The Infected 3: Cast Iron

by P. S. Power

  Peggy stared at the bottle openly. She didn’t say anything for a long time, but then she hadn’t really said much for the whole trip, paying attention and listening, singing, but not joining in much otherwise. Marcia wondered if she thought the others didn’t want her there or something or perhaps thought they were afraid of her? She’d been branded a Killer and punished for it, but that wasn’t such a big deal with this crew. It was just the way it had happened that got her in trouble. Most of them had killed at one point or another.

  Well, many of them at least. Looking at the group with them it occurred to her that other than Peggy, Ink and Brian, she was the only other killer on the plane. That she knew of at least. Cellophane might have, of course. No one would know if she had, most likely. Not if she was careful about it. The idea was a good one and she decided to see about working with the girl on a few things. It would be hard for her to do, but worth it if they could pull it off.

  Peggy shook her head a little, more of an event than it was with most people, since her mouth was about sixteen inches from the rest of her face. Filled with sharp teeth too. That was how she’d killed the jackass, with a little nibble to his moronic throat. The man should have known not to mock someone that had just been in a fight to save his life.

  “I see the point. You don’t eat enough. Do you like it OK? I mean, you can drink that and it doesn’t bother you?” She actually sounded concerned, which was a little odd.

  Marcia started to not trust it, but managed to stop and think for a second first. It was probably just the woman making conversation. She’d watch and be careful with the situation, but a bit of concern for someone that was around you several times a week was just part of being on the team. They weren’t really on any teams together, the woman still being a prisoner as far as that went, but the idea wasn’t lost on her.

  “It’s no worse than most of what I have to eat. Coats the mouth a bit, but I hardly notice it.”

  “Good, then you can load up on that at each meal. It should help, right? So you don’t keep wasting away to nothing. I always feel like I’m eating all your food when we’re at meals together.” The woman didn’t grin but it came across as friendly sounding anyway.

  “I… can see about that. It’s probably what Mark has in mind anyway. It’s a lot easier than trying to eat that many calories. I should have thought about it before myself. Down a half gallon of it each morning or something.”

  They all chatted for the rest of the flight, about half a dozen different topics. Peggy opened up a bit, which was nice to hear and Prime managed to only be half into himself, which was nearly as amazing as Bridgie controlling her impulses. As flights went it wasn’t that bad at all. Almost boring. Marcia liked boring. It was restful.

  They were met by a bus at the base of the stairs, a nice looking silver and blue thing, obviously sent by the Food Network, since it had the logo all over the side of the thing. No limo for Mark and the crew, but she didn’t think that was a huge problem. Didn’t bands tour in busses? It felt about right to her at least. It was probably the only thing anyone could find on short notice that was big enough for Lauren anyway. It would take some maneuvering, but the door near the front looked just big enough. She tried to map out how to make it work.

  Which meant she was staring right at the driver as his hand moved under his shirt suspiciously. He watched them walk down the ramp toward the tarmac closely, his attention riveted on them. There were too many people in the way to rush him down the stairs, so as the hand came around she jumped over the side rail and headed toward the man at full speed. There was something black in his hand as she pumped her legs as hard as she could, wishing she had her uniform on instead of a skirt.

  Suddenly she lifted into the air, her momentum carrying her past the man. Some kind of attack? Possibly a defense? She scrambled at the empty space around her, trying to turn, which she did, slowly, as if weightless and floating in space. Finally she saw what was going on. The man was just taking pictures of them all.

  Because some of them were famous.

  Well that was a bit awkward. Kerry was looking at her as the man took pictures, using her ability to save the man’s life. It was a good thing she had, because they didn’t need the bad press, but Marcia felt vulnerable at the moment, hovering without being in control like she was. The girl let her down then, without a word, realizing the danger had passed once the camera had been identified no doubt. Marcia couldn’t blush, it wasn’t physically possible for her anymore, but she still felt like an idiot as her heels tapped lightly on the hard ground.

  “Well, um, sorry there!” She was about ten feet from the man, who spun without comment, taking pictures of everyone else. If he was bothered by the whole thing, he didn’t show it.

  In fact he was smiling, which was more than she expected from someone trying to capture them for the tabloids or whatever.

  “No worries! That was awesome. Just incredible. Just getting some pictures of the trip. You can all buy them from me at the end if you want. Online even. I have a web-site.” The man had dark skin and black hair, was at least a few pounds past overweight and had sweat rings under his arms. The air felt thick, but the temperature wasn’t something she could really register herself. She wasn’t sweating much yet, but that would probably come if it was that warm and she had to keep rushing at innocent people. Most of the others were already glistening, so that meant it was hot out. Well, Florida in the spring. Early spring, but still, it was going to be warm this far south, wasn’t it? The driver stopped and turned back to her.

  “I’m Sammy. I’ll be your driver for the whole stay, I’m a local, but the Network hired me to make sure you all get anywhere you need to go. You need anything to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to call me, day or night. I can get you almost anything. I have connections. Of course, you folks being in law enforcement, those are all on the up and up… But still, I’m here if you need anything, understand?” He clicked another picture of Marcia and then, finally, put the camera back under his shirt, a bright blue and green polo above light cream shorts with big pockets.

  “Hi Sammy, I’m Marcia Turner. Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand, wondering if the man would really shake it, after seeing her rush at him faster than a person could and then hover in the air like he had. He might not know that the last part had been Kerry even.

  A lot of people couldn’t make themselves touch an Infected person at all. It wasn’t catching, but some people didn’t believe that. No matter what the medical studies said some people still worked on the assumption that it must be passed from person to person somehow. It wasn’t an infection at all, but the name had come in early and stuck, so a lot of people couldn’t tell the difference. It seemed that Sammy wasn’t one of those people for what it was worth, which was a great skill to have if he was going to work with the public, at least in Marcia’s mind. The man grabbed her hand like it was a present, not letting go for far too long for comfort and pumped away at it like he thought water would eventually start to shoot from her mouth if he worked hard enough.

  Then, as he started to let go he slipped something into her palm. The move was covert and hidden from view carefully. She didn’t look at it, just trapping the paper under her thumb, then moving to where the baggage was being offloaded from the underside of the plane, as Sammy started shaking everyone else’s hand. It might just be his card, or even phone number, if the guy was looking to get lucky with the tourist ladies. It wasn’t though. She could tell from the thickness of the paper. Men didn’t give you their numbers on full sized pieces of paper and business cards were on heavy stock, not folded sheets.

  Grabbing her bag she turned to find her way blocked by Lancaster, who was already holding his own luggage as well. The bags were similar, medium sized duffels in black, both held in the right hand. They also both had papers tucking into their palms. Glancing around she saw that Reyes had one too. Not Burke though. No one else did either. So that was a sign, wasn�
��t it? It meant a whole bunch of things, all at once. Most likely at least. The tall light haired agent gave her a half nod. No more than would be polite, since they were old friends. They had friends in common too, which made sense. It also meant that she wasn’t the only one being called in on this mission, if it was one at all and not just a trap.

  That meant that Sammy wasn’t just a driver though, or a guy given a few bucks to pass a simple message. He at least had to have photos of all of them, or he might have messed up. Hers was easy enough to get, since she was in that realm of quasi famous people that being on Team one forced on a person, even if they weren’t really popular like Prime or Lady Glory. Another year or two of the kind of media exposure she was getting would probably make her noticeable on the street to some people even. Unfortunately that wasn’t normally a good thing. Most of the people that could immediately name all the operatives on Team one were bigots that learned who they were for targeting purposes, not fans at all.

  Lancaster and Reyes, no one should have a picture of either of them, except their mothers. It wasn’t really that strict, but they were both careful that way, which meant someone probably had surveillance on them. That didn’t bode well, as far as she was concerned.

  Friends didn’t normally bother to spy on you.

  They walked together; not making any sound, both scanning the area for attack, just in case it was a set-up. Then loaded their bags in the cargo area under the side of the bus, with everyone else. Marcia was careful, but plastered a smile on her face as she gawked at everything like a tourist. True, she was looking at the wrong things, but most people wouldn’t pick up that her staring at the buildings around them, the control tower and the high rises in the distance had anything to do with more than simple curiosity, would they? She didn’t think so, but the second Lancaster started doing it Ink did too, catching the idea easily.

  He was supposed to be on guard detail after all, so it was a good idea in general, wasn’t it? He moved closer to Tobin, ready to move the smaller man to safety if he had to. Ink wasn’t tall, about five-eight, but was so muscular he looked almost like a dwarf. Long body, slightly short legs, and arms that were a little too big for the frame. He moved gracefully though, his natural tattoos changing as he did his job. If it meant anything it was a pattern too complex for Marcia to figure out at a glance.

  The ride went smoothly, even though she stayed on high alert. The hotel wasn’t that far away, but the traffic was pretty bad as they closed in on it, not able to see the beach until they pulled up to the place, which looked modern, had a very large pool that could be seen through the glass on one end of the building and red uniformed men waiting to take their luggage under a covered area. She still had the paper in her hand, tucking it away casually as she stood, into her pocket. It had taken work to find a skirt that had one and a special trip into town. Marcia grabbed her own bag and glared a bit at the man that was standing by to help her.

  “Sorry, federal agent. I have weapons in the bag. It doesn’t leave my control.” It wasn’t true, but telling him that she just didn’t want his help seemed rude. Lancaster and the other agents did the same thing, seeming a little stern about the whole idea, but they probably really did have weapons both on them and in their things.

  Denis walked over and nodded at the two men that were waiting for them to pass over their worldly goods and did something unexpected. He tipped them ten dollars. Each. Considering his first mode that must have been hard. He was greed personified after all.

  It was his thing.

  “Sorry guys, a lot of us have something like that going on. Just on vacation, but you know how it is; the law requires us to be armed at all times. Most of use at least, there are a few people that could use the help though…” He glanced at Charlot knowingly, who glared back at them, or at least at the men that hadn’t come to take her bags yet. She wasn’t obviously Infected, but she kind of assumed slow service was a sign of someone trying to insult her over it anyway.

  It was a real enough point, but Marcia rarely traveled armed anymore. She didn’t need to. She glanced at Denis though, wondering.

  “You packing Denis?” She knew he could shoot, but his power was such that most people simply couldn’t stand up to him in a fight. Not lethal, sure, but it was still enough to get by with in most situations. Better than a firearm in most cases too.

  He looked around and raised his chin just the tiniest bit.

  “Yeah. It occurred to me a while ago that it would be easier in most cases to justify a shooting than using Infected abilities on someone, even in self-defense. The court doesn’t care that much, but public opinion… you know.” His look was a little sad, which was an emotion she’d never noticed in him before. Annoyed, angry, even playful. Greedy all the time, but he wasn’t over the top about how it showed as a rule.

  Sad though, that was something new. It was a bit frightening to tell the truth. They were on vacation and if he was feeling sad about something, that meant a whole situation had happened that she wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t about his father dying. That had made him and Kerry both ridiculously happy. No, it was something else. What that was, she didn’t know. It was distracting at a time she couldn’t afford to be. Her instant response was to snap at the guy, telling him to stop it, but she stopped herself. They hadn’t always been friends, sniping and snipping at each other for years on an almost daily basis even. Bad enough she’d felt like breaking his arms and legs on more than one occasion and at one point killing him outright. That wasn’t the case now though. They were on the same side. More, he might be useful on her current mission, if he was willing to help her out with it at all.

  He didn’t have too, it wasn’t anything official, so she couldn’t order it or try to force him into anything, so being mean to him about his feelings probably wasn’t a good plan. Instead she patted him on the arm gently.

  “You OK?”

  He looked around and finally leaned in a little.

  “Later? It’s… Screwed up, but yeah, maybe you can help. Probably not. I don’t know.” Without saying more he started to walk into the building, catching up to Peggy and helping with her bag, as if the woman wasn’t fifteen times stronger than he was. It was nice of him though, and she let him do it. Cute. Or it should have been.

  Marcia didn’t have time to notice things like that and a sense of urgency suddenly flooded her mind. Something was wrong with the situation in the hotel. It wasn’t anything clear either. No one had a hand too near a pocket in the lobby except one older man that was clearly reaching for his wallet at the front desk. That could be a trick, of course, and there were enough people to make the whole thing scary on a certain level, if only in abstract, but no one honestly seemed out of place. There were a few bags sitting off to one side, under the large picture widows to the left of the front door. Those could hold bombs, but other than just being out of place, that shouldn’t be enough to get her this worked up. Not instantly like it had.

  No, it was probably something else and whatever it was ate at her. Like acid in her stomach eating through to her spine. Not that she’d ever felt anything like that, but if she did, it would cause her to respond like she was in the moment, Marcia felt certain. She scanned the room again, blocking the doorway, reluctant to let everyone else enter if there was a real threat. She had people to protect with her, that things like bombs and bullets could actually hurt. Nothing showed itself, not at first.

  After about fifteen seconds the trap sprang on them. She wasn’t the target, but the camera crew descended from an alcove on the right, complete with the thirty something blond woman from the conservative network that she always associated with the anti-Infected movement. She had to watch it for her job, in a “know the enemy” kind of way, but that didn’t mean she liked it overly. That station was pretty vile. The only saving grace on the whole matter was that this particular woman had the hots for Brian. Though why a serious news crew would be covering something like a Food Network conference she didn�
�t get at all. After making sure they didn’t have weapons out and ready, she decided to get the heck out of the way. After all, her job for the week was to be as low key as possible, so that if she had to vanish she could.

  It was kind of funny, watching what happened next. The cameras, and there were three full crews, each with different logo’s on the jackets, homed in on different people without hesitation. It was almost like they’d come with plans for it or something. The one from the conservative network made a bee-line for Brian; one went for Mark directly, though the person with that crew grabbed Warren and pushed him in alongside to ask questions and the last moved in on Tobin, who instantly tried to hide behind everyone else.

  That didn’t work too well, since it was clearly him they wanted.

  “Mr. Peterson! Tobin! Can we ask a few questions? Your new fans want to know all about you!” The woman asking the questions almost wasn’t one. In fact she looked to be a kid, about fifteen or so. Good looking in an earthy sort of way, but possibly from a local show or something. It didn’t seem right at first, her being so young, and Marcia was willing to bet money that asking Tobin anything would be a lost cause.

  Until he walked forward, smiling hugely, arms spread happily.

  “Ah! I’d love to chat. Is there anything in particular you’d like to discus?” The voice was all wrong for the little guy. Happy, confident and powerful. Like he’d been possessed or mind controlled.

  Denis moved in beside her slowly, not noticing as he bumped into her back just a little. It was cozier than he normally got with her on purpose, but that was probably due to the fact he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. She got it of course; he was using his power to boost Tobin’s confidence in front of the camera. A lot. Enough to overcome his first mode. Going directly against it in fact. That took real strength. Tobin was naturally so shy that it shouldn’t have been possible… and probably wasn’t, using any other means to get the job done. Denis was just that strong.