The Infected 1: Proxy (13 page)

"I'm sure the police that beat me a few weeks ago and held me captive illegally were too. They can claim that it's procedure all they want, but that doesn't make it right. I didn't fight that time, but too many people are trying to kill me now. If they fucking touch me, they go down or I do. I don't have enough time left to spend it being beaten as I meekly try to explain myself anymore." Anger dripped from his own voice, making the man take a step back as if he expected Brian to attack him personally.

Agent Lancaster came back holding a small device, it looked cold and metal, solid, a disk about the size of a nickel, nearly as thick too. He handed it to Brian.

"I don't know if you can carry it when you go, but..." The agent stared at him hard.

"Can it work if I swallow it?" The thing looked huge to Brian, but so far nothing he'd carried in his hands had come with him when he went someplace. The other option... seemed like a bit too much right now. He really didn't want to take his sweats down with all these police around anyway. They might get ideas.

Nodding, Lancaster got him some coffee to wash it down with. It burned and seared its way down, but after three cups it seemed to work. It felt like it sat in his esophagus for a while, but that would do, he hoped.

He felt a tingle starting as Lauren walked over calling to him, "Brian! We we're all so worried about you. Did Itch hurt you when he tried to kill you? Are you back now?" She held out her hand to him. He placed his hand on hers briefly and shook his head.

"I'm going now, Lauren... I'm OK, well, singed and in pain, but alive. I don't know if I'm back or not, but I'll help find these kids if I can. If I live, or probably even if not, I'm about ten miles or so down the road from the base, by some trees, right side of the road." He left then, wondering if the woman he'd replaced would come back holding Lauren's hand. Sweet girl, but she looked like an insect robot, until you got to know her. Hopefully the woman wouldn't take seeing her the wrong way. Lauren had saved her life after all.

Back under the tree, his back screamed at him, burns pressing against the trunk, nearly making him go out from the pain. He fought it and waited. Nothing happened but pain. After a few minutes, he tried to talk to himself, explaining, feeling stupid, but not knowing what else to do, desperation growing. How did you convince your subconscious mind to do something?

"So, uh, self... Look, that thing... where I take someone else's place and then get beat up? Well, there's a bunch of little kids and maybe some other people that will probably die if I can't help them. I swallowed a tracking thing, which you know, no doubt. So if you can get me there, help should follow. I know I'm hurt, and pain sucks. I won't lie or try to fool you... this is probably it, the end, but nine kids? It's worth my life, right? I don't know if you can find them or not, but if you can, I need to go there now." Closing his eyes he realized that he held his breath. He forced himself to take a single, deep breath, trying to relax, then a second one.

Nothing happened.

Not at all.

Brian grew desperate, thinking about those kids, how they'd die and he could save them. Maybe he could at least, if he could just get to them. After half an hour he cried, his heart breaking for the final time. He really didn't have anything did he? Not even the ability to go where he had to be.

As he sobbed, the tingling started again. He climbed to his feet just in time.

A woman with stringy brown hair held a rifle, ready to shoot, finger tightening visibly on the trigger, she jumped back screaming when he showed up, fear in her eyes. He rushed her, feeling the young teen boy that she'd been about to kill. He managed to get his left hand into a fist of sorts before it hit her, his back searing him as he moved, the pain nearly dropping him. Brian ran down some creaky wooden stairs to the floor below, the door had a solid lock on it, and the windows had bars. The whole thing was a prison. The door needed to be unlocked before he could get out he realized after searching for a few seconds. Running back up the stairs, He grabbed the gun from the woman just as she came too. Something he should have done first he realized, kicking himself mentally.

"Keys to the door please?" He asked politely. When she handed them over he hit her with the back of the rifle, knocking her out again.

Outside he ran as well as he could, gasping in pain.

This wasn't it, he knew, obviously. He talked to himself again.

"Right, just find them. I'll get us through this, somehow..."

He felt himself buzz, his skin felt like it crawled with insects, then he stood in another place.

Three men stood, two with their pants undone, junk hanging out, the other holding a knife.

"Don't even fuck with me today." He walked forward and kicked the guy with the knife in the groin, wrestled the knife away, and started hacking at the men inexpertly, but well enough they all ran away. "Try this again and I'll be back for you! I'm everywhere bitches. You can't escape me! Fix yourselves or next time I'll kill you!" Brian screamed as they fled into the night.

He felt electricity come over him, it kind of hurt this time, his skin burned even in the places that weren't.

Ouch.

He stood in the dark, a snuffling in front of him, higher than his waist. He stabbed his fingers into the thing's eyes and kicked at it, poorly, making it yelp.

"Yargh!" He yelled at it, trying to sound aggressive enough to make it flee. It did, thank god, since he couldn't have even yelled again most likely.

Pain coursed over him then, ripping him from where he was to where the kids might be. Another attacker, but no kids. He dealt with it, hitting the man with a coffee table and making sure he wouldn't get up again. Ever. He didn't know why, but this time it was important the guy never get a second chance. Brian knew that, as surely as he'd ever known anything. It was as important as finding the kids even.

It happened three more times, each time the move hurt worse. Agony ripping through him again, almost making him black out each time. Brian hung on. He could do this. There wasn't any other choice. He wouldn't leave those kids to die. Not like how he'd failed her.

Barbara Dorn.

Then, in a painful instant, he found them. He had to stifle a sob as he figured it out.

Locked in a small room almost shoulder to shoulder, no light, but he could hear them. A crowd this large with this many kids had to be the right ones. Next to him a woman cried. He put a hand out and told her not to be afraid in a hoarse whisper.

"IPB... We have people coming for you right now. I don't know how long it will take, but when they get here, you all need to be ready to move, got it? If they find me in here - the bad guys - they'll... probably kill me. I don't know what that means for the person who's place I took, but I need to stay for as long as possible so that the IPB knows where to go, so try not to give me away." He smiled grimly, knowing that no one could see him. The woman next to him whimpered at first, then gasped. He had to remind her to stay quiet and to survive. They had to protect the kids, no matter what. Didn't they?

"God..." Was all she said.

He sat in the dark waiting for them to come, something he'd grown used to lately. Only this time he wasn't chained down. The bastards might kill him, but he wasn't gone yet. There was still a chance, if he could hang on long enough. These people could be saved. Pain still ripped at him, mainly from the burns on his back, but with burns pain meant no worse than second degree right? Unless he just couldn't feel the dead parts. Always possible. Still, if it didn't hurt, he didn't have to worry about it.

When the door opened, the man swore instantly, seeing him too easily.

Damn.

Either night vision goggles or an Infected with great night vision, either way, too much for him most likely. He ran toward the dim light, jumping a low form in front of him, a muzzle flash removing what little night vision he'd built up in this place, pain ripping through his left side, just below his rib cage. He kept moving. Dead was dead, it wouldn't matter how he got there, right?

Brian hit the man hard, his fingers making an odd popping sound as he struck, not able to make a fist any more, hands too banged up for it now. He took the man's weapon, a handgun he saw, a revolver, not a semi-auto. He didn't have any training with those, but then he doubted he could pull the trigger right now anyway. Another man rounded the corner and shot at him, missing, so he threw the revolver like a rock, it hit, but didn't take the man down, unfortunately. If he would have played sports as a kid, instead learning oboe, he might just have done a bit more damage now.

Three or four others came in with weapons, all trained on him. He looked at them for a second, and they stared back.

They didn't look odd or evil, they just looked... normal. Well, one of them looked a little drugged out, but other than that, they seemed like people you'd pass on the street and never do more than wave to. Of course, looks didn't mean much anymore.

Not to him.

Snarling, a feral, half-mad sound, he charged, ready to keep fighting even as he died, if he could manage it. A bullet pulled at him, but he kept going, it only grazed his right arm. In a little bit he wouldn't need that arm anymore anyway.

The room was dark, lit by a single bulb. The building had the look of a private home - one owned by seventy-year-olds at that. The decor seemed tasteful, Brian mused, as he ran, his mind speeding up as the end neared.

He slammed into the man he'd been aiming for, only to find him tied up and disarmed. It took him a bit to understand what had happened. It had to be the case, didn't it? He looked around. Mark stood behind him peacefully, like always, a silver roll of duct tape in his hands.

"I think I got them all. I'll call the police in a moment. They can clean up from here. I... I know it doesn't seem like it yet, but everyone's horrified about what Denis tried to do earlier. It's been so hard on you. No one blames you for anything. I mean, why would they? But just so you understand? I'm... not great with words, but I hope you come back to the team."

Brian didn't get to answer, agony swept through him, replacing the mere pain he felt otherwise. This time he found himself back under the tree, his back on fire, lying on his right side. Bleeding. He felt himself going dark, a smile on his lips. He counted as best he could. Nine kids, three other adults in the room he thought, seven while he looked for the stolen kids, and the two earlier, before he left home, then the one from several days ago.

He stumbled over the math, his mind far from clear. Twenty-two? Twenty-two lives saved. As long as he counted the little girl who's nanny he'd replaced too. Four more than the lab people projected. Good enough. He'd have liked to do more, but that would serve. Even one made it worthwhile. It made it all worth it. The beatings, the thirst and hunger, the training, the fear and all. Everything. Oh, wait, the nanny and maybe even the little girl earlier. Twenty-four?

The game sucked, but he'd won, Brian felt himself smile a little then. That would do. The world went black, but he felt the smile on his lips.

He came too in a stark white room.

Well, he thought to himself dreamily, heaven looks just like a hospital room. He'd been hoping for fluffy clouds and angels himself, possibly cute, half naked ones that looked like bikini models, but this would work well enough. He looked over and saw the clear outline of a woman, she stood next to him, not touching him at all. He heard her sob softly. She had clothes on, so no luck there.

"Penny?" He croaked. Before he'd thought that his voice going had been due to lack of water and the beatings, but now he realized it must be the dry hospital air. The idea made him chuckle a bit.

He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hi, Penny. Sorry about all this drama. Are you OK? Is everyone all right?"

"Brian! You're awake! I need to get someone... Um, wait a sec." He saw her hand reach toward a beige call button and push it firmly, about thirty seconds later a blue scrub clad woman came in, she looked Asian, probably Japanese. Cute.

"Mr. Yi! You're awake already? The betting pool had you down for a coma six to one..." She smiled and didn't apologize to him for the statement at all. Betting pool?

He stared at her until she clearly felt uneasy, then he remembered he should probably talk, say something out loud to put her at ease. People got uneasy when you just stared at them. Right.

"Well... don't just stand there, go put a bet on me to wake up in fifteen minutes. We'll split the winnings." He tried to grin at her and found that he could. For once his face wasn't bruised up or anything. The side of his head, yes, but that was just from Marcia.

The woman laughed and so did Penny, who touched his arm carefully.

The woman, who introduced herself as Doctor Burrows came and looked at his chart. "First things first, you'll be happy to hear that none of the damage is going to be permanently debilitating. Some scaring on your back, side, and arm, but we have a cream for that, don't sweat it. Chicks dig scars anyway." She closed the chart and continued.

"We gave you blood, but it's clean. Not that you have to worry about being Infected, but all our stuff is pure. No strange bugs or anything. You've gotten some pain meds, but nothing that should be a problem for you. We didn't know if you'd wake up, honestly. We thought so, but what you did earlier, going all those places and... fighting like that, well the guys in the lab figured it meant that you'd pushed yourself nearly to death. We can get more for you... I'll hook you up with whatever you want. Drugs... dancing girls... fast cars, just ask. I'm kidding of course, except about the drugs, but be responsible about that, you can't afford to turn junkie. Now, pretend to wake up in ten minutes. I'll be right back."