The Infected 1: Proxy (18 page)

Well, now she would have anyway. It still wasn't exactly popular. Worse by far to be Infected though.

The woman swallowed, "Yeah, I know... We all are." She sounded scared again, expecting him to condemn her for it or something? Like they had any control over it?

"OK. That doesn't bug me, so am I, obviously, or I wouldn't be here. Glass houses and all that, right? Why did he want to kill your son? Did he say?"

She told him how it had happened, the boy showing up with a wonderful gift, making lights that danced in the air, creating soothing patterns that showed his mood. But the boy couldn't control it, she told him, meaning he couldn't leave the house without people knowing he was Infected.

"I can pass, my joints are reversible, and I can distort myself, stretching a bit, it's not useful or anything, but doesn't show. Dad, he had that strength, but looked regular too. He also had paranoia... bad. He thought people would lynch us if they found out about Tommy, that they'd guess and come for us. He wanted to kill him, to keep us safe he said, so I fought him. It didn't work too well and I woke up tied to this chair. Tight too. Otherwise I could just slip out."

Brian cut the ropes quickly, hoping that she wouldn't turn out to be a pathological liar or have Stockholm syndrome or something and turn on him the second she got free. She sounded... nice. Gentle even. He warned her that the ropes might hurt when they were released, depending on how long she'd been tied up, but she didn't seem to have any pain. Once she stood, Brian started to tingle, but tried to hold on for a bit.

"Look, I know this is strange... but before I leave and your son comes back, do you have any food? I don't have much where I'm going, so even a little bit..." Brian felt awful, basically begging from a crime victim, whose father he just murdered in the other room, but the woman nodded, wide eyed.

She took him to the kitchen, and offered to make something for him, but he knew he couldn't hang on that long, so he grabbed some bread and ate it greedily. Watching she caught on pretty quickly and put about half a small jar of peanut butter on a single slice of bread and handed it to him, he ate it as fast as he could manage.

"Thanks." He told her as he vanished, turning up back in the clearing. He hoped she could get rid of the body or something, blame him for it maybe, so she wouldn't get in trouble. He'd only given his first name. Brian wanted to kick himself, with his whole name, she could have easily fingered him to protect herself. It was only the truth after all.

Nothing to be done for it, he got up and walked some more. Taking his time and actually looking around. It felt nice, restful. Brian found a small clump of trees to camp out under that night, more evergreens, about ten of them. As he lay wrapped in his blanket, a helicopter moved closer to him, so close he thought they were going to land. He grabbed the largest knife, clutching it hard, knowing it wouldn't do any good if they just opened fire or used rockets, but ready to try. A glowing light fell from it instead, then the craft just flew away.

Intrigued, he searched for the light - not sleepy anyway after all that racket - and found it near the edge of the small miniature forest. The glow turned out to be three glow sticks tied together at the top, all the regular greenish yellow color, attached to a backpack.

It could have been a bomb, but that... seemed a little extreme even if people hated him. If they really wanted him dead shooting would work as well. Or just waiting. Brian took it back under the tree he'd started at and waited for a bit, finally opening it carefully, taking a long time to unfasten the straps that held it closed, not really knowing how they worked. Inside, at the top, there was a hand written note. Two pages it looked like.

Holding the glow sticks close to the paper he could read it easily, if only a few lines at a time.

Brian,

First: The woman and her child are safe and being cared for by Atlanta local IPB, we're protecting them. She told us that you didn't have any food and seemed really worried about you, so we sent some, hope you don't mind?

Second: I get the whole leaving thing - but don't be dumb about it. Take a camping trip, get your head right, but come back, this is your home and we all miss you. I can't fix the police thing for you, but running away forever won't fix it either. If you don't come back and try to fix it, then the next guy to come along finding himself in the same mess won't have anyone there to back him up. As to that, the local police chief here and the one from the department that the CERT guy was from have both publicly apologized to you. Doubt you saw it, unless a squirrel lent you their TV.

Last, everyone is blaming everyone else, except LG who's been sitting in your room each day blaming herself. Yeah, we all screwed up. No one feels good about it, but if you don't give us another chance, how can we square things with you? We were all too hard on you and asked a lot more than anyone should ever have asked of them, but we thought we had to. More, you did it and for so long without complaint that people stopped noticing I think.

Come back.

Marcia

Brian shivered, not feeling cold, but afraid. The words seemed nice, but what did that mean, really? Words, he knew, were cheap. Free even. Marcia didn't seem the type to try and lie to him, but she'd cut him up with a knife and let him think he was about to die just to test him or whatever. Effective, but not fun at all. Did he blame her for it? He didn't know, even now, days later. She scared him on a deep level, like she might come and kill him at any moment. He didn't think she wanted too, but she could kill him by accident. A single "play" blow to the head and he might not get up again.

She had a point about the police. If he didn't stop them, try to get them to change, who'd bother? What could he do though, Brian wondered. He couldn't kill them all. Even if he could, he didn't know who the really evil ones were, which could be saved and which made a point of not using the law to trample people underfoot. That none of the police had stood up for him while the others beat and tortured him didn't speak too well for them, but did cowardice mean that they deserved to die?

The next note only said "Come home please" it was on a piece of printer paper and didn't have a signature underneath, but the writing didn't match the first note. Nice. But he didn't have a home any more. That had been stripped away from him by Carla and the police. The base wasn't his home any more than the hospital had been. Heck, he'd been at the hospital longer and been happier there too. It was just a place to go and die. He didn't want people to feel hurt because of him, but he had to try and live as long as he could and help those that needed him.

Didn't they see that yet?

He curled up, tucking the light sticks in the pack so they wouldn't be seen and waited for light. Eventually, uncomfortably, he slept.

The pack had twelve MRE's in it - military rations - a box of peanut butter granola bars, the crunchy kind, not chewy, and two water bottles - canteens. It also had some clothing - black military looking ones, fatigues, two pair - six pairs of socks, some underwear, and a little kit with a toothbrush, some Crest, and a tiny deodorant. Old spice, not his favorite brand, but better than reeking and not one he hated either.

He brushed his teeth, ate part of one of the meals ready to eat and drank the water from one bottle, refilling it from the stream. Then he headed out again, walking up river. At noon he washed his clothes and put on the black fatigues, keeping his tennis shoes on, having nothing else, even if it looked funny, and walked some more, his sweat clothes hooked to the pack on the outside, making everything a little damp.

That night he carefully built a small fire, making a ring of rocks and clearing all the leaves and twigs away. He'd found a tiny box of matches in the bottom of a little pocket on the outside of the bag. He had to use three matches, but he got it to work and finished eating the package of food he'd opened earlier. If he could hold to one per day it would last for a while. He saved the dessert bar - whatever that might be - for later, even if he wanted it now.

As he sat in front of the fire, letting it burn down so that he could sleep in a few hours, his skin suddenly buzzed in warning. Brian shot to his feet and found himself facing a crowd of men and women. A very angry group it seemed. They all took a step back, in the first seconds, but someone yelled at him and threw something. A rock, it seemed. Brian ran, not as fast as some of the people following him, but well enough that they couldn't catch him before he got away. Luckily no one had a car or greater than human speed, he thought, as he panted, outdistancing them all over the next fifteen or twenty minutes. After another half hour of running he tingled again and found himself before the fire, jazzed and shaking.

When he recovered, he wrapped up in the blanket and sipped water, trying to calm down. It took a long time but he finally got to sleep, and had bad dreams, but nothing worse than what he'd lived lately, mainly about being tied up in the dark. No great mystery where that came from.

He woke suddenly, a crack of debris on the ground alerting him. Brian looked up to find a dog staring at him in the pre-dawn light. Not a wolf or anything like that, just a golden retriever. It looked at him, walked over slowly, head bowed and sniffed, tail wagging. It had a collar and a name tag, which he hoped meant that it would be tame. It didn't growl or anything at least, so he slowly reached into his pack and took out the dessert bar, it claimed to be oatmeal. Opening it, he saw it didn't have any chocolate - which could kill a dog if they were allergic to it - so he broke it in half. The visitor sat and panted happily, tail wagging. He tossed it the food and waited. It finished eating quickly and walked over to him, as if waiting for the second half.

"Greedy. OK, I guess I don't really need it right now anyway, but when I'm starving later, I'll remember this..." He said this in a mock grumpy voice, which the dog just ignored. His voice sounded way better, he realized. Less than half dead now even. After he told the dog he was out for now, it ran off, as if it understood, probably going home.

Brian wondered if he sat on private property. It could be, someone probably owned every place he'd been over the last few days. Stream front property would be at a premium in most locations and most of what he'd seen had been really pretty. He'd need to be careful about that or someone would shoot him for trespassing.

The next few days were pretty much identical, without the canine company, only the scenery changing as he traveled. He lost track of days, but started feeling better, a lot less pain, as the time passed. He had to go and fight an Infected woman that scared the hell out of him and really wanted to kill... everyone it seemed. Her ability seemed to be to create fear itself, which she did constantly. If she'd had physical abilities of any kind he hadn't see them. Thankfully.

She still nearly kicked his butt, the fear making it nearly impossible for him to do anything at all. He'd thought that Itch had hit him hard that way... now he knew that to be wrong. The woman looked ragged, her clothes old and dirty, hair greasy and matted, and the supermarket they stood in had flat fluorescents which didn't help her looks at all. She swung a fire ax wildly, but her small size made it impossible for her to do it cleanly. When she overextended, he stepped in, fighting the fear, if just barely, shaking the whole time, and took it from her, then knocked her out with the handle end. He threw the fire ax away and told the people there to be careful as he moved back to the point he started near the stream, his pack having fallen on the ground. He'd been wearing it when he left, but it had come off and rolled away when he vanished.

This happened a few more times, all fights he managed all right, and once a group of kids that freaked and ran from whatever they were doing when he showed up. He liked the easy ones best. Show up and maybe yell a bit, they run, go home and rest. Nice.

The idea made him smile.

Brian ran sometimes during the day and did other exercises as he healed enough for them. When he felt better, he found himself missing Penny and his other friends. Karen - even though he associated her with pain from all the work outs - Bridget, Lauren, and Mark. He wondered if they even remembered him now? He'd been gone longer than he'd been there after all and most of the time he'd spent exercising and practicing, not socializing or making friends.

On the night before the last MRE would be consumed and with only three granola bars left, he sat in front of his little fire, having gotten it going with only one match this time, a fact he felt very proud of and smiled to himself. He'd lasted out here a lot longer than he'd figured he would. Brian had, well, not a full stomach, but enough inside to stop the worst of the hunger and plenty of water to drink. He didn't even feel cold, the black clothes the others had sent him kept him warm at night, as long as the blanket stayed draped over him.

The move to the convenience store came fast, the warning tingle barely even registering before he found himself under bright white lights, facing the two men from the bar again.

The asshole cowboys.

This time he didn't wait, tackling the guy with his beat up gun and hitting him twice, as hard as he could, turning the gun toward the man who held it. The thing went off and a red hole bloomed in the center of the man's face. Pushing the gun toward the man again, Brian got it to fire twice more, both hitting the man in the head, before the other man, the one that called himself the Jackal, knocked him away from the fallen man with a casual flick of his right hand.

"Rick!" The Jackal checked the man for life as Brian got to his feet, searching for a weapon. He saw the people behind him, cowering in fear, which he understood personally, having seen these guys work close up before. They should be afraid. He looked at them, seven or so people, some older, two looked like kids. They were all alive, but had clearly been hurt already. All of them. He nodded.

Afraid of him or not, this guy would kill them and eat the bodies, parts of them, some of them alive, if he could. He was fast, stronger than Brian could ever be... and tough. No one even knew if he could be hurt at all, like Marcia. Only this guy wouldn't pull his punches. Not now. Brian had killed his friend. The small man in front of him wouldn't let him go now. He wouldn't let any of them go. Brian would have to make him.

If he could.

Before he'd even stood up from checking his buddy, Brian ran at him and jumped quietly, knowing the guys reflexes would easily let him bat Brian from the air if he noticed it happening. He hit hard, and they tangled on the floor clumsily. Holding him close to neutralized his speed, Brian screamed a single word.

"Run!"

Now he just had to hold on for as long as he could. The man bucked hard, so violently Brian nearly flew off totally. Brian held on to an arm and a shoulder but the smaller man managed to knee him in the groin perfectly as he came back down, the guy laughed as he gasped in pain.

"Hurts, don't it?" He called out as he shifted, trying to push Brian away.

Brian felt, more than saw, the people leave, running away. Good. He knew he couldn't get away now himself, but if they did, it would be enough, right? He felt bad about the person he took the place of, but didn't know what else to do. He'd fight to the end, letting the people get what distance they could and then pray.

He had nothing else to give them.

They fought for a long time, it felt like to Brian, his left arm twisted out of the shoulder socket at one point, making him scream in pain while the Jackal chortled.

Finally he saw her, as the tears of pain cleared for half a second. A girl, young, about twelve or so, wearing a pink t-shirt that had a blue star on the front, huddled, crying in front of the stores cold case. She looked into his eyes, terrified.

"Sandy? I don't know what's going on..." She cried when he told her to run, that he couldn't hold long.

Underneath him the laughing psycho looked over at her.

"Just cause you fucked with me, when I'm done killing you I'm going to rape her ass while I eat her arms. Take that with you to the grave, fucker!" Then, jaw distending, growing larger, the man bit down on Brian's left shoulder. Flesh tore, and sharp teeth grated against bone, the Jackal shook his head, making the wound worse. Brian gasped out to the girl again.

"Run!"

She didn't move, just covered her ears with her hands.

Fuck.

What could he do?

Oh well, Brian thought, suddenly calm. It was... strange. Something beyond fear, or anything he'd ever experienced. He was dead, but then, he'd known that for a long time, hadn't he? There were no rules, this was a fight to the death now and he had to win. No matter what. Even if it wasn't possible.

He reached over with his own mouth, small and human, teeth dull and jaw weak, and bit down on the man's neck, not really thinking anything would happen at all, like with Beatdown. The Jackal howled, letting go with his own mouth and trying to struggle away. Brian bit as hard as he could, chewing, twisting, trying to tear the flesh open. He almost passed out when Jackal started biting him again, but he hung on, blood finally starting to pour from the side of the man's neck.

He kept chewing, biting, digging in. He reached up with his right hand and pushed at the monsters eye, not that it changed anything. He withstood that just fine, not even seeming to notice it. Blood mingled, pouring all over them. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the smaller man stopped moving. Brian didn't think he could move, much less stand, but surprised himself. Forcing the Jackal's mouth open he worked his shoulder free and got up. He started blacking out, but got to the fire extinguisher on the wall and back to the man bleeding on the floor before he could stand up or hurt the girl that still huddled on the floor, covering her ears, eyes closed tightly.

Good.

She didn't need to see this.

Brian would have gotten the gun, but he didn't see it anywhere. His vision had dimmed too much.

He used the bright red extinguisher to hit the Jackal in the head, over and over again, a weak and awkward movement, using one hand holding it by the metal handle at the top, swinging it like a club, his left arm useless.

"That's for Barbara Dorn you fucking monster." Brian rasped. He didn't stop till he passed out, praying it was enough. He hoped the little girl would run now, before the Jackal could recover. Brian gasped the word out again to her, but doubted she was paying any more attention now.

The woods smelled nice. He knew he'd gone back then. The scent filled his world, even though he couldn't see any more. Good. This was a better place to die than many. Nicer than under the stark florescent lights of the shop. He hoped that someone would be able to stop the Jackal now, that should have at least slowed him down for a bit. The ground beneath him turned red with his own blood. Pretty, he thought, lying on his injured side, then let his eyes close.

His last thought was that he hoped the little girl ran. Sandy too, whoever she was.

When his eyes opened, Brian saw a hospital, white lights and people moving around him fast, talking to him, giving him blood and telling him he'd be all right. He didn't believe them, but it was nice of them to say, trying to comfort him like that. They gave him something then and he slept.

Later, a lot later, he woke up with Penny sitting by his bed. He blinked. Brian thought it might be her, she looked nearly solid, still see through, but just barely.

"Penny? I didn't know you were a blond. I figured brunette or maybe a red head, you know, Penny, copper-colored hair..." She started and yelled then laughed and hit the call button.

"Brian! I thought you were dead. You almost died. Mark went and got you and carried you back from the woods... It took him months, but he got you back here instantly... You were nearly three hundred miles away. Don't do that again, please? Everyone missed you, then you almost got lost..." She started crying. He hurt, his left shoulder, surprisingly still attached, ached, even through the pain medication.

Reaching over he took her hand with his right and whispered to her.

"I can't fight right now, I don't think. If the cops come for me, it's up to you." He smiled. Dead serious though.

When the doctor came in, the same one as before, Burrows, she had several people on her heels, The Director, Lancaster, Tull and... a police officer. Brian got up suddenly, gasping in pain, pulled the I.V. loose carefully and stood on the floor, turning his body so that he led with his right side. Nothing had been left for him to fight with of course.

Damn. These people knew him too well already.

Several people started talking at once, but he couldn't understand them. He had to take out the threat fast this time, he knew. This officer looked older and didn't have a weapon at all, in a dress uniform without even an empty holster, but still, a cop, coming for him when he was hurt again. He moved toward the man, his right arm up.

Lancaster got it first, "Fuck! Get him out of here! Damn fool idea, Director, letting an officer come in first thing."

The policeman put his hands up and walked backwards.

"Ah, just here to thank you on behalf of the national brotherhood of police. Thanks. I'll go now." He sounded scared, as if the menacing, half-crippled guy in front of him could have done more than poke at him a little.

They got him to calm down. Mainly because Lancaster pulled a small gun from a holster on the back of his waist band, and handed it to Brian, telling him again that the police officer had just wanted to thank him this time and that they'd get him to leave now. The Director looked at Lancaster like he'd lost his mind, but the younger man kept the weapon and got back into bed. Doctor Burrows put the I.V. back in and asked him to avoid doing that again if he could help it.

"Seriously, Yi, we do all this hard work and you want to undo it within a few hours? Work with us here a little." The doctor didn't bother trying to sound mad about it, smiling at him instead. She had a point, Brian decided, as even more pain lanced through his shoulder as he readjusted himself in the bed.

Wiping at his forehead, gray hair neatly combed, the Director looked at Tull questioningly.

"Is the boy all right? Mentally I mean?"

Doctor Tull held her face with both hands for a moment and then glared at the older man.

"Just in case this ever comes up, never ask that question in front of a potentially unbalanced person again. If you didn't need me so badly here, I'd resign right now for doing it this time. Luckily, Brian isn't unbalanced at all. He's been given rather powerful training and reinforcement, which is why he reacted the way he did here. It's in the file, if you bothered to read it? Every time he saves someone and gets hurt, the police come and do even worse things to him. Worse, in this case, the most traumatic event in his life followed hard on the heels of his first encounter with the Jackal and his associate, so closely it's basically one event. Now it seemed like it would happen again. What would you expect him to do? What would any of us have done in the same situation?"

Nodding the man stepped forward and apologized to Brian smoothly, something he suspected the guy really didn't care about at all. Better than a beating or being yelled at, so he let it go for now. No need to make things harder than they had to be.

"Now, Brian... As you might imagine, people are quite... enthused that you managed to, err, subdue the Jackal and his cohort so effectively. If you feel up to it, would you be willing to speak to the press? It's all right to say no, but many have wondered if you... survived the confrontation. The video footage doesn't look very pretty I'm afraid..." The director smiled, not a politician's phony grin, but still one that looked practiced, rather than happy.