The Infected: Ripped to Shreds (Book 1): Hush

by Power, P. S.

That got Clint to start talking, almost as if he had lines to read.

  "Let's get back to what was said? If there is an attack and takeover plan we need to address it. So far we haven't seen any release of data, but it might be that this will short circuit it?" He sounded reasonable, and had a voice talking in his ear. The director.

  When she switched to reading them Cin found a very pleased man indeed. As long as his talking hairdos didn't actually hurt each other or refuse to do their jobs, their antics were going to help the ratings a lot. People loved to watch conflict, and the news was all about getting eyes on the screen, anymore. The trick was to agitate them into action without making things unbearable at the office. He didn't want anyone to quit, after all. They certainly weren't about to be fired. Not from one of the most popular shows in the news world at the moment.

  Bridget turned the channel, to a more bland version of the same thing on a different channel. She was about to explain the whole thing, but her story told all about it first.

  The kid didn't hate a lot of people, but she was kind of close to feeling that way about some of those individuals, on a personal level. It really was hard for her to listen to that kind of thing for long, and tossing the sofa through the television would be a bad thing, given it wasn't hers.

  Cindy appreciated the idea herself, even if she was about to lose it all.

  It didn't take long to get all the numbers down that were needed, since there were only five of them. The big one was the landlord. She'd never met the man, or woman, that owned the place, only their caretaker. That man had been friendly, polite and willing to come help her out. True, he kind of also wanted her to meet him at the door in lingerie, but it was an innocent kind of thing really, and not predatory or pushy. On the few times she'd needed plumbing help, the man hadn't really been sad to see her in jeans and a t-shirt when she came to the door. Then, she had been wearing shirts that were tight enough to be interesting, giving him a bit of a show as a reward.

  About the time she was done writing, Bridget changed the channel to the weather.

  "There, the one news channel that isn't about me. It never is, thankfully. It looks like it should be clear tomorrow. That's good, if we have to travel."

  The girl was going over what she needed to do, which involved a check outside the place, without being seen, and then finding a place to sleep. Part of her kind of wanted to do that with Cin, but she was too twitchy and flopped around in ways that made sleeping next to her nearly impossible. Plus, she wasn't totally certain that she might not try to make a move on the woman. She was cute enough, and if she were right there, it could happen.

  Not that it would, but that kind of a thing was a consideration for the girl. Cindy considered it for a bit, since it might be a way to get her to not kill a certain lovable serial killer later. The thing there was that a story unfolded then, about a man that Bridget had once thought she loved, and had had sex with.

  Clark Clarkson. The kiddy fiddler.

  When Devorah Timberland, the evil Braid, had tried to use that against Bridget, the girl had let him die, rather than not do her duty. That was a person who she loved. So just sucking it up and having sex with her wasn't enough to get Cin clear that way. It was better to be her friend, but nothing would save her that way. Not from Impulse.

  It wasn't fair. Not to either of them.

  She shrugged, and turned to the girl, who was starting to get a little tired already.

  "You can take the sofa? I have some extra bedding. It should be big enough for you."

  That got a cute smile, and a head shake. It wasn't a no, just a rueful expression.

  "Sounds about right. Let me do a perimeter check. You should, too. Look for people and all that? We should be safe enough, but it never hurts to check things out if we get a chance." She moved, right on top of the last word, heading for the door, from what seemed to be a standing start, even though she'd been sitting while she spoke. It was just a sign of her real power that way.

  Cin did her part, because dying before she had to would mean she didn't get to escape, ever. How that was going to happen she didn't know. It might not be possible, given Proxy and his power. Then, Brian wasn't immortal that she knew of. Not that she was plotting his death, but if something happened there, she might just have a chance to get away. Maybe even if he were to be side tracked for long enough.

  That meant giving up might be premature, so she did the right thing and would keep going with it. Doing anything else was insane. Not that she wasn't, but there were different kinds of mental illness and hers wasn't one of the dumb ones.

  Bridget was tucked in on the sofa, a loose sheet over her, instead of a blanket, since cool out or not, she slept hot. It was kind of hard to drift off, for Cindy, but she managed it eventually, expecting to have the girl tapping her on the head at five. The alarm was set for four-thirty, but they were going to bed pretty early, which made that nearly enough sleep.

  It was the buzzer that got her going, and it was her that had to wake up the little super powered being. Which she did safely from the other side of the room, the kids words telling her that standing right there wasn't the best plan in existence, since one flailing thwap might just kill her. It came too, as she called out.

  "Bridget? Rise, and get your butt up. We need to get ready... Bridget? Briiiidgeeet!" She yelled on the last one, and it really worked, but the promised flailing seemed a lot more like combat moves, and were so fast, even from a dead sleep, that she moved an extra step away even from her position by the door.

  As soon as the girl blearily looked at her, Cindy dashed to the other room, and got two of the larger containers of leftovers. This was in the fridge, and was cold, but she got a spoon and fork to go with it. The kid cared not at all about cold food, and simply started to eat. Hard. Enough so that Cindy, feeling none too steady herself, went and got the rest of it from the other room, including the remaining pies, and set them on the sofa.

  Bridget nodded, but kept eating, almost mechanically.

  Looking around, she shook her head, knowing that she was never really going to see the little house again. Once she walked out the front door that morning, her old life, in many ways, was gone. Dust and smoke, left to drift away. Like it had never really been anything at all.

  The only thing that was going with her, other than a few changes of clothing, would be the killings she'd done. So at least she had her memories of that. It didn't feel like enough. Not when she would have traded everything she owned just to keep that one little thing. Her right to kill whoever she wanted.

  "I need to shower, then pack. Eat all that, and anything else you want that I have? I won't need to eat today." She moved off, and didn't stop until there was a knock on the door, at ten minutes before six. She checked it first, to see who was there, expecting Brian, her capture, but it was actually Scott. The others were in the van. She could tell that because of the words that were showing through the side of the thing.

  That they had one of those, a large vehicle, made sense, given that there were so many of them.

  She opened the door, to find the golden man smiling at her, his lavender eyes shining just a bit. He was in a suit, to travel in. For her part she'd picked jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoody. It was blue, but warm. Plus, if she needed to kill anyone, she was ready. Over that she was going to have a jacket, but hadn't gotten it on yet. Bridget had their things staged, and had already told her to put the keys on the kitchen table. Their people would just break in, and not need them, when they came to collect her stuff. Not that she wasn't taking her papers with her, packed up already. That and most of her clothing, and knives. She'd gotten those dug up from the back, not wanting to just leave them.

  A part of her still felt like she was going to need them. For her hobby.

  Bridget was dressed in nicer clothing than she was, too. It wasn't a dress like the day before however. Just slacks and a girly, but flowing, shirt. That way she could move, and fight, in it if the need came up.

&
nbsp; Prime, at the door, looked in and nodded.

  "You're both up and ready? Great! We were all a bit worried that you'd stay up all night, partying and carrying on. You know how you girls can get. So, shall we hit the road? Do you need to eat, or go to the bathroom first? We're on a military flight, since it's around the holidays." To him that made perfect sense.

  She read about it, and got the idea. The IPB didn't fly commercial most of the time, to protect the public in case of attack. That meant they either went with the military, which was most of the time, or on a private jet. Chris Pours, the telepath, had one of those. She lent it out to everyone, not being stingy, even if it cost a lot to run. At the moment however it had been lent to other people, ones from Team Two, so that they could get home for the holiday. Some of the less attractive people had problems even on the military flights.

  That meant, when they got to the black van, which had government plates, that they weren't headed to PDX, but rather a base someplace that she'd never even heard of. Inside of the vehicle, up in the front, were two men in black. One of them was thin, blond and was in the driver's seat. The other was darker skinned, but was watching the world around them so closely that it was clear he expected attack, even if she wasn't able to read that about him.

  They all kind of were. These two were agents, but on their side. Neither had even been approached about betraying anyone. That meant whoever was doing it, trying to take over and kill off the leadership, would be after them too. The smaller man had worked that out instantly, the night before, as soon as the news hit.

  Brian had gotten out too, and was watching as well. Everyone else was resting, half asleep, in the van.

  "Hey! You didn't run off in the night. Glad to see it. That would have made me look good with the boss, after vouching for you like I did."

  From behind her Hobbs approached. She turned to look at him, his clothing the same as the day before. He was clean, and tried to stay that way, but wasn't prone to assuming airs, it seemed. There was a smile from the man, but his mind was busy with other things at the moment. Almost everyone there was, early or not.

  Bridget took the bags, secured the front door, and then moved to climb in, pulling Cin with her.

  "Things went fine here. I already ate. We need to make sure that Lyn gets her Tupperware back. I left a note with the address on it for the packers." Then, almost as if it made sense, they moved toward the very back, and Cindy was wedged into place next to Brie and Rachel. There were only three seat belts however, which meant Bridget moved up a row. Before she could ask why the girl needed one, she explained.

  "Even the hard to hurt people need them, so if there's an accident we don't fly around whapping the rest of you in the head." There was a little pantomime to go with it, including sound effects and hand gestures. The girl had turned around to look at her, as she was pressed against the wall of the thing.

  "Ah. Good to know. Well... I guess this is goodbye to the good life?" She meant it, since the one thing she cared about was going to be well and truly lost. It already was, really, but this was the final sign of that.

  No one got it except Trivia, who leaned forward to smile at her, past Rachel.

  "Yeah. The old goes away, to be replaced by something new and different. It won't always be easy, but you'll live. Anyway, we should be in the air inside two hours. One nice thing about flying with the military is that they hardly ever assume you need a body cavity search first. Not to knock the TSA, but they are about as Mickey Mouse as you can get and not actually be helping the terrorist climb on board on purpose." She didn't even smile at that bit.

  Which, given the way things had been going in the world didn't really leave her feeling all that safe and secure. Her life wasn't about that, and hadn't been for years, so she didn't worry about it. The others all got in, including Hobbs, and they left quickly. The man at the wheel drove like his granny was with him, going exactly the speed limit, and using his signals all the time. Unless they were being followed, he simply would be doing that.

  Then, if that happened, all the rules would suddenly change. Most of the others, except Charlotte, were looking around for threats, so she did that too. By reading them. She started with Brie, the woman, who looked far too good for that early in the day, having been trying to find anyone that might be thinking about them. She knew what everyone else in the world did, but that was a lot of people, so pin pointing one that wasn't in front of her, or at least known took skill. Really, in a lot of ways, the woman wasn't that much better off than Cindy was. A bit better at using her powers, if being twenty times more skillful counted as that, and her ability to actually use abilities was nearly total, once she needed them, even if she couldn't find the exact source, which was cool, but in finding people using her powers, she was kind of in the same boat.

  So that part didn't help much.

  Brian was edgy, but that was his way, she realized. He was a combat vet who had seen more sudden violence than anyone in the world ever had. Others had killed more, like Bridget, but Proxy was the one that had been in more fights. One and two people at a time, to the death, for the most part. That meant his brain was riddled with problems now, because fighter or not, that didn't make you immune to post traumatic stress.

  It was Bridget that had the needed information for them all. Her subconscious mind pointed out that they were going to have smooth sailing, back to the base. It was psychic thing, too. Not just a guess. That didn't keep her from being watchful however, not being consciously aware of the fact.

  Cindy pretended to do the same then, since it would make her look good.

  Like a team player that actually cared about the others with her.

  It was funny, but she noticed that the driver was at least as big of a psycho as she was. Not a killer, however. He liked to hurt people, but had buried all of that in his work. He did a good job, all the time, and was conscientious about it, but he didn't have any real empathy. There was no crying for Old Yeller at the end of the movie in his past, and he knew it. He also didn't care, since it didn't hurt his work.

  The other man in black was more normal that way, but so cold inside that it was almost the same thing. If he killed innocent people he might lose some sleep, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what he had to.

  The others were actually all nicer than that, being regular people who'd been tossed into the fray of life by the Infection. Prime was even nice, inside. Kind and not as egotistical as everyone had always said. Charlotte was a bitch, but that was her first mode, more or less. She fought it, trying not to be that hard all the time, but it mainly didn't work. Even at that, and feeling annoyed by the early wake up, the woman wasn't taking it out on any of them yet, so there was that.

  Rachel was feeling a little horny. Past that her mind was on work, like everyone else was.

  So, they were a strange bunch of freaks, but not evil inside. The worst person there that way was, without a doubt, her. Hobbs was just focused, and mentally active the whole time, not emotional at all.

  It was telling about things, she thought.

  When they got to the airport, the military base, they were passed through quickly, being expected. Inside the chain link fence they went right to the airfield, which was still a good drive away, taking several minutes, and unloaded quickly. Well, everyone except Charlotte did. She took her time about it, since being rushed made her mad.

  The brittle woman didn't make a big deal about it, as the blond driver spoke.

  "We should be on that plane... There. Our orders say that we should be met by a Captain Donovan. We need to check him out, given the current sit-rep. Who do we have on that?" He looked at Brian directly, as if he were in charge.

  Which seemed to be the case, for the moment. Turning he waved at Brie, then, almost as an afterthought, Cindy.

  "These two. Actually, Cin, I want you on that. Brie will act as backup. Can you do that?" He seemed certain of it outwardly, and even commanding, but inside he didn't know if Cindy would let
an assassin fly their plane into the ground to take them all out.

  That nearly got her to blink and she did smile, reading the words. That this man, perhaps several of them, would have done exactly that to remove their enemies, even at the cost of their own lives, didn't mean she was that stupid. The point was for her to survive. Maybe, someday, to be free again, too.

  "It shouldn't be a problem. If it is, I'll let you know."

  Chapter seven

  The Captain was a prick, who beat his wife, and was questionable towards his kids. He wasn't a terrorist, or going to get them killed, and was, at least to his own way of thinking a good pilot. His record wasn't perfect that way, but he wasn't going to crash and kill them all or anything like that.

  The plane wasn't comfortable, but it was no worse than any other military transport, and better, this one had seats instead of benches. Stripped down and lightly padded things, but you didn't have to ride sideways. There were even belts, which everyone there used.

  The flight took two hours, and when they landed, Bridget walked over to her and patted her on the back. It was meant to be comforting, since the girl understood that this must be hard for her new friend. Cin decided to accept it as being that, and not try to shrug her off.

  "Welcome home. This is the main base. The new one, that we got after the old place was trashed. It's all above ground this time. The old base was different. This isn't too bad I guess. More spread out, so that when things blow up it won't all have to be rebuilt at once. It's about three miles away from the other place, but on the same reservation." She had her bag already and waved to her, walking instantly toward the area where the others had their things. Most of Cin's stuff was up there too, so she needed to get at it.

  Luckily the tiny girl helped her with her stuff, since it would have been hard to carry it all on her own. Bridget had kind of let her know that she'd never really see most of her things again, for all that they'd be placed in storage indefinitely. In Vancouver, except for her car, which was supposed to be driven down for her. Eventually. Not that she was going anywhere alone for a long time.