Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day (18 page)

"Yeah. Well, we're in. We're in charge. Doug and I. My grandma, Rachel, started the IPB. I know, I'm young and no one will take me seriously, but that's what we're doing, if you want our help. We have the experience, and, to be honest with you, not too much of that. We were both Team One, mainly. I was on Three for a few weeks, just for a lark. Doug has been well trained to shake hands and give softball interviews. That may not sound like the people that should be in charge, but I assure you, if you take your new force into play right now, after this happened, and start using enhanced war fighters to slaughter Infected, there
will
be a war. One that might be hard to win. That's really why you need me. Doug, too. We can stand up to the Infected and no one will think that it's really wrong, because we're like they are." Not that the others would love them for it. No one would even get that the IPB was
always
about helping the Infected. They killed people too often for that to show very clearly.

The old man let his face go sour and his bushy gray eyebrows to close in.

"Are you saying that you don't think my men can handle the job?" There was menace in those words, and she nearly responded to it, with a shattering kick to his knee, to give him an idea of what she was talking about. Only, that really wasn't her point. This man
could
bring the violence. What he didn't have was a figure head. He probably also lacked an understanding of what it was like to be hated, reviled and thought of as a menace, no matter what you did or how well you lived your life. She did.

"Nope. Not even for a second. They can fight, and probably look good doing it, and hit all the right tactical notes, but they aren't media personalities.
Try
to bring out the super soldiers and jackboot the public. Just give it a shot. Things will
not
go well, if you do. So you need a cute little girl and her friend to heroically keep things in hand. It's
not
going to be easy. So, as of now, Tibs is the acting Director. I'm the Deputy Director, and anyone working with us will be under our system. Are you in for that, General? If not, then get out of the room. The grownups have work to do." She sounded too high pitched, and so young that the man nearly laughed in her face. It was the
other
one that nodded then, as the older one stewed in his own angry juices.

"We can do that. They're still Army personal, but they'll follow your orders. Within reason." There was a sense to the clean shaved man that was a bit darker than his face allowed them to see. A depth to him, that didn't speak of anything good. Not to Bridget's little and wily mind.

It was, she supposed, a sign that he figured himself as being clever. Like she wasn't going to notice that he wanted to put caps on her power. On the IPB's ability to do its job. That kind of thing might have worked, if things were really what they'd seemed. She
was
just a kid, and that was enough to keep her from being taken seriously, unless she wanted to put out, front and center, the fact that the government pretty much couldn't stop her. As a class seven, or perhaps eight, the only thing they could really do to her was try to use nukes, or something nearly that massive, to take her out. If she knew it was coming at all, even that wouldn't work. She was too fast for them to take by surprise that way.

All she had to do to thwart that kind of thing was hang out in big cities for a while. As long as the people that live there weren't being hurt by her, using that kind of force and killing millions couldn't be justified.

The thoughts were a bit advanced for the day though, and she was just opening her mouth to suggest that they'd have the same power as they always did, when Marcia did it for her.

The woman looked strange, even for her. She had a long nose, with a bit of a bump in it, and smooth pale skin, like always, but her hair was totally gone. Nothing was left on her head, or Bridget imagined, the rest of her. No eyebrows. No eye lashes either. Nothing left except untouched skin and a pair of army fatigues with the insignia ripped off. That part made sense. She'd have been naked after the blast, so would have done something to clothe herself. Mugging a soldier that was bigger than her seemed to have been the order of the day. The cuffs and sleeves were rolled, and she was barefoot.

When you couldn't be hurt, shoes were a formality. At least Bridget had always thought so. Her mom insisted, when she was in public. It was better to blend than not.

"Bullshit. You
aren't
using this as a de facto takeover, Bentley. If you want to try out your toy soldiers, we can help with that, but you being in charge here would be a fuck up waiting to happen. You can barely stand to be in the same room with Doug and Bridget, you're so afraid of the Infected. I assure you, you're safer in this room than walking down the street in middle America. Left to you and yours, every glowing little kid in America would be snuffed inside a week."

Everyone turned to look at her, and seemed shocked, except for Doug, who missed a beat. He'd known she was alive, so didn't respond correctly. Really, it was hard to know what that even was. Who survived blasts like that? Quartz, and
maybe
her.

Level too, but if they were playing that game, it was coming later. There was no rasping of chitin based armor from outside. No exclamations from the remaining military personnel either. Lauren had betrayed her trust and had to die for it, but she was still popular with the kids and had been for long enough, five or six years, that some of the military people had probably had posters of her on their walls not too long before.

"Turner! Well I'll be, the bitch is back." This came from the younger of the two generals, who, for all that Marcia had been pretty rude to him, actually ran to her and pulled her into a manly, back slapping, bear hug. "I should have known you would. Anyone else make it out?"

It seemed an odd thing to have to ask, and she grimaced then looked away. It was a bit too obvious to Bridget, but she knew Marsh pretty well, didn't she? They used to be partners and everything. You learned things from, and about, people when you did that.

Important things.

Like what they looked like when they thought they were being clever.

"Not many. Level, but she was hurt pretty bad. I think she'll live, but it will be a while before she can work. Her mind's a bit messed up." She glanced over at Bridget when the general let her go, and made her eyes sad. "Bridgie, your dad... He tried to protect your mom with his body, but... That blast... I only made it because I
ran
. Jason did too, and was ahead of me, but he... Melted. The force of his movements just made him fall apart." It was a bit much, since now people would be looking for traces of Argos in the desert. It would have been better to suggest that they'd all died in the building itself since it was hard to find DNA inside a burned out hole in the ground.

Bridget cried, grief ripping through her. It wasn't real, but she got the idea. They had a projective empath on their side, standing behind the donut counter. Ready to serve up what they needed. Including wet tracks down her face. It was
brilliant
.

There was a catch in her voice when she spoke.

"There are... The people in the field, we need to get word out to them, and see if any of them are willing to come back. I... I know that Doug and I considered running, when we realized what was going on. What do we do?" That was a plaintive wail, and made her seem too stupid by far, but it had just popped out. There was emotive pushing going on, but no one else in the room knew that.

So Doug rounded the till counter and wrapped her up in a hug. He really was starting to smell a bit, even if it was clear that he'd showered that morning. Oh, it wasn't
too
bad, yet, but her nose was a lot better than most people's, so she noticed things like that when others couldn't. The move was returned, but only briefly, since they both had to go and harass Marcia. Even if they'd hated her, it was called for, given the moment. Anything less would be suspicious.

Bridget could smell the recent scent of burned hair on her. No accelerant, so Lancaster had probably used his power to do it. With her uniform on, it seemed. Nothing stuck to her, and she wasn't hurt by it, since not much
could
harm her. Hence them pretending she survived the blast. Maybe she could have? She was so hard to hurt that people forgot that she had to have a massively rapid healing system too. Like Bridget did, or Prime. No one noticed her taking damage, but the woman was in her mid-fifties, and looked like she could go to a college party. If she did, no one would have thought twice. Not if she bought a wig.

Bridget sighed, and made herself relax through the emotions that pounded her.

"So, I guess my tenure as the IPB's Deputy Director is over? I still get to claim that on my resume, don't I?" She was forcing herself to be playful, since the grief she felt hadn't lifted yet, but Marcia nodded."

"You and Tibs can share that. I'll have to step in and do the big job. It's literally what I've been training to do for fifteen years. I just hate to do it this way. Kevin had planned to step down in a couple of years." There was a slow and slightly dour head shake then. "Believe it or not, he was grooming
Proxy
to take over my position. If we could keep him alive that long. I... He was with me when it happened, I saw him go." How that was even possible, she didn't explain, but everyone from Charity to the Secretary of State got the idea.

If she'd barely made it out, then Brian was gone.

Things didn't lighten, but they got easier suddenly. Marcia actually seemed to know one of the men with them, and Lisa Dentre was backing
their
play, and not the military, in particular.

"Now, I hate to impose, at such a dire time, but the DHS is bringing in a team to handle the investigation. We didn't know that there was going to be an IPB left, so the President ordered it. Would you like me to call them off?"

Marcia grunted, standing there, her legs spread a bit, like she was ready to fight.

"So that I can put Bridgie and Doug on the case? I mean, we'll be doing that too, but we have no resources right now. I don't suppose we can get some? We need a forward base, transport for our people and a news announcement, if we're going to get anyone back. I can set up some of that myself. There's no way that we can run a full operation for the moment. I give it about seventy-two hours from the event for the first Infected retaliation, if we don't get ahead of this. Where are the press set up? We have to let people know that things are covered. Even if they aren't."

She asked the whole room, but it was Mary, who'd been listening from the back, that actually knew that one.

"On the other side of town, by the high school. They have an order in for sandwiches. I was going to see if Douglas would take them over. I have a number... For someone named Kenny?"

Marsh nodded and gestured over at Bridget, because that made good sense. There were only so many people left, after all. It might amaze people to know, but Bridget Chambers could actually use a phone, all by herself.

"Chambers, get on that and tell them to expect an announcement at two-thirty. We'll meet them there. For the time being... I'm going to annex the... We need a building that won't be a problem for anyone. Any suggestions?"

Charity frowned, but spoke up almost instantly. She seemed a bit timid, but it was only real girl shy, being around all the important people and dangerous Infected.

"The old shoe shop in town? It isn't that big, but it's been empty for a long time. My dad owns it, but he's out of town. We could rent it to you? Four thousand a week." She said it with a straight face, and none of the government people blinked at the figure.

Marcia gave her a sidelong look and shook her head. "A thousand.
If
it fits our needs."

Charity shrugged.

"Two thousand. We need to make enough to pay for the space, if you trash it. I mean, this is dangerous, right? I don't want to be mean, but look at the things going on." The part about what had happened to their last base didn't get added, since the girl was trying to keep their secret for them. Then again, she knew that they'd blown it up, themselves, which didn't exactly speak to them being grand tenants, did it?

That got a nod, from Doug, who was in turn glared at by Marcia. Even as she relented.

"Two thousand then, agreed. We want that in writing. You cover the utilities?" There was a tense moment, but Charity blew out a full lung of air and shook her head.

"No. Garbage and water, but only for normal things. No swimming pools, or massive amounts of trash. Just what the city picks up each week."

That didn't go over well, but finally they shook on it, which Lisa pointed out wasn't binding. The woman was also laughing when she said it, but Marcia agreed and referenced getting it all in writing as soon as possible. They needed to be someplace they could have the numbers transferred over to, just in case anyone called.

It wasn't like the old base was using them anymore.

The generals started to get pissy about then, feeling that nattering about having a place to stay was beneath them, and a waste of time. They really did have people for that, but Bridget crossed her arms and locked her jaw shut tight. It wouldn't
help
to point out to them that they were morons.

Except that it would be fun, so her mouth opened and words came out all on their own.

"You two are idiots. I
was
going to call you morons, but I realized that wouldn't help. We're trying to set up a base of operations, and you meatheads want us to stroke your dicks because you have pretty ribbons on?" She imagined doing exactly that, and had to fight not to move on the younger of the two men. He had some lines on his face, but also a trim waist, and while he reminded her a bit of a beagle, that wasn't the worst thing in the world. Instead she managed not to do that, and leave their spank monkeys in their trousers. For her it was a win, given that they really were acting like entitled brats about it. Or at least their posture and body language was.