Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day (22 page)

For half a second, she considered not doing anything, and missing her grab, but then she was hitting the lady, who made a sound that seemed wet and pained. The crunching sound that came next was from her hand, that Bridget used both hands to hold on to, so the woman couldn't let go of the device and blow them all up.

"Argh!" That exclamation was pretty expected, since broken bones hurt, Bridget had heard. She'd never experienced that herself, that she could remember, but it had probably happened. What wasn't something she counted on was what the woman managed to scream next. "Kill the Infected! It's our only chance! Get them!"

Who she was talking to, Bridget wasn't certain. Not until she was hit on the back with a protest sign. Then a mob of rather idiotic and dull witted conservative bigots started to try and do a Frankenstein on her, and drive her from the village with their pitchforks. It didn't work, for several reasons. The main one being that if she let go of the woman under her, the soft fabric of her skirt rubbing on the inside of her legs, they were all going to
die
.

Well, not
her
, just the ones trying desperately to beat her to death. She didn't feel it, her lungs finally getting a chance to heal, now that she was resting again.

Bodies didn't start flying off, which she kind of expected, but they
did
slowly start to move. It wasn't Marcia doing it, but rather Kenny the Intern, along with Will, her friend with the bigoted family. Regular people, who were being hurt, when the bad guys hit them. Trying to protect
her
. They didn't stop however, and after a few minutes of pushing and hitting, the crowd backed off, letting her get a look at what Marcia was doing. That at least was interesting, since it involved slapping around the Police Chief.

Meaning that Bridget wasn't the only one to have noticed what was going on there. She had to like that.

A few of his people tried to stop that action, pulling weapons for it, but none of them were firing yet. Given that the man was still conscious and moaning in distress, it meant that they were a bit smarter than she'd given them credit for. After all, shooting the head of the IPB, even if she was acting funny, was a
very
poor idea, that day. Cameras started to close around her, as she gently slapped the man, holding him up easily with one hand on his jacket front. He wasn't in uniform, so at least there was that, as far as PR went.

"Crap. Kenny, get over there and stop Quartz. She needs to give a speech. Um, tell her that we need a bomb disposal squad here, and order the Chief there to get that going. Will, get the civies out of here, even if they
are
terrorists. Then you two need to stay back. If my palms get sweaty then this one might go off too. Plus, we don't know if there are others." She gripped the trigger, her hands both over the one of the woman that squirmed under her, trying to throw her off. That could work, if she got lazy. Bridget only weighed about seventy-five pounds, and the woman under her was nearly twice that, and wasn't a complete fatty either. The struggling was having an effect, so she tightened her grip until something popped again and the woman made a sound that was close to a sob.

"Get off me! Filthy Infected!" The abuse was sporadic, but didn't really stop. Not even when Kenny, doing what she'd said, tried to grab Marcia and pull her back. It didn't really work, but he was smart enough to speak at the same time.

"Director Turner, we need for you to
handle
the situation, not look bad on camera. Now drop him, and say something useful!" This was hissed right into her ear, but after a second she gave Ken a hard look and... Did exactly what he'd just said. After all, she was a bit paranoid, not foolish.

The man fell, his dark black suit looking out of place as he went to the grass. That was going to leave a stain, Bridget thought. At least she didn't have
that
problem to worry about. Just an annoying and loud hater under her skinny legs.

Will, thankfully, started to move people away, standing between them and the bomb, bravely.

"There's a bomb. We need everyone to move back. Move! No one leave, um... You're all under arrest! Go stand by the oak tree, and wait to be processed. This is a major crime scene... So, yeah. Over there!" He pointed at the only tree next to the parking lot, across the nicely groomed green grass at the edge. "Go!"

For some reason most of them went. Not all of them, because being told you were under arrest would get a lot of people to run, if they could. No one trusted the government anymore. Probably because they shouldn't. She was about to go into a long and deep thinking on that idea, when Betty Bronco under her made motions that would have been pretty fun, if Bridget hadn't been trying to keep them both from being at ground zero.

There was thrusting and grinding, that given her unclothed state started to turn her on a little. She fought it back, since doing anything right then would look bad. Anything interesting at least.

"Stop that. If you don't, I'll have to rip your arm off to make sure the bomb doesn't detonate. I can do that, too, I don't mean that metaphorically. Your blood could make things slippery, so let's
not
go there." That would probably be the tag line on the hate channel, later that night. Her saying that. Her mom would have a field day, scolding her for being that politically insensitive.

So she tried again, ignoring what had just come out of her own mouth and speaking louder, for the cameras off in the distance. There were a few parabolic mics pointed her way, which meant they'd get the first part too, but she'd already said it, so it would have to stand.

"Stay calm ma'am. I'm sure that with appropriate psychological counseling, and a good regime of psychotropic drugs, you'll be better in no time. Help is coming. The IPB is here to make sure that no Infected will harm you today. Try to relax, until help gets here." Not that she believed that. Who did they even have left that could help them?

That answer came about twenty very long minutes later. The protestors were over by the prison tree, out of harm's way, thanks to Will, under arrest, if not actually being prevented from leaving with more than words. Marcia spoke to the cameras, and then borrowed a phone to call in DHS and FBI support, and the bomb squad. The local Police Chief looked panicked, and tried to run, only to be tackled by Kenny, who clearly didn't know what he was doing at all. It ended up in a tangled mess, with the older man coming out on top, but not able to get away easily. The Intern for channel five was holding on to his legs, and managed to trip him, in a pretty desperate seeming fashion.

All
he
knew was that the man had been being questioned by Marcia, not why. Bridget called that info out, feeling bored with her hand holding duties already.

"He moved off the stage before the attack started, and it looked like the woman with the first device used that as a sign to get started. Her man friend, too... I don't suppose anyone knows where
he
got to?" She looked around, but honestly wasn't certain that she could have picked him out of a lineup, given all the distractions she'd had that day. No one else seemed to know either, or if they did, they weren't fingering the guy for her.

"It's the clothes, isn't it? You end up naked, and everyone just stops listening to you." She said this directly to the still moving and squirming form under her.
That
had calmed down a lot, since the woman was probably going into shock, from the broken hand. She was cool to the touch, but that would just have to work itself out. Bridget wasn't going to run and fetch a blanket for her.

There was no answer, not even from the terrorists calling out slogans for the cameras. Those were trained on them, since this was one of those dramatic "tense standoffs" that the media loved so much. Plus, there was a naked girl involved as well as
literal
girl on girl action. What wasn't to love? She kept talking then, realizing that, trying to pretend to be soothing the other woman, speaking as if she were merely temporarily stricken with mental illness, not just evil.

For all she really knew, that might even be the case. Who blew themselves up just to make the point that Infected people scared them? It wasn't
sane
, was it? None of this really was.

Marcia backed up Kenny, still talking on the borrowed black cell phone, and without pausing to take a breath as she kept talking to whoever it was. That was done by a quick kick to the back of the attempted escapees knee, then a slap to the back of the head, which knocked him right out. She didn't stop talking either, even after that was done, or give any indication that she was doing anything in particular.

"That's right. We have several situations here. The local police look to be in on this again, or at least their head honcho does. We have what appears to be a live bomb on a dead man's switch, being held in place physically by one of our Operatives. We have about thirty terrorists under arrest, but that situation might change. Their being held by... I don't know him. A concerned citizen? So this could all start going sideways at any moment." There was a pause and she nodded. "We'll hold then. The local bomb disposal squad is coming, which could be another set up. Don't dawdle, thanks."

Hanging up with her right thumb, she walked over to Bridget, waving for Kenny to stay with the Chief.

"If he moves, shoot him." She said it darkly, but it was clear that Ken didn't have a weapon.

What he did have was a pair of big old intern balls, apparently, because he nodded once, his rat face looking a bit damp from sweat.

"Sure thing, boss. If he so much as twitches, I'll shoot him in the back of the head."

Without even checking for irony, Marcia kept walking, stopping as she got right next to the bomb situation. It wasn't like she'd get herself blown up or anything.

Bridget winced, looking at the borrowed clothing. It was a bit mussed, but not torn anywhere that she could see yet.

"Good. Above
all
else, we need to protect that outfit. What's the sit-rep?"

"We have DHS and FBI incoming. That will take about half an hour, since they don't have local operations here. The bomb squad will be here in a few minutes, and the military is coming to surround this location. I can't love that, since the kids here in town clearly don't have the right training for this. That will keep some of the terrorists from running off. Probably not all. If I had the time I'd work up a joint exercise and run them through the line and back, so that everyone could get some practice." She looked at Bridget, clearly wanting to say something, but then looking at her hands. "Do you need anything? Some water?"

She did, but couldn't have successfully had any right then, she didn't think.

"I'm good, for a while. Will isn't just a concerned citizen. I made him an Agent earlier. The paperwork should be on your desk, to sign off on." She was teasing, since no one would give the kid grief over taking the possible terrorists like that, she didn't think. Not on the law enforcement side of things. His parents, now they might just have a problem with it, given that
they
were in the thick of the prisoner group. Someone was going to be grounded for sure.

For once it wasn't even her.

Marcia nodded.

"I think I signed that already, earlier today. Good thinking. Keep doing that, since we're going to need it. I also called in Gravity, to make sure
we
have some back up too. Just in case." She didn't explain that part, but Bridget understood what she meant. Just in case everyone coming turned on them. It wasn't that likely, but also not impossible. That the local police hadn't tried to attack was really down to the fact that no one in charge had ordered them too. Yet.

They were fine, however, until one of the arrested crowd members, a man that looked like he had neo-Nazi tattoos on his neck and hands, pulled a knife and started stabbing Will in the back. She couldn't move, and Marcia started to run at the attacker, but there was no way that she was going to get there in time to stop the first few thrusts.

"Die, Infected mother fucker!" It wasn't an inspired scream. For one thing, Will wasn't that at all, as far as she knew.

The blade sunk home, not just once, but several times, before Marsh got there. The Nazi anti-Infected bigot was punched by the woman. Once. He went down, and from the sounds involved, he wasn't going to get back up.

"Medic! Multiple stab wounds, get someone over here,
now
!"

The only people available to help were the local police, the press, and the arrested people. Bridget was a bit surprised to see that the familiar female cop was the first one to respond. She'd seemed about sixty percent pro-hater earlier, but she didn't hesitate now, even after Will had been called Infected.

"Mitch! Get the kit, we need to stop the bleeding. Call in an ambulance!"

Will was pretty stoic about the whole thing, clamping his jaw, rather than screaming like most people would have. His mother and father came over, along with his younger brother, who looked to be about Ed's age. So about thirteen. Maybe fourteen. It was hard to tell without asking.

"Will!" This was bellowed, as his bearded and rather fierce looking father came over at a gallop. "This is what you get for going against your own kind."

The lady cop had her hands on his back, with Will lying on his stomach, trying to hold the blood in. It
hadn't
been a big blade, thankfully. A pocket knife, so about three inches long and half an inch thick. Enough to make a person have a bad day, but as long as they helped him, he'd live, Bridget thought. More to the point, she
hoped
that was the case.

That way she'd only have to kick Will's dad's ass for not backing up his kid properly. It was his fault that his parents were terrorists? Really? Her mother and father might not be perfect, each having their own issues in life, which were pretty major, but damned if they wouldn't back her up, if she were the one attacked like that. Even if they thought she'd been in the wrong in the first place. That Will didn't have that made her both sad and angry.