Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day

by P. S. Power

  The Infected:

  Impulse

  (A Whole New Day)

  P.S. Power

  Copyright 2014

  Orange Cat Publishing

  Contents:

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter one

  There was an explosion behind her, a good ways off. It was expected, so she only jumped about six inches into the air in surprise. The town had been pretty quiet before that moment, the birds chirping a bit in the trees giving the only sign of life. That, and a man delivering the local papers to the boxes that ran around the central square. Why they needed more than one or two she didn't understand, since the thing was as dry as dust, as far as reading material went. It was just past dawn, Bridget knew. That had been done on purpose, to keep the casualty rate for civilians down.

  The orders were for zero, but she had a problem doing things that way, all the time.

  The first blast was followed by four others, three of them happening almost at once. It was nearly musical, but showed the weaknesses in the technology they were using. There should have been only one explosion sounding, if in five different places. A simultaneous boom that woke everyone in the town and got their blood pumping. The idea was to use biology to keep everyone off guard for the real deal, thirty miles away. This showed that even synchronized clocks and timers could be slightly off. It was human error, of course, but something that had to be planned for in the future. People screwed up, all the time, if in little ways. Not that it made a big difference in the moment. All of them had gone off, and that was her cue to get inside the police station and start making some noise.

  This part of the plan had been her idea. A chance to take a little bit back from the people that had been making problems for her and her friends for the last few years.

  Taking a deep breath, she walked into the place, met, a bit unexpectedly, at the door as three of the men in blue that worked there tried to storm out. One knocked her to the side a bit absently, but had good enough reflexes to reach out and steady her as he jogged past. It was done by reflex, but showed more concern for her well being than she would have expected. The cops there hadn't been known for their love and concern for the town's citizens.

  "What the fuck was that?" He pointed at the smoke behind the scant tree line of the central park, ignoring the other blast areas so far. As if the smoke he could see was all that mattered. There had been a loud noise, so that had to be where the danger lie. Not with the tiny girl that stood almost at his elbow, barely being noticed.

  Bridgie grinned, knowing that she looked a lot different with her disguise on. Fat for one thing. At least compared to what she usually seemed like. She actually was lumpy around the middle, which had nothing to do with her abs showing as much as they normally did. She'd used putty to build a fake nose, like Clari, the IPB make-up lady, had shown her, and had given herself a honker to impress even the most jaded of people. Normally. Explosions trumped that, it seemed. They didn't even notice her curly black wig, she bet. Or that she was nearly five-six. A whole foot taller than her real height. She felt like a giant.

  That part was down to the wonderful shoes she had on under the long purple and blue dress. It was a thing that might have looked right in the sixties, she thought. Or the seventies. She wasn't that great with the actual timing of when certain fashions had been popular. Not even the modern ones. She'd lived on a quasi-secret government base her entire life, so that could probably be forgiven. Not that she hadn't seen fashion magazines and things like that, they just hadn't been important to her.

  Clari, however, knew about that sort of thing. It was driven into the woman so strongly that she breathed it, day to day. So too, as odd as it was to realize it, did her mom.

  They were why she was there that day. Both of them had powers, like all Infected did, naturally. That wasn't the problem, since they managed them pretty well. Charlot Chambers was only a class three, and while she could handle regular muggers with her force blasts, or even some low level threats, like an armed military man or two, or the cops, she wasn't ready to take on an army alone. Clari was even worse off that way. She was a class one, her power not even addressing combat. The ability to do perfect make-up was neat, and useful at times, but didn't stop trained super soldiers from slitting a person's throat. Not if their orders were to not take pretty and well coifed prisoners.

  It had come to the IPB's attention that that kind of thing might be in the works. Soldiers coming for them, to lock them up. Killing them all had been mentioned too. They were a threat that wasn't easily managed. That they were the ones responsible for protecting all the regular people from other Infected only mattered to about two thirds of the government. The rest thought that the Nazi's had a great idea, with their camps and magic death showers.

  Like she could be taken down with Malathion gas?

  That was why she was doing this however. She was safe from pretty much everything, but her mom? Clari? Even the people that worked in the restaurant at the base or the cleaning staff... Those people could be hurt. Killed or worse. Meaning she had to do something.

  So Bridget had come to town to help distract the locals, while everyone back at the base made their escape. To be technical about it, they mostly had already. Over the last three days, very carefully, and without anyone noticing, the place had been emptied of people. She was really there to make it seem like they were still there. Her job was to shoot the three men that had pushed past her. Like a terrorist. That was how she'd decided to do it. Before she saw how haplessly they all stood there, ignoring the danger right beside them. Unaware of what was about to happen.

  It was a lot easier to consider hurting people when you didn't know them. Sometimes things had to be done though, even if you didn't like it. Everyone had told her that, her entire life. It was practically a mantra with some of them too. Eat your vegetables. Study your boring lessons. Don't have sex with strangers in public. Bridget Chambers was well used to making herself do things she didn't want to.

  Smiling she started to dig in her back pack. It was green and slightly military in appearance, but had a cross, a fish symbol, and a TCC logo on it in black ink. Totally Clean Christian. That was all hand drawn, but part of her cover. She was going to be playing an anti-Infected bigot, to throw everyone off the scent for as long as that lasted. It was her real job for the day. Everyone had hinted that killing wasn't the best option. Still, they let her come, thinking that was exactly what she'd do, hadn't they? Like she couldn't come up with a different plan if she wanted to?

  It was like they didn't even know her.

  "That, gentlemen, is the start of the war against the dirty Infected scum that you failed to handle." She pitched her voice as low as it would go, which still made her sound like a young girl, even if it nearly matched her new apparent size a bit better than her normal tone would have. Normally she sounded a lot like one of the munchkins from that movie that her friend Denis had made her watch.

  Thinking about it nearly had her singing about the yellow brick road, but she held that one in, with a bit of effort.

  One of the cops nodded, but didn't turn to look at her.

  "You think? Those freaks have pretty much torn our force here down over the last nine months. Most of the people here are new, anymore. The rest are out of a job. It wouldn't shock me if it was Proxy coming for us. That killer... I don't know why no one can see him for what he really is. Not in the government. I hear he has
the President on speed dial, so maybe that's it? Get the right connections and no one cares if you go around scaring everyone, and threatening their lives? I just can't see how anyone can ignore the body count."

  That sounded about right to Bridget, but she didn't mention that part. After all, Brian was friends with the President. So was she, as far as that went. Not close, let's have sex in the oval office, kind of buddies maybe, but she'd stayed with him and his daughter as part of a protective detail, for several months. It was close enough that she probably needed to send the man a Christmas card, at least. A present wouldn't be out of line, either. A tie, or something useful and boring like that.

  That thought was interrupted, even as she dug for the first of the weapons that she planned to use that day. None of the police noticed anything. That probably wasn't too shocking, since sudden explosions at just past sunrise could throw a person off. If, of course, they hadn't set them off. Like she had.

  It was nearly funny, how they just didn't see her with the guns though. It was almost fun for a bit, until a new batch of people ran out to see what was going on. One of them noticed her. There was no drawing of weapons in response however, since standing right next to the others made her seem official, she bet. Like some kind of chubby, gun toting, police groupie.

  They did look all cute in their little outfits, she had to allow.

  "Hey... Um..." This one was a female, and even with her fantastic stilt shoes on, was a few inches taller than Impulse was. "What's the deal?"

  That got a few other people to finally look at her, instead of listening for more booming sounds in the distance. It had taken them long enough.

  Bridget looked at her hands, filled with black metal. They were both nine millimeter weapons, because her hands just weren't big enough for anything really impressive that way. She had the strength and even the skill, to use them, but being tiny had its drawbacks in life. That was one of them.

  "These? Oh, I'm here to shoot this place up. It's a protest of sorts, since you all kept failing to do your duty and get rid of the Filthy Infected, out at the base. The rest of my people are going to nuke it, so you might want to start evacuation plans. I..." She tried to make it seem real, keeping her voice under control. It was acting, which wasn't a thing that anyone had taught her really. She was just a natural at it. It was just an impulse on her part, hamming things up and spinning the story like she was. The plan had been for her to just shoot at the walls, until the men and women there used up all their ammo, trying to shoot her.

  None of them had even drawn a weapon yet. Not even after claiming she was there as a terrorist. It was almost too easy. Like dealing with helpless little puppies.

  The lady cop, who was a bit square through the face, and had nice brown hair, that she kept up, rather than cutting off, made a sound that distinctly seemed to indicate she didn't believe Bridget.

  "Nukes? The last time the government tried that, the old man out there, Moore, made them all vanish. Even the ones that had gone off. I know that Chief Ryan wanted to get one, and even had some men lined up for a suicide run at the base, but no one would give us anything like that." She looked over at the Bridget, and instead of doing the right thing, and shooting her, the lady shrugged, a bit slowly.

  It was a defeated thing. One that spoke of long frustrated goals and dreams. The dream of killing Bridget and her family, no doubt. All of the dirty Infected that sat out there on their secret base... Protecting people, and otherwise leaving them alone. Damn their eyes.

  The man that had bumped her waved at the hardware in her hands.

  "You probably don't need those. Making holes in our uniforms won't fix things. We're... Sorry that we haven't been able to stop them yet. We tried, but no one will back us up. Even our new people basically won't hear a word against them now. If that isn't a sign of just how powerful those people have gotten-" There was a blast of white light then, that probably would have left someone blind, if they'd been staring in that direction. The low buildings and trees shielded the ones standing near her, however. Then, about thirty seconds later, the sound hit. It was enough to rock their world. Even she jumped, and she'd known it was going to happen. Loud sounds did that to her, so she rolled with it.

  Going with her new plan, that she'd just made up, not wanting to kill tiny kittens as a rule, she put the weapons away. After all, if these cops were her terrorist buddies, and she'd just nuked the IPB, killing them all... That had to be better than everyone finally figuring out who she was when they couldn't kill her after hours of fighting. The man, officer pushy, turned to stare at her. For her part, she spoke rapidly, using focused meditation to keep her voice low, and in the right pitch zone. It always amazed her when it worked.

  "Get ready for the blast wave! Then, like I said, get people out of here. Evacuate everyone. I can't believe that actually worked. They told me... But you get it. You never really think..." She waved at the base, getting a few nods from the cops that were standing around. They bought it, of course, since producing a giant explosion on that level pretty much took a nuclear device.

  For most people.

  This one had been made by Lancaster and Doug Tibs. Two infected IPB Operatives. Hopefully from far enough away that they'd both lived. That wasn't really certain, but Mary, who ran the good donut shop in town, had been with them, to get them away. She could teleport, so it was likely that they'd be fine. Not that Bridget wasn't worried about it anyway. Lancaster was a person that she'd known her entire life, and Doug was a teammate of hers. Mary...

  Mary looked like a slightly glassy eyed hippy, most of the time, and seemed not too much older than she did. Perhaps twenty-five, to Bridget's sixteen. She was also her grandmother. Worse, the young looking guy that she used to have a crush on, Brian, had turned out to be her biological grandfather. Because that wasn't going to require therapy later. It was, as everyone liked to point out, a time travel thing. Not a game that had been played to mess with her head. It still pissed her off. Not that Brian would have ever been hers, since he wasn't half as into women as he should have been, but she'd made a lot of passes at him, over the first year that they'd known each other.

  Complete with some groping, grinding, and a bit of kissing that he'd been more than a little reluctant to receive. The Director, Kevin, had known about the time part too, if not the part where they were related. Her Grandma had the whole story. Her real one. Rachel Chambers. The one that had raised her when she was little. She'd known the whole time, watched Bridget make a fool of herself and let it go on, without even suggesting that Brian might be wrong for her. There hadn't even been a hint.

  The police had frozen in place, even as she ducked down, not really knowing if a blast wave would follow along or not. It wasn't really a nuke, after all. So far it had seemed pretty close to that, however. The roar that was approaching seemed like a good indication that there was, whatever it was, something huge coming.

  "Down! As soon as you can get to your feet, start clearing the town! We have to protect the civilians!" She wasn't just screaming for effect, her voice going high again. She had to do it in order to be heard as a wall of air slapped the little city, making windows blow out. She was able to track it all as it came at them.

  It was enough that most of the cops standing there ducked like she was, their eyes wide. At least one of them wet themselves a little. Bridget caught the scent on the fast moving air. She ignored it, since anyone could have that happen to them, if caught off guard. It was a reflex that let people lighten themselves for running, she thought. People didn't control things like that really, they just avoided situations where it came up, and then figured themselves brave.

  The force of the whole thing was impressive. It made a thump against her body that was audible, at least to her. The others covered their heads, which she did too, belatedly. Her entire life had taught her that almost nothing in the world would really hurt her. That meant she had some odd reactions at times, compared to most un-Infected people. For Bridget, du
cking was a game, not a response to danger.

  Like standing back up, the instant the bowel loosening sound had passed. She knew that it was that, because her nose, which was a lot keener than most, detected that at least one of the people with her had lost control of that bodily function too. It stank, but she could forgive it. They'd need to be cleared out for quick action, after all.

  "Go, go, go! Clear the town, we have about two hours before the radiation starts killing people. Move! Is the Chief in?" That was an important question. She had to ask it multiple times, because everyone was dumbfounded, but finally the lady cop shook her head. She had a nice braid in the back that was tucked inside her collar. A soft brown that shone a bit and smelled of being freshly washed. It contrasted nicely with the acrid odor coming off of everyone else there. Fear, mixed with panic and a sense of elation.

  "He won't be in until later, about nine? On most days... Right, move. Everyone, get people heading out. Away from the blast area. We have a plan for this. Get on it. Get to your stations!" The rest of them started yelling similar things, which made it seem official, rather than like they didn't know what else to do, and just left the armed terrorist that had claimed to be responsible for the device that had gone off, standing there, alone.

  Because it was okay to be a killer, as long as you only hurt Infected? That seemed to be the actual message. For a brief time she considered killing them all for that. It was hard to fight the feeling, but she'd been in training to do just that for a long time. It took focus, that, and time, but if she didn't respond to the feeling for a long enough period, she'd be good. Her first mode made good ideas seem irresistible to her, but she could weather it, if she worked hard enough. Most of the time.

  Everyone was leaving her there, and she heard talk of busses being gotten. Ones meant to help move the people of the town away from the base when something like this inevitably happened. It... She felt insulted, overhearing the police yelling about it, left half deaf from the noise and pressure, but could she blame them on that score? They were probably right. Either the base would eventually be nuked, which had been attempted before, or something else would happen. A training accident, or an IPB Operative going off the rails.