by P. S. Power
When he came to Brian found himself in medical looking up at the ceiling. No one was there, so he went back to sleep. When he woke up Doctor Clinton came in to the room, meaning it would be night, unless the shifts had changed or something.
"Brian. How do you feel?" The doctor seemed friendlier than he'd seen him before, like he actually cared about the state of his patient. Maybe the knowledge that Brian wasn't a secret drug fiend had actually helped?
"Um, not bad. A little sore, but that's to be expected. Headache, but also to be expected. Nothing out of the ordinary."
It turned out that he'd slept for over a day and had to be given intravenous fluids to correct the fairly severe dehydration he'd worked himself into. Clinton vacated the room after a bit, once he made sure Brian wasn't feeling too bad. About half an hour later Doctor Tull came in, sat by his bed and started asking him questions.
Things that made sense in a way, but didn't seem important. Was he suicidal? No, but really, what did that matter? Did he want to see anyone in particular? He almost said no, but then decided he would.
"Karen, team three and the Chambers family if they'll come." Tull wrote this all down and left.
He slept some more and finally got up when Kern came in. His back felt stiff from sleep and his limbs were heavy from disuse. On the good side about half the bruising had gone away, so he looked a little less like a plum. He told Kern he was headed back to his room, but didn't ask permission, figuring the guy would tell him if he had to stay for medical reasons. Kern just called out to remind him to eat.
Brian went to his room, thinking about how he should be able to save Melany. Nothing came to mind at all still. He just felt so hopeless there.
A knock came at the door. He moved to answer it, hoping it would be good news of some sort.
"It's Marcia, open up or at least tell me you aren't decent if you don't want me to come in." Brian opened it for her and she took him into her arms, holding him for a second. It was a strange move and made him tense.
"The situation in Canada has changed. The creatures have found the lake and surrounded it. The Canadians are planning to use bombs on the whole are, about ten of them. Huge ones... The Director wanted me to come get you..."
Brian followed her as fast as they could go up the stairs. The elevators needed the top two levels to work right, so until those were finished, everyone had to use the stairs for everything. They ran, taking two and three steps at a time. Marcia swung through the door, grabbing on to the molding as she pushed on the bar of the heavy blue door leading into floor three. They kept running, right into a large office, with a single huge table, a war room of sorts.
Brian listened at first trying to figure out what the plan from the Canadians might be. It didn't take long, since Moore summed it up for him, looking sad and tired.
"The Canadians are taking out the whole area with fuel air bombs... Each one is about as powerful as a small nuclear device, so it should work to remove the threat... We, uh, have the young lady, Melany Miller, on the phone with the Prime Minister of Canada on conference."
Marcia pulled a chair over as his legs collapsed, making a loud thump when he hit the seat. The voices became clear to him a deep, sad sounding male voice came over the phone talking to someone.
"Melany, is... is there anything I can do for you? Anyone you need contacted or want done... after?"
The room went silent, the only sounds those of people subtly rustling and a single clock ticking away on the wall, reminding them all of how little time they had left before this happened. When he swallowed the sound felt like it would deafen him. Finally a tiny voice came from another speaker.
"Yes... Tell the people that have been helping me, that man that kept saving me - Brian - tell him I said thank you? He's done so much for me. Let him know I didn't give up..." A sob took her voice, the tears obvious.
"Will it hurt?" She said almost too softly for Brian to hear.
Marcia leaned forward, still standing, so that her voice could reach the speaker on the phone without shouting.
"Melany? This is Marcia Turner, I have Brian here... He heard what you said. He knows... It won't hurt. Not at all. The whole thing will happen too fast for you to be able to perceive pain from it. If you have to die it's one of the better ways to go."
Half the people in the room glared at her for being insensitive, but the little voice on the other end of the line didn't sound unhappy about what she'd said at all.
"Oh... that makes sense. Good. I don't want to hurt."
Brian stood.
"No. Call it off. I'll go... I'll take her place or... I can get there in about a day, twelve hours. I'll kill them all, she doesn't have to die. There has to be another way..." His voice shook with fear and rage.
The girl on the phone sobbed into a laugh, it sounded wracked with pain and sorrow, her voice came after a minute sounding stronger, older suddenly, as if she'd made up her mind about something.
"Is that Brian?"
The Director leaned in and told her it was.
"No. I caused all this. I didn't mean to, but hundreds have died because of me already. If you save me now, this just keeps happening, and I could kill everyone, everywhere. This has to end." Her voice shifted a little into something familiar, a placating tone that people used to convince children that things would be all right even when they weren't going to be right ever again. "I'm... I'm ready. It's OK. I'm not even sad about it. Really. Thank you, thank you all for being with me, but I'm fine. You have to drop it. Drop the bombs. You have to let me go Brian. There's no other way. I know that now. I'm not giving up... I... What's that? Oh. I think the planes are here."
A gasp came from the phone, a shuddering inhalation that shook Brian to the core.
He stood up. Forcing his chair back.
"Dharma! Send me now. Fuck. Now! Now!" A tingling started, building fast and hard, his skin almost aching from it.
"No. It's fine. Thank you for trying to save me. Goodbye." The girl cried when she said it, sobbing.
The tingling built, pain starting to rip through him as he willed himself to move, to save her. Something stopped him, like a wall of force, holding him in place, even as he locked his mind onto the idea, trying to figure out what he had to do in order to save her. It hit him what must be stopping him.
"Dharma!"
The ghost girl was there, standing, not looking at him, her right hand holding her left arm, which hung straight by her side. "No. I can't... it's too late already. If you go you'll just die and so will she..."
There was a low rumble and a gasp of fear, then the line went dead. Brian went down, just sitting on the floor without catching himself or even trying too. Tears dripped from his eyes as he pulled his knees into his chest and started rocking back and forth gently.
Marcia came and sat next to him, holding him close and rocking with him, tears in her own eyes he thought. It was hard to tell.
Eventually someone led him away, back to his own room, where Karen came to find him shortly thereafter. He let her hold him and tell him things would be alright, trying as hard as he could to believe it. Nothing would ever be right again though.
Not ever.
After a while he got up and went running again, no plan, not even thinking, just running around the inside of the fence line. He picked a speed too fast to be comfortable, not a slow grind, but that point where any faster would mean feeling sick, lungs starting to burn. The pace was a thing just below that level, the lactate threshold someone, Jason the team three trainer, had told him. He held it until his legs stopped moving about five hours later.
People stood watching him run. Karen and Marcia stood with the Chambers. Penny nearby looking like she felt alone. She probably did. He did and other people could even see and hear him. Brian walked over after a few minutes, Marcia handing him a bottle of water. Tap he could tell, but that didn't matter, it tasted good anyway. The well water here was always clean tasting. They could probably bottle it for sale, bu
t somehow "Infected water" just didn't sound like it would go over very well.
"Hey." His voice didn't have life in it right now.
Bridget ran over to him and wrapped her little arms around him. "I'm so sorry Brian. I... really I don't know what to say. You tried doesn't cover it at all. But... you can't sink into depression over it. I mean, you could, but don't. Too many other people need you now. I need you. So... don't."
Brian made himself smile and patted her on the back softly.
"You're right. I'll be OK. I mean, this is sad, but I know that I didn't have anything else I could do. I... just wasn't enough this time. I... Look, I know it's going to happen, sometimes I'm going to lose people no matter how hard I try and I promise I won't let this be a permanent thing, but... could I collect some hugs here and then be alone for a while? Just for today?"
Everyone hugged him, coated with sweat or not and then walked away, Marcia telling him to remember to eat.
He started running again, slower, barely a walk this time. Remembering back when no one else ever had to remind him of that. How his biggest goal in life had been beating the next level of a video game or finding the secret super weapon in the hidden chest, usually of the same game. Back when Doug and he had been friends and he dreamed of working up the nerve to ask out the girl from the book store, knowing the whole time that she would have said no if he had.
Now what did he have?
He didn't worry about food anymore and had lost weight, almost too much. He had pretty hard looking abs under the scars now. He could run a lot farther than he would have even dreamed of before and really didn't worry about casual crime. Muggers? The idea made him laugh, mainly because he never carried money.
He had friends. The idea surprised him, but it was true. A lot of people here seemed to actually like him and think that he was worth something. Some of them seemed proud of him, even if he wasn't ever going to excel at math. At least when they weren't trying to kill him or each other.
Things were, well, good wasn't exactly the right phrase, but definitely better than anything he'd expected the first time Lancaster had told him about all this. The biggest thing was that he'd saved lives. Way more than anyone had even hoped at the beginning.
That was something.
He picked up speed and tried to hold on to all that.
Was it enough?
Right now, no.
But maybe it would be later, if he didn't give up.
16
Senator Hooper used Melany's death at the hands of the Canadian government as a banner, a beacon. Showing how regular people could stop the "evil Infected", if they just had the will. The press releases glossed over the fact that she was an eleven year old girl for some reason. Where it did get mentioned it was used by his followers to demonstrate how very dangerous being Infected could make a person. After all, if one little girl could do all that, anyone could.
Brian watched the screen sitting between Bridget and Rachel on the hotel bed in the girls room, the gold and tan comforter underneath them wrinkling a little as he shifted to look at the screen dead on. The reporter on the screen interviewing the dour looking man asked questions that sounded reasonable, but were just tools to give the gray suited politician an excuse to incite the audience. After a while Rachel just took the remote from her granddaughter gently and clicked the box off.
"This is why I don't even own a TV. Could you imagine what would happen if we struck up a national conversation about all the problems non-infected people cause? Most of the crime, all of the wars ever fought, global warming...garbage like that on television..." Rachel flipped the remote in her hand, anxious and wanting to burn off the extra energy that sitting around caused in her.
Both the women had that vibrating kind of energy that you normally only saw when people were on drugs, good ones that kept you up all night and made you not want to eat. They ate though, the food coming in a decently steady stream all day long. Brian didn't even try to keep up with them on that score. He'd done fat and it didn't work for him. Instead of eating when they did, he talked, carefully guiding them back to the base, in their minds. Not that he was subtle about it.
"So, the renovations are almost done. I can't believe that story actually worked. Renovations? With that mess? The good rooms are going to be taken if you don't claim yours soon. Oh... Yeah, something I wanted to talk to you about Bridget," He twisted, his skin finally healing up, sporting fresh marks on his face from an Infected with razor like talons the other day. Burrows told him they'd heal clean, but probably scar. It didn't bother him at all. Karen said it would make him look rakish and dashing. Bridget voted for pirate like.
He put out a hand and placed it on the slight girl's back. It felt hard and warm, hot, her metabolic rate nearly twice his own. Most of that energy going into fidgeting and making people worry about what she'd do next.
"I talked to Director Moore about you being on team three and he nixed it." Before she could speak he held up his hand. "You just aren't cool enough for us, sorry. Should have been obvious from the start..."
He grinned and punched her shoulder softly as her eyes suddenly looked hurt. "Silly! You'd be more than welcome, but the higher ups were kind of hoping that you'd go on to team one. Like, for real, not as a super secret mascot or anything like you would be on the other teams. You get paid and everything, full amount too, same as what Karen and Argos make. You have to control your behavior, but I told him that wouldn't be a problem. You get to design your own uniform and everything, as long as you stay mainly clothed. Remember the whole family friendly idea and you'll be fine."
Bridget clapped but Rachel gave him a skeptical look. "I see. Now, is this generous offer of employment contingent on her father coming back as well?"
"Nope. It was suggested... but I pointed out that doing that would be beyond creepy. Bridget's worth having on her own, and everyone agreed with that. Scott and Charlot still have to sign off on it, even if they don't come back. She does need an adult supervisor however, until she's eighteen at least. I voted for you, by the way, even if your son does come back."
The older redhead who looked more like the very young mother of the young looking girl next to him leaned into him and put an arm around his shoulders giving him a soft squeeze.
"I see. So am I slated for the team one dog and pony show too?"
He leaned into her a bit too, knowing that the woman was just friendly all the time and wouldn't take it amiss. For that matter she wouldn't take blatant requests for sex badly either, or so he'd been told. By her. More than once. It was tempting, especially since Becky didn't seem to be having any luck blocking out what he was doing yet. If nothing else Rachel was fun to be around and had some great stories about Alpha squad. He tried to memorize everything she told him, going over the data points often to keep them fresh in mind.
"You'd think, right? The Director suggested that. I told him to go fuck himself. You're with us on team three." He winked at her and then Bridget in turn. "By the way, for future reference he really doesn't like being told to go fuck himself. I've had to apologize about six times since then for it. He keeps giving me these hurt looks... Not that I'm knocking team one," Brian kicked his right foot out to touch the younger girls leg lightly, playfully getting her attention. "I just think you should be working on the other problem. Alpha. For that matter I put Moore on notice that we're going to pull him out of retirement and that his second in command needs to get trained up ASAP, if they're not already. I'm thinking you'd be the one to get him back in shape. Doctor Burrows says his heart is good for it, so have at." Brian stood so he could face both of them.
"Director Moore... seemed to think I was kidding for some reason. No doubt it will be a shock when you show up to take him to the gym the first time, which is why I'm sending the pretty woman that he used to have a crush on instead of going myself. Brilliant plan, don't you think?" Rachel made a derisive sound.
"Crush on moi? I think not. What gave you that idea?"
Brian shrugged. His voice sounded flat still, even as he fought to make it more lively and playful. "Maybe because he said so? The first time he told me about Alpha? Actually I think what he said was that he thought he was in love with you at one point. Good enough to get his attention now I think."
Rachel looked pleased and blushed warmly at the idea.
A knock came at the door, Charlot's voice called through. "Is anyone decent enough to come to the door?" She giggled as if the idea that they wouldn't be amused her for some reason.
Bridget let her mother and father into the room quickly, bouncing in place, but determined not to say anything about the job offer. She winked at Brian to keep him from saying anything about it either. Charlot kissed him on the cheek dryly and looked at the other women.
"News. Scott and I have decided to return to the IPB - for now at least. The political climate can't handle Prime disappearing..."
Sitting back Rachel let Bridget have her moment, unveiling her own invitation onto team one. Prime sat, mouth hanging open a little bit for a few seconds, but not too long. He turned quickly and grabbed his daughter up in a swinging hug that would have broken something in Brian, he was sure.
"Of course! Where else would you belong? Silly of them to hide my daughter away on team two all this time anyway." The possessive nature of the statement was clear to everyone. Bridget smiled anyway.
"I know! Anyway, I get a new costume and everything!"
Visions of her playing dress up for days at a time filled his mind briefly, her trying to insist that a princess dress would make a perfectly good costume. That or something really punk looking. Of course if anyone could pull off a princess dress it would be her. She'd look six, but that kind of worked for now.