Infected 8: Impulse: A Whole New Day (38 page)

"Pretty much just like this. Before we had more people to help with things, and that makes a vast difference, but there was always something going on. A lot of it that the grunts like you just didn't know about.
Every
press conference needs ten hours of calls to be made first, or more.
Every
event means someone has to protect whoever did the actual fighting from the media. That's mainly what the press conference tomorrow is about. You killing those people in Chicago. On the good side, the hate groups have actually thrown in with the Infected on this one,
all
of them calling for your head on a stick. It's a vast improvement, don't you think?"

The sad thing there being that it actually was.

"Yay. What a fun time. While, with luck we'll be under attack here in a few minutes and can use that as an excuse to not hold the darned thing." She knew that wasn't going to be happening. Even if the incoming soldiers were set on them. They simply weren't a match for the IPB.

Not even the weak and anemic one that she'd help cobble together, in the absence of the old.

"Let's get to it then? We need to get some of the people here out of the building and meet them away from the Sho. Also... We probably need to get a new building. My guess is that Charity's dad won't be that pleased to host us, when he finds out that I killed his little girl.
If
he ever existed. Well, I'll deal with that tomorrow. I need a computer and... I don't know what else. A staff? I wonder if any of the new military guys will be willing to fill in on the admin side?" Probably not. They were almost certainly fighters, and would be all uppity about things like doing
real
work.

That, it turned out, was rather unfair of her to think. The six men that came in were all dressed in military fatigues, had duffels in their right hands, held easily, showing better than average strength, and when she started out by asking if any of them could cook, answer phones or even just keep things tidy, all of them volunteered. Instantly.

Even the one that had deep tan skin and pure white eyes like Crandall had, back when he was alive, was pretty nice about everything. Even when they were told that everyone was sleeping in a makeshift tent out back.

"That'll work for us." The Crandall clone, or at least man that had the same process used on him, spoke efficiently, but didn't sound mean or snotty. Her old Team Two teammate hadn't managed that, that she could recall. He'd always been a giant prick, about pretty much everything. It looked like it wasn't the process that had done it at all. Just him being his wonderful self. "We have orders to do whatever you need us too. Scrub floors, wash dishes and dig latrines. We all... have different special skills, too. We'll provide you with a list of those? We were informed that this was a known thing? Not a surprise to any of you?"

She nodded, even if some of them, like Wendy the bird girl, probably hadn't known what to expect at all.

"Not specifics, but I've worked with a guy like you before. Some of the others here could pass for normal. I don't suppose anyone here is a telepath?"

That got a small man on the end, who
still
looked like a badass, to hold up his left hand.

"Ma'am, I can read minds and use limited precognition."

"Bridget. We aren't a military organization. Plus, you know, I'm sixteen. I know, that hardly inspires confidence..." She actually felt worried for a second, when one of the men in the middle, who was tall and super thin, like Clark had been, spoke up.

"We saw the footage of Chicago. I think you have our attention, Bridget. No one here will make the mistake of taking you too lightly. We wouldn't anyway. We have orders, and they say that you and your people are in charge."

It was meant to be polite and possibly even kind, but knowing that a lot of their enemies had a finger in the super solider pie, she had to wonder if that was a good thing.

Then, there was no end to how much a girl like her might be underestimated, was there?

She gave them the five cent tour, and got them settled just in time for the next set of emergency calls to come in.

There was a war on, and it seemed that the whole country was a part of it now. Bridget could only hope that it would end up coming out their way.

For some reason she didn't really think it would.

Chapter ten

For three weeks they'd done nothing but scramble. For all that she'd worried about the military men betraying them, all they did was work and sleep. They didn't even complain about the cruddy food, and it
was
that. She'd been pretty much living off of vegetable oil and beef jerky the whole time. A big portion of why that was had to do with the level of work they were all doing. In twenty-one days they'd had
four
attacks on major cities. Not little uprisings or riots, like Chicago.

It had been so busy that even the press had cut her slack on that one. The rest of the things too. She'd had to kill a
lot
of people, in the last few weeks. Too many to even properly haunt her dreams. Not that she got much sleep, anymore.

L.A. had been virtually taken over by the gangs on one side and the police on the other, for instance. That one didn't even seem to be overtly related to the Infected. It
had
been however. A single woman had driven all of those people to fight, and she planned to keep them going until they were all dead. Bridget wouldn't have even known to look for her if their new telepath hadn't noticed the signal. The short military guy. Marty Shultz.

Miami was laid into at the same time, but that was a group of people blowing up buildings. They were a right wing group, but one that didn't care much about the Infected. They just felt that the government wasn't doing their job right, trying to take away peoples freedoms. The bombings had the congress and President declaring martial law inside five hours. It kind of showed that the initial plan those people had been working on was flawed, at least to her way of thinking.

That didn't stop the fighting.

After a week they were given several fast jets, and had to move back to the hole in the ground that used to be the IPB headquarters. The landing strips were still fine, after all. At least with a bit of major construction work. That meant they lived in tents, moving from one place to another. Sometimes without ever coming back to the base. When they were at home, Impulse lived and worked out of the Love Machine. It was hers, after all, and while Marcia hadn't gotten around to reimbursing her for anything, even if she had put in for it, they were all collecting regular pay, finally. If she ever had enough time, she could afford a nice meal out.

Maybe she'd take Will with her? He was alive and recovering. Oddly, his parents had decided not to stick with their old troop of bigots, given that Gene Satai had managed to make some giant waves online, telling the world all about Braid and her Infected madness that was pitting them all against each other, as well as her personal goals. Marcia was working with him, to make sure he had clean video feeds when possible, as well as statements from the President, backing him up.

It had more impact than she would have thought, since even if they hated liberals, the militias hated being used by evil people even more.

The first real break that Bridget got, on the twenty-second day after killing Charity, was interrupted by Marcia showing up at the side of her van, dressed in a black military uniform. A smaller version of the same thing, along with a pair of black boots, was tossed in, landing on her as she tried to sleep. She needed the rest, but got up anyway, since the Director
knew
that. She wouldn't have been there if it wasn't important.

"Delaura got the info on Joe's bosses. I was thinking that we could get Sinclair to help us pay a visit. You can sleep on the plane."

It took all day, naturally, and while she got a little rest, it wasn't enough. It was the nice jet though. The one that used to belong to Christian Pours. She asked about that, since the woman was dead, as far as anyone knew. It looked a bit funny to her, but Marcia had an answer ready. One that seemed to fit, even.

"Christian's parents volunteered it to us, when they heard about how hard it's been to get around. They're footing the bill for it, too. Fuel and pilot. We should go visit, tell them thanks." She said it darkly, which Bridget understood.

They really thought their daughter had died the day the base had blown up. Going to them would mean seeing their honest grief, and not letting them know that their little girl was still alive. That was going to be
brutal
.

It also probably needed to be done.

The three they picked up from Montelliss, two older men and a middle aged woman, were beaten lightly, but refused to talk about their work. It was pretty clear that they weren't just soft paper pushing sub-contractors, or anything even close to that. Marcia decided not to risk letting them go. That had them promptly taken out of the country, to Camp Jones. Where they could be tortured and questioned in secret until they gave up everything they knew. Then probably killed. Bridget didn't
know
that, but she'd never heard of the place other than what Quartz had told her. That meant people didn't blab about it online. When she checked the name there, she'd gotten
nothing
. Not even a hint that it might be a real thing.

That meant it was a real secret base, and the whole internet had been scrubbed to keep it that way. Thinking about what that would really take made her brain hurt.

When they got in, later that night, Bridget was surprised to find Mary driving up to the front gate of the compound. Where that
used
to be, before it had blown out, at any rate. There was no guard set up there, so one of the people taking that duty, Phoebe, had to jog over. That got Bridget to head that way at a run, since she didn't really want Mary to be insulted a thousand times without knowing what was happening.

Phoebe, naturally, managed it all perfectly.

"Hello! This is the IPB base, is that where you want to be?" She didn't even seem to be struggling this time, and her voice seemed happy and calm.

"Right-o! This then, would be the correct place. I'm seeking... Bridget, actually! I've returned from my trip." The woman threw her arms open, and got a hug, because that's what you did when relatives visited.

"Did it go all right? Over there I mean? I never got a return note from... Morten, I think the name was?"

Phoebe looked at them both and then, smiling, walked away. They didn't try to keep people out, as a rule. They had nothing to attack, except a pool of decently tough fighters. Anyone coming there was either a friend, or dead. That was the theory. Frankly, it was really just that blowing up a hole in the ground seemed redundant.

Her bio-grandmother waited for the girl to be out of earshot before explaining. That was a bit strange, since Phoebe actually knew that there were aliens, or people from other realities, around. It had all been explained to her by Marcia. To
all
of the new people, including the military men. It could have been an issue, so it was discussed.

It was her way of winning them over, letting them know the truth like that.

Mary smirked a little and then flared her nostrils.

"It was, as my people oft manage, a mess of our own devising. It took less than three days to find a world filled with people that had the right energy producing skills, many of whom were willing to come and give us aid. They didn't even suggest we pay them,
or
give them food or shelter. They heard of our suffering and need, and even
why
such dire things had happened, and came to help. That started a large political battle, as you would imagine. Finally Ed declared that the other families could, and I believe this is an exact quote, 'suck his salami', which had him challenged to five separate duels from the major families and two from minor ones. Brian handled them, fighting the respondents all at once, including a representative of the Doyle family. That rather nicely ended the debate. Morten Wester did, however, throw in with us, based on your words. He looks forward to hearing from you again, I ponder." The words were a bit stranger than normal, but casual at the same time. Of course spending time at home like she just had might do that. Falling into her native ways, and all that.

Bridgie grinned, not meaning it.

"Cool. A pen pal. Things here have been a mess, too. I don't know if you've seen the news, but we've been running almost the whole time. It's a war, but the battle lines are forming
everywhere
. I kind of think that Brian leaving might have been a mistake, in hindsight. Is he all right? You mentioned a fight?"

"Oh, he's fine. No more than some light bruising. Ed and Deidre had to stay, since the plan requires Edmund take control of his family's place in the political scheme. Hobbs and Elizabeth came back with Brian and I, however. Hobbs... That one did
not
go well, I fear. He was restricted from acting as an advocate in perpetuity, and asked to leave the lands of our people. All sectors agreed with the ruling as well, and no appeal was allowed him. He doesn't show his pain, but it must be there. To be exiled from an entire world... Well, at least they held the wisdom not to execute him. That would have led to bloodshed."

There was truth to that, since Brian had been there, and even trying to kill Hobbs, who could take care of himself, would mean that Proxy would fight. She would too, of course, when she managed to get there herself. So would the rest of the IPB. Most of them. Hobbs was ridiculously popular amongst that crowd.

Bridget was about to get Mary to follow her in when the bell started sounding. It was their low tech signaling device. A big old bell that someone had to beat with a mallet to use. It got the attention however.

She looked at the other woman and smiled, shaking her head.

"That means we need to get ready to leave. I wonder where the fight is this time? Well, send my love to everyone you see. Um, Mary?" She waited a bit, not certain that she should say anything. It was so hard to know with the strange woman what was right or not.