Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day

by P. S. Power

  "What? I... Thanks, but you're just a kid, aren't you? Besides, you sort of just pointed out that we can't really do much. I don't think it's any better for you to go down fighting than for me. You go. I'm the one that got myself into this."

  For some reason, her eyes teared up a bit. Considering it was over the nobility of a bigoted evil person, she felt a little silly, but she patted him on the arm, gently.

  "That's sweet. I think. Give me the weapons and go. Is Martha in on this? Or is she like you?"

  "You mean a dupe that should have known better? No, this was probably her plan the whole time. She's kind of our agent from the national organization."

  "Oh? I didn't know that. No big thing. Go ahead. I'll be right behind you. About ten minutes? Go due West, and don't stop unless you see soldiers. In that case hide. I'll find you by scent."

  "What?"

  "By scent. You smell like cloves. It's strong enough. Go ahead." She pulled the rifle from his hands, and then patted his back and behind. He was kind of chunky, but that was fine really. She wasn't looking for a date, just an in to the hate groups.

  He seemed confused, but left, crawling toward the back, missing the opossum that was hiding with them by about three feet. She waited for him to get away, and made a plan. If James was on the other side of the house, on the bottom level, then Martha would be the one cleverly using the attic vent on the front side of the house as her firing position. Actually it wasn't a bad location. It would take time to find her, and most people simply wouldn't make the connection.

  Suddenly she wished that she'd brought Marcia along with her, borrowed skirt or not.

  She could find this James, through the floor and punch through it to take him, but that was going to notify Martha that something was wrong. If she really was the brains of the operation, taking her alive would be crucial. Getting them both that way might be, in fact. It would take time to go through the floor, however, and that would mean the second person she went after would have time to kill themselves. Not escape. That would actually be ideal, if she could assure it happening, since she would catch anyone trying that.

  If she laid on her back, she could fire an energy pulse from either hand, and hit them both at once, she knew, except that it would kill them both. Even if she missed it might, thanks to the explosion it would cause, and all the splinters that might fly outward from the point of impact.

  So, what could she do?

  Jumping or flying through the floor would do just about the same thing, too.

  It seemed like she was going to have to pick one and be good with it. If that was the case, then she needed Martha. The big deal from the head office.

  Lying still for a few moments, she heard the pattern of gunfire and crawled over to the spot near the front of the house where it was coming from. Then, sighing softly, she tilted the rifle upward, centering her aim on the heat signature above her. It made a soft glowing blotch with a vague man shape in the dark. When he fired again, she did too, causing him to end early. That, and scream a little. Then she sat up and punched, using the rifle to widen the hole in the floor she made. This place didn't really have insulation on the underside, so it wasn't too hard to manage. Using her flying ability, which still tickled a bit to use, even if things were tense, she managed to be inside and on the first floor before all the pieces of wood stopped flying.

  Then, because she didn't know where the entrance would be, she ran, looking at the ceiling the whole time. It took a room to room search of the almost empty house. There were fast food bags and cigarette butts, as well as forty ounce beer bottles all over the place, but nothing got in her way. The open hole in the ceiling was in the back room. The last one she checked, of course. It seemed to be a space for a tiny bedroom. Maybe a child's nursery. She didn't hesitate, since that wouldn't help at all, just jumping up through the hole, and scrambling toward the sound of shooting, wondering if the person there would be quick enough to spin and fire at her.

  That wasn't the case at all, since to move around up there you had to travel on the support beams. It was the kind of thing that a tiny and super powered girl was naturally going to be good at. The larger woman there, even if she wasn't fat, just couldn't to the same thing nearly as fast. It gave Bridget a real edge. One that almost made the fact that the woman didn't bother trying to do it, seem simply correct. Instead she caught a boot to the face. A running shoe, at least.

  It didn't hurt, but the force of it started to knock Bridget back, forcing her to push forward, using her hands to keep her in place, holding on to the support beams. Joists or whatever they were called. Then, being hit over and again, she swam toward the female. It wasn't until she turned half over that Bridget recognized her.

  Trivia. Braids bitch girl. The woman that knew everything. About everything. Their spy, unless that wasn't true.

  Another shoe caught her in the face, which meant, most likely that Braid was actively looking at them. Or had at some point. That made for an interesting scene, didn't it? She couldn't take Trivia in, because that would be too suspicious. If they fought and she didn't win, it would be pretty much the same as explaining what was happening to their enemy. Outing the insider they had.

  After breaking her legs, Braid wouldn't expect Trivia to be able to escape. Not if she were alone. She might have come armed with something that would distract her, but even as she paused, she knew that it wasn't all that likely. The woman might know everything, but she didn't know the future. Well, that might not be true, because if other people knew it specifically, then she did too.

  Shrugging she grabbed the woman's leg as it kicked back and pulled. Honestly, the only thing she really had was to try and actually kill her, and hope that the spy could work out a believable way to escape. What Bridget couldn't do was drop verbal hints that she was ready for that kind of thing. More kicks tried to come in, but she blocked them, being far too fast and strong for the woman, even if she was one of the best fighters in the world. After a few seconds she wrapped her arms around the woman, trapping her rather painfully with her back resting on one of the beams, her feet hitting the tin flooring that made up the ceiling of the space.

  "So, I don't suppose you want to go peacefully, Martha?" She'd seen pictures of the woman before, of course. Kevin had one, and had showed it to her a few times. They used to be friends, and maybe still were, if the woman wasn't a real traitor.

  There was an attempt to head butt her, which didn't do anything, and then a gasping laugh.

  "Not... really. I don't suppose you want to have sex? I've been told I'm pretty good at it. I could teach you more than a few tricks, if you want?" The voice wasn't sultry, but Bridget got the plan then. She was supposed to agree, being her and easily led, and then the woman would... She had no clue. That was a horrible plan. For one thing, she didn't really like girls that way. Oh, she'd tweak one every now and again, or tease, but she was into men, herself. Even if she wanted to experiment, it would have been with Penny, or possibly Georgia, who were already her friends.

  "Um... sure?" It was still her part in this not to give the woman away. Maybe there was a weak spot in the ceiling? She thought about it for a moment, and fought a grin, then kissed the nice smelling woman she was on top of. Not hard, and just on the corner of the mouth. If she could roll at all, and throw her off, she could slap the floor and possibly go through it, which would give the woman whole seconds to escape. In fact if she pretended to wipe dust out of her eyes for a while she could fake needing a whole half minute to recover. It wasn't true, but she could make it seem real enough for Braid to buy, she hoped.

  Instead of throwing her off to the side, the woman kissed her back, a little more properly than she'd done, but not with tongue.

  "You know, I used to be a friend of your grandmothers? Plural. I know Rachel and Mary. This is the part where you tell me that I look good for my age?"

  She did. She had dark skin at the moment, but still her own slightly Italian looking features. Curly dark hair too.r />
  "I never slept with Mary, though."

  Then her hand going to Bridget's behind, she squeezed a bit. Her palm landed on bare flesh, which she stroked gently, for half a moment.

  "Thank you. I needed this." There was another kiss, but Bridget felt the tension in it and readied herself to fly. She did, ending up on her back, about three feet away from the beam that Trivia had been on. With a quick flexing, acting as if she were trying to stand up, in shock, she burst through the floor and fell. Then, pretending to be a little wimp, she rubbed and batted at her eyes, listening as the woman made it to the back of the house, and parkoured her way down. Slowly. No doubt well, but she just didn't have super speed or strength and really, that meant she needed to find a reason not to chase her. Thankfully James provided that bit for her. Given that he'd only been hit in the groin when she'd shot him. He was clutching himself, and moaning like it hurt.

  First aid was a real enough reason to stop. Especially if the other one was getting away.

  "Freaking hell!" She nearly kicked the man, in her mock anger, but scooped him up instead, and ran out of the house and toward the line of still hiding armed people shed come from.

  "Don't shoot! Federal Agent! We have wounded. Medic! Medic!" As expected, a half dozen rounds came at her, but she managed not to let the already wounded man get hit. "Stop shooting dumbasses, he's wounded. We need him alive for questioning! He's one of the key people in the attack!"

  That got help to come, and for the second time that day people pushed in to render aid.

  The cop that did it this time winced.

  "Ouch. No kids for you, big guy. Don't worry, I'm sure the other inmates won't take your lack of a dick as a sign that you're nearly a woman, or anything like that." It was funny, but inappropriate. She didn't correct him though, waving to Marcia.

  "Turner, we have a problem! Trivia was in there, in the attic. She threw me through the floor and got away. After feeling up my ass. I think she might be kind of gay. Not in a good way either. She didn't even try to finish the job first." She was trying to act bitter about it, but Marcia knew that the woman was on their side. She'd been informed of that, at least. Quartz probably didn't really know that anyone was on her side. Not on a deep level.

  That just meant she never ended up being betrayed, in the end.

  "Holy fucklenuts, Bridgie. Too bad you couldn't kill her. Did she use some kind of trick?"

  "Just the normal stuff. You know, asked if I wanted to have sex, knowing that I almost always do. Then, boom, into the floor, and through it. She didn't even get me off first, which is kind of low, don't you think? Not even a reach around. Anyway, I let one of the people go. He seemed a bit like a patsy, to tell the truth. Led into place for some reason, probably by Trivia. I told him that I'd help him get out of town. I..." She shrugged, and wished that Marcia could hear her thoughts, but there was no handy Christian there to set that one up, so she improvised. "Maybe I can find out more from him?"

  That was a bit too lame for the woman in front of her to normally agree with, but she actually smiled. That was due to her not being a noob, but also in on the plan.

  "Go. Meet back here before nightfall. We'll stay at the new base tonight. I still need to have a press conference. Write if you find work."

  Bridget didn't get that last bit, and almost wondered if it was some kind of code. If so, Marcia needed to let her in on the idea first.

  "Will do. I'll be back before nightfall, if possible. If not..."

  She shrugged and took off. If not, then she was probably in trouble. Since there was nothing to do about it yet, if it came at all, she decided not to worry too much. She cut loose then, almost immediately, and finally got to have a good run. It was nice, being able to really move again.

  Chapter seven

  It took a remarkably short time to find her chubby bigot friend out in the woods. He was waiting, half hidden behind a log and a bush. Neither one of them really did that good of a job at the task, since he was a bit too thick around the middle for them to act as more than partial cover. It was, she considered, better than nothing, but his bright blue TCC shirt didn't help him out all that much. No, in fact, it kind of made her want to just leave him there to be caught by the military forces in the area. Then he could go off to prison and be someone's bitch for a few years, to teach him some manners.

  Except that she didn't really think being a prison rape slave was going to help him learn not to fear her kind. It was kind of like Brian had told her, more than once. It didn't seem that real to her, but out in the real world, most people that heard anything about an Infected person at all only got the bad things. If all you ever knew about was how some guy went off the rails because his chicken nuggets were cold and killed ten people with unstoppable super powers, then you probably had a good reason to be scared. Really, average people should be.

  To her it just didn't seem like that was really true. After all, almost every time that anyone lost it, it was another Infected person, normally IPB, that ran to stop them and saved a bunch of lives. Didn't the good they'd done count too? Couldn't the bigots see that there was good and bad in the world, even for Infected individuals?

  Apparently not. That was clear enough that she knew worrying over it was probably just a waste of her energy. Now, this guy, the chubby one that was a bit too dumb to not be lead around by morons, might be someone she could use.

  All she had to do was learn how that was done, and she'd be set. Grinning at his back, she moved in beside him, and laid down. The log actually provided cover for her, though there was no one there to see them.

  She whispered, which made the man jump, proving that either she was getting pretty good at sneaking around, or that he was kind of not really paying attention.

  "Found you." She waited for him to jump and then roll a bit, scrambling away as she watched him with a smile. He did slow down, realizing that she was... Well, herself, and not the cops.

  "Um." He sounded brilliant right then, but rallied enough that she didn't hold it against him. He might not be too bright, or he wouldn't have been shooting at her and Quartz, but that didn't mean he was mentally challenged either. "I..."

  She got it then. Under the house he hadn't really gotten a good look at her. Dressed up in the finest of Police Chief jacket wear as she was. Not that it was a uniform top, but it had to look strange. She had pale bare legs hanging out the back, and bare feet. The soles of her feet were dirty too, as were her knees. Crawling under a house was to blame, and the man in front of her had similar smudges all over him, she noticed. The lower half of her butt probably showed too, but the man was on task enough not to stare at it. No, he looked directly at her face, blinking.

  "It's me, Bridget. We met under the house back there?"

  "Oh... I just figured that you'd be older." He looked away, his face blank. There was no talking for a while then, as he clearly considered something. "I can't let you risk yourself. We shouldn't have had kids at this thing. Fucking James. That bitch Amanda too. They both should have at least kept the younger people away. We shouldn't have come at all. That woman, the one that was going to speak, do you know who she is?"

  "Marcia Turner? Quartz. She's actually sort of famous. If you bother to keep up with that kind of thing. A super hero."

  "E-fucking-zactly! We have nothing that can touch her. She can run at a hundred miles an hour and throw cars around she's so strong. Worse, even a rocket launcher wouldn't slow her down. How are we supposed to win against that? That bomb, that little girl took it out... and just walked away." He eyed her then, the wheels slowly turning. He didn't run, just looking away and muttering instead. "Fuck."

  "Yep. Here, get your pants off. You aren't a screamer, are you? We should be safe enough, if we hurry, and aren't too loud. I get to come first!" She moved at him, only to find the man actually scurrying away. After half a moment he started to chuckle at least, rather than scream in fear.

  "Oh... Yeah. Right. Where were you when I was fourteen? A
nyway, I guess I'm under arrest or something? I can't beat you in a fight, even if I could get myself to try and hit you. That's... Damn. Fuck." He started to breathe a bit too hard, so she sat up and patted his shoulder.

  He tried to shy away, but not in time to avoid her. His face, now that she had a good look at it, seemed a bit older than she would have thought. It was the chubbiness that made him look youthful, she decided. The man was probably about thirty or so, at a guess. He had fine lines around his eyes that would have been out of place on someone much younger than that.

  "Don't worry. We'll get you out of this. Um, Martha back there?" She didn't really know how to explain it all in a way that the bigot would believe, not now that she was known to be one of the filth carrying diseased vermin, or whatever he was thinking of her at that moment.

  "Martha? Did you... Um, you know, murder her?"

  She sighed and rolled her eyes, holding the move for a ten count, while she tried to hold her reaction in. She needed to be nice to this guy, even if he was being insulting right from the start. Then, she found his simply being, at all, to be a bit of an insult.

  Finally she patted his arm again, to see if he'd keep flinching. He didn't really. The man just looked at her tiny hand, his face scared. It was a good hand, she knew. Soft on the outside, and smooth in the palm, with perfectly trimmed short nails that were still clean, even after the last few days.

  "Nope. Not even close. She's one of the evil Infected. I don't mean that in the way you use it either. I mean that she and her friends are trying to start a war that will kill millions, possibly billions, of regular people. They've been using the hate groups to set things in motion for a long time. In fact, their boss, Devorah Timberland, she started most of the major organizations. Most people wouldn't even have bothered to think twice about the Infected if not for them. There was mind control involved. We've stopped a good part of that. The IPB did, I mean." She tried to give him a serious look, but he made a face and seemed to think she was making things up.