The Infected 1: Proxy (17 page)

"Mr. Yi... May I call you Brian? I think that we've all had a hard time the last few days and maybe a step back right now would be a good idea? I apologize profusely for the situation earlier and I can see now that having you put on floor eight might have seemed a punishment, but please believe me, it was only to keep you from seeking to harm those men, nothing else..."

A blue glow moved between the guards and Brian, facing him. Lady Glory stood, hands out as if to stop him. Her bright form illuminating the dark night around them more than he'd have thought she would. He shook his head at her.

"I don't think so. You already blew it once, backing those police that came in and attacked me earlier. We're supposed to be on the same side, but you chose them over me, even after they attacked me openly. Now you're standing there as if I'm the threat, trying to keep me prisoner here, while those guys are getting ready to try and shoot me... You're supposed to be all about compassion and love, but only for thugs and bullies? That's seriously messed up. Sick even. Get out of the way." His voice sounded rough and tired, which reflected how he felt. He really doubted he could get much passed the gate without going down, a few miles at best. But at least he wouldn't be beaten or locked up when it happened. If he could get through the gate.

She put her hand out, "Brian..." Her glow intensified, like it had before, when she attacked him last time. Her voice had an odd buzzing tone to it, some artifact of her power he thought, but didn't know. His head dropped. Brian didn't want to hurt her, but he had to get out.

"Glory, you need to stop that and get out of the way. If you try to stop me, I'll fight. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone, but you all seem to think it's OK to hurt me. Back away now, please." Pleading, tears in his eyes, he stepped forward.

Walking through the glow, he heard her sobbing softly again. She cried a lot for someone backing the jackboots, Brian thought as he passed her. She hadn't moved, but didn't try to hit him with one of those blue waves of light, or touch him either. One guard, a large bland-looking man, stood in front of him as he tried to leave. Brian moved to step around him, and the man moved with him. He didn't try to grab Brian, or even speak, just stand in his way.

Brian took a huge wracking breath. At least this one seemed smart enough to realize that he'd fight if attacked. Just standing there, moving with him was... clever. His buddy looked ready to draw down on him, so Brian firmed his hold on the knife and worked himself between the two men, using his body to block the man who wasn't about to attack from harm, if his buddy tried to shoot.

The director walked over hands out.

"Please... Brian... I know we messed up, the police messed up, and I personally failed you. I didn't know that Denis would try to kill you like that. He'd convinced us that his original attack had been a prank, just trying to scare you... I think it may really have been, but then he felt pushed too far. We can't lock him up for long, kicking him out, firing him, shouldn't have made him react like that..." He moved to the far side of Brian, walking around the guards to do it.

"As for the police, I... they messed up, over and over again, but we don't control them. We aren't them. We couldn't let you kill those men and you're right, they won't be punished for what they did, the law protects them even when they break it horribly. We just didn't know what else to do."

Brian held his breath. He knew that what the man said was reasonable and made sense, but anger made him shake again.

"You let them in to attack me, to try and take me and you know what? If they had, they probably would have killed me. They didn't come to pat me on the back and hear my side of things, they came to grab me and make me disappear into a cell somewhere to be tortured until I died. You let them come and then protected them." His voice came out hoarse and quiet, even though he wanted to scream the words. He just couldn't generate the volume.

He walked toward the director and then turned left, hobbling past him, the guards behind him. As he walked he kept talking, trying to get as much distance as possible.

"Right, we can't punish the police, because they were just doing their job, trying to kill me for being Infected and saving people. They won't stop till I'm dead you know. That guy last night, he attacked me, even after he saw me - with his own eyes - tackle that monster, trying to protect that little girl. He saw it, he knew I was hurt, and he attacked anyway. Then those guys earlier, they had all the same info and came after me here, in the middle of a bunch of Infected, and you!" He pointed back at Lady Glory. "I'd call you a fucking traitor, but I doubt you were ever on my side at all. You didn't even hesitate to try and mind-fuck me did you? They were cops, so even if they're kicking Brian's ass, they must be right? I'm leaving. Fuck off and die."

Then he headed off into the night, going off-road immediately, so that it would be a little harder for them to follow him in cars. The ground looked scrubby, grass grew long and untrimmed, most of it dried, so old stuff from the year before. He couldn't really see where he went at all, after the lights from the compound faded. He just kept walking until he couldn't any more. He knew he hadn't gotten far, but after a few hours he had to sleep. Even in pain he couldn't stay awake, so he made a small pile of things and curled up in the blanket lying on his right side, that hurting less than any other position he could find except standing.

Brian woke up over and over again, ready to fight, clutching at the biggest of the knives more than once when a sound startled him. He didn't move until the first light of dawn got bright enough to see by. He ate a single candy bar, of the six he had, rationing them, not knowing if he'd ever get to eat anything else again. He wanted to make them last. Brian got up, wrapped everything in the blanket again, even feeling stiff and cold like he was, and started walking. Somewhere along the line the towel had just vanished. Had the guards at the gate grabbed it? Or... he didn't know, maybe Lady Glory or the Director had taken it somehow? It didn't matter. After an hour he got thirsty, but didn't have any water, so just kept walking. Thirst wouldn't kill him, not for a couple days. If he didn't find water, well, that would be a sign that he needed to be done now. That would be OK , dying of thirst, free and not in a cage.

He sat and rested for a while, the sun starting to warm the world, birds chirped and sang, ignoring that he'd come to their place in things. Humans didn't scare them overly here, he guessed. Just not a credible threat to them. Either that, or it was a comment on him. That got a soft chuckle. If so, the birds had discernment. At least they weren't trying to have him arrested or kill him. Not so far at least. Brian got up and kept walking, throat parched, still not caring.

Hours later he came to a small stream, probably polluted or something, but animals left tracks by the water, if they drank from it, that should be good, right? It smelled all right, so he took a sip. The water tasted fine, better than that, clean. It was cold, but after he drank what he could hold, he stripped down and washed, avoiding the bandages where possible. It wasn't deep enough for swimming in, so he splashed the water on himself and scrubbed with sand from the bottom on the few places that didn't hurt too much to stand, hoping it would wear away the grim a little. He waited, naked, to dry off, which took about half an hour, then put his clothes back on. They still smelled OK, for all that he'd slept in them.

Going downstream should take him toward civilization, most people living near the ocean, which all streams let into eventually. Brian didn't want that, so followed it moving upstream instead, walking until it got dark. He didn't make a fire. Lacking matches or a lighter that wouldn't be happening. The blanket was enough for now, he hadn't died the night before at least. He sat in the dark for a while, hurting still, but more things ached - back, feet, and head - than hurt outright from injury now. It made it hard to sleep, so he didn't.

Thinking about fire, he wondered how to make one. His parents had taken him camping as a boy, three times, but their idea of camping had to do with renting a little wooden cabin in a campground filled with dozens of other people and starting a fire involved a lot of lighter fluid and matches. Brian had an odd feeling that trying to rub two sticks together might be a little harder to do than that.

An empty and demanding stomach growled at him, but he ignored it. He could have more candy in the morning. Crickets chirped around him, making him wonder if they were edible. Animals ate them right? Not that he could catch them himself in the dark, and killing them just so he could eat felt wrong. Ah well, he'd find something. Wrong or not, if they were edible, those crickets had better watch out.

The idea seemed funny to him for some reason. Probably because his chances of catching one right now were almost infinitely small. He'd do better to sit with his mouth open and hope, than waste energy trying to get them any other way.

The next day he walked until about noon, jogging next to the stream for a while, an hour or so, then stopping and washing again. The single candy bar barely made a dent in his hunger, but he didn't let it worry him, filling up with the clean, cold water again instead, which really did stop the worst of the hunger. He felt better today, stronger and healthier than he had for days. Probably because he wasn't being beaten down constantly.

Amazing how that could work.

Using some bushes to take care of his bladder and washing both hands carefully in a little side pool, not more than a puddle, carrying the water away from the steam so he didn't contaminate it. Brian thought for a second if it was worth it. Sure, he was going upstream, but any germs he put in would flow down and who knew what effect that could have? Probably not much, given the dilution factors, but a few seconds of extra work wouldn't hurt him, right? Brian had the time.

When he stood up, he felt lightheaded and his skin tingled, at first he thought he might pass out from hunger, but then he stood in a small dark place. A man, who smelled pretty bad, body odor worse than any Brian had encountered on a person before, stood in front of him with a rope. It was wound around his hands, obviously meant to strangle whoever Brian had replaced.

There was no hesitation, such ideas seemed so far away now. Was there a time when he would have, he wondered? Brian moved forward and hit the man with his right hand, fingers splayed, in the eyes. The man clutched his face, mewling in pain. Unlike in the movies, he didn't recover instantly and attack, just kept holding his eyes. They didn't even pop out of his head or anything. Brian kicked him in the groin three times, each as hard as he could. The man dropped to the ground, sobbing in pain. In his hands the rope, a strong looking thing, as thick as his own thumb, pulled in half under the man's hands with a snap.

Infected then, Brian realized, super strong, but not invulnerable. He kicked the man in the head until he stopped moving, flat on the floor, then went through the door. He found a piece of rounded wood, like a thick bat, but with no taper, and brought it back. Then, calmly, knowing that he didn't have much choice, beat the man in the head until his brain showed through. He felt sick from it, but he couldn't chance the guy recovering. What if he had super healing or something and killed the person, a child, Brian could tell, after he left?

Carrying the wood, blood on the end of it, he walked out into the house, since he hadn't left yet. That meant for some reason the kid might still die if he just left. Brian couldn't know that for certain, but it felt like the case. He moved with caution, ready to fight if he had to. The woman he found looked beaten, nearly as bad as he had after the police had gotten through with him. She was tied to a chair and looked at him with fear in her eyes.

"Hi... I'm Brian. Um, if he was a friend of yours, that older guy that smelled really bad? Well, I killed him. Unless he can heal from having his head caved open... Basically I guess I need to know if it's safe for me to let you go? I won't hurt you, unless you attack me or try to hurt someone else..."

Wide-eyed the woman nodded. The ropes looked tight and Brian's hands, while they felt better, still couldn't make any headway with them. They were really good knots. Fancy.

"Have you seen a knife or anything?" He asked her, not knowing if she could even speak or not. She looked normal, not pretty, square faced and squat, but clean under the bruises and rope burns. She'd tried to get away from the marks, that was clear.

Nodding she told him there should be some in the kitchen, off to her right.

"My father, the man you killed, I guess, he went to kill my son... Did he?" Her voice carried to him as he stood in the other room, rummaging in drawers until he found a knife that seemed sharp enough cut the ropes. She sounded scared.

Who wouldn't be.

"Um... no. I took your son's place I think, unless there were two kids in there? It's my ability, I take the place of people about to die and try to save them. Then I go away, back where I came from and they come back." He walked back into the room, knife in hand.

"So, I'd say your son is probably fine. The man, your dad, he had a rope, but he hadn't used it yet... I don't... You know that he was Infected, your father, right?" Brian held his breath, if he'd just sprung this news on her, she might not believe him. It was the kind of thing no one wanted to learn about a relative. To think, back a long time ago, people felt that way about having a gay kid. If this woman had heard her dad just liked dudes, she'd have probably been proud of him. Thrown him a party and welcomed his partner into her home.