The Infected 1: Proxy (27 page)

The Director heaved a sigh and nodded, looking a little stern again, pointedly so, all of it going straight toward the tiny red headed girl.

"Done. Now, I think we'd better be about that. Bridget isn't known for being patient, and if I know her, she's set this on a timer..."

Her chin rose then, as if in acknowledgment, it wasn't even a nod. After they left and were out of the building, Bridget and the Director laughed. It started slowly and built after a few seconds into a real, happy sounding chortle. Brian just smiled, having already figured it out himself a while back. Prime and Charlot looked pleased... but worried.

Finally the hot, angry seeming woman stared at the two like they'd gone insane. "Care to explain the joke?"

Sitting back and looking serious, Bridget slowly steepled her fingers like a criminal mastermind in a B-movie. "You see mother, it's like this, my computer skills end at looking up basic information and porn online. I didn't steal any information at all, so no federal crime, not that way at least. I believe the term that applies here is; lying my ass off? Nice assist by the way." She pointed at the director then ran around the table and gave him a hug. "Brilliant in fact!"

The older man stood and winked at her. "More brilliant than you know. I have the actual footage and with your threat, could release it and then blame it on you if need be. Don't think I wouldn't. I just didn't want to pull it out as a card myself... There would be legal issues involved."

Standing, having to lean against the table to stay upright as his back tried to spasm, Brian regarded the scene. The Chambers all hugged happily for now, the director watched them, also smiling. It looked like Brian hadn't been needed here at all. Not a big deal, he hadn't been doing anything else. At least sitting there, as tense as it had been, no one made him feel like he was worthless. No, that was just everyplace else outside the conference room.

It neared six, dinner time. He didn't want to go to the dining room, but didn't have a lot of choice if he wanted to eat. He worked his way to level nine, every muscle having stiffened up while he sat, all the abuse finally catching up with him. The dining room smelled good, spaghetti and garlic bread night. Probably his favorite dinner meal at the base. Settling in he sat at the end of the table away from everyone after getting a plate of food. Not talking. He got up and left when he finished, deciding to go to bed early if he could.

Marcia followed him out, walking behind him until he got to his door. Then she walked past him and turned the handle letting herself in without asking. It was kind of pushy, but fit her normal demeanor well enough.

Wearing her normal, heavy-looking white outfit, sort of like a karate uniform without the belt, Marcia sat in his chair, a fairly nice one that hadn't gotten a lot of use yet, but that Brian thought might be good for reading if he ever found a book and enough time. It had a soft seat, padded back and arms, covered in a soft, cream-colored fuzzy material - velvet he guessed. She nearly blended with it given her light-colored clothing. Except for the dark brown shoulder length curls that hung down from the top. Marcia gestured for him to sit on the bed and watched him as if he were dangerous.

Brian felt tired still, too drained for whatever the woman wanted from him. Much too exhausted to fight about it. He sat and looked at her, not smiling or encouraging her. Marcia lounged, kicking a foot over the right arm of the chair, legs splayed carelessly, but not toward him, just trying to get comfortable, so not hinting at anything sexual then, he decided.

Of course it wouldn't be that.

Just as well, he probably couldn't perform through the pain right now anyway.

"You beat Prime in a fight... how do you feel about that?" Her voice sounded casual and light, as if just making conversation.

He sighed. "Seriously? Isn't it obvious to everyone?" He looked at her, trying to smile a little, but doubting it made it to his face. "He threw it, Marcia. At the last second, when he drove me into the wall, he pulled back. Whatever his reason was, he saved me at the end. I don't even know if he knows he did it, but... yeah, I'd guess he cut his speed by almost fifty percent just before we hit and tried to shield me from part of the impact with his right arm. Even then, it almost killed me. I was about ten miles per hour away from being dead. Maybe five. It was freaking close."

Her eyes went wide. "You figured that out already? Better than I thought, I came to talk you out of thinking you were an immortal hero that couldn't die. Well, this saves time. Good for you. Dang, I got all ready for some serious talk and now I feel like my legs have been cut from out under me... So anything else going on in your life? I heard from a little bird that you weren't all that happy with a certain blue glowing lady for instance."

He shifted his weight on the bed, his back killing him. He should go to medical and see if they could do anything. He didn't want to grow dependent on drugs to get by, but sleep sounded fun. Just letting everything go for a while. To rest and not worry or fear anything.

"What's to say there? I went this afternoon to try and make peace, made the offer and did my part and she refused to even try. I can't work with that. No one could. It probably doesn't matter. If she doesn't like me, well, I doubt she'll have to put up with me much longer at this rate. Even if she does hate me, the only thing I asked from her is to stop trying to use her power against me when things are going on. Her first mode's supposed to be compassion, but so far it seems like it's only about compassion for people attacking me as far as I can tell." He waved his right hand.

"I know, I'm in a bad mood and don't understand the situation fully. But still, I can run through everything for you if you want, it really does seem like that. I don't know what I did to her to make her think I'm not... I don't know, as good as everyone else or as worthy of love and compassion, but there you go. Between that and Penny..." He shrugged.

"Penny?"

He shrugged and explained, then told her that it was nothing. The only thing that held importance was saving people. Friends were nice, but unless they helped Brian save lives, he could do without.

"I'm used to rejection, it would be nice if I got to try and make a move first, but hey, I guess the time schedule has to be accelerated here, right?" This time he managed a smile.

He stood and walked out, holding the door for her, letting her know that he was going to head to medical and see if they could make it possible to sleep.

The doctor there was someone new, at least to Brian, an older man that seemed to think he might be trying to get free drugs for some reason. Which he was, of course, but thought it might actually be warranted, at least a little, given everything. After the examination - one the man insisted on - he tried to have Brian put in a room there. Brian just smiled and told him he preferred his other bed for the night and got up to leave without the drugs.

He didn't sleep that night, just dozed fitfully, everything hurting too much to rest at all. In the future he'd have to get what he needed on other shifts, if he could. That guy hadn't seemed mean, but for some reason didn't seem to think he was in actual pain. It left him feeling a lot like he just didn't count at all. As if it just said his pain didn't count.

In the morning he went to the dining room early, hoping for some coffee, and found a cook actually fixing breakfast. French toast with eggs and bacon today, a little chalk board that had been set up on the counter said. Brian asked after the coffee and the silent man in the kitchen pointed at a machine set up with a full pot already made, a bored look on his face. That or angry. Brian thanked him and grabbed a cup, diluted it with ice to cool it, and drank it black. Three cups later he washed the cup, set it aside to dry, and left.

Honestly, with his weight issues, he didn't know if he'd be allowed breakfast anyway. He knew he'd lost some, but how much he didn't have a clue. Washboard abs had yet to appear, so he figured he had a ways to go. Instead he went to medical again to see if there would be a different doctor there yet. Kern looked to be just coming on duty when he walked in, so he grabbed the man's attention and explained the last night. Trying not to make a big deal of it. Without pausing Kern gave him not one shot, but seventeen, repeating the ones into his joints, this time with pain killers too.

"Watch it though. Push too hard and you won't know you're injuring yourself right now." The last shot was to keep him awake for the day. The doctor very carefully didn't tell him the names of anything for some reason, it was kind of obvious now, after the last night. So he wouldn't know the names of things if he got addicted to them?

That... made sense.

Brian knew he'd had a lot more drugs in a short time period than could be strictly healthy.

By the time he walked to the gym the pain had faded, mainly, and he definitely felt awake, not jazzed or anything, just alert and refreshed. Like he'd slept almost. He started jogging, gently, barely faster than the walk of the previous day, but enough to make him pant a little by the sixth lap. He started early, and had gotten to lap twenty when Karen came in and watched him run past, he smiled at her and waved. Rather than come jog with him, or even just watch, or stretch and do her own routine, he saw her turn and leave suddenly. It was odd, but maybe seeing him had reminded her that she'd forgotten something? That or he was just too boring to bother with now. Looking at him she might know that all he was doing was running today, which really didn't take her being there, just putting one foot in front of another.

Brian liked her though and hoped she'd be back. She was one of like, four women at the base that didn't act like he was diseased.

On lap forty it seemed that Karen wouldn't be coming in again. Had he done something wrong? Were there rumors going around or what? At this rate no one would be talking to him in about nine days. Shaking his head gently he jogged on, feet tapping out a steady rhythm on the soft red track. His stomach started to burn, demanding food in a way he'd never felt before, not just starvation, but something deeper, a more primal feeling that grasped and gnawed as he ran. On lap sixty-seven he stopped and decided to go get food, it being lunch time. Brian felt so hungry it surprised him. He hadn't felt like this when he'd been locked in that cell with no food or water even, it felt intense and painful, deeper than hunger should go.

He showered - quickly but doing as good a job of it as he could - not wanting to offend anyone. Mark made sandwiches again and for the first time he asked for two tuna for himself. The other man handed over two plates with two salads.

"Ah, no, I just meant for me. I'm starving... I think something may be wrong, I don't know..." Grabbing both sandwiches he ate them quickly and had to stop himself from getting more after wolfing them down. Mark stared for a minute, then asked if Penny was there yet.

"No. I haven't really been talking to her much for the last few days. Got the whole "You're my best friend" speech, so you know, not feeling great about her just now." He ate the salad in front of him that he normally ate first, pouring the whole serving of ranch dressing, provided in a small white ceramic cup, over it and started eating.

"Oh. That sucks. Sorry to hear it. Did she do the whole "You're like a brother to me" thing too?" Mark brought him a cupcake with coconut on top of the white frosting, it had been toasted. Brian blinked, because it hadn't just been brought, but appeared in front of him instantly.

Shaking his head he went over the whole thing.

"So, one of those preemptive, "you aren't really good enough for me, but I still want to use you for now, so I'll pretend we're friends to string you along" things that girls do? But... you know, fuck it, right? I'll live. I've done all this before. For years. Thanks for the cup cake, this looks great." He smiled and pointed, Mark raising his eyebrows as if to say; of course it did.

It tasted great too, probably the best cupcake he'd ever had. He told Mark not to let him have any more or else he'd get even fatter and have to roll over people to stop them from killing. Mark made a face at him and then grinned. "I doubt you can get fat on your current schedule. As it is I'm kind of surprised medical hasn't been coming down on you to eat more. You've lost what, forty pounds in a month and a half?"

Brian shrugged not having a clue as to that, if he had, then his weight had been a lot higher than he'd thought when he started. He cleared his place and cleaned up before going back to the gym. It was just habit, even if he was a little injured for it at the moment.

Marcia showed up and ran him through punching and kicking drills, then showed him disarms for handguns, rifles, sticks, and knives. It had obviously been her plan for the day, because she brought in real weapons for him to work against. Including knives, which were sharp, he learned the first time he messed up and got a slash across the left forearm. He shrugged, wrapped it in one of the brown towels and kept working. The blood started soaking through it by the time she called an end to the session. Several people had stopped to stare at them, including Jason, who looked at them both, appraising what they'd been doing critically.

"Good. Let's glue that shut and get to the range. I think you're ready to actually start firing today. Way more fun than cleaning and loading guns for hours. You'll like it." Then the man to do himself, double checking the wound to make sure it wouldn't break open, having him put more glue on it, letting it dry, slapping it several times. Satisfied only when no new blood came out.