  This time it had worked though.

  Next to him Lancaster, the non-Infected agent, looked up from his papers, having been working as they drove. The man always did that, making full use of travel time. He caught enough of what had happened to not seem overly surprised by the sudden move. He also didn't comment on it. Instead he looked out the window, his right hand moving under his arm to his gun.

  Brian shook his head.

  "Not a trap this time, just a boy on a bike and poor road repair. Could happen to anyone." His tone was icy, cold and nearly emotionless, even though he was trying to keep it light. Lancaster was a good guy, but had seen enough combat to be a little fast on the draw. It was part of why he could do his job at all, going up against people with powers, armed with nothing more than guts and training.

  That and good looks. Brian actually felt a little jealous of the guy there. He wasn't just tough and tall, over six foot and in good shape. He looked like he could be an actor or something. That wasn't something that Brian could pull off himself. He wasn't ugly, though the row of scars on his face, three silvery lines on the right cheek, didn't help too much. OK, some of the women at work had said they looked hot, but that was just them propping him up psychologically. Even if it was true, it didn't turn him into Lancaster. Nothing ever would.

  The guy smiled, which looked friendlier than what he could manage anymore, Brian thought.

  "Good. Never hurts to be ready. I've seen people do things like that to create road blocks before." He didn't mention who exactly it would be doing it, but then he didn't need to.

  It would be the police on this trip, if it was anyone.

  It had taken a long time to get it all worked out, but the IPB, the government agency he worked for, had finally gotten the paperwork through, the "Death Warrant" on the cops that had kidnapped and tortured him eight months back. Normally they wouldn't have let him leave the base like this, but he had a time window of about seven days in which he didn't think he'd be trading places with anyone, which meant he was, for the time being, essentially a regular person.

  It wasn't exactly lik
e that though, was it? The Director, Kevin Moore, had been sitting on the warrant for months because he didn't want to risk alienating the police. The relationship there was already strained enough, after a few rogue cops, most of a department, had run a few terrorist attacks on their headquarters. It was only one local group, as far as they could prove, but all the nation's police seemed to be trying to blame the IPB for it, instead of assuming it was about terrorism. That was the official line the agency was taking, at least in the press, a small group of people that happened to be the police had gone rogue. Brian kind of figured that it was all of them though.

  All police were bad.

  He'd had a fight with Moore before he left about that part of things. The man trying to talk him out of going at all, since killing people that weren't actively committing crimes would make him look bad. Make "Proxy" look like he was a killer. As if that mattered at all. He was one. No one on the planet thought otherwise. His power virtually forced him to be, sending him with only a tiny notice into fights, often ones that were to the death. If he failed an innocent person died, so yeah... there was almost always death.

  He didn't have the best reputation in the world.

  Besides that, if no one called the police on their crimes, they'd keep doing it. It made perfect sense to him, but he'd been saddled with Lancaster anyway, to babysit him and try to talk him out of fulfilling the warrant in his pocket. The paperwork didn't matter of course, only the ruling that allowed it. Tearing up the paper didn't stop it, or his boss would have simply made it disappear. That, or the man next to him would.

  Someone up top in the Justice Department agreed with him that these people deserved to die and that the normal court system couldn't handle it however. Normally the warrants were only used for Infected that couldn't be held by regular means, people so wild or powerful that normal prison cells couldn't work, but the police counted that way, having such a huge gang of thugs working with them, all willing to break the law to protect their "brothers". It was a super-power in a way. It made the whole thing legitimate. They had to be treated like Infected.

  He hadn't realized that the words were being said out loud until Dharma, the ghost girl that lived in his head pointed it out to him.

  "Jesus B-man, what the hell? Trying to seem crazy much? "Mutter-mutter, police bad, mutter... kill them all." You sound like a nut-job. Seriously, relax a bit, will you? Do this right and don't make it worse than it has to be, not all the pigs are evil. Even if they are, it isn't your job to hunt them all down, just the ones that hurt you. That's all the warrant is for and forcing the rest of them to fight you, just so you can kill them too... is creepy. Yeah, you could get them to do it, but not all of them are bad and you can't know which are which. Good people would try and save their friends too." She sounded both reasonable and a little exasperated. It was cute enough that he decided to try and be reasonable about it. A bit at least.

  He spoke to Lancaster, since talking to a girl in your head just looked crazy and the previous muttering really was bad enough.

  "I know, you don't think I should do this. Bad for the IPB and Infected everywhere. I'm going to though, and it really is fair." He didn't sound nearly as nice about it as he wanted so he tried again, working to keep the old anger from his voice. The fear too. He hated that part of things. He was scared all the time now.

  "I mean, we can... I don't know, give them a chance to give up peacefully first and face execution without causing a fuss. They won't do it, but that should make a difference, right? The public will see that we gave them a chance to do the right thing." He forced a smile, which pulled uncomfortably on the right side, making it lopsided.

  The large agent next to him rubbed a hand over his very short blond hair and sighed.

  "No. That won't help at all. Not much at least. People view the police as the good guys. Even the criminals that hate the police or those that have been wronged by them like you have been won't really think it's fair. Would you just report for death like that?" He didn't use a lot of inflection, but what was there was a bit patronizing.

  Brian nodded.

  "You mean if I knew I was wrong and that the person coming for me knew it too?" He changed the move to a headshake then grimacing a bit, trying to keep his attention to the street in front of him. It was his old town, meaning he knew the layout better the agent next to him. It was why he was behind the wheel, even though Lancaster normally liked to drive. It was a rental, so that the police wouldn't know who they were by simply running the plates. At least in theory.

  "I wouldn't, of course. I don't think they will either, but that doesn't make them good people. Thinking like that will get you killed here Daryl. This is a war zone and not a political talking head show. These guys will try to kill me on sight and probably you too, if they can. It isn't your problem. Really I think you should stay in the hotel for it." It wasn't the first time he'd said that, but it was the first time the other man answered.

  "My job here is to keep you on target. There's too great a chance that you might just decide to take out the whole lot of them, and that can't be allowed. They were going to send Cast Iron with us too, but with the military attack on D.C. and the coup attempt a few days ago we can't afford to have her out of the loop that long. Me either and honestly you should be there too. The President's kid would be dead if you hadn't been available. You also have a good head for strategy and we need that. Or at least you do in anything not involving the police. You do know that you have some issues there right? The psych people agree too, it isn't just me being blindly pro-cop." He waited, looking like he expected an argument.

  It was a bad plan to fight and drive though, which the ghost that appeared in the back seat reminded him of before he could speak.

  He didn't roll his eyes, but he did snort a bit, going for derisive. That worked still. Most of the emotions he tried for anymore fell flat, but he could look down on people like a pro.

  "I know. They told me. Moore told me several times himself, as if he understood what the big words meant and everything. Marcia took me aside and cried at me, begging me to not do this. I get it, you can't see my side of things at all. None of you can. I... on some level I know that you don't all think it was really OK for the police to try and kill me, kidnap me, torture me and all that. Not all those times, but... honestly it doesn't seem like it. Out of all of you the only person that's ever backed me up against the cops is Denis. The rest of you keep acting like I should just let them kill me, because 'they're just doing their job.' You do know that isn't reasonable, right?" He waited for the other man to answer, which he didn't for a long time.

  "It isn't that easy. No one is saying what they did is right, just that if you do this it will make everything else worse. You aren't totally wrong, these particular officers aren't good guys and the law won't do anything about it. I... just don't know what to do. You, Proxy, can't be seen doing this. If you are, it will probably set off a firestorm in which a lot of other Infected, or even people just having a bad day, are slaughtered by the police out of anger and fear. You don't want that, do you?"

  It was pure manipulation, a thing set to work against his first mode, a sense of protectiveness and self-sacrifice that basically forced Brian to do anything needed to save innocent people. It didn't mean he had no other emotions though, which Lancaster should have gotten by now. This matter went way beyond reason. It had moved into the realm of personal months ago, as he lay face down on the floor of a pitch black cell, unable to move due to the illegal restraints put on him, beaten nearly to death, hoping he'd die.

  Knowing it was going to happen at any moment and that nothing he could do would stop it.

  He'd lived somehow and the same self-sacrifice that made him fight for almost anyone in trouble was driving him to stop these particular police right now. He hadn't mentioned all the information to Lancaster, but would now so that he could understand. A bit. Possibly.

  "The cops that tried to kill me, they've been involved in at least th
ree pretty obvious cases of abuse against people suspected of being Infected in the last six months. Two of those people are dead now, under suspicious circumstances. I can't prove it was the same individuals, but it doesn't look too good. I showed the data to Moore, but he didn't care." It didn't matter that the man was his boss, he was a complete tool sometimes. Not evil, but too much of a politician for his own good. The kind that could turn real people into numbers in his head and use that to distance himself from the pain they felt while they died.

  Brian couldn't do that. He'd seen too much death to just let things go anymore.

  Lancaster tapped the file in his hand gently three times, then laid it on his lap.

  "I know. Our sources make it look pretty cut and dried. At least one of the people was clearly just a kid with a bad attitude too, not Infected at all. Got mouthy with the wrong cops and they decided that meant he might need to be treated as Infected. They go to special protocols then, which... is pretty standard. Even the IPB does it. If you don't know that someone isn't a danger and they seem aggressive or strange, you take them out. If you can. It has to be done that way. Regular people can't take the chance that someone is going to come at them with class three abilities. That means, for most cops, taking them down before they do anything wrong in particular."

  That... was just true. Brian knew that one pretty well, since it was how he lived most of his life now. He couldn't afford to wait and try to talk a murderer out of killing someone, so most of the time he just traded places with someone about to die and fought as hard as he could, without warning. Of course he always knew that someone was about to die if he showed up. It made a mental difference as to how he reacted.